“…so then I slaughtered a goat and danced in its entrails,” Fenny declared as she dropped her car keys in a small trinket dish on the hall table.

“Huh what?” Lilly managed a half-glance in her stepmother’s direction before continuing her furious texting.

“Do you want some pie?” Fenny asked as she approached the refrigerator. “We could watch a movie?”

“I’m good,” Lilly muttered as she shuffled from the room, her eyes not leaving the tiny glowing screen in her hands.

“Well I want pie,” Fenny grumbled as she found the remainder of the pecan pie and cut herself a large slice. After the long drive to the vegan restaurant, the terrible vegan food and the drive back from the stupid place, she was starving. She opened the freezer and grabbed the ice-cream. “I also need all of you.”

Fenny was busy between alternating spoonfuls of pie and ice cream when her phone became animated and she had to wipe her hands on her jeans before fishing it out of her purse. There was a Facebook message from Gina. It read, “Why do I do this to myself?” and was accompanied by a photo of Troy with a bra draped over him. Fenny devoured another mouthful of pie and replied. “You refused to go to the meetings and get the help you needed.”

Crosby appeared and leapt onto the table, moving himself between Fenny and her pie and ice cream and rubbing himself under her chin.

“Not helping,” she coughed, trying to elevate the spoon and her phone as she was smacked in the face with his voluminous tail. “We need a conversation about personal space,” Fenny frowned as Crosby began side-glancing the ice cream.

“Is this how you live when Dad leaves you alone?” Lilly demanded as she strode back into the room, applying lipstick while using her phone as a mirror.

“On the contrary,” Fenny mused. “I live like this in his presence as well as his absence.”

Lilly narrowed her eyes, paused and then announced, “Whatever, I’m going out.”

“Excuse me?” Fenny gasped, getting to her feet. “Going out where?”

“With Chris.”

“Chris?”

“The guy from the restaurant.”

“Man Bun?” Fenny frowned. “You are not going anywhere with Man Bun.”

“Yeah I am,” Lilly smirked. “This is, like, so boring and his friend’s having a party.”

“I’ll tell your father,” Fenny threatened and crossed her arms in an attempt to look like an adult who could demand things of young people and not one with ice cream on her shirt.

“I don’t care,” she shrugged as a car horn sounded a little too long and loud outside. “Don’t wait up and, uh, the cat is eating your ice cream.”

“I forbid you to…” Fenny threw her hands in the air as Lilly strode out of the room and then saw Crosby who was face first in the ice cream. “No, why Croz?” she groaned. “You know how this ends up. We’ve been here. Cat explosion. You remember.”

Gina felt the furriness tickling her bare shoulder and shrugged it sleepily away. “Chip,” she muttered as the tickling persisted. “Chip, stop.” She thrust her shoulder back with more force and instead of a yelp of a startled kitten she was greeted by a surprising, “Oof.”

“Paul,” she gasped, turning over and trying to pat his face better through the ridiculous amount of beard.

“Is this the way you welcome me to a new day now?” he mumbled, still not entirely awake.

“I told you I wasn’t dealing with the beard.”

“Did you have to try and break my face, though?”

“Sorry,” she winced as she absent-mindedly began twisting part of his beard around her finger. “Oh god sorry again.”

“Am I going to have to create a list of beard rules?”

“Will there be a rule about not braiding it?” Paul raised an eyebrow as Gina’s fingers began to stroke his facial hair. “And putting little bells in it?”

Paul broke into a smile and began to giggle. “I could be swayed by the bells.” He pulled her to him and they shared a gentle kiss.

“I suppose I should feed you and return you to Steven,” Gina sighed, wrapping her arms around him and snuggling closer.

“There’s no rush,” he breathed, stroking her hair. They lay in silence for a moment before Paul spoke again. “Genie.”

“Yes Pauly.”

“When do you think you’ll come back to Sydney?”

“Why would I go back to Sydney?”

“To get a job,” he began, gently stroking her arm. “No offence, but you can do so much better than writing for fucking mammamia.”

“Yeah, unfortunately it’s really hard to get a job when you’re a middle aged woman with a questionable track record because you have a habit of mysteriously disappearing for weeks on end from all the jobs you’ve held in the last decade,” Gina huffed, entwining her fingers with his.

“That aside,” Paul continued. “Your last article was on the 20 top ways celebrity women over 40 keep themselves trim, taught and terrific, and when I say celebrity I mean a couple of vacuous housewives, a cooking show contestant and that one chick from Married at First Sight whose husband left her for another bride 10 years younger.”

“You read my articles?” Gina gasped and sat up, more embarrassed than pleased.

“I’ve always read your articles,” Paul enthused, reaching out to touch her arm. “When we met you were heading toward hard-hitting political journalist….”

“And then my career went downhill,” she narrowed her eyes. “So really me lowering myself to a women’s website is all your fault.”

“Me? What about the psychos that spanned several continents?”

“Met them after you.”

“But…”

“Then I had to rescue you from them, hence taking me away from my important journalistic duties.”

“Well I had to rescue Fenny like a thousand times, taking me away from my important entertainment duties.”

“And how has not singing for five minutes hampered your career?”

He winced. “Not at all, I guess.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And this is why women are now fighting the whole inequality thing. Hashtag me too.”

Paul dejectedly stroked his beard for a moment and pondered. “Do you wish we hadn’t met then?” he asked quietly.

“Hmm.” She cocked her head to the side. “I’ve lost every job I ever had, been kidnapped, tortured, buried a dead corpse, married and divorced multiple times to the same man, bought a house, lost a house, had my car rebuilt on several occasions, committed adultery, moved to bloody Byron Bay because I really don’t know what else to do with my life anymore, and you ask if I wish I hadn’t met you?”

“Kinda wishing I hadn’t asked that question now, really,” he said meekly as he grabbed his glasses, as was pleased see Gina looked less angry than he expected.

“Pauly, you’re probably the only thing I don’t regret,” she sighed as she tickled his beard, making him giggle. “Through all the shit, you’re the only thing that’s been consistent in a weird, naked and angry kind of a way.”

“I’m your rock, is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Maybe a pebble.”

“Pebble.”

“A hairy little pebble,” Gina laughed and tickled his beard again.

“Stop with the beard play, woman,” Paul laughed, grabbing her hand. “I can think of other hairy things you can play with that are far more exciting.”

Gina snorted, “Is that what Troy is?”

“Right, now you will have to be punished,” he sneered and sat up far quicker than she was suspecting. She yelped and tumbled backwards and only just managed to keep her footing as she darted past a confused Chip toward the bathroom with a cackling Paul not far behind.

Fenny wandered back into her studio, pulling on a clean shirt. She knocked her glasses off, pirouetted and smacked into the desk. “All the fucks,” she yelped and rubbed her thigh. She’d texted Lilly several times but to no response, and without knowing what an actual parental adult would do in this situation, decided to try and FaceTime Brad. She logged into her computer and opened up the FaceTime app and selected Brad from her list of contacts. It made agreeable noises and she steeled herself, ready to explain to her husband this his teen daughter had run off with a strange boy with a man bun when she was greeted not by Brad but by Colin.

“Hi, I’m Brad!”

“No, you’re Colin,” she sighed at the clearly tipsy Canadian.

“I’m a monkey,” he declared and began making grunting and whooping noises.

“Col…” she groaned as Colin began a rousing rendition of Love Shack. “Col, I need to talk to Brad.”

“I’m Brad,” he smiled in the goofiest way possible.

“Is he drunk and useless?” she asked. “Blink once for yes and twice for no.”

Colin paused and continued to smile unblinking.

Fenny rolled her eyes. “You’re both jerks,” she huffed and ended the session. She rapped her fingers on the desk a moment and then noticed Greg was online and decided to seek his advice. Although she was pretty certain it was not going to be at all useful.

“Hi kitten,” Greg smiled as he sipped a glass of wine. “Whats happening in Fennytown?”

“My idiot husband’s illegitimate daughter has run off to a party with a wanky hipster and I don’t know what to do.”

“How wanky a hipster are we talking?”

“A man bun and tribal tattoo.” She bit her lip. “So I’m thinking a level 8 hipster.”

“He’ll probably make her a deconstructed breakfast bowl and then force her to drink purified water from some fucking Himalayan glacier.”

“Or?”

“Feed her all the fun drugs and booze and bang her with four of his best friends.”

“That is not helping.”

“I don’t remember offering to help.”

“I need all the help, Greg,” Fenny pleaded. “I don’t know how to parent a millennial.”

“And I do?” Greg countered. “Look at the little Kardashi-brat’s computer or something.”

Fenny’s eyes went wide. “Yes, good idea, it might tell me where the party is!” She leapt up and hurried from the room.

“Are…are you coming back?” Greg called as Crosby leapt up on the desk and began sniffing the screen. “Hey kitty, how’re you?” He mused as Crosby turned and flicked up his tail. “No! I don’t need your butthole in full screen.”

“Ok, got it,” Fenny announced as she shoved Crosby off the desk and sat herself back down. She opened the rose gold Mac and was pleased to see the kid didn’t bother to password protect it. “Right, where do I start?”

“Facebook? The young people still use that right?”

Fenny shrugged and opened Facebook. There was a post from someone called Taylah that seemed to be babbling about her boyfriend Jefferson and how it was their 3 week anniversary. Lilly had left a comment that they were an amazing couple and so in love. There were a few memes about positivity and she’d liked a picture of Ed Sheeran with a puppy. Next she opened the messenger app and clicked on a conversation with Dani.

“Gah!” Fenny closed the conversation, horrified.

“What? What did you find?” Greg asked leaning closer to his screen. “Is it bad?”

“I not telling you and immediately erasing the horror of what I just read from my mind.”

“You can’t keep me hanging,” Greg pleaded and then pouted and took another drink of wine. “I’m helping, right?”

“Wait, I think I’ve found something,” Fenny declared triumphantly as she clicked on a message with ‘Chris’.

Fenny reeled as she scrolled down to reveal a picture of Lilly in nothing but her bra. She immediately slammed the computer shut.

“What? What am I missing?”

“Nothing, you dirty old perve,” she snapped, her cheeks flushed.

He blinked. “Ok, is the girl child slaughtering puppies in her spare time?”

“No, what?” Fenny, now completely flustered, ended her conversation with Greg without so much as a goodbye. “What do I do?” she wailed at the ceiling, causing Nash to dash into the room to check she was ok. “I need an adult,” she sighed and glanced at her contacts list and selected another name.

“Hey Fen Fen,” Gina mused as she combed her wet hair.

“Gina I need….” Fenny trailed off. “Oh my god, there’s a homeless man behind you!”

“What?” She turned and looked. “Oh, that’s just Paul.”

“What is happening?” Fenny muttered. “Why does he look like Tom Hanks from Castaway?”

“I think it’s some sort of breakdown.”

“My beard is glorious, Fenella,” Paul chided and grinned. “You know you want to touch it.”

“I think I saw a rat poke its head out,” she wrinkled her nose. “Also I’m concerned that you stole my Aunt Carol’s glasses from 1972.”

“Rude,” Paul frowned and stalked off.

“What’s happening in nothingsville Arizona?”

“I’ve got Lilly staying with me,” Fenny sighed. “Except she’s run off to party with some hipster man bun vegan who is probably leading her to a life of drug abuse, early pregnancy and destitution and I don’t know how to deal with this.”

“Did you talk to her father?”

“He’s too drunk and using Colin as a stand in.”

“Typical.”

“Why is McDermott furring up your house?”

“Sex,” Gina shrugged. “We have a beard safety word now.”

“I did not ever need to know that,” Fenny declared, shaking her head.

“It’s ‘felch’!” Paul yelled from somewhere in the background.

“Again, not needing to know.”

“So why do you think Lilly is in trouble with Man Bun?”

“She sent him a picture of her in her underwear,” Fenny exclaimed, “I sort of snooped on her computer which I think when you’re in a parenting role is something you’re allowed to do.”

“Wow,” Gina blinked. “She was like 5 a couple of years ago and now she’s sexting.”

“Not helping.”

“Sorry, look, how hard can it be to find a teen party in Arizona?”

“Are you serious?”

“If we were kidnapped what would we do?”

Fenny began taping her fingers again and then went wide eyed, “Ooh! I’ll create a fake account, friend Man Bun and get the details.”

“Genius,” Gina enthused. “I wish you luck but I really have to go and return Paul to the shelter.”

“Rude!” Paul huffed from somewhere.

“He wants to visit the Macadamia Castle on the way,” she added, rolling her eyes. “I can’t even begin to explain what that is.”

“I don’t think my brain could cope right now,” Fenny smiled as they both logged off. “Right, onto fake account making I guess.”

“What…what are you doing?” Paul asked incredulous as Gina pulled the plastic shake-and-cook pancake container from the cupboard.

“Making breakfast,” she shrugged, unscrewing the lid.

“What happened to my wife who used to make the best pancakes from scratch?”

“You divorced her and she got old and single,” Gina shrugged as there was a knock on the door and a very manly voice called out, “Gina, are you home?”

“Oh hey, come in Rory,” she called down the hallway and a very tanned, muscular young man appeared carrying a box that appeared to be overflowing with fresh produce.

“I have picked for you the best mango you will find on the East Coast,” Rory grinned as he plonked the box down on the breakfast bar. “Good morning sir,” he added and saluted Paul before shooting Gina another warm smile. “Have you heard about the rockmelon crisis?”

“Seriously, what is going on with the listeria?” Gina shook her head. “It’s the farmers I feel sorry for.”

“It’s absolutely killing sales,” Rory shook his head sadly. “Thankfully we have mangos to see us through,” he added.

“And strawberries, I see,” she cooed as she removed a large punnet of berries from the box.

“And I promise you they’re the sweetest ones you’ll find this side of the Sunshine Coast,” he enthused.

“I would never doubt you,” she laughed as she gave them a sniff.

“Anyway, I best be off,” he declared. “Same time next week,” he added with a grin and headed back down the hallway.

Gina continued poking through her box of fresh produce as Paul walked over.

“Who the fuck was that?”

“Rory.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Rory of the what? The fucking fresh fruit union?”

“He’s my Hello Fresh delivery guy.”

“That’s how you treat the delivery guy?”

“He’s a sweetheart.”

“Do they need that many muscles?”

“He has to carry boxes of vegetables,” she shrugged. “I’m sure soup season is hefty what with the pumpkins and turnips.”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with your food/client relationship.”

She stopped investigating her food and crossed her arms. “Are, are you jealous, McDermott?”

“Of him?” he said in a register a little too high to be convincing. “Pfft, no, not everyone goes for the Hemsworth look.”

“Good to know,” she smiled as she returned to her pancake shaker. “Because that one time we had sex would really upset you otherwise.”

Paul cocked his head to the side. “You two never rubbed uglies,” he chided, before his face fell. “Did you?”

“Oh honey,” Gina giggled and shoved the pancake shaker at him. “You’re an idiot.”

After creating a fake Facebook account, calling herself Tinayah and getting a photo of Chris’ anatomy she hadn’t expected during their fake exchange, Fenny had grabbed her car keys and headed toward a town 20 miles away. As she sped through the night on almost empty roads she remembered the many occasions this had felt like the norm. Although hopefully this time it wouldn’t involve leaping from a moving vehicle or requiring the services of a lesbian truck driver. Her mind was so consumed by finding Lilly before she became a crack addict or worse, a hipster who made her own gin and repurposed crates as chairs, that she’d not given much thought to driving music. This had led to the unfortunate reality that instead of her “angry indie” themed playlist it was her “batty retro mix” that was filling the air. Her GPS piped up during the chorus of Cat Stevens “I’m Gonna Get Me a Gun” and informed her that after the next right she’d be at her destination. As Fenny flicked on her indicator, she could see her destination clearly by the dozens of cars parked in the street and the crowds of young people. She pulled to a stop in the middle of the road and threw the door open just as Cat declared “You better get ready to run, cuz I’m gonna get me a gun.” She marched toward the porch, ignoring the young man who was sprawled in a wicker chair, beer in hand and a girl bobbing between his thighs.

“You a cop?” asked one very stoned youth as Fenny stepped into the very loud party.

“No,” Fenny replied then realised there was no way he could hear her over the awful hiphop that was making the floor shake. “I’m looking for someone, a girl.”

“Oh you like ‘em young, huh?” The guy grinned and Fenny shot him a withering look. She didn’t have the energy to waste on his idiocy. She shoved past and tried to get a good look around the room. There was no sign of Lilly. There were a lot of very high teens groping each other in a very unpleasant way.

“Man, we used to just listen to music or watch old movies,” Fenny muttered to herself as she pushed her way through grinding teens. It was beginning to remind her of that whole nightclub incident. She suddenly wished Paul was there to cause a scene and distract everyone. With his beard he could jus feign a drunk homeless man. She made her way up the stairs and began checking rooms and eyeing the queue for the bathroom. Eventually she reached the last room at the end of the hall. She checked the handle and found it was locked. Fenny glanced around, looked at her feet and let out a sigh and then kicked the door as hard as she could. It flew open and there on the bed in nothing but a sheet was Lilly while a very naked Chris was was standing at the foot of the bed.

“Jesus fuck, Lils,” Fenny gasped, not knowing how she was going to explain this one to Brad.

“What are you doing here,” Lilly shrieked. “Oh my god!”

“Did you just kick the door in?” Chris blinked, not thinking to cover himself.

“I’ve kicked in the roof of a bank vault before,” Fenny shrugged and turned her attention back to Lilly. “Get dressed, you’re leaving.”

“I want to stay here,” Lilly huffed and pulled her sheet up further.

“I will not let you stay here with this creep who sent me a photo of his…” Fenny paused and glanced down at Chris’s exposed body. “Wow it wasn’t even your cock you sent me a picture of.”

“What?” Lilly gasped looking horrified. “How did you get his number?”

“Deception,” Fenny smirked and winked at Chris who grabbed a shirt to cover his nakedness shamefully.

“Tell me you didn’t look at my social media,” Lilly wailed as she began to pull clothes on.

“Ok, I won’t,” Fenny mused as Chris still look mortified.

“Your mom is a badass,” he declared.

“Those giant knights are ridiculous,” Paul mused, motioning to the giant cutout knights that littered the landscape near the Macadamia Castle. Gina pulled into the carpark and they wandered to the entrance of the cartoonish castle.

“I can’t see why anyone thought this was a good idea,” Gina sighed as they stepped into the large expanse of shop space that seemed to have more dodgy imported souvenir items and less macadamia based products. She picked up a bar of soap and sniffed it as Paul glanced at some retro toys. “Are we done?”

“We’ve gotta check out the animal park,” Paul enthused as they headed toward the counter where a bored woman in her 20s neatened some branded pencils. “Hi, can we get two adults?” he asked with a smile and then immediately got distracted by a rack of postcards.

The woman blinked and then leaned on the counter closer to Gina, “Um, your dad can get in for $18.”

“What?” Gina frowned, glanced at Paul and then back at the woman “My dad you say,” she smiled and handed over her card. “Sounds great!”

The woman tapped Gina’s card and then handed her two wrist bands and two bags of food. “Have fun!” she perked as Gina wandered back over to Paul.

“You need to put your wrist band on,” she ordered as she shoved a bag of food in his jeans pocket.

“Sure,” Paul shrugged as they headed out to the animal park. “Wait, why is mine a different colour?”

“Because yours is a pensioner concession,” Gina giggled. “Dad.”

Paul’s face fell and he stopped as Gina headed toward the goat inclosure. He sauntered up beside her after a couple of seconds and she felt his hand on her rear. “You can call me daddy if you want,” he smirked. She was about to say something when he let out a yowl and leapt back, a hole now very obvious in his front pocket and animal feed dribbling out onto his shoe. “Fucking goat, I’ll have you.”

“No you won’t,” Gina mused and guided him away towards a cockatoo as a young family wandered over to feed the goat. “Hey cocky!”

“Hello” the cocky enthused and bobbed its head.

“These are my favourite jeans,” Paul declared, poking the hole.

“Aww,” she cooed and brushed her lips against his, instantly brightening his mood as they stopped to check out a possum.

“Genie.”

“Yes Pauly.”

“Please come back to Sydney,” he said softly. It was so close to begging it made her throat tighten. “I have a spare room and you can bring your beasts.”

“I like what I have in Byron,” she soothed, squeezing his arm.

“I like having you closer,” he sighed. Even hairy and bespectacled he could still have the saddest eyes.

“Well then you shouldn’t have divorced me.”

“Can’t we put that behind us?”

“Usually when people do that they stop the whole sex thing.”

He let out a long sigh and studied his feet for a moment. “Well we don’t want that, what with you now calling me daddy.”

Gina allowed herself to giggle, “Never change.” She tickled his beard. “Now let’s go back to the gift shop and see if we can’t use your seniors discount to get a few bargains.”

“You’ll keep,” he laughed as he slid his arm around her back and pulled her into his side.

“I’ve never been so embarrassed,” Lilly groaned as she sunk down into the car seat.

“Really? Pretty sure there’s at least half a dozen times your dad has embarrassed you worse,” Fenny countered. “Like when he decided to sing you a birthday song in the style of Justin Bieber in front of all your friends.”

“Oh god,” Lilly buried her face in her hands.

There was a long pause before Fenny spoke again. “So how long have you been sexually active?”

“I’m not having this conversation.”

“Do you want this conversation with your dad?”

“You cannot tell dad!”

“I won’t if you’re honest with me.”

“About a year.”

“And you’re on birth control?”

Lilly became suddenly interested in picking at her nails. “No.”

“For fuck’s sake, kiddo,” Fenny sighed. “Tomorrow I’m taking you to a doctor, we need to sort this.”

“Ugh, the shame.”

“Yeah, it’s no party for me either,” Fenny declared as she pulled the car to a stop in her own driveway. Lilly leapt out and fled immediately to her room, making sure to slam the door extra loud. There were several quiet moments as Fenny filled the kettle before Lilly let out a shriek and appeared in the kitchen half changed into her pyjamas.

“Crosby has had some kind of explosion all over my bed,” she wailed, looking less brazen teen and more exhausted child.

“Oh, I meant to throw him in the laundry before I left,” Fenny winced. “Sleep in my bed, kiddo, and I’ll deal with your sheets,” she added as Crosby slinked into the room with an air of shame.

It took Fenny a good hour to strip all the sheets, wash them, disinfect everything and put on a scented candle to try and remove the stench. She took a quick shower and changed into her pyjamas, glancing over at Lilly who was sleeping peacefully and thankfully not under a horny hipster. Fenny headed into her study and slid in front of her computer. She wasn’t tired and decided to check social media. Gina had posted a photo of Paul with a hole in his pocket which was oddly confusing along with a goat emoji. She was about to log off when she noticed she was getting a Skype call.

“Hey wife,” Brad smiled, slightly seedily.

“Hey husband.”

“Sorry about earlier, I was in the bathroom and Col thought it’d be funny.”

“In hindsight it was.”

“So what did you want to talk to me about? Is Lilly ok?”

Fenny suddenly felt very tired. “Oh, I just missed your face.”

Brad grinned, “I miss your face too, and other parts. Shall I name them?”

Fenny giggled. “Okay, starting with H…Go!”

Gina and Paul strolled over to where Steven was busy reading the news on his phone and drinking a strong coffee.

“I have returned him unharmed,” Gina mused.

“I bought you a present,” Paul added and thrust a tiny box at Steven that contained a small musical device that played “I Still Call Australia Home”. Steven slid it from the box and began turning the handle.

“Aww I’m touched,” he smiled as it tinkled out the tune.

“Right I’m off,” Gina declared. “Please feed him and walk him a couple of times a week,” she added and then turned to Paul who pulled her in for a hug. “Please be less hairy in the future,” she whispered in his ear.

“I love you too,” Paul whispered back as he brushed his lips against hers and she walked back toward her waiting car. “Why did I divorce her?”

“Because you’re a fucking idiot,” Steven chided as he continued twisting the handle of his music box.

Gina was halfway home when she realised there on the backseat was Troy with an envelope between his paws. She pulled over at the next rest stop and snatched Troy from the back seat and opened the envelope. Inside was a card-sized drawing of what was clearly a naked Paul and Gina with Woody and Chip at their feet. It was like some demented Adam and Eve depiction with the word “HOME” on an anatomical heart between them. She kissed the picture and dropped it on the passenger seat.