First chapter from new book

 

Just fishing

Thel looked out through her front window as she came out of her bedroom, & saw one of those tableaux that always make her smile - man & boy going fishing - although, to give them justice, you have to add a few years to both. The man - George - must be 80 if he’s a day, & the boy, D, must be … not a boy. He looks like a boy, or a youth, if you’re not looking closely, but he carries himself with the self assurance of a young man when he thinks no-one is watching him. The dog - Molly - is also rather advanced in her experience, trailing them, but not letting them get ahead.

“They’ll drop in,” she mused to herself.

Would they stay for a cup? No, not today. She was getting good at predicting George’s visits. It wasn’t just the fact that he seemed to be set in his ways, but that he seemed to like being predictable, with a kind of pride. Maybe she was taking too much interest in him & his reliability. No. That would be silly. Not at her age, or his. Not him, either, for that matter. No, not anyone, in that sense. Too late in the day, & not too many days left to be late in.

Mind you, it would make a pleasant break in the morning if they did stop. Something to look forward to. She shook her head wistfully & patted her hair where she thought a wisp had come loose. Speaking of cups, billy on for sure. A cup of tea with salts & the first batch of tablets for the day. Something to scrape on a bit of toast wouldn’t go astray. That marmalade’s holding out well. Get the old motor running. Crank it a bit.

Bowls this afternoon, & there was that stain on her shirt which she should check came out right, otherwise it’s back in the machine. Always something important. Thel needed one of those list things just to keep track of her life. No, she didn’t. When she admits to that, they can take her away & put her out to pasture. Lists!

Nothing more important than Shark - his opinion, of course - as he called from the back door.

“Right you are.”

She let him in & he made a valiant attempt at tripping her up as he scooted between her legs only to find that his bowl was empty. He plonked straight down & complained at her with a full-toothed yeowl.

There’s reliable, & there’s Shark. He’s a whole new level of predictability.

“Yes. You first. Then toast, I suppose. I wish someone would feed me, sometimes.”

Much later, when Shark was long gone, the shirt drying (again), & Thel was on her second puzzle for the day, there was a tentative knock at the weatherboard beside the door. That’s good, because she’d lost track of time & hadn’t broken into that new fruit cake she’d been given.

“Only me,” called George, barely raising his voice above his usual soft brogue.

It’s a small house & the door’s open. Why he doesn’t just come in, Thel didn’t know.

“Come, why don’t you?”

Let them work it out. She’s got a billy to put on.

“Stand ..., Moll,” in a light rumble for the dog’s benefit.

Thel could imagine the collie taking position beside the front step, on the shady side, facing the road, shuffling forward until her tail was out from the drain for the front tap.

George & D had taken their boots off & socked their way down the short hall noiselessly, hats in hand, like true penitents. George’s hat is like a greying version of the army bush hat, & D’s is one of those American peaked caps with a prominent ‘D’ on it in an old style of writing that Thel always thinks should mean something, but just keeps coming up with Shakespeare & knowing it can’t be that easy. They had matching overcoats, although it was not cold now that the sun was high. D’s coat was a hand-me-down - too short & large for him. In a way, they matched in build & height, taking into consideration their ages, but their faces were distinctly different - George’s furrowed brow & watery grey eyes hid a lot of intelligence, Thel knew, & his smile was permanently crooked. D didn’t smile much, & his dark eyes tended to dart about, not missing anything. Thel always thought he looked somewhere between sullen & gun-shy.

“We seem … have … many fish,” George explained, skipping words rather than inserting hesitations.

D was looking at the ceiling for inspiration. That usually meant he would add something to the conversation, but Thel would be disappointed on this occasion, because he seems to have found a cobweb she hadn’t seen.

“Will you stay? I have cake.”

D looked down at her, then across to George, licking his lip a little, more like a cat than a lizard, thankfully.

“... thanks, Thel... Best ... off once … pick …” managing to put three syllables into ‘Thel’ to make up for the gaps.

He motioned for D to open up the basket.

It was a stroke that messed George up. She knew this. Another good reason to not sympathise to the point of wanting to adopt him. It had been a small stroke - everyone said so - but, still. Once you’ve had one, it’s only a matter of time, isn’t it? Well, it just is, when you get to an age. That’s no secret. She pursed her lips. They can still be friends, though. Of course, they just were. Had been for a while. The old folks have to stick together in this village, especially if you’ve already lost a spouse. That’s why there’s bowls, of course. All the singles & pairs.

That’s why George has D, too. Well, it’s not cause & effect, but George had the stroke, & then D seemed to appear in George’s life shortly after, tagging along, just like Molly, but with more energy & the ability to carry a basket of fish. He was a strong lad - you could tell from the way he carried things effortlessly.

“Handsome devil, this one.”

She chose a truly plump looking Tailor that had been expertly gutted at the wharf. It still had the head & the fins, but all of the messy bits had gone from inside. Shark will be pleased. She’ll get two meals out of that with steamed carrots & peas, & then George will magically appear again. Regular.

“Thank you, George. & D. I’m sure you baited the hook or something, hmm?”

He shrugged, assuming that was a direct question over which fish had been caught by whom, or who had baited which line. Sometimes Thel wondered if he didn’t talk because he took so long coming up with the correct response that he always missed his chance.

“Shan’t stay, Thel. … away.”

She blinked. The missing word wasn’t so obvious. ‘Must’? Probably. He’s turned, anyway, & D’s eye darted to that pesky cobweb again before he followed, already putting his cap on before he actually left her presence … or is it having a hat on inside? The old rules. No-one seems to follow them, anyway - except up at the Club, of course. Mostly. When people remember. Old people, though - you can’t rely on memory. They have a list behind the front desk. Lists again.

The following day, Deb’s car pulled up haphazardly on that patch of grass Thel liked to call her front yard. There’s almost enough room for two cars there - if Deb hasn’t parked one of them. There’s almost enough grass to hide under one. Most of it hides just inside the shade under the house - not too far in, just enough to make it difficult to trim.

“Oo-oo!” as the door opened.

It’s either a ghost or the grand-daughter who never sleeps. There was a stomping of shoes. They’re indoor shoes, but it’s always best to go through the forms. That’s Deb’s career, actually - going through the forms. Nursing isn’t about caring for people. It’s caring about their paperwork. She’d been told that by her aunt, but it didn’t stop her from wanting to be one.

“Gran?”

In the unlikely event that Thel wasn’t actually home, & the thought crossed Deb’s mind for about half a second & then got filed away as being a silly thought for a Wednesday, she’d be no farther than a house away. In this case, she was in the backyard, using sunlight to ensure that there was no sign of that stain this time.

“Gran?” louder.

“Oh yes? Here I am!”

It’s obvious once you’re inside the house that there’s no-one else there, & with front & back doors open, you can see most of both yards as well.

Thel felt a little foolish, because she’d obviously lost track of time & should have had the billy on by now. Sure enough, Deb had taken post there. Now she’ll have to think of something else to distract the girl while she arranges her thoughts back into guest mode. You know, where the person you’re talking to isn’t a cat.

Deb was still in uniform, & she unwound her hair as she leaned against the benchtop, leaving the band on her wrist & shaking her head gently as the wavy blackness spread out at her shoulders. It could do with a bit of thinning out or something. She was standing in front of the cake, with her back to it, so there goes Thel’s next plan. However, there’s the fact that she is obviously coming off shift. Anything to start polite conversation.

“Not like you to come off now, Pet?”

“Oh? I know. I did swapsies. I’ll get Saturday off, & that’s about as exciting as my life gets.”

“Oh yes? Gentleman friend?”

“Gran! No-one calls them that. It’s just some guy Sophie knows. Coffee. Not even dinner. Just not the caf’ in the hospital.”

Deb, still stretched out & leaning back against the cupboard, is too thin by half. No wonder she doesn’t have a proper man in her life. Mind you, Thel remembers a long time ago - before kids - when she was that size, & it was fashionable. She wasn’t as tall, though, & that’s often a problem. You can’t be too tall as a young unattached lady. The boys don’t like that. She doesn’t even hunch her shoulders like she should - too sporty by half. Thel used to be taller than she is now, mind you, but losing a little height is nothing to complain about after losing a husband.

“You holding up that cupboard?”

“Hmm?”

Then she smiled.

“Cake’s behind you, by the bye.”

“Yes, Gran.”

That’s why Deb’s really here - a slice of reality & a cup of sympathy.

Thel looked up at the clock on the oven as she took a seat. She hadn’t been far wrong, because Deb was early. Off shift, & couldn’t be bothered to get changed before coming over. Does Deb even realise when she’s still in uniform? It must be like a second skin, now that she’s a real nurse, finally.

“You need a new jug, Gran.”

“Is it on at the wall?”

“What? Oh.”

Well, there’s always that. Old persons’ thinking.

“Saw your boyfriend on the road. Thought he might drop in.”

“Hmm? Oh, George? Not today.”

“You’ve told him you’re mine on Wednesdays?” saucily.

“I never thought about it - he never drops in when he sees a car, for sure. He’s … not one to impose, is George.”

“The perfect gentleman, huh?”

She’s not really asking. Thel knows it’s more a complete lack of nosiness on George’s part. He doesn’t care who’s visiting you. Also, he’s not good with new people since … the stroke. Just say it. Shy? Self-conscious, perhaps. It wouldn’t even be something he’s aware of, just an extra reason to not deviate from a routine that’s working for him. D would be shy, Thel suspected. Can you imagine him being faced with an over-confident Deb performing a psych assessment right there in the kitchen? That would make anyone self-conscious. She suppressed a shiver. Always act normal in front of Deb, to remove all suspicion that she’s losing it.

“Any life yet?”

Thel’s trying to work out if she needs to get her hearing checked, though. The jug should be doing something by now. It’s been a hardy little thing.

“I can feel it … but yeah, I can’t hear it.”

“That’s good.”

Thel raised an eyebrow & Deb took the hint & moved to take down two cups in preparation, before someone said “tea doesn’t make itself” or something less subtle.

“Knife.”

Yes, there’s cake. She’d said. That would be the big clear tupperware, missing one slice. It hasn’t killed her yet, so it must be OK, wherever it came from.

“How far can you walk, Gran?”

“What?”

What sort of a question is that? Does anyone know the right answer? Surely it depends on the weather. It's warm out there, still. You have to take that into account.

“You know - can you make it to the shop & back?”

“I can make it to the Club.”

“That’s barely half-way. & you rest there.”

“Resting, is it?

“Half a bend & tossing a wobbly ball at the ground doesn’t count.”

“There’s walking the line, too.”

Thel knew she’d get to the limit of Deb’s knowledge of bowls very quickly, & that’s all that counts. One up for me, please, Skip.

“Come on - let’s go around the block.”

“What on earth for?”

“Prove to me you can.”

“I don’t have to prove …!”

“You do, or I’m telling Mum.”

She would. Deb’s a pussy cat compared to Audrey. That one had brought up five kids, then decided to turn her attention to her mother well before it was necessary. Thel made a face. Grandchildren were supposed to be on her side. There was a time when Audrey was afraid of her … right up until she was about 14 & taller. Thel never got back the upper hand after that. Her other three children combined show less disrespect than Audrey. Well, Alan has his moments, of course ...

Deb smiled. It’s probably an empty threat, anyway. Probably. You can’t trust nurses, though, even when they’re blood. But going for a walk just after a cup of tea? Risky. No excuses. Be strong … or expect a visit from Audrey.

“Right. Get my shoes then.”

Thel wasn’t going to be seen beyond her own fence-line in scuffs. That’s for sure. Well, you know, not more than a neighbour away.

“No cheating - out by the front door, in by the front door,” Deb explained as she held her hand out to help Thel at the steps.

If her own hand hadn’t been on the rail, she would have waved the help away. Where’s that girl’s head?

“Oh, the wind - I should have put a hat on.”

“It’s around the block, Gran. It won’t take us … half an hour.”

The wind was a pleasant breeze, to be honest.

Let’s put the proposal in normal persons’ dimensions - the block is about 150m on the long sides, 25m on the short, & it’s effectively a triangle because of the shape of the bowling club. Deb was calculating more in terms of corridor-lengths, though. She doesn’t do aged care, but she’d got a fair notion what a healthy woman in her mid 70s should be able to do. That’s right, though, isn’t it? Somewhere in the middle of her 70s. Her Mum’s turned 50, so it just makes sense.

It did take them half an hour, & it was a struggle for Thel to hold out. She should have begged for a pit-stop at half way. She wasn’t out of breath, but it’s hard to keep the pace up with your legs crossed. They’d set out at a cracking pace for uphill, but then Mrs B two doors up had been in her garden, so they had to stop for a moment, & they could see D headed to the shops, but that was from the back, & he wouldn’t have seen them, so that’s hardly an excuse. You’d think that the downhill run from the Club would have been easy, but Thel saw one of those cats that Shark doesn’t get along with, & started to worry about him not being able to get home, which kept her looking over her shoulder while they passed the back gate. There was a car in the side street, which made Thel wonder if the Prices had visitors or if some blow-in was using the beach access. Their beach access. It makes you cross, it does. Someone should do something about it - not the Prices, mind you, because they’re useless, but someone. Thel was so upset that she almost forgot how desperate she was to get to the facilities.

“‘Scuse me, Deb.”

With an amazing turn of speed, Thel went straight in without taking her shoes off.

“My fault. Yep, I should have thought of that.”

She spoke to the empty air. Her Gran would be concentrating on other things. Lunch. Well, Gran wouldn’t be thinking of lunch right now, but she could. At the very least, there’s a fridge to investigate. That should take ten seconds.

“Bit of corned beef there.”

It’s one of those magic fridges, with a voice that sounds like it’s coming from the toilet. They just don’t make them like that anymore. Well, the retro ones seem to be trying to recreate that magic of a bygone era, but this is an original. If you’re having corned beef, then you will have pickles - that jar of yellow-green with no label to tell you in whose kitchen it was made or how long ago. There’s butter, not margarine … & perhaps we should discuss cholesterol. The bread is so white that it glows. It’s not stale, even though the bread box is a plastic contraption that doesn’t seem to do much more than take up bench space. Bonus.

“What about this man of yours, then?”

Half a sandwich in, & Thel’s back on the offensive.

Deb squinted. She thought that had been done with an hour or so ago, but you can never be sure with old people.

“Don’t, Gran - & also don’t mention it to Mum.”

“Oh, she’s at you, too, huh?”

Hook, line, & sinker.

You definitely don’t want Audrey prying into your private life. She wouldn’t bother using a crow-bar, she’s all for breaking things just to see if there’s anything worthwhile knowing about. She must have picked up that habit from her father. He was always careless, bless him. Bull in a teacup, as they say.