Chapter 6
Transition Period – CONTINUED.......
It was just another day when Tim took the bus to school, except this day
Ted accompanied him into town to look for work. The use of the bus was
inescapable due to his old car finding the mission of travel from Sydney too demanding; it had its engine
out once again. He was pleased of the benefits of a garage with a workshop and
a work bench, this luxury allowed the kitchen table to be spared an oily mess,
nevertheless a broken car meant he had no choice but to walk or catch the bus
with Tim. Consequently, Rene and Zoe were left in charge of activities.
“Mum, there’s a car at the
bowser,” shouted Zoe from the front lounge. Rene was in the kitchen preparing a
pot of pea and ham soup with dumplings for customers, or the family dinner,
whichever the demand warranted first. As Zoe ran into the kitchen she bellowed
again;
“Mum, hurry up!” Zoe was not
yet confident to serve petrol by herself, besides, Rene did not have enough
trust in humanity at this stage to leave her alone with customers because too
many shady characters frequented the area, instead they united in service for
reasons of safety and took turns in individual tasks. One would pump petrol
while the other simply looked on, or if the customer preferred, check the oil,
tyres, and cleaned the front and rear windows. This particular time it was
Rene’s turn to pump the petrol. They approached a waiting man and his wife
sitting in a ‘Desoto utility’. The man saw them coming and stepped out onto the
running board of his car and hobbled onto the ground.
“Good morning Sir, would you
like petrol,” inquired Rene. “Yes. Six
gallons please.” Whilst trying to make polite conversation with the stranger
she put the petrol nozzle in the cars fuel intake and squeezed the lever to its
limit allowing the fuel to flow at full pressure. The desired amount was near
visible on the gallons gauge when, without warning, the petrol hose snapped at
the trigger outlet. Rene was jumping about holding onto the unconnected trigger
apparatus while petrol gushed forth everywhere, with the hose snaking about she
sprang around like a ‘blue arsed fly’.
“Oh shit!” She rarely swore
and more curses flowed as she tried in vain to turn it off. The pump would not
stop spurting out petrol. Erratic swashing of the hose caused from its flapping
and twisting soaked her from tip to toe. The customer bounded out of the way,
he was astounded by the commotion and stunned into silence. Zoe was laughing
uncontrollably while Don stood well back out of the way. Rene was still
clinging to the inoperative handle like it was glued to her fingers and
screaming at the top of her lungs;
“Zoe! Quick! Go turn off the
electricity to the pumps.” The switches were located in the shed adjacent, only
a short distance from the pumps. Zoe knew where they were because she had to
turn them on at opening time in the mornings and off at night. Due to her haste
and the amusement of it all affecting her balance she fell, got back up and
scrambled awkwardly to the shed, and in completing her task she cried out in
tears of humour;
“It’s off mum.”
Rene was deeply embarrassed and very apologetic to the tall man.
“I’m terribly sorry Sir,”
she said in a penitent response to the customer’s continued silence. He never
batted an eyelid and feigned anger as if this was normal and experienced it
many times before. He secured in the palm of her hand one pound and seven
shillings, the amount he considered to be the cost of the petrol that actually
went into the tank and not on the ground, and in sharp retort, beaming with
stunned bewilderment he said;
“Thank you,” as he stepped
up into his ‘ute’ and drove off. Rene stood gobsmacked. She gave Zoe a brood
gaze and glumly searched apathetically up towards the heavens with arms reached
high, muttering;
“Why me lord? Why me? What
did I do wrong? Oooh! What a way to start a day.” A moment passed and Zoe could
not get over the risible antics of her mother, yet in spite of her brave face
she saw in her tears of torment. Zoe retained a comical attitude by voicing
mere flippant ridicule in hope of adding levity to her mother’s despondency;
“He was a grumpy old sod
wasn’t he?” Rene, still dowsed with the highly inflammable liquid and reeking
like a petrol tank gave a slight nod and a smirk as she started towards the
house, wittingly saying;
“I don’t think I should have
a smoke yet.” The circumstances now somewhat alleviated by typical bush humour
allowed them to appreciate the funnier side of the whole unfortunate incident.
Zoe, still unable to keep a straight face added;
“You have to admit mum it
was funny wasn’t it?” Rene still shaking her head in disbelief headed for a
shower and a change of clothes.
Zoe followed her mother across the yard until out of the corner of her
eye she was distracted by a dog walking along the side of the road and heading
their way. Rene continued on her clean-up mission while Zoe and Don took more
notice of the dog. It soon became aware of their interest and stopped and
stared from across the road.
“Look,” said Zoe to Don as
she pointed. “Stay still Don.” She shaped her lips into a whistle. Softly and
soothingly she whistled, ‘SSsssS –
SSsssS- SSsssS,’ to attract its attention and bond with it but could see it
was scared, devoid of energy and feeble as if mistreated, it just froze and by
its readiness in posture she guessed it was ready to make a fast retreat if
threatened. Zoe continued enticing it by kneeling on one knee with one hand
outstretched and fingers snapping together to form a reassuring gesture of
goodwill;
“Come’n... Come’n,..here
boy, here boy. Come’n.” It slowly extended one paw forward towards them, then
lacked the trust to continue and withdrew. It stood firm, unsure of their
intentions. Zoe whispered to Don;
“Don, go inside and get a
bit of meat out of the fridge.” He followed her directive, went in the house
and opened the door to the near new fridge, a ‘Hallstrom Silent Knight’ which
hummed a faint odour of kerosene and stale meat even with the door closed. His
mother, now showered but still reeking of petrol asked;
“What are you doing Don?”
“Getting a handful of meat
mum.”
“What for?”
“Zoe told me to get it. It’s
for a dog.” A little bemused by his reply, but giving somewhat of a dismissive
shrug in curiosity she asked;
“What dog?”
“The one outside, mum,” he
replied in a tone of bafflement as if she should know the answer. She looked
out the window and saw Zoe trying to lure the dog into her care. Rene gave him
a bone she kept aside from the pea and ham soup made earlier. She would usually
re-use the bones for more soup but felt one bone less would make no difference
and it seemed to be for a worthy cause.
“Here ya are, take this to
her.” She handed him the bone and followed his hasty exit.
“Don’t run Don, you’ll scare
‘im,” advised Rene in low voice. Don slackened his pace before handing the bone
to Zoe. She waved it about, continuing the tempting invitation by beckoning
imaginatively to try and arouse its inquisitive nature. Finally, the dog made
its move, ever so gently one paw gingerly extending forward over the other, now
increasing its expression of interest and excitement for the aroma of the juicy
bone. It came within arm’s reach with its tail between its legs and made
hesitant steps forward, crouching on approach, retreating and crouching and
approaching again. It was timid, scared out of its wits and finally finished
its cringe with a roll onto its back and all fours stretched skyward; Zoe
grabbed it and calmed it with affection.
It was a female sheep dog, featuring black and white markings with
longer than short hair, very dirty and very hungry. It gave off a foul odour,
similar to a miasma of decay.
“Gotchya,” said Zoe. “Come’n
I won’t hurt you.” Her face squirmed from the smell and condition of its matted
coat. By this time even Rene could not but help feel sorry for the animal and
joined Zoe and Don in patting it until it gained enough trust to lay and gnaw
on the bone. Rene fetched it a bowl of water and Don eagerly pleaded;
“Can we keep ‘im mum? Can
we?”
“We’ll see. Maybe, if no-one
claims her and your father says its okay; then maybe.” Her answer was as good
as a ‘yes’ for Don. He was thrilled and gave the dog a cuddle. It responded
with a lick here and there as it continued its feast on the bone.
“Aaahhh,” winced his mother.
“It stinks like a skunk. Don’t let it lick you.” Don wiped his face on the
sleeve of his shirt before snatching the bone from the dog’s mouth, it looked
up at him with such sad, pitiful eyes, probably expecting inhumane treatment,
but Don had his reasons, he was not about to let her out of his sight until his
father came home and used the bone as a sweetener to bait her around to the
back yard where he could keep her in a more secure environment.
Ted hitched a ride home later in the day. He thanked the driver and
crossed the road making a brisk ‘bee-line’ towards the shop entrance. Don saw
him coming, he raced around to the front of the house to greet him with the
sole aim of asking if he could keep the dog, but he was overtaken by the fetid
yapper which nearly tripped him to the ground as it brushed by his legs; the
dog decided to offer her own home welcoming. Ted, unsure at first at seeing
this tangled ball of fur running towards him, stopped and turned half his body
in the other direction as this docile but excitable animal decided to jump all
over him and lick him to death.
“Get down you stinkin’mutt.
Christ it stinks,” he roared while pinching his nose with one hand and pushing
the dog away with the other. In a standoffish manner Ted gave her a pat on the
nose.
“Can we keep ‘er dad? Please
can we; pleeaassse?” pleaded Don “Where
did it come from? Whose is it?”
“From across the road.
Mine.” With his arm extended Don pointed into obscurity. Ted frowned at Don’s
reply and commented;
“We’ll see. Where’s your
mum?”
“Inside dad. Can I keep
her?” Ted said nothing in answer to his nagging and went inside to have a brief
conversation with Rene regarding the daily events of importance before asking
about the dog. Rene explained how the dog found them rather than how they found
it. Don was standing between them staring with neck bent upwards, waiting for a
response. His father looked at him with a paternal display of warmth and
affection and said;
“If no-one collects her you
can keep it.”
“Yipee; thanks dad, thanks.”
He was elated and gave both his parents a hug around the waist. His mother
looked down at him;
“But you will have to give
it a hose down, a wash; it stinks. She is your responsibility. Okay.” He
started to run outside and called back;
“Yes, thanks. I will mummy,
I will.” The dog was sitting on the back porch awaiting his return.
“Come’n girl, come here.
Good girl.” The dog responded happily as if it understood it was accepted and
bounded with energy after him as they both ran in play.
Don caught his Father in a very good mood because as he explained to Rene
and Zoe, he was lucky in his job hunting activities, so much so he found
full-time employment on the local Council. This was fantabulous news.
Everyone’s spirits were raised as he tried to shed some light on the blurred
role he was about to undertake. He clarified a small number of necessary tasks
to be actioned and expanded on what he required;
“I will need to fix the car.
I start next Monday as a grader operator for the Council in Naretha.”
“What’s a grader?” asked
Rene.
“You know those big yellow
tractors with a big blade sitting in the middle of it.” She looked at him
dumbfounded. “You’ve seen them many times working on the roads – you know they
level the dirt.” She was still stumped in trying to fathom his description so
he skirted the question;
“Oh don’t worry, you’ll see
eventually. The problem is, because we really need the extra money I told them
I had operated one before, back in England,
but to be honest I have no idea how to work it; I don’t even know how to start
it.” Rene laughs out aloud before giving her reply;
“You silly sod! What are you
going to do then?”
“Not sure. I’ll just have to
make the excuse it’s different to the one I drove in England. I don’t know yet, wing it – I guess, – I’d better go start
work on the car.” As he set out towards the garage Rene bellowed like a bull;
“Wait up Ted! I forgot to
tell you about the broken petrol pump hose.” She reported the whole
misfortunate incident to him, which by now lost its humorous side and barely
drew a smile from Ted, for him it was just another demand on his precious time.
He went about fixing the hose before the arduous and time-consuming task of
engine repairs.
It was late in the afternoon when Tim stepped off the school bus. The
dog once again began her sprint to broadcast to another family member she was
happy in her new found home.
“Down boy, down! Whose dog?”
He moaned; “It stinks.”
“Mine,” Don replied. “Dad
said I could keep it.”
“Good! Then give it a wash.
What’s his name?” Don spoke back in the usual cheeky manner to his brother.
“It’s a her; don’t you know
anything,” Ted overheard their conversation whilst carrying out mending the
hose and shouted out;
“Nellie. Nellie’s her name.”
Wherever he fished the name Nellie from so quickly no-one knew and nobody
bothered to ask, but Nellie it was.
BUY BOOKS: http://www.amazon.com/author/dennisdurant
GOOGLE BLOG: http://dennisdrnt.blogspot.com
MY WEBSITE: http://dennisdrnt.wix.com/fictitious-facts
No comments:
Post a Comment