Only twenty minutes ago, Thomas had turned onto his street and been thinking of the sale he’d missed. He was flummoxed. Had he been put off by the tremendous stench of cat piss leaking from the customer’s laundry? Had he delivered his pitch imperfectly? On his arrival at the customer’s home earlier that evening, he had counted a minimum of five cats darting from the backs of chairs and the tops of bookshelves. If an abundance of cat hair couldn’t be turned into a terrific incentive to purchase a new vacuum cleaner, what could? Maybe he had been too friendly with his customer, too accepting of the beers the man had brought out in a near-continuous stream.
Bewildered by the missed sale, four stubbies warming his blood, Thomas had momentarily overlooked the fact that before reaching his house, his street contained a ninety-degree turn. By the time he had remembered, and attempted the necessary manoeuvre of the steering wheel, the old Holden was inconveniently unresponsive. It was then that he realised his forehead was on the steering wheel and a gigantic red gum was filling the windscreen.
‘Thomas!’ his wife shrieked, from somewhere in the distance.
‘Thomas!’ another woman called.
Mr Pellarin appeared and recommended a good local panel beater and a whistle split the night and he was in his wife’s arms, staring at an unfamiliar woman, who was looking at him as though he’d stolen something that belonged to her and she was planning an almighty smiting.
The lady was looking at Thomas, and Thomas was thinking to himself, My word, how can her eyes be so brightly green in the dark?
*
‘Are you sure, my love?’
After a thorough once-over by the paramedics, pushing away their probing hands and penlights shined in his eyes, Thomas, finally seated in his lounge room, was feeling remarkably sober. He eyed the whisky bottle with mild concern. He wanted to add in your condition but, as he watched the woman pass Elsie a steaming cup of tea and unscrew the lid from the whisky bottle, he remembered Elsie’s plea for discretion.
The lady who had been standing by the roadside with Elsie had indeed turned out to be the mysterious young lady from the matching house next door. Her name was Aida, and she was now standing in his lounge room, clad in a fluffy dressing gown, pouring a generous shot of his Scottish single malt into his wife’s cup of tea.
Elsie was huddled on the couch, a blanket about her shoulders. She was trembling, and Thomas sat beside her and rubbed her back.
‘You’ve had a bit of a shock,’ he told her. ‘There now, you’re okay. Everyone’s okay.’
‘You should have let them take you to hospital for checking,’ his wife said, yet again. ‘You could have a concussion.’
‘I’m absolutely fine,’ he told her. ‘Healthy as a horse. A bit of a bump here –’ he touched his eyebrow and tried not to belie his fineness by wincing ‘– but who hasn’t had a bumped head once or twice? Nothing to worry about.’
‘Drink up,’ the neighbour said to his wife.
Thomas considered his neighbour. Medium height, straight black hair, she looked to be of a hearty, robust build, but with slender, delicate hands. Before coming into their lounge room, she had left her rubber boots outside the door and her bare toes peeked out from beneath her thick dressing gown. Her toenails were painted. Dark red. Thomas tried not to stare.
Elsie complied with Aida’s order, slurping her tea. ‘Strong,’ she said with a nervous giggle.
At the sound of her laugh, Thomas felt himself relax. He’d been so dismayed at the thought of such a shock to his wife’s system. What might it do in her delicate state? He was kicking himself for his carelessness, for having allowed himself to be so distracted by his missed sale that he’d also missed the corner. He tried not to think about the inconvenience of his car’s front end sandwiched into itself. How the hell was he going to get to work tomorrow? Witnessing the state into which he had – albeit not intentionally – put his wife, he felt grateful now for the presence of his lady neighbour as she took over the womanly task of comfort and reassurance, freeing Thomas not to inadvertently do anything unhelpful.
‘I’m fine,’ Thomas reiterated, reaching for the whisky, but the bottle was plucked perfunctorily from the coffee table before his fingers could touch it. Aida gave him a brief smile and the bottle disappeared into the pocket of her robe.
Thomas felt Elsie’s shivers subside as she sipped her tea. Aida seated herself on what was Elsie’s knitting chair, adjacent to the couch, and she sat leaning forward, elbows on knees, teacup clasped in two hands. Now that they were all seated and everyone’s breathing had returned to normal, Thomas thought he may as well break the ice.
‘So, Mrs . . . uh, Aida, how long have you lived next door?’
‘A few months,’ she answered and sipped her tea. She seemed to linger over the mouthful.
‘Are you from Gawler originally?’
‘Adelaide,’ she said.
‘As am I!’ Thomas said, brightening. Immediately he grimaced as pain throbbed through his forehead. ‘Whereabouts?’
‘Where did you grow up?’ Aida asked simultaneously.
‘Magill way,’ Thomas said. ‘My father was in shipping, born and bred at the Port but moved into town when he met my mother. You?’
‘Do your parents still live there?’ she asked.
‘Mum does. Dad died in ‘41. Mediterranean.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you. But they all did.’
‘Indeed,’ Aida murmured. Now she was looking directly at him, and his headache seemed to dissolve. He was struck by her eyes. Stirring. Guilt whispered through him at the thought, as though in making the mental observation he was being far too familiar. ‘What does your husband do?’ he asked.
‘Thomas,’ Elsie said sharply.
Aida paused. Her eyes went back to her cup and Thomas felt something like yearning.
‘He works at the mines,’ she said.
Elsie’s head snapped in her direction so fast Thomas felt the jolt.
‘So he’s never home.’ She smiled. ‘Thanks for the tea. I’d better be going.’ She stood and made her way to the door, then seemed to change her mind and came back to Elsie. Bending forward she put a hand on Elsie’s shoulder. ‘Don’t let it get to you, okay?’ she said.
Elsie, not looking at Aida, nodded rather manically and drained the rest of her tea in one gulp. Thomas went to the telephone to find someone who could give him a lift to work in the morning.