Gabriel was constantly amazed by the sheer variety of his father’s ventures and collections. Arnold had amassed the unimaginable: like his collection of otoscopes, an apparatus for looking in ears. Who the hell was going to buy these antiquated contraptions? Was there another collector of utterly useless objects in this world? Someone as daft as his own father? To his amazement he discovered there was; there was a whole army of squirrels who loved nothing more than useless objects.
At first, he struggled to treat any of his father’s junk with respect, but as time passed and he saw the rate stuff was selling at, he changed his attitude. This stuff sold and made money. And if it made money, it wasn’t junk.
Gabriel, to his father’s amusement, became an overnight expert on every conceivable item. Together, they worked well, and Arnold revelled in their newly defined relationship.
The garage sales were held on the wide return verandah, every day of the week from nine in the morning until late in the evening. Gabriel enjoyed selling. He found the steady flow of chatting, haggling and horsing around with customers invigorating. In fact he was having so much fun at times, he forgot the reason they were doing all this, until his father reminded him with the occasional comment woven deftly into their conversation. ‘You think Ella’s going to like this when we’re all done?’
The question caught Gabriel off guard and all he could manage was a grunt. He didn’t know how to interpret his father ramblings. Was his father taking the piss out of him? Did he know the truth?
‘When you bringing her around then?
‘You know when.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Arnold replied, smiling. ‘This place will be looking like a dental surgery in no time.’
Seeing his father’s smile of anticipation Gabriel wondered how Vivian was going with Ella. A pregnant girlfriend was no easy thing to procure; it wasn’t like going to a garage sale and buying half a dozen mixed china plates for the price of a bus ticket.
*
Arnold was hunting around in a box full of articles wrapped in ancient newspaper when he came upon it, a small object that aroused his curiosity.
On unwrapping it he gasped. It was an old Ventolin inhaler. One of the many Leif had used in his battle to stay alive. Scratched and faded now, but still intact.
For almost an hour Arnold sat in contemplation, turning the pale blue and grey plastic object around in his hands. What to do with it? Finally he wrapped the inhaler and went out the back and buried it deep in the dark soil. Patting the dirt back into place he was suddenly startled by the realisation of how few possessions his family had. Apart from his ventures and collections, Helen and his sons had acquired almost next to nothing.
There were a few photographs of Leif, but hardly any of Gabriel and Vivian, except as babies and toddlers. There was no pictorial evidence of Gabriel and Vivian growing up past the ages of six and five. It was as though their lives stopped with Leif’s death.
Arnold tried to remember them as boys, as teenagers. He couldn’t. He tried to remember Helen as a younger woman and failed. He let out a silent wail for what he’d lost; for what he’d never thought of hoarding — his family’s past.
Had he been insane back then? Why, he had boxes of other people’s photographs. Photographs of strangers but precious few of his own children, to look at and savour. There was not even a single photograph of him, well not one he could find.
He had a collection of old cameras but doubted that any worked.
He thought back to Helen’s outburst over the photograph album. He remembered its photographs of a happy family and a mother and child, and felt sick with remorse. It was no wonder she had been so upset. How, thought Arnold, could I have been so stupid?
Strange too was the fact there were no personal knick-knacks, no memorabilia, no trophies. After all, hadn’t the boys won trophies for sport events when they were younger? Where were they? Very little, he realised, marked the fact that his family had lived in this house for twenty-nine years.
A person could easily walk in and not spot a scrap of evidence that his family had lived here. An entire forensic team could search in vain for clues.
He knew Helen was gone. It felt like his innards had been scooped out and dumped somewhere. But there was something else missing too. It was an absence of her non-physical self, the possessions that he could identify as hers. There were none.
Nothing about which he could say, ‘Oh this belongs to Helen.’ Nothing he could hold to bring back a vision or a memory of her. No ornament, no clothing, no plants. Only in the kitchen was the old and cracked crockery, dented pots and pans and the odds and ends of cutlery that she had handled. Nothing special. He mourned the paucity of objects she had worked with over the years to produce all those meals.
The only thing he found of any meaning was her round china teapot, sitting in the centre of the kitchen table.
He held it by its handle, as if he might be able to pour some of Helen out of it. She had always enjoyed her tea. Arnold’s gut twisted like twine. He would take it to her.
*
Gabriel dropped by at the bookshop once or twice a week. With each visit the influence the army once had upon him was noticeably less. His hair was longer and his shoulders relaxed as he lazily inspected changes to the bookshop and their lives. He always sat on the kitchen table, legs swinging.
Tonight though was different; he was angry. He didn’t bother sitting on the kitchen table. He paced the floor while his mother cooked, then opened the fridge door wide and stood looking in, absentmindedly.
‘Close the fridge door,’ instructed Helen.
Gabriel slammed it shut, then leaned against it with his gaze fixed on the wall. ‘Where’s Vivian?’
‘Out.’
‘Bloody impossible to get a hold of him these days.’
‘I think you need to relax a little,’ answered Helen.
Gabriel stared at her for some seconds. ‘I’m in a tight spot here. I’ve got a baby to produce.’
‘And who’s to blame for that?’
‘You.’
‘Me?’ Helen considered her son’s accusation. She didn’t want to fight, her appetite for fighting had long been sated; that was one good thing to come out of a demolished marriage.
‘If that’s how you feel, okay. My fault. Now can we sit down and eat.’
Gabriel wasn’t to be placated so easily. ‘You always wanted Dad to get rid of his junk. Well now he is. And all because I promised him a baby. I wanted you back in the house. I wanted the family back together. But that’s all gone now. The thing is … I still have to come up with a baby.’
‘Honestly, do you think he still believes in the pregnant girlfriend story? For all his faults, he’s not an idiot.’
‘He’s talking and acting like he does.’ Gabriel’s voice was full of desperation and it pierced her resolve to remain quiet about Vivian and Ella.
‘Sit down,’ she said. ‘I’ve something to tell you.’
Gabriel sat, cautiously, and Helen sat down opposite him.
‘I told you that Vivian was out. You haven’t asked me where.’
‘Out. With Ella.’
‘Out with Ella,’ he repeated, half laughing with relief. ‘Great. I never thought he’d go through with it. Honestly Mum, I never thought …’
‘Well he has.’
‘He’s just doing the groundwork for me. That’s all.’
Helen gripped her knife and fork. ‘Well, I’ll guarantee he’s doing that. Laying the groundwork.’
‘But I’m the one,’ interrupted Gabriel, ‘who’ll be making the sacrifices here. Think I fancy seeing Ella again? She’s a wacko, I’m telling you, I should get an award for bravery.’
Helen felt trepidation. ‘What makes you say she’s a wacko?’
‘Because she is.’ He paused, trying to find the exact words to describe her. ‘For a smart lady she’s pretty mixed up. She’s a control freak.’
‘So why would you want anything to do with her?’
Gabriel looked surprised. ‘Because I haven’t got time to hunt around for Ms Perfect.’
Helen pointed her fork at Gabriel. ‘Just one more question. Did Ella dump you?’
Gabriel looked away, as if searching for the right answer, ‘Does it matter, who dumped who?’
‘In this instance, I think so.’
‘Why?’
‘She dumps you. Your ego can’t take it, hence you badmouth her.’ Helen paused briefly before going on. ‘You know what? I think you still love her.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘Then why chase her? Or rather, get Vivian to do your chasing. And don’t give me the old I’m-doing-it-for-Dad routine. That’s nonsense.’
Gabriel’s face reddened. ‘You’ve been reading too many detective novels. Or romance novels, or whatever it is you read.’
‘In between the lines, is what I read,’ answered Helen sharply.
*
It was late at night but at the Tooth Fairy dental surgery Ella was still working, examining her instruments for signs of wear and tear. She found a tiny crack in her dental mirror and frowned; it would have to be replaced. She put it aside and sat thinking of Vivian. She realised with surprise that she was almost certainly falling in love with him. Something she hadn’t expected. She had fancied him, but to fall in love with the guy!
She smiled, thinking of how proud she’d always been of her practical nature. Not prone to whimsy or impulse, and certainly not putting her fate in the hands of others. It was strange how the twin events of wanting a baby and meeting Vivian had changed all that, and how the two events had coincided, because she had fully expected to be a single mother. But a perfect father … and husband. It was only a matter of time.
She looked down at her instruments, and whispered smugly to her shining tools of trade, ‘I’d like to introduce you to my family.’
*
Vivian felt as if he’d beaten the demon. Elated with his newfound love, he walked on air, way, way above all mundane cares. He bought Ella a Siamese kitten, which proved a good, if costly, investment; the dividends in the form of her affection rose dramatically. She named the kitten Siam, and lavished affection on the creature.
*
Gabriel glared at his mobile. Why the hell had Vivian turned his phone off? Again. Lately all Gabriel ever got was a recording: ‘The mobile phone is turned off. Or not in the mobile phone area. Please try again later.’