AN UNEXPECTED PARTING

My father always told me that I would reap whatever I sowed. A strange sentiment from a sheep farmer! Still there is much truth in an old shepherd's wisdom, apart from the bit about a red sky of course. Downtown a red sky at night means either: A) that the brothel’s open late or B) someone’s trying an insurance job down at the warehouse.
At the end of the street is different kind of a sign. It reads “Children drive slowly.” To tell the truth most of the children in the street don’t drive at all except in billy carts which they drive bloody quickly. The sign is just a request. Perhaps like my fathers’ comments about harvest time it’s actually a sort of warning. Still slow driving is the way to go in our street because it’s an unsealed road. Fast cars leave a trail of dirt in the air. The washing line regularly gets clouds of dust sprinkled over the clean clothes so that nobody in our road has anything really clean to wear except Ron and the Magnificent Gelatti who have a tumble dryer. The tumble dryer was a peace offering by Ron to Gelatti as if to say, I’m sorry I lied about not having a job, but at least I’ve still got a credit card. Ron actually does have a job now – actually a business as a supplier to the local restaurants of “home made” ice cream and earning himself the nice little packet as well as the nick name Mr. Whippy. He has put on kilos, most of his grey suits don’t fit anymore but he doesn’t seem bothered by it now having a set of navy monogrammed tee-shirts with his business’s name on.
Since the death of Mrs. Kaye on the corner, the road has seen an endless stream of visitors coming to view the house before the auction. They drive up and then back down the street, trying to get a feel for the neighbours while, annoying everyone by throwing up clouds of road dust. I have taken to sitting in a rocking chair on the veranda with my guitar singing the blues. To be more specific the “Old woman died across the way - they say the house is cursed – I don’t know - blues.” The real estate agent sent me a letter asking me to stop and asking if we had considered telling our relatives about the opportunity to move closer. If they think that’s a good idea they must be surreal estate agents. They certainly either haven’t met my relatives or for people in their line of work have a surprising disregard for property values.
Penni came over today after everyone had gone. She has had a letter from Venus telling her to put the house on the market. I gave her tea, sympathy and the details of my contact at the estate agents.
“Well we saw this coming.” I pointed out.
“But I still haven’t got anywhere to go.”
“B’s looking for a flat mate.” I suggested.
“That’s all I need, out of the frying pan into an oncoming train.”
“An interesting expression which reminds me of this parlour game . . . .
Now normally I’m not one to withhold advice when I’m asked. Well it’s not actually advice it’s more opinions I give, that way I’m never wrong. Perhaps because my own life’s in such a mess I have a subconscious desire to try to make a difference to someone else’s. Still with Penni I knew things were a little too close to focus clearly.
Just then there was the sound of a car in the drive. Unexpected visitors being a rare occurrence in our neck of the woods I went to the window to find out who it could be. It was Venus. My life flashed before my eyes like scenes from a Brian Rix farce. I almost asked Penni to take her clothes off and wait in the broom cupboard for me to knock twice to signal the all clear. Instead I just said a simple “It’s Venus.”
Penni ran out of the back door.
After a brief pause I went to the door to let Venus in.
Venus it transpired had heard that Penni and I had become friends and had come to see me for advice. I restrained from asking her who told her that. Of course she didn’t ask for advice she just wanted me to confirm to her that she was being reasonable and to tell Penni as much next time I saw her. I don’t know why but I had difficulty maintaining eye contact, instead I kept glancing over to the broom cupboard.
The feeling didn’t last long, because Penni came round and in the front door yelling a “hello, anyone home,” greeting, but while I had the feeling it was somewhat disturbing.
Penni and Venus exchanged awkward “hellos,” and proceeded to have the most embarrassingly ill at ease conversation since David Hicks dropped into the Kirribilli House to borrow a cup of sugar while the security staff were on their lunch hour.
The three of us sat round my kitchen table turning our coffee mugs round to create a little borealis effect in each one. Luckily I remembered that I had nothing else to do so made my excuses and left to not do it elsewhere.
When I got back both Venus and Penni had unexpectedly left, or transformed themselves into a sticky yellow note on the kitchen table saying, “Thaxs for the coffee See ya soon.”
My mind was full of questions: What did it mean? Did the two leave together? How soon? The questions hung in the air like the dust trail behind a really fast billy cart.
I realised one thing was true, I needed some good advice, and I already knew what that advice would be.
I looked out of the window, there was a red sky. At this time day, at this time of year that can mean only one thing – it was nearly harvest time.