Colin Cotterill - Killed at the Whim of a Hat

I’d taken a shortcut through the university, always an iffy move because the guards often left early to avoid traffic. It wasn’t yet four fifty but the side gates were shut. The padlocked chain was loosely wrapped. Lean Thai students could squeeze through the gap; overweight large-boned rapists could not. The girls could sleep easy in their dorms. I parked my motorcycle beside the guard post and inserted myself between the gates. A few more pizza dinners and I’d have to start driving the long way round.

I knew something was wrong when I saw my granddad Jah sitting on the curbstones in front of our shop. He was wearing his undervest and shorts and had his bare feet in the gutter. Neither the attire nor the setting were unusual. He liked to sit beside the road. Over the past few years, his reason for living had become the scrutiny of every vehicle that passed in front of our shop: study the number plate, look at the condition of the bodywork and glare threateningly at the driver. It was evening rush hour, his favorite time, but his head was bowed now and he was missing some fascinating evening traffic.

I asked if he was all right but he shrugged and pointed his thumb back over his shoulder. Granddad Jah wasn’t a great communicator and I had no idea what the gesture meant. He might have been telling me about the two customers waiting in the shop with nobody there to serve them. Heaven forbid he’d get up off his haunches and do a bit of work for a change. No. Too many passing cars to observe for that. I called out to Mair but nobody came so I served the customers myself and went through the concrete yard to our kitchen. I walked in on a scene reminiscent of a military court-martial.

At one end of the kitchen table sat my sister, Sissi, who at one time had been my elder brother, Somkiet. Filling up the space at the other end of the table was my current brother, Arny. He was what they referred to as a bodybuilder and this evening his T-shirt was so tightly strained across his muscles it looked as if it had been inked on. He had a wad of tissues scrunched in his right hand and it was clear he’d been crying.

Between these two sat our mother, Mair. She was dressed in a very formal black suit she generally reserved for sad occasions. She’d put on a little make-up, her hair in a Lao bun, and she looked like an elegant, middle-aged funeral director, more beautiful than I’d seen her in many a month. I did notice that the white blouse she wore beneath her jacket was buttoned wrongly. It might have been a fashion statement but I knew better. I couldn’t stand the silence.

“Somebody dead?” I asked.

“Us,” said Sissi, staring pointedly at the joists inside the roof. The temperature had reached 34 degrees centigrade that day but, as usual, she was wearing sunglasses and a thick silk scarf because she insisted her saggy neck skin made her look like a turkey. It did no such thing; her neck was fine. There really was nothing sorrier than an aging transsexual ex-beauty queen. At least I used to think so.

“Does anybody want to tell me what’s happened here?” I pleaded. Evidently not. Nobody spoke. The ceiling lizards were taking up their positions around the as-yet-unlit, fluorescent lamp above our heads and they were ticking with anticipation of a big night ahead. But my family was silent.

“She’s sold us out.”

The voice came from behind me. I hadn’t noticed Granddad Jah follow me in but he now stood in the open doorway with his arms folded. It had been such a long time since I’d heard him speak I’d forgotten what his voice sounded like. The family was complete now but unstuck. I raised my eyebrows at Mair. The most wonderful, if sometimes the creepiest, of my mother’s traits was that she never seemed to be fazed by anything. She would greet even the most horrific moments, tragedies and accidents alike, with the same sliver-lipped smile. Her pretty eyes would sparkle and there’d be a barely perceptible shake of the head. I’d often imagined her going down with the Titanic , Leo Di-Caprio splashing and spluttering beside her, and Mair’s enigmatic smile sliding slowly beneath the surface of the icy water. She was wearing her Titanic smile there at our kitchen table and I knew it masked something terrible.

“Mair, what have you done?” I asked.

“She’s sold it all,” Sissi blurted out. “The house, the shop, everything.”

It couldn’t be true, of course.

“Mair?” Again I looked at her. She raised one eyebrow fractionally. No denial. It felt as if the floorboards had been pulled out from under me. I plonked down on one of the spare chairs.

“We’re going to have a better life,” Mair said. “I decided it’s time to move.”

“Please note the high level of consultation,” Sissi hissed.

“How could you make a decision like that without talking to us?” I asked. “This is our home. We all grew up here.”

“We should all die here,” added Granddad.

“A change is as good as a holiday,” said Mair. “I’m thinking of you all. You’ll thank me for it.”

“Is it too late to unsell?” I asked Sissi. She was our contract person, our unpaid clerk and accountant. I was sure she’d have checked the paperwork. She pulled a wad of documents from her Louis Vuitton local rip-off handbag and dropped them onto the table.

“The deed is signed, witnessed and incontestable,” she said. A shuddering sigh erupted from the Arny end of the table. Granddad was seething in the doorway. We all knew the land documents should still have been in his name but he’d listened to Granny on her deathbed. Listened to her for the first time in his life.

“Sign them over to the girl,” she’d said. “You could keel over any second, then the bastards at City Hall will suck all the taxes and rates out of it. There’ll be nothing left. Sign it over to the girl.”

So, that’s what he’d done, a final promise to a woman he’d never really honored or obeyed. The one time he’d done what she asked him, and look where it got us all. As the sole owner, his daughter had no legal obligation to involve them in her decision. No legal obligation.

I took some time to think.

“All right,” I said. “Look. Perhaps this isn’t such a bad thing.”

“It isn’t?” Sissi was sizzling like pork in deep fat.

“No.”

Of course I was lying. I was as upset as any of them but I had to put some temporary repair work into my family.

“No. Look, we all know this house needs a lot of work,” I said with a knowing look on my uncertain face. “The roof leaks even when it isn’t raining and we’ve got a world of termites. We could use the money from the sale of this place to find somewhere better…” Out of the corner of my eye I could see Arny shaking his head. I thought if I ignored him the gesture would go away. “Perhaps a little out of town, a short commute. We could even have a little yard with — ”

Sissi let forth with that haughty laugh she’d learned from her TV soap.

“Oh ho. But you haven’t yet heard the best part,” she said. “There’s more to it. The move is already taken care of, little sister.”

“I don’t get it,” I admitted.

“The money I got from selling this old place I’ve invested in a lovely resort hotel in the south.” Mair beamed with pride. “We’ll all have such a lovely time. It really is a dream come true.”

It was the type of dream you have after eating spicy hor mook and sticky rice directly before you go to bed. I could feel the knot. The south? They were blowing each other up in the south. Everyone was fleeing north and we were supposed to go south?

“How far south?” I asked.

“Quite far,” she said.