P. O’Reilly - The Fine Colour of Rust

‘Are you trying to get rid of me, Mum?’

‘Yes.’

He sighs and swings open the car door. He slouches his way to the shade at the side of the shed while I quickly pat down my hair in the rear-view mirror before I step out of the car. I can’t see any sign of Merv Bull. A panting blue heeler stares at me from the doorway of the shed as if I’m a piece of meat.

‘Hello?’ I call. ‘Mr Bull?’

The blue heeler slumps to the ground and lays its head on its front paws, still staring at me. The sign on the side of the shed says Nine to Five, Monday to Friday. I look at my watch. Ten fifteen, Tuesday morning.

Jake scuffs his way over to my side. ‘There’s no one here, Mum, let’s go. Let’s go to the milk bar. You promised that if I…you would…and then I…and then…’

As Jake goes on with his extended thesis on why I should buy him a Violet Crumble, I shout ‘Mr Bull!’ one last time. A man emerges from the darkness of the shed. The first thing I notice is that he’s hitching up his pants. He strides forwards to greet me and stretches out his hand, but I’m not shaking anything I can’t be sure was washed. When my hand fails to arrive he pulls back his arm and wipes both hands down the sides of his shirt. He’s standing between me and the sun. I can’t see his face let alone its expression.

Jake’s jaw has dropped and he’s staring at Merv Bull as if he’s seen a vision. He’s this way with any man who’s around the age of his father when he left.

‘Hi,’ Jake whispers.

‘Hello.’ Merv Bull leans down to shake Jake’s hand. ‘I’m Merv. Who are you, then?’

‘Jake.’

‘Pardon me?’

Jake’s awestruck voice has soared into a register that only the blue heeler and I can hear.

‘This is Jake,’ I step in, ‘and I’m Loretta. I think Norm Stevens told you I was coming?’

‘Ah, you’re the windscreen.’

‘That’s me.’

‘Can’t do it till this afternoon, sorry. But you could leave the car here and pick it up at five.’

‘Sure.’ I put on a bright fake smile. ‘Jake and I’ll walk the five kilometres back into town in this thirty-degree heat and have a pedicure while we wait.’

‘We could stay here and look at the cars,’ Jake whispers.

Merv Bull shades his eyes with his hand and looks down at me. I can see him better now. Norm was right, he’s handsome in a parched rural bloke kind of way. Blue eyes and dark eyelashes. Looks as if he squints a lot, but who doesn’t around here. He’s frowning at me like a schoolteacher frowns at the kid with the smart mouth.

‘I do have a loan car you can use while yours is in the shop. To get you to your pedicure, that is.’

‘Ha, sorry, only joking.’ I’m turning into a bitter old hag. I’m reminding myself of Brenda. Soon I’ll become strangely attracted to beige. ‘That would be great. Any old car will do. I mean, hey, we are used to the Rolls Royce here.’

‘Mum! That’s not a Rolls Royce. It’s a Holden!’ Jake beams proudly at Merv.

‘You certainly do know your cars, mate.’ Merv pats Jake on the shoulder.

Now I’ll never get Jake out of here. Merv, to be addressed hereafter as God, goes back into the shed to get the keys for the exchange car, and Jake and the blue heeler trot faithfully after him. I watch his long lanky walk. My husband never walked that way, even though he was about the same size as Merv Bull. My husband Tony – God love him wherever he may be and keep him there and never let him come back into my life – was a stomper. He stomped through the house as though he was trying to keep down unruly carpet; he stomped in and out of shops and pubs letting doors slam around him; he stomped to work at the delivery company and stomped home stinking of his own fug after eight hours in the truck; and one day he stomped out to the good car and drove off and never stomped back.

We’d been married ten years. I never dreamed he’d leave me. After the second year of marriage, when I fell pregnant with Melissa, I settled down and stopped fretting that I’d married the wrong man. It was too late, so I decided to try to enjoy my life and not spend all my time thinking about what could have been. I thought he had decided that too.

A month after he’d gone a postcard arrived. By that time I’d already finished making a fool of myself telling the police he must have run his car off the road somewhere and insisting they find him. The postcard said he was sorry, he needed to get away. I’ll be in touch. Cheque coming soon.

Still waiting for that cheque.

‘It’s the red Mazda with the sheepskin seat covers over by the fence.’ Merv Bull hands me a set of car keys on a key ring in the shape of a beer stubby. ‘She’s a bit stiff in the clutch, but otherwise she drives pretty easy.’

‘Been getting a lot of business?’ As I speak I take Jake’s hand in mine and edge him quietly towards the Mazda before he realizes that we’re about to leave his new hero.

‘It’s been good. They told me it’d take a while to get the ordinary car business going again, especially since no one’s worked here for a few years, but I guess I’ve been lucky. I’ll probably have to get an apprentice when the big machinery starts arriving.’

‘Big machinery?’

‘For the development. Whenever it starts. I thought it was supposed to be in Phase One already. That’s what they promised me when I bought the place.’

‘Right.’ I’ve lived in this town for years and I still haven’t got a clue what’s going on. ‘So that big hole in the bush on the Bolton Road is the development?’

‘Yep. But for the moment what I’ve got is cars, and there seems to be no shortage.’

I look at him again. I want to ask if it’s been mainly women customers but I don’t. I will have to tell Helen about Merv Bull. If Merv is single and if he doesn’t hook up with anyone in a hurry, he’ll be a rich man in this town. He’ll be mystified at how many parts appear to have simply fallen off cars. I inch closer to our loan car, still not letting on to Jake what I’m doing.

I stop as my arm is yanked backwards. Jake has caught on and he’s trying to pull his hand out of mine.

‘Can I stay here, Mum? Please!’

‘No, Jakie. Mr Bull has to do his work.’

‘I’ll be quiet, I promise. I’ll look at the cars. You go and I’ll wait here.’

Merv Bull looks at me.

‘He can’t bear to spend a minute without me,’ I say.

‘I can see that,’ Merv answers.

Finally we manoeuvre Jake into the car with a promise of a workshop tour when we return.

‘How much will it cost?’ I remember to ask as I pump the accelerator and turn the key the way I would in the Holden. The tiny Mazda lets out a roar of protest. ‘Sorry, sorry!’

‘Might drive a bit differently to your car.’ Merv calmly waves the exhaust smoke away from his face. ‘Should cost about a hundred dollars. Maybe a hundred and twenty, but no more.’

While the magically vanishing husband was not good for much, he did know how to change the oil in the car and do a few odd jobs. He probably could have managed fitting a second-hand windscreen. Now I have to pay for everything. And with Jake sick I’m taking time off work, and I have even less money than usual.

‘Feeling better today? Ready to go back to school?’ I ask Jake with a frisson of desperation as we drive along in the Mazda. The ride is so smooth we don’t even have the sensation of movement.

‘Can we have a car like this?’ Jake asks. ‘When’s Auntie Patsy coming to visit? How long will we be in town?’

‘No. Soon. Until I’ve finished photocopying the Save Our School flyers and it’s time to pick up Liss.’

Helen’s waiting to pick up her neighbour’s boy at the school when Jake and I zip down the road to collect Melissa. I execute a neat U-turn, a feat impossible in the Holden, and pull up at the gate. Helen almost falls out of her car.