The Simple Things

by Bill Condon

‘Allie said Mr Smith’s sorry – about everything. I know he still likes you, Aunty Lola. I heard him tell Dad.’

  ‘Yes, yes. I’m sure all that’s true. The problem is that I take a long time to make up my mind, and when I do, that’s it. Over and done with. Mr Smith and I had our day and now it’s gone. For all time.’

  I nod as if I’m agreeing, but I’m not really. I reckon if they were good friends once, they can be again. I hope that’s what happens.

  If there was a world record for breakfast-eating, I think I just beat it. An egg, cornflakes and a glass of orange juice, all gone before Dad even butters a slab of toast. Instead of eating, he reads the paper and talks with Mum. So annoying! To fill in the time I spin my knife on the plate. Tap my feet on the floor. And tell Aunty Lola – at the top of my voice so Dad can’t miss hearing – that I’ve had my eyes open all night, thinking about going fishing today. Not just with Allie and Mr Smith, but with Dad, too!

  ‘Up and at ’em, Steve.’ At last he gets the message. ‘Let’s go catch us a fish.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to have your breakfast first, Dad?’

  ‘Already had it, while you were asleep, mate. Didn’t want to keep you waiting.’

  Oh no! We could have been at the bridge by now! I think about head-butting the table, but it might hurt too much. All I do is groan.

  Mr Smith has his fishing basket and Allie has a bright red bucket. She thinks we’ll get a lot of fish today. I’ll be happy if we only get one – and I catch it.

  ‘Want to race to the corner?’ Allie says.

  ‘Only if my dad says “Go”. That way you won’t get a head start.’

  ‘Fine by me.’

  Dad holds a banana to his mouth, as if it’s a microphone. ‘Attention, starters: please take your places. I’ll use this moment to remind patrons to turn off their mobile phones. And flash photography is not permitted during the event.’

  ‘Daaad.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’ve got to do it proper. No fooling around.’

  ‘This is the way it’s done at the Olympic Games, Steve.’

  ‘I don’t think they use a banana.’

  ‘They do when they have a power failure.’

  ‘No they don’t, Dad.’

  He ignores me and talks into his banana again. ‘On your marks. Ready … set … go!’

  Allie is beside me. I’m puffing. I’m grunting. My heart is about to blow up. Wait. Wait. No. No! No! She’s poking out her tongue! She’s passing me!

  ‘Come baccckkk, Allie!’

  She doesn’t.

  ‘Thought you had her there,’ Dad says, ‘for the first couple of strides.’

  ‘It’s not fair.’ I feel my shoulders slump. ‘I never win.’

  Allie pats me on the back. ‘Don’t feel bad. You’ll beat me one day.’

  ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘Yeah. When I’m about a hundred.’

  Dad and Mr Smith laugh. If I’d said that, I’m pretty sure it would be funny, but since I didn’t, nah, it’s not funny at all.

  There are some people already at the bridge. The lady with only a few teeth is here. I don’t recognise the two guys with fishing rods.

  ‘Getting any bites?’ Dad asks one of them.

  ‘Not a one.’

  ‘That’s because the fish have been waiting just for us,’ Allie tells me.

  ‘Here you go, Stephen.’ Mr Smith gives me a packet of frozen prawns. ‘They’ll be easier to put on the hook than worms.’

  ‘Thanks for remembering.’

  ‘Allie reminded me,’ he says.

  When I go to thank Allie she puts a finger in front of her lips and hisses, ‘Shh!’

  I let my line drop straight down, under the bridge. Dad walks further along to make sure we don’t get tangled. Then he lets his line fall directly below him, the same as I did. Allie twirls hers around her head before letting it fly. It doesn’t go out much further than mine, but she says, ‘That’s exactly where I was aiming.’

  Mr Smith and Dad smile. They make sure Allie doesn’t see them.

  ‘Look at all the baby fish,’ Allie whispers.

  There’s too many to count.

  She tosses in a prawn and the babies swarm around, ripping off bits until it’s all gone.

  ‘That’s a good sign, Steve.’ Dad says this in his quietest voice. ‘It means the fish are hungry. Today might be the day you catch one.’

  I nod but don’t say anything in case the fish hear me. They must have amazing hearing. When I’m underwater I can’t hear a—

  ‘Dad. Something just happened.’

  My line goes tight, loose, tight. It jerks up and down like it’s being pulled.

  ‘I think you’ve got a fish, Steve.’

  My hands are sweaty.

  ‘Poppy! Poppy! Look!’

  ‘Oh yes. I see. He’s got one, all right. Looks like it’s quite a size too, Stephen.’

  I can’t say any words. It feels like I’ve forgotten how to. I don’t know what to do.

  ‘Here, let me help you.’ Dad puts his hands over mine. ‘Reel it in. Like this.’

  He shows me how to do it. And then he steps back.

  ‘It’s all yours now, Steve. You finish the job.’

  The fish breaks free of the water, leaping high. It’s red. It has wings.

  The way Dad showed me, I reel it in.

  ‘Don’t let it get away!’

  ‘You’ve almost got him. Keep going, Steve.’

  I want to shut my eyes, but I can’t.

  ‘Nice and steady there, Stephen.’

  Now I haul the fish out of the water. Up to the top of the bridge and over the rail. It flops about on the splintery beams like it’s trying to stand on legs that it doesn’t have. Allie holds it down with one hand and takes out the hook.

  Its mouth is bleeding.

  Dad and Allie and Mr Smith, they’re all saying things to me. I can hear them. But their words are blurry.

  I just keep looking at the fish and watching it struggle – and I know I’ve got to do something. I tip Allie’s bucket on its side and push the fish into it.

  Then I pick up the bucket and run. I know where I’m going. I know what to do.

  Hang on, fish. Hang on.

  ‘Steve?’ Dad catches up and runs beside me. ‘What are you doing, mate?’

  ‘Have to get it into water. Can’t let it die.’

  ‘But—’

  As I look into the bucket the fish flicks its tail. There isn’t time to talk.

  I run faster.

  I jam the plug into the bath and turn the cold water tap on as far as it will go. Mum and Dad are behind me, Aunty Lola too. They say things. To me they’re sounds, not words. Their hands touch me. I can only think of one thing: the fish.

  It’s still flopping, but not as much as before. I splash some water on it. Maybe salty water would be better. I run into the pantry and get a packet of salt. Back to the bath. It’s full enough now. I pour in the salt, and let the fish slide out of the bucket.

  Swim. Please. Swim. Please. Please.

  It doesn’t swim. Not even for a second. It tilts over and drifts along on its side.

  Dad lifts the fish up by its tail and slips it back into the bucket.

  ‘Sorry, mate,’ he says.

  I walk from the bathroom to the hallway. Don’t want to look at anyone or talk to them. I just keep going until I’m out the back door and onto the verandah.

  I want to go home. I miss Blue.

  The only place to sit is Aunty Lola’s rocking chair. I climb into it and think. Allie said fish don’t feel anything, but I’m certain my one did. It was hurting. And it was all because of me.

  ‘Is it all right if I sit with you, Stephen?’

  I look up and see Aunty Lola.

  ‘Okay.’

  She pulls out another chair.

  ‘I told your mum and dad that I should be the one to talk to you,’ she says as she sits down. ‘Because I’m exper
ienced in these things and I know exactly what to say.’

  ‘All right.’

  She leans forward and softly says, ‘But I told a fib. I have no idea what to say. I just wanted to be here with you.’

  ‘It was only a fish,’ I tell her. ‘I know that’s no big deal or anything, but it was my first one.’

  ‘Shall I tell you what I think, Stephen?’

  I nod.

  ‘Then I’ll be honest. It was a very curious thing that you did. In all my years I’ve never seen anything quite as peculiar.’

  ‘Aw … ’

  ‘Curious, but very admirable.’ She puts her arm over my shoulders. ‘You must be a kind boy to care so much about a fish.’

  ‘I don’t think I’m all that kind. I just didn’t want it to die.’

  ‘Everything dies. That’s how life works.’

  ‘I know that, Aunty Lola. But it sucks.’

  ‘I agree, Stephen. It’s not a very satisfactory system … but it’s all we have.’

  Mr Smith and Allie walk onto the verandah.

  ‘Hi, Miss Webster.’

  ‘Hello, Allie.’

  Mr Smith’s face crinkles into a careful kind of smile – like he isn’t sure if he should smile or not.

  ‘Haven’t seen you for a while, Lolly,’ he says. ‘You’re looking well.’

  Aunty Lola stares back, without a word.

  So Mr Smith says, ‘I hope you don’t mind that I came over. I won’t stay long.’

  ‘As a matter of fact –’ Aunty Lola sits up straight and folds her arms – ‘I am rather surprised to see you. I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t come here again. Didn’t we?’

  ‘That’s about right. But I’m not here to see you, Lolly. I wanted to make sure everything was okay with the lad.’

  ‘Stephen is doing quite nicely. Thank you for your concern.’

  ‘Good, good. Well, that’s all I wanted to know. We better toddle off, Al.’

  ‘But we just got here, Poppy.’

  He smiles at her like he’s saying sorry, then takes her hand and starts to walk away.

  ‘Wait.’ Aunty Lola rubs her chin, to help her think things over. Then she says, ‘I appreciate you looking out for Stephen, Norm.’

  ‘It’s the least I can do.’

  ‘He told me you’ve been seriously ill.’

  ‘Just old age catching up with me, Lolly.’ He shrugs and smiles. ‘But you know what they say, one day at a time. And today’s brilliant.’

  ‘I see … I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you to come over here, Norm. As I recall, the last time you were here I chased you off with a broom, didn’t I?’

  ‘You did. That’s one of the things I like about you, Lolly – you’re full of surprises. A man never knows what to expect.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

  ‘That’s how I meant it.’

  ‘Would you and Allie like to stay for a little while?’

  ‘Yeah, I think we’d like that a lot.’

  Mum and Dad join us and chairs are dragged together. Pretty soon the grown-ups are talking about gardens and the weather and cooking – boring stuff like that. It’s as if they’ve forgotten all about me and the fish.

  But Allie hasn’t forgotten.

  ‘I want to ask you a question, Stephen.’

  She looks at me like I’m an alien who just stepped off a spaceship that’s come from Mars.

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Your dad said you put that fish in the bath. How come?’

  ‘I don’t know … I think I wanted to save its life.’

  ‘That’s nutty, Stephen.’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘Sometimes when people catch a fish they kiss it, and then they throw it back. They’re nutty, too. But no one ever puts a fish in a bath. Did you think it was going to swim?’

  ‘I didn’t think anything. I just did it. And I hoped.’

  She stares at me like she’s looking into my brain, trying to work out what’s going on in there. I don’t even know myself …

  ‘Oh well,’ she says, ‘I suppose it’s better to be a bit nutty than to be normal and boring.’

  That cheers me up.

  ‘Hey! Now you can have a fish funeral!’

  ‘A what, Allie?’

  ‘Have you still got the fish, Stephen, or did you throw it away?’

  I turn around. ‘What did you do with the fish, Dad?’

  ‘Over there in the bucket.’ He points to a spot near the toilet. ‘I was going to dig a hole for it as soon as I got a chance.’

  ‘Yes!’ Allie punches the air. ‘Poppy’s real good at doing funerals. He did one for a goldfish of mine.’

  ‘Don’t forget your mouse,’ Mr Smith says. ‘I did that one, too.’

  ‘Yeah!’ Allie says. ‘I almost forgot – Mum made chocolate crackles!’

  It sounds like a party. That doesn’t seem like a good idea, even though I love chocolate crackles. I think I want just Dad to be there with me when I bury the fish. He’ll probably think of something good to say. He usually does.

  I tell Allie I don’t want her to help me with the funeral.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Just because.’

  ‘Fair enough. But at least give your fish a name. You gotta do that.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Not a fish name like flathead or carp. A real name. I called my goldfish Lady Gaga. But you can’t use that, it’s taken. You have to pick a brand new one.’

  Finding a name is easy.

  ‘I’ll call my fish Lola.’

  Aunty Lola’s eyebrows shoot way up.

  ‘Are you saying I look like a fish?’

  Dad stands behind her, nodding and mouthing yes, yes. For once, I ignore him.

  ‘No, I’m not saying that, Aunty Lola. I thought it would make you happy. That’s all.’

  She looks at me long and hard. Then she says, ‘Yes. It makes me happy.’

  Allie elbows me. ‘See? I knew it was a good idea!’

  We go back inside the house and have drinks and biscuits. Mr Smith sits beside me.

  ‘Been quite a day for you, Stephen.’

  ‘S’pose.’

  ‘Allie’s keen on going fishing again tomorrow, but I told her you might want to give it a break.’

  ‘Probably will. For a while.’

  ‘I think that’s a good move.’

  ‘Mr Smith?’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘It wasn’t the same as when you shot the bird. It didn’t change colours or anything – the fish. I thought it might.’

  ‘Birds and fish, Stephen. Different species. I’m no expert, but I doubt you’ll get the same things happening.’

  That makes sense to me.

  Mr Smith stares past me, out the window. I look too. There’s nothing there.

  He turns back to me. ‘I can only tell you one thing for sure, lad. I’ll never forget that bird. Sometimes I just have to close my eyes and it’s there. And I reckon you won’t forget your fish. Not for many a long year.’

  I tell him I won’t forget. I don’t tell him how sad I felt. He probably already knows.

  As soon as Mr Smith and Allie go home, I ask Aunty Lola the question that’s been on my mind all morning.

  ‘Do you think you and Mr Smith are going to be friends again?’

  ‘I doubt that very much.’

  Before I can squeeze in another word, she points a finger at me.

  ‘And I don’t want you trying to talk me into it, either.’

  ‘I won’t, Aunty Lola.’

  ‘You better not.’

  ‘But instead of being proper friends, you could let Mr Smith come over for a cup of tea now and then. He’d like that.’

  ‘Stephen, you’re doing precisely what I told you not to do.’

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘You know very well you are.’

  ‘Okay, but only because Mr Smith is really nice, and he—’

  ‘Enough. You’re a nuisance.
I’ve been successfully shunning that man for two years and now you ask me to invite him into my home.’

  Oh well. I tried.

  ‘I won’t say anything else, Aunty Lola.’

  ‘There’s no need to, because my mind is made up. And as I told you before, once I’ve made up my mind, that’s it.’

  I nod.

  ‘Well, that’s usually the case. However, a lady is permitted to change her mind. So, in this particular instance … I’ve decided I will ask him over for tea.’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Don’t go congratulating yourself. It’s not because of anything you said, Stephen. It’s because he’s unwell and if I can help him in any way, I should. It’s the decent thing to do. But if I smell alcohol on his breath just once, I’ll take the broom to him!’

  ‘Thanks, Aunty Lola!’

  She shoos me away and I run straight to Mum.

  ‘Guess what? Aunty Lola wants to be friends with Mr Smith again! She just told me.’

  Mum says, ‘That’s wonderful!’

  I can’t stop grinning.

  Aunty Lola doesn’t want a birthday party or any presents.

  ‘Absolutely not,’ she says. ‘I’m too old for all that silliness. Next you’ll be asking me if I want a jumping castle.’

  ‘Cool!’ I say. ‘Can we have one?’

  Mum frowns. I guess that’s a no.

  ‘What about just a small present?’

  ‘No thank you, Rachael. I’m quite content with what I already have.’

  ‘Here’s an idea,’ Dad says. ‘Instead of a present, how about we repair a few odds and ends that are broken around the house? What do you say, Lola?’

  ‘Very well.’ She nods. ‘Only minor jobs, though, you hear?’

  Dad snaps an army salute. ‘Minor jobs, it is. We’re at your service.’

  ‘You remember that, too.’ Aunty Lola looks Dad up and down like he’s an annoying insect. ‘I shall be very cross if my home is turned into a construction site.’

  Dad bites his fingertips as if he’s scared. He only does it as a joke for me, but Aunty Lola sees him. She shoots a monster glare at him. And now he looks really scared.

  First we have to buy the materials we need from the hardware store. We also buy Aunty Lola a new heater. And I get to pick out which one. I like shopping with Mum and Dad. It’s even better when we stop for an ice cream on the way home. Hokey pokey. It’s my new favourite. After dark and creamy chocolates.