“Exactly,” said Gabriel.
“Well I’m not so sure about that,” said Brenda, and she knew immediately what Gabriel’s worry was, “but as usual you are probably right, dear.” She had learned over the years that it was much better to agree and ignore than to argue with Gabriel on matters that didn’t really affect her.
Over the next few months the building of the new villas progressed steadily. They were of varying styles and size, some two bedrooms and some three bedrooms. All the conversations Helga had with Gabriel these days always seemed to be about the progress of the new buildings.
“Are the appliances in the new villas all of European manufacture?” was Gabriel’s latest question to Helga. He had ambushed her as she walked past the carpet bowls game.
“Gabriel, as I explained before, we want this to be a surprise to everyone. We want potential residents to be excited about our new stock of villas and we are trying to keep everything under wraps until open day.”
“I was just interested as a resident,” Gabriel responded, “and of course I have considerable experience of fitting out the houses that Brenda and I have built in the past.”
“Yes we all know about your past experiences Gabriel, and your kind offer is appreciated, but the architect of our new villas also has experts and we are paying him to do it his way!”
But Gabriel had felt the touch of sarcasm and the finality of Helga’s statement and knew he would have to satisfy his curiosity by some other means—and satisfy it he would. He returned to his bowls game but it was only getting half his attention as he kept thinking about how he could find out more about the new villas.
On his way back home that morning Gabriel went via the site of the new villas. It was fenced off, or more correctly was marked off, as an indication to passers-by, mostly village residents, not to come any closer. As he approached Gabriel saw a group of three or four young men. They were relaxed, one was smoking and the clothes of two of their number marked them out as painters. They were sitting next to a large rubbish skip, some on upturned paint buckets and some on small piles of left over bricks.
“Just finished lunch?” asked Gabriel of them all by way of introduction.
There was little response, one or more of them did return the greeting but Gabriel was unable to interpret it.
“So would any of you fellows be a carpenter?” Gabriel continued.
“Yeah that’s Brycie here,” said one of the painters. “You’re a brilliant carpenter, aren’t you Brycie? Damned near took his finger off with the cross-cut last month though!”
“A bloody sight better carpenter than you are a painter, mate,” Bryce responded, more for the benefit of his mates than for Gabriel.
“Great,” said Gabriel directly to Bryce. “Would you be interested in fixing up a wall cabinet for me, after you’ve finished here today perhaps?”
So Gabriel told Bryce where he lived and arrangements were made for Bryce to visit that very afternoon.
In due course over a couple of afternoons Gabriel had his new cabinet attached to the wall in his office above his computer. Bryce had proved to be very skilled and obliging—even bothering to collect the correct fittings required to mount the cabinet—and all in all provided a very professional service. Bryce was no doubt expecting to be compensated for his work but the expression of amazement on his face when Gabriel paid him showed he was more than satisfied with the arrangement.
“That’s a great job you have done for me Bryce, and Brenda and I probably have a few other small jobs around the place that need your skills in the near future—if you’re interested that is?”
“Sure anytime, Mr. Bovary.” Bryce smiled broadly.
“That’s great,” and here Gabriel lowered his voice slightly, even though they were almost out the door as Bryce took his leave. “I wonder if you could just arrange for me to have a look inside one of the new three bedroom villas that are almost complete?”
“Oh, I’m not so sure about that. We aren’t supposed to let anyone inside and they’re all locked up at night because of the risk of theft of the appliances. There’s been quite a bit of that lately, you know.”
But Gabriel’s persuasion and bribery prevailed and he was a hundred per cent sure that the following evening in the dark, when he walked the dog, he would find a particular back door to one of the larger new villas unlocked. That woman’s not going to stop me having a bloody good look around Gabriel thought to himself.
“Just taking the dog for a walk love,” Gabriel shouted the following night, to his wife in the kitchen as he attached the little dog’s lead at the front door.
“It’s a bit wet out there isn’t it?” Brenda responded. “Can’t you just let her out into the back yard tonight?”
“We’ll be okay—she loves her walkies, don’t you Daisy?” And then louder to Brenda—“Don’t worry we’ll be back in half an hour or so.” And with that Gabriel grabbed his large powerful torch from the hallway table and went out into the darkness with his dog.
Gabriel was quite perceptive in some ways and he knew that Brenda would be asking herself why he was so keen to go out with the dog on a wet night. He would have to think up a good story to put her off the scent of where he had actually been. Yes, best she never knows, he thought!
He reached the construction site in about five minutes, lifted the barrier tape and entered the area. Three houses from the end, Bryce had said. He stumbled a couple of times as he picked his way over the site. It was still raining lightly and pitch black. There were puddles, the odd plank of timber and bricks, of course, just the right size to trip over in the dark. Gabriel was using the torch as little as possible just in case anyone might be looking in his direction. He reached the back door of the house, tried the handle and it opened as promised. “Good lad,” Gabriel said quietly to himself.
In the living area of the house he was immediately drawn to the kitchen benchtops, which looked like granite. Cheap imitation and tacky into the bargain, Gabriel thought. The kitchen benches in Gabriel and Brenda’s house were all Corian by Du Pont (French you know) and very expensive, resistant to staining, no joins, and very hygienic.
Gabriel had dropped the dog’s lead and was feeling under the edge of the benchtop when his heart almost missed a beat. He could not feel the timber top under the laminate. This was no imitation—it was real bloody granite. He used his torch and inspected it more carefully. And as he looked around further, he saw all the appliances were of first quality. All were of European manufacture except for the dishwasher, which was a two drawer Fisher and Paykel. Gabriel regarded himself as a bit of an expert on dishwashers since Brenda had instructed him on how to use one. This was not a cheaply fitted-out house. This was a house with the very best equipment. How much will they be asking for this? he wondered. And immediately Gabriel felt regret that they had so recently bought their home. Why had he not been informed of the imminent construction of these villas before he bought his?
Okay, a quick look around at the rest and then off home he thought. He opened a bedroom door and went in. Yes there was the ensuite, so this must be the master bedroom, and there the deep piled light carpet, and there a wet red coloured mark—for God’s sake!
Gabriel immediately knew it was off his own feet and not only his feet but the dog’s feet also. Paw marks and huge footmarks everywhere on this great light-coloured bedroom carpet. He rushed to the kitchen sink in a panic. There was a cloth there. He grabbed it, wet it under the tap and wrung it out. Suddenly he became aware that he was still leaving large footprints everywhere. He kicked off his shoes and as he returned to the bedroom noticed more paw marks leading off further down the hall and through an open door into a second bedroom. There was Daisy sitting in the middle of another light-coloured carpet surrounded by red clay paw prints. She had been everywhere. He got onto his knees, torch in one hand, cloth in the other, and started at the door to rub the carpet with the cloth. In complete panic mode, he knew well that this was hopeless but he
had to take some action. About two seconds later as he gazed at the now large red area on the bedroom floor, he quickly realised he would be no better off even if he stayed here all night cleaning! Okay just get out and deny everything—the only possible thing to do.
“Leave your shoes outside Gabriel and make sure that dog is dry before you let her in here,” Gabriel heard as soon as he opened his own front door.
He did as he was told and dried Daisy’s coat paying particular attention to her paws before letting her go to run into the lounge area to join Brenda.
“And just where have you been?” exclaimed Brenda as soon as she saw the dog, which by the time Gabriel had dried her was an even shade of pink all over, and then to Gabriel, “Where have you two been? I didn’t think we had red mud around here.”
“As we passed the building site I suppose,” mumbled Gabriel. At least that’s true, he thought! “Anyway it’s pitch black and I didn’t really notice.” Looking at Daisy’s pink coat brought home to Gabriel how difficult it would be to clean the carpets that he had so thoroughly soiled.
Gabriel tossed and turned all night and thought of the myriad of possibilities that would surely happen on the morrow! All of which had the potential to cause him excruciating embarrassment. He rose very early, even earlier than Brenda, which was most unusual, and managed to retrieve his shoes from outside the door and drop them into a rubbish bin. One piece of incriminating evidence disposed of, he decided.
At the village office Helga and Alex the caretaker were discussing the break-in to one of the houses the previous night. Nothing had been taken apparently but the carpets would need an industrial clean, Alex explained to Helga.
“It was either someone with a key or perhaps the door was accidentally left open but whoever it was they were large, or at least they were wearing large shoes, and they had a small dog with them,” explained Alex.
“I have a theory. Have you got a theory, Alex?” Helga asked.
“Sure have, and take a look at what I found this morning,” said Alex, turning towards the door of the office and then coming back in immediately with a plastic bag. He deposited the bag on Helga’s desk.
As Helga peered into the bag Alex explained further. “In the bins nearest to the Bovary villa this morning when I was getting ready for the collection.
“Bloody Gabriel— just as I thought. He has been hassling me for weeks about the new villas.”
“So how do you intend to handle this, Helga?”
“Right, here’s what we will do. Give me the shoes and I will get an opportunity to give them to Brenda without letting any of the other ladies know about this. We can’t take any official action without upsetting everyone, particularly Brenda, and we don’t want that. The last thing I want to do is embarrass her; I’ll just let her have the shoes. That is one astute lady and she will know how to handle Gabriel. I bet she has coped with similar situations many times before.”
“My God he won’t half cop it!”
“Serves the bugger right!” Helga replied.
That very afternoon at the craft group meeting, where all the ladies engage in their particular skill and at the same time contribute and share information of things past, present and even probable events in the future, Brenda’s suspicions were confirmed in the worst way. The main item of news today had come via Alex the caretaker, an impeccable source that could not be doubted. All members of the craft group were talking about it.
“Well, Alex told me that at least one of the new villas had been broken into and that a person had been walking around inside the house with a dog,” the koala toy maker said. “They left footprints everywhere, apparently.”
“And I bet there are fingerprints of course,” added a knitter.
“Well at least you can’t get DNA off a footprint, ” stated the jewellery maker. “Probably just someone wanting to have a look around. Good on ‘em I say. It’s ridiculous all this secrecy!”
Oh my God, Brenda thought to herself, he’s really done it this time. But Brenda bravely stuck it out appearing as normal as possible in the circumstances, and continued with her cross-stitch until 4.00 pm. Brenda said less than usual of course and she couldn’t help but feel that one or two of her friends were also adding things up in their heads, small dog, large stupid husband—who was always poking around where he wasn’t supposed to! Perhaps it was just her imagination but, as Helga motioned her to come in as she passed the office on the way home, Brenda’s heart sank.
Brenda walked home slowly carrying Gabriel’s shoes as well as her cross-stich bag, her mind turning everything over. She was embarrassed but mostly she was angry, very, very angry.
Brenda had been adding everything up since early that morning. Gabriel was up at the crack of dawn—most unusual. He had been stressing about the quality of the new villas and had talked of nothing else for weeks. He had befriended Bryce and paid him way over the odds for the jobs he did. She now had Gabriel’s shoes covered in red mud, received from Helga no less, and they owned a pink dog that most certainly derived her colouring from the powdered brick at the building site, as had the shoes. Brenda had been thinking about this all day but had not tackled Gabriel because first she wanted to find out more. Well she certainly had all the information she needed now. Added to this, Gabriel had done nothing all morning except watch television—and without talking to it as he always did during any sport or political broadcast.
As soon as she got through the door she put her cross-stitch gear on the coffee table, marched straight to the television, switched it off and turned to face Gabriel who was in his usual horizontal position. He didn’t say a word and neither did she. She just threw the bag containing the shoes right into his lap. His body jerked.
“Right Gabriel,” she said in a calm deliberate voice that he recognised immediately, “tell me exactly where you were and exactly what you did last night and do not mess me about.”
Brenda knew her husband well. She knew when he was exaggerating, when he was telling the truth, when he was lying slightly and when he was lying completely. They had been married a long time and she also knew that he knew that she knew exactly what he was thinking, and most especially if it concerned a guilty secret. In this instance Gabriel shifted awkwardly in his chair and Brenda could read in large print on his face, as his eyes looked directly at his feet, ‘I will tell all, and I’m really glad to get it off my chest.’
Just as Helga and Alex had imagined would happen.
The Pink Dog
A man of renown
Is seldom put down
But Gabriel had to confess
His mischief created the mess
Making him feel such a clown
The Water Leak
Alex had many jobs to do around the village and one of the most important was fixing up the minor complaints residents had about the condition of their houses, particularly just after a house was purchased.
Anne had recently moved to the Burnside Retirement Village and so Alex was under instructions from Helga to keep her happy regarding any little complaints she might have about her new home.
“It’s the cupboard under the sink Alex—something’s leaking,” Anne explained, “could you have a look at it, please?”
“Certainly Mrs. Matthews,” Alex said as he took off his work boots and entered the house. Alex was very careful to cultivate and build a good working relationship with all village residents, especially those who were new—hence the ‘Mrs. Matthews’. In fact even with those he knew well and where genuine friendship had developed, Alex would still use the formal titles because he believed that this was key to good long-lasting relationships. It also went with Helga’s idea of offering an up-market service to complement her equally up-market village. Alex was quite aware of this and so, being the accommodating bloke that he was, he just went along with it.
Alex got to Anne’s kitchen and opened the door of the cupboard under the sink. He knew immediately he would have to inspect the connections from th
e sink to the S bend of the drain outlet, being the most likely cause of the leak. He took off his glasses and his cap and put them on the kitchen bench, and got down on his back on the floor, with his head under the sink looking up towards the outlet. He could see that where the sink connected to the bend it was wet on the outside and there was still a drop forming at the lowest point—cause diagnosed and problem easily solved, Alex thought.
“No worries Mrs. Matthews,” Alex explained as he carefully removed himself from under the sink and got up from the floor. “We’ll just put a small bowl, if you have one, under there until I can get a new part from the hardware shop later today and I’ll be back this afternoon to fix it.”
“That’s great,” said Anne. “Could you make it later in the afternoon because I’ll be at the leisure centre playing cards this afternoon until about four.”
“No worries, about four thirty then,” Alex replied and left.
Alex worked at his other village chores for the rest of that morning. As he worked he developed a slight headache, but nothing too bad so he just kept working.
At about midday he jumped into the village ute to drive to the hardware store. Leaving the village, he glanced up at the large village sign and noticed it was a little blurry. Bloomin headache, he thought to himself as he rubbed his eyes and drove on. It was then he noticed that all the signs in the distance were equally blurry and his mind turned to a leaflet he collected about a week ago. A lecture had been given to the residents about the early symptoms of stroke. Alex had picked up one of the give-away brochures and he distinctly remembered reading about sudden headache and eyesight problems. He pulled into the side of the road, telephoned his wife and asked her to make an appointment with the doctor for later that day. Better safe than sorry he thought.
Anne loved her time playing cards at the leisure centre because she was good at it. It wasn’t as relaxing a time as it ought to have been though, because a lot was expected of individuals by the others in the group. The games that were played were all taken seriously and woe betide the individual who made a silly mistake. Poor play because of the hand you were dealt was only just tolerated. There were less than ten regulars who played cards for two afternoons of the week. Whether playing as individuals or as a member of a pair, each was conscious of not letting the others down—particularly with regard to partners and the set number of players required for certain games. So if anyone was sick they were almost expected to take a doctor’s note to the next meeting—such was the pressure to be there and to perform up to standard.
Riotous Retirement Page 4
