we’ve had ups and downs before this. I can come through, the automobile is the future.’
‘Ben, if I had a dollar for every time someone has said the automobile is the future I’d be a rich man today.’
‘Actually Gerry, I don’t think you would. How many people in this town can have said that to you? Ten? Twenty? A hundred? But it’s the truth. The garage was doing fine; it’ll recover. Just give me a little time.’
Daniels gave one of his helpless shrugs. ‘Well now, that’s the problem. Time. I’m sorry, Ben. If it was up to me personally . . .’
He, personally , would be only too happy, and so forth . . . but the bank required repayment of the loan. Without delay. Ben said he understood, and they shook hands, and Daniels saw him to the door, hand on his shoulder, a reassuring squeeze; give his best to Nancy.
But when, to Ben’s dismay, he found himself unable to hand back the money to the bank because his customers were, inturn, unable to come up with the cash they owed him; and when the house payments were overdue and the lenders sent in a repossession notice, he discovered that the Dow Jones and stocks and shares did indeed affect them.
‘I’ll get a job,’ Nancy said. ‘With Joey at school now I can manage it.’
‘That won’t be necessary.’
But quite soon it did become necessary and Nancy took a job. Not one she would have chosen, but choice was no longer an option. The garage had gone, and now it was the turn of the house and the electric kitchen.
Nancy kept the focus tight: she concentrated on what to take, not what must be left behind; hold on to the small things – objects of sentimental value, she had heard them called at sales. She was keeping a Mexican plate that had been a wedding present, and a pair of silver-plated grape scissors, to remind her of a way of life that was about to vanish. Ben pocketed Charlie’s medal.
She picked out and folded the clothes she habitually wore; in truth, the rest just hung there in the closet for most of the time. Joey trailed behind her, watching. He had never been heavy on toys and she told him he could keep his favourite books.
They packed cardboard boxes and carried them down to the porch. As Nancy reached the entrance two Model T Fords drove slowly past; the cars still looked shiny new but they were loaded with household goods. The remains of their own were neatly laid out in front of the house, marked ‘For Sale. No reasonable offer refused.’
What was a reasonable offer? How many dollars could reconcile her to the loss as she watched the pieces she had picked out so lovingly, the maple side table, the standard lamp, the desk with the secret drawer, being loaded on to someone else’s pickup?
*
Nancy said, ‘Where’s Joey?’ but Ben was busy filling boxes, and she went back inside the house, calling his name. By the time she reached the top of the stairs she sounded exasperated: her legs ached and her throat was dry from the dust.
‘Joey?’ she called again.
Ben heard her calling, repeatedly, her voice growing frantic as she went from room to empty room. Then she was down the stairs and hurrying out on to the porch, running her hand through her hair, looking beyond him to the street.
She said, ‘He’s gone.’
15
She was out on the sidewalk, looking left and right, calling his name, knowing there would be no response but calling anyway.
‘Joey? Joey! ’
‘I’ve been here the whole time,’ Ben said. ‘He can’t be gone.’
He stood, trying to think himself inside the child’s head.
‘Did you look in the loft?’
She came running past him, into the house and up the stairs. At the top she paused: only now did she notice the ladder to the loft, the open hatch.
Joey was crouching on the loft floor, in the corner below the tiny roof window, the brown paper bag full of his books clutched to his chest.
Nancy said, her voice calm, ‘Joey: we need to start loading—’
He said, ‘I’m not going.’
He curled
‘Ben, if I had a dollar for every time someone has said the automobile is the future I’d be a rich man today.’
‘Actually Gerry, I don’t think you would. How many people in this town can have said that to you? Ten? Twenty? A hundred? But it’s the truth. The garage was doing fine; it’ll recover. Just give me a little time.’
Daniels gave one of his helpless shrugs. ‘Well now, that’s the problem. Time. I’m sorry, Ben. If it was up to me personally . . .’
He, personally , would be only too happy, and so forth . . . but the bank required repayment of the loan. Without delay. Ben said he understood, and they shook hands, and Daniels saw him to the door, hand on his shoulder, a reassuring squeeze; give his best to Nancy.
But when, to Ben’s dismay, he found himself unable to hand back the money to the bank because his customers were, inturn, unable to come up with the cash they owed him; and when the house payments were overdue and the lenders sent in a repossession notice, he discovered that the Dow Jones and stocks and shares did indeed affect them.
‘I’ll get a job,’ Nancy said. ‘With Joey at school now I can manage it.’
‘That won’t be necessary.’
But quite soon it did become necessary and Nancy took a job. Not one she would have chosen, but choice was no longer an option. The garage had gone, and now it was the turn of the house and the electric kitchen.
Nancy kept the focus tight: she concentrated on what to take, not what must be left behind; hold on to the small things – objects of sentimental value, she had heard them called at sales. She was keeping a Mexican plate that had been a wedding present, and a pair of silver-plated grape scissors, to remind her of a way of life that was about to vanish. Ben pocketed Charlie’s medal.
She picked out and folded the clothes she habitually wore; in truth, the rest just hung there in the closet for most of the time. Joey trailed behind her, watching. He had never been heavy on toys and she told him he could keep his favourite books.
They packed cardboard boxes and carried them down to the porch. As Nancy reached the entrance two Model T Fords drove slowly past; the cars still looked shiny new but they were loaded with household goods. The remains of their own were neatly laid out in front of the house, marked ‘For Sale. No reasonable offer refused.’
What was a reasonable offer? How many dollars could reconcile her to the loss as she watched the pieces she had picked out so lovingly, the maple side table, the standard lamp, the desk with the secret drawer, being loaded on to someone else’s pickup?
*
Nancy said, ‘Where’s Joey?’ but Ben was busy filling boxes, and she went back inside the house, calling his name. By the time she reached the top of the stairs she sounded exasperated: her legs ached and her throat was dry from the dust.
‘Joey?’ she called again.
Ben heard her calling, repeatedly, her voice growing frantic as she went from room to empty room. Then she was down the stairs and hurrying out on to the porch, running her hand through her hair, looking beyond him to the street.
She said, ‘He’s gone.’
15
She was out on the sidewalk, looking left and right, calling his name, knowing there would be no response but calling anyway.
‘Joey? Joey! ’
‘I’ve been here the whole time,’ Ben said. ‘He can’t be gone.’
He stood, trying to think himself inside the child’s head.
‘Did you look in the loft?’
She came running past him, into the house and up the stairs. At the top she paused: only now did she notice the ladder to the loft, the open hatch.
Joey was crouching on the loft floor, in the corner below the tiny roof window, the brown paper bag full of his books clutched to his chest.
Nancy said, her voice calm, ‘Joey: we need to start loading—’
He said, ‘I’m not going.’
He curled
Similar Books
