Page 46 of The Side Road (Love Chronicles #3)

MACHINE PARTS

Oliver’s restoration journey was almost over.

Soon, he would part ways with the Black Shadow.

Like many relationships, it had started with excitement and some apprehension.

While it had been fun, he knew it must end.

The exhaust was still proving to be elusive, but once he commissioned a suitable replacement, he would sell the bike. It belonged to a collector.

Outside, it was miserable. Huddled inside the garage amongst his tools and bikes, he was warm and content.

With the space heater blazing and the rain drumming on the tin roof, he felt at peace.

It was the perfect place to work on his new project.

Mia was at the core of this idea. With her broken arm, she couldn’t knit, so he wondered how she might create something with one hand.

Assembled on the workbench in front of him were a ball of wool, two small needles, pliable copper wire, pliers, and cable ties.

Earlier that day, he had drawn a rough plan for his invention.

After several iterations, he was happy with the sketch, but first, he needed a prototype.

He got to work. After making a circular base from the wire, he attached two vertical cables on either side.

From there, he suspended two more horizontal wires.

To the base, he attached a lever, which would turn the device.

Oliver cast on a few stitches. He hooked two knitting needles through nooses in the bent wire, which was suspended over the circular base of his machine.

When he turned the handle on the side, this cranked the needles, pivoting them together.

The point of one needle pierced the loop of a stitch, casting it onto the adjacent needle.

He wound the wool over and tried again. It worked.

His invention was clunky, and he had to hold the base down to stop it from moving, but it worked.

He sat back and smiled. ‘I could patent this.’

There was a knock on the side door and Oliver looked up. He wasn’t expecting anyone, but new clients were always welcome. ‘It’s open, come in,’ he said.

The door opened, letting in a slice of Arctic wind and rain. After a brief argument with an umbrella, a man stepped into the garage.

Miles left his umbrella by the door. ‘I’m here to apologise,’ he said.

‘For which time?’

Miles raised his eyebrows. ‘For everything, I guess.’

‘Heartfelt, then.’

‘Overton, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. My future looks like hell?’

Oliver sighed. ‘Why don’t you pull up a chair? On your way over, grab us a couple of beers out of that bar fridge?’ He pointed.

Miles did as Oliver suggested. After opening a beer, he sat down on the opposite side of the workbench. Eyeing Oliver’s latest invention, he asked what it was .

‘A knitting machine.’ Oliver turned the handle; the needles began to knit.

Miles put his beer down. Oliver slid the knitting machine toward him, and Miles, holding the base down, turned the handle. ‘It’s pretty good.’

‘It is.’ Oliver opened his beer. ‘Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Why don’t you like yourself?’

‘I don’t know.’ Miles took a swig from his beer. ‘Why are you so fucking nice? How did that happen?’

Oliver smiled. ‘A better question might be, what are you afraid of?’

‘That’s easy. Everything?’

‘Then what are you most afraid of?’ Oliver sipped his beer.

Miles hesitated. ‘Being laughed at.’

Oliver chuckled. He couldn’t help it. ‘Sorry.’ He wiped the smile off his face. ‘Not the answer I was expecting. Okay, I don’t do this very often these days, but I used to do it all the time. Faced with a difficult situation, pretend you’re ten.’

‘Ten?’

‘Five or ten. Whatever works for you. On the outside, I might look like a world champion MotoGP rider, but inside I’m a ten-year-old boy.’

‘Are you taking the piss?’

‘No. It’s called giving yourself a break. When you have a really shitty day, sit back and look at what ten-year-old Miles has achieved. Not what thirty-five-year-old Miles has fucked up? I’m just saying it worked for me.’

‘But I’m not ten,’ Miles said.

‘Pretend you are. Look, you can be the man in charge who gets things done. But sometimes, there’s also the ten-year-old. Children are easier to look after. They’re more likeable. What have you got to lose? ’

A knock on the door drew their attention. As it opened, a burst of icy wind swept into the garage and Ben followed it inside.

‘Afternoon, gents.’ Ben moved to the heater and warmed his hands over the electric bars.

‘This is Miles,’ Oliver said. ‘I can’t say we’re friends. He was an arsehole at school. But he’s having a crisis, so I’m being nice to him. He has a lot of unacknowledged pain.’

‘I was an arsehole at school,’ Ben said. ‘I’ve almost forgiven myself.’

‘Beer?’ Oliver offered.

‘I wish I could, but I have a roast in the oven. ‘I’m just here to collect Jack. How’s the rehearsal going?’

Oliver hesitated. ‘Jack’s not…I thought they were at yours.’

Ben shook his head. ‘Jack told me he was coming here.’

‘Tash told me…’

Ben’s house, a two-story Federation mansion, boasted multiple gables, decorative timber features, and a wide veranda perfect for outdoor entertaining. The gardens looked manicured. The standard rose bushes that lined the entrance were blooming.

‘Nice place,’ Oliver said. ‘Flipping furniture pays off.’

‘My wife works for Macquarie Bank. She gets a bonus. I’m a lucky man.’ Ben escorted Oliver into the hallway. ‘Last door on the right. But let me go in first. When we get inside, it’s best not to talk unless a question is directed straight at you.’

‘Right.’

‘And keep your gaze focused on her. She doesn’t like it when you look at her stuff. ’

‘Because?’

‘It’s an invasion of privacy. Mind you, talking to her is an invasion of privacy. Also, stay calm. The temptation is to get angry and demand answers, but trust me, that never works.’

When they reached the door, Ben paused. ‘She’s sixteen, so prepare yourself.’

Oliver nodded. He had heard the rumours; it was a volatile demographic. He would be on guard.

Ben tapped on the door. ‘Princess, it’s me. I need to talk to you.’

A brief pause, then a rustling sound. Slowly, Ben opened the door, and they stepped into his stepdaughter’s bedroom.

Oliver took care not to glance around and kept his eyes focused on the girl.

She was at her desk studying or pretending to study.

Thirty seconds earlier she might have been smoking a meth pipe or filming pornography.

He expected to find a teenage boy hiding under the bed.

When she swivelled her chair, turning to face him, Oliver realised he knew her. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know you were Jack’s sister.’

In blue jeans and a sweatshirt, with her hair pulled back, she still reminded him of Tash. She was only four years older, but it felt like fourteen years. Oliver offered the best non-judgemental, passive, innocuous smile that he could, under the circumstances, muster.

Saige shifted her viper-like gaze to Ben.

‘They’re headed west,’ she said. ‘They got hold of some fake IDs, emptied their savings accounts, and hitched a ride with a trucker. His name was Slayer, or maybe it was Slash. I tried to stop them, but their heads were full of that Romeo and Juliet shit. There was nothing I could do. They’ve eloped.

’ She gave Oliver a sorrowful, sympathetic look.

Alarmed, Oliver’s heart raced. ‘What the fuck? ’

‘She’s kidding,’ Ben said.

Saige giggled. Oliver sighed with relief.

Looking at Saige, Ben suppressed a smile. ‘Come on, out with it, they’re twelve.’

‘I’ll need an incentive. What are you offering?’

‘It’s what I’m not offering,’ Ben said. ‘No internet for a week. No secret driving lessons in the supermarket car park. No mid-week lifts to footy training or to work – you catch the bus.’

She smiled sweetly and shook her head.

Ben scratched his chin, realising he needed to up the stakes. ‘No laundry for two weeks,’ Ben said. ‘No lunches – you make your own.’

‘Nice try.’ She smiled.

Ben shook his head. ‘Give me something. We’re worried, we need to know they’re safe. Did they take the bus or get a ride?’

She lifted her eyebrows.

After they left the room, Ben closed the door behind them. ‘I thought I had her with the laundry.’

‘Jesus, she’s smart…and principled,’ Oliver said.

‘Don’t start me. The good news is she knows where they are. Probably helped them plan the whole shebang. They took the bus.’

‘How could you tell?’

‘Years of careful observation; the way she twitched her eyebrows.’ Ben checked his watch. ‘It’s half-six. I imagine they’ll be back soon.’

Oliver went home to wait it out. He sat on the front veranda and worked on his beanie. A blue and grey design in eight ply wool, it had a rough, chunky texture. Winter was almost over, but if he finished it soon, he could still wear it on his evening walks along the river.

As he looked up, his daughter came into view. She was skipping up the street, a bag over her shoulder. When she saw him, she lifted her arm and waved. She looked exhilarated. Not an ounce of remorse.

Climbing the steps to the veranda, her eyes gleamed. ‘I’ve been on an adventure,’ Tash said.

Oliver put down his knitting. ‘Why didn’t you tell someone? You can’t go missing for an entire day.’

‘Because then it wouldn’t be a surprise. It was the best thing I’ve ever done and I can’t wait to grow up.’ She opened her shoulder bag. Slowly, she pulled out an old exhaust.

For a long moment, Oliver stared at it.

‘It’s supposed to be an original,’ she said. ‘Not the same year, but the same model.’

Overwhelmed with emotion – what she had done, and what this meant – his eyes became glassy. He wiped his hands over his face.

‘Are you crying over a bike part?’

He took the exhaust from her. ‘I’m relieved you’re okay. Now, tell me how you got this?’

‘From the oldest man in the universe. You’d better put the kettle on.’

In the kitchen, Tash continued her story.

‘The place was like a junkyard and there were these two mean-looking dogs, which turned out to be so friendly, but oh boy did they smell!’ She raised both her hands and sniffed one and then the other.

Pretending to dry retch, she made for the sink and washed her hands.

‘At first, the old man wouldn’t let us come in,’ Tash continued.

‘He was about to slam the door, but Jack stuck his foot inside and offered him money, which he refused. He said he didn’t care about money.

Then I noticed a Maltese Christ medallion hanging around his neck, like the one Pop used to have.

So, get this, I said, “May the kindness of God our Saviour be with you.”’

Oliver smiled.

‘That was all it took. He asked what we wanted, and Jack said motorbike parts. He took us to this shed at the back of the house. It was dark and the light was broken, so it took a while for our eyes to work properly. But then we saw the room was filled with really old, dusty bikes. Like a museum, two rows on either side of the shed.’

Oliver was mesmerised.

‘He didn’t have a Black Shadow, but get this, he used to own one.

We sat down with the smelly dogs and made a deal.

The old man – his name is Matteo – said, “Sex oozes from every part of that bike.”’ Tash laughed.

‘He told us he could let the exhaust go in the next twenty minutes – it was a one-time offer – for two thousand dollars.’

‘I thought he didn’t care about money,’ Oliver said.

‘That’s what we said. So, Jack told him we could take it off his hands in the next two minutes for two hundred? You owe me twenty-five dollars, and Jack one seventy-five. I’ll text you his bank details.’

‘Where can I find the oldest man in the universe?’

‘We can’t tell you. We promised and we’re going to keep our word.’

The following afternoon, Tash burst through the front door, slamming it behind her. She flew into her bedroom, banging the door.

Oliver stepped into the hallway. What was it with the doors in this house? ‘Bad day at the office?’ he called out .

When there was no reply, he knocked gently on Tash’s door and entered.

Tash, lying on the bed with her face buried in a pillow, turned and looked at him. ‘I hate my life. I miss Mum so much. Don’t you ever miss her?’ She sobbed and wiped her eyes.

‘Of course.’ Oliver sat down on the bed. He pulled her up and held her in his arms. She had a way of falling into him, putting her whole body into a hug.

‘You never say so.’ She sniffed.

‘I was very sad after she died, you know that. I couldn’t understand how it happened and I was pissed off that life had turned out the way it had for her. That’s still an ongoing issue for me.’

Tash nodded. ‘Is she in your heart?’

Oliver took Tash’s hand and placed it on his heart. ‘Yes.’

‘I’m not going to read Juliet.’

‘What! Why not?’

‘Mr Healy’s mother is sick. He’s on carer’s leave for three weeks. The relief teacher gave the role to someone else. I’m Montague’s wife. Two scenes, then I die. Off stage .’

‘Want me to fix it, because I can?’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I didn’t want it that much. This other girl, Rebecca Reed, she wants it more, and she’ll just get disappointed.’

‘You’re the best human on the planet. I mean it, you really are lovely. Come on, get up. We can make golden syrup dumplings.’

Tash wiped her face.

As they approached the kitchen, someone knocked on the back door. Outside, Jack was standing on the landing. Buckled over, the boy panted heavily. When he saw Tash, he straightened up and made a valiant effort to control his breathing. He was not here to see the bike.

‘Jack, why don’t you come inside?’ Oliver opened the door. Jack stepped into the kitchen.

After fetching a glass of water, Oliver handed it to Jack. The boy appreciated the gesture and finished the drink.

‘We were about to make?—’

‘Could we have a minute?’ Jack said. ‘Alone.’

It took Oliver a few seconds before he realised Jack was talking to him. ‘Ah, of course, I’ll be in the garage if you need me. Right outside. In the garage.’

In the garage, Oliver ran a soft rag over the Black Shadow. There was no doubt in his mind that Jack was kissing Tash in Elsie’s kitchen. Or maybe Tash was kissing Jack. Things were moving fast. He straddled the Black Shadow and kicked it over. The engine rumbled.

‘It doesn’t sound like other bikes,’ he said. ‘It has a gait and a rhythm, like a heartbeat.’