Page 48 of The Side Road (Love Chronicles #3)

ALFA ROMEO

With her plaster-covered forearm, Mia held down the base of the knitting machine. Her free hand wound the handle. The needles clicked together. ‘I could do this all day,’ she said.

‘It might take you six years to make a jumper,’ Oliver said. They were in the parsonage kitchen. Hovering over his laptop, he was researching second-hand cars.

‘If I posted this on social media, it might get a hundred thousand views.’

‘Do you want a hundred thousand views?’

‘At the moment, no. How much did this cost to make?’

‘About a dollar.’

‘Plus the cost of the needles and wool, that would make it around fifteen dollars. Then there’s admin charges, overheads, packing and shipping.’ She looked at Oliver. ‘Do you think…?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘But you could galvanise the Men’s Shed movement. I found a car for you. It’s perfect.’ He spun his laptop around and showed her the screen .

She considered the images of the four-door sedan. ‘Oh yes, I like it. What sort of car is it?’

‘1973 Alfa Romeo GTV. Piper Yellow with a black leather interior. Only one owner and recently restored.’

‘How much?’

‘Eighty grand. We can probably get it for seventy-five.’

She stepped away from the knitting machine. ‘That’s a lot. I didn’t want to spend that much.’

‘I can chip in. What do you need, forty, fifty grand?’

‘I can’t let you do that. And where are you going to get fifty grand from?’

‘What do you mean?’ He flicked through images of the car. Showing her the side details and the front end. A close-up of the interior and the leather steering wheel.

‘It’s not a trick question. Do you have a lazy fifty grand up your sleeve?’

He pointed to his chest. ‘Remember me. Oliver Overton. MotoGP champion.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘I won. Look at this, it’s the original Carello high-beam headlights and mirror.’ Again, he turned his computer toward her and pointed to the screen.

Her gaze was locked on him, the car forgotten. She was after a confession. He smiled, hoping it might lessen the blow, but a full disclosure was imminent.

‘I have some property,’ he began. ‘A house in Melbourne. Another in London. An apartment in Italy. Investments. Shares. A very long-term deposit. And a trust fund for Tash.’

Her eyes didn’t leave his face.

He held her gaze. ‘The car is a manual, but it’s easy to drive. It’s the perfect car for you, and in a few years, Tash can use it to get her learner’s. Do you have a problem with that? ’

‘Of course not.’ Frowning, she bit her lip. ‘You could have told me this sooner.’

He pulled the laptop back and tapped at the keys, searching for something. ‘I was too busy winning you over with my charming personality.’ Once again, he spun his computer around. On the screen was a picture of a Labrador puppy. ‘How would you feel about a second Labrador?’

‘But we already have the best Labrador in the world. Why would we want another?’

‘A friend for Snood, we could call her Muffler. I’d like a chocolate lab.’

Mia walked across the room to the window. She looked over the backyard. ‘They’re not as smart as the black ones – so I’ve heard. All this time, I thought…and you let me believe… Now I find out, and I feel…betrayed. Like you lied to me.’

When she turned her head, he was staring at her.

‘I needed you to love me . Oliver from Eagle Nest.’

‘I do. I do love you.’ She turned back to the window. ‘It makes sense – the prize money, but I’m so confused.’

‘What are you confused about?’

‘Arthur doesn’t live next door to you, does he?’

‘No. He lives on West Street, near the water tower.’

‘Yes. The neighbours have a white car. And he drives a blue car. Every weekend, it was parked out the front of the parsonage – a blue car. I used to see it on my day off. It was always here.’

Oliver looked up. ‘Why would it?—’

‘You don’t think…’

Oliver emptied the shoeboxes of old photos onto the kitchen table .

Mia scattered the pile and started flipping the pictures over, right side up, as if she were working on a jigsaw puzzle. ‘What are we looking for?’ she asked.

‘Photos of Elsie with other men.’ It was a sentence Oliver never thought he would utter. ‘If there are dates on the back, we can make a timeline.’

Twenty minutes later, the photos they wanted were in chronological order across the table. The earliest pictures were from 1950, the year Elsie was born, and the latest were from the 1990s.

Oliver pointed to a section of photos from the 1970s and 80s. ‘These are all Elsie and Bob.’

‘If your hunch is correct, then this man is Arthur.’ Mia tapped an image of a man wearing a wide sun hat. ‘There are seven photos of him with Elsie – all from the 1990s. But no names on the back.’

‘Wait here.’ Oliver slipped out the back door. He headed to the garage.

Returning a few minutes later, Oliver held a box of Elsie’s belongings.

It was a framed photograph he was after.

The one Elsie had kept by her bed. After pulling it out of the box, he unclipped the back and removed the picture.

He placed it on the table. For a long moment, they stared at the image.

In the background was the old train station.

The man, in his forties, wore a blue zigzag patterned jumper. He smiled at the camera.

Oliver turned the photo over. Arthur Ferguson, 1993.

‘The year Lizzy was born,’ he said. ‘For the past six months, Arthur’s been roaming around town grieving and trying to get closer to Tash because she’s’—raising his head, he looked at Mia— ‘she’s his granddaughter.

’ He was keeping his misguided hunch about Arthur to himself.

‘It certainly looks that way.’ Mia glanced at the pictures covering the table. ‘It feels like we’ve invaded his privacy. We could have picked up the phone and just asked him. He’s in my Saturday Sit & Knit group. He always saves a seat for Tash.’

After Mia forwarded Arthur’s number, Oliver made the call. When Arthur answered, Oliver said, ‘Arthur, this is Oliver – Oliver Overton. I don’t mean to pry, but are you, by any chance, Tash’s grandfather?’

‘Yes, I believe I am. If it’s convenient, I’ll come over. Would that be okay?’

‘Transeasonal, that’s what some people call it. The transition between the seasons can be a difficult time of year,’ Arthur told Tash. With cups of tea, they sat together on the parsonage’s front veranda. Mia and Oliver perched on chairs beside them. Nearby, Mary hung over the railing.

‘You see, it’s the unpredictability of the weather,’ Arthur continued. ‘I lose my rhythm. The change leads to unrest, which leads to deep questions about life.’ Arthur fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a bag of sweets. He offered one to Tash. She accepted.

Mary cleared her throat.

Arthur turned. ‘Didn’t see you there, young lady.’ He offered the bag to Mary. She helped herself.

‘Here are the facts,’ he said. ‘I loved Elsie and she loved me. We fell pregnant and had a baby, your mother. But then I floundered. You see, it was autumn when we found out she was expecting.’

‘What does that mean?’ Tash held out her hand for another sweet, and Arthur obliged. She took two, slipping one into her pocket for later.

‘I was overwhelmed by fear,’ he said. ‘We were both married. We could have had a wonderful life together, but I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t brave enough. Elsie was, though. She was fearless. I loved her very much, but I let her down.’

‘Did she forgive you?’

Arthur smiled. ‘That was not in her nature.’

‘This is a very sad story. Poor Nan.’

‘Indeed.’ He picked up a cup and sipped his tea. ‘Stone cold. Never mind.’

The box of Elsie’s belongings was on the low outdoor table. After staring at it, he said, ‘Ah. I know where the money is. Can’t believe it took me this long. I must be getting old.’

Sliding the box closer, Arthur flicked through the items: framed photographs, Elsie’s purse, handmade lace doilies, and The Velveteen Rabbit book.

A Bible. He found what he was looking for at the bottom.

A set of teaspoons with religious motifs.

He placed them on the table and smiled, proud of his discovery.

‘Are you kidding? Two hundred thousand dollars for some old spoons,’ Tash said.

‘Seventeenth-century apostle christening spoons. Sterling silver and hand-engraved,’ Arthur corrected. ‘She bought them from a dealer in Sydney. It’s a complete set, but I told her she paid far too much.’

Dismayed by this news, Oliver rubbed his forehead. When he got a chance, he would check the true value of the spoons.

‘We found a cigarette in Nan’s handbag?’ Tash said. ‘And whisky in the car.’

Arthur smiled. ‘I’m keeping that private. But if you’re finished with the hip flask, I’ll have that back.’

A short time later, Blanche and Leo arrived with Flora.

News of Tash’s heritage had spread. Taking seats on the veranda, they gathered around the box that contained the last of Elsie’s worldly possessions.

Mary flicked through The Velveteen Rabbit , while Mia and Blanche examined the lace-edged doilies.

Arthur studied the old photos. Flora had removed the antique teaspoons from their box.

‘Keep your eye on her,’ Blanche whispered to Mia.

‘You have something in your teeth,’ Mia said. ‘It might be spinach.’

‘I had spanakopita for lunch,’ Blanche said. ‘How long do you think it’s been there?’

‘Since lunch.’

Blanche rubbed her teeth until Mia gave her the all-clear.

‘What did they do to your head?’ Flora asked Leo. ‘Did they take pictures of it?’

‘They told him to drink more water,’ Blanche said.

‘All I ever do is drink water,’ Leo mumbled.

Arthur left his bag of sweets on the coffee table and pulled out his knitting. He was making a beer cosy using red, white and blue wool to support his favourite rugby team.

When no one was looking, Flora quickly dipped her hand into the sweet bag. She removed it just as swiftly and popped a barley sugar into her mouth.

‘Did you just eat a sweet?’ Blanche asked.

‘I won’t swallow it,’ Flora said. ‘I’ll just hold it in my mouth and then spit it out.’

‘If she eats too much sugar, she’ll die,’ Blanche said.

‘We’re all going to die,’ Arthur said. ‘Might as well be from sweets.’

Leo turned to the dog, who had shuffled closer looking for a pat. ‘It’s best to give them what they want.’ He stroked Snood's head. ‘They’re usually right about most things.’

Flora turned to Tash, who was also reading The Velveteen Rabbit with Mary. ‘Have you got a date? ’

‘What?’ Tash shuffled further away from the troublemaker.

‘You should have a date. I always had a date, every night of the week if I wanted.’

Mia, still sitting next to Oliver, rested her head on his shoulder. ‘Dear god, will this never end?’

It did end. The following day, Arthur died.