Everitt Road (Mar25)

 

 

 

This was a man who won the respect of Mr. Lim, the greengrocer from the Haig. 

Despite appearances, the chap himself does not have a stall at the market. Only looks that way.

What the man does is hang with his friends at the entryway to that back section there. 

One friend runs a tropical fish outlet, another flower-stall and the third making up the party, eggs.

Lunch was brought over from across the way, couple tables improvised for the group. They sit behind the altar in the middle of the thoroughfare, easy and relaxed; sometimes with a couple beers.

Chap lives in pricey Joo Chiat, Peranakan territory. $2-3+m. bungalows, in his case Everitt Road. (Mr. Lim is up in the block directly behind his stall, three-bed flat with his mother in the master bedroom.) 

Everitt's family once owned a shipping company. In their road there used to live a renowned neighbourhood horror, on bad terms with everyone. The Doctor Professor who was the head of that obnoxious household was the chief nuisance, his mother, wife and children all following suit. Right royal pains in the arse, notorious throughout the SE.

This chap joining his pals 3-4 times a week at the Haig market somehow found a way with that crowd in his street, lord knows how. The one and only who managed. They were impossible. Yet this chap found a way.

That was something on its own. Worth remarking. A couple weeks ago there was something else equally, if not even more striking.

            This was Mr. Lim's first sighting more or less of the Everitt Road man's son, a teenager, 16 or 17. One or two afternoons Mr. L. watched him. In the two-three weeks the impression only grew and developed in Mr. Lim's mind.

The dad at his usual table with his pals chatting. The usual, regular get-together. Not much attention given that corner initially the first day by Mr. Lim. 

Mr. Lim himself did not have a place at those tables. His stall was at the back-end of the market; the gathering 15m away in the main corridor.

The chaps can smoke away from the stalls there. Mr. Lim is a smoker too, but for some reason he cannot join the group. Reason unknown. 

Mr. Lim was in the same age group, a trifle younger. For some reason lacking entry card.

This particular day a couple-three weeks ago, it took a while for Mr. Lim to notice the boy against the pillar in the narrow passage between the two back rows of the market—manufactured goods upper end; fruit, veg, meat & fish lower. 

16-17 year old, tall for his age. 

Beside Mr. Lim's stall at the edge of the passage opposite the pillar there were numerous chairs for the oldies down from the flats, who liked to sit beneath the fans and chat. Much cooler than up in the pigeon holes. 

At some point Mr. Lim realised the identity of the boy and quickly offered him a one of his chairs; either there on his side of the passage, or the lad could take one over to the pillar if he wanted.

Thanks all the same, but no need. Thank you. (Briefest words and gestures in the usual form among these people.) 

The boy continued standing beside the pillar, hardly leaning.

It must have been at least a half hour. Without phone. Without plugs.

Around the corner out of sight at the regular table, the father sitting, the Everrit Road man. 

Evidently, the boy had not been called to join dad at table. The lad waited. 

No calling to dad. No sightline from that corner. No pestering of any kind, nor sign of impatience. Waiting quietly and patiently. 

As Mr. Lim stole glances he was set wondering.

Mr. Lim did not reveal how the half hour ended. It did not matter. As the minutes passed he kept returning his gaze to the pillar. All same and unchanged the whole half hour.

Mr. Lim's two children are younger girls. Already a little trouble with junior. Previously, Mr. Lim had told of her pestering. Elder had been to the Gold Coast. Elder had been on a Star Cruise. When would she, Junior, get a turn?..

A bright child. Could do better at school.

Her answer: But I'm passing everything, aren't I?

Sharp, astute observer and judge Mr Lim the costermonger’s son. Continuing his dad’s trade and caring for his mum.