Everitt Road

This is a man who wins the respect of Mr. Lim the greengrocer from Haig Road. 

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 of the market. 

One friend runs a tropical fish outlet, another a flower-stall and the third making up the party there, eggs. Lunch is brought over from the food section across the way, a couple of tables improvised to accommodate the group. They sit behind the altar there in the middle of the thoroughfare easy and relaxed, sometimes with a couple beers.

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

Everitt's family once owned a shipping company. In their Everitt Road there used to live a renowned neighbourhood horror on bad terms with everyone. The Doctor Professor who was the head of that noisome household was the chief malefactor, his mother, wife and children all following suit. Right royal pains in the bottom, notorious throughout the South-East. This chap joining his pals three or four times a week at the Haig Road market gathering somehow found a way with that crowd in his street, lord knows how! The one and only who managed that. Those others were impossible. This chap however found a way. Worth saluting that on its own.

That was one indicator. A couple of weeks ago there was something else equally, if not more striking.

            This was Mr. Lim's first sighting more or less of Everitt Road man's son, a teenager, sixteen or seventeen, one particular afternoon. 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 that day by Mr. Lim. 

Mr. Lim himself does not have a place at those tables. His stall is at the back-end of the market; the gathering in the main corridor. The chaps can smoke away from the stalls in the corridor there. Mr. Lim is a smoker too, but for some reason he cannot join the group. An unknown reason. 

Mr. Lim is 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. 

Sixteen-seventeen year old boy, tall for his age. 

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

At some point Mr. Lim realised the identity of the boy and quickly offered him a seat at 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 iPhone in hand. Without plugs in ears. Around the corner and out of sight at the regular table, the father sitting, the Everrit Road man. 

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

Mr. Lim stole glances; set wondering.

Mr. Lim did not reveal how the half hour ended. It did not matter. 

As the minutes passed Mr. Lim kept returning his gaze to the pillar. All same unchanged the whole half hour.

Mr. Lim's two children are younger girls. A little trouble with junior already. 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.