Everitt Road (Aug26)

 

 

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

Despite appearances, the chap himself did not have a stall at the market. It only looked that way.

What the man did was hang with his friends at the entryway to that rear section there, nearby Mr Lim’s back corner. 

One friend in his group ran a tropical fish outlet, another a flower-stall and the third in the party dealt in eggs.

Lunch was brought over from across the way, a couple tables improvised for the chaps. They sat there behind the altar in the middle of the passage, easy and relaxed, sometimes with couple beers.

The chap concerned here lived in pricey Joo Chiat, Peranakan territory. $3-4-5m. bungalows were common in that precinct. In his case it was Everitt Road. (Mr Lim was up in the housing 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, notoriously well-known through the SE.

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

That was something on its own worth remarking, as a preliminary here. That was how Mr L. began to unfold his tale.

A couple weeks ago there was something else equally, if not even more striking than the Everrit Road accomplishment.

            This now was Mr Lim's first sightings of the Everitt Road man's son, a teenager of 16 or 17. One or two afternoons Mr L. had watched the lad. In the 2-3 weeks the impression only grew in Mr Lim's mind.

The dad at his usual table with his pals, chatting; the usual, regular get-together. Not much attention was given that corner initially on the first day of the boy’s appearance by Mr Lim. 

Mr Lim himself did not have a place at those tables, he could only look on from a short distance. His stall was at the back-end of the market; the gathering 15m away in the main corridor.

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

Mr Lim was personable, chatty, adept, but for some reason unable to cross this particular bridge.

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

This particular day a couple-three weeks ago, it took a while for Mr Lim to notice the Everitt’s man’s 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 there than up in their pigeon holes. 

At some point Mr L realised the identity of the boy and quickly offered him 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 word in the usual way 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 the table. The lad waited. 

There was no calling to dad. No clear sightline from that corner. There was no pestering of any kind, nor sign of impatience. Waiting quietly and patiently the teen. 

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 of the half hour.

Mr Lim's own two children were younger girls. Already a little trouble developed 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 if she put her mind to it.

But I'm passing everything, aren't I? she replied.

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