Kaimoana Tales
by Kiwi
The Malloys
Part 8
Back at the house, he sat on the edge of the verandah for a rest. The pack was damm heavy! Hori climbed on him and cuddled in. He sat there, holding him. He kissed his hair. "Thanks, Hori."
"Yes. Well done, My Darling. Thank you." Sarah lifted Hori off him. "Don't you ever do that to him again, Michael." She took him inside.
"Yeah, I won't." He looked up, Nancy stood in the doorway, looking down at him. "Nancy?"
"Michael," she smiled, fleetingly. "Look at the state of these lawns! Get the mower out of the garage and get them cut."
"Yeah, okay, sure," he grinned, but she'd already gone.
He left the pack where it was, on the verandah. He was sick of lugging it around and hoped he never had to again. He went to the garage, opened the roller-door and got a shock. The lawnmower sitting just inside was a bloody push-mower! Damm. He didn't know that anyone still had those old things outside of a museum. Surely there was a motor-mower in there somewhere?
There wasn't. Or, if there was, he couldn't find it in all the junk. He couldn't see one anyway. Oh, well. At least the lawns out at the front weren't that big. He wasn't doing the ones out at the back, they were way too much. Stuff 'em!
He rolled the mower out to the front and started on the lawns. It was easier than he expected and it was quite fun really. There was something satisfying about watching the roller-blades slice through the grass because he made them spin. He cut the two small lawns, and then moved on to the strip of grass along the edge of the street outside the front gate.
He'd be done here in no time! Totally engrossed in what he was doing, he almost ran into a pair of big, black booted feet. He stopped and looked at a burly, uniformed policeman.
"Watch it, Boy," the cop growled at him. "I've already cut my toenails this week."
"Sorry," he shrugged. "I didn't see you there. I'm Michael."
"Of course you are - Michael Malloy. It's my business to know these things and I'll be watching you."
"Oh, okay then. You must be Harri's father?"
"I hope not! No, not her father, just her uncle - by adoption I hasten to add. You missed a bit over there."
"Yeah, I'll get it. Thanks."
"We serve. That's our job, that and catching crims. Is there anyone home next door?"
"Sorry, I don't know. I haven't been watching."
"Maybe you should. I'll go and look then. I'm PC Green, by the way, you can call me 'Sir'. Oh, and Michael?"
"Yeah?"
"Always blow on the pie," he grinned and left. ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q7UX8KASASU ).
It was funny having cops for neighbours. In the world he came from, they were to be avoided at all costs. Still, he supposed, if you're not doing anything wrong, there's no need to fear them. They were just people, like any others. Some of them were arseholes, some weren't.
He finished mowing the lawn and put the mower away in the garage before anyone suggested doing the back-lawns as well. He'd done his share and that was enough.
His pack had gone from the front of the house. Somebody had moved it, he didn't see who. Damm, he hoped it hadn't been pinched! All of his clothes were in there. No, he would've seen something. Someone had put it away. He hoped.
He went back to the sleep-out, Big Mike was there, lying on his bed, and Michael's clothes and stuff out of the pack were all over the other one.
"Hey, Big Mike. Did you unload my gear?"
"There's no-one else here. Yeah, of course I did. Time you were unpacked. You can have those drawers and half of the wardrobe."
"Oh. Okay, thanks. Where's my pack."
"I took everything out of it and put it away safely."
"But where?"
"Not telling you. You don't need to know."
"It's my pack. Where did you put it?"
"Away. If you haven't got it then you can't leave, can you?"
"Thanks, I think. I'm not leaving."
"See that you don't."
"Okay. Where's Max?"
"Max who? He's being a jerk, so I left him to it."
"Oh? Have a row with him, did you?"
"Yeah. Nothing new, it happens all the time."
"Right. How long have you two been together?"
"Too bloody long sometimes. He doesn't own me, he just thinks he does."
"Relationship problems!"
"Sometimes, yeah. He'll be back when he wakes up. I think he's got his eye on you too."
"Me?"
"Yeah, you. Don't even go there. I'll share the room with you but I'm not sharing the boyfriend."
"Wouldn't want to."
"Well, good! We'll have to get a boyfriend for you too. What do you think of Ben?"
"Ben? I dunno. Seems okay, I guess. Is Ben gay?"
"Yep. Gay and single and he's a nice guy. He used to have a boyfriend, but he moved away, so now he's available."
"And you're trying to set me up? Don't bother. I'll find my own, when I'm ready."
"I'm sure you will, but think about Ben, he's a good one."
"Well, you go get him then."
"Not likely. I'll stick with Maxie, he's the greatest when he's not being a jerk."
"If you say so."
Michael sorted his clothes and put them away in the drawers. There was plenty of room, he didn't have that much. The sleeping-bag went into the wardrobe.
"Right then," Big Mike got up. "If you're done here, we'll go and check-out the workshop."
"Workshop?"
"Yeah. Nancy's goldmine, we call it."
"Nancy's got a gold-mine?"
"Sure has. Guess who the elves who do all the hard work are?"
"I don't think I want to know."
"Tough. Everyone's got their jobs, even Hori. Paulie hasn't, but I'll bet she finds him something before long."
"Paulie's just a baby!"
"He is, and you're not. Life's a bitch, isn't it? Come and see."
Across the other side of the street, directly in front of their house, on a ramshackle overgrown section, there was a huge old shed. It looked like an over-grown garage with lean-tos and extensions tacked on. It was all rusty corrugated iron and was rough and run-down looking.
"This is a gold-mine?"
"In a way, yes. It's better on the inside."
It was that. Inside the big shed it was all light, bright and airy. Half of the roof was nova-lite skylights, the concrete floor was impeccably clean and the walls were lined in white-painted plywood. There were a lot of bulky mysterious objects, all covered in old bedsheets.
"Wow. Impressive. What is this place?"
"Nancy's gold-mine. Pretty cool, eh? Dammed cold on winter mornings though. If Nancy's not in the kitchen, you'll find her over here. Even Tommy works here, when he works. He's pretty good at it too, even better than Nancy and she's an artist."
"Nancy's an artist? Doing what?"
"Do? Well, this." Big Mike pulled the sheet off the nearest object.
Michael was gobsmacked and he stood with his mouth open. "Wo-how!"
"Yeah, pretty cool, innit?" Big Mike grinned.
"It's more than cool. It's just, well, beautiful! Amazing. I never expected anything like this. This should be in a museum or a palace or something, not in a scummy old shed."
He had a closer look and kept his hands together behind his back. He didn't like to touch it in case he marred its perfection. "Beautiful!"
What he was looking at was a big old chest of drawers. Well, it was old-style and solid wood, but it looked brand-new. It was a low-matt finish on it but the rich, natural wood seemed to glow in the daylight. The brass handles and fittings all shone like gold.
"I guess it would fit in a palace, but it'll more likely finish-up in some rich prick's mansion."
"So, you build handcrafted furniture."
"Wrong! We don't build it, we restore it. This is a gen-u-ine antique back in better than new condition. Nancy buys old wooden furniture, from garage sales and junk shops, strips it back to bare wood, repairs, patches and sands it, refinishes it and sells to to trendy antique shops. Some stuff's done to order, but it's mostly bought and sold to the trade. They're worth a lot of money but it takes a bloody lot of work to get it looking like this.
I think this one is oak, but it might be heart-rimu. I wouldn't know. Tommy would. He wouldn't know one tree from another but show him a lump of wood and he knows exactly what it is."
"I'm very impressed!"
"Most people are. Check-out some of the others, but cover them up again. Most of this stuff is ready to go, we daren't get dust on it now."
Michael carefully uncovered, inspected and admired more and more beautiful pieces of furniture. There was everything from delicate-looking side tables to chunky wooden chests, chairs and beds even.
"You could easily have your own museum here."
"I guess we already have, but it's all under-cover. The Welfare know nothing about this and they don't need to. Nor do the Tax Department."
"You work here too. Do you get paid?"
"Sometimes, not very often."
"Sometimes you work here?"
"No, sometimes we get paid. It depends on how flush Nancy's feeling but there's always work to be done. You'll do your share too."
"That's cool. I don't mind helping."
"Too bad if you do. You don't say no to Nancy."
"I got that impression."
"Oh, yeah! Come on, we'll go and you can meet Blue now."
"Not more walking!"
"No, he's over at home. Let's go."
They went back and Michael met the last member of the family. Blue was different, they were all 'different', but he wasn't like the rest of them. He was a schoolteacher and very straight and conventional. Also, he was the only red-head, probably because he had another father. Nice guy anyway.
Actually, Blue told him that maybe they weren't brothers, but they were still family. "I'm Nancy's tack-on to the family, you're Tommy's tack-on."
Yeah, Blue was okay.
Molly came in and announced that Ben was outside. Big Mike went out to see him, Michael didn't, he stayed where he was. Ben looked all right, he thought, but he felt like they were trying to set him up and he wasn't interested. He'd be embarrassed.
"Nancy, am I ever going to spend some time with Tommy?"
"If you go and sit in the pub you will. No, you'll see him soon enough. Tommy's a binge dinker. He's on the booze now but won't last much longer. His poor little body can't take it, so he'll lay-off soon and he'll be hanging around here, suffering and recovering, until he's well enough to go back and have another go. I'd give him 2 or 3 more days at the most."
Blue interrupted. "You're probably better off not knowing him anyway."
Nancy spun around and sailed into him. "That'll be enough of that! Tommy's got his problems but he's basically a good person, deep down."
"Must be really deep."
"Shut up, Blue! I don't want to hear another word out of you. Tommy's the nearest thing to a father that you've ever had."
"Okay. Sorry, Nancy."
Okay, Michael learnt something from that exchange. Everyone joked and scoffed about Tommy, but he was still Nancy's man and she liked him. He'd better not forget that.
Big Mike came in, with Ben, to 'get a drink'. Michael knew what they were up to, so he said, "Hey, Ben," and left in a hurry. Big Mike was trying to set them up and he wasn't sitting around there with the whole bloody family watching the courtship rituals. They could get lost. He wouldn't mind getting to know Ben, sometime, but not with the whole world watching.
He left the house, down the steet and around the first corner and kept going. He wasn't going anywhere, just walking and thinking. He wasn't sure if he was ready for a relationship with anybody and, when he was, it would be with someone who he found for himself. He didn't want his brother match-making for him. Why not? Well, that stuff was private, wasn't it?
He spent a couple of hours just wandering around and checking-out his new town. The school looked big, but they always do. He walked far too much and his feet were hurting again. He found his way back home and tried not to limp as he approached the house. Sarah would not be impressed.
But, when he got back to the house, no-one was looking at him anyway. As he walked in off the street, a police car pulled in behind him. He stopped, looked back and watched as two uniformed policemen pulled Tommy out from the back seat. He was a mess. His clothes were all messed up, one shoulder was bare as the shirt had been ripped off it. His hands and face were bleeding, one eye was swollen shut and the other one wasn't much better. He was drunk, slobbering and slurring and incapable of standing upright. A mess.
The cops took one arm each, slinging them over their shoulders, holding him up and more-or-less dragging him as they helped him up to the house.
"Whoah!" Michael stood out of the way and watched, open-mouthed.
Nancy came out and stood, arms akimbo, glaring down at them. "What've you Pigs done to my Tommy?" She demanded.
"Lay off, Nancy," one of them said. "It wasn't us, we're just bringing him home."
"Look at the state of him! What's he been doing now?"
The other cop answered, "He was fighting, in the street behind Larsen's Hotel. You've got to give him some credit. There were three young hoons, all half his age and twice his size. He was getting a hiding, but he was giving as good as he got."
"I'll give him bloody credit!" she exploded.
"Ullo Nancy, girl!" Tommy peered up at her and grinned lop-sidely.
"Don't you 'hello' me, you Little Swine! I'll have your bloody hide. Get him in here!" She led the way in and the others followed her to the kitchen.
"Dump him by the table there. And don't you bloody bleed on my floor!"
Michael followed them in. He knew that he was sticky-beaking, but he wasn't going to miss this. Nancy ignored him, but she ordered Molly and Hori out of her kitchen.
"Oh, Tommy!" Sarah growled at him. She got the first-aid kit out.
They lowered him to the chair and left quietly, with thanks from Sarah. Nancy just stood glaring.
Michael stood quietly, leaning against the wall and watching the drama. Sarah started cleaning him up and Nancy got a coffee. She looked around.
"Michael, get a bucket from the washhouse and shove it in front of him. If he spews on my floor, I'll bloody kill him!"
He brought a bucket, put in on the floor in front of Tommy and stood back. They'd obviously been here before, everyone seemed to know what they were doing. Definitely not a father to be proud of.
'I wouldn't get much for a trade-in.'
Tommy was pathetic. Small, drunk, bloody and beaten. He was pathetic! Nancy agreed with him too. She slammed the coffee down on the table and sat down.
"Get that into you, and don't spill it! What were you fighting about this time?"
"I wash defending a lady's honour," Tommy slurred.
"Don't give me that! What would you know about honour - or about ladies either? You stupid little man. Who were you fighting?"
"The Hardy boys and one of the McCutcheons. Sorry Nancy."
"Sorry? So you should be. What did you let those little punks beat you for?"
'What??' Michael was thinking. 'LET them beat him??'
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