Desert Fish Read Online Free

different now, and I had been watching these past few days to see what would happen. Your father, he just can’t help himself, Gilly . It was what she said when everything was going to be okay. Don’t worry, Gilly. You know it doesn’t mean anything. But nothing had been said so far, and I was tired of waiting. Now Pete had come and I was certain that things would settle.
    â€˜Stay as long as you want,’ my father continued. ‘For whatever the Missus said, and I’ll have a deposit, you know, for breakages and that.’ He tapped his ciggie again and put it to his lips, speaking through the smoke that drifted up in front of him. ‘There’ll be work about, if you look. I don’t care what you do so long as your rent’s paid.’
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    My dad was called Creighton and he was the kind of man people liked but didn’t trust. He could get really excited about things, but he was easily bored too. He had a way of dreaming up ventures that blossomed briefly,like small talk, then fizzled out. His best idea was selling fruit and vegetables door to door. I remember how he leased a Bedford truck and stacked it with apples and oranges, tomatoes and potatoes and carrots, then drove it slowly around the bits of town that were furthest from the shops. He was a novelty for a while and he had a way with people – sharing jokes, carting boxes of fruit and vegetables up the stairs for the women, enjoying the cool drinks offered him after. Only once or twice my father disappeared inside to finish his drink. By the time he came out the sun had moved and customers noticed the sweating apples, the limp lettuce and warm stone-fruit. After that, there was a brief foray into a cleaning business, and an attempt to set up a removal company. But people did their own cleaning in my town, and when they moved from house to house, they liked to pack and lift their own boxes, or ask someone to help as a favour. That was a long time ago. There were no more businesses after that, just odd jobs here and there, ever since.
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    When my mother came back Pete was already moving his things in. I was on the couch, digging my fingers into the holes in the crochet throw. I wanted to make sure she didn’t send him away.
    I pulled my fingers through my hair and held a strand beneath my nose. The river was still in it, a briny mossy smell. Pete smiled at me and I blushed.
    â€˜Where have you been?’ my mother asked from thekitchen. She was framed, small and neat, in the doorway. She put her shopping on the table and unfolded her cafe apron for the washing machine.
    â€˜Swimming,’ I said. ‘Look.’ I nodded in the direction of the spare room.
    Pete pushed both airline bags under the bed where my mother kept nothing at all, not even dust. He stood up and rubbed at his hands as my mother peered in from the hall.
    â€˜Oh,’ she said.
    Pete nodded. ‘Hello.’
    My mother pressed her hands to the fronts of her hips and I could see she was wondering how to handle this.
    Perhaps Pete sensed the awkwardness. ‘I’ll be finished in a moment,’ he said. ‘I’m just moving my stuff in. Sorted it out with Creighton’. There was no hesitancy about him. He checked his hands and then walked over and offered my mother one to shake.
    â€˜Oh,’ she said again. She chewed her lip, rolling the bottom one a little and pressing into it with her top teeth. Then she bit the top lip with her bottom teeth. Her chin went bumpy and her Avon Frosted Grape began to thin until what was left of it had settled into the cracks. She held her tongue and let Pete shake her hand. I could see the skin of her clenched knuckles, raw and angry with the rub of bleach and wood. The gloves had got a hole so she’d binned them and gone ahead and scoured the floors without any.
    â€˜You’ll be Maureen.’
    â€˜So you know about the rent …’
    â€˜Yeah. It’s all settled,