The Fine Color of Rust Read Online Free Page A

Bull leans down to shake Jake’s hand. “I’m Merv. Who are you, then?”
    â€œJake.”
    â€œPardon me?”
    Jake’s awestruck voice has soared into a register that only the blue heeler and I can hear.
    â€œThis is Jake”—I step in—“and I’m Loretta. I think Norm Stevens told you I was coming?”
    â€œAh, you’re the windscreen.”
    â€œThat’s me.”
    â€œCan’t do it till this afternoon, sorry. But you could leave the car here and pick it up at five.”
    â€œSure.” I put on a bright fake smile. “Jake and I’ll walk the five kilometers back into town in this shocking heat and have a pedicure while we wait.”
    â€œWe could stay here and look at the cars,” Jake whispers.
    Merv Bull shades his eyes with his hand and looks down at me. I can see him better now. Norm was right, he’s handsome in a parched, rural bloke kind of way. Blue eyes and dark eyelashes. Looks as if he squints a lot, but who doesn’t around here. He’s frowning at me like a schoolteacher frowns at the kid with the smart mouth.
    â€œI do have a loan car you can use while yours is in the shop. To get you to your pedicure, that is.”
    â€œHa, sorry, only joking.” I’m turning into a bitter old hag. I’m reminding myself of Brenda. Soon I’ll become strangely attracted to beige. “That would be great. Any old car will do. I mean, hey, we are used to the Rolls-Royce here.”
    â€œMum! That’s not a Rolls-Royce. It’s a Holden!” Jake beams proudly at Merv.
    â€œYou certainly do know your cars, mate.” Merv pats Jake on the shoulder.
    Now I’ll never get Jake out of here. Merv, to be addressed hereafter as God, goes back into the shed to get the keys for the exchange car, and Jake and the blue heeler trot faithfully after him. I watch his long lanky walk. My husband never walked that way, even though he was about the same size as Merv Bull. My husband, Tony—God love him wherever he may be and keep him there and never let him come back into my life—was a stomper. He stomped through the house as though he was trying to keep down unruly carpet; he stomped in and out of shops and pubs, letting doors slam around him; he stomped to work at the delivery companyand stomped home stinking of his own fug after eight hours in the truck; and one day he stomped out to the good car and drove off and never stomped back.
    We’d been married ten years. I never dreamed he’d leave me. After the second year of marriage, when I fell pregnant with Melissa, I settled down and stopped fretting that I’d married the wrong man. It was too late, so I decided to try to enjoy my life and not spend all my time thinking about what could have been. I thought he had decided that too.
    A month after he’d gone a postcard arrived. By that time I’d already finished making a fool of myself telling the police he must have run his car off the road somewhere and insisting they find him. The postcard said he was sorry, he needed to get away. I’ll be in touch. Cheque coming soon.
    Still waiting for that cheque.
    â€œIt’s the red Mazda with the sheepskin seat covers over by the fence.” Merv Bull hands me a set of car keys on a key ring in the shape of a beer stubby. “She’s a bit stiff in the clutch, but otherwise she drives pretty easy.”
    â€œBeen getting a lot of business?” As I speak I take Jake’s hand in mine and edge him quietly toward the Mazda before he realizes that we’re about to leave his new hero.
    â€œIt’s been good. They told me it’d take a while to get the ordinary car business going again, especially since no one’s worked here for a few years, but I guess I’ve been lucky. I’ll probably have to get an apprentice when the big machinery starts arriving.”
    â€œBig machinery?”
    â€œFor the development.