The Fence Read Online Free PDF Page A

know of anyone good who works this area, Uncle Eric?’
    â€˜Well now,’ begins Eric.
    â€˜There hasn’t been a house sold in this street in years,’ Gwen cuts in.
    â€˜There were the Morrises at number 33,’ corrects Eric.
    â€˜That was only because their children moved them into a retirement village,’ Gwen says. Some children cannot wait to get their hands on their inheritance. The only way Gwen is ever leaving this house is in a box.
    â€˜The Morrises?’ Michael asks.
    â€˜Yes, you remember them, Michael. The people in the awful mock Tudor house they called Rose Cottage. English couple. Shirley caught you and Jonno stealing roses from over the fence to give me and Babs for Mother’s Day that time and chased you up the street. That nasty Maltese Terrier of hers bit poor Jonno’s ankle.’
    She’s never forgiven Michael for that. As the eldest, he should have known better. The ankle took ages to heal and Jonno missed three weeks of cricket.
    â€˜There’s that bloke Keith used to play golf with,’ Eric says. ‘I could ask Val if you like. She might still have his number. Bob something or other.’
    Gwen shoots to her feet and begins stacking the bowls. ‘Shall I put the kettle on?’
    Michael stands. ‘I think we best get going, Auntie Gwen. Thanks for the lovely lunch, it made me feel like a kid again.’
    She can see he wants to kiss her cheek but she isn’t in the mood for token gestures of affection. She fusses with wiping the benches down while Eric wanders off.
    Michael pats his pockets, checking for his keys. ‘Well it was lovely to see you again, though I’m sorry for the reason.’
    Gwen has a sudden thought. ‘What about your mother’s things? Aren’t you taking them with you?’
    Michael flushes. ‘I’m leaving the house furnished. Houses don’t sell well empty and people hear the term “deceased estate” and think bargain.’
    â€˜But her clothes, her jewellery.’ Gwen thinks of that painting but isn’t sure if Soo-Lin realises that the nude hanging over the fireplace in the lounge is her dead mother-in-law.
    â€˜There’s not much to take, Auntie Gwen. I think Mum must have had a clean out when she knew she was dying. There’s a couple of boxes of photos and sentimental items but that’s about it.’
    Gwen is overcome by the desire to rid herself of Michael and his traitorous wife. Soo-Lin has put him up to this, she thinks, pushing Michael around, telling him what to do. She knows the sort.
    Eric ambles into the room carrying a business card between his finger and thumb. ‘Michael, I found this business card. Bob Henshaw’s his name. I’m not sure if he still owns the business, but it might be worth giving him a call. They’re just up at the shopping centre, you could pop in on your way back to the city.’
    As Michael goes to take the card, Gwen snatches it from Eric’s hand and rips it in half. ‘Bob Henshaw died three years ago, Eric. We went to his funeral.’
    Eric looks confused. ‘Did he?’
    â€˜Yes,’ Gwen hisses. ‘They had the wake at the golf club. How could you forget? A dry wake at a golf club for goodness sakes. Who has a dry wake for a seventy-five year old?’ And then she flushes, remembering Babs’ wake had also been dry. Tea and cake for a woman who enjoyed nothing more than a cold white wine and a bowl of olives.
    To hide her embarrassment, she puts the pieces in the kitchen bin, forgetting, in her state, that the card should go in the recycling box.
    â€˜We’ll drive by anyway,’ Michael says, shaking Eric’s hand. ‘See you next time, Uncle Eric.’
    He turns to Gwen. ‘Thanks for lunch, Auntie Gwen.’
    Gwen refuses him an answer, preferring to let the silence grow.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ he whispers, looking every bit as shame-faced as he