Tip Rats

Part 17 - Plans

The phone rang five times before Ned heard the familiar voice interrupt the trilling. ''Allo?' it said, the first consonant of the greeting absent.

'Hey Ma, its Ned'.

'Oh Ned, how are you love?!' the former Mrs Roach responded excitedly.

'Good thanks. Look, I'm going to go away for a bit, overseas, with a few mates. I thought I might come down and see you before I leave. Next week maybe?'

'Ohh, that'd be lovely Ned. Julian's here at the moment mind, but I'm sure you'll be fine.'

'Cool, well I'll let you know details later on' Ned said, not feeling up to a drawn out conversation about the goings on at the lettuce farm his mum ran with her new husband Daryl. Ned was particularly wary of visiting while Julian was about. Julian was Daryl's son and a rather unsavoury character.

Ned walked into the house and straight into the lounge room. The TV was on as it tended to be. The velour recliner chair was empty, which was unusual for this time of day. Ned leant over and touched the cushion, it was warm, his dad couldn't have been too far away. The front screen door hissed slowly and slapped back against the frame a second later. Rooster crept around the corner nervously, avoiding eye contact and with his head bowed, he was truly a dog with emotional issues.

'You know where Dad's gone Rooster?'

Rooster walked slowly across the lounge toward the kitchen, his head still low, flashing submissive upward glances at Ned, just trying to get to the backyard without upsetting anyone.

'What's up buddy?' Ned asked. Rooster trotted on toward the back door, offering a fleeting glance over his shoulder. He almost looked disappointed. Ned was the only person in the family that had much time for Rooster after his transition from cute puppy to ugly dog but they hadn't shared a great deal of time together recently. If bitterness was a canine emotion then Rooster was displaying it astutely and had made Ned feel quite guilty for his negligence.

As Ned followed Rooster out the door he was greeted with an unusual sight. Terry was standing shirtless in the backyard. A single whitish, well-worn, George Thorogood '86 tour t-shirt with a large, nuclear-orange wet patch in the centre hung from the clothes-hoist, inside-out and rippling gently in the warm breeze.

'What's going on here?' Ned asked from under the back awning.

Terry's torso slowly rotated, his feet remained planted into the forest of weeds. 'Eh?'

'It's not like you to be out in the sunshine'.

'I had an accident' he replied with a lazy smile, pointing to the shirt pegged to the clothes-hoist. 'It was this pricks fault' he continued, thrusting an accusing finger at Rooster.

'I'm sure he didn't mean it' Ned replied, clicking the fingers on his left hand, beckoning Rooster over for a pat. 'What did he do?'

'Got himself under the footrest on my chair. When I tried to sit it up he bolted out and I spilled my drink'.

'You can't blame him for that... why you still out here, forgotten what that big yellow thing up there is?' Ned said, motioning toward the sun while still trying to lure Rooster from under the caravan.

'I'm drying off. There's no towels'.

'Righto' Ned replied, all too familiar with such extremes of laziness. 'Well anyway, I wanted to let you know that I'm going to go away in a couple of weeks'. Terry remained silent, his hand was raised in a salute, shielding the sun from his unaccustomed eyes. 'I'm going overseas with Andy and Chris Bastoni'.

Terry looked at Ned without moving his head, 'Oh' he murmured with a slight up thrust of his head, 'that'll be good'.

'I'm gonna go and see Mum before I go'.

'That'll be nice.' Terry uprooted himself and was now schlepping towards Ned, his hermit-white belly shining in the sun like a boiled egg. He continued on past Ned patting him on the shoulder on the way in a rare display of affection. He couldn't remember the last time his dad had touched him and it made him quite uncomfortable, which in turn, made him rather sad. Ned had been busying himself with a world of other worries and had spared little thought for the fact that his father had spent years steadily become a spectre, haunting the house and virtually invisible save for the occasional fart. He was just an extra in the background of everyone else's life. Ned walked over to the caravan and crouched down, offering his hand to Rooster who gave it a quick sniff before retiring further under the caravan to chew on his own arse.