The Fetch. Finuala Dowling

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The Fetch - Finuala Dowling

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some clean clothes for the kid,” said William.

      He felt quite light-headed. He had a plan. By midmorning tomorrow he’d be a free man.

      He switched on the beam of his miner’s light in preparation for putting the gold back in its hiding place, but Orrie was on to him this time and said firmly: “Up! Up!”

      Clearly, having a child doubled the number of problems a person had to solve every day. With one arm holding Orrie fast to his hip, William had to use his free hand for the dual purpose of holding the bag of gold and steadying their ascent. Cat’s eyes peered down at them from the dark hole above, giving Oro much happiness.

      “Now you’re going to have a bath,” William said to Oro when they were safely down. He undressed the boy and tried to lower him into the warm soapy water that had accumulated in the bucket standing in the shower cubicle. But Oro kept lifting his knees up.

      William fetched the goggles and snorkel and threw them into the bucket first. Oro consented to follow them into the water. He played with these new toys while he was soaped and rinsed. Finally, William wrapped Oro in a towel and carried him to the kitchen.

      Dolly came in while he was filling a pot with water, looking almost respectable in a pair of jeans. She’d knotted her checked shirt to expose her midriff and wound a cheap, tasselled shawl around her hips, belly-dancer style.

      “I’ve brought Oro’s clothes,” she said, pointing to a patchwork bag she carried over her shoulder. Do you mind if I dress him in your room?”

      “Go ahead,” said William, handing the boy to her.

      While Dolly was busy with Oro, William set about making their simple supper, cutting the bread and toasting it, putting three eggs into the pot of water he had placed on the stove.

      Dolly came back to the kitchen with Oro in his pyjamas. “I’ll just put this back in the caravan,” she said, indicating the patchwork bag.

      William put a heavy bolster on top of a chair so that Oro could reach the table top, then he threaded a leather belt around the child and buckled it behind the chair back.

      “Take a seat,” he said to Dolly when she returned.

      “In a moment,” she said.

      William wanted her to sit down and help the child with his supper. He felt unsettled by her restlessness. Dolly kept moving around his living space and touching things, turning them over.

      “What’s this?” she asked.

      “It’s a gauge for my anemometer,” he replied.

      “What’s an anemometer?” asked Dolly.

      “It measures the wind speed.”

      William cut an egg carton into three. He buttered the toast and spooned the hot eggs into their cardboard cups.

      “No thanks, nothing for me,” said Dolly when William asked her if she would like one. She stood in the doorway smoking and looking out at the night.

      Oro regarded his supper with the gravest suspicion. He watched as William cracked his own egg open with a spoon, setting the implement aside in order to dip a toast soldier. Oro then took up his spoon and gave the egg a good whack. It broke free from his section of carton and rolled away across the table. William intercepted the egg and returned it to the makeshift egg cup. He cut open the lid of Oro’s egg, carefully peeling away shards of shell which Oro’s mishandling had crushed into the egg white. Then he returned to his own meal.

      Oro watched William eat toast dripping with egg. The child developed a sympathetic drool of saliva. He seemed to be waiting to see whether William’s egg was good, not poisonous. Satisfied, he then pincered a rubbery morsel of egg white between his fingers. Not liking the sensation, he tried to throw it away. The egg white, with a dab of yolk attached, flew off his finger, only to land in his hair. Oro scratched his head, leaving behind another piece of egg white on the helix of his ear, in the place where a clerk might rest a pencil. At last, he laid hold of a toast soldier and mashed it into the egg. The toast crumpled and then broke off inside the yolk. Oro squashed it further down with his finger. He wanted to wipe his fingers down his front, but missed his chest and got his neck instead. Then he indicated that he would prefer some of William’s neatly dipped toast. They swapped. Oro received a neat toast finger tipped with a perfect coating of egg yolk, and William used a spoon to extricate the pulpy remains of the toast finger from what had been Oro’s egg.

      “How old is he?” he asked.

      Dolly left her post at the doorway and came inside to answer the question. “Orrie?” She seemed to need to think about her child’s age. “He’s just turned two. I suppose you’re wondering who his father is. Let’s just say that Orrie’s my little lovechild.”

      William had a rational person’s dislike of sentiment, so he did not pursue this line of questioning. “How long are you planning on staying in Slangkop?” he asked instead.

      “Don’t worry, we won’t be much trouble to you. I’m used to living on the smell of an oil rag and, as for Orrie, well, you can see that he’s just like you.”

      She looked at the two of them for a moment and then added: “I thought I might drive to Fish Hoek tonight. There’s someone there who is willing to lend me some money. Maybe you could help me unhitch the caravan. Orrie can help, can’t you Orrie? I’ll just get your trainers so that your feet don’t get dirty.”

      William felt relieved. Dolly seemed to be taking charge of her own destiny. Perhaps he would be able to keep his gold coins after all.

      He released Oro from his improvised high chair and fetched his miner’s light. They went outside. William chocked the van’s tyres, checked its handbrake, unclipped the safety wire and unplugged the electrics.

      Oro bent his knees slightly, his hands resting on his thighs in a manly way as he watched William. When the jockey wheel was in place, William let Oro think that he was helping to tighten it.

      The car was now released of its burden, and, as if in sympathy, Dolly’s mood lightened too. The patchwork bag slung over her shoulder, she seemed almost to skip to the car door. “I won’t be long, darling,” she said, kissing Oro’s forehead.

      “You don’t think you should take the kid with you?” asked William.

      “Oh no, he needs to find his land legs. We’ve spent too many days on the road. Here, darling, wrap Mommy’s shawl around you.” She removed her tasselled hip wrap and draped it around Oro. “I’ll be back soon, munchkin. Love you.”

      William picked up the dismayed boy, and they stood watching the tail-lights of Dolly’s car disappear. To distract Oro, William pointed out the Southern Cross in the sky above. Then he took him inside and made him another bottle. The boy was subdued, except when William tried to remove his trainers so that he could sleep more comfortably. William gave up and simply covered him with a blanket, shoes and all.

      Afraid to do anything that would cause further excitement or distress, William sat quietly beside Oro on the bed. The child’s eyes started to flicker and droop as he sucked on the bottle. At last it dropped from his lips with a plopping noise. The boy slept.

      William went to his workbench and picked up the stem of

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