A Stranger Arrives with a Secret

Every day at 7 am Jerry took his Jack Russell for a walk around the park. One day Mrs P sneaked out to follow him but Jerry only stopped at a local kiosk for a coffee for himself and a dish of water for Jojo. Mrs P was very disappointment. She had hoped to discover a secret liaison.

Jerry was a very private person. His neighbours spread the rumour that he had once been married, but the outcome of that relationship was unknown and there never seemed to be a female in Jerry’s lonely life. They watched through their windows as he opened the front door each morning, checked the letter box, picked up the newspaper folded on his front lawn, and hurried back inside. Mrs P, at number 11 had nothing better to do than watch the neighbourhood goings-on through her front window, and one morning, very early she stole down to Jerry’s place, opened his letter box, and was very disappointed to find only a water bill and an advertisement for painting the roof. She replaced the mail and scurried disappointed back home.

Mrs P knew that Jerry did not go to work, and the Jack Russell barked loudly if anyone approached Jerry’s front door. Perhaps he worked from home, or perhaps he was very wealthy and did not need to work. But his spending did not reflect that. She had followed him to the supermarket one day and found that his shopping list was very mundane. She knew that he caught the 374 bus on Tuesday mornings at 10 am, returning at 4 pm with a full shopping bag. Her careful surveillance found that he spent some of the day at the local library and the pub, for one glass of beer. How dull!

Jerry rarely opened his door to the usual pair of neatly dressed and clean faced evangelists, or people doing surveys or opinion polls. Jojo yapped loudly and jumped up at the front window if anyone came to the door.

One day a removalist van delivered a new double bed mattress. Did Jerry have a partner that Mrs P had missed, did anyone share his double bed?

At 11am one morning, Mrs P could not contain her curiosity. She had manned her watching post every day, and that day, in a burst of enthusiasm, she had baked a tray of jelly cakes, and boldly knocked on Jerry’s door. Jojo barked happily and jumped against the door. Jerry had seen her approach and was determined not to open the door, but something changed his mind.

‘Oh, hello Jerry, I’m Gloria Prince, at number 11. I’ve been doing some baking and always have some left over. Here are a few cakes for you and your….’ Jerry thanked her curtly, took the cakes and the interview finished abruptly and Jerry closed the door in her face. She was miffed and retreated sullenly.

No-one ever visited Jerry, except every week or too a small package arrived from Amazon. Mrs P guessed from its shape that it was only a book.

One day a stranger visited Jerry and Mrs P saw him arrive. He drove a black Mazda, quite a new model with shiny clean mudcaps and a USA decal on the bac window. She wondered why, how, when, whatever was going on, and whether Jerry would open the door. She gave herself a headache with all her thinking.

The stranger was casually dressed in grey trousers and neat open-necked blue shirt. He knocked once, waited a few minutes, then knocked again. Jerry might not be home, he thought, and reached into his back trouser pocket for a notebook and pen. He leant against the front door, with Jojo going crazy on the other side of the door, and he started to compose a ‘sorry I missed you’ note. He stood back and then knocked once more. He though he heard footsteps and the dog stopped barking. He called out ‘Jerry I’ve got news for you, lease open up.’

‘Hello’, said Jerry with the door half-opened. ‘What do you want?’

‘There is a secret about you, and I thought it might be of interest.’

Mrs P was watching, and nearly wetting herself with excitement. She wondered if Jerry would let the stranger into his house. She had never seen anyone get past the front door step.

Jerry was intrigued. He hesitated. Perhaps he would come out onto the porch. He held fast to the front door, and suddenly eased it open and invited the stranger inside. Mrs P wished she could see inside to watch what was going on. She thought about creeping over and listening through the door, but the dog would warn Jerry. She wrung her hands in frustration.

Inside, the stranger introduced himself as Peter O’Connor, from Botany in NSW. Peter patted Jojo who settled quietly at his side. After a few niceties, Peter started.

‘I’ve lived in Botany all my life, and I know you used to live there too.’

Jerry sat back, astounded. He was listening intently. What did this stranger want he thought. He would make some pointed enquiries. But Peter continued.

‘What work do you do Jerry?’

Jerry was confused. He should have been the one asking the questions, but he played along. He did not want to antagonise Peter before he revealed his secret.

Peter went on. ‘Do you remember living in Parker Street?’

‘Y-ye-es’ answed Jerry slowly.

‘And did you go to King Street Primary School, and JJ Cohen Secondary School’.

Jerry wondered how Peter had come by all this information.

‘W-why, yes I did’ stuttered Jerry.

‘I was a year ahead of you’ said Peter, and I saw you go to Scouts and play soccer. I saw you were part of a small pack of ‘naughty boys’. You stole letters and newspapers as a ‘joke’ and stole bubble gum from Newman’s newsagency. Newman chase you off didn’t he. ‘You’re lucky he didn’t call the cops, aren’t you.’

Jerry stared at Peter, now feeling raw and exposed.

“You love your dog, don’t you Jerry?’

‘Of course’.

‘He’s your main companion, isn’t he? I believe you have few friends and visitors’.

Jerry nodded and looked down at the floor. Was this the secret? His childhood in Botany?

Peter seemed ready to keep talking.

Jerry wondered if he should invite him into his loungeroom and offer him a cup of coffee. He was impatient to hear Peter’s ‘secret’, so they both continued standing in the hallway inside his front door. He decided to interrupt Peter.

‘Why are you here Peter? Do I owe you money or do I owe someone else? Have I hurt or disappointed someone, - I don’t believe I could ever do that. I’m a quiet law-abiding man.’

Jerry stared into Peter’s eyes.

‘Do you love your dog? Of course you do.’

Jerry nodded, bewildered.

‘Well I was a lonely young boy and I loved my cat. She was a ragdoll and seldom left my house in Meadowbank Drive. She would sometimes sit on the front brick fence but mostly stayed on the porch or inside the house. She loved watching the world go by.’

This was the longest sentence Jerry had heard for years. Jerry was engaged and curious. He stared at Peter.

‘Your cat? Why mention your cat?’

‘Jerry, do you remember Bonfire night? Of course you do. Every street build a huge pyre of old wood and crates and people gathered around letting of Jumping Jacks, sky rocket, Catherine wheels. You must remember. And at school I heard your speech. I can’t forget it. “ On this day, 24th of May, we remember Queen Victoria’s birthday, and celebrate Empire Day. Her empire included Australia, New Zealand, Canada, Kenya and Tanganyika….’

Jerry was astonished and interrupted. Peter’s revelation was jogging his memory.

‘Please come to the point.’

‘In 1961 Jerry, you murdered my darling cat, Suzu. You and your gang stuck a double bunger in her mouth and blew her head off. I hate you so much and vowed to find you when you left Botany soon after that. I have never forgiven you.

Jerry hung his head again, now overcome with shame.

‘You moved didn’t you’, Peter said, ‘to this place in WA. I lost sight of you for three decades. We’re both so much older and wiser, aren’t we. I never forgot that heart-wrenching scene with Suzu’ mangled body on the front lawn. It sickened and angered me, but you had run away, laughing, and I was too upset to do anything. I wrapped myself in my father’s arms and cried.

Yes, you moved interstate to go to university. I would never have found you but last year you ran for local council. You would never make it, would you Jerry? You’re too isolated and nobody knows you. But I saw your photograph in the newspaper. I was visiting my sister in Perth, and she did some investigations to find your address.’

Jerry tried to reply, but his throat was dry like parchment and all he struggled to say was

‘I-I’m sorry’.

‘I hear you Jerry, but I’ve lived with my anger for so long….’

and Peter turned and left.