The Outsider

The Outsider

Old newspapers blew across the veranda and slammed the peeling front door shut. Jenny jumped, and waiting for her heart to slow down, she pulled the woollen blanket around her shoulders and sank back into the grubby and lumpy couch. White nylon curtains blew across dirty windows sending particles floating across the room. She watched, mesmerised as the bits went up into the air and then down, and up again. Putting her feet onto the worn, wooden and gritty floor, and with drooping shoulders, she trudged into the next room. Shivering she went back to grab the blanket.

‘Toast will do tonight’ she thought, pushing the side of the toaster down. Lifting a foot she looked underneath it, grimaced and then wiped it on her pyjama leg, doing the same to the opposite foot, ‘Yuk’ she said aloud at the feel of her feet going back down on the floor. She swore as swirls of smoke rose from the toaster towards the stained ceiling. She quickly tried to open the kitchen window to let air in and clear out the smoke. Her small hands lifted the yellow metal handle, and sliding down the edge of the wooden frame to the bottom gave an almighty shove. It flew open, hitting the wall outside but not breaking. The burnt toast was dry and unappetising but she ate it none the less.

Arriving late to her accommodation had messed up all of her plans. The coach had broken down on the way and it had taken what felt like ages to fix. Everyone had been instructed to get off the coach while it was being sorted out, not that they were informed as to what the problem actually was. The coach had stopped at a small town, so not much to see or do. The General Store, in much need of a coat of paint, sold a small selection of food and drink.  Luckily she had a water bottle still half full so only bought a sausage roll. She wasn’t even hungry but what else can you do when it’s like a ghost town and those few people who are around aren’t that friendly, and annoyingly, you have finished your book that kept you so engrossed on the coach trip? Jenny threw the sausage roll wrapper in the bin next to her, disappointed with herself for eating the ‘artery clogger’ as her Pop used to call them!! ‘That was awful’ she said to herself, trying to scrape some of the grease off the roof of her mouth with her nail.

When they were eventually allowed back onto the coach she had checked her watch and realised that she had been sitting on the old wooden bench outside the general store for about an hour and forty five minutes. The only entertainment had been a long drawn out disagreement being staged by a young couple from off the coach. It started out about finances and by the time they had moved away to continue the ‘discussion’ without an audience they were on to the age old ‘and YOUR mother interferes all the time’!!

The breakdown of the coach had really put a ‘spanner in the works’ regarding finding the house holding the key to Jenny’s accommodation. It was by now dark and all she had was ‘88 Norman Road’ to go by. Stepping off the coach, she could see only one shop that seemed open – a neon sign flashed ‘open til 11pm’ so she crossed the wide, empty road. She had to press the buzzer and tell the voice on the other end what she wanted. Of course the intercom was crackling as if it had been struck by lightning so it took a few attempts and a lot of ‘Sorry I can’t hear you. Can you speak up….and slowly’ before she was told where her destination was. Norman Road seemed like the longest road she had ever walked along. Puffing and fed up, she dragged her large suitcase along the footpath. She hit every bump and uneven paver with such force that she expected a wheel to fall off any time. The darkness was only interrupted by the occasional street light, and the wind whipped through trees and bushes, their swaying silhouettes frightening for Jenny, walking an empty street alone in an unknown place.

She found number eighty eight and old man opened the door and asked who she was. After showing her driver’s licence for ID, he held out his bony hand and as Jenny went to shake it he turned it over to reveal an old silver key. He was annoyed at being woken up at ‘an ungodly hour’. She tried to explain why she was so late, but he wasn’t interested. He told her that there was milk in the fridge, vaguely told her how to turn the hot water system on, gave her a mud map of how to get there, and closed the door. As she was walking down the gravel driveway, the door opened again and the small figure in blue striped pyjamas called out “Don’t lose the key, it’s the only one I have”.

It wasn’t too far from Norman Road to her accommodation and by now she was really passed caring. She could have curled up on the side of the road and slept – well maybe with a guard dog next to her.

The wind was dying down – trees that were earlier madly dancing now gently swayed. Jenny could hear noises outside, a tin of some sort rolling down the road and an owl hooting in the distance. She yawned and headed for the bedroom, switching off lights as she went. Her little silver torch that went on every journey with her shone through the darkness of the room and after locating the light switch for the bathroom, cleaned her teeth and got into a bed. Quickly inspecting the sheets and seeing nothing visible, she climbed in. She made a mental note….’tomorrow air the mattress and spray for fleas’. The thought of it made her itchy.

She lay listening to the silence for a long while, thinking that she was fortunate to have the weekend to sort herself out, buy food, check out the town and hopefully meet some of the locals, clean this disgusting house and then on Monday would settle down to write. Despite everything she felt hopeful and excited.

Morning had arrived. Brightness and light flooded through flimsy curtains. Birds were chatting outside somewhere and far off in the distance a dog barked.

Jenny yawned loudly, stretching her arms above her head. A small cobweb hung down from the ceiling and dangling from that was a black spider. He was lowering himself as if his tight rope act had just finished and it was time to slide down the rope. ‘Aahh” she called out and rolled to the other side of the bed just as the spider let go of the rope completely and landed softly on the bed. ‘EEwww’ Jenny gasped shaking her head and running her fingers through her hair, feeling the sensation of crawling, even though she could see the spider sitting on the bed. ‘I was enjoying lying there just relaxing you stupid spider’ she thought but the moment had long gone and so she walked to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

Outside it felt as if it might be a warm day. A bright yellow ball high in the sky warmed the back of Jenny’s neck as she wandered around the house to check it out in day light. Coming down the side of the house and around to the front through overgrown bushes and prickly hedges, she looked up to see a neighbour across the road. Sporting a bright green nightie, the lady looked up to see Jenny furiously brushing a cobweb off her arm. “Aren’t they awful, spiders webs that is”, called out Jenny to the nightie lady, as she walked towards the edge of the road so they could perhaps have a conversation. “Yes” came the curt reply and with that she quickly walked inside her front door. ‘Strange lady’ mused Jenny.

Armed with shopping bags and wearing descent walking shoes Jenny started the journey into town. The day really had turned out rather lovely, and she was animated at the prospect of a fresh start, meeting new people and hopefully writing a ‘best seller’.

Pushing through colourful plastic strips Jenny walked into the supermarket. One or two people were inside the store and as she glanced around her, she could see that it was clean and well stocked. ‘Hallelujah’ she thought to herself at the sight of fresh, colourful fruit and vegetable. Thinking of the variety she saw in the General store where the coach had broken down made her feel very grateful for what she saw here. A young girl wearing a dark blue work uniform was putting more fruit out into the baskets and on the shelves. “You have a good variety of fresh vegies. Is it always like this?” Jenny asked the girl, smiling. “Why not?” she replied with a question, seemingly annoyed. “Oh I was just surprised, you know, being a small town….I just thought” Jenny began, but the girl had moved off, obviously not interested in what a ‘stranger’ had to say. She paid for her goods and walked out, calling out “Bye” but getting no reply.

Next stop was the Hardware store. Spider and fly spray was a necessity! ‘I know it’s not good for the ozone layer but creepy crawlies aren’t good for my wellbeing either’ Jenny thought, trying to justify her shopping list. The storekeeper wore an old checked shirt and shorts that looked as if his great grandfather had passed them down. Wandering around the cluttered store the old man watched her, not saying a word. She picked up cans of spray and a dustpan and brush and headed for the counter. “Hello. Umm, do you have any other colours of dustpans and brushes? I always find bright red, umm, too red”…..Jenny said light-heartedly as she noticed the checked shirt was buttoned up wrongly, exposing his hairy belly on one side only. “Nope, that’s it. You visiting someone in town?” he replied, not taking his suspicious eyes, and bushy eyebrows that reminded her of brown caterpillars, off her. “That’s a shame about the colour” Jenny retorted. “You got family here?” he persisted. “No I don’t have family. I’m living here for a while” she replied, adding to herself ‘satisfied’!

 In the one and only café in town Jenny treated herself to an iced coffee before the walk back home. A hum of noise filled the small venue as what looked like ‘locals’ drank their coffees. The large bespectacled lady behind the counter took Jenny’s order, and her money. She had asked the same questions as the Hardware store man except with a few more words. All the patrons stopped what they were doing to look over at the counter and wait for the answers. “Did you find Norman Road?” asked the lady, sunlight shining through the window and on to her smudged glasses. “Yes I did thank you. How did you know I was looking for it?” Jenny asked her; quite surprised that news travels that fast.  “We don’t see many strangers in this town. So when someone is here to stay, we know about it alright” she offered. “Yes I can imagine” said Jenny. “It is quite out of the way. What would you do here?” but as soon as the words left her mouth, she knew that she shouldn’t have said the last bit! The clipped reply was, “Well we locals like it here. It’s our home and we find plenty to do. What are you going to find to do then while you’re here?” Jenny could feel all eyes on her as she answered with “I’m going to write”. The lady didn’t say anything and everyone else got back to their coffees and cakes as if that was the response they all expected and most of them probably thinking ‘Another writer’.

On Monday Jenny’s box of worldly goods arrived by freight train to the small town. She found a note shoved under her door when she got back from a morning walk, telling her to arrange a pick up. “What with?” she said out loud.

Trudging into town and the Post Office, she was greeted by a youngish man. He soon let her know that he was in charge of ‘anything and everything to do with letters, parcels and freight’! “Oh good” she told him. “Now how can I get my box to my house?” she asked. ‘Well what’s in the box?” he wanted to know. She felt like saying “None of your business” but instead replied “Well the most important thing is my typewriter. I need that for my writing. “I heard that you’re a writer” he said slowly, then like music to Jenny’s ears, “I can drop it off for you. Of course it will cost you a few dollars”. She didn’t care. The cost was irrelevant. He continued “We’ve had a few writers here. They don’t stay long”.

Weeks flew by. At first nobody was very friendly. Jenny felt as if her every movement was watched. But she persevered. She smiled and chatted, and it was hard work trying to get the ‘townsfolk’ to return the conversation. They were naturally suspicious of newcomers.

The breakthrough came when the annual town fair was on. She found a flyer in her mailbox and decided that this could be the way she could be more accepted.

Apparently Mrs Lynn who ran the CWA was looking for people to bake cakes and scones for the morning tea stall. She had pinned a notice up outside the supermarket on the grubby and overcrowded board – and it caught Jenny’s eye. “Oh I can do that” she said aloud to herself, taking note of the phone number of Mrs Lynn. She always was good at baking. Her dad was relieved when she moved out of home – he was putting on so much weight with all of her ‘goodies’ that none of his pants fitted properly any more.

Her baked goods were the talk of the town. There wasn’t instant rapport with everyone but it was a good start. ‘It might take time, but I have a foot in the door’ she laughed to herself, ‘and when I’m a famous author they will all want to say that Jenny Crawford once lived in this town and was almost one of us’.