No Place for Small Creatures

“Get your feet off those armrests, lads, and get to work. Father McGuigan needs his pickup washing.”

“Ah, Ma,” says Danny, “do we have to it’s—”

“It’s ten bucks each, so you better make it shine.”

“But it’s too hot out there and-—”

“He was expecting you an hour ago.”

Jimmy grimaces, “Is there any choice?”

The look says it all. Ma’s not making an offer they can refuse. It’s more of an order than an invitation. She leaves a bucket and polishing cloths by the door.

#

Father McGuigan’s inside his old Chevy with the window down. 

He’s rapping his knuckles on the outer bodywork and wrenching the ignition key with his other hand.

The faded blue ink-work and pale scar weals on his tanned forearm complement the mottled surface of the vehicle’s dirty paintwork.

“Damn starter, come on,” he mutters. “Come on, start why don’t you?”

“Hello, Father, we’re here to wash your—”

“Oh, yes, lads, of course,” he says, opening the door and clambering out. 

“Ask Mrs Williams to fetch some water.”

“Where is---?”

“Inside and out if you please.” He slides back two bolts and slams down the tailgate.

“Do you have...?”

“Mrs W’s inside, she’ll get whatever you need.” He folds back a crusty tarpaulin to reveal a hoe and a rake, four wooden-framed wire-topped cages, and a Jerry can. 

“It seems I’m running on fumes,” he says, stretching forward. “So I’ll be away a short while.” He grabs the worn metal container and the cages come alive. There is movement within the straw-lined boxes, accompanied by sporadic hissing. A distinctive rattle cuts through the hot midday air, as if to telegraph the latest news from one enclosure to another. It’s a gentle, hollow clatter that’s not uncommon to a kindergarten full of handcrafted wooden toys.

“Ask my housekeeper for some air freshener, the cab’s got kinda unwholesome.” He rolls down his white shirtsleeves and buttons the cuffs, disguising his past and restoring a modicum of respectability.

“Father McGuigan, we thought that—-”

“You’ll get your money after I’ve got back.” He grabs his black suit jacket.

“But we were told—-”

“I haven’t got time to debate terms,” he says, “I’ll see you right when I return.” 

“Can we get—”

“She has everything you need.” Stomping past the lads, he draws his hand across his throat to curtail the exchange.

“Where do-—”

Father McGuigan’s whistling blocks out further questions from the lads. They turn and shrug at each other as he heads off towards town. His leather sole shoes raise plumes of dust trails as they strike the road’s loose grit.

#

There’s no shade outside and no escape from the heat at the front of the house. Danny knocks on the front door as Jimmy sits down on the wooden porch steps. The inner fly screen door opens a few inches and a pale face peers at them.

“Yes,” she says, “can I help you?”

“Hello, Mrs Williams, I’m Danny and-—”

“I’m Jimmy,” he says, shielding his eyes from the glare. “We’re here to—”

“Mrs Williams,” says Danny, “we need some water-—”

“Is there a hose we can use?”

“Please go round to the back,” she says, and retreats into the dark interior.

The lads saunter round to the rear of the building, down a narrow passage between the house and the garage. The housekeeper who is wearing green gumboots and floral overalls greets them with a mop at the back door. She smiles and blinks at the boys from behind outsized spectacles and pushes back her waterproof bonnet.

“Come on in boys,” she says, holding the door open. “You’ll have to pardon the mess, I hope you’re not squeamish?”

“We’ve got our own bucket and cloths we just-—”

“Take a seat,” she says, and wanders through to the kitchen. “Can I fix you a juice or a cool drink?”

“No, thank you, we—-”

“Do you have any lemonade,” says Jimmy, “with ice?”

“You must be parched,” she says. “Is that two drinks? Danny are sure you---”

“Hey, you know what? That’d be great, thanks, Mrs Will-—”

“Violet, call me Violet,” she says. “Please take a pew, I’ll just be a minute.”

The lads take a seat as Violet disappears into a back room with her mop and bucket. The kitchen itself is conventional in design with the usual white goods and amenities: sink, cooker and storage. However the space opens up to what was once a dining room, the vinyl flooring continues throughout. The double room space now functions as a miniature zoo; it’s stacked full of wooden cages containing small creatures. Animals of both the furry and feathered variety have been packed on top of each other like a multi storey favela. There is quite a hum. It’s an acrid smell that can only be associated with so many living beings occupying such a small space. The animals themselves were subdued when the boys entered the building. Now they’re chattering, chirping and croaking as though they’re relieved to discover they have friendly visitors.

“So lads,” Violet says, opening the fridge. “I see you’ve noticed our pets?”

“That’s some collection, where did they-—”

“Donations, mostly,” she says, pouring out two glasses of chilled lemonade. “They’re foundlings that sometimes need looking after.”

“Are you a vet or something?”

“Me?” she smiles. “No, I’m just doing what I can to help them.”

“Speaking of which,” says Danny, “we should get busy.” He nudges his brother, who drains his glass. “Can we fill our-—”

“You can use the water pipe in the garage and there’s a long hose you can extend to the Chevy.”

#

Violet escorts the lads outside and unlocks the roll-up garage door. She grabs both the handle and slips her gloved hand under the lower section to lift the panel upwards.

“It only opens a couple of feet,” she says, straining to lift it any higher. “Grab that stick and jam it under, will you, Jimmy?”

She points to the tap position and indicates where the hose is stored.

“You’ll get what you need at the back.” She catches her breath and passes Danny a Maglite from her utility belt. “Keep clear of the rear cages. They can spit at you.”

“Father McGuigan said something about air freshener for the cab?”

“You get set up and I’ll pop back when I get a chance.”

#

Jimmy and Danny bend down and shuffle under the garage door. There’s a dense atmosphere inside that indicates more life somewhere inside. Danny scans around the interior with the Maglite. He spots the coiled hosepipe. It’s lying on top of a chest of drawers next to three tall cages that gleam in the darkness. There’s movement within and as they approach, they see a dark silhouette rise to meet them. Danny flashes the light towards the cage and they see a serpent standing erect behind the shiny bars. Its small yellow eyes glint above a dark opening; a mouth that appears to smile at them. The cobra stretches its jaws to reveal two yellow fangs. A moist tongue darts out and flickers above red raw gums. It hisses. 

Jimmy lunges forward and grabs the hosepipe from the wooden cabinet. There’s a crash of crockery on the concrete floor and the snake lunges at the metal bars. It hisses again and releases a cloud of atomised toxin in the lad’s direction.

Jimmy retreats out of harm’s way and Danny points the beam of light downwards to inspect the debris at their feet. Amongst the broken pieces of pottery are the small bodies of half a dozen brown field mice.

   “How often do you think he eats?” says Jimmy.

   “Maybe we should give him a mouse?”

   “I’m not feeding it anything.”

#

The lads work together as a team on the bodywork. Jimmy’s an expert with the hosepipe and Danny’s a mean polisher. The paintwork’s matt finish has taken on a new lustre and the chrome has regained its lost gleam. However, they are both soaked to skin and enjoying being outside when Violet delivers the cab cleaner and sprays. Jimmy goofs about and chases the housekeeper with a fountain of spurting water. At first she reacts awkwardly and threatens to tell Father McGuigan, but she lightens up when Danny hands her a saturated sponge. She plays along and sploshes around the vehicle in her oversized boots. Jimmy ducks and dives until she out manoeuvres him and hurls the soggy projectile at him over the hood. Danny roars with laughter as Jimmy extends his neck like a meerkat and gets the squelchy missile square in his face. 

   The old Chevy is looking more cared for and less pre-cherished by the time Father McGuigan appears in the distance. When he arrives, both lads are busy cleaning the interior, polishing the dashboard and emptying the ashtrays.

   “What on earth’s been going on here?” he says. The Jerry can has taken its toll, and he’s not happy.

   “We’ve just been doing what you asked-—”

   “I didn’t expect a swamp,” he says, looking at the huge muddy puddles. 

The lads climb out of the cab and their heads drop.

   “You better get this yard tidied up,” he says, shaking his head. “Ask Mrs Williams for a couple of brushes.”

   “Are you going to look inside the-—”

   “You lads need to lose this mess before I check your handiwork.”

#

Danny and Jimmy brush the waterlogged concrete whilst Father McGuigan fills the Chevy’s fuel tank. He tinkers under the hood with the spark plugs and retries the ignition. The motor is reluctant to turn over at first, but after gunning the accelerator pedal he succeeds.

Mrs Williams takes charge of the hose-pipe and rewinds it into a neatly layered concentric coil. She hovers around the inside of the garage and tidies up the broken crockery and rodent remains from the earlier misadventure. Nothing is said about that incident. Father McGuigan’s not got a forgiving disposition.

# 

   “What’s all this stuff under the driver’s seat, Danny?” he says, pulling out a fistful of newspaper and mice carcasses from the dark recesses behind the footwell.

   “We didn’t see those, sir, I don’t-—”

   “I’ve got to say I’m not happy about what’s being going on here.”

   “But we haven’t stopped all after-—”

   “I’m sure Mrs Williams will tell me what’s been going on.”

   “We did what you asked and-—”

   “I didn’t say you could go in the garage.” He points at the stick jammed under the garage door. “I hope you’ve not been rooting about in there?” 

   “Well we were told-—”

   “Not by me you weren’t, young man.” Father McGuigan crouches down, peers inside, and sparks a flame on his brass cigarette lighter. He squints his eyes and stretches his torch arm into the cavernous darkness. He turns his head to scrutinise the pair. They shuffle about and avoid eye contact. Father McGuigan rises, replacing his lighter in his trouser pocket, and strides over to the Chevy’s tailgate. He lifts the tarpaulin and drags out his hoe and rake. Without a word, he crawls under the roll-up door and heads inside the garage. There is silence outside in the as the lads listen to Father McGuigan cursing and jabbing the metal rake at the inner recesses of the concrete building.

Mrs Williams rolls her eyeballs and shakes her head when Danny catches her looking his way. He is about to say something when she looks him in the eye and raises a single finger to her pursed lips. Father McGuigan emerges into the daylight and kicks the stick clear of the weighty metal door. It crashes down and sets off a cacophony of howls and shrieks from inside the house.

   “I’m not happy, lads,” he says, and braces to his full height. “There are the remains of a hastily cleared crockery breakage.”

   “I can explain,” says Mrs Williams.

   “It’s no use covering up for them,” he says. “They’re lucky to be still standing.”

   “I’m going to give you ten notes for the work, lads, and keep the other ten for the replacement plate.”

  “But we tried to-—”

   “The missing cobra is another matter,” he says, looking from one lad to the other. “That needs my immediate attention.”

The Barstow lads stare at each other, their jaws hanging loose and opened wide. Mrs Williams goes about her business. There are animals to look after. 

#

A week later, Mrs Barstow comes in to the TV room and announces the tragic accident that occurred to Father McGuigan on the evening after the lads visited. His Chevy was found outside town, having swerved off the tarmac and piled into deep bush. Father McGuigan was slumped over the wheel of his vehicle. It was thought to be an unfortunate traffic accident, but police are appealing for witnesses. Father McGuigan had suffered a heart attack and wasn’t conscious when the emergency services discovered him. Although the police don’t suspect anything untoward, they’re concerned about the scarring around his ankles.

“At least the vehicle was nice and clean.”

“Jimmy, how could you say such a thing?”

“Well, imagine what the papers would have written if they’d seen the vehicle beforehand?”

“You guys saw nothing strange, did you?”

“He seemed tense, when we’d finished the work, but not more than usual.”

The End