Best Australian Yarn: Chicken Salt by Brittany Riley

Tubby’s Corner Store was the only place in town that buzzed on a Sunday afternoon. Everything else died at 11.01. The store resembled a sort of architectural carcass, cleverly decorated with Streets Ice-Cream signs and ‘For sale’ posters. The locals inside it were the flies, and the faded awnings were the sunglasses that repelled summer’s merciless glare. On the block’s cracked footpath out front, Josie tailed her younger brother. He rode ahead on his bike, putting blind, youthful hope in the fact that no one was reversing out of their driveways as he beelined for the corner store. He craned his neck to see his sister lagging behind on foot. “Look how fast I can go, Josie! Look!” She smiled delicately. “I can see you, Lukey. Watch where you’re going.” He grinned and rode faster. The collection of silver coins jangled in the pocket of his boardshorts, ready to barter for a crispy scallop with extra chicken salt. He screeched to a halt at his finish line, also known as the shop’s front bench, and slapped the handlebars of his steed. He treated the rusted contraption like a sparkling Christmas present rather than a scavenged roadside prize. Lukey dismounted and panted. “Slow poke!” With the knowledge that Sharon was at home drinking, Josie maintained her snail pace. Her hollowed cheeks panged with premonition. Inside the corner store, there had to be at least twelve people waiting for their order. Tubby’s directives boomed to the street outside and over the trilling Telstra ringtone. “Order for Rob! Come get it! No refunds for cold food!” Josie sat next to Lukey on the bench. “Let’s count your money.” Lukey tore the velcro pocket on his shorts and cupped the coins in his small palm. Josie admired her brother’s voluminous eyelashes as he gazed down.“Twenty cents, plus ten cents–” he paused to look at Josie who nodded encouragingly. Lukey continued, “Plus another ten cents, plus five cents and three more five cents…” “Is…?” “Sixty cents.” Josie grinned. “Good job.” Lukey smiled proudly. “Just like you taught me.” He slipped from the bench and walked victoriously up the two front steps to open the gauzed door. It whined and crashed from overuse. Who needed a cowbell. Josie was in for a wait but she didn’t mind. She relaxed into the bench, admiring the cars that meandered along. A shimmering navy Commodore caught her eye. It had to be the brand new model, at least an ‘04. She often saw classmates being dropped to school in cars like that, looking all happy and stuff. Like happy goldfish gazing out the glass windows. Must’ve been nice. A summer gust sent golden hair bounding across her face. She tucked the wild strands tightly behind her ears. Another time for good measure, and again as her eyes wandered to the bench where J + J was carved into the chipped wood. J for Josie, J for Joey. He’d tucked her hair too, lassoed the loose strands like some fledgling cowboy, right before he kissed her. He tasted like chlorine from the town pool, and chicken salt. The kiss was terrible, but Joey was not. During their childhood romance, he’d bought her strawberries and cream lollies, her adored favourite, without being asked. Josie didn’t regonise it as kindness at first. She just thought he was weird. He moved towns a few months later. She hadn’t come across that kindness since. Her fingers trailed over the carved inscription. She’d done that, as a reminder of that day. She’d never owned a Kodak. “Righto, who’s next?” Tubby called. The gauze door opened, and Josie wasn’t one to stare, but she couldn’t help it. An elderly gentleman shuffled down the entry steps. He looked 80-odd, dressed in a full tweed suit with a dainty bouquet of fresh-cut roses at his side, a layer of tinfoil at the stems. Josie ducked her head as he glanced around. She saw him approach in her peripheral vision. “Excuse me, do you mind if I sit at the other end?” he asked. Josie glanced up. One second only. One nod. And went back to picking her fingers. He sat with that old man groan, placing the roses between them. He took a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his nose. He smelled like soap. Josie didn’t hate it. The gentleman sat so far on the edge of the bench he nearly fell off it. Was she really that unapproachable? She didn’t know what to say, or if she should say anything. Maybe something about the weather? That was always a safe opener. The sentiment got caught in her throat. The entry door swung open and Lukey came bounding to his sister. “Josie, Tubby said I need another twenty cents. His prices went up.” Josie’s heart sank to her knees. She didn’t have a cent on her. How was she going to break it to his wide little eyes that he couldn’t have his scallop? “Lukey, I–” “Hold on, I’ve got some change.” The old man retrieved a coin pouch from his jacket pocket. Lukey hesitated, eyeing his sister for permission. Josie nodded quietly. He addressed the elderly gentleman and waited patiently as he dug through the silver, pulling out a shiny two dollar coin. “Here, why don’t you get some red frogs as well?” Lukey’s eyes lit like fireworks. “What do you say, Lukey?” Josie said. “Thank you, Mr Man!” Lukey ran back inside to present his newfound commerce. Josie finally piped up. “Thank you. For that. For doing that for Lukey. He loves his scallops.” “Happy to help.” The old man smiled. Josie noticed the wrinkles around his eyes as he made the gesture. He looked… wise. Josie continued picking at her fingers nervously. “Why are you dressed like that?” The old man paused. Josie shrunk into herself. Now she’d gone and done it. She’d made him angry. He finally addressed himself, “Oh, this old thing? I always dress up for my wife on Sundays.” “Oh… isn’t it hot, though? In that?” “It is, but she’s worth it.” Josie’s mouth twitched into a smile. He must’ve really loved her. “Do you go to school?” The man asked. “Some days.” “Do you not enjoy school?” Josie eyed him carefully, suspiciously. She pressed her lips together as she surveyed him. “No… I actually love school. I just…” Another pause. Another survey. “You just…?” He prompted. His posture was relaxed, he seemed genuinely interested. His brown eyes seemed trustworthy. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt… safe. “I just…feel so small and stupid when I go there.” “Stupid? Why?” Josie spewed her explanation. “Teachers look at me like I’m stupid when I read aloud in class. My mum never read to me. She’d…” another pause, “scream at me if I got my homework answers wrong, so I just stopped asking for help. My school work builds up and builds up to where I feel like I’m drowning so it’s just easier if I don’t do it.” The old man nodded slowly. “But you still go?” “Yes. I want to learn. I… just don’t understand everything most of the time. When I’m there, I mean.” “What grade are you in?” “Year 10.” “Hmm… big year that one. Lots of decisions.” “That’s what they say. I’d like to finish year 12. I just don’t think I’m smart enough.” “You sound smart enough to me, and I’d know.” “How’s that?” “I used to be a school teacher.” “Really?” “I’m long since retired. I usually garden and read these days.” “Do you miss it? Miss teaching?” The gentleman thought long and hard. Josie watched curiously, wondering what was going through his head. “I didn’t for a while. It was nice not to be greeted by piles of essays when I got home. But now… some days it would be nice to wake up and know that I matter to someone, teach a student something they didn’t know before. And the kids always taught me something, too.” “Really?” “Oh, all the time,” he chortled. “I got told about all the pets and siblings and things they’d overheard on the nightly news. I’d heard it all. I miss that…” The entry door swung dramatically as Lukey ran out to present two paper bags. One housed his scallop, the other contained mixed lollies. He plonked himself in the middle of the bench, unsure which to open first. He opted for the lollies and offered it to the gentleman for the first pick. He chuckled and lowered the bag with a wrinkled hand. “You’re too kind, but no, thank you. My teeth can’t handle it now.” Lukey presented the mix to his sister next, who couldn’t resist plucking a strawberries and cream. Lukey settled into Josie’s side, contented with the golden potato doused in so much chicken salt that it resembled wet sand. She hoped he didn’t hear her belly grumble. The bench slipped into silence as Lukey enjoyed his feast. The old man was the one to break it. “You know, I can help with your schoolwork.” Josie was a little stunned. “Help me?” “I could help you through the questions you’re having trouble with, suggest some books from the library. Only if you’d like.” She looked down at her fingernails. “You want to help me with my work? Like English and stuff?” The old man nodded. Sincere. Kind. “I haven’t got any money…to pay you, I mean.” “I don’t need payment.” “No offense, but you don’t even know me. I’d just waste your time.” He smiled sympathetically. “I’ve got all the time in the world. Keen learners shouldn’t be denied knowledge.” Josie didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. She embraced the sweet tackiness of another lolly. “I’m here every Sunday for fish and chips,” he said. Josie nodded. Only once. But she stored that information for future reference. The old man wiped his nose again with the handkerchief. “Order for Johnson!” Tubby cried. The gentleman moved in acknowledgement. Josie shot to her feet. “I’ll get it for you.” Before he could deny her help, Josie was inside the deep-fry chamber with the other customers. Tubby handed over the bag of food hesitantly. “He’s outside,” she explained. Back on the street, Josie interrupted the jovial conversation between her brother and the gentleman. Josie offered the steaming plastic bag to him. “Here you go, Mr Johnson. I suppose I should call you that, since you’re a teacher and everything.” Mr Johnson smiled as she handed him his food. “Thank you for doing that for me.” “My name is Josie. Just Josie. Josie is the name I like.” “Lovely to have met you, Josie. And you too, Lukey.” “Bye, Mr Johnson!” Lukey exclaimed before taking another bite from his dwindling scallop. Josie watched as Mr Johnson collected his roses and walked in the opposite direction. The tweed jacket disappeared around the bend. Josie still felt warm, and it wasn’t the summer heat. She wondered how he’d greet his wife with their lunch. If he’d kiss her cheek and dance with her, or call her in from outside in the garden. “I think that was the best scallop Tubby’s ever cooked,” Lukey informed his sister as he chomped the last portion. The warmth dropped from Josie’s face when she heard Sharon’s car suddenly motoring down the street. It sounded like a broken lawn mower. Her throat clenched in panic. Sharon braked unnecessarily hard at the front of Tubby’s in full view of customers. Lukey bonded to his sister’s side. Sharon screamed over the music at them. “Get in. You’re goin’ to your aunty’s.” Josie didn’t move. Sharon screeched again. “I said get in, Josephine!” “Lukey has his bike. We’ll just walk home,” Josie finally replied. She paused before she lunged from the driver’s side and stomped towards them. Sharon reefed Lukey by the arm from his sister’s side, his shoulder blade poking through his shirt as she did. “I said get in the car! Both of ya’s!” “I want to stay with Josie, mum!” Lukey cried. Josie stood and stole her brother from Sharon’s iron grasp. A collection of eyes gawked from inside the store. She faced the bourbon breath head-on. “Lukey has his bike. We’ll be back home in five minutes.” Sharon sneered, eyes wild with fury. She stared back at her audience, releasing Lukey’s arm. Through clenched teeth, she warned, “Just wait till ya’s get home.” Lukey hugged his sister’s waist tighter. Josie said nothing as she watched Sharon get back in the boombox and speed off. All was quiet again, save for Tubby screaming more surnames. Lukey looked up at his sister with eyes sadder than a rainy funeral. She stroked his blonde hair, consoling him with a sorry curve of her lips. “We’ll go the long way home, okay?” He collected his bike, throwing the empty paper bags into the bin. “Go as fast as you want, Lukey. I’ll follow you.” That perked him up a bit. He and his steed pedalled off in direction of the long way, a whole two blocks’ addition to the journey. Josie toyed with the idea of running away from home. She’d done it before. It had failed. Miserably. And she’d felt the consequences for days with a scar to prove it. She wouldn’t leave her brother to fend for himself. Lukey rode faster than he ever had before, fuelled by the world’s best scallop. She wasn’t telling him to be careful this time. “Josie, look! I’m flying!” He sped past the lines of grey headstones at the town cemetery, careful to avoid the tyre-busting burrs. At her snail pace, Josie trailed behind, thinking happier thoughts than what she would be feeling after they arrived home. Her eyes wandered to the rows of headstones and angelic sculptures, shaded by the occasional gumtree, and the sudden flash of a tweed jacket. Josie stopped and leaned against the fence, breathing in the sight. Lukey skidded to Josie’s side, following her line of sight as he panted. “Is that Mr Johnson? I thought he said he was going to see his wife?” Josie’s throat tightened. Mr Johnson sat at the helm of the headstone in full conversation with the structure, the takeaway paper balancing the fish as chips in his lap. A pop of coloured roses enlivened the cement homage. “I think he is.” “Should we go see him?” Lukey quizzed. Josie denied her brother for the first time that day as tears burned her eyes. She called from the footpath, “Um, excuse me? Mr Johnson? Hello?” Mr Johnson looked to the voice that called him and waved. “Josie, Lukey, hello.” She danced a little on the spot, suddenly nervous. “Um, is it still okay if I bring my English work next Sunday? For your help?” Mr Johnson gave a friendly wave without hesitation. “I’ll be there.” He’d be there. He’d be there to help her next Sunday. Josephine grinned.

Best Australian Yarn: Chicken Salt by Brittany Riley

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