Last Sunday Julian and Penelope enjoyed a salubrious lunch at the Darlington Estate Winery. Returning home they shared memories of teenage years – Penelope’s spent in the hills, riding her bike along bush tracks with friends, Julian’s helping his father on the farm where he lived in Cornwall.
‘After that feast we should have a rest when we get home.’ Penelope glanced at her partner, the beginnings of a smile playing with the corners of her mouth.
Julian spluttered, ‘Do you mean a rest?’ Bushy eyebrows questioned her meaning of rest.
Almost missing the corner, he turned left into Glen Forrest Drive.
‘More of a siesta,’ Penelope continued.
‘Someone’s been busy while we were eating.’ Thoughts of a Mediterranean style, leisurely post-lunchtime rest were put aside as the green jaguar slowed down to allow a rudimentary assessment of the no-longer-loved contents of a garage or storage room, neatly laid out on the road verge opposite them.
‘Mundaring Shire sent out notices a month ago.’ Penelope leant forward to get a better view. ‘Our collection starts tomorrow.’
She had placed her own store of unwanted goods in front of her house during the previous week and was surprised to find everything gone within a few hours. From early August the streets of Darlington, Glen Forrest, Mundaring, Parkerville and everywhere in between were turned into free markets as residents piled old fridges, television sets, sofas, beds, dining suites, crumbling outdoor furniture and dusty, fly blown knick-knacks onto their nearest piece of road verge.
‘That was a decent looking table.’ They were past the end of the pile by the time Julian spoke.
‘Well pull over, let’s have a look.’ Recalling the many desks they had inspected in shops the previous day, Penelope was keen to take a look at anything that might meet their requirements.
Julian stopped the car and reversed off the road, parking a short distance from the household discards.
Penelope was laughing as she opened the door and stepped out. ‘I’m glad there’s rarely any traffic at this end of Glen Forrest Drive. Imagine if anyone saw us, in a jag, scrounging through someone’s rubbish.’ She was still laughing as she ran across the road.
‘We can’t put it in the jaguar, anyway.’ Julian’s face crinkled up like a clown. ‘This is ridiculous.’
‘No,’ Penelope spoke slowly, ‘but it might fit in my station wagon. Let’s just have a good look; see what condition it’s in.’
Julian ran his hand over the pale timber top. ‘Beautiful. Perfect for painting on.’ He continued his tactile investigation, fingers checking each shapely leg. ‘It’s an extension table. Look, this top bit comes off.’
Between them they removed the top and leaned it against an adjacent chest of drawers.
‘How far does it pull out?’ Assuming that Julian wanted it in place of the desk they searched for on Saturday, Penelope’s brow knitted down into what the family called her ‘watch out’ expression.
Julian paced out his estimation of two ends plus the leaning top. ‘Well over two metres. Tons of room to store my paints and have a couple of canvases on the go.’
‘And where are you planning on using it?’ Penelope envisaged her spare room—the space where she had convinced Julian that he could install a smallish desk so as to spend more time together—swamped by this unsuitably large piece of furniture. ‘It won’t fit in my car,’ she said, ‘the legs are too high.’
‘It’s just what I want for my new studio.’ Julian didn’t say, ‘of course,’ but it was implied in the tone of his voice.
Penelope was back in positive planning mode. ‘Can you get one of your grandsons to come and collect it?’
‘Not today. And it’ll be gone by tomorrow.’ Shoulders slumped, hands in trouser pockets, Julian walked away. ‘What else is here? Look, an old school desk with a lift up lid.’
Penelope left him to explore the desk, and a set of bookshelves. She was examining a guilt framed painting, (not for the art, but with the idea of re-using the ornate frame) when a white utility of indeterminate age and make, drove past, then screeched to a halt further down the road.
A dark haired woman alighted from the passenger’s side, puffing on a cigarette and almost falling over in her haste to see what could be salvaged. Penelope noticed the L plate on the back window and understood the woman’s ‘Get it off the road a bit more, Love, and make sure you put on the parking brake,’ as she tried to wave directions at her son while greeting Julian and Penelope with ‘Hi. Wow’ and ‘Look at this.’
The laminated blond-wood, low table would have been popular in the seventies. It was probably the smallest piece from a set of three or four. They were handy for cups of tea, bowls of chips and nuts, or newspapers, back in the days when eating in front of the television instead of at a dining table, had just become acceptable.
Presumably kept in dry storage for the last forty plus years, this specimen was in excellent condition. Julian and Penelope had to agree with the woman that it should be put to good use.
Introductions followed. Tammy was giving Brad his first driving lesson. First names, no details, seemed safest for the older couple.
‘And I love this desk’ Tammy dived on the cobweb infested model that Julian was inspecting when the utility went past. ‘But you were looking at it first.’ She inhaled nicotine. ‘Did you want it?’
Julian shook his head, his expression a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. ‘I dabble in a bit of painting.’ A finger, bent with rheumatism, pointed to the larger dining table. ‘That would be perfect for my studio, but of course we can’t get it in the car.’
Tammy explained that she also dabbled—in pottery. ‘I’m taking this for my teacher,’ she said, patting the old desk. ‘We’re always looking for something to work on in class.’
While Brad had another lesson in reversing so as to bring the utility closer to the desired desk and low table, the other two walked back towards the extendable dining table.
‘Well, we can at least take this painting.’ Penelope stopped to pick it up. ‘Is it any use to you?’
Julian nodded. ‘Yes. I don’t know why they’re throwing it away.’ He was about to take it across the road, when his partner whispered in his ear, ‘Why don’t we see if they can take the table for us?’
Not waiting for a reply, Penelope turned back to Tammy. ‘Do you live around here?’
‘Yep. Just back along this road.’
‘Do you think you could load that table on your ute? Take it around the corner for us?’
Penelope didn’t dare look at Julian. He would have his ‘What is she up to now?’ expression on his face. She wasn’t sure herself how she could be so cheeky.
‘Yes, of course. No worries.’ Tammy dropped her cigarette butt onto the gravel verge and ground it out with her boot. ‘Come and give us a hand, Brad.’
Mother and son easily picked up the base of the table and carried it to the utility. Julian stood next to the road, still holding the painting. Penelope tried to lift the extra top for the table, but found it too heavy. In no time Tammy and Brad had everything, including the painting, loaded on the ute and the tailgate firmly locked.
‘Lead the way,’ Tammy said.
Julian and Penelope couldn’t stop laughing as they drove slowly along Glen Forrest Drive, making sure that Tammy and Brad were behind them.
‘No, we’ve got to get him home; school tomorrow,’ Tammy said in response to Penelope’s offer of a thank you gift after the table and painting were unloaded. Brad tried reversing the vehicle, but had to forego his final lesson for the day—garage walls and garden beds provided too much of a challenge.
Arms around each other, the couple were laughing again as they waved goodbyes and thanks to their new found friendly neighbours.
‘Now, what about that rest?’ Julian’s grey eyes twinkled.