Chapter 12: Big Changes - August 1961

My world changed again in the first week of the August school holidays, when Emma’s flatmates moved to Wellington so that Lizzie could start work on the staff of a recently elected woman MP.

Esme Tombleson was a conservative, but she had some sympathy on a ‘gut level’ for women’s issues generally, and had eventually been persuaded that she could employ a lesbian on her staff without electoral pushback. Lizzie got the job as a very well qualified ‘policy analyst’ and she and Kate gave Emma notice. Even though they were a couple, they had rented separate rooms, so now Emma would be stretching to cover her mortgage payments.

Frank and Emma didn’t consult me. They very quickly decided to live together full time in Emma’s house, sharing that with two new flatmates, and rent out Frank’s room and the spare back bedroom in our house. Since they spent most nights together anyway, either in Frank’s room or Emma’s, that wasn’t too much different. What was different, was that I was getting two new flatmates and shitloads of extra responsibility. Jeeze – thanks Frank!

And now that I would have no easy access to Frank’s van, I needed a car. Thank Christ it was school holidays and I had (quietly) dropped any intention of busting my gut to make the Scholarship class.

Frank told me what was up over a dinner of pork chops, mashed potatoes, and silverbeet the first Monday of the August holidays. I had begged off his offer of a day’s work, pretending I was going to swot for the day before study group, but in fact I had slacked off and spent a couple of hours with Pauline before the others arrived. He told me the bad news. I didn’t want one new flatmate, let alone two. But I was also concerned about who was going to pay for what. “So what’s the deal?”

“Well what we have at the moment is that your rent and board is ten hours a week renovating with me, and anything over that and your Friday shift at Mary’s World is paid.” He grinned. “The study group fuckery is another five hours cleaning between the five of you.” His grin broadened. “You don’t do it when study group isn’t on, but I think that’s okay.”

“But renovation is finished here, the Kingsland house is rented. What’s to do?”

“Eventually, we’ll buy another house, and I have plenty of alteration and ‘fixit’ work in the meantime.”

I thought for a minute or two. “The deal about working with you seems clear, but what am I supposed to do about sharing this place with flatmates? Who are you going to get? And if I’m working for ten hours for room and board, does that mean you are buying the food for me here and paying for power?”

Frank was thoughtful. “You have a point. How about we say rent is five hours and I pay you for anything over that, and you work out a ‘kitty’ system for food and power and phone with the new flatmates when we get them.”

“Will you help me work that out?”

“Sure. Emma is really good with that sort of stuff.”

So Frank and Emma started looking for four flatmates. Two for them, two for me! And I got serious about looking for a car. That took longer than I had hoped.

I started out checking the ‘Cars for Sale’ in the Herald and the Auckland Star, and in travelling round to Frank’s various jobs for the rest of the holidays, I kept checking out all the local used car dealers.

I was looking for a Morris Minor from the early fifties with between thirty and forty thousand miles on the clock, and my budget was seventy quid. I had no luck for the rest of the holidays, but on the second day of the new term, I fell in love on my way home from school.

Some people were clearing out a moderately large house. There was a trailer in the driveway that was clearly being filled with junk, another behind a second hand dealer’s van on the street that two guys were loading with furniture, and a young woman was taping a ‘For Sale’ sign to the back window of a much abused little Austin A30 that was parked ahead of it.

The poor little car was something of an enigma. It was scraped and dinged on all four sides, and special attention had been paid to the corners. None of the impacts had been hard enough cause major dents, but the scuffed paint and minor damage provided plenty of evidence of lotsa what Uncle Frank used to call ‘parking by feel’. At the same time, the interior upholstery seemed immaculate and the paint (where it wasn’t scuffed) gleamed. It had clearly spent most of its life in a garage.

The woman sensed my interest and smiled as I stopped beside the car. “Interested?”

“Can I have a look inside?”

“Sure – but it might be out of your price range.”

I honestly don’t know what came over me, I spread my hands in a bad imitation of Sidney Poitier, and sang ‘Daddy’s Rich!’ She tried to hold it together, and failed. “And I suppose your Ma’s good lookin’?” she giggled.

But she stood back as I opened the driver’s door and checked the pedal rubbers and the odometer. The latter claimed 21,271 miles, and the wear on the rubbers and the condition of the driver’s seat was consistent with that. In those days, it wasn’t too hard to wind back an odometer and wasn’t strictly illegal to do so, but the upholstery, pedal wear, and the condition of the unscratched paint were all consistent with the low mileage.

“Tell me about the car.”

“Grandad bought it new, but he didn’t drive it much in the last few years.” She giggled again, leaned slightly forward, and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I used to hide his keys towards the end.”

“He passed on pretty recently?”

She looked very slightly ashamed and perhaps a little sad. “About two months ago.” Then she seemed to collect herself and came back to business. “A hundred and ten quid and it’s yours!”

“Will you still be here at a quarter to five?”

She smiled wryly. “I’ll be here for bloody days at the rate I’m going!” I must have looked puzzled. “I’m the only one left in the country, and it’s all on me to clean out the house and get it ready to sell.”

I stuck out my hand. “David Kerr.”

“Judith Steven.” Her hand was soft, and she kept the contact just a little longer than I was expecting. Suddenly, I saw her a bit differently. She was no longer just the vendor of a gorgeous little car that needed rescuing, now she had become a real person. She looked to be in her early twenties, tall, but slightly pudgy. Her long blond hair was pulled back in a pony tail, and her jeans and the jumper she wore over what seemed to be a man’s dress shirt were slightly grubby. She looked tired and a bit stressed.

“I’ll come back this evening for a test drive if that’s all right.”

She looked at me shrewdly. “You’re serious?”

Her question hung in the air for all of a tenth of a second before I was able to muster the words to explain. “Absolutely, but we’ll need to discuss price!”

“Bring your license. Come between six and eight! I’m pretty stuffed!”

Again, I don’t know what came over me. A rush of blood to the head perhaps. “You’re certainly pretty!” I let the rest of the ‘come on’ hang.

She laughed, but blushed slightly as well, and I headed for the Newmarket branch of the Auckland Savings Bank. Frank and Emma were going over some figures in the parlour when I got home with twenty two five pound notes in my pocket.

Frank sussed something was up straight away. “What’s with you?”

“Found a car!” I was trying to be very mature and make it no big deal, but my excitement bubbled up. “1951 A30. Twenty one thousand on the clock seems genuine. An old bugger bought it new and got dangerous long before he died. Lotsa scratches and scrapes but no real damage.”

“How much do they want?”

“‘They’ is the old guy’s granddaughter, and she’s asking a hundred and ten quid.”

Emma wanted to know whether I could afford it. “How much have you got saved?”

“With what Frank owes me for the last two weeks, I’ve got about a hundred and forty quid.”

Emma made a face “Doesn’t leave enough savings to be safe. You’ll need to get it for less than a hundred.”

Frank looked at me shrewdly. “You’re all excited. You’ve been looking for Morrie Minors, how come you’re now keen on something different?”

I thought for a moment. “Dunno really. Haven’t seen a Morrie Minor that comes close. This is really low mileage and basically very good condition. The car’s like the classic story of something a little old lady bought new and only drove to church. Kept nudging the rectory fence, but no bad damage!”

Frank dropped into ‘teaching mode’. “So why didja want a Morris minor in the first place?”

“Reliable. Been around a long while. Plenty of spares, and they’ve had time to work the bugs out.”

“And the Austin?”

“Dunno”

It was Emma’s turn to give me the eye. “So do you just fancy the car or is the girl in there as well?

I thought for a second. “I was in love with the car before I noticed the granddaughter, but she’s nice and we had a laugh together.”

Frank got up. “My mate will know about A30s. I’ll give him a ring.” He went out to the phone in the hall.

Emma eyed me again. “So what’s her name and what’s she like?”

I tried to play dumb. “Who?” Emma cocked an eyebrow and kept looking at me. “Judith. Mid twenties, tall, lots of her. Pretty. I think she lived with her grandad and looked after him the last few years before he died. Dunno anything else.” I tried to change the subject. “Have you found any flatmates?”

We’re both trying to network. We reckon it would be best to get people we know or people who know people we know.”

“And?”

“Coupla possibilities so far.”

Frank came back in. “John reckons the A30s are mechanically very much the same as the Morris Minor. Same engine, transmission, steering, suspension and brakes. So that’s okay. But he says that ninety is the right price and you shouldn’t pay more than a hundred.” He looked at Emma. “Shall we go over with him?”

I was slightly affronted at the assumption that I couldn’t handle the matter myself, but recognising that that was stupid and that I would have asked if Frank hadn’t offered, I said nothing.

Emma picked up my slight pullback. “That’s if you’re okay with us being involved?”

I swallowed my pride. “Grateful for the lift and your advice.”