Chapter 35

“Well,” said Daddy, “You were looking for a bigger place.”

“Daddy,” I said. “I didn’t bid.”

“You certainly did,” he said. “You waved your white attention getter.”

“I was stifling a sneeze,” I said.

“Have we ever gone auctioning?”

“No,” I said.

“So you don’t know,” he said.

“I know I’m not supposed to wave my hand unless I want to bid. I didn’t wave my hand.”

“Close enough,” he said.

“Yes,” said the auctioneer. “First time I ever sold a property for back taxes ... and a dollar.”

“Taxes?” I said.

“And a dollar.”

“The council let you do it?”

“Let? No. Insisted? Yes.”

“Why?”

“Albatros around the neck.”

“Scarlett letter?”

“Eye sore. Hadn’t you seen it?”

“Umh...”

“That’s a no.” He queried Daddy with a look. “Why did she bid?”

“I didn’t ... I sneezed.”

Daddy said to the auctioneer, “As close to home as it is, and as long as its been vacant ... I don’t think she’s ever looked.”

“Close to home? Daddy ... are we talking about the vine-pile?”

“Across the fence,” he said.

“There’s a building under that?”

There is.

Finding it took a crew, machetes, chainsaws and dumptrucks ... several dumptrucks ... and an industrial woodchipper. The reveal cost more than the arrears.

The compost almost made a profit ... almost.

When we finally got inside...

“There’s no windows.”

“So the couples skate could be romantic,” Mrs. Morris said.

“Double doors?”

“No waiting.”

“He bought skates before he bought a floor?”

“Rentals.” She said he got a real deal on the skates. “Bankrupt skate palace in Darwin, one in Orange, another in Dubbo ... and one in Canberra. I could see the writing on the wall. When he ordered a bandsaw sawmill ... I divorced him.”

“He was going to cut his own floor.”

Mrs. Morris just gave me a look.

I mean ... that was a stupid question ... even if it wasn’t a question.

If the ceiling was taller ... indoor soccer pitch ... if the ceiling was taller.

It made a perfect place to unbox my aircraft.

The bodyshop only took up a corner.

Only good thing about it ... air conditioning.