Open Writing

...Nico's visits, on his monstrous motorbike, passed from andante-moderato through to FURIOSO-AGITATO as their relationship disintegrated.

Eventually raised voices, staircase-stomping, door banging, kerb-side arguments and accusations signalled the end of the affair. Suddenly F.C. yanked off her shoe and slashed her stiletto heel at the bike...

John Turner tells of a tenant he called Fur Coat - or FC for short.

I call her 'Fur Coat' (or F.C.) because her stay with us was too brief to imprint a name.

'Brash, brassy, and blowsy', was my initial impression as she barged by when I attempted to show her to her two rooms.

She flung her suitcase onto the double bed she would be sharing with her precocious daughter (nine, going on fifteen) whose instant comment was 'Puh! Thought I was having me own bed!'

F.C told me she had a boyfriend who liked to visit on his day off. 'Nico's a waiter—he's Italian; be all right if he stays the night, will it?' she proclaimed.

'Well . . . yes, but there's only one bed; what about your daughter?' I queried.

'Oh, I can make her up something in the kitchen—she's very adaptable.'

She'd better be I thought; for this was November, and the kitchen had no heating or floor covering (later I discovered F.C. kept her daughter warm by leaving the the door of the gas cooker open—narrowly avoiding her asphyxiation).

Nico's visits, on his monstrous motorbike, passed from andante-moderato through to FURIOSO-AGITATO as their relationship disintegrated.

Eventually raised voices, staircase-stomping, door banging, kerb-side arguments and accusations signalled the end of the affair. Suddenly F.C. yanked off her shoe and slashed her stiletto heel at the bike.

We couldn't resist viewing the drama from behind net curtains as glass splintered onto the pavement when headlight, rearlight and instruments yielded to the onslaught.

Air turned blue with Anglo-Saxon expletives, Italian curses, and exhaust fumes as the engine revved up and Nico roared away. 'Is this to be a regular occurrence, with every new boyfriend bringing us even more grief?' my wife asked wearily.

I bit my lip in bewilderment.

However, the dilemma was resolved, for F.C. and her moppet left for pastures, or possibly pastors, new.

© John Turner

John writes for Bonzer! magazine. Please visit www.bonzer.org.au