Charmaine Morris, Contributor

Tony watched the woman and the boy through an opening in his bedroom curtain. She seemed nervous, like she was somewhere she didn't want to be. The boy appeared afraid. His ape-like arms clutched a case and a soft bag.

Tony sighed and made his way to the door which he opened but a crack.

'Are you Mr. McGregor?'

Tony didn't answer.

'You do know I can see you?' she harrumphed.

The boy dropped the case and held the bag to his chest. There was something familiar about the way his long arms wound deathlike around the bag, squashing it into two halves of a fat woman.

Tony stepped out on the verandah. 'Yes?'

The woman took a frustrated breath, squared her shoulders, counted her words. 'Are. You. Mr. McGregor?'

The sun was hot coming over the back of the house. It smacked them in the face and would soon descend to their feet. If they stood there till noon, it would probably fry them. He could either wait or simply get rid of them now.

The boy dropped the bags. His rubbery arms hung by his side.

Tony knew those arms.

The woman spoke. 'I'm looking for Anthony Elias McGregor. Are you him?'

The lie was on his lips, but it was as if the boy's arm reached out and tapped him on the shoulder. 'Yes,' he said and cursed himself for it.

'Do you have dogs?'

'Would you go away if I did?'

She shoved the gate. It hitched then relented under her force.

'This is Jonathan, your nephew.'

Tony's expression was blank.

'He's your brother's son.'

'I don't have a brother.'

'Mr. McGregor ...' Her words were commanding, though she spoke slowly to accommodate the stupid old man.

'Mr. McGregor, this is your brother's son. Your brother Frank's son. Frank is dead and his son has nowhere to go.'

'Why don't you keep him?'

'I can't keep him! I don't keep children. He's yours.' Her eyes were about to pop from her head. Tony thought he'd never seen a woman so desperate to unload a child. But then again, it'd been years since he'd seen a woman proper. He decided to be kind and polite.

'Listen, lady, Frank was no brother of mine, so this child is no nephew of mine. Take him away. Give him to someone else.'

'Are you saying you don't want him?'

'Are you deaf?'

The woman turned on her heels and walked away.

Surely she wouldn't leave the boy?

The boy watched the woman. He said nothing, had no discernible expression. Tony wondered if he was dumb, as in stupid dumb. Why didn't he run after her?

'Run!' Tony said. 'Don't let her leave!'

The woman disappeared through the gate and behind the high wall. An engine started. A vehicle skidded away in a huff.

Tony left the boy outside. He needed time. He thought he should make a call to verify whether or not Frank had had a boy. But he wouldn't know where to find anyone.

Tony heard a noise. He went to see.

Mrs. Green, his neighbour, had her hand atop the boy's head. The boy was drinking from a glass. He could have been drinking from his arm for how long it looped to hold the glass in place.

Tony shuddered. He was a frightfully ugly boy. Frank's son or not, he didn't want him around. But more horrifying was Mrs. Green feeding his relative. He picked up his keys and fiddled with the grill lock.

'Get away from him!'

'You left this poor boy outside to die of thirst. The sun would have melted him!'

'Get away from my nephew!' Tony grabbed the boy's free arm, jerking him, spilling water on his shirt. The boy resumed drinking. Tony regarded him. Had to be stupid in the head.

'You're an evil man. Look at this yard! Look at the junk! Look at what you've done to this wonderful neighbourhood!'

'Get out!' Tony advanced on the woman. He still held on to the boy.

'Help!' Mrs. Green shouted. 'Help!'

Tony heard another door open, then close, as if the person were saying, Oh, them again. And it was them again. It'd been months since he and Mrs. Green had had a shouting match and, suddenly, he realised he missed it. Mrs. Green was a good target: old, frail, easy to enkindle. She had the voice of a Swedish Nightingale, which she used as she ambled through the gaping gate.

Tony watched her go in a racket, flailing arms and everything. He took the glass from the boy and tossed it over the fence. He listened for the concluding crash and was disappointed when all he heard was a thump.

'I'm not picking that up!' Mrs. Green said before resuming her shouts. When it was apparent no one would come, he heard her front door slam.

Tony was still holding the boy's hand. He quickly let it go and wiped his palm. 'Get inside,' he said.

On the verandah the boy dropped his case and bag at his feet. His shoulders pulled back as if reined in. He stretched his long arms and pointed past Tony into the living room. 'S! Frank always said you were a pig.'

Tony was taken aback. 'What d-did you say?'

'S! Frank always said you were a pig.'

'I didn't mean for you to repeat - but what did you just say?'

'S! Frank -'

'Shut up!'

Tony couldn't believe the transformation. The boy faced him, looking not at all stupid, but rather caged, as if, if he ever got out, he would do something to someone. He lifted his long arm and pointed. Tony took a step back.

'You don't look like Frank,' the boy said, angling his head.

Tony was beginning to hate the way the boy's fingers wobbled and settled, alien-like. 'Drop your arm.'

'Why?' The boy constricted his eyes. He might as well have said, Make me.

'Who are you?'

The boy hitched his hands in his pockets and leaned back on his heels. 'You heard the lady, Tony. I'm Frank's son. Your nephew.'

'Frank didn't have a son.'

'True. But she did.'

'Who -' Tony never finished. He knew who.

The boy turned and walked into the darkness of the untidy house, disappearing to the left where the rooms were.

Some time passed. Frank heard noises of things being moved around. There was a huge 'blop' as a stack of paper was dumped in the passage.

'You need to leave!' Tony shouted, but he might as well have been talking to himself. The boy paid no attention.

'Get out of my house!'

No response.

'You're not Frank's son!'

No response.

'You're not her child!' Spittle flew from Tony's lips. He was angrier than he'd ever been at Mrs. Green and her insistent intrusion. He wanted to throw this imposter out; twirl him by his long arms and fling him as far as a hammer would go. But Tony found it hard to act. If it'd been Mrs. Green, he would have been mobilized, but with the boy he was bewildered.

The boy appeared clutching a photo. He thrust it at Tony. Tony had no choice but to look at it. It was framed in silver.

'That's her, isn't it?'

'I don't-'

'It is her. I'd know her anywhere.' The photo retreated. The boy studied it. Studied Tony.

'How old are you?' Tony said.

The boy grinned. Clean white teeth.

'You work it out.'

The boy was no boy. He was seventeen, but short for his age, with seventeen-year-old arms. In his relaxed state, Tony saw that the boy's face was a seventeen-year-old face. And it was her face. The face of the perfect actor. Someone who could fool anyone and make you love them.

'Get out!'

'Make me.' The boy waited. Then he turned away with a soft chuckle.

Tony wanted to lunge at the boy. Grab this intruder by the collar and throw him out on the hard concrete. Instead he wished for an argument with Mrs. Green. Those were simple. Those he understood.

Eventually Tony had to go inside, unless he wished to relieve himself in the front yard. He used the bathroom and flushed it. He stood in the passage and listened.

Nothing.

He inched his way to the room the boy had claimed, stepped over one stack of newspapers, crawled around another and slid past a few. He made his way to the open door.

Inside, the room was devoid of all clutter. The boy's case was by the closet, with the bag beside it. The boy reposed on the bed, one long arm slung across his face. The photo was beside him.

Tony picked up the photo. Cynthia was in her wedding dress. Cynthia, the actress, his wife.

'Frank said you're chickenshit because you never came for her.'

'Well, you shouldn't believe everything you hear.'

With his eyes still closed, the boy reached up and took the photo. He tugged. Tony held on. The boy pulled and won. Tony didn't have the strength to fight for the photo. Just like he hadn't had the strength to fight for her.

The boy snickered.

'You think you know everything, don't you? You think Frank was a man?'

'Frank was a coward,' the boy said. 'He took from other people.' The boy jutted his chin at Tony. 'You know what I mean?'

Tony grunted. Squared his shoulders. 'That's right.'

'You should have gone after her, Tony. Life would have been simpler.'

'Nothing in life is simple.' Tony remembered how long and carefully he'd pursued Cynthia despite knowing she was out his league. She was his queen and he was her jester. Eventually, Cynthia took notice. Those were simple times. Not now. Not when he had no Cynthia to entertain. Not now when all he had of her was the photo the boy held in his hands.

A shout in the front yard caught their attention. They made their way to the verandah. Mrs. Green stood by the grill with two police officers. They seemed bored, but forced to do their duty.

'Mr. McGregor, Mrs. Green say you threatened her and locked this boy out of the house. Is that true?'

Mrs. Green pointed her bony finger at Tony. 'Lock him up, officer.'

'Don't point at me.'

'You hear that officer? It's a threat!'

'That's not a threat, Mrs. Green.' The other officer walked away. He was Spencer. The one talking to Tony was Newman. They'd been to Tony's house several times and swore if he and Mrs. Green continued to harass the police they would both be arrested.

'I didn't threaten her and I didn't lock anyone out.'

'Is that true, boy?'

Mrs. Green turned to the boy. 'Tell them what he did.'

'Officer, I don't know what this lady's talking about. I came to see my father-'

'Father!' Both Mrs. Green and Tony said. The boy continued.

'- and he didn't hear me knocking so I went next door and asked for some water. Then when he appeared' - he pointed - 'she started screaming at him.'

The officer's annoyance was obvious. 'Mrs. Green, this fighting between you two must end.'

Mrs. Green's attention was fixed on the boy. She had tears in her eyes.

Tony had never seen Mrs. Green show any emotion other than anger and hate. He followed a tear down her cheek. She extended a bony, branch-like arm through the grill towards the boy.

'We will not come again, Mrs. Green, and if you persist with this nonsense and these frivolous complaints, then we will press charges.' The officer waited for the appropriate response, took silence to be it and left.

'He - he's Cynthia's boy?' She said, confused and perplexed.

'Who're you?' The boy said.

Mrs. Green shot Tony a look. 'I'm Cynthia's mother...your grandmother.' She glared accusingly at Tony. 'You didn't tell him?

Tony threw the boy the grill key and left them.

The boy followed, leaving Mrs. Green on the outside, her arms limp at her side.

When next Tony looked, Mrs. Green had gone. Tony was disappointed at how easily Mrs. Green had given up.

For dinner Tony opened two tins of beans and a bag of crackers. The boy took one look at the beige glob and threw it in the garbage. He cleared Tony's plate and busied himself in the kitchen, reaching for tin after tin.

Fascinated, Tony watched the boy light the stove and put on a pot. Tony was surprised the stove worked.

Dinner was a vegetable stew.

'Eat,' the boy said.

Tony took a taste. It was good. Simple, but good.