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CHAPTER SEVEN: THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS.

Since leaving Arthur, her erstwhile breadwinner, Kathy has applied for and has been receiving temporary unemployment benefits. But she is now adamant about making their separation a permanent one, has written Arthur explicit letters to that effect, and is now seeking a sole parent's pension.

This will provide her with the security of receiving uninterrupted payments over the long-term without having to search for a job, but to qualify for this she must go to the Social Security office, submit to an in-depth interview and answer all sorts of probing questions.

She anticipates having to answer countless, difficult, sensitive and highly personal questions--even questions as to why Theo is no longer living with her. That is decidedly a sore point; is something she feels ashamed and guilty about.

In her mind, she is already preparing answers to ward off and counterattack unfair but hard-hitting accusations of her being an unfit mother. She is also chafing under the distinct, humiliating sense of going to Social Security with begging bowl in hand.

The only more denigrating prospect conceivable to her would be asking Grandpa Fleming for help. It would have to be a cold day in hell before she asked that smug, superior bastard for anything.

She anticipates an insufferably long and tedious day of snide innuendoes and insults; capped off by four full hours of driving in an old bomb car, which is now at imminent risk of breaking down and leaving her stranded way out on the highway somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Like a nervous clairvoyant, she can see the entire day mapped out in front of her.

If the above, ill-perceived itinerary is not burden enough already, she must also do as much grocery shopping in Launceston as possible. She must do that to take advantage of the lower prices (lower than on the Sugarloaf) even though the savings will not compensate her for the cost of petrol, but her shopping there might at least enable her to break even.

The interview proves to be less humiliating than she had feared. The lady from Social Security is kindly, sympathetic and non-judgmental. But the interview is nevertheless tedious and takes all of two hours.

Adding this two-hour period to four hours of driving removes a total of six hours of potential shopping time from Kathy’s big shopping day.

In light of this she is really up against it; is up against odds that are well and truly stacked against her. She almost runs her legs off in a vain attempt to get everything on her list before closing time, but she doesn’t quite make it. She is able to get most of it (she gets about ninety percent) she also gets a splitting headache.

It is said that the Devil defecates on the same spot. It is also said that good as well as bad things are inclined to occur in sequences of three. Perhaps for those exact reasons or perhaps for other reasons, Kathy’s twenty-year-old clunker does, in fact, break down half way home.

This leaves mother and son stranded thirty miles out of Launceston and thirty miles from home. Kathy is distraught. The cost of fixing the car is sure to be way beyond her means. The cost of towing it alone is almost certainly beyond her means.

Adding to the stress brought on by this day of tedious travel, humiliation and frenetic shopping is the damnable frustration of just standing around waiting in the heat and the dust and the grime of an exceptionally hot November day. Why does this have to be the hottest damn day in November? It seems so unfair.

A hapless Kathy despises her predicament so much she could just scream. There is little worse, she feels, than being stuck in the middle of nowhere and having to stay put and wait hour after hour without moving forward or backwards, or finding any kind of comfort. This entire day has been unbearable. What else can go wrong?

An expensive, high-powered sports car flies past them at a very high rate of speed before screeching to a near panic stop. It then undertakes an abrupt U-turn, squealing its tires again in the process. With a throaty roar of its dual exhausts, it turns full circle and parks right behind Kathy's 1955, FJ Holden.

Kathy is alarmed by all the noise and commotion and yet she is also surprised and pleased to see the owner of such an expensive car bothering to stop and render assistance. Two men get out of the white, E-type Jaguar. One man is big and the other is small.

"Breakdown is it?" said the big one in a friendly voice.

"Yes, it just stopped. The engine just cut out and the car just rolled to a stop."

"We can check for spark and check the fuel filter for a blockage," said the small one, who raises the hood and does just that.

"Well, it's not somethin' simple so I'm afraid it's somethin' a bit more complicated," said the small one, "but neither of us are mechanic enough to be able to fix it right here and now."

"Where do you live?" asked the big one. "We can maybe give you a tow."

"I'm afraid I live a hell of a long way form here--Sugarloaf Mountain."

"That's where we’re goin'. That's where we live. On Wolfram Street."

"Well, we live on Cadmium Avenue. I'm Kathy Fleming and this is my son, Josh."

"I'm Peter Stevens," said the big one, and this ere's me mate Peter Piggot."

By coincidence, they are both named Peter, but that is where the similarity appears to end, at least at first sight: Peter Piggot is a slight man of no more than 120 lbs. He looks sleazy because of his big, long nose, which makes him look like a rat, but his words are kindly and sympathetically spoken. He is also older, maybe sixty-something, somewhat grandfatherly in appearance, and this makes him appear less threatening to Kathy.

Peter Stevens is a big powerful man of about 240 lbs. who looks to be about fifty years of age. Kathy feels intimidated by the sheer size and apparent strength of Stevens, feeling he could overpower her effortlessly, force himself upon her, undress her, rape her, do whatever he wished, even without help from his companion, and there would be nothing she could do to stop him.

The big man also has an ugly scar on his face, which makes him look scary and somewhat like a pirate; this impression is reinforced by a very large gold earring he is wearing, which is heavy enough to stretch his earlobe.

To further bolster his sinister appearance, his arms are embellished with enough tattoos to rival the Illustrated Man--and yet he has a jovial tone of voice, words his sentences diplomatically, and has a relaxed and pleasant demeanor.

These latter traits are apparent signs of character, in Kathy’s estimation, and they weigh substantially on the positive side of her ledger, and, in conjunction with the fact that she is in desperate need of help, she decides to accept their offer.

There is a time for everything. I believe this might just be my time to trust two strangers.

"Where abouts on Wolfram Street do you live?" she asked. "It's funny that I haven't seen you before."

"We live at the top end, but we only moved in last week. I live at No. 4 and me old mate the Piggot here lives at No 8. We can tow you all the way home without even going out of our way."

"Is towing possible or feasible?"

"Sure, we've done it plenty of times. I'll tow and the Piggot will operate your car. He'll be the brake man."

From the trunk of his car the Pirate grabs what looks like a child's skipping rope.

"Is that strong enough?" asked Kathy, anxiously.

"Don't worry, luv, we'll get you and the boy home before nightfall. Then we'll send a mechanic over to fix your car," said the Pirate.

"I don't have much money at the moment," said Kathy, nervously.

"Don't worry, luv, not everything has a price tag. You can pay us back when you have some extra cash to spare . . . if that'll make yuh feel better, otherwise it's on the house."

I probably need my head examined! "Thank you kindly!" Kathy accepts their offer. She feels the probability of a positive outcome to this towing venture is slightly in excess of fifty percent but she is also too tired and upset to care anymore.

The Pirate opens the passenger side door and pushes the front seat forward.

"Take a seat, young Josh," he said, and Josh wastes little time seating himself in back of the 2+2 coupe. Kathy sits up front.

"Mum, this is a Jaguar E-type!" squeals Josh. "I've never even been in a Jag before, and this is a V-12, the most powerful of all."

"He knows his cars," said the Pirate. "It's a smart boy you've got there." The compliment pleases Kathy so much as to even give her a brief respite from her splitting headache.

The Jaguar, with its automatic transmission, accelerates smoothly up to 60 mph and then holds closely to that speed.

Kathy is concerned. "Isn't sixty too fast for towing?" she asked as she turned her head to see if her car was still connected by that flimsy rope and following along behind them.

"No, sixty is the perfect speed. It puts just the right amount of tension on the line. It prevents backlash."

Having reassured her on that point, the pirate casually proceeds to roll a cigarette while steering the Jaguar with his knees. Kathy closes her eyes in horror, but it is a horror blunted by extreme fatigue.

This takes her beyond the point of merely feeling horrified--instead, she is consumed by a sense of unreality, a sense of this just being a dream, and, if that is so, why should she bother to worry about it at all?

The first ten miles of towing are carried out on straight, high-speed roads. It takes next to no time to reach the town of Pritchard, which marks the beginning of their final twenty-mile ascent of the mountain range.

Kathy is amazed that her car is still connected, and is even more amazed at their rate of progress: they have reached Pritchard quicker than they would have if she had driven her car in the normal way.

Upon reaching the outskirts of Pritchard they must also take a ninety-degree turn onto the Copper Road, which begins at this point and ends at the township of Sugarloaf Mountain. The Jag starts to slow down steadily.

"See, I'm not touchin' the brake," said the Pirate, pointing down at his feet. "The Piggot does all the brakin' and I do all the towin'. It's as simple as that."

The final twenty-mile leg of their trip in tandem is mostly uphill, which exerts a steady pressure on the towrope. That makes for easy going. The downgrade sections, however, demand very heavy braking from Kathy's old car, because it has to do the braking for both cars.

The last descent before entering town is so steep the Holden must be disconnected from the Jag and sent down alone and in angel gear (neutral) because towing is considered too dangerous at this point even in the estimation of the two intrepid Peters.

This is also an opportunity for Kathy and Josh to get out of the Jag, stretch their legs and see what is going to happen next.

"Oh, my brakes are on fire!" she shrieks on seeing her car's wheels. All four of them are smoking ferociously. They are absolutely billowing with smoke. Kathy is once again almost horrified. "My brakes are probably completely burnt out!" she shrieks.

"Can't be helped," said the Pirate matter-of-factly. "I'll get the mechanic to take a look at the brakes when he checks out your engine."

"I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but, you see, I don't have any money and this will no doubt cost the earth".

"Don't worry, he owes me a favor."

After removing the towrope, the Pirate maneuvers the Jag around and behind the Holden. The Piggot then takes his foot off the brake and begins to coast away in angel gear.

His speed is very slow to begin with but it gradually picks up. After a minute or so the Holden is traveling fast enough to give the impression it is driving just normally with the motor running.

But it hasn't reached its flat out speed as yet and is still a long way from that point. The car continues to accelerate to greater and ever greater rates of speed until Kathy shakes her head in disbelief.

The car is going so fast now as to suggest the motor is running at maximum rpm. By the time the Holden approaches the narrow bridge at the bottom of the hill, it appears to be doing all of one hundred miles per hour.

Kathy now fears that the slightest bump might cause the car to become airborne. At that point, with the wheels off the ground, it would be unable to respond at all to steering and that would cause the Piggot to totally lose control of it.

The bridge is one she would normally cross at no more than twenty-five mph. There are huge boulders on all four sides of it, boulders bigger than a car but smaller than a house. Terrified, she closes her eyes thinking the Piggot will soon be a dead man and her car a total, disintegrated wreck.

"OH WOW! FAR OUT!" Josh is shouting with exhilarated pleasure. This suggests a favorable outcome to Kathy who then opens her eyes again. The Piggot has successfully negotiated the bridge. Kathy is much relieved on that score.

She is also much pleased at knowing she is now but a stone's throw from home. A costly towing fee has been sidestepped. A financial catastrophe has been averted. She has not lost her car after all, and maybe it can even be fixed at a reasonable price?

The Piggot gets most of the way up the next hill before coasting to a stop. With his foot applied to the brake he sits and waits for the tow car to catch him up.

The Jag is once more positioned as lead car. The two Peters reconnect the cars in tandem with their trusty little length of skipping rope. They then complete their towing task and deposit the Holden right in front of the Fleming house.

"Thank you very much for all your help," said Kathy. "You have almost saved my life."

"Don’t mention it Luv," said the Pirate tipping an imaginary hat to her and smiling jovially. The two Peters get back inside the Jag and depart the scene.

Upon getting inside the house, the first thing Kathy does is take two aspirin. After unpacking the groceries she is feeling surprisingly good. This shopping day brings a new influx of food; a greater quantity of things to choose from; to supply the varied range of ingredients needed to make a superior meal. Kathy and Josh sit down to a dinner befitting a celebration.

And they had reason to celebrate. They had made some definite progress that day in straightening out a potentially complicated and sticky situation with Social Security. The uninterrupted payments now flowing from that might even allow for the saving of a small nest-egg sum of money, which might well see them through a rainy day at some time in the future.

"I'm glad we have at least a measure of financial security now," said Kathy, "and I'm grateful for all the help we received today in getting the car home. I'm grateful for the kindness of strangers, and yet I still don't like being indebted to people."

"Why not, Mum?"

"Because not everyone is nice, and so you can't just trust everyone."

"But the two Petes are nice."

"Maybe and maybe not. They might seem nice, but you can't be sure about something like that when you first meet someone, because it always takes time to really get to know someone."

"How long does it take, Mum?"

"It can take a very long time, sometimes years and years. You can think you know someone and then they go and do something awful, and that will force you to reappraise your assessment of their character."

"What is character, Mum?"

"Character is whether a person is really and truly nice deep inside or not. You see, a lot of people pretend to be nice, but they aren't really and truly nice."

"Why do they pretend to be nice, Mum?"

"Well, they pretend for different reasons. Some pretend to be nice so they can win your confidence. That's what a con man does. The term 'con man' is short for 'confidence man'. Now a confidence man must give the appearance of being nice in order to win someone's confidence. After he has won that, he can trick or cheat them or steal their money.

There are other people who pretend to be nice because it flatters their vanity to think of themselves as being nice. And they will be nice too but only for as long as it flatters their vanity. At other times, they will show you that they really don't care about you. People like that are phonies and it is their vanity that makes them that way."

"Do you think the two Petes are phonies or con men . . . I think they are really nice."

"I don't know. Maybe they really and truly are nice. I hate being so suspicious of everyone, but you just have to be a bit careful."