Means of Support

By Ann Somerville

Five years ago, Evan lost almost everything. Now he rents his house out to a bunch of vulnerable, wonderful kids, and, with the help of his best mate, Cam, he tries to find a meaning to his life through helping them. The arrival of the latest naive young refugee from a homophobic family could be a disruption or a blessing. Is he finally ready to move on from his grief?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ann Somerville
• Release date: Feb 19, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458068873

Ann Somerville

Ann Somerville is white, Australian, heterosexual, cisgendered. She/her.

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Means Of Support

Ann Somerville

‘Means Of Support’ Copyright © 2008 by Ann Somerville

Cover image © Andrew Lever - http://us.fotolia.com/id/8737389

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

For more information please visit my website at http://logophilos.net

Smashwords Edition 1, February 2011

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Published by Ann Somerville

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 1

Shut up, dog.

By this stage, I didn’t bother yelling. It was more stress relief than anything else. Next door’s mutt, Sally, had been barking on and off since Pam and Lachlan had gone to work and sooner or later, she’d calm down, unless another cat got into the backyard. I’d have to have a word with them about her again, but they’d been working at the problem with extra walks and so on, and I’d hate to see them get rid of Sally. She was a nice dog, just bored.

Skype flashed up a message, so I slipped on the headset and clicked on the ‘Answer call’ button. G’day, Cam.

Hi, Evan. Working hard?

Always, mate. What can I do for you? Site giving you problems?

No, it’s fine. I even trained up another volunteer on Joomla this morning. I deserve a bloody medal. I grinned. Listen, Evan, I’ve got a young fellow here in a bit of strife. He got chucked out of home a month or so ago, same old story, and the place where he’s staying can’t take him any more. Your sleepout’s still free, isn’t it?

Yeah. How old? And is he sane?

Eighteen, barely, and he’s a nice kid. Quiet boy from the bush. He’s desperate, mate. Think you could put him up for a few weeks until he gets his legs under him?

Sure. Bring him around this arvo? I’ve just got some things I need to do this morning, and I need to haul the corpse out of the backroom.

Cam laughed. Yeah, right. Afternoon’s fine. He’s going to go back to his place and pick up his things, and I’ll drive him over after lunch. Thanks, Evan.

No worries, mate. See you then.

I hung up. Hmmm. Cam wouldn’t ask unless the kid was decent and desperate, but Rod only left a week ago and I still hadn’t cleared up completely. Oh well, if the kid was being kicked out of his place, then he wouldn’t be picky.

I stood, stretched my short leg, and then went out of my office to the sleepout to throw some windows open. I’d vacuum after lunch, but for now, I chucked some bleach in the loo, wiped Pine-O-Cleen around the basin, and put all my dirty dishes into the little dishwasher. Maybe it was time I put a load of washing on too.

That was all I had time for before I had to knuckle down to finishing off a prototype site and answering the less urgent emails. I had a tender to submit but I needed to think about whether I really wanted the job. I looked up when my stomach growled. Bugger. One o’clock. Cam would be here any minute and I hadn’t finished cleaning up.

I dragged out the vacuum cleaner and did a race around—or what passed for it with me—then remembered the washing. Had to hang it out or it’d go all smelly.

Someone called out from under the house. Anyone home?

Out back, Cam. Sorry, just finishing things.

No worries, Evan. My friend grinned as he came out into the backyard and saw me hanging up my underpants. Mate, this is Paul. Paul Fitzgerald.

I couldn’t help staring, because behind Cam stood a vision of young, dark-haired, blue-eyed male loveliness. Oh god. I put my tongue back in my head and managed a Hi, as I wiped my hand on my jeans before offering it to the kid. Evan Sutherland, nice to meet you.

Paul, unsmiling, shook my hand. Firm grip, but too hastily released as if he was afraid of causing offence. Nice to meet you, Mr Sutherland.

I'm just Evan, Paul. So, I hear you’re stuck for somewhere to live.

He nodded but didn’t give me any details so I looked at Cam. His cousin’s missus is about two seconds from having her sprog and they haven’t got the room for a guest as well. Paul’s looking for a job but he needs somewhere safe to stay.

Problems with your people? I asked Paul.

He nodded, clearly not about to enlighten me but I kept looking at him. At some point, he had to talk to me, not through Cam, if he was to live in my crazy little household. Uh, yeah. D-Dad and me...over Christmas. Um.... He appealed to Cam with those big blue eyes.

Paul’s dad found out he was gay and kicked him out, Cam said bluntly. Wasn’t the first time he’d had to make the same kind of explanation to me. On Christmas Day, too.

I'm sorry, Paul. It’s something that happens too often. Did Cam explain what kind of place I run here?

Yes. He ducked his head. He said you...you take young people who need a safe place.

Yes. Young people who don’t fit the mould of ‘normal’ sexuality and who want to live where they can be open about who they are. So it’s not just a house share, okay?

He nodded quickly. Uh...I don’t have much money. For rent. I'm looking for a job, honest. I’ll pay you rent as soon—

I held up my hand to stop the panicked words. It’s okay, Paul. You’re not the first and you won’t be the last to turn up here broke. Come on through and you can see what’s here.

What about your washing?

It’ll wait. Come on.

I already had reservations about Paul. He was quiet, all right—too quiet. And my bunch of crazies were the noisiest buggers on the planet. I wondered if he’d even survive his first night here.

I led him back under the house. Everyone else lives upstairs. I’ve got a flat down here and my office, so I don’t want someone in the sleepout who likes loud music. Do you? Paul quickly shook his head, apparently terrified I’d take against him. Great, because between Sally the mutt next door and the elephant feet when everyone gets home, I can’t hear myself think sometimes. Here she is. It’s not a palace but it’s safe enough.

Paul stared around the sleepout, which, I had to admit, had seen better days. The whole underhouse space was built in, with my flat and office on one side, the sleepout-storeroom, single car garage and laundry on the other. An open passage between the two sides, running front to back, gave both levels some ventilation. My side I kept clean and fresh because I lived there, but the sleepout tended to get a bit musty when it sat empty, adding to the pongs and the damp from the laundry and garage. I kept thinking I should repaint it, tart it up a bit, put carpet tiles on the floor or something but it never seemed to be empty enough for long enough.

I can lend you sheets and towels and all that. Bar fridge and kettle in the laundry and you can wash up in there. Don’t leave any food or any open containers lying around because the mice don’t need encouraging. You’d know that though, I added as he nodded. Of course he’d know about mice. If you need more furniture, we can look at second hand things. Bathroom through here next to the laundry, just a shower and loo. There’s two more upstairs and I have one in the flat. Your kitchen’s up there, I have one down here. Can’t make the stairs too often with my leg, you see.

Leg?

I’ve got nothing against his right leg, Cam said with a smirk. Neither does he.

I poked him. Got old about three years ago, mate. Peter Cook called and he’s after the royalty cheque.

Sorry?

I took pity on Paul’s confusion. I'm an above the knee amputee. Left leg. So I can do with a hand with the gardening and housework and so on. Are you any use around the house?

Yeah, I'm good at all that sort of thing, he said eagerly. I’ll work hard, I promise. I know carpentry, and plumbing—

Which you won’t be touching because it’s illegal. But someone who can swing a hammer will be handy. What do you think? Needs a coat of paint, but you can sort that out if you’re feeling energetic.

It’s fine. Can I stay?

Too desperate to be fussy, just like I thought. Yeah, you can stay. I need to talk to you about house rules and all that but we can tide you over for a bit.

Cam clapped his hand on my shoulder. Thanks, Evan. Look, I need to run. I’ll see you Tuesday. Paul, you give me a ring if you need any help. Evan’s a great bloke, you’ll be right with him, I promise.

Thank you, Mr McNulty.

Cam shook his head and grinned at me. Now I feel as old as you.

Bugger off, Cameron. See you next week.

Come grab your gear from the ute, Paul. Catch you later, Evan.

Paul, I’ll be out back. Dump your stuff in the room and we can have a chat.

I finished hanging up my washing and then went over to the wooden bench seat. It needed a coat of paint too. In the bright afternoon sunshine, the defects of my house maintenance were all too obvious. Oh well. Next door, Sally the mutt started