A Changed Suburb, a Changed Life
The sun glistened through the lace curtains of her bedroom heralding a new day. As Alma looked down at her feet, she noticed that the slippers that she loved were looking very tatty. I must buy some new slippers, she said to herself.
As she stepped outside the sun beamed down, gently kissing her pale skin. The rusty gate swung open, crying in need of some oil. The sun rose higher as Alma walked through the streets towards her first stop of the day.
The BBC grocery shop was the best place to replenish her stocks of tea and biscuits, and those raspberry lollies her daughter Francis liked best. On the walk to the shops, she decided that she would stop and visit Neville Malouf on the way home. But as Alma turned off Boundary St she couldn’t find the grocery, just a shop called Nando’s! I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, Alma thought very confused. No, she thought, I have not taken a wrong turn. The young shop assistant told her she needed Coles Supermarket at the far end of Boundary St but Alma knew that was wrong. Tristams Soft Drink factory was down that end.
Distressed, Alma walked back along Boundary St and turned into Mollison St, where Neville lived. Neville, like her husband, always enjoyed a quick cuppa and a quick round of 500, his favourite card game. She thought that she could ask Neville what happened to the grocery shop and where it had moved to.
On the corner stood Neville’s house. It had been standing strong for fifty years. Outside his house were several parked cars, and music could be heard through the closed windows. Neville never closed those windows come rain or shine. Alma cautiously entered the house through a sliding glass door. That’s new, she spoke to herself quietly. However, inside was not Neville’s house. The lounge room, which once held the first radio in West End held a cabinet full of cakes and slices and the room had the aroma of coffee. Strangers were in Neville’s house and he was nowhere...