The Pest Control Man

Gareth is from pest control, or "Buzz Off" or "Zap It" or some other company, all of which are doing a roaring trade in the eastern suburbs. He was dead on time at 8.30am and I was also very nearly on schedule, having emptied every single cupboard and drawer in the kitchen, had a shower, made a picnic lunch and shoved one of the sofa throws into the washer after Ella unscrewed the top of her cup and poured milk all over herself and it shortly beforehand.

I say nearly on schedule because the only thing left was to put a bra on, you know, just to look a bit more presentable. And then the door buzzer rang and it was Gareth so I had to put on a hooded top and zip it right up and hope he didn't notice.

"Ah British!" I said as he came in through the front door clutching his cans and nozzles and spray containers.

"Welsh, actually" he replied.

"So yes, British then"

"For now" he grumbled.

And then I remember I have to be nice to Gareth because he's going to stop the roaches coming in so I let it drop.

"This is a clean flat", he begins.

"The kitchen floor could do with a wash" I say.

"No, believe me, I've seen some cockroach infested places. This is a clean flat, you can't have much of a problem".

"What sort of work do you do?" I asked. He showed me his job sheet for the rest of the day. It was on a clipboard with a pen and lots of rings around words like "vendor" and "rat".

"My next job's at Bondi Junction. There's a house on Ebley Street has a dead possum in the skillion above the front door, you know, the space between the door and the porch. It stinks, you can smell it as soon as you walk into the house. Anyway, they sent Jason in and he couldn't find the problem but Jason's new and he went looking under the floorboards. Possums don't live under floorboards, they live in roof spaces. When I went back I found it straight away, it's got caught up in the light fitting, electrocuted probably, and now it's decomposing and rotting and dripping through the ceiling. I'm taking Jason back to show him".

I thought about Jason, probably tucking into a bowl of Nutrigrain and a round of toast as we spoke, unaware that he might see the same breakfast all over again in a couple of hours time.

"The worst job I ever had was a cheese factory. There was a dead space, like a cave but through a doorway. I went in there with my torch and straight away heard this hissing sound". He started hissing a high-pitched noise. I knew exactly what he was going to say. "The wall was black with cockroaches. And another time I went to a unit (flat) where a couple were expecting a baby. They had a wok on the cooker top and it had decomposing food in it, a layer of mould across the top. I'm not joking, there were so many German roaches on the ceiling, you couldn't have stuck a pin between them. When I took their clock off the wall there was just this black circle of them; the same when I took the mirror down. They colonise, you see".

I wondered what Gareth gets paid for this work. Is it his own business? Is he going to take a back seat and let someone else do the dirty stuff?

"Oh I work for someone else. I've bought and sold two pest control companies in the last twenty years. Came here in 1983 for three months, never went home. And then years later I tried to go back to Swansea and realised I couldn't live away from Australia, it's in my blood now. I bought a plot of land out Cronulla way in 1986 for eighty thousand bucks. My mates thought I had rocks in my head but I built a house on it and these days it's worth a million bucks so who's laughing now?"

"You'll never go home then?" I said.

"Only to sell my house in Swansea. I bought it because I went back to Wales when my father got crook, then after he died I nearly sold it but the whole thing fell through. I rented it out as a temporary thing but it's had the same tenant ever since and I'm happy with that. It's my pension, you see. What about you? Are you emigrating here?"

"Probably not. Oh I don't know, I'm 50/50, it's a big step"

"I guarantee you'll be back" he said, packing his tubes and nozzles into sandwich bags.

"How long does this treatment last?" I asked

"About three months, about the natural life-cycle of a cockroach"

"And in that case, I guarantee you'll be back as well" I said. "See you in the spring".