Free Neighbours by Colin Thompson Page A

become the new owners,’ said Nerlin.
    â€˜You mean, move next door?’ asked Betty. ‘But who will live here?’
    â€˜We will,’ said Nerlin. ‘Look, there’s nine of us, not to mention the corpses and ghosts. We could do with more room.’
    So that’s what they did.

    If you went to an auction and saw a family that looked like the Floods standing there, you’d have to be pretty brave to bid against them. And if you saw how spooky and weird the Floods’ house and garden were next door, you probably wouldn’t want to live there anyway. Because of this, there were very few people at the auction outside number 11 Acacia Avenue. There was the standard property developer, who wanted to pull the house down and build ablock of flats, and there were five people who had seen all the junk in the front garden and thought it was a garage sale.
    Mordonna went up to the property developer and whispered in his ear. But he just walked off in silence.
    â€˜What did you say to him?’ asked Nerlin.
    â€˜I asked him if he had ever thought what life would be like if he had sticky feet and could cling to glass,’ said Mordonna.
    The auctioneer climbed up on a box and held up his hand.

    â€˜Who will start the bidding?’ he said.
    â€˜Two hundred and fif –’ the property developer started to say, but before he could finish, Mordonna clicked her fingers. There was a gentle plop and the property developer decided that he’d rather spend the rest of his life eating flies and hopped off into the grass.
    Then there was silence.
    â€˜Come on,’ said the auctioneer. ‘Who will give me three hundred thousand?’
    â€˜Twelve dollars,’ Betty called out.
    â€˜Twelve dollars? Twelve dollars?’ said the auctioneer. ‘Come on, people. This house has to be sold today.’
    â€˜I’ll give you four dollars for the old washing machine,’ said one of the five bargain hunters.
    â€˜I’ve changed my mind,’ said Betty. ‘Ten dollars.’
    More nervous silence.
    The auctioneer would have cried, except people who sell houses can’t cry, because the bits of theirbrains that have feelings have been removed.
    â€˜Two hundred thousand, please?’
    Silence, followed by everyone except the Floods walking nervously back to their cars.
    â€˜One hundred thousand … please?’
    A very long silence.
    â€˜Who bid ten dollars?’ the auctioneer asked.
    â€˜I did,’ said Betty.
    â€˜You’re too young.’
    â€˜Ten dollars and five cents,’ said Betty. ‘And if you check part III, subsection 18, page 735 of volume 47 of the house owning code, I think you’ll find that anyone over the age of two is allowed to buy a house.’
    This, of course, was completely made up, but the auctioneer didn’t know that. And anyway, he realised that ten dollars and five cents was better than no dollars and the disgrace of being the first auctioneer ever in the whole town to not sell a house at auction.
    â€˜Okay, okay, any advance on ten dollars and five cents?’ he said.
    The auctioneer waited for fifteen minutes, shuffling his feet and trying not to cry onto his clipboard. He knew no one was going to make a better offer. He knew he was now in Auctioneer-Nightmare-Land. 23 Finally he couldn’t delay it any longer. He lifted his shaking hand and said, ‘Ten dollars and five cents – going once, going twice, going three times … gone.’
    Betty gave him ten dollars and ten cents and said he could keep the change, and the Floods promised they would never tell anyone how much they had paid for the house.

The Floods got back the ten dollars and ten cents by selling all the rubbish in the Dents’ front garden to the garage sale man for twenty-five dollars. The garage sale man came with a big truck and took away all the old cars, washing machines, fridges, bottles and other junk. He