‘What …?’
It was Franklin.
‘Auspart have coughed up a hundred and fifty. Bigger things to worry about now, so we got them. Told you it wouldn’t take long. So you’re in the clear.’
Jack snorted.
‘Halle-fucking-lujah. That’s the least of my worries. I forgot to tell you, I’ve been told I’m getting chucked out of my flat. It’s getting knocked down, and they’re putting up fancy new ones. And guess who’s doing it?’
‘Plenty of other flats out there, mate. Move might even do you good.’
‘That’s not all. I’m supposed to be helping this crazy homeless bloke — he’s a fucking disaster, don’t know what to do with him …’
‘Might be able to help there. We fund this homeless charity — maybe I could pull a favour, get them to sort him out …’
‘You serious?’ Jack’s spirits rose slightly. It sounded like Auspart wouldn’t be chasing him anymore, and now he had a chance to offload Phil onto someone else.
‘Sure, no drama. You’re one of us now, Jack.’
Excuse me if I don’t start laying hi-fives, Jack reflected. ‘Yeah, well, the way things are going, there might be two of us looking for a chop-out from your mates. What about the minister and all that stuff? When are you going to blow it open?’
‘Don’t know. Might leave it alone. I told them you’ve lost interest, and they know we know about their dirty little secret now, so they’ve lost interest in you. Anyone could work it out, mate — for fuck’s sake, you did. The PPP thing’s dead, and Paul’s missus will sleep easy tonight. That’s all that matters.’
‘So you’re going to let that Eccles guy get away with it? And Clarkson?’
‘Maybe, maybe not. We’ll see how things unfold. We’re not politicians, Jack — we’ve got other things to worry about. It’s a pretty safe bet Eccles’ll keep his nose clean from here on in. We’ll fix Clarkson industrially.’
Jack shook his head slowly as Franklin rang off. It didn’t seem right that none of these pricks would end up in jail, but he was too exhausted to really care. And the more he thought about it, the more a huge public drama seemed like a bad idea. He had no desire to end up in the middle of a big police inquiry, even if he was only a witness. After all, he wasn’t entirely innocent: these things had a habit of developing a life of their own. Who could know where it might end up?
Jack decided that whatever else was happening, his first priority had to be staying out of jail, so he arranged to see the lawyer at the legal service again at the end of the day.
Holly Nettleton looked him up and down with a glint of curiosity in her eye as he sank into the chair in the interview room.
‘I’ve got some good news for you. They’ll do $30 a week.’
‘Yippee’, Jack replied with what he knew was childish sarcasm. ‘All my Christmases have come at once.’
‘Lucky to get it’, she responded, with resentment in her voice. ‘I really had to harass them. Fifty’s the usual rate.’
‘Yeah, sorry, thanks’, Jack mumbled. ‘I’m just in the shit, you know — bigger things to worry about.’ Thirty dollars was only one reasonable fare, so he could probably wear that for a while. Except for the fact he was about to lose his partner, of course.
‘Such as?’
‘Remember that developer stuff we talked about?’
‘Yes.’
‘Need your help. Reckon cops’ll be after me — trespassing, burglary, who knows?’
Jack gave her a modified account of the entire incident, altering some of the facts to suit a more innocent explanation for his and Emily’s presence in the building. He didn’t mention Franklin.
‘On the facts you’ve described, it’s difficult to see how you could be charged with anything. There should be evidence of the other men inside the building. Emily’s injuries mean she’s no use as a witness, even if she can remember anything. And calling an ambulance doesn’t sound like normal behaviour for someone who’s in the middle of committing a serious crime. It’s strange the police haven’t spoken to you yet, but I suspect I know why.’
‘How come?’ Jack sat up in his seat, relieved to hear this optimistic assessment, and curious to find out more.
‘The government’s in chaos about all this Auspart stuff — people are running around like headless chooks everywhere. The cops hate sticking their noses into anything political. And you can bet your life no one will make a formal complaint about the break-in.’
Jack exhaled with exaggerated relief. Sounds like I’m off the hook on this one, at least.
‘I’d say there are a few big boys in serious trouble. Nobody paid much attention to the rorting of the tender process, but the demonstration and the break-in have made it impossible to ignore. Now everyone’s running for cover, of course, fingering everyone else. Usual story.’
‘Thanks for the advice. Sounds like I won’t be needing anything more, with a bit of luck.’ He lifted himself out of his chair and turned towards the door.
‘My pleasure, Jack. I think you deserve a break.’
He walked out into Johnston Street, delighted at the load that had just been lifted from his shoulders. Sure, it was only one of several problems he had to deal with, but it was a pretty big one. Going to jail wasn’t part of the plan. And getting some time to pay his fine didn’t hurt. Maybe he should ask for a discount — he had saved the stupid parking cop’s life, more or less.
A lot of things were running around loose in his head. He didn’t know where to start. The drive to Reservoir gave him a chance to make sense of it all, but he didn’t make much progress.
A wave of regret hit him as he turned into Ajit’s street. Why had Jack stuck his nose in at the high-rise anyway? Life had been simple and straightforward, and somehow he had turned it into an unbelievably complicated mess.
He now understood what he had landed himself in. By witnessing the accident next door, he’d attracted the interest of some ugly characters in Auspart. They had some pretty good reasons for sweeping the accident under the carpet. Then, once he’d stumbled into the drama at the estate, their interest in him had increased even further, and Dempsey had been happy to exploit this because of his entanglement with Emily. It was hardly surprising that every time he’d come across the crooks’ radar they’d bashed him or chased him. It had to be Dempsey who’d tipped them off that they were in the Auspart office. It couldn’t have been Emily, surely? He’d put one over Franklin. Not as smart as he thinks he is, Jack noted.
And while all that was going on, Emily was feeding information to the guys in Auspart. Franklin had suspected Emily’s involvement. But maybe not really, or only after he had used her as cover to help him get a look at the Auspart files. Jack gave up trying to work it all out. It just made his head spin.
At least the whole development thing looked like disappearing. The stink was getting so bad it looked like the government would have no alternative but to cancel the project. Nothing else was on the horizon, though, so the tenants would still have to put up with crumbling flats and barren grounds. Not much of a victory, really, Jack concluded. No doubt Richard Fletcher and Angela Wright would be celebrating in their nice homes, but the tenants wouldn’t have much to cheer about.
He tried to put all this out of his mind as he stopped in front of Ajit’s flat.
‘Hi, mate, sorry I’m late’, he said to Ajit as he eased his way out of the driver’s seat.
‘This is no problem, Jack’, Ajit replied. ‘We have only a few more days to go — it does not matter. You have thought about coming to Premier Limousines? I have spoken to my new boss. He looks for drivers, he wants older men … more experience, reliable. Should I speak again with him?’
Conflicting thoughts swirled around in Jack’s mind. He was going to miss Ajit. All that friendly optimism, cricket talk, and call-centre gossip might have been ir
ritating, but it was a significant part of his life.
But Ajit had betrayed him. And did Jack really see himself dressed up like some stupid chauffeur in a movie, all jacket, tie, and peaked cap? Not bloody likely — you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, and all that. It wasn’t because the boss was Indian. He disliked all bosses on principle.
Everything might be falling apart, but I’ve got to draw the line somewhere.
He wrestled with his thoughts for a few moments while Ajit stood patiently waiting for a response.
Fuck it. I’m a cabbie, not some fancy dressed-up lackey. His mind made up, he turned to Ajit: ‘Not really my thing, mate. Maybe somewhere down the track, okay? I’ll stay in touch.’
20.
A nasty gust of wind cut right through Jack as he leaned awkwardly on the bare metal bars of the tram stop. It felt like it was sending him a message, trying to get him to wake up to himself. The thoughts spinning around in his mind began to settle.
Who the fuck am I kidding? I’m a sorry-arsed cabbie with no cash, no partner, hardly any friends, and I live in a dump. Now I’m getting chucked out, and I’ll probably end up on the streets sleeping next to crazy Phil.
Emily had betrayed him, and even though he half-understood why, it didn’t matter. It was the same with Ajit. Once the connection was broken, it couldn’t be fixed. So that was that.
But so what? Life’s full of betrayals. No point going all pathetic about it.
Trying to convince himself he could still conquer his remaining problems, Jack clambered onto the tram.
Survived those Auspart goons, he said to himself. Ought to be able to knock the rest of this shit over.
Jack found Phil late in the afternoon, sipping a cup of coffee on a park bench at Lincoln Square. He still looked a bit cleaner and fresher: the brief stay in hospital had clearly been good for him. Or maybe he just seemed better because of the surroundings: the sight and smell of the enormous oak trees had a strangely uplifting quality.
‘Phil, you stupid prick! What’d you say to that fucking agent guy? I’ve been chucked out. Evicted.’
Phil looked up at Jack and smiled.
‘Welcome to the club, Jack.’
Jack winced. He wasn’t quite homeless yet, but he was starting to worry.
‘Sounds like I mightn’t even get my bond back. What’d you say to them?’
‘Nothing. It’ll be a try-on, Jack — you know what those guys are like. Anyway, he told me they’re knocking the joint down. Nothing to do with me.’
Jack sat down beside him, tacitly conceding the point. Phil was a pain in the arse, but he was right. It wasn’t him knocking down the flats. And with a bit of luck he might be able to get Holly Nettleton to sort out his bond. The legal service would deal with this kind of stuff all the time, surely.
‘Might be a while before I can give you any more cash, anyway.’
Phil laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll charge interest.’
‘I’ve lost my share-driver, can’t make enough to cover the cab lease, now I’m getting turfed out of the flat.’
‘I’d lend you some money, but last time I did, it took fifteen years to get the repayments started.’
Jack ignored the needling.
‘Don’t know how I’m going to hold it all together …’ He was almost talking to himself now.
‘You know, I could …’
A short, worried-looking middle-aged woman was approaching.
‘Phil, how are you? Is your face okay?’
‘Yeah. Hollywood career’s buggered, though.’
A nervous smile flashed across her pallid features.
‘People do such horrible things …’
‘Yeah, you should’ve seen the other guy. It was just kids off their faces on something or other …’
It sounded like Phil was in a good mood, which puzzled Jack. What on earth was there to be cheerful about?
‘And who’s your friend?’ She turned to Jack. ‘Have you got somewhere to stay the night? I can probably fix something, only one or two nights, though …’
Jack went red and spluttered out a response: ‘I’m not homeless, just, um, a mate of Phil’s here. Just checking he’s okay.’
‘That’s great, good someone’s keeping an eye on him.’ She began to walk away.
‘I’m not his dad or anything.’
‘Stop being a dickhead, Jack’, Phil snapped at him. ‘Irene’s just trying to help.’
‘Thanks, Phil. You know where to find me’, Irene responded in a neutral tone.
‘Yeah, see you around.’
Jack looked across at the cab. He had a long evening in front of him. He stood up and stretched, and a small yawn slipped out.
‘Hope you get some decent fares.’
‘Yeah, not likely. I’m fucked. Probably have to hand the plates back in a week or two if I can’t find another driver.’
‘Know what you mean. I drove cabs for a few years. Owner was a real turd. Count your fingers, check your wallet, all that …’
‘You’re kidding! How come I never bumped into you?’ Jack sounded sceptical. He couldn’t imagine Phil decked out in a cabbie’s uniform.
‘Different parts of Melbourne, mate. Outer suburbs. You’ve probably never been there.’
Ignoring the sledge, Jack continued: ‘When did you give it away?’
‘Couple of years ago. Piss got to me. But, hey, I’m a lot better now. Those kids did me a favour, you know. I needed something like that. Going to start again, give it another crack and all that.’
‘Yeah? Doing what?’ Jack couldn’t hide the scepticism in his voice.
‘You’d be surprised, mate. If I can stay off the booze, anything’s possible. It’s all about motivation. That’s why you’re still bumming around driving cabs, mate. No ambition. Just drifting. I’ve turned the corner. Sure, I’ll probably have to start at the bottom, little steps and all that, but I’m up and about, Jack! On the comeback trail. Better watch out!’
Jack cast a long, searching look at Phil. It was true, he seemed different. He looked brighter, more alert — and less like a pile of old clothes dumped in the gutter. And Jack might have been imagining it, but Phil didn’t seem to smell quite so bad either.
A crazy, subversive thought started seeping into his brain. He resisted it, but it wouldn’t go away.
‘You serious? Won’t you have to find somewhere to live?’
‘Think I’ve got a spot at this halfway house. Some kind of charity runs it — big-business types and all that. Help you get back on your feet.’
Jack looked at Phil again. The words were forming in his mind, but somehow he couldn’t get them out.
‘Um … maybe … you know, do you want to have a go at driving with me? Just, like, on a trial basis?’
Jack could hardly believe what he was saying. Asking crazy derro Phil to drive for him? The thugs had definitely messed with his head, that was for sure.
‘Why not?’ Phil replied. ‘Got to do something, and at least I know how to drive a cab. What shift?’
‘Evening probably, but anything’d do. Even a few hours here and there …’
In spite of himself, Jack was warming to the idea. Phil might help fill the gap until he could find a proper partner, and help keep him afloat for a bit.
‘Sounds good to me, mate. And you know what? If it works out and you’re looking for a flatmate, keep me in mind. Can’t stay in the house forever …’
Jack tried not to show the wave of revulsion surging through him.
‘Think about it. Your joint is getting pulled down. It’s a lot easier to share a place — cheaper, too.’
Choosing his words carefully, as he now had a reason to avoid offending Phil, Jack replied: ‘Not worrying about that stuff at the moment. I’ve lived on my own for a long time, can’t
see that changing. Anyway, I need to sort out the cab first.’
‘The house is over in North Melbourne, Flemington Road, two hundred and nineteen. That’s where I’ll be when you need me to do some driving.’
‘Okay, maybe in a couple of days. I’ll get back to you.’
Jack stood up, still barely able to believe what had just passed between them.
‘See you soon, Phil. Stay off the grog, okay?’
‘Yeah, guaranteed, mate. I’m back in town!’
As he walked back towards the cab, Phil called out after him: ‘And I’ll forget about the money you owe me. How about that for a good deal?’
An acorn dropped right in front of Jack as he trudged along the path: was the old oak tree trying to tell him something? Time for a fresh start?
Crawling up Lygon Street, Jack tried hard to process all this madness. Somehow he’d gone from a flirtation with Emily via a confrontation with nasty property developers into a partnership with Phil. Had it all really happened, or was he going mad?
Teaming up with Phil was unthinkable, of course, but what other options did he have?
Maybe this is how it all ends. Rock bottom and all that. The humiliation of relying on a homeless wreck like Phil to get back on his feet was too painful to contemplate.
Is that who I am? Am I one of them — just haven’t quite hit the streets yet?
He thought about Phil’s story for a few moments. If he’d been through what Phil had, would he be any better?
Jack didn’t even need to answer the question.
He tried to think rationally about his idea to enlist Phil as his share-driver. Did he have anything to lose? What was the worst that could happen? That he’d end up unemployed and homeless? That was where he was heading anyway. Phil might be a long shot, but what else was on offer? Driving limos with Ajit, maybe?
Sure, Phil was using him as a life-raft, which made him feel a bit resentful, but he quickly saw another way of looking at it.
If I’m Phil’s lifeline, what’s so bad about that? If it works, I’ve still got the cab. And maybe an okay place to live. But what if I get stuck with him and he moves in? I can always chuck him out if he stinks the place out or hits the piss again, I guess.
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