That was why they called him Caesar.
And now you’re going to ask him for a favour. On what planet did you ever think this was going to work?
Will’s computer pinged as he opened his inbox. Two hundred and twenty-nine emails had come in since he’d been on R and R. He swore and flicked his mouse.
‘Okay, I can’t take it any more. Spill it!’
Will jumped and then swivelled in his chair to discover that Nova was still steadily regarding him, his hands clasped lightly between his knees. ‘I’ve been watching you crash, rattle and bang in that little space of yours like a bean in a tin can.’
Despite himself, Will felt his lips curl. ‘Really?’
‘You know you have. Tell me what the problem is. Is it in my area of expertise?’
Nova was a draftsman, but that wasn’t his area of expertise. There were three things that Nova held the floor on:
a. Women
b. Booze
c. Women + booze
He had doled out many gems of knowledge and had pulled many a young welder, turner or fitter out of the doghouse.
‘You tell me this is not about a woman and I’ll call you a liar.’ The draftsman’s long nose twitched as though he had sniffed out the clue.
‘This is not about a woman.’
‘Liar.’
Will laughed. ‘Well, I’m not telling you about it.’
‘Then she must be special.’ Nova smirked. Will pretended that he didn’t hear but the draftsman was not fooled. ‘A man loves to talk about his conquests except for the one that actually counts,’ he said with a smile. ‘That’s the one they don’t want to talk about at all.’
‘Well, I’ve never been with this one, so you’re way off.’
Nova studied him shrewdly. ‘Aah. Not just the one. But the one that got away. Let me guess, you’ve got another chance with her.’
‘Well if I do, it’s a bloody long shot.’ Will’s mouth twisted as he allowed his gaze to wander across the room to the commotion in the kitchen. Ann Humming, a woman a few years older than him, was flittering around behind the dirt-marked counter, practically on the verge of hysteria. She was Caesar’s secretary. She also appeared to be frantic as she opened cupboards under the bench and overhead, shutting them with a bang when she didn’t find what she was looking for. She pulled open the fridge, gave the contents a frustrated onceover then slammed it shut again. Hand pressed to her heart, she spun around muttering, ‘God help me. God help me. God help me. We’re out of milk.’
‘Uh-oh,’ Nova said as he too followed Will’s gaze.
Caesar always started the day with a cup of coffee. Specifically, one sugar, two heaped spoons of Robert Timms, hot water just boiled and a dash of milk that set the overall temperature of his beverage at a warm 80 degrees Celsius, which was, relatively speaking, 176 degrees Fahrenheit, 353.15 Kelvin and 0.8 atmosphere of pressure at sea level.
Nothing else was acceptable.
Caesar had the only office on the floorplan with a door. His morning beverage was delivered to this private abode when he arrived and was followed by one hour of silence.
No one, absolutely no one, was allowed to interrupt this sixty minutes of solitude. Nothing short of life or death, maybe not even that, would grant you entrance to his throne room during this time.
Gossip in the yard said that Caesar used this hour to dream up horrendous, unspeakable punishments for those who had crossed him. Will, who in general didn’t have time for construction site myths and legends, was sure that Mark Crawford used it to field emails. As he had discovered himself only seconds earlier, the morning was rife with them. People always put off crisis to the morning and pushed bad news out the door in the evening.
Nova had once told Will that in all his thirty years of experience he had never worked on a job that was not losing money or time somewhere. He called it ‘leaky tap’ syndrome. It wasn’t a matter of whether you had a leak, but where it was dripping.
Will glanced at the clock on the wall. Six fifty-eight am. ‘He’s going to be here any minute,’ he said, watching Ann scurry about with her mouth open and her eyes wide, like a frog catching flies.
‘Looks like,’ Nova muttered.
Just then, the office donga door flung open and Caesar infused the room like a cloud of genie smoke. Tall, muscular, with a head of coarse black hair, he was an intimidating sight. Everyone stopped what he or she was doing to watch. Ann’s hand shot out to grab the kitchen bench, clearly bracing herself against the onslaught that was about to ensue.
‘Mr Crawford,’ she moaned like one in pain. ‘You’re here.’
Caesar’s eyes darkened. ‘You know how much I hate it when you state the obvious, Ann.’
‘Sorry, sir. Wasn’t thinking.’
‘Yes,’ Caesar murmured baldly. ‘You tend to do that more often than I like.’
Ann cleared her throat. ‘The thing is, s-sir . . .’
‘Yes, yes, spit it out.’
‘It’s your coffee.’
‘What about it?’
‘It’s black.’ She wrung her hands. ‘You see, we ran out of milk. George forgot to put our order in and I didn’t check the fridges last night,’ she finished, breathless.
‘Given it’s George’s job to make sure the kitchens and stationery supplies are fully stocked I’m not surprised you didn’t check the fridges last night. Rest easy, Ann, this is not your fault.’
Ann breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you, sir. I’ll have your correspondence waiting for you on your desk.’
‘Excellent. And can you run out and buy some milk for the fridges?’
‘Of course, sir. Shouldn’t be a problem at all.’
‘I’ll have my coffee a little later this morning.’
‘Can do, sir.’
‘And, er . . . just one more thing, Ann.’ He flicked a speck of fluff off the arm of his shirt. ‘Fire George, will you?’
There was a full five-second silence before Ann finally gulped, ‘I . . . I beg your pardon?’
He glanced at his watch and sighed. ‘I just don’t have time to do it myself, now that I’m running behind.’ He tapped the face of his timepiece.
‘Fire him?’
‘Are you having trouble with your hearing, Ann?’
‘No, sir,’ she choked. ‘It’s just that it wasn’t my intention to get George into trouble.’
‘Yes, well, you weren’t thinking. I do recall you mentioning that. There’s no need to go over it again.’
Ann’s hands were fluttering more rapidly now, the desperation evident in her face. ‘What I should say is that I never meant to have him fired.’
‘Really?’ Caesar seemed mildly amused. ‘Then you had best apologise to him after you fire him.’
Before she could reply, Mark Crawford moved past her and headed straight for his office. A second later the door was shut behind him with a snap.
Ann’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes boggling from their sockets. As she leaned back against the bench, Will knew the waterworks were not far off.
Oh shit.
Nova groaned beside him. ‘It’s such a pity there aren’t more women in this office. They’d all be clucking around her like birds by now. Do you want to take this one or should I?’
‘I’ll do it. I think it’s my turn.’
He nodded at a couple of other men who were looking askance at him and Nova. They inclined their heads with relief. After Caesar, the number-two item on every man’s avoidance list was a woman about to cry.
Sticking his hands into the pockets of his blue Hard Yakka pants, Will got up from his seat and walked the few metres to the kitchen.
‘Hey, Ann.’
‘Oh, Will,’ she wailed, her eyes dangerously shiny. ‘I can’t do anything right.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘I’m useless at this job.’
‘You’re not useless. We all know what Caesar is like.’
She wasn’t listening to him. ‘I just g
ot George fired but I should be the one on the chopping block.’
‘George is not exactly a saint.’ Will tried to console her. ‘This isn’t the first run of supplies he’s missed so I wouldn’t get too cut up about it.’
‘Yes, but I can’t fire him,’ Ann moaned. ‘I just can’t.’
‘It won’t be too bad.’
‘You really think so?’
‘Well . . . yes,’ he responded, encouraged by her brightening face – clearly it was the right thing to say. ‘It’ll be over with in a flash.’
‘Then you should do it.’
‘What? Me?’ He cursed his loose lips. ‘I’m a graduate.’
‘Well, I’m just a secretary.’ She put her hands on her hips, suddenly growing a spine at exactly the wrong moment. ‘You’ve got seniority over me. It’ll be nicer for him coming from you.’
‘I don’t think so.’ It wouldn’t be nice coming from anyone.
‘Please, Will.’ She clasped her hands under her chin. ‘I’ll owe you favour. Name it, anything!’
He was about to deny her, when he realised that he actually did need a favour. A rather big one actually. Emily’s face immediately flashed into his head, distraught and hopeful. Why is it that he always ended up here? At the raw end of the stick with nowhere to hide.
He cleared his throat. ‘I need a private moment with Caesar.’
Even hearing himself say the words sounded scary.
Her eyes flared. ‘Really?’
‘Yes. Can you get me a moment alone with him this morning?’
‘That’s seriously what you want?’
He nodded.
‘All right.’ She tapped her chin. ‘A parcel arrived today. I’ll let you take it in to him when the hour of silence is up.’ She pointed her finger at him. ‘But you have to fire George.’
He sighed. ‘Okay, it’s a deal.’
He was about to turn and go when she stalled him. ‘There’s just one thing I think I should mention.’ The tone of her voice worried him and he turned back slowly.
‘What’s that?’
‘The parcel is from his wife.’
He blinked. ‘And that’s a problem because?’
Her voice lowered to the barest of whispers. ‘Last week, I saw his wife’s birthday marked in his diary and reminded him to give her a call. He told me not to meddle in his personal life and threw me out of his office – gave me the silent treatment for days. I was sure I was done for.’
He groaned. ‘So they’re not on good terms.’
‘I don’t know.’ Her mouth twisted. ‘But if I were you, I would ask whatever it is you want to ask him before you hand over the parcel.’
‘Gotcha.’
She beamed at him. ‘Will, I swear, you’re the sweetest, kindest guy I’ve ever met. I don’t know why you haven’t got a girlfriend.’
She patted him on the shoulder as she chuffed off back to her desk. Why did women always think they were being complimentary by mentioning his ‘surprising’ lack of a partner? He found the observation more annoying than flattering. With heavy feet he returned to his desk, wondering how on earth he was going to fire George.
‘You know, you’ve got to stop playing the knight in shining armour,’ Nova observed dispassionately as he sat down. ‘It’s going to get you in trouble.’
You don’t say.
‘A simple “there, there” would have sufficed. That’s what I was gunna go with.’
Will shrugged, a grin tickling his mouth. ‘I wanted to mix it up a little, do something different.’
‘Well, you certainly did that. What do you want with Caesar anyway?’
Will turned back to his computer, a move to hide his face. ‘None of your business. Have you finished those temporary platforms yet? I’ve got scaffolders asking when they can have the drawings.’
He heard Nova grunt. ‘You’ve been back ten minutes and you’re already cracking the whip. I hope Caesar fries your balls.’
Will rolled his eyes. ‘I’m sure he will.’ He stood up. ‘Well, if the drawings aren’t ready I might as well go speak to George.’
‘You make it sound so easy.’
Will didn’t deign to reply, knowing talking about it would only serve to make him lose his nerve. He walked across the room and exited the main donga. George’s workspace was actually in another of the temporary buildings. He was a peggy, so he didn’t have a computer. His role was to run errands, collect supplies and clean where necessary. Will was unsurprised that he’d forgotten to buy the milk. Diligence wasn’t exactly George’s middle name. He tended to leave things to the last minute and, as he’d pointed out to Ann, had already been caught behind on more than one occasion.
Despite this, Will had no desire to fire him. First, he’d never fired anyone in his life, least of all a man ten years his senior. And secondly . . . well, George was a big guy. Who knew when that temper was finally going to get the better of him?
Unfortunately George wasn’t in the other donga: he was standing outside it having a smoke and chatting with two others. One was a man they called Fish and the other a heavily set gentleman called Dipper. They both stood beside him, not smoking but definitely chewing the fat.
‘Bream, whiting, flathead, mackerel and tuna. But no jewfish yet,’ Fish was saying. ‘I just don’t understand it. What am I doing wrong?’
‘You need to go further north to Mackay,’ Dipper was saying. ‘Near the marina. We’ll go there next Sunday off – you and I?’
‘Or we could go tonight?’ George suggested.
‘I don’t like hunting at night.’ Dipper shook his head.
Fish snorted scornfully. ‘You’re soft, that’s what you are. Soft.’ As he was finishing his sentence, he looked up to see Will approaching. Fish’s eyes brightened, as though delighted by the distraction. Will groaned inwardly. He knew his eagerness was a bit of a running joke between the older guys. He was going to get a ribbing before they let him state his point.
‘Well, if it isn’t the little graduate come to say hi. Hello, Boy Scout! How you going?’ Fish grinned. He wasn’t exactly easy on the eye – greasy, knotty hair tied back in an untidy ponytail framed a hard face. While he was wearing the Barnes Inc uniform, he still managed to look like a homeless person. His shirt certainly hadn’t seen a wash, let alone an iron, in a few days. His eyes, however, sparkled with all the alertness of one who knew the cut and thrust of construction like the back of his hand. Will hated to admit it, but he admired him despite his poor attention to hygiene and, indeed, social etiquette in general.
‘Boy Scout.’ Dipper inclined his head.
‘You still got your city shine on you, young William? Haven’t been out on the wharf enough yet,’ George commented.
There was no way firing George was going to go down well. Better to do it in private. ‘Could I speak to you, George? Alone.’
‘Ho, ho, ho,’ George rocked on his feet, ‘hear that boys? I’m being singled out for a little one-on-one. Must be serious.’
‘Er, yeah it is.’
‘I’m listening.’ The ignorant fool put out his cigarette by dropping it and stepping on it. ‘Tell me now.’
Will bit his lip. ‘Probably better in private.’
‘This is private enough.’
‘Are you sure because –’
George rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, damn it.’
‘Caesar is . . . letting you go.’
George’s jaw dropped. ‘What the fuck?’
‘He’s firing you. I’m, er, firing you for him. He asked Ann to do it but she was . . . she was busy.’
‘Ann! Now that’s just insulting. Why am I being fired?’
Will cleared his throat, shuffling from one foot to the other. ‘He, er . . .’ He lifted his head. ‘He had a black coffee this morning.’
The men all stood there in stunned silence for a moment before Fish suddenly let off a bark of laughter and slapped George on the back.
‘Well, fuck me. I think Boy Scout just sli
pped you a little arsenic, Georgie boy.’
George rolled his shoulder, angrily dislodging the hand. At this point, Will thought it best to get the rest out before George completely lost it. ‘You’ve probably got the usual two weeks’ notice. I guess if you ask the HR manager they will tell you for sure. I’m really sorry to ruin your day.’
‘Ruin my day?!’ The words burst from George’s mouth like red paint splattering against a white fence. ‘You good for nothing, two-faced little bastard! You tell Caesar –’
‘Actually I think I’d rather you tell him,’ Will shot back.
‘That’s it, Boy Scout,’ this time Fish clapped him on the back, ‘stick up for yourself. Not your fault. We all know what the devil’s like. Truth is, a man needs to get fired from time to time. Keeps him honest.’
Will liked being manhandled by Fish even less than George did and discreetly stepped forwards out of arm’s reach.
‘Yes, well, we all know your reputation, Fish,’ George spat. ‘But I’ve never been fired in my life.’
‘Barnes Inc hired me back on a different job.’ Fish shrugged. ‘Maybe they’ll do the same for you.’
‘Fuck that!’ George grunted and stormed off.
Will breathed a sigh of relief. It was done. Now all he had to do was give Caesar his mail. He winced. What a morning!
He went back to his own desk, ignored as best he could Nova’s demand for details and saw that Ann had left the parcel on his desk. It was a rectangular object in a brown tough bag that had been delivered via courier. The label on the back clearly stated that the parcel was from a woman.
Kathryn Mary Crawford of 13 Highgate Road, Subiaco.
‘What was she thinking, eh?’ Nova grinned before turning back to the drawing displayed on the two computer screens in front of him. ‘Marrying that son of a bitch.’
Unfortunately, Will still had to wait another forty minutes before Caesar’s hour of silence was up. The time was just enough for his nerves to wind as tight as a compressed spring.
Finally, the clock struck eight. He looked across the room and Ann nodded at him from her vantage point. It was now or never. He headed over to the lair of the tiger and knocked on the door twice. At first there was no answer, so he braced himself and tentatively knocked again.
The Girl in the Yellow Vest Page 3