by Derek Haines
‘Well, I’ll let you know if I hear anything Dave,’ Tony said, knowing that the loss of the Sam’s deliveries would hurt Triple T. He didn’t hold anything against Dave. It was just business, and Dave had been a very good client. Maybe he would still be. Tony especially like customers who paid on time, and Dave always had.
‘Yeah, same here Tony. I’ll fax you those details. Have to catch you for a beer soon ok?’
‘Would love to Dave. See you soon. Your shout.’
‘Ok. Deal Tony, bye.’
As soon as he hung up the phone, David called Jim Brown. Then he rang Tony back.
‘Tony, I just checked with Jim Brown, he and I’ve always got on well. Your gossip wasn’t far wrong. The new owners of DPS tried to increase the price by ten percent. Sam’s are now buying from a split of three of the majors. I’m sorry Tony.’
‘Thanks for letting me know so soon Dave. At least I know. I haven’t heard anything from DPS. They’re a bit slow on their last account, so I thought that was why they were avoiding my calls. At least I have the picture now. Thanks for that Dave. I’ll shout the second beer ok?’
‘Sure. I’m sorry Tony.’
‘Don’t be Dave, its not your fault. Call me when you’re around this way for that beer.’
‘Ok Tony. See ya later.’
Tony walked out of his office. As he passed his single faithful office worker, he said, ‘Better get on the phone and see if we can drum up some business. I’ll be back in a few minutes. You want A to K? I’ll do L to Z.’ They’d both been here before. They knew what to do. ‘It’ll take five people to replace you,’ he thought as he walked passed her to go and finish tarping the load. To take his mind off his problems, Tony wondered what he could expect for dinner tonight. He hoped it was Fettuccine Antonio. It was a special dish his wife cooked for him. Home made fettuccine with a carbonara sauce full of bacon, liver and kidney. His mouth watered at the thought. He considered a good bottle of wine to buy on the way home to go with it. His mind left his problems for a minute.
Working all afternoon on the phones bought a little success. But not a lot. They would try again tomorrow. He had a call to say that a consignment he needed to deliver tomorrow morning was held up in Albury and had lost time. It was due at four but would not arrive until eight in the evening now. He had to wait for it to arrive, so he spent the evening catching up trying to empty his always full in-tray. The truck arrived at eight thirty. He helped unload and locked up at nine thirty. On arriving home he didn’t find his Fettuccine Antonio. Instead he found three of his kids glued to the television. One playing on a hand held computer game. He said ‘Hello,’ and got some grunts in return. As he went into the kitchen, he heard one of them say, ‘Mum said your dinner’s in the oven. She’s gone to bed.’ He opened the oven door. An unappetising roast dinner greeted him. Slices of dried beef, curled hard on the edges, peas like bullets, potatoes once golden, now dried and brown. Pumpkin nearly reduced to liquid. Carrots curling up in their death throws. All covered with a brown paste that was once gravy. He took it out of the oven and ate some of it. He drank all of the twenty-five dollar bottle of wine he had bought on the way home. Tony thought, as the wine took its effect, ‘This house is starting to feel very lonely.’ He had listened to his wife’s complaints over recent months, that he should spend more time with the kids. He appreciated she was at home all day. Surely though, she had listened to him about how tough business was. He was trying his best. The house was hers to keep. Her responsibility. His role was to keep the business afloat. To support his wife and children. That was a man’s role. His memory drifted back to Nick’s Fish and Chips, and wondered if his wife and four children could work as he and his family had. His wife didn’t have to work twelve hours a day plus keep a house full of children. And the children, lazing around watching television. ‘Could they work three hours before school and six hours afterwards?’ Times have changed he thought. But he hadn’t, he thought, ‘I’m still working as hard as I did back then.’
That same night, David Holdsworth was also eating dinner by himself. His wife had left the morning before for Sydney, visiting her mother. She was spending more and more time there. David didn’t mind. He knew in his mind he had placed a lot of pressure on his wife over the years, and it was good to see she was spending time with her mother and family. They had been with each other almost twenty-four hours a day in recent years with the business, apart from David’s regular travelling. Some time apart wouldn’t hurt. Their relationship had stabilised from its rocky start, and they had both grown up. David had learnt to take the time to notice his wife, notice not only her abilities in the business, but notice her. He loved his wife, and after the less than happy start, he was happy in the knowledge that their marriage was secure. He felt settled for the first time in his life. Now, with a little more free time they could enjoy the second stanza of their lives.
Steve Sharp was having a lovely meal with his girlfriend. Chilli prawns and a stir fry, downed with a crisp chardonnay. After his girlfriend’s children were asleep, they made love on the lounge room floor. Twice.
The next morning, Tony left for work at five thirty. His wife was still asleep when he left. As he started down the driveway in the early morning light, he stopped to look at the progress of the landscaping work. He had a swimming pool built where he used to park his truck when he drove. It had been finished six weeks ago. The landscape contractors his wife had hired, were to transform what was a dust bowl around the pool into a tropical oasis. Tony hoped his wife had a fixed price quote, because they seemed to be making very slow progress.
David had breakfast alone. With little to do for the day, he hoped it would be a pleasant day for a walk on the beach. After breakfast he played his violin for an hour. He hadn’t heard from his wife. She might get back this afternoon he thought to himself. Steve rang his girlfriend at seven thirty to tell her he loved her, and to wish her a lovely day.
Tony’s day became a Murphy’s Day. Whatever could go wrong, went wrong. Nothing catastrophic, but just one of those days where nothing goes right. Everything ran late. Cheques he was expecting didn’t arrive. Two men off sick. And little luck from his A to K, L to Z ring around for new business. Having had these days many times, Tony just kept thinking, things will improve. It’s just a patch. After starting work at six, he arrived home very tired at eight thirty that night. It didn’t improve his day any to find another cremated dinner in the oven and his wife out. The kids didn’t seem to have moved from the television since the night before. He was too tired to be annoyed. He ate what he could of his dinner and went to bed.
David had a quiet day. A long walk, played his violin. Lunch. More violin. Another walk. Read for a while. Waited for his wife to arrive. She didn’t. He made cheese on toast for dinner at seven. Watched television and waited for his wife to call. The phone stayed silent. Waking from a doze in front of the television at eleven he went to bed. As he drifted to sleep, he realised he missed the activity of his business. He was bored. And lonely.
Steve had a pleasant day. He rang his girlfriend after his dinner and made arrangements for the weekend. With no kids. This weekend was their free weekend. He felt his life finding a new wonderful, comfortable level. A calm, a predictability, a purpose, and a future.
A Stone in a Pond
David Holdsworth celebrated his eighth wedding anniversary alone. His wife’s sojourns to Sydney had become an all too regular event. Of late, when she was home he felt a chill from her. He knew there was a problem. He just didn’t know what it was. Or worse, who it was. His stomach had that totally empty, upside down, inside out feel to it. The feeling that fear, panic and horror bring to the base of one’s gut. He didn’t know what was wrong. But something was wrong. And very, very wrong. She had said when she left the afternoon before that she was just going down to Sydney overnight, for her sister’s birthday and would be back for a special anniversary dinner for two by five this evening. It was ten thirty. The special dinne
r he’d prepared all afternoon sat turning into stodge in the oven. He was at the crossroads of emotions. Sheer unadulterated worry that she’d had an accident driving back, crossed and enmeshed with an uncontrollable rage at the thought that his wife was with another man. His emotions were out of control as he sat totally still, looking out of the window into a black sea. His eyes glazed, and near tears. A single tear fell onto his cheek.
At eleven, in near panic he rang his sister-in-law’s telephone number.
‘Hello,’ came a sleepy voice.’
‘Is she there?’ was all David could tear from his pursed lips.
Recognising David’s voice, but not sure in her half sleep, ‘Is that you David?’
‘Yes. What time did she leave?’ David asked bluntly.
‘I’m not sure David, maybe she’s at mum’s. Have you tried there?’ his sister-in-law stumbled, knowing as she did that her sister had been caught out. She knew she was having an affair, and she was now caught in the lie. She scrambled for a sensible word to add.
‘Ok, I’ll try. By the way, Happy Birthday,’ David added in a sarcastic tone.
‘What David?’ What’s that supposed to mean?’
David slammed the phone down. The lie was up. He rang his mother-in-law. One of his wife’s young layabout brothers answered the phone. He hadn’t seen his sister in months.
Returning to his view of the black night sea, David’s mind went just as black. His heart fell to the floor. He clenched his fists to stop the shaking. He felt himself dying inside.
At one thirty am, he started to build a monument. In the hall, just near the front door, so as to be very noticeable to the next person to open the front door. David carefully built a monument to his wife. Neatly arranged in a pyramid were, an alarm clock, carefully dismantled into every component, with the hands stopped at eleven o’clock. The time he knew the truth. It was the time his marriage died. Recent photos of his smiling wife and himself torn into two neat pieces laid with the tears nearly together to symbolise their union being torn apart. A small white bear he had given his wife in hospital many years before when she was very ill, with a big red heart on its chest, and ‘I LOVE YOU’ embroidered on the heart, was placed in front, with a small steak knife embedded into its heart. The hand written music of a song he had written for his wife, torn into small pieces and added as snowflakes. Small ornaments of sentimental value to his wife, and a wedding photo, he added to the monument. The last addition was a small note that read, ‘I LOVED YOU.’
He finished his symbolic work at three thirty am. Then tried to sleep. He didn’t. He just cried. She arrived home early the next afternoon. Pausing briefly in the hall to glance at David’s monument. Its message obvious.
She left for the last time the next morning after spending the night in the spare bedroom. All David was left with was the telephone number of an auto electrician who his wife was now going to be living with. She thought he should have it, ‘Just in case you needed to contact me to make the necessary arrangements for separation and divorce. I won’t make it difficult,’ she’d said. ‘We need this over quickly,’ she added as if it was a commercial transaction.
She kissed him on the cheek just before she disappeared from his life.
David cried the day away. He felt very alone. Betrayed, violated, empty, hollow, worthless. Lost. And guilty. What had he done so wrong? His mind lost and confused, he wondered if this was the feeling he had inflicted on his first wife. And children. Was this his punishment? He consoled his conscience a little, at least knowing he hadn’t run off with another woman. He hadn’t inflicted that hurt. David now faced a fear he hadn’t faced before. Loneliness. Desperate loneliness. For the first time in his life, he could not run away from life. It had run away from him.
All his hopes for the future had been torn away in one swift blow. He now couldn’t see a tomorrow.
That evening he rang his parents in Perth for a little sympathy and support. The phone rang out. No one was home. He rang his sister. She must have been out with them. He wanted to ring his children, but thought better of burdening them. He thought about all the friends he had lost in his life. He would have given anything at this moment just to have kept one for a time like this. Maybe if he and his friend had packed a can opener and a warm jacket each, they might have made it to Sydney all those years ago. Maybe they would still be friends. He wondered what his runaway partner was doing now. The regrets of his life ran mercilessly through his mind and tangled with each other like the crazy patterns of a kaleidoscope. Events and people and times merged into a pattern of regret, loss and failure. He was suffering very real clinical shock. He treated himself with time, and whisky. He needed someone to talk to. Someone to just say, ‘It’ll be ok.’ A shoulder to cry on. He had no one. He was totally alone.
After spending four days of lonely misery, he was slowly coming to terms with the reality of the situation. He was a mess emotionally, but he knew he had to get out of the house. A few days in Sydney. At least to see his accountant and solicitor to check what he should do. He needed their advice with regard to the business. His wife was a director and shareholder. There would be problems very shortly with who could sign cheques. ‘Fuck, what a mess,’ he mumbled to himself. Then, for some stupid reason, he remembered he’d promised Tony from Triple T a beer. ‘A bloody good idea,’ he thought to himself. After arranging times to see his accountant and solicitor, he rang Tony.
‘Hello, Tony here.’
‘David Holdsworth Tony. How about that beer?’
‘I couldn’t think of anything better Dave. When?’
‘Can you get away for a liquid lunch on Friday?’
‘Dave, I haven’t had a lunch in over a year. I think it’s about fucking time though.’
‘Ok, terrific Tony. Meet you at the Drover’s Dog at noon.’
‘Perfect. See you then. Bye Dave.’
David felt a little better. At least he has something to do. Even if it was two appointments to discuss things he would prefer not to discuss, and lunch with an acquaintance. He had at least stopped moping around feeling like breaking down into tears. It was a start.
‘Ok, what next?’ he asked himself out loud, as if there was a purpose to the day now. He walked outside and checked the mailbox. ‘Welcome back world,’ he announce to no one except himself as he flicked through the envelopes to find mostly bills. Coming back inside, he dropped the mail onto the kitchen table and made himself a cup of coffee. Lit a cigarette, and then opened the mail. All normal and mundane. Until he saw the company credit card. He read the list of items slowly, and his colour started to go red. ‘That fucking whore!’ he shouted at the account in front of him. ‘What the fuck’s been going on?’
Listed on the account, which David hardly ever used, were items for fuel, twice on the same day in many cases, jewellers, dinners, electrical stores. The locations were all similar. All around Bankstown. Then he went to the creditors file in the small office in back of the house and looked for the previous months accounts for this particular credit card. His wife paid all the accounts normally, so David didn’t as a rule see them. He discovered a pattern. For four months, unless his wife was driving a taxi around Bankstown, she was filling two cars with fuel. Dinner receipts seem to coincide with her trips to Sydney, and there was enough money spent at furniture and electrical stores to fill a house. He sat dismayed at what he had discovered. ‘Bad enough to’ve done this to me,’ he thought, ‘But to leave it for me to find. God, what did I do to deserve this?’ Then, he realised the card was still active, along with three other supplementary cards linked to his that his wife still had. It took him two hours to have them all cancelled.
He spent the rest of the day tracing the company and personal accounts back for six months. He found more sorrowful discoveries. By the end of the day, he had a file prepared to show his accountant. There was going to be some trouble ahead, he could smell it. Her parting words rang in his ears. ‘I won’t make it difficult,’ she had s
aid. ‘We need this over quickly.’ David now wanted it over as fast as possible also.
Friday.
‘Great to see you Tony,’ Dave said as Tony walked towards him at the bar of the Drover’s Dog.
‘Hello Dave. Long time no see. How are you then?’
‘Shit, don’t even ask. Let me buy you that beer first.’
‘Two beers thanks love,’ David asked the barmaid as she walked past.
‘Comin’ up,’ she replied cheerfully.
‘So tell me Tony, how’s Triple T?’
‘Dave, same answer. Don’t even ask. Looks like we both need a beer.’
Their beers arrived at that moment.
‘Cheers.’
‘Salute,’ Tony replied. They both emptied half of their schooners.
‘Ahhhh. Shit I needed that,’ Tony said licking his lips.
‘Better get another two under way by the look of it huh Tony?’ Dave chuckled.
‘Good idea. Two more thanks, if you would be so kind my dear,’ Tony asked the barmaid.
‘So what’s up Dave? You’re mouth is smiling, but your eyes aren’t my friend.’
‘Well Tony,’ Dave hesitated and had another mouthful of his beer. ‘My wife’s left me.’
‘Shit Dave. I’m sorry. When?’
‘About ten days ago. It was bloody sudden. Just, poof, gone.’
‘Did you see it comin’ at all?’
‘Well, that’s the worst part I suppose Tony. No. Not really. You know if I look back now, yes, there were some signs I suppose, but I didn’t take any notice. She was a bit cool for a few of months, but, shit, then all hell broke loose. It was all over in a flash.’
‘Is there a bloke?’
‘Yep. A fucking auto electrician I’m told. I found credit card statements. Looks like she furnished his place for her arrival. She’s been filling his fucking car with petrol on the company’s account for months.’
‘Shiiiitttt,’ Tony exclaimed in disbelief. ‘I don’t know what to say Dave. Christ.’