by Derek Hansen
While it wasn’t normal to nominate a crew before being awarded the job, Grant used the big names he’d attracted to bolster his chances. He and Marty, the video whiz, spent some of Cameron’s money to buy video time to develop and demonstrate the visual effects they proposed, and overlaid it on pirated footage of the ancient Buddhist temple of Borobodur in Central Java. The final result was spectacular. Grant made certain that he ticked every box, dotted every ‘i’ and crossed every ‘t’. The agency people were knocked out and made no secret of the fact that they wanted him to shoot their commercials, even to the extent of providing him with financial details of his competitors’ quotes to make sure his came in on target.
On the day he had to formally present his quote and proposals to the full agency team, the creative director advised him that, as a courtesy, the new marketing director from Garuda’s Australian operations had been invited to the meeting. Grant arrived at the agency with Cameron, Marty and his project producer, knowing that acceptance of their quote was a formality. The smiling faces greeting him as he led his team into the meeting room confirmed that his life was back on track and the glory days were about to roll once more. But then he saw another face, one that abruptly ceased smiling, and his soaring hopes plummeted to earth like a shot duck. His parole officer had warned him that such things happened and so had other inmates.
‘You never stop serving your time,’ they’d told him. ‘You never stop serving your time.’
‘What’s the matter?’ whispered Cameron urgently.
Grant only realised he’d stopped dead in his tracks when Cameron took his arm and guided him to his seat. He didn’t even try to answer. What could he say? When Grant had last seen him, Garuda’s new marketing director had been a mid-level executive with Continental Airlines who’d taken time off from his job to attend a trial.
The trial of the man accused of causing the death of his sister.
‘Neatly done,’ said Ramon appreciatively. ‘You’ve contrived to bring us to the edge on three fronts.’
‘Yes, well done,’ said Milos. ‘The wait while I told my story and while I was away has certainly done you no harm. Perhaps even sharpened your narrative, no?’
‘There is no skill in simply relaying events as they unfolded,’ said Neil. He pushed himself back in his chair and rubbed his eyes wearily. ‘That is the point I keep trying to make you understand. Fiction is more difficult and we’ve done ourselves a gross disservice with our flirtation with true stories. Truth may not have the convenience of fiction, but neither does it have the burden of inventiveness, the difficulties of plotting and structure or the quest for credibility. The events I’ve described are not my doing. Ultimately they’re my undoing. I think we’ll all end up regretting the fact that I chose to walk in your shoes and tell this story. I know I do.’
‘You may well be just relaying events as they happened,’ said Lucio hurriedly before Neil had a chance to relapse into one of his moods, ‘but I agree with Ramon and Milos. It takes skill to bring these events together and leave so many threads of the story dangling. I must admit I’m worried about young Billy.’
‘I’m more worried about the older Billy,’ said Ramon.
‘As a man who has seen the inside of prisons, I have some sympathy for Grant,’ said Milos. ‘I don’t think he deserves this latest setback. I want to know how it impacts on him and on Linda. This is the turning point of your story, no?’
‘No comment,’ said Neil.
‘There’s something else I want to know,’ said Lucio.
‘What’s that?’ said Neil guardedly. ‘If you want to pursue more speculation about Linda, you can do so without me.’
‘I’m not asking about Linda. No, I want to know if you had it off with the girl? You know, the girl on the school bus who had the great breasts?’
‘Pauline?’ Neil smiled as though at a fond memory. ‘Yeah, but not for some time. Not until we’d both turned sixteen.’
‘And along the way?’
‘Let’s just say I reached a few bases before I hit a home run.’
Ramon smiled along with the others but beneath the surface he’d begun to worry that it was Neil who’d missed the point. He, Milos and, to some extent, Lucio had all played with the truth, used it mercilessly but also skilfully to provide their stories with credibility, seamlessly mixing fact with fiction. All along he’d felt Neil was playing the same game, but what if his claim that he was simply describing events was true? What if he had misread the real nature of their game and mistaken their fictions for fact? What then of his frightening admission?
FOURTH THURSDAY
Chapter Twenty
‘I have been thinking,’ said Ramon. ‘I have some concerns and I would like to voice them before Neil arrives.’
Milos and Lucio stopped discussing the problems of parking and turned to their friend. In Neil’s absence they’d gone straight to their table, as had been their custom before Neil instituted the detour via the bar for a beer.
‘It is not like Neil to be late but his lateness does provide us with an opportunity.’ The blind man paused to give his audience time to clear their minds and think about what he had to say. ‘I am concerned about Neil. I fear he has overreacted to our stories and the way we have used a core of truth as a basis for our fictions. At first I thought he was playing the same game, but now I am not so sure.’
‘I think we all share your concerns, no?’ Milos turned to Lucio and received confirmation.
‘The question is, do we let him continue?’ said Ramon. ‘I am not sure that we are ready to deal with unalloyed truth, particularly when it has the potential to jeopardise our lunches. Neil seems intent upon revealing aspects of himself that we are better off not knowing. We have been careful over these past years to keep our true selves away from this table, to let nothing imperil our role as storytellers or interfere with the simple joy of telling and listening to stories. At times we may have deliberately given the appearance of breaching our conventions as a device to make our stories more involving and convincing, but that is all it has ever been: a device, nothing more. It is part of our skill that we appear to tell the truth, but that subtlety seems to have eluded Neil. Perhaps we have been too clever for our own good. I’m afraid his story has more than just an appearance of truth.’
‘What do you suggest?’ asked Lucio.
‘We admit to our creative use of the truth and offer to release him from his obligations to complete this story. We then invite him to tell another. How do you feel about that?’
‘You make too many assumptions,’ said Milos. ‘First, I am not prepared to concede that my last story, mine and Gabi’s story, was anything other than the truth. What happened is what happened, exactly as I told it. Even if my story had been fiction with a core of truth I would not readily admit it. Such an admission would undermine my credibility as a storyteller. To me, the telling of stories and the manipulation of my audience is as important as the stories I tell. Neil believes my story was true and that is how it should be. I will not sanction anything that undermines my skills.’
‘Regardless of the consequences?’
‘It is a risk I am prepared to take. It is a risk we have all taken before, particularly with you, Ramon, with you and your story about Rosa and Eduardo. You’d have us believe that your story was a contrivance, but at the time we were all convinced it was true. Not only true, but that it was your confession masquerading as fiction. We gave you the benefit of the doubt and our lunches survived. I believe the risk adds a dimension to our storytelling and, while I fear Neil may again take us close to the brink, who’s to say we’re going to fall over? Eh?’
‘Lucio, what do you think?’
‘I hear what you’re saying, Ramon. You may remember I tried to talk Neil out of telling the story right at the beginning. But I think I agree with Milos. On reflection it is good that we take risks. Even if we’ve misled Neil into taking a bigger risk than we ever intended, I still wouldn’t change a
thing. Besides, like Milos, I’m not prepared to concede my story was anything other than God’s truth either. I also wish to protect my credibility.’
‘So we let Neil continue, even though the outcome of his story may jeopardise our relationship with him and perhaps even jeopardise our lunches?’
‘We survived your story, Ramon, and we will survive Neil’s.’
‘Milos?’
‘I sympathise with your concerns, Ramon, but I think your solution is more a threat to our lunches than Neil’s story.’ Milos paused while he weighed up his next words. ‘Your insistence on dismissing our stories as fabrications makes me wonder if you have a selfish motive. It occurs to me that you could be using this as an opportunity to further convince us that your last story was a fiction and so extinguish any lingering doubts we may have about you.’
‘That is grossly unfair!’
‘Is it? I admit to being selfish. I have a selfish motive for wanting Neil to continue. I am protecting my interests. I am also involved in his story. I want to know what happens.’
‘Of course you do,’ said Ramon. ‘We all do. Once a story begins, I like to know how it ends. But we can’t sit back and do nothing.’
‘Perhaps we should repeat this conversation in front of Neil,’ said Lucio. ‘It would give him the opportunity to weigh up the risks and to alter his story if he feels it necessary. He is not so far into it that the ending is set in concrete. Once he realises how concerned we are, he can make adjustments. He is certainly clever enough.’
‘It’s a possibility,’ said Ramon but he was less than enthusiastic. The debate had not followed the course he’d planned and Milos’s accusation had stung. He was considering ways to proceed when he was distracted by the sound of someone approaching their table. He half turned, expecting Neil, and heard Gancio’s voice instead.
‘Excuse me, gentlemen. This young woman has a message from Neil.’
A message from Neil? Ramon’s mind raced as he considered the implications. He heard chairs being pushed back and the haste with which they moved suggested that the young woman, whoever she was, was also attractive.
‘I’m so sorry to interrupt and sorry for keeping you waiting. I couldn’t find anywhere to park. Neil wanted me to telephone but I couldn’t resist this chance to meet you all and express my thanks in person. I’m Barbara, Neil’s PA. He’d kill me if he knew I was here.’
‘Allow me to do the introductions,’ said Milos. ‘I am Milos, this is Lucio and Ramon.’
‘I’ve heard so much about you,’ said Barbara. She shook each man’s hand.
‘Please, sit down,’ said Milos. He pulled back Neil’s chair and held it for her.
‘Thank you. I promise I won’t stay more than a few minutes.’ She let Gancio pour her a glass of wine.
‘I take it Neil will not be joining us today?’ Ramon made his enquiry politely but he’d listened to too many stories and played too many games to take the appearance of Neil’s PA at face value.
‘No. He apologises but it’s hardly his fault. He’s in hospital. He was nearly killed last night in a car accident.’
‘My God!’ said Lucio. ‘Is he okay?’
‘He escaped with a broken ankle and a few cuts and bruises but it could easily have been a lot worse.’
‘What happened?’ asked Milos.
‘Someone smashed into the back of his car at traffic lights and pushed him into a van coming in the opposite direction. His BMW is a write-off.’
‘And he escaped with just a broken ankle?’ Ramon showed the right amount of concern.
‘It’s hard to believe when you look at his car. He was operated on this morning and I’m going straight from here to the hospital. He’ll be in a cast for some months.’
‘Please convey our sympathies and best wishes,’ said Milos. ‘If there is anything we can do for him, please let us know.’
‘I’ll pass on your regards but he has everything he needs. They’ll probably release him tomorrow.’
‘You mentioned thanks,’ said Ramon. ‘Why do you feel a need to thank us? What have we done for you?’
‘What have you done? You must be aware of the effect you’ve had on Neil.’
‘What effect?’ said Ramon, clearly mystified.
Barbara stared at the blank faces of the three men. ‘Oh, come on!’ she said.
‘We have no idea what you’re talking about,’ said Milos. ‘As far as we’re concerned Neil is Neil. He is the same now as he has always been. I can’t say we haven’t tried to change him, to smooth his rough edges and moderate his extremes, but we’ve met with little success. I made him the target of my last story but I don’t know what good that did.’
‘I can’t believe you.’ Barbara’s voice bordered on amazement. ‘If it wasn’t for you, Neil and I wouldn’t be getting married.’
Her news was greeted by stunned silence.
‘You and Neil are getting married?’ said Ramon cautiously.
‘Yes.’
‘But I thought … didn’t you just leave Neil for the … how did Neil put it? The competition?’
Barbara put her head back and laughed.
‘I had to do something or our relationship would have drifted on and off for another ten years. I don’t know what Neil told you, but I never actually joined the opposition. I decided to take a week off between jobs and that was all it took for him to come to his senses. He called and asked me to come back. He said I had no choice, that I was his Gabriella.’
‘Neil said that?’ Lucio turned to Milos who was speechless in astonishment. ‘He said you were his Gabriella?’
‘Yes. Now do you see what I mean? Neil told me enough of your story for me to understand what Gabriella means to you, Milos. A few years ago Neil would never have said anything like that. He wouldn’t have asked me to come back either.’
‘I’m sorry if we appear dull-witted, but we don’t see,’ said Ramon, oblivious to the irony. ‘You must help us out. Clearly there is a side to Neil which he has kept well hidden.’
‘His recklessness, you must have been aware of his recklessness?’
‘No.’
‘Dear God! What do you men talk about when you meet?’
Her question hung over the table with no one anxious to respond. How could they admit to deliberately withholding information about themselves without discouraging Barbara from continuing? Ramon’s reply, when it came, evaded the issue.
‘I take it Neil’s recklessness is connected with your need to thank us.’
‘Oh, yes. I can’t believe you weren’t aware of it. His recklessness was legendary. He was reckless in business, in relationships and unbelievably so behind the wheel. You needed nerves of steel to be around him. He always put everything on the line. He took the most outrageous risks with the business. If anyone challenged his proposals, he confronted them head-on, no matter the cost or consequences. The in joke was that we had our own suite of rooms at the Land and Environment Court. Planning authorities lived in fear of him and our competitors are convinced he has balls the size of watermelons, pardon the expression. The truth was much simpler than that. The truth was, he just didn’t care.’
‘Didn’t care?’
‘That’s right, Ramon. He didn’t care if he lost everything. He didn’t care what risks he took or how overextended we were at the bank. He took the business to the brink of collapse so many times it became the normal state of affairs. But his gambles paid off. We not only survived but flourished. Neil is the reason the business is so successful. He used to laugh at our concerns and, you know, if the whole thing had collapsed I don’t think it would have worried him a bit. He didn’t care, just didn’t care.’
‘You mentioned relationships.’
Barbara hesitated momentarily.
‘Neil told me you’re relentless. Like a dingo on a scent, he said. For me this is the painful bit. I think from the time we met Neil has always loved me. I know I’ve always loved him, but I wouldn’t have hung around if I
hadn’t been certain of the depth of his feelings for me. He put me through the mill more times than I care to think about. It was as if he couldn’t accept his feelings, as though he was in denial. I can’t tell you how many women there’ve been. He’d live with this one for a while and then that one. Inevitably these relationships ended and usually ended badly. Believe it or not, I have a good deal of sympathy for these women. Neil often left them deeply hurt and emotionally scarred. But he didn’t care. Didn’t care about them and, seemingly, didn’t care about me. He was like a stone skipping across water, leaving ripples everywhere he touched. Then your lunches started and he began to change. Oh, it was slow going at first, but the fact was, he was changing. It was as though you collectively provided him with a platform from which he could rebuild his life. You were an example to him. You came to this country with nothing and rebuilt your lives from scratch. You became his inspiration. You made him believe he could do the same.’
‘And now you and Neil are getting married.’
‘We’d talked about it off and on but it took Milos’s story to bring him around. Even then he wouldn’t commit to a date. That was why I walked out on him. I don’t know what you said to him, Milos, on your return from Hungary but it affected him deeply. Your story got to him all over again.’
‘I would never have suspected it,’ said Milos. ‘Never.’
‘Unbelievably, he has even begun to talk about himself and some of the terrible things that happened to him. This is a major breakthrough. His brother and I have been trying to get him to open up ever since the lunches began and he gave up therapy.’