Breakfast at Midnight

by Fiona MacFarlane

CHAPTER EIGHT

  Compromises

  In the privacy of the breakfast room, Michael and George were immersed in conversation.

  ‘What can I say, Michael?’ George began. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Sorry!’ Michael repeated. ‘Huh! Well, that just takes the cake!’

  ‘All right then, I’m awfully sorry,’ George added with a devious grin. ‘I’ve been a very naughty boy.’ He threw his brother a playful look, but Michael was not amused. He was too busy giving George a stony stare. ‘All right,’ George said more soberly, ‘I am a dim-witted individual who has made a very grave error.’ He tried to think of something sensible to say. He could not manage it. ‘Would you like me to kiss your feet for you?’

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ Michael muttered irritably.

  ‘Then what can I do to make you forgive me?’

  ‘You can stop simpering for one thing. And secondly, you can answer my question. When did you arrive in Hobart?’

  ‘A few days ago. I was staying at some seedy establishment in town. Their walls were painted tomato red. It offended my very delicate sensibilities.’

  ‘No sympathy, George. You know where I live. It wouldn’t have killed you to let me know that you’d arrived.’

  ‘I tried to call you at the Telephone Bureau Office, but evidently you’re not registered, which seems rather curious to me.’ He pulled out a crumpled handkerchief from one of his pockets. ‘I thought that a telephone would be an essential thing for a doctor to have.’ He violently blew his nose. Ignoring his brother’s censorious looks, he began to wipe his reddened nose with vim. ‘Ah, that’s better,’ he professed, thrusting the now sodden handkerchief back into his pocket. ‘I can now officially breathe.’ To prove the point, George inhaled deeply. ‘Of course, now I can’t hear anything,’ he added, ‘but—’

  ‘Do you have any idea how much a private line costs?’ Michael interrupted. ‘I recently made some inquiries about installing a telephone and I was told that it would cost three pounds for the first quarter mile, then an additional fifteen shillings for any extra quarter of a mile.’ An interval passed. ‘I’m not made of money you know, despite what you may think. ‘Anyhow, there’s not much point in installing a line. I daresay most of my patients can’t afford one.’

  ‘Does Louisa have a telephone?’

  ‘No. She thinks they make too much noise.’

  The brothers exchanged looks, before subsiding into laughter. Naturally, George was overjoyed to see Michael’s transformation, and in the mistaken belief that Michael had forgiven him for his earlier blunder, he resumed talking as though nothing had happened.

  ‘So,’ he began in his naturally bullish voice, ‘now that we’re friends again, which bedroom can I take? My old room, or one of the guest rooms?’

  Michael listened to his brother in disbelief. ‘Now just you wait one moment. When did I invite you to stay at Rosewood?’ He watched George with a frown. ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘Well, no you didn’t, but may I remind you of our father’s dying words? He wanted me to treat this house as if it were still the family home, despite the fact that you now own it.’

  ‘Yes, Papa did say that, but as I recall, you deserted Rosewood at the first opportunity you had. I’m the one who stayed here to look after it for all those years. Now, in my books, that should count for something.’

  ‘Well, I agree, but I’m not asking you for the deeds of the house, or anything like that. Really, Michael! I just want a room for a few little months.’

  ‘A few months!’

  ‘Exactly so. You just told me that the wedding isn’t until February. I can’t possibly return to Melbourne now. I’d have to come back to Hobart in the New Year. By Jove, man, think of the expense!’

  Michael reflected. George was right. The additional expense was unwarranted, particularly when Rosewood House could provide adequate long-term accommodation for George until February.

  ‘And what about your studies?’

  ‘They’ve finished for the year,’ George replied.

  Michael breathed a sigh that was almost a groan, and made his way over to the breakfast table. He then pulled out a chair from the table and slumped wearily into it. His sleepless night was rapidly taking its toll.

  George shambled after Michael, and following his brother’s example, sat himself down at the table. ‘So, big brother, inspiration of my life, can I stay?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘You bee-uwty!’ George cheered, jumping up and knocking over the chair he had been sitting on. It hit the floor with a loud clatter.

  ‘I wouldn’t look so idiotically delighted, if I were you,’ Michael warned, watching George return the chair to the upright position. ‘I haven’t told you about the ground rules you are to follow, if you are to stay here.’

  George’s attention was diverted. ‘Rules?’ he repeated.

  ‘Yes. Otherwise we’ll end up strangling each other. Now, if you’ll sit down for a minute, I’ll tell you what they are.’

  George seated himself on the chair. ‘All right then, out with it.’

  ‘Firstly, and most importantly, you will give me a small contribution weekly.’

  ‘Contribution? As in a monetary contribution?’

  ‘Yes, George. For food. Admit it,’ Michael added, ‘you eat like there’s no tomorrow.’

  ‘I admit I have a healthy appetite, but I’m no different from any other man. In fact, I have this friend in Melbourne who eats twice as much as I do. You should see…’

  ‘Yes, thank you!’ Michael interrupted. ‘I myself am getting hungry, and I have much to organise. If you’ll kindly hold your tongue, I’ll tell you what the second ground rule is.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ George said, crossing his arms across his broad chest.

  ‘In addition to the weekly monetary contribution, I want you to keep your eyes off Miss Frances Norwood.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ George retorted, almost choking on the words.

  ‘You know what I’m talking about,’ Michael said, fixing his eyes sternly on his brother. ‘I saw the way you were looking at her earlier.’

  ‘Why, you lying hound!’ George laughingly protested.

  ‘Don’t deny it. I saw you.’

  ‘All right, all right, I’ll admit it. I was looking at her. But can you blame me? She’s a damned fine filly.’

  ‘Steady on, George. All I’m asking you to do is tread lightly. I know how you treat women, and it worries me. I realise that it’s not always intentional, but you go gadding about with their feelings, and you end up breaking someone’s heart.’

  ‘I thought you said you were engaged to Agnes,’ George asserted, watching Michael suspiciously.

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Then why this sudden concern for Miss Norwood?’

  Michael’s colour deepened. ‘Miss Norwood and I met yesterday, and we seem to have a lot in common. I think we could grow to become good friends. I would, therefore, appreciate it if you could behave yourself.’

  ‘Behave myself? Why are you always harping on that string? You speak to me as though you don’t trust me.’ He started fumbling about in a pocket for his silver cigarette case and a match-box.

  ‘George, please understand this. I don’t trust you, because for most of the time, you don’t deserve to be trusted. Take for instance that infatuation you had with Mrs Eva Davis.’

  George flinched at the sound of the young woman’s name, but to his credit he was able to retain his equanimity. ‘Oh come on, Michael. You know very well that was just an unfortunate misunderstanding.’

  ‘A misunderstanding? Is that what you call it? What utter nonsense! As I recall, you were embroiled in a scandalous affair. You single-handedly brought Mrs Davis to her knees.’

  George was beginning to look uncharacteristically solemn. ‘How was I to know that chit was married? Besides, it wasn’t quite as serious as everyone made out. It was nothing more than a bit of flirtation and some stolen kisses i
n the shrubbery.’

  Michael rose from his chair. ‘I’ve heard all this before, and your arguments are as unconvincing now as they were back then. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.’ He walked over to the door. ‘And don’t even think about smoking those infernal cigarettes in this house. The stench of them endures for an eternity. As for your luggage, I will of course find someone to carry it upstairs for you.’

  ‘No, Michael,’ a disgruntled George replied, ‘you shall not.’ He rose to his feet and strode over to the door. ‘My personality may be fundamentally flawed, but I think I’m more than capable of taking my own bag upstairs.’ There was a dead pause, in which time George assumed a sightly theatrical attitude. ‘By the bye, I think it perfectly low of you to remind me about Eva Davis. You know as well as I do that I’ve already squared myself with the little lady.’

  Before Michael could reply to this, George ripped open the door and stormed down the corridor, in the direction of Rosewood’s main staircase.