by Simon King
But I was tired. Tired of playing a game where I had to keep portraying someone I wasn’t. I wasn’t a farmer. I didn’t care about cows, workers or watching the setting sun across fields that I now owned. What I wanted was a big fat cheque and to blow this joint. I wanted out, the sooner the better.
“Try not to choke on your tongue. Just give me the fucken number already,” I repeated. He put his hands palms down on the table, pursed his lips and took a deep breath.
“8 thousand pounds. That’s around 3 pound 20 per- “
“I don’t care about how much per whatever. 12 thousand. That includes the land, the cows, the workers, the equipment and the 2 corpses down by the creek. Take that to Jim and don’t come back without my cheque. Here, I’ll write it down for you.” I stood to emphasise the importance of my next line. I didn’t want there to be a single shred of doubt in his mind. “Don’t even think of coming back to negotiate. There is none. Deliver me a cheque in the amount I asked for, or I hand the farm to George to run, pay him 25% of the takings and live off the rest until Jimmy boy is fertilising his own fucken garden.”
I think I got my point across, because Ben Fordham didn’t speak another word as I wrote down the offer in duplicate. Once I finished, I signed both and had him do the same. Once finished, he packed his few belongings into his briefcase, gave me a final nod and left without looking back. A few moments later I heard his car start up and speed off down the hill.
I made myself a cup of tea and sat out on the veranda. There were a couple of mourners still down by the creek, no doubt engaging in further war stories. I didn’t care. I didn’t know them and I sure as hell didn’t want to listen to them. I wanted out and the sooner the better.
Chapter 6
1.
Two days was all it took for Ben to return. I’d given George a couple of days off, sending him home with a case of wine I’d found in one of the many wardrobes I rifled through. I’d begun to explore the lives of the home’s previous occupants, but as I opened the second wardrobe and discovered endless mountains of clothes, I simply closed it and returned to the kitchen table. I hadn’t shared my plans with George, simply telling him that I would let him know when work could resume.
There was nothing in this place that interested me. I didn’t care for any of it and the sooner I could leave the farm the better. The farm was devoid of life, save for the cows and myself. I was incredibly bored and just wanted to explore the world while I still had a chance. With the money I made from the sale, it would set me up for a very long time to come.
But I did have a strange thing happen to me that day after the funeral. It was what I called my ‘in-between’ day. It was a Wednesday and it was a day after the funeral and the day before my cheque arrived. There was absolutely nothing to do and so I took one of the rifles I found in cabinet, along with a couple of boxes of ammunition and headed for a spot about half way down the hill.
There was a small clearing to the side of the track, a stump and its fallen tree keeping guard over the valley. From that point I could see for a couple of miles, including the creek, graves, main road and the nearest neighbour’s roof.
I began by taking pot shots at anything I considered a target. A rabbit hopping around here and there, birds as they flew by, stuff like that. I took aim at some of the fence posts, cooing for joy each time I managed to snipe a bullet into one.
But that’s the thing. That’s when it happened. I blacked out. It wasn’t the kind of blackout where I found myself lying on the ground hours later, as if awakening from some feinting spell. When I regained consciousness, I was sitting on the steps of the homestead with a hot cup of tea in my hands.
I remember just ’awakening’, spilling tea into my lap from the shock, then jumping up from the instant heat burning me. I didn’t drop the cup as such, but I damn near pissed my pants. I set the cup down, looked around and tried to recollect my memories. I felt into my mind, trying to get Eddie or Loui to make sense of what happened, but neither were active, both hiding somewhere beyond the shadows.
I know it makes no sense to explain it, but that’s just what happened. I found the rifle back in the gun cabinet where I found it, the remaining boxes of ammunition beside it. Somehow, I managed to return the gun, make tea and lose 4 hours of my life without a single shred or memory from it. Whatever had happened, scared me.
2.
Ben returned the next morning, slapping an envelope into my hand with a grin that screamed arrogance. He looked as if he was skipping through the gate and towards the steps. I couldn’t help but grin a little. Arseholes like this always think of themselves as the miracle workers, the key to unlocking important deals for their clients. It didn’t surprise me to hear him overexaggerate the deal even further.
“He didn’t jump at the deal I have to say. Took quite a bit of convincing in fact.” He sounded full of himself, but I knew I’d get the last laugh over this arsehole. “But once I told him how keen you were to leave immediately, he gave in. Said he’d take the difference out of my own pay cheque.” He laughed, a little less enthusiastic than he’d hoped to sound and I shot him another grin.
I tore the lip of the envelope open and reached inside, feeling the wonderful edge of my future. I pulled it out just enough to see the glorious number written in the appropriate spot, then slid it back inside.
“Perfect. Now, if you’ll remove yourself from this yard, there’s one final thing I have to do.” He looked at me a little curiously, unsure of what I meant. In his excitement to give me a virtual lap dance to hand me the envelope, he didn’t notice the fuel can sitting by my chair.
I reached down, felt for the handle and picked it up, slowly unscrewing the cap. His expression became a little more questioning as he took a step back.
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the drum.
“What, this?” I said, holding it up a little.
“Yeah, that. I hope you’re not thinking of doing anything stupid. That cheque can still be cancelled by Mr Steinberg, you know?” He took another step back, realized and returned to his previous spot. “I wouldn’t want to void this deal over something silly.”
“Actually, I’m doing nothing that would ever jeopardize this deal. I do however intend to end my family dynasty here and now.”
“End your family dynasty? What are you talking about? You just sold this entire property, including this here home, to Mr Steinberg.” I held up a finger and waved it from side to side.
“Nope. Ah-ah. No, I didn’t. I sold this land, the sheds, the workers, the cows and the two corpses down there. I did NOT however, sell this here home. It wasn’t part of the deal. And now I will do with my home as I damn-well please. So, get off my porch, piss off out of this yard, unless you would like to lose your eyebrows.” I grinned again as he took another step back.
That was when he reached into his briefcase and pulled out the agreement we’d signed 2 days prior. I saw him read it, his lips forming the words as his eyes scooted across the page. He looked back up at me, back at the page then shook his head.
“No, that’s just a misunderstanding. The deal was for everything.” His eyes grew wider as I began to splash fuel over the walls and floor. I opened the front door and threw some across the rugs, then continued along the porch. “But I was supposed to live here. Jim promised.”
I began to laugh as I threw a brick through one of the windows and poured fuel inside. Ben was now spluttering, trying to find words but the shock kept stealing them right back.
“No, you, please, this…this is – “
“This is my home, Bennie-boy. And I choose to burn this fucken dump down. No more family. No more relatives. No more fucken memories.” With that I hurled the can through the broken window, struck a match and held it briefly up before my eyes, staring at Ben’s contorted face through the flame.
I saw him concede as I flicked it onto the porch, the instant ‘whoof’ of the fuel erupting hitting the side of my face.
�
�Don’t ever come back,” he snarled at me, somehow finding a final bit of strength. “If you ever show your face around –“ I stopped, turned and looked him in the eye. I didn’t need to speak, my gaze enough to freeze him instantly. I don’t think he realized how close he came to losing his throat at that moment. I felt Loui come forward just a little, considered the offering for a brief second, then returned to the shadows.
I turned back towards the gate as one of the windows exploded. Ben Fordham jumped as a faint squeal escaped him. The fire was really taking hold by then and I took one final look as I walked through the gate. The house appeared like a face, its 2 windows looking like blazing eyes with thick black smoke billowing from both.
There was nothing left for me there but grief and so I turned down the hill and headed towards the main road. Regardless of how long it would take me to reach town, I was finally free. Free from any link to any family. The final remnants of my whole family history were now burning inside that house. Harry Lightman’s family was finally erased.
3.
To my surprise, I didn’t make it completely into town later that afternoon. Instead, I heard a train whistle as I neared some tracks and when a freight train rambled past a few minutes later, hopped aboard, completely unaware of where it was headed.
The air was still warm enough to sleep on the roof of a boxcar and as the countryside slowly slipped past, I laid on my back and stared up at the stars that began to light up the evening sky. I was genuinely happy, James. If I had a choice to return to any moment of my life, it would be back on top of that boxcar, back to a time where nothing felt more perfect to me.
I had money in my pocket, I owned a home and it felt like I had nothing holding me back. I could go wherever I wanted, whether it was another city, another state or even another country. I could take as long as I needed, travel the world if I so chose, do whatever my heart desired.
But unfortunately, there was something holding me back. There was something in my life that would make sure any happiness I could afford would never come to fruition. Because a monster lived inside me. One that didn’t care for fun, for memories, for creating a worthwhile future. The monster that lived inside me had only one purpose. Revenge.
I knew the moment would come when Loui would return. I knew that the day would come where he once again took control, to unleash the anger I always felt lurking deep inside him. He wanted to revisit all those people that stood opposite from us, pointing their fingers, snickering behind their hands. He wanted to kill them all, leaving none in his wake.
My own battle to control this body and mind was only just beginning. I knew that once Loui was unleashed, both me and Eddie would be nothing more than passengers, watching through the windows of our mind as he tore the countryside apart.
Do you know what I considered at one point as I rode that train, James? I actually considered running to the front of that train and throwing myself off, falling beneath its steel wheels as they sliced their way along those tracks. Imagine. I could have ended the terror that I helped unleash on your world right there, back before anyone who mattered died.
But as we know, that never happened. In a way, I too, wanted my own vengeance. It was me that lived through those years as well. Listening to the constant torments, the teasing, even the teachers getting in on the action. Yes, James, even some of the teachers made their feelings towards me known.
Which brings me to Mavis Toomey.
4.
Mavis Toomey was the Cider Hill primary school librarian from 1894 until she retired in 1917. Her husband had been an army colonel or something and had gotten himself killed in some distant land during the war. It was when she learned of his death that she decided to retire and move back to Melbourne.
What I remember most about old Mrs Toomey was a comment she made to me back during 3rd grade. I’m sure it was the year the war began, or maybe just after. The time doesn’t really matter. What that old battle-ax had said to me, happened during our weekly library visit. We were always allowed to take a single book back to the classroom after our visit. Whatever we chose.
I loved library day because it gave me a chance to find my weekly escape. My mum had been dead 3 years by then, although most of the community still believed she’d met some stranger and ran off with them.
The day Toomey made her comment was one of complete insignificance. There was nothing special about it when it began, and there was nothing special about it when it ended. And that was because I didn’t understand the comment at the time. It made very little sense and it wasn’t until I was lying on the bed with that disgusting whore gnawing at my dick that the comment returned.
We’d lined up with our books and were handing them to Mrs Toomey so she could stamp the back of them. As each kid took theirs back, they ran towards the door where our teacher waited for us. It wasn’t a very long process, simply telling the librarian your name, then waiting as she noted it down and delivered that final whack of the stamp before handing it back.
I was the final kid in line that day, everyone else already back with Mrs Smith, restlessly waiting for the door to open. I handed Mrs Toomey my book, then began to say my name.
“I know who you are,” she snarled through her contemptuous lips. She snatched the book from my fingers and began to do what she needed to. I remember her taking a quick look to where Mrs Smith was trying to calm the class. Then she knelt down a little with her stamp held firmly, looked at me and said “You’re the only one here conceived at Rita’s.” That’s what she said.
Like I said, at the time I had no idea what she meant. I was just a kid, not even 10 years old. I thought she called my mum Rita, completely unaware of what ‘conceived’ even meant. I remember thinking at the time that I should have corrected her by telling her my mum’s real name. But that’s not what she meant, was it, James?
That bitch was calling my mother a whore in her own special way. She told a 9-year-old child, who had witnessed his mother’s murder, that she’d been a whore. It was that very comment that flooded into my head as my dick was being torn from my body.
And now, lying on top of that boxcar, feeling the gentle rattle of the train as it crawled along the tracks, I remembered that very comment. It was then that I sat up and tried to get my bearings. I thought back to the town where I hopped aboard, trying to recall which direction I had been facing when the rattler came into view.
I lay back down and smiled, quietly confident that I was headed in the right direction. I felt a warm surge inside my mind and suddenly realized that it was Loui. He came forward the slightest bit, as if tapping me on the shoulder. He felt what I felt at that moment and I think he liked it. For him at least, there was work ahead. Satisfying work.
5.
The train rattled into Melbourne early the next morning. The sun hadn’t quite broken free over the horizon, but the sky had lit up considerably since I first sat up to see farm houses on either side of the tracks. I slipped beneath 2 carriages as the train slowed to a crawl. I’d never been to the city before, but would eventually learn that Toomey had moved back in with her mother somewhere in Kensington.
I wasn’t sure I’d be able to locate her but knew I wouldn’t give up without trying first. It wasn’t as if Loui was prepared to quit anyway. As long as he was lurking in the background, there was no escaping our eventual destination.
The streets were mostly deserted as I crept out from the trainyard. There were a couple of hobos doing the same, having escaped from their own boxcars. I watched as they slowly crept towards the roads, none of the rail workers bothering with them. Why would they? It wasn’t as if they needed chasing.
It was too early for any of the stores to open and the tram tracks sat empty in the middle of the street. I didn’t have a watch but figured the time was still shy of 6. With very little option, I wandered around aimlessly until something in my mind told me to head towards Kensington. The journey was only a few miles anyway and if I took my time, would reach the subu
rb just as the shops opened. My mother had mentioned Kensington as a place where a giant park sat, one she often visited with her mum whenever they visited the city.
6.
I spent the morning sitting in that very park, imagining my mum sitting on the grass with her parents. There were a couple of bums sleeping on the park benches, but the local constables made short work of them once the working class began to shuffle along the footpaths.
The sun began to climb higher into the sky and I was starting to doze off when I remembered the cheque. Kensington was quite an affluent suburb and I figured a bank mightn’t be such a bad idea. The Commonwealth Bank had branches all across the country, including Cider Hill and I figured it would probably be the better choice.
It turned out to be the wisest decision of the day. Along the way I found a small boarding house with a vacancy sign hanging from the ceiling of the porch. An old man in army attire was sitting in a rocking chair puffing a pipe as I stopped to read the sign. He looked to be monitoring me, probably deciding whether I would be a suitable tenant, although I figured it had more to do with my ability to pay than my demeanour.
“Lookin for a room, kid?” he finally asked. I wasn’t sure I wanted a room but knew I’d need one. I wasn’t planning on staying in Melbourne for the long hall. After I finished my only planned job here, I was hoping to take my sorry arse to more exciting places. There was no real destination in mind but I’d made up my mind that wherever I ended up, I would always return home to let Loui fulfill his own needs.
“Maybe. Can I come back in a bit? Just need to go to the bank first.” I replied. It didn’t appear to bother the man, continuing to puff his pipe intermittently.
“Plenty available. Take your time.” I nodded and continued up the street towards the hustle and bustle building further along. The morning was definitely picking up, the sun’s heat starting to build as it continued its climb.
7.
Depositing the cheque at the bank took far less time than I anticipated, although I did enjoy the surprised look the teller shot me as I handed it across, together with my birth certificate. She eyed me for a brief moment, then excused herself as she fetched someone to authorise the transaction.
