‘I was watching a little television with the children before I put them to bed,’ Annie remarked quietly as she went to check his meal on the stove. She tried to keep her oval face calm even though she knew violence could erupt at any moment.
‘How’s the young fella?’ Conrad brushed the dust from his day on the tractor all around him, a fine layer settling on the end of the white laminex table. His glance towards her was narrow-eyed, with a familiar look of arrogant self-righteousness about it.
‘He’s been fairly well today. He went to Kindergarten and even went next door for a while to play with the children,’ she informed her husband, pleased with the child’s progress.
No comment from Conrad, but his lips were again drawn tightly over his teeth as if disgusted. He was one of those men who always clenched their teeth before striking and she observed that his jaw was tight, a bad sign.
His accusatory glance landed on her, his nostrils widening. His look was flinty with the martyred expression he often wore by nighttime after ‘working his guts out’ all day.
‘My meal ready?’ he demanded angrily, working himself up for who knew what reason, his cheeks florid and beady eyes glinting. Again with the clenched teeth.
His nose seemed flatter than usual at the bridge while his nostrils widened, rather like a pugilist, thought his disillusioned wife. He sighed, a loud burst of disgust blowing out through his nose and roared something indistinct at the dog which had come to stand between Conrad and Annie, perhaps as some form of protection for her.
‘Yes. It’s here for you. I’ve kept it hot on the stove.’ She gave him a vague, distracted smile, hoping for the best, knowing that as sure as the earth turned on its axis, if he wanted to find fault with her he would.
Nuggety Conrad walked over and lifted the lid to peer at his dinner on the plate resting on top of the saucepan of boiling water. He could feel his exasperation rising as he looked at his meek, untrained wife as though he had never seen her before. He gave her a look that would shrivel braver people than Annie in their tracks and a great wash of fatigue overwhelmed her.
She seemed to cause him to be perpetually disgusted, hard as he sometimes tried to be civil to her, appalling in her uselessness as he was sure she was. No matter how many times he corrected her, it seemed to him as though she would never learn. Suddenly she was so tired of it all as she looked at the disgusted expression on his face but knew she was trapped on the treadmill.
‘Bloody rissoles! I’ve told you a million times I’ll have a roast meal or I’ll have a T-bone or rump steak. You and the kids can eat minced meat or sausages any time you like, but steak’s all I’ll eat and I expect you to have it here for me. You’ve got bloody nothing else to do except sit on your ass and watch TV all day, so make sure I get the proper tucker, Bastard.’
He gave a loud belch and turned as he slammed the saucepan lid back onto his meal then wheeled around to face her again. There was a thick, hateful silence hanging between them for a few seconds while each surveyed the other, she in bristling misery and he in bad-tempered irritation.
‘You know we can’t afford those expensive cuts of meat every night, Conrad. We simply can’t live like that,’ she replied as gently and patiently as she could.
She stood back to allow him to pass. Cringed against the wall and ducked her head feeling that she was jinxing herself by appearing so cowardly, knowing it would stir him to fury and aware that she was still well within arm’s reach. Shuddering at the mindlessness of these almost nightly scenes, Annie failed to know what to do. Suddenly she was on the verge of tears. His temper dominated every waking moment for her. This was just another lead into another miserable evening.
He cast an inscrutable glance her way, his beetling brows almost meeting across his nose. ‘Don’t patronize me, you useless creature. We could afford it all right if you were a better manager. If you weren’t forever buying bits of material and balls of wool at the Co-op Store for the kids out of your housekeeping money, we could afford better than this pig swill. I work my guts out for the family and you’ll learn to do as you’re told. I’ll have my bath before I eat your stinking rissoles.’
His voice was far too loud for the small space in which they were passing. There was a silence, then he flared at her with his usual spite. Spittle was accumulating at the corners of his tightly clamped mouth. There was something manic in the way he often behaved at night, as if he thought the darkness could hide his screaming obscenities from the neighbors.
He was exceptionally bad-tempered if he had stopped to drink rum at the hotel, but even if completely sober he could act like a firecracker or drone on and on at her about her perceived shortcomings.
Off he stomped to the bedroom to collect a change of clothes with a deep scowl across his sunburned forehead. His step seemed to Annie to have an extra pulse of energy when he had just exploded at her as he regularly did. Maybe he would feel a bit relieved now, having aired his resentment towards her.
‘I save a lot of money by making the children’s and my clothes,’ she stuck in inappropriately towards his back. The moment for defending herself had already passed and he had gone.
‘Oh, by the way,’ she told his still retreating back as he headed from the bedroom to the bathroom, ‘Mr. Eichmann rang this morning from Munchen. He said his crop will be ready to harvest on Thursday and he would like a hand.’
She wandered back towards the hallway to make certain that he had heard.
‘And just what did you tell him, you stupid bitch?’ His voice was dangerous with barely-contained bitterness and a manic pulse was jumping in his jaw as she watched him from the doorway.
When beside her, he stopped in his tracks and whirled to face her, his eyes hostile and hard, for what reason Annie had no idea. The very sight of him in his anger caught her in the throat. He pulled at his lumpy, reddened earlobe as he worked up a head of steam.
‘That you’d ring him tonight,’ she replied quietly, surprised at the venom in his attitude, growing afraid without knowing what the scene was going to be all about, realizing his anger had nothing to do with her or with Mr. Eichmann’s crops.
‘Right. Get the bloody kids off to bed and I’ll ring him,’ he shouted, stripping off his dusty shirt as he stood again in the hallway.
‘They’d like to finish watching ‘Bellbird’ first,’ Annie told him quietly but firmly.
Having already turned to enter the bathroom, he spun and lashed out at Annie as she stood behind him, catching her in the side of her mouth with the back of his hand. She felt there was enough force behind the clout to dislocate her bones.
‘Obstinate bitch. I’ll knock that clever smirk off your bloody face,’ he commented bitterly. She stared at him, blood and tears intermingling knowing nothing could defuse the dark moods when they had taken hold of him. I just have to follow the pattern and come out the other side as best I can, she thought.
‘Now look what you made me do. And you’d better stop that stupid bleeding,’ he ordered as he walked away. He was peeling his dusty socks off with one hand, hopping on one foot and propping himself up with one hand while leaning against the walls as he went.
He can damage me just by walking past me to go to the bathroom, thought Annie as she mopped her face free of tears and blood. That’s all it takes. Just to meet him in the hallway. A pulse was hammering in her head as she returned to the kitchen to make sure his meal had not burned dry. She washed her flaming face at the kitchen sink then stood there for the longest time with her back to the sink, waiting for the rest of the night’s events to play out.
No, tonight was definitely not the night to tell him about a prospective baby, she thought with tremulous anticipation. But when would be the right time? Would it be wiser to wait until a third party could be present as a protection for herself or the children? Or was this just another of his habitual hissy fits that would wear off as occasionally others did after he had a meal and a bath.
Conrad was a little below
average height with broad shoulders thickened from years of humping grain bags. He was a powerful man, wiry and tough-looking, totally unattractive after a day spent out in the paddocks. One look at the rippling muscles of his shoulders and the sinewy ropes of his arms was enough to warn Annie to beware. Conrad was a sufferer of the common syndrome short men often fall into the grip of the ‘Little Red Rooster’ syndrome, a complex where they had to huff and puff themselves up to make certain of their own importance.
As she stood waiting for him to reappear she recalled an incident several years previously when the couple had only the two little girls. By then Conrad had taken her into partnership with him as a tax dodge, but to be able to make any significant moves he had to gain her approval.
The local Ampol agent had a sub-dealership going in a tiny town some twenty miles from where they were living. George Armstrong, the agent, a chain-smoking man in his fifties with a pronounced paunch and graying crew-cut, took them for a drive to see the little house that was part of the dealership. There it stood, surrounded by an untold number of drums of gasoline and an overhead tank that held a huge amount of diesel. The dealership was miles away even from the tiny town of Treblinko, absolutely isolated except for a few black crows sitting on the overhead powerline.
When the couple returned to their house, Annie’s face was white as a sheet and she avoided meeting her husband’s gaze for as long as possible.
Finally he asked, ‘Well, love, what do you think about it. It would be a good little enterprise to get us on our feet, don’t you think?’ He smiled lovingly at her, approaching her to put his arms around her.
‘No, Conrad, I don’t want to go out there to live. It would be too lonely for the little girls and me while you were away delivering fuel and all the other things you’d have to do.’ She moved away determinedly, not anxious to fight with him but, by the same token, wanting to make absolutely sure that he understood she would not go out there to live in isolation.
Conrad laughed aloud with pleasure.
‘Hell, Annie,’ he chortled, ‘That’s the aim of the whole thing. If I got you out there on the plain away from the village of Treblinko you could scream as much as you liked and no one would ever hear you. You’d be totally at my mercy. Wouldn’t that be lovely?’ He chuckled further at the thought of his domination over her.
She looked levelly at him. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ she replied.
The following day the Ampol agent rolled up to their door to hear their decision on the matter. He strolled into the kitchen and invited himself to be seated at the table. Annie made a cup of coffee for the two men and went outside.
‘I’m as keen as mustard,’ Conrad told him, ‘But Annie seems a bit reluctant. Can’t understand why’.
‘I’ll ask her,’ said George. ‘She might succumb to my fatal charms and sign the contract.’ He lit a cigarette and coughed wetly into his handkerchief as he walked through the house to where Annie was hanging out the washing on the clothesline at the rear of the house.
‘I’m not going out there to live under any circumstances,’ Annie said as she continued pegging up the little girls’ dresses. ‘Did he tell you what he said to me?’
‘No. What was that.’ A smile flashed across George’s broad, calm face as he awaited her reply.
‘He said if he got me out there I could yell as loud as I liked when he belted me and no one would hear me., or words to that effect.’ Annie turned away from him and resumed pegging out the washing.
‘Is that right?’ asked George with surprise written all over his face. A cheerful, down-to-earth man, George was not of the overbearing, egocentric type who rode roughshod over their womenfolk.
‘Yes, it’s right,’ Annie told him over her shoulder.
‘I’m sure he was only joking, Annie. It would be a great start for you two youngsters.’ George gave a twinkling smile as she turned towards him. An encouraging smile that Annie was not prepared to allow to sway her decision.
White-faced, she walked over to speak to him in a low voice so that the neighbors would not hear. ‘No, George. It would be the finish for me. Of me. I’m sorry I can’t go along with your plan for this. It would be more than my life is worth.’
There had been no chance of persuading Annie after that, even though both men tried for days to get around the words Conrad had spoken on their return from inspecting the property. Joking and making small talk over drinks in the evening until both were perceptibly tiddly while making all kinds of futile promises to Annie, cut no ice. She knew her husband well enough by then to realize the truth of the earlier conversation.
Several days later, Conrad, who had been listening to the latest of many exchanges between Annie and George, peeled himself away from the door frame and walked off in disgust, making a kick at the dog as he passed. Fortunately, the dog, Mitzi, knew him well enough to remove herself from the area as quickly as possible.
Foiled again by that miserable bitch of a wife of his, thought Conrad in displeasure. A man must have been crazy to marry the bastard. When I met her she was a positive and lively-minded girl. What happened to turn her into what she is now? Grimacing disapprovingly, he took a can of beer from the fridge and had a good swig. She won’t hold me back forever. I’ll beat her into shape yet and make her toe the line.
But on the night when Annie was trying to make up her mind how to break the news of the new pregnancy to seething Conrad, suddenly he stood in the kitchen doorway on his sturdy, stocky legs like tree trunks. He was glowering a further fierce warning at his wife whose face was streaked with tears and whose chin ran with blood.
‘Don’t tell anyone I hit you,’ he threatened ominously. ‘You’ll be sorry if you do.’ He looked straight at Annie who was pale and silent and wordless. His eyes glittered with barely suppressed rage. ‘Don’t you dare say anything,’ he repeated through set teeth.
‘There’ll be a bruise there tomorrow,’ she answered with as much defiance as she could muster. ‘They’ll be able to see for themselves.’ She knew that nothing could assuage his black moods once they set in and that she would simply have to grin and bear it to be able to come out the other side without further violence.
Her arm was smarting where he had grabbed it to pull her towards him for the slap. To finish off, he gave her a deft backhand blow to the head to be going on with. She thought that should just about do it—just about work the poison out of his system for that night.
‘If you tell anyone you’ll be sorry, I’m warning you, Annie.’ His face was set in the usual grim line and the aura of danger still surrounded him. ‘Don’t antagonize me any further if you know what’s good for you.’
He still spoke through his teeth in a low, slow, threatening voice and moved towards her, sour and overweight, with a glint in his eyes that made her flinch. A surge of bright-eyed rage quivered through his body, ready to resume the punishment if she didn’t agree to his suggestion.
‘I won’t. I’ll say I fell over and put my teeth through my lip,’ Annie assured him uneasily, her instinct for self-preservation telling her to take the violence quietly for the moment.
My God, who in their right mind would want to live like this? She shook her head briefly as her vision swam back into focus after the clout on the side of her head. Even though this type of episode was enacted on a fairly regular basis, Annie never failed to be surprised and anxious that it should not occur again.
He stood there quietly for a minute, eyeing her critically, watching as she mopped up the blood and tears with her handkerchief. She was wondering how to escape unscathed next time, hoping a better course of action would suggest itself to her.
‘Hell, love, I’m sorry.’ He was using his loser voice, weak and wheedling as he walked to the kitchen and slumped into a chair, all the wind temporarily gone out of him. ‘I don’t know what gets into me. You make me so damned mad I can’t control myself. It’s your own fault, you know.’
His hands hung between his legs dejected
ly as he tried to rationalize his actions, to justify himself in his own eyes.
‘All I said was....’Annie began, her face gaunt and strained, pale as a sheet of paper. His aggression made her stomach churn and she was almost delirious with fatigue after having been up most of the night with David in a bout of fever.
‘You shouldn’t annoy me. You bring it on yourself by being pig-headed,’ he said, trying very hard to place his small burden of guilt from his shoulders to her own.
He gestured with his meaty arm, a wave of disgust that she should bring out the worst in him simply by being present when he was looking for an outlet for his temper. She watched his knuckles whiten and cautiously moved beyond his immediate reach.
‘I only told you his crop was ready and I said you would ring him. That’s all. Where’s the crime in that?’ she said, determined to defend herself verbally, seeing as she couldn’t do it physically. She was nauseated and headachy, her stomach cramping with tension and a sense of the utter forlornness of the situation warning her to keep her own counsel.
‘But it was the look on your face or something that must have stirred me up,’ he mumbled, his eyes slitted as he thought through the best way to avoid any blame in this regular scenario.
She tried very hard not to comment but Annie needed to defend herself at all costs. In order to conquer the sense of abject humiliation she felt at the hands of this profane little man who thought his authority was undisputed in his cringing household, she must stand up and be counted.
‘Conrad, you had your back to me,’ Annie told the bigshot. ‘You wouldn’t have had a clue as to how my face looked. Just have your bath, will you? And have your dinner and make your phone calls,’ she finished wearily, light-headed with anger and grief as well as lack of sleep.
She gave a short shuddering sigh. Whatever she had said or not said with regard to the evening phone calls, the outcome would have been the same, as she knew from long years of experience.
Eloquent Silence Page 8
