Dead Men

by Derek Haines

  ‘Well, I was told by my solicitor that it’s just part of life now. My accountant was also telling me that nearly one third of his time is spent sorting out companies and partnerships and businesses affected by separation and divorce.’

  ‘So you are doin’ all the legal stuff straight away?’

  ‘Yep. There’s no going back from here.’

  ‘So what happens? I don’t know much about it.’

  ‘Well, my solicitor says I’m lucky. No kids. So it’s just fifty fifty. Split down the middle. Property, company and assets.’

  ‘But she’s the one who fucked off. Surely that makes a difference?’

  ‘Nope. Charlie Stewart, my solicitor, laid it out clear as a bell to me. Under our laws now, there are no grounds for divorce any longer. Went out years ago. All applications for separation and divorce are no fault. Just irretrievable breakdown, or something like that. So it doesn’t matter a hoot what she did. As far as the Family Law Court is concerned, it’s nobody’s fault.’

  ‘And your solicitor said you were lucky?’ Tony said with an inflection.

  ‘Well, I know from my first divorce years ago. If I had kids, it’d be a wipe out. I lost almost everything then. House, car, furniture. I walked out with a suitcase of clothes and thirty percent of the bank accounts. Which was thirty percent of fuck all anyway.’

  ‘Christ,’ was all Tony could say. He slowly sipped on his beer.

  ‘Enough of my troubles. How’s Triple T going Tony?’

  ‘Fucking tough going. I had to re-finance last year, and business’s been tight. Losing the Sam’s work didn’t help. That’s your fault,’ Tony said with a big smile.

  ‘I’m sorry about that Tony.’

  ‘No. It’s not your fault Dave. Just pullin’ your leg. It’s just the way of business. And it’s only one small part. It’s just a tough business. It’ll come good. Always does.’

  ‘You’re the eternal optimist Tony. How do you keep that big smile on your ugly face?’

  ‘I was born with it. Can’t get rid of it Dave,’ Tony laughed. Two fresh beers arrived.

  ‘Well, here’s to happier days Tony.’

  ‘Yes. To happier days Dave.’

  They both took a sip of their beers, their initial thirst being quenched by the first two. They sat quietly for a moment. Tony’s mind was grinding away. He felt sorry for Dave. But he was inwardly saying, ‘I’m glad it’s him and not me. Poor bastard.’

  ‘So what are you gonna do Dave?’

  ‘I don’t really know Tony. Things are a bit up in the air. I had things planned out to take it easy before this hit. Suppose I’ll just see what happens. Probably move down from the coast though. Better off in Sydney. Easier to get everything done. And it’s not much fun by myself up there. Haven’t been there long, so I don’t know too many people.’ It crossed Dave’s mind as he spoke, that he didn’t know too many people any where.

  ‘Well, if you need anything. Moving your stuff. Anything. You just let me know, ok?’

  ‘Thanks Tony. I will,’ Dave said without thinking he would.

  ‘Do you like liver Dave?’

  ‘Err yes?’ Dave answered the odd question with a raised eyebrow.

  ‘Good. My wife makes a special dish for me. Fettuccine Antonio. Liver, bacon and kidneys in a carbonara sauce. Come to dinner one night, I’ll have her cook it for us. Ok with you?’

  ‘Thanks,’ Dave said, not really expecting an official invitation to follow. ‘I’ll bring the wine huh?’

  ‘Ahhh Dave! Only if you can afford it and know which special wine goes with it.’

  ‘Well, you better tell me old buddy.’

  ‘1956 Chateau Rothschild Lafayette. Two hundred and fifty bucks a bottle. If you can find it,’ Tony announced with a wicked grin.

  ‘Well, you might have to settle for a 1997 Hunter Valley shiraz,’ Dave said meekly.

  ‘All tastes the same after the tenth glass Dave.’ Tony was laughing loudly. He was enjoying his liquid lunch and Dave’s company, even if he was down on his luck.

  ‘Have you got things to do this afternoon?’

  ‘A few things. Yes. I have to sign some papers with my accountant. They should be ready this afternoon, and I have an appointment at the bank to get the signatures sorted out. I have to freeze the accounts until things get settled a bit.’

  ‘Look, I have to get back to the office Dave, but, if you’re still thirsty at five or so, I have a very good bottle of scotch in my office drawer. Any interest?’

  ‘I’ll see how I go. But it sounds like a good idea to me. If I’m not there by five thirty, start without me though,’ Dave smiled.

  ‘Ok Dave. I better get back. See you at five if you can make it.’

  ‘Yeah, sure Tony,’ he said shaking Tony’s hand.

  ‘Great to see you again.’

  ‘You too Tony.’

  As Tony left, Dave ordered himself another beer. And a steak sandwich and chips. He could feel he needed a bit of food to soak up the beer before going to his accountant.

  When he arrived at his accountant, he told the woman at reception that there should be some papers ready for him to sign.

  ‘Just a moment Mr Holdsworth. I’ll check.’

  She walked off into the office area. David sat down to read a magazine. He was half way through a dull article on accelerated depreciation in a finance magazine when a male voice echoed from the reception desk.

  ‘Mr Holdsworth?’

  David turned and looked up. He walked to the reception desk. The young man came around to shake his hand.

  ‘Hello Mr Holdsworth, I’m Steven Sharp. John’s out for the afternoon, but he left these with me and said you might be dropping by. All we need is your signature here,’ he said opening up a file and pointing to a pencilled cross.

  ‘And here,’ pointing to another pencilled cross on another page. David signed.

  ‘They’ll be lodged Monday. John’ll be in touch after that I would presume.’

  ‘Ok. Thanks.’

  ‘Nice to meet you Mr Holdsworth.’

  With that the young man turned and went back into the office area. David said goodbye to the receptionist and looked at his watch. Plenty of time to get to the bank he thought.

  He arrived on time, and was then kept waiting for nearly an hour before the bank manager saw him. He was becoming impatient. The beers at lunch didn’t help either. He was busting for a piss. Luckily it only took a few minutes to freeze his company’s bank accounts.

  Three thirty. As he returned to his car, David remembered his wife’s old aunt lived close by. He liked her very much, and she was one of the few in-laws that made him feel welcome. She was in her late seventies, and enjoyed a beer. She was widowed, and lived by herself. He decided to see if she was home. At least he could tell her what had happened, and maybe keep his old friend. He arrived a few minutes later to find her reading a book on her front porch.

  ‘Hello David, what a nice surprise,’ she said greeting him with a peck on the cheek.

  ‘Good book?’

  ‘Not enough sex,’ she replied with a sly grin.

  ‘Cup of tea? Or a beer?’ she asked starting to rise from her chair.

  ‘Stay there,’ David said. ‘Tea would be fine. I’ll put the kettle on. Want one?’

  ‘That’d be lovely dear.’

  He went inside and returned a few minutes later with two mugs of tea. He sat quietly for a few moments, then sipped his tea. He broke the silence. Bluntly.

  ‘We’ve separated.’

  ‘You know dear, it was a bit embarrassing. I really didn’t know what to say when she came here a few weeks ago. She had this fella with her. He’s a Manly supporter. What do you say to people like that?’ she said with a smile. She had always had a thing about anyone who supported the Manly football team. She loved her rugby league, and was a one eyed St George follower. The humour wasn’t lost on David. She was being sympathetic.

  ‘Well, he must be a moron then. A bloody M
anly supporter huh?’ he relied. Holding his emotions back from the shock that his wife had been parading her lover around to her family. His family until a few days ago.

  ‘For sure David. A moron,’ she confirmed.

  ‘David,’ she started. ‘You’re always welcome here. I take no sides. It’s up to you two to sort this out, or not. I’m old enough to know there are two sides to every truth. I don’t want to know the ins and outs. Just know that you’re welcome here anytime. Ok?’

  ‘Thanks. I appreciate that.’

  After changing the subject to football and politics, the two of them enjoyed the rest of their chat.

  David left just before five. The thought of returning alone to his hotel didn’t appeal. The invitation to a bottle of scotch did however.

  The afternoon had been a slow grind for Tony. He wished to himself that he’d stayed at the Drover’s Dog all afternoon. The first call he received when he returned was from his bank manager. Triple T’s payments for the consolidated bank loan where two months in arrears. He tried to reassure him that everything was under control. He had a feeling he hadn’t fully succeeded. One of his larger customers rang to discuss rates. His customer was reviewing his transport costs. Tony had been in the business long enough to know this was code for his customer having received a quote from a competitor who was going in low to win business. He lowered his rates to keep the client. On the heels of that, his wife called into the office.

  ‘Oh, Tony. You’re alive then,’ she said sarcastically. ‘Is this where you live? Have you thought of installing a bed and TV,’ she continued. With that caustic comment she made her way to the petty cash tin and took fifty dollars. She signed the petty cash chit book lying along side, then left. Without even as much as a goodbye.

  Tony sat at his desk in fury. ‘For god sake, she does fuck all. Then has the hide to embarrass me in my own office,’ Tony fumed in his mind. At four thirty his phone rang.

  ‘Hi Tony, it’s Steve Sharp. Just wondering if you’ve been able to dig out that info’ I need for the depreciation schedules?’

  ‘Oh sorry Steve. Look, the file’s on my desk. I just forgot all about it. When do you need them by?’

  ‘Well,’ Steve replied. ‘Pretty soon. Will you be there in an hour or so? I could pick them up on my way home. Your office’s not far out of my way.’

  ‘Yes, that’ll be fine Steve. As long as it’s no trouble.’

  ‘No, no trouble at all. See you then.’

  ‘Ok, see you Steve.’

  At five thirty, Steve arrived at Triple T’s office. He found Tony in his office with David Holdsworth. Both enjoying a drink. Tony noticed Steve as he approached his office door.

  ‘Steve, come in. This is David Holdsworth. Dave this is Steve Sharp. He’s…’

  David interrupted, ‘Yes we’ve met. Small world Steve. How are you?’ he said shaking his hand.

  ‘Yes, Mr Holdsworth and I met this afternoon at my office,’ Steve told Tony.

  ‘Oh, David please Steve,’ David said to Steve. ‘We don’t need any of that formality.’

  ‘Drink Steve?’ Tony asked. ‘We’re a couple ahead of you though I must warn you,’ he said with a laugh.

  ‘Thanks, yes, if I’m not intruding.’

  ‘No, not at all,’ both Tony and Dave replied almost in unison.

  Tony poured out three drinks. ‘Salute,’ Tony said raising his glass.

  ‘Salute,’ they replied.

  ‘Good day gentlemen?’ Steve asked trying to start a conversation.

  ‘Fucking dreadful,’ was Tony’s terse response.

  The conversation died for thirty seconds. Steve felt a little embarrassed.

  ‘Sorry Steve,’ Tony smiled. ‘It’s just been one of those days. Weeks in fact.’

  David had his turn at starting a conversation.

  ‘How long’ve you been with John’s firm Steve?’

  ‘Three years Dave. I quite like it there. I’m a bit office bound, but I can’t complain. I enjoy the work.’

  ‘Are you originally from Sydney?’

  ‘No, Perth. I immigrated there when I was four. I moved here three years ago.’

  ‘Perth.’ Tony exclaimed. ‘Well, how about that. Three Perth boys made good in the big smoke huh?’

  ‘What? Are you both from Perth?’

  ‘Yes,’ David replied. ‘How about that.’

  ‘I think this calls for another drink,’ Tony said as he poured three more drinks.

  ‘This bottle isn’t going to last much longer,’ Tony said after taking a sip. ‘Do I have any takers for a meeting of the Perth Old Boys at the Drover’s Dog?’

  ‘I’ll second that motion,’ David said with a broad smile.

  ‘You’ll need three for a quorum,’ Steve said.

  ‘Motion carried then,’ Tony chuckled. And added, ‘What a coincidence.’

  On Sunday morning David returned to his house on the coast. It had taken him most of Saturday to recover from his hangover as a result of his Friday night with Tony and Steve. He’d enjoyed their company. And reminiscing about their home town. Most of all he’d enjoyed the male companionship. It was heartening to him to have the reaction of men to his situation. Not that their opinions had changed anything, just feeling that someone was on his side was a small comfort. As he drove, he thought of the sudden changes that were happening. Just a few short weeks ago, if anyone had alluded to his wife being a cow, bitch or whore, he would have been horrified. Now, he could only nod his head in agreement, and feel justified in his own anger towards her. Most of all, he felt alone.

  It had only been days since his wife had left him. He had lost all perspective of time. It seemed like months. Then, in an instant, it felt like only hours. He arrived home to a note.

  ‘I rang, but there was no answer. I came to get some of my things. I thought it would be better to get this over quickly. Bye.’

  He looked at the note. Not even addressed to him by name. Did he exist so little now that she didn’t even want to use his name? Or hers? For such a short note, the results of the message where large. Some of her things seemed to amount to an awful lot. The house seemed empty. Stripped of all its heart. Gaping holes on a blank wall where a painting once was. Shadows of furniture left as indentations in the carpet. Books, once standing proud and in regiment, lying on their side as too many of their comrades had been removed. David looked at the once proud bookcase. It was a forlorn creature now. Barely one third of the books remained. As he slowly went through what had been his home, he only found a house now. Its character and life stripped from it.

  He tried to console himself, and to a large extent, control himself, by toying with the thought that the house was not half empty, but half full. It didn’t work. He became agitated. Looking in every part of the house, almost at random, no order or sense. What was there, was useful, needed, mechanical. Enough plates, knives, forks, saucepans. A bed, linen, towels. A sofa, a television. Yes, enough to live in a house. It was what was missing that was tearing David apart. The collection of a lifetime. Little ornaments, treasures, photographs. Ornate wedding gifts that were never used, but sat as a reminder in a glass cabinet. Everything familiar had disappeared. As his will to look for what was missing slowed, he was torn slowly with the dawning realisation that his marriage had ended. And with it had his life too. All his plans for his life had been made with the simple assumption that it would always include, not only his wife, but his life around him. His home. His familiarity. His comfort. He had never contemplated a life alone and adrift.

  He stood at the window and looked to the sea, white capped in a stiff breeze.

  ‘I just don’t understand,’ he thought aloud.

  ‘I just don’t understand,’ he whispered again. Addressing no one but a fluttering curtain.

  The single thread that ran through his thoughts was simply, why?

  Why had this happened? Why didn’t he see any signs? Why had he been powerless to stop it? Why had the more than ten years of
their marriage been of so little value to her? Why? Why? Why?’

  The words of his solicitor rang in his head. ‘Nobody’s fault.’

  ‘How could it be nobody’s fault?’ Dave thought. ‘My wife has sex with another man. She leaves me. Strips my home. Destroys my dignity, self esteem and self worth. Taking with her not only my wife, but my best friend. My business partner. My life. My solicitor tells me she’ll get half of everything. And judging by her clean out of the house, her idea of half is much bigger than mine. He tells me it’s just a fact of life now. Well, fuck the facts in law. She’s at fault. She is the fucking whore. Not me. For fuck sake. How can it be nobody’s fucking fault?’ David’s head was running in overdrive with anger and loss. He tried to calm himself with a drink. ‘Oh for fucking Christ’s sake!’ he screamed. ‘The bitch has even emptied the liquor cupboard. When will this end?’

  He recovered his composure to a small degree, and decided he should eat something. Since his wife had left, he had found sleeping and eating had become optional activities. Making two sandwiches and a cup of coffee, he sat down in front of the TV, hoping it would at least take his mind somewhere else.

  As he turned it on, the news reader was finishing an article on, ‘some rebel activity in Afghanistan.’ Then the news reader started the next item.

  ‘In Perth today, a man in his mid thirties was found dead in his car, with his three children. He had placed a pipe over the exhaust and into the vehicle. The children were aged seven, five and seventeen months. It is believed a Family Court dispute triggered the event. In Washington, President Cl…..’ David turned the TV off.

  His mind was alerted by the tragedy of the husband and his three children. The clinical and nonchalant manner of the report. ‘It is believed a Family Court dispute triggered the event,’ ran over and over in his mind. It made it sound such a trivial reason to kill yourself and your three children. What would make a man do that? Worse still, this was not the first time this had happened. This was so usual it was treated on the news in the same way a traffic accident was reported. ‘The accident was believed to have been caused by bad weather.’

  David recalled events he had heard reported in recent years. He hadn’t taken much notice at the time. He was removed from needing to know or be involved, so he took little notice then. But now he did take notice. ‘Wasn’t there a woman shot dead by her husband on the step of the Family Court?’ he thought to himself. ‘Parramatta I think.’