by Derek Hansen
Lucio gasped out loud. Brother? Therapy?
‘His brother?’ said Ramon quickly. ‘How many brothers does he have?’
‘Just the one, and two sisters. Why?’
‘And this brother is still alive?’
‘Ramon! That’s enough!’ Milos glared at Ramon. The blind man may not have been able to see Milos’s anger but the warning in his voice was clear enough.
Barbara looked from one man to the other, clearly puzzled. But her bewilderment was quickly displaced by a look of horror.
‘Oh my God!’ she said. ‘I’ve blown it, haven’t I? I’ve blown his story!’
‘No,’ said Milos quickly. ‘In truth you have raised questions about one aspect of his story, that is all.’
‘Oh God, Neil will kill me!’
‘Don’t blame yourself,’ said Milos. ‘We encouraged you to be indiscreet when we had every opportunity, even an obligation, to stop you. We have behaved abominably and you deserve our apology.’
‘Neil told me to ring. He insisted I rang. He must’ve known what would happen. Now I’ve ruined everything.’ She pushed her chair back and stood up, clearly upset.
‘Please, your indiscretion is inconsequential,’ said Ramon. ‘Yes, we should have stopped you earlier, but your comments have merely confirmed what we suspected. Nothing of substance has changed, I assure you. Please don’t be upset. There is no need. Neither is there a need to inform Neil of your visit here. He will certainly not learn of it from us.’
‘Ramon is right,’ said Lucio. He rose and took both of Barbara’s hands in his. ‘Nothing of substance has changed. Neil can continue his story none the wiser. Right, Milos?’
‘Indeed.’ He, too, rose from his chair. ‘Neil is a very special friend to us and your revelations have only raised him in our esteem. I am both proud and astonished that we have had such a beneficial effect on him. Please convey our best wishes and tell him we look forward with great anticipation to the next instalment of his story.’
‘Are you sure I didn’t say too much?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Milos. ‘I overreacted to Ramon’s questions, that is all.’ He glanced away towards the front of the restaurant. ‘Once again I ask you to excuse our lack of courtesy. Gancio is coming to walk you to the door, but if you’d rather stay we would be honoured if you would have lunch with us.’
‘Thank you, but I’d better go. Neil will be wondering where I am.’ Barbara smiled but her smile was tenuous. She began biting her bottom lip the instant she turned towards the door.
The men sat in silence until she was safely out of earshot.
‘So Neil’s brother is still alive. Interesting.’
‘You are incorrigible, Ramon,’ said Milos angrily. ‘You had no right to persist with your questioning. Neil will be furious if he finds out and justifiably so. It is ludicrous to suggest nothing of substance has changed.’
‘You accuse me of encouraging her but you did nothing to discourage her or restrain me. To use your own argument, Milos, you had every opportunity and — what was your word — obligation to stop Barbara talking. But you didn’t, and neither did Lucio.’
‘Let’s calm down,’ said Lucio. ‘There is nothing to be gained by pointing fingers at each other. We are all equally to blame. We were all fascinated by what she said. None of us could have anticipated the mention of Neil’s brother.’
‘Or the comparison with Gabi,’ said Milos quietly. ‘Who could have anticipated that?’
‘Or the comment about therapy,’ said Ramon. ‘Neil and therapy? These are two words I never expected to hear in the same sentence.’
‘And what were the terrible things that happened to him?’ said Milos. ‘Dear God, he sat here just a few months ago listening to me talking about Gabi and her therapy and gave no indication that he’d had firsthand experience. I feel so foolish.’
‘Perhaps we are all fools,’ said Ramon thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps Neil is a good deal cleverer than we think.’
‘Explain yourself,’ said Milos.
Ramon took a few moments to assemble his argument.
‘First let me ask you, do you believe Barbara?’
‘Yes,’ said Milos without hesitation. ‘Why, don’t you?’
‘We need to be sure. Doesn’t it occur to you that Neil’s accident is altogether too convenient? Here we are debating whether to call a halt to his story when he injects new information which turns our assumptions upside down. The timing is impeccable.’
‘Surely you’re not suggesting that he faked the accident?’ said Lucio indignantly.
‘We have no evidence that he is in hospital or that he has a broken ankle. We only have Barbara’s word for that.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ said Lucio. ‘We have an advantage over you and I apologise for bringing it up. We could look her in the eye. Believe me, Barbara was not acting.’
‘So you are certain she is telling the truth?’
‘Yes.’
‘One more thing. Milos, you must be aware that Neil has borrowed elements from your story. The use of the third person when he refers to himself, the fact that he is telling the story of his brother, and now the involvement of his fiancée.’
‘I think perhaps Neil may have unwittingly borrowed elements from my storytelling. It makes sense to use the third person. It is a convenience that lends detachment. We discussed this earlier. Also, my story was principally about Gabi and me. As for bringing his fiancée to the table, I cannot accept that this was part of his plan. I prefer to believe the evidence of my own eyes. I believe Barbara disobeyed instructions by coming to see us. I believe she is genuine in everything she said and I further believe her dismay was genuine when she thought she’d given Neil’s story away. Her eyes did not lie. She panicked. Your concerns are justified, Ramon, but in the end I think they are groundless. I believe Neil had a car accident and that he will show up here next week with his leg in a cast.’
‘So, we are to take Barbara’s comments at face value,’ said Ramon. He sat thoughtfully while Gancio served their entrée. ‘If she is to be believed, then everything changes.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Lucio.
Ramon surprised his friends with his sudden solemnity.
‘We came here today fearing the effect Neil’s story might have on our lunches. Specifically, we were concerned about our relationship with Neil once we learned how and why Neil took his brother’s life. Now his fiancée tells us his brother is alive. So what really happened? Barbara tells us Neil has changed, from not caring about anything to caring enough to get married and rebuild his life. She tells us he has started talking about the terrible things that happened to him, things that required him to undergo counselling. Think about that in the context of his story. Think where it leads us. What made him not care in the first place? We must face the possibility that Neil is in fact playing our game and combining truth with fiction, but not the truth we were led to believe. Oh, no. He is engaging another truth and I suspect it is even more appalling. Let us hope Neil is playing games with us and we are victims of a stunt. Let us hope for his sake. Dear God! Poor Neil. If my suspicions are correct, this other truth does not bear thinking about.’
FIFTH THURSDAY
Chapter Twenty-one
Ramon, Milos and Lucio sat at their table as twelve-thirty came and went and the restaurant began filling with diners. They were fearing another postponement of their storytelling when Neil came swinging clumsily into the restaurant on crutches. The friends had been unsure what to expect. Milos had all but convinced them that Barbara would have confessed to ignoring Neil’s instructions and relayed every word of their conversation to him. He was certain that Neil would arrive furious, if he bothered to come at all. But Neil was anything but furious. He had a broad grin on his face as he entered and now laughed as he shared a joke with Gancio. His use of the crutches was hardly expert but he managed to negotiate his way between the tables to his chair.
‘Sorry I’m late. I go
t stuck trying to get out of the cab. I had to get some passers-by to give me hand. The only one who didn’t think it was funny was the cabbie.’
‘Neil, it’s good to see you back and in such good spirits,’ said Lucio.
‘Good to see you too,’ said Neil. He shook hands with his friends, rested his crutches against the table and slowly lowered himself onto his chair.
‘I thought you would be more used to your crutches by now,’ said Milos for Ramon’s benefit. He wanted to make sure the blind man missed nothing. ‘After all, it has been a week.’
‘Bloody doctors,’ said Neil affably. ‘Wouldn’t let me put any weight on my leg until yesterday. And would you look at this bloody cast. I break my ankle and they plaster my leg all the way up to my groin. I asked the doctor who did it if she’d whack some on my old fella while she was at it. Save a fortune on Viagra.’
‘Your PA also said you suffered bruising and cuts. I was expecting to see your face swathed in bandages.’
‘The windscreen shattered, of course, but fortunately stayed in one piece. I don’t know whether it would have mattered much if it had fragmented because airbags popped out of everywhere. Those things actually work. God knows how many went off. The only problem is they don’t make airbags for legs and they managed to slam into everything within reach. I got a few bruises across the shoulder and chest from the seatbelt as well, but it’s nice to know they work.’
‘It sounds like you were very lucky,’ said Ramon.
‘I think the fact that I drive the X5 off-road Beamer helped. I had weight and height on my side. Even so, if I’d been knocked into the path of a semi or a bus instead of a van, it might have been a different story. In fact, it might’ve been the end of the story. Think of the consequences of that. Young Billy would have been left facing the pigs, the older Billy would still be wondering whether Linda is on the level, and Grant would be left more bitter and twisted than ever. The good news is I would have been spared the necessity of baring my soul. I wish you guys had never started me off on this true story business. I’m not enjoying it. I was almost glad when the dickhead behind me forgot what his brakes were for.’
‘What happened to him?’ asked Lucio.
‘He got the use of the first ambulance, which I thought was a bit unfair since he caused the accident. He’s married with three young kids, a mortgage, a fractured skull, punctured lung, ruptured spleen and God knows what else. Last I heard he was still in intensive care. Apparently he was working two jobs to try to make ends meet and fell asleep at the wheel.’
‘Poor bastard,’ said Lucio.
‘Poor bastard be buggered,’ said Neil. ‘He interrupted my story. I don’t even let Ramon do that. Now, I know you guys are a bunch of pathetic winos but I would like a beer.’
Lucio caught the eye of a passing waiter and ordered a Peroni.
‘What about the driver of the van?’ asked Milos.
‘She got the second ambulance. It was quite amazing really. I sat in my car with my ankle trapped, blood streaming down my legs and a young cop holding my hand while everyone else got proper attention. I heard she suffered head injuries, but she was blonde so I guess there was no change to the status quo. You know, the young cop even tried to get me to give him a statement while I was still trapped in the car? Dear God. You guys accuse me of insensitivity.’
‘Seems you got off lightly,’ said Ramon.
‘The X5 is expensive but you get what you pay for. Ah, here’s my beer. Cheers. I hope you didn’t get up to any mischief in my absence last week.’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Ramon without hesitation. ‘We had a quiet meal and went home early.’
He was pleased with the way the lunch had begun and he could tell the others were as well. Neil gave no indication that Barbara had admitted to her indiscretion, or that he was poised to reveal a dark secret about himself. In fact, the Neil that Barbara had revealed and the crass Neil joking about his accident could have been different people.
Both Milos and Lucio had pressed Ramon to elaborate on his dire warning of the week before but he’d resisted. In the days since, he’d replayed their conversation with Barbara endlessly in his mind and nothing had shaken his conviction that Neil was somehow using them as a means to confront his past — provided Barbara had been genuine. Everything depended on her credibility. Neil’s explanation for his awkwardness with crutches was plausible, but his ineptness could also mean that he’d just that morning had the cast put on his leg. But if he was faking, would he have had a cast made all the way up his leg rather than just to the knee? The absence of any marks on his face was also suspicious despite Neil’s ringing endorsement of airbags. Everything hinged on Barbara’s credibility. Ramon felt for his wine glass and raised it to his lips. Whether Neil had planned it or not, interesting possibilities were opening up in his story.
‘Which thread of your story do you intend to pick up first?’ asked Lucio.
‘Give me a break,’ said Neil. ‘Can’t I enjoy my beer and your company first? And what about lunch? I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to Gancio’s cooking. My story has reached the stage where it takes on a life of its own and there’s nothing I can do about it. But I tell you what. When I was lying in hospital there were plenty of times that I thought about ditching it. I wish you bastards hadn’t started me on it. But you did so I’m obliged to finish it. Ah, what the hell. You never know, it might even do me some good to finally get this load off my chest.’
Chapter Twenty-two
Billy tried to think like Neil and started arranging the things he had to do in a logical order. He discovered he could move his toes, even though the tensing of the muscles alongside his shins made him wince. He got the same reaction when he moved his ankles. Neil had always told him that if you could move your toes and ankles then your leg wasn’t broken. The pain did seem to come from the flexing of a wound rather than the grating of broken bones, which was encouraging. Using his hands to draw his knees up, he untied his boots, removed them and peeled off his socks. His father had shown him how to tie a tourniquet in case of snakebite and claimed that socks did the job as well as anything. Billy figured the blood from the gashes on his legs was already beginning to clot and applied the tourniquets as a precaution so he wouldn’t lose too much more blood once he tried to move.
He pulled his boots back on over his bare feet. Flies were already homing in on the dead pig and he wanted to get well away before other pigs sniffed it out. A dead comrade was a tasty meal as far as wild pigs were concerned and he wanted them filling up on the boar’s flesh rather than his.
Billy had no choice but to try to move on. The coolibah he leaned against was a poor specimen and no good to him. While it was tall enough to get him out of reach of the pigs, if he did somehow manage to climb it there were no branches that he could sit on or straddle, at least none strong enough to support his weight. He straightened his legs and shuffled his bottom forward towards his heels, straightened his legs and shuffled forward again. He kept this up for around ten metres before the pain forced him to stop. He could feel blood trickling down his legs again and flies swarmed all over the dark patches on his jeans. Billy realised there was a limit to how far he could shuffle and looked around for another tree he could climb. But most of the trees were mallee-form and their thin spreadeagled trunks offered no hope of refuge. The rest were too thin and scrubby to support his weight. He had to keep going until he found a more substantial tree and groaned at the prospect. He looked for other options and realised immediately what he should’ve done earlier. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled.
‘Get over here, Grassie!’ he yelled. ‘Over here!’
He whistled again. He had no doubt that his horse, Grasshopper, would hear his whistle in the still air and maybe even his voice. But would the stupid animal act on it? He hoped it would have the wit or at least the curiosity to come and investigate. But that was the funny thing about horses. He hadn’t bothered to tether his mou
nt because, like all of their horses, it had been trained not to wander off. Now, in all likelihood, the training was working against him. He could picture Grasshopper raising its head dutifully at his whistle, then going back to its grazing. He whistled as loudly as he could and stared back towards the clearing, looking for any sign of movement.
‘Get over here, Grassie! Over here!’ He hoped the horse would hear the anger in his voice and that it would jolt some sense into it. His father always maintained Grasshopper was a couple of swallows short of a drink and had been undecided whether to keep it or put it down. Billy wished his father had put it down. It continued to ignore his whistle.
Billy shuffled forward another ten metres and rested. The sun had dropped well and truly below the tops of the trees and was within a few minutes of disappearing altogether. A sudden flurry overhead made him look up. The crows had found the pig he’d killed. Soon they’d start ripping into the carcass and, if other pigs couldn’t already smell the blood, the sound of the crows squabbling would act like a homing beacon. Billy looked around anxiously. He wished he’d taken more notice of the trees on his way in but at the time trees had been irrelevant. They were just cover, a backdrop that defined the area he occupied. Yet he knew there was always one big tree in among the coolibahs and scrub, a good-sized gum or box. There was always something and he had to find it. Ignoring the pain in his legs he shuffled forward, aiming for a pauper belah tree about forty metres away. The forked trunk gave off low branches that he could use to haul himself to his feet so he could take a good look around. He whistled intermittently as he dragged himself along, hoping his stupid horse would finally take notice.
An explosion of screeches and beating wings told him what he didn’t want to know. Pigs had found the carcass and chased off the crows. How long since he’d shot the boar, he wondered. Twenty, thirty minutes? Pigs were normally more cautious and he was shocked that they’d returned so quickly. He doubled his efforts, despite the pain, and dragged himself forward as fast as he could go. Climbing the belah tree had never been his intention but he was coming to the conclusion that it might be his only option. At least it’d be better than being caught out in the open. How many pigs were there? How long before a pig that couldn’t get at the carcass decided to come after him?
