by Ron Elliott
***
Daniel packed Christmas presents into the back of the station wagon.
Frances said, ‘Isn’t Father Christmas coming?’
‘Yes, poppet. He’s coming.’ Daniel flicked a look at Sam, who was smiling doubtfully. Helen had explained that his primary school teacher had blabbed to the class two weeks ago, bless her literal twenty-two-year-old heart, and now Sam was a grown-up and sworn to keep the secret from his sister.
Frances persisted. ‘But why are we buying the presents?’
Daniel bought himself time by closing the back of the car and opening Frances’ door. Maybe if Daniel had had a more normal father, he’d be ready for this kind of question. He’d have folklore to grab from. ‘Well, Father Christmas ... gives his special presents to good boys and girls. That’s right, isn’t it?’ He put her seatbelt on. Tweaked her chin.
‘I know,’ she said, unswayed. She was a stubborn thing.
‘And mums and dads give more. Because we love you.’ He looked over to Sam to see how he was doing. Sam nodded.
Daniel closed the passenger door and got in the front, starting the car.
‘How does Father Christmas know we’ve already got a talking doll?’
Daniel started backing. ‘Well...’
A big blue Land Cruiser lurched into his path and stopped. Daniel hit his own brakes. ‘Give me a break.’ He looked at the kids and made a smile. ‘I didn’t see him. Going too fast for parking lots.’
Daniel waited for the car to move. It didn’t. He couldn’t see any nearby parking spots they might be waiting for. Daniel beeped his horn, two short peeps, nothing pushy. It still didn’t go.
Sam said, ‘Mum says you have to be patient when you’re shopping.’
Frances looked at him, soaking in his wisdom. She nodded, but said, ‘I don’t want two talking dolls.’
Daniel opened his door. The Land Cruiser had tinted windows so he couldn’t see the driver. He got out and went to tap on the window, but as he got to the back it suddenly drove off, squealing up the ramp and onto the street.
***
Helen carried most of the boxes from the spare room as she followed Daniel towards the garage. His briefcase was balanced on the box he carried under his good arm. He’d changed for work as soon as he’d brought the kids home.
Helen explained to Frances, ‘He reads the letter you sent to tell him with the list of what you want. But, I think the elves tell him if you get things. Usually, you don’t see and it’s all a surprise.’ Daniel had made a bit of a hash of the present buying.
Haggis dropped his tennis ball at Daniel’s feet, nearly tripping him. He yelled, ‘Get out of it, dog.’ Christmas shopping hadn’t improved his mood. ‘How come we have to have the wedding shower here?’
‘He wants you to throw the ball,’ said Frances, bending to throw it. Haggis grabbed it before she could, wanting Daniel to do the throwing.
‘There isn’t enough room at Rosemarie’s flat. They’re your friends, Daniel.’
‘Inconvenient time for a wedding, so close to Christmas.’
‘Well I guess they thought it would be romantic.’
If he heard her irony, he didn’t show it. He nudged the handle of the side garage door expertly with his elbow and backed himself through it, holding it open with his good shoulder. ‘No Haggis. Stay.’
Helen stepped over the dog with her boxes, hearing the automatic garage doors grinding up. Summer light wound up the bench like a fast-forward sunrise.
Daniel had noticed the drop cloth that hid what the kids had been making. He put the box he’d been carrying next to it, still peering at the thing that didn’t belong in his shed. He started to reach for the cloth.
‘No,’ she said.
‘Huh?’
‘Santa’s little helpers.’
He still didn’t get it.
‘A surprise. For you. For Christmas.’ It was like talking to her deaf grandfather.
‘Oh.’
He looked at it suspiciously.
She put her boxes on the bench. She’d wait for him to go before stacking everything up on one of the shelves.
He threw his briefcase in through the open window of the ute and fished his keys out of his pocket.
‘The Christmas tree.’
‘Right. On my way home. Biggest one I can find.’
Samuel was crying. Helen looked out to the driveway where Sam was holding his bike.
Daniel said, ‘Don’t play in the driveway, Sam!’
‘He’s hurt,’ said Helen, pushing past and going out to Samuel. His knees were skinned and bleeding.
‘The chain came off.’
‘Poor man. It’s okay.’ Helen bent to take a look at his knees.
‘Don’t cry mate. Laugh it off.’ Daniel stood nearby.
Helen bit her lip. Watched Samuel nodding bravely, taking big breaths and trying to make his face smile to please his father.
Daniel patted him on the shoulder bringing a real smile. ‘I gotta go to work, matey, but I’ll fix the chain as soon as I get home, okay?’
‘Yes.’
Daniel grabbed the bike one-handed and lifted it off the driveway.
‘We’ll put some ointment on in a minute,’ said Helen, not hugging him yet. She and Samuel stepped onto the grass as Daniel backed out and down the driveway. She waited for him to look so she could wave but he didn’t.
***
Driving a battered ute. Hearth & Home: Restorations. A tradie. Amis puts the registration number into his Blackberry. Big two-storey McMansion in a cul-de-sac. Upwardly mobile? Rich parents? Lightblue picket fence. The house an invented colour – sage? Amongst the aubergines and terracottas all with little balconies to view each other. Lots of Christmas fruit and power bills. High crime rates, cul-de-sacs. Unsolved burglaries. No passing traffic.
Amis turns the car around at the end of the cul-de-sac so he can follow The Penguin.
Trent is playing on his new Nintendo.
Amis calls one of his contacts in Motor Vehicles. ‘June, it’s Amis. I’ve got a ute. Might be abandoned. I need the name and address of the owner.’
***
Daniel parked around the back in the yard. Inside the workshop, trays of rosettes and cornices were drying on the concrete floor. Men were pouring into other moulds. Sanders and saws were spinning next door where the carpenters were doing delicate woodwork etching period designs into recycled jarrah.
Daniel reached the metal stairs to go up to the offices when someone called him.
‘Mr Longo.’
Daniel turned. It was Nadif.
‘Mr Longo ... I am so sorry. It was my fault. I forgot the fixing bolt and I was so busy getting it, I forgot I left Hua holding all the weight.’
Daniel saw Hua and another older worker, Yusof, moving up with grins. They’d wound the apprentice up. You could do that in the old days, but this kid was from a war zone.
Daniel said, ‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘You not sacking me?’
Daniel saw the men smiling behind the boy. ‘No, we’ll give you another chance. But there’s a rule.’
‘A rule?’
‘Yeah, no killing the boss.’ The men laughed.
Nadif looked stricken, and Daniel patted him on the shoulder. ‘It was an accident, mate. Do what Hua tells you and we’ll be good.’
The men laughed and Nadif tried to smile.
Daniel headed up the stairs. He was lucky to have Nadif. Apprentices were hard to keep with all the work up north. Maybe they did kill their bosses in Somalia.
Brian used to joke about the united nations of Hearth & Home. ‘You’re sponsoring these boats, aren’t you?’ They’d started off mostly white, if you count Italians as white, but over the years the newcomers who were brilliant, patient craftsmen were the ones who stayed. They had families and they were thankful for the work, but Daniel knew they shared the pride of appreciated skill.
Chantel was waiting at the top of the stairs, forci
ng Daniel to look down so he wouldn’t look up her short skirt as he came to the top.
‘Oww, Daniel. Does it hurt?’
‘Only when I laugh.’
Chantel said, ‘You poor thing.’
‘I gotta learn to duck.’
Daniel headed to his office. Brian was at his door but watching Chantel wiggling back to reception. ‘You poor thing,’ he said, aping Chantel.
‘I am poor. In every way.’ Daniel tossed his briefcase on his desk. Looked at the computer-generated sign: We Love Sheridan that Brian had sticky taped to the wall. Sheridan was the big job. Daniel’s eyes drifted over to the old black and white photograph of his own hotel, in its heyday, blu-tacked underneath. He sat down, realising Brian had followed him in. ‘Oh, and thanks for your concern.’
‘Hey, I meant it. And I don’t even want to get into your pants.’
‘My pants are spoken for.’
Brian sat on the couch. ‘Hua told me what happened. That old pub will kill you one day.’
Daniel must have grimaced because Brian spoke again, quickly. ‘Sorry mate. Joke. I wasn’t thinking.’
Daniel picked at a pile of envelopes on his desk.
Brian said, ‘Miller’s went into receivership yesterday.’
‘What?’ Daniel looked at him but he just kept nodding. Brian would have crunched the numbers. Would want to talk strategy. Shit. ‘Where’s our boom, dude?’
Brian made his old joke. ‘If only the Chinese were interested in quality tuck pointing.’ They went out to the Sheridan city site to make sure things were ready for the show-and-tell, using one of the refurbished rooms to shave and change into their corporate suits. Sheridan wasn’t a Chinese company. It had once been Scottish and was now Japanese and expanding quickly into Australian hospitality.
Brian waited until they were on their way down to greet Osaka before he whispered, ‘We should hit them for an advance.’
‘Are we in that much trouble?’
‘Miller’s owed us a lot. Even if we do get forty percent of what they owed us, it’ll be months, maybe years before we see it.’
Daniel whispered, ‘We already got the first instalment. They’ll think we’re hicks.’ Then he beamed, ‘Mr Osaka. Delighted to see you again.’
The Sheridan bigwigs were admiring the new wallpaper in the lobby by the lifts.
‘Beautiful,’ said Johnson, the American.
Brian, all smiles, said, ‘The pastel colours you’ve chosen are very warm, very charming.’
McClusky was the bean counter. ‘And this hotel will be completed?’
Daniel said, ‘Ready for painting in one week, and the final fretwork.’
‘You can have your staff back in within a fortnight,’ chimed in Brian.
Nods all round except Osaka, who picked at invisible dust on a door jam.
McClusky asked, ‘And Rockingham?’
‘On schedule. Daniel?’
‘On schedule, as agreed.’ They were looking at his arm. Daniel said, ‘Fortunately, I oversee the work now and no longer need to be quite so hands-on.’
‘Thankfully, this means Daniel will be sparing us his golfing talents this visit.’ Brian to the rescue again.
Smiles. Daniel happy to wear it. He was an angry golfer.
Osaka whispered to Johnson who said, ‘Mr Osaka asks after your family hotel.’
Daniel smiled. He couldn’t help bowing ever so slightly to Osaka. He said, ‘Very slowly. A labour of love.’
Osaka nodded wisely. He said something else in Japanese.
McClusky said, ‘Sheridan’s offer still stands.’
Osaka had made a number of offers to buy the old hotel. Daniel was having trouble finding polite ways to say no. He could feel Brian’s restlessness as everyone waited on Daniel’s response. Daniel smiled and said, ‘Mr Osaka and I have the same tastes.’
Osaka smiled for the first time. He bowed. The bigwigs went into the nearest room to inspect the refit.
Brian whispered, ‘They love us.’
‘And we love Sheridan.’
Daniel stood at the deli counter waiting for his change. He was in his favourite overalls, nicely plastered and paint-impregnated. The chicken roll and drink were in his sling, like a carry bag.
The owner said, ‘Home, mate?’
‘Nah. Do another run tonight maybe.’
‘Business must be good.’
‘I wish.’
Daniel took his dinner back to his ute and headed back to the workshop. He’d let the guys go at knock-off time, not knowing if they could cover overtime under the present circumstances. Brian was at dinner with the Sheridan mob and other contractors and hoteliers. Daniel figured he could turn out the moulds to finish drying overnight and get another load on before he headed off.
When he got to the side door, it was already unlocked. He twisted the handle a couple of times trying to remember if he had locked it before he left for dinner. He was tired. It was possible.
He put the Coke and roll on a bench and touched the nearest plaster. It seemed firm. When he straightened he noticed a blue glow from one of the upstairs offices. Someone had left a computer on. He grabbed the roll and wound down the foil and munched on it as he went up the steep stairs. His office was empty but his computer was on. He turned on his office light and went in, reaching for the mouse to close things down. It was parked on the Sheridan page. He scrolled down. It wasn’t just Sheridan. It was Brian’s overview of all their current accounts.
Daniel turned towards Brian’s office but the lights weren’t on and all Daniel could see was a reflection of himself in the glass divider. ‘Brian?’
Daniel looked the other way. Reception was dark. He closed his computer and grabbed a heavy metal T square from the drawing desk. He turned out his office light.
‘Brian?’
He went to the top of the stairs. The workshop floor was still down to a third lighting where he had left it when he went for food. Upstairs was darker but seemed empty.
He heard movement and looked down. A figure was running to the door.
‘Hey!’
They scrambled for the handle.
Daniel threw the T square. It spun like a boomerang and boomed loudly on the large metal wall before clattering onto the empty concrete floor.
They had the door open and were gone.
Daniel clambered down the metal steps, slowed by his bad arm, and ran out into the darkness. He stopped, just outside the door, scanning the yard. Like other factories, they had high security lights aimed at doors and gates but with lots of darkness in between. He heard an engine start. He saw the car up at the road. A four-wheel drive. It went past the gate. Blue.
Daniel headed for the ute, but dropped his keys, managing to kick them under as they fell. The blue car was long gone.
***
Helen woke alone but with a feeling someone was downstairs. Daniel’s clock showed 2.14.
She put on her dressing-gown and went along the hall, the nightlight a dull blue. Frances was asleep, her night-light on too. Sam was in bed, his covers fallen to the floor. The air conditioning was on, but the night was warm and his curtains moved slightly. He liked his window open. She went in and folded his doona at the end and pulled the sheet over him. He didn’t stir. He slept with a smile of perfect beauty and Helen wanted to stroke his face, but heard noise downstairs.
A light was on. It was Daniel’s home office. Helen went halfway down the stairs. ‘Daniel?’
She could hear his voice.
‘And I woke you?’ He listened. ‘You had to get up to get the phone anyway. Sorry. No, his mobile was off. Sorry. It’ll wait till morning. Goodnight Rosemarie.’ Daniel sat in his leather chair holding the telephone. He was dressed in his filthy overalls. He had his work boots on, in the house.
He saw her in the doorway and put the phone down. ‘I woke you too.’
She sat in the chair inside the door. ‘Big order on?’
‘Oh, you know,’ he said standing.
‘No, I don’t know. I got the sack from Hearth & Home when I got pregnant.’
‘You didn’t get the sack. You got promoted. I better get some sleep.’ He went to the door but she stayed sitting, seeing if he needed to or would share.
‘Come on, mate. It’s late,’ he said, patting her on the shoulder as he went out.
She followed him up, aware in spite of herself that he was leaving dusty boot tracks on the carpet of the stairs.
He sat on the end of the bed unlacing his boots expertly with one hand.
‘Mate!’ she said.
He looked up, blinking.
‘Well matey, I’ll catch you tomorrow, mate.’ She hung her dressing-gown on the hook behind the door.
‘What?’
‘Mate is what you call someone who hands you a hammer. Mate is the name of someone in a bottle shop.’
‘Ahh. Darling.’
‘And don’t bring your work boots into the house.’ She picked them up off the floor and took them into the ensuite.
He had moved over to his side of the bed when she came back. He was struggling to get out of his overalls with his back to her.
‘Is there trouble at work?’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘You don’t usually give Brian nighty-night calls at two a.m.’
‘His mobile was off. Otherwise I wouldn’t have woken Rosemarie.’
Helen considered his non sequitur.
He seemed to realise it because he said, ‘Nothing. Usual stuff. Deadlines. Banks.’
‘Now that wasn’t so hard was it?’
He didn’t turn around. He kept working on his overalls, managing to get them down.
‘Is that all?’
‘Sure. Just late and tired. That’s all.’ He turned and smiled. Yes, tiredly.
She climbed into bed and said, ‘Well thanks, mate.’
He’d gone into the ensuite. She wondered why she hadn’t helped him with his overalls.
***
They met at the bank where Bradley had called them to a mysterious meeting. Daniel told Brian what had happened at the factory the previous night as they waited amongst the customers.
‘Did you phone the cops?’
‘I tried to phone you, sheriff.’
