Read Morning Tea Near Mitchelton Page 3

CHAPTER 3

  THE FAX OF LIFE

  Roger McDowd, well known in Brisbane city circles for his long years of building up successful property investment companies, had invited his son Brian and wife Marilyn over for dinner.

  He hadn't really been looking forward to tonight - it wasn't a decision he had made freely. Brian had been angling for an invitation for some time now and he had simply run out of excuses, but not because he didn't get on with his son and daughter-in-law. Brian was alright, he thought, when you got to know him and you were able to accept the fact that he was little more than a money-grubbing little shit, who would rob his own grandmother - given half a chance.

  As for Marilyn, his wife? Well, she was a beautiful, intelligent, young woman who had probably only made one serious mistake in her life - and that was to marry Brian!

  The door opened, and Marilyn said: 'Coffee's ready. Are you two coming?'

  'Don't you know how to knock? Damn you,’ exploded Brian. ‘Dad and I are talking business here, big business! We'll come when we're ready an' not before! Now get the Hell out!'

  Marilyn, without a word, stepped back and closed the door behind her.

  Brian was rebuked by his father. 'You shouldn't tear into her like that. She meant no harm, you know.'

  'No? Well... , you'd think that after ten years of marriage she would have learnt something, Dad.’

  'Yes, but...'

  'No buts, Dad. She's fast turning into something of a liability for me. It’s frightening. I never know what she might overhear - and if she did, well... what she might tittle-tattle all over town. It's a worry. Honestly, Dad, she doesn't know what the word ‘discreet’ means - I've learnt that lesson.'

  'Oh, come on now, you exaggerate.'

  'I wish I did! Unfortunately I have to struggle, constantly struggle, to keep my business life and my private life in two separate, water tight, compartments. When she does transgress, I have to discipline her. I really do! It's the only way. If I didn't, she'd bring the whole of my business life, the damn lot - down like a pack of cards. Not pleasant. Not pleasant at all, but that's just the way it is.'

  'But she is your wife, a good wife too.'

  'In the bedroom, Dad. In the bedroom, not in the boardroom!’

  'All the same,’ said Roger, ‘I think we had better go and have that coffee. I can't afford to upset my housekeeper. They're harder to handle than wives any day. One false move and they're out, or demanding higher pay... or compensation, or something like that.'

  The dinner had gone off reasonably well. Marilyn was the kind of hard-done-by woman who could shrug off the most awful treatment at the hands of her husband and still go on to play the dutiful wife in public; no doubt keeping her tears held well back for shedding in her own private time. At the end of a very pleasant meal, prepared and served by Roger's long-term housekeeper, Mrs Grace Mills, Brian dismissed his wife from the table by insisting she go tidy her make-up. When she had left the room and he had helped himself to his father's best port, he loosened his tie and lit a rather over-large cigar.

  'You know, Dad, I want to buy you something big, for your birthday. Yes, something really big, a car... a boat... a house... something like that. Fifty-five is some big number, Dad. It's got to be celebrated with a big gift - don't you reckon? It's the time when a successful man should be making plans. Not plans to land more and more big deals. No, Dad, plans to sit back and enjoy the fruits of all those big deals that have gone before! Eh? What do you reckon? Come on, Dad. Come clean, are you going to retire - or not? How about sinking all those office rumours of retirement and come out with it? Issue a statement, proudly, boldly… hmm? Tell the world you're retiring and that you are appointing me as the new chief honcho.’

  'Well, I...'

  'Well, what, Dad? You're hesitating and hesitation is not what made you successful in business - is it? So let's have it!'

  'Well... I'm thinking about it.'

  'Thinking? Thinking what? Thinking I can't handle it? You don't have faith in your own son? For Christ’s sake, Dad. Haven't I proved myself in the market place? Haven't I added value, big value - to all the damn companies that you've had me working on? What more do you want, Dad? You want my blood?'

  'Shut it, son. Now you be careful. I don't want any of your tantrums here, not in my house! Not now, not ever - and don't you forget it!'

  'Look... we've got to talk this thing out, Dad! It won't go away. Rumours are rife, about you packing it in and I think it's affecting our share price.’

  'Maybe, son. Maybe, but we're not talking about that now, not when you're as pissed as a newt! Sherry before dinner, wine with it, then brandy and a large port after, does not make firm bedding for discussions on the building of new empires! You've learnt a lot son, I'll grant you that. But there are still a few odd things here and there that you have to master yet. One of them is to take control of your liquor consumption; the other is to take control of your temper. Without control over those two things you're like, like a ship with an anchor chain that's always two-fathoms short of the ocean floor. One destined to drift through life and never actually arrive anywhere.'

  'Then how come you've got this far, Dad, eh? I don't think you've exactly sailed through life on a ‘dry ship’ - have you? Who do you think you're kidding, other than yourself?'

  The door opened and Marilyn re-entered and said softly, 'Ready for coffee, now - are we?'

  'No. No, I don't think so, darling. I think it's best we leave now and get an early night. I've got an important business meeting at nine sharp in the morning. Father's a bit tired, damn tired! He won't admit it, of course, being the old war horse he is.’ Brian staggered a bit as he got up to move towards Marilyn at the door. 'You know what they do to... to old war horses, do you, darling? Well, when their time's up, they take them out and shoot the buggers: bang! Now, where's my bloody coat, woman?'

  'In the hall, darling, where you left it!’ said Marilyn. ‘Goodnight, Roger.’

  'Goodnight, Marilyn. I say, before you go, I was thinking of asking you over one day to discuss re-decorating this place. I need a woman's eye to help me with that kind of thing.'

  'I'll be in town Friday, if that's alright?'

  'Good. Great. See you then.'

  'I'll give you a ring later and let you know what time. Bye...'

  The following Friday, Marilyn, after a reminder from Roger, arrived as agreed. Roger welcomed her at the door.

  'Come in. Come in, I'm so pleased you could make it.' He took her into the lounge. 'Now then, my dear,' he said kindly, 'there really is no need for sunglasses in here, you know - is there?'

  'Oh, it's, it's just that my eyes are... a bit tired.'

  'Ohhh, I've got these lovely colour swatches of paint and fabric for you to look at. But first, do come and sit down and have some of Mrs Mills’ delicious coffee, hot and fresh! There's a good girl,' he said, leading her to the settee.

  'Now then, what has that awful son of mine done to you this time?' he asked, leaning forward and gently removing her sunglasses. 'Oh my God, that's a nasty shiner you've got there!'

  'Oh...' she said, 'it's just the usual... bullying, argument.'

  'Hmm, a bit of a one-sided argument, by the look of it - eh? I don't suppose you managed to get in a good solid blow to his jaw, or some other important part of his anatomy, did you?'

  'No.'

  'I thought not. A pity. Damned if I know where he gets it from. Me and his mother, God rest her soul, we had rows... lots of them, but we never, ever, came to blows. Probably because she was a bit bigger than me. I would have lost!'

  'Oh! You're such a nice, kind, gentle, considerate, man. I can't imagine you hitting a woman. You're not at all like him, perhaps I should have married the father instead of the son.'

  'Well, if you ever leave him, just remember I'm first in line! Now, seriously, you really shouldn't put up with it. I don't know why you
do. You've no children. Why not leave the beast? He doesn't deserve you, you're a damn good wife and a damn good business woman. That cosmetics company we set up together, without his knowledge, is an excellent little earner. I shouldn't be surprised if we get an offer ‘we can't afford to refuse’ from one of the giant international conglomerates one day. Maybe one day quite soon, eh? Then you'll be a millionaire in your own right. That'll be one in the eye for him, won't it? Then he'll want half, when he finds out, won't he? So why not leave him now? It would be the sensible thing to do, before the money starts rolling in – in bucket loads.'

  'I won't deny, I have thought about... leaving him.'

  'Then do it!'

  'I can't. I... I think I still love him.'

  'Oh, you're not really sure about that – not now, are you, eh? That's a good sign.'

  'Enough said about me and my problems. What is all this about re-decorating? I've heard the rumours about you retiring, are you? 'Course if you are, then it probably means that we are not decorating for you, but for someone, as yet unnamed: the new buyer.'

  'My God, you're a shrewd lady! How my son could be so thick as to not see that is quite beyond me.'

  'Is it still a secret then, your retirement plans?'

  'Has to be. You know, as well as I do, that such intimate and personal details have an altogether unreal effect on share market prices. If one allows such things to leak out prematurely, well... it can make a nasty hole in one's retirement nest egg.'

  'It has to become public sometime.'

  'Ah, yes. But the secret, my dear, is to cash-in one's family shares before any price slump that may follow such a move. Not that one can be sure the price will slump.'

  'No, but the transfer of assets from your - shall we say... steady, guiding hand, to those of your most impetuous son.'

  'Exactly! If the market sees it like that then, Bingo! It’s down the tubes we go...'

  'Hardly a nice thought.'

  'No and not just for me. There's also all those other investors, big and small, some very small; some people's life savings and all that sort of thing. You know, it frightens me: the thought that a simple announcement of my retirement could possibly cause other people grief, any grief at all. But the truth is, some of the smaller ones just might get…'

  'Wiped out?'

  'Yes. Yes, I'm desperately trying to avoid that. But I'm not sure if I can.'

  'Well, I'm afraid you can't and you really shouldn't have to worry about other people. If they choose to play the market then big or small, they know - or, at least, should know, it's gambling. It's tantamount to playing roulette.'

  'You're right, as usual. You are a very sane woman. Next, you're going to tell me it's time to look after Numero Uno.'

  'Absolutely! You're supposed to be the big shot here, the wise one. You shouldn't need me to give you lessons. I remember you wrote to me once, years ago when I first started share trading. You said something..., something about, what was it? Never forget the market is a dog-eat-dog environment. Yes and always check and double check assets before putting a value on a company and its share price. I think you called it: ‘The Fax of Life’!’

  'Ah, you remember all that, do you? Good. But, it doesn't hurt now and again to seek a little reassurance, you know. That's what friends are for.'

  'Fair enough, nobody knows the rules of the game better than you. Meanwhile, you keep planning that final strategy, eh? Don't let Brian get an inkling of what you're up to. Keep him in the dark, he can wait...we can all wait. The whole damn business world can wait. That's what being a tycoon is all about - right?’

  'Right again, my dear. I sure trained you right!’

  'Good. I agree. Now, how about we put all that business talk aside, and concentrate on the actual business in hand. Which is...'

  'How to lift the value of this place without over capitalising.'

  'Yes. For a start, we won't repaint.'

  'No?'

  'No. The paint's not too bad. I think it should come up pretty good, with a good wash down. The drapes on the other hand...'

  'Too daggy?'

  'No, not too daggy - not exactly. Just a bit, dated - the materials, the colours. Not the right image for your typical up-and-coming young executive. I tell you what, why don't I take your sample swatches home with me?

  Now I know what you have in mind, I'd like to give it a bit of thought. We can talk again next week. Is that alright?'

  'Fine.'

  'Good. Then I must dash.'

  'Again, I'm really sorry...' Roger kissed her lightly on both cheeks, '…for what he's done to your beautiful face. If you must keep up this sparring, please take some lessons in fancy foot-work, my dear.'

  'Thanks, but it's the last time. I've stressed that and I don't think he'll do it again - even he was shocked when he saw what he'd done to me, this morning.'

  'Good. I hope you keep to that. Well, goodbye, my dear...'

  'Bye, Roger. See you next week.'

  Roger felt better after talking to Marilyn, he always did. Then he threw himself into busily sorting out his business interests in preparation for his forthcoming retirement. His stock holdings were extensive and there was a lot of work to do. But once he had a clear plan in his mind, he was able to hand over most of the more detailed and mundane transactions and preparation of documentation to his lawyers, accountants and stockbrokers. The following Friday, Marilyn arrived as promised; this time sporting a bandaged left hand.

  'My God, woman! What's that beastly son of mine done to you now? Come. Sit down, please.'

  'Even I can't believe it! Last night, we had another row. He, as usual, accusing me of touching his business papers and of leaking all his most private business wheeling and dealing secrets, as an excuse for something - I don't even know what, that went wrong. I denied everything. We carried the argument with us into the kitchen. I thought he was going to make coffee, but he... he grabbed my hand, held it over the sink... and grabbing the kettle, he poured the near boiling hot water over my hand.'

  'The bastard! I'll kill him! Kill him!' Roger drew Marilyn to him and comforted her in his arms, as she sobbed her weary heart out. 'You're not going back there to... to him. I won't let you.'

  'But I must. I... I was so angry, this morning, that when I went in his study, I trashed his desk! I sat down on the floor, covered with papers and cried. I found myself looking at, at some papers that shocked me!'

  'What… shocked you? What do you mean?'

  'He's... he's apparently gambled away, I don't know exactly how much; an awful lot of his money and mine.'

  'The fool! The idiot! How many times have I told him: Isn't the market enough of a gamble?'

  'He owes this huge amount of money to creditors, left, right and centre. And... and he's promised them, in writing; to pay it all off, with a big sell off of companies, when he takes over.'

  'So, now we know why he's been pushing me so hard to retire.'

  'Yes and his creditors are pushing even harder. Baying for blood.'

  'Right, well... all is not lost. I have some good news.'

  'Oh, good. Will it please me too?'

  'I hope so. I really do. I've got a buyer for this place and he likes it just the way it is! What's more, when I told him what an excellent housekeeper dear Mrs Mills is, he said he was happy to keep her on.'

  'Wonderful! What is he? An up-and-coming young executive?'

  'Not exactly. More like one who is already up there, you know, more my age.'

  'Terrific.'

  'There's a bit more...'

  'Oh? What?'

  'Ever heard of a place called Acapulco?'

  'Yes, of course. Elvis Presley used to play around with girls in grass skirts on the beach there, didn't he?'

  'Possibly, my dear. The all-important thing is, I've bought a marvellous beach house down there, with an absolutely stunning view over the ocean. For
some time now I've been transferring most of my money to a security deposit in El Grande Banco, or something like that. These minor details I always leave to my financial experts, you'll understand.'

  'Of course. Then you are retiring - when?'

  'Well, it was going to be next week. But, in view of developments, that is, personal injuries currently in view - I'm prepared to make it today!'

  'You want to involve me in this?'

  'Involve you, my dear? Yes, indeed. I want you to come with me. The weather is absolutely beautiful in Mexico today - I know, I've checked and just about every day, come to think of it.'

  'Me? With… with you? You serious?'

  'Why not? Any reason we could not be, what's commonly called ‘consenting adults’? I mean, I've never hidden the fact that I love and admire you. You can't possibly go back to that beastly son of mine! I won't let you. If it's the age factor, well, I know you're a bit older than Brian - about ten years at a guess, am I right?'

  'Yes, but...'

  'We had Brian, you see, when I was just twenty, did you know that? Which means the age difference between us is not so great, as my balding head might, at first glance, suggest.'

  'I, I think you look very distinguished. But...'

  'What am I offering? Well, my dear, I'll tell you. Love - mature love, honesty, devotion, sincerity, absolutely no playing around, or anything like that. All the money you could ever want or wish for.’

  'Yes, but...'

  'A beautiful house, a wonderful climate. All the clothes, jewellery you could ever wish for. A new car every year, if you like, a boat, a plane and holidays. Great holidays, in all the worlds’ most fabulous resorts. You still get to run your cosmetics company and dabble, you and I together, perhaps... in stocks and shares on the internet! Please say yes, Marilyn? You don't have to marry me - although that would really make me happy. Just come as my companion - separate bedrooms if you like. I can wait for you to love me. I've waited all these years. A little longer won’t hurt me. What do you say?'

  'I... I really don't know what to say.'

  'Say...Yes! Your passport is current, my dear, isn’t it?'

  'Yes, yes it is.'

  'Good. Great. I've made preliminary bookings for a flight out of here at six o'clock tonight. Sorry, but I had to do that on the off chance, before asking. I hope you understand. Just nip home, that's a dear and pick up your passport. Nothing else! No need to pack, leave everything. We'll buy everything new when we get there. Isn't that fun?'

  'Fun...yes. Yes, but what about Brian? I couldn't just... go. Not without letting him know I'm alright. He's down in Sydney for the next couple of days.'

  'Do you really think he'll care?'

  'Yesterday I would have said yes. Today, I'm not so sure.'

  'I'll send him a fax. See, I've prepared two in advance. The first one reads:

  HAVING LISTENED CAREFULLY TO YOUR ADVICE, I'M RETIRING AS OF NOW. CONTROL OF ALL MAJOR COMPANIES ARE BEING TRANSFERRED TO YOUR NAME. MY ACCOUNTANT AND SOLICITORS WILL CONTACT YOU SHORTLY. LOVE DAD.

  PS: MARILYN IS TRAVELLING WITH ME TO RECUPERATE IN ACUPULCO. I'M SURE YOU WILL UNDERSTAND - AND WISH US WELL.’

  'The second fax is the same... but omits the PS. Which one shall I send, my dear?'

  'Wait a minute. If you're leaving him control of all those companies, won't he be the one with all the money, while we're swanning around Mexico with holes in our pants?'

  ‘No. It's... ah, not quite like that. You see, I have a confession to make: I've been systematically stripping those companies of their major assets and selling them off for cash. Nothing illegal, mind.'

  'Don't tell me, the money's all stashed away neatly in El Grande Banco.'

  'Right! I always said you were a smart girl. He'll still be rich, mind, just not as rich as he would like. That's all. So? What do you say, my darling? Which fax am I to send?'

  'Oh... Numero Uno, I think.'

  'Numero Uno - Number one! Great! Although I do rather think that's Italian, my dear. Never mind. Spanish

  lessons can come later.' Roger grabbed her and kissed her lovingly, he couldn't help himself. 'Oh, I'm feeling ten years younger already!'

  'Steady on. I think we had better arrange for you to have a complete physical check-up before we talk any more about marriage. I have no wish to be a rich widow overnight.'

  'Of course, my dear. Fair enough. Always the practical one, aren't you? Still, caution; as important in love as in business, eh?'

  'True. Very true.'

  'But what about Brian? Are we being too hard on the boy? Will what we are about to do, make him, or break him? I wish I knew for sure. He's still my son, I'll still worry about him. I hope, in time, he will find some woman he can treat decently and that way, find love and happiness. You can understand that, my dear?'

  'Yes. I wouldn't expect anything else from a good man and a good father, like you.'

  'He'll be alright, don't you think? I mean, I didn't know about those creditors pushing him when I planned all this. But, Hell - if he's as resourceful as he thinks he is and as we judge him to be, he should pull through. He'll certainly have a much better start in standing on his own two feet; more than I ever did.'

  'Yes, of course, Roger darling,' said Marilyn, getting up and readying herself to go. She paused briefly and turned and bent over and kissed him on his head. 'I don't think it will do dear Brian, any harm, any harm at all - learning The Fax of Life...'