CHAPTER 8
NO MILK TODAY
Things were a bit tense at Number 65, Menzies Street, on Bribie Island. Close living in old terrace houses can be like that.
'Where’s that bloody milkman?' Bert Wiles demanded of his wife Alice.
'He's coming... he's coming. I heard him calling out "Milk-O!" when I was in the kitchen a few minutes ago.'
'I'll give him bloody "Milk-O!" if he doesn't get here quick smart,' Bert said, banging his fist on the table. 'This here temporary milkman is almost as bad as that other bugger - the regular man. When's he coming back from his holidays, anyway?'
'You mean Alfie?'
'Oh... Alfie, is it?'
'Yes... well, Alfie will be back from his holidays this Saturday. Banging the table and spilling your cornflakes all over the place isn't going to get the milk here any quicker - I can tell you that, for nothing!'
'There you go, Alice. You'll take anybody's part against me - you do! I must say I don't like the way that regular bloody milkman looks at you, neither.'
'What? “The way he looks at me”...' She stole a quick look at herself in the mirror – pushing her chest out, patting her hair. 'I really must get my hair done.’
'Yeah... yeah, him... him, as looks at you, like, like a dog looks at a bone. It's not nice. It's not decent... and I definitely don't like it. It’s got to stop I'm telling ya!'
'Don't be daft, don't.'
'I know that look. He thinks he's God's gift to women, he does. I don't know why. It's sure got me beat.'
'He's good looking, that's why.'
'Good looking? What him?'
'Course he is. He knows how to treat a woman. He talks to women in a nice... friendly sort o' way. I'll tell you this, he could give you a few lessons - you old misery guts!'
'Friendly way! Huh. I'll give him ‘friendly bloody way’ if I catch him getting too friendly with you - I will! And what's more, I thought I saw him touch you last week. That's definitely not on - right?'
'Touch me? He didn't touch me... well, not in a familiar, sort o’ way. He just touched me on the arm as people do... in the excitement of talking. That's all. Nothing wrong with that! Nothing at all.'
'Well, don't let him do it again! I mean it! Right? And what's more, you just make sure you're properly dressed next time he calls on Saturday for his money. None o’ this slopping around in a too-loose dressing gown - right? He'd better not touch you again - or... or I'll 'ave ím!'
'You? Hah! That'll be the day.'
'This ‘ere milkmen had better be a bit more prompt with their bloody deliveries from now on - or I shall report ‘em... for, for... hanging about, when they’re supposed to be working.'
'Yeah? Well, don't! I'm not having you reporting this temporary milkman - just because he likes to stop and have the odd cup of tea with Alfie’s brother Brian, who just happens to live next door. That's only being human, that is. If you were him and if, you were human... you'd do just the same.’
'Odd cup of tea, did you say? He always stops there - every bloody day! Meanwhile... meanwhile, I'm left waiting. Waiting for me breakfast. I wouldn't mind, if his brother lived down the other end of the street, well past our place.'
'Oh, no? No you wouldn't mind that - would you? Typical! You only think of yourself. That's your trouble, that is. If you're that flipping desperate for your breakfast - why don't you have some toast?'
'But I don't want toast, woman! I want my cornflakes. I shouldn't have to eat toast just to suit him! No jumped up, oversexed, milkman has any right to deny me having the breakfast I want!'
'I'll just have to buy more milk then and then we might have some left in the flaming mornings.'
'But we shouldn't have to buy more milk, because of ‘im! That's the whole bloody point, don't you see? Anyway, I don't want yesterday's milk today. I want today's milk today!'
'Well I give up. Really I do! Anyway, I'm off shopping,' she said, grabbing her handbag - then pausing for a moment to ask: 'Want anything, from the shops - do you?'
'Yeah... a gun.'
'Oh, shut up, do!' she snapped as she stormed out the door.
A little later, hearing the call: "Milk-O!" Bert hurried from the kitchen, through the long hallway to the front the door, meaning to give the milkman a right tongue-lashing for being late; but he wasn't quite quick enough - the milkman had been and gone. Disappointed that he had missed his opportunity, he picked up the milk, emptied the mailbox and went back indoors.
After eating his breakfast he fetched a knife from the kitchen and slit the envelopes open, one by one. Then, discarding the envelopes in the waste bin, he started to sort the mail. Telephone bill, insurance renewal and a charity request. There were just two private letters, one from his cousin in England. Hello... hello, ‘what's this?’ he thought, as he found himself reading a postcard from Hayman Island.
DEAR BRIAN,
HAVING A GREAT TIME WITH THE LOCAL TALENT, BUT CAN'T WAIT TO COME HOME. I RECKON THE GOOD LOOKING REDHEAD NEXT DOOR IS JUST ABOUT RIPE FOR THE PICKING. I THINK I MIGHT BE ON A PROMISE THERE. MATE, I'VE JUST GOT TO HAVE A BIT OF THAT.
REGARDS. ALFIE.
Damn it! He hadn't noticed it was a miss-sort. The card he was holding was obviously intended for Brian
next door. Here was that cheeky swine Alfie, that over-bloody-sexed, regular milkman - brazenly telling his brother he was planning to seduce the redhead next door when he came home and the woman next door to Brian, could only be... my Alice!
He didn't know whether to laugh or cry at first. But when the serious nature of that bold statement was added to his recent suspicion that his wife might be flirting with Alfie, he knew he had arrived at decisive moment in his life. He had to do something.
There was no way he could just deliver the card and pretend it had never happened. The question of whether he should fight to prevent his wife's infidelity occupied his mind for the rest of the morning. By the afternoon, he had come to a firm decision; he could not, would not, allow this deception and any attempt at seduction to happen. By the evening, he had also decided just how he would do it!
When Alice returned home, he said nothing about the card or his suspicions. It was not until after dinner that night that he made his first move.
'Look, love,' he said, with a smile. 'I'm sorry I went a bit, you know... off the handle this morning. All over that there Alfie bloke - the sexy milkman. I didn't mean anything by it.'
'That's alright, I'm used to your jealous tantrums.'
'No. No, I want to make it up to you, dear.' He took out his wallet and laid two fifty dollar notes on the table. 'I want you to take this here and go to Brisbane and see your poor old mum for the weekend. Take the car. Go tonight. I'm sure she will be pleased to see you. Perhaps you could get her some nice flowers or something on the way?'
'Oh, Bert. That is nice of you. What a good idea! But why don't you come too?'
'Ah... well, I'd like to love, I really would. But there's the dog, the cat, the budgie, the fish... it's the old problem: who's going to look after them? It's too much trouble finding pet minders for just a couple o' nights. Besides, I've got to get on with that new patio I'm building you out the back - haven't I? The weather's real good and I thought I might make an effort to get the concrete down this weekend. I'm anxious to get the job done. With you out of the way, I won’t have to worry about the mess until the job’s finished.'
'Oh, that makes sense - of course it does. Alright, I'm not going to argue,' she said, taking the money. 'I’ll just give Mum a quick ring and see if it suits. If it does, I'll go straight away - shall I?'
'Yes. Yes, why don't you do that, love? Don't mess about and you'll get there before dark. Go on call her now.'
The proposed visit was alright with her mum and off Alice went.
Early next morning, the Saturday that Alfie would be back, calling to collect the milk money, Bert sat on a chair close to
the front door. There was a claw-hammer placed nice and handy on the telephone table nearby. He sat, watching the clock, waiting, waiting…
The longer he waited, the more the anger and the tension welled up within him. Eventually, late as usual, there came the familiar sound he was waiting for as Alfie left his brother's house next-door, picked up his little wire basket full of milk cartons from the back of the truck and, turning towards Bert's house, crying out "Milk-O!"
Bert quickly snatched the door open just as Alfie was bending to place the milk down on the doorstep and put his left hand on his shoulder. Alfie couldn't move to straighten up and before he could say anything or make any sound at all, Bert brought the hammer he held in his right hand, down hard - smashing into Alfie's skull with a soft, sickening thud!
One blow was all he needed. Grabbing the limp, lifeless, body by the arms, Bert quickly dragged it in and down the hallway to the back door, then out into the back garden - and rolled it into a shallow grave he had dug earlier in the floor area of the new patio he was constructing. Then he went back in to the house to clean up a few spots of blood and some drag-marks on the carpet. When he was satisfied that everything looked perfectly normal, he went out to the back garden and tossed the hammer in with the body. He went back inside, changed his work clothes and took the old ones outside and dumped them too. Then he went back outside again where he switched on a small cement mixer he'd hired and began mixing the concrete for the patio floor.
By the end of the day he had completed the job - a nice, neat job it is too - he thought. By the time Alice came home, late on the Sunday afternoon, there were nice, new, brick pavers on top of the concrete and Bert had just finished grouting them. Alice was most impressed!
'Bert, it looks lovely, absolutely wonderful,' she said - giving him a quick kiss!
'I suppose you had a good time - did you?' he asked. 'You and your mum catch up with all the gossip - did you, eh?'
'Oh, not half,' Alice replied. ‘Here, you know that Alfie... our milkman? Well, he also serves one of Mum's old friends around here - a lady that Mum keeps in touch with by phone. Anyway, she told Mum - now listen to this....' she paused to take a few things out of her bag.
'Get on with it, woman!' he prompted her.
'I am. I am. She told Mum that Alfie was having it off with his next door neighbour! Oh, can you believe that?'
'What? What did you say? Him having it off with his neighbour, or his brother's neighbour?'
'Oh, don't be silly! I said his next-door neighbour! His brother doesn't come into it! You don't listen - do you?'
She paused for a moment, not noticing the stunned look on Bert's face. 'Hey! I'd like to be there when he has to confess, you know, what he's been up to - to his wife, I mean. Wouldn't you?'
'No. No, I wouldn't. I don't think he'll confess to anything, ever. He’s not the sort. Anyway, he didn't come today, so I've rung the dairy and cancelled the milk. I've had enough of it. I'll get our milk somewhere else in future and haven't you got anything else to talk about? I've had enough of bloody milkmen. I wish I'd never met that randy bastard. I hope he rots in Hell, er… one day, that is.'
'Don't talk like that - anybody would think he was dead now! Want some hot drinking chocolate?'
'Can't.'
'Why?'
'No milk today!'
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