The Property Manager: You'll never rent again... (26 page)

Back to the days of your life.

You remained silent while scumbag blubbered to his wife. He looks quite ridiculous sans hair.

“I’ve fallen in love with Grace.”

“That’s not love…it’s lust. She’s the town whore and you are like a stupid spider caught in her trap.”

“That’s not true.” Your voice was a whisper. Your face still bloodless and expressionless.

The bowling ball just shrugged and said lamely, “I’m sorry.”

“What about your daughter? How can you do this to her?”

“I’m leaving you. Not my daughter.” He glared at her as forcefully as he was able which was about as forceful as a light breeze. One could not help but see that he was terrified of her. It was as if he had, for the first time, defied his mother, who was now staring at him over the bridge of her glasses, contemplating what sort of punishment would be taken.

“What do you have to say for yourself, Grace? Is this how you treat your best friend? By stealing her husband?”

You looked as if she’d slapped you.

“I’m not your best friend….and I don’t know what to say, other than, I love Andrew and I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

You didn’t sound too apologetic. There was no remorse or warmth or sympathy in your eyes. You were not bowing down and submitting to her and the cool set of your jaw, told her that she couldn’t break you with guilt.

“You will not see your daughter again, if you stay with this woman.” Amanda stated in an almost sing-song voice. Na-nana- na- na!

“She’s not a thing to be withheld and used here, Amanda. Don’t do that. I love her and she loves me. That relationship is fine…it’s ours that’s broken.”

“There is nothing wrong with us. You are just being selfish and going through some early mid-life crisis. I really think you need to see a psychiatrist.”

“Oh, please!” You groaned.

The wife ignored you and kept on at her husband, trying everything to make him snap and come back to her.

“I am willing to forgive you Andrew. I’m willing to take you back. That’s a big deal. If you walk away from this place, you’ll have your family back…. The choice is yours. You stay – I will screw you over so badly – I will make sure that your daughter, your parents and all your friends want nothing to do with you. You will lose everything! What? All for a piece of arse?”

I could see the adulterer’s thoughts swirling through his mind. His eyes looked like those of a rabbit, with a fox on one side and an embankment on the other side. He couldn’t tell how great the fall was or whether there was a chance of survival. The fox was promising forgiveness and he had to decide whether to believe that and go on living in a state of fear or to turn and jump to freedom, not knowing if the fall was a safe one metre or a fatal two hundred metre drop.

   You could hear the ticking of the imaginary clock that always seems to be in the background for a momentous decision.

You and the other woman stood on either side of him, the suspense was building like steam in a pressure cooker. The wife snapped first, unable to contain her anticipation. She had decided not to give him the power to decide any longer. He had taken too much time already.

“Your daughter will be arriving home from school any minute. Do you want me to walk home and tell her that you’ve decided that you love the “town bike” more than her? Or you can drive me home. We can be grown up and civil and we can sit down and explain the situation to her like responsible adults.”

“It seems you have decided that is what’s happening.” Your man sounded like a wet Chihuahua.

Poor Gracie. Your little face melted sadly off your face. He came and put his arms around you as the wife stormed out of the house.

“Don’t go with her,” you begged. “I don’t trust her.”

That was funny coming from “the other woman” to her cheating lover.

“I’ll be back. I promise. I am so sure now.”

You buried your head in his chest and he mussed your red hair.

“I won’t back-peddle, Gracie.”

A bicycle metaphor – how apt.

“I owe this to my daughter. I want her to understand. I want her to know that I love her and that nothing has changed between us. She can come and play here. She likes you and Harry. It’ll all be good.”

You stood and watched him go out the front door, listened to the roar of the truck up the driveway and went straight to the telephone. Jenny wasn’t there of course because she was picking your child up from school.

GET YOUR CAR RE-REGISTERED.

You are unravelling Grace. You’re looking a bit haggard. The stress of being a deceitful mistress is taking its toll. You have bags under your eyes, your hair is limp and a bit dull and you’re putting on some flab around the haunches.

You paced up and down the dining room, peered out at the alpacas. Opened a kitchen drawer and took out a packet of cigarettes. I’m very disappointed. It’s one thing to have the odd social cigarette, another altogether to buy your own packet.

You smoked it fast. Puffing like a steam train.

You have been very bad. Standing up to that woman with no trace of sympathy for all the pain YOU have inflicted upon her. She thinks you are her best friend which I know you think is insanity but it is still very sad.

You will need to be punished for your management of the situation this afternoon. If you let him move into your life, like a common-law husband, that will be the end of our friendship and it will not go well for you. I promise you that.

Jenny arrived a few minutes later with another bottle of champagne. You silly women don’t realise that the crap you drink is no more real champagne, than cat piss. It’s cheap sparkling wine. Real champagne comes from France and there is nothing French about the cheap stuff you guzzle.

You filled in Jenny on the latest developments. She was shocked beyond belief.

“Bald?”

You nodded and shook your head.

“He looks ridiculous.”

The two of you laughed. You began to smile as you told her how wonderful you felt when he told you that he loved you and that Van Morrison’s “Someone exactly like You,” was playing in the background.

“When will he be back?”

“Don’t know. It’ll take a while to explain to his little girl. That’s going to be tough for him and for her. She’s bright though and I’m sure she’s sensed that something was not right.”

The two of you drank on through the afternoon and chain smoked like housing commission slags. Jenny left, drink-driving her girls all the way home and you went and lay down in the bedroom, leaving Harry to watch television. When do your big boys come home? They are missing a lot of school and I do think you are being very irresponsible. I have decided to send a representative from the Department of Children’s Services to visit you. They might like to look at some of your parenting skills, or lack thereof, and come up with some strategies. I do hope you get to keep your boys. That, my dear, is my punishment for this last transgression.

You lit a candle in your room and put it by the bed, dressed in a pale blue baby-doll nightie and went to bed early. Harry fixed himself some toast and went to bed on the couch. I heard your phone ring but didn’t have my bug ear-piece in and couldn’t quite make out the message that was left on the machine. You are deeply asleep not to have heard it.

At eleven I noticed in horror that the candle had burnt down and set your lavender potpourri alight. There was a mini-bonfire on your bedside table. You stirred but I needed to act fast. I grabbed my mobile and rang your number. It rang and rang…. Three, four, five rings and then you opened your eyes, looking disoriented for a moment. You saw the fire and leapt up, running to the bathroom. You grabbed a glass by the sink, filled it with water and ran back. It wasn’t quite enough to douse the flames, so you picked up your cardigan off the floor and smothered the flames. Thick smoke hung in the air and you sat down, exhausted by the ordeal. Looking across at the clock, you scratched your head and looked perplexed. Where was your lover? I could see the question forming in your head.

You stood up and went to leave the room, before giving the smoke alarm and frown, murmuring “thanks a lot” to it as you walked by. What a perfect shot. I can use that brilliantly, in my film.

I switched to the camera in your computer room. You went there to check if there were any messages. The little light flashed 1.1.1.1 and I could see your eyes shut and your heart sink. You pressed play and this is what your heard.

“Grace. It’s Andrew. I guess by now you know that I am not coming back. I made a big mistake this afternoon. My family mean too much to me and I realise that it was just a silly infatuation that we had. I’m sorry to have put you through this. I’ve been having some kind of breakdown and I haven’t been thinking right for the last few weeks. Bye.”

You played it twice and then erased it and went back to bed. You lay there for a long time before closing your eyes. You are in pain, Grace. I can see that.  But it is for the best and I for one am EXTREMELY RELIEVED. That is the end of that. You will forget all about this in time. I will help you.

Good night.

Wednesday 5
th
August

It was my mother’s birthday today. I have a letter here from her solicitor. I didn’t even know she had one. She left her entire estate to Vicki Thorne nee Vulture.  I just snarled and thought “rot in hell you old hag.” She had nothing of value and I’d already taken what I wanted so WHO CARES? NOT ME!!!

Will you be at work? We’ll see.

6:00 on the dot.

You little trooper. You went to work sporting a very brave face. I see you’ve taken your car to Nick the mechanic. That can mean only one thing. You are on route to the registry office after getting the clearance and pink slip from him. Bat your eyes and I’m sure he’ll oblige.

I flipped out when I saw the ex-lover arrive at the surgery on his new bike. So much so, that I left the office and went straight across the road to find out what was transpiring.

You sat behind the front desk with a pair of tinted glasses on your face. His royal baldness looked like he’d been run over by a bus and was handing you an envelope. I hung back at the door. You thrust a folded piece of paper back at him and said coldly –

“This is for you.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered under his breath.

“I’m sorry I met you,” was all you had to say and went back to the computer.

He skulked out, without even noticing me. I stood there for a minute and then moved forward and coughed. You looked up.

“Hi,” you said flatly.

“About the rent…” I began and you nodded seriously.

“This week. Sorry. I’ve been all over the place.”

“I know, like at Pretty Beach. That was uncanny, bumping into you and what’s her name?”

“Jenny. How was your sister?”

“Good. She’s doing well. It’s a nice spot, isn’t it?

“Hmmm.”

“Any chance of a quick consultation with John?” I whined and pointed to my ear.

You looked through the bookings and then sighed.

“Just take a seat, Jack. I’ll squeeze you in next, if you promise to be quick. If he starts talking about the weather or showing you stuff on his computer just say you’re in a hurry.”

“I promise.” I put a hand to my heart.

I took the nearest seat and strained a little in the chair to watch you read the letter you’d been given. I heard the word ‘bastard’ slip from your lips and I smiled. It really was all over.

I breezed through the afternoon at work, feeling like the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders.

Thursday 6th August

Morning

Not a cloud in the sky. Got the sun in my eye and I don’t actually remember how the words go. I rang Department of Child Services yesterday and put in an anonymous complaint about your substandard parenting.  I think you need a kick up the backside in that regard and they might just scare you into behaving like a responsible mother.

Life is a set of balancing scales and it is not my fault that you slipped and nearly let that man become your de facto lover. You will realise how desperate and silly you were. Little punishments I throw your way will help to work as signposts. Things will go wrong when you go the wrong way but very, very right when you stay on track.

Already you have been very accommodating and went out of your way to let me see the doctor. You don’t do that for everybody, do you Grace? This was definitely special treatment for me. That, my dearest will not go unrewarded.

BIG NEWS! No sign of any Moorebank DNA was found in my car. No blood. No hot chips. No fibres of whatever fibres are fibres of. All clear. “For now” the cops pointed out carefully. I guess I’m still a suspect but perhaps a little more so now.