Tara s Bayou Level 1 Fresh Meat
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Joe looked around the workshop, particularly pleased at how he had kept it humming along. The hammering of metal and the screech of the grinders played a pleasing harmony for his ears and the smell of fresh enamel coming from the paint booth made him smile.
In his usual discreet way, after warning the staff not to mention Jennifer, he had taken care to hide her car at the back of the workshop so Peter wouldn’t see it when he returned. Joe was pleased. His thoughtfulness was a kind action to protect Peter.
His smile became broader as he watched one of the female apprentices scurrying to collect a buffing machine to finalize a paint job. The second apprentice was working with a mechanic removing a radiator and had a smear of black grease across her youthful face.
The only admission of their femininity was the cap each wore to protect her hair.
His thoughts roamed back to when Peter and he had interviewed the girls and Peter had insisted on signing them up as new workers.
Ah, yes, Peter. How could he stop himself–destructing? The silly Bastardo! Shaking himself, Joe realized he mustn’t greet Peter with ‘Che Cazzo fai?’ (What the fuck are you doing?) He had slipped back into his native Italian and realized that would never do.
Slowly he walked into the office to ask Mark if there was any news about Peter.
Nights became days and days grew into weeks until late one Friday as the workshop was falling quiet after a day’s noise, Joe heard a shout from the main doorway.
‘Peter’s back!’
One of the female apprentices, screeching her pleasure, rushed to hug him.
‘Peter, we’re all so glad to see you.’
Joe just stood there with his arms folded, watching, his face beaming as Peter shook hands all round. He was aware that these warm handshakes expressed a depth of loyalty that Peter’s workers could never express in words.
Belying his true feelings, casually he called out to Peter.
‘Yes, about time the boss did some work instead of lazing around chasing good looking nurses up and down corridors.’
Peter looked across at him and smiled. He knew that was all the sympathy he could expect from Joe who’d already turned away to lead him on a tour of inspection.
In his reliable way, Joe had repaired the truck from the attempted hijack, renewing his friendships with the Italians at the trucking company. There were only five trucks still awaiting delivery and then the contract – the miserable business – would be over.
Joe began pushing Peter harder.
‘Three months until Christmas and we might get our bonus if the boss isn’t Scrooge. One truck is to go off tonight. Are you fit enough to deliver it? You know what they say about falling off a horse – the sooner you get back in the saddle the sooner you lose your fear.’
Peter just laughed.
‘Wait until I get my welding gloves and my overalls. Then I’ll leave. It’s no problem. And thank you all for putting up with me while I’ve been – well — away.’
He paused and turned back.
‘Oh, and yes, Joe I’ve got the hint. The Christmas Bonus will be really special as a gesture of my thanks.’
Later, Peter called Joe upstairs.
‘Joe, go and get your wife. The three of us will eat at the motel up the street before I head off into deepest, darkest Bathurst.’
At the end of the day’s trading, an icy hand seemed to grip Peter’s heart. He remembered his last trip and Jennifer’s visit to the hospital. Shrugging, he turned towards the setting sun and waited for Joe and Maria.
Eventually they arrived, with Joe looking very suave and continental in a black, open neck shirt with a black and red cravat and black jeans. Maria was a little well-rounded Italian woman whose welcome smile reflected her pleasure at seeing Peter. Her Italian accent was more pronounced than Joe’s and her devotion to Joe shone through as they approached holding hands
Laughing and joking, with Maria between them, they walked up the street to the motel that Peter had heard was running a good, licensed Italian restaurant.
Maria ordered for them and the Italian rolled off her tongue in a never-ending stream. She seemed to know the chef when he rushed out to greet her as a long lost friend.
Joe didn’t seem the least bit frazzled when the chef arrived at their table and lifted Maria from her seat to hug her warmly.
‘He’s another one of Maria’s myriad relatives. She’s got them everywhere,’
Peter laughed as the chef returned to the kitchen.
‘I see you haven’t lost your taste for the old country,’ Peter remarked when Maria started on her meal of Porcini Dusted Sea Scallops with Tomato Relish while he and Joe hoed into thick T-Bone steaks.
As Maria and Joe sipped their Cortese di Gavi, (a dry, white, sparkling wine from Piedmont) Peter suddenly realized that he’d been drinking tomato juice with a slice of lemon.
Paling, he put down his knife and fork and stared at the glass before him. His heart thumped as he remembered it had been Jennifer’s drink that very first night with her. Almost unable to cope, he found that he couldn’t speak for a few minutes while his two dinner companions prattled on, oblivious of his distress.
Maria stared at him as he tried to cover his true feelings by laughing.
‘It’s okay for you two drunkards to get stuck into the wine but this boy is driving tonight!’ He saw Joe staring at him and he winked before sculling his glass of juice and rejoining the conversation.
With an aching heart, he tried to be cheerful and to hide his inner feelings from Maria.
Her motherly pat on his hand showed that she knew of his inner turmoil.
The meal ended and knowing he had a few hours driving he paid the bill and stood to leave.
As they returned to the workshop, they laughed and discussed the weather almost as though they wanted to stay clear of any topic that could possibly include Jennifer.
Peter took Joe and Maria into the workshop office where they waited around, filling in time while he went off to put on his overalls and gloves and to find his jacket. He returned with some papers in his hand.
‘You two behave while I’m away. There’s a suite arranged at The Majestic on the Quay which has world famous Italian Cuisine. As well I have booked you for a seaplane flight and lunch on Sunday.’ Enjoying the stunned look on their faces, he threw the booking on the table. ‘Enjoy your second or is it your 22nd honeymoon. Maria, tell me if he plays up. I’ll see you Monday Joe, if you can remember where work is. All charges are on me.’
He chuckled at the unbelieving looks on their faces as they turned to look at each other. His generosity had stunned them.
‘But don’t send the company bankrupt!’ he included as a parting shot.
Ignoring their embarrassed thanks, he marched off surprised at the change in the weather. Rain lashed down out of leaden skies and he pulled his coat tighter about him as the unseasonable, freezing wind whipped about him.
Within an hour, Peter was back on the merry-go-round – the relentless succession of pick-ups and deliveries, the drive to Bathurst and the train trip home. The grumbling engine dragged him up the mountains with the headlamps stabbing into the fog and mist.
It seemed only hours before he was back on Monday ready to deliver the next truck.
He had delivered truck two and then truck three with little difficulty, he thought. Yet it was only as he hauled himself up into the cab of truck four that Peter realized he was again relying on those same damn tablets from an earlier trip with Susie. Clad in his usual garb of worker’s thick overalls and welding gloves, he settled into the seat and started the engine.
He remembered that it was Friday and he should be with Ted and Bob. Shuddering, he realized that he couldn’t be with them – too many memories there for him. Peter shook his mind free of such
thoughts and began to concentrate on the trip. Trying to remember exactly when he had last been to bed, he realized he ached too much to bother.
His throat was dry and his eyeballs felt seared as he stared into the fog that came rolling down the road from the mountains to swallow his lights. Rain smashed against the windscreen and the wipers sang an endless lullaby as the truck crawled through the traffic. Drivers hurrying home speared past, ignoring the darkness, the danger and the water.
Visibility became worse and the rain continued to lash down. Carefully he began the long haul up the eastern escarpment, past the restaurant where he and Jennifer had dined all those months ago at the beginning of that wonderful weekend. Still the truck crawled onwards with Peter’s hands and feet dancing a constant tattoo – brake, accelerator and clutch until his legs ached.
He felt hungry but refused to stop. No, there were still too many memories. Mount Tomah loomed into view. Stretching his right leg, he winced at the remembered pain of that trip which so easily could have cost him his life.
His thoughts centered on Jennifer. Why have I punished myself? I tried to win Jennifer and lost. That ending was so final. Yet, his mind pressured him to go on. Jennifer’s departure for Melbourne – I just have to grin and bear it. Ah, well, life goes on. He allowed his thoughts to wander freely.
Shaking his head, he forced himself to concentrate as the fog became a thick white wall replacing the rain and the engine growled its distaste at his efforts to crawl cautiously around the mountainside.
Even his police friends must have found it miserable and he gave them a friendly blast on the air-horns as he edged past.
Behind him, two lights intensified from mere candles in the fog to penetrating searchlights, scorching their message into the mirrors and burning his tired eyes.
‘Bloody car driver,’ Peter muttered under his breath as a little green Mini flashed past.
‘Jennifer!’ Peter’s shriek was unheard. ‘Slow down, there are dangerous curves ahead.’
The red taillights disappeared around the bend into the fog, but then, even over the loud complaints of the engine, Peter heard the scream of tortured metal and the crash of the impact.
‘Please, God, noooooo!’
Even in the short time it took Peter to arrive at the scene, a number of cars had stopped and the drivers had grouped around the burning wreckage. They jumped clear as his truck skidded to a halt.
Tongues of fire were licking the interior of the car as Peter threw himself at the wreckage. The other drivers reached out to hold him but he beat the well-wishers aside. No army could have stood between him and his Jennifer. He was ripping and tearing, screaming as if demented.
‘Jennifer, Jennifer, I’ll get you out!’
Peter shattered the driver’s window and tore the door open.
The driver’s skirt was already alight as he lifted her in his arms. The fire, denied one victim, attacked him, but he could only laugh wildly as he was holding his Jennifer once again. His head bent to hers as he heard a sudden loud crump and felt an iron fist smash into his back.
The wreck had exploded, hurling him and the woman in his arms through the air, their bodies crashing heavily against a distant gum tree.
* * *
A week later, early on Friday morning, Susie called in to visit her husband, Bill, in his office and to talk over their change in fortune. They had already discussed Peter’s mysterious disappearance and were engrossed in a close examination of the pleasing figures in their books when she heard the door open suddenly.
Looking up, Susie was surprised to see two burly police officers standing before her.
‘Mrs. Williams?’
Susie’s heart sank. The tone of the officer’s voice boded ill news. She could only nod her head in agreement.
‘You are the next-of-kin of Mr. Peter O’Brien?’ They paused, awaiting her reply.
Unable to speak, as if frozen in time, she again nodded.
‘Mr. O’Brien is on life support at Royal North Shore Hospital. We advise you to go to the hospital as soon as possible. He’s there as the result of trying to save a woman who was killed in a car accident. Should you wish to see him, we advise you to move quickly.’
Almost with a feeling of relief, Susie sank into one of the office chairs. Slowly she looked up at the officers with tears in her eyes. Turning to Bill, she found the strength to give orders.
‘Get Joe! Tell him Peter’s been found. Get Jennifer’s phone number, quickly please.’
By the time Joe arrived, it was clear that Bill had informed him of the bad news as he immediately picked the phone and began ringing a number.
‘Hello? Hello, Jennifer? Oh, Mrs. Blake. I need to speak with Jennifer – it’s a matter of great urgency.’
He paused.
‘Oh sorry, I’m Joe – Peter’s foreman. I’m Peter O’Brien’s foreman. No, I’m not playing games,’ he said abruptly then he seemed to loose all patience. ‘For Christ’s sake Peter is dying and we need Jennifer now!’
Furiously snatching the phone from his grasp, Susie shouted into the phone, ‘Peter is dying damn it. The police are with me now and I haven’t a moment to waste.’
There was a long pause before Susie continued.
‘I’m sorry, Jennifer. I wish I could make this news more pleasant but I can’t. Peter’s been missing for a week since he drove off to deliver a truck last Friday. Joe discovered that the truck arrived at Bathurst driven by some unknown trucker, and since then we haven’t heard from Peter since he left here on that delivery run.
‘Two police officers have just arrived to tell us that he’s on life support and is dying. They’re demanding I go to the hospital immediately if I want to see Peter alive. I thought you should know.’
Jennifer’s reply was enough to make Suzie erupt. Furious now, she screamed into the phone.
‘Don’t be so bloody silly. He loves you and you alone, now get your ass into gear if you want to see him before they remove him from life support.’
Pausing for a moment, she tried to re-gather her composure.
‘Sorry for the plain talk. Get on a bloody plane now. Ring Joe and tell him when you’ll arrive at Mascot, okay? You’ve one chance and one chance only, and I’d suggest you bring Andrew to support you as this could be very nasty.’
The words Susie was hearing from Jennifer did not please her at all. In fact she was about to explode.
Susie tried to control her anger for as long as she could, then Jennifer said something that pushed her too far. Susie lost her cool completely.
‘Oh, for shit’s sake, Jennifer, wake up. Stop walking around in a teenager’s dream world. This man loved you so much that it looks as though he gave his life trying to save a woman he thought was you. Look, I’m sorry but I don’t have time to argue with someone so bloody stupid. He loves you Jennifer – he loves you!’
Red in the face Susie continued bellowing into the phone.
‘He loves no one else… He loves YOU! What part of that don’t you understand Jennifer? Bugger it Jennifer, I’m sorry I’ve no time to argue.’
Calming a little, she continued.
‘Come up here now or live the rest of your life with this on your conscience. Ring Joe. I refuse to argue with you anymore, and yes, I’m Susie – Peter’s nominated next-of-kin, and my darling husband Bill is standing here beside me to take me to Peter’s bedside – so think what you bloody will. Goodbye, Jennifer, I don’t expect to speak with you again.’
The phone call ended abruptly as Susie slammed the receiver down. Her words, ‘Silly bitch! What a bloody idiot she is!’ said it all.
Bill helped her into a company car and they were soon weaving their way to the hospital following their police escort.
At the door of the intensive care unit, the doctor who was on his way out stopped Bill and told him that only Susie as next-of-
kin could enter.
Bill told Susie that he’d wait in the car.
Patiently, Susie listened as the doctor explained what had happened, but a nurse hurrying in with an urgent message interrupted their conversation.
‘Mrs. Williams, you’re wanted on the phone. It’s Melbourne.’
‘Hello, Susie Williams speaking. What? Repeat that slowly.’ Susie listened intently.
‘Yes, I’m at the hospital and – slowly, Jennifer- stop crying please. I need to understand what you’re telling me. Yes, I can be there at any time to pick you up and perhaps you’ll be able to achieve a miracle. Now off you go – yes, I’ll pick you up. When do you expect to arrive? By the time you arrive, I will have just made it to the airport through the traffic.’
She listened again.
‘Oh, don’t worry, I’ll recognize you – I know you very well. Just get on a plane and bring Andrew with you,’ Susie added as an afterthought. ‘What? You say he’s out on business. Well, then, the two of us will brave this through together.’
Susie returned to the doctor.
‘He’s alive but no one knows for how long.’ The doctor tried not to sound pessimistic as he resumed the conversation. ‘It’s as though he’s given up on life. We have him on life support and can keep him going for some days, but something has to be done to bring him out of this coma and make him ‘want to live’. We’ve done everything possible to bring him around.
‘The severe concussion, the gash down one side of his face that almost took the sight of his eye and the two broken ribs are not the problem – he’s lucky that they were his main injuries. The explosion threw him and the body he was carrying about 50 yards.’
Seeing Susie’s querying look, the doctor continued.
‘He came across the accident soon after it happened, and no-one could stop him from going to the wreck. The police reported he was screaming a name, ‘Jennifer’, as he rushed to the car and ripped its door off to rescue the driver. She was dead even before he commenced carrying her away from the burning car. He was lucky and only sustained minor burns – the overalls and welding gloves saved him.’
He paused and then returned to his main concern.
‘He spoke once when he arrived up here from casualty. ‘Is Jennifer all right?’ That is exactly what he asked the intern.
‘The young fool doctor on duty told him the driver was dead and he muttered something about ‘Jennifer, I love you, wait for me.’ Then he lapsed into this coma. We can’t arouse him.
‘No matter how much we have done for Peter, at this stage we can’t do anything further to bring him around. It’s as though he’s given up the will to live.
‘His body – his injuries is not killing him – its his mind shutting his body down.’
‘Thank you, doctor. Keep him on life support. I’ll give permission when you are to remove him from that support. I’m praying, though, that I may be able to prevent that ever happening. Later today, I have to collect someone from the airport, and then I’ll be back with the person who, I pray, will bring some sense to this great oaf.’
Quietly, for hours, she sat beside the body in the bed and held Peter’s clammy hand. She was aghast at how pale and wan Peter looked, lying there hooked up to drips and machines. Although distressed by the sight of Peter all trussed up on drips, the steady blip, blip, blip of the heart monitor seemed to re-assure her.
The nurse on duty looked surprised when Susie suddenly looked at her watch and rushed away towards the lift. She could see Susie down the corridor, anxiously stalking back and forth outside the lift doors. To any passer-by, it was obvious she was waiting for transport down to the car park.
Susie collected Jennifer’s car and slowly worked her way through the heavy traffic. Two hours later, she was at the airport, still waiting for Jennifer’s arrival.
The arrivals’ board showed all the Melbourne planes had landed, so by Susie’s reckoning, the passengers should be out with their luggage any moment.
Pacing backwards and forwards Susie was apprehensive. She knew she would have a big task persuading Jennifer that her relationship with Peter was nothing more than that of a mother and son. ‘Some mother I am,’ but Susie’s thoughts were interrupted as she caught sight of Jennifer.
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