Chapter 25: In Sydney

Dinner with Winnie was a pleasure. We chatted about my wanderings and about the whole notion of loss and search; it was serious, but constructive.

“I understand,” Winnie said. “I may not have been devastated when I became a widow. But it was sudden and unexpected. And it changed my life.”

“Ten years ago.”

“Over a dozen. Time flies.”

“‘Tempus edax rerum‘ is what Ovid wrote in Metamorphoses [xv: 234]. ‘Time destroys all.’ Did you ever see Golding’s translation?”

“What?”

“Arthur Golding. A pre-Shakespearean poet. Pound wrote that his Ovid was the most beautiful book in the language. Anyway, it’s still in print. Nearly 450 years old. Golding, near the beginning of the last book, says ‘Our bodies also ay / Doo alter still from tyme to tyme, and never stand at stay. / Wee shall not bee the same wee were today or yesterday.’”

“That’s very heavy.”

“Yes. But we’re not as we were. Nor as we will be. This has been very hard for me. But I want you to know that I value having known you for over thirty years. I want to continue knowing you. But Rachel was worried that something more intimate was going to transpire. But I don’t think so. And I don’t think you want it to.”

Winnie was dabbing her eyes with her napkin.

“Oh, dear. That wasn’t my intention, either,” she said. “First of all, thank you for still being so sweet. I didn’t have aspirations ... hopes ... whatever. Whatever we had was over three decades ago. We can recollect the past, but we can’t recover the past. Heraclitus’ river is far downstream. But I have hopes of remaining a friend. Perhaps your most salient female friend.”

“‘Most salient’?”

“‘Best friend’ sounds silly.”

“True. Now, tell me about the spaces in your building.”

“Only one is actually in my building. The other is in a building on Brougham Street, just a bit closer to the CBD.”

“And... ?”

“The one in my building is on the third floor, two bedrooms, one bath plus a powder room. They’re asking $1.2, but they’ll accept less. It’s two guys and they both want out. The sitting room windows face the wharf where Aki’s and China Doll and Kingsleys are.”

“Isn’t that noisy?”

“I doubt it. Anyway, the other has one bath. They’re asking one even.”

“Parking?”

“Yes in my building. I don’t know about the one on Brougham. I told my agent to call you.”

“He already did. But I won’t call him until late tomorrow or Thursday. I’m busy with my lawyer for much of tomorrow.”

“I understand.”

“Anyway, I really need to meet more people. And I acknowledge that I don’t know how one goes about that. I’m not going to join a football club or a discussion group.”

“Right. Well, there are other places to meet folks. For example, I can get you invitations to a variety of arts events. Striking up conversations shouldn’t be that difficult.”

“And will I meet those two ladies who targeted Patrick five or six years ago?”

“Oh, I think not. Those two have wandered off into another venue – or several other venues. And there are cinema events. You introduced me to a panoply of sci-fi and horror films once.”

“Oh, yes. I wonder whether UNSW still has that series.”

“There’s another thing. I’m certain UNSW has an alumni association. Have you ever attended a meeting or a reunion?” I shook my head. “I know you’ve got imagination. Use it! Be active, not inert.”

“Right. Thank you.”

“I’m an old friend, use me.”

“I will. And thank you for dinner.”

The next morning I put on a striped shirt and my new grey suit, but no necktie. (I put one into my attache case, however.) After breakfast I walked to the law offices just off Bridge Street. After exchanging the usual chit-chat, we got to business.

“I need advice. I know I’ve dosh, but I’ve no idea how much, nor how – uh – liquid it is. Weena took care of all that. Next, I want to sell the house. I was there yesterday with Patrick, and it’s just too full of memories. Third, I want to acquire something in the downtown area. Darlinghurst, Kings Cross, East Sydney, Woolloomooloo, Potts Point. Not Darling Harbour or the Rocks.” He nodded, making notes. “Maybe Paddington, but I think not. In fact, depending on the available cash, perhaps acquire a new place before selling the old.”

I paused.

“Well, Gordy. To put it briefly, you’ve sufficient funds for anything you might want to do. But first, you need to know that control over all of his trust funds has been transferred to Patrick, as he’s over 25.” I nodded. “There’s still about $1.5 million at Commonwealth Bank in trust for Sarah. There’s also a bit more than that in Australian government bonds that your spouse – Rowena Scott Hollister – purchased after the death of her father. We have the certificates in our safe. Then there are long-term certificates of deposit at Westpac. That’s another $1.5 plus accrued interest. Then, there’s your retirement fund: you can retire at 60, but you won’t receive the government Age Pension bit until you’re 67. Finally, I have a cheque for one million for you from Allianz.”

“What’s that?”

“Apparently, when you moved to Perth, Weena took out mutual million dollar policies. As you were about 30 at that time and she was younger, the premiums were probably quite reasonable.”

I was quite amazed. “So there’s Sarah’s legacy, the house and nearly five million more?”

“About that. I could get an exact total within 48 hours.” I waved my hand.

“OK. Another topic. I need to change my will. It’ll be quite simple. Turn on your recorder. [he did] The Australian Museum gets my specimens. The Museum gets whatever among my books they might wish. Patrick and his spouse get all the art works and any books they wish. Sarah and her spouse get next choice. One million each to the Museum and the Art Gallery of NSW. The remainder goes 50-50 to my children and their spouses.”

“That’ll be ready for signature by Friday.”

“Fine. Finally, if I want to buy something for, say, over a million, will I be able to without destroying those funds?”

“No problem. If you go over cash-on-hand, I’ll get it on a credit line secured by the CDs and we’ll pay it off when the house is sold.”

“Brilliant. So I won’t need a mortgage at all.”

“Exactly.”

“Sorry, that wasn’t final. I need a reliable agent to sell the house.”

“I was prepared. Here are the cards of two honest blokes.”

I put them in my pocket. “Can I get an intelligible financial statement?”

“By Friday. Can I send it to the Marriott?”

“Yes. I’ve signed on for six weeks.”

“Dear, but clever.”

We shook, I thanked again and left. It wasn’t noon, so I phoned Patrick.

“Free for lunch?”

“Only if it’s nearby.”

“Bouche on Bridge?”

“In 15 minutes!”

I walked to Bouche and asked whether two for lunch would be possible. I was told “No problem, but we’re not open yet.”

I waited in front, reading the brief menu didn’t take long.

“Hey, there!”

“That took under 15 minutes.”

“I’ll go away and come back later, if you wish.”

“No. But I think we’re still in limbo for a few moments.”

I was wrong, the waiter reappeared and said: “Table for two?”

We sat and ordered. Then I asked: “Heard from Sarah?”

“Not for about a week.”

“Oh, well. And are you surviving?”

“Yes. They’re even happy with me. I get a chore delivered, I do the chore. They’re amazed that I did it. A week or so later, another task arrives. I know that they don’t think I’m Hercules as I’ve not had to clean the stables nor kill a boar.”

“The latter are easy to find in bureaucracies.”

“And how!”

“Whatever happened to that group in Sturt?”