Cover Art

The images used are Brownswirl with cgbc eyes1 811 from the Lulu cover art page and are used with permission of Lulu. The trimming, manipulation, and adding of text is by Ernest Bywater. All rights to the cover image are reserved by the copyright owners.

10 November 2018 version

The titles I use are a chapter, a sub-chapter, and a section.

Table of Contents

The Story Starts
Troubles
Shell Game
Thursday - Getting Organised
Moving On
Friday
Furniture
Arrangements
Evening
Night Games
Saturday
In the City
Back Home
Night
Sunday
Monday
Interlude
University
Moving In
Sunday Surprises
Start of Studies
Trouble
Friday Replay
Planning
Paula’s Peril
Second Production
Second Interlude
More Trouble
Next Day
Follow On
The titles I use are a chapter, a sub-chapter, and a section.

The Story Starts

Every story starts somewhere, so this is where I’m starting this one. I’m a student at an Australian university, and I’m not saying which one. I’m involved in some heavy duty therapy due to some heavier duty on campus events. My therapist asked, the reality is she ordered, me to write down everything about it and some other related key periods in my life. I’m writing this as a short story in the first person from just before the first major traumatic incident. Some things which I found out later are included as at the time they occurred.

About Me

My name’s Robert Phillips, I’m smarter than average - but I’m not a genius, I’m also a speed reader, and a good problem solver. I’m very tall, with an athletic build - as I keep fit, fair complexion, blue / grey eyes, very light brown hair, and average looks. I left school at the end of Year 10 just after I turned sixteen years of age. I always got good marks, but studying was hard that year due to a small group of bullies in a gang which used me as their main punching bag. I always defended myself, but the Deputy Principal thought I must be to blame since I was part of more fights than anyone else as he never noticed it was always with the same dozen or so boys who belonged to the same gang. Anyway, the Principal was a much smarter man as he knew what the true situation was and he always intervened. However, he was retiring and the Deputy was taking his place. I left while I could still do so with dignity, and not give the idiot Deputy the chance to throw me out the way he wanted to.

I immediately got a job. I worked hard in a production and service company. They promote on competency and skill. I advanced very fast; for someone with my education, age, and work experience it was very fast. Just before my eighteenth birthday I’m promoted to Group Leader, an important position in this company. Of the three hundred and fifty employees in this facility there are sixteen foremen, and only four are Group Leaders. When I first started working I lived at home, and I walked nearly an hour to work. When I got a part-time evening job near my work I found it expensive eating dinner out every night. I work two jobs to save up so I can afford to go to university later. I’ll be a full fee paying student when I can afford it, and can go to any university.

After doing some research and sums I moved out of home to live in a boarding house only a short walk from both jobs. I had time to go home, have dinner, get changed, and make the second job. Both bosses know about the other job, and there are no conflicts of interest, so they’re happy. This is cheaper than living at home while eating out, and it gives me better meals. The board I’m paying Mrs Miller is the same as I’d been paying Mum and Dad. My leaving home allows my sisters to have a room each, because my parents’ home is only a three bedroom affair. Walking to work and back keeps me fit. About seventy percent of my take home pay is going into the bank. I’m paid a full adult wage at both jobs. I’m a supervisor at both, and the government award scales don’t include any minor’s rates for supervisor positions. I think the idea is: if you’re good enough to supervise you’re paid full wages, regardless of your age. Personally, I think it’s stupid to have different wage rates based on a person’s age, and not on their skill level or the work done.

I’m earning a lot more than others my age. I don’t drink alcohol or use tobacco. Also, I eat healthy food, and I have no car. My biggest costs are my board and nice clothes. I’m also studying the Higher School Certificate part-time at technical college and home, in which I’m doing quite well. I expect to graduate as a private study student the year after next, just after my twentieth birthday.

My Family

I have two sisters, and we’re nearly two years apart. Mary has just turned sixteen years old while Nancy is just about to turn fourteen years old. They’re typical sisters, and we’re in a love / hate relationship, but we usually get on well. Mum is thirty-eight, and Dad is forty years old. Mum looks after the house and kids while Dad works as a day shift supervisor at a factory. Our only other family is Mum’s sister, Vera, with her husband and two children. They live on the other side of our suburb.

Boarding House

Mrs Miller is a very fit woman in her thirties. She has two daughters Joan, a year older than me, and Emily, a year younger than me. Mrs Miller owns an old large house, more like an old mansion, with twenty bedrooms and five bathrooms for guests, a huge lounge room, and a giant dinner table. The house is on a very large block of land with a huge back yard. I don’t know what’s on the floor she and her family use, as guests aren’t allowed up on the top floor which is their private quarters.

As a rule each bedroom has one permanent guest in residence. For a reasonable board we get accommodation, a large healthy breakfast, and a large healthy dinner. For both meals we have to be at the table on time, or have given Mrs Miller plenty of warning so a meal can be put aside and kept ready for when we arrive for it. Lunch is always our own concern. We’re allowed to have small fridges and minimal food preparation stuff in our rooms for snacks etc. We also have space for our own foods in the kitchen in a cupboard under our own padlock. All in all it’s a very good deal. It’s very much like living at home, but without the usual parental nagging that goes on. There are monthly inspections to ensure we’re keeping the room tidy. We also wash and dry our own clothes by either using the available machines or at a nearby laundrette.

The majority of guests are young men away from home, most for the first time, who are working in the local factories or businesses. There are some young women here too; but very few young women work in this area as it’s mostly factories. Most guests are nice, good, honest people. But there are a couple who you wouldn’t leave your change lying about near; well, not if you expect it to be there a minute later.

I get on well with the majority of the guests, very well with Mrs Miller and Emily, but not so well with Joan. All three Millers are very good looking. No one knows Mr Miller as he’s not in evidence, and he has never been seen by anyone in the suburb. The family moved into the area without him. The house is from Mrs Miller’s family, not his.

My Cupboard

About eight months back I salvaged a damaged wardrobe from the half-yearly council rubbish removal campaign. The back and bottom were broken, but the doors, sides, and interior were good. After I got permission from Mrs Miller to put it in the work shed my best friend, Peter, he’s another guest, helped me carry the cupboard to the work shed.

Over a period of four weeks I pulled the cupboard apart, and I built a steel frame to secure it to. The finished unit is a steel frame cupboard with light sheet steel sides. The wooden sides and doors are attached as the visible part of the cupboard. It looks like an old wooden wardrobe. The insides of the doors are lined with sheet steel with all of the hinges and locks attached to the steel. Three slide bolts for one side, and three keyed alike Yale dead bolts for the other side. All of the bolts go vertically into the steel frame. I stained and lacquered a new wooden plinth to look like the doors and sides. It’s all secured to the steel frame, so is the wooden back. The strong wooden shelves sit on the steel frame and able to take some heavy weights. Very solid, and very difficult to break into.

Inside the cupboard is a shelf at just above waist height with five drawers below it on the right, and a hanging space of one metre high on the left. Above the shelf is a one metre high space with another shelf of a fifth of a metre above it, then the top of the cupboard. Each open space has a small fluorescent lamp at its top. The drawers don’t quite go the full depth of the cupboard, and there’s an open area back there with a power-board in it. A section at the back of the main shelf pops out to allow me to drop power leads into this area. The main part of the cupboard is about a hand’s width less deep than the sides. The back of the cupboard is a perforated steel sheet while the final back is a piece of solid wood. This leaves a nice airing gap between the two.

My room is wider than it’s deep, and it has an off centre doorway. When Peter helps me carry the cupboard upstairs I place it beside the door where I can see it from both my bed and the card table I have in the room. I’ve a coat rack and a valet rack beside the cupboard. A power lead runs behind them to the lead feeding into the cupboard. On the other side of the door is my fridge, and a cupboard for some food stuffs.

Once we have it in place Mrs Miller inspects the cupboard. She makes me open it to have a close look at its construction. She has us move it away from the wall while she gets her stud finder. After locating the studs she has us move it a little so the cupboard is in front of two studs, and she tells me to arrange a way to secure it to the studs in the wall. She doesn’t want it to be able to fall over or be knocked over. I agree with her so I devise a way to bolt it to the studs in a way to make the bolts difficult to remove while shut. “Now you have your hidden safe,” she asks when it’s set up, “what do you expect to put in it?”

“A really good TV.” I reply with a smile. “I’ll get it Saturday while everyone else is out.” Both Mrs Miller and Peter smile.

The next weekend Peter helps me to carry a high definition sixty-eight inch digital television to my room. As I planned, it fits perfectly. When we go back to get the DVD player recorder, with 500 GB hard drive, we take the box the TV came in with us to leave it in the rubbish skip at the store I bought it from. All of this gear fits in the cupboard just right, along with space for the satellite TV box. The feed for this comes out the top to go into the wall, up into the ceiling, and to where the TV fellow installed a splitter during the week.

Mrs Miller examines the finished product, and nods her agreement.

I’ve a nice sound system with an old TV in my room for personal use, they’re known about by all, and are visible; but they’re not worth the trouble to steal. This top line outfit is worth a lot, and well hidden. I even have four high quality headphones with very long leads to plug into the digital sound output of the TV via a small sound equalizer unit that came as an optional extra; they’re surround sound headphones. Now I can safely enjoy a decent TV in my room because this is a much better unit than the one Mrs Miller has in the lounge room. My laptop is also stored in the cupboard, and the TV can act as an external monitor for it too.

For several months life is very good - very, very good.

Troubles

Late October, a Wednesday night a week just after my eighteenth birthday, and a fortnight before Nancy’s fourteenth birthday, it’s my weekly night off from my second job. The job is as an office cleaner supervisor where I work five hours a night, six nights a week, for a local cleaning company, and I have every Wednesday night off. I’m at home in my room at Mrs Miller’s Boarding House while watching TV with my friend Peter. There’s a knock on my door. Lifting off the headphones I place them on the bed, stand up, and I open the door. A concerned Mrs Miller is standing there with two police officers. I know one, a sergeant whose brother I work with. Smiling at them I say, “Good evening Missus Miller, officers. Can I help you?”

“Can we come in and talk?” asks Sergeant Danny Williams, the one I know. Mrs Miller goes to leave, “ Missus Miller, please stay, I’d like a witness.”

This is a bit surprising to us all. I ask Peter to leave while I turn off the TV and I put the headsets away. Danny’s eyes go wide when he sees the entertainment set up I have in the cupboard, but he says nothing. This worries me, because he’d be joking, unless this was very official and serious. I joke while I close the cupboard, “Has Steve finally confessed about that bank robbery we pulled?”

“No, not yet,” he replies, “But Mum’s still working on that. May I have some hot chocolate, please?”

Turning to my table I make the hot chocolate while I wonder what this is about. It’s obviously official, but it’s not related to a criminal matter, at least they don’t suspect me of being involved in one, because he wouldn’t have joked back if it was. What can this be about? I run many things through my mind, and I finally find a possible answer. “Which hospital is Dad in?” I ask while I hand out the fresh made hot chocolate.

“What makes you say that?” Replies Danny when he takes his cup.

“This is clearly official, and you don’t suspect me of any crime. The only thing I can think of is Dad has had an accident in the company car and you want me to help break the news to Mum.” We don’t have a car, but Dad has a company car for use on company business. He often has to visit clients during the day, or on the way home from work, and sometimes of an evening too. I’d no sooner said this than I remember Danny knows Mum and Dad well, because they all belong to the same bridge club. With slow care I put my cup down while I slide onto the bed. “Both of them?” I ask with a quiver in my voice. He nods yes. Gulping hard I squeak out, “How bad?”

He says two words, and I know exactly how bad, “I’m sorry...” Holding back the tears I wave him to silence. Mrs Miller just sits there, because she doesn’t know what’s happening. But she can tell I’m very distressed, reaching over she pulls me into a cuddle. I cry while she hugs me. “When you feel up to it,” he says, “I’d like your help to tell your sisters.” I nod in reply as I cry. We sit, unmoving, for several minutes while I cry the worst of it out of my system.

Gathering myself together I release Mrs Miller, and I look at her, “Can my sisters stay in the empty room for a few days while I sort things out?” It’s clear she still doesn’t fully understand, but she nods yes. “Please make it ready for them while we go and collect them?” Again, she nods. Then I see the realisation hit her when she puts together the police and my request. Her eyes go wide with concern. I give her a weak smile, and a slight nod, to let her know I’m OK, for now. We quietly finish our drinks, and we leave after I lock everything up properly. Mrs Miller has a look of concern when she shows us out the front door. I know the room will be ready when we return. I get into the back of the police car, and I belt in for the short ride to my old home.

At Home

We pull up outside my parent’s home at 7:15 p.m. “Please wait out here for about ten minutes or so,” I ask Danny. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.” He nods agreement while I get out of the car.

Walking to the front door I realise it’s no longer my parent’s home, since they no longer live here. It’s a very sad thought to have. I get out my key, unlock the door, click the latch back, and push it shut. Walking into the lounge room I find my sisters sitting down eating pizza while they watch TV. I’m about to ask them what Mum would say about them having pizza while she’s out when I realise she’ll be saying nothing, now. I gulp hard while I try not to burst the terrible news out. “Got enough for me?” I ask in as normal a voice as I can manage. They both turn around to see me, and spring up while talking fast. Wanting to know what I’m doing here unannounced, what I’ve been up to since my last visit etc.? I lead them back to the pizza, and I sit down with them.

Nancy says, “Mum and Dad have gone to a work dinner, the address and phone number are by the telephone if you want to chase over to see them.” I shake my head no. Those details are for a little later.

“Go pack your bags for a week-long stay with me. You’re skipping school for a week.”

“Yeah,” replies Nancy, “as if.” Mary turns to look at me as her eyes go very wide while her lower lip quivers, she was always the smart one of our family. Gulping hard while she holds back the tears she gets up, and heads upstairs. I know she’ll pack for them both.

I look at Nancy, and I hold open my arms for a hug, “Come here.” She always likes being hugged, so she’s quick to slide into my arms, and I hold her tight. “Mum and Dad aren’t coming home again.” She gives me a strange look while we hug. Noticing some movement in the corner of her eye she turns to look at the two police officers standing in the lounge room doorway. I feel her body go stiff. She turns to look at me, and I nod yes. Now she understands what I’d said. I hold her tight while she cries. Mary returns with their two bags, she’s crying too.

Standing up I take Nancy to the lounge to sit her down on it, Mary joins her. They both hug each other tightly while they cry. I leave the room to check everything’s turned off with the windows and other doors locked. I remove the perishables from the fridge and cupboards to boxes to take them with us. Mum and Dad always joked they could count on me to be the reliable one, the one who made sure things were done right. For once I wished I wasn’t.

Danny stays with the girls while his partner joins me in the kitchen to help with the boxes. When I load a box she takes it to the car to place the boxes in the boot. She also puts the girls’ bags in the boot. By the time that’s done it’s time to leave. Danny helps me lead the girls to the car, and we sit them in the back with Nancy in the middle seat.

I go back to the house to get the address of the dinner function, and I turn off the lights. I double lock the front door. Returning to the police car I get in the back, and I cuddle up to Nancy as well. I give them the address of the dinner: it’s on the way to Mrs Miller’s. Thankfully, they deliberately take a longer route so we won’t have to pass the scene, because they’re still busy cutting out the other driver. He was lightly injured and trapped in the car, but he survived the crash.

The Dinner

When we arrive at the hall where the dinner is being held I ask Danny’s partner to stay with the girls while Danny accompanies me into the hall. I wouldn’t have got past the door if he hadn’t. Once inside I look around for anyone I know. They’re still in the pre-dinner drinks stage. Spotting one of Dad’s staff I ask Danny to stay at the entrance while I work my way to Mr James.

“Excuse me, Mister James,” I ask when I reach him, “can you find father’s supervisor and his supervisor please?” He looks at me strange for a moment, then nods yes and he moves off into the crowd. A few minutes later he returns with two other men in tow. “Please step outside with me for a moment.” They follow me to the entrance, and they look sideways at Danny standing there.

In the foyer Dad’s boss asks, in an aggravated tone, “Robbie, where’s your father? He should be here by now, and we need him for the main ceremony because he’s getting the big award.”

I don’t need this sort of rubbish, and I’ve had quite a bit too much tonight. “He’s not coming, he’s gone to the morgue instead,” I respond in a harsh tone. Turning, I stride out the door in great anger.

They stare at Danny with very wide eyes while he says, “Both his parents were killed in a car accident on their way to this dinner. He’s just told his sisters, and he’s very upset at the moment.”

Mr James says, “Oh, please give him our condolences. Tell him I’ll let the staff know. I’ll see his father’s office isn’t disturbed until after he can come to clear the personal effects. Please ask him to make it soon.” Danny nods to indicate he’ll pass the message on. All three turn, and slowly walk back into the dinner. It’s no longer a festive occasion for them. When he get back in the car Danny tells me what transpired, and I thank him for his help. We move off to go to Mrs Miller’s.

Shell Game

When we arrive at the boarding house Mrs Miller and Peter are waiting for us. She’d roped him in to help, but he hasn’t told him why. While I lead Nancy in Mrs Miller leads Mary and Peter carries their bags while the police carry the perishables into the kitchen. Both girls are still crying, they haven’t stopped since they started. I wish I can join them, but someone must get things done, and I’m the only one standing near the election podium for that job.

Peter leads the way upstairs. When I left the only spare room was one with a double bed on a different floor, and at the other end of the house to me. Peter is leading us to the room beside mine, his room. I wonder what’s happening, but I leave it go because I can’t be bothered to ask about anything, at the moment. Entering Peter’s room I find all of his gear’s gone and the single bed has been replaced with a double bed. There’s four bedrooms, a bathroom, and a toilet on this little landing: Peter’s, Harry’s, Linda’s, and mine. It turns out there’s been some changes while we were away. Harry has moved to the spare room because it’s bigger than the one he had opposite me while Peter’s moved into Harry’s old room, and the double bed has been moved into Peter’s old room beside mine. So the girls will be sharing the room next to me. I smile my thanks, weak smile as it is, at Mrs Miller and Peter when I realise what they’ve done for us. They smile back at me, and they nod to acknowledge my non-verbal thanks.

We soon have Mary and Nancy settled into their room for tonight. We leave while they get ready for bed. I make them some hot chocolate while they get ready. I know they’ll have trouble getting to sleep, but they’ll sleep well once they do fall asleep as the emotional drain will help in that regards. I take the hot chocolate to them. We all sit and chat while we drink. I tuck them into bed, and we leave. Mrs Miller gives me extra keys for both rooms we’re using. We’ll each have a key to both rooms, that’ll be useful. Leaving the girls to sleep we go downstairs.

In the kitchen I find Danny and his partner, Mona, I find out, are helping Emily to put the perishables away. Seeing us enter Danny turns to me, “Uhmm, tomorrow...” he starts to say.

“In the morning I have to go to work to organise someone to do my job for the rest of the day.” I interrupt. “Then, I guess, I’ll have to go to the morgue to make the official identification.” He simply nods at me, since this is what he was trying to lead up to. “Then I have to go to the girls’ school to let them know of the changes. Back home to get some papers; the funeral parlour; the solicitor, if I can find out which one; my work boss for tomorrow night; and back here. I know you’ll provide a car for the identification. Can you have them pick me up at work, say at ten a.m., and then drop me back at home?” He nods again. I thank him for everything, and I show them out as they’ve got other work to do.

I later find out they went back to the station and Danny phoned a sergeant he knows on the day shift. He organises for a vehicle to be made available to run me around for most of the day. It’ll all be within the division area, so the field supervisor can cart me around while waiting to be called in as support. Later, I was very moved by the amount of help they both give me in the next few days, but I’m too numb to realise it for most of those days. I think they understood that, at the time.

Thursday - Getting Organised

Thursday morning I get up at the usual time. I hustle Peter through the bath to get my bath then I wake the girls. Arriving downstairs in time for breakfast I warn Mrs Miller the girls may be a little late. She nods acknowledgement, “I expect that,” she replies, “it’ll take them a while to get used to the routine.”

I smile my thanks while I eat. I’m quick to finish my breakfast then I go back upstairs. “You’ve got thirty minutes left to make breakfast,” I tell the girls. “You can bathe afterwards, because you’re not going to school today or tomorrow.” They look a bit stunned, but they nod to show they understand me. They get dressed and go down for breakfast. I ask, when I see Mrs Miller in the dining room, “Missus Miller, will you please keep an eye on the girls today? I’ll be back as soon as I can. They’re not going to school, but I don’t want them sitting around in their room doing nothing.” She nods her agreement.

I leave at my usual time of 7:55 a.m. to walk to work, arriving there at 8:20 a.m. for my usual 8:30 a.m. start. Once inside I go through my calendar, and I start redirecting all of the work I can while making sure not to overload anyone. Having done that I go around my staff to inform them of the changes. A few are a bit stunned, but they’re quick to agree. Back at my work station I complete the tasks I couldn’t delegate. At 9:30 a.m. I tell Duke, a fellow I think will be a suitable replacement for when I’m away, I’ll be upstairs and I ask him to keep things rolling in my absence. He nods his agreement.

Upstairs I run into the first bit of trouble for today. I expected it. Mr Hemingway, my boss, has a very nosey and bossy secretary, Judith. “I need to speak to Mister Hemingway on an urgent personal matter,” I say as I walk up to her. “When can you slip me in for a few minutes?”

Without looking up or checking his calendar she replies, “I can give you a fifteen minutes tomorrow afternoon, what’s it about?”

“Personal, and I need to see him a.s.a.p. When can you fit me in?”

“I can’t fit you in until tomorrow, and I can’t even do that until I know what it’s about.” She sits there glaring at me and daring me to fight with her. I’m not in the mood for that rubbish today.

Turning around I walk four paces to the next desk, and I ask Alison, Mr Carpenter’s secretary, he’s Mr Hemingway’s boss, “I urgently need to talk to management on a personal matter. When can you slip me in for a few minutes?”

She looks up at me, because she’d heard my little exchange with Judith, and she knows I don’t come up here unless I absolutely have to. “He’s just finishing up with Jones of accounting,” she says while looking at his calendar. “Dickson is due in as soon as Jones leaves, but I can slip you in now if it’ll only take a minute or two.”

“Thank you,” I reply. “It should only take a minute or so.”

Judith says, while glaring at us both, “Mister Hemingway won’t be happy about you going over his head.”

Turning to her I say, in a harsh tone, “I know, and I bloody well don’t care how you explain to him why you made it necessary.” Both go very wide-eyed, since they’re not used to me being anything but ultra-polite.

Before this can turn into a staring match Mr Carpenter’s door opens, and Miss Jones leaves. Both stop in the doorway because they can feel the tension in the air. “Sir,” Alison says, “Rob has an urgent matter to discuss with you, it should only take a moment.” He nods at her as he signals me into his office.

He shuts the door behind me. “What was that all about, and why me, instead Hemingway?”

Giving him a weak smile I reply with much anger, “I urgently need to take the rest of the day off. Judith wouldn’t let me near Hemingway until tomorrow afternoon, and even that requires me to tell her all about why. Since this is personal and can’t wait I went up the chain. Judith isn’t happy, and I don’t give a damn about her happiness.” He watches me while he takes his time to walk around his desk and sit down. This is the first time he’s heard me swear about anything. He slowly nods as he waves a hand for me to continue.