Finding Alice

  FINDING ALICE

  S.J. Morris

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this eBook may be reproduced, duplicated, given away, transmitted or resold in any form without written prior permission from the author. S J Morris 2013

  LIST OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1 A Successful Day

  Chapter 2 In the Beginning

  Chapter 3 Melbourne Cup Day and Marriage

  Chapter 4 Moving up

  Chapter 5 Alice and the Leaves

  Chapter 6 Saturday Night

  Chapter 7 Another Day at the Office

  Chapter 8 Lunch and Dessert

  Chapter 9 Thursday Bloody Thursday

  Chapter 10 George and Mildred

  Chapter 11 A Business Project

  Chapter 12 The After Party

  Chapter 13 A Drink with Bill

  Chapter 14 A Trip to Tyrone

  Chapter 15 Welcome Home

  Chapter 16 Audry and George

  Chapter 17 Dr Rush

  Chapter 18 Group Discussion and Room C

  Chapter 19 An Awakening

  Chapter 20 Going Home

  Chapter 21 Home Recovery

  Chapter 22 Graham Again

  Chapter 23 Home

  Chapter 1 A Successful Day

  On the surface John Mason appeared to be a model of success as he turned his BMW into the driveway of his immaculately kept home. With the press of a button on the dashboard the iron gates gave a jerk then gently parted, as too the left hand garage door at the top of the driveway began rising in sync, as if anticipating his entry. It had not always been like this. Coming from very humble beginnings, John had been born an only child and had spent much of his early years amusing himself. His parents had given him love and produced a very bright child but although they had been able to meet his basic day-to-day needs, they did not appreciate his want for higher intellectual stimulation. Things were to get even worse for John when he reached his teenage years. His father was a plumber and had tried run his own small plumbing business, but was a lousy businessman, went bankrupt and almost had to sell their modest family home.

  Not that John’s father was a bad plumber. In fact he was quite proficient at his work and being a kind-hearted man, did gratis work for widows and others who were down on their luck. John always suspected that many of these people took advantage of his father’s good nature. His father also employed an assistant who was also down on his luck and a bit of an “alcho” and did not carry his weight in the business. At least John always thought he could smell alcohol on his breath. With under-charging, paying the alcho, not chasing up bad debts and not keeping his paperwork up to date, his father got into financial trouble and finally had been forced abandon the business and work for someone else.

  To help pay off the debts he had accumulated and lessen the financial burden on the family, his mother took a part time job at the local sandwich shop and John was encouraged to leave school early. After a lot of discussion it was agreed that John could continue at school if he could help out by also getting a part time job. He managed to do this by starting a gardening business. However unconsciously he harboured a deep-seated resentment. How could his father not be able to run a simple plumbing business, he thought? In addition to his lonely childhood his teenage years were spent working after school and on weekends, while the other kids were out playing and having a good time. His father liked nothing better than a beer at the pub with his mates. His idea of a night out was fish and chips at the local RSL Club. In spite of the bankruptcy John liked his father but not his lifestyle. He was determined to do better. By the time he reached his late 30’s he had worked his way up and become a successful real estate agent, however, his childhood frustrations were never far behind. He was never satisfied, always looking for more.

  John had done well and today it all looked pretty good. Framed by the windscreen of his BMW a satisfying vista was unfolding in front of him. It was like watching a movie camera pan a scene in a film as he advanced up his driveway. No actually, it looked exceptionally good, he thought, as he allowed himself to indulge in a little self-congratulatory flagellation. A modern double storey home with four bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, two garages, a rumpus room and pool out the back. It was immaculate and the new grass on the front lawn flaunting its lush green shoots in the crisp light of the late afternoon sun looked magnificent. From John’s experience only freshly laid grass can ever look so inviting. There was however one noticeable imperfection. That irksome gum tree in the corner was still dropping leaves and he would have to rake them up. He chided himself. Why can’t the bloody thing drop leaves at one time of the year rather than all year round?

  John liked things perfect these days. From his tailor made suits, fresh white business shirts, smart ties, polished shoes and of course his immaculately kept Beema. Yes, from humble beginnings John had become a very stylish man. Still not to let a few leaves spoil his cheerful demeanour. His day had been particularly satisfying. He had finally offloaded a property, which had been on his books for quite a while and not only that, he had sold it for $5 million and was feeling more than a little pleased with himself.

  Slowly, he edged his BMW further up the driveway and carefully into the garage still critically examining the surrounds of his home. Another press of the button on his dashboard and the garage door commenced its descent as too the iron gates on the street frontage gently closed in harmony. Out of the car and a further click to activate the car alarm. Then, through the side door and into the house.

  “Hi Hon, I’m home.”

  “In the kitchen,” came the reply.

  John placed his expensive leather briefcase with the embossed initials J.W.M. (John William Mason) neatly next to the staircase and carefully hung his coat over the banister so as not to crush it.

  Audry was standing over the stove. He gave her a peck on the cheek.

  “What's cooking Hon?”

  “Lamb roast, how was your day?”

  “Great, I finally got rid of that Wilson property,” John gushed, in anticipation of a few words of felicitation.

  “That's good Hon.”

  For a moment he was taken aback. This was not what he wanted to hear. “That's good,” thought John. Its bloody marvelous and all she can say is “That's good.”

  Audry had no idea how hard John had worked to sell the Wilson property. Coming from a rich family she was an only child and “daddy’s girl.” She had never really had to work hard for anything in her life. Her doting father had given her everything on a plate. On the other hand John had been forced to struggle hard for everything. As a real estate agent he was always battling the dishonest games people play and was conscious of the image agents have in the “who do you trust stakes.”……At the bottom of the scale along with used car salesmen. John knew this image tended to bring out the worst in people. Many people think all real estate agents are charlatans and treat them as such. All the way from not returning phone calls to furnishing misleading information. One instance John firmly remembered was a couple who told him they could not afford the house he was selling, only to purchase another one further down the street at a considerably higher price.

  Still, John had to admit that there were a lot of unsavoury agents around and some of the sullied image was probably deserved. One problem is that most people only buy and sell property once or twice in their lives. Real estate agents do not develop long-term relationships with their clients. Some agents will tell clients just about anything to get a sale through. Also, because they work on commission there is an unstated conflict of interest between agents and their vendors. A large drop in the sale price only means a comparatively small drop in the agent’s commission. There is no real incentive for an agent to maximize the price for the
vendor. In fact a lower price makes the property easier for the agent to sell. John prided himself that he shied away from some of the dirtier tricks agents play, but was not beyond playing a few clandestine games if he thought it necessary in order to secure a sale. In fact he had just done this with the Wilson property.

  He had been trying to sell this property for over six months and had finally swung the deal. The vendor wanted too much and the buyer wanted to pay too little. As usual, as a real estate agent, he was stuck in the middle and could not get his commission until it was sold. Although he had made a few dollars on the advertising budget by charging the vendor a bit more than it cost him, that was chicken feed compared to his 2% commission on the sale.

  It had been a particularly difficult negotiation, with both the vendor’s and buyer’s wives digging in their heels. Finally it had come down to a $10,000 difference between the offer and the price the vendor was prepared to accept. But still both wives would not give an inch. How bloody stupid could they be arguing over $10,000 on a $5 million property, he thought? The commission might be good, but these people with a lot of money were hard to manage. They always wanted to push things to the limit to see how much of an edge they could negotiate and swing the deal a little bit further their way. Not like the old freewheeling days when John was dealing with young couples, buying and selling cheap units. Young couples tended to be emotional buyers who if pushed would willingly pay a bit more. Not like these rich hard-nosed rationalist bastards arguing over every measly dollar, he thought. Still he reasoned that’s probably how they got rich in the first place, arguing over every dollar.

  In frustration, he had finally phoned both husbands at work. He told the buyer’s husband that this was a particularly good investment and in the future would go up faster than the rest of the market. Perhaps he could see this better than his wife. He then told the vendor’s husband that the property had been on the market for over six months, was getting stale and there was only one buyer. If he could make his wife see reason, they could finally sell their home and move on with their lives. It worked. The buyers upped their offer by $5000 and the vendors accepted.

  He looked at Audry standing over the stove, as these thoughts flashed through his mind. Her hair was greasy and she wasn’t wearing makeup. She was now in her late 30’s but much of her beauty had faded. After two children she had put on a bit of weight and was looking frumpy. A bit of weight he thought, no a heap of weight.

  She had been a trophy wife, tall, beautiful with a great figure and coming from a wealthy family added to the attraction. Not that Audry’s father George liked John. He had told her not to marry him, as he saw John as an upstart from the wrong side of town who was only after the money. There was perhaps some truth to this. With his father’s bankruptcy John had become acutely aware of the importance of having money. He had started his gardening business while still at school and later worked his way up in real estate, firstly handling rentals, to selling cheap properties, and then finally opening his own agency where he sold multi million dollar properties. He was certainly a goer, never satisfied, always looking to overcome the discontent of his childhood.

  On the other hand Audry accepted her lot in life. She had a nice home, a handsome husband and two kids, even if Claire the eldest was now 16 and growing tall and gangly, while Sam who was eight, was a bit small for his age. Audry’s life was pretty full, with dropping the kids off at school, tennis with her girlfriends on Thursdays and the book club once a month on Fridays. Also on Thursday nights and Saturdays she had soccer with Sam and netball with Claire. The rest of the time was spent doing housework. John demanded the house be kept spotless and she was not one to disobey. In fact if she could admit it she was actually a bit scared of John, for beneath that smooth exterior she sensed a certain deep rage, which occasionally showed itself through a biting remark when something wasn’t to his liking.

  John worked long hours and was seldom home. Audry had made her own life. She had her circle of friends at tennis and the book club. If she could be totally honest she would have to admit that these friends were really acquaintances who moved in similar social circles and were at a similar stage of life. She had never had reason to test the strength of any of these relationships. Never had there been a deep or meaningful conversation with any of them. It just wasn’t done. It would be inappropriate. They mostly chattered about what their children and husbands were doing, while all the time covertly competing as to whose family was doing best. They often shared holiday snaps and pictures of their children playing sport or engaging in other activities. These always generated lots of “oohs and ares,” but were really thinly disguised attempts at diverting petty jealousies, played out in the tapestry of life that was Audry’s circle.

  “Where are the kids Hon?” asked John

  “Sam's in his room on the computer and Claire's over the road at Susie’s house.”

  “He’s always on that bloody computer, why doesn’t he get out and run around, like I used to when I was a kid?”

  “Well he does have his soccer on Saturdays and training on Thursday nights,” she gently reminded him.

  “OK, I’ll be in the living room,” said John curtly, as he turned out of the kitchen.

  He opened the dark paneled drinks cabinet and poured himself a Glenlivet Scotch. Only the best these days, not like the cheap whisky he used to drink in the old days. What the heck. It was Friday and he had finished the week off with an excellent sale. He tipped in a good double nip.

  Pushing back into his cream leather lounge, shoes off, with his scotch on the side table he commenced to do a postmortem on the day’s events. Yes, he had done well considering those bloody rich people he was forced to deal with these days. He had found the buyer’s wife particularly dislikable. Like him she was an upstart. A frumpy middle-aged woman who treated her husband like he was her vassal. Fancy being married to that witch he thought, no wife of mine would treat me like that. Besides she had BO and in a maneuver designed to assert her authority, always insisted on standing right in John’s face when talking to him. Anyway, he had his revenge on her. She had probably paid $200,000 more than the property was worth.

  Satisfied, his eyes began to scan the room. He liked the matching single cream leather lounge chairs opposite him across from his dark timber coffee table, where he had now positioned his feet. Well I should like them, he thought. They certainly cost enough even though they were on special when he bought them. He scanned the room further. It was a good size with a fireplace and mantelpiece on the far wall. John had his favourite picture of two sailing ships hanging in prime position over the fireplace. The picture was faded and actually looked a bit drab but that didn’t bother him. Audry wanted to replace it but he would not let her. It reminded him of his youth and the times he had been sailing with one of his mates on the river near his boyhood home. That is, when he had an occasional day off from the gardening work he had been forced to do throughout his youth. He had found sailing to be a huge relief from the pressures of daily life. Time stood still for him when he was sailing with only the wind for power and the sound of the boat slicing through the water. No engine noise to distract. Only the boat leaning with the occasional gust of wind and a wisp of spray filtering through the air.

  Not bad, thought John, but his next home was going to be bigger and have a tennis court as well as a pool. Not that he could play tennis. It was however a status symbol to have a tennis court and Audry’s father George had one. This would do for now but John was never satisfied, always on the move, always looking for more.

  Just then Munny jumped on his lap. Munny was his beautiful, half Persian and half Rag-doll female cat. She had very long fur. John had always loved animals but particularly cats. He reasoned a friendly dog will wag its tail at anyone but cats are more selective. They only go to those they like. Munny was originally bought for Clair but liked John better and always jumped on his lap whenever he was in the room. She evoked his compassionate side as he sat th
ere stroking her. Yes, he thought, animals are honest, they can’t tell lies like humans. They can’t pretend to like you when they don’t. He took another sip of his scotch with one hand as Munny gently licked the other. Yes, she was a lovely little cat and just stroking her calmed him down after the cut and thrust of the day, particularly dealing with the Wilson’s’ and their repugnant buyer.

  She rolled over on his lap so he could stroke her underbelly and he started to think how simple her life was compared to his. No worries, no needing to compete with the mendacity of the human world. Next she started purring and stretched her neck out to be rubbed under her chin. Her simple needs were clearing his mind. Yes, just like Audry she had never had anything to worry about. She did not have the worries of the world on her shoulders. The calming effect on him was amazing as all the tension of the day ebbed from his mind. She was soft and warm with her long fur and soft purr. In a way they were both serving each other’s needs. Munny to be stroked where she wanted and John to absorb her calming effect. They were in tune with each other.