RWG National Short Story Competition 2006, Regional Winner
Frank’s favourite café was crowded on Friday. The only space he could find was in a corner of the deli section. As he tucked into a slice of hot bacon and egg pie, a shadow crossed his table.
“You’re Frank Rogers, aren’t you?”
Frank looked up. A large, round faced man stood beside him. Sparse yellow hair covered his shiny dome and he looked fat in designer label ski gear. Frank’s brow crumpled and his eyes narrowed as he studied the face. “You look familiar, do I know you?”
“I’m Andrew Chappell, remember. We were at Rotorua Boys’ High School, in the sixties.”
The cogs in Frank’s memory banks clicked. “That’s right, Malfroy Primary too. You left in the fifth form and went into the building trade.”
“That’s me.” Andrew extended his hand.
It was large and soft. He’s not driving in nails now, Frank guessed. He was hovering. “Have a seat.”
Andrew sat down and poked his plastic order card into the chrome stand. “I’ve got a flat white coming. The wait will give us a chance to catch up.”
Frank was remembering more. They’d played in the second cricket eleven; he was a good slow bowler. Sometimes they’d skipped phys-ed class and holed up in the cricket shed, to have a smoke, lying on the mats. Andrew was in the C stream. He hadn’t even tried to be academic, but he was good at woodwork. “Are you living in Taupo, Andrew, or visiting?”
“I’ve been living in Taupo for five years. It’s a refreshing change after Auckland. There’s not so many sharks down here… What about you?”
“I’m only here till tomorrow. Some people to see.”
“Still working then?”
He’s trying to measure me up, see how I compare. “I took early retirement from the bank at fifty and shifted back to Rotorua. Now I do a bit of consultancy work. It keeps me out of mischief.”
“I quit serious work when I came here,” Andrew said. “Now, when I’m not skiing or fishing, I manage my property portfolio. I’ve now got more property here than in Auckland.”
He always was a bit of a noter, Frank remembered, but he did look prosperous. “Sounds a nice life style, Andrew. You’ve enough to…”
Frank was interrupted by the waitress bringing their coffees. Andrew eyed the girl’s ample backside as she returned to the counter. “Bloody nice arse, eh… Wouldn’t mind a squeeze of it.”
He grinned and Frank noticed his lips were moist. The bugger’s drooling. “Not really my cup of tea, Andrew… I’m a serial monogamist, I’m afraid.”
Andrew winked at him. “Younger women keep you going, that’s what I’ve found.”
Frank pressed his eyes closed. “You married Sharon Wallace, eh, she was nice, pretty too.”
Andrew looked away. “Sharon and I split ten years ago. I was just coming right after the eighty seven crash and the bitch took half my money… Still, I’ve more than made up for the dough and the new wife’s twenty years younger than me.”
Frank stared at a rack of spices. He pursed his lips, remembering Sharon Wallace as a carefree teenager… How times change.
Andrew interrupted his day dream. “Do you remember Jack Stafford, brainy bugger; he was in your class.”
Frank hadn’t liked Jack. He’d been self centred and you couldn’t rely on him. “No, I can’t say I do.”
Andrew wasn’t listening. “He’s done well, land development in Queensland, in with his brother. They’re both multi millionaires.”
“Hmmm…”
“What about Dave Thatcher, from my class. He left when I did and took a panel-beating apprenticeship.”
Frank nodded. He’s going to tell me anyway.
“He’s into cars and property now. I saw him on the Gold Coast last year, he’s still a scruffy little sod, but worth a fortune.”
Frank had enough money and couldn’t be bothered worrying about making any more. “It’s good to hear some of our old mates have done well.” He laughed, “There’s hope for us yet, eh.”
Andrew’s face sagged, the corners of his mouth turned down.
I’ve upset him now, Frank thought. I’m meant to think he’s successful and got lots of dough, to be impressed. He’d finished his coffee and made to get up. “I’d better cut a track, Andrew. It’s been good to see you again, after all these years.”
Andrew leant back in his chair. “You’re in town overnight, eh. We’re having a few people over for dinner, nothing flash. Do you want to come?”
Frank winced mentally. He was looking forward to a mineral bath and bed, but he didn’t want to be churlish. “Okay, I’d enjoy that.”
Andrew stood up and handed him a card. “The address is on there. Shall we say seven?”
Frank parked his Holden in the street, opposite the address Andrew’d given him. The house was substantial. Set on rising ground, the cream stucco and tinted glass dominated the street. A new, red BMW X5 Vancouver, parked in the drive drew Frank’s eye. It had the classic BMW grill, but with angular, reptilian lines, it looked like a giant armadillo. He noted the plate, AND15, Andy’s. Interesting, Frank thought.
“Nice machine, eh Frank, 4.8 litre… Fancy one, do you?” Andrew had come down the sweeping steps from the house. He’d changed out of his ski gear, into an Elvis like white jump suit, a gold chain around his neck.
He’s left the BMW out on purpose; he wants me to be envious. “Yours?”
“Yeah… I like a bit of grunt, always had Beemers. Come on up.” Andrew led the way to a cavernous lounge with sweeping views across the deep blue lake to the snow capped Kaimanawas. A clutch of well dressed people stood chatting at one end of the space. Andrew raised an eyebrow to a short, wedge shaped, woman and she came over. He introduced her like a prize, as his wife Andrea.
Andrew drifted away to get him a drink.
Andrea fixed Frank with cold grey eyes. “So, you were at school with Andy. I can’t imagine him in shorts and a cap.”
Frank couldn’t imagine Andrew squeezing Andrea’s arse without permission. “We still had shorts, but caps were before our time.”
Andrew returned with his beer. “Come over and meet Gordon. He owns Jackson’s, you know the house-wares chain. They’ve got a weekend place next door.” Gordon was affable and talked about the rugby. Frank nursed his beer as he was passed around the group. They were all successful individuals who appeared comfortable with their wealth. He gathered they often dined at each others houses.
Andrea escorted him to the table. To a chair between a surgeon’s wife and a car dealer’s partner.
“Are you into property like Andy, Frank?” the partner said.
Frank was cautious. “I used to be a bank manager with the BNZ, but I’m retired now.”
The surgeon’s wife giggled. “You don’t look old enough to be retired.”
Frank didn’t want to say too much. “I work part time, helping companies with debt management. It’s all very boring. Andrew’s life style sounds much more fun.”
The wife nodded. “Andrea certainly has a good time. She stayed in town with me last month and I thought she was going to buy out Smith and Coughey’s lingerie department.”
The meal was delicious. Frank relaxed, had two glasses of red wine and enjoyed the company. Around ten he excused himself.
On Saturday morning Frank parked in a side street and walked to the house. At his knock, he heard laboured movements inside. They were up late, he guessed. The door opened to a narrow gap and he saw a face.
“Oh… Hi Frank, did you forget something?” Andrew opened the door wider.
Frank stepped to the threshold and thrust out his hand. “I have to give you this Andrew; it’s a repossession letter from Kensington Finance.”
Andrew’s face shrunk, it went all wrinkly like a week old pink balloon. His hands shook and his bulging eyes bored into the letter. Frank wondered if he was actually reading it or trying to think of something to say.
He looked up, his eyes watery. “I can’t pay, not right now… I’m expecting a settlement on Monday and then I can sort you out.”
Frank had heard every excuse and plea in the book. Andrew’s effort was pretty weak. “You’ve had two default notices, haven’t you?”
Andrew gave a hint of a nod.
“Right now is your last chance to make the payment. The amount’s in the letter.”
Andrew’s shoulders slumped and his eyes fell to the floor.
“If you’ll give me the keys Andrew, I’ll be off. When you’ve got the money, you can contact the finance company for the BMW’s release.”
Andrew gave a lazy shrug, turned and shuffled off into the house. He was a different man from their encounter in the cafe. Returning with the keys he pitched them over arm, from the hall. Frank caught them, two handed, in the doorway.
