Chapter 30
30
Hamish
It was done. The keys to the apartment had been handed over and the money transferred to Hamish’s bank account, giving him a balance that had his heart pumping fast for several seconds. He celebrated by himself what he was beginning to think of as the next chapter of his life: Retirement, Take Two. Buying out Nat’s share of the house would take time to be finalised, but the ball was rolling. Bryan Chalmers had appraised and valued the property and Terri Longbottom was coming in the morning to do the same. Of the two agents, Hamish believed that Bryan’s valuation would be the lower of the two and the most realistic, but knowing his sister the way he did, he accepted without qualms that she’d push for his buyout to be based on the highest valuation. In the end, the solicitors would decide.
He settled into one of the tatty old vinyl-covered armchairs on the back verandah with a beer and a bag of peanuts and decided the only thing that would make the moment more right was if Ruth was sitting in the adjacent chair, sharing the special time with him. He’d always been a loner, so that realisation in itself was novel for him. As he gazed out onto the backyard, he thought about his parents. Had they often sat out here and enjoyed a warm summer’s evening? Chatted about their day? Given the armchairs had already been firmly ensconced when he’d arrived, perhaps they had. The depth of the dust and cobwebs he’d cleaned off the chairs led him to believe his father hadn’t sat out here on his own. There wasn’t a lot left to look at in the backyard, not since Hamish had dispatched the rainwater tank to the dump and taken out every dead plant and shrub and the remains of the long-neglected vegetable garden.
He was into his third beer and feeling mellow when the lengthening shadows disappeared altogether. The sea breeze had dropped, the evening stilled, and tomorrow was forecast to be another hot day. As he sat there, Hamish pondered the unexpected direction his life had taken and what the future might hold. Jeff, his mate the builder, was driving across on the weekend. He was looking forward to that. It would be good to catch up with Jeff, but even better to discover which parts of his renovation imaginings could be realistically accomplished.
On the crate beside him, his phone rang. He glanced at the illuminated screen hoping it’d be Ruth, but no, it was Nat. It continued to ring and vibrate itself towards the edge of the crate. He snatched it up the second it would have toppled over the edge and onto the cement. It stopped ringing before he answered and he heaved a sigh of relief, short-lived, because it started up again.
‘Nat,’ he said.
‘You’re going to have to advance me money in lieu of my share of the house,’ she said and sounded out of breath. ‘Twenty thousand at least. Maybe thirty. Immediately.’
‘And why am I going to have to do that? And who says I have money I can advance you, immediately or otherwise?’
‘I know you’ve sold your apartment and I know how much you got for it so don’t bullshit me, Hamish.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘You can find just about anything you want online, if you know where to look.’
Hamish shifted in the seat. His mouth turned sour. ‘I’m not giving you a cent, Nat, not until we have an agreement on what your share of the house is and it’s all been made legal.’
She made a sound somewhere between a sob and snort. ‘Robyn pranged my car. I need a car to get to work, pick up the grandkids from school and all the other things I do to keep this family afloat.’
‘Is Robyn all right? Was anyone else in the car? Why was she even driving your car?’
‘She’s fine, but the car’s a total write-off. And it’s none of your business who drives my car.’
‘Insurance?’
‘You’re kidding me? Who can afford insurance? It was probably as much as the car was worth.’
‘And you need thirty thousand? That’s a pretty nice replacement you have in mind. What about Pete’s ute?’
‘He uses that,’ she said, getting shriller by the syllable.
‘Only to and from work. Lots of people manage with one car.’
‘It’s a ute. Where would I put the grandkids? In the back? Stop being an arsehole, Hamish, and just transfer me the money. You can afford it and it’s only part of what’s mine anyway. If I was a total bitch I’d contest the will because you don’t deserve half, the little you did for Mum and Dad. I’ll text my bank details.’
Hamish’s jaw tensed. ‘Not gonna happen, Nat. You only have two weeks at the most to wait before you’ll have your fair share and you can spend it on whatever you please. In the meantime, borrow Robyn’s car.’
‘Why are you being such a bastard, Hamish?’
‘I don’t think I am and if I was, it might have something to do with the fact that the only time I ever hear from you is when you want something, usually money.’
‘It’s not as if you don’t have enough—’
‘Natalie,’ he said, ‘we are not having that conversation again. So unless you want to talk about something different, like how the kids are, how I am, what Pete’s up to or what’s happening in Cutlers Bay—’
She hung up, just like he knew she would. He stood, stepped over to the edge of the verandah and emptied the stubby onto the bare garden bed. His mellow mood had evaporated. Contest the will? He’d given up trying to understand why, when it came to him, his sister had always been a grasping and unlikeable person. She’d been an irritation as far back as he could remember, although she’d become less likeable with age.
He went inside and opened the fridge to scan the contents, settling for cold lamb chops left over from last night’s barbecue. Two tomatoes and bread completed the meal. While he ate, he debated whether or not to call Ruth. He decided against it. She’d be worn out after a long day on her feet. They’d had a brief phone conversation the previous Tuesday evening, not long after she’d arrived home from Adelaide and she’d sounded distracted and worried about Elliot. ‘I wanted him to come home with me again, but he refused,’ she’d said. ‘I had coffee with Lana this morning and she said he’d come to dinner and got rolling drunk. She’d managed to pour him into a taxi. And one day she’d popped in and he was still in bed, at two in the afternoon!’
A lesser person might buckle under the strain. The last thing she’d need right now was to hear him banging on about what an ungrateful bitch his sister was and always had been. So Hamish did what he always did when he didn’t know what else to do: he went back to work. This time that meant removing the mantelpiece and surround from the fireplace in the lounge room. He hadn’t decided yet whether he’d brick in the fireplace completely or strip the layers of paint off the mantelpiece and decorative framework and restore it all to its former glory.
* * *
Jeff arrived bright and early Saturday morning astride a Harley Davidson motorcycle, the one that Hamish had only ever heard about.
‘Mate,’ he said, circling the chrome-encrusted classic. ‘Business must be booming.’
Jeff grinned, resting his helmet and gloves on the seat while he peeled off his leather jacket. ‘Boys and their toys is what the wife says.’
‘Come in and I’ll show you around. Coffee?’
‘Let’s do the house first.’
Two hours later, Jeff had inspected the house from top to bottom, photographed everything and taken a ream of measurements. He raised his eyebrows when Hamish handed him several drawings outlining his ideas the best he could.
‘I’m a diesel mechanic,’ Hamish said and shrugged, ‘not a draftsman.’
Jeff pored over the drawings for several minutes.
‘Well, what do you think?’ Hamish said when he couldn’t contain himself any longer.
‘Ambitious,’ Jeff said. ‘You might want to rethink the size of the extension when you get the quote. If you’re doing it purely as an investment, you don’t want to overspend. But if you intend living here for the duration, it would make it into a very liveable home.’
‘At this stage, an investment is what I have in mind. And to mitigate costs, I intend to do as much of the work as I can.’
Jeff nodded. ‘We can turn these into real plans, if that’s what you want, then you’ll have something solid to work with and I can give you an idea of what it might cost.’
‘Yep, it’s what I want. Now, there’s a decent cafe in town. Why don’t I buy you a coffee and something to eat and you can fill me in on what I’ll owe you for drawing up the plans.’
Jeff took out his phone and glanced at the time. ‘I’ve got about another hour before I need to be back on the road. The lad plays cricket this afternoon and I promised I’d be there to watch him.’
They walked to the cafe, Jeff happy to stretch his legs.
Mia was at the counter taking orders and she gave the men a bright smile. ‘Hamish, what can I get you?’
They ordered coffee and toasted sandwiches and, as luck would have it, table three was the only table free. Hamish made a beeline for it.
‘You obviously come here often,’ Jeff said and sat down. ‘Even have your own favourite table.’
‘Coffee’s good, food’s good, what’s there not to like?’
Jeff glanced around the cosy cafe. ‘Never thought I’d see you living out in the sticks. Not after that flash joint you had in North Adelaide. But I’m beginning to see how the place could grow on a bloke.’
‘It’s not a bad spot,’ Hamish said and then described the golf course. ‘Haven’t had a hit yet, but plan to soon.’
Mia came with their coffees and a few minutes later Ruth arrived with the toasted sandwiches. Hamish introduced her to Jeff.
‘And does a motorcycle go with the leather trousers, or do you just like leather?’ she said and Jeff laughed.
When she was on her way back to the kitchen, he gave Hamish a sly glance and said, ‘Yeah, I can see how the place could grow on a bloke.’
Hamish didn’t comment, concentrating on his toasted sandwich instead.
Back at East Terrace, Jeff donned his leather jacket and helmet. ‘Should have something to you in a couple of weeks,’ he said, patting the pocket where he’d slipped the list of measurements along with Hamish’s drawings. The Harley started with its trademark rumble and, anonymous now behind the tinted visor of a helmet, Jeff lifted his arm in farewell.
That’s when Hamish spotted the two boys astride pushbikes on the opposite side of the street. He’d seen them around before, heedlessly riding their bikes up and down the street. They were barely teenagers. He’d wanted to shout to them to take more care; that it only took an instant of inattention for lives to be changed irrevocably. Hamish waved and they scooted across the street, without looking both ways first.
‘Was that a Harley?’ the sandy-haired taller of the two said. He vibrated with excitement.
‘Sure was,’ Hamish said. ‘Twenty-eighteen Low Rider.’
‘Awesome. Is he your mate?’
‘Yep.’
‘Is he coming back?’
‘Not today,’ Hamish said.
‘Bummer,’ he said, unimpressed. ‘Do you know when he is coming back? Maybe he’d take us for a spin around the block, eh, Cody?’
The other boy nodded, his straight dark hair flopping over his forehead. Hamish guessed that Cody was Mia’s brother. There was definitely a resemblance.
‘Sorry, fellas, but I couldn’t say when Jeff’ll be back this way with his bike.’
Resigned, they skidded off the footpath and onto the road, spitting up gravel as they went.
‘Watch out for traffic,’ Hamish yelled, sounding a bit demented even to his own ears. The sandy-haired lad glanced back over his shoulder, scorn written all over his face.