The Property Manager: You'll never rent again... Read online

  My thigh brushed against yours as I sat beside you. It burnt and my leg was the only part of me that felt alive. You sat, entranced by the music. I sat beside you, entranced by your womanly scent. You are definitely not a perfume woman. I like that. My ex-wife wore so much perfume that I became allergic to her.

  The pianist at the church was a little all over the place and the elderly woman conducting looked like she’d popped too much Prozac. But the most entertaining member of the singing troupe was the fellow I silently dubbed – ‘the wide-mouthed frog’. Honest to God, you could drive a semi-trailer through those stretched lips. He was enthusiastic to the point where I thought he was going to swallow himself. So all in all I guess you could call it entertaining. I was surprised that your lover-boy was so professional- sounding. He stood out like a sore thumb from the rest of the caterwauling.

  You didn’t say more than a few words to me afterwards and made it quite clear that my presence was no longer required. I went over and congratulated Mr. Cox on his performance. I shook his hand, squeezing just a little bit too hard. He gave me a cold smile with his flashy white teeth and I sneered back and nodded, before walking away. For obvious reasons I am not that family’s favourite person at the moment. My hand was sweating where he had touched it and I imagined it caressing your skin and diving into your depths. I looked back at you as you chatted to him. His wife and daughter were schmoozing with the older folks and I could see the smug, arrogance wafting between the two of you. “Haha…we know something you don’t know” etched all over your faces.

  You would be over there now eating their food at their family dinner table. You really should be ashamed of yourself. How did you manage to put my comment about him being a sleaze bucket behind you? Lust is blind, I guess.

  I’m going to park at the end of their street again. I’ll take a nice CD to listen to, otherwise I’ll just get anxious and irritable, sitting outside THEIR house, knowing that you are laughing and drinking and playing fucked up mind games with that couple in their own home. I’ll take the handy-cam to catch you leaving. Maybe.

  Panis Angelicus is the piece that your tenor soloed toward the end of the concert. I was trying to remember where I knew it from. Possibly from school. Hardly appropriate. He’s not terribly angelic, to my mind!

  8/07/05 Thursday

  6:55a.m

  I’ve just rung Mum. She does sound a bit flat. She had only just woken up which is unusual for her. She’s usually up before the sun. I explained to her again that I really think I’ve found the perfect woman and I told her I was going to ask you to marry me. That is true, Grace but I think it would be unwise to approach you on that subject for a little while yet.

  I was pleased to see you leave that place last night at the reasonable hour of nine. You need to be home with those boys, putting them to bed like a good mother.

  My mother tried to get an invite to my place for the week-end but I vetoed that quick smart. She would hassle me relentlessly to bring you over for dinner. She’d want your boys presented to her in their Sunday best. She wouldn’t understand our situation. So – I’ve made you my number one priority. I need to be here to protect you from any more unwanted or wanted advances by that operatic arsehole. Perhaps you’ve put it all behind you now. It was a good sign that you left so promptly last night.

  I will finish writing my five sets of questions for the Trivia night this morning. I’ve only got a couple to go. Karen gave me hers yesterday and although I’ve only had a quick flick through them, they look quite good. I concentrated on the subjects that I am better at – local topography, history, music and art. I’ve probably got about ten or so questions in mind for you. A few on Academy Award winners and some religious questions. You’re an eclectic mix of contradictions, Gracie. The golden Oscar and the crucified Christ couldn’t be more diametrically opposed.

  I plan to do some editing tonight. I want to get some more footage of the countryside surrounding the township during the day. I’ll have lunch down at the lookout and get some film of the rolling hills and gorges. They will be the opening shots for the film and I will do some text to use as credits….The title of the film – I am going to go with “Amazing Grace”. It’s just too perfect. Naturally that will open the soundtrack, too. Amazing Grace how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now I’m found…..was blind but now I SEEEEEEEEEE! I just sang that as I wrote it. Not like a flashy opera singer though….like a man who has seen the light. Hallelujah! Sung from the heart beautifully but from the diaphragm rather dismally.

  7:58p.m.

  I’ve got the first three minutes of my film in the can, so to speak. I’ve got a recording of “Amazing Grace” by Bob Snyder. He plays a haunting clarinet. I didn’t want the words sung, just the tune is enough.

  Mother rang again to see if I had changed my mind about coming to Sydney. I swear she is slipping into senility. I explained myself AGAIN but did promise to make the trip next weekend. Whether I follow through with that or not, remains to be seen. I probably should. She’s not bad company – the old duck. I do like going through her old photo albums. I might bring some back home to show you, one of these days. As a boy I resembled your son Dan just a bit I think. We both have a piercing and serious kind of look. Dark hair. Blue eyes.

  I just went to the bookcase and dragged my one album out. Here’s a picture of me at about sixteen. Any resemblance? Perhaps when we are finally together, you’ll see.

  I’m worried that Dan is getting too heavily into that Gothic scene. I don’t think it’s healthy. Quite demonic really. All that black, vampire nonsense. It’s small town boredom that drives the youth to run around like freaks…. “Look at me! Look at me!” They think they are being unique and different but they’re all just sheep. Black sheep.

  I am going to trust you to be a good girl tonight. I won’t come a –knocking. I’m too involved in my Spielbergian pursuits and don’t feel that I should interrupt my surge of creative genius. Ride it while it’s galloping along.

  I’ll bid you adieu and look forward to our Trivia Night of nights tomorrow. Perhaps you’ll be spending this evening reading up in preparation. There are probably lots of trivia sites on the net. I’ve never thought to look.

  I think the questions I’ve come up with are acceptably intellectual without being too hard for the average Babylon brain to tackle.

  Night

  xxxxxxxx

  9/07/05 Friday morning.

  We had a black-out last night so my microwave clock has stopped.

  I got so much work done on the film last night. I was inspired. The result is about ten minutes of great footage. The camera loves you. It’s so much better having a lead actress who doesn’t know she’s being filmed. It’s so unguarded and natural. It’s not a forced performance with strained smiles and batting of eyelashes. It’s you with a genuine light shining out of your smile and your eyes. When you frown, I believe it. You get cross at the kids and I know exactly how you feel.

  I don’t want to give it all away. You will eventually see it and I’m sure you’ll be touched and moved by my devotion to you.

  I’ve downloaded the clarinet acoustic version of Amazing Grace but I’ve decided to add the soundtrack later. It’s easier that way and very complicated to change once I’ve done it. I am doing constantly thinking of pieces of music to add here and there. This project is on my mind nearly every minute of the day.

  The opening is a beautiful view out over the gorges and gullies of the National Park. I was impressed with my cinematography really. I managed to spy a wallaby amongst the undergrowth near the look-out and zoomed in on it, as it nibbled a blade of grass. Next I cut to the main street of town and as I took that footage very early in the morning, almost a week ago, the main street is deathly quiet and the fog hangs like a transparent curtain over the village. It’s haunting and more so for the clarinet that will eventually accompany the images. To mix the genres a little with this – my masterpiece- I have inserted
three still- photographs that flash like frozen moments in time onto the screen. I will narrate over the top of these.

  Image one.

  “Grace” - I scanned the photograph I took from your coffee table album into the computer.

  Text – “In the month of May, Grace Templar, appeared in the village of Babylon.”

  Image two.

  A shot of the Babylon Medical Centre.

  Text –“She began work at the Babylon Medical Centre as the office manager.”

  (Sounds better than receptionist, don’t you think?)

  Image Three

  Shot of me standing outside the Real Estate Office. (It’s the standard one used by the business for publicity but it’s a good one of me. I look quite debonair!)

  Text – “And she came to John Byrne to find a house to rent. The rest….as they say…..is history.”

  I’m putting on my best voice. I’ve been told I sound a little like Michael Caine.

  I must go to work. There’s a lot to do for this Trivia event! Haven’t we had a great response? There are bookings for eight tables of eight and more may show tonight. You haven’t told me who will be at your table. That will be interesting to see. That’s $960 we’ve raised already. That should buy the Moorebank family plenty of booze and dope.

  See you this afternoon. I believe your boys will be at the hall this afternoon at about three. They’re on school holidays now, aren’t they? Is Harry going full time to Jenny’s? I got that impression last time I heard the two of you conversing.

  I may need to change the batteries in the smoke alarm cameras soon. I will have to be careful about letting myself into your place if those kids are hanging around. I might actually organize an inspection soon. I’m organizing one for the Cox’s. They’ll be too concerned about their future to argue about it. I’ll pretend that I might be able to give them more time if the owner can be persuaded that they are looking after the property well. That is not, of course, true. I really just want to have a poke about the place and see if I can dig up any dirt on them to file away in case I should need it as ammunition in my fight against your friendship with them.

  Off to work. I’ll write again after the BIG EVENT!

  Good luck tonight my little trivia queen.

  11:45 p.m.

  I wouldn’t be home right now to write this but I needed my damn computer and left it behind. I’ve been keeping it in the car recently in case I feel the sudden urge to go and look in on you and the boys. I have to run….I’ll write in the car. That Cox fellow has given you a lift home and as he’s alone I am racing to check that you don’t slip up. I’ll set a fire outside your house or something if I have to.

  12:08a.m.

  He’s still in there. His dilapidated truck was parked on the lawn. I hate that. There is a driveway. Why do some slobs think its okay to drive over the front lawn? It’s not landscaped…just an expanse of grass but it IS a front lawn not a car park. I was forever reprimanding the last tenants about that. They had friends using it as a race track some nights. I knew because after a good rainfall, I could see the deep, muddy grooves, slashed through the grass.

  I am trying to be patient and calm. I have you on the screen beside me. You have made him a cup of tea and are sitting at the dining room table. Opposite each other. So far the conversation has been small talk about the trivia night.

  It was a good night, wasn’t it? Naturally you won, you clever girl. I knew you would but why, why, why was that curly headed bastard on your table? And where was his wife? He told me when I casually asked, that she was sick and had a business meeting interstate tomorrow so she’d stayed at home to rest. Is this woman a hypochondriac or what?

  I’ve noticed her at the surgery quite a lot over the last six months, now that I think about it. Before you arrived, that is. And her husband might not have got his end away with you last week if she hadn’t demanded to be taken home with a migraine. Her health might be the death of her marriage.

  The other surprise of the evening was that the SLOTH was on your table next to Jenny. Are they friends? That wouldn’t surprise me! Jenny’s got a bit more class…not much…but a bit but they are both party girls. Single. The blonde witch didn’t make eye contact with me all night. The other two couples sitting with you were faces I have seen about town but don’t know much about. One of them is a barmaid from the hotel. Linda? Liz? Whatever. I think you could find a better niche in this village. I’m sure some of them are nice people…salt of the earth….but you need to move up the food chain a bit. The Buxtons, the Hills. There are lots of professional, home-owning couples with educated senses of humour and more to offer on many levels. I don’t want to be friends with the barmaid and those other working class folk. They’re altogether too brassy and bold. Your table was notably louder than the others. I hope you don’t think that Sloth is friend-material. I didn’t notice much communication or warmth between you.

  I have butterflies in my stomach listening to you talking to this guy. Dan came out of the garage for a while and asked you to wash his clothes for a party tomorrow night. You rolled your eyes and told him to throw them in the laundry. I think it was an excuse to see what this man was doing hanging around his mother. Dan left.

  Oh shit…hang on…arsehole is talking about his wife….yeah..yeah..you’ve been together forever…fifteen years did you say? God they must have been kids when they hooked up…you just said the same thing…. He’s leaning forward and lowering his voice. Jesus…he’s looking at your cleavage. You’re flirting. Your body language is very wanton, Grace. Sit up straight and stop slumping forward so he doesn’t get such an eyeful.

  I swear I’ll lose my mind if he touches you.

  I’ve just turned the volume up…he’s talking about his frustration…no sex…oh FUCK OFF! Don’t buy that…don’t you dare buy that piece of shit LINE. This is not a singles bar, Gracie so stop acting like a desperate and dateless single woman. YOU ARE SPOKEN FOR. Oh God, he’s telling you how gorgeous you are…he’s telling you that SHE is going away to Queensland in the morning. He’s up…walking around the table…he’s rubbing your shoulders…..Damn. I’ve got a lighter in my glove box and I am bloody well going to stop this right now!

  10/07/05

  Saturday morning

  I couldn’t do it. I’m a gutless fool. I stood near the kitchen window, straining to see from an awkward angle in across the bench to where you were sitting. He was rubbing your shoulders and caressing you hair. You’re eyes were shut and the hint of a smile played on your lips.

  He doesn’t love you Grace. I could see his face. He was a hungry dog. You are nothing but a quick feed for him. You are a can of cheap Pal. That is how he sees you. I see you as a banquet and I would savour you and make you into a ten course meal.

  Thank God for Harry. There is a god and he woke your restless son at the perfect moment. Sleazeman’s hands shot away from you as if he’d been electrocuted when Harry’s little voice sounded, getting closer.

  “Mum?”

  You got up from your chair, looking most annoyed. Your visitor made his exit quickly and you gave him a look that was so inviting it made my dinner rise into my throat and you said….

  “WELL I SUPPOSE I’LL SEE YOU TOMORROW!!!!!!”

  Well now it is tomorrow and you had better have been joking.

  My bloody mother has left two messages on my answering machine begging me to come to Sydney. Of all the rotten times to begin a campaign of harassment…..

  I’m not even going to call her back. I won’t respond to that sort of bullying. If she asks me why I didn’t answer, I will say that you and I were away for the week-end. We went to…aarrhh….the seaside for a few days. Wouldn’t that be nice, Grace? Just you and I. No kids. Splashing in the ocean and walking hand in hand along the sand at daybreak, watching the sun rise over the horizon? Maybe a midnight skinny-dip? Now I’m getting raunchy but you do that to me.

  PLAN A - I will go to your place around lunchtime, after your drama class
is over, to warn you that there have been a few burglaries in the area. While we are chatting I might begin to get chest pains and ask to sit down for a minute and have a glass of water.

  PLAN B – If the swine is already there..I will mention that I am also dropping about his area to let tenants know about the burglaries and that I’ll mention it to his wife. That will force him to mention that she is away for a few days and perhaps he’ll ask me not to mention …oh I don’t know what the fuck I am talking about. Scrap plan B.

  I will do the possible heart attack thing and just play it by ear. Whatever happens, you will not be jumping on that man again.

  I just threw up. This affair you are considering is not good for my health. I am crawling up the walls with anxiety. The phone rang. It will be my mother. I pulled it out of the wall. I don’t even want to hear her voice on the answering machine.

  I can’t eat. My mouth tastes like a mint factory because I’ve brushed my teeth six times to eradicate the taste of vomit.

  I can’t stay here. Must go out. I’ve got all my equipment in the car, ready for action. I’ve typed up a flyer about the make-believe burglaries.