The Croquet Man

Croquet-playing Champ of 2019, Phil, the ‘best friend’ to everyone in the Club, has a secret, a dirty little secret.

You see Phil, our Quintessential Sporting Wanker, is a fine player, no doubt, but as far as being an Economist, an ‘Agricultural Economist’, he’s well, let’s just say, not so great. Shite in fact.

Marrying his Uni sweetheart, Judith, in the blossoming age of the early 80’s, Phil and Judith moved into their 3 bedroom suburban home in outer Canberra and proceeded to move though life at a low ebb. Both of them Public Servants, the seemingly mild-mannered Phil and his lively bride, were both ‘living the dream’, or so he thought.

Phil always imagined himself being a bit more than that. A published Economist perhaps, with his own column in a National newspaper, or even just to work in a well-known Bank and be revered as an expert in predicting wheat futures. But no. Life seemed to just be chugging along, unrelentingly, unexciting and somewhat disappointing.

Early to our Phil’s story, along comes the old school mate and Uni-bro’, Terry. Now Tez, as they call him, has discovered a game of some unknown popularity among his public-servant mates and decides to invite his eager friend Phil along for a Saturday game at the local Bowls Club. Phil is somewhat under-whelmed to begin with, but soon realises that the very well-heeled and well-dressed foray have more than just Croquet and nice white shoes to offer. They have status. Older-club status, but status nonetheless. Status that Phil yearns for, nay, he is begging for it.

Judith, bless her, seems content to glide through life being a Librarian, a Mother and a wife, while always maintaining her Women’s Lib’ exterior and Rowing Club status as ‘one of the girls’, Phil, decides he needs this. This is his crack at getting some notoriety in a little-known sport, amongst those who, for want of a better word, are potentially, Phil’s best chance at FAME. After all, it is a boy’s Club, so who better to promote his fame than his new found buddies who are looking for a star amongst them, someone to elevate them onto the International stage of Croquet? Hey?

Some years on and Phil, our Club champion by this time, is spruiking wheat, barley and resource futures like the Wolf of Wall street, like a downright God! And they can’t get enough of him. All his “boy’s Club” mates are vying for his attention, jostling for a chance at a side-nudge, a tossed back head of laughter- the intrinsic indication of someone who is decidedly ‘in’ by anyone’s observation. Why he is the envy of all, our Phil!

Judith brings home some sad news in the early parts of the 2000’s, expressing her concerns for her poor Mother, back home in Adelaide.

“Mum is going to need to be put in a home soon, Phil, looks like she has Dementia, or even Schizophrenia.”

Poor Judith he thinks, “let’s go and see her….” he says.

Days later, arriving in Adelaide, they are greeted by Deborah, Judith’s younger sister, Luke and Will, her brothers. They don’t look so excited to see her, it is, after all, a sad time when one finally realises your last parent might not be around for much longer.

Indeed, poor Mary is no longer right. She looks nervous, frail and very strange in the face, like an old frightened doll about to be tipped off a cliff.

They get together and discuss the Doctor’s diagnosis of Dementia, soon realising that it is inevitable that neither Deborah nor Will, both Nurses, are going to be able to house, or care for her full time, so the decision is made to move her into a Nursing home.

The family decide to arrange a meeting with the Public Trustee to arrange who will look after her affairs. Her Estate, having been strengthened not so long beforehand, was by now quite considerable after her dear husband, Victor, passed some time before and her father, William, left her a considerable amount of shares on his passing in a strong, Aussie, blue-chip company.

This came as a surprise to Phil. Mary’s inheritance and Estate had never been discussed before. It just wasn’t the done thing. You see, the McEfflen’s were old-school. One didn’t discuss Estates, inheritances, money. That was just impolite and so distasteful. One just did not have need to know of other’s affairs and until it was entirely necessary to do so, meddling in other’s finances was unheard of, in all of Mary’s family. Mary, being the eldest of 4, had 2 younger sisters and a brother, Daniel. William’s only son, was a doctor, well healed in his own right, but by this stage was also getting on in years, but ‘all there’ as they say. Yes, the elevator was well and truly still going to the top floor. Sharp as attack.

Phil on the other hand, grew up on the poor side of town and only was able to get through Uni on a Scholarship due to his seeming intelligence and academic applications, in the Public and State schools he went to out in mid- New South Wales- wheat growing territory. ‘The sticks’… back in the 70’s. He was delighted, inside, to learn of Mary’s undisclosed (until now) wealth. Maybe this was his chance, he thought, his chance to make some more money on the side… after all, both he and Judith were breathing down on Retirement and he knew Judith was very much not looking forward to “living on a shoe-string”, as she put it. And how could he let her? After all, he was her provider, her Husband, even if they didn’t share the same name (a decision our women’s-lib. Judith made at their wedding and announced proudly, in the name of posterity for her Father’s name). Perhaps, somehow, if he could get his hands on the books, on Mary’s Estate, he could make a plan… a plan, to slowly but surely fiddle and diddle, to cook the books, slowly but surely, in his direction, for once. After all, playing that International Croquet trail was not going to be at all possible on their meagher income, not for much longer.

The decision was made, Judith being the eldest, with much the “I’m the eldest” kind of authority, announced that ‘She’ was an Executor of the estate and that, under her watchful eye, Phil was the best candidate to be her co-Administrator. The Guardianship Board approved, much to Deborah’s dismay (she never liked Phil much – always thought there was something NQR - [‘Not Quite Right’] … fishy… ). Anyway, who was she to say anything? Her over-bearing ‘Princess’ of a sister Judith was always right and always the favourite. As for Luke and Will? They didn’t want to know about it. Too busy to care and too many other things going on in their distanced lives, she guessed.

Time moves forward another 6 months and Mary is eventually moved in to a Nursing home on the South side of town, albeit old, it was adequate. Deborah did all the heavy lifting, with only Phil and Judith swanning in after it was all done in an effort to appear concerned. Exhausted by the whole move-out and putting her Mother’s valued possessions into storage, Deborah was at least relived to see her Mother finally being able to be cared for daily, as she needed. She was a bit concerned about a shared room, but for now it seemed reasonable.

Phil and Judith are by now well ensconced as the Joint Administrators and Will, because he lives also in Adelaide and is a Nurse, can be closer to hand to look in on Mary from time to time and ‘report back’ as it were to “the McBlairs” as Deborah called them – Judith having last name McEfflen and Phil being a Blair. Living in Canberra was going to make that a ‘task’, appointed from the McBlair’s it seemed, with a particular sense of self-importance that oozed through the already slimy-character of Phil, thought Deborah. Aaarrghhh! Always passed over, always last, the one of least importance, that seemed to always be her ‘lot’ in life. She consoles herself with the words of her dearly departed Father, Pat, “the last shall be first and the first shall be last”…. She loved Pat, her dear Father, the teacher and, although he was gone, she knew he was still around her. Her only comfort in life it seemed sometimes. Deborah was always the one, it seemed, to do the heavy lifting, of looking in on her Mother, poor Mary, all alone and frail… Taking her out for an ice cream or a hair-do was the highlight of her existence these days, and justifying the expenditure on her- to the already bossy Phil, was becoming tiresome and arduous to say the least.

In a moment of odd clarity, Mary says to Deborah one day “…he’s stealing all my money”! Odd, she thought, wait, what? Is he? Her suspicion is peaked suddenly. I have to keep tabs, she thinks, with that ‘Phil’ person she’s beginning to loathe, Aaarrghhh! Why me!

Phil decides in the early years of the Estate Administration to let Judith get on with her Rowing Club and other retired ‘lady–of-leisure’ life and look into what really can be done here. He discovers a way to subtly begin moving all her investments to a Portfolio – along with his and Judith’s Pensions and Super. Somehow his new found “Wealth Adviser’s” company (he liked the sound of that), very much looked like they were going to make his job easier. Very much easier…. In his first official year of reporting to the Guardianship Board of Administration, he went terribly wrong, all the software he used was confusing and involved and, to his dismay he found the new role was not to his liking, he wanted more control. More to do with the trading of her Shares, after all, he needed to be ‘seen’ to be increasing his Mother-in-law’s wealth, right? So how could he do it more effectively, more autonomously? The Portfolio, by now with his lovely new Adviser, Patricia, was looking like a real way to advance his ‘futures’, something that held great appeal, along with his new found friendship with the ‘delicious Trish’, as he liked to call her.

By the time report #2 is accepted, Phil realises he has managed to understate Mary’s assets and investments by $20,000. At first he thought to correct the mistake, but when no letters came to him on that, no calls, or emails, he thought, “I got away with it” ….. no-one knew. Nobody realised. Well, that was easy, he thinks to himself. I wonder if I can manage that again? Sliding this small win surreptitiously into his own account, he can’t help but feel like a chef, no, a cunning fox. Cooking these books might be easier than he thought!

He finds himself a small black notebook, from the local Newsagent. It’s Saturday morning, before his Croquet game is about to start. Better right this down, he thinks, better keep a record of it. After all, when a lie happens, then another and, yes, another, it takes a while to remember where it started. The wicked web…. Booking those flights to England for the International championships never felt so good. Another day, another round, off to the Club to extol himself as the Champ again. All his dreams are finally coming true. He can see it all now, fame is at hand, he can taste it. How delicious he thinks, focusing only on his status by choice now, after all, can’t let a few dollars get in our way now, can we? Feeling for the notebook in his pocket, he heads off.

Fast Forward to 2021 – Scene opens with a Court coming to order.

“Case 25120, Judge Martins appearing, all rise”.

By Tina E. Dawes ©2021