Caldera

By Sean Rian

Desmond Kane is the senior partner and art director of an advertising agency. His organising abilities and proselytising talents have ensured its survival in the most testing of times.
A conscientious family man, he and his wife Ruth find themselves in conflict with the expectations of their children whose view of the world seems to go beyond the usual autistic self-centred postures of teenage rebellion.
Is there an ever widening fissure?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Sep 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491875490

Sean Rian

Born of Irish parents, Sean Rian has lived in London most of his life. Now retired and divorced, after intensive involvement throughout the years in construction, property and travel, his main preoccupations are serious reading and extensive travel.

Book preview

Contents

Synopsis

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Epilogue

Synopsis

Desmond Kane is the senior partner and art director of an advertising agency. His organising abilities and prostelysing talents have ensured its survival in the most testing of times.

A conscientious family man, he and his wife Ruth find themselves in conflict with the expectations of their children whose view of the world seem to go beyond the usual autistic self-centred postures of teenage rebellion.

Is there an ever widening fissure?

To Mr Gabriel in gratitude

for an early everlasting awakening.

CALDERA: A volcanic crater of great size. One whose breath greatly exceeds that of the vents within it.

OXFORD ENGLISH DICTIONARY.

Chapter One

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‘With so many voices who can hear anything? Advertising clutter numbs and bedazzles. And yet through it all who cannot hear the cry of a child? In our western hemisphere such cries are more precious than ever before. One or two offspring is the norm for millions. The death or flight of a child to parents who care is a horrible depletion to be avoided whatever the cost. This dread weakens the will of parents to resist the wants and whims of their children.’ The speaker on the spotlight lectern paused to fleetingly scan his audience. ‘And here is our market. The economic well being of a household is not our problem. Its priorities are. If a child requires expensive trainers to avoid the scorn of other children that becomes a priority. You must ensure that your selling message is, The protection and well being of the child.’

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It is early evening. Seated at one end of a long pine table is a young man, burly, with dark strong dishevelled hair. Although a radio on the Welsh dresser at the far end of the table is on full blare, a Walkman headset covers his ears and with a zapper he is diligently channel surfing through the overhead television fixed to the outside wall. Fully engrossed he ignores the rings of the wall telephone by the hall door.

After a minute it stops ringing and switches over to the Answer phone. A message comes through after the pause. Desmond-Bad news-A heart attack or stroke-Jessie is vague but indignant-I’m going there now-It’s mostly your shout tomorrow so will you take over his presentation-I’ve faxed it through-will call you back-cheers.

The zapper had seemed to have a life of its own and the young man was oblivious to the gathering dusk and then later to sounds of voices and movement in the front hall. But the sound of barking and the beat of paws on the half doors behind him at the far end of the kitchenette did penetrate and he sat up with a start as the hall door opened and a hand came through to switch on the ceiling light.

First to enter was a young girl who made a beeline for the radio on the Welsh dresser and switched stations.

‘Leave it you little wart!’

‘You’ve got one on your nose.’ His sister, eveready with a riposte, is a young woman of striking looks, carefully made up and groomed in high school mode. A mane of dark full bodied hair, laps about her shoulders.

Her mother turning on her heels reaches over and turns off the radio. ‘No wonder I’m eating paracetamal like smarties.’ In her forties, her outstanding feature is her strong wary chestnut hair. Cheek bones and full lips are accentuated by heavy makeup drawing the eye away from the beginnings of a double chin. She is wearing a Burberry trench coat and high heeled mules.

‘Oh, mum!’ from the daughter.

‘Oh, mum!’ from the son.

The father, a man in his early fifties, with a strong Irish face, grey streaked black wary hair and an imposing physical presence looks down at his son. ‘Matthew, you’ve got the Walkman on full blast! Why the radio?’

‘For background. You’re so uncool dad,’ his daughter tells him.

‘You’re kidding.’

‘Dad, when it comes to music you are a non-person,’ is his son’s response.

‘I don’t care. Neither of you are having it. And,’ he points at the zapper. ‘Reduce the volume. NOW!’

Matthew does comply, but his sister demands, ‘Why?’

‘Your mother and I want to talk.’

‘Why?’ Anna, never letting go lightly, asks again.

‘It’s called communication,’ their mother tells them.

‘Boring,’ is her sons retort

‘Oh-my-god, I’ll miss Home and Away!’ cry’s Anna, opening the fridge door to reach for a coke can. Matthew is on his feet reaching speedily around his sister for a bottle of mineral water.

Their mother, her arms outstretched, blocks their passage to the door. ‘I want some help from you two.’

‘Oh mum!’ wails her daughter. ‘I can’t miss Home and Away.’

‘I’ve an assignment to finish before the match comes on.’

‘So what have you been doing all day?’ challenges his father.

‘You zhlub!’ exclaimed his mother, turning on her son. ‘Look at the sink!’ Indicating the cups, glasses and plates strewn over the draining board and twin bowl sink.

Anna intervenes, distracting her. ‘Be fair. I always watch Home and Away.’

‘You have time. Lay the table!’

‘I promised to ring Catherine.’

‘You only left her an hour ago.’ Interjected her father.

‘You-don’t-understand.’

Matthew slips out.

‘Lay the table.’ Insisted her mother, a look on her face that brooked no refusal.

Anna threw down her bag. ‘I’m sixteen. We’re going to have a serious talk. I’m talking independence.’

‘There are no CD’s in cardboard city,’ her mother tells her.

‘I won’t forget this.’ Anna replies, turning away to stride over to the kitchen cupboard.

‘Matthew start cleaning the sink!’ Looks around to find him missing. ‘Did you see him go?’

‘You know I didn’t. Slipping away is his only expertise.’

‘We come in like a couple of knacked Buddha’s and look what is waiting.’

‘Our own beloved troglodytes,’ is Desmond’s comment whose attention is drawn to the red flashing light emanating from the wall telephone. He walks over and presses play.

They both listen to the replay.

‘Damn! Poor Daniel!’

‘Have those two yentas finally done for him?’

Anna having put four large plates on the table slips out.

‘When we all took the last salary cut he did say that he felt like Michael Collin’s signing the Irish Treaty.’

‘We took it… . it wasn’t that eye watering.’

‘Those ladies spent even more in defiance… . the little bitch has slipped off!’

‘That means no help. They compete to see who does less.’

‘And are in collusion to distract us. I’ll get Matt down to clear the sink.’

‘Can you talk to him? He forgot to feed the dogs again. I had to feed them scraps yesterday.’

‘I notice he’s not going to college. What’s up?’

‘He’s grumbling about the train journey. Couldn’t you drop him off?’

‘No problem. I’ll put him in a pram and wheel him there.’

‘I’m being serious!’

‘You shouldn’t be. It’s just over an hour and a half door to door by train. Less if he got out of bed twenty minutes earlier and went in with you so you could drop him off at one of two stations on the way. He’d never be up in time to go in with me!’

‘You’re like my old man. He loved saying no.’

‘Hey, shoot the fox. Not the sheep dog.’

‘You are hard on him. He’s not a hustler like you.’

I don’t want him to be a hustler, but he’s not even taking baby steps.’

‘He’s a good boy. No drink. No pregnant girls. No thieving. No violence. Sensitive, full of anxieties.’

‘You keep telling me he’s sensitive. As the desert sun I would say. The dogs and houseplants would add their voice to mine if they could. The nurturing theory doesn’t work with him or Anna.’

‘They are not cute little puppies any more. Old and slightly smelly.’

‘Don’t you realise that Matt never does anything he doesn’t want to do?’

‘You know why I worry about him?’

‘Yes, the long drawn out humiliation his father got from your father… . My father wasn’t like that. Nor am I. You-know-that.’

‘What shall we do?’

‘Cancel the standing order. Pay cash, when the dogs are fed and the house plants watered.’

‘It won’t work. He’s not like Anna. He’s never cared about money.’

‘Granted that he never talks about it. But he takes it though. A lot of it. Equal to a poor nett wage.’

‘We agreed that money worries should not interfere with his studies.’

‘I’d swallow my resentment if he kept some small part of the bargain!’

‘Talk to him. You are supposed to be one of the most persuasive men in the United Kingdom.’

‘Talking is no use. You’ve negotiated, pleaded and hugged and kissed and he says he’ll do it. Later. I’ve negotiated, asked politely, asked forcefully and he says he’ll do it. Later… And slipped away… Let’s tighten some screws.’

‘I hate this confrontation.’

‘So do I, but we have to oppose his childishness. He’s using your love and concern to evade responsibility.’

‘Hiding behind my skirts like millions of other sons. Freud got it right.’

‘Hardly. He said up, not behind. Penny blacks as opposed to spring showers.’

‘If there had only been a pill to keep them small.’

‘Well? Will you let me tighten the screws? Cancel the standing order? Be united to the end of the week when it’s payout time? It won’t work if he divides us.’

‘I will… . He’s killed off the options.’ Looks over at the phone. A call light is on. ‘She’s never off the phone… . I’ll shower and change and make a start. It’s going to have to be part ready made from the microwave.’

‘That’s okay with me. I’ll collar Matt and then I’ll have a run through Daniels presentation.’

Matthew enters almost colliding with his mother making her way to the door.

‘Mum, where are you going? I thought we are having dinner?’

‘We are. Later. I’m having a shower, a change of clothing and watching a Chippendale tape for the next hour. Whilst you fill the dishwasher.’

She exits.

‘Hey dad, you look as if your holding an axe behind your back!’

‘Matthew, you’re getting a bit old for teenage privileges. Fill the dishwasher and listen to what I have to say.’

Both face and tone registered and Matthew walked over to the dish washer and lowered the door and pulled out the lower drawer and began to stack the items from the sink.

‘You forgot to feed the dogs yesterday. The second time in a week. Is the defrost bucket full?’

‘Oh, I forgot. I’ll do it now,’ he steps away from the dishwasher.

‘Finish what you’re doing. I have more to say.’

‘This is heavy water!’

‘We can cope with dead house plants and black bags in the kitchen, but large hungry dogs foraging for food is not acceptable.’

‘Day, my exams are only month’s away. I’ve so much to do, it’s scary.’

‘You’ve given up on college.’

‘Here comes the second instalment… . And it’s university not college!’

‘Saying so, doesn’t make it so. Your here in this house most of the day. It takes ten minutes to do the job.’

‘Okay. I forget sometimes. Everybody forgets sometimes.’

‘Yes, but some worry about it! You do not!’

‘Dad, get Rosa in daily. We can afford it and she can do with the extra dosh.’

‘We might do that. But not to feed the dogs and water houseplants. First thing tomorrow morning I am stopping the starding order. Your mother and I will agree what you have done at the end of each week and pay accordingly.’

‘This is heavy shit!’

‘A modest introduction to the real world.’

‘Oh that again. Okay, out there is the far side. I’ll hack it when I have to.’

‘Yeah, yeah. Okay slackers, the call has come, let’s go and save the Universe!’

‘Dad, sometimes you are a piss taker.’ He closes the dishwasher. ‘But I can do it and will.’

‘Practise on me. I’m a civilised man compared with some.’

‘The bottom line is that you are tight. You won’t miss it. Why screw me?’

‘You do the work, you’ll get the money.’

‘I’m entitled to the grant equivalent.’

‘You’re had well in excess of that.’

‘How do I know what’s coming?’

‘We’ll do a schedule with rates. And check it out each week.’

‘I don’t believe it! It’s so unnecessary. Anna is the money eater around here. Why screw me?’

‘She never stops talking about it. But you actually get more than she does.’

‘I’m six years older. I need it!’

‘Your mother and I are much older than you and need it much, much more than you do.’

‘It’s just power shit!’

‘It’s serious persuasion.’

‘I’m not buying it. I’ll get a job. Real work.’

‘None will be as generous for the little we ask.’

‘There’s not much around. That’s why your screwing me!’

‘Crap! I hate the lack of work for men. It’s so demoralizing… . And enfeebling… I suggest you get the dog tripe out and put it in a bucket of hot water.’

Anna enters. ‘Where’s Mum?’

‘Watching a Chippendale tape,’ is her brothers answer.

‘Ha, ha, when are we eating?’

‘Later,’ replies Desmond, turning to the door.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Down to the Greyhound Anna, for a couple of pints.’

‘What about us?’

‘Dunno. Everybody around here seems to be doing their own thing. Go with the flow Anna. Go with the flow. Get the tripe out Matthew, get the tripe out,’ he reminds his son as he walks into the hall.

‘I think that’s really bad,’ Anna shouts after him.