Eye of the Devil

By Roger Page

This is the inspiring story of how a young man with limited education overcome a cruel upbringing and became a successful businessman , against all odds. During WW11 Williams mother abandomed him when he was just three years old.At age six his father remarried and Williams world was torn apart.Eye of the Devil shows how sheer determination can transfer a stolen childhood of great hardship into a triumph of the human spirit. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vivid Publishing
• Release date: Aug 21, 2019
• ISBN: 9781925590234

Book preview

‘It's better to dream mighty dreams, see glorious triumphs than to be among those poor souls who neither suffer much nor enjoy much because they live in the great twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat.’

FROM A STOLEN CHILDHOOD TO SUCCESS

EYE

of the

DEVIL

ROGER PAGE

The author acknowledges that while actual events and real people inspire this story, many aspects of this story have been fictionalised to varying degrees in the interests of a more readable account.

Prologue 

William Mackay Jessop sighed, as he signed off the contract of sale. He shook hands with the new owners of the massive Kings Lake Shopping Centre and advised his lawyer he was going bush for a while. He decided long ago when the day finally came to close the door on business; he would allow himself a few weeks alone to consider what he would do next.

He was sixty years old. Final negotiation to sell the last of his business interests went well. He would leave the final legalities to his trusted lawyer and friend, Andrew Watkins. They had met over dinner at Southport back in '79 while celebrating the purchase of his first business venture, a small land subdivision in Queensland. A fellow developer described Andrew as the best there was. Often joking about the comments that were made at that meeting, William and Andrew bonded into a long-lasting relationship. Neither could have forecast the relationship would span over thirty years.

It was Friday evening, and the weather in Melbourne was reasonable for early September. As he immersed himself into the noisy melee that doubles as city traffic, he checked the time. It was 5.45 pm, almost dark. The streets were crowded with people hurrying in their urgent quest to get home and enjoy the forthcoming weekend.  What a relief it would be to escape this madness, he thought to himself, as he made his way to the nearby car park. He hadn’t been feeling very well of late. He put it down to stress, and the long hours he kept. Maybe he would have a check-up when he returned from his trip.

He would fly to Launceston, and then drive to his beloved property, ‘Blackwood Park ‘at Cluan, which was his secret escape. It was nestled under the magnificent Western Tiers of Tasmania where his father once hunted possum and kangaroo for their skins. The Tiers, with their craggy outcrops of sandstone rock thrusting upwards for hundreds of feet, held a certain mystic beauty, with their tall eucalyptus trees, giant tree ferns, and the beautiful Liffey River.  This was the original holding of land that his great-grandfather Robert had purchased more than one hundred years earlier, burning down the large mountain ash trees that were far too large to be removed with a horse team, breaking and taming its wild beauty of Sassafras and Blackwood timber. This was where his grandfather once caught an elusive Tasmanian tiger. It was the district where his father was born and raised. William had spent thousands of dollars on the old homestead to bring it up to its original state, but with a few added luxuries.

Its twelve hundred acres of highly improved pasture, running creeks and panoramic views held certain dearness to William's heart. He enjoyed showing off this beautiful property to his friends. Here was where he kept one of his most cherished possessions, a small Cessna 182. When time allowed, he enjoyed flying over the mountains and up into the ‘Gulf Country', as the old folk affectionately knew it. It was in this district where the early pioneers cleared the land with their bare hands. He would fly over the rugged terrain and try to picture what it must have been like for his pioneering family back in 1857 when his great-great-grandfather, William, came to this place from Norfolk, England, arriving with nothing but the clothes they wore and a few personal possessions.

William gave his final instructions to Andrew as they headed out into the busy Friday night traffic on their way to the airport. He was to deposit the proceeds of the sale into a special trust account. It was the last of three such properties he had sold in recent times. His instructions were clear. When he returned to Melbourne, he and Andrew would discuss which charities he would assist, using some of his vast wealth. Then the search for his eldest son would begin.

When he was growing up in North East Victoria, William often dreamed of becoming wealthy, while fishing for Redfin and brown trout in the small creek that idly ran through the small town of Euroa. Now, he had bank accounts in tax havens overseas as well as several million dollars in Melbourne, for what he called ‘working capital'. Andrew shook hands with his old friend and wished he could go with him. He watched as William walked to his private aircraft and wondered what he would do if he ever lost his friendship. William was more than a client. He was a close friend, and although Andrew was expensive, William never complained, if the job was well done. He knew that his interests were in safe hands.

William bid good afternoon to his pilot as he climbed aboard the sleek business jet. ‘How's the weather?' He inquired half-casually, knowing full well his aircraft could fly well above any conditions. William helped himself to a Bourbon and Coke from the small galley and settled into one of the plush leather seats. He adjusted his seat belt, and while the aircraft taxied to its given runway, he glanced through the financial pages of the Daily Review.

The aircraft climbed high into the setting sun, and as it turned south toward Tasmania, William dozed. His thoughts took him back to the day his beloved Michelle told him she had cancer. ‘How would he manage'? She asked. His thoughts took him back to the day they met. She was just seventeen and worked in a small real estate office in Toowoomba. It was here that William first gained his interest in real estate. How things had changed, he thought. Working for years with his Father with little or no income but saving every small amount he could put away. An elderly gentleman once told him, if you work hard you can be successful. He was determined not to be poor. When the plane landed in Launceston, he bid his pilot goodnight and instructed him to pick him up in fourteen days. He would call him, he said. His trusted farm manager, Walter, was waiting at the terminal. He handed him his bag and settled down for a forty-minute drive to the farm.

The last few weeks had been extremely stressful, and William knew the only way to unwind was to get away completely. He planned to fly into the mountains tomorrow into the lake's country, provided the weather was right. There was a small airstrip beside a lake. He had used this strip on a fishing trip some years ago. It was remote, probably constructed in the early fifties when Tasmania was busy building dams and tunnels through these mountains, for much needed hydro-powered electricity. His mind was made up. He would check weather conditions tomorrow and take provisions for ten days.

The Land Cruiser travelled quietly through the beautiful farming country and he was thinking of the families who lived here. Many were related to him in some form or other. The extended family was not something he had much to do with during his busy schedule of business. These people were excellent farmers. Most of them growing fine wool and other produce like the opium poppies that were now quite lucrative but grown under strict secured conditions. Quite a few of these farmers were very well off. He promised himself he would call in to visit some of them before heading back to Melbourne. Some thought he was a little above them, with his private jet and large home in Toorak. William also knew some looked up to him as a self-made man. He thought back to his youth and the days as a thirteen-year-old, being moved from his home in Victoria to a small farm where his father had purchased in Tasmania, where he trapped rabbits and sold the skins for some much-needed pocket money. When Williams father arrived at this small property, it was crawling with rabbits, and his father purchased 100 rabbit traps for him and told him he could keep any money he could earn from the skins. This would be a new adventure for William. First, he would have to learn how the traps were set and how to skin a rabbit.

When they arrived at the main gate of the property, William felt a huge load off his shoulders. He stepped out of the car and looked around. The quiet was beautifully effective on his tired brain. Walter took his bag into the house, while William gazed up into the night sky, surveying the night solar system. A lone satellite was making its way across the sky. The night was clear and crisp, with a slight chill in the air. As they walked to the house, William said: ‘Walter, I’m thinking about going up into the lakes area tomorrow for a few days. I don’t want to go alone, so I was thinking perhaps you could come with me? The farm will look after itself for a few days, and I am sure you could do with the time off. I am looking forward to dinner,’ he continued. ‘I’m bloody starving!’

Walter was no stranger to these parts. He was born here and knew the district and most of the families who lived here. When William visited, he would often accompany him on long walks into the surrounding hills and forest. They enjoyed each other's company and spent hours discussing the excellent wool breeding programs that were taking place continually on the farm and the immediate properties. Walter was an excellent farmer.

They made their way into the house, where William excused himself while he showered and changed into comfortable clothes. He looked at his business suit lying on the bed, and the shoes now discarded for a well-worn pair of stock boots. He didn't need such luxuries as expensive shoes and suits, but they had become his usual way of dressing in the fast lane of his business. As a young boy, he only had one pair of hob-nailed boots that always seemed to be either wet or worn out. He walked through the old homestead and made his way to the dining room, where his friend was seated enjoying a brandy. He was surprised to find old Mrs. Kettle preparing dinner. He wondered how long she had been working here. She was here when he purchased the farm from a cousin ten years earlier. Walter always commented there was no better cook in the district. William didn't know her that well but admired her for keeping to herself and minding her own business. She poured him a coffee without saying a word. It was William who spoke. ‘My, I can taste a fabulous home-cooked meal just from the aroma.'

She placed a large mug of coffee on the table in front of him, making sure there was plenty of sugar. ‘You have cream in your coffee, don’t you?’ she asked. ‘I’ve added a little brandy. It will help you sleep.’ She fussed around the table placing the meal in front of each of them before excusing herself and left the room.

William and Walter talked well into the night, purposely keeping the conversation away from the business of farming. They retired around midnight. The following morning William woke from a deep sleep, with the sounds of a rooster welcoming the coming dawn. He checked the time. It was 5.00 am and quite dark. He dressed in a pair of jeans, a woolen shirt and pullover. He slipped on his boots and walked down the hall to the kitchen, thinking he would make a quiet coffee while the rest of the house was still asleep. He was surprised to find Mrs. Kettle up and about with the stove burning and kettle hot.

‘Would you like your breakfast now, Mr. Jessop?' William looked her in the eye and said: ‘Please call me William,

Reviews for Eye of the Devil

[Kerrie Page · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I read this book with great interest as the author is a distant relation. After reading about many of the trials and tribulations the author experienced as a young child, and how he explains his early teenage life, and then many adventures in life, I was intrigued to read on. There are parts of the book that reflect how people in the era of WW11 were affected by grog, and how families were put to the test of just surviving. The author has outlined how he managed to bring his life into normality and become successful in many ways. He outlines how he overcome many hardships, and then enjoyed a reasonable life, through romance and heartache. this is an excellent read.