Zuat's Philosophy

By Mike Cavendish

Zuat's Philosophy is a novel for general readers, especially young adults who are developing their world views. It endorses laissez-faire capitalism. The story may offend:

* Academic philosophers who muddy the waters of philosophy

* Lawyers who put law above ethics

* Executives of big companies who use ruthless tactics against small competitors

* Environmentalists who resent even mild criticism of their precious causes

* Young ex-schoolies who self-immerse in alcohol

* Religious believers who don't like:

- Arguments put forward to challenge their faith

- Exposure of yet another wearer of the cloth as a scumbag.

A caution to Peruvians: You might not like the revival of memories of Peru of 1980s and 1990s, and the evil Shining Path.

Every issue is potentially political. If hens went on strike, politicians (and novelists?) of left and right might debate fiercely the price of eggs. For the rest of you, please enjoy the development of an unlikely romance. It comes with each partner clarifying his/her philosophy and taking much mental and physical risk to achieve that. By the way, Zuat is short for Anzuátegui.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Oct 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781528967846

Mike Cavendish

Mike was born in 1950 in the Strathfield suburb in Sydney, Australia. His father had died nine months earlier. Mike’s mother died when he was eight. He then moved to Wollongong. From 1970, Mike has lived again in Sydney, in several different suburbs. Until retirement in 2005, he worked mainly as a technical officer in the Australian Government’s Department of Defence. He lives with Tom, his cat.

Book preview

Tent-Tation

About the Author

Mike was born on 26 March 1950 at Strathfield, Sydney, Australia. His mother pretended marriage; his father had died nine months earlier. Mike is an only child. When Mike was eight, his mother died. His aunt adopted him and moved him to Wollongong, fifty miles south of Sydney. She was single, childless and a headmistress at an infant school.

Back in Sydney, Mike worked for years in the Australian government Department of Defence, mainly as a civilian analyst of Navy Air Force battle exercises. He retired in 2005. He is single and lives with Tom, his cat.

About the Book

Zuat’s Philosophy is a novel for general readers, especially young adults who are developing their world views. It endorses laissez-faire capitalism. The story may offend:

Academic philosophers who muddy the waters of philosophy

Lawyers who put law above ethics

Executives of big companies who use ruthless tactics against small competitors

Environmentalists who resent even mild criticism of their precious causes

Young ex-schoolies who self-immerse in alcohol

Religious believers who don’t like:

Arguments put forward to challenge their faith

Exposure of yet another wearer of the cloth as a scumbag.

A caution to Peruvians: You might not like the revival of memories of Peru of 1980s and 1990s, and the evil Shining Path.

Every issue is potentially political. If hens went on strike, politicians (and novelists?) of left and right might debate fiercely the price of eggs. For the rest of you, please enjoy the development of an unlikely romance. It comes with each partner clarifying his/her philosophy and taking much mental and physical risk to achieve that. By the way, Zuat is short for Anzuátegui.

Copyright Information ©

Mike Cavendish (2019)

The right of Mike Cavendish to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781528967846 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2019)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5LQ

Chapter 1

Becoming the Boss, Ready or Not

Jesse Anzuátegui surged forward like fanned bushfire through the crowd of other meeters-and-greeters the instant his parents emerged from Sydney Airport’s Customs area. He whispered, ‘Sorry,’ only when other people’s curses and critical faces sometimes invaded his mind. He flung his arms around his father. Jesse’s mother’s quaking fingers fumbled her bags. Attracted, Jesse engulfed her with arms and words.

Dad Nacho’s eyelids spread way beyond the boundaries that jetlag allowed. ‘Díos Mio!’

Sunrise seeping into the terminal building exposed tears through Jesse’s tiredness. Naturally in Spanish, he said, ‘My wonderful parents, I am so, so relieved and happy you are with me again.’

Sydney’s South American migrant community called him Chucho, the familiar form of the Spanish name Jesús. He was Jesse to everyone else.

Catching her breath, Yoli asked, ‘Marvellous, Chucho, but what about our little family business? You’ll go to Zuat’s Hardware today, won’t you?’

‘Plenty of time, Mama. It’s still early.’

Nacho said, ‘We two will take today off to get over jetlag.’

‘I’ll drive you both home and then go to work. Let me carry some bags.’

A paper on the dashboard of the family’s second-hand ute caught Nacho’s eye. ‘The cops caught you speeding to the airport.’

With his precious passengers, Jesse was driving much more carefully. ‘Yeah. Don’t worry about that. How was the trip?’

Nacho found new life. ‘Chucho, so much about Arica and the whole country has changed. Chile is on the march, like our parents’ letters said. All optimism. But family is always family. Inside of them, no change.’

Yoli asked, ‘Well Chucho, and how did you handle your six weeks as acting manager of Zuat’s Hardware?’

‘I believe I did it right, mama. Yeah. Except maybe in personnel management. I hired an extra salesman. What a slack-arse. He didn’t know half of what he said he did about hardware products. Lying was his way of life. A real cool guy, as too many Australians say. I sacked him last week.’ Jesse spat out through the ute’s window space. ‘I’ve had to deal with customers and be the manager most of the time. When our two part-time employees haven’t been there, it’s been just me. By myself. Then I’ve tried to do everything. If someone wanted something delivered somewhere, nobody could do that. So we missed some sales.’

Conversation droned on about the extended family, none of whom Jesse had ever seen. His eyelids wilted.

A car at high speed swerved. It shot across a slightly curved section of the median strip. It flew. It speared the passengers’ side of the ute’s windscreen.

Jesse’s sight and mind went hazy. His head and chest bounced like a pinball. Dangling through the ute’s window space, his right arm tumbled. Bits of flying glass slit his face and neck.

Jesse and Nacho were wearing seat belts. Yoli had none to wear.

Barely conscious, Jesse moaned, ‘Mama! Papa!’

No answers before an ambulance carried Jesse to Fairfield Hospital. Others drove Nacho and Yoli to the bigger and better Westmead Hospital.

Police interviewed Jesse as soon as he was examined and stabilised. Short of breath and distraught through fear for his parents’ lives, he apologised insistently.

‘Not your fault, mate. The other driver was a young bloke. Drunk as a skunk.’

At noon on that April day in 1990, Zuat’s Hardware’s veteran part-time employee Erich was amazed to find the store closed. His phone call to the Anzuáteguis’ house went unanswered. He had no store keys. The store stayed closed that day.

That evening, a TV news snippet of the crash reached Erich, other part-time employee Senka and the Anzuáteguis’ neighbours, the Trinder family except the two missing. In the Army, youngest son Collin lived and worked elsewhere. A student at Sydney University, eldest child Teagan was living at the inner suburb of Newtown.

Teagan had been studying a Bachelor of Arts (Major in Languages) four years full-time degree course. Study preoccupied her almost always.

Early in the night, Jesse’s dreams, like dynamite, featured cries of hatred for the other driver. Soon, nurses sedated him.

Around 8:00 next morning, as a psychologist was starting work on Jesse, an out-of-visiting-hours man was allowed in.

Erich frowned. ‘Mein Gott, Junge. You can’t go on like that. Nacho and Yoli will want you to do what these people say for you to do.’

‘Yuh. Yeah. They will.’ Jesse tried overcoming pains to talk. His face felt raw. He felt drained. He just lay.

The psychologist said, ‘Both his parents were operated on for hours yesterday.’

‘Young Jesse, I swear to you that to keep the store going, I will work full-time and more hours every day until you are on your feet. You can rely on me always and absolutely. That is my promise.’ His hand enveloped Jesse’s.

Tears of appreciation trickled.

‘I’ll call Senka and see what more work she can do.’

‘Not much. Her young kids…’

‘I will do everything to persuade that she will do more.’

Jesse’s small smile outshone his facial wounds. ‘Good luck, boss.’

‘Boss? No, you are the boss. Or you will be…’ He restrained himself from suggesting that Nacho or Yoli might not be able to resume. ‘…after you leave the hospital. Look, Jesse. To begin my task I need the keys to the store. Do you have them?’

Blank.

The psychologist stood. ‘I’ll go and check his personal items collected from the accident. Go easy on him. He’s blameless. And don’t try to move him.’

While waiting, Erich varied the topics. The weather, soccer, anything to divert his attention. Jesse tried to care, but his bruised ribs discouraged talk and anything like laughter.

‘Here are all his keys. Are these the ones?’

Jesse gazed blankly.

Erich refreshed him. ‘No. These look like house keys and car keys. The store keys are at your place, yes? Do you mind that I go in there to get them, Jesse?’

Jesse slowly nodded his approval.

‘Where in the house are they?’

‘What?’

‘The store keys. Where in your house do you keep them?’

‘Oh. Ah, yeah.’ He coughed for a while. ‘The dining…table.’

‘Good man, Jesse. I will go and make some money for us. You take it as easy as you can. You should not worry too much about things that you cannot control. You agree?’

‘I’ll try.’ His gaze sought heaven on the ceiling.

Erich clasped the hand of the boss briefly and smiled a smile of hope. After signing for taking the keys and brimming with resolve, Erich left.

The sparsity of the Anzuáteguis’ furniture reminded Erich of his bosses’ financially thin margin. He found the store keys on Jesse’s bedroom table.

Jesse’s open diary was beside the keys. The latest entry, evidently written the previous day and in unusually big letters was: "Maῆana en fin. Todos juntos! Tomorrow at last. Together again!"

Erich choked and thought, Don’t read more. Just go.

Chapter 2

The Non-Visitor

Next Saturday afternoon, the Anzuáteguis’ neighbours, the four Trinders who still lived at Fairfield, made it to Jesse’s bedside. Though they seemed almost incidental, theirs had been very familiar faces almost all of Jesse’s life.

Meanwhile, Erich and also Senka, by means of repeated visits and by working the promised extra hours, had reinforced to Jesse, who his best friends were. The store was limping on.

The psychologist had refocused him. News that his parents’ conditions had stabilised helped immeasurably, though he understood little more.

Jesse looked much better than the TV news report, featuring mangled vehicles, had implied. Dressings on Jesse’s head and neck cuts were much reduced. His wrist bandage was off. Other bandaging remained hidden by his hospital gown.

Donnie Trinder was almost nineteen and a year younger than Jesse. As often, he was phlegmatic. ‘You look nearly ready to rock and roll again, mate.’

Mum Ellen chastised. ‘Donnie, that’s not very considerate.’

Jesse forced forth a grin. ‘Half the pains have gone.’

Grif’s grin was mischievous. ‘Have you chatted up any nurses?’

Dad Glyn gave his second son a stern look. ‘’e’s in no position to chase any women as ’e is, lad.’

‘I might be out of here in two or three weeks. No time for women.’ Jesse coughed. ‘Where is Teagan?’

Ellen answered, ‘We haven’t heard. We assumed she would have heard on TV like we did. Maybe not.’

‘Maybe she’s got some big test comin’ up, or an assignment, or a big project. Students are like that,’ Glyn said. ‘Knowin’ ‘er, I expect she’ll pay you a visit soon if she can.’

‘Yeah.’ Jesse was mumbling, still light-headed and unclear about what he was agreeing to.

Glyn continued, ‘Listen, lad. We’re wonderin’ what we can do. We can’t ask your parents yet, but do you think you might need any money? To pay some bills?’

Jesse sighed. ‘Bills. Yeah, I’ve started thinking about those in…oh, the last couple of days. We might go broke.’

‘Some ’ave come already. We’ve been collectin’ your mail.’ Glyn handed over the letters.

Even opening an envelope hurt. ‘Fab. The car insurers made a good payout for the ute.’

‘So quick. Amazin’. But who would’ve lodged the claim?’ Glyn asked.

On the Monday after the accident, Erich had and had told Jesse so. Insurance company staff had seen the TV news. Jesse again went blank. ‘I don’ know. But it’s nice.’

Other letters were all bills. Glyn followed through. ‘We can pay these for you. You can pay us back whenever you can.’

The prison of worries eased open its door. ‘Glyn, that is beautiful of you. Ellen, how is your…kidney?’ The psychologist had been prompting memories of life before the accident.

‘As usual. The docs say it will slowly get worse in the long run. I just have to wear it.’

Still Jesse found it difficult to recall common interests, and hated himself for that.

After some consequent silence, Glyn sought assistance. ‘Lads, tell Jesse what you’ve been up to lately.’

Donnie, whose mind had wandered, felt put on the spot. ‘Well, yeah. Nothin’ much new has happened since we were yakkin’ three weeks back.’ Seeing Jesse trying to recall that, Donnie prompted him. ‘You know we said Collin, the immature little jackass, was gettin’ up people’s noses in the Army? You remember that letter he wrote us? Braggin’ about stickin’ chewin’ gum in the Army musician’s clarinet?’

Jesse thought, Yes, Donnie’s attitudes fit those of his employer, the mighty Hefty Hands Hardware. Straight and narrow. Steady as she goes. A potential rival of Zuat’s Hardware, so far Hefty Hands hadn’t opened one of its megastores in the Fairfield area.

‘Ah, yeah. Yeah.’

‘An’ he bragged about tellin’ some crook joke in one of ‘is Army classes that Long Tan, where the diggers had a big battle in the jungle in Vietnam, was a beach resort popular with soldiers on R ’n’ R leave! You remember, I told you that? An’ the sergeant hit the fan with…you know. I mean ‘ow stupid can he be?’

‘Ahhh. Ha, ha. Yeah.’

With more silence, Glyn thought he sensed Jesse’s problem. ‘Yeah. Well, lad, maybe we should be off now and let you rest. God willin’ we’ll see you again next weekend.’

Jesse felt split. They could stay and provoke more memories. They could go, sparing him the need. Out came, ‘Glyn, it was good of you all to come. Thank you.’

Certainly he remembered Teagan most, as he usually did. She was about his age. It wasn’t her pencil thin body, or her straight black hair. He’d always admired her work ethic; unlike other girls, nothing fun, fun, fun about her. But inert towards boys. Apart from her brothers, all seemed to her like timewasters. Even them too sometimes.

At late notice on the Friday before the Trinders’ visit to Jesse, Teagan had acquiesced to her housemates at their Newtown terrace house. Full-time students bulky and butch Beatonia Powyer and tanned surfer girl Cyrusine Sweeting had requested that Teagan represent them at the environmentalist Mungo Brushface Society’s latest meeting. Bea and Cy’s evening jobs prevented their attendance. By then repeatedly nudged reluctantly into membership, Teagan would lodge proxy votes with her own vote. Such a meeting, usually held on a Wednesday, this time had been postponed to that Friday evening.

Bea and Cy insisted afterwards that Teagan was obliged by the Society’s rules to attend the mandated anti-logging demonstration.

She blockaded. ‘What’ll they do if I’m not in it? Rap my knuckles?’ True to form, she prioritised coming tests and major subject assignments, as well as to visit the family home and care for her mother at the weekend.

Bea and Cy set off to the demo early on Saturday morning. Teagan slept in, tired and feeling harangued by the militant activist claptrap endured late into the evening. Noon came before she caught the train to Fairfield.

She found nobody at home, or next door at the Anzuáteguis’ house. She could study in peace. Later, learning of the car accident distracted her briefly. She voiced standard commiserations.

Chapter 3

What Mattered Most

Late in May, a patient transport vehicle took Jesse home via Westmead Hospital, where he agonised over his parents.

Surgeons had sewn the top of Nacho’s scalp back on. Flying glass had sheared most of it off and injured his brain. Exhaustion and confusion often controlled him. He’d slept little. Persistent numbness confused his hands. His coordination was deficient. Headaches were recurrent attackers. At first he had not recognized Yoli, or any visitors.

Against damage by the ute’s dashboard and glass, Yoli’s face had been partly remade. Spine irreparable, she would stay wheelchair bound. Her left shoulder would stay weak and sensitive, hindering her with any chair and much else.

They snapped up Jesse’s suggestion of hiring a new employee.

Jesse rejoiced when former fellow fast-bowling schoolmate