Patrick pulled into the carpark behind Stanton & Wilson’s Antiquities and parked next to Scott’s white four-wheel drive.
A wave of heat washed over him as he stepped out of the car, and he immediately felt small beads of perspiration forming on his forehead. It was only 8.15 and the temperature was already uncomfortable; by noon it would be intolerable.
He crossed the carpark towards the back door of the shop, his feet crunching on the gravel. The heat hung heavily over everything, not even a slight breeze to bring a temporary reprieve from the relentless warmth.
The world was silenced by the sweltering atmosphere; even the birds in the trees were quiet.
He pushed open the heavy steel door and stepped inside. The cool interior and the quiet hum of the air conditioner were a welcome relief.
Standing behind the glass counter at the centre of the store was Scott Stanton, Patrick’s best friend and business partner. Scott briefly lifted his head from a pile of paperwork and gave a nod.
“Morning, coffee’s on if you want it.”
Patrick walked over to the small kitchen in the back office and poured himself a cup.
“You want another one?”
Scott picked up his current cup of coffee and peered in.
“Yep.” He lifted the cup to his lips and downed the last mouthful.
Patrick placed Scott’s second cup on the glass counter.
“Thanks.” Scott picked up the fresh cup and took a sip, his attention still seemingly on the pile of papers. But Patrick knew what was coming.
“Don’t mention it.”
Scott put down the cup and finally turned to face Patrick.
“You get much sleep last night?” Patrick smiled; it was the same every morning.
“No, not really. A couple of hours,” he replied, patting his partner on the back as he shuffled past to retrieve his appointment book from under the counter.
The papers Scott had been pretending to study were now completely forgotten. His full attention was on Patrick.
“You know you need to see someone about this. It’s been going on for way too long.” He kept his voice level and calm as he spoke, but the look in his eyes was unmistakable. He was worried, and he had been for weeks.
Once again, as he had done many times over the last few weeks, Patrick did his best to alleviate his concerns.
“I feel fine, honestly. I’m not in any danger of falling asleep at the wheel or anything like that. I’m just not getting much sleep. The rest of the time I feel completely fine.”
“You feel fine now,” replied Scott, frustration now showing in his voice, “but it’s going to catch up with you. You can’t live on that little sleep for so long. I think it would be better to do something about it before it does catch up with you.”
It wasn’t the first time Scott had made this argument, and on many levels Patrick agreed, but going to see a doctor about his insomnia would make it serious. Up until now he had been unwilling to admit that it was.
But in the last few days, denial had begun to take a back seat to reason.
“I’ll give it another week, and if it hasn’t improved by then, I’ll go to the doctor. Although I don’t see what a doctor could do apart from give me a bunch of sleeping pills.”
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“Better than nothing.”
Scott clearly wanted to say more, but with a visible effort he held his tongue and turned back to his papers.
“Alex called just before you came in.”
The change of subject was a tactical retreat; this conversation wasn’t over.
“Alex? What did he have to say?”
“He said he had a meeting this morning, so he wanted to push back your appointment by half an hour.”
Patrick looked at the clock on the wall. That gave him about three hours before he had to leave.
“Fair enough, that’ll give me time to unpack some of those new arrivals.”
“Yeah, they’re piling up out there. Sarah was going to come in this morning and give us a hand, but she had to drop Toby off at childcare and run some errands.”
Sarah was Scott’s wife. They had been married for six years and had a five-year-old son named Toby, who was the spitting image of his father. Patrick had been the best man at their wedding, and Toby’s godfather.
“How is the little man? I haven’t seen him for weeks.”
“He’s doing alright. That cough kept Sarah pretty busy for a while. When the doctors couldn’t pin it down, she was sure he was getting pneumonia or something. But he’s better now. Whatever it was, it just went away. He’s still obsessed with that train set you got him for his birthday. He sleeps with the train car on his pillow.”
Patrick smiled, picturing Toby snuggled up with the cold metal of the toy train. Sarah had glared at him with mock anger when Toby unwrapped the box. She knew how much the set had cost, and she had made herself very clear about Patrick having to stop spoiling her son with gifts. But it was his birthday, and the standing rule of “Patrick is not to buy Toby gifts every time he sees him” had been suspended.
“In that case, I’ll get him some more track and a couple more carriages for Christmas. I haven’t seen Sarah since Toby got sick either. I was thinking about coming over one night this week to see them.”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
Patrick flipped his appointment book closed and put it back under the counter.
“I’ll start unloading those boxes.”
“Cool, I’m going to finish filling out this order sheet and straighten up those displays in the window. I might even move that big lamp onto the desk in the corner while I’m at it.”
With each man now focused on their own tasks, they didn’t speak again for nearly an hour.
Mornings always started slowly at Stanton & Wilson’s Antiquities. The first customer came in soon after nine, and the next one didn’t come in until about ten. Patrick and Scott both liked it that way; it gave them a chance to get some work done. Usually by 11.30 whatever work they had left was being interrupted by a steady stream of people coming through the doors.
That morning turned out to be no exception. At around eleven things began to pick up, and from 11.25 to 12.30 they managed to sell a $50 vase and two lamps for $90, and took a $200 deposit for an antique mahogany dining table worth $1500. It was shaping up to be a good day.
Five years ago, when they had first opened, the street hadn’t exactly been a hive of activity. They had taken a real gamble when choosing this as the location of their business. But the building had been for sale for a long time without much interest, so they’d been able to negotiate a good price. They pooled their resources and applied for a joint loan, pouring everything they had into the place.
Within twelve months of settlement, the area had grown up around them. The long-discussed freeway bypass had finally begun construction and was finished within eight months, bringing with it a mass of new traffic driving past every day.
They suddenly found themselves at the centre of the biggest shopping strip on the peninsula, and their building was worth twice what they had paid for it. Added to that was the fact that there were no other antique stores within half an hour’s drive. Without even trying, they had cornered the market.
1pm rolled around, and Patrick began to prepare for his meeting with Alex. He tried not to think about the reason for the meeting. It wasn’t hard; he focused on traffic times and which route was quickest.
Likewise, neither he nor Scott mentioned why he was meeting with Alex. For some reason, they just preferred not to discuss it. Any thoughts about what was within the package were slippery. They evaded scrutiny and kept the truth from being realised.
“You sure you’ll be alright here on your own?” asked Patrick as he headed to the back door, his bag slung over one shoulder.
“Yeah, all good.”
“Alright, I’m going. Give me a call if you need me.”
“No worries, but I’m sure everything’ll be ok.”
Patrick momentarily thought about the package and felt like he was going to be sick. He flicked the thought away as though it were a spider he had suddenly noticed crawling up his hand.
“I’ll see you in a few hours then.”
Patrick pushed the handle on the door and stepped out into the furnace just outside.
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