Here’s the edited version of a piece I submitted to the West Australian’s “Best Aussie Yarn” (sic).
Turns out they’re not into downer yarns set in the here and now, nor have they been renters in the last, ah, quarter century or so.
Who’d have thunk.
Anyhoot – there’s a longer form version of this that I have plans for, but please accept this one as a taste of my recent lit-comp alienating stylings for the time being.
(Thanks especial to Steve MinOn for suggesting the edits that squeaked this one in under the word count, too).
THERE had been many disappointments in the DeRoche’s recent rear view, and this catastrophic pile, this hazardous sore, barely a shelter – the sole rental in their budget and within walking distance of a kindy – was the final kick in the guts, confirming the universe held them in considerable disdain.
Reggie, stoic: “Kudos to the Photoshop guy, they really earned their effing keep, eh babe?”
Tobey, succinct: “What an effing shit hole.”
Amity, nearly-five: “Does it have an effing kitty door for a meow?”
Reggie sucked air between her teeth, giving Tobes a look.
“Better apply, right, babe? Lucky thirty-seven?”
Tobes just nodded.
*
“Is that… human faeces?” Reggie gasped.
Property Manager Nickala Grezzdl made a note to get back to the bond cleaners.
*
Hi Regan and Tobey,
We trust you are anticipating moving into your new home at 96D Mewes Terrace, Yerooka QLD.
Find a Welcome Pack attached, including details on rental payments, maintenance requests and other information on becoming part of the Peeke and the Crowne Property Inc family.
I’ll be in touch to organise key collection.
Fare thee well,
JORDAN PYEWACKETT
Senior Property Manager
*
Tobes (SMS)
Sure, babe, I’ll sign the effing thing… first thing I’m doing is making a whole eff-load of maintenance requests once we’re unpacked. x
*
Hi Reggie,
Thank you for completing & returning the Condition Report.
A physical copy will be mailed to you.
Should you have any queries, please contact me.
Sincerely,
Nickala
*
Hi Nickala,
Hoping to clarify the maintenance access process.
The gardener and a handyman arrived without notice this week.
Reggie was home sick (asleep) when the workman entered, which is quite unsettling.
Please ensure contractors have my number for advance notice?
Thanks,
Tobey
*
Hi Tobey,
Thanks for your email
Sorry this has happened but i have looked and can see the handyman spoke with yourself or Reggie and was advised to collect keys.
I advised when the Gardener would be coming via email
Ensure to refer to this but will ensure you are given more notice next time.
Nickala
*
Hi Nickala,
I received email re: the gardener, but didn't get call.
Please check who was contacted? Neither of us were contacted.
Thanks,
Tobey
•
Hi Tobey,
Oyama Property Maintenance
Regards,
Nickala
*
Hi Nickala,
Oyama have confirmed they had previous tenants' details on file, meaning access to the property was given to a stranger while my sick partner was sleeping.
What is your organisation going to do to compensate us?
Tobey
*
Hi Tobey,
Sorry about this
Sincerely,
Maya Jarmara
Receptionist
*
Tobes (SMS)
Anything happen today while I was out? Ames acting weird
Reggie (SMS)
Hmmm… did some playground, made muffins… oh yeah, met neighhours.
Tobes (SMS)
yeah?
Reggie (SMS)
Ya, guys behind us, The Castavets. Ummmm, Dale and Courtney
Reggie (SMS)
No, DAVE and Courtney. Seemed nice. Lots of kids and pool. Handy right?
Tobes (SMS)
The boo’s acting freaked. Nothing else?
Reggie (SMS)
Well, it was *so* sweet. The had a little present… locket with fake ruby in it. It glows… probably hearing aid battery right?
Tobes (SMS)
Right…
Reggie (SMS)
Don’t want to cut you off but at the library prepping for interview. Better get back to it ay? xx
*
Tobes was hunched over her MacBook in the play room.
Blitzing with Nag Champa had failed to remove the stink of cooked meat that permeated this, and every other room.
The stench set Tobes, a vegan since she was eight, reeling further into despair.
Reggie was putting Ames down.
Well cut into her evening of neighbourhood research, Tobes opened a third bottle of red.
Outside, inside, in late winter black, were the alien sounds of a new pad, inexplicable scraping, groans and screeches, all angst-inducing.
Tobes had a dozen browser tabs open, all of them cause for her wife’s –
“Cold in her room,” Reggie said, making Tobes spasm.
“Eff, dude, you scared the bejesus out of me. Knock.”
Reggie regarded her, and the empties.
“Noone else here. If you were wondering, yes, I did put an extra blanket on, tucked her in. Had a few?”
Tobes was oblivious.
“There’s something wrong with this place, Reg.”
“Yeah, it’s not the greatest, babe. Then again, gratitude to the Goddess we’re not in a caravan like my folks. Not to mention I have an actual job interview.”
Tobes fixated on her monitor.
The meat miasma, the thud of warring possums on corrugated iron – it all had her on edge.
“Plus, the neighbours have kids for Ames to play –”
“Dave and Courtney?” Tobes spat, air quoting. “They scared Ames pretty good earlier. Babe.”
Tobes took a swig, considered another and then pivoted, knowing Reggie well.
“Look at this, Reg. The Agent. Tell me she doesn’t make you feel… Wrong?”
Reggie decided to humour her drunk wife.
She read:
Belinda Folger, Director PEEKE AND THE CROWNE PROPERTY INC (est 1878)
Belinda insists that you call her Bel!
Starting her career as a selling principal, Bel quickly found recognition for her unique capabilities and dedication to service, resulting in many referrals and a loyal cabal of Landlords.
Bel’s persistence, drive and keen competitive streak led to her being made Director of Peeke and the Crowne Property Inc. at just 27.
“Peeke and the Crowne are an agency where the Landlord is number one,” Bel says. “Satisfying The Landlord is our primary goal, and we’ll move heaven and earth to ensure our client is sated.”
Mr P.W. Char, a Brisbane based entrepreneur, is an advocate.
“Ms Felgor was able to tap into my needs quickly, with an intimate understanding of the intricacies of my dealings. I quickly became loyal to her.”
Outside the office, Bel maintains a family life with husband Barry and their dog, Mammon –
Tobes nixed the browser tab.
“Who the eff calls their dog Mammon?” she spat.
“Look at her, Tobes,” Reggie sighed. “She’s a former goth with an expensive bleach job, pumped full of Botox … that could have been you, babe, except… it sounds like she had goals.”
“Let’s take this to the deck,” Tobes grimaced, grabbing her wine, lighter and smokes.
“Babe –” Reggie offered, guts plummeting, anticipating a real command performance.
Still, she went, concerned that Ames would be woken.
Tobes forced the door open.
The deck was a claustrophobic tableau exposed to the shared drive.
It wasn’t late – 7.30, maybe – but this was Brisbane on a Tuesday night in the ‘burbs.
Desolate.
Marinated in tension, they perched on IKEA stools.
“It’s been a mother-effer of a year, Tobes. I know it’s hit you hard,” Reggie stage whispered.
Tobes swigged from the wine bottle, offering her wife none.
Reggie continued.
“Dude, you’d been talking about your effed-up dreams – eff knows I spend half the night listening to you scream… sleep-talking all sorts of shit. I gotta tell you, I’ve had a gutful of you and your effing cancerous world view, the constantly persecuted drama of it all.”
Tobes lit a smoke and stewed, so Reggie carried on.
“Sure, we are definitely not living in-the-style-to-which-we-are-accustomed, have in fact financially bled out entirely since –” she hesitated, wary of blowing this thing up.
Tobes’ demeanour steeled her.
“Since you had “the episode.” It was her turn to air quote here.
“Now it’s all this, what, internet-brained shit? Is this your way of hijacking this, the only stable thing we’ve had in eff knows how long? What is it – PTSD? Did you absolutely effing skillet your brains on the gear? Because this truly is next-effing-level, Tobes. I need you to get your shit together for the sake of this family, because I swear to eff that your behaviour is rubbing off on our little girl and that is simply unacc–”
Across the way, a shadow flickered in the Castavets’ dining area.
A blind was curtly pulled.
Smoke curled from Tobes’ nostrils, her face a death mask.
“This place is fucked, Reggie. Please believe me. We are not safe here.”
Reggie had not expected to laugh, but did.
“How effing drunk are you? What the eff is wrong with you?”
That hung in the air.
Tobes said nothing, so Reggie did.
“Good night. Enjoy your shitty wine, enjoy your Unabomber shit. Don’t wake Ames up, or me, for that matter, when you finally decide to pass out. Seriously, dude. What the hell.”
She left, so Tobes took another dram, sparked up and propped the laptop on her knees.
After four tries of her password, she was in.
Tobes shut a browser tab, revealing another:
Satanic influence charms, children
*
An hour later, Tobes wove her way into the bedroom, dropped onto her side and passed out.
Not long after, a pink-mouthed, terrified-mute Ames wormed up the middle of the bed, having been awoken by red eyes and a precipitous temperature drop in her room at precisely midnight.
They found the dozen rats Ames had slaughtered, guts strung from totem poles, in the kid’s tee-pee the next morning.
*
Hi Nickala,
We have discovered a nest of rats in the walls.
Please advise as to landlord's preferred course of action ASAP?
Thanks,
Tobey
*
Hi Tobey,
Thanks for your email
Please grab some photos of the rats that would be awesome so I can speak with the owner
We would usually deploy poison baits but this will be at their discretion. They are presently Overseas it may be some time before we hear back
Nickala
*
Nickala,
I have left several VMs – concerned that this issue is not being treated with the seriousness it demands.
Please advise whether acceptable to engage a private exterminator?
Photos of rat killed by our cat attached.
Tobey
*
Hi Tobey,
Thanks for letting me know we will book this in for after your move out whenever that may be
Nickala
*
Reggie (SMS)
Let this go. She’s not even 5. Probably had a nightmare, woke up and thought the A/C unit was a monster
Tobes (SMS)
Which was blowing hot air
Reggie (SMS)
What do you mean
Tobes (SMS)
You’ve said it yourself, her room is always freezing, even when that thing’s on blast
Reggie (SMS)
...
Tobes (SMS)
I’ve been reading about poltergeists manifesting around kids
Reggie (SMS)
Dude I don’t have the time for this. See you after kindy k? X
Tobes (SMS) you saw
*
Nickala,
We are not moving??
Is there any update on the rats?
Tobey
*
Hello,
I was waiting on your guys to send me some photos I sent an email requesting this.
Once i have this I can speak with the owner.
Thanks,
Nickala
*
Nickala,
Please see attached below for email from Tuesday with photos of rats
Tobey
*
Thanks for this!
Sorry i missed this email
I have arranged the pest control company who services this house to come
Thx,
Nickala
*
QLD POLICE TELEPHONE TRANSCRIPT
SUBJECT1: Uh, hi, um. Yeah. I got your number from Pete… he goes to your Church.
SUBJECT2: Peter. A good boy. Elevated. How can I be of assistance?
SUBJECT1: Um, this uh (unintelligible) weird, but
SUBJECT2: I assure you, little shocks me.
SUBJECT1: Well, I guess I wanted to, um… book an exorcism?
*
Reggie (SMS)
Tobes, you need to stop this Satanic shit. Noone is out to get us… it’s a figment –
Tobes (SMS)
LOOK AT THE NAMES, babe.
PLEASE
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_infernal_names
Reggie (SMS)
I can’t do this
*
Regan and Tobey,
Thanks for your time on the phone, Tobey.
As discussed the owner has decided to terminate your Agreement, owing to your refusal to abide by the terms set out in Section 9, Subclause 77b.
As you understand there are consequences.
Let me know soon what you would like to do
Farewell,
JORDAN
*
Reggie (SMS)
What the fuck did you do, Tobey?
*
Tobes (SMS)
They took her… why won’t you pick up?
Reggie (SMS)
Took who?
Tobes (SMS)
AMES IS GONE
Reggie (SMS)
She’s fine. With the Castavets.
Tobes (SMS)
how could you
Reggie (SMS)
We need to talk, in person. Not now. Ames is staying with them and I am going somewhere to sort my head out. Don’t hassle them, or -
Tobes (SMS)
You absolute c
Reggie (SMS)
- I have told them to call the cops. Get your head sorted for her sake. I’ll call you.
Tobes (SMS)
- unt
96D: WHAT HAPPENED?
IT has been exactly one year since the horrific arson attacks at a quiet cul-de-sac on Mewes Terrace, Yerooka. Speculation over the tragic sequence of events on that early September evening will no doubt persist as the years draw on.
We know for a fact that Regan DeRoche, 37, wife Tobey “Tobes” DeRoche and daughter, Amity, 4, moved into a split-level entertainer at 96D Mewes Terrace last August.
Regan, or “Reggie” as she preferred to be known, had lost her job to automation, and Tobey was a recovering addict and former celebrity chef. The couple had relocated to Brisbane for a fresh start after a range of setbacks.
“This is a sad tale of mental illness, financial stress and substance abuse with tragic consequences,” Premier Celeste Powder said at a press conference.
Many have speculated that the rental housing crisis was a key stressor in the breakdown of the DeRoche’ marriage and the sad events that followed.
“No, I don’t think you could join those particular dots,” claimed Opposition Leader Prique Jejune. “I’m of the firm belief that if you want a house, a house is there for you… maybe get over yourself and live in the one you can afford.”
Nickala Grezzdl, the DeRoche’ property manager, made a moving tribute to the lives lost on Instagram Live.
“OUR HEARTS ARE BROKEN 💔
MAY YOU ALL FIND PEACE🕊️
LOVE N’ HAPPINESS 🤣
IN THE NEXT LIFE 🙏🙏🙏”
Darker rumours swirled, including Tobey’s belief that Satanic forces were at play in the neighbourhood. Police records indicate that Tobey engaged the services of controversial evangelical pastor Caleb Sancrox Thrumster Sr to perform several exorcisms in the brief time the couple were resident at 96D.
Mr Thrumster Sr could not be contacted for comment.
Neighbour Dave Castavet, an insurance adjustor and father of seven, was grief-stricken.
“It’s a tragedy. That woman had been put through the ringer. I think we as a community, a society, should bear some blame. When a talented young woman is attributing her life’s woes to so-called agents of Satan… it’s very sad.”
“We’re just happy little Amity made it,” Mr Castavet’s wife, Courtney, said.
Sergeant Garry DeGutte was arresting officer on the night of the fires.
“Ms DeRoche was in a vegetative state at the scene. Material evidence indicated that she was in possession of accelerants and the means to ignite them. Sadly, Ms DeRoche later ended her own life.”
Evidence exonerated Regan DeRoche of culpability. Ms DeRoche as cut all ties with Amity and lives with her parents in regional NSW.
Owner of the destroyed properties, Brisbane extrepreneur Mr P.W. Char, has vowed to rebuild in tribute to those who perished.
The Castavets adopted Amity DeRoche.
They are presently home schooling her.