Black Teeth Read Free Page B

man.
    ‘Someone told you that? Who?’
    The outburst faltered.
    ‘A…A man.’
    ‘What man?’
    ‘A tall man.’
    ‘Who was he?’
    Rudy’s eyes rolled up like he was trying to find the information in his brain.
    ‘Lawyer.’
    ‘Your father’s lawyer ? Of course he said—’
    ‘ No ,’ Rudy growled to shout him down. He took a threatening step forward, Anthony a flinching step back. ‘ Not him. Someone else. Someone else came. He came here and told me.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘I don’t know . A lawyer . He got for me this…power…power…’
    ‘Power-of-attorney?’
    ‘Yeah. Power-of-attorney. I got the house. He didn’t want me to pay him or anything . He said that dad didn’t do it.’
    ‘How would he know?’
    A choking sound. Rudy was trying to speak but couldn’t.
    ‘Dude…’ Anthony adopted a soothing tone, inhaled long and deep, hoped Rudy would do likewise. ‘Even if we signed the papers today, you’d have to wait until the policy is active.’
    ‘ When ? How long is that?’
    Anthony looked at his watch, calculating…
    ‘A week.’
    ‘ A week? ’
    ‘It’s a big policy. It takes time. I’ll call you next—’
    ‘Let me do it now,’ he said, that incessant blinking. ‘You can think about it or whatever, but let’s get the papers done and like…done.’
    ‘Ummm…’
    Rudy smelled weakness.
    ‘You have to. I can’t wait more than a week.’ He twisted his body like he needed permission to use the toilet. ‘You have to.’
    ‘All right.’ Anthony raised his arms in surrender. ‘You want to do it, we can do it.’
    The front room was still random unused tables and chairs, like an estate waiting to be executed. Half a dining table was buried beneath an upturned writing desk. Anthony placed his briefcase on the other half. Dust rose and dissipated.
    Not daring to hesitate, Rudy dropped quickly into a settee that coughed up another cloud of dust. He swiped at the air, quizzically, but at the sight of the contract he sat on his hands.
    Anthony reclined in a swivel chair, pulled a ballpoint from his pocket.
    ‘Is Rudy short for something?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘What’s your full name?’
    ‘Rudyard. Rudyard Christopher Alamein.’
    Anthony wrote this into the contract. It occurred to him that he should ask how to spell it, but before he could, Rudy said:
    ‘It really has to be a week? I’ve got to wait till Friday?’
    ‘Friday is the fastest it can be. That’s with me pulling all the strings I can. But the good news is that in special circumstances I’m empowered to waive the initial premium. How does that sound?’
    A petulant shrug. ‘Great.’
    ‘Rudy…’ Anthony planted a fist on his knee and looked him in the eye. ‘You’ve waited eleven years. You’re going to have to wait another seven days.’
    They did the remaining work in silence, but for Anthony reading out questions from the application—‘Have you ever been diagnosed with a malignant growth?’—and Rudy’s stilted responses, which were invariably ‘no’, except where something needed explanation—‘What’s a malignant growth?’—after which the answer was invariably ‘no’. He appeared to have no medical history whatsoever. By the time they were finished, night had fallen.
    ‘Geez,’ said Rudy. ‘Lots of questions.’
    ‘It’s a lot of money. You’ve got to do more than just raise your hand.’
    ‘I know…I know.’
    He initialled each page without reading back, signed three times on the last, went on chewing his fingernails. Anthony signed too, above Fortunate Australia representative . Then he stood and filed the document gently into his briefcase.
    ‘I have to hurry back to the office, get this into the system.’
    Disappointment tugged at Rudy’s face.
    ‘All right…’
    ‘The sooner this gets done, the better for you.’
    ‘I know. I know.’
    ‘If there are any problems, I’ll be in touch.’
    It was disappointment, Anthony realised, at his departure. For all the impatient