‘Shut up, you stupid old bag,’ Wayne Petty barked at his mother. ‘You should be used to the humiliation.’
‘Oh, may God show mercy on me!’ Joy Petty wailed in the back of the taxi. ‘I’ll have to say a million rosaries for this! How could you make me dress up in this, of all things.’ Joy Petty took out a crumpled, soiled tissue from her sleeve and gave her nose an almighty blow. It sounded like an ill tuned trumpet.
Wayne Petty’s girlfriend, Carol Paine, sat on Joy’s other side with a vase of half-dead flowers on her lap, sandwiching the frail old woman in. Carol’s wild rusty-red hair was pulled tightly back into its usual single thick plait, pulling her face up into a kind of terrifying mask. The thick plait that hung stiffly down her back looked as tough as a noose. She grew impatient with Joy’s protests.
‘Jesus, we’re only sending you on a simple fact finding mission. What’s all the fuss? You squeal like a pig being sent off to slaughter.’
‘If the sisters at St Marys knew what I was doing now,’ Joy continued to wring her hands and shake her head in despair. ‘Oh, I know I’m going to burn in hell for this.’
‘Those nuns used to thrash you within an inch of your life,’ Wayne said. ‘No wonder you’re such a withered looking old prune.’
‘I didn’t bring you up to treat me like this,’ Joy Petty sniffled and pulled out a used tissue. ‘I sent you to Catholic school so you’d be better than all those nasty neighbourhood boys, and now look what you’ve turned into, the nastiest one of the lot, forcing me to dress up in a nuns habit and making a mockery of those dear nuns. Not only that, I’m pushed around by your bully girlfriend. Why couldn’t you find a nice girl, instead of her - the bride of Satan?’
‘You have a problem with me because I’m a liberated woman,’ Carol’s intense voice boomed. ‘I threaten you.’
‘Shut up,’ Joy croaked pathetically, trying to assert her practically nonexistent self. ‘You’re a bad woman and a bad influence on my son. He had hope before he met you.’
‘Mother, don’t argue with Carol,’ Wayne intervened. ‘You know you can’t win. She has a completely dominant personality. And as for Catholic school as a way of moral improvement – hah! – everyone knows that it was a hotbed of iniquity. Yes, it’s all coming out now, no matter how much you close your eyes to the tabloids. I had to survive in that disgusting moral and intellectual bog as best I could.’
‘You tried to burn the school down!’ Joy cried. ‘Do you know how embarrassing that was? To this day I’m still ashamed of what you did. People still talk about it as though it happened yesterday.’
‘That’s the only way you thoroughly kill the pestilence, like they did in times of plague,’ Wayne explained coolly, thoroughly unrepentant. ‘You have to burn it to a cinder.’
‘I’ll never understand you,’ Joy sniffled. ‘Never. I didn’t bring you up this way. I don’t know what went wrong with you.’
Wayne didn’t respond. His attention was now elsewhere. He sat looking out ahead. A smile curled on his lips. He looked at Carol, and she too smirked. For no known reason, except to exult in their own wickedness, the two began laughing loudly, like villains out of a pantomime melodrama.
‘I blame myself, I blame myself,’ Joy Petty mumbled incoherently to herself. ‘I should have been much tougher on you. That’s what they say you’ve got to be these days. Tough. I was too soft, way too soft. Maybe if I had been a better mother you wouldn’t have turned out so rotten. Maybe I wouldn’t be now stuck in this mess.’
What Joy Petty was being press-ganged into was quite illegal. Although she could not put her finger on exactly what law it was she was breaking, she felt sure that if caught she would be facing a prison sentence.
Wayne Petty had ordered his mother to dress up in a nun’s habit, his plan being to plant a bug in the hospital room of a powerful businessman who had recently suffered a massive heart attack. Both Wayne and his girlfriend Carol had worked on Joy – mostly they had threatened her with all manner of consequences – until the poor, harried, exhausted woman caved in.
Wayne Petty was a bark raving mad ideologue, fast approaching middle age. He had been a top university student, and in his spare time from study was an organiser and agitator. His areas of academic expertise were economics and political history. Studying how governments toppled was a special hobby and relaxing pastime. He had left university over qualified, or so his mother thought. She could not understand why he had to pile degree upon degree. To her it was all a ruse to avoid the rigours of real life – work, raising a family, paying taxes. He had left his studies in his late twenties. Casting around for some type of appropriate work, nothing appealed to him. If truth be told, the notion of entering the boring grind of work, no matter where it be, was anathema to him. He was offered a post at his old university, but pompously declined it. He had better things to do than teach. The years slipped by, and much sooner than Wayne Petty had anticipated he found himself in his thirties. Now at thirty-nine years of age the brilliant student of history and economics found himself still living with his mother. It seemed he’d never grown up.
This is not to say that all of those years drifting had been spent idly, although definitions of time profitably spent are bound to differ from person to person. Wayne embarked upon a career as an activist. He started his own radical democracy group, committed to the overthrow of oppressive Australian governments, which in Wayne’s mind meant governments past, present and future. His group he called Direct Democracy Action Group, or DDAG. Its agenda was typically romantic, seeing itself as a lightning rod for freedom and transparency in government. Despite this romanticism, the DDAG charter sanctioned underhand methods to de-stabilise perceived tyrannies.
Joy Petty could not take her son’s activities seriously. This is understandable. To all those who knew him – family, neighbours and acquaintances – he seemed one big fat joke. Her son was chronically lazy. He never got out of bed until midday. His so called movement seemed more to be a figment of his imagination. The furtherest he ever got with DDAG was to make little mock posters into the small hours of the morning, advertising make-believe rallies and protests.
Recently, however, Wayne Petty had experienced new bursts of energy. A gleeful critic of the capitalist system (he was never happier than when he saw a monolithic company come crashing to its knees, or a director thrown behind bars), the ageing revolutionary had been keeping a close eye on the business dealings of one of Australia’s premier moguls, Mr Frank Hogg, or Piggy as he affectionately referred to him.
Every afternoon at three Wayne had a regular seat at the local library (he had involved himself in many a skirmish with the librarians after throwing people off what he considered ‘his’ chair, a surprising prerogative for someone who wanted just about everything nationalised), where he combed over the financial papers, gleefully trawling for scandal. He had picked up a fairly minor story, which related how the Hogg family wanted to buy a prime piece of Commonwealth land and develop it into a family fun park. Whether and when the deal went through depended on the Federal government. The Hogg family were renowned for their hostile takeovers, and undoubtedly they would want to pick up the land for a bargain price. Added to this mix was the fact that the Hoggs, amongst their myriad of media interests, owned several papers in key marginal electorates. Although never openly threatened, it was obviously a lever that could be pulled.
An assiduous reader, Wayne Petty sniffed conspiracy. Private investigations revealed the land to be worth some 30 million dollars. If it was sold by the Government to Frank Hogg at a knockdown price, then corruption could not be far behind. Yet this was all conjecture and speculation. What Wayne needed was some sort of proof. Constantly in search of calumny and scandal, this would be the perfect cause for his democracy movement. But how to infiltrate the carefully guarded world of the Hoggs?
Then fate, as Wayne liked to believe, stepped in. A television news report one afternoon flashed the news that Frank Hogg, Australia’s most powerful, ruthless and feared business man, had collapsed. Wayne quickly turned up the volume and tossed his sandwich to the side. He rubbed his hands with glee.
‘So old piggy has had one burger and shake too many,’ Wayne crowed, referring to Frank Hogg’s favourite cuisine, a combination he had stuffed himself with for over forty years. ‘Cholesterol had to catch up with you sooner or later, my tubby little friend,’ the ageing revolutionary chortled.
Being a close reader of the business press, and a devourer of biographies, Wayne knew his subject back to front, like a movie star fan knows the intimate details of his subject. Wayne could rattle off all sorts of trivia, right down to Frank Hogg’s cultural pursuits (trashy sit coms, which he liked to watch in his well appointed office.)
The news presenter regretted that they didn’t have many details of what had happened to Frank Hogg, or his current medical assessment, but assured her viewers that rumours flying around suggested he had had a heart attack. Wayne concurred with this, if it could be called such, ‘opinion’. He had always marvelled at Frank Hogg’s obscene corpulence, and had prophesised for years that Piggy could not live past the age of sixty, the age that his own father had died of heart disease. At last, it seemed that Wayne’s prediction was coming true.
Wayne saw a window opening. What better way to get the scoop of the century by than at Piggy’s death bed? He imagined all sorts of juicy final hour confessions, as he passed the business torch to his son, the pugnacious young Prince Matt Hogg, or Little Piggy as Wayne preferred. The news report gave out details of the private hospital where Frank Hogg was being treated, replete with a soundbite from the Prime Minister himself, declaring the whole nation ‘in prayer’ for this ‘great Australian’. Wayne was pleasantly appalled hearing such sycophantic utterances from the Prime Minister. It was what he expected from the corrupted political classes.
During this news broadcast Wayne had been sitting on the tiny couch in the cramped living room of his mother’s house. He sat with his mother, riveted to the screen. Joy Petty grasped the collar of her moth eaten cardigan and gathered it up around her neck. She shivered and turned pale with shock.
‘That poor man,’ she croaked sympathetically. ‘Life just isn’t fair to some poor souls. His daughter got married to that nice handsome boy only recently. And now this!’
Wayne tried to clear his head of the fog Joy’s lamentations created. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ he snapped.
‘I was just saying,’ Joy wedged a cigarette between her thin lips and tried unsuccessfully to get her plastic lighter to work. ‘I was just saying, isn’t it terrible what’s happened to the poor man. He only saw his daughter married a few weeks ago. Didn’t you see the photos? Ooohh, she did look lovely. I wonder what the family will do now.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Wayne fumed. ‘Feeling sorry for a serial tax evader like that! He should be in prison for fraud.’
‘You’ve none of the milk of human kindness,’ Joy finally succeeded in getting her lighter to work. ‘A man lies on his death bed, and all you can think of is money. I don’t know where you get it from, certainly not me, and as for your dear departed father, he didn’t have a mean bone in his body.’
‘Boo-hoo,’ Wayne made extravagant teary eyed gestures, mimicking his mother’s concern. ‘Do I really have to sit here and listen to you defend a corporate criminal? Have you no shame at all?’
‘I’m going down the shops,’ Joy hoisted herself up off the couch, sick of her son’s immorality. You could almost hear the bones creaking. ‘It’s not good to stay inside all day. No wonder you’re so bitter. You never get out. You never meet real, honest, regular, everyday people. All you have is that horrible woman, Carol. She looks like she could plot a murder in the street.’
Joy carefully stubbed out her half finished cigarette, twirling it gently to remove the last remnants of burning tobacco, and carefully placed the saved half back in the packet for further use. She grabbed her handbag – an outdated vinyl one, ripped along the seam of one end – and was out the door.
Wayne was glad to be rid of her. He could not get the Frank Hogg headline out of his head. He started to think madly of ways to infiltrate that private hospital room and plant a bug. But he would have to be quick. Piggy could pop off any moment now. He stared, repulsed, at the cigarette ashtray in front of him, and his anger grew at his mother’s filthy habit. Then an idea hit him. Why not make his mother pose as a charity worker and deliver a bugged vase of flowers? Joy was the most innocuous looking person in the world. No one would suspect her of being an undercover revolutionary agent. Once this scheme had entered Wayne Petty’s obsessive head, he could not get it out, and everyone in his orbit was forced to serve the scheme’s end.
Joy had no choice but to fall into line. Her initial protests, even she herself knew, were useless. Wayne always got his way. She didn’t know how, but he always did. Ever since he had been a young boy he had had a way of bending people to his will, whether they liked it or not. His demonic persistence worked like a corrosive acid, soon wearing down even the toughest of metals. In the play yard, amongst the neighbourhood kids, and finally on campus, he was a born manipulator who always got what he wanted.
The taxi continued to speed along to Joy’s assignment. She sat dressed in a black nuns habit. She had wanted a nice eggshell blue one, like the ones the sisters who taught her used to wear, but her son had insisted on the more medieval black. He and Carol had handpicked it, thrilling at its macabre aspect.
Joy crossed herself, clasped her hands, closed her eyes and rocked back and forth. She moved her lips in fervid, hurried prayer.
‘What are you doing now, you superstitious old crone!’ Wayne exclaimed, exasperated.
‘I’m praying that the almighty may take pity on my soul,’ Joy said defiantly. ‘I’m praying that he might forgive you for what you’re making me do. And maybe if I pray hard enough you’ll find a decent girlfriend instead of her, that bride of Satan.’
‘Wayne, can’t you shut her up?’ Carol barked, rubbing her temples, one of her headaches coming on. ‘I feel like I’m in an old re-run of the Exorcist.’
‘Just be patient,’ Wayne soothed. ‘She’ll be on her mission soon enough.’
During these extraordinary exchanges, the taxi driver had been looking on with great uneasiness. He was a middle aged man, of European descent. A plastic Madonna swung from his rear view mirror. As Wayne and Carol grew more and more aggressive, he became convinced that the nun was being abducted. He’d never seen anything like this before in his life.
‘Hey,’ he finally broke his silence, prepared to save the nun. ‘You shoulda leave the sista alone. Showa some respect, eh?’
‘Shut up and do your job,’ Wayne was blunt.
‘Butt out, driver,’ Carol threatened. ‘This sister’s on a divine mission.’
The taxi driver didn’t appreciate being spoken to in such a manner. ‘You seea this? Itsa Radio. I calla the police.’
‘Mother, tell the nosey driver that everything is alright,’ Wayne said impatiently. ‘He’s trying to threaten us. You know,’ Wayne turned his attention to the driver. ‘We don’t take very kindly to threats and intimidation. I have a good mind to report you and have you de-registered.’
‘Will you stop bickering!’ Joy’s thin, squeaky voice rose to a pitch. ‘Driver, this is my son. I apologise for him, but he has a terrible temper. And as for the bride of Satan, there’s nothing I can do to get rid of her.’
The driver was now totally perplexed. The nun didn’t appear under any pressure to say this, and made the announcement as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
‘What?’ he said, a little horrified. ‘Heesa your son?’
‘That’s right,’ Wayne taunted. ‘Try and work your head around that one.’
‘It’s true,’ Joy admitted glumly. ‘I blame myself for how rotten he’s turned out. Never be too lenient with your kiddies,’ she cautioned. ‘You have to be strict. They have to know who’s boss. Otherwise they turn into rotten apples like my boy Wayne.’
‘Stop the cab!’ Wayne hollered urgently. ‘Can’t you see where you’re going? This is the hospital here, you idiot.’
‘Hey, watchit!’ the driver said indignantly.
‘No, you watch it!’ Carol said.
The driver tabulated the fare. ‘Twenty five dollars.’
‘Where’s that purse of yours?’ Wayne almost bodily rattled his mother.
Joy’s hands clutched her handbag with all the strength of advanced rigor mortis. ‘Don’t think I’m going to pay for you and her. I’ve only got thirty dollars in my purse, and that’s saved for the pokies. I’m not going to let you rob me of my only bit of enjoyment in life.’
Wayne tried to wrestle the purse out of his mother’s hands.
‘No! No!’ Joy squawked loudly. ‘Get your grubby mitts off.’
‘Do as your told,’ Carol commanded. ‘Or else we’ll have to use force.’
Wayne finally prised the handbag out of his mother’s grasp. He fished around for her purse.
‘Robbing me of my pokies money!’ Joy wailed. ‘Can a mother get treated any worse by her son? I wish I were dead!’
The driver crossed his arms in disgust. He locked his jaw in barely suppressed anger before loosening it to speak. ‘I canna take no money from the sista.’
‘But we don’t have any money,’ Wayne smirked. ‘She’s your only chance to get paid.’
‘Get outta my car!’ the driver suddenly yelled at Wayne and Carol. ‘Scum! Filth!’
Carol was elated by the abuse. It thrilled her to the core. She got out of the cab, holding the bugged vase of flowers that had been sitting on her lap.
‘Thankyou,’ Joy smiled graciously at the driver. ‘It’s nice to know that there are still people in the world with good hearts.’ In an extraordinary final move Joy performed the sign of the cross over the driver. ‘I bless you,’ she motioned her hand over the driver’s face. ‘In the name of the father, and the son, and the holy spirit. Peace be with you.’
‘What on earth are you doing?’ Wayne was incredulous. ‘Stop this decadent masquerading, you crafty old double-dealer.’
‘I wanted to be a nun at one stage,’ Joy said wistfully. ‘I thought the world of the sisters.’
‘Come on,’ Wayne barked orders. ‘We’ve no time for you to indulge in your theatricals. We’ve got work to do.’
For the driver it seemed to be a transcendental moment. ‘Thanka you, sista,’ he said, his eyes following her as she got out of the car. ‘Please, looka after yourself.’
‘Okay driver, show’s over,’ Carol announced, slamming the door behind her. ‘Beat it. The sister gives you her blessing. She has to anoint a dieing man in that hospital.’
Joy, suddenly finding that she actually enjoyed impersonating a nun, gave a little final wave. Even though the driver found it impossible to fathom the circumstances that Joy found herself in, he started to believe that indeed she was off blessing the sick and infirm.
Wayne and Carol paced briskly to the foyer area of the hospital, practically dragging Joy along.
‘Oouch, you don’t have to twist my arm off,’ Joy complained to Carol.
‘This is no time to argue,’ Wayne intervened. ‘You know what you have to do?’
‘Yes,’ Joy sighed, resigned to her fate. ‘I ask at reception where Frank Hogg is. I say I’m from the Sisters of Mercy and that I’d like to deliver this vase of flowers.’
‘Good,’ Wayne nodded. ‘Here we are.’
The three stopped and looked at the automatic opening doors of the hospital foyer, with its everyday people coming and going.
‘Take this,’ Carol thrust the prepared vase in Joy’s hands. ‘And don’t drop it.’
‘I will if you don’t stop treating me like this,’ Joy fired up, sick of the shabby treatment. ‘I’m doing you two a favour. The least I could expect is a little respect.’
‘Mother, make sure you get the vase as close as you can to Frank Hogg,’ Wayne continued on with instructions. ‘If there is a bedside table, stick it there. Don’t put it by a window or somewhere out of the way. I will be listening here,’ Wayne said, showing a pair of headphones and a rudimentary tape recording machine under his overcoat. ‘Alright, are you ready?’ Wayne took a deep breath, feeling tense with excitement. Carol braced herself.
‘I’m not ready at all,’ Joy complained. ‘If I had my way I wouldn’t be doing this rotten thing in the first place. I’m only here because you bullied me. If I wasn’t so frail and weak and you twice the size of me I’d give you the back of my hand. And that goes double for her. I don’t know how you can pull such a mean trick on that nice Mr Hogg. The poor man is in hospital, fighting for his life. Can’t you leave the sick and defenseless alone?’
‘Stop feeling sorry for that corporate criminal,’ Wayne retorted. ‘He’s sent many a man to his deathbed. The Hoggs are one of the most ruthless business families in Australian history. They are parasites who have sucked every last drop of blood out of this country then thrown away the carcass. And you feel sorry for them.’
‘You have too much education, that’s your problem. Too much up here,’ Joy tapped at her forehead, ‘and not enough here,’ Joy then tapped her flat chest.
‘Do we have to listen to this?’ Carol moaned.
‘You walk ahead a few paces,’ Wayne directed. ‘We will keep up from behind. Once inside we will find a discreet place to sit and keep an eye on proceedings. If something should go wrong we will be there to provide back up.’
‘More likely you’ll make a run for it and leave me in the lurch,’ Joy said, knowing the truth of the matter. ‘I hate to say it of my own flesh and blood, but you’re a coward Wayne Petty. If the cops should catch me and take me in you can be sure I’ll tell them everything. I’m sure I’d be safer and better looked after in prison.’
‘Just get going,’ Wayne prodded his mother in the back. ‘Move along.’
Joy clutched her wiry arms around the vase and walked to the automatic opening doors of the foyer. They shut in front of her, and she patiently waited for them to open again. Nothing happened, and Joy surmised that they were jammed. Looking on from some distance Wayne fumed that his mother could not even figure out how to walk through a door that opens automatically.
‘Step back a foot, and then forward again,’ Wayne hissed from the distance.
Joy looked around confused, shrugging her shoulders. She didn’t know what to do, and didn’t care much either. She hoped her son would get caught. It’d teach him a good lesson.
‘She’s hopeless,’ Carol fumed. ‘How can we launch a revolutionary movement with front line soldiers like her?’
Suddenly unexpected help came in the form of a young nurse turning up for work. She stubbed her cigarette out on the concrete and the door jerked open. Without missing a beat Joy quickly followed, her veil, helped by a whoosh from the inside air conditioning, flapping out behind her. Like something out of some goofball comedy routine Wayne and Carol snuck in behind her, trying to look ‘normal’, despite Wayne’s imposing all black attire and Carol in her workman’s overalls. They sat in the beige plastic seats in the waiting area while Joy approached the receptionist.
‘Hello dear,’ Joy threw on all her charm, making a pleasant little smile. She’d never admit it, but she was warming to her new role. Despite her strong moral disapproval, she was having fun. ‘My name is Sister Joy. I am from the Sisters of Mercy. We like to do our little round of the hospitals from time to time, when there are people who are particularly in need. I have a lovely little vase of fragrant flowers here that I’d like to deliver to a new patient of yours.’
The receptionist smiled. It seemed a nice gesture, if a little odd. She couldn’t recall a nun being on such a mission before in this private hospital. ‘And who would you like to give them to?’
‘His name is Frank Hogg,’ Joy said. ‘You might have seen him on the telly recently. The poor man’s had a heart attack.’ Joy then lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘It’s a bit touch and go apparently. They don’t know if he’ll pull through.’
‘Oh yes, we all know Mr Hogg,’ the receptionist said. ‘But his room has strictly limited access. Family only. I’ll make sure they’re delivered some time today.’
The receptionist reached her hands over the counter to receive the vase, but Joy pulled back. She was caught in a dilemma. Either hand the vase over, or risk looking suspicious by refusing. She wondered if Wayne would mind if some nice nurse just placed it somewhere herself. Joy thought she’d give it one last shot.
‘But I would so like to give Mr Hogg a blessing as well,’ Joy pleaded. ‘The Sisters of Mercy always give those in a critical situation a blessing, just in case they……..’
The receptionist was not about to lose her job over a vase of flowers. Hospital policy was hospital policy. She’d been warned by her supervisor: Frank Hogg’s room was strictly off limits. Any security lapses could mean instant dismissal. The receptionist insisted that she would have to take the vase and have it checked. Only then would it be passed on.
Wayne was listening in to all of this, via his earphones. At least he knew that the microphone in the vase worked, even when being jerked back and forth. He muttered a broken commentary to Carol, who nervously grinded her teeth.
‘The receptionist wants the vase,’ Wayne whispered.
‘She should butt out,’ Carol hissed.
‘Get ready to make a break for it. The receptionist looks edgy. She might call the police any moment. We’ll have to leave our agent behind.’
The receptionist still wouldn’t budge.
‘Unfortunately there’s no way we can admit you to his room, even escorted by a nurse It’s a request of the patient and his family. Now I’m sure they’d appreciate this nice vase of flowers, but you do understand that Mr Hogg is a very ill man.’
Joy pulled a long face and hugged the vase to her breast. She was about to make a last ditch attempt when a chaotic scene erupted. The entire Hogg clan had suddenly arrived to visit the family patriarch. Mrs Marigold Hogg, wife, dressed in style that would give Jackie Stallone pause, blew in like a gale, a large pair of designer wrap around sunglasses masking her recent eye work. At her side was her young son, Matt Hogg, only 22 years of age and destined to inherit, manage, consolidate and ultimately aggressively expand the family business. He dressed like a medieval church authority, all in black, and also sported a pair of sunglasses. Behind mother and son followed May Hogg, the eldest of the siblings and a renowned shopper on the international scene and her playboy husband, Howard Bugge.
Cameras flashed incessantly like bolts of lightning, television cameras prodded their snouts in every conceivable direction and boom microphones circled like vultures upon their prey. A bevy of pushy, rude, yet well groomed journalists charged on the family, lobbing a volley of questions. Confusion reigned.
‘Please, I have no comment to make,’ Marigold Hogg held up her hands defensively, trying to protect herself from the cameras and journalists.
‘Could I just ask the media to back off,’ Matt Hogg raised his voice, showing what a polished media operator he was for his tender years. ‘Our father is in a critical condition. This is no time to be asking questions. Now please leave us to this private family matter.’
Instantly the receptionist’s attention was diverted as she tried to defend the line of her desk. She tried to raise her voice above the noise. ‘This is a private hospital,’ she stood and announced. No one listened. She picked up her lethal weapon, the telephone receiver, and waved it menacingly. ‘I am calling security,’ she threatened. No one paid any attention to this either.
Wayne and Carol’s collective jaws dropped in amazement. They couldn’t believe their luck. This was exactly what they needed in order to execute their plan: complete chaos.
Meanwhile, Joy had managed to stagger back to where her son and Carol sat trying not to be noticed.
‘Well, I guess it’s all over. I think I might take that trip to the pokies now. I could do with a bit of a flutter, settle my nerves.’
‘Listen you old crone, it’s not over, not by a long shot,’ Wayne muttered angrily through his clenched teeth. ‘An opportunity has just presented itself. The plan goes ahead.’
‘But what about all the people!’
‘They’re the perfect cover. Everyone is too excited with the media scrum. Now you have to work quickly. Fall in behind the Hoggs, follow them, and then infiltrate. Those security dopes don’t know anything. They only focus on the colour and movement. They see a little old nun walking down a corridor they’ll think you’re a nurse or something. They couldn’t make the distinction between reality and illusion if they’re life depended on it. Now go!’ Wayne commanded.
‘I can’t,’ Joy protested.
‘Just go!’ Wayne physically pushed his mother back into the unfolding mayhem.
Joy took a few steps, stopped and turned around, hoping Wayne and Carol would show mercy and just call the whole thing off. Responding to this silent plea Carol bared her teeth menacingly, then pulled up her sleeve and waved a firmly clenched fist. Joy, terrified, quickly turned around and made a beeline for the Hoggs. She thought maybe the wealthy Hoggs might protect her, and prove a better bet than her own family.
A group of security guards materialised and started to break things up. Then there was a fracas between one of the male journalists, who felt that he had taken a swipe. Whether true or not, he gave tit for tat, and a melee soon broke out. The Hogg family managed to break away from the chaotic scene, their escape facilitated by one of the burly security guards. They didn’t thank him, but moved down one of the corridors. The canny Joy, wearing her sensible flat shoes (they were more like a pair of slippers really), tip toed after them until she was just a few steps behind her quarry. She dropped her head, and kept it down, until she felt she was out of harm’s way. She sensed the chaos and confusion further and further behind her, then in the relative quiet of the hospital’s corridors, with its weird sterile smells and unnatural light, she could hear the conversation of the Hogg family. They were furious at the media’s intrusion into their lives.
‘I don’t suppose we can smoke in this damned place either, can we?’ Marigold Hogg complained.
‘Who cares about hospital rules. Just light up,’ Matt urged his mother.
‘Ooooh, you shouldn’t break the rules,’ May Hogg cautioned in her silly high-pitched voice. ‘You might get in trouble.’
Joy knew that she would have to speak up at any moment and try to convince the Hoggs to take the vase of flowers. She thought she better strike quickly, while there was no one around. Whenever she saw a nurse or a doctor come around a corner she had a near heart attack, almost certain she was busted.
‘Ah hem, hello-ooo there,’ she trilled brightly, trying to appear as innocuous as possible, fully conscious of her duplicitous purpose. ‘Helloo-ooo.’
May Hogg, who was walking last (her usual place in the family hierarchy), heard the little voice plea for attention.
‘Oh, look everyone, a sweet little nun,’ May said, stopping.
The rest of the Hogg clan reluctantly stopped as well.
‘What is it?’ Marigold Hogg barked.
‘Sorry to trouble you all,’ Joy began, now that she had an audience. ‘My name is Sister Joy. I am from the Sisters of Mercy and our little group likes to visit the beds of the sick with little flower arrangements to bring blessings to those in need. We heard recently on the television about poor Mr Hogg and we made this gift. All the sisters have been saying prayers around the clock since we heard. Would you like to accept this token?’
Marigold and Matt Hogg didn’t know what to make of this. Just another annoyance, they thought; a God botherer out to make a convert. Marigold thought the vase ghastly, and the flowers looked almost dead, like the withered old woman who held them. But May was enchanted.
‘Our family would be pleased to accept this lovely thought,’ May held out her hands for the vase. ‘I’m sure Daddy will want to make a donation to your order.’
‘We don’t come asking for money,’ Joy said, still clinging onto the vase. ‘We do it in obedience to God.’
Marigold and Matt Hogg were clearly losing patience. They didn’t fancy getting waylaid by some ghostly looking nun. In fact, she gave them the creeps.
‘Just take the vase off the sister,’ Marigold exhorted her dithering daughter, who had a habit of doting on stray animals and anyone with a sob story. ‘Your father is in intensive care. We can’t stand around idly chatting.’
‘I’ll take the vase,’ May again reached out for the sick looking flowers.
Joy saw an opportunity to get closer to Frank Hogg. She seemed to have the sympathy of the daughter, and pressed her advantage. She’d come this far, and was thrilled at the thought of meeting the powerful Frank Hogg. How often in life did you get the chance of meeting someone really important and famous? ‘I don’t want to intrude at such a time of family crisis, but do you think I could give the flowers myself to Mr Hogg? It would mean so much to the sisters back at the convent if I could tell them that I delivered them safely myself.’
May looked imploringly at her family. It was the same sort of pathetic look she gave when she came across stray dogs or cats that she felt needed saving. She may as well have said of Joy, ‘Can we keep her?’
‘Alright, but make it quick,’ the Hogg matriarch thundered.
Joy was thrilled at her luck. She had sure outfoxed that receptionist. Look where she was now, about to be escorted into Frank Hogg’s private hospital room!
May walked with Joy and the two exchanged a few idle words. A heart specialist greeted them at the patient’s door, and explained Frank Hogg’s status. He looked at Joy momentarily, somewhat confused. Where did she come from? he thought.
‘She’s with us,’ May explained, noticing the doctor’s quizzical look. ‘She’s delivering a vase of flowers that has been blessed by a group of concerned nuns.’
Joy smiled and bowed her head slightly.
The specialist proceeded to describe the situation, trying not to raise hopes too high as to Frank Hogg’s fate, yet striving to give room for optimism as well. It was a fine balance that he felt he never got right. The bottom line recommendation was to fly Frank Hogg to a top New York hospital immediately and receive treatment from an eminent heart surgeon. The mega wealthy Hoggs all nodded in agreement. They had to get Frank out of Australia and somewhere better equipped, where he could get the very best medical treatment. This agreed upon, the family entered the hospital room. Joy creeped behind.
The filthy rich mogul sat propped up in bed. Various bleep machines kept progress of his precarious situation. Surprisingly, he looked no worse than he usually did. His skin still had its typically coarse, ruddy texture, with its sickly yellow-red hue the colour of nicotine stained fingers. His thinning grey hair looked like an abandoned bird’s nest and his exposed hands and forearms had the aspect of something that hung in a butcher’s shop window. It was obvious to all that his pace had, of necessity, been slowed down, but the family was relieved to see that the old Hogg spark remained in his eyes. They knew in their hearts that he would survive and soon be back, his old ferocious self, Australia’s most feared and loathed businessman.
Marigold rushed to her husband’s side, trying to hold back her tears. She wanted to say how scared she had been, but knew this the wrong thing to say. Her husband needed her to be a rock, and this she determined to be. Matt clasped his father’s hand for a good long time and May kissed him. She, too, had to restrain herself from crying. May’s husband, Howard Bugge, stood back, not feeling this swell of emotion for himself, and said in the most straightforward fashion, ‘How you doing Frank? Seen better days I guess?’
Frank Hogg’s eyes locked on the mousy looking nun standing in the doorway and he raised a finger in her direction. ‘What is she doing here?’ he rasped indignantly. ‘I didn’t ask for a nun. I’m not dead yet, for Christ’s sake.’
‘She is a sweet little nun we met on the way,’ May explained. ‘She just wanted to give you a vase of flowers. She’s from the Sisters of Mercy.’
Frank Hogg became agitated. His jowls shook. It was clear he was about to erupt. ‘Get her out of here. I hate bloody nuns. They give me the creeps. I don’t pay for top medical cover so I can be subjected to god botherers.’
‘Daddy, don’t be rude,’ May said. ‘Come in,’ she waved Joy over. ‘This is Sister…..’
‘Joy,’ Joy announced, losing all modesty. ‘I’m sister Joy from the Sisters of Mercy and we just thought you’d like this little vase of blessed flowers. We are all praying for you at the convent. We’re all sure you’ll make a quick recovery.’
‘Just stick them somewhere,’ Frank Hogg said brusquely.
Joy sized up the room as quickly as she possibly could, then made for a bedside table. There was a little space on it. She successfully nestled the vase of wilting flowers between some more exuberant flower arrangements and begged her leave. It was lucky that Frank Hogg had no time for flowers in any case, and took no especial notice of Joy’s sickly offering.
‘The sisters will continue to pray for you,’ Joy assured Frank Hogg as she backed out of the hospital room. ‘We are organising a vigil.’
‘Thankyou, sister,’ May called out as Joy departed, quite enchanted. ‘Thankyou for all you’ve done. Goodbye.’
Everyone else was glad to see the creepy old woman gone.
‘Why’d you let her in?’ Frank Hogg snapped at his wife.
‘Don’t blame me, it was May. She picked her up along the way. You know what she’s like. Let’s people use her. Too bloody nice for her own good.’
‘I just thought it would be a lovely gesture,’ May said.
Joy Petty walked briskly out into the corridor. She may have successfully accomplished her mission, but still had to get back to the foyer without raising suspicion. Her sense of direction had never been good, and now she found herself coming up against doors and corridors and lifts that led God knows where. She kept walking, hoping that instinct and sheer blind faith would lead her in the right direction. Before long she was lost and had to ask directions. Either that or remain walking in what seemed like a maze. She zoned in on a young male nurse pushing a trolley. She figured he wouldn’t ask too many questions.
‘Hello dear,’ she said. ‘I seem to be lost.’ She was about to introduce herself, and her character, but realized her costume spoke louder than words. Despite her strong objections to impersonating a nun, she was now thoroughly enjoying playing dress-ups. Oddly, it liberated her. ‘I was wondering, could you be so kind as to lead me in the right direction for reception.’
‘Sure,’ the young nurse obliged. ‘You just walk through those doors over there and you’ll find
the reception area.’
Joy giggled. ‘Oh, so it was right behind me all along.’
The nurse shrugged, unsure of what was so funny, and continued pushing his trolley.
Joy emerged into the reception area. It was still a hive of activity, with a stand off between the media and security still in full progress. The media were determined to stay until the Hogg family again emerged. The security forces insisted they were now trespassing. The receptionist continued to hold her fort. No one noticed Joy as she walked back into this chaotic scene.
‘Come on, we can go now,’ Joy told her son matter-of-factly, her arms crossed. ‘I’ve done your dirty little job. You should be ashamed of yourself. Those Hoggs are really nice people. Decent. Not like you.’
Wayne ignored his mother. In fact, he didn’t notice her at all. He had both hands pressing his headphones against his ears. His eyes flitted wildly as he heard what was going on in Frank Hogg’s private hospital room.
‘Shut up,’ Carol hissed. ‘Can’t you see he’s capturing intelligence. Wait outside. You’re making us look suspicious. We’ve been telling people we’ve got a young son in emergency. You’ll blow our cover. Now go!’
‘That’s no way to thank me, after all I’ve done for you.’
Wayne started making frantic shoo motions, like she was a mozzie trying to land on his nose. He waved his arms in the direction of the exit, hoping that his mother would soon get the drift.
‘You’re distracting Wayne,’ Carol hissed. ‘Do you want to ruin everything?’
‘Fine! I’m going then. I’ll be at the pokies if you want me. Maybe my friend Thelma will be there. At least she treats me better than you do.’
‘Good, just get out of here.’
Joy stormed out, furious that humiliation should be piled upon humiliation. Was there no end to her shabby treatment?
Wayne and Carol huddled closer together, trying to both listen in. Unbeknownst to Frank Hogg and family, the two revolutionaries were about to pick up some very interesting dialogue.
