Eloquent Silence by Margaret Weise Page A

just by walking past me to go to the bathroom, thought Annie as she mopped her face free of tears and blood. That’s all it takes. Just to meet him in the hallway. A pulse was hammering in her head as she returned to the kitchen to make sure his meal had not burned dry. She washed her flaming face at the kitchen sink then stood there for the longest time with her back to the sink, waiting for the rest of the night’s events to play out.
    No, tonight was definitely not the night to tell him about a prospective baby, she thought with tremulous anticipation. But when would be the right time? Would it be wiser to wait until a third party could be present as a protection for herself or the children? Or was this just another of his habitual hissy fits that would wear off as occasionally others did after he had a meal and a bath.
    Conrad was a little below average height with broad shoulders thickened from years of humping grain bags. He was a powerful man, wiry and tough-looking, totally unattractive after a day spent out in the paddocks. One look at the rippling muscles of his shoulders and the sinewy ropes of his arms was enough to warn Annie to beware. Conrad was a sufferer of the common syndrome short men often fall into the grip of the ‘Little Red Rooster’ syndrome, a complex where they had to huff and puff themselves up to make certain of their own importance.
    As she stood waiting for him to reappear she recalled an incident several years previously when the couple had only the two little girls. By then Conrad had taken her into partnership with him as a tax dodge, but to be able to make any significant moves he had to gain her approval.
    The local Ampol agent had a sub-dealership going in a tiny town some twenty miles from where they were living. George Armstrong, the agent, a chain-smoking man in his fifties with a pronounced paunch and graying crew-cut, took them for a drive to see the little house that was part of the dealership. There it stood, surrounded by an untold number of drums of gasoline and an overhead tank that held a huge amount of diesel. The dealership was miles away even from the tiny town of Treblinko, absolutely isolated except for a few black crows sitting on the overhead powerline.
    When the couple returned to their house, Annie’s face was white as a sheet and she avoided meeting her husband’s gaze for as long as possible.
    Finally he asked, ‘Well, love, what do you think about it. It would be a good little enterprise to get us on our feet, don’t you think?’ He smiled lovingly at her, approaching her to put his arms around her.
    ‘No, Conrad, I don’t want to go out there to live. It would be too lonely for the little girls and me while you were away delivering fuel and all the other things you’d have to do.’ She moved away determinedly, not anxious to fight with him but, by the same token, wanting to make absolutely sure that he understood she would not go out there to live in isolation.
    Conrad laughed aloud with pleasure.
    ‘Hell, Annie,’ he chortled, ‘That’s the aim of the whole thing. If I got you out there on the plain away from the village of Treblinko you could scream as much as you liked and no one would ever hear you. You’d be totally at my mercy. Wouldn’t that be lovely?’ He chuckled further at the thought of his domination over her.
    She looked levelly at him. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ she replied.
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    T he following day the Ampol agent rolled up to their door to hear their decision on the matter. He strolled into the kitchen and invited himself to be seated at the table. Annie made a cup of coffee for the two men and went outside.
    ‘I’m as keen as mustard,’ Conrad told him, ‘But Annie seems a bit reluctant. Can’t understand why’.
    ‘I’ll ask her,’ said George.  ‘She might succumb to my fatal charms and sign the contract.’ He lit a cigarette and coughed wetly into his handkerchief as he walked through