My mother stared with wide eyes as Mrs. Silverman proceeded to put the bags on the edge of the dirt road and sit on the verandah steps with an old fellow who was very obviously potted. We could smell the liquor on him, but Mrs. Silverman didn’t seem to mind. She sat with her arm around him and we even saw her taking a drink from his bottle.
Afterwards, on the way home, Mum ventured to say to her boss that the police should put someone that drunk in a cell. Mrs. Silverman shook her head sadly. “Poor old bugger!” she said. “He’s really down on his luck. I dunno how much of that plonk he goes through in a day, but I took a good healthy swig, so it would be all the less that he’d drink. He’s gonna kill himself with that stuff,” she sighed. “We’ve been friends for years, Dearie, long before he lorst all his money. There but for the grace of God….” her voice trailed off.
Mum was less sympathetic than Mrs. Silverman when it came to drunks, and said: “Well, no wonder he lost all his money - he obviously drank it away.”
“Oh, no, Dearie!” Mrs. Silverman responded. “Quite the other way around. He didn’t even drink before he lorst everything. Strict teetotaler, Ben was. Y’see, what happened was, Ben’s wife Lily met another bloke; Billy they called ‘im. One a’ the jackeroos on Ben’s station out there at 15-mile Road, you know?” Mum nodded, interested, in spite of herself.
“Well, this bloke was real bloody clever. He worked his way up from being a jackeroo to being the station manager. Ben trusted him like a brother. He trusted Lily too. That was his big mistake.” She laughed raucously.
“The two a’ them buggers ran orf together – taking all Ben’s money with ‘em! Cleaned out the bank accounts, took everything out of the safe deposit box and just cleared orf. Can you believe it, Ena?” She laughed again. “Billy an’ Lily -- sounds bloody silly when you say ‘em together, doesn’t it – anyway, they bugger orf, leaving Ben stoney broke! An’ he ‘adn’t suspected a thing.” She shook her head again.
Mum looked disapproving and Mrs. Silverman glanced at her. “What? You don’t think that’s enough reason for a man to start getting pickled every day, eh?” Mum nodded.
“Well, love, you know what they say: don’t judge a man till you’ve walked a mile in ‘is shoes. Poor old Ben was devastated. The wife he loved, the friend he’d trusted, and the money he’d made through his hard work - all gorn. An’ if the truth be known, I swear he misses his friend more than his wife or the money.
“Ben and Bill were always together. They’d ride ‘round the fences, checking for places that needed repairs, and they’d get down in the sheds with the shearers when they came around and have races between themselves to see who could shear faster.
“The two a them’d go into town on business an’ end up at the pub, havin’ a coupla beers - well, a coupla beers for Billy an’ a coupla lemon squashes for Ben. Funny that, seeing how he is now....
“So, there’s poor old Ben all alone - no money, no wife, no friend. Well, I’ll tell you, Ena, you shoulda seen those vultures come callin.’ Soon’s they knew Ben was broke, the bank manager and the insurance codgers, and the bloke that owned the feed store, and Gawd knows who else - all come up to Ben’s place wanting their money.
“Well o’ course he couldn’t pay. Didn’t matter a damn to them that Ben’s life savings’d gorn down the drain. Too bloody bad, mate, they said, and then they auctioned orf all his property and sheep, and kicked Ben out on his ear. That’s when Ben started drinking. Whatever money he could scrounge from picking up bits and pieces and selling them, he spent on booze. I don’t think he’s been sober since.” Mrs. Silverman finished quietly.
There didn’t seem to be much to say after that. Mum sat for the rest of the trip in silence, thinking over what Mrs. Silverman had said, and Mrs. Silverman seemed lost in her own thoughts. Personally, I was in awe of this woman who could sit in the street with an old drunk and live to tell the tale. But Ben’s sad story was soon to take a back seat to other shocking happenings.