Wellstead - 1. WSD Chapter 1

I woke up feeling disoriented. I was in a strange bed with a constant intermittent beeping noise coming from nearby. As I stared around I became aware that seated in a chair near the bed was a lady in a white uniform, a nurse’s uniform, and she was reading a women’s magazine. When she saw me awake and looking in her direction, she smiled, stood up, and disappeared for a few moments.

On returning she grabbed a clipboard from the end of my bed and started reading it. Then she looked up at a monitor beside my bed where the beeping sound was coming from. After scribbling something down on the clip board, she returned it to its place. She looked up as a man came into the room.

“Well, good morning, young man. It’s good to see that you are finally awake,” the man said. I tried to smile but it hurt too much to move so I stayed still. “Do you know where you are? What is your name?” the man said. I was about to say something when suddenly I realised that I didn’t know my name.

“I think I’m in hospital. I don’t know why and I don’t remember my name,” I replied. The effort of trying to remember who I was frustrated and upset me. Why was I even in the hospital?

“That’s fine, young man. It’s a good start. You have been in a nasty car accident, and you have been in a coma for almost 7 weeks. We are very glad you have finally woken up. Now we can work on your full recovery,” said the man, who I presumed was a doctor.

I was so tired and finding it difficult to focus. I soon fell asleep again and woke up some hours later. The beeping sound had gone. There was no monitor standing near my bed, and I was alone. I moved my hand slightly and felt an object. I grabbed hold of it and pressed the button. A nurse soon appeared in the room.

“Hello, young Grant. Do you feel like having a light lunch? I expect you are hungry,” the nurse said, as she walked to the window and opened the windows. They let in some mild spring sunshine. As she turned to face me, I smiled and gently nodded.

“Yes please. I am quite hungry.”

On saying that, my stomach started to rumble. The nurse gave a small laugh and scooted out the door, hopefully to bring me some food. As I was waiting I tried to remember what the doctor had said to me earlier in the day. I had been in a car accident. What happened and who was in the car with me?

The nurse called me Grant, so I presumed that was my name although I didn’t remember it. This was so upsetting and I was struggling to hold back the tears. When the nurse returned with a tray of food she asked me why I was crying.

“I can’t remember who I am and why I am here. I’ve tried but I just can’t remember the accident or who was with me. You called me Grant before. Is that my name?” I asked as I wiped away my tears. “Let’s not worry about that for now. How about sitting up so you can have your first solid meal in seven weeks?” the nurse said.

She straightened the pillows as I sat up and leaned back on them. Then she removed the cover over the plate to reveal cold lamb and chicken and salad. I removed the cutlery from its little paper sleave and started eating the meal. I was feeling ravenous and soon devoured the cold meat and salads, followed by some vegetable soup. I finished gobbling up the apple pie and custard.

I ate every single crumb of the meal, washing it down with orange juice. It was a very nice meal and I thanked the nurse for providing it for me. “My, what nice manners you have, young man. I’m sure you are going to be very popular with the girls when you grow up,” the nurse she said teasing me. She picked up the tray and walked back out into the corridor.

I noticed the television control on the side table. I picked it up and turned the television on. I had been watching for a while when I was suddenly sharply focused a news item.

“And now with more local news. Today was the first day of the court trial of truck driver Michael Jacobs, aged 47, who was charged with driving under the influence of alcohol, three counts of reckless driving causing death, and one count of reckless driving causing serious harm. Mr Jacobs was the truck driver who allegedly caused the nasty accident on the highway at Boomers Hill over 7 weeks ago.

The accident caused the death of local businessman, Alexander Wellstead, aged 34, his wife Angela, aged 33, and their 3-year-old daughter Eliza. It was by pure luck that their 11-year-old son Grant survived the accident. We can happily report that he woke up from his coma just a few hours ago. We all wish you a …”

The TV screen suddenly went blank. The nurse had walked in, and on seeing that I was watching the news she snatched up the remote and turned the television off. “Now, young Grant, we don’t want you getting upset do we? Best that you not watch any of the news until you have recovered from all your injuries.”

By now I was in tears again at what I had just heard. I had been mulling over what had become of my family and now I knew. Even though I had no memory of the accident at all, I now knew that it was a very bad accident and that … I was in shock and couldn’t say it … my parents and little sister were dead! I was feeling very emotional and totally bereft. I had just realised that I was all alone. It hurt inside. It hurt badly.

The nurse came and gave me a needle which soon put me into a deep sleep. When I woke up next it was nearly dark in the room. The curtains were closed and only a small light was on. I pressed the call button, and when the nurse appeared soon afterwards, I gave a faint smile.

“May I have some dinner please? I am quite hungry.”

The nurse nodded and walked out, returning about fifteen minutes later with a tray with a warm plate of mild chicken curry, and stewed fruit and ice cream, all of which I consumed fairly quickly. Feeling drowsy I pushed the tray table away and settled down for some more sleep.

Sometime in the night I woke myself up screaming. I was having a bad dream, or was it real? I was in a nasty car accident and… but that was all I could remember. The nurse appeared and gave me some medicine to help me sleep. I woke up in the morning feeling drained of energy and very tired.

A nurse was sitting on a chair beside my bed, and on seeing me awake, she smiled and walked out the room coming back soon after with a breakfast tray. There was porridge, toast and yoghurt, plus some fruit juice; it wasn’t much, but I wasn’t really feeling very hungry.

About an hour after I finished breakfast, the same doctor I had seen the previous day walked into the room and took a look at the clip board, before looking at me with a smile.

“Well, young Grant, I have been informed you saw some television news about your family. That is unfortunate that you saw that. We were going to tell you once you had spent some time recovering. As you saw in the news both of your parents and your younger sister were killed instantly in the accident.

We are very sorry that you have to deal with such a tragedy at your young age and when you are still recovering from memory loss and some injuries from the accident. You were very lucky to survive: you had a ruptured spleen, left leg broken in two places, severe concussion and some lacerations to your head from hitting the window when it shattered.

“You have grandparents on your father’s side of the family, who will be moving down here to look after you at your home. They will be arriving from Scotland in a week’s time. We have been keeping them updated with your progress since they were tracked down 5 weeks ago.

Apparently, the police had one hard job trying to find them. Now that they know you are awake and getting better, they are finalising their plans to move to Australia,” the doctor said to me.

“The man, the truck driver, who caused… What’s going to happen to him?” I asked. “Well, yesterday you saw on the news, that it was the first day of the trial? Well, on this morning’s news they said he had changed his plea to ‘Guilty of all charges.’ The judge sentenced him to 35 years prison with a minimum of 22 years before parole.

The judge also ordered the seizure of all the man’s property and assets to be sold and liquidated and to be placed in a trust fund to cover your current and future medical and educational costs. Apparently, he was a single man with no family. He had an inheritance of his own, which helped him set up his own trucking business. He had seven trucks, and a business property, a house, and a holiday home on the coast, all which was fully paid up, so he was quite a wealthy man. All of that is now yours,” the doctor said.

I thought about what the doctor said, and then I wondered what would happen to all the people who worked for the man. They would all be out of work, and I wasn’t too happy about being the cause of that.

“Doctor, can you please ask the lawyer who defended the truck driver to come and see me as soon as possible? Please, before any of this man’s property or his business is sold?” I asked.

The doctor frowned at my strange request, and then said, “I will do as you have asked, as long as you get plenty of rest, as you still have a long way to go before being fully recovered.”

I smiled and nodded, and soon fell back to sleep. The next morning, the doctor came to check on my progress, and said he was pleased that I was eating plenty and that the nightmares had not returned. Soon after, two men and a young lady came into the room.

“Master Grant Alexander Wellstead, my name is Judge Samuel Andrews of the Supreme Court. This young lady is Miss Julia Michaels. She is a court clerk, and the gentleman next to her is Mr Frank Hills QC, the barrister for the truck driver responsible for the death of your parents and sister.

When you asked the doctor to get in contact with the lawyer representing the truck driver, the doctor contacted a friend of his, who is a senior clerk at the Supreme Court where I am located. His friend spoke to me at the end of the day’s hearings yesterday, informing me of your strange request, to speak to Mr Hills.

“Soon after learning of this request, we decided that it was best that we have a semi-formal conference with you, so as to make sure whatever you had in mind is in your best interests. So now tell us, young man, what it is that you have in mind,” the judge said as he sat down in one of the three chairs that had been quickly gathered for the meeting.

“Sir, your Honour, when I was told yesterday that I would be getting the proceeds of the money from the sale of the truck driver’s homes and business, it got me thinking about what happens to the people that work for this man. They will lose their jobs and possibly their homes because they have no income. What I was thinking is that the two homes should be sold and the money be put in a trust fund for me, but can we keep the business running, so that those people, however many there are, can keep their jobs and their homes?”

I spoke clearly and precisely, as I had been thinking about how I would say all this, all last evening and again as soon as I woke up that morning. There was silence in the room. They looked a bit shocked. Eventually the judge cleared his throat.

“Well, young man, I am very impressed with your idea, and I think that we can come to some arrangement. May I suggest, if it is alright with you, that I have Mr Hills appointed as your business trustee? He will be responsible for keeping an eye on the running of the business. He will appoint a management team to run the day to day business, and he will meet with them monthly, to ensure everything is running smoothly.”

I smiled, and said, “Sir, that sounds perfect. May I also add that I be given a briefing a week after his monthly meeting so I know how things are going? Can I also, as soon as possible, find out how many people are working for this trucking business, what their positions are, and how long they have worked for the company? Also, a brief outline on the current status of the business, please sir?”

Judge Andrews smiled. “Well, quite a young businessman we have here, Mr Hills. I will leave it in your capable hands. I suggest a trustee management fee of $15,000 per annum as a start. Are you agreeable to that Mr Hills?” Mr Hills stood up and shook the judge’s hand. “Mr Wellstead, I wish you a speedy recovery and wish you all the best in the future. Please don’t hesitate to call me if you ever need any help with anything,” the judge said to me, shaking my hand.

He left the room with Miss Michaels following close behind. Mr Hills turned to face me after they had left. “Will next week be soon enough to get the information you require to you? It may take me some time to sort it all out,” he said. “Yes, that’s fine, but please go there, meet with the administration staff and assure them that it’s business as usual, but under new management,” I said. Mr Hills smiled and nodded before leaving the room, placing his business card on the table as he left.

When I looked, I saw a second business card there, that of Judge Andrews, with his direct office number and mobile also. Feeling very tired, I placed the cards in the drawer, and lay down for some rest. For the remainder of the week I was kept busy with daily visits from my doctor, a child psychologist, and a physiotherapist. Mr Hills made a few appearances, the first being on Friday, three days after our first meeting.

On that day he provided me a folder with all the information about the trucking company, which had been renamed Wellstead Freight. The folder contained architectural plans of the company’s property, showing the large administration building at the front, with parking for twenty cars. The main building had several offices, a conference room, a staff lounge, two bathrooms, and a reception foyer. Behind the admin building was the freight storage and sorting shed.

Upstairs in this shed was a small two-bedroom apartment. Next there were three truck parking bays each with room for a full-length trailer. Behind those was the truck maintenance shed and maintenance workshop with staff facilities. There was also the truck wash shed, which was just a very large version of a car wash. There were several other truck parking bays. The whole property was very well planned and laid out, and I was impressed at how it looked on paper.

There was also a group of photographs of the property, each taken from a different angle. One was like a Google Earth overhead view of the whole property.

The next set of documents, were the staff records. In addition to the six-admin staff, there were three diesel mechanics, two freight storemen, and a yard worker, plus the 7 truck drivers Each one had a photograph, and stated the employee’s name, age, marital status, home address and phone number, work position, current award pay rate, annual leave statement, sick leave statement, their nominated superannuation fund, and the date they started working for the company. After looking at these I looked up at Mr Hills.

“Sir, can you please check that all the staff are being awarded the correct amount, and let me know as soon as possible? Also, I want their paid annual leave increased to five weeks, effective immediately. I don’t know how I know all this, but I presume it was my father’s influence with his business. I also want to know what is happening at his company. Can you please check with them and find out what’s happening?”

After Mr Hills left I lay back, feeling a bit tired by all this business and I soon drifted off back to sleep again. A few days later, in the late morning, Mr Hills came to visit me again, this time to give me news of my father’s company. “Your late father’s business was mainly in investments in property, stock exchange shares, and gold bullion. He leased an office suite in town, which has two offices, a meeting room, a staff room and bathroom. He had a part time receptionist, who dealt with correspondence and so on, coming in only on Tuesdays and Thursdays each week.