A Wife’s Tale

“Ange! Wake Up!” Shaun said to me in a loudish voice.

“Don’t panic but….” Words that are guaranteed to make anyone panic.

“…Riv’s had an accident in the tractor, it’ll be written off, another car rammed straight into the back of him, he’s okay but I’m leaving now to go to the scene.”

I jumped out of bed, noticing it was 6.40am. I went to follow him down the hall but he was gone.

I made a cup of tea desperately waiting for a call for more information. My mind tuning in with Riv. Is he really ok? What does he need? What can I do?

A cup of tea. He needs a cup of tea.

I made two travel mugs of gumboot tea, white with sugar, one for Riv and one for Shaun, jumped in the car and headed to the accident site on the toll road highway. Driving gave me time to reflect. This feeling of deep worry was not for our beloved tractor, or for the lack of income about to ensue from this accident, or about the paperwork involved in the aftermath. The worry was for Riv. He’s like family now. We know his wife and family well, have been to his house, we attended his Dad’s funeral, and took a pie when his daughter had knee surgery. We know him not just as an employee but as a mate, which is a part of our Davies Fencing culture – matemanship (a word I made up but accurately reflects what we have created here.)

As I pulled up to the scene on a long stretch of straight road, my eyes went to a fire truck then an ambulance, another fire truck, Shaun’s Ute and then holy f*ck the tractor, on its side, with no front axle,

“It was then that I panicked because I couldn’t quite believe that he could have been okay after being in an accident this severe

cab smashed to bits, debris all over the road, including Riv’s apple and banana that he had packed for lunch.

Riv. Where’s Riv? It was then that I panicked because I couldn’t quite believe that he could have been okay after being in an accident this severe.

Found Riv and wrapped my arms around him tight.

“I’m so glad you’re ok” I repeated a few times as I held his somewhat shaky frame. He skulled his tea and thanked me for coming.

We stood there on the side of the motorway for another hour, waiting for the Police and Ambos and tow trucks to do their thing.

A St John medic came up to us, saw me standing with Riv and spoke to me directly.

“He needs to be continually monitored for pain and anything unusual. I’m guessing he’s your other half?” she added questioningly.

“Ahhh, no actually my other half is there,” pointing at Shaun, “but Riv is one of the guys who works for us.”

I wondered if she could sense that Riv was not “just” an employee, but more like family. “Well, he needs to go and buy a lotto ticket” she declared. As Shaun and I devoured eggs bene, Riv had an opportunity to verbalise the accident, going over it and getting his story out. Talking is so beneficial because it helps to process what has happened, which relieves the stress on the brain. Allowing time for this, and not just “getting on with it” was a high priority for me.

Some of the guys went round to his house later that day to see how he was. A simple thing, yet such a huge show of support and again, another chance for Riv to talk. Matemanship.

Later that night we got a message in our group chat from Riv, thanking Shaun and I, saying he loved working for us and in fact that he loved all of us, and that it wasn’t a knock to his head, he was just genuinely grateful to be alive.

I personally received a message from his wife thanking us too.

I watched her walk over to the other driver, the one at fault, also a tradie who miraculously was also okay despite his car being written off. His boss had turned up too but instead of a cuppa and a shoulder of support, he was straight into unloading materials out of the wrecked van and loading them into his, probably so work could continue that day. Priorities.

As if hearing my thoughts, Shaun says “What’s the plan? Shall I ask if Riv wants to go back to work? He might be the type of guys who gets over things that way.” I cringed because he was probably right in so many wrong ways.

Guys who carry on as if nothing has happened, push their trauma and feelings aside. Guys who build up their problems until one day it’s all too much – too heavy to carry.

“No, let’s take him out for breakfast” I suggested. As a woman and wife of the business I felt the instinctual need to bring nurturing and kindness in times of crisis. Valuing our guys’ wellbeing is equally as important as other factors of running our business. While it might seem small in insignificant (a cup of tea, a suggestion of food, a chance to talk) we shouldn’t underestimate the contribution it can be to someone’s life.

Angelena Davies