Deacon Character Analysis

When Aaron Falk was eleven, he’d seen Mal Deacon turn his own flock into a staggering, bleeding mess using shearing clippers and a brutal hand. Aaron had felt an ache swell in his chest as he, Luke and Ellie had watched one sheep after another brawled to the ground of the Deacons’ shed with a sharp twist and sliced too close to the skin. […]

Ellie had barely raised her head when the noises from the barn had floated over to where the three of them had been sitting on the sagging porch.

It would have been easy to miss, but when Falk thought about it afterwards, he felt sure. In the corner of his vision, Mrs. Sullivan had jerked her pale gaze up in surprise. She’d stared at her grandson for barely half a moment before casting her eyes back down. Falk had watched closely, but she didn’t look up again once.

“Scott,” she began, then stopped. He waited. She took a deep breath. “Scott, to be honest, I wasn’t sure about coming to you with this. My husband—” Karen held his gaze, but Whitlam felt she was forcing herself. “Luke, well. Look, he wouldn’t be happy.”

She made a face. “I’m working.” For the past year she’d had a part-time job which mainly involved standing disinterestedly behind the counter of the milk bar.

“Didn’t you work last night?”

“Milk bar opens every day, Aaron.”

“I know, but—” It was more work than usual. Out of nowhere he wondered if she was lying to him, then felt ridiculous. She wouldn’t bother.

“You’re a closed book,” she’d said one final time before she’d left. She’d said it a lot over the two years they’d been together. First intrigued, then concerned, finally accusing. Why couldn’t he let her in? Why wouldn’t he let her in? Did he not trust her? Or did he not love her enough?

“Christ, it’s like Deliverance around here sometimes.”

‘You know what I mean, Aaron,’ she said. ‘You were there. You saw exactly the same things I did. How weird she was in those last few weeks. When she actually spent any time with us, that is. She was hardly around. She was always working at that crappy job, or—well, I don’t know what. Not hanging around with us anyway. And she’d completely stopped drinking, do you remember? She said it was to lose weight, but with the benefit of hindsight that sounds like bullshit.”

Falk leaned over him, ignoring the dog as it bared its teeth. He stood over an ill man lying on the ground. Later he would hate himself for it. At that moment, he didn’t care.

If my dad finds out, he will kill me.

The sun was gone and night had fallen around him, he realized. Above the gum trees, the stars were bright. He wasn’t worried. He knew the way. As he walked back to Kiewarra, a cool breeze blew.

When Aaron Falk was eleven, he’d seen Mal Deacon turn his own flock into a staggering, bleeding mess using shearing clippers and a brutal hand. Aaron had felt an ache swell in his chest as he, Luke and Ellie had watched one sheep after another brawled to the ground of the Deacons’ shed with a sharp twist and sliced too close to the skin. […]

Ellie had barely raised her head when the noises from the barn had floated over to where the three of them had been sitting on the sagging porch.

It would have been easy to miss, but when Falk thought about it afterwards, he felt sure. In the corner of his vision, Mrs. Sullivan had jerked her pale gaze up in surprise. She’d stared at her grandson for barely half a moment before casting her eyes back down. Falk had watched closely, but she didn’t look up again once.

“Scott,” she began, then stopped. He waited. She took a deep breath. “Scott, to be honest, I wasn’t sure about coming to you with this. My husband—” Karen held his gaze, but Whitlam felt she was forcing herself. “Luke, well. Look, he wouldn’t be happy.”

She made a face. “I’m working.” For the past year she’d had a part-time job which mainly involved standing disinterestedly behind the counter of the milk bar.

“Didn’t you work last night?”

“Milk bar opens every day, Aaron.”

“I know, but—” It was more work than usual. Out of nowhere he wondered if she was lying to him, then felt ridiculous. She wouldn’t bother.

“You’re a closed book,” she’d said one final time before she’d left. She’d said it a lot over the two years they’d been together. First intrigued, then concerned, finally accusing. Why couldn’t he let her in? Why wouldn’t he let her in? Did he not trust her? Or did he not love her enough?

“Christ, it’s like Deliverance around here sometimes.”

‘You know what I mean, Aaron,’ she said. ‘You were there. You saw exactly the same things I did. How weird she was in those last few weeks. When she actually spent any time with us, that is. She was hardly around. She was always working at that crappy job, or—well, I don’t know what. Not hanging around with us anyway. And she’d completely stopped drinking, do you remember? She said it was to lose weight, but with the benefit of hindsight that sounds like bullshit.”

Falk leaned over him, ignoring the dog as it bared its teeth. He stood over an ill man lying on the ground. Later he would hate himself for it. At that moment, he didn’t care.

If my dad finds out, he will kill me.

The sun was gone and night had fallen around him, he realized. Above the gum trees, the stars were bright. He wasn’t worried. He knew the way. As he walked back to Kiewarra, a cool breeze blew.