Bitin' Back (14 page)

THIRTEEN

The fat D screws up his piggy eyes and stares at both of us. His skinny friend stands in the corner, arms crossed, lips curled back in a snarl. At the far end of the table, Max Brown sits lookin real nervy. He can't stop lookin at Nevil's lips.
Like he be sussin it's lipstick but not too sure.

‘So, what's your story?' Fat Man looks at me then Nevil.

I shrug me shoulders. I don't know. Nevil throws me a look n jus grins.

‘We have received a number of phone calls naming you and that son of yours.' Skinny suit stands behind me. ‘We know you've had contact with her, Missus Dooley.'

‘We mean Edge's courier, of course you know that.' Fat Man glares at me.

I smile up at him, all innocent. ‘I dunno. Anyway, who the hell ya talkin bout?' I ask, pickin small pieces a fluff off me skirt.
Me gut tells me who he's talkin bout. Yep, It's come to this. A woman just sick to death of it all.

I know who he's gonna say. There ain't a thing I can tell em. Nuh, ain't jackshit ol Mavis Dooley can say.

‘Might make it easier on yourself if you just tell them
the truth, Mavis,' Max says, raising his thick eyebrows at me.

‘It's all just another mistake. For God's sake! I don't know who ya askin bout! A woman ain't no mind reader! First ya haul Trevor in, sayin he's the Edge, next you got me n Nevie in sayin we know all bout it.

‘Max, it's no good for the boy's nerves, all this business. You know he got the big game comin up. Can't take it, can you, son? Max, you know what we're like. A woman ain't got nuthin to do whit all this. Nev don't even touch the shit, no good for his trainin. Nah, Max, I thought you knew us.' I shake my head with all the disgust I can muster up.

Max Brown looks at me with a flicker of apology. ‘Sorry, Mavis, but when we get a lead we have to follow it,' he says, in a soft tone a voice.

‘It's gonna wear the boy down. The Rammers'll take this year's match out. Yep, n all Mandamooka gonna know who made Nevil a bag a nerves. They'll lose the big match, you jus watch.' I tighten me lips.
A woman jus gettin tired a this shit.

‘Look, just tell us who she is and I'll let you both go,' Max says, his face goin pink.

Ol Max is all right really. A woman can't blame the man for doin his job. But I gotta be careful whit what I say to him. He might spread it round town.

‘I done tole you I don't know. Maybe, if ya tell me who we talkin bout here a woman can get some sorta idea.' I chew me bottom lip.

‘Nevil, come on, boy, tell them who it is.' Max urges.

‘Um ... I...' Nevil stops abruptly, just as a voice from the doorway yells out, ‘What the hell?'

I swing round on my chair and smile with relief as Booty strides in the room.

‘Max! What the hell is me sister and nephew doin here!' He booms, his face steely, eyes slitted.

Max pauses for a fraction of a second. ‘We got a lead.'

‘Well, there ain't no lead here whit them.' Booty glares at the Ds. His chest is puffed right out in front a him, his arms swingin back n forth.

‘Get this man out of here!' Skinny D orders Max.

‘What you got them in for?' Booty turns to Max.

‘Drugs. Saying we're in a rackateering business,' Nevil pipes up, wipin the back a his hand cross his lipsticked mouth.

Booty's gob flips open. He looks at each of us then bursts into loud gut laughter. ‘Drugs! Drugs!' he splutters, one hand holdin his big gut as he gasps for air.

‘Yeah, sayin we know who this courier person is,' I put in, smirking at Fat Man.
See, Fatty, ya got the wrong fellas again. Fatty n Skinny—good cop, bad cop, har, har, haaaaaarrr. That's a hoot.

‘You fellas got the wrong people, that's a fact,' Booty laughs, as Max leads him out the door.

‘Who is this woman?' Skinny pulls out a chair and sits in front a me while Fatty stands in front a Nevil and gives him a don't-fuck-with-me look. ‘Anytime, son,' Fatty says. ‘Tell me and you can go home. There's no use of protecting her.'

‘Now, Missus Dooley, I'd reckon you're a decent woman and have your problems but this courier will take you down with her when we bring her in. She'll say it was you. One name. Just one name. That's all I want.'

‘Mister, I swear to God I dunno. If I did I'd
defnitely tell ya!'

‘Okay, time for hardball. Who is Jean Rhys?' He grins. Gotcha!

‘Whaa?' I look at him, me chin droppin to me chest.

‘That's right, Missus Dooley, Jean Rhys—R-H-Y-S.'

I sit right back in the chair, me ol head spinnin like a bottle top. Skinny grins at me like he's onto something. Like he said the magic word.
What can I tell the man? Anythin a woman says gonna sound friggin womba. Tell him Jean Rhys a writer n that she carked it a long time ago? Tell him me Nev thinks he's Jean Rhys? What does a woman say? Yep, gonna sound like I'm the one fulla drugs, eh.

So I say: ‘Go to the library. You want your woman, go down to Lizzie there at the library.' I tighten me mouth.
I've had nough a Jean Rhys. Sick, sick to death of hearin that bloody name.

‘Lizzie at the library is Jean Rhys?' Skinny cocks an eyebrow, a triumphant smile on his face.

‘No, no, not Lizzie! Just go n ask her bout this friggin Jean Rhys!'

Just then, across the room, the fat D bursts into laughter, his face scrunched up n red as he points at Nevil. ‘Fucking maniac,' he gasps, holding onto the edge of the table like it'll keep him standing up. ‘Reckons
he's
Jean!'

Skinny casts a glance at Nevil and offers a weak smile. Yep, one kid fucked from the drugs, his look seems to suggest.

Next thing Max comes back and whispers something into the fat man's ear. Then he turns to me. ‘Righto, Mavis, you're free to go.' He offers a hand to help me to my feet.

‘I want Nevil to come whit me.' I stand, hands on hips n glare at all a them.
Youse ain't gonna mess whit me boy's head, no way. Ain't gonna rip into him like youse did to poor ol Trevor. No, no.

‘On your feet, boy.' The fat cop slaps Nevil cross the back.

‘Hey, no need to hit so hard! Anyway, you'll never find
Jean. Hear that,
never,'
Nevil says with a smirk, smudged lips curled into an oily grin.

‘Oh, we'll find her and when we do we are gonna haul your arse in here, boy! By the way, sonny, what's that shit on your lips?' The fat cop peers hard at Nevil's mouth. ‘Fuck me flying! The boy's a fucking fag!' He takes a step back, a pretend look a disbelief on his face.

‘It's not lipstick! It's special stuff Doctor Chin gave him for his sore lips! Don't call my son a fag, FAT BOY!' I yell at him, me dander right up n deadly.
Callin me son a queen.

‘Settle down, little woman,' Skinny D says, backin up his partner.

LITTLE WOMAN! Who the fuck he think he is?

‘Listen here, you skinny arse creep, don't call me LITTLE WOMAN! Jus who are you, eh, eh!' I move towards him, seein fucken red. I anger up mad.
I'm gonna get that little goona boy!
I throw one hand at him and shove him so hard he stumbles back and falls on the table.

‘Leave us alone!' I shout, as Max and Fat Cop grab my arms and pin them to me sides.

‘Mum, Mum, leave it alone. Come on, Mum, leave it out,' Nevil pleads, fear across his face.

‘Get her out of here!' The fat D bellows at Max.

As I cut it towards the door I can't help but leave em somethin to think about. I say, ‘Wait till you ol boys get a load a Jean Rhys!' Then I laugh—really, really laugh, til me gut cramps up n me bladder threatens to burst.
That'll twist em. Huh, fuckery.

Max leads me to the front desk. He motions for me to sit down then turns to Nevil, ‘I think you should hear this too.'

As I settle in I hear a noise from behind me and turn round.

‘It's all right, Sis.' Booty grins, his arms crossed, his eyes glued on Max.

‘Look, Mavis, this whole business is getting out of control here. Now, if you do know anything, anything at all—this goes for you too, Nevil—please for God's sake tell me! I'm the one looking like a damned fool. What am I supposed to do when I receive these calls telling me that you and Nevil here are involved?

‘Hang on, now, hang on before you go off the handle, I think that someone out there is trying to set you or young Nevil up. I don't know why but I've the feeling there's other forces at work here. A big hunch, actually. Any ideas?' Max looks from me to Nev and back again.

‘But why ... I mean, who?' I stare at Max.
A setup?

‘Who made the phone calls? I mean, we haven't got any enemies, have we, Ma?' Nevil throws the last question at me. By this time he's wiped all the lipstick off whit the back a his hand.

‘Well, love, I don't really know.' I think a everybody I know who'd do somethin like this. I come up empty.
Who'd be low nough, is the question?

Max sighs. ‘Therein is the mystery. The first call was from a woman calling herself Davida Dalrymple, the second from a man calling himself John Holmes. Obviously fake names but I can tell you this—those calls were all made here in Mandamooka. Someone out there is setting you up for this Edge business. Someone has a real problem with both or one of you. Done anything to anyone lately?'

‘No, absolutely not. Who'd wanna waste they time settin
us
up? And why'd you bring us in?' I study Max's face.

He turns round and throws a quick glance towards the door. Hunching his shoulders forward, Max leans over the counter and whispers, ‘Got to make it look good in front of
the boys.—Like they told you, they received the same calls in Bullya. As you know, it's my duty to follow these things up.'

‘So, these callers told you that it was me and Mum?' Nevil frowns.

‘Yes, said you both knew where Jean was. Matter of fact, said you had her at the house there. See, it's like this. Jean is supposed to be Edge's courier pigeon and apparently she's here in Mandamooka hiding out. That's what the story is so far.'

‘Max, there's no person in this town called Jean Rhys.' I lean closer to his face. ‘Max, the woman don't exist. She's some dead writer. That's right, there was a Jean Rhys a long time ago but she jus don't exist any more. No such person here in Mandamooka.'

‘She's a woman all in Nevil's head.' Booty steps closer, too.

‘What d'you mean?' Max frowns as though we're takin the piss.

‘Jus that. He made her all up. Like a big trick on everybody. Yeah, a big joke. You know how young fellas like to arse about. Nothin else in this town for them to do. Tell him bout the
big joke,
Nevil.'

Nevil casts me a dangerously pissed-off look then says: ‘I'm Jean. I'm the real Jean Rhys.'
Take that.

‘Shut up, Sonny Jim!' Booty slaps him cross the shoulder blades. ‘The boy's losin his mables. Those Ds got him screwed up here.' Booty points to his skull.

‘Was always the one for bad nerves, me Nevil. Don't listen to that rot, Max. He ain't been hisself lately. All this drug business wearin us thin. I jus can't take this any more! Me blood pressure's been playin up n everythin. I not a well woman, Max.' I slump forward, me hand cross me forehead.
Reckon I must look real down like. Can't have Max askin too many questions.

Booty, knowin the real deal, sighs deep, ‘It's all right, Sis, Max here knows what you like. Hard life n all. Any other woman wouldn't a took it like you. Bringin up the boy by yerself n strugglin, yeah, bloody fine job you did. That's me sister for ya, Max, a battler. Tryin her little heart out to bring the boy up real decent like.' Booty scratches his fat gut, a crooked grin on his sweat n drenched face.

‘Don't cry, Mavis. I know what sort of person you are. I was never convinced that any of this had anything to do with you. I remember when young Nevil here used to play in the school football team, had a lot of talent back then. As I have always said, there's a boy that'll go far in life. Mavis, I don't want you to blame me for any of this. I want you to know that I have to do all this otherwise those Bullya blokes will be on my back.' He looks me in the eye, a sorry look on his dial.

Booty pats me shoulder. ‘Those Ds got no right to talk to her and Nevil the way they done. My sister and nephew ain't no drug dealers, Max.'

‘Well, let's just hope this will all be sorted out soon. I would advise you to keep on your toes. There's someone out there that's got a dangerous grudge against both of you.'

I stand to my feet n wipe away the crocodile tears. ‘Thanks, Max,' I sniff. Grabbin Nevil tight by the arm. I steer him full force out the door.

When we're on the street again Booty explodes: ‘Fucken Jean Rhys! What are you, a fucken loony tunes, Sonny Jim! Goin in there like that! A man oughta kick that black arse a yours! Can't ya see whatcha doin to ya poor ol mother!' Booty hits Nevil cross the back a the head. ‘Fucken wake up
to yourself otherwise I'm gonna have to do somethin bout all this shit! Nevil, ya not a bloody woman n that's that! If God meant for ya to have a woman thing between ya legs then that's what he'd a given ya!' Booty's eyes are bulgin outta his head.

I ignore his shouts as he drags Nevil down the road. Me thoughts are on who's settin us up n for what.

Dotty Reedman, would she have the guts? Hmm, yeah, cos the woman done hate me, she do. Maybe she wanna be gettin rid a me so as she can have Terry to herself. Yep, can jus see her dial—happy as a pig in shit if she can do me over for Terry. Then again, maybe it's cos Nevil busted her son up. Yeah, he smashed Jerry. Gave the boy a hidin.

Missus Warby—who'd really know what goes on in that one's head. She a madwoman for sure. Would she do this to us? Yeah, she would, thinkin she doin God's work n everthin. Doin a good deed.