Bitin' Back (17 page)

SEVENTEEN

Darryl Kane, aka Isaac Edge, glares poison-eyed as the Ds march him past us. ‘Bitch. Nearly had youse.' He wears a sour look of defeat and hate as he stares at me then Nevil.

‘Now, Mister Edge, that's where you're wrong!' Missus Warby spits out, her face scarlet. ‘The thing is,
I
almost had
you!
Yes, sir, you are a disease on this good community, and I won't tolerate people like you trying to hurt
children!
You see, I've known Nevie since this high.' She motions with one arm. ‘You could say he's the son I never had. And if you think you'd have got away with all this, well, Mister Doodad, that's where you're mistaken!'

Gwen stands up, hands outstretched towards Kane as though the answer will float into her open palms. ‘But why?' She croaks.

I watch the way her face collapses, like she gonna bawlbubby. I feel sorta bad for her. Another kick in the guts.
Yeah, well, this time least it ain't me.

‘Because of what
she
did!' Darryl swings round n glares at
me whit hard green eyes. ‘That black bitch made me look a fucking idiot! I never liked her from day one. I could of had you. You realise what you done to me! Wrecked my life! You made a fuckhead of me in front of the entire town, then my wife pissed off on me after you had to open that filthy trap of yours! I'll be back—and when I do I'll be chasing you down, woman!' Spit flies from his mouth, he shakes handcuffed fists at me.

‘Darryl, it ain't ever had anythin to do whit me. If you the big man ya wouldna tried to kick Gwen in the guts when she were down. As for Samantha, well, good job, pity the girl didn't piss off on ya a long time ago. Chase me down, eh—good luck, cos I be here n ya knowin where I live. Alls I can say is have a nice holiday in the
big joint.'
I give him a bright smile.
There, take that, Mister Smartarse!

Suddenly he lunges, his handcuffed hands tryin to grab hold a me. I step back and fall against the wall.

‘Back! Back, Kane. Settle down!' The fat D grabs him by the arm and holds him tightly to the spot.

‘You did all this to Mavis and Nevil because she sat on you at the pub? Ya gotta be joking!' Gwen looks at him. I read the woman's face—he's a fucken lunatic, it suggests.

‘She wrecked my marriage and my life. Everyone heard what she said to Samantha at the pub. Sam just couldn't take it. For fuck's sake! The woman took away my life!'

Max gives Kane the once over, his lips curled back like somewhere's a bad smell. ‘Well, mate, I'm surprised Samantha didn't leave you years ago.'

‘But,' Gwen frowns at Darryl, ‘Where the hell did this
Jean
woman come into it?'

The skinny D taps Darryl on the shoulder. ‘Yeah, come on now Kane, why don't you tell us the truth? It makes no sense at all.'

Darryl turns to Gwen, an oily smirk on his dial. ‘That's the good part,' he looks around at us. ‘It was Dotty Reedman who told me about this sheila Jean Rhys staying at Dooley's. Yeah, me and Dotty are real good mates if you know what I mean.' He grins, runnin a hand through greasy, slicked back hair. ‘I knew I could set it all up. Things started to get a bit hot for me with the Bullya cops, I needed to throw the scent another way.' He stops for a second and tucks his navy singlet into his arse tight jeans. ‘I knew I could kill three birds with one stone. I decided to throw the scent that way!' He jabs a finger at me n Nevil.

‘But...' Gwen begins.

‘Come on, Edge, time to move on.' The fat detective grabs him by the singlet and pushes him down the hall, Darryl makes a wild U-turn and swings about to face us. ‘I'll be back!' he shouts, his eyes poppin from his head n his face bloated and red with anger. ‘And if it's the last thing I ever do, I'm gonna get you, Mavis Dooley!'

As the detective swings him back round he cries out over his shoulder. ‘I love you, Gwenny!'

‘Well, I don't love you! Ya wanka!' Gwen shouts back.

‘See you in hell, Kane!' Missus Warby throws her partin shot, eyes ablaze.

Max Brown motions Missus Warby to step forward. The man looks tongue-tied. ‘I'm charging you with possessing an unregistered firearm. Now, look, I don't want any objections or threats, Missus Warby, please.'

Missus Warby pulls herself up, her spine ruler straight. ‘The Reverend will know. That's right, Max, Reverend Clinton will hear about this! If it weren't for me that Edge, Kane, whoever on God's earth he is, would have got away with all this! I'm just doing my duty as a good citizen of this town.'
She bends forward, ‘I expect you to overlook this little error.' She smiles, then bangs a hand down on the counter. ‘It'd be the best thing for you. After all, I was the one that brought Kane undone, wasn't I?'

Max looks past Missus Warby. ‘Mavis, are you okay?'

‘Yeah, I'll live,' I tell him, shruggin my shoulders.

Max sighs, offerin us a tired look. ‘It's over now. I think everyone can go home. But you must all understand I've only done what's required of me.'

‘Max, how'd you know about the gun?' Booty questions, gettin to his feet.

‘Missus Fellows from across the road rang in, saying that Mavis Dooley had finally cracked. She heard the gun go off and reckoned that, you know ... you were all dead.' Max smiles thinly.

‘So, Darryl is the Edge? I mean, I sorta sussed somethin wrong whit him. All those phone calls to Bullya. I jus couldn't be too sure though. Til Mavis tipped me off.' Gwen stares past us, confused.

‘Yep, reckon we definitely got our man this time. No mistake—but, Gwen, who is Jean?'

‘Long story, I reckon.' Gwen laughs.

‘She never was here, Max. She a gammon, ghost.' I say.

‘Mavis, where did all this begin?'

‘When Nevil woke up one day,' I answer, not willin to say more.

A woman don't wanna be raisin the dead again.

‘Put it this way, I don't think you'll hear about her ever again. That's unless you happen to read her books,' Trevor butts in, giving Nevil a mysterious wink.

‘Yes, well, that's good because I'm sick of hearing that name!' Max laughs, he motions to the door. ‘You're all free to go.'

The street is quiet n dead. I look across to Missus Warby's but there's no movements there.
The poor ol bag, probly plottin for the next show!
I turn away from the broken window, put the kettle on and sit down. ‘Nevil, the big game's on tamarra, what ya gonna do?'

‘I'm playing, Ma,' he answers with a cheeky grin.

I peer at him. ‘Nevil—you really are Nevil, aren't ya?'

‘Yep, Nevil Dooley, male, twenty-one years old,' he answers with a glint in his eyes.

‘But...?' I turn to Trevor.

‘Missus Dooley, I'm not who you think. I, well, I'm not a painter, a dancer or any of those things. I'm from The Crossroads publishing house. I'm here to—well, to help this genius!' He laughs and throws Nevil a look of real respect.

‘Oh yeah?' I don't understand.
Publishin? What the hell he on bout?

‘You see, Nevil is a gifted writer. That's right, Nevil has a massive artistic talent. He's been writing for some time now. Missus Dooley, Nevil is an artist.'

‘Writing! Writing! Okay, come on, no more jokes. I'm sick to death a all this shit!'

‘No, Missus Dooley, I'm absolutely serious.'

‘Mum, what you gotta understand is this, I couldn't tell you ... because...'

‘Because he was ashamed. That's right, Missus Dooley,
ashamed
of his own talent! I first heard of Nevil's incredible ability through another friend of mine, Glenda Winterson, a creative writing instructor from Bullya. Nevil is still working on his novel. It's called
The Sun West of the Mountains.
Glenda convinced Nevil to send me the manuscript, which he did.
It was brilliant, I loved it! When I met him in Bullya he told me where he was from and what sort of life he had. The thing is, he guessed no one would ever believe he could write such a book; and of course he was right. But how could he go on living here and discover his true potential? Explore his feminine side? That's right, Missus Dooley—his novel is being written through the eyes of a female protagonist.'

I gawk at them, me gob falls onto me chest.
It's like some crazycracked maginin. Me Nevil a writer!

‘So, in order to really go there, I decided I had to be Jean Rhys. Don't worry, Ma, there's nothing suss in it. She's my favourite author; she wrote
Wide Sargasso Sea.
She was ahead of her time; she wrote about society's underdogs; about rejection and the madness of isolation. I know it sounds all crazy to you, Ma, but this is about who
I
am. Being Nevil Dooley in this town is a challenge.' Nevil stops, runs a hand cross his brow then continues, ‘That's right, Ma, I was never the person everyone thought I was. Cos what choices did I have? Disappoint you, Uncle Booty, me mates? I knew the risk in doing what I did.' He looks me in the eye. ‘Ma, a lot of people would never understand me and they wouldn't want to. What choices does a black fella have in this town except football? None unless...' he goes quiet.

Trevor smiles back fondly, ‘Unless you took that one slim chance, which you did!'

‘Why couldn't you tell me? Why go to all this shitty trouble pretendin to be a sheila! Ya coulda told us! It's mad! The trouble we all went through, Nevil!' I force out the words, me eyes achin, me teeth chatterin.
The boy felt he couldn't tell his own mumma. What, I'm a monster? All this fuckery for nuthin.

‘Not meaning to hurt your feelings, Ma, but I knew you'd never understand my being passionate about something you
never experienced yourself. About writing and getting into someone's head. You couldn't help me, Ma. I was on my own and it was exciting! I needed to be a woman here in this town! I needed to be so obviously different. Yeah, I wanted all those reactions ... I didn't mean for you to feel—'

‘Let down,' Trevor throws in.

‘But, Nevil, ya coulda guessed the way people would be! Ya knowed they would jus think ya gone in the head. Everybody know ya ain't no woman! Ya already knowed what it's like to be different! Why couldn't ya just magine ya Jean?'

‘No, I actually wanted to look and feel the way a woman does. Ma, I know what it's like to be treated different but that difference is based on skin colour, not my gender. I couldn't go away someplace else and do this—that would be defying the whole purpose of what I set out to do. I wanted those reactions! Yeah, of course everyone knows I'm a man. I wanted to gauge their emotions to all this.'

‘To have people look at him in another perspective. It's, um, like a huge experiment.' Trevor smiles. ‘No, I didn't have anything to do with it, Missus Dooley, it was all Nevil's idea.'

‘To get ya guts kicked in by the town? To be called faggot n whatever else? It don't make right sense to me. This book? What? Is it worth all the trouble, Nevil?'

‘Sorry I put you through all of this Mum. But, yes, it is worth all the trouble. The reactions from everyone—including you and Uncle Booty—were priceless.'

‘But all the grief for us!'

‘I figured you'd handle it, Mum. Ya made of sterner stuff. But it all started to go wrong with this drug business. I hadn't planned on being dragged off by the gungies...' His voice get all excited now. ‘Anyway, this book is about a woman called Lucinda Lawrey. She's my hero. Um, she's a thirty-something female, living in the bush, and struggling to make
ends meet after her husband ups and leaves her. Naturally, she's shattered and tries to rebuild her life in a town that's hell-bent on destroying her with gossip and treachery—sort of Mandamooka. And, yes, she's different, she has a high IQ, loves Tolstoy and surrealist art. Lucinda bucks against the stereotypes. Writing about her is my heart and soul!'

The boy is so soft. Yep, was always the first one to cry at sad movies n stuff. He deep as the ocean. But I don't really sussin what he on bout. Not alla it.

‘Gee, son, I never knew.'
I can't say anythin.
I stop and stare back at this stranger, this stranger I gave birth to.
What can a woman say?

‘Why? Why write as a woman?' I ask reachin in the cupboard for some Tim Tams.
A woman sure need calmin.

‘Because I can, because of the perspective thing, because I think it's easier to be a man in this sort of place than to be a woman. A woman's got to be as tough as a man, but not show it. And if she does, she's an outcast.

Lucinda's different—not just by being bright and independent—but she's black and she's seeking a better life for herself and her kids. That's what the book's really about—Lucinda searching for a way to escape the constrictions of
her
town.' Nev's voice is close-to-teary.