Bitin' Back (4 page)

‘Thanks, Terry,' I smile at him, smoothin down the front of me crumpled dress cross me chest.

‘It's right, Mave.' He offers me a cheeky grin.

‘You watch her, Mavis. She's bound to get a bee in her bonnet over this. Damned spiteful woman that she is. It was only last week she had Joseph and me divorced. A regular gossip carrier.' Hettie's eyebrows shoot off her face as she puts the tea in front of me.

‘The likes a her don't worry me, Hettie. I'm used to the way this town talks bout everybody. Why, last month they had Terry here packin up n movin to Asia!' I look at Terry and gut into laughter.

‘Asia. A man must be rollin in dough, eh?' He laughs, reaching for his tea cup.

‘How is Nevil?' Hettie looks up at me, floatin a shortbread biscuit in her tea.

‘Nev? Well, he's okay. He's gone to ... um, he's gone to Tafe. Yeah, he's studyin at the Tafe in Bullya. Ain't much here for em is there?' I almost bite me tongue, knowin whit shame yet another lie is passin me lips.
A woman gotta try to keep on one story. Things are gettin too dicey. Bound to get caught out, fer sure. Yep, any day now.

‘Well, good for him. Yes, I've always said to Joseph, there's a lad will do well for himself. Always thought young Nevil was a deep type. Can really see it in that sombre face of his. A what d'you call it ... an introvert. Reminds me very much of my own boy, Travis. Mark my words, Mavis, you've got a fine son.' Hettie rinses out her cup. I grin whit guilt behind her back, her words echoing in me mind:
fine son, fine son.

I look across at Terry and find him starin at me in a funny sorta way. Somethin on me face?

‘Caught a yellowbelly yesterday. You eat it?' Terry pulls up a chair next to me.
Close like.

‘Fish, yeah, love em.' I smile; the truth comes to me that Terry's offerin more than fish.
Ooowwhhh, could it be that love is in the air? Aaarrhhh, wake up to yeself, woman. Not a teenager any more.

‘I can bring it over for you if you like. Nice size.'

‘Bring it over. No, arh, I can come to your place,' I almost lose it and tell yet another lie.
Geez, watcha mouth there, ol girl. Ya wadin in nough shit to fill a dry river bed.

‘Mavis, I'm off, love. See you Wednesday?' Hettie casts a knowin look towards Terry then back at me.

‘Yeah, Wednesday,' I answer, watchin as she goes out the door. I turn to Terry.

‘Tonight?' He asks, hope lightin up his eyes.

‘No Terry, today.' I stand up, brushin back me hair.
Now what would Terry, handsome good lookin Terry, see in somebody like me?

‘That's a pretty frock. You look good in it, Mave,' he says, gettin to his feet.

‘Ya reckon?' I smile nervously, me stomach churnin.
Pretty frock, now that a barefaced lie! Friggin look like a bundle a walkin washin.

‘Good nough to eat,' he laughs, runnin his fingers through his thick black hair.

‘Yeah, ya a real ol Casanova, Terry Thompson,' I throw over me shoulder as I walk outta the room, wigglin me big butt as I go.
Get a load a this!

‘This arvie, then?' he calls out.

‘Jus like I said,' I answer smooth like.
Don't want the man
thinkin a woman desperate or somethin. Like he the only one I can get. Which he is, eh.

I walk outside into the bright day, tryin to decide what to do whit five hundred dollars. As I go past the car park I see a mob of women gathered round Dotty Reedman, whisperin and laughin.

‘Black bitch,' I hear one of em mutter as I go by.

‘White bitches,' I answer, then bare me gnashers at em.
Jealous dogs.

As I go into town I think about everything that's happened in the day and wonder if tamarra things'll get better. Mebbe tamarra Nev'll wake up to hisself. Mebbe I'll squander all me bingo money, on what I dunno. An mebbe Terry'll change his mind bout me, realise I'm too old, ugly, whatever. Will Booty call n check Nev out? Will Dotty spread any rumours bout me?
Probly.

‘You got a visitor?' Terry asks, plonkin the fish on his kitchen table.

‘No, why?'

‘Thought I seen a woman hangin washin on the line. I drove past that way today.' He cuts the head off the fish.

‘A woman? Nah, ya seein things, Terry.' I swallow the lump in me throat, hopin me guilty face don't give me away.
It were Nevie he seen. I feel it in me gut.

‘It was a woman, Mavis. She had on a pink dress and curlers on her head.' He looks at me, fish guts danglin from his hand.

‘Don't be mad, Terry Thompson. Ya been on the piss again, eh?' I squirm on the chair.

‘Don't touch it much any more. But yeah, it were a woman I saw. Matter of fact a man nearly stopped to say gidday to
her. Thought she might a been one a your mob from out of town.' He wraps the fish in newspaper.

‘No. Ain't none a me mob come near me much. Could a been ol Missus Warby ya seen. She's mad as a cut snake that ol lady. Caught her in the laundry one day tryin to flog the Omo!' I laugh.
Easy now.

‘Weren't Missus Warby. This one was young. Good-lookin too!' He grins, and sits down beside me.

‘Nah, ain't no one there at me joint. Less it were Gracie doin some washin.' I feel him close in on me.

‘Gracie don't have shoulders like that. Come on, Mavis, what's the secret?'

‘Secret? Ain't no secret. Could a been anybody for all I know.' I shrug me shoulders, tap the table whit me fingers.
Plenty secrets.

‘Nope, don't think so. You tryin to keep her away from me, eh? Come on, Mave, I ain't gonna bite her head off now, am I? I'm a gentleman, that's me, a real gentleman.' He places the wrapped fish in front a me then gives a cheeky smile.

‘Terry, if I had somebody there I'd tell ya. Maybe it were that friend a Booty's. He sees a woman that lives over the other side a the railway line. Ain't met her yet, but I told Booty she was welcome at my place anytime.' I wish I coulda thought up somethin else.
Wish I could a told a better lie.

‘That's who it would a been then. Well, honeybunch, I gotta go to the Bowling Club and cut some lawns. Wanna lift home?' he stands and grabs the car keys off the table.

‘I'll be right. Walkin never killed nobody.' I pick up the fish and go out the door.

‘Hey, Mavis, what you doin tonight?' Terry calls out.

‘Goin to bed.' I answer and continue down the street.

I amble homeward deep in thought when suddenly I hear a voice.

‘Missus Dooley. Missus Dooley, wait up!' Big Boy gasps as he runs up behind me.

‘Hey there. Where ya off to?' I clutch the newspaper dreadin all his questions.

‘Hear Nev's pissed off. Just seen Gracie and she told me.' He flexes his arms, watchin me, his face say that he suss.

‘Oh, yeah. Um, he went away for a bit.' I stare at the bitumen, silently cursin Gracie and her big trap.

‘When's he comin home? Hope he's back for the game. I heard the Rammers got a new bloke and, man, he's sposed to be real good. Still, the Nev'd sort him out for sure.' Big Boy moves from one foot to the other, pumpin his shoulders up n down, starin at the parcel of fish in me hands.

‘Don't rightly know. Spose he'll be back when he's ready. His ol Mum can't tell him what to do and when to come home.'
Wish he'd just go way and play whit his football.

‘Okay, Missus Dooley. When he gets back you tell him us mob's waitin for him to get down to the clubhouse, eh?'

‘Rightyo, love.' I watch him through narrowed eyes as he jogs back down to the corner. Suddenly he swings round and comes halfway back to me.

‘Who's the sheila at ya place?' He points toward me house.

‘A friend.' I reply, quickly turning to make a fast dash home. As I walk up the creaky steps I notice a piece a paper stuck under the doormat. I pull it out and read
: It's no good Mum. Nev's missing and I'm going to look for him. Love from Gracie.

‘Jesus Christ!' I throw the note on the lawn and go into the house slammin the door behind me. Sighin, I collapse on the couch and switch on the TV. Ricki Lake lights up the screen: ‘Everyone give a big hand for Velvet Underground,' she says, as a man dressed as a woman walks out on stage.

It never stops.

THREE

‘Come on, love. Time to get up.' I open the windows.

Nevil sits up in bed and offers us both a look of confusion. ‘Nev? Nevil?' I whisper, lookin into his sleep-filled eyes.

‘Told
you about that. J-E-A-N is the word.' He sighs, then gets to his feet. ‘What are you doing, Uncie?' He turns to Booty.

‘Get your gear on. We're goin pig shootin.' Booty gives him a glare eye.

‘Shit! You know I hate that! Killing things.' Nevil's lip droops. He begins to dress, reaching across the bed and grabbing hold of one of me ol ragged frocks. Booty gapes and runs his bloodshot eyes all over Nevil.

‘Uh, uh. No you don't.' He lunges at Nevil and rips the dress from his hands.

‘What am I sposed to wear?' Nevil gives me a look that says I should do somethin bout all this.

‘Listen to your uncle, love.' I shut me lips purse-like n scan the room for anythin else might be mine.

‘Come on, don't fuck about,' Booty snarls, crackin his knuckles like he's gearin up for some big time rumble.

‘Pig shooting my arse! Gee, what are you trying to prove?' Nevil shoots the question to both of us. I look out the window.
The boy gotta be learnin, the sooner the better.

‘Make a man outta ya. That's the problem—you been livin whit your mother here and not havin no man round. Made you a pussy, Nevil. Why you wanna go round bein a pussy, son?' Booty growls, his voice laced with threat.

‘Don't talk like that! I hate it when people use such vulgarisms,' Nevil lets rip, then stoops over n pulls his jeans up round his hips.

‘What the fuck is that talk, eh? City talk? Ya too good for us now, son?' Booty's face is the colour of coal ash.

‘No, Uncie, I'm not thinking that at all.' Nevil stares at his shoes n fidgets whit his hands.

‘Right then. Move your arse out into the car. Mave, we won't be back for a little while. Righto.' Booty marches Nevil out the front door.

‘Boot, Booty listen.' I stop n wait til Nevil's out of earrange. ‘What if somebody sees him? I mean, I been tellin everybody he's away.'

‘Don't worry bout that. I'll take the back street outta town where no one'll see us.' Booty runs a big hand cross his sweaty forehead.

‘Oh, right.' I throw a eyeful toward the door, just in case he's listenin. ‘D'ya think he's better?'

‘Dunno, Mave. He actin like he some sorta poshy white fella. Man'll have to knock that outta him.' Booty shakes his head whit a look a disgust.

‘Jus don't be too hard on him, Brother.'

‘Nope, but by the time I'm done whit him he'll be back to bein Nevil when we get home.' Booty walks out the door. I stand n watch as they get into the ute, the pig dogs barkin
n growlin. Like they suss it might not be Nevie.
Dogs know stuff like that.

‘Bye, love. See you this arvie.' I wave as the car pulls out and speeds down the street. Just as I'm bout to go back inside I see Missus Warby peekin over her fence, her glasses restin on top a the rail.

‘Hello, Missus Warby.' I unhinge me jaw.
She's a real ol stickybeak, that one.

‘Hello, Mavis. Was that Nevil?' She asks in a thin, high ol woman voice.

‘Yeah. Went out with his uncle for the day.' I grin polite like.
Spose she'll have me standin here all bloody day.

‘Could've sworn I saw him yesterday in a dress. Hanging out the washing, actually. Face paint and all,' she says, her eyes cold n glittery as she takes me in whit em.

‘Nevil in a dress!' I let me face go into shock, then not bein able to stop meself I cut it loose, laughin loud. I only hope she don't see the actin job I'm puttin on.

‘That's right. Nevil in a frock.' She shakes her head like yes, yes, were that I seed whitout a question.

‘No, Missus Warby, Nevil wouldn't do that. A dress, gee, now I heard it all!' I wave me hands in the air.
See a woman stunned.

‘Yes, well, Mavis, that's the very sight that greeted me yesterday when I came out to prune the rose bush. He looked right at me. Fancy! In all my years on this earth I have never, never, seen a man getting about in women's clothes. Not right, is it?' She puckers her lips, looks at me sideways then scratches her head.
The woman seem like she tryin to work out a puzzle. Ain't no puzzle, jus Nev bein a sheila is all.

‘No, that wasn't me Nev. See, Booty's woman, she come over n does her washin here. Musta been her that ya seen.'

She gives me a God'll-strike-you-dead-for-telling-lies look.

‘Do you need to talk, Mavis? I understand that a woman's lot is far worse than any man will ever know. I know some folk take up drinking and gambling to ease their troubles but that just doesn't work, does it?' Then all a sudden she drops down out of sight.

‘Missus Warby,' I try to peer over the fence. ‘Are ya down there?'
What's happening?

‘Hang on.' She stands back up n this time she's taller. ‘Just pulled the old kero tin over to stand on. Comes in handy. Now, where was I? Oh yes, problems, Mavis.' She wrinkles up her forehead, pushes her glasses back on her nose and watches me like a crow eyein off a carcass.

‘Missus Warby, I haven't got any problems. Thanks for your offer of help but there's nothin wrong in me house.' I shrug me shoulders, cursin Nevil. Then a thought comes to me and I wonder how many other people might have seen him at the clothesline.
Probably the whole friggin town.
I groan inside meself and wonder what Missus Warby will tell her mates from the Bowling Club.
Yeah, can just hear it: Nevil Dooley's gone mad in the head. Poor boy, no father, drunken mother that gambles down the Bingo Hall with all the other sinners.
I crack a lopsided grin, a small laugh forces its way out just as Missus Warby interrupts.

‘Something funny, Mavis?' She narrows her pale-blue eyes.

‘Oh no, I was just thinkin bout a thing that happened today.'

‘Hmmm. Mavis, why don't you go and see Doctor Chin at the clinic?'

‘What for!' I ask me eyes poppin outta me head.
She thinks I'm the one whit problems!

‘People don't usually talk to themselves and laugh at nothing,' she says, with a look that seems to say: there's somethin bout here like a rotten fish I be gettin a whif a.

‘Yeah, well, I've got work to do, see ya.' I make out I is cool n all as I cut it back to me front door, but when I hit the kitchen I make a mad dash to the window and look out. She's still standin on the kero tin and for a buckjumpin second she looks straight at me. I wave to her, tryin to stop meself from wantin to laugh out loud right in front a her.

Instead I close the window.
Just nother shitty day.

I shuffle me feet, unsure how to ask Lizzy bout this woman writer called Jean Rhys. Finally I say, ‘Lizzy, ya got any books bout a woman called Jean Rhys?'

Yep, probably no such person ever existed, nah, only in that messed-up head a Nevil's. Dunno why a woman come here in the first place. Yep, I be lookin womba n all. Best get outta here while the goin's good.
I go back toward the door.
Yeah, Nevil made up that name. Ain't no such person.

‘Mavis, where are you going? I can help you, listen.' Lizzy smiles as she brings her head up from the computer and looks at me.

‘Orh, I just thought—'
How to say this?

‘I'm here to help you, Mavis, this is a Public Library and anyone's welcome to use it. You shouldn't be ashamed of trying to read books.'

Ooorrrhh, gee, ain't that just somethin, Mavis tryin to read a book. That's how she looks at me.

‘It weren't that. I jus don't—well, anyway, can you help me?' I look down at me feet,
such shames it be, a woman can't rightly read at any sorta rate.

‘Jean Rhys? Well, that's an impressive start. Now, fill this card out and I'll find some books for you.' She pushes the card across the desk then punches the computer keyboard.
‘Here we go,
Wide Sargasso Sea.'
And off she goes and takes it down from the shelf, then hands it over to me.

‘Who is she? I mean, who is Jean Rhys?'
She really exists!

‘Jean Rhys was an extraordinary author. She had, of course, a life of considerable anguish and torment. But read the book and I'll see if I can find anything about her.'

‘Anguish, torment?' I feel me neck shiver up. ‘Was she a man that dressed like a woman by any chance?' I hold the book up in me greasy hands n eyeball the cover.

‘Good grief, no! Whatever gave you that crazy notion?' Lizzy laughs, pushing her hair from her face.

‘Nothin. I just—Well, I have these mad ideas.' I breathe slow n deep, feelin like as though I'm wadin in a pool a shit that seems to be rising up to drown me whit all me lies and cover ups.
Mavis Dooley, drowned in her own shit. The woman lied til the cows came home. Yep.

‘Here, read it and if you want to know anything at all just ask me, okay? Must say I'm pleased to see you in here, Mavis. All the years I've been working here I don't believe I've actually seen you in here once. Now Nevil, well, he's in here on a daily basis. Matter of fact, he was asking about Jean Rhys too. Must have a fan club over at your house!' She laughs, then turns her attention to a customer walkin in through the door.

‘Thanks.' I let the word slip out the side a me mouth. Clutchin the book I go outside onto the main street.

Torment and anguish? Maybe Nev's got bigger things wrong whit him than a woman thought. Geez, have to get him to Doctor Chin. Yep, can't have him livin like that. Course, I wonder if he is gay? Funny thing keepin that a secret from me. Ain't like I gonna push him out. All these years n the boy turns out like this, who'd a thought it...

Lettin me thoughts go I pull in at at the Four Square,
deciding to buy meself a packet a Tim Tams and a bottle a Coke.
Only thing a woman got really.

‘Mavis, how are you.' Betty Beaton slaps a smile on her dial n gives it to me.

‘Oh good, Betty. Yaself?' I show me teeth as I go past her down the dusty aisle.

‘Going to the match?' She asks, walkin out from behind the counter.

‘The match?' I look at her in confusion.

‘The footy match. Believe your boy is gonna shake them up. Such a strapping big lad, Nevil. I spoke to George—you know, the new guy that bought Ray McMahon's pub, and he reckons we'll have a good chance of taking this one out.'

‘Yeah, I reckon we might.' I scan the cobwebbed shelves.

‘Bloody good coach, George. Oh, and I almost forgot. My Rodney's going around to your place later on to have a yarn to Nev about the game. Anyway, how'd Nev go at Bullya?'

‘Oh he did alright. Anyway who told ya he was in Bullya?' I bring me head up from the biscuit packets n look at her.

‘Heard on the grapevine. What was he studying?'

‘Studyin? Well, um, gee, ain't that terrible I can't really remember.' I look at the cover on the book I'm holdin. ‘That's it! Literature, that's what he's studyin.' I smile a mile wide.
What's it mean, anyway? What's Literature, eh? What's that when it's at home?

‘Literature? Crikey, he's smarter than I gave him credit for. Isn't that when you study books and stuff?' She gazes at the book in me hand.

‘Somethin like that,' I reply, pullin down a packet of fly-shit-splattered Tim Tams.

‘So it's true, Nev's back?' She turns as another customer ambles toward the counter.

‘Um, yeah.'

‘Don't forget to tell him Rodney wants to see him, okay?' She idles back to the counter.

‘Rightyo.' I turn and grab a bottle of Coke from the soft drink fridge.

As I head towards the front a the shop I hear Dotty Reedman's big speakin-out-her-nose voice.

‘Yeah, that's right, Betty. Mavis and that bloody old bitch Hettie! Cheating they were! I'll tell you this much, that son of hers is a right criminal. Why, it was only last month he belted into my Jerry. Claimed Jerry called him a coon. If he didn't act like an absolute arse Jerry wouldn't have said nothing.'

‘Is that right, Dot?'

‘Yes, Betty, that's the truth. It's not like Jerry does these things for the fun of it. I always suspected there was something wrong with that Dooley kid. And listen to this! Missus Warby told me she saw Nevil walking around in the back yard
with a woman's dress on!'

‘That's a load of bullshit!' I cry out n let me legs rush forward, me ol heart tremblin.
I can't take it any more. Won't listen to her gossipin bout me boy.

‘Oh yeah?' Dotty cocks her plucked-to-nothin eyebrows at me.

‘Missus Warby reckons she saw a horse in the yard last week, so I wouldn't pay any mind to what she says. Only a simple-minded woman would believe Missus Warby n her gossip.' I slam the biscuits n Coke on the counter.
See now, look what ya done. I'm pissed off now.