Bitin' Back (7 page)

I watch him whit chickenhawk eyes as he begins to eat and drink. Knowin ya can tell a lot bout a man the way he eats. I pay extra special tention to him.
What he is? A glutton—or a finicky fella? Yeah, ya get em in all sorts. The way they
chew down they tucker, well, it say a damned lot bout a man it do. A woman know, that a fact.

‘Very nice,' he says, his mouth smackin.

‘Yep, was always the one for makin a good meal.' I nod me head proudly.
He definitely a normal sorta chewer.
‘What people like you eat in the city?'
I gonna track him right down, find out what this honky tonky is all bout.

‘Oh, mostly lentils, organic foods, soya milk and seaweed.' He puts the glass a Coke up to his mouth n gazes at me over the rim.

‘Son, you be eatin seaweed! Now I done heard it all!'
Seaweed, what's he, a friggin whale or such? Bet this is the only decent feed the poor crapper's had for years. That's why he gotta eat weed, cos the poor bastard's starvin to near death. Ooorrhh, a woman feelin shamed. Gee, the poor little bastard. Yep, fucken starved. No wonder he gorgin that tucker down.

‘Good food, Missus Dooley,' he says, then pats his stomach.

‘Stay here long nough n you'll be walkin outta here like one a them Blackouts, all muscled up.' I push the packet a Tim Tams in front a him. ‘Have some more. Put some meat on them scrawny arms a yours.'

‘Thanks.' He grins then turns toward the doorway as Nevil walks in.

‘Nevil Dooley! Where the fuck!' I jump to me feet, ‘Where'd ya get that dress?'

‘One of yours,' he answers, shruggin his shoulders, smoothin down the hem, pickin at his fingernails.

‘Gee, can't a woman have any clothes whitout ya pinchin em?' I glare at his made-up face: red lips, pink eyeshada n brown red shit smeared cross his cheekbones.
Fuckery. He done looks like a two-dollar prossie. One of em friggin hookers right outta the Big Smoke.

‘Just borrowing it, Mum.' He sits down beside Trevor and gives him a funny sorta look.

I shake a fist at him. ‘Don't you dare go outta this house like that!'

‘Don't intend to. Me and Trevor have something to do today, hey, Trev,' he says, smilin. Trevor's face has turned green.

‘I got bingo today. While I'm gone I be holdin ya sponsible, Trevor. Whatever you do, don't answer the door. Could be one a the Blackouts lookin for Nev. They see you here n they'll have a shot at ya.' I jab a finger in the direction of his feet. ‘Specially if they spot those sandals.'

‘Don't worry, Missus Dooley, I'll hold down the fort,' Trevor says in a it'll be right tone a voice.

‘Oh, n Nevil, don't go big notin yaself by doin any bloody washin. That ol piece next door got a pair a eye spotters n she be spyin on us. Right ol pain in the you know what.' I say me piece then leave the room.

As I'm bout to push me bedroom door open, I hear a bangin on the front door I cut it down the hallway.
Now who's this? Max Brown?
I try to peer through the thick glass window but all I can make out is a fuzzy shape.

‘I know yer in there. Open up, fer God's sake!' the voice begs.

I open the door n look goggle-eyed at the sight before me.

‘Jesus Christ!' I burst out, me hand against wall, feelin me legs turn piss-weak.

‘Mum, Mum, is he home?' Gracie asks through puffed and busted lips.

‘He's here, love. What the hell happened to ya! Jesus Christ Almighty, Gracie! Who doned that! Tell me, bub, I'll go n sort the pricks out!' I take her by the shirt collar n haul her
inside, not wantin Missus Warby to see this.
Yeah, the ol bat'd probly blame Nev.

‘A fight. Got caught inna fight at Bullya,' she slurs, tryin to see through black-and-purple eyes.

‘Gee, girl, how'd ya manage that?' I take her by the arm and lead her into the loungeroom.

‘Got caught up in a land rights march. Wasn't even there for that. I was tryin to get my message cross the TV bout Nevil bein missin. Orh, Mum, I tried, I really did. But the coppers come n start floggin everyone. Little kids n all. I'm never goin back there again.' She pushes her long black hair away from her eyes.

‘Just weren't yer day, love. But hey, Nev's home n he got a friend whit him,' I say, choosin me words real careful.

‘A friend? A girlfriend?' her eyes light up whit sussin.

‘Nah, some big timer from the city. Now, whatever ya do, jus be careful what you say. Nevil ain't been hisself latetly. N don't say any word whit homo in front a it n anythin like it's a gay day. I don't like em words to be used in me household. Nevil's jus a little different since ... well, since ya ain't seen him.' I watch the girl's face, she look real suss n edgy.

‘I don't right know if ya ready for all this,' I sigh, watchin the way her eyes shift round the room like lookin for somethin.

‘Mum, what's goin down? Ya don't sound
right.
I know somethin is real suss round here. Yeah, to do whit Nevil, ain't it? Well, look, Mum, I won't take it. I won't. No sir, Grace Marley never put up whit any cheatin wankers in her life n she's not bout to start now. Don't frig me bout, Mum. If'n it's a woman tell me. That the least ya could do fer a girl.' Her pulpy lips twist into a snarl, but then she sorta lets go a the aggro n her mouth trembles. ‘Oh gee, don't feel too
good, Mum. I gotta get home, have a lie-down. But I'll be back!'

‘Ain't no woman here, love, I promise ya. Yep, you go n lie down. Come back later. I got bingo now. I'll tell ya all bout it then, I promise, okay?' I grab her by the elbow n take her back out the door.
Too dicey jus yet. The girl a wile card. Could do anythin. Could say anythin, to anyone.

‘You better, Mum. A girl can't take no more a this. Nevil's my man n I tend to keep him.'

‘Yeah, Gracie, I know that, lovey. But poor ol Mum here is been goin round the bend too. Problems, problems.' I jus hope Nevil don't walk out from the kitchen.
The jig'd be up fer sure.

‘I trust you, Mum. I'll come over after bingo then.' She throws me a wave n walks slowly out the gate.

I grab hold a the door handle n go to slam it shut when I spot Missus Warby perched up on her kero tin, her eyes drilled into me house.
Gee, can't the woman even pretend she doin somethin other than gawkin over here all the time. Talk bout gall. The hide a her as thick as elephant skin.

‘You-hoo, Mavis, hello! Did you go to Doctor Chin yet? Get that drinking and gambling problem sorted out?' The eye spotters swing to n fro on her chest.

‘Yeah, I got it all
sorted out,'
I answer, then slam the door so hard it nearly falls off its hinges.
Bloody stickybeak! Gee, a woman can't even fart n she'd be there askin bout it! Gotta put a end to her gawkin' if it's the last thing I do.

‘Mum, who was that?' Nevil asks as he passes.

‘No one. Absolutely no one.' I carry meself back to me room, me shoulders heavy, me bones weary. I think bout Gracie and how close I came to tellin her everythin. Realising it'd be a big mistake to let her in on Nev's secret, I think of another lie.

SIX

‘Legs eleven, Ten at it again, Thirty-two, tell me who,' Hettie yells as she looks at me cross the room whit a wide smile.

‘Bingo!' someone screams.

I turn in me chair to see who the lucky winner is. I groan inwardly as Dotty Reedman struts by, castin me a smart-alec look as she moves grandly towards Hettie.

‘Hello there.' I spin in me seat to the direction of another voice and look up at Terry Thompson.

‘Whatcha doin here today? Thought you only worked here a coupla times a week' I say.

‘Had to plant some shrubs. Anyway, did you like the fish I gave you?' he asks, creasin his face into a smile.

‘Yeah, real nice. Got any more?'

‘Not less you want to come fishing with me down to the old Drayson Road.' He gives me a cheeky grin.

‘Yeah, Terry Thompson, I know all bout your fishin trips.' I crack a smile at him n fiddle nervously whit the ring on me finger.

‘Hey, thought I seen Nevil with some other bloke out the
back of your yard this morning. Some fella with white hair. Looked like they was dancing or something,' he says.

‘Dancin in me backyard? Oh yeah, well spose that's Trevor's idea. He's a dancer from the city. Yeah, real solid dancer n all.' Yet another lie passes me lips. Vaguely I wonder when God, if he exists, will reach down n hit me bout the head whit a fork a lightnin for tellin so many yarns.
Yep, now a woman gotta cover up for Trevor too. Double the lies. There's no way the town can find out bout him.

‘Why, hello there, Mavis.' Dotty greets me with a fake smile as she comes prancin cross the room, her thin eyebrows arched as she looks from me to Terry.

‘Hello,
Dotty,' I reply, watchin the way she wiggles her hips towards Terry.

‘Terry, how are you?' she asks, thrustin out her big chest and showin a bare bit a leg.

‘Good, Dotty, and yourself?' Terry replies, his eyes swallowin her tits.

‘Oh, I'm fine. Not a problem in the world,' she answers, casting me a sly sideways look. ‘Got any of those gorgeous yellowbellys left? The ones you gave me were delicious.' The bright blue eyeshada on her lids crinkles up.

‘Can get you some more if you like. I see you won something there.' Terry points to the card she's holding.

‘Yep, about time too.' She shows him the card, brushing his hand as he reaches for it.

Screwin me eyes into tight slits, I watch her as she flirts with Terry n I watch Terry as he eats up all her bullshit.
Revenge, that's what this is bout. Revenge on me for Nev beltin that sooky son a hers. Revenge on me for takin the jackpot. Yep, she's a sore loser.

‘You know, Ross has gone out of town for the week doing some work.' She gives Terry a smoochy look whit what's
sposed to be a sexy smile.
She all horse. Big, square teeth flashin. Mane flickin bout. A woman almost spects her to start whinnyin. Neigh, neigh, neigh...

‘What sort of work's he doing?' Terry asks, still lookin at her tits.

That's right, Terry. Just let me sit here like a friggin dummy n watch as she tries to do the dirty whit ya on the floor. Bastard. Yeah, Thompson, just suck it all up. Like I'm not good nough for ya! Maybe if I got round wearin mini skirts n my tits stickin out a mile, you'd eyeball me, too.

‘Mainly mustering and stuff like that out at the Beaumont place. It gets lonely over there by myself. Sure need a man about to keep the yard tidy. So if you're interested...' She pats down her mile-high beehive hair do.

‘Sure thing. When?' Terry jams his hands into his trouser pockets n shows her a toothy smile.

‘Whenever you like. Jerry's at training this week for the big game against the Rammers—Speaking of the game, Mavis, how come Nevil's not at training?' She turns her attention to me.

I glare up at her. ‘Busy. He's busy whit other portant things at the moment.'

‘I'm sure he is. Anyway, George Spiros thinks Jerry'll make man of the match. Being the best player in Mandamooka he's sure to take it out.' Her voice is smooth as treacle.

‘Dunno bout that, Dotty. Nev'll be there, you betcha. If anybody gonna take it out it'll be my Nevil. Everybody in town knows me Nev's the best player.' I throw Terry a back-me-up look. He stands there n looks at each of us in turn as if decidin whose side to take.

‘What do you think, Terry?' Dotty sidles up close to him.

‘I think both fellas are pretty good players. Hard to say really. I mean, they're both playing for the Blackouts, so we
already got the best players on our side. One thing I'll say bout Jerry is that the boy can run, that's for sure.' Terry's eyes flick away from mine.

You shit! You ... you ... backstabber! Take her side, woncha! Jerry couldn't play whit himself! Run? Run, huh, the boy couldn't catch a fucken cold!

I feel me stomach rumble and me hands start to shake as I watch the both of em look at me, waitin for me reply. ‘Good luck to him,' I say, me arms outstretched, face calm.

I figure this change a attitude will put Dotty off, make her realise I'm not gonna take any bait she throws my way—til she says, ‘Do hope he's going to wear the team colours and not a frock,' n takes one small step back.

‘Well, Dotty, if that's the way your son dresses then that's not my problem. Instead a blamin me Nev why don't you talk to Jerry. He's your son. Don't turn that story onto me, Dotty!' I burst out, blood rushin up to me face.
There, take that!

‘You're a lunatic, Mavis Dooley! Shit, everyone knows Nevil's over there getting around in a dress! You're the one with the problem!' She shakes her head n looks at me like I want her pity.

‘A drunk, that's all you are!' I shout into her gloatin face.

‘Come on, ladies. That's enough. Can't see what good it'll do the boys to have you pair spreading yarns bout em. Imagine if the Rammers got wind a that!' Terry motions for me to sit down and leads an annoyed Dotty to the other side of the room.

When he returns he gives me a strange look and says, ‘I can't make out what the hell's wrong with you pair. Like youse just won't give up. No good telling the town shit about both them boys. Sure to ruin everything.'

He sits down beside me. ‘Anything I can do?'

‘Why'd you do that, take her side?' I ask, swallowin the lump in me throat.

‘I didn't take no one's side, Mavis. This has got to stop. I just don't know who's worse, you or her. It ain't rightly got anything to do with me. Whatever's goin with you pair is your business. I don't wanna be brought into it, Mavis.' He puts his hand under his stubbly chin n gazes at me.

‘You're a sucker, Terry. I seen the way you connin up to her. Yeah, Terry, you a real big timer, eh.' I stare at the wooden table, a sour taste in me mouth.

‘Come on, Mave. Just having a bit a fun is all.' He tries a bright smile on me.

‘Didn't look like that to me,' I say, jumpin to me feet n haulin me handbag off the table. I stride outta the hall, hearin low laughter as I pass.

All the way home I rage to meself. Each step I take seems leaden, like me legs are gonna knot up completely.
That Dotty friggin bitch! Gee, fancy him gettin up n runnin over to her like that! Leavin me sittin there like a bag a garbage. To think I really liked Terry. Well, I thought he liked me. But oh no, seems ol Mavis Dooley ain't good nough for him. A woman should a asked him if he thinkin he some white fella now. That Dotty, a woman'll have to pull that big-titted bitch into line. Goin round tellin people bout my Nev! Geez, she got a hide n a half on her!

Gwen Hinch places the hot, steaming cup of coffee in front of me alongside a plate of Tim Tams.

I look round at the cobwebbed cafe walls n see several oil paintings—all country scenes, I note with disgust. Most of em painted by cocky's wives livin outta town. I wonder why nobody paints anythin else—a dog, a cat, a packet a Tim
Tams, anythin part from all those depressin reds, browns n greens. I let the thoughts go as Gwen approaches me whit a cup of coffee in one hand and a fag in the other. ‘How you been keeping, Mave?' She puts the coffee down then pulls out a chair.

‘Not too bad, Gwen. Yerself?' I scan her face.

‘Struggling on, Mave. Always bloody struggling,' she says, reachin over to the other table behind her n grabbin hold of an ashtray. ‘I saw young Gracie Marley yesterdee. She come in for a packet of coffin nails. Had a bruiser and a half on her. Somebody sure went to town on her. Her and Nevil had a fight?' Gwen taps the side of her cup with her long fingernails as she gazes at me.

For bout a second I have a think on her question and decide which way I'll answer: lie or truth. Finally I make up me mind. ‘Don't rightly know. It definitely weren't Nevil, he no woman basher. He knows better. I catch him bashin women, I likely to bash him back.'

Gwen nods her head and wears a look that says: ‘On that one I'll believe you.' I watch the way her eyes flicker round at the cafe. She seems quieter than usual; not her loud, happy, kick-anybody's-arse self. Even her hair looks messed up like she'd not bothered to comb it. She's wearin a white, sweatstained n beetroot-splattered dress that's tight to her body like gladwrap round a sandwich.

‘Gwen, everythin all right?' I quiz.

I pick up a Tim Tam and I'm just bout to bite into it when she says: ‘Ahhh, I dunno, Mave. Guess I'm jus sick a workin here is all. Sorta day in, day out. Nuthin changes.—Have ya ever had a dream, Mave?' she blurts out, her green eyes fever bright.

‘A dream? Well, um, whaddya mean?' I scan her face,
wonderin if she's full a turps, if again she's come to work half-charged up.

‘Just a dream, like you wish for somethin good to happen. Somethin you always wanted.' She sighs, her lips turned down.

‘Oh yeah, I getcha. Well, sometimes I wish I coulda done somethin like gone right through school then got meself some fancy job somewhere. But now, all I dream for is that Nev gets outta this town one day n gets a good job, ya know, somethin decent n then gets a nice wife n I'll have a coupla grankids. That's all I ask for. Ain't worth dreamin when you a ol scrapper like me. Nah, Gwenny, I done walked me dirt track.' I laugh, scrapin the chocolate off the Tim Tam whit me teeth.

‘Eh, look out. Mave, ya only ... forty-four?' She taps the cigarette packet n gawks at me like I gone in the head or somethin.

‘I feel eighty-three. I dunno, Gwenny, it's like when you had a hard life yer not game nough to wish for too much. Like you know if somethin good happens to ya then ya sorta get ready for the bad stuff that's bound to come next. But yer a good lookin woman, Gwenny. You can do whatever ya like.' I watch the way she picks at her fingernails.

‘If ya got money ya can do anythin. Sometimes like I think to meself why'd I ever come to Mandamooka. Onehorse town out here in the fucken bush. Nothin here for no one. Town's fulla stickybeaks, old people and horny ol white bastards that wanna fuck ya every chance they get. N some fellas thinkin us black sheilas always ready to open our legs to the first cock we see!' She laughs, but I see the way her face clouds over.

‘I reckon ya mean Darryl—Darryl Kane, doncha?' I pick
up another biscuit knowin I'll need all the strength I can get soon as that man's name is mentioned.

‘Yeah, guess he's one a them.' She shakes her head whit a look of disgust.

‘He spreadin yarns again?' I narrow me eyes.

‘Yep, Booty's new woman heard him over at the Two Dogs tellin everbody how good black pussy is. And all the other stuff he's sayin bout me.' She gives me a weak grin.

‘Jeesus! Where's that wife a his? What's her name?' I choke down the Tim Tam.

‘Samantha. She's too stupid. Anyway, she don't believe what anybody tellin her. I mean, it all happened when she was away. Gee, a person's stupid, Mave. Fancy fallin for all that bullshit stuff he tole me.' She drops her head lookin shamejob face.

‘He's like that though, smooth as cream on top a milk. Bet yer you not the only one to be sucked in by him. Gee, fancy goin bout sayin em things boutcha!' I bust a seam, feelin angry n sad for her at the same time.

‘I just wish I could get outta this stinkin town. What can a person do, eh? No money n can't work nowhere decent cos all I know is how to work a bloody till. I'm stuck here. Cursed to live here all my life and put up whit this shit goes on behind my back. I tell ya, Mave, I'm fed up whit it all,' she moans, eyeballin at the salt-shaker.

‘Come on, Gwenny, don't worry bout it so much. You're a pretty woman n can do better than that piece a shit. We all make mistakes. Ain't your fault if'n the bastard sucked ya in. You wouldn't be the only one he had an affair whit.' I tighten me lips.
Why don't this girl jus tell the dirty bastard off.

‘It's Big Boy I worry bout. He gets wind a all this he'll do Darryl right over. That much I do know. But how can you
stop somebody from yarnin behind ya back, eh?' She lights up a fag n shoves it in her mouth.