Brother Fish (91 page)

Dear Jack,
A lovely evening, I did so enjoy myself. Do have some breakfast before you leave. Pot on the stove, frying pan below, butter in the fridge. Call in at the
Gazette
if you have a moment?

Sincerely,
Nicole
PS: Champagne can be treacherous. Take the Disprin!

Nicole Lenoir-Jourdan was making it easy for me.

When I got home, Gloria didn't hold back. ‘Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in! Where were you last night?'

‘I got drunk,' I answered.

‘Like father, like son,' she said sharply, so I immediately knew something was up. ‘We were worried. Cory went down to the pub to see if you were there.'

‘Mum, I'm twenty-seven years old, I can look after myself – I've got a medal to prove it.'

‘I thought you'd gone to have dinner with Her Highness,' she sniffed.

‘I did.'

‘Couldn't have happened there – she doesn't touch a drop.'

‘French champagne. That's different,' I answered.

‘Oh, I
do
beg your pardon!'

I grinned, my head hurting. ‘Tastes beautiful, but it catches up with you all of a sudden.'

Gloria, not mollified, replied in an attempt at a posh voice, ‘Well, of course, such as us would not know! A bacchanalian evening, was it?'

She would occasionally surprise you with a word like that, one you'd never think she'd know. ‘Mum, it was me. I got drunk the . . . er, Miss Lenoir-Jourdan remained sober as a judge.'

Gloria huffed. ‘Disgraced yourself, did ya? Trust a McKelly.'

‘I'll go around to the
Gazette
and apologise to her.'

‘Don't!' she snapped. ‘You've been doin' that since you was eight years old!' Then she suddenly changed tack. ‘What's this I hear about a partnership?'

So that was what this was all about.
‘Who told you that?'

‘Never you mind. I know what's going on.'

‘Well, perhaps you'll tell me. It's bloody Cory, isn't it? Can't ever keep his big mouth shut.'

‘As a matter of fact, it wasn't. The whole island's talkin' about it. Father Crosby asked me after mass and I felt a right pillock. Every man and his dog knows and your
own mother's
left in the dark.'

‘Mum, it isn't settled. Jimmy has to come back and there are some details yet to clear up. That's why I went over to her place last night.'

‘What, and got yourself drunk?'

‘That was afterwards.'

‘What I want to know is why you want to go into partnership with her? She knows bugger-all about fishing and she's been bossing you around since you were a kid. Don't think I've forgotten how she badmouthed me when I took you outta school. What does she know about scrubbing floors and taking in other people's washin' 'til yer hands are red raw!'

Gloria of the elephant memory strikes again – whenever she was stirred up like this, too much mud rose to the surface. ‘Mum, I'll let you know when everything's definite, I promise.'

‘You be careful, son. She come here outta nowhere like she was Lady Muck! Nobody knows nothin' about that one! And she's got her la-dee-dah nose into everyone's business.'

I should have left it at that, given Gloria the last word, but I felt compelled to come to Nicole Lenoir-Jourdan's defence. ‘Mum, she's made an enormous contribution to the island. She started the library, gave us music and singing lessons, the school concert, the band, and she's justice of the peace. Lots of people owe her heaps for the help she's given . . . and the
Gazette
. . . Christ, I should know!'

‘You were a happy little boy before she came along.'

‘Mum, what are you trying to say? Come on, get it off your chest.'

‘She stuck her skinny nose into our affairs, took my little boy. Next thing, you're that unhappy you're running off to war to get yerself killed by them Chinese. Don't think I don't know, Jacko!'

‘Yeah, well, that was my decision. Can't blame her if I got myself screwed up.'

‘You never was screwed up before!'

‘Ferchrissake, Mum, I was eight years old!' I paused, then added hurtfully, ‘It was
you
didn't want me to be a bloody fisherman!'

‘Ha! Fat lot of difference that's made! What you suppose yer doin' now?'

She had a point. ‘You win, Mum,' I sighed. ‘I don't want to fight you any more.'

‘Just you be careful, son, that's all,' she warned again. Then, turning to go into the kitchen, she added, ‘You want breakfast?'

I was just about to say that I'd already eaten, but caught myself in the nick of time. Island rules – passing out drunk is one thing, breakfast in a single lady's home is quite another. ‘Cup of tea'll do me fine. My head's hurtin'.'

‘Nothin' trivial, I hope?' Gloria replied, which made me laugh.

I had an appointment to go down to the pub when it opened. I'd arranged to meet a bloke named McCorkindale, Paddy McCorkindale, who'd worked with Steve and Cory on a company boat and was supposed to have been on the cray boats in New England. ‘He's a bit of a pseudo Yank,' Steve had warned, ‘but he's not a bad bloke and he knows his way around a fishing boat all right, so I reckon maybe he's not bullshitting.' Steve usually took a fair bit of convincing with people, so I had my hopes up.

The point was, buying a boat is a tricky business. It's a bit like a marriage – you're stuck with it for a long time. Get it wrong and you're miserable, right and you're set for life. It isn't just a matter of the right fittings and all the correct gear – a boat has a certain feel and way of handling, and no two boats are alike. It's always a compromise – some boats are at their peak performance in heavy seas while others work best when the whitecaps are running to shore.

Old-timers always compare a boat to a woman, and I reckon they're probably right – you've got to know what makes them cranky and what keeps them sweet, how they'll behave under stressful conditions and respond to plain-weather sailing. The idea of Jimmy buying a boat in America was worrying the shit out of me. We could give him specifications until the cows came home and he might find a boat that met every one of them and it could still be a dog. I didn't expect Nicole Lenoir-Jourdan to understand this and Jimmy still hadn't had sufficient experience to be the judge of a good boat – besides, you can only really judge a boat once you've been out on the water with her for a while.

There are three ways to buy a boat. Off the factory floor, which almost never happens; custom-built by a boat builder, which is always dangerous; and second-hand. Curiously enough, second-hand is the best way. If the boat is in great nick and has seen a few seasons in all conditions and has come up trumps, then that's the boat you want. But even then, it has to be a boat you like well enough to marry – which means you've got to have a dalliance or two before you choose her for your wife.

I hadn't mentioned any of this to Nicole Lenoir-Jourdan. I felt I needed to have the facts to convince her, even though I think if push came to shove she would let me have my own way. I admit I was going down to the pub to meet this bloke McCorkindale with a fair bit of an agenda – I wanted him to tell me that an American boat wasn't going to suit our Tasmanian conditions. I wanted to back my own emotional feelings with fact, although I told myself I wouldn't cheat.

He turned out to be a careful, slow-talking kind of bloke who liked to use American expressions such as ‘say, buddy', ‘you're welcome', ‘kick ass', ‘goddamn', ‘fall' when he meant autumn – words like that.

He chewed tobacco and reckoned he'd cultivated the habit from working in bad weather on a cray boat, when the wind would blow a fag straight out of your mouth. He spoke with an affected Yank drawl, but he'd forget sometimes and say the word he'd drawled a moment before in a fair-dinkum way, which is always a bit sus. I bought him a beer but stuck to the lemonade myself, joining him for just the one beer at the very end. He wasn't a bludger and bought his shout so I couldn't dismiss him as a lightweight, and he didn't question me drinking lemonade. I explained I'd been on the piss and he didn't push it like some blokes would, hair of the dog and all that – which, by the way, I reckon doesn't work anyway, or doesn't for me. Chasing the dog after a night out is only getting pissed all over again. About a hundred beers later you feel good, and that's only because you're back where you were the night before and it's going to be the same again the next morning, only worse. If it wasn't for the boats going out a week at a time and the pub being closed of a Sunday, I reckon most of the blokes on the island would be caught up in this spiral.

Paddy McCorkindale told me about fishing out of Nantucket and off Nova Scotia in the winter. ‘You reckon we do it tough? Over there the brass monkey is singing soprano for five months a year!' Anyway, without any prompting, he said some of the American and Canadian cray boats were pretty good but wouldn't go too well over here with their reinforced hulls for ice conditions. There were a whole lot of other differences as well, some fairly good, others not. We promised to have another drink sometime and I bought him one for the road.

I was away just before lunchtime and was suddenly ravenous. Greg Woon's pies were unspeakable – only a hungry dog or a drunk would eat them – so I stopped off at Mrs Dunne's to buy four ham sandwiches before calling in at the
Gazette
. Nicole Lenoir-Jourdan looked up from a desk cluttered with bits of cut-out newspaper. ‘Cuttings – from the mainland and the big island. I'm foraging for news,' she said. ‘It looks like a quiet week. How are you feeling, Jack?'

‘I'm so sorry about last night,' I said right off.

‘Why, we had a lovely time! You were excellent company, Jack.'

‘Yeah, until I passed out. The champagne, I didn't know it was going to hit me like that. One moment I was fine – for instance, I remember your very last words were: “Sobbing as I was, I instantly fell head over heels in love with him.” Then I was out like a light. Anyway, I'm very sorry, Countess.'

She laughed, remembering. ‘Ah, Sir Victor Sassoon. It was he who introduced me to French champagne, although he'd only allow me one glass until I was eighteen, which was increased to two on my eighteenth birthday. I recall on one of his increasingly frequent visits he gave me a wonderful party and upped the number to three – one too many for a young lady.' She gave a short laugh, her head to one side, remembering. ‘He used to recite a little rhyme he loved to use at a party when a young gal was present:

“One glass of champers puts a glow upon her cheek,
Two is rather helpful to cause Her Prettiness to speak.
Three is very interesting and makes a damsel start to flirt,
A fourth is most insidious, when a girl should be alert.
While five is either promising, or goes directly to her feet,
But six is always dull, as she almost always falls asleep!”'

‘Is that why you only had two glasses?' I asked.

‘You really are very observant, Jack. I haven't had champagne for years. I seem to recall two glasses, not three, were quite sufficient to enjoy myself while still keeping my wits about me. At first, of course, I was in show business, where a gal has to be very careful of her reputation.'

‘Like the general said?'

‘Yes, precisely. And then later, when I went into business, a loose tongue was not to be recommended. Especially in a lady, who had no business being in business as far as most Shanghai gentlemen were concerned.'

‘Thank you for telling me. May I come back for more?' I asked, rather clumsily. ‘I mean, more of the story of your life – not champagne,' I added hastily.

‘Oh dear, Jack. I'm not at all sure I'm not raking over very old coals.'

‘Please – you can't just leave it at the strawberry milkshake.'

She considered for a few moments. ‘Sunday week, afternoon tea. I'll bake scones and we'll have them with jam and clotted cream – I'll ask John Champion to send some in. Did you know he's making a very respectable brie? He really is a livewire – it wouldn't surprise me at all if he doesn't end up doing something rather special for the island.'

‘What, “
The choice of all the Champions
”?' I said, unimpressed, then remembered too late that she'd come up with that slogan.

‘A good ripe brie,' she scolded, ‘is something to be celebrated, Jack. Perhaps, as with the champagne, you could be in for a nice surprise – I'll ask him to send some in. All this talk of food is making me hungry.' She pointed to the brown-paper packet I held. ‘I say, have you brought lunch?'

‘It's only ham sandwiches. Mrs Dunne's,' I explained.

‘Lovely, I'll make tea.' She rose from her desk and walked to the door leading to the little kitchenette but then paused suddenly, turned to me and said, ‘Perhaps here in the office you should refer to me as Nicole ma'am and not as, well, you know what. Jack McGinty's ears may be likened to a bull elephant's, constantly flapping, and the walls seem to be made of cardboard. Already the whole island is talking about the partnership, and I'm terribly afraid the gossip may have started the last time the three of us were together in this office.'