Cold Skin (7 page)

Mr Butcher will never see me,

even if he bothers to look.

This doesn’t seem like a place people live.

There are shops and tattoo joints

and gloomy parks

where I hear voices and laughter.

Someone’s having a party outdoors.

Mr Butcher walks slower

and he stops occasionally,

looking in shop windows

in a distracted sort of way.

I don’t think he’s heading home at all.

A young lady with long flame-red hair

comes up behind him

and they start talking,

but they’re not smiling or anything,

like they know each other.

It’s not like that at all.

The lady twirls and walks towards me

and I keep my eyes down.

She walks up to me

and says something I don’t hear properly.

So I say, ‘Pardon?’

She squeezes my arm and says

‘Aren’t you a polite one.

How about it, sonny?’

How about what?

Then I smell her perfume

and notice the cut of her dress

and I try not to look at her breasts

in case she thinks I’m rude

but it’s kind of hard not to look.

‘How about it?’

She’s offering something

ladies don’t really offer,

well, not in Burruga.

I don’t know what to say

and I see Mr Butcher

a long way up the road

about to turn the corner,

so I quickly shake my head

and I rush after him

with a thousand thoughts

churning through my brain.

Eddie

Now Mr Butcher is talking to someone

who looks as young as me,

with long shiny blonde hair,

and she’s wearing a tight dress

and high heels,

ready for a date.

She walks beside Mr Butcher

and lights a cigarette.

She leads him into a block of flats on the corner.

The door slams behind them.

I creep around the side

and climb the paling fence,

jump down behind some bushes

and feel my way to the back,

afraid there might be a dog.

There’s a light on in the back room

so I sneak towards the shed.

I hear their voices

as she moves to the window,

pulls back the curtain

and flicks her cigarette into the yard.

She’s naked!

I can see her breasts

and forget all about Mr Butcher

until his shadow moves behind

and pulls her towards him.

She quickly moves away,

walks to the door

and switches off the light.

I could go closer now,

if I wanted,

but I’m still trying to take it all in.

He’s in there with a girl half his age

and I’m wandering around the backyard

with no idea what to do.

Mr Butcher

Blonde hair framing her face

my fingers all over her body

her enticing aroma

her languid eyes

her arm flung back

blonde hair

her fingers in small fists

my weight pressing

her body like soft talc

blonde hair

I can’t get enough blonde hair.

Eddie

Mr Butcher and the girl

are inside for twenty minutes

and the sounds I hear tell me

they’re not just talking.

She’s can’t be his girlfriend.

She’s not much older than Sally.

So why is she doing it?

The light flicks on in the room

and in my brain.

For money!

I laugh at how dim I am.

Why would anyone do that with hopeless Butcher

if not for money.

The first question that springs to mind is,

how much?

It would need to be a bloody lot of moolah.

The door slams

and I see the girl at the window

still naked,

smoking a cigarette,

looking out at the yard.

I’m sure Butcher has left

but I can’t follow him.

The girl is watching.

I remain still and hidden.

I don’t care where Butcher goes now.

Sergeant Grainger

The phone rings

and I expect it’s Johnno, the publican

calling me about this week’s fight

between two drunk miners

and a disagreement over

whose bloody shout it is.

They’re wasting good drinking time

if you ask me.

But it’s Mrs O’Connor

wondering where her daughter is.

Frank will be back from the pub soon

and angry as hell if Colleen’s not home.

I know Colleen.

Smart and pretty

and not the type to get up to mischief.

So I promise Mrs O’Connor

I’ll check out the netball courts

and Main Street,

and I wonder aloud

if she isn’t visiting a girlfriend

to celebrate their win.

That seems to settle her nerves.

She gives me the names

of the other players on the team

and I tell her I’ll door-knock

for the next hour

and drop by soon with Colleen.

I pull on my overcoat,

my sergeant’s hat

and head to the car.

Well, at least it’s not an all-in-brawl.

Sergeant Grainger

The first families I visit

are sitting down to late supper.

One by one, husbands come to the door,

all of them swaying slightly,

holding a bottle and inviting me in.

Everyone’s a friend when you’re sloshed.

Most are too drunk to understand my questions.

They slap me on the back

and say obvious things like,

‘Yeah. Colleen. I know her.

She’s Frank and Betty’s daughter.’

And they fumble through their pockets

looking for smokes or a pipe.

Wendy Sutton says they had a milkshake together

and came straight home,

leaving Colleen outside the café.

As I close the front gate

I realise that doesn’t make sense.

If they were going home

they’d walk up Main Street together,

before separating.

Wendy mentioned Ruth Weaver.

The Weavers live two blocks away

and I walk with a creeping sense

that someone is telling tales.

Mrs Weaver answers the door.

George is asleep, she says.

He’s had so much to drink

nothing is waking him until morning.

She lets me speak to Ruth in the sitting room.

The young lady fidgets with her necklace

and keeps glancing towards the kitchen,

hoping her mum can’t hear.

‘The three of us went to the pub.

We just stood outside,

talking, that’s all.

Someone gave Colleen a shandy

and we all took a sip. Just one sip.’

Ruth leans forward and whispers,

‘Colleen left before us.

Wendy and me wanted to stay

We weren’t drunk.

Not like Larry Holding.

He was so wonky he almost knocked Wendy over.’

Mrs Weaver comes into the room

with her arms folded tightly across her chest.

She’s heard every word.

I say, ‘Thank you, Ruth.

For your honesty.’

It won’t help her

when George wakes, hungover,

and gets an earful over breakfast from the wife

about his daughter, drinking,

and taking after him.

Sergeant Grainger

Albert Holding closes the door

and steps out into the yard.

He walks a distance from the house

before speaking,

‘So why are you asking me?

There’s lots of houses

between here and the pub.

Have you knocked on them all?’

He stands with his hands on his hips,

in challenge.

‘A friend of Colleen said your Larry–’

‘My Larry what?’

‘Larry was drinking.

And he offered them some.’

Albert Holding turns away and swears.

He walks a few steps towards the house,

then says,

‘Listen. I saw them girls outside the pub.

Okay?

Drinking with some young blokes.

My Larry wasn’t one of them.’

He shakes his head in anger.

‘If you want to find out what happened,

piss off back to town

and ask some people who do know.

Leave my boy alone.

He’ll be in enough trouble

when he wakes up tomorrow.’

Albert’s as mad as a cut snake

but right now, I couldn’t care less.

‘Mr Holding.

A girl is missing.

If that means asking you about your son,

then so be it.’

Albert looks like he wants to punch someone.

‘Do your bloody job, Grainger.

Find the girl.’

He walks back inside

slamming the door so hard

the windows rattle fit to break.

As I return to the car,

I’m shaking with anger.

Where is Colleen?

And who is she with?

Larry

I’m glad Eddie isn’t home.

I couldn’t stand him looking at me,

asking where I’ve been

and how much I’ve drunk.

I just want to sleep

and be left alone to forget.

I kick the blanket off

and feel the beer rumbling deep in my stomach.

That bloody Ruth Weaver is a stuck-up bitch,

looking down her nose at me.

Just cause I stumbled.

Those girls spent the night

flirting with the blokes from the mine.

I saw them, from behind the water tank.

It made my blood boil

when Les Johnston offered a shandy to Colleen

and she drank it down, giggling.

Take a drink with him,

but not from me.

All those mornings in the library wasted.

I rush to the door

and make the backyard

before I throw up.

The cool breeze dries the sweat on my forehead

as I squat in the yard

and heave my guts up.

Eddie

I step out into the light,

ready for her scream,

ready to run.

She just lights another cigarette

and looks at me,

daring me to do something.

I step closer

so I can see her eyes

and she can see mine.

‘That bloke,

he’s my teacher.’

As if she cares.

She keeps looking at me

with her sharp green eyes

and I try to hold their stare

or else I’ll look where I shouldn’t

and she’ll see me looking.

She makes a scoffing sound

and casually flicks the cigarette into the yard.

‘Well, for a teacher,

he doesn’t know much.’

Then she smiles at her own little joke.

I smile too,

glad Butcher is miles away

while I’m standing here in someone’s yard

looking at a naked girl

who’s looking back at me

and asking,

with a faint smirk

as she beckons me with her fingers,

‘What’s your name?’

Eddie

She says,

‘Well, Eddie.

I’ve got all night.

If you can afford it.’

I gulp,

even though it’s the funniest thing

I’ve ever heard.

I reach deep into my pocket,

take out the coins,

and hold them up into the light.

‘That’s all I’ve got.

Enough for a pie

and the train home.

But thanks for asking.’

I’m not trying to be rude or anything.

She stares over my head for a long time

until I feel nervous standing here alone,

not saying a word,

not knowing where to look.

Then she glances down at me

and says,

‘I was as polite and nice as you.

Until I came here.

Maybe I’ve got time for charity,

if you’re interested.’

My hands start shaking.

Larry and all the blokes in town

would jump at the chance to do it with a city girl.

‘I . . . I . . . have a girlfriend.

At home.’

A dog barks from next door

as she leans forward and says,

‘Don’t end up like your teacher, kid.

He’s a loser.’

She draws the curtains

and is gone.

Sergeant Grainger

Mrs O’Connor stands on the top step.

Her husband waits at the front gate.

‘She’s not home, Pete.

If I catch the bloke she’s with, let me tell you,

he’ll be getting more than a clip around the ear.

And I don’t expect trouble from you over it.’

Frank did it tough in the war.

It’s more than my job’s worth to argue the toss.

Mr O’Connor removes his hat

and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.

‘The wife is beside herself, Pete.

I’ll stay with her for a while.

Find the pair of them

and bring Colleen home, quick smart, will you?’

I nod in answer,

relieved he hasn’t asked to come with me.

People in town don’t say no to Frank.

‘I’ll be back within the hour.’

Sergeant Grainger

If Colleen is with somebody

they’ll be at Taylors Bend.

There’s a standing joke

that half the kids in school

were conceived down there.

The soft sand and grassy bank

make a perfect lovers’ lane.

If I catch the ratbags at it

I’ll give them both a tongue lashing

for keeping me out all night

and putting up with the likes of Holding.

I whistle as I walk down the track

and flash the torch beam well ahead.

Give them time to get decent.

The light passes over a shape

on the sand by the water’s edge.

Bloody hell.

It’s Colleen!

One arm dangling in the stream

one arm on her chest.