Dead Dog in the Still of the Night (3 page)

It was several days before Tone drove up in the hearse and delivered his news to Primo.

‘Alfie says he’ll need to see the car,’ he announced, helping himself to a beer out of the refrigerator in the garage. ‘He reckons he has to do a colour match. Seems these classic cars had real particular colour charts and stuff.’ He shrugged.

‘When can he drop round?’ Primo asked.

Tone leaned back against the wooden bench that ran the full length of one wall and teased the stubbie between three fingers like he might drop it.

‘He’ll expect to be paid for his call out, Prims.’

‘What?’ Primo said. ‘He works out of his backyard, Tone.’

Tone smirked. ‘Hey, my cousin reckons his time is money.’ He took a long swill and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

‘Okay. Okay. You find out when he can come, or I’ll get it to him somehow,’ Primo conceded. ‘But it has to be soon. I can’t risk having the car sitting here all bent out of shape for too long.’

‘Bent out of shape? Are you hearing yourself, Prims? The dent in the door is pretty deep, yeah, but the car isn’t bent out of shape.’ Tone paused and pointed with the stubbie. ‘You’re the one bent out of shape with all this. You and Maddie both.’ He tapped Primo on the shoulder lightly, adding, ‘She talking to you yet or what?’

Primo didn’t answer. He left the garage, knowing his mate would follow. Once inside the house, Primo rummaged in the cupboard, pulled out two tins of powdered energy supplements and tossed them in the small tote bag he used when he went to the gym.

‘Give me a lift to Kath’s?’ he asked.

‘What, not taking Adrian’s super-sprint two-wheeler free-spirit racing machine?’ Tone teased, nodding at the bike sitting upside down outside the kitchen window.

‘Maybe we can load that piece of crap into the hearse and take it for a last ride down to the tip.’

‘Bullshit, Prims,’ Tone replied. ‘I’ll take it off your hands and sell it down at the Thomo T and T. It’s got to be worth a few dollars to some loser, yeah?’

‘Be my guest,’ Primo said with a grin, making an exaggerated gesture in the direction of the old bicycle. Adrian had been given it as a Christmas present when he was four or five. It had been Primo’s from the day Adrian went to secondary school. He helped Tone lug the old bike into the rear of the hearse.

Tone drove with the fingers of one hand resting almost reverentially on the steering wheel. His other hand held a lit cigarette, smoke streaming from it out the open driver’s window.

‘So, is she?’ he asked through pursed lips.

‘Is who what?’

‘Is Maddie talking to you yet or what?’

Primo stared out at the passing suburb, his suburb, where he’d spent all his life, where his parents had bought their family home a few months after getting married at the Catholic church just down the road, in front of a grand crowd of seven people, including the priest.

There was a spree of the lightest purple in the twilight sky. It made Primo melancholic.

‘It’s that time of the month,’ he answered flippantly. ‘She isn’t talking to anyone.’

‘Yeah, happens to my mum. She goes all silent and moody about once a month.’

‘Maddie’s pissed because I can’t afford the OS thing just yet. How many shifts does she think I get at the freight yard? I’ve got school and stuff, too.’

‘Yeah, there’s all that too, I guess,’ Tone said casually. ‘And the fact that you went a little psycho over the car.’ He gave Primo a quick glance.

‘She said we need a break,’ Primo said defensively, ‘so I’m giving her a break, okay?’

‘You’re just pissed because she called your bluff and now she’s off OS without you.’ Tone didn’t even look at Primo as he chastised him. ‘I told you ages ago you were out of your league with Maddie, Prims. Her dad’s posh, her mum’s posh. She even has a posh name: Ma-de-line. Me and you, we need to stick to what we know. Maria. Tracey. Maybe a Samantha at a stretch.’

Tone nudged him playfully, but Primo was having none of it.

‘If she hadn’t been so righteous about the trip and looked at me like I was some sort of spook, I wouldn’t of been so pissed.
I
wouldn’t of decided to just take off for OS on my own like that.’

‘You haven’t called her or texted, have you?’ Tone went on. ‘Bet you’ve checked her Facebook status, eh? Still “In a relationship”, is she?’

Tone laughed, closing his eyes and tossing back his head, steering blind for several seconds. The hearse held its line, heavy and cumbersome but steady. In the rear compartment the bicycle clattered noisily.

‘Why don’t you come clean with your mum and tell her you had an accident?’ Tone asked finally. ‘Your old lady must have a bit put away for an emergency, right? Get the car fixed, make up with Maddie, let her take this OS trip and all’s good with the world.’

No, all’s not good, Primo wanted to shout. All’s pretty stuffed up actually. Beginning with my old man and finishing with Maddie.

What he said instead was, ‘You know I’m not supposed to even touch the car, except to keep the motor turning over and tyres inflated. I’ll figure out a way to get it repaired before anyone else knows about it.’

The hearse groaned to a stop outside an old wisteria-covered yellow brick house with drooping gutters and a bright green tiled roof. His sister’s clapped-out Holden Gemini sat in the driveway, its once rich paintwork faded to the palest blue.

‘Thanks for the ride,’ Primo said.

‘You want me to wait, Prims?’

Primo thought for a moment. He’d rather just be on his own.

‘All good,’ he said, getting out of the hearse. He shouldered the tote bag and stepped back, watching as Tone did a screeching U-turn and took off, horn blaring, right arm out the window giving him the bird.

Primo turned back to the narrow house with its overgrown weeds poking through the wrought iron fence, and the uncollected junk mail spewing out onto the footpath. He hadn’t dropped in on Kath in a while, he realised as he stood there, and even then it had been on Maddie’s insistence. She’d wanted to take Kath up on the offer to drop in whenever it suited.

Remembering how well his sister and Maddie had got on made Primo cautious about being there by himself. Maddie’s presence had somehow muted Primo’s unease about his sister moving out of home on what seemed a whim to him.

The moment Kathleen opened the door to his knocking Primo held the two tins out in her direction, saying, ‘Your turn to make sure the old man gets his fix. And Mum reckons don’t be late this time.’

Kathleen stood in the doorway, a tin in each hand, studying her younger brother. She was slightly plump, with green eyes and striking red hair that cascaded around her oval face. She was their mother, down to the Irish name, unlike the rest of them.

‘You want to come in for a few minutes?’ she asked finally. ‘We’ve just got in from work and the kettle’s on.’ She smiled and stepped aside.

A woman in her early thirties appeared beside Kathleen. She had her head mostly hidden in a towel, and was wrapped in a loose floral robe.

‘Hey,’ she said and put a hand protectively on Kath’s shoulder.

Primo looked at his sister and pointed to the tins. He didn’t acknowledge the other woman. ‘The old man’s talking shit again,’ he said. ‘Just make sure you watch him drink this stuff.’

Primo turned to leave. Kath was at his elbow before he reached the footpath.

‘Hey, is that how you visit?’ she asked. ‘At least come inside to deliver Mum’s instructions.’

Primo didn’t alter his stride, forcing his sister to keep up with him if she wanted to talk. They were at the corner before Primo stopped and faced her.

‘What’s going on at home with Adrian?’ Kath asked, her voice finding a thin veil of warmth. ‘What’s it like to have him back in the fold?’

Back in the fold? What is he, a sheep? Primo thought.

‘Adrian did something stupid,’ Kath pressed. She sighed loudly and narrowed her eyes. ‘Stella came by. She’s distraught. She needed to unload, you know. She’s a good mother. She might still forgive him.’

Primo nodded vaguely. ‘Like Mum did? Because that made Dad stop,’ he said brusquely.

Kath’s face hardened noticeably. ‘It’s not about Stella, and it was never about Mum,’ she said.

‘No, it’s about the other one, the
putana
,’ Primo said sarcastically. ‘It’s not about Adrian not keeping his trousers on at work. Or Dad seducing ...’

Primo cut himself short and looked around. He stepped out onto the empty road. He felt surly and liked it.

‘Can you loan me a few dollars?’ he asked.

‘What for?’ Kath asked suspiciously. ‘How much?’

‘The what for isn’t important, but it’s not drugs or anything illegal,’ Primo replied. ‘I need a grand or so.’

Kath whistled. ‘A thousand dollars! That’s a bit of money, Prim. You tell me why you need it and I’ll think about it, okay?’

Primo considered the offer. Kath was his favourite. They had always got along. Maybe because they were only two years apart in age. Or maybe because Kath was smart and funny. Or maybe because Kath had borne out the expectations their father had saddled her with, that she had twice the balls Adrian had, and none of the blustering bravado of Santo.

‘You are a rare jewel, Kathleen,’ their father had said repeatedly, comfortable in his native tongue. ‘You are what your mother might have been if life had been less demanding and more romantic.’

It was no surprise to anyone, least of all their father in his lucid moments, Primo was certain, that Kath had not gone running back to her mother the minute the old man had gone into the Home.

‘Can you loan me the money or not?’ Primo pressed. ‘I can pay you back. Not right away, but I’m good for it.’

Kath stepped in closer and Primo instinctively backed away slightly. He smelt his sister’s scent, a mixture of girly deodorant and sweat. He looked into her green eyes and wondered how it was she had missed out on the more salient features of their father’s side, particularly the dark eyes and olive skin.

‘Can it wait until my next pay? I’m a bit stretched right now,’ she said in a less confrontational tone. ‘I could ask Sandra I guess. She’s always got a few spare dollars hanging around the house, though a grand might be wishful.’

Kath made to take Primo by the elbow, but he resisted.

‘It’s okay,’ he muttered. ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s not that urgent.’ Primo reached across and pecked his sister lightly on the cheek. ‘See ya.’ He smiled and walked on.

‘Grand Final tickets?’ Kath called at his back. ‘Is that what you need the money for? Scalpers’ rates on the scarce-as-hens’-teeth tickets, Primo? You backing the Blue Boys for a spot in the finals? That’s support, eh?’

When Primo didn’t answer, Kath grew suddenly glum.

‘You’re not in any trouble are you, Prim?’ she asked, concern making her voice shrill. ‘Mum’s got enough on her plate right now.’

‘Save it!’ Primo snapped. ‘It’s all good.’

‘Prim?’

Walking backwards, Primo winked and touched a finger to his forehead in mock salute. He was almost glad she’d misconstrued his request. It saved him a heap of explanation, or pitiful excuses.

He stopped. ‘Yeah, footy tickets, Kath,’ he called back. ‘You got it in one. Scalpers are greedy pricks.’

‘Primo? Hey, Primo?’ Kath said. ‘Really, no jokes. What do you need a thousand dollars for? It’s a huge amount.’

Primo raised a hand in response, and turned away, not looking back when Kath added, ‘I’ll let you know about the money! Just so long as you’re not in any trouble, Primo.’

But Primo had already moved past his sister’s offer, or lack thereof. Too many questions. Too many incriminations.

It was an hour before Primo had walked off his frustration and managed to calm down enough to return home. He found Adrian at the kitchen table, and their mother at the sink. The conversation between son and mother stopped abruptly.

‘You doing anything Saturday?’ Adrian tossed at him.

Their mother looked around from battering the fish and smiled warmly at Primo.

‘I’ve got Beth for the day,’ Adrian continued. ‘Thought the three of us could take in good old Luna Park. We could do the rides, grab some fairyfloss, maybe a snag on a stick. A Dagwood Dog, yeah? The usual shit. What you say?’ Adrian shifted in his seat and Primo eyeballed him. ‘You haven’t really seen all that much of your little niece. Could be fun for both of you to catch up. We could ride the train to Flinders Street, show Beth the clocks. She hasn’t seen the clocks. I don’t even think she’s been on a train.’ Adrian paused and looked over at their mother. ‘Like we did with you, Mum, remember? You used to take me and Kath, and Primo too, in on the train.’