Bitin' Back (15 page)

Darryl Kane? Maybe, since I busted him in front a the bar. He promised revenge like, too. Don't reckon he'd forget a woman doin him over like that. Causin him shame in front a his big hero pals.

Terry Thompson—dunno, doubt it. I mean, what would he have to gain by doin this to us? Nah, wouldn't be Terry. Anyway, I hope it ain't cos I'd be real disappointed if it was. Hmm, come to think a it, a person don't really know a lot bout the man. Sure, he nice n everythin but he could be a shyer. Shyin behind a mask. Jus like Nevil. Cept Nevil don't hide it.

Anybody's a suspect really. I do know one thing—it can't be Jean Rhys! She's dead. Ain't no dead woman come back n lived in a man, that much a woman do know. Then again, it's a funny world, strange things happen ta people all the time. Yeah, they sure do when I think bout it.

Anythin likely to happen. Jus don't be hangin on that call, bingo, ol girl, cos things are changin round here all the time.

Ya don't have a chance in hell if ya not on ya ol warty toes.

FOURTEEN

Terry Thompson gangles near the doorway, holdin a garden fork and lookin in at the room. He watches everyone closely. I watch him closely.
The man look myall standin there like that.
Trousers caked whit dirt n his shirt-sleeves torn n fallin down his skinny arms. His face got that worn-out look bout it. Like the man can't get nough sleep. He's lookin for someone. Dotty Reedman? Thinkin a her I turn in me chair and scan the room. There she sits at the far end of the table.

Big dirty gold hair hair scraped up into a bun-like turnout. Lips painted up fire-engine red. Eyelids a washed out blue whit black rimmed edges. Pink shit stainin her cheekbones. Long fingernails, purple, bruise-purple.

The woman look like one of em hookers. Sellin they bodies for a bit a coin. How much, Dotty, for a roll in the hay? Har, de har. She must have some sorta psycho hmmm, is that the word they use? Like when people know whatcha thinkin bout. Yeah, psycho power. Cos she turn real fast like n eyeball at me cross the room. Snake eyes screwed n scrunched up, small n spite-green. She sticks her tongue out at me—like the woman's a little snot-nosed kid. Yeah, wanna play rough, Potty Dotty.
I
give her a big, bright smile, then when I'm sure no one lookin I flip me hand n give her the middle finger—
take that, you horse-faced bitch!

She reels back in her chair like I done hit her or somethin. Then she looks over at Terry in the doorway, gives him a wave n runs her tongue cross her lips.
I know what she doin. Yeah, n Terry bein Terry, he'll be sucked right in—go on, Terry, that big hair will getcha! She'll catch ya up in it! Like a fly in a spider web.

Is she the one who set me n Nev up for that Isaac Edge business? Wouldn't put it past her. Be jus her type a jig. The woman hate us, she do. Maybe I'll go cross there n knock the piss right outta that friggin skinny body a hers. She a bad egg—half-boiled, runny, full a poison yolk.

I turn me attention away from her and look at Terry. He spots me then gives a little wave. ‘Hey, Mave,' he mouths.

Me gut flips all bout the place—fish in a barrel. Me mouth all dried out like. I wonder what I look like to him.
Hope I look sexy! Hey, lookout! Can a woman be sayin em things bout herself? SEXY. Sexy Mavis? Arrhhh, don't be thinkin shit, woman. You ain't sexy like that piece a meat cross there. But all a same I look all right, I do. The dress I got on is new—Nevil n Trevor got it for me. Bright, covered in flower patterns, all colours, the hem almost up on me knee! An a real funky, hey is that the word—drop-down neckline, part of me chest showin—nah, just peekin up. Before I left home, Nev put some shit on me face; lipstick, eyeshada stuff, n done me hair up in a braid. I reckon I must look all right cos Trevor was real pressed! An, he's a man; well, I think he is. Yeah, could look good. I feelin solid n all.

Hey, lookout there! Here comes Gwenny Hinch! She look charged or somethin. Eyes red n puffed out.

‘Mavis, how are ya?' she pulls out a chair to sit down beside me.

‘Takin up bingo now?' I ask, tryin to sniff the air round her. Tryin to see if she charged.

‘As if!' she snorts. ‘I had to come here and see you. I got real problems, Mave.' She fidgets with her hands.

‘Five!
A high five! anyone got a five?' Hettie yells out.

‘Like what?'

‘Seven!
A sinful seven! that's it girls, seven!

‘Um, don't you go slammin a woman but.' Gwenny pauses, drops her head and stares at her hands.

‘Two.
Yes that's right, two! Good old number two!'

‘Darryl?' I suss out. ‘Somethin to do whit Darryl Kane. That's it, hey?'

‘Fifty-four.
Fifty-four, Terry at the door. Fifty-four, anyone have a fifty-four!'

‘Sorta. I—um. You gonna go right off what I gotta say.'

‘Eight.
Eight, don't be late. Girls, anyone for an eight!'

‘Shittin hell, Gwen get to the bloody point!' I watch her eyes slide round the room. The woman don't wanna look at me. She knowed I be sussin on her.

‘Three.
Three. That number three!' Hettie shouts.

‘I'm seein him again,' she whispers, offerin me a shamejob look.

‘Ten,
ten, ten. He's at it again! Anyone for a ten!'

‘Oh no, don't tell me, it's Darryl Kane, ain't it? You seein that piece a shit, again!' I look at her like she's gone mad.
Maybe she has. Finally lost the plot.

‘I can't help it. I love him, Mavis. He's leaving Samantha. He promised me that. He did. Mavis, he's tellin the truth, I just know.'

Hettie yells loud and clear cross the room. ‘Who's got the bingo today? Come on, ladies, one of you out there must
have all the right numbers. Three hundred bucks is the jackpot. Come on, who's the lucky person?'

‘You mad you is. After what he done to ya! Gwenny, what's up whit ya, woman? He's a friggin areshole! Yeah, go on then, let him go round spruikin more shit bout how good black women is in the sack! He was gonna put the boot into ya there at the pub. Ya forgot that mighty fast like.' I glare at her, teeth grindin, me nostrils flarin.

‘Don't be shy. There's some lucky woman out here today; come on, step up whoever you are,' Hettie yells, circlin the room like a vulture.

‘He's changed, he has. Even got a new job in Bullya. Bought himself a flash car and the old Hunter house by the river there. He said he's sorry for everythin.'

‘Come on, now.
Someone
must have the
numbers!'

‘All bulldust! He a woman-bashin creep. Ya jus sucked right in, like that ol Terry over there. Yep, it's all jus some sorta mad game to some peoples.' I glare round the room.

‘You my best friend, Mavis. I—well, Big Boy don't know jus yet, but I gotta tell him. I thought, well—' she stops and eyeballs me.

‘Any numbers, Mavis?' Hettie stops at the table, a hopeful smile on her face.

‘Hey, Hettie. Here's my card, can you check it please?' I hand it to her and watch as she strides cross the room.
Person wouldn't be lucky nough to win it again.

‘Yeah, Gwen, what?' I turn back to her.

‘I thought maybe you or Nev could like say somethin to him,' she pleads.

‘To Big Boy! Geez, somethin terrible wrong when ya can't tell ya own son bout things. I'm not sayin nuthin, Gwen. Nah, that your job.'

‘Mavis, Mavis!' Hettie yells, as she races cross the floor.
‘You won! You won the bingo! Three hundred big bucks!' She laughs as she hands back me card.

‘I did? Well, talk bout luck, eh? Thanks, Hettie.'
I won. I won. How lucky can one woman be. Yippeee! Take that, Dotty!

‘Goodonya! You the luckiest person I know.' Gwen pats me on the back. ‘Anyway, now listen, Mave, I gotta ask you somethin really important. You ever heard of a woman called Jean that lives round here somewhere?'

‘Jean? Whatcha talkin bout?' I do a double-take n stare at her.

‘Heard Darryl the other day talkin bout this woman called Jean. She seems to work for him or somethin. I know somethin's goin down and it's gotta lot to do whit Jean. Maybe he's screwin her too, eh.'

‘Don't tell me it's Jean Rhys! Is that her name? Jean Rhys?' I gape, me mouth unhinged.
It comes full circle. Back to bite me. Jean'll never leave a woman alone. Yep, it never gonna end fer me. I can see that now. Since the day me boy woked up whit that mad idea it's been nuthin but trouble whit all this business.

‘Hey, yeah that's it. Jean Rhys, that's her name!' Gwen blurts out, eyes wide.

‘Works for Darryl Kane? She works for Darryl?' Me eyes bulge. ‘You mustta heard wrong, Gwen.'
Like a nightmare.

‘Nope, Jean Rhys, that's who he was talkin bout. Reckoned it were all a big joke. Heard him tellin some fella from Bullya what a real hard worker Jean is. Yep, even reckoned she were gonna do some dirty work for him. Whatcha make a that, eh?' She looks at me with question marks in her eyes.

Me gut drops. I grip the edge a the table, me knuckles throbbin. Blood pressure risin fast. I feel giddy. ‘Jean Rhys don't exist!' I yell it out. ‘What the hell's wrong whit people in this town! Jean Rhys a figure of magination in Nevil's head! She's not even alive! The woman dead! She a dead
woman!' I turn away from Gwen n look round the room.
It be the death a me fer sure.

The room goes dead quiet. Everyone stares back; Hettie's frozen to the spot in the middle a the room; Terry, mouth open, looks at me like I a loony; Dotty smirkin n smilin n all the others nudgin each other n lookin at me like I done pulled down me bloomers n pissed on the floor in front a em.
This time I done it good n proper. Yep, now the whole town knows. Well, that jus tough shit, ain't it, Mavis big-trap Dooley. Ya always knew the day'd come when all this would blow up. Yep, all cos a some dead writer. Finished right up.

‘Gee, Mave, no need to scream about it.' Gwen says, then coughs shame like into her hand.

‘Gwen, I reckon
Darryl Kane is Isaac Edge.
Listen, Max Brown come over n hauled all our arses off to the pig shop. He reckons me boy's best mate, Trevor, is Isaac Edge—the one dealin drugs to everybody. See, Max reckoned somebody had it in for me n Nev, too.' Me voice drops, ‘Darryl, that's who.'

Gwen stares back at me, blinks, turns from me and stares at the doorway. After about a second or two she turns back and says, ‘What the fuck you on about? Mavis, ya been hittin the piss or somethin? Ya not yourself any more. Is this ya way of gettin me away from Darryl? I know ya hate his guts, Mave, yeah. But I'm not gonna be listenin to this stuff if that's what ya tryin to do to me.'

‘Jesus Christ! Gwen, it ain't any a that! It's bout Jean Rhys! Jean Rhys, Isaac Edge n this shit that's been goin on. I can't tell you everythin now but jus come home whit me n I'll explain it all. It's a long story. Trust me, ya'll know what I been goin through all this time. Ain't been easy.' I get to me feet feelin like a sack a shit.

‘Well then, it better be good, Mavis. I'm sick a people
tellin me all sorts a shit. I jus dunno who to believe any more. Seems like even you changed somewhere long the line. Like ya ain't Mavis Dooley no more.'

‘Ya believe me, Gwenny, I wouldn't lie. Anyhow, whatcha mean I ain't Mavis Dooley any more?' I turn n face her.

‘Jus that ya seem different somehow. Like ya been changin into somebody else. Sorta like ya hidin somethin. Oh, I dunno, sorry Mave, maybe I'm grog-fucked or somethin.' She looks at me, sussin eyes crawlin over me dial.

‘Talkin shit, woman. I ain't different,' I throw an arm round her shoulder as we head for the door.

Terry blocks the doorway. ‘How are ya, love?' he asks, in a syrupy voice, all con job.

‘All right. Get outta my way.' I push past him n step outside. No time for any shit today. A woman got serious business to tend to.
Drug business.

‘Hey, you looken good. Can I come over and see you later?' He calls out, all smooth.

‘Yeah, whatever.' I reply, a flutter in me guts.
But, eh, ol girl, maybe Terry's in on this Edge stuff. Go on big notin yaself. Who really knows what goes on in that head a his? Ya don't really know a lot bout the man. Could be a killer for all ya know. Watch ya steps there, ya might go arse-over. Terry could be sussin on ya.

As me and Gwen go down the steps, Dotty flies past, looks over her shoulder and gives me a nasty grin. ‘Cheat. Bingo cheat! Bitch! I'm going to get you, Dooley! It's only a matter of time,' she says in a cracked, I-really-hate-you voice. I watch as she hurries to her car. Before she gets in she casts me one more look, dangerous and hateful. I smile at her.
See, ya don't worry me one little bit.

‘Fuck ya. Gorn ya ugly slut!' Gwen shouts, wavin a fist in her direction.

Wish Dotty'd leave a person lone n get some sorta life steada pickin me to death. Gee, one a these days I'm gonna really bust me guts—then she'll be sorry. She's in this Edge shit fer sure. I'd bet me life on it.

We motor on towards my place. I wonder how I'll tell Gwen everythin. A woman gotta tell her the whole story. It ain't gonna be pretty.

I push the front door open and we go inside. The house is too quiet.
Where Nevil n Trevor at?
I step into the kitchen. Shock knocks me back into the wall. I grab hold a me throat. I struggle to breathe.

Everything looks hazy. Me legs are burnin up like a red-hot iron branded on me. I be stamped for a turn—I slippin fast.
Why did Jean ever come into me life? She killin me. A dead woman killin me. I dying.

Sitting at the table drinkin tea n eating biscuits is Missus Warby and Big Boy. At the other end a the table sits Nevil, frocked n made up like a paintin. This ain't no joke. Big Boy n Missus Warby would have to suss that.

Spots appear before me eyes. I throw out an arm towards Gwen. I must be dreamin. It's a dream, magination. Too much stress for a woman. Doctor Chin, gotta see him. I fight for air.
A woman dead.