The Dark Part of Me (30 page)

‘Would you like some champagne, darling?’ Her eyes lingered over the exposed strip of my stomach, my rubied belly-button.

‘Sure.’ I felt ill at ease around this new, sexually experienced Hollie. She pulled a bottle from the ice, wiping down its sides with a linen napkin, and popped the cork with an
expert twist. And all the time, my mind was flicking between the Hollie I was seeing and the Hollie I had seen on the floor of the cave, muslin skirts gathered to her waist, long legs twisted
around his muddied body.

‘Where’s Danny?’ I asked as she poured into two crystal flutes.

‘He’ll be here soon.’ She handed me a glass. I took a sip. Hollie looked at me, her head to one side. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘Nothing.’ I smiled. A single bead of sweat slipped down my spine. ‘Just how lovely you look.’ And she did, but once I’d said it I felt myself falling again, like
Alice chasing the white rabbit down the hole. And, here I was in the cave, with my head nearly touching the ceiling, a grown-up Alice with strange new desires stirring inside me.

Blushing, Hollie held her glass aloft. ‘To my noble Oberon.’

‘To my darling Titania, Queen of the Fairies,’ I said, adding, ‘and to Danny.’

‘Yes.’ Her eyes darted towards the entrance of the cave, then back to me. ‘To Lord Danny, Bravest Warrior of the Night.’

We chinked. Hollie sipped daintily, holding the stem of the glass in her fingers. I guzzled mine down and lowered my head, taking in the rich, lurid colours of the food. For dessert, there were
three bowls of sugar-dusted strawberries, cherries and plums and a turret of whipped cream. I bent down and stole a strawberry.

‘Put that back.’ Hollie shook a finger at me, but I popped the strawberry in my mouth. ‘They’re meant for later,’ she said, coming up behind me, wrapping her arms
around my waist. She was wearing a new perfume which made me at once light-headed and aroused. I turned around and kissed her. Her lips were cool and cherry-scented. She pressed herself to me and I
cupped her face and held it, the fragile jaw, the smooth polished cheeks.

‘What’s that?’ Hollie drew back from me. The sound of male voices was coming from outside. The taste of strawberry soured on my tongue. They were coming closer, their voices
clear on the windless night. There were two of them.

‘Where the fuck is it?’ one was saying.

‘Don’t ask me.’

‘This is shit. It’s too dark. Here, give us the lighter.’

‘You’ve got it.’

‘No, I don’t, dickhead.’

‘The police,’ whispered Hollie. She was shaking, her eyes wide with terror.

‘Yeah. The bastards.’ There was no point in telling her the truth of who it was. Scott and Bomber. They sounded drunk and stoned shitless. Before, I’d thought it was just
stupid macho talk, but now I knew it wasn’t. Before, I could have done something, warned someone, but not now. Seconds passed, Hollie tense and clinging to me. From outside, came the whiff of
pot. Their voices drifted away until there was silence, except the distant rumble of burban parties. Now, there was nothing I could do but wait and pray they didn’t find him. It was
nine-thirty and Danny still hadn’t showed. I poured us two more glasses and stared at the untouched oysters. Hollie nibbled on some fish-spawn. I sculled my drink, set the glass down and
crawled towards the entrance of the cave. I couldn’t stand it any longer. Perhaps Scott would listen to me. Perhaps I could talk him out of it.

‘Where are you going?’ Hollie looked up in alarm.

‘Outside,’ I said. ‘For some fresh air.’

‘I’ll come, too.’

‘No. You wait here.’

But before Hollie could protest there were footsteps coming closer again, then stopping right outside the cave. They must have heard us, our voices carrying on the still night air. A giant
shadow fell across the entrance. I clutched Hollie’s hand and pulled her with me behind the egg rock where we crouched rigid. They were crawling inside and there was a scraping sound, like a
stick being dragged over rock. Hollie whimpered. I pressed my hand to her mouth and peered out from the rock. Danny was clambering towards us with his spear. Its bloodied tip gleamed in the
candlelight and a dead possum hung around his neck.

‘It’s alright. It’s Danny,’ I said, amazed that he hadn’t run into Scott and Bomber. Hollie leapt up, ecstatic to see he had evaded the cops. He was in full
aborigine mode, his naked body covered head to toe with mud and decorated with chalk markings. He wore bush turkey feathers around his wrists and ankles. When he saw us, standing like two glamour
pusses with our glasses of bubbly, he grinned, the whites of his eyes luminous in the shadows, and stood up straight, letting the dead animal slump in a heap. Hollie nudged it away from the food
with the toe of her stiletto.

‘We’ve been so worried about you.’ She ruffled his filthy hair and kissed him on the lips. Danny swung her about in his arms and pashed her. I looked away, not sure how to
behave in front of them. Hollie laughed, her face aglow as he set her down.

‘Look, Danny,’ she said. ‘Rosie has joined us.’

I waved, feeling a bit third leg.

‘Me hunting,’ Danny boomed, and thumped his blood-streaked chest. He stood with the spear by his side, one leg bent with the sole of his foot resting against his kneecap.

Hollie chided, suddenly sombre, ‘You know the police have just been here, right outside.’

Danny scampered over to the dead possum. ‘Revenge is sweet for those with innocent hearts but for souls tarnished with bitterness, revenge is doomed to fail.’ I looked up and he
caught my eye. He knew Bomber and Scott were out there, waiting for him, but Hollie had no idea what he was talking about.

‘I’ll put on some hardcore,’ I said. It was coming up to ten, time to get our strange little party revved. I whipped out the Wagner and put on one of Trish’s CDs, low so
that the cops – so that Scott and Bomber – wouldn’t hear.

Danny was crouched, intent over his kill. Lulled by the hardcore vibing up through the floor, I lay belly down on the sheet, my heels kicking to the beats. Hollie sat on a cushion, sipping her
champagne, as I watched Danny go to work, tipsily engrossed by his antics. Using a small blade, he skinned the possum carcass. Then he slit the belly, stuck his hand inside and scooped out the
glistening guts. It made my stomach flip but I was fascinated by the deftness of his hands. I took a slug to calm my squeamishness while he rammed his spear, arse to neck, skewering the carcass
like a pig on a spit. He built a tepee of twigs and dried leaves, and twirled a stick between his palms, the end drilled into another horizontal stick, until it smouldered. He blew on it, gently
and then, a few minutes later, there was a fire. Cradling the spear in y-shaped branches at either end, Danny suspended the possum over the flames.

‘What about Hollie’s food?’ I said.

‘It’s no good,’ he said, scrunching up his face.

‘I heard that!’ exclaimed Hollie, pretending to be offended, as Danny and I laughed. It wasn’t long before Danny lifted the spear from the fire and began tearing off stringy
sections of the blackened meat with his fingers, ripping into the carcass like he hadn’t eaten in weeks, stuffing it greedily into his mouth.

‘What’s it taste like?’ I asked.

‘Delicious,’ he said, gob full. He passed over a strip of charred flesh. I grabbed the meat from his grubby fingers and took a small bite. The overriding taste was of charcoal but it
wasn’t bad – a greasy, slightly stringy version of crispy duck. I polished off my bit, washing it down with some champagne.

‘More?’ said Danny-Dilly, offering me another bit.

‘Nah, I’m OK.’

‘You’re both disgusting!’ Hollie stood over us, appalled.

Danny hooted. I laughed. She looked so funny when she was angry. I slugged some more champers, spilling it down the front of my top. Danny snatched the bottle and choked it back. The hardcore
was quietly peaking. The rocks softly boomed, the walls gently shook with bass. I crawled over and turned it up, one more incy notch.

‘They’ll hear us,’ Hollie hissed.

‘Fuck ’em!’ I screamed. The drink fired in my veins. I jumped up and raved around the fire.

‘Yeah, fuck ’em,’ said Danny. He leapt to his feet and joined me, kicking up dirt and stamping, waving his arms around, chanting and clapping just like when we were kids
playing aborigines.

‘C’mon, Hollie! Dance with us!’ I yelled.

I grabbed her by the waist, spinning her around and pashing her so deep and luscious with tongue she forgot about being haughty and joined in the corroboree. Danny wore the bloody possum skin on
his head. We all held hands and danced around the fire, singing and chanting and drinking. After a while, it got so hot I had to strip off to my undies. Hollie did the same, getting down to her
white bra and knickers. Mixing some bottled water with orangey dirt, I painted Hollie’s legs and arms and tummy with tribal stripes and zig-zags. She did the same for me; cool, pasty fingers
spiralling my breasts, wriggly lines across my stomach, dots and dashes up the fronts of my thighs. God, it felt nice.

It seemed like hours went by as our shadows grew long and skinny. The candles burned low and the light dimmed to an eerie yellow, but still we didn’t stop. Our bodies ran with sweat. Our
tribal markings melted away. The mud which had covered Danny from head to foot dissolved leaving streaky patches on his pale skin. As the hardcore ended, we could hear the whiz-bang of New
Year’s fireworks exploding on top of Mount Coot-tha, echoing back and forth across the valley, and closer, down in burbia, BrisVegans hooting and carrying on.

‘It’s midnight!’ I screamed.

I scrambled over to crank the tunes but when I turned back, Danny had Hollie pinned against the hand-painting wall and they were pashing like lovers. He pressed into her, his hands clamped
around her shoulders, his dark hair shrouding her face. Hollie’s body shuddered with desire. I swallowed hard. Crouched in the lengthening shadows, I watched them. A sharp yearning flared in
me and I wanted to go to them, to be a part of it. It had always been a game with Hollie and me. Made-up names. Fantasy scenarios. Lord and ladies and pink champagne. But this wasn’t a game.
Hollie’s undies were smeared with mud from Danny rubbing against her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw me and understood. She beckoned me over with a little tilt of her head. Danny was
looking across at me, too. They were waiting for me. But something held me back. I slid down against the cool rock, pressing my palms into the soft ochre.

Hollie blinked and turned back to Danny. They sank, their bodies melting into the earth. She lay on the ground, her lids lightly closed, her hair fanned out behind her while he roamed over her,
peeling off her underwear, rubbing his grubby hands over her small breasts, down her ribcage, clasping her feet, kissing her toes. My eyes ached with it all: her paper-white skin; his body, taut
and bony, stained with the blood of his kill.

And when he entered her, I gasped. Rankness kicked in me but I banished it away, ashamed. I stared into the fire. But when, a few seconds later, she cried out, her toes scrunched in the dirt, my
resistance crumbled and I crawled over, slithering up between them. I clung to her, biting at her lips, her tongue. She kissed me, while, with soft, muddy fingers, Danny pulled off my undies. I
rolled over to face him and twined my fingers in his hair. He pulled me closer and our mouths locked. Hollie nestled along the length of my spine, kissing the back of my neck. I lay down flat in
the dirt. Danny climbed on top of me. His body was warm, dank-smelling of charcoal and leaves and old earth. I closed my eyes and inhaled him, drawing him deep into me, and then I was falling and
coming, falling and coming, as the ground beneath me dissolved away to nothing.

Afterwards, we lay in the dirt. My head rested on Danny’s stomach. Hollie was beside me, our legs entwined, her cheek pressed against my breast. From the gentle rise and
fall of her breathing, I could tell she was sleeping. The last candle died and the embers from Danny’s fire cast a deep, red glow.

‘Danny?’ I whispered. ‘Are you awake?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are we bad?’

‘No.’ He was rubbing his fingers up and down the ridge of my scar. It felt nice, the warmth from his fingertips spreading through my body. We lay in silence. I listened to the
gurgling of Danny’s belly, digesting possum.

‘It wasn’t your fault, you know, what happened to Matty Taylor.’

Danny stiffened. I sat up, lifting Hollie’s head off my chest. She stirred, a little murmur, and rolled away, into the pinkish dust. Danny sat up on his haunches. He closed his eyes and
let his head snap back. The skin under his chin was pure white. He levelled me with his gaze, his eyes black and cold and bottomless.

‘Sorry,’ I said.

The fire flickered, then ebbed away. Darkness seeped in around us. The embers sat heavy, silent, listening. I looked up at the roof of the cave and imagined a million evil eyes staring down at
me from the crevices.

‘Danny-Dilly,’ I whispered.

‘What?’

‘I’m scared.’

‘There’s nothing to be scared of.’