Liar Bird

by Lisa Walker

  Rodney frowned. He leaned towards me and whispered, ‘No Asian food.’ He sounded like a spy imparting a secret code.

  ‘Oh, okay, but what’s the big secret?’

  ‘Ssh.’ Rodney tilted his head towards the bar. ‘You don’t want to set him off.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘He was in Vietnam. He gets flashbacks. Asian food sends him wild — even the smell of it. You don’t want to mention curry in here.’

  I glanced over at where Trev leaned against the bar, watching the news on TV. He was a big man; I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him. ‘That’s strange it’s lasted so long.’

  ‘Yeah. Hits different people differently. My dad was there too. With Trev. He’s fine. Loves a curry. Won’t talk about the war, though. They have these get-togethers, him and all the other vets. Go bush, canoeing, that kind of thing.’

  ‘I suppose it helps them to talk about it. With people who were there.’

  Rodney nodded. ‘He’s a wonder with the cane toads, old Trev, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Okay, you order then.’ I lowered my voice. ‘No curry.’

  Another beer later, two plates overflowing with sausages, bacon, steak and mushrooms arrived — the mixed grill. I found it was just what I felt like. You can overdo Lean Cuisine — sometimes a big plate of fat is just what you need.

  ‘Mmm, delicious.’ My fork moved rapidly from plate to mouth and back again. I paused halfway through — Rodney was watching me like a spectator at the tennis, his head going up and down. ‘What?’ I spoke through a mouthful of bacon.

  ‘I’ve never seen a girl eat like that before. Usually they just pick.’ He sounded admiring, rather than judgmental.

  ‘Waj hungry,’ I muttered through my steak, washing it down with the beer. Another glass arrived as if by magic. I nodded at the barman. ‘Thanksh. This is a great pub. Don’t know why I haven’t been here before.’

  He tipped his hat back on his round, red face and smiled, sliding a fresh coaster towards me. ‘Was wondering when you’d drop in.’

  A sudden coughing fit from Rodney made me swivel in my chair. ‘You need to chew that steak, Rodney. Gets shtuck otherwise.’

  But Rodney’s eyes were flicking from the coaster to the barman and back again like he was signalling.

  Trev’s face turned a deeper shade of red. ‘Sorry, old stock. Past its use-by date.’ His hand reached out and an enormous fist covered the coaster. He walked back to the bar and pulled out a Fourex coaster. ‘Here.’

  ‘Whatsup?’ I’d had a few drinks, but the old PR antennae never sleep. These men were trying to pull something over on me. ‘What was wrong with the old coaster?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Rodney and Trev together.

  ‘Yeah right. It was probably some porno thing, huh?’

  Big smiles spread over their faces — I’d handed them their answer.

  ‘You don’t want to see that stuff, Cassandra,’ said Rodney.

  ‘It’s not for the ladies,’ said Trev.

  I nodded like I believed them. I’d let it pass for now. Someone started up the jukebox. A boppy little number by a forgettable boy band blared out. ‘Come on, Rodney, let’s dance.’ I pulled him up, determined to have a good time. I might not have been drinking cocktails with the film crews as Wazza imagined, but at least I was dancing in the pub. I’m not the kind of girl who sulks in a corner when she gets dumped — not that it had ever happened to me before.

  The good thing about being love-sick in a place like Beechville is that you don’t keep thinking you see the object of your desire in a crowd. There were no crowds, and there was no-one here who looked the least bit like Mac. It didn’t stop me thinking about him constantly, though. Try to trust me. Why did he say that? It was a big ask from someone about to dump me on top of a mountain. Bastard. If only I could get him out of my head.

  Several songs later, Rodney and I were slow-dancing to a romantic number. Inspired by our example, Maureen took to the floor with Trev. Tyler used the song as an excuse to lock face with his girl. All in all, it was turning into a raging kind of night — for Beechville.

  Glancing over Rodney’s shoulder I saw that Tyler was wearing the same T-shirt he’d had on at the feral pig morning. I gazed at the letters on the back. ‘What does that mean — LOVA? I’ve seen it all around the place.’

  ‘Oh, it’s just this kids’ band. You know, Cassandra …’ Rodney raised his voice over the music. ‘You have beautiful eyes.’

  Uh oh.

  His hands had been on my hips, but now they were sliding lower, towards my bottom. Maybe this getting-over-his-shyness thing wasn’t such a good idea.

  ‘Thanks, Rodney. You have nice eyes too, but just at the moment, I’m getting over — you know.’

  ‘Mac?’ Rodney’s voice was loud. ‘You shouldn’t worry about Mac. He’s not what you think, he’s— ow.’ Rodney jumped backwards.

  ‘Sorry, Rodney, did I step on your foot?’ Maureen’s hair glowed pinkly in the fluorescent lights. She sounded distinctly unapologetic.

  Rodney’s face flushed a deep red. ‘It’s all right, Maureen.’

  ‘Might be time for you to be heading home, son,’ said Trev.

  Rodney nodded. ‘Yes, you’re right.’ The red tinge spread up to his ears.

  I looked from one to the other — what was going on? They were giving Rodney the heavy. Why? Was it because of what he’d been about to say? Something about Mac. Behind Maureen, Tyler and his girl stopped pashing to glare at Rodney too. The mood had turned distinctly sour.

  Whatever he had to say, I wanted to hear it. Lifting my chin, I put on my sexiest voice. ‘Don’t go, Rodney, the night is still young.’ I slid my hand onto his elbow and fluttered my eyelashes — a cliché, I know, but it works. Usually.

  Rodney looked from me to Maureen and Trev. ‘Sorry, Cassandra — better go,’ he mumbled. Turning, he stumbled out the door.

  Huh? I was definitely losing it. Ant was right: I must have been letting myself go. That was another first — being deserted on a date. ‘Well, guess I can still party on,’ I said brightly. ‘Who wants to dance?’

  As I said that, someone flicked a switch and the music died. ‘Closing time, I reckon,’ said Trev, picking up glasses.

  ‘Oh, but it’s only ten o’clock.’ I looked around. Maureen — already a pretty scary woman when she had a mind to be — was clutching her glass like she might shove it in my face. And I’d thought we were friends … The teenagers were stumbling out the door. Perhaps it was time to go.

  ‘Okay, bye then.’ I picked up my purse and tottered into the street.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  I’m in a Stephen King novel

  My car was parked outside, but I was too drunk to drive — even in a town with no cops. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for the death of any small animal that might be romancing on the road. Darling, you have the most beautiful bristles. I love the way your nose shines in the moonli— splat. Maybe I could crash out in the office, then duck home for a shower before work?

  I let myself in. The office had that spooky air that places usually full of people have when they’re empty. I didn’t want to turn the lights on — people would be able to look in from the street and see me — so I pulled out my key-ring torch.

  I jumped as its feeble beam flickered over the cutout of Mac. For a second, I’d thought it was him again.

  Here’s a hot tip, René — erecting life-size replicas of a guy, or frog, who’s dumped you is a bad idea. You’d never do that, would you?

  Crawk.

  No, you’re way too sensible.

  ‘Whadda you looken at?’ I put my hands on my hips. ‘S’pose you think I’m heartbroken? Wasting away without you? Well, that’s all you know. I was just about to end it too. Yeah, whadda you think about that? If you hadn’t left me on the mountain, I would have left you. Fact is, I can have any man I want.’ I prodded him in the chest. The cardboard swayed. ‘Rodney thinks I’m hot.’ I paused. Alt
hough, hadn’t he just dumped me too? I moved on. ‘And Simon.’ Yeah, I was pretty sure I still did it for him. ‘Why would I want a grumpy, lying bastard like you?’ I peered at his face. ‘You’re not even that good-looking. You’ve got a funny nose. And I’ve never liked curly hair. Ever. Don’t know what I saw in you — must have been the uniform.’ I prodded the cardboard again and it fell to the floor. I kicked it aside and, for good measure, stamped on it. It was satisfying. I stamped again. Maybe the cardboard replica wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  Now, where to sleep? I peered around the office — it wasn’t exactly designed for impromptu slumber parties. Where were the comfy couches? There was a storeroom up the back I’d never been in. Maybe there was something soft in there. I went up and felt the handle. It was locked, but I knew where Rodney kept all the keys.

  I opened the little cupboard next to his desk and pulled out the key — obligingly labelled ‘storeroom’. Okay, where have you hidden the comfy pillows, Rodney?

  Fitting the key in the storeroom door, I pulled it open and screamed. Masses of shining red eyes were looking out at me, glowing in the light of my torch beam. I screamed again — my voice echoing eerily around the empty office. This freaked me out even more. I backed away, expecting the eyes to come after me. What were they keeping in there? It could be anything. Feral pigs, maybe. I remembered the newspaper article about the pig as big as a pony. Omigod, it could be the giant hostage-taking pig. No wonder they kept the door locked.

  After a few steps I realised the eyes weren’t moving. They weren’t chasing me. Were they just biding their time, ready to pounce? Heart pounding, I stepped forward, directing the beam of my torch at one of the sets of eyes. It was a fox, but an unnaturally still one. Gradually, realisation dawned. That fox wasn’t going anywhere. It was stuffed.

  I ran my torch beam around the shelves. A black pig, a mouldy-looking koala, an eagle that looked about to bite and a small wombat stared back at me. It was still pretty spooky, but I could deal with it. I stepped inside.

  Sun streaming through the office windows woke me. It took a while to work out what I was doing with my head on a wombat and a small pig cradled to my chest. I got there eventually.

  I sat up, shifting my neck from side to side. That was a bad idea — my brain hurt. My head felt like it had been put on backwards. That’s the last time I’ll use a wombat as a pillow. I felt bad. They should just stuff me and leave me in the cupboard.

  What a night. I felt like I hadn’t slept at all. But I’d dreamt about Mac. It just came back to me in full emotional and visual detail. Oh god, dreams, they mess with your mind. It had been so real. I’d even smelt him. What a stupid dream, though; he’d just stood there looking at me. Considering the possibilities available, it wasn’t terribly imaginative. I squinted my eyes against the sun, slowly coming to my senses.

  Actually, now I thought about it, it had been a good dream. He’d smiled at me: the special smile — the one that fried my brain. The feeling lingered, a heat in my chest. A snippet from Alice wafted through my mind. He was part of my dream … but then I was part of his dream too. Was I part of his dreams? He’d said that before, but now? It didn’t seem likely. My chest ached. I wished it wouldn’t. I wished I had a pill to make these feelings go away.

  Getting slowly to my feet, I picked up my sleeping companions and placed them back on the shelves. ‘There you go, guys — don’t go bragging now. Good pigs don’t kiss and tell.’ I scanned the shelves. Apart from the animals, the storeroom seemed mainly to contain rolled-up posters.

  I looked around the office. I was getting pretty sick of the posters we had up — we could really do with some new ones. Bound to be more wildlife, but at least it would be different wildlife. Maybe a change would cheer me up. I picked up the nearest roll and began to uncurl it.

  ‘Old stock.’

  ‘Huh?’ I turned around, my head thumping. Sam was there. I glanced at my watch — it was seven am. ‘You’re in early.’

  ‘Could say the same to you.’ As always, Sam was inscrutable. Her suntanned face was friendly, but only up to a point.

  I sensed tension in the air between us. Was it the posters? I let the end of the one I was holding roll back.

  Sam smiled. ‘Should do a cleanup — lots of junk hanging around here. So, what are you doing here at this time of day?’ Her eyes flickered up and down my crumpled uniform. ‘Or, haven’t you gone home yet?’

  I yawned. ‘I worked back late — trying to get the thylacine strategy together. I’m thinking of a “friends of the thylacine” type of thing. Get some big corporate donors, put the money into threatened species protection work here.’ I sounded like I had a brain — amazing.

  ‘Sounds good.’ Sam’s voice was neutral.

  ‘Yeah, anyway, I was tired, so I crashed out on the floor. Might go home for a shower now.’ I started walking towards the door. ‘I caught a taipan yesterday,’ I couldn’t help adding.

  Sam raised an eyebrow. ‘That would be a first for this area.’

  I twitched my mouth into a smile. ‘There you go then.’ I stumbled into the foyer. The replica of Mac that I’d knocked over last night was now standing again. Sam must have picked it up on her way in. I pushed against it with my shoulder as I went past. ‘Whoops,’ I muttered as it toppled over, but the sense of satisfaction it had given me last night didn’t return. Damn that dream.

  Out in the street, the media contingent was gearing up for the day again. Their movements had become predictable. They decamped at sunset to the restaurants and nightclubs of Byron Bay, returning each morning with bloodshot eyes and weary yawns. They raised their cameras as I stepped out of the office. I could see the headlines now. Heartbroken Cassandra works through the night to try to forget. ‘Hi, guys.’ I waved my hand at them ineffectually. ‘Any chance of skipping this photo opportunity?’ But the flashes were going off as I spoke.

  I pulled my rear-view mirror towards me as I got in the car. As I’d suspected — it was a bad look. I was beyond caring. My mind was on overtime.

  I hadn’t had a good look at the posters in the storeroom, but an image had registered. What was intriguing was it was the same image I’d seen briefly on the coaster in the pub before Trev had pulled it away from me. A triangle with words inside it — I tried and tried to remember, to imagine, what the words were, but I couldn’t. All I’d seen was a jumble of letters. Why didn’t they want me to see them? It was weird. What could be secret about a bunch of old posters and drinks coasters?

  There was something going on, and it seemed like everyone except me was in on it. Across the road, Maureen was just opening the doors of the supermarket. She nodded coldly. Our relationship had gone downhill fast. Over at the petrol station, the attendant leaned against the pump, observing me. A cow mooed from the paddock on the edge of town.

  I was tired, hungover, grumpy and sad, but that wasn’t all. I was also a little bit nervous. It was in just these kinds of towns that the freakiest things happened. Like the people who ended up in barrels of acid. I was starting to feel like I was in a Stephen King novel; maybe the one where a crazy woman holds a man captive and cuts off his appendages one by one …

  The paperboy glanced in my car window and smiled as he cycled past. It seemed a sinister smile — the kind you give to a kid who doesn’t know the secret language all the other kids are talking. My eyes lingered on his T-shirt. LOVA — where was this band then? Why hadn’t I ever seen them?

  A shiny silver car stood outside Frog Hollow when I got home. My first thought was that it was Mac. No matter that he didn’t seem the kind of person to drive a car like that; I had a one-track mind. My ridiculous heart sped up as I climbed out of the car.

  I practically jogged to the house and leapt up the steps onto the verandah. An exotic smell stopped me in my tracks as I stepped inside the open front door — expensive perfume mingled with cigarette smoke. I knew that smell. It wasn’t Mac.

  I stopped, about to backtrack, run away.
To where, I didn’t know, I hadn’t thought beyond the fact that I didn’t want to see her. The kitchen door creaked open.

  The familiar hourglass shape was shadowy in the backlight from the kitchen. Cigarette smoke curled up around her outline. Sunglasses protruded, horn-like, from the top of her head. I wouldn’t have been surprised if a clap of thunder and the smell of sulphur had accompanied her entrance.

  ‘Cassandra.’ Jessica flung open her arms. ‘I’m here.’

  I stood poised at the front door, wondering if I could just run away. I felt like a bear whose cave has been occupied in its absence.

  ‘Got a hug for your old mate?’ Jessica took her cigarette from her mouth and blew out a jet of smoke.

  I stepped forward reluctantly, ready for the air kiss.

  As I got closer, Jessica eyed my dirty uniform. She stiffened, her arms going rigid in an attempt to hold me off.

  Contrarily, this made me want to go in for the big one. I hugged Jessica’s close-fitting pink linen shirt, catching a glimpse of her mid-calf white pants and spray-tanned ankles. Her sailing outfit. I had seen numerous variations on this theme when she had invited me out on the harbour in her boyfriend’s yacht, Success.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Seeing her was giving me a schizophrenic feeling. Jessica and Frog Hollow did not go together. Not to mention that I hadn’t spoken to her since the night she dumped me from the perfume launch.

  Jessica brushed at her shirt. ‘Had a marketing meeting on the Gold Coast. Thought I’d drop in.’ Her eyes flickered around the hallway. ‘Nice place you’ve got.’ She raised her eyebrows at the peeling paint and warped wooden walls.

  My mouth twitched, seeing the house through her eyes. I felt protective of Frog Hollow, which was weird. Was it starting to grow on me? ‘The birds are nice,’ I said.

  Jessica nodded slowly. ‘You live here alone?’

  ‘Not really.’ I wasn’t even sure why I said that. ‘There’s a lot of wildlife: birds, frogs, snakes …’ I trailed off.