Rosa-Marie's Baby

by Robert G. Barrett

  ‘She can?’ said Les. ‘Hey, that’d be unreal.’

  Mrs Totten smiled up at Les. ‘But it’s going to cost you.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Les, reaching for his pocket. ‘How much?’

  Mrs Totten shook her head. ‘You’ll have to give Tania a small donation towards the orphanage.’

  ‘Sweet as a nut,’ said Les. ‘It’d be a pleasure.’

  ‘And you have to take me to the pictures.’

  ‘The pictures?’ said Les.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mrs Totten. ‘We’ve got a lovely old theatre here in town. But I have trouble getting up the stairs.’

  ‘Hey, no problems, Mrs Totten. I can do that. When did you want to go, and what do you want to see?’

  ‘Tonight. And I want to see The Two Towers. The sequel to The Fellowship of the Ring.’

  Les felt like he’d just been hit in the face with a huge, frozen tuna. ‘The … Two Towers?’ he said quietly.

  ‘Yes. I absolutely loved the first one,’ beamed Mrs Totten. ‘And I can’t wait to see the sequel. And going with a lovely young man like you makes it even better.’

  ‘All right, Mrs Totten,’ said Les. ‘What time does it start?’

  ‘The film starts at seven-thirty. If you can call back here at seven-fifteen, that would be lovely. In the meantime, I’ll make some phone calls.’

  ‘Okay, Mrs Totten. Sounds good.’ Les gave the bookshop owner a thin smile. ‘I’ll see you here at quarter past seven.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ said Mrs Totten. ‘I’ll see you then.’

  Les turned and left the bookshop, then drifted across the road in the rain back to the car. He opened the door and slumped over the steering wheel.

  Les had seen The Fellowship of the Ring with Warren and Clover. Clover had free tickets. It was after seeing the movie, Les realised there was something wrong with him and he possibly needed some sort of counselling. It was one of the biggest-grossing movies of all time. The books sold in millions and the producers spent millions making a spectacular film with fantastic special effects. Yet Les hated it. He actually put it down as the worst movie he’d ever seen. Three tedious hours of stupifyingly boring waffle and an annoying, cock-eyed dwarf who needed a good bath.

  Go here, go there. The river of blood. The castle of doom. The pub with no beer. Your life shall be forfeit. Oh great wizard of Middle Shitville. Where does our quest lead? Your journey will be long and fraught with many dangers. Blah, blah, blah.

  The clunker seemed to go on forever. When it finished, Clover said it was okay. But she wouldn’t like to sit through it again. Les told the others exactly what he thought of it. Warren didn’t like it. But said he did just to nark Les. Now Les had to sit through another three punishing hours of the sequel. He stared out the window up to the sky.

  ‘Why, boss? Why?’ he pleaded. ‘What did I do? Did I not return and put flowers on the priest’s grave? Has not my quest down here been fraught with disappointment and misery enough?’ With a heavy heart, Les started the engine and drove back to the resort.

  The first thing Les did was have a shave and a shower. He watched the news then changed into his Levis, one of the shirts he bought in Melbourne with blue and brown diagonal stripes, and his black leather jacket. Even if he was in for a night of misery, he figured he may as well look half all right for Mrs Totten’s sake. She was a bit of an old sweetheart. By then it was time to eat. Les thought he might have a change from room service and sample the cuisine at the local over a couple of cool ones. He locked up and caught the lift down to the lobby.

  The hotel was directly across the road. A set of steps led from the footpath up to the beer garden and a bar facing the stools and tables. There was a dining room inside on the left and the kitchen and servery were along a corridor to the right. It had stopped raining, but it still looked a little wet to eat outside. Les walked into the servery to see what was on offer.

  Behind the counter was a blackboard menu as well as the normal one. Les gave them both a quick peruse and ordered a dozen oysters kilpatrick and chicken schnitzel with chips and salad from a blonde girl in white, got his number and walked round to the bar. The hotel had Stella Artois on tap, Les got a pot and stepped round to the dining room, straight into a couple with a baby in a pram that was putting on a horrendous screaming and crying fit. Although the noise was louder than a brick saw and drowned out any other sound in the dining room, the baby’s parents seemed completely oblivious to it. Les turned around and found a table outside that was sheltered and dry enough and sat down with his beer.

  The beer was beautiful and a pot lasted barely a minute. Les got another one and downed the last of that just as the girl brought the oysters out. They were delicious, so was the schnitzel and by the time he’d finished eating, Les had sunk four beers. He ordered a double Jack Daniels with a beer chaser and drank it standing on the balcony staring out over the beach, then placed the empty glasses on a table and looked at his watch. Okay, he told himself, a boozy glow coursing through his body. I think I’m ready now to handle another three hours of Conan the Barbarian meets Camelot. Les zipped up his jacket and strolled down to the bookshop.

  The light was on inside but the door was locked. Les gave a knock and Mrs Totten appeared from out the back. She’d brushed her grey hair to one side, added a tiny touch of mascara and looked very lady-like in a pair of grey woollen slacks, a black polo neck sweater and a green silk scarf with a horse design on it round her shoulders. In one hand was a small handbag, in the other an umbrella.

  ‘I don’t think you’ll need the umbrella, Mrs Totten,’ said Les when she opened the door. ‘It looks like the rain’s stopped.’

  ‘Oh, you never know,’ replied Mrs Totten, stepping out onto the landing and locking the door behind her. ‘It might start again.’

  ‘Do you live here?’ asked Les.

  ‘Yes. I have a flat out the back. Luke and myself,’ she replied.

  ‘Luke?’

  ‘My cat.’

  ‘Right.’ Les smiled and gave Mrs Totten a quick once up and down. ‘I’ll tell you what,’ he said. ‘You’ve brushed up pretty good for a young country girl. I hope I don’t have to fight too many blokes off tonight.’

  ‘And might I say, Les, you look very handsome yourself,’ smiled Mrs Totten. ‘That’s a lovely jacket.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Totten,’ said Les. ‘So how did you go?’ he asked. ‘Did you make those phone calls?’

  ‘I certainly did,’ replied Mrs Totten. ‘I’ll tell you about it later.’

  ‘Okey doke,’ said Les. He offered Mrs Totten his arm. ‘Well, just latch onto this, good-looking. And let’s show the locals what style’s all about.’

  ‘Yes. Why don’t we.’

  Mrs Totten took Norton’s arm and they proceeded to the picture theatre. Although it was like a trip to the gallows for Les, he still felt good helping the old lady down the road, and while she hobbled a bit from age, Mrs Totten was stepping out as she hung off Norton’s huge arm, enjoying the occasion. They got to the theatre and Les helped Mrs Totten up the steps, through the wide glass doors, then up an equally wide flight of stairs to the ticket office where they joined the queue. Mrs Totten opened her bag to get her purse.

  ‘Mrs Totten, please,’ said Les. ‘What will people think? I don’t mind being your toy boy. But I refuse to be your gigolo.’

  Mrs Totten gave Les a friendly slap on the arm. ‘Oh you’re a cheeky devil,’ she said, closing her bag. ‘I knew that the minute I saw you.’

  Les pointed a finger at her. ‘And no kissing on the first date, either.’

  Les got the tickets and, knowing the marathon in front of him, stocked up on popcorn, mineral water and choc-tops for both of them, then helped Mrs Totten upstairs to their seats.

  The picture theatre was big and grand and done out in lots of light brown with soft lighting. The carpet in the aisles was thick, the seats were comfortable and the old theatre would have been something else in its day. Even now it still ma
intained an air of old-time class. For a Tuesday night, there was a reasonable crowd, and Les and Mrs Totten sat down two seats back from the balcony. Mrs Totten took a pair of glasses from her bag then put them on and watched the screen advertising intently while she got into her choc-top. The ads finished, the lights dimmed then the curtain drew back to the crashing sound of flutes and harps. Les sunk back in his seat with his popcorn, and prepared for the worst.

  Difficult as it was for Les to believe, the sequel was even worse. Go here, go there, cross that, climb those, ford this. There was absolutely no plot. Just three separate bunches of dorks with long hair and funny feet dressed like park winos, looking for who knew what? Only this time, one bunch of dorks had a thing tagging along with them that looked like a cross between a gecko on steroids and Marilyn Manson. And right in the middle of all the sword-rattling, shield-banging crap was the cock-eyed dwarf; and he still hadn’t had a bath.

  Mrs Totten, however, loved the movie. She oohed and aahhed and punched Les on the arm or slapped him on the leg with excitement. And when the trees got up and started walking around, Mrs Totten sighed and clutched her breast in rapture. Despite his misery, Les did get some satisfaction from the movie watching Mrs Totten having a good time. It was a buzz seeing the old lady enjoying herself to the hilt. Finally, after what seemed like a year, the film mercifully ended with one of the dork bunch and the gecko pitching up to the camera for another sequel. Then the curtain closed, the lights came on and Les straightened up in his seat bursting to go to the toilet.

  ‘Well, what did you think of that, Les?’ asked Mrs Totten.

  ‘Yeah, just great,’ replied Les, flicking popcorn from the front of his jacket. ‘Almost as good as the first.’

  ‘I thought it was better.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Les helped Mrs Totten to her feet and they walked up the aisle then down the stairs to the landing. Les excused himself and made a dash for the gents. After hosing out the steaming remains of the Stella Artois and two bottles of mineral water, he rejoined Mrs Totten.

  ‘Okay good-looking,’ he said, happy now that his ordeal was over. ‘Let’s get you home before your parents start to worry about you.’

  ‘And I’ll make you a nice cup of tea,’ said Mrs Totten.

  ‘That I would like,’ said Les.

  With Mrs Totten’s umbrella in one hand and her on his other arm, Les walked the old lady back to the bookshop and followed her through the front door. They went round the tables of books then through another door into a small kitchen with slate floor tiles, a shiny stainless-steel sink and a dishwasher set into a black granite top. A window opened onto the laneway, several small paintings hung round the walls, and beneath the kitchen table in front of the fridge Mrs Totten’s cat was curled up on a rubber mat. It blinked a couple of times when she turned on the light then stretched and went back to sleep. Mrs Totten put the kettle on and turned to Les. ‘I’ll just change into a pair of slippers,’ she said. ‘Make yourself comfortable.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Les.

  Les sat down at the kitchen table, careful not to kick the sleeping cat, then Mrs Totten came back and started fussing around getting the tea together.

  ‘What about those talking trees,’ she said, placing a cup in front of Les.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Les. ‘I nearly fell out of my seat when they walked out of the forest.’

  ‘They saved the day too, when the river burst,’ said Mrs Totten.

  ‘They sure did,’ agreed Les. ‘Now Middle Earth is once again safe from the forces of evil.’

  Before too long Mrs Totten had a pot of tea with a crocheted doily on it sitting on the table along with a plate piled with slices of lemon and coconut sponge cake. She poured Les a cup of tea and told him to help himself to the cake. The tea hit the spot and the cake was sensational. It made Norton a little homesick for his mother’s house in Dirranbandi. Les complimented Mrs Totten on her cake, they chit-chatted some more about the movie, then Mrs Totten slid a piece of paper across the table to Les.

  ‘That’s the woman’s name and mobile phone number and the address,’ said Mrs Totten. ‘The orphanage is not far from where you’re staying. She’s expecting you round ten-thirty tomorrow. All you have to do is drive her to Apollo Bay and back.’

  ‘Good as gold,’ said Les. ‘Thanks very much, Mrs Totten.’

  Mrs Totten smiled at Les over her cup of tea. ‘No worries,’ she said, taking a delicate sip. ‘She’s a lovely person, Tania. Even though she’s had a terrible lot of misfortune in her life.’

  ‘She has?’ inquired Les.

  ‘Yes. I’ll tell you a little about her.’

  ‘Okay. If you’d care to.’

  ‘Tania was an orphan herself,’ said Mrs Totten. ‘There used to be an orphanage in Apollo Bay. Before it burnt down.’

  ‘None of the kids were burned, were they?’ said Les.

  ‘No. Everybody was saved, except the head nun, Sister Manuella. She never got burned though. A beam fell on her and broke her neck.’

  Les shook his head. ‘That’s no good.’

  ‘There were only a dozen or so children in the orphanage,’ continued Mrs Totten. ‘And when it burnt down they all managed to get adopted. Tania went with a local family. The Walmsleys. He was the town butcher.’

  ‘I used to work in meatworks,’ smiled Les.

  Mrs Totten nodded over her tea. ‘Tania eventually married a man named Grant Currie. He was a surveyor. And they had two children. A son, Grant Junior. And a daughter, Angie.’

  Les looked at the piece of paper. ‘I thought her name was Settree?’

  ‘That was her second husband, Frank. He was an electrician,’ said Mrs Totten. ‘Her first husband died in Melbourne. He took Angie to visit his mother, and he fell under a train at Flinders Street Station.’

  ‘Crikey!’ said Les.

  ‘Then not long after that, her son Grant Junior and Angie were out fishing, and young Grant fell out of the boat and drowned.’

  ‘Poor bloody woman,’ sympathised Les. ‘So what happened to husband number two? The electrician.’

  ‘He was electrocuted,’ said Mrs Totten.

  ‘Yeah. Well, that’s an occupational hazard in that game,’ said Les.

  ‘Yes. But Frank was taking a bath. And a hair dryer accidentally fell in the water.’

  ‘Cripes! I’d certainly call that misfortune,’ said Les.

  ‘Tania never remarried,’ said Mrs Totten. ‘She lives alone with her daughter and runs the orphanage.’

  ‘What a sad sort of life,’ said Les.

  ‘Yes. But she’s happy now. Even if running the orphanage is a constant battle. Although Angie’s a little strange.’

  ‘Her daughter?’ said Les.

  ‘Yes. She’s nineteen. But keeps very much to herself. I don’t think she’s … you know. But she doesn’t seem to like boys or men very much. Actually it’s funny you’re after your mother’s paintings. Because Angie likes to paint.’

  Les looked directly at Mrs Totten. ‘Not devils or witches? Or anything like that?’

  ‘No. Nothing like that,’ laughed Mrs Totten. ‘I’ve seen her paintings. It’s all abstract dribble. She’s never sold any and I wouldn’t hang them in the shop. But don’t tell Tania or her daughter I said that.’

  ‘My lips are glued,’ replied Les.

  They both finished a second cup of tea at the same time just as Les polished off a third piece of cake. Mrs Totten smiled at him.

  ‘Les, I hate to be an ungrateful host after all you’ve done for me tonight, but I’m awfully tired now.’

  ‘Hey. No worries, Mrs Totten,’ said Les. ‘I understand. In fact I’m quite tired myself, after all that sword-fighting and dodging blazing arrows and axes and things.’

  She placed a hand on his. ‘I’ll walk you to the door.’

  Les stood up, sneakily leaving a fifty-dollar bill under his saucer. ‘When I get back from Apollo Bay tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I’ll call in and tell yo
u how I went. We might have another cup of tea. And,’ Les wiggled his eyebrows, ‘maybe just another slice or two of your lemon sponge cake.’

  ‘That would be lovely,’ beamed Mrs Totten.

  Mrs Totten walked Les to the front door and opened it. She looked up at Les then put her arms around him and hugged him. Resting on his chest, her head didn’t even come up to the big Queenslander’s chin.

  ‘Les, I had a wonderful time tonight,’ she said. ‘You’re a true gentleman. Thank you ever so much.’

  Les went all funny inside. ‘Hey,’ he said, gently rubbing the old lady’s bony back. ‘Don’t you think I had a good time. How often do I get to take a good sort out and see a grouse movie?’

  Mrs Totten looked up again and waved a finger at Les. ‘You’re only saying that because it’s true.’

  ‘You’re on to me, sweetheart,’ smiled Les. He placed his hands on Mrs Totten’s shoulders and gave the bookshop owner a kiss on the forehead. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Mrs Totten, and thanks very much for your help.’

  ‘It was a pleasure.’

  Mrs Totten closed the door, Les put his hands in the pockets of his jacket and walked towards the resort. When he rounded the corner he looked up and behind a bank of clouds a sprinkling of stars twinkled against the deep indigo of the night sky. Look at that, smiled Les. The rain’s cleared up. Truly it is an omen from the great wizard of … wherever that old fart with the silly hat comes from.

  Once inside, Les changed into his tracksuit and cleaned his teeth, then had a cold glass of water in the kitchen. Bloody hell, he yawned, as he rinsed the glass. I don’t know about Mrs Totten being tired. But I’m absolutely rooted. Christ! Why not? That movie’d be enough to root anybody. Still. The night wasn’t a complete disaster. As well as being a real old sweetheart, Mrs Totten was a big help. And what about that lemon sponge cake. I should have snookered a couple of pieces when I was leaving.

  Les switched off the lights in the hallway, then the ones in his room and climbed under the douvet. Well, I wonder how I’ll go tomorrow, he thought as he shoved his head into the pillows. I’ll more than likely strike out again, I suppose. And I wonder what Widow Settree’ll be like? You couldn’t bet enough money she’ll whinge and whine about her miserable life all the way to Apollo Bay and back. Fair dinkum. If my quest hasn’t been long and fraught with shit, I’m a cocky-eyed dwarf with a hygiene problem. Les yawned again then pulled the douvet up round his ears and in minutes he was snoring his head off.