Yeah, I was in hospital but why or how I had no clue. The sun shifted and I could see other beds around me. Next to me, there was a woman, about twenty-five, with one of her legs in traction. Opposite, there was a man with his whole head wrapped in bandages.
‘You collapsed at a nightclub in the Valley,’ said Dad, matter-of-factly.
Pop! Suck me, Rosie. Suck me. A nipple-ring hard between my teeth. Soft licking with tongue.
I turned to Dad, ‘What day is it?’
‘Two days before Christmas,’ said Dad. ‘You’ve been in and out of unconsciousness for a day or so now.’
‘You could have died,’ cried Mum.
My head whirred. I looked up and there at the foot of my bed was a young doctor with a pink carnation stuck in the breast pocket of his shiny, pin-striped suit. With a deep frown, he inspected my chart, then proceeded, with sharp, efficient steps, up the bed and perched on the side.
‘You’ve had a close shave, Rosemary.’ He was peering into my eyes with a bright light. He had oily hair and his breath reeked of black coffee and fags. ‘You’ve suffered a minor respiratory arrest and severe dehydration. When you came in, you weren’t even breathing.’ He slipped the cold disc of a stethoscope down the neck of my nightie. ‘We’ve been monitoring your heart and other major organs for damage and,’ he paused to listen to my ticker, ‘it all seems to be OK. You’ve been lucky.’ He withdrew the stethoscope and smiled at me like I was three years old. ‘Now, would you like to go home for Christmas?’
Christmas. Christmas with Mum and Randy. I was busting out of my pants.
‘Yes, Doctor. It would be lovely to have her home for Christmas,’ Mum chirped, and fluttered her eyelashes just because he was a doctor.
He took a fancy gold pen from his suit pocket, scribbled something on my chart and hooked it back on the end of the bed.
‘One of our psychiatric consultants will be around in the morning to have a little chat with you,’ he said.
‘Don’t worry. She’ll be alright, Doc,’ said Dad, patting me on the head. ‘She’s a tough old boot.’
As soon as the doctor was gone, Mum was at Dad’s throat. ‘You’re such an embarrassment.’
‘What?’ said Dad.
‘Since when do you talk to a doctor like that? Calling your daughter a tough old boot.’
‘It was a joke.’
‘The only joke was marrying you.’
They were giving me a headache so I found the remote attached to a retractable cord and turned up the volume on Days, which was just finishing. That shut them up. Dad got up and stood at the windows, hands deep in his pockets, looking down at the heavy, silent traffic lumbering along some major arterial.
Mum sat on the bed. She glanced around the room and whispered, ‘Hollie’s brother attacked a young man at the Arena nightclub, the same night you were there. The police have been up here already, asking all sorts of questions. They want to know if you were involved, Rosemary. If there’s anything you know, you better tell me, now.’
Pop! Danny’s spear floated through the air in a slow, graceful arc.
In a flash, I was wide awake. Scott. Danny had speared Scott. That’s why he’d been stalking him all along. Dad pivoted from the window.
‘It’s been all over the papers. I didn’t realize it was the Bailey boy. Thought he’d been locked up years ago. Didn’t he bump off some kid?’
‘Rosemary, please try hard to remember,’ Mum insisted. ‘The last thing I want is you getting in some kind of trouble.’
‘Mum, I can’t remember anything.’
‘They reckon he was dressed up like some kind of abo,’ Dad added. ‘He stabbed the guy with a spear. Then he just disappears. The cops are everywhere trying to find him.’
‘Did they say who he was? The guy Danny attacked?’ I asked, trying to sound casual.
‘No, not yet,’ said Dad.
‘Is he alright?’ I asked, praying like fuck Danny hadn’t killed Scott.
‘Yes,’ Mum jumped in. ‘They said on the news he was in a stable condition.’
I sat up in bed, busting to know if it really was Scott. I needed to call the Greenwoods and then Hollie to find out more about Danny but I couldn’t do anything while Mum and Dad were still in the room. Visiting hours were nearly over so I waited it out, chewing at my nails and channel-surfing while Mum probed my drug-fucked memory and Dad went back to staring out the window. Once they’d said their goodbyes, walking out together like a normal married couple, I grabbed the phone off the nightstand and dialled the Greenwoods but there was no answer. They were probably all at the hospital. No doubt in a room just around the corner. Next I tried Hollie’s house. Mr Bailey picked up.
‘Yes?’ He sounded strained, overwrought. He wasn’t due home from the States until Christmas but he must’ve flown in early because of Danny. ‘Who is this?’ he demanded. The gruffness in his voice made me panic and I hung up straight away. I tried Hollie’s mobile but it was switched off. As a last resort, I called Trish at work. She’d know what’d happened. Fat Helen answered the phone and said Trish’d called in sick. Smelling a lie, I rang her place. She answered in a croaky voice.
‘Are you really sick?’ I snapped.
‘Hey, Rosebud, I thought you were someone from work.’ There was a pause as she lit a cigarette and inhaled down the line. ‘Have the cops been up there yet?’ Her voice was suddenly normal, if a little wired.
‘No. I don’t know. Why?’ I said, cagily.
‘I was gonna come up to see you and Bomber but I’ve been so fucked.’
‘Bomber?’
‘Yeah, didn’t you know? Right when you collapsed, some weirdo pretending to be a coon came at him with this spear thingy and punctured his kidney.’ Trish snorted.
‘Is he alright?’ I asked, relieved it was Bomber, not Scott.
‘Yeah. Scotty came by yesterday and said he was doing OK.’
Scotty? ‘But you don’t even know Scott.’
‘He was there when you collapsed. He gave you mouth to mouth while I called the ambulance.’
‘Oh.’
‘Anyway, Rosebud,’ she said, in a changing-the-subject tone, ‘the whole night was pretty insane. You were having a spastic fit and Bomber was on the floor, blood gushing everywhere. The ambulance guys came in and took you both to hospital. The cops were all over the place but the abo-freak got away. Scotty tells me that it was Hollie’s brother. It’s all over the telly. What a psycho.’ I tried to interrupt but Trish was talking too fast. ‘Anyway, Scotty and me, we got a cab up to the hospital but they told us to go home but fuck, we were still beaming off our tits, so we went back to the rave.’
‘You what?’ Across the room, the guy in the mummy bandages grumbled at me to keep it quiet. Lowering my voice, I hissed, ‘I can’t believe you did that.’
‘Did what?’ she said, all innocent.
‘I was in some kind of coma and you and Scott went back to the rave? Whose idea was that?’
Trish sucked on her cig. She had a wheeze in her chest. ‘I think it was Scotty’s,’ she said, unfazed.
‘Then what did you do?’
‘Oh, nothing much. We came back here for a bit. Played some tunes, smoked some hash, crashed out on the couch. Serious, we were gonna come up but we reckoned your mum’d tear strips.’
They’d fucked, I was sure of it. I wished that Danny had got Scott. He fucking deserved it. I was too angry, too hurt to speak, so I hung up and shoved my head under the pillow so the other inmates couldn’t hear me crying. I tried Hollie’s mobile again, desperate now to hear her voice. It was still switched off but this time I left a message:
‘Please call me. I need to speak to you.’
Later that night, Hollie came by to visit. As soon as she saw me, she hurried over, flinging a bunch of white lilies on the bed, and kissed me on the lips.
‘Oh, my darling,’ she said. ‘I’ve been so worried about you.’ She looked paler than usual, with black shadows under her eyes a
nd she was wearing one of her costumes – a Medieval-style dress in crushed purple velvet with a large jewel-encrusted crucifix around her neck. After all the shit with Scott and Trish, it was like oceans of sunshine to see her, and when she leant in and kissed me again, I held her close.
Hollie tugged off her boots and wriggled into bed with me. Her fingers, usually cold to the touch, were warm as she pulled the sheet up over our heads. She pressed her lips against my ear and whispered, ‘Let me tell you a secret.’ Her eyes were bright with excitement like she wasn’t upset or worried at all. I was sure she was going to tell me that Danny was OK and where he was hiding.
‘What is it?’ I urged.
Hollie hesitated, her cheeks flushed. ‘I’ve been dying to tell you since it happened but I was worried what you would think.’
‘What are you talking about?’ I whispered. ‘Tell me about Danny.’
‘This is about Danny, darling.’ She squeezed my hand under the covers.
‘Hey, visiting hours are over!’ A butch peroxided nurse ripped back the sheet and stood glowering over us. ‘That means you gotta leave, princess,’ she barked at Hollie, who scampered out from under the covers.
‘C’mon,’ I said. We headed down the corridor, out of the ward, and took the lift down to the cafeteria on the ground floor. After two days in bed, my legs felt weak and papery, but it was good to be walking again. Hollie got two hot chocolates out of a machine and we sat facing each other at a corner table. Apart from a woman mopping the floor and a man with his head buried in his arms, the place was deserted.
‘Where is he?’ I started, but Hollie shook her head and kicked me hard in the shin with her boot under the table. From her bag, she pulled a leather-bound notebook and tore a small square of the thick, creamy paper from the middle. She scribbled something with her fountain pen and pushed it across the table.
‘He’s in the cave.’
I grabbed Hollie’s pen and wrote on the paper: ‘What about the cops?’
She nodded and wrote: ‘I said nothing.’
Hollie scrunched the paper up into a tiny ball and swallowed it down with a big gulp of hot chocolate. I almost laughed. We walked out to the main entrance and sat down on a plastic bench. No one was around.
‘So, what’s the big secret?’ I said, remembering how excited Hollie had been back in the ward.
She broke into a broad grin. ‘Well, I’m not sure what you’re’ She paused, looking down at her lap. ‘Oh, God.’
‘C’mon, Hols. Just tell me.’
‘No, it’s nothing.’ She shook her head. ‘Forget it, OK? I’ll tell you another time.’ I was too buggered to argue so we said nothing for a while. Hollie swung her legs back and forth impatiently. I had no energy left in me but I didn’t want Hollie to go yet.
‘You know, for some reason I thought he’d got Scott,’ I said. ‘It sounds bad but I was kind of relieved when I heard it was Bomber.’
Hollie turned to me, a sudden hardness in her eyes. ‘Bomber?’
‘Yeah, you know, Scott’s mate. But then, it could’ve been anyone, couldn’t it? The police know Danny didn’t mean it, right? They know he’s ill?’ I was testing her. Deep down I knew Danny had been after Scott. Why else had he been stalking him the past week? He must have got Bomber by accident. But I wanted to know what Hollie knew. If there was something she wasn’t telling me.
She searched my eyes as if she knew I was bluffing. Then, jumping up from the bench, she headed for the exit. I called after her, bewildered by her reaction. Too late, she was gone through the automatic doors, her purple skirts billowing upon a sudden hot gust of summer wind. As she ran across the road and into the night, my instinct was to go after her, but I turned and went back to the ward, exhausted.
16
It was Christmas Eve morning and I was on my way to the hospital shop to scrounge up some kind of present for Mum and Randy, when I ran into Bomber. He was shuffling down the corridor in a pair of rubber thongs and a white dressing gown. By his side was one of those metal wheelie contraptions carrying a bag of bright yellow piss. It was for this, and the look of sheer misery on his face, that I stopped to speak to him.
‘Hi, Bomber.’
He stared at his feet and mumbled, ‘Heard you were in here.’ Out of his rapper gear, he seemed smaller, kind of deflated.
‘How are you?’ It felt mighty strange being nice to Bomber.
‘Fucked. Thanks to that fucking faggot weirdo, my kidney’s fucked, man.’
‘I’m sorry.’ What else could I say? ‘He didn’t mean it.’
‘Like fuck he didn’t,’ Bomber seethed. ‘I was there when he killed Matty Taylor.’ He pounded his fist into his palm. ‘Bam! Smashed right into his skull. Scrawny little cocksucker. Like fuck he didn’t mean it. He meant it then and he means it now. Man, I can’t wait to get my hands on him as soon as I’m out of here.’
‘He’s not gay, Bomber. Just because he doesn’t pump weights and jerk off to porno all day.’
Bomber snorted. ‘Nah, man. Don’t tell me the fucker’s not bent. It’s so fucking obvious.’ He flapped his hands in imitation of Danny. ‘Just ask Woody. Oh yeah, man, Woody knows.’
‘What does Scott know?’
Bomber ignored my question. ‘You’re mates with his sister, right?’
‘So?’
‘Well, you tell whatever-her-name-is that I’ll be coming to beat the crap out of him. He’s dead meat, man.’
‘Aren’t you a bit old to still be playing the school bully?’
‘Nah, you listen to me.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I’ve got a good idea where the fucker’s got to. You see, way back, before he turned butt-poker, we were all mates, Danny, Woody, Muzz and me. Real good mates.’ He drummed two thick fingers against his temple. ‘He thinks he can outsmart the cops, well, I reckon I can smoke the cunt out of his hole.’
‘You’re so full of it, Bomber.’ I said, walking away. ‘You’ve always been full of it.’
But the rest of the morning in the ward Bomber’s threat played on my mind. Sure, he was a first-class shit-stirrer but there’d been genuine menace in his voice and I was worried he knew something about the cave. His cryptic line kept resurfacing – Just ask Woody. Oh yeah, man, Woody knows – until the shrink came by and asked me to describe how I felt about my parents’ divorce.
That afternoon, Randy picked me up from hospital in my car. Mum was waiting for her Christmas cake to come out of the oven so she’d sent him instead. Randy carried my overnight bag as we walked across the carpark. After being cooped up for so long, the sun-glare off the tarmac gave me an instant headache. I slumped back in the seat with my feet up on the dash and wound down the window. I was in no mood for chit-chat but as soon as we were on the road, Randy started.
‘So, how’re you feeling? We’ve been worried about you,’ he said, as we chugged down the overpass past Suncorp Stadium. ‘Janice, your mother, she thinks you need a change.’
I stared out the window at the Fourex brewery, sniffing at the rich, yeasty air blowing in soft around me. ‘What? Like a sex change.’
‘No,’ Randy chortled. ‘A change of direction.’
‘Oh. I see.’ We were stopped at the lights. In front of us was a supermodel couple in an open-top beamer. They were eating soft-serve ice-creams and laughing. I hated them. ‘But I am changing direction.’
‘Great. A positive attitude is the first step.’ Randy thumped the steering wheel and grinned across at me. ‘So, you’ve been thinking about going back to university?’
‘No.’
‘Oh.’ His smile faded. That shut him up for a while. I zoned out the window, watching the khaki blur of eucalypts skid by as we puttered through Auchenflower, then Toowong. Going past Shoppingtown, Randy turned to me, one hand on the wheel.
‘I know what you need.’ He was beaming like a born-again. ‘Inspiration. Don’t you get excited just thinking about all the wonder out there, waiting to be discovered? I mean, how could anyone get
bored when you can learn how stars are made or dream about fourth dimensions or imagine life on other planets or decode your own DNA or contemplate the awesome possibilities of string theory?’ He blinked, excitedly. ‘Don’t you think?’
‘I dunno.’
‘Just look at all the beauty in the world.’ Randy waved his hand out the window as we skirted around the concrete monolith of the Green Hill Reservoir. ‘The millions of different colours of coral in the ocean, the velvet touch of a rose petal, the fascinating lives of ants, the unsolved mysteries of the human mind, that deep midnight blue of the sky on a winter’s night, the lovely squeak of sand between your toes at the beach.’
‘Whatever you reckon, Randy.’ We were turning right into Fleming, the old rollercoaster road. Randy took it slow.
‘But, that’s all there is,’ he said. ‘The here and now. The proverbial bug in amber. You’ve got to live it to the full because there’s probably not much afterwards except a few of your old molecules zipping around in outer space. C’mon, Rosie. What do you think? What’s the point? What’s it all about, hey?’
I thought hard for a decent comeback. ‘Oblivion.’
Randy pulled into the drive and yanked the handbrake. He undid his seat-belt and pivoted around to face me. ‘You mean, just being? Not thinking about the past or the future?’
‘Yeah, I s’pose.’ I got out of the car. ‘Thanks for the lift.’
‘No problem, Rosie. Hey, let’s talk about this more later, OK?’
While Randy parked my car in the garage, I went inside. Mum was in the kitchen licking cake mixture out of the bowl. She rushed over and hugged me. I stood stiff in her embrace, annoyed that she’d set Randy up to brainwash me.
‘Are you alright? How are you feeling? Do you want something to eat? How ’bout a nice cup of tea or some Christmas crackle?’ She was being way too nice.
‘I want to go to bed.’
‘OK,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you go lie down in my bedroom with the air-con on? It’ll be quieter in there.’
I spent the rest of the afternoon dozing on Mum’s floral spread, despite the muffled sound of drilling coming from the courtyard. Around six, Mum came in and woke me in a flap. The cops had dropped by to ask a few questions. I went out in Mum’s chenille to find them drinking tea in the courtyard. Mum hovered about offering them Christmas cake and smiling her head off. For once, Randy stayed out of it.
The Dark Part of Me Page 17