‘I see you,’ I said dreamily.
‘WHAT?’ she bellowed.
‘I SAID, I SEE YOU!’ I immediately regretted shouting it.
She said nothing back, just laughed for the first time ever.
I was completely fucked again. It had been a slow, steady climb since the daiquiri way back in one of the first houses to the fiery shots with the Jordanians to the VBs here. Fuck the prawns, I thought, as I pressed into the warm sweaty groin of the woman I hated but wanted. Scotty had paired off with Andrea and was dancing behind her, his hands on her hips. The song finished, I swung Anaya round to find an empty step where Jim had sat.
I pressed my forehead against the door in the phone booth, convinced that I was making sense but finding it hard to remember the last sentence the nurse had spoken to me. I only had eight dollars in coins and had already used half saying God knows what.
‘His name is Joe. Joe Swaine, don’t call him Joseph, he hates it, it’s Joe, yeah?’
‘Kerry, we know his name is Joe, and I appreciate that you are far away, but there really is nothing to worry about …’
‘He hates it there, not-there, that-he’s-like-that-there, you know?’ I caught myself slurring.
The nurse sighed. ‘The last time you called up, you were drunk and abusive to the staff.’
‘FUCKSAKE!’
‘I won’t tolerate bad language. Perhaps you should call back. I’m going to terminate the call.’
‘Terminate? Come on, look.’ I had a point to make but couldn’t remember it. ‘OK-OK-OK, OK, listen, when it’s late at night here it’s the right time there, so that’s why I’m like this, you don’t like me calling the other time I’ve called.’
‘We can’t accept calls all of the time, we have to organise meals and that uses all the staff.’
I could hear her whispering my name to someone else in the background.
‘Like a fucking zoo, feeding time,’ I mumbled under my breath.
‘I beg your pardon.’
‘Nothing.’ I sighed and pressed my whole face into the door. ‘I need to speak to him, he’s my only family left.’
‘That’s not true; your mother has been here to visit your grandfather.’
‘I don’t talk to her. I want to talk to him, why can’t I?’ I heard Radio Forth come on in the background, seeping through from the inmates’ lounge to the warden’s office.
‘We don’t have the facilities to do that but we can pass on a message.’
‘Do you have the facilities to change the station or at least put it on one properly?’ I laughed entirely through my nose.
‘I’m going now, Ms Swaine.’
‘Please, please, when can I speak to him? He needs me.’
‘If you call back another time when you are sober, between our hours of nine and ten am we can perhaps come to some arrangement—’ The beeps went but I’d used all my dollars and the line went dead. I stood there for a while, blowing out through my mouth, before calling it a day and going back inside to bed.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
* * *
IT HAD BEEN a baking hot day, perhaps the hottest I had experienced since arriving in Sydney. It was 1st October, the start of the Australian spring. The time had moved so quickly since I began selling paintings, and I was starting to feel more settled than at any other time in my life. However, the fear of never achieving what I’d really come here to do in the first place was beginning to eat me up. I had called Hank a couple of times, but he’d had no luck. He told me I could call any time and just talk about things, but I backed off. I was also worrying about my drinking, which was starting to feel like a monkey on my back. I was growing tired of managing it, of watching it, of measuring my abstinence from it on the odd occasion when I would try turning over a new leaf. I had promised myself that once I had found what I was looking for, I would quit drinking for good, which would automatically stop me sleeping with so many strangers. One day the strangers would have to stop, and turn into one person.
But I didn’t feel that I could move on in any shape or form until I found her. Then, when I thought deeply about it, I came to the conclusion that I only looked for her when I really wanted to, when it felt pressing. The rest of the time I was just following the course of my life, whatever that was. Anyway, I was convinced that things happened for a reason; thinking the whole thing over panicked me, then the emptiness would set in again, and I would have to push it down for my own survival.
I had additional practical worries to consider as well; my work visa would run out in two months and then I would have to make some serious decisions. I didn’t know if I could sell paintings long term, I needed to have a proper career somewhere down the line. My money passed through my hands each week, my plan to save amounted to nothing as usual.
I rested my head against the back-seat car window and looked up at the Sydney sky, disappointed in myself as a tourist. We passed the green and white road signs leading us out of the city. The car was quiet, the Danish were snoozing. Karin had drifted off, causing her leg to lean against mine, which was making me sleepy. Scotty sat up front, his baseball cap covering his eyes, his head way back against the headrest. Jim was at the wheel, and had hardly spoken a word all afternoon. I leant forward and massaged his shoulders.
‘All right, love?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, just thinking,’ I said, not sure whether to share any of my feelings with Jim. I had the feeling since the barbie that he was off with me. I wondered if he thought my behaviour with Anaya was out of order. I was sick of Anaya, she was full of shit and games. I was looking forward to the trip away, to put some distance between us. I decided against discussing her with Jim.
‘And, how’re you doing?’
‘Just knackered. It’s too hot for this, isn’t it?’ he said, blowing out.
‘What were you like when you were my age, Jim? Were you happy?’
‘Huh.’ He coughed. ‘Thought I was, I suppose, but things are better now.’
‘So they get better as you get older, do they? All that shit is true, is it?’ I spoke softly, not wanting the others to hear. I had drunk with these people until late into the night, most nights since I had met them, and I had got to know them, but I didn’t talk to anyone about why I came here, or what I got up to in the houses. That was my business.
‘Well, you’ve got to put in a bit of effort, you know. It doesn’t just all fall into place, like.’ He looked at me over his sunglasses in the driving mirror.
‘Do you think there is such a thing as the right person for us all?’
‘Ooh, don’t know about that, but I’ve been burnt. Do you?’
‘I hope so,’ I said, half laughing and resting back on the seat again. ‘Or I’m fucked.’
This was the last night of selling before the coast trip. We had tomorrow off to get our things together, and I promised myself to give myself a sober day before our departure. The last thing I wanted was to be hungover in a car on a long, hot journey.
It was nowhere near dark when Jim dropped me at Watson’s Bay. I couldn’t wait for dusk to take the sting of the day away. I surveyed the houses with my now expert eye. There were many people not home from work yet, few cars outside and most doors and fly screens closed. The street was long and wide, I felt exposed, standing on the corner with my big black folder of lies.
I walked up a path belonging to a house that had a dog barking round the back. A woman answered.
‘Can I help you?’ She appeared cautious.
‘Well, my name’s Kerry, I’m travelling around with my paintings.’ I knocked on the folder. ‘Showing them to people, trying to raise some interest in my work.’
‘I don’t want to buy any paintings, thanks.’
She was right of course, but her directness irritated me.
‘I’m not necessarily selling them—’
She cut me off. ‘So you’re just wandering around are you, showing them to everyone just for the sake of it?’ She laughed a l
ittle.
No one had spoken to me like this before; she was bang on the nose.
‘Well, it’s really a different approach from the galleries that take so much from the artists. We have decided to bring art to people, just ordinary people like yourself.’
She pulled her hair behind her ears, her eyes darting all over me, the folder and the rest of the street. ‘I don’t think so.’ She began closing the door, which had happened many times. It was one of the hazards of the job, and I’d learned to let it quickly wash over me and move on to the next one, not wasting too much time with the no-go areas. But tonight I pushed it.
‘You could at least give me a minute.’
‘I don’t have a minute.’
A car pulled up outside, then reversed carefully into the driveway. We both watched it. She became increasingly anxious. I was turning away slowly, calling it a day, when the engine stopped and a man got out. I thought he was pointing down at my folder and mouthing something when he first pulled up, but then I told myself I was being paranoid. Turned out I wasn’t. His face was vaguely familiar, which could mean only one thing. He quickly got out of the car.
‘You don’t remember me, do you?’ He was tall and dark with cropped hair, and he moved his car keys in and out of his fist. He didn’t acknowledge the uptight woman, choosing to stare me out instead.
If I had sold to him, I couldn’t deny it, for he may have been a credit-card customer and everything would be recorded in a paper trail that would lead to my name and the company. Anyway, I wasn’t breaking the law, I said to myself, trying to feign relaxed and perplexed at the same time.
‘Amazing that I should run into you, don’t you think?’ He was milking it.
My mouth went dry. ‘That depends on the circumstances in which we met before.’ I tried to empower myself with my casual response.
‘Bruce, what the fuck’s going on?’ The woman changed the tone immediately with her use of fuck, bringing a sense of urgency that hyped us all up, each for our own individual reasons.
‘Bruce?’ I shook my head. ‘Nope, sorry, I still don’t remember.’
‘Well, I suppose you meet so many people on your little travels, it must be hard to keep track of who you run into.’
This was the point of no return.
‘Bruce, can you get inside?’ The woman had another agenda. I remained perplexed, lost for words for once.
‘No, you go inside, I’ve still got some questions to ask our little rip-off artist.’ Bruce thought he was Columbo. I wondered how long he was going to dance round the situation before charging me. He took a step nearer to me. I heard a heavy old engine with a meaty exhaust that I prayed was the Kingswood. It seemed to be coming from behind the house on the next road down, but I was unable to see through a thicket of trees to ascertain whether it was or not.
‘Bruce!’
Bruce turned to look at the woman who gestured furiously at the other houses.
‘Linda, get back inside. I’ll deal with this.’ The woman left, shaking her head and waving her arms around.
‘Listen, mate,’ I said reasonably, ‘whatever you’re worked up about, don’t take it out on me, I’ve done nothing wrong, I’ve just obviously sold you a painting that you no longer like, sorry, but …’ I was talking with a wobbly half-laugh voice, which I realised must be irritating but my nerves were taking over.
‘Let me see inside your folder, please!’
‘It’s a bit late for “please”, isn’t it?’
‘I’m going to go inside and phone the police if you don’t let me look. I have friends in the police force, you know.’
‘I don’t have to let you look, it’s my property.’ It was time for Bruce to back down. Through a small clearing at the back on the left, I could have sworn that I saw the creamy roof of the Kingswood getting closer.
‘You’re trespassing.’
‘What, on your land?’
He was about to say something, but changed his mind at the last minute. I knew from the moment he arrived that it wasn’t his house. It was time for me to be Columbo now.
‘OK, Bruce, what did I do to you?’
‘You sold me two paintings under the pretence that they were originals.’
‘Uh-huh.’ I nodded.
‘Then I bloody find out that there’s about four other people in the same street as us that have the same ones – so I want my bloody money back.’ Bruce had gone white round the lips by now, and a dark red in the face.
Of course he was completely within his rights, but that didn’t mean I was going to comply with them. Besides, I was about to win this case, because he’d made one fatal mistake.
‘I’m sorry if you feel I misrepresented the artwork I was selling but they are genuine paintings—’
He cut me off. ‘BULLSHIT!’ He looked around the street, moved even closer to me and clenched his teeth, trying to control the volume at which he was talking to me. ‘I paid you around three hundred dollars and I want it fucking back. Now, I want to see inside the folder, and I’m calling the police.’
‘Inside is a bunch of paintings. Some of them are the same designs as the ones I sold to you, but you know that, so why don’t you fuck off?’ I regretted the last bit, but at the same time it was so satisfying. This guy was being way too heavy with me. I began walking off. He strode towards the door to go inside and, I guessed, use the phone. The woman was at the curtain, and he pointed to the door for her to open it.
I got to the end of the drive, my heart pulsing, adrenalin rushing around my body, then I turned back, rushed to the door and knocked on it. She opened it, and I could see him on the phone in the background. I couldn’t let him do it. I remembered Greg telling us that we should never leave customers uncomfortable, or any untied loose ends that might have the company investigated, except he didn’t say investigated, but I knew that was what he meant. And that was where this was heading.
He dialled. I moved in for the kill. I put my folder against the outside wall, leaning into the house. He looked up at me.
‘You take one step in this house and I will have you prosecuted.’ He shook with rage, and was clearly dying to punch me, as I was him.
‘I’m not in your fucking house, I just want to sort this out, because you are being so heavy about this.’ I think I was as red as him by now. I put one foot inside the house, keeping the other on the step.
‘RIGHT, YOU CROSSED THE LINE!’ He slammed the receiver back down and lunged towards me. The woman rushed forward and grabbed him.
‘Bruce, for God’s sake! What are you doing?’ She restrained him slightly by pulling on his arm and standing between us. I had a quick look round the windows to check the neighbours’ situation, but remarkably nobody was about. I wanted him to shut up, but I also wanted him to push me, so I could push him back. He was a smug, uptight bastard and I wanted to kick his fucking boring little head in.
‘Tell her to get out and show me the folder, she’s a bloody liar!’ he snarled through gritted teeth, and an even madder face.
‘Will you show him the folder, if it makes things easier?’ she snapped.
This was out of hand, but that fucker wasn’t going to get me. I decided to do what I do best – bluff him.
‘Listen to me. I haven’t been here before. We cover different areas each night, so if, like you claim, I ripped you off’ I said ‘ripped you off’ in a heightened voice ‘then it wasn’t this address. So if this isn’t your address then it’s hers and she isn’t your sister, is she?’
In my head I was wearing a trenchcoat, pacing around the room with an old cigar.
‘It’s no business of yours who I am!’ The woman had just shot herself and Bruce in the foot.
‘What the hell has that got to do with anything?’ He was standing, slightly calmer, with his hands on each hip, in that arrogant prick way. I ignored his questions and continued in the direction I’d decided on.
‘I know it’s not your sister because of the way you spoke to her
.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said, just before I was about to charge him.
‘Look, you’re both wearing wedding rings. This isn’t where you live; you argued with her like you’re going out together. She was tense from the moment you arrived, and you backed down that drive cautiously as though you haven’t done it very often, so that rules out family visits unless she hasn’t lived here long. And there’s just one more thing.’ The Kingswood arrived at the end of the street, Scotty was driving. I turned so he could see me and flagged him manically to come over.
‘What are you saying?’ Bruce paused.
‘And do you know what?’
‘What!’ he shouted.
‘I have never sold to a single male, they are all married.’ I raised my eyebrows, really playing with him now.
Scotty pulled up outside and leant out the window.
‘Everything all right, mate?’
‘Not really.’ I said, turning towards him for a second then back to Bruce. I wasn’t out of the woods yet; there were still some loose ends.
‘You see, just as you can trace me, I can trace you through the sale. I could get your address and come round and apologise to you and your wife!’
‘Bruce, for God’s sake, let’s go inside and leave this silly little girl to whatever she’s doing.’ The woman tried to pull him away again, but Bruce stood defiantly.
Scotty walked up the path towards us gently and slowly, his hands in his pockets, unsure of what was going on and how to approach us.
‘You’ve got a bloody cheek,’ Bruce said, trembling slightly.
‘Can I help at all, mate?’ Scotty sounded the most serious I had ever heard him.
‘There’s just been a misunderstanding, but it’s OK now, just put my folder in the car, please, and I’ll be out in a second.’
‘Sure, mate, whatever. I’ll be here if you need me, OK?’
I nodded. Scotty gave Bruce a don’t-fuck-with-me-mate look, picked up the folder and walked back to the car.
The Naked Drinking Club Page 15