Bitin' Back

by Vivienne Cleven

  ‘Well then, it better be good, Mavis. I’m sick a people tellin me all sorts a shit. I jus dunno who to believe any more. Seems like even you changed somewhere long the line. Like ya ain’t Mavis Dooley no more.’

  ‘Ya believe me, Gwenny, I wouldn’t lie. Anyhow, whatcha mean I ain’t Mavis Dooley any more?’ I turn n face her.

  ‘Jus that ya seem different somehow. Like ya been changin into somebody else. Sorta like ya hidin somethin. Oh, I dunno, sorry Mave, maybe I’m grog-fucked or somethin.’ She looks at me, sussin eyes crawlin over me dial.

  ‘Talkin shit, woman. I ain’t different,’ I throw an arm round her shoulder as we head for the door.

  Terry blocks the doorway. ‘How are ya, love?’ he asks, in a syrupy voice, all con job.

  ‘All right. Get outta my way.’ I push past him n step outside. No time for any shit today. A woman got serious business to tend to. Drug business.

  ‘Hey, you looken good. Can I come over and see you later?’ He calls out, all smooth.

  ‘Yeah, whatever.’ I reply, a flutter in me guts. But, eh, ol girl, maybe Terry’s in on this Edge stuff. Go on big notin yaself. Who really knows what goes on in that head a his? Ya don’t really know a lot bout the man. Could be a killer for all ya know. Watch ya steps there, ya might go arse-over. Terry could be sussin on ya.

  As me and Gwen go down the steps, Dotty flies past, looks over her shoulder and gives me a nasty grin. ‘Cheat. Bingo cheat! Bitch! I’m going to get you, Dooley! It’s only a matter of time,’ she says in a cracked, I-really-hate-you voice. I watch as she hurries to her car. Before she gets in she casts me one more look, dangerous and hateful. I smile at her. See, ya don’t worry me one little bit.

  ‘Fuck ya. Gorn ya ugly slut!’ Gwen shouts, wavin a fist in her direction.

  Wish Dotty’d leave a person lone n get some sorta life steada pickin me to death. Gee, one a these days I’m gonna really bust me guts—then she’ll be sorry. She’s in this Edge shit fer sure. I’d bet me life on it.

  We motor on towards my place. I wonder how I’ll tell Gwen everythin. A woman gotta tell her the whole story. It ain’t gonna be pretty.

  I push the front door open and we go inside. The house is too quiet. Where Nevil n Trevor at? I step into the kitchen. Shock knocks me back into the wall. I grab hold a me throat. I struggle to breathe.

  Everything looks hazy. Me legs are burnin up like a red-hot iron branded on me. I be stamped for a turn—I slippin fast. Why did Jean ever come into me life? She killin me. A dead woman killin me. I dying.

  Sitting at the table drinkin tea n eating biscuits is Missus Warby and Big Boy. At the other end a the table sits Nevil, frocked n made up like a paintin. This ain’t no joke. Big Boy n Missus Warby would have to suss that.

  Spots appear before me eyes. I throw out an arm towards Gwen. I must be dreamin. It’s a dream, magination. Too much stress for a woman. Doctor Chin, gotta see him. I fight for air. A woman dead.

  FIFTEEN

  He’s Crossed That River

  ‘Nevil ... Nevil, what the fuck is on your face?’ Gwen asks, her eyeballs poppin outta her skull as she walks toward him.

  ‘Yeah, well, hello to you too. It’s make-up. You know, lipstick and eyeshadow,’ Nevil says, smilin up at her.

  ‘It’s an experiment,’ Trevor interrupts, castin me small glances as I prop meself gainst the wall. Phew, saved by Trevor!

  Gwen shakes her head. ‘Huh, funny, very funny. You n your jokes, Nevil Dooley.’ Then she turns to Big Boy. ‘Anyway, what’re you doin here, Boy?’

  ‘Come to get the Nev for trainin,’ he replies, shruggin his shoulders. ‘What, a grown man can’t go nowhere less he ask his mother?’

  ‘Missus Warby, whatcha doin here?’ I ask, me mouth dry.

  ‘I brought some shortbread over for Nev, I know how much he likes it,’ she answers, tappin the side a the tin teacup.

  ‘Well, since you’re here I might as well ask you some questions bout this drugs business. That is if you know anythin, which a woman thinks ya might.’ I show me teeth, pull out a chair n plonk down beside her. The woman got the grace to look shamejob face. Now fer some grillin.

  ‘What drug business, Missus D?’ Big Boy butts in, reachin down to haul a beer from the half-opened carton on the floor.

  ‘Well, Boy, somebody’s been phonin Max n em other cops at Bullya there n tellin em we drug pigeons, me n Nevie. Seems somebody’s got a hate gainst us. Hhmm, now I wonder who’d do that?’ I turn round quick n raise my eyebrows at Missus Warby.

  ‘Oh no, you don’t, Mavis. I had nothing to do with it all. If you want to accuse anyone you can blame Dorothy Reedman for that. I just—’ Missus Warby pauses, gatherin her defences like, then her eyes flash. ‘Yes, she’s the one that told me. What could I do? Mavis, I thought you were in trouble here! But now I know the real story.’ She stops, then wipes at her eyes.

  I scan the woman’s dial. Is she really that cracked? Yep, I reckon she is. ‘Look Missus Warby, what ya done was stupid. Yeah, bloody stupid! Now, I know ya lookin out for me n Nev but this shit has gotta stop!’ I watch the way her hands fiddle whit the tablecloth. I push on. ‘Right. Now did Dotty mention the name Jean Rhys or Isaac Edge? Jus think. Cos it’s real portant.’

  ‘Hey, I know those names!’ Big Boy bursts out.

  ‘Yeah, from where?’ Gwen sits beside him, her eyes takin in his face.

  ‘I er ... I—um. Don’t worry bout it. Let’s jus say I seen Edge the other day down at the old bridge n he said somethin bout this Jean.’ He coughs n puts a hand over his mouth, as if he can’t say any more.

  ‘What he look like? Paint us a picture, Boy.’ I scope in on him. Come on, Boy. Drop ya guts, son. Let it all out.

  ‘Weeelll, see, the problem is, the fella was standin right under the bridge. Had a hat on so I couldn’t really get a good go at him. Said somethin bout Jean bringin in some good shit from Bullya.’ He laughs n takes a swig a beer.

  ‘Yes, that’s right! Dotty mentioned those names!’ Missus Warby all but screams out in her excitement. ‘Seems Max told her to keep a good eye on Jerry, her son, because some people were targeting all the young folk in Mandamooka! Drugs, that’s it, drugs!’

  ‘Gwen, this drug dealer Isaac Edge has got to be Darryl Kane; Jean Rhys don’t come into it. I reckon somebody got they wires crossed on that one, though I don’t know how.’ I puzzle it out. Someone got the wrong message it seems. We’re accidents, I reckon. Yep, me n Trev n Nev jus bystanders. Don’t reckon Jean got a lot to do whit this—or do she?

  ‘But Dotty knew about it, didn’t she!’ Missus Warby pipes up.

  ‘That’s right. How did she find out?’ I suss in on her.

  ‘Well, I’ve got a small confession to make.’ Missus Warby stops and clears her throat. She begins slow, head down, ‘Dotty came over to my place one day and she got on my spot by the fence there and looked over. Apparently—this is what she told me—Trevor there was talking into one of them fancy phones, you know, the ones you can walk around with.’

  ‘A mobile,’ Gwen interrupts.

  ‘Yes, thanks, one of them. She said Trevor was telling someone at the other end about this woman staying here. He mentioned her name—Jean Rhys. And that this Jean woman was fooling everyone and that when all the town knew the real truth, the shi ... the truth would knock them all out. He said she was a genius, this woman Jean.’ Missus Warby, stops and sighs wearily. Like it’s all too much for her to take in.

  ‘Trust Dotty to get it all ballsed up. Only Dotty could take somethin like that n blow it all up.’ I nod me head tiredly.

  ‘Who is Jean Rhys?’ Gwen, Big Boy and Missus Warby chorus.

  ‘Don’t ask me. Ask Trevor n Nev there.’ I point at both of them, an angry glare on me dial.

  Trevor coughs loudly, clears his throat, then looks to Nevil. ‘Will I?’

  ‘Go right ahead,’ Nevil shrugs with a sigh, then goes quiet, his eyes tight shut.

  ‘Jean was someone we just sort o
f made up for this experiment. Now, I can’t tell you everything but I can tell you it’s all got out of control. I came here to try and help a good friend of mine. Now it seems that this whole town has taken something I said and misinterpreted it. There’s no Jean Rhys that’s a drug pigeon, a courier. Someone must have said her name to someone else, and Mandamooka being the town it is—just ran with the entire thing.’

  ‘Added,’ I jump in. ‘Built more on more. Sorta links in a chain, whit me n Nev bein the weak link on the arse enda it. Weighin it down till it weaken. Talk, right outta control. People takin lies for fact!’

  ‘Exactly. Jean Rhys was a famous writer. She is not someone who’s actually alive. To make it a little bit easier for all of you, I should tell you about myself...’ Trevor stops midway and looks over to the doorway.

  ‘Trev, how the fuck are ya!’ Booty strides in from work, covered from head to toe in blood. The man a walkin abbatoir.

  ‘Yeah, it’s Darryl! It’s got to be Darryl.’ Gwen yells, the truth written cross her face. Mavis, remember the night you decked him down at the pub there! Remember, n he swore he was gonna getcha for makin him look a right jerk in fronta everyone!’

  ‘That’s it! He said he was gonna get me, eh. The friggin bastard!’

  ‘Mum, what are you on about?’

  ‘I dropped him cos he was tryin to kick Gwen in the guts. The whole bar was gawkin n laughin at him. Nah, he didn’t like that. Shamed him up good n proper a woman did.’

  ‘Why, Mum? What’s goin down?’ Big Boy throws a look a suspicion at Gwen.

  ‘He was having an affair whit your Mumma! The bastard was goin round town tellin em all bout how good she is! Ya know what I mean!’ I slap one hand on the table.

  ‘He was talkin bout you, Mum?’ Big Boy stares at Gwenny’s face, his large, hairy hands balled into fists.

  Gwen just sits there, head dropped, fulla shame, n stares at the lino.

  ‘That’s right, Boy. Said a lot a dirty things bout her. Ain’t no man gonna do that in front a ol Mavis Dooley n get away whit it.’ I push on, angry.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Mum?’ says Big Boy, lips quiverin, eyes deadly slitted.

  ‘What the fuck is going on here?’ Booty wheels round from the fridge n stares straight at Nevil.

  ‘Hey, Uncie, don’t look at me. I don’t really know.’

  ‘Bout this drug business,’ I say weakly. Drugs. Drugs. That’s all a woman’s been hearin.

  I turn round to ask Missus Warby some more questions but before I open my mouth she’s almost out the front door. Move mighty fast for a ol woman. I let her go.

  ‘What was she doin here?’ I look at the boys.

  ‘Come across to say sorry to us. Trevor picked her up from the fence line today. Yep, gawkin so much she fell over the fence!’ Nevil laughs.

  I turn to Booty. ‘It were Darryl Kane set us up. Yep, all that drug business was because I done slammed Darryl down at the Two Dogs.’

  ‘That right, eh? Well fuck, he a real man ain’t he? Settin up a woman n a kid for drugs!’ Booty smiles dangerous like. He pats his big gut then looks at Big Boy, like he sizin him up for somethin. ‘Boy, you wanna settle a score?’ He grabs a stubbie from the box and sits down beside him.

  ‘Reckon I do,’ Big Boy answers, his eyes glued to Booty’s face.

  ‘No! No, forget it!’ Gwen scowls at Booty. ‘My Boy ain’t gettin inta any trouble, Booty Dooley! I know what ya up to n don’t ya dare bring Boy inta it!’

  I scowl at Gwen. ‘Let em be. This bout me n me boy there too! Kane tried to do us over! Ya can’t be stickin up for the bastard n look at what he done to you, woman!’

  She grins fool like then shuts up and stares across at Big Boy with threat on her face.

  ‘Leave the boy alone. He got his pride, woman! He’s not gonna let every bastard run his mamma down!’ I hiss, glarin at her. Don’t mess whit me, Gwenny. I ain’t the one to be friggin whit, today of all days.

  ‘That’s right, Gwenny.’ Booty chimes in. ‘The boy gotta live in this town. They’ll fuck him over if he don’t set this straight. Right?’

  Booty shoves a stubbie at her. ‘Don’t worry, ya boyfriend ain’t gonna get murdered.’ He laughs, then burps n farts. He swings his big body round to face Trevor n shoots him a dangerous look.

  Straight out like, Trevor bites back, ‘It’s got nothing to do with me at all.’ He closes his gob into a thin line.

  ‘It ain’t? Now, son, why ya say that?’ Booty gives him a once over.

  ‘No way! This is right out of my league,’ Trevor replies.

  Yep, the boy learnin all bout Booty. Probably shittin hisself in case he gotta fight somebody. A woman don’t blame him for that. The boy been to hell n back since he done turned up here in this town.

  I look at Booty watchin Nevil, weighin him up like a chook in a raffle. N the raffle bout to be drawn—who the winner? Oh yeah, Mister Darryl Kane. Take home ya prize, Mr Kane. Throw that ol bawldy piece a meat in ya oven—roast him good now. Then serve him up whit spuds n punkin; slap some gravy on that ol leg. Eat it, then shit it out. Good tucker, eh.

  ‘Whatcha gonna do, Boy?’ Booty stirs.

  ‘Shut up. Don’t start,’ I’m firin.

  ‘Whatcha gonna do, Kid Goanna?’ Booty smirks at Nevil.

  ‘Nuthin, he doin nuthin! I’ll get Kane, leave Nev outta it!’ I stand up.

  ‘No, I’ll get Kane!’ Big Boy thumps the table.

  ‘Shut up, Boy,’ I frown at him.

  ‘No, you shut up, Mavis! I’ll get Kane!’ Gwen yells, suddenly coming alive.

  ‘Are ya a man, Sonny Jim?’ Booty laughs in Nevil’s face.

  ‘I’ll kill that fucker!’ Big Boy throws his fists in the air.

  ‘No, no! I’ll do it. I’ll do it!’ Gwen jumps up.

  ‘Shut up n sit down, Mum, you talkin shit!’ Big Boy growls.

  ‘I’ll do the bastard over. I did before!’ I scream at all a them.

  ‘Shut ya cake hole, Sister! You too, Gwenny. Let the boys here deal whit him!’ Booty roars.

  ‘I’m dealing with him!’ The voice coming from the doorway echoes with violence. I swing about wildly. Standin there, shotgun in hand, killer look on her face is Missus Warby. Seventy years if she a day. Hair colour a frosty mornin. She feeble. The woman can like hardly get bout. But her eyes queer.

  The woman looks like a maniac. Dressed from head to toe in black. Pair a man’s boots on her feet. Man’s big buckle belt slung offa hips. She lookin to kill. She looks small in her dead husband’s clothes.

  Everyone is speechless. Then Booty pulls himself up to his feet n says, ‘Missus Warby, what the frig are you doin?’

  She adjusts her hip belt and walks into the room. ‘Never, never has anyone put anything past me in my life. I know now the real grief Kane has caused this fine woman before me. God has spoken to me, Mister Dooley, he has told me that the seeds of contempt, the seeds of hell are sown right here in Mandamooka! Right here in Mister Darryl Kane! He’s killing folk with his business! That’s right, murder! The man tries to set this woman and her little boy up for his own evil doings! I won’t stand for it! It’s always the old people, women and children to go first, isn’t it? Yes, sireee, always the weak ones to go down first.’ She slides a shell into the shotgun chamber.

  ‘Missus Warby, stop right now!’ I jump to my feet. The woman crazycracked. Yep, after all these years she done finally lost her poor ol scone. Ivy Warby a flat out lunatic. N she gonna do some damage.

  ‘Grieve no more, my good friend. I shall free you from the Devil’s arms. Mister Kane has just crossed a river and he’s got no chance of coming back. You could say he’s stuck up a river of poop without a paddle.’ She raises the gun in the air, eyes blazin as she runs her mole n flecked hand over the barrel.

  I reel backwards. The woman nutty as a fruit cake. Her red eyes done tell me that. She gone, long gone. The woman’s mad. She finally cracked.

  Suddenly, from the corner a me eye, I
see a small, fast movement, then like a bright flash somebody flies past me. I feel a breeze on me face. It happens so fast that I wonder if all this is real. I wonder if me own head’s bein so fucked whit I don’t know shit from shampoo anymore. Maybe it’s me is goin round the bend? Maybe none a this is true. Could a woman be maginatin all a this? I fall back gainst the table. The shotgun comes to life. The blast echoes loudly through the room. Me eardrums explode. Blood rushes to me head. It’s rainin? A woman feel rain peltin down her body.

  I look up. The ceiling starts crumblin. Show’s over. That’s all she wrote.

  Someone’s dead.

  SIXTEEN

  Hostage Taker

  Trevor lies curled up on the floor, arms coverin his head. The boy whimpers like a gut-kicked dog. He in total fear.

  Booty, grey-faced, stands by the fridge holdin onto Big Boy’s shoulders. Big Boy looks ready to have a turn, his body all hunched over. He holds his hand up to his mouth like he gonna spew up.

  Gwen crouches near the stove holdin a lump of wood in one hand, her dress tucked up into her bloomers as she stares fish-eyed round the kitchen.

  On the other side of the room near the doorway lies Nevil, his arms wrapped round the laid-out figure of Missus Warby, the gun beside them.

  Everything silent. Not one word, no one even breathin. The air stinks like gunpowder. In the distance I hear sirens—police, the ambulance.

  I lift meself up from the table and walk over on shaky legs to the figures curled up on the floor. They dead; me Nev, Missus Warby. There ain’t no God in this world. Why would the woman take up arms? To kill people jus like that.

  A picture show flashes cross me eyes. I see me Nevie runnin cross the lawn, a football in his tiny, grubby hands. I see him sayin his first word: ‘Mum’. Most of all I see Booty holdin him up on he shoulders like a trophy, tellin him he be a gooder footballer than any a em mugs on the field. His uncle loved him so much. Yep, he were like Booty’s son. Now me boy gone. I hunch me shoulders forward as a scream rises in me throat.