by Tony Birch
‘Why don’t you just call Pop on the phone?’ she asked. ‘He would come and get us.’
‘I don’t know his number, I never wrote it down. Anyway, it’s late and he would be in bed. We can get there ourselves.’
‘Can we go over there for the taxi, where there are more people, Jesse? I don’t like it here.’
It would have been a better idea to stay out of the way, but we weren’t having any luck on this side of the river. We’d just about crossed the bridge when we heard a mighty roar and saw flames shooting into the sky from a steel tube on the bank of the river. People screamed and clapped. There was another shot of flame further along the bank. And then another. And another. Just like the oil refineries, but with an audience.
Rachel was excited. ‘Let’s go down and take a look.’
I was watching the traffic, looking out for a taxi. ‘No, Rachel. We only have to find a taxi and we’ll be back at Pop’s.’
‘Please, Jesse. Can we do what I want? Just this once. I’ve done everything you told me.’
By the time we reached the riverbank the flames had died, but there was plenty going on. A big crowd had gathered round a busker hurling swords in the air. He had a punk mohawk, dyed red, heavy chains around his neck, and was wearing a leather vest and pants. Some in the crowd were dressed up flash, like they were going to a ball. Others had the arse out of their pants, just like us.
Rachel tried getting a closer look at the busker. She’d pushed her way to the front of the crowd before I could stop her. I stood on a bench at the back so I could get a better look myself and keep an eye on her. The busker was balancing on the back of a chair and playing a banjo at the same time. He then rode a one-wheeler bike, backwards and round in circles, while he read aloud from a book. And for his ‘grand finale’ he announced that her could juggle anything, ‘including the kitchen sink’.
A kitchen sink flew into the air and crashed to the ground at his feet.
‘Well, maybe not everything,’ he said, laughing, and bowed.
The crowd slowly emptied. The busker packed up his gear then sat on the ground and started counting the money he’d collected in a bowler hat. Rachel ran over to me and asked if we could give him some money.
‘It was fun, Jesse. Do you have some coins for him?’
I dug in my pocket. All I had was a fifty-cent piece and the roll of hundreds. I handed her the coin.
‘That’s all the change I’ve got.’
‘But we’ve got lots of money. We should give him some.’
‘If we go giving him a hundred-dollar note he’ll get suspicious. Look at us, Rachel. He might call the cops.’
‘I bet he won’t. Let me give him one. Please.’
I felt the roll in my pocket. The busker had packed his gear, including the sink, in a wire trolley with wheels, hooked up to the back of a bike. He was about to pedal away when I walked over to him.
‘We liked your show, and my sister wants to give you some money.’
He looked at us liked he felt sorry for the way we looked. ‘You two on your own? You’re out a little late. Keep your money. I’ve had a good night. Glad to hear that you got into it.’
‘But we want to give you something,’ Rachel butted in. ‘We’ve got lots of money, don’t we, Jesse?’
I could have kicked her.
‘No we don’t. She’s just being silly.’
I showed him the fifty-cent piece. ‘This is our money.’
I had the note in my other hand. ‘And I saw somebody put this in your hat. It missed and blew along the ground. My sister picked it up, didn’t you, Rachel?’
‘Yep. I picked it up. And it belongs to you.’
He took the note from me and held it between a finger and thumb. ‘A brick. Can you believe it? I’ve had a fifty before. Couple of times. Never a hundred. Why’d you give it back to me? You look like you got nothing yourselves.’
‘It’s not our money to keep,’ I said, which was pretty much the truth.
He patted Rachel on the head. ‘I’ll be honest with you. I’d find it hard not to keep it, myself. You two on your own?’
‘Nup. We’re waiting for our dad. He’s in the casino having a bet. We have to wait here for him,’ I answered.
‘Is he? See that all the time. Kids can sit here all night. You should go stand over there for him, where it’s lighter near the door. There’s a lot of shifty types around here. On the sniff for tackers just like you. Will you do that for me?’
I took Rachel’s hand. ‘We will.’
As soon as he’d pedalled off I jerked Rachel by the hand. ‘We’re getting out of here.’
We walked along the riverbank towards the bridge. A bicycle path ran under the bridge.
‘We’ll take a shortcut under here. It’ll bring us out on the other side of the road.’
‘But it’s dark under there. I don’t think we should go.’
‘Don’t go being a sook now, Rachel. There’s no one around. We’ll be okay.’
We were on pathway under the bridge when I heard voices talking, quietly. I could see two figures in the shadows to the side of us. One was a man in a suit leaning back against a wall. The other was a kid on his knees in front of the man.
‘What are they doing, Jesse?’
‘Don’t look. Let’s go quicker.’
We walked as fast as we could. We’d almost made it out when someone crashed into my back, threw me to the ground and pushed my face into the dirt. I could feel a hand going through my pockets and someone spitting on the back of my neck.
‘What have you got there, prick?’
Rachel was screaming. I tried wrestling free, but couldn’t move. A hand went into my front pocket and snatched the roll of notes, while the other tried ripping the pack from my back.
‘I’ll fucken have this as well.’
I heard a deep thud, like somebody had kicked the life out of a football. The mugger rolled off me and lay on the ground, moaning and holding his ribs. The mohawked busker was standing over him. He kicked him again, in the side, then bent down and took my roll of notes out of his hand. He helped me up. Rachel threw herself at me. She was crying.
The busker was big enough to wrap both of us in his arms. ‘It’s all right. You’re safe.’
He dragged the man to his feet, slapped him around the face a couple of times and grabbed him by the shirt. ‘Get your gear off.’
The man hunched forward. He could hardly breathe. ‘What?’
‘I said, get your gear off. Take your clothes off. Now.’
He looked up at the busker. ‘You can get fucked, dickhead. I’m not doing that.’
The busker slapped his face again, a bit harder. ‘Yes, you are. If you know what’s good for you. If you don’t I’ll give you another kicking. And then I’ll hand you to the cops. Now, take your clothes off.’
The man slowly undressed. When he was down to his underpants the busker picked up his shoes and threw them in the river. He went through his pants and pulled out a wallet. In it he found a twenty-dollar note: he put it in his own pocket then chucked the wallet in the river too.
‘Hey!’
The busker told him to shut up, slapped his face again and threw his clothes in the water.
‘I’d take your undies, but it’d be an ugly sight and I don’t want you scaring these kids.’
He poked the man in the chest. ‘I’m down here every day. This is my workplace, the riverbank. Don’t come around here again. Now walk.’
‘Walk?’ he snivelled. ‘Where to? I have no fucken money.’
‘Hang around then, if you want. And I’ll throw you in the drink after your stuff. Your choice, fuckwit.’
He pushed his hand against the man’s chest to help him on his way. ‘Now piss off.’
/> The busker walked with us until we were back on the street, where there were plenty of people. His bike and cart were leaning against a light post. He patted Rachel on the head.
‘You’ve got a good set of lungs on you. I was pedalling for home when I heard you scream out.’
He handed me the roll of notes. ‘You should thank your sister for this. She saved your life, and your money. You aren’t waiting for no dad, are you?’
‘We’re on our own. But we have a grandfather. We were going to his place and missed the last train. We came down here for a taxi, and then we saw you doing your act.’
‘That hundred you gave me didn’t blow in from anywhere, did it?’
‘No. But you can keep it.’
He laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I just earned it. I’m keeping it, all right. I’m not going to ask where you got it. Or the rest. You’ve plenty of dough for a cab. I’ll get you one.’
He had no trouble hailing the taxi. We hopped in the back as he talked to the driver.
‘You drop them where they need to go. And be sure you give them the right change.’ The busker tapped the side of his head with a finger. ‘I’ve got your rego and name, mate, up here. You get them home.’
He stuck his head in the back of the taxi. ‘And you two desperados stay out of trouble.’
I asked the driver to pull over a few blocks from Pop’s street. We walked along the footpath on the opposite side of the road to Pop’s. When we passed Donny’s house I was sure I saw a curtain move. We stopped on the nature strip, behind a tree. The blinds on Pop’s front windows were down and the light in the lounge room was on.
‘He’s up late.’
Rachel was excited. ‘Good. Let’s go knock on the door. I wanna see him.’
‘Not yet. We need to be sure. I’m gonna look around the back. You stay here.’
‘But I don’t want to. I want to see Pop. I can’t wait longer.’
‘Well, you have to. I just need to take a look around the back and be sure it’s safe before we knock on the door. I’ll be quick.’
‘Let me come with you.’
‘Wait here,’ I said, and slipped off the backpack. ‘Sit on this and don’t move until I come back.’
She unzipped my jacket and handed it to me.
‘Take this, Jesse, it’ll keep you warm.’
I dropped it on top of the backpack. ‘I don’t need it now. We’ve made it.’
I snuck across the road and walked along the side of the house. The back gate was open. The kitchen light was on too. I wanted to look inside but it was too high up. I picked up the old wooden chair from under the clothes line. Pop used it to sit the washing basket on when he was hanging out the clothes.
I sat the chair under the window and crouched on it. I slowly lifted my head until I could see into the kitchen. It was a mess. The table was covered with empty pizza boxes, beer cans, a whiskey bottle and newspapers. As I stretched onto my tiptoes to get a look into the lounge room, I slipped from the chair and crashed against a box of glass jars and bottles. Maxie started barking from somewhere under the house. I got to my feet and ran back along the side of the house, through the open gate, straight into the arms of Ray Crow.
He lifted me off the ground and wrapped me in a bear hug.
‘Hey,’ he chuckled. ‘The little rebel has come home to Grandpa’s house. Well, say hello to the big bad fucken wolf.’
When he bit into my ear I screamed out in pain. He carried me to the front door with a tight grip around my chest. I was sure he would kill me.
‘What kept you?’ he asked, and laughed again. ‘I was starting to worry you’d never get here.’
He kicked the front door open with his boot, dragged me into the lounge room, threw me on the floor and kicked me between the legs, straight in the balls. I pulled my legs into my chest. The pain was so bad I vomited up the hamburgers I’d eaten earlier.
I could hear someone sobbing.
‘Look who I found snooping out back,’ Ray said, chuckling.
‘Leave him alone. He’s just a boy.’
‘Shut up, you old cunt.’
‘I won’t shut up. You leave him be.’
It was Pop. I rested my head on the floor and turned to the side. Gwen was sitting at one end of the couch, looking like shit. Her hair was a mess and her eyes were bruised and weepy. Pop was sitting next to her. The neck of the pyjama top he was wearing was covered in blood, and he had a cut over one eye, just like mine. He looked a lot older than the last time I’d seen him.
Ray circled me a couple of times and then knelt down next to me.
‘You’ve got something belonging to me. Haven’t you, little man? Let’s get you to your feet and we’ll have a chat about it.’
He lifted me up and dropped me into Pop’s old armchair across from the couch. I could see the handle of his knife sticking out of the top of his boot. Gwen was shivering and rubbing her hands against her bare arms.
‘Why’d you bring him here?’ I shouted at her.
She was crying. ‘I didn’t, Jesse. It wasn’t me.’
‘You’re a liar. You’ve always been a liar.’
Ray sunk the toe of his cowboy boot into my shin. The pain shot up my leg. When I screamed out he jumped on top of me and put a hand over my mouth.
‘Be quiet now, son, or you’ll wake the neighbours. And then I’ll have to cut your throat. Your mother didn’t bring us here. It was your own big mouth. Don’t you remember bragging about your pop? I knew you’d find your way back here. Didn’t bother looking for you once you got away from poor Lim. Rest his soul. Took a bit longer than I thought, but you did well to find your way.’
He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled at it. ‘I would have done the same thing. I bet you thought this old bugger could take care of you, if you could just get back here. Well, take a look at him. He’s fucken useless. Gave him one whack and he pissed himself. Old Ray’s the only one who can save your fucken skin now. Now, where’s that little sister of yours?’
‘She’s gone. The cops picked her up at a railway station in the city, when I was in the toilet.’
He grabbed my face and squeezed my cheeks. ‘You lying, boy? Where is she?’
‘I’m not lying. I saw them take her. They put her in a car and took her away. I swear.’
He stroked the side of my face. ‘Well, that’s a pity. We could have had some fun, that girl and me. She was keen on me. But I’ve got your pop, and Gwen. Your mother. This is just like a family reunion.’
He slipped the knife out of his boot and held it front of my face, so I could get a good look at it.
‘And we’ve got this friend of mine. Now, I should cut you from ear to ear just for what you did to Limbo. But that can wait.’
He rested the knife against my cheek. ‘My money. Where is it?’
I looked across at Pop. He couldn’t take his eyes off the knife.
‘Pop. I’m sorry. I had an accident and broke the binoculars.’
‘It doesn’t matter, Jesse. It doesn’t matter at all.’
‘And I didn’t mean to tell him about you. I was just talking about what a good time we had last summer. It’s my fault.’
‘No, Jesse. It’s not your fault. None of this. This man, he’s to blame, not you. You’re a good boy.’
Ray walked across the room and punched Pop in the face. ‘Shut up, old man, or I’ll cut you too.’
Pop wouldn’t shut up: ‘Do what you like to me. Just leave the boy alone.’
‘Don’t worry, I will, granddad. As soon as he hands my money over. He’ll tell me where it is. Or I’ll fucken cut him open.’
Gwen fell from the couch, onto her hands and knees. ‘Please don’t, Ray,’ she begged him. ‘He’s my son. Don’t hurt him.’
Ray
dug the heel of his boot into the back of her hand. She cried out in pain. ‘I’ll let him be, soon as we find out where the money is. So, Jesse, tell me where it is. Please.’
‘I don’t have it any more.’
‘Bullshit.’
Gwen staggered to her feet and threw herself at him. He picked her up in one arm and threw her against the wall. She fell to the ground, crying. He pounced on me, dug his knees into my shoulders and put the knife to my throat.
‘Last chance. Or you’re dead.’
Pop begged him to stop.
‘Please don’t do this. I’ve got money. Savings. We can go into the bank tomorrow morning. You can take the lot. Twelve thousand dollars, I’ve got.’
‘Twelve thousand?’ Ray screamed. ‘I had fifty fucken grand stolen by this little cunt.’
Ray jumped off me and ran at Pop with the knife. ‘You’re so popular, old man, I’ll stick this in your guts and see if the kid’s got anything to say.’
‘Don’t. Don’t, please,’ I cried. ‘I’ve got the money, you can have it.’
‘You have to get off of him now. Or I’ll shoot this gun at you.’
Rachel was standing in the doorway, holding the revolver with both hands, pointing it at Ray. She was shaking. He looked over his shoulder and laughed at her.
‘Hey, little girl, you came back too. Your brother here has been telling me lies about you. Said you’d gone for a drive with the Jacks. But here you are. And with my gun. I bet you’ve got my money too. Where is it, darling?’
‘You get that knife away from my pop. You’re hurting him.’
Ray held the knife above his head.
‘I’m not hurting anyone, darling. Look. Now, put that gun down and tell me where my money is.’
‘If you put your knife away I will.’