Falling Into Queensland

by Jacqueline George

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  When they had pushed their plates aside and were sipping their second coffees, Marilyn had a thought. “Hey, Shirl, you know Midge is coming in tomorrow. Early flight.”

  “That"s good – is she going to stay?” said Shirley, and then to Rupert “She"s that sort of house-slave I was telling you about.”

  “The one with no clothes?”

  “That"s the girl,” said Marilyn, “Only she"s going to have some new clothes by the time she leaves here. Look – I pick her up from the airstrip around seven, so I could stop by on the way back and bring you round to my place. We can have breakfast together. Won"t be as good as this, but Rupert can see how the rest of the world lives. Come on, drink up and let"s hit the beach.”

  Mongo arrived that night. Marilyn had finished for the day and was watching television on the veranda. The remains of dinner lay beside her and she had a beer in her hand when Mongo"s station wagon lurched up the track. She tightened her sarong around her and went to meet him.

  “Got lost, Mongo?”

  “No, mate. I"m down to collect Midge. Japan said I could come early, and go to the pub. You coming?”

  “No – I"ll give it a miss. You don"t want to pick up a six-pack and bring it back here?”

  Mongo thought about that. “No – it"s not the same. But you could give me a lift down, if you like.”

  “Sure – but I"m not giving you a lift back. You"ll have to find your own way.”

  Mongo nodded. “Yes, that"s what Japan said. He doesn"t want me driving back. Great!”

  “Well – drop your swag on the veranda, and you can driveme down. No, scratch that. I"ll drive. I don"t want to be getting out of the truck and changing seats in front of the pub. Not dressed like this.”

  Mongo climbed into the passenger seat while Marilyn got herself comfortable. He looked excited. “Have a good trip?” asked Marilyn.

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  “Good, mate, good. Real quick. I like going to the pub.”

  “And Japan? How"s he going?”

  “Busy, mate. Always busy. I took a couple of bags of stuff down to Lakeland for him last week.”

  “Jesus, Mongo! You shouldn"t talk about things like that. Not ever. Just keep your mouth shut.”

  “But you"re alright, Marilyn. I can talk to you, can"t I?”

  “No. Not even me. You"ve got to keep it secret. And don"t go getting drunk tonight and spreading it all over town. Say anything in the pub tonight and the whole town will be gossiping tomorrow. Just don"t say anything, understand?”

  “Yes, Marilyn. I won"t say nothing. You can trust me.”

  I probably can, she thought, in a funny sort of way. She did not know if Mongo had been born dumb, or whether he had fried his brain with drugs, but she guessed the result was about the same. He was slow, but as long as you did not overload him with too many complications, Mongo would do exactly what Japan asked him.

  She set him down outside the pub. “Get yourself a feed first, right? I don"t want you pouring piss down your neck on an empty stomach. And don"t get legless!” She put the ute into gear and drove home.

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  Chapter 10

  As usual, Marilyn woke when the sun came over the trees. She had hardly moved, but she heard Floozy jump from her shelf and trot to the foot of the stairs. It was the same every day. The dog sensed exactly when she woke up and went to wait for breakfast. Well, she would have to wait. Marilyn needed her shower.

  Drying her hair, she went onto the veranda and looked around for Mongo. His swag was still rolled up, and standing against the veranda railing. He must be sleeping somewhere else, perhaps with a friend, or perhaps under a tree. Never mind, she would pick up Midge from the airstrip and they could wait for Mongo to appear. And Shirley was coming for breakfast too.

  Midge hurried from the plane with her small bag over her shoulder and a dopey smile on her face.

  “G"day, Marilyn, how"s it going? God, it"s good to be back up here. I was bloody freezing at home. What"s happening? Heard anything from Japan? You going to feed me? I"m starving. I"ve been travelling forever.”

  They climbed into the ute with Midge still chattering, and Marilyn steered out onto the dirt. They were getting near to town when she slowed down for Shirley"s turn-off.

  “Hey, where are we going, Marilyn? You don"t live down here.”

  “We"re picking up Shirley. You remember her, the English bird? Well, she"s got her boyfriend here from London, and they"re coming for breakfast.” The ute jolted slowly to the end of the track and Marilyn blew the horn.

  Shirley came running out of the bush. “Hello Midge! And you, Marilyn. I"m hungry.”

  “Hey, Shirl. Where"s your man?”

  “Oh, he"s coming. He can"t get used to not taking a coat with him, and not having to lock the door. And his toes are itching like crazy.”

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  “I"m not surprised,” snorted Marilyn. “I don"t know how he can wear socks up here. I think I"ve got some foot-rot powder at home. You can take that until you can get to a pharmacy. And tell him to take those bloody socks off.”

  “He tried, but he got blisters almost straight away. Look, here he is. Come on, Rupert. I"m starving. Are we all going to sit in

  the front?”

  “Not a chance. You two hop in the back, and I"ll try and

  miss the big bumps.”

  They lurched back to the main road and Marilyn accelerated

  away.

  Midge had something on her mind and she shouted over the

  noise. “You don"t mind the boyfriend? I mean, does he..?”

  “Does he what? No, doesn"t make any difference. We were

  never that close. Just close enough that I don"t want Japan jumping on her, so don"t make a big deal of it to him. Please.” They bumped up onto the blacktop and the noise inside the cab dropped instantly. “That"s better. Now we can talk. You know Mongo"s around somewhere? He"s going to take you up to the Makepeace, but he went to the pub last night and didn"t come home. Maybe I"ll do a wharfie and see if we can find him.”

  Instead of turning onto the Cooktown road, Marilyn

  continued toward town. Suddenly, she stopped. “Damn. People in the back.” She opened her door and leaned out. “Sorry, guys, would you mind getting out and waiting. I can"t go past the police station with you in the back. Get into all sorts of trouble. I just need to go into town because Mongo got lost last night. You know Mongo, don"t you, Shirl? Anyway, stop here and I"ll be right back.”

  Leaving Shirley and Rupert under a mango tree, she drove slowly into town. The minimarket was open and already had

  customers. The pub was closed, and there was no sign of Mongo. She carried on slowly to the wharf and back again, searching.

  Beyond the shops, she suddenly stopped and backed up. He was lying in a heap, under a boat trailer in some-one"s front yard.

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  “Shit – look at him. Come on, we"d better go and rescue him, I suppose.”

  Mongo did not wake until she poked him with her foot. He groaned and rolled onto his back, covering his eyes with his arm. He looked disgusting. Dishevelled hair, and sand covering the side of his face that had been pressed into the dirt.

  “Get up, Mongo. It"s breakfast time.”

  He started to cough, and his coughing shook him awake. “Oh, fuck. Ooh – fuck it.” He got as far as all fours and started to cough again. “Fucking Bundy. Does it every time.”

  “Well, if you"ve been drinking that shit I"ve got no sympathy for you. Get up and I"ll give you a lift home. In the back.” Midge helped her drag him to his feet and steer him to the ute. They bundled him into the tray, and went looking for Shirley and Rupert.

  They left Mongo in the ute and went to make breakfast. Marilyn worked on the fire while the others dragged chair
s from the veranda to the fire pit under a large mango tree.

  “Hey, Shirl, go and fill that with water, would you?” She handed over a large, old fashioned kettle, coated with the black residue of many camp fires. “We may as well start with coffee. I"ll just get this lit and we can bring out the rest of the stuff. Don"t stand around, Rupert. We need the small table off the veranda.” She knelt beside the wisp of smoke in the fire pit and started blowing.

  By the time Shirley returned with the water, the twigs had taken and Marilyn was packing split firewood around them. She dropped the low barbecue plate over the fire and set the kettle on it.

  “Now, who fancies a mango?” A long bamboo with a loop of wire and a fishing net tied to the end was standing against the tree trunk. Ignoring all the fallen fruit around them, she gave it to Rupert. “You"re tallest. Pick us some good ones. I"m going to bring the stuff. Give us a hand, Midge, and I"ll show you your new gear.”

  When she returned, Shirley and Rupert were eating mangos, sticky with juice, and leaning forward in their chairs to drip on the ground.

  “I"ve never tasted anything like these,” said Rupert.

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  “You"re lucky you"re here now. Port Bruce drowns in mangos for maybe four weeks, and that"s it for the year. Unless you were smart enough to dry a pile of them, which I"m not. Enjoy yourself. You don"t get mangos any better than this. Not down south, and the ones you get in Europe would have been picked green. Here, give me one. May as well get sticky together.

  “You should have seen Midge, Shirl. She went nuts when she saw her new gear. Thinks I"m Father Christmas. She just dropped the stuff she was carrying and has to try it on.”

  They ate in silence, throwing the peel and stones into a heap near the fire. Between mangos, Marilyn said “You should take that lot home, Shirl. Throw it into the bush beside your path, and some of them will take. Old Johnno"s house must be the only place in Port Bruce without a mango tree.

  “Oh God, here"s Midge. Look at her! She just doesn"t care, does she?”

  Midge was walking towards them, dressed in her new finery. She had combed out her wild blonde hair and put on some lipstick. Marilyn had made her a tight fitting waistcoat, in black leather with red panels at the sides. It had a wide open neck line and was sculpted to support her breasts in two half-cups. The gold rings through her nipples stuck out in front of her, resting on the edge of the leather.

  Her legs were encased in leather chaps from the tops of her thighs to her bare feet, with a long fringe running down the edges. Marilyn had pressed a line of ornamental studs up each leg, and the whole garment was held together with a large rhinestone belt buckle just below Midge"s navel. That was all. The rest of Midge was naked. Between the tops of the black leather legs and the belt, her bald sex hid in the shadow.

  “Well?” she asked, “What do you think of it? I think it"s wonderful.” She pirouetted slowly to show off her plump bottom.

  Marilyn looked around at the others. Rupert"s mouth was half open, but Shirley was unfazed. “Marilyn, she"s right. That"s absolutely fantastic. She could have been born in it. It"s exactly right.”

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  Midge turned back to them. “Japan"s going to love this.”

  “I hope so,” said Marilyn, “Because he"s paying. What you think, Rupert? See stuff like this in London.”

  Rupert woke up. “London? No – never. I"ve never seen anything like it. But – doesn"t anyone mind? I mean...”

  “Who"s to mind? Except Midge, and she"s used to it. Japan keeps her like that all the time. Why? Don"t you like it? I could make one for Shirl, if you like.”

  Rupert was blushing. “No, er, no. I don"t think so. I mean, where would she wear it? She doesn"t...”

  “Well, Shirl, I don"t think your man"s any fun at all. Perhaps he should meet Japan. He might learn something, and you"ll be running around your kitchen half naked too. Now, Midge, you"d better get that off and pack it up again. I want it looking really good when Japan sees it. Not covered in mango juice.”

  “Oh Marilyn,” whined Midge, “Can"t I stay? Just for a bit?”

  “I suppose so. You sit next to Rupert, and be bloody careful. But you"d better change before the bacon"s ready. Sit still, and I"ll make you a coffee in a minute. Try and talk some sense into Rupert, because we"re going to fetch the food and stuff.”

  Marilyn looked back at the pair from the veranda. Midge had moved closer to Rupert and was talking earnestly. She had one hand on his thigh and was gesturing widely with the other. “Look at her, will you? She really gets off on clothes like that. Turns into a real bimbo. Sometimes I think she"s just too stupid to live.”

  “She"s not too bad, is she?” asked Shirley, “I mean, there"s no harm in her.”

  “No. No, you"re right. There"s no harm in her, and if she keeps Japan quiet, I suppose we ought to be happy. I wonder what she"s talking about. Perhaps she"s trying to get Rupert to buy you some chaps. You"d look a deal better in them than she does. Fancy a pair?”

  “Thanks, but I don"t think so. Rupert"s not like that. Anyway, I think they fit Midge very well. I don"t think I"d look any better.”

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  “Hmm – maybe. But she"s got a few miles on her, and I could make you look really sultry.”

  When they came back with the things from the kitchen, Rupert and Midge were still talking. Midge was staring up at his face as he explained something to her. Marilyn sighed, and shrugged her shoulders at Shirley. They laid the pans and plates on the table and went back for more.

  “Set out the cups, Shirl. The water should be hot enough for coffee by now. Oh bugger! I"d forgotten about Mongo. He still in the ute? You finish this, and I"ll go and get him.”

  They waved goodbye to Midge and Mongo around lunchtime. She was eager to show Japan her new clothes, but Mongo could not think of anything beyond his hangover.

  “I like Midge,” said Shirley. “I mean, she might be silly but she"s good fun. If only she wasn"t with Japan, she could be really happy.”

  “Don"t you believe it. I knew her before Japan took her on, and she wasn"t too happy then. Never had any money, smoking like a chimney, always getting picked up and screwed by the worst pigs. She"s happy now. She was lucky Japan gave her a job. I guess he saw something in her and now – now I can"t imagine her like she was.”

  “But I still like her.”

  “Yeah, me too. There"s a lot worse than Midge around. You want to give me a hand with the washing up, and we"ll go down to Mission Beach for a dip. And we can come back past the pub. Suit you?”

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  Chapter 11

  Japan came to see her two days later. She was cleaning the house naked when she heard his station wagon start on the drive, and rushed to the bedroom to get some clothes. He was getting out of his truck as she returned.

  “Hey, Marilyn. How you going?”

  “Good. And you?”

  “Good. Now, you know where that English bird is? I need to speak to her.”

  “At her place, I guess. They were going to have an early breakfast on the beach, along with Walter. I guess she"d be home by now.”

  “Good. You come along. I"ve got something for you too. Hop in, and we"ll get moving.” His tone did not allow discussion.

  Marilyn led him down the path to Shirley"s house, calling out a warning. Shirley was waiting at the open door. “Hi, Marilyn. And Japan too. How are you? Coffee? Or cool beer – we don"t have anything really cold.”

  “I told you – get the power put on. You can"t live without cold beer. You can survive, but that"s not living. Make it coffee. And you, Japan?”

  Japan nodded and walked into the house. Rupert was standing next to an armchair overlooking the river. He had an open book in his hand. Japan went straight up to him and shook hands. “You"d be Rupert. Good, I want a chat with you.”

/>   As before, Japan was acting as if he owned the house, and Marilyn could see Shirley watching him warily.

  Abruptly, Japan turned to them. “You two bugger off. Wait at the car. Rupert and me have got some talking to do.”

  Marilyn grabbed Shirley"s arm and pulled her towards the door. She came as far as the doorway and whispered “What"s happening? Is he safe?”

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  “I think so. Who is he anyway? What does Japan want with

  him?”

  “Hey, you two!” called Japan from inside, “I told you to bugger off!”

  They hurried down the walkway to dry land. “What"s going on, Marilyn? What"s he doing? Why"s he talking with Rupert?”

  Marilyn was thinking as hard as she could, but nothing made any sense. “I don"t know. Honestly. He didn"t say anything to me, but what does he want from Rupert? He"s nothing to do with the police, is he?”

  “Of course not! He"s a broker, a stockbroker. He"s just registered. He works for the London office of a Swiss bank.”

  “A stockbroker. What does that mean, exactly?”

  “He buys and sells investments. Shares and bonds and other investments.”

  “Pensions?”

  “Not exactly. They have specialists for that.”

  “But he"d know about that sort of thing, I suppose?”

  “I think so.”

  “That"s it then. Japan was fretting over pensions, remember? He"s probably getting some free advice. That"d be right. Anyone else would just pick up the phone but...”

  Shirley looked relieved. “If he"d only asked. Rupert wouldn"t have minded. Bloody Japan! He"s scary.”

  “Yeah. And you don"t know the half of it. He scares

  everyone. He loves his knives, you know. I saw him stick a guy once. In the stomach. Over some money he was owed. The guy started shouting and swearing, and Japan just lost it. Pulled out a knife and stuck him right in the stomach. Wiggled it around, with the guy shouting and trying to push him away. Still gives me the willies to think of it.” Marilyn shook her head as if to shed the memory.