Shirley was immediately contrite. “I"m sorry, Marilyn. Let me buy you lunch. We can"t call yet – it"s still two or three in the morning over there. We"ll have to wait anyway.”
Marilyn turned the problem over and over as she ate. What was that stupid prick Rupert doing? He must have looked at the photos. That much she was sure of. It made her stomach sick to think of the little shit drooling over the pictures of her in that corset. Give him a few years and a little money, and he would turn into another Jeremy. A rich, worthless freak, getting himself off by licking the shoes of any girl with the balls to ask for his cash. The more she thought about Rupert, the less she understood what Shirley saw in him. Now it looked as if he was playing with things he did not understand. Or worse, maybe he did understand and just did not care what playing with Japan"s money would do for Shirley.
She looked across the table at Shirley. She was looking at her fish, but there was a twinkle to her eyes. The little bitch was laughing at her. Shirley looked up, caught her watching and burst out giggling.
“I"m sorry, Marilyn. I"m sorry, I"m sorry. But...” She could not speak for laughing, and Marilyn had to smile.
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“I"m sorry, but the idea of you tying him up and taking photos. I didn"t think you were so sneaky. I can"t wait to see what he looks like.”
“You"d be surprised what I can get up to when I put my mind to it. Now, take that smirk off your face and eat your fish. And remember you owe me.”
They waited on Marilyn"s veranda until five o"clock before phoning Rupert.
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Chapter 26
Marilyn made herself busy by sweeping dirt and dead leaves from the back of her ute while Shirley used the phone . Getting the dust out of the corners was as difficult as ever and she was just finishing up when Shirley came from the house. She looked confused.
“Something"s wrong, Marilyn,” she said. “He"s hiding something. I know he is.”
“Did he tell you he"d moved up in the world?”
“Yes, that was alright, but when I asked about your camera... He didn"t like that. He said you"d left a camera but he hasn"t touched it. He kept trying to tell me about his new job, but he got all defensive when I asked him how he got it.
“What"s going on, Marilyn? Why the camera anyway?”
Marilyn sighed. “Want to eat? Let"s go and sit down, and I suppose I"d better tell you everything. What do you think Rupert"s doing?”
“I don"t know, but he must have done something to get promoted like that. You couldn"t ask your friend, could you? What time is it over there? Minus ten hours – it"s still too early. I don"t suppose anyone starts work until nine o"clock.”
Marilyn thought of Stephanie and was suddenly reluctant to call. “I suppose I could ask her. She starts at nine and Jeremy doesn"t get in until later. We could eat first.”
The sun faded behind Marilyn"s trees as she sat on the veranda, beer in hand. Behind her, in the house, she could hear Shirley preparing her version of pasta carbonara. At this time of year, when mosquitoes were rare, dusk in Port Bruce was hard to beat. She thought of her time in Melbourne, and the dark, cold streets of London. You would have to be crazy to live there.
The telephone rang as they were eating their pasta. It was Japan, and he was angry. “What"s up with that fucking banker of yours? Bastard"s not returning my calls. All I get is some Pommy
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secretary, and she"s no help. I"ve got more cash ready to go but I want to speak to the man first. He"d better call quick, or I"m coming down there and I"ll cut the fucking ears off your bird. Believe me!”
Marilyn did and held a finger over her lips to warn Shirley. “You don"t have to do that, Japan. Just give me his number and I"ll sort it. You know I"ll help if I can.”
“Yeah, I suppose.” Japan was calming down. “You got a pen?” He read out the number and rang off demanding that Marilyn call him back.
“Oh well,” said Marilyn, “Japan is pissed off with Jeremy and I"ve got to fix it. Now we"ve got another reason to call. What"s the time?”
Shirley dialled and passed the phone over. Stephanie sounded strange and remote. “Mr Bradley-Smythe"s office, Stephanie speaking...”
“Hey, Stephanie. It"s me, Marilyn. From Australia. How are you doing?”
“Marilyn, oh gosh! How lovely. How are you?”
“Oh, still alive, I suppose. But I"ve just had Japan
– that"s
Mr Dressler – on the phone. He"s spitting tacks because he can"t get
Jeremy.”
“Ah.” Stephanie hesitated. “I don"t think he wants to speak to anyone about the Australian money.”
“Oh no? Why not?”
“Oh God, Marilyn, I don"t know. Honestly, I don"t know.
He"s up to something, I think. And Rupert"s helping him. They"re not letting me know anything about it. I can put you through to
Rupert, if you like.”
“Right, Steph. We"ll give that a try, but hang on first. Tell me, how"s life? What are you getting up to?”
“Not much, actually. Just the same old things. Work, work, work and at the end of the month I still don"t have enough money to live.”
“When are you coming to visit?”
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“Oh, I wish. Each time I look at your photos, I wish I could come.” Stephanie sounded wistful.
“Just come, Steph. Won"t cost you anything once you"re here. Shirl and I will take care of you. You"d just have to pay for your own grog. Stay as long as you like.”
Stephanie was unsure. “I"ll see. Really. I"ll check the flights and send you an email.”
“You do that, Steph. Now, I suppose you"d better put me through to Rupert.”
When he came on the line, he was immediately defensive. “I"m sorry, but Mr Bradley-Smythe is not available at the moment.”
“Oh give it up, Rupert. It"s me, remember, Marilyn. Put me through.”
“I"m sorry, Marilyn. He"s told me not to speak to you or anyone else over there.”
“Why the hell not? We got AIDS or something? Japan wants to send over some more cash, but he wants to talk first. Tell him that.”
“More money? How much? Like last time?”
“No idea, mate. Just you trot into his office and tell him. Right now.”
Marilyn heard him lay his phone down. She pulled a face at Shirley. “He"s going to see Jeremy ”, she said, and waited.
Rupert did not take long. “He"s told me to call, Marilyn. I"ll do it now.”
“Glad to hear it, Rupert, glad to hear it. You must be quite the important man in your new job. Now, put me through to Jeremy.”
She could hear Rupert cringing. “Er – I don"t think... He doesn"t want to talk to you. Sorry.”
“Well, bugger him. Never mind, pass me back to Steph, would you?”
When she finally put the phone down, she looked up to see Shirley watching her. “You"re a slick operator when you want to be, Marilyn. You should have been in business.”
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“What, me? Not a chance. Give me a choice of Melbourne or Port Bruce and I"ll be here like a shot. I was just thinking you"d have to be nuts to live down there. And London"s worse. It"s too bloody cold.”
“Oh, it"s not so bad,” said Shirley, defending her other home. “I mean, there"s lots to do and see, once you live there.
“Never mind that, though. What are we going to do?”
Marilyn thought for a moment. “Well, I guess I"ll give Japan a quick call. Just let him know what"s happening. Then I suppose we"ll have to send a message to Jeremy. Show him I"m watching and I"ve still got pictures. He"s lucky Steph gave me his private email, or they"d be all over the office. I"ll go and get that memory thing.”
The pictures fascinated Shirley, and she zeroed in on the ones
that showed Marilyn in her finery. She studied the photographs Marilyn had taken in the mirror, showing Jeremy trussed up and unhappy with herself in the background. “I like that one. It"s really sexy and mysterious. That"s art, Marilyn. Really.”
The photograph showed a dark and grainy room. Camera flash completely obscured Marilyn"s face, leaving a halo of light and the transparent ends of her short hair. The naked white of Jeremy"s body and her own arms and legs flared brilliantly. The trapped expression of Jeremy"s face and his sex wilting in its nest of black hair drew you in. The picture made you wonder what it meant, how the victim had become trussed up like that, and what was about to happen.
Shirley continued with her thoughts. “You look really wonderful, Marilyn. Like some dominating mistress. Have you got the clothes here? Give me a fashion show.”
“Give over, Shirl! I did bring them, but I can"t see me getting into them again. Not ever. Port Bruce wouldn"t talk about anything else for years, if they knew. After they"d recovered from their heart attacks.”
“But you look great. As if you were born to it. Where are
the clothes. Show me.”
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“Not a chance. Only brought them back because I didn"t like the thought of Rupert trying them on. Come now, which one are we going to send to Jeremy?”
They chose one of the last pictures, showing Jeremy dressed in no more than restraints and a huge padlock. He was peering down his pinioned body at the camera, and had no expression on his face. Shirley attached it to an email, signed Marilyn"s name and sent it.
“Right,” said Marilyn. “That should keep him honest. Now, what are you going to do? Do you want me to run you home, or you can roll a swag out here?”
Marilyn took Shirley into town to check on her boat and drink a beer at the club. After that, she seemed happy enough to sleep on the veranda with Floozy.
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Chapter 27
Marilyn shook her awake with the birds. Grey light filled the sky and the sun had yet to touch the tree tops.
“Get up, Shirl. I"ve got some Main Roads work today. I"ve got to get out of here. I"ll put the coffee on”
“Oh God, what time is it?”
“Quarter to six. I"ve got to be on site by six-thirty.” Port Bruce might be laid back, but the locals started their reclining early in the morning. Shirley crawled out of her swag and made for the bathroom.
“You want a lift into town?” Marilyn asked, handing her a coffee.
Shirley thought about her offer. “No, mate. Lulu"s not open yet, and I"ve got work for Des later.” She stopped herself in surprise. “Did you hear that? „No, mate". I"m turning into a real Australian.”
Marilyn smiled at the thought. “Yeah, but I"ll tell you what, you"d better get yourself some wheels. You"ll never be true blue without wheels. Get yourself a ute; I can look after it when you have to go to London.”
“Like yours, you mean?”
“Yeah. Toyotas get the most votes out here, though some folks swear by Nissan, too.”
“It looks so big. Mum would be really impressed if I sent her a photo of me with one of those.” Shirley smiled to herself.
“You wait until the Wet. You"ll need something with long legs then. Now, I"m off. Make yourself at home, and if I don"t see you before, see you Friday at the Club.”
Shirley walked slowly into town, her laptop over her shoulder. A lot had happened since she had first walked into town for breakfast. She had been green then. Well, more white than green. Now she took the sun in her stride, just like the locals. A hat was all she needed, and a dab of sun cream on her shoulders and nose if she was travelling by boat.
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Back then, everything she had seen was strange. Now, it looked comfortable. Rundown and ragged maybe, but comfortable. Port Bruce was like that, and kept its heart hidden.
Lulu brought her coffee without asking and left her to check her email. Nothing from Rupert. What game was he playing, she wondered? His promotion onto a partner"s staff was a big step for him. How had he managed it? Unless... unless... He could not have used Marilyn"s photos to blackmail Jeremy. How could you do that? March into his office, photos in hand, and demand „Give me a job or else"? It would never work, and she doubted that Rupert had the balls for it anyway.
What else could he have done to get into Jeremy"s good books? And now he would be handling Japan"s money. She hoped he realised what that meant for her. She was here, and if Japan felt upset with Rupert - it did not bear thinking about. She had better call again in the evening and really grill him.
They went out to the reef that Sunday. Marilyn organised the trip in the club on Friday night, and Walter picked Shirley up from her front step as the dawn was breaking. They ran in to Tom"s jetty, where he stood with his fishing rod and a bucket, all ready to
go.
The new sun hung over the horizon as they reached Port
Bruce. Marilyn was reversing her tinny down the boat ramp and they ran onto the sand beside her.
Tom held the painter of Marilyn"s boat while she left to park her ute and trailer.
“We"re going in two boats?” asked Shirley.
“Safer that way,” said Tom. “Never know what might happen, and it"d be a long swim home.”
“Is it a long way to the reef?”
“As long as you like. It"s dotted all over the place. The nearest bit is only twenty minutes away, but the outer edge is so far away we"d never reach it in these.” He waved at the two tinnies. They looked old and small to Shirley.
“Are we safe?”
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“Pretty much, I guess. You"ve got your phone? Good. Wrap it up well, and we can use it if we have a breakdown.”
“My phone?” Somehow she had imagined boats were more complicated than that.
Marilyn returned and gestured her into the boat. The two boats gathered speed over still water and reluctantly mounted onto a plane. Shirley felt the wind rush cool over her skin. They quickly pulled out of the river mouth and the coast opened up on either side. No ripples disturbed the surface, and the sea hissed beneath their aluminium hull. Walter"s tinny kept pace beside them. It looked comical with Walter"s spindly figure steering in the stern while Tom bulked large amidships, staring forward with the wind blowing back his curly hair.
“You spoken to Rupert?” asked Marilyn.
“Yes. I called him last night.”
“And?”
“I don"t know. He seems happy enough in his new job. I think your Jeremy likes him.”
“Japan called last night. I don"t think he"s happy with the idea of Rupert taking care of things. Rupert didn"t impress him when he was here. Anyway, there"ll be more money going over in the next week or two. Glad it"s not me carrying it.”
Shirley watched the green water rushing by on either side. The sea was so clean, so massive. The boat skimmed onwards over
the lazy calm, flat as far as she could see.
“What"s that?” she asked, pointing north.
“That ship? Just a freighter. The shipping channel runs along the coast inside the reef. Ships are here all the time. Where we stop, they pass between us and the land.”
Shirley felt surprised that their little tinny would be further out to sea than the approaching vessel. A thought struck her. “This is where Japan comes to meet his friends?”
“That"s right. In this boat too. He paid for the motor. Didn"t like the old one and just turned up with this one. Nearly new, and much better.”
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“And no-one notices?”
“Who"s to notice? It"s not as if the ship stops. Just heaves a package over the side as it passes by, and Japan picks it up. Except when there"s girls. Even then, the ship doesn"t have to do more than slow down to let them step off. Poor bastards. I bet none of t
hem have any idea what they"re letting themselves in for. I mean, in Melbourne the houses with white girls are bad enough, but at least the girls can come and go as they please. The Asian ones are terrible. The girls are kept penned up all the time. I don"t know if they"re even paid. I"ve heard they get pocket money, and their folks back home get something every month. Nothing like what they should get, of course.”
“You know, it really surprises me that a country like Australia has things like that.”
“Ah well, it"s part of our cultural heritage, you know. We"re still a bunch of convicts at heart.”
Shirley began to make out a white line ahead of them. “Is that where we"re going?”
“Yup. Lesser Eddystone. Greater Eddystone"s a bit further out. Used to be an automatic light there. The tide"s dropping and there"ll be a sandbar on top. Get out and stretch our legs.”
“Is that where we go fishing?”
“Nearby. Drop an anchor on the edge of the coral and see what we can find. I expect Tom and Walter will start straight away, but we can cruise around a little first, if you like. Take a snorkel and look at the coral. It doesn"t get any better than this.”
Marilyn steered the boat slowly through the shallows and Shirley hung over the side peering into the water. Dark shadows and pastel coral rippled beneath them. Marilyn cut the motor and came forward to drop the anchor.
“Here, you go first,” she said, offering Shirley the snorkelling gear. “Keep your shirt on, or you"ll burn something terrible. Just goof around between here and the sand, and I"ll keep an eye on you. Keep popping your head up to check on where you are,
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or we"ll have you drifting off to Brisbane. And don"t touch anything. It"s all sharp, and ten to one any scrape will go bad. Coral"s like that.”
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