What happened to you, I asked. Have you been for a swim, have you been assaulted in the park? She opened her eyes wide and glared at me. I didn’t say anything at that point, just stared daggers back at her and waited for the next episode of her little drama to unfold. She loves to put on a show. That’s Lucie. She waits for her white knight to come to her rescue. But eh, I’ve been caught too many times. I thought to myself, enough is enough. Let’s wait and see. I’m not going to budge. Of course, what I expected to happen did happen… Ernest, I’m going to leave you, she said. I shrugged. That wasn’t a surprise. I knew she was up to something. Too many furtive talks with Nicole… Telephone calls suddenly interrupted when I stepped too close… Lots of plotting and planning… But honestly, I thought it was the best outcome for both of us. I even felt relieved. Thereupon she marched towards the library. She walked in, closed the door and reappeared five minutes later in dry clothes, wearing a pair of jeans, a jumper and a green parka. She threw her dress at my face, and said again, Ernest I’m leaving you. I answered, well, good bye, Little Miss. If you want to go, then off you go, farewell! Nobody is going to stop you… She looked baffled. You are going to let me go? You don’t want to talk? Talk! Talk! She always wants to talk! I’ve lost track of how many times she dredged up that spiel. Talk about what? I asked. There’s nothing to talk about.
There she was, standing like an imbecile in the middle of the room, looking at me. Open your bag, I asked, and show me what’s in it! She didn’t get it, and I had to explain, Lucie dear, this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been stitched up by a Little Miss like you… I need to be sure that you haven’t stolen any valuables, that’s all… She started crying. I grabbed hold of her travelling bag to check what was crammed inside. Jumpers, jeans, runners, toiletries. As I zipped open a side pocket she wailed, where is my money? I had seven hundred dollars in there! You’ve stolen my money! I swore that I hadn’t taken a cent and asked her to quieten down. People were asleep upstairs. You’ve got to be naive to leave such a large amount of money in a bag that doesn’t lock, I explained. She kept crying. As I searched the travelling bag a second time I hit upon a book, one of mine, of course… Just as you would expect from this sort of woman. See this, I said, brandishing the book, this isn’t yours! The book stays here, if you don’t mind. It was The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran. I purchased it in London a long time ago. First edition, printed in 1923. I have always been a bibliophile and a fine collector. You’ve seen my library downstairs, haven’t you? Keep your book, Lucie sneered. Then she took off the emerald ring that I’d given her, quite an expensive one, and threw it at me. Your ugly ring… blah, blah, blah… something in French… God knows what she was saying…
For a moment or so, she seemed embarrassed, though soon enough she began to plead again. Why did I ask her to come to Australia to share my life? Why did I lie to her? Yes, she called me a liar. Have you noticed that people who call you a liar are those best at lying? She had been conspiring for weeks to run away, ready to take off like a thief, plotting to leave me without being gutsy enough to let me know the truth, and now, I was the one who was called a liar. Who is the liar, I pressed. She wasn’t listening to me. She was eyeballing my every move. She looked frightened, yes, frightened, as if I was about to grab her and slap her around. By George! I’ve never hit a woman in my life. Men who raise a hand on a woman are lowlifes, if you want my opinion. They should be given a taste of their own medicine… Eventually she managed to stop her weeping and launched into a long address. Oh yes, she’s good at making endless speeches… I’ll cut it short for you, or it’ll take me all day.
I was expecting you’d ask me to stay here, she whined. I was thinking you’d kiss me and apologise for your harsh words, your indifference, your selfishness. I was expecting to hear that you love me, that you never lied to me, that we were going to build a happy future together. Supporting each other. Understanding each other. I’ll spare you the remainder of the homily, Officer Lawson. What a nerve! Blaming me for my harsh words, when they haven’t had any other purpose than to toughen her up. She’s always lived in cotton wool… My so-called indifference comes from the fact that by remaining outwardly distant, I have bypassed many conflicts with her. As for my selfishness, or what women call selfishness, it’s more a question of survival… If I want to keep painting I must be selfish. I have no sentimentality, that’s right. I hate getting maudlin. And yes, everything is thrown down the grinder for my work, yes, I must use all the means at my disposal, even if it includes her, her life, her energy… But what she doesn’t get, what none of these brainless birds get, is that I’m also thrown down the same grinder, spending up my time, my energy, my health, my life.
Yet I explained calmly, you haven’t understood me, Lucie dear. A happy married life doesn’t suit me. Plucking away at daisies to work out if you love me or love me not isn’t my ideal. We don’t have to hold each other’s hand to have a fulfilling life. You wait for me to make you happy. Why don’t you find happiness through your own means? Why do you have to rely on me all the time? If I’m fine, you are fine. If I’m angry, you tremble and cry. Why is that? I thought women had become liberated by now! Is that what married life is supposed to be, making a good job at stifling one another? Look, you’ve stolen a wisdom book. Rather let’s just say you took the book in order to read it and forgot to put it back in my library… Have you started reading it? Then I told her that if she hadn’t yet read it, she’d better listen up.
Lawson, can you grab the book? It’s there, over there, on that little table. Would you mind passing it over to me? I wanted to take a look at it yesterday. Such a good read… Yes, I chose to read the few lines that are self-explanatory: “Love one another but make not a bond of love. Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping. For only the hand of life can contain your hearts. And stand together yet not too near together. For the pillars of the temple stand apart. And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.” Isn’t that beautifully put?
As she stood in the middle of the room, I asked, do you understand what it means? She shook her head and started crying again. Obviously, she hadn’t been listening to me. She looked so miserable, so stupid, like a pig-headed child you’d like to give a good shake. I found her self-abasement infuriating. She stood there, her arms to the side, her bag at her feet. She kept looking around, in a daze, as though she couldn’t make up her mind.
You want to go, then clear off, I finally said. You should learn to be more assertive. You shouldn’t put so much faith in people. Let me give you an example… You trusted the two young people who came here to wait on our guests, but just have a look around! Notice anything? She gazed about as if seeing the room for the first time. It looked as if a bomb had gone off. Yes, what a mess, you are right, she agreed without conviction. Were the waiters not paid to clean up too, she whimpered? I’ve told you on other occasions, you pay people when the work is done, not before, I replied. You made a point of paying these two loafers when they arrived. Two kids, could they have really been so difficult to handle? Why didn’t you keep an eye on them? Take a look at the white couch. You know how much it cost? If you’d been around you would have done something, wiped away the wine when it was still wet, instead, you were outside smoking, but now, God knows how they’ll be able to remove that terrible stain…
She kept her head down and mumbled, I’m sorry. Yes, sorry, she was sorry. That’s all she could think of, all she could say. I was tired of looking at her… And that’s more or less where our story ends, Officer Lawson.
Except for one last thing, shortly after our argument, as I was sliding the book back on the library shelf, voices broke out on the terrace. I recognised Gary’s. He was leading the party. Nicole and Rosy were on his heels. Lucie caught a glimpse of them. She became panicky, quickly packing her stuff. I followed her in order to avoid any embarrassing questions. We ran down the passage, entered the sitting-room and she left through the back door. Yes, she left. She
left me. End of a beautiful love story… She vanished as a young doe whose colours fade away. The catbirds were wailing like newborn babies. The kookaburras were laughing at the first rays of the sun. I dashed back to my bedroom via the backstairs, the stairs we’ve taken today to come here… I ripped off my jacket and my shirt, and quickly put on my pyjamas. The party was already half-way up the main staircase. No time to take off my pants. So I jumped into bed and lay there. They walked into my bedroom. Gary checked me out. I didn’t budge. Oh yes… I forgot… The two gunshots? Well, as I was lying in my bed, at that very moment, I heard, Bang! Bang! It was coming from the forest… Game poachers. They hunt deer at that time of the year. Some people like deer meat. Well, I don’t… I find it too heavy. It gives me a stomach ache.
Well, that’s all I have to say, Officer Lawson… There is nothing more to add to the story, I’m afraid…
Now, you understand why I didn’t divulge a word of Lucie’s caper when we met the first time… The truth would have been too humiliating. Backing up Nicole’s testimony by reporting Lucie as a missing person was the lesser of two evils; better for me and better for Lucie. I believe she has suffered enough setbacks in France already with her previous partners, with her family, in her job, yes, it was less hurtful for her and for everyone else…
Raphaël Renfield
Australian Federal Police
Brisbane Headquarters
Queensland
Gimme a break! You’ll find what you’re looking for in Longland… In the old caretaker’s house… I took none of those fucking credit cards! I couldn’t. Even if I’m broke, I’m not a crook. I haven’t got a pot to piss in. Sunnybank Motorbikes? That’s a lot of bull. I sold it ages ago, live off the dregs. So get off my case, will you? Ever been broke? Any idea what it’s like? It sucks!
I went to Ernest’s because I’ve got no one else to ask… I called him on the Wednesday before the party. I said I’d come early to have a chat, biting my tongue, telling him I just wanted to catch up. I didn’t want to rub him up the wrong way. With Ernest, you’ve got to know how to work him. I borrowed a mate’s suit and tie and pulled into Longland around five. Parked the rattle-trap out of sight, on the side of the road, a few hundred metres from the entrance. I didn’t want to look like a complete bum. Ernest walked me to the sitting-room. He poured us both a drink. He sat there, spivved up in his black suit, like Lord Muck. I looked around. My mother used to sit where Ernest was sitting, with her feet to the fire. In the same armchair. The fireplace still had a whiff of burnt wood and soot…
After a while I stopped daydreaming and said, look, Ernest, I’ve been down and out lately. I haven’t paid my board in two months. Could you lend me two grand? I’ll pay you back in a couple of months… He kept sipping on his drink, waited, kept me hanging for a little longer eventually spitting, I can’t help you, Raph.
Blood is thicker than water, they say. Well, that’s crap. When it comes to me and Ernest, anything is thicker than blood! Every man for himself, more like… Thanks for nothing, I blurted, now, I’m good to sleep on the street. He added in his conniving way, so much like him, I wouldn’t mind helping you, Raph, but I’m in dire financial straits myself… As if! He’s a tight cunt. He has money, of course he does. How much for a party like this, eh? I saw the booze and the grub stacked up in the kitchen. How much do you shell out for that sort of a spread? Honestly, two grand, it’s no big deal to him. I was fuming…
Anyways, we just sat there, facing each other. Ernest had his back to the corridor. I kept looking around… The fireplace, the metal cabinet, my old man’s desk. I was about to have another crack. I needed the money so badly. Then I saw the prick looking at my shoes. Yeah, my shoes! The suit and the tie looked sort of okay, but my shoes… they were my old shoes. I haven’t bought a pair of shoes in donkey’s years, haven’t needed to. Then I looked down at my feet and realised I wasn’t wearing socks… Fuck! No socks… I tried to slide my feet back under the chair. For Christ’s sake, I thought, while the old bastard kept staring at my feet, smirking. Yeah, he smirked… Oh man… I got so pissed off. And then I thought to myself, Raph, you’re not going back to Brissie without your moolah. You’re not going to waste a twelve-hour drive and four-hundred bucks in petrol… no way. In two hours’ time the place will be packed with rich pigs. All cashed-up. Megabucks. What about doing the dirty deed? Yeah, the credit cards, the loot…
You’ve got to understand, Officer… When you’re down to your last buck, you’ll do anything. Anything! Anyway, I was about to finish my drink. I looked up and saw her… Yep, Lucie. She was sneaking down the corridor with a small bag. Quiet as a mouse. When she heard us in the sitting-room she turned right around and darted back. Ernest didn’t notice a thing. Then I twigged… That chick was about to fly the coop. I looked at Ernest and stifled a laugh: you throw a big do and the bride-to-
be is about to fuck off. Hah, hah.
But I played it down. Watched Ernest finish his drink, left the room and went outside for a ciggie. The first guests showed up. Fur-coats, leather jackets, Louis Vuitton bags. Wowee! I was over the moon… I had a couple of beers, not too much, didn’t want to get blotto. I sweated it out. And around three o’clock, when they were all off their heads conga-dancing up and down the stairs, I made my way to the library. That’s where they’d tossed their bags and rags. Cool as a cucumber I ruffled through and pocketed as much as I could… Cash, credit cards, driver’s licences, everything, yeah, driver’s licences, they’re good too.
Huh? What time was that? Around three… I notched my belt tight, stuffed the loot down the front of my shirt, and jumped out the window. I jumped out that window heaps of times as a kid. Then I ran up towards the forest… No, I didn’t take the main path to the car. A fire trail goes uphill and leads to the road. I know these woods like the back of my hand.
As I came near the old caretaker’s house, I heard a cry inside. Then another cry, from further away. I thought I’d better fuck off before some dude ratted on me to the cops, but I couldn’t move. It was bloody weird, my legs were kind of heavy, like I’d grown roots. I knew I shouldn’t have come back to bloody Longland. I broke into a sweat…
I thought of my mum and dad and Sunday church… I hated myself for coming here and was shitting myself about getting sprung. My legs were like jelly, but I forced myself to move and ran to the caretaker’s house. I got inside, stripped off my shirt and unloaded what I’d nicked into the gap in the old bricked-in fireplace. I knew about the loose bricks, ’cos that’s where I used to stash ciggies and pornos when I was a kid… Yeah, I threw what I’d swiped in there… You can go and check. I’m no thief. You’ll find all the gear inside. I know, I’m no choir boy. I’ve done some stupid stuff. I like doing deals. I like my gambling too, but I’m not an idiot, and I’m not that bad either…
Ernest’s rotten. I remember the day my old man went to town on him. Best thing my dad ever did. Good on him… Why? Because of his filthy ways. I haven’t got much morals, I’m a hood, but Ernest! Parties, alcohol, hard drugs, women and men. Yep, men! He likes men too. He’s a homo. Even when he was a kid… I saw him at it. Took my mum’s nightie and made airs and graces in front of the mirror. Looked like a clown. How do you call them people? Travesties? Transvestites? Is that right? Gives me the creeps. See, that Gary, that fag, they’ve been together, I’m sure he’s been with that Polack… And at the party, when he was outside having a smoke I stayed well away. Backs to the wall, as they say…
That’s what my parents couldn’t stand, Officer. My old man did what he could to steer him back to a normal life. See, my father was tough but righteous. But even as a kid, Ernest was a little lecher… He tried that shit on our neighbour’s son. The lad was just a couple of years younger. But it wasn’t to the kid’s taste and he dobbed him in. My old man went berserk. He and my uncle waited all day for Ernest to come home. He turned up at nightfall and my father grabbed him by the hair, started whacking him about the head. Real hard. He gave him t
he full treatment. But you know what? The sleazy bastard didn’t scream. Didn’t make a sound… If my uncle hadn’t stopped him, my father would have killed Ernest. Dad gave him a good bashing, he did.
But you’ve got to understand, Officer, Ernest was vicious. He was cruel to dogs, cats, birds, chooks, anything that came across his path… One day in the hen-house he throttled eight tiny little chicks. For no reason. Let me tell you, my father should have wiped him out… Yeah, my father tried to put him on the straight and narrow… And you know what? When he was fifteen, my father was about to go for him, can’t remember what Ernest had done this time, but the scumbag raised his fist: you lay another finger on me and I’ll smash you to pieces! Yep, that’s what he said.
My parents tried to give us a good upbringing. They took us to mass each week. But from the start, Ernest was a waste of space. Piece of shit… My mother spent the last years of her life crying. She said that if she’d known such a “profligate” would see the light of day, she’d have killed herself…
Yeah, as I said, I was pretty sure Lucie was about to piss off. Like all them girls he’s scared away. He’s got a long list of sheilas in his trophy cabinet. Those who nicked off before it was too late were the smart ones. Annette, she had a brain. You’ve never heard of Annette? Ah, she’s the one who came before Lucie… Hang on! No… Brit came before Lucie, Annette before Brit… Difficult to keep track… How do I know? I just happen to know… Annette ran off… That was a wise move. Yep, I was glad when I saw the Frog was about to clear off… She’s not a bad girl…
Do I know Annette? Yeah, I met her… As I said, a smart woman. She worked for the Sydney Festival. Real smart. She fled the nest when she was five months pregnant… Yeah, pregnant by Ernest… He never told you? Sure, Ernest has a son. He’s about ten years old. Lives with his mum. Ernest has been denied access. No contact. Not even a supervised visit, considering his past… Never told you he had a son? Never told you he “had a past” either? Well, that’s no surprise! He’ll do anything to avoid paying child support…
The Lovers Page 11