Mystery Bay Blues

by Robert G. Barrett

‘So what did happen? Unless that mineral water of mine’s got some other, unknown, healing properties.’

  Les had a mouthful of wine and grinned. ‘It was fake blood.’

  Les told Grace about buying the vampire capsules and putting them in his pocket then gave her a blow by blow description of the fight. He even told her about the police calling around. He didn’t tell her about seeing Serina on the yacht. But when he’d finished, the bottle of wine was almost gone and Grace was holding her sides.

  ‘Les Norton. You are an absolute bastard,’ she said. ‘Yes. I do have my moments of absolute bastardry,’ agreed Les.

  ‘And you went easy with him. Bloody Morgan Scully.’ Grace shook her head. ‘I can’t believe that.’

  ‘I was just feeling that good,’ said Les. ‘But for all his size and everything, he’s slower than the Russian national anthem.’

  ‘Then you knocked out Mick Ross too. God! You’re not bad.’

  ‘Yeah. Well I king hit him,’ admitted Les.

  Grace wrapped her arms around Les and kissed him again: a little longer this time. ‘Come on tiger. Get your bag and I’ll show you your room.’

  The spare room was on the right past the bathroom. There was a single bed with a blue duvet and matching sheets and a window faced out onto the valley. Near the bed was a small dressing table, a few photos of old Central Tilba hung on the walls, and stacked against the walls on the yellow carpet were boxes of plain T-shirts.

  ‘You’ll be as snug as a little bug in a rug in here,’ said Grace.

  ‘Unreal,’ said Les, dropping his bag on the bed. ‘And I don’t have to worry about bloody Edward. Thanks Grace.’

  ‘You’re welcome handsome. Now let’s work out what to do with those lamb cutlets. They look good enough to eat.’

  Grace basted the cutlets with chilli and coconut sauce and put them under the griller, then made some mashed kumera and a rocket salad with balsamic, honey dressing and shaved almonds. While everything was cooking, they talked about this and that and had a few cool ones. Les let Grace drink most of the red wine while he had a couple of cans of VB she had in the fridge. The meal was sensational and while they were eating Les told Grace he’d pick up her winnings at the hotel on Tuesday night.

  ‘When are you going back to Sydney?’ she asked.

  ‘Wednesday,’ replied Les. ‘I’d like to stay a bit longer. But after all the drama, it might be best if I got going. I’ll drop your money in first though.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ said Grace. ‘What time do you think you’ll be leaving?’

  ‘Around lunch time.’

  ‘I’d like you to meet Ellie before you go.’

  Les glanced across at the photo on the fridge. ‘I’d like to meet her too. She looks like a real little sweetheart.’

  ‘She is. Especially when she gets her own way.’

  It didn’t take long to wash and dry the dishes and put the leftovers in the fridge with glad-wrap. Grace was impressed at how domesticated Les was. Les said it came from living with Warren and they didn’t make a bad casserole either when it came to a pinch.

  ‘What do you feel like doing now?’ asked Grace.

  ‘I don’t care Grace,’ replied Les. ‘You’re the boss.’

  ‘Would you like to watch a video?’

  ‘Yeah righto,’ said Les. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Blow with Johnny Depp. Julie loaned it to me.’

  ‘Unreal. I missed it when it was on at the movies.’

  ‘I want to see it again,’ said Grace. ‘Everybody should see it. If this movie wouldn’t turn you off getting into cocaine, nothing would.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Les. ‘You’re guaranteed to finish up one of three ways getting into coke. Dead, broke or in gaol.’

  ‘Right on.’ Grace raised the last of her wine. ‘Shall we have a joint first?’

  ‘The “erb”,’ smiled Les. ‘Why not “oman”?’

  Grace already had a hot one rolled which they smoked in the kitchen before they went inside. It wasn’t bad pot either; almost as good as Warren’s. Les mellowed out on the lounge while Grace got the video together, then she sat down next to him.

  ‘I’ve fast forwarded all the other stuff,’ said Grace. ‘So the movie will come straight on.’

  ‘All right.’

  Grace had a nice TV and it was tuned in through a good stereo. Les was laid back on the lounge feeling no pain when the movie came on. There was absolute silence for a few moments. Next thing, the Keith Richard riff from ‘Can’t You Hear Me Knocking’, whacked out of the speakers and Les nearly fell off the lounge.

  ‘Holy shit!’ he yelled.

  ‘Isn’t that unreal?’ laughed Grace.

  ‘Christ!’ said Les. ‘I thought my bloody head was going to come off.’ The movie began and Les started to laugh. ‘I know why you wanted me to watch this,’ he said. ‘The bloke’s called George.’

  ‘Shh! Watch the movie,’ said Grace.

  By the time George and Tuna moved to California and started selling pot, Grace and Les were snuggling up to each other. When George’s horrible mother shelved him to the wallopers, Les was massaging Grace’s scalp and neck. Just after George met Pablo Escobar, Grace was sitting on a cushion in front of Les, and Les was rubbing her shoulders, sinking his thumbs into her rotator-cuffs while she was crooning. When George got shelved by his mates and copped thirty years for trafficking cocaine, Grace had her T-shirt off and Les was rubbing her back with hemp oil. By the time the video ended, they were both looking forward to bed.

  ‘Would you like to tuck me in now, Aunty Grace?’ asked Les. ‘George has had a big day and he’s tired.’

  ‘All right snookums,’ said Grace. ‘Would you like your teddy bear too?’

  ‘No. That’s all right,’ smiled Les. ‘Just ted will do.’

  Les followed Grace to the spare room where they got down to the naughty, naked nude, and climbed under the duvet. Les figured they’d had ample foreplay on the lounge. But he still wanted to give Grace’s lovely ted a bit of a detail. He kissed her for a while, then ran his tongue down her neck, around her nipples, over her stomach and in between her legs; and then went for it. Grace kicked and squealed and got her rocks off before Les finally surfaced. Grace took hold of Mr Wobbly to give him a quick polish. But reluctantly, Les had to drag Grace away. If Grace’s sweet lips had gone within cooee of Mr Wobbly it would have been a disaster. Instead, Les spread Grace’s legs and slipped the angry little fellow into his favourite hiding place. On the rubber ball it was good. But in a nice firm bed with his back healed, Les was able to put the big ones in. Grace sighed and moaned. Les kissed her neck and lips while he worked steadily away. It was the sweetest lovemaking and Les wished he could go all night. But eventually it just got too good. Les arched his back, lifted Grace’s legs and with Grace yelling encouragement, poured himself into her.

  After a while Norton’s chest stopped heaving and the stars spinning in front of his eyes faded away. He had his arm around Grace: Grace was snuggled up to his chest with her eyes closed.

  Les half-opened one eye and looked at Grace. ‘Shit! How good was that.’

  Grace nodded. ‘There’s definitely nothing wrong with your back now. That’s for sure.’

  ‘I’m just going to close my eyes for a minute,’ said Les.

  ‘Okay,’ said Grace.

  Norton’s snoring woke him up and it was pitch black. He groped around the bed to find Grace had gone and he was on his own. Isn’t that lovely, he thought. I bring her two bottles of wine, lamb cutlets and back a winner for her. And she leaves me to sleep in the wet spot. Thank Christ I didn’t waste my money on flowers. Les quietly used the bathroom, put his tracksuit on and climbed back into bed. It was lovely and warm under the duvet. Les pulled it up under his chin, smiled into the darkness and in no time the big Queenslander was snoring like a baby.

  Les woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon cooking and Fleetwood Mac singing ‘You Make Lovin’ Fun’, coming from
the kitchen. He went to the bathroom, freshened up and walked into the kitchen. Grace was at the stove with her back to him. She’d just had a shower and put on a light blue tracksuit. Les sneaked up behind her and tickled her under the ribs. Grace tensed for a second and turned around.

  ‘Hello George,’ she smiled. ‘How are you this morning?’

  ‘Terrific.’ Les slipped his arms around Grace and gave her a peck on the forehead. ‘How’s yourself. You look very sparkle-arkley.’

  ‘I’m good. I was just about to call you. Did you sleep all right?’

  ‘Yeah. Like a baby. That little bed was unreal.’

  ‘Would you like a glass of ruby red grapefruit juice? I just squeezed some.’

  ‘Reckon,’ said Les. ‘I love the stuff.’

  From the fridge Grace got a pitcher of juice she’d sweetened with a little honey and poured two glasses. Les commented on how nice it was then sat down at the kitchen table and stretched.

  ‘Ahh yes. Nothing like a nice leisurely breakfast,’ he winked.

  ‘Be as leisurely as you like, Les,’ said Grace, turning off the griller. ‘Just as long as you’ve got all this food shoved down your throat and your arse out the door in half an hour.’

  ‘That’s what I like about you, Grace,’ smiled Les, taking another sip of juice. ‘You’re so romantic.’

  Grace served Les a huge plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, along with fresh brewed coffee and toast, then joined him. The food was delicious and Les got into it, knowing Grace wanted to have everything out of the way by the time her daughter arrived. They had time to joke about last night and discuss the movie, before Les finally wiped his plate with a piece of toast, washed it down with a second cup of coffee and burped quietly into his hand.

  ‘Grace, that was sensational,’ he said. ‘Thanks a lot.’

  ‘That’s quite all right,’ replied Grace. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’

  ‘I’m full. I know that.’ Les rose from the table. ‘Do you want a hand or anything?’

  ‘No. That’s all right.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll grab my bag and get going.’

  By the time Les got his bag from the bedroom, Grace already had the dishes stacked in the sink and was running the hot water. She stopped what she was doing, smiled at Les and walked him to the door. Morticia was sprawled stomach down on the verandah. She looked up at Les, rolled her eyes back and gave her tail the slightest suggestion of a wag.

  ‘I hate kicking you out like this, Les,’ said Grace. ‘But …’

  ‘Hey. No problems,’ said Les. ‘I understand. I’m just rapt you let me stay here for the night.’ He put his arms around Grace and they had a quick kiss. ‘I’ll ring you. And I’ll call in tomorrow with your winnings.’

  Grace let go of Norton’s hand. ‘Okay. We might have lunch before you go back. The three of us.’

  ‘Righto. See you then.’ Les started off down the steps. ‘See you, Morticia. You little shit.’ The dog wagged its tail a fraction more and Les walked across to his car. He started the engine and bipped the horn as Grace waved him off. A few minutes later Les was driving through the quiet streets of Central Tilba towards the highway.

  It was a beautiful spring day: warm and sunny, with a light breeze stirring the leaves in the surrounding trees and a scattering of fluffy, grey clouds moving across the sky. Les was patting his stomach and feeling good as he turned left onto the highway back towards Narooma. What a top day, he smiled. And how good was that breakfast? Christ! She gave me enough. Les put his foot down and overtook an old, blue Kombi wagon blowing smoke. So what have I got to do today, he thought, easing back on the accelerator. Oh yeah. Move into a motel. That’s going to be a nice drag just for one night. And what about all that food we got left? Bugger Edward and his tantrums. Les cruised along thinking he might book into the motel he told Grace he was staying at when he first met her. He was smiling at the irony of this when he came to the Mystery Bay turn-off. Ohh yeah, thought Les. I’m not in any hurry. Why don’t I check it out? Les hung a right and followed the road down past several small farms. The paddocks soon became trees and Les was driving into Mystery Bay before he knew it.

  On the left, a narrow dirt road led into a small, deserted camping area, with a wooden pole placed across the entrance, near a council sign that read: CAMPING AREA CLOSED TILL FURTHER NOTICE. KEEP OUT. Les followed the bitumen up past a cluster of houses on the right to a low headland and a sign saying CAPE DROMEDARY NATIONAL PARK, did a U-turn then drove back into an empty parking area where another sign said MYSTERY BAY. He pulled up facing the ocean and had a look around.

  Two beaches, split by a spit of sand and rock, formed a wide, sheltered bay edged with trees. Stony outcrops pushed away from the sand and all through the bay clumps of rock stuck out of the water to form small islands. The bay finished on the right, at the flat headland next to the national park, and on the left, finished down at a long ridge of jagged rock running out from the sand near an old, concrete boat ramp with a crack in the centre. The ridge of jagged rock formed a safe inlet between it and the low cliffs further around from the camping area, where a large cave at the water’s edge opened up towards the bay. The tide was out and the water in the bay was crystal clear over the sand and the reefs running into deeper water; in the distance was Montague Island.

  So this is Mystery Bay, mused Les. The place where Edward and his mates ate the pie. Les shook his head. Stuffed if I know how, he thought. It looks as safe as a bank out there. Les stared at the sun sparkling on the clear, blue water. One thing I do know — I feel terrific and this is a snorkel sucker’s paradise. I’m going straight home to get my gear. Les reversed the car around and headed for Narooma.

  Now that the long weekend was over and the Blues Festival had ended, Narooma was back to its sleepy, peaceful self. Les stopped to get the paper and some milk, before pulling up in the driveway at Browning Street. He got his bag, opened the front door and walked into the kitchen.

  ‘Oh shit!’

  Edward had been during the night and things were lying everywhere. Cutlery, plates, pots, pans, even the tea towels and pot scourers were scattered around the floor. However, there was no food. Trepidatiously, Les opened the fridge and the cupboards, but couldn’t see any loaded rat-traps or knives poking out. Les put the milk away and looked in the pantry. The rat-traps were there. But the horseshoe was missing. Les walked down to the lounge room. His cassettes were scattered across the carpet and the bear was facing the wall. The horseshoe was jammed under the bedroom door.

  ‘Ha-ha-hah! Fooled you, Edward. You fuckin goose,’ said Les. ‘Warren’s gone home.’

  Les pulled the horseshoe out from under the door, dropped it on the lounge and walked into his bedroom. All his clothes were tossed around the floor, along with the pillows and blankets and his new CDs. Les looked at the mess and shook his fist.

  ‘Not happy — Edward.’

  It was the same in the bathroom. His shaving kit was spread across the floor along with his towel and the roll of toilet paper. Les left it and went back back to the kitchen. Shit! Where do I start? Bugger it. I’ll sort my tapes out first. Les walked down to the loungeroom and started replacing his cassettes into their numbered containers.

  ‘Edward,’ he muttered. ‘You’re a pain in the fuckin arse. You know that? And your girlfriend wears army boots.’

  Les put the last cassette away and looked out the door at the sun shining on the lagoon. Ohh stuff this, he thought. It’s too good a day. I’ll clean the rest up later. Wasting no time, Les put his Speedos on under his shorts, got his gear and shoved it in his bag then locked the house and climbed into his car. Seconds later he reversed out into Browning Street and headed for the highway to Mystery Bay.

  There was nobody around and this time Les chose the car park closer to the camping area. He got his bag, locked the car and started walking along the beach towards the old boat ramp. Half way up the beach was a big, grey log. Les thought he might leave his gear there. He wa
lked up, dropped his bag on the sand then sat down on the log and figured out his game plan. It wasn’t hard. Just snorkel around all those little islands, and maybe swim round the ridge sticking out from the beach, into the inlet where the cave was. I can’t see any sharks hanging around here, he hoped. And if I do spot one, I can jump straight out onto one of those little islands. Les was about to gear up when he felt several drops of cold sweat form on his brow. Next thing, a tingle like an ice cube getting dropped down his back ran along his spine, the sunlight got brighter and the clouds started whizzing across the sky like they were being driven along by a cyclone.

  ‘Hello,’ said Les. ‘I think this is that flashback Grace was talking about. Shit!’

  Oh well. Nothing much I can do about it, he thought. Les sat down with his back against the log and made himself comfortable. Just kick back and take the merry-go-round, through Toon Town again. I wonder how long it’ll go for?

  This time, however, it wasn’t like before. Instead of plasticine shapes and Toonies, everything started to spiral crazily, as if Mystery Bay was getting sucked into a vortex of raging colours, somewhere above the horizon. Next thing, there was flash of blinding white light, like a nuclear explosion, forcing Les to close his eyes and turn away from the speeding vortex. But even with his eyes shut the light was still blinding. After a while the light faded. Les blinked his eyes open and looked around.

  The houses on the hill were gone, the roads were gone, the car parks had disappeared; so had the camping area and the old, concrete boat ramp, along with the log he’d been resting against. Now it was all trees. Huge trees towering up to the sky with trunks as wide as houses. Cedar, ash, red gum, blue gum, ghost gum, ironbark. Around the bottom of the trees, crystal clear streams trickled around moss-covered logs, shaded by huge, spreading ferns. Les was sitting on a beach at the edge of an ancient rainforest. From out of the rainforest, flocks of parrots and other birds screeched and dived through the air. Sulphur-crested cockatoos, rosellas, rainbow lorikeets, king parrots, turquoise parrots, corellas, bulbuls, kingfishers, kookaburras, magpies, orioles … All in countless numbers. Bush turkeys and lyrebirds moved around the streams, the sky above the ocean was alive with sea birds. A mob of red and grey kangaroos came bounding along the beach, straight through a mob of wallabies being chased into the rainforest by a pack of dingoes. All the little islands in the bay were coated in white and crammed with barking seals: big, fat brown ones, some with pups. Others were swimming between the islands or lying on the sand. A school of playful dolphins swam into the bay, had a quick look around then swam straight out again. The tide was high and the water in the bay was teeming with schools of fish, while the bottom was covered in black stingrays foraging through the sand. Montague Island was green in the distance and the ocean between the island and the mainland swarmed with whales, breeching and blowing water as they swam past.