Bitin' Back (5 page)

‘That's the reason you drink, is it?' Dotty throws me a sly smile, like a cat whit a rat in its mouth.

‘Jesus Christ! Spose she done tole ya that too. Or maybe you jus made it all up in that poison little head a yours,' I let me voice snake over.
I be spittin venom soon.
Me hands start shakin ready to smack her cross her smug dial.

‘Sorry, Mavis, I certainly didn't make
that one
up. The whole town's talking about it, in case you didn't know.' She blinks back at me, then straightens down the hem of a tiny dress.

‘Keep way from me, Dotty. Yer the one in this town spreads all the gossip. Spiteful, that's what ya is. As for Nevil bashin Jerry, well, good job!' I split me gob. Hope that hits her hard.

‘You—you—you—black gin!' she squeals outta her pinkish face, shakin a weak, freckled fist at me.

‘Piss off.' Me eyes fall into slits, burrin up ready to tackle her on to the floor.

‘I'll get you, Mavis. Mark my words, I'll get you!' she hollers over her shoulder then stomps outta the shop, like the woman throwin a kid turn.

‘Yeah, n I'm so
scared.'
I laugh out loud. Deep down me gut crawls.

Betty shakes her blue-tinted head as she opens the cash register,
ping, ping.
‘I'll tell you this, Mavis—be careful. Someone as spiteful as Dotty can do plenty of harm in a little town like this.'

‘Yeah, that a fact. Most fellas here in Mandamooka know what she's like, eh.' I look at me biscuits.
Only Dotty could mess a woman's day up. Alla her fuckin bout.

‘Still, I'd be ready for anything with her. Don't get me wrong, I like Dotty but I know her type.' Betty flicks her eyes at me then hands over the change.

‘Well, I gotta live here too. I'll do my best at dodgin her.' I laugh, but don't really find anything funny at all.

‘Wouldn't you think she'd come up with something better
than a story about Nevil wearing a dress! Biggest load of crock I ever heard!' Betty bursts out, her face shading pink as she laughs.

‘Hmm, yeah. Look, Betty, I gotta take off. See ya later.' I head out the door, the bag a Coke, biscuits and the book feelin like they weigh a ton.
Weighin a woman into the ground.

Doctor Chin drums his fingers on the table and watches me with a frown. Finally he says, ‘Marijuana. Longterm use can cause a certain amount of paranoia. Stress can cause a person to react in unpredictable ways. Drinking to excess is another factor. With all these things combined it is possible for Nevil to think that way.' He pauses. ‘Lastly, if he is gay then there's nothing you can do. Except maybe talk to him about it. If you're really concerned then bring him in to see me.'

‘His father—could it have somethin to do whit his father leavin all those years ago?' I clutch me purse.

‘Missus Dooley, I'm not a psychiatrist. I cannot give you an answer to that question. Maybe you should speak to Nevil about it. Perhaps he does miss his father.' Doctor Chin nods n rubs the side a his face like he's deep in thought.

‘I jus dunno any more. Jus dunno what Nevil's up to.'

‘Mavis, don't you worry too much, okay? I should check your blood pressure while you're here,' he offers, fiddlin whit that doctor thing round his scrawny neck.

‘Not today, Doctor. I'll see if I can bring Nevil in tamarra.' I walk back into the waitin room wonderin if alla those things the doctor sayed done gone to Nev's head. I begin to go out the door when someone calls, ‘Where ya goin, ol girl?'

I turn round. It's Gwenny Hinch. ‘Hey there. Whatcha doin here at all?'

‘Oh, not much. Jus a bit a stress.' She looks away from me, her mouth twisted to one side.

‘Yeah, Big Boy playin up, is he?' I watch the way her eyelashes flutter and the way her hand shakes.

‘Nah, it's jus stuff that's all.' She bites the corner of her mouth.

‘Yeah, well, ya wanna talk bout it?' I drop me arse down beside her.

‘Nah, not really. It's jus that. Oh, never mind.'

‘Man problem?' I squint me peepers at her.

‘Somethin like that,' she mumbles.

‘Well, love, who ya seein now?' I sly on at the way her eyes shift all bout the room.

‘No one much. Oh look, Mave, I jus don't wanna be talkin bout it today. Hey, Nevil in the match or what? Heard Dotty the other day at the pub there sayin stuff bout him. Trust Dot, hey.'

‘Dotty! What that thing be
sayin now!'
I gawk into her face, red rage buildin as I pictcha Dotty runnin Nev down to the lowest.

‘Jus that Jerry gonna whop Nevil's black arse n that if you're thinkin ya can do anythin bout it then yer flat out wrong. Oh yeah, n that Nev got a dirty secret.' She halfsmiles.

‘The bitch!'

‘Everybody knows she's a wanka, Mave. Don't worry bout the white bitch.' Gwen takes a hunk a fingernail into her gob.

‘She's trouble. Don't ya listen to that one, Gwenny. Lies is all she's good for. Hates me cos I took the jackpot out at bingo. That woman got a real mean streak bout her, childish like.' Me gut rock-n-rolls whit rage.

‘Reckoned she was gonna do ya over one a these days.
Yep, she hate ya guts, ol girl. Be watchin my step if I was you.' She points to me feet.

‘Jesus! She never gives up! Well, I've gotta be off, love. If you wanna come round some time, ya welcome, okay. Jus not this week. Ya don't have to be shy whit me, Gwenny. If a woman can help ya out I will n ya know it.' I leave her whit a smile and step outside into the oven-hot day.
I wonder what's bitin Gwenny? What's bitin the Reedman bitch?
Whit these thoughts, I cut it down the hot bitumen.

FOUR

The white hatchback crawls down the street, slowin every now and then, the skinnythin wheels crunchin the gravel as it creeps along. Straight out like I knowed this car don't belong in this town,
too good lookin.
I sit down on the steps, tea in hand, Tim Tams beside me, and watch as the driver revs the motor and swings the car round to drive down my side a the street. I shade me eyes gainst the sun and watch as it pulls up near the front gate.

A tall, blonde-haired man gets out. Leanin one arm on the car door he calls out, ‘I'm after Nev Dooley, does he live around here anywhere?'

‘Yeah, here.' I get to me feet. Curiosity drives me toward the gate.

‘Oh, you're his Mum?' he asks in a soft voice.

‘Reckon so, n who're you?' I read the black print on his neatly ironed, spotless tee-shirt:
Foxy Loxy.

‘A friend.' He smiles, reachin into his jeans pocket and bringin out a packet of menthol cigarettes.

‘A friend, that's ya name?' I eye off his girlie face.

‘No, sorry. I'm Trevor Wren Davidson.' He laughs sorta nervous like, then lights up his cigarette.

‘Oh, where ya from then?' I look down at his sandal-clad feet. This fella is definitely in wrong territory round here, the sandals done tole me that.

‘The city. Thought I'd come out west and see how Nev's getting on.' He drags on his smoke.

‘Yeah, he's good, out pig-shootin whit his Uncle Booty. Dunno when they sposed to be back.' I shrug me shoulders.
Funny sorta turnout this one.

‘Oh damn! I really wanted to see him. It's rather important.' His shoulders hunch down as if it were the worst news in the world, Nevil not bein at home.

‘Had a long drive, eh?' I watch his face, feelin a little bit sorry for him.

‘Yes, Missus Dooley, you could say that.' He flicks the cigarette butt across the road.

‘Well, love, wanna come in for a cuppa?' I flash me pearlies at him.

‘That'd be fabulous.' He follows me into the house.

‘Pull up a chair.'

‘Thanks. And how has Nevil been?' he asks, his eyes slidin round the messy room.

Knewed a woman shoulda cleaned it up. Shame peoples gawkin at me filthy kitchen. But orrhh, woman's been busy, that's a fact.

‘Pretty good. How'd you know Nev?' Me suss creepers run up me spine when I notice the way he flicks his hands about.
Funny moves.

‘Well, I—I met him at the—oh shoot! I can't think, but I believe it was when I came out this way last year.' I seed the way his eyes trackin the room.
Like he don't wanna look at me.

Knowin that he's pullin a fast one on me I push on. ‘Last year? How come ya didn't come round then?' I place the tea in front a him. He got them big brown cow eyes. But they ain't stupid. A woman can see that all right.

‘Didn't think it was good manners.' He takes a sip of tea.

‘Gotta girlfriend?' I burst out.

‘Oh, well, yes.' He frowns at me as though like he's lookin at a lunatic.

‘Sssooo, you like Jean Rhys?' I play me ace.
Gottim, gottim. Bingo!

‘Jean Rhys? Yeah, sure—um, Missus Dooley, are you feeling well? I mean, you look slightly ill.' He peers at me.

‘Yeah, I'm well. The question is, are you?' I feel an oily grin crack me face.

‘Why, yes,' he answers, his eyes on the door like it offers a fast escape.

‘You city fellas have funny ways, doncha? Real
queer
sorta ways.' I purse me lips, determined to put an end to all this before Nevil comes back.
A wile card. He be that.

‘Sorry, don't know what you mean.' He wrinkles his forehead and pushes his teacup cross the table.

‘I think ya do. Why ya wearin
women's sandals!'
I have him! Fer sure there's only one one answer to that. The right answer in me book.
Mavis Dooley ain't no fool.

‘Missus Dooley, is there a problem?' His eyes dart round the room.

‘Ain't never seen no man gettin bout in
sandals.
Why you wearin em for, eh?' He looks like a rabbit caught in headlights.
Like I gonna skin him up like.

‘You can have them if you like. I mean, I only wear them because my feet sweat in shoes.' He stands up lookin ready to run out the door as fast as his skinny legs'll carry him.

‘Do ya love Nevil?' Me nostrils flare, sweat breaks out on me forehead n me teeth ache.
He better!

‘Sure. He's my best mate,' Trevor answers, standin up n takin a small step backwards.

‘He's gotta
girlfriend,
ya know. Gracie. Beautiful. She loves Nevil. I want her to be me daughter-in-law. Do you know bout that? Cos I ain't the type a woman ya mess whit, right?' I snarl, wonderin if he's the one done started all this Jean Rhys crap.
Cos he look womanish. Yep, his deli-cate liddle hands tell me that.

‘Yes, Missus Dooley. Look, I've got to go. Can you please tell Nev I'll be down at the Two Dogs,' he says, inchin long the kitchen wall.

‘Might.' I throw me hands on me hips.

‘Bye, Missus Dooley,' He gives a tiny smile, then hurries out the door.

I jump to me feet and race to the window, watchin as he turns and stares back at the house with somethin like fear on his face.

‘Queero,' I whisper, noticin he walks the same way as Nevil. Silently I curse meself for being so straight out when I shoulda conned him long. Shoulda asked him a lot a questions.
Yep, shoulda kept him here.

I turn me head when I hear the sound of a car tearin up the road, comin round the corner full-bore. Booty's ute speedin long down the street, black smoke spewin from the tailpipe, the motor soundin like it gonna give up the ghost any minute, n the dogs in the back barking wild. Suddenly Booty brakes so hard the pig carcass on the back flies off the hooks and lands at Trevor's sandal-wearing feet.

Trevor stumbles backward, falls on his arse, and screams woman-like when the bloodied pig head—dead eye hangin outta one side a the skull, ears torn, big mouth
barin its dirty long gnashers—lands smack in his lap. Hollerin like a madwoman he's tryin to get to his feet when the dogs come tearin cross the yard towards him.

‘Back! Get back, ya fuckas!' yells Booty, his face grey as he jumps from the car and runs after the dogs. ‘Deadman down! Deadman down!' Sweat is pissin down his face, spit flyin from his gob, arms flappin wild in the air as he gallops over to the blabberin bawlbaby.

Knowin Booty's command, the dogs back off, tails between they legs. They whimper over to the ute and slide underneath.

Nevil races forward, his face clouded over whit a look a horror n like he can't believe his eyes. ‘You right, mate?' he asks, reachin down to haul Trevor to his wobbly feet.

‘I—I—I think so,' Trevor heaves, blood and pig gut clingin to his jeans.

Poor scared crapper. ‘Bring him inside,' I yell, feelin a ripple of sorry for him.
The boy looks goonary. Probly shit hisself n all.

Nevil puts an arm around Trevor and walks him into the kitchen. ‘Get him a towel, Mum,' he says, leading Trevor to a chair.

‘Fucken mutts. That's the problem with em, chase anythin. Get that smell a blood an they off like fucken rockets.' Booty sounds cross but there's a lotta pride in his voice. ‘Best fucken pig dogs this side a the black stump,' he adds.

‘Ya right, love?' I look at the shakin, white-faced Trevor.
He definitely not right.

‘Well, Mum, he's just nearly had his bloody guts ripped out.' Nevil shakes his head whit a look of disgust and scowls at Booty.

‘They would'na hurt a fly. Don't be a pussy, son,' Booty booms, grinnin from ear to ear.

‘Nevil, take your friend and show him where the bathroom is. He'll need to wash all that off him.'

Nevil mutters angrily and motions for Trevor to follow him.

‘How'd it all go?' I turn to Booty.

‘Yeah, all right. Anyway, who's that fella at all?' He nods towards the door.

‘Nevil's city friend. Ya know,
friend.'
I walk to the fridge and haul out a bottle a Coke.

‘Poofter mate, hey? Man oughta get to him too. He got that wussy look bout him.' Booty reaches for the Coke and pours hisself a glass.

‘See the sandals?'

‘Nuh! He's wearin
fucken sandals?'
Booty scratches his head, knowin, as I do, the boy's got some serious problem. Specially out in this town. ‘Be fucked,' he grumbles, lookin at the door.

‘Poor bugger. Those dogs scared the shit outta him,' I laugh, then wipe the sweat from me forehead.

‘Dunno what's gonna happen whit the game, Mave. If Nevil don't pull his head in then the Blackouts'll be fucked right up. Jeez, that'd be a real shame, eh?'

‘Reckon so. Ain't no one plays like Nev.' I let out a big breath then shove a Tim Tam into me gob.
Ahhh, ain't nuthin like a Tim Tam to clear ya scone.

‘Thinkin bout teaching him to box. What ya reckon?' Booty pats his big gut.

‘Geez, Booty, boxin?' I scowl at him. ‘I ain't sure if that'd be the right thing to do whit Nev.'

‘Yep, a man thing. No pussy ever took to boxin. Might get his girlfriend in on the act too,' he laughs, his fat gut shakin like a plate a gelatine.

‘Booty, people startin to get a bit suss bout Nev. I'm tellin
lies to everybody. Can't keep this up. Then Dotty Reedman tellin the stinkin town, n Missus Warby spottin him in a dress!' I shove another biscuit into me mouth and wonder when all this'll blow up in me face. Knowin in the bottom a me gut that it'll be soon.

‘Can't help em stickybeaks, Mave. Only thing is keep a real close eye on him, keep him away from grog and smokin that weed. He'll come outta it. And for God's sake, keep that fucken brainwashin Ricki Lake off the TV.' Booty picks at his teeth with a matchstick.

‘I'm thinkin bout takin him to Doctor Chin. Whatcha reckon, hey?'

‘Dunno, Sis, thing is I don't think the doctor can fix him.' Booty pushes the chair in. ‘Ah, well, a man's gotta get over n see what Brenda's up to. Ain't been over fer a while, she'll have the shits fer sure. If you have any trouble whit em in there, come n get me, eh?'

‘Yeah, yeah, I will.'

Nevil sidles in and stands near the fridge. ‘Can Trevor stay here? He's sick.'

‘Spose so. No funny business in this house or I'll get Booty over, understand?'I point a finger at him.
No homo business is what I wanna say. But I can't be sayin that, not to me own kid. A woman don't wanna mess whit his head any more than it's already messed. No good puttin any more ideas in it.

‘What's that supposed to mean?'

‘I think ya know. Might be a nice boy, Nevil, but he sticks out. Fellas in this town'll do him over. It's like they can't stand strangers. Specially men that get round wearin sandals!' I feel so shamed bout it.
What'd drive a grown man to wear friggin sandals out in this country! City ideas. Fucken city fellas n all their fancy ways. Nevil outta his own territory on this one, fer sure.

‘Mum, he's a friend, that's all. If this town wants to pick on someone cos they're different, well let them. Look at the way they treat us. Yeah, Mum, they treat us like shit cos we're blackjacks! Seems to me like you're just like them now. If it's not one thing it's another,' Nevil says, soundin depressed.

‘Why's he here, Nev? Is this something to do whit Jean Rhys?' I hurl the question, soundin unreal to me own ears.

‘Oh, Mother! If I could—Never mind. One day you'll find out what this is all about. It's just that I need some time out for me. I've lived my life doing what everyone else expects me to do.
And I've had enough!
Sometimes I wish we'd never ended up in this place. But, oh no, had to fuck off on dad real fast, didn't we?'

‘Hey, now don't ya blame me for ya father! He's the one that fucked off on us, Nev! He was no good for us, boy. A woman didn't want ya to be growin up like him—drinkin grog n bein a no good bastard.' I watch Nevil closely.
He's nuthin like his ol man. Then again, right now, I sorta wish he were.

‘Mum, I don't blame you for Dad, you know that. But do you ever think about life? I mean do you wish you could of done things you never tried?' Nevil asks, gazin at me whit a serious-type look.

‘Well, love, I dunno. Spose I always wanted to find us a nice place n have a decent life. I jus wanted for ya to have a good life, boy. Not like me own shitty fucked life. Everythin I do is for you, son.' I rest me face on me hands n watch him.

‘Mum, I mean if you weren't black, poor, whatever, do you think it would of changed anything?'

‘Can't answer that, Nev. I always been black n I always been poor. Sometimes I sorta wished I coulda had a proper
schoolin like. Ya know, be sorta smart. A woman feels stupid, I spose.'

‘Don't talk shit, Mum, you're not stupid. You're smart. Now look here, there's people out there with all their fancy degrees and diplomas, and, let me tell you, when it comes down to it, put them in your situation and they'd fucken freak, cos your life experience is a special education all its own. A lot of people, even smart ones, wouldn't know fuck about life. Yeah, too up themselves to stop and smell the coffee. Too concerned about
appearances.
Yeah, smart people, eh. Don't make me laugh, Ma.' He grins at me.

‘Nevil, where ya learnin that sorta talk?'

‘Nowhere, Mum, I always talk this way,' he says, reachin for a biscuit.

‘That's a barefaced lie! Gee, sometimes I wonder where ya get this stuff.'

‘Ma, I do more than run wild, you know.' He laughs.

‘Is that why you're this Jean Rhys?' I watch the way his face muscles move, like I done hit a raw nerve.