Bitin' Back (8 page)

I shrug me shoulders. ‘They been talkin bout me for years. Cos see, there's gonna come a day when good ol Mavis Dooley's gonna pull at the bit. Like whit that big tits Dotty. I'll get back at her! Had years to learn her dirty little tricks.' I pick up the last Tim Tam n shove it in me gob.

‘Now that you mention it, it was only the other day I heard Dotty tell someone that Nevil's queer, n when the Blackouts find out the truth they gonna smash his fancy arse. Now, whatcha think the ol bat meant by that?' Gwen gives me a certain look.

‘It's all lies, Gwenny. Dotty jus got the shits cos I won the five hundred dollar jackpot. Yep, cos it weren't her takin home the dough. Plus she's pissed off bout Nev floggin into Jerry. It's like a woman done killed her mother or somethin whit the way she carryin on bout me n Nev. Like she jelly of me boy, eh.'

‘Bloody womba, ain't she? I mean, gee, there must be somethin bitin at her. Ain't normal, actin like that. Maybe you're right, she's jealous of you n Terry? Who'd fucken know. Anyway, where's the Nev? Haven't seen him for ages. He still on for the game?'

‘Sure is. Oh he's been havin some problems whit hisself. Sorta like when a woman gets her period n don't wanna go out. He'll be ready for the game. But Gwen, I can't see Dotty bein jelly bout me n Terry. He sniffin round her like a mongrel dog on heat. The prick! Hangin off the woman's mini skirt like he some liddle kid chasin his mamma. Oh, well, ain't no skin off my nose.' I say, feelin sorta sick in me guts.
Too many Tim Tams.

‘Don't worry bout it, Mave. The day'll come when Dotty gets her just desserts. Wouldn'ya think Terry'd have a bit a
decent bein the woman's married n all. But let me tell ya, Terry do have a lot a time for ya, Mave. It's just he needs a little bit a convincin is all.' She flashes a smile then gets to her feet.

‘Yeah, we'll see bout that. Anyway, Gwen, where is Big Boy at?'

She clears the table. ‘Gone over to see the Nev.'

‘He has?' I jump to me feet, almost knockin me cup onto the floor. ‘I'll see ya later. Be down tamarra, okay.'

I rush out the door like me arse is on fire n half-run, half-walk home, hopin n prayin that Nevil's not wearin make-up n a dress. I don't like me chances so when I get to the corner I take full flight n pelt down the street fast as my varicosed legs'll carry me.
Oh God. Oh fuckery!

Puffin n gaspin for air I stand at me front gate, lookin at the house with dread.
By this time I be reckonin that Big Boy's already pulled Nevil's head off n broken his arms n legs into the bargain. Trevor—well, he's dead meat no matter which way ya cut it. One look a those sandals n all hell's bound to happen. Big Boy will suss him right off the mark. Yep, Mandamooka ain't a town for any big city, big timin fella. Let lone a fella denies he's gay, when ya only have to take a gawk at him to know what's what. Nevil—well, he just along for the ride. Yep, that's his problem, too easy on listenin to other fellas n they mad ideas. Wonder if Big Boy'll listen to me. Maybe it's already too late.

Strapped n weak from sprintin down the road I push open the gate, feelin ready to spew Tim Tams all over the place. Suddenly a familiar voice stops me in me tracks.

‘Drugs. It's drugs, Mavis!' Missus Warby pokes her head over the fence, wavin me towards her, the eye spotters restin on her chest as she balances on the kero tin.

‘What?' I walk over to her, me legs creakin.
Mad. She's nutty as a fruitcake. Yep, gettin madder by the minute.

‘It's all been going on behind your back, Mavis. Drug dealers are here, right in your house! All these years in Mandamooka I've never seen what those sort of people look like. Today I have. Yes, that's right, Mavis, they've all pulled the wool over your eyes, I'm sorry to say. Some bloke walked right in there with a black port thing, a briefcase. I know a druggie when I see him. They always carry a briefcase!' She firms her lips and nods.

‘Drug dealers! Are you outta your mind!' I can't feel angry whit her. I laugh at the serious, no-nonsense look on her face.

‘Mavis, what's so funny about that?' She looks at me whit open sussin as her eyes crawl up n down me figure. I try to form the right words n as I look up at her pink wrinkled face pokin over the fence it reminds me of a dog's puckered arse.

‘Mavis Dooley! God help us all! I've never in all my years seen such a display! They've got you into it too! It's the Devil's work, Mavis! Turn your back on them! Say ‘‘No'' to drugs! On your feet woman!' The ol girl hits her fist on the tin fence and looks down at me with a thundery face.

Suddenly laughter is replaced by surprise as I watch Missus Warby's face crumple up and her eyes bulge as she stares past me.

I turn and see Trevor smilin at both of us.

‘Hello there,' he greets the ol girl with a warm smile.

The poor ol sheila can't even close her hangin jaw as she gapes at him.

‘Did I interrupt something?' he asks me, walkin over to the fence.

‘You're still alive then?' I say, and drop me head to check
out his feet, noticin he's wearin a pair a ridin boots whit knee-high socks. Relief rushes through me and at that moment I feel like huggin him and tellin him he's probly jus saved his own arse like. The socks, I note whit a sneaky laugh inside a me, look a bit suss n outta place.

‘Yes, I'm alive. What am I, a zombie now?' He gives me a confused sorta look.

‘I just thought—oh, never mind.' I cover me mouth whit me hand.
Jeesus.

‘Trevor the zombie,' he says, then walks round the yard, arms stretched out n legs stiff. ‘I'm coming to
get you,'
he speaks in a deep, evil like voice.

‘Come on, Trevor, no foolin.' I turn back to Missus Warby and the fence.

‘It's him!' The ol girl hisses, her eyes glued to me face.

‘Whatcha mean?' I quiz, favourin Trevor with a ‘yep, she's womba' look.

‘Drugs. He's the big boss, I just bet,' She whispers outta the side of her cupped hand.

‘He is?' I give her a con look of outrage.

Then Trevor taps me on the shoulder. ‘Missus Dooley, I thought I'd just let you know Nev's gone off with Booty for the day. He said something about boxing lessons.' He bends down to pull up his socks.

‘Boxin? Bloody hell! Oops, sorry Missus Warby.' I grind me teeth together to stop meself from screamin n swearin.

‘I'm off over there now. Catch you later.' Trevor turns n strides cross the yard, his baggy shorts billowin in the breeze.
Shit catchers for sure.

‘That's him! Told you, Mavis! Do you
know
him?' Missus Warby adjusts her glasses and radars in on me like a judge at a court hearing.

‘Sure, he's one a Nev's friends from the city,' I shrug me shoulders.

‘Mavis, I worry about you there with people like that. Did you see what he was wearing? Baggy shorts! That's where he hides his drugs, I bet!' She slaps the fence. Her voice becomes all loud n crazy like. ‘I'm telling you that's where all this killing of innocent people starts. Right there with chaps like him!'

Suddenly her front teeth pop out a her mouth, fly through the air n thump down lightly on me sandshoe.

‘Phhse, were thas wha I say,' she goes silent, looks down at me feet whit such a look of horror that I feel sorry for the ol girl.

I bend down n pick up her teeth n hand em back. She shoves em into her mouth n not blinking an eye, she begins again. ‘Yes, as I was saying...'

‘Look, I've got to go now.' I cut her off just as Gracie steps out from the washin shed holdin a stubbie, a joint jammed in her mouth. I groan deep in me gut.
Today of all days!
Gracie staggers over toward us, her legs weak n wobbly. I curl me face at her dirty clothes n greasy hair. But what really worries me is the tee-shirt she's wearin. It's got a ugly, green marijuana leaf pichta on it whit the words:
Smile if you're happy.

‘Hey, Mum. Good ol Mum.' She staggers to me, the beer spillin outta the bottle n all down her.

‘Gracie! Whatcha doin, girl?'

She rushes to me. ‘I love you! I love Nevil!' she laughs, then throws her arms round me neck.

‘Hey. Hey, Missus Warby.' She grins up at the ol woman. ‘Wanna toke? Might lighten ya day up a bit, eh?' She shoves the joint under the ol girl's face. I swing round in a panic,
knowin that Gracie has just given the ol girl more fuel to torment me whit.

‘Gracie, no!' I push her away from the fence. When I turn back to apologise Missus Warby is gone. ‘Geez, girl! Whatsa matter whit ya?' I lead her to the house, me head spinnin from the smell of the joint.

‘I want Nevil!' She sobs n coughs at the same time, tryin to keep the smoke jammed behind her teeth.
High as a kite. Makes a woman wonder where they get the shit from. Too much Mary Jane, cocaine n whatever else, fuckery whit all they heads, Nevil included.

‘He ain't here. He's gone over to Booty's.' I lay her onto the couch, and force the stubbie from outta her hand. Then I switch on the TV to drown all her noise.
Yep, never the one to have a quiet drink, not our Gracie, have to go the full-on hog.

‘You gotta tell me. What's wrong with my Nev?' She asks, her face slack, her eyes empty.

‘Gracie, how long you been sittin in that ol shed out there?' I think I already know the answer.

‘Slept there all night,' she slurs, her bottom lip a ledge.

‘Why, Gracie?' I plump up a cushion and shove it under her.

‘That woman. Yep, I sawed that woman in the yard. Some flash bitch, make-up all over her face, fancy dress n all. That's her, ain't it, Mum?' She watches me whit watery red, sussin eyes.

Before I can answer I hear somebody yellin for me in the kitchen.
Who the fuck that be?

‘Hang on, Gracie.' I race into the kitchen.

Big Boy Hinch and Grunta the Punter stand near the door lookin real proud.

‘Hey, Missus Dool. Check out our colours, man.' Big Boy pokes at the guernsey he's wearin.

‘Team colours—neat, eh?' Grunta puffs out his chest.

‘Oohh yeah, I reckon. Bloody flash as.' I plaster em whit a smile.

‘Nev still here? Grunta asks, scratchin his fork.

‘He gone. What, ya already seen him?'
If they belted him then how come they came back here? Lookin for another rumble. I'm jus the woman to give it to em.

‘Yeah, we seen him this mornin.' Big Boy looks over my shoulder. Gracie stumbles into the room whit a silly smile.

‘Hey there, boyos,' she slurs.

‘Hey, Gracie,' they answer whit sly smiles on their dials.

‘Did you hurt my, Nev, eh, eh?' Gracie rushes for em n as I push her outta the road she knocks Grunta sideways.

‘Wha...?' Big Boy croaks, his eyes roamin cross me dial then flickerin back to Gracie. He shrugs his shoulders, a slight frown cross his face.

‘I tellin ya Big Boy, Grunty, if anybody hurtin me son then I'm the one'll come after ya! Yeah, that's right, me!' I slam a hand to me chest so hard that I almost knock the wind right outta meself.
Oohhh, fuck, that hurt. Slow down, ol girl. Whhooa up there!

‘Who? Who's hurtin my baby?' Gracie untangles herself from Grunta n gives the boys a spitty evil eye.

‘Why, what happened to our bro? Somebody hurt him?' Big Boy flexes his muscles.

‘I ... I thought—' I look at their blank faces.

‘Somebody hurt Nev?' Grunta bunches up his hands.

‘Didn't youse?' I whisper.
That's right, Mavis Dooley, put them big ol feet a yours right in ya own mouth. These fellas don't have a jack arse what ya talkin bout. Go on, BIG
MOOUUTTHH. Let the fucken cat outta the sack, why doncha. Tell the friggin world!

‘When? Who? It weren't us. We his mates! Gee, Missus Dool, whatcha think we is?' Big Boy look all disgust n hurt.

‘Weeell...' I shrug me shoulders feelin shamed n hopeless.

‘He busted up?' Grunta throws Big Boy a deadly look. ‘Musta been afta we left this mornin. Yeah, that measely, muthafucken, pox-faced Jerry Reedman, I bet ya me balls!'

‘No, look, I got it all wrong,' I say, feelin drained. I walk to the fridge n pull out a six pack. ‘Here, boys. I'm just an ol woman n get things mixed up.' I give em the beer as my way of sayin sorry.

‘Hey, Missus Dool! Solid! Now, you tell the Nev if that Jerry come round here startin his shit then come n get me n Grunt here, right.' Big Boy uses his best deep n serious I'm-a-madman-when-I-start type a voice.

‘Rightyo, love,' I answer, collapsin me arse down heavy onto the kitchen chair.

After the boys leave I take Gracie into the loungeroom and lay her back on the couch, hopin she'll have a camp.

‘Look Ricki Lake's on, love.' I point to the screen.

‘Ricki Lake, make Ricki fake,' Gracie snorts, raisin a Fourex to her gob n takin a gulp.