Come Easy, Go Easy (8 page)

She moved to the window and began to unfasten her overall. As the overall swung open, she reached out and pulled down the blind. With the light behind her, her shadow was sharp etched against the blind.

She took off the overall, letting it drop to the floor. Her naked silhouette against the blind turned my mouth dry.

Long after she had turned off the light, I still sat at the window, looking across at the bungalow.

It was only when a truck pulled up at the pumps and I saw Jenson come out of the bungalow that I lay down on the bed.

I didn't sleep much that night.

When I walked into the lunch room at six forty-five the next morning, Lola, clad only in a yellow halter and a pair of scarlet shorts, was scrubbing down the counter.

In that getup, she looked really something. The combination of her red hair, her green eyes and that creamy skin that goes with that colouring, plus her shape the halter and shorts scarcely concealed, had me staring.

She paused in her work to look sulkily at me, then continued | to scrub.

"Good morning, Mrs. Jenson," I said. "Can I do that for you?"

Again she paused, her green eyes hostile.

"When I want you to do anything for me I'll tell you," she snapped.

"Why, sure," I said. "I didn't mean any offence."

"If you want breakfast, get it in the kitchen."

She bent over the counter, using the scrub brush. I could see the deep hollow between her breasts.

She looked up.

"What are you staring at?"

"I didn't know I was staring," I lied, and moved around the counter and into the kitchen.

Jenson was sitting at the table. There was a pile of money in bills and small change in front of him. By his side was a cup of coffee, a used plate and a knife and fork. He looked up, nodding at me.

"Come on in, Jack. Do you want ham and eggs?"

"Just coffee," I said, and went over to the pot standing on the hot plate.

"As soon as we've cleared up, Lola and me are going into Wentworth," he said. "We've had the best day for years here. Those fifteen dinners put us right in front. You keep that up, Jack, and I'll be retiring. Just to make it interesting for you, I'm going to give you five per cent on all the restaurant checks. How's that?"

"Why, that's fine, Mr. Jenson. Thanks."

"When I'm in Wentworth, I'll get you an overall to work in. Is there anything else you want?"

"I need some clothes, but I guess I'd better get them myself."

"Yeah. You can take the car to Wentworth tomorrow and fit yourself out. I'll give you an advance on your restaurant cut. How about a hundred bucks?"

"That would do fine. Thanks a lot."

He pushed five twenties over to me.

"So tomorrow you go to Wentworth." He leaned back in his chair. "Do you think you could do something with that rotary cultivator? I bought it for scrap, but I have an idea it would still work with a little persuasion."

'"I'll take a look at it."

"We'll be off in an hour, but we'll be back by midday. Do you think you can handle it on your own?"

"I don't see why not."

I washed out the coffee cup, then lighting a cigarette, I went into the lunch room.

Lola was putting pies in the glass case and arranging the labels on them. Her back was to me. I paused for a moment, feeling the blood move through me at the sight of her square shoulders, her narrow waist and her heavy hips. She must have known I was staring at her, but she didn't look around.

I went out into the pale sunshine, and taking a broom, I swept up around the gas pumps.

A couple of trucks pulled in for gas. I tried to persuade the truckers to have breakfast but they were in a hurry.

When I was through cleaning up, I went into the shed and inspected the rotary cultivator. On a shelf I found a tin of rust remover and I got to work.

An hour later, Jenson came in.

"We're off now, Jack. Sure you can manage?"

"You bet, Mr. Jenson."

"How's it coming?"

"It wants working on, but it'll be okay."

He rested his heavy hand on my shoulder as he looked at the machine.

"You get the rust off. I'll fix it. See you around midday."

I moved with him to the shed door.

Lola was coming out of the bungalow. She looked smart in a green linen dress. It was a little tight across her chest. Her bust line was something that is now accepted as standard these days, but I wasn't movie trained. Her bust line made me stare.

Jenson gave me a poke in the ribs.

"She looks a real lady, doesn't she? Plenty of style, huh?"

"You're right."

"Yeah, plenty of style. Well, I'll be seeing you."

I watched them drive off in a cloud of dust.

I lit a cigarette and stood looking around. I told myself this was just the kind of place I would like to own. The thought dropped into my mind that Lola was the woman I would like to share it with. I went back to the shed and continued to work on the cultivator. I kept thinking of her in the halter and shorts, and the picture I had of her in my mind made concentration difficulty.

I had been working on the cultivator for an hour or so when a car pulled up right outside the shed in which I was working.

It was an old, dusty Chevrolet. A tall, lean man in his middle forties got out of the car, followed by a thin, yellow dog of no particular breed that moved close to the man's heels, it's big, bloodshot shot eyes mournful.

The man wore a pair of faded blue overalls, patched at the knees. Around his scraggy neck was a greasy red handkerchief knotted at his throat. At the back of his head he wore a high crowned straw hat, burned yellow by the sun.

His face, the colour of teak, was thin and fiddle shaped. He had a long thin nose and thin hips. His eyes, under greying bushy eyebrows, were steady and piercing.

There was something about him I didn't like. He made me think of a cop. Those eyes were prying, suspicious and distrusting.

We looked at each other for a long moment, then I straighten up.

"Something I can do for you?" I said. I had to make a conscious effort to meet those prying eyes.

He leaned against the shed door, his thumbs hooked in the arm straps of his overalls. The dog sat by him, staring fixedly at me.

"Maybe," he said. "Maybe you can tell me who you are and what you are doing here. Maybe you can tell me where Carl Jensen is. Maybe you can tell me to mind my own business."

"Mr. Jenson is in Wentworth with Mrs. Jenson," I said. "I'm Jack Patmore, the new hand."

"Is that a fact?" He shifted his position. "You mean, Carl has hired you to help out?"

"That's right."

"Well, well. I never thought he would do it." He shook his head. All the time his hard little eyes were running over me, taking in my stained, crumpled trousers, my dirty shirt and my scuffed shoes. "Never thought he'd take on help, specially when that wife of his is so set against it." He scratched the side of his face, continuing to shake his head. "I'm his brother-in-law. Ricks is the name—George Ricks."

I guessed he wouldn't be Lola's brother. He must be the late Mrs. Jenson's brother.

So I didn't have to go on meeting those suspicious little eyes, I squatted down beside the rotary cultivator, my back to him.

"You said his wife went with him to Wentworth?" Ricks asked.

"Yes."

"So you're alone here?"

"That's right."

I heard him move forward, and he began to breathe down the back of my neck as I worked on the gearbox.

"I bet Carl bought that as scrap. I bet he got it for a song. Wouldn't surprise me to hear someone paid him to take it away."

I didn't say anything. This man was beginning to get on my nerves.

"Carl's a smart cookie all right," Ricks went on. "He'll look at a lump of rusty iron and see profit in it whereas another guy would just see rusty iron. I bet he'll get that cultivator working again and make a big profit out of it. Yeah, he's smart when it comes to metal, but he's plain dumb when it comes to people."

I made a grunting noise as I got the gear cogs out. I put them in a petrol bath.

"What do you think of that wife of his?"

I was glad I was bending over the machine so he couldn't see my face. I wasn't expecting that one. It jolted me.

"She's all right," I said.

I reached for a screw driver and began to dismantle the clutch plates.

"All right? Is that what you think? I bet she doesn't want you here. She doesn't want anyone here. She doesn't want me here: her husband's brother-in-law. Never thought Carl would be such an old fool as to marry a tramp like her. She walked in here one day from nowhere and going nowhere. She's smart all right. She saw her chance and grabbed it. All she had to do was to wave her sex and her body in front of him, and the dope fell for it. You watch out. Don't kid yourself you'll stay here long because you won't. She'll talk Carl into getting rid of you. Know why?"

By now I had fixed a dumb look on my face. I turned to stare at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said. "I'm just the hired help around here."

He grinned at me, showing big yellow teeth.

"That's right, you told me." He settled himself against the shed door. "She's scared someone will put the bite on Carl. She's after his money. I know. I've watched her. You haven't been around here long enough to get wise to her little tricks. She's after his money: that's all she thinks about He's been salting money away for years. He has always been a careful man, never spends a dime, although he's generous when he gets the chance, but with that tramp around, watching every move, he doesn't get a chance. Before she came I was welcomed here. There was always a meal here for me, but not now. She sulks when I come. Do you know what happens? She locks her bedroom door. When you're an old fool like Carl, getting on in years, every day counts, and it upset him if he can't get into the sack with her. That's how she put the screws on him. If he does anything she doesn't like, the bedroom door gets locked. You watch out. You won't last long. I know her. She'll imagine you are after her money."

I sat back on my heels and examined the clutch plates. One of them was cracked. I put the plates in the petrol bath. Then I stood up and walked over to the work bench to pick up a rag to clean my hands.

He was watching me, but I kept my face dead pan and I could see my apparent indifference irritated him.

"Where have you come from, friend?" he asked abruptly, "Are you a stranger in these parts?"

"That's right."

"How did you run into Carl?"

"I met him in Little Creek."

"You did? Looking for work, huh?"

"That's it."

"Well . . ." He pushed himself away from the shed door. The dog had been sitting motionless: now it stood up. It looked expectantly at Ricks. "I mustn't take up your time. I just looked in to borrow some tools. I've a little job up at my place that needs fixing. I always borrow what I want from Carl." He wandered around the shed, staring at the tool racks. "Now, let me see. What do I want?"

He took down two screw drivers and a hammer. He was reaching for a drill when I said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Ricks, but I can't let you take those tools."

I saw him stiffen, then he looked sideways at me, his thin face expressionless.

"What was that, friend?"

"I haven't Mr. Jenson's permission to let tools go off this place," I said. "I'm responsible here while he's away. If you'll stick around until he comes back and he says it's okay, then it'll be okay, but no tools go out of here without his sayso."

He took the drill out of the rack and then reached for a hand saw.

"Just relax, friend. I'm his brother-in-law. You're dead right. Anyone else but me shouldn't borrow anything from here—but me, that's different."

I had had enough of this guy.

I walked over to him.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ricks, no tools go out of here without Mr. Jenson's sayso."

He eyed me. I could see a little red glint come into his eyes. The dog, as if sensing trouble, began to back slowly away.

"Now look, friend," Ricks said, "you don't want to lose your job this soon, do you? If I tell Carl …"

"Go ahead and tell him," I said. "Those tools stay here. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. If you want them that badly you'll have to wait until Mr. Jenson comes back and says you can have them."

"I see." There was sweat on his face now. He looked suddenly as mean as hell. The dog slunk out of the shed and headed for the car. "So there are two of you here now, is that it? You wouldn't also be after his money—like that tramp? Maybe she's letting you into her sack—is that it?"

I felt a rush of blood to my head. I caught hold of his overall and gave him a shake that nearly snapped his head of his shoulders, then I shoved him away from me.

"Get out of here!" I said. "Hear me? Beat it!"

He nearly fell over himself backing away. His face had gone yellow-green under his tan and his eyes popped out of his mean, thin face.

"I'll fix you for this!" he quavered. "I'll tell Carl ..."

"Get out!"

He turned and walked fast to his car. The dog was already in it Ricks got into the car, slammed the door and drove off in a cloud of dust.

I was worried. I didn't know how Jenson would react if Ricks complained. At least I would get my story in first, but I wasn't going to tell Jenson what Ricks had said about his wife. I was pretty sure Jenson wouldn't like that pan of it, coming from me.

When they got back around midday and while I was helping Jenson unload the estate wagon, I told him Ricks had been here and had tried to borrow tools.