The Newcomer

by Laura Elizabeth Woollett

  ‘Don’t, Pellet!’ Jesse stopped the car. ‘Jesus … she’ll be raped.’

  ‘She deserves it!’ Laurent pushed her again. ‘Go, lying beech!’

  Staggering onto the roadside, Paulina power-walked away from the Commodore through the rain of her tears.

  ‘Oh, come on.’ Jesse got out, chased her down. ‘Paulina, calm down.’

  ‘Calm? He wants me to be raped!’ She yanked her arm away. ‘You’re just as bad. You’re his friend.’

  Laurent honked the horn, unleashed a stream of French-Canadian cusses. ‘Go! Walk faster, beech! Camel … leaf her!’

  ‘Shut the fuck up, Pellet.’ Jesse followed Paulina as she rushed into the middle of the road, waving madly at a pair of headlights. ‘Paulina! Don’t hitchhike.’

  The headlights slowed to a stop.

  ‘Car trouble?’ asked the old bloke behind the wheel.

  Sobbing, Paulina shook her head and let herself into the passenger side of his car.

  ‘Please, help me, sir! My boyfriend wants me to be raped!’

  The old bloke squinted through the glare of his headlights.

  ‘Camel?’

  ‘Not him! That French fuck.’ Paulina gestured at the Commodore. ‘He pushed me! Please, get me away from him!’

  Jesse came up to the driver’s side, his face flushed.

  ‘Sorry, Rabbit. My friend’s really drunk. Can you drive her home?’

  The bloke looked from Jesse to Paulina, and something clicked.

  ‘I know you,’ he said. ‘You’re the new checkout chick at Foodfolk.’

  Paulina sniffed. ‘I was a financial advisor, once upon a time.’

  ‘I’ll drive you. Where do you want to go?’

  ‘Just get me away from that arsehole.’ She sighed, closing her eyes on Jesse and Laurent and the bullshit mutiny of her life. ‘Take me back to your place … I don’t mind.’

  ONLY CHILD

  It was impossible to be prepared for everything, in the circumstances. But Caro took comfort in being prepared for most things.

  ‘Jude, it’s time,’ she whispered into her sister’s hair. ‘Time to sit.’

  Judy protested — a wrenching, girlish cry, like she’d fallen and skinned her knee. Feverishly, she kissed her fingertips, pressed them to the cool mahogany. Kissed the wreath of daffodils and white freesia.

  No tears, though. Was she shedding them faster than her body could produce them? Or had the pills obstructed something — made her capable only of performing grief?

  ‘Here, Jude.’ Caro crossed herself. ‘Over here, now.’

  She sat her sister in the front-row pew, beside Tim. Caught his eye across Judy’s lap and nodded.

  Tim and the boys stood. Shuffled to the casket with sloped shoulders and bowed heads, their ears pink and exposed. She’d made them all get haircuts.

  ‘Caro!’

  The smell of him: Ralph Polo Green and something animal, pheromonal. Caro stiffened her cheek for her ex-husband’s kiss.

  ‘Gav.’ She cringed at the swick of his lips. ‘Thanks for coming on time.’

  ‘Jude! I’m so sorry.’ Swick, again. Bastard. ‘It’s unbelievable. Never seen so many coppers outside a church before. They any closer to catching the guy?’

  Judy looked at him glassily. ‘Fingerprints.’

  ‘Whassat?’ Gavin leaned closer.

  ‘Fingerprints,’ Caro supplied. ‘They found fingerprints.’

  ‘Well, shouldn’t take them too long, then. They looking into her boyfriends?’

  ‘Great idea, Gav.’ Caro raised her eyes heavenward. ‘Ground-breaking. Where would we be without you?’

  ‘Wasn’t she dating an older guy? I’d be looking at him.’ Ignoring Caro, Gavin helped himself to Tim’s seat. ‘Young woman, full of energy, hard to satisfy … You know how it is.’

  Judy nodded vaguely, as she would’ve nodded at anything.

  ‘Poor old Marko. Lucky he never had to live to see this day.’ Gavin slid his gaze over Judy’s lap. ‘Not so lucky for you, though. I mean, you’re all alone now.’

  ‘She’s not alone.’ Tim reappeared with Bronson and Wyatt. ‘She has us.’

  ‘Sorry, mate.’ Gavin vacated his seat. ‘All yours.’

  Then he turned his attention to their sons. Their freshly shorn sons with their sensitive skin and cowboy names, who wilted like flowers under his shoulder-claps.

  ‘Caro.’ Tim noticed Caro’s fingers itching at her purse, the bitter yearning of her clenched jaw. ‘It can wait.’

  ‘Can it, Tim? Are you reading the eulogy?’ Caro stroked Judy’s hair and rose from her seat. ‘Jude, honey, I’ll be right back.’

  All the people she had to pass, filing in to the chapel as she stalked out. It was a good sign. Paulina wouldn’t be forgotten — not with a crowd like this.

  ‘Alright?’ a cop asked as she shouldered past him. Only young, Bronson’s age.

  ‘My niece was stabbed five dozen times.’ Caro jabbed a cigarette between her lips. ‘Do you think I’m alright?’

  If she didn’t seem so alone, Caro wouldn’t have noticed her. It had been a few years. She’d dyed her hair. And, anyway, the resemblance had never been strong.

  ‘Milly!’ Caro beckoned. ‘Thank God. Someone I can smoke with.’

  Milica trotted across the carpark, tall despite her poor posture and heartbreakingly cheap flats. The bag on her arm was synthetic, too large for the occasion.

  ‘I quit.’ She looked at Caro’s Marlboros apologetically. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘So you should be!’ They hugged, tight. ‘Thanks for coming.’

  ‘Of course I came.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ Caro clutched her temple. ‘Fuck. I didn’t mean that.’

  ‘I know you didn’t.’

  Caro waved her ciggie at the jam-packed carpark. ‘You’re one of the few people who actually belongs here. Who are all these people?’

  ‘Lots of BMWs.’ Milica attempted a smile. ‘Your friends, not mine.’

  ‘Did you get here okay? How’d you get here? Taxi?’

  ‘Train. From King’s Cross.’

  ‘King’s Cross?’

  ‘I stayed in a hostel.’

  ‘A hostel ?’ Caro shook her head, outraged. ‘Tim’s brother has a harbourside apartment sitting empty. I would’ve offered.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ Milica eyed her ciggie. ‘Once an immigrant, always an immigrant.’

  ‘Once a smoker, always a smoker.’ Caro held it out. ‘I won’t judge. God might … but he’s a bastard, anyway.’

  Relenting, Milica took a drag. As her features relaxed, the ghosts flew in: the unapologetically dark eyes, the shadows under them, something about the throat and ears.

  Caro tried not to stare. ‘How’s Ljubica?’

  ‘Oh, you know.’ Milica handed it back. ‘Angry.’

  ‘Not as angry as me.’

  ‘She would’ve come. But flying’s hard, at her age. Anyway, I thought it might be overkill.’ Milica winced. ‘Sorry. Bad word. How’s Judy?’

  ‘Drugged to the eyeballs.’ Caro drew the smoke deep into her lungs. ‘It’s the only way we could get her through today.’

  ‘I saw her walking into the chapel. She’s still beautiful.’

  ‘Damsel in distress.’ Caro passed the ciggie. ‘Gav’s been sniffing around her.’

  ‘Mongrel.’

  ‘You got here early? You could’ve come in with us.’

  ‘And upset Judy?’

  ‘Like I said, drugged to the eyeballs.’ Caro watched Milica drawing in. ‘Anyway, she has bigger things to be upset about.’

  ‘I can’t handle a repeat of Dad’s funeral.’ Milica shook her head. ‘I’ll stick to the nosebleed section, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘I do mind
.’ Caro seized the ciggie. ‘Paulina would want her big sister close.’

  Sniffing, Milica dug inside her handbag. ‘I brought something. For her coffin.’ She drew out a worn plush lion. ‘Leon Lav. Baka — Dad’s mum — made him. He used to help me sleep when I was small.’

  ‘Oh, Milly.’ Caro’s brow creased. ‘You know it’s a closed casket?’

  ‘Shit.’ Milica’s mouth quirked downward; her dark eyes brimmed quicker than she could avert them. ‘Of course it is.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I should’ve asked if you had anything you wanted to bury with her.’ Caro flicked away the cigarette butt. ‘The poor thing’s been through so much. With the autopsy, then being stitched back together and flown across the Pacific; you can’t imagine the paperwork. We just wanted to give her some rest.’

  ‘Of course.’ Milica wiped her eyes. ‘I’m an idiot.’

  ‘Jude made sure she had some of her baby things with her. And her jewellery.’ Caro squashed the butt with her stiletto. ‘They’d even chosen a dress, if you can believe it.’

  ‘“They”?’

  ‘Don’t get me started.’ Caro swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘I’d wring Jude’s neck, if she wasn’t so helpless. You’d think it was Paulina’s wedding, the way they had it all planned out.’

  Milica blinked, uncomprehending.

  ‘She was suicidal, Milly.’ Caro held her gaze. ‘Jude talked her off the ledge … God knows how many times. A lot, by the sounds of it.’

  ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘You wouldn’t. I had to find out from the detective.’ She sighed. ‘Jude and Paulina: it was always them against the world.’

  Milica’s chin wobbled.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Caro checked her watch. ‘I’m due at the podium.’

  Milica nodded, eyes streaming. With a rueful smile, Caro picked up Leon Lav, swatted Milica’s tears with his nubby paws.

  ‘Prrr?’ She purred hopefully. ‘Prrr?’

  Milica choked a laugh, snatched back Leon. ‘You’re such a schoolteacher.’

  ‘Takes one to know one.’ Caro gave her a swift hug and air-kiss. ‘See you inside?’

  ‘Maybe if you brought binoculars.’ Milica grimaced. ‘I’ll be right in.’

  Crossing the carpark, Caro’s heels clicked loudly. At the door of the chapel, though, she glanced back.

  Milica was sobbing into the lion’s soft fur.

  RABBIT TRAP

  The first thing Paulina saw, waking up the morning after Mutiny Day, was a man’s billowy white shirt and breeches on the floor by the bed. Next, she saw the wiry arms of the man they belonged to, slung across her body.

  ‘Oh.’ He stirred as she disentangled herself. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘All good,’ Paulina bluffed, heart racing. ‘Um. I’m just gonna—’

  ‘Oh.’ He sat up, showing off his salt-and-peppered chest. ‘Let me.’

  He cast around for his breeches. Paulina plucked them from the ground and passed them to him, along with his shirt.

  He laughed. ‘It’s been a while.’

  ‘All good.’ She laughed too, though her head was killing her. ‘Um. Thanks for last night?’

  ‘Thank you, Paulina.’ His eyes were fiercely earnest. ‘I had a wonderful time.’

  ‘Yeah?’ They were nice eyes, she decided; dark brown, a little slanted, deeply crinkled at the sides. ‘Um. Same?’

  He leaned forward shyly. ‘Do you mind if I … ?’

  Closing her eyes, Paulina presented her lips, hoping her breath didn’t stink.

  ‘Um.’ She had to ask. ‘No offence, but: how old are you?’

  ‘Fift—’ He stopped. ‘Almost fifty.’

  ‘Oh, geez.’ His face fell, so she added, ‘I mean, you’re in really good shape.’

  Bashfully, he touched her waist. ‘I could say the same about you.’

  ‘Ha!’ Stuck for words, Paulina offered her mouth again.

  After that, he put on his breeches and loose linen shirt and hunted for her clothes. Watching him cross the room, Paulina realised how high the ceilings were, how large the windows beyond the curtains.

  ‘Geez, your room’s really nice.’ She accepted her black g-string. ‘Spacious.’

  ‘Too spacious, sometimes.’ He picked up her Fairfolk Tours shirt. ‘I’m afraid your uniform’s a bit … muddy.’

  Paulina didn’t want to think about how it got that way.

  ‘I can run it through the wash,’ he offered. ‘No problem.’

  ‘You’d do that?’

  ‘No problem,’ he repeated. Then he gave her a look, as if she was too beautiful to be believed, and shook his head. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

  Smiling, Paulina lazed back in bed, letting her tits catch a pale ray of sun that was crawling across the sheets. ‘Alright. I’ll be waiting right here.’

  As soon as he’d gone, she got up and drew the curtains. The view made her gasp.

  By the time the old man was getting dressed for the second time that morning, to put her clean clothes in the tumble-dryer, Paulina had decided she wouldn’t mind marrying him and having his babies, whoever he was. He gave her his old-timey shirt to wear downstairs.

  On her way into the kitchen, Paulina bumped into a chubby girl with braces.

  ‘Daaaad!’ the girl yelled.

  ‘Geez.’ Paulina clutched her head. ‘Not so loud.’

  ‘Oh. Bunny.’ He reappeared, frowning. ‘I thought you were staying at Hine’s.’

  ‘Bunny?’ Paulina scoffed.

  ‘It’s what we’ve always called her, with my nickname being “Rabbit” …’ he explained. ‘Bunny, meet Paulina. She’s … the new checkout chick at Foodfolk.’

  ‘You brought home a checkout chick?’

  ‘I was a financial advisor, once upon a time.’ Paulina pawed at Rabbit’s shoulder. ‘Babe, Panadol?’

  He fetched a packet from the cabinet atop the fridge, together with a glass of tap water. She gobbled two tablets; patted his bum gratefully. ‘Thanks, babe.’

  ‘Dad!’ Bunny cried. ‘How old is she?’

  ‘Uh …’

  ‘Twenty-eight,’ Paulina supplied wearily. ‘And I’m feeling it, babe. See these crow’s feet? I didn’t have them till last year.’

  ‘Dad! She’s half your age!’

  ‘That’s enough, Bunny.’ Rabbit scolded her. ‘If you can’t be polite, go to your room.’

  ‘Urgghhhh!’

  Bunny stomped her foot, grabbed a box of cereal, and stormed upstairs.

  ‘Bit melodramatic, isn’t she?’ Paulina laughed. ‘I was like that, too, once.’

  Rabbit pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose.

  ‘I’m sorry. I thought she’d still be at her friend’s.’ He sighed. ‘Maybe you bes’ leave.’

  ‘Yeah. Maybe!’

  Paulina stood on her tippy-toes and slipped her tongue in Rabbit’s mouth. His breath caught in his chest. She put her hand on his shirtfront and felt his heart, rabbiting there.

  ‘Oh, you’re gorgeous.’ He stroked her cheek. ‘But who am I kidding … You’re too young for me.’

  ‘I guess we’ll just have to be star-crossed lovers, then.’ She pushed her tongue back in his mouth, pressed up against him. ‘Till you change your mind, um … Rabbit?’

  He smiled.

  ‘You can call me “Ric”. I know you think Rabbit is silly. You told me last night.’

  ‘Gorgeous man!’ What else had she told him? ‘Ric!’

  ‘Oh, you’re gorgeous,’ he repeated, tucking her hair. ‘Come on. I’ll drive you home.’

  Rabbit lived on the north-east side of the island, near Cook’s Falls, where there were no beaches, only big grey stones and dark cliffs skirted by indigo sea. Turning onto Cook’s Falls Road, they saw a line of yellow police tape, bits of smashed
glass and metal on the road. Some people were standing around.

  ‘Wait here,’ Rabbit told her, getting out to talk to the people in Fayrf’k. When he returned, he looked stunned. ‘A schoolmate of Bunny’s was killed in a car crash last night.’

  ‘Oh, geez, Ric.’ Paulina reached for his hand. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘That poor family.’ He wiped his eyes. ‘Local business owners, Carlyle and Tabitha King.’

  ‘The Car Kings guy?’

  Rabbit nodded and re-started the car, hands shaky.

  ‘Drunk-driving.’ His voice was shaky, too. ‘Those girls shouldn’t’ve been drinking.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Paulina mumbled. ‘Not till they’re legal age.’

  ‘Too many girls start early here. I worry about Bunny.’

  ‘Don’t worry, babe,’ Paulina reassured him. ‘She seems like a good kid.’

  Rabbit’s eyes got smaller and wetter, squinting into the midday sun. ‘It’s hard, as a single parent.’

  ‘I get it, hey. Dad died when I was fourteen. It was just me and Mum, after that.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘I reckon I turned out alright.’

  Rabbit shot her a tender glance. ‘You turned out beautifully.’

  They held hands for the rest of the drive. Her heart broke a bit when he parked.

  ‘This is the butcher’s place, isn’t it?’ Rabbit asked. ‘Joe Camilleri?’

  ‘I live in the cottage out the back. It’s kinda a sharehouse situation.’

  He frowned. ‘Lots of parties?’

  ‘Um.’ She shrugged. ‘A few.’

  Rabbit caressed the bauble of bone at her wrist. ‘I should tell you: I’m not a drinker. I’m not going to tell you how to live your life, but I don’t like what drinking does to me … to people. I’ve been sober nine years.’

  ‘Oh,’ Paulina puzzled. ‘Congrats?’

  ‘I hope that doesn’t change things for you. I’d like to get to know you. I’d like Bunny to get to know you, too.’

  ‘Same, babe.’ She smiled. ‘Same!’

  Flushed with relief, Rabbit’s furrowed face looked ten years younger. ‘That makes me so happy. Gorgeous — can I kiss you goodbye?’

  ‘You can kiss me.’ She leaned closer. ‘Not “goodbye”, though.’

  She skipped into the cottage with the biggest grin on her face. Jesse was on the couch playing his PlayStation. He had a bruised neck and looked like shit.