The Roadhouse

by Kerry McGinnis

  ‘I will. Thanks for coming.’ I smiled at Rae as she got up and brushed my cheek with a kiss, then listened as her footsteps joined the general exodus down the corridor. Shortly afterwards a nurse came in to do her observations and ask if I wanted the light off. I agreed and she lowered the bed to a level position and left, leaving me to find a way to accommodate the stiff neck collar and the uncomfortably flat hospital pillow in a manner not incompatible with sleep.

  The days started early in hospital. By the time I’d eaten breakfast and been helped onto a shower chair in the bathroom, with a towel and a fresh hospital gown awaiting me, and had my bed made, it was still only eight o’clock. Time stretched endlessly ahead. The nurses who had replaced the night shift knew nothing about Mike and none of them had leisure just then to inquire, but she’d ask Sister later, the one called Jenny promised. She vanished through the door, pushing the sphygmomanometer before her, and I heaved a frustrated sigh. Mum would be on the road by now, but it would be hours before she arrived. I had nothing to read and no way to get off the bed. My strapped foot still throbbed when I moved it, but the doctor would be doing his rounds at ten, Jenny had assured me, and he’d tell me how long I had to keep off it.

  An hour later she was back, wearing a conspirational air and pushing a wheelchair. ‘Time to get you mobile, Charlie. I’m popping you down to Physio so they can fit you with some crutches.’

  ‘I haven’t seen the doctor yet.’

  ‘Oh, that’s okay. Plenty of time before he gets to this ward. And there’s a policeman who rang up to find out if he could visit.’ She dimpled at me. ‘Sister told him not before ten unless he wanted to be run over by a cleaner’s trolley.’

  We were rolling down the corridor towards the lift when its doors began to open. Seeing it, Jenny whisked the chair about and pushed me through a swinging door into a room set up with a bed, a large overhead light and an open-fronted cupboard whose shelves were filled with a variety of boxes. ‘Where are we going?’ I asked as she continued through and out the door on the far side.

  ‘Just a shortcut. It’s down here a little way, and just round the corner. Here we are.’ A nursing station came into view but the only occupant had his head bent over something and didn’t look up as Jenny pushed me into a room where Mike lay asleep with a bandaged crown. ‘Ta-da! Now we haven’t long, Charlie, because you really are expected in Physio, but hey, what’s a few minutes? He came to last night. Mr Webb,’ she said firmly, leaning above him. ‘Wake up, Mr Webb, someone to see you.’

  Mike’s made a noise like ‘Huh?’ and then his eyes opened, widening as they caught sight of me. ‘Charlie?’ he said uncertainly and blinked as if to confirm what he’d seen was real. ‘It is you!’ He lifted his head, reaching out a hand, which I clasped in both of mine. ‘I’ve had the weirdest dreams.’ He winced as he spoke, laying his head carefully back on the pillow.

  ‘I’m not surprised. I’m so glad you’re okay. How do you feel? It looks like they’ve shaved your skull, on one side anyway.’ I squeezed his hand. ‘Oh, God, when Belligrin shot you I thought it was all over. I was sure you were dead.’

  He forced a grin. ‘Bullets bounce off me – didn’t I say? Did they get him?’

  ‘Oh, yes. He’s in police custody. Probably the first criminal Tom’s ever busted. Eric sat on him, I think.’ I gave a shaky laugh. ‘Bob might’ve kicked him once or twice, and I’d already stuck a knife in his leg – and all before Tom even got there. Really, he didn’t stand a chance.’

  ‘He doesn’t deserve one. Murder, kidnapping, robbery …’ His voice faded, then he said carefully, ‘I dreamt I was kissing you, Charlie. Is that part of the weird stuff or is it true? I can’t seem to sort things out just now.’

  ‘It’s true.’ I leant towards him, ‘No, don’t move. We did this once or twice,’ I said as our lips met. ‘Can’t you remember?’ With a lurch of my heart, I wondered if his confusion was normal or a symptom of underlying brain damage.

  ‘Bits and pieces, but I’m glad that bit was real.’ He caught my hand and pressed it to his lips. ‘I’ll probably remember it all later – thinking hurts right now.’

  ‘Then don’t. Go back to sleep. Rest and get well.’ Jenny had released the brake and was about to drag me off. ‘I’ll come back after. Love you.’

  His eyes crinkled. ‘I think I recall that bit too. Something about the girl of my dreams and – and rubies?’

  ‘Physio,’ Jenny said, firmly wheeling me away, but outside the room she heaved a sigh. ‘That was so romantic. What did he mean, rubies? Your favourite stone, are they? He’s a bit of a hunk, isn’t he?’

  Ignoring the question, I asked some of my own. ‘But what about his memory? Will it come back? And why does his head still hurt?’

  ‘He’s been shot,’ Jenny said. ‘For the brain, that’s like someone pounding on his skull with sledgehammers. I expect he’ll have headaches for a few days yet. But he’s awake, he’s talking and making sense, so he’s not really damaged. He’s very lucky. An injury like that could’ve addled his wits for good. The doctor will tell him so.’

  ‘Yes, I know it,’ I said soberly. If things had fallen out differently we could both be dead – like Annabelle. I shivered at the thought, and was reminded of the policeman who was coming to talk to me later that morning.

  When he arrived he introduced himself as DC David Morgan. I was sitting in the visitor’s chair, my new crutches by my side and a cotton blanket pulled over my lap. He glanced around, said, ‘Back in a tick,’ and left, returning with another chair that he plunked down opposite me. ‘Right, how are you today, Miss Carver?’

  ‘Not too bad, thanks. DC – is that detective constable? I didn’t know you had rankings – I thought you were all just detectives.’

  ‘Uh huh, we do. So I just wanted to run through things with you. Have to make sure we’ve got the charges against Paul Belligrin right, you know.’ He smiled, a movement involving his lips but not his eyes, which held a hard, unnerving light. I was glad I had nothing to hide for I wouldn’t have cared to lie to him.

  ‘I did tell Tom everything I could remember, you know.’

  ‘That’d be the constable at Harts Range? Uh huh, well you must have been pretty shaken up then, being hurt and all, so it’d be understandable if you forgot a few details. So, starting from the beginning, where and how did Belligrin get hold of you? Not at the roadhouse?’

  ‘No.’ I wondered briefly if he’d read Tom’s report at all, then realised it was a ploy to get me talking. ‘It was because of Bob’s dog, Jasper. I was down by the creek behind the roadhouse and I saw the blood in the sand …’

  ‘Who’s this Bob, then? Just tell it like it’s the first time I’ve heard any of it, okay?’

  I sighed. ‘Right. Well, Bob works for my mother …’

  It seemed to take hours. I wondered that he took no notes and some time later, as he kept stopping me to clarify points, saw that he was unobtrusively recording my words. When I asked whether he should have asked my consent first, he shook his head. ‘Makes it easier is all. When we’re done, it’ll be typed up for you to sign – if you’re not happy, you don’t sign it. Though that does mean we’ll have to do it again. Now, getting back to the hut, can you remember exactly what he said about your cousin?’

  ‘She wasn’t,’ I interjected irrelevantly, ‘my cousin. She was my half-sister.’

  He frowned. ‘I don’t think that’s in the file.’

  ‘Oh well,’ I was vaguely annoyed at myself for having mentioned it and sighed. ‘Family secret, you know. My father seduced his brother’s wife, the result was Annabelle, and Mum raised her when she was orphaned. I didn’t actually know the real truth of it until a couple of months ago.’

  ‘I see. Like that, was it? Well, we haven’t been able to establish it but we’re assuming she and Belligrin were in a sexual relationship. The post mortem showed a pregnancy, which suggests they were. About twelve weeks if I remember right.’

  ‘Oh.’ I
don’t know why I was so shocked. It was the nineties, after all. Perhaps it was pity for the unborn child, or horror at the thought of its own father killing it. ‘Dear God! Could Belligrin have known about it?’

  Morgan shrugged, dismissing a question he obviously didn’t consider important. ‘Okay, Miss Carver, if we could just get back to the hut for a moment. Now, you said the plan was for this Mike and Len to wait out of sight …’

  He left at last and, awkward on my crutches, I got myself back to bed, where I must have dozed for a while. The neck collar had ensured I’d got little sleep the previous night, but it was more comfortable now with the head of the bed elevated. I woke when Jenny returned on her rounds and saw that it was nearly twelve.

  ‘I don’t suppose you could take me back to Mike’s room?’ I looked at my crutches. ‘I’m not sure I could find it on these.’

  ‘I don’t see why not.’ A dimple appeared in her left cheek as she smiled. ‘I could send your lunch tray over too, if you like?’

  ‘You’re a jewel,’ I said gratefully. A thought occurred to me. ‘The police haven’t been to see him, have they?’

  ‘No. The doctor told them they’d have to wait. No point making his poor head worse, is there, if he’s only got a patchy recall?’ She was sympathetic and I wondered if it was Mike’s condition, or the fact of his being a hunk that made her so. She was younger than me and quite pretty. No. I stifled the thought; I was finally beyond all that. Poor, dead Annabelle no longer had that power over me. I pitied her now, which I hadn’t done before, and even wondered if she had lived and borne the baby, whether we might someday have buried our differences, something I had never considered possible. Not to the point of becoming friends, perhaps, but enough to allow me to have known the child. I would have liked that.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Mike was sleeping again when Jenny wheeled me into his room. I propped my crutches against his bed and shook my head when she made to wake him. ‘It’s okay, I’ll give him a shake when lunch comes.’

  Before that happened, he blinked awake, the skin about his eyes creasing into a smile of welcome as he saw me. ‘Charlie, you’re back. What time is it?’

  ‘Midday, near enough. Lunch’ll be along soon. I thought we might eat together. How’s the head?’

  ‘Oh, a bit achy.’ He grimaced. ‘I keep dozing off. Poke me if I do it again. What’ve you been up to?’

  ‘Physio’ – I indicated the crutches – ‘and talking to a detective. The hospital’s keeping him away from you for the present but he’ll be back later on to get a statement.’ I paused to grab a sliding crutch. ‘Mike, he told me that Annabelle was three months pregnant when she died, so Belligrin killed his baby too.’

  ‘Jesus!’ He frowned. ‘It doesn’t make it any better of course, but it mightn’t have been his.’

  ‘No, I suppose not. I just assumed … It’s so wicked! That baby was my niece or nephew. And now I’ll never have the chance to know it,’ I said sadly, then the rattle of wheels sounded in the corridor. ‘Here’s lunch coming.’

  We ate, speaking only of inconsequential things. I told him about Jenny sneaking me in earlier for my unsanctioned visit. ‘She’s a bit of a rebel, Jenny, and she thinks you’re a real hunk. So sheila alert, mate.’

  He grinned. ‘Where in God’s name did you get that phrase from?’

  I screwed up my nose, thinking. ‘Danny Bader, probably. He rather fancied his chances with anything female – saw himself as God’s gift to womenkind.’

  Mike frowned. ‘Oh, yes? And who was he exactly?’

  ‘Just an actor back in Melbourne. We knew each other slightly. Not my type, so you needn’t worry. He’d go, Sheila alert! Save me, God! any time a girl walked past.’

  ‘Sounds a right pillock.’

  ‘He was.’

  ‘So what is your type? You’ve never told me much about the life you had in the city, Charlie.’

  ‘Because,’ I said slowly, ‘it was unimportant. I mean, at first I was all fired up to become the new Nicole Kidman, but that didn’t last. Acting’s a pretty hard field to break into when your talent is mediocre at best. It took me a while to realise that and to become sick of the novelty of my so-called freedom, sharing sub-standard flats with other hopeful girls like me. The leaky taps, the freezing rooms – Melbourne’s cold like you wouldn’t believe – and always scrambling to find my share of the rent … Looking back now, I think I hated most of it – except the acting, but that wasn’t going anywhere.’ I sighed. ‘Maybe if I wasn’t so stubborn I’d have given up sooner. It all seems so unreal to me now, particularly blokes like Danny. He was riddled with doubt and insecurity – the rest was all facade, and very wearing, you know?’

  ‘He still sounds like a pillock.’

  ‘That’s because you’re a hulking bushy, all muscle and get-go.’ I grinned at him. ‘By the way, Rae Thornton came to see me last night. Wasn’t that sweet of her? And Mum’ll be in this afternoon sometime. I’ll probably be discharged tomorrow. Have they said how long you’ll be here?’

  ‘Another day or two, I’m guessing.’ He yawned and fell silent and when I glanced his way next his eyelids had closed again. I sat, watching him sleep while the catering staff removed the empty dishes and the rooms and corridors around me settled into quietness. When he woke again it was with a grimaced apology. ‘This is ridiculous! I can’t seem to stay awake. I’m sorry, Charlie. When I get out of here, I’m going to take you out for a romantic dinner to make up for it. Think you’ll be in town that long?’

  ‘Count on it,’ I said. ‘I’ll stay for you.’ He sat up in the bed then, pushing his pillow behind him, so I manoeuvered myself to his side and pulled his face down for a kiss, then rested my head against his shoulder. ‘We’re so lucky to be here and more or less intact.’ I shuddered. ‘We came so close to losing each other.’

  ‘I know, love. Don’t think I don’t.’ His arms tightened around me just as Mum came into the room, followed by Bob.

  ‘They told me we’d find you here —’ She broke off, adding dryly, ‘I see you’re both feeling better.’

  ‘Heaps, thanks.’ I smiled. ‘Hello Bob – I didn’t expect you to come in too. Who’s looking after the place?’

  ‘Well, I weren’t letting Molly make the drive on her own,’ he said fiercely, ‘and her just outta hospital.’ I grinned as Mum, standing behind him, rolled her eyes at me. ‘Ute and young Eric’ve got it under control. How you doing, son?’ He came across to shake hands with Mike. ‘How’s the head?’

  ‘Getting there, Bob. Here, sit down Molly, and Bob, maybe you can get a chair from another room?’

  ‘She’s right, I’ll stand.’ I caught his callused old hand as he moved away and pulled him down for a hug. He flushed, saying gruffly, ‘What’s that for, then?’

  ‘Because I love you?’ I had never actually told him so before. Mum was right, I reflected, I was no better than her at displaying my feelings. But that was going to change. Loving Mike had shown me how simple it really was. ‘And because you came for me when I was in danger. You and Eric and Mike, Len too – you were all so brave and wonderful that day. When Mike and I get married, Bob, will you give me away?’

  His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. ‘Hang on, Charlie! He seems a decent enough young bloke, but how long have yer known him to be talkin’ about gettin’ married? Bit soon, ain’t it?’

  ‘Well he hasn’t actually asked me yet,’ I confessed. ‘But I think we’re heading that way. So will you?’

  ‘Yeah, well maybe,’ he growled and I heard Mike chuckle behind me.

  ‘Thanks, old feller. She’ll probably refuse me if you don’t.’

  At the visit’s end, Mum pushed my chair back to my room. She’d packed a small bag for me and now moved about tidying its contents into the cupboard while I used my crutches to visit the bathroom and get myself back onto the bed. Bob had lingered with Mike saying he wanted a word. I could make a fair guess at the subject and was torn between am
usement and dismay. To banish it, I told Mum about DC Morgan’s visit and what he’d let slip. ‘It turns out Annabelle was pregnant, Mum. Remember, we wondered why she wanted money? Maybe that was the reason.’

  ‘She was?’ Mum looked dismayed. She sat in the visitor’s chair, my toilet bag forgotten in her lap. ‘Foolish girl! Why didn’t she say? I’d have helped her if I’d known …’

  ‘Not the way she wanted,’ I reminded her. ‘She wasn’t after a baby shower, for heaven’s sake. For all we know she might have wanted the money for an abortion. In fact,’ I added, ‘that’s probably the answer. She was never very maternal – at least I never thought so.’

  ‘But a lot can change in five years …’ Mum began, then shook her head. ‘No, you’re right. Somewhere along the way I made a big mistake with her. I don’t know – maybe she needed more love than I could give her.’

  ‘Don’t go blaming yourself for Annabelle’s shortcomings, Mum,’ I said sharply. ‘We’re all responsible for the decisions we make – it’s those choices that frame your life, not whoever parents you.’

  She shook her head. ‘It might look that way from the outside, Charlie, but it isn’t always so.’ She glanced down at her hands, which were smoothing the plastic of my toilet bag, petting it as if it were some small animal, and visibly steeled herself. ‘Take me. I’ve never spoken of this to a soul before, but as a young girl my father sexually abused me.’

  I gaped at her, not believing my ears, but she was nodding.

  ‘You think that didn’t change me? I thought I could put it behind me, move on, you know, but it wasn’t possible. He ruined sex for me, and marriage. Your father told me I was frigid, that I’d never loved him, but the truth was the whole bed thing repulsed me. And even now the very thought of – of that, of being touched that way … Of course we had sex, you’re the proof of that, but I never enjoyed it and I couldn’t pretend I did. I thought, when I met and married Jim, that I’d finally escaped. My father was dead, nobody knew about what he’d done and here I had a new life just waiting to be lived. But it was spoilt before it ever started. So you see, there are some choices that you don’t get to make.’