Rosa-Marie's Baby

by Robert G. Barrett

  Les slept in the next morning. When he finally got up and looked out over the balcony, the rain had stopped and patches of blue were appearing between the clouds, however the wind was gusting onshore and it was still cold. He raised an arm and sniffed his tracksuit. After sleeping in it since he’d arrived in Lorne, it was starting to get rather minty. Nothing anyone would notice in the restaurant, however. Les cleaned himself up, put his gym boots on, then caught the lift to the lobby and strolled down to have breakfast. The girl on the counter knew him by now and smiled a nice hello when Les gave her his room number. He found a table facing the beach then ripped into the usual, washed down with ample amounts of fruit juice and coffee.

  Norton was in a fairly good mood as he ate, even though today was just a case of hope for the best and expect the worst. He had a good feeling about the last church in Apollo Bay. And if it turned out another no-result, at least he was going home and it was all over. He got a chuckle when he remembered how Mrs Totten punched and prodded him when she got excited during the movie, and got even more of a chuckle when he felt the slightest, tiniest bruise on his thigh. Les finished breakfast and went back to his unit, whistling.

  Although his faithful, blue tracksuit needed a drink, Les felt it was no good wearing anything clean if he was going to be crawling around dusty storage sheds. And it wasn’t as if he was taking the lady from the orphanage to Doyle’s for a seafood dinner. He left it on, gave himself a few good squirts of deodorant then, making sure he had everything he needed in his overnight bag, caught the lift down to the parking area.

  The Mitsubishi purred into life. Les gave it a few moments to warm up while he checked his map of Lorne, then switched the radio on and drove out of the car park. As he took a right at the roundabout, a barbershop quartet began harmonising beautifully through the speakers.

  ‘Her vaginnnna. Her vaginnnna.

  Just a quick reminder, take a peek in her vagina, if she’s hur-a-ur-ting.

  Brother you can betcha, gonorrhoea is gonna get you, without war-a-ar-ning.’

  ‘What the fuck?’ exclaimed Les. ‘Has this radio station gone mad? Bloody hell! That’s all I need playing when I pull up at the orphanage.’ Les shook his head, switched the radio off and drove on up the hill.

  The way to the orphanage was behind the white church where he met Vicar Rathbone. Les drove along a tree-lined street, then turned left and pulled up amongst some trees, just back from a driveway in a steep, deadend near some nice homes. The orphanage was on a long, wide sloping block of land facing the ocean. It was a rambling old two-storey building with a tiled roof supported by columns set along wide verandahs that commanded a million-dollar view of the ocean. Huge bay windows were spaced along the verandahs, the grounds were enclosed by stone walls, and there was a yard at the rear full of trees surrounded by a low green wooden fence. In the middle of the yard was a white wooden building with a flat roof, windows along the side and a door at the front. The driveway led up to a wide green gate that opened into a circular courtyard with a flowerbed in the middle. Les guessed the building to be heritage listed and possibly a hundred years old. It had seen better days and needed maintenance here and there. But it was still nothing short of magnificent.

  Les got out of the car and walked over to the gate. As he did, he noticed a curtain draw back in the wooden building behind the orphanage and someone watching him all the way. Les opened a door in the gate and stepped into the courtyard. There was a laundry and a shed behind the orphanage and parked to one side of the courtyard was a plain, battered, black kombi-wagon. Les couldn’t see a back door and he wanted to check out the view. So he walked quietly around the top verandah, past windows hung with thick blue curtains. Behind one of the curtains Les glimpsed a lounge room filled with furniture and a TV; the rest were bedrooms. When he got to the front of the orphanage Les stopped and reminded himself to bring his camera with him when he brought the woman who ran the orphanage back from Apollo Bay. The view had to be seen to be believed.

  He followed the verandah past more blue-curtained windows around to the other side of the old home, stopping at a wide screendoor in front of a kitchen. All the while Les was expecting to hear children playing or making a noise of some description. But apart from a few magpies and kookaburras making their presence known, and the sound of the breeze stirring the surrounding blue gums, there was silence. Les rapped on the kitchen door and took a peek through the flyscreen.

  The kitchen was quite big and although there was no light on, Les could make out an open range gas stove, a stainless steel fridge, and a wooden floor with a long wooden table sitting in the middle. Pots and pans and other cooking utensils hung over the stove, and around the walls long shelves of crockery sat above wooden cabinets with glass fronts. The sort of kitchen you would expect to find in a restaurant or place that catered for a number of people. From a corridor behind the kitchen a slender woman appeared on the left, wearing a white shirt and a grey cardigan over a long, grey, tartan skirt. She was holding a mobile phone in one hand and a pair of round-rimmed glasses in the other and opened the door as soon as she saw Les.

  ‘Come in,’ the woman said quietly. ‘I won’t be a moment.’

  ‘Okay, thanks,’ replied Les.

  Les stepped inside and while the woman leant against one end of the table talking into the mobile, discreetly checked her out. She was about average height, wore no make-up and had a thin, plain face with worry lines radiating from a pair of soft hazel eyes. Her short black hair was clean and shiny and tucked behind her ears with two small combs and although Les couldn’t see much grey amongst the black, guessed her age as approaching a hard-working fifty. Two thin hands poked out from under her cardigan and a glimpse of skinny white ankle poked out from below her long woollen skirt. The woman blinked constantly as she spoke on the phone and after she put her glasses on once she’d finished talking, looked very Miss Prissy. She walked nervously over to Les and kept her head slightly bowed when she spoke, giving Norton the impression of a woman who felt ill at ease around men; even a little frightened.

  ‘You must be Mr Norton?’ she blinked.

  ‘That’s right,’ Les smiled softly. ‘Les Norton. Are you Mrs Settree? The lady that runs the orphanage?’

  ‘Yes. That’s right.’

  Les offered her his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mrs Settree.’

  The woman gave Norton’s hand a gentle shake. ‘Thank you, Mr Norton.’

  Les shook his head. ‘I should be thanking you.’

  Mrs Settree blinked and looked at Les for a moment. ‘I’m sorry if it’s a little dark in here,’ she apologised. ‘But we keep the lights off to try and save on electricity.’

  ‘Good idea, Mrs Settree,’ commended Les. He ran his eyes from the kitchen to the corridor running behind. ‘It’s very quiet,’ said Les. ‘I was expecting to see kids running everywhere.’

  ‘All the girls have gone camping at Lake Colac while there’s a break in the weather,’ said Mrs Settree. ‘They’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘How many girls are there?’ asked Les.

  ‘At the moment, twenty.’

  ‘Are they very old?’

  ‘Ten to fifteen,’ replied Mrs Settree.

  ‘Right,’ said Les. He ran his eyes around the kitchen. ‘Gee, it’s a beautiful old house, Mrs Settree.’

  ‘Yes. Would you like to have a look around?’ she asked.

  ‘I would,’ said Les. ‘But how about when we get back from Apollo Bay?’

  ‘Very well,’ said Mrs Settree. ‘Can I get you something? A cup of tea? A glass of water …?’

  ‘No. That’s all right, thanks,’ said Les. He smiled at Mrs Settree. ‘So Mrs Totten told you what’s going on?’

  ‘Yes. You’re looking for some paintings.’

  ‘That’s right. My mother did them a long time ago. The family thinks they still might be down here.’

  ‘Well, I certainly hope you find them,’ said Mrs Settree.

  �
�Yes. I’ve come a long way,’ said Les.

  Mrs Settree blinked at Les a couple of times from behind her glasses. ‘I’ll get my handbag and scarf and we’ll get going.’

  ‘When you’re ready, Mrs Settree,’ said Les. ‘There’s no mad hurry.’

  Mrs Settree turned and walked off to the right down the corridor at the back of the kitchen. She returned a minute or two later with a grey tartan scarf round her neck and holding a small black leather handbag.

  ‘I’m ready,’ she said.

  ‘Okay,’ replied Les. ‘Let’s go.’ He held the kitchen door open, Mrs Setttree stepped through and they followed the verandah round to the back of the orphanage.

  ‘Aren’t you going to lock the door?’ asked Les.

  ‘My daughter Angie’s here,’ replied Mrs Settree. ‘She’ll look after things.’

  ‘Okey doke.’

  Les followed Mrs Settree across the courtyard then through the door in the gate and up to Norton’s car. Les opened the door for her, she thanked him then got inside and did up her seatbelt and Les did the same. Les started the motor and absently switched the radio back on as he did a U-turn to go back up the hill. Through the four-speaker system the barbershop quartet started harmonising melodically again.

  ‘It’s beginning to look — a — lot — like — syphillis.’

  ‘What the …?’

  Les stabbed at the dash and switched the radio off, then turned to Mrs Settree apologetically. However, everything appeared to have gone over her head and she just sat there like Miss Prissy, buckled up, clutching her handbag and staring out the windscreen. Les came back down behind the church to get onto the main road and drove for a while before speaking.

  ‘So how long have you known Mrs Totten?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, many years now,’ replied Mrs Settree.

  ‘She’s a bit of a sweetheart,’ said Les.

  ‘Yes she certainly is. God bless her,’ agreed Mrs Settree.

  ‘She’s not bad on her feet either,’ chuckled Les. ‘Do you know what she did to me?’

  ‘No.’

  Les told Mrs Settree how Mrs Totten cajoled him into taking her to the movies. But it had been fun watching her have a good time and she made him a nice cup of tea later. Her sponge cake was good too.

  ‘The Two Towers?’ said Mrs Settree.

  ‘Yeah,’ replied Les. ‘Have you seen it?’ Mrs Settree shook her head. ‘Did you see the first one?’ Mrs Settree shook her head again and Les was going to tell her she’d hadn’t missed much.

  ‘To take even ten girls to the pictures would cost a fortune,’ said Mrs Settree. ‘And I couldn’t just go on my own.’

  ‘Yes. I hadn’t thought of that,’ said Les. ‘Anyway, Mrs Totten also threatened me if I didn’t give a donation to the orphanage.’

  ‘You’re not obliged to, Mr Norton,’ said Mrs Settree. ‘But it would be greatly appreciated if you did.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ said Les. He put his foot down a little as they began to leave Lorne behind them. ‘So how long have you been running the orphanage, Mrs Settree?’

  ‘Quite a few years now,’ replied Mrs Settree. ‘And you can call me Tania if you like, Mr Norton.’

  ‘Okay. So how do you get on, Tania?’

  ‘Get on? We simply get on as best we can,’ replied Tania.

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Les. ‘So who owns the building? It’s in a beautiful spot.’

  ‘The Church of the Holy Blood.’

  ‘Is that the white one near the hotel?’

  ‘Yes. Vicar Rathbone.’

  ‘I met him,’ said Les. ‘He seemed like a nice man. Do they charge you much rent?’

  ‘Not really,’ replied Mrs Settree. ‘I took over the home at the end of a one-hundred-year lease.’

  ‘How long have you got to go on the lease?’ asked Les.

  ‘Five years,’ said Mrs Settree.

  ‘Five years,’ said Les. ‘What happens then?’

  ‘Vicar Rathbone intends to sell the building.’

  Les half smiled. ‘They always do. So what’ll happen to you and the kids?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ replied Mrs Settree. ‘But we’re hoping something will turn up.’

  ‘How much will they sell the building for?’

  ‘The vicar’s been offered over a million dollars.’

  ‘I can see why,’ said Les.

  ‘Yes,’ nodded Mrs Settree. ‘It’s in a prime position, as they say.’

  The lady from the orphanage still kept looking straight ahead at the road, never making eye contact with Les when she spoke, and Les couldn’t remember meeting a woman so mousy. But there was something about Mrs Settree he liked, so he thought he’d try and get her out of her shell.

  ‘Mrs Totten said you were in an orphanage yourself,’ said Les.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Mrs Settree. ‘And I can’t say they were the best years of my life either.’

  ‘They weren’t?’

  Tania shook her head grimly. ‘No. Not at all.’

  Les thought for a moment. ‘And might I hazard a guess, Tania,’ he said, ‘and suggest you took over the orphanage to see the girls there got a better go than you did.’

  Tania slowly turned to Les. ‘That’s exactly right, Mr Norton,’ she said.

  ‘Well good for you, Tania. Well done. You’re a deadset gem.’

  Tania blinked at Les. ‘It’s funny,’ she said. ‘But I don’t mind talking to you, Mr Norton. You have a polite honesty about you.’

  ‘Well thank you, Mrs Settree,’ smiled Les. ‘That’s quite a compliment. And I like talking to you also.’

  ‘Oh? Why’s that Mr Norton?’

  ‘You’re a person who gives of themselves, Tania. You don’t see much of that where I come from. And I can tell you’re honest, too.’

  Tania went back to staring out the windscreen. ‘There was another reason I took over the orphanage,’ she said.

  ‘Oh? Why was that?’ asked Les.

  ‘To get away from my husband.’

  ‘Your husband?’

  ‘Yes. He … he used to beat me.’

  Les screwed his face up. ‘Beat you? Christ! There’s not much to beat.’

  ‘Grant didn’t seem to think so,’ said Tania.

  Les thought he might get Mrs Settree’s version of what Mrs Totten had told him about her. ‘So what happened to your husband?’ he asked.

  ‘He fell under a train,’ answered Tania.

  ‘Serves him bloody right,’ said Les.

  ‘In front of our daughter, too,’ said Tania.

  ‘Shit! That would have been traumatic for her,’ said Les.

  ‘Actually, Angie handled it quite well.’

  ‘Right.’ Les put his foot down to head off another council truck before it could pull out from the side of the road and slow him down. ‘Did you ever remarry, Mrs Settree?’

  ‘Yes. And Frank was almost as bad as my first husband. He even hit Angie.’

  ‘He did? And what happened to him?’ asked Les.

  ‘Frank got electrocuted.’

  ‘Well. I suppose it serves him right, too,’ said Les.

  ‘Possibly,’ said Tania. ‘But it’s not a very nice thing to say.’

  ‘It’s not very nice to hit women, either,’ said Les. ‘Except in self-defence of course,’ he added with a smile. ‘In fact I thought I was going to have to give Mrs Totten a rabbit-killer last night. She got a bit excited during the movie and kept belting into me. I even had a bruise on my arm this morning,’ Les sniffed.

  ‘Bless her,’ smiled Tania.

  ‘Yes, the old darling.’ Les slowed the car right down for a hairpin bend. ‘She said you had a son who died. Is that right?’

  ‘Yes. Grant Junior. He was out fishing with Angie and drowned.’

  ‘Gee. That’s bad luck,’ said Les.

  ‘He was a strange boy, though, young Grant,’ said Tania. ‘A lot like his father in many ways.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ asked Les.

>   ‘He was violent. My son Grant actually hit me on several occasions. And he used to hit Angie too.’

  ‘Crikey! You’ve sure had it tough, Tania,’ said Les.

  ‘It was bad at times,’ nodded Tania.

  Les slowed down for a small white bus full of backpackers. ‘So I imagine you and your daughter would be very close now?’ said Les.

  ‘Very close,’ answered Tania. ‘In fact I often think of Angie as my little guardian angel.’

  ‘That’s nice.’

  Les now understood why Tania was nervous around men, and being stuck in a car next to a gorilla like him wouldn’t have been a day at the beach for her. Conversely, it was a pleasant surprise to know she liked him. Les felt at this point it might be an idea to change the subject.

  ‘So how come you can get into these church storage sheds in Apollo Bay, Tania?’ he asked.

  ‘The ministers let me have a key in case I need something for the orphans. Blankets, toys. Different little things.’

  ‘That’s decent of them,’ said Les.

  ‘Except for The Church of the Holy Order. But the caretaker’s there. And he’ll let me in.’

  ‘Is that Uriah?’ said Les.

  Tania turned to Les. ‘Yes. You met Uriah?’

  ‘Yeah, yesterday,’ said Les. ‘Only for a few minutes.’

  ‘How did you find him?’

  ‘Find him? Polite,’ said Les. ‘A little wild-eyed. But polite.’

  ‘Yes. That’s one way to describe Uriah,’ agreed Tania. She stared out the windscreen as Les manoeuvred the Mitsubishi around two hairpin bends then turned to Les. ‘So tell me a little about yourself, Mr Norton.’

  ‘Me? Okay,’ smiled Norton. ‘And you can call me Les if you want to.’

  Les told Tania mostly the truth. He came from Queensland, worked at the Cross in Sydney and had a house in Bondi. By the time he got to Warren and Clover and different things, Les was driving into Apollo Bay.