Rosa-Marie's Baby
Page 23
‘Yes. Your mother’s going to cook something special for me,’ said Les.
‘And we’re going to drink some wine,’ said Mrs Settree. ‘Have a little celebration.’
‘You’re going to have a few drinks, Les?’ said Angela.
‘Ohh yeah,’ said Les. ‘Why not?’
‘Well, leave your car,’ said Angela. ‘I’ll come round and get you. Where are you staying?’
‘At the Otway Resort,’ said Les. ‘Room 202.’
‘I know it,’ said Angela. ‘I won’t call up to your room. I’ll park in the driveway out the front. And you can come down.’
‘Okay,’ said Les.
Angela turned to her mother. ‘What time, Mum?’
Mrs Settree turned to Les. ‘What time suits you, Mr Norton?’
Les looked at his watch. ‘Oh. About an hour. Is that okay?’
‘That would be fine,’ said Mrs Settree.
‘Yes. Excellent,’ said Angela.
Les got to his feet and rubbed his hands together. ‘All right,’ he said to Angela and Mrs Settree. ‘Well look, I imagine this has been a big day for both of you, and you want to talk about things in private. I’ll go home and get cleaned up.’
‘Okay Les,’ said Angela. ‘I’ll see you out the front of the resort in an hour.’
‘No worries.’ Les left them with the copy of the letter. But picked up the book on Rosa-Marie Norton and put it in his overnight bag. ‘I’ll bring this back with me,’ he said. ‘I just want to have a look at a couple of things.’ He turned to Angela. ‘Your mother said you like red wine, Angela?’
‘Yes. Especially burgundy.’
‘There’s a bottleshop across the road from the resort,’ said Les. ‘I’ll get something extra grouse.’
‘Thank you Mr Norton,’ smiled Angela.
‘I’ll walk you to the door,’ offered Mrs Settree.
Les shook his head. ‘No. That’s all right,’ he said, picking up his overnight bag. ‘I know my way out.’ Les pointed to the mug of coffee still sitting on the coffee table. ‘Look at that. I didn’t even drink my coffee.’ Les gave the women a warm smile. ‘See you in an hour.’
‘See you then Les,’ they chorused.
Les left them in the lounge room and walked up to the car. He got behind the wheel and stared down at the orphanage for a moment before starting the engine. Minutes later Les drove into the resort. He didn’t bother going down to the car park. He left the car in the driveway out front then walked inside and straight up to the reception desk. The dark-haired man in the blue suit recognised him and smiled.
‘Mr Norton,’ he said. ‘There’s a message here for you.’ The man got a piece of paper and placed it on the desk. ‘It’s from a Miss Sonia Rouvray in Geelong. She asked for a Mr Klinghoffer. But insisted it was your room.’
‘That’s okay,’ said Les. ‘I know what it’s all about. Anyway. I just got a phone call from Sydney, and I have to go home. So I’ll be checking out early.’
‘Oh. All right Mr Norton. No problems,’ said the man in the blue suit. ‘When did you wish to check out?’
‘In about thirty minutes. I’ll get my bags. And I’ll be right back.’
‘Not a problem, Mr Norton.’
‘Thanks.’ Les turned and walked down to the lift. On the way he read the note. Solomon. I can be there tonight. Call me. Sonia. Les screwed the message into a ball and and dropped it in a bin next to the lift.
As soon as he was inside his unit, Les began hurriedly packing things into his suitcase and getting rid of what he didn’t need. He kept what was left of the bourbon, but left the beer in the fridge. And he didn’t bother to get changed. Yes, Les told himself as he gathered up his tapes and unhooked the ghetto blaster, a nice mother and daughter duo, that one. Mum’s not so bad. But what about the daughter? Where do you start? How about daddy number one that used to hit Mummy and fell under a train. Angie handled the trauma okay. Why wouldn’t she? She pushed him off the platform. And husband number two. The stepdaddy that also used to beat Mummy. An electrician, and he finished up with a hair dryer in his bath. Mummy’s little ‘guardian angel’ to the rescue again. Then there was the brother. Grant Junior. He used to hit both Mummy and his sister. Till his sister took him fishing. Which brings us to Sister Manuella. Who used to beat poor young Tanybryn. ‘That was an unfortunate accident. Wasn’t it.’ Okay. I don’t blame Tania for setting fire to the orphanage and breaking Sister Manuella’s neck. I would have done the same thing. But that daughter? I don’t know about witches or things, but I saw the devil in those pretty green eyes. Les shoved the last of his socks and underwear into his suitcase and zipped it up. ‘Does anybody else know about the paintings, Mr Norton? You going to have a few drinks, Mr Norton? Leave your car at the resort, Mr Norton. Les. I’ll come and get you.’ Yeah, thought Les. It’s getting dark now. No one would notice that old black kombi pull up out the front, and me getting into it. Bloody hell! If I went round to that orphanage tonight, after Angie’s got into her mother’s ear about those millions of dollars’ worth of paintings, I’d either get poisoned, cop a knife in the back or get hit over the head from behind. Or they’d probably just push me off the balcony. ‘Stand here, Mr Norton. Where we can take a better photo.’ I know one thing. No one would ever see me again. There’d be places in that orphanage you could hide an elephant.
I suppose I could just run in and grab a couple of paintings and piss off. But all they’d have to do is ring the police and have me nicked. Mrs Settree can prove they’re her paintings more than I can. No. Even though it breaks my poor Queensland heart. They can have the fuckin things. It’s all going to a good cause. And all in all, Mrs Settree’s okay. I’ll leave things as they are. Les checked around the unit, then glanced at his watch. Look at that. I’ve got a good twenty minutes up my sleeve before Rosa-Marie’s baby gets here. Or granddaughter. Or whatever she is. I really don’t give a shit. Les picked up his bags and caught the lift down to the lobby. Ten minutes later he had checked out and was turning left at the roundabout down from the resort.
Halfway along Mountjoy Parade Les slowed down for a bus and one last feeling of deja vu crept over him. Almost the same thing happened to him at Yurriki near Murwillumbah, when he found the painting hidden in the farmhouse and he gave it to Perigrine. And it turned out to be a van Gogh worth millions. Then before Perigrine could send him a thank you note written on a huge cheque, Perigrine got blown up, along with the painting. And Les missed out on another fortune. Now it had happened again. Only worse. Les watched the lights over the Erskine River disappear in the rear-vision mirror and a tiny tear rolled down his cheek.
‘Bugger deja vu,’ sniffed Les. ‘You can stick it in your arse. It’s nothing but the same bloody thing, over and over again. AIEEE!’
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Robert G. Barrett was raised in Sydney’s Bondi where he worked mainly as a butcher. After thirty years he moved to Terrigal on the Central Coast of New South Wales. Robert has appeared in a number of films and TV commercials but prefers to concentrate on a career as a writer. He is the author of twenty books, including So What Do You Reckon?, a collection of his columns for People magazine, Mud Crab Boogie, Goodoo Goodoo, The Wind and the Monkey, Leaving Bondi, The Ultimate Aphrodisiac, and Mystery Bay Blues.
* * *
To find out more about Bob and his books
visit these websites:
www.robertgbarrett.net.au
or
www.harpercollins.com.au/robertgbarrett
* * *
BOOKS BY ROBERT G. BARRETT
So What Do You Reckon?
Mud Crab Boogie
Goodoo Goodoo
The Wind and the Monkey
Leaving Bondi
The Ultimate Aphrodisiac
Mystery Bay Blues
COPYRIGHT
The quote on here is from Occult Visions of Rosaleen Norton by Keith Richmond. Reprinted with thanks.
Harper
CollinsPublishers
First published in Australia in 2003
This edition published in 2014
by HarperCollinsPublishers Pty Limited
ABN 36 009 913 517
A member of the HarperCollinsPublishers (Australia) Pty Limited Group
www.harpercollins.com.au
Copyright © Psycho Possum Productions Pty Ltd 2003
The right of Robert G. Barrett to be identified as the moral rights author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000 (Cth).
This book is copyright.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part may be reproduced by any process without written permission.
Inquiries should be addressed to the publishers.
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National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication data:
Barrett, Robert G.
Rosa-Marie’s baby.
ISBN 0 7322 7818 X (pbk.)
ISBN 978 1 4607 0380 9 (epub)
I. Title.
A823.3
Cover painting: The Goddess by Rosaleen Norton (1917–79), circa 1955, private gallery, copyright Walter Glover
Cover design by Darian Causby, Highway 51 Design Works