On Cringila Hill

by Noel Beddoe

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I couldn’ believe how easy it was. I mean, it was tough, tough times, but stick with your course, you hadta win inna end. Took a bit of time. All have to do the same thing, hang together, make it happen. Tell you what you got then – little bit of power.’

  He nods down at the works, then further to the north where he can see the city of Wollongong with its modest highrise. ‘See all that? State government gotta say yes, council gotta say yes, union gotta say yes, the men gonna build it gotta say yes. Ones with the money need all that, need the council, need the unions.’ He shakes his head. ‘I couldn’ believe how easy it was. An’ now. Time you join the union, join the Labor Party.’

  Jimmy looks up towards the escarpment. He thinks of two men rushing at him in the dark, the moments of fear and pain. ‘Can’t have been as easy as you makin’ it sound. When you was gettin’ this done, anyone try to stop you, try to take it from you, try to be the ones?’

  ‘Sure. On the street. In the carpark. On the railway station. Some people thought they was tough guys, breathe on ya an’ ya fall down. But you remember what I taught you, out the back of the house?’

  ‘I do. Right foot always behind the left foot; punch through in the last little bit; starts in the legs, bring in the chest, the shoulders; this is where the blood goes, hit him here the blood stops, he’s out cold, he falls.’

  ‘All that. Tell ya somethin’ – most people don’ know nothin’ ’bout how to fight. Some think they do until they meet someone who really can. Comes as a surprise. An’ I’m strong, you know?’ He gives a little cough. ‘Well, maybe, I used ta be strong. An’ I had good men, stand by me. That Darko, you remember, had the boat where I took you fishin’? Jose Barradas? Dragan Mitrevski? Good men.’

  Jimmy remembers. Dragan Mitrevski, Jose Barradas, old Darko with the wooden trawler moored behind the seawall at Shellharbour.

  ‘It was important then, you know? Important you could stan’ up, say a thing, make it stick. Back then weren’t like it is now. We got trouble, nobody cared. We didn’ talk English good – well, most of us, not at all. We was the shit. No one took us serious, at the start. Man lost too much gamblin’, can’t pay back, someone says he gonna break his legs; some poor woman gotta do a shameful thing she don’ wanna, to take care of the kids when there’s no money, someone’s treatin’ her bad – where they go? They come to old Lupce. Who else they gonna go to? Police don’ care, don’ unnerstan’ ’em. There was things we hadta settle for ourselves, settled on the street. We sorted out our own things, in the old days. Hadta be able ta stan’ up, ta do that.’

  Lupce’s expression changes. ‘So,’ he says. ‘Join the union. Join the party. Then, don’ ask for much. Know what’s reasonable. They take care of you. You, an’ your people.’

  ‘You got my life all mapped out. Maybe I don’ want that.’

  ‘Nah, not about me decidin’. This is it, is all – weren’t easy for me. Gettin’ somewhere safe, take care of people – was very, very hard sometimes. I want things be easier for you. So. I’m teachin’ you what I know. No one to teach it to me. Now I can teach it to you.’

  ‘Sure. Now, other things.’

  ‘Got another parcel for your mother.’

  ‘Grandfather, there ain’t no point.’

  ‘What you mean?’

  ‘She don’ use that money.’

  ‘Never?’

  ‘She puts it in a drawer.’

  ‘In a drawer!’

  ‘Yeah. In a cabinet in her bedroom. Well, three drawers, now, after all these years of my takin’ it to her.’

  ‘What, all that money in drawers! What, she crazy?’

  ‘Nah. My mother’s not crazy.’

  ‘Someone know that they gonna come in there, take the money, maybe hurt her.’

  ‘I’m there, a lot of the time. She’s your daughter.’

  ‘Maybe someone lose all his money gamblin’, can’t feed his children; maybe someone crazy for drugs. Get that money outta there, get it into a safe deposit.’

  ‘Yeah. That’s a good idea. No record.’

  Lupce is gripped by coughing. His eyes grow wide, his face goes red, he hacks and struggles. When the spasm has passed, when Lupce’s breathing has eased, Jimmy says, ‘You gonna die.’

  ‘What? What stupid talk. Everyone gonna die.’

  ‘But not so soon as you gonna.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Then everythin’ you know anythin’ about is gonna die with you. I mean, Jose, Darko, Dragan – they’re all dead. Now there’s just you, an’ you coughin’ like that.’

  ‘Well, I’m tellin’ ya, about the union an’ things.’

  ‘Don’ mean that. Mean other stuff.’

  Jimmy’s eyes sting with tears. His grandfather’s presence always used to make him feel safe.

  Lupce says, ‘Yeah, well, that’s another thing I’m gonna tell ya. Time comes, the man knows all about the things you’d need to know is a man called Philip Lewis. He’s a lawyer, in Kiama. Honest man.’

  ‘Kiama?’

  ‘Yeah. You go down there? Nice down there. Air’s nice, got salt in it. You can walk aroun’ them cliffs they got, look at the ocean, where that water spouts up through the rock.’

  ‘Sure, we went down there, when you’d take me fishin’ on the sea. We went down there in Darko’s boat, went in close near them cliffs. Good fishin’. Plenty snapper.’

  ‘Sure. That’s gonna be your boat, that boat we went out in. He left it to me when he died, that an’ the mooring, there inside the seawall at Shellharbour. I’m leavin’ it to you. Well, you gonna have two boats. Got my little one we used on the lake, on Port Kembla harbour, that’s round with my car, with that young Jose Barradas.’

  ‘Alright.’

  Lupce begins to cough again, but not so violently as before. He calms himself, wipes his handkerchief across his mouth. ‘Goin’ fishin’ again.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Yeah. Thought about it. Wanna go fishin’ one last time. Wanna go when things are good for plenny of fish. Wanna catch plenny. Gonna go Tuesday mornin’, go out one in the mornin’, tide gonna be right, moon gonna be right.’ He smiles. ‘Gonna catch them bream fish, gonna catch them John Dorys. Gonna sell ’em to people got cafés that cook fish.’

  ‘Grandfather, no one’s gonna buy them. Is illegal.’

  ‘Always was. That’s the fun! An’ they gonna buy the fish from Lupce. Maybe take ’em outside, put ’em in the garbage, but they gonna buy from me. Like the old days.’

  He is still hunched over from the coughing. Eventually he says, ‘It be good for me if you’d come.’

  Jimmy says nothing for a time. At last he answers, ‘Alright.’

  The old man’s smiling. ‘One more thing.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘That girl, that Luz Solomona, that Abdul done that terrible thing to.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘She a fren of yours?’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘I don’ jus’ mean the man-woman thing. I understand ’bout that. I mean, is she a fren of yours.’

  ‘She was. We was close. Well, closer than I ever been with anyone. But then bad things happened between us.’

  ‘You work hard to be her fren again. Tell ya why. She gonna need that. I don’ mean nothin’ about the man-woman thing. That isn’t gonna be any good for her for a long time, maybe never. It be good for her, have a man jus’ be a fren. Maybe help her. Terrible thing happen. Big thing in her life. Everyone sayin’, “What happened to Abdul, who done that?” He’s dead, no good comin’ from doin’ no worryin’ about him. She’s from Cringila as well. She’s the one we should be thinkin’ ’bout. Maybe you can help her with her things. Be a good thing to do. Take care of her a little bit. See?’

  ‘I will if I can.’

  ‘T
hen. Last thing.’

  Jimmy waits.

  Eventually Lupce says, ‘You saw Abdul get shot.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You listen to you grandfather. Someone came see me last night. This is what he told me: he’s watchin’ you walkin’ up the hill near the high school, someone come, is that fren of yours. You stoppin’, you talkin’, then Abdul’s comin’ down the hill, this person see that, knows about you an’ that Luz, knows what Abdul done to her, he’s watchin’, thinkin’ maybe you gonna fight Abdul. Then a van comes along.’

  Jimmy stares down into the steelworks, because he’s not willing to look up at his grandfather.

  ‘An’ this why he come to me: he ain’t tol’ no one. He’s thinkin’, he ain’t tol’ the police, maybe obstructin’ the course of justice, accessory after murder. But he tells them, now, he gotta tell them about you, maybe get you in big trouble, an’ he don’ want that. He don’ know what ta do, so he come see Lupce.’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘You get in trouble over this, maybe no union for you, maybe no Labor Party for you, cos this ain’t the old days, this has got a gun in it, which there ain’t never been before. Tha’s a big thing, you know, maybe tha’s the biggest thing.’

  Jimmy turns to look at his grandfather, who is staring at him.

  ‘So you gonna see the police, say you saw this thing happen. But was a big shock, you know, you just gettin’ out of being crazy with it, you come straightaway then, when first you could. I’m gonna come with you. “My grandson is a good boy, think what he’s been through seein’ such a thing, he’s a victim here.” Your fren gonna say, yeah, me too, saw it, been sort of crazy. Get everyone out of this.’

  ‘Yes, Grandfather.’

  A car has parked on the street beneath them. A plump woman, no longer young, has emerged and is drawing cleaning utensils from the boot. Jimmy rises, starts down the front stairs, pauses, turns, looks back up at Lupce.

  ‘An’ now you goin’ back to your mother.’ Lupce shakes his head. ‘All of it! Stuck in drawers!’

  ‘Is good you know about Abdul, about me seein’ that. Is good, you know?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah. Because I learned somethin’ out of that.’

  Both men share the same dark skin, high cheekbones, heavy brows with deep-set dark eyes. They watch each other.

  ‘This is what I learned – people get murdered. That ain’t somethin’ just on the television, or in the movies. People you actually know get murdered – not killed, murdered. Someone decides to kill ’em, an’ sets out, an’ does that.’

  Lupce watches his grandson. Lupce’s eyes have narrowed, his lips are pulled back over his teeth.

  ‘Tha’s what happens to some. Is their fate.’

  The lady from the car has struggled her way to the gate. She’s laden. ‘Oh, Mr Valeski!’ she calls. ‘Sorry I’m late! Got held up!’

  ‘Don’ matter,’ old Lupce calls down to her, though he’s still watching his grandson.

  ‘So,’ Jimmy says. ‘See you at fishin’.’

  ‘Sure,’ Lupce says. ‘We goin’ fishin’.’

  On a lower stair Jimmy asks the cleaning lady, ‘You need a hand with all that stuff?’ And to his surprise, his voice is thick with emotion.

  ‘Nah, Jimmy. I’m fine. Been doin’ it a long time.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  It’s five a.m. when Luz decides she won’t get back to sleep. She lies in her bed, curled with her back towards the bedroom wall. The light in her room is on as it’s been throughout the night. There’s wind outside and at times Luz can hear it, though the sound is drowned by snoring that comes from her brother Samuel. Luz opens her eyes. Samuel is sitting upright across the room from her. His head rests on one shoulder, a column of saliva droops from his open mouth onto the front of his shirt. The blanket he’s used to keep warm has slipped from him and lies on the floor. Luz slips from her bed, gathers up the blanket, spreads it over Samuel, turns off the light and leaves the room.

  Sound blares from the television when Luz switches it on in the lounge room. She quickly mutes the sound, sits on the lounge, curls her legs beneath herself. She hears the slap of big, bare feet on linoleum. She turns her head. Her sister has been disturbed by the noise. Still in her pyjamas, she sits beside Luz. They watch together.

  Luz’s sister says, ‘Any sleepin’?’

  ‘Not too much.’

  ‘Bad dreams?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Same one?’

  ‘Same one. Devil’s got me. Laughin’ at me. Tearin’ off my clothes. Got long nails.’

  ‘Ah.’

  The sister reaches for Luz’s hand, holds it, squeezes it.

  Luz doesn’t reply.

  ‘I was asleep when you come in,’ her sister says. ‘How did it work out?’

  ‘Yeah. Okay. Good. Glad I went. I was frightened to go.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘Hadta beat that feelin’. But it was good I went. When you get in there, there’s people comin’ in, gotta get served, gotta get their order right, soon enough you forget about what was on your mind, just gettin’ the job done. An’ the people down there I was workin’ with was lovely, funny, you know, made me laugh.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘One thing happen.’

  ‘Yeah? What was that?’

  ‘Boy come in late, been drinkin’. I’m servin’ him an’ he says to me, “Geez you got nice tits.”’

  ‘Oh! Lovely!’ Alisha says, shaking her head.

  ‘Then the girl workin’ with me looked over to where Samuel was sittin’, at one of the tables, readin’ a magazine.’

  ‘Oh, God! Samuel heard him!’

  ‘Yeah. So I thought, here we go, everythin’ ’bout to get worse. So, this boy looks over, where my fren’s lookin’, sees Samuel, sees him get up, and Samuel walks over slow, lookin’ the way he looks sometimes, an’ he puts his big hand on that boy’s shoulder, an’ he says, “You got you chicken. Now fuck off!”’

  Alisha claps her hands and chuckles. ‘What then?’

  ‘That boy got outta there, fast. I didn’ even give him his change. People sittin’ aroun’ heard it all and laughed. One woman was clappin’.’

  ‘Ah. Samuel.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Luz frowns. ‘Carn go on, but.’

  ‘What can’t?’

  ‘People followin’ me round, lookin’ out for me, sittin’ up all night in my bedroom in case I have a bad dream. I gotta get over that, let people live their own lives.’

  ‘When you’re ready.’

  ‘Think I nearly am.’

  ‘You goin’ downtown, later, have a coffee with Yasemin?’

  ‘Yeah, early. She got a shift at DJs. We’ll have coffee before she starts.’

  ‘Tha’s good. Tha’s a good thing for you to be up to. An’, you know, Samuel’s gonna wanna be there.’

  ‘Oh, well. He can be where he can see me, make him feel better. He’s gotta get over that sometime, but.’

  Alisha shrugs. ‘I’ll make you a good breakfast. Then I’ll help you get ready. You gonna be dressed good, look real pretty. Got money?’

  ‘Yeah, I got plenny of money.’

  Luz showers, dabs perfume onto those spots her sister has taught her. She puts on tight jeans then tucks into them at the waist a scarlet blouse made from a synthetic cloth that looks like silk. Alisha brushes her hair and catches it at the nape of her neck in a ribbon. Luz pulls on her high-heeled sandals with the colourful straps and silver baubles. She’s ready.

  Yasemin, when they meet, is dressed in a way so similar that they might be members of a club, though her blouse is white, as her employer prefers, and she wears black slacks rather than jeans, but so tight over her buttocks as to draw disapproving scowls from her father and brother, which Yasemin find
s entertaining. Her lustrous hair hangs free to her shoulders.

  On Thursday evenings and Saturdays, Yasemin serves at a perfume counter in David Jones in the CBD. Recently, after a long absence, Luz has returned to her job at KFC in Warrawong. Both have long valued their wages, and manage their funds carefully.

  They meet at the entrance to the mall, near where old men watch a chess competition played out with giant pieces. They make their way around the tables in the food hall, skirt a crowd watching a display of martial arts fighting on the stage, glide on the escalator to a higher level, take up places just inside the doorway of a coffee shop. They place orders in a tone of self-deprecation to a smartly dressed waitress, one of Yasemin’s classmates. They sweeten their drinks with Equal, order nothing to eat.

  Waiting for their drink, Yasemin seems pensive. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Not too good. I’m still sleepin’ with the light on, so if I have nightmares and wake up I won’t be in the dark. There comes these times an’ suddenly I’m back there again, where it happened, with that tough grass in my face, the big stones on the ground, an’ them doin’ what they done.’

  ‘Oh, Luz. You look so tired.’

  Luz looks through a window at the passing throng. ‘Is bad for me. But is bad for my family too. Hurts ’em seein’ me feelin’ bad, not gettin’ over it. Every night one of ’em sits up with me. Tha’s no good for them, not good for the boys, need their sleep for that work they do. But it comforts me to know they’re there, not gonna let anythin’ bad happen to me. Still, hard on ’em. What happen to me happen to them, too. Not over it yet. Not over for none of us.’

  Luz watches the passers-by who stroll with their purchases under the inconsequential music of the shopping centre.

  ‘Maybe it be good if I could get away from here, go somewhere an’ be a whole new person with no past. But bein’ away from the people who comfort me, that would be a scary thing.’ She shrugs and smiles gratefully at Yasemin.