Nevil just looks back at her and shrugs his shoulders.
‘Sometimes I wonder, Nevil Dooley, if we were ever meant to be together at all. Seems to me you’re spendin all ya time with Trevor, eh. Well, I got dreams too. Ya don’t think I’m gonna sit round this shithole of a town n wait for ya to be back to normal. Nah, no way. Gracie Marley gonna do somethin with her life.’
‘You do what you have to, Gracie. I wouldn’t want you to sit around here and wait for me. Yeah, follow your dreams, that’s what I reckon.’ Nevil offers her a wide smile.
‘Goodonya, love, you do what ya have to. But listen, we got this problem whit Max Brown. It’ll have to be sorted out otherwise people gonna be runnin me down to the lowest. Trevor, any real ideas to who this Isaac Edge is? I mean, they could pull you in at any ol time, specially the Bullya coppers. Never listen to a cop’s promises. It might be okay by Max Brown, but the Bullya boys could be on ya back. Too risky. I don’t like the setup of this whole situation. Somehow it don’t seem right.’ I say, wonderin how things could go so wrong in this short space a time. But, it only started to go haywire after Trevor turned up on me doorstep. Like he a bad curse or somethin. Like all Mandamooka knowed bout him. Like someone takin piss outta the boy.
‘Isaac Edge, who’s that?’ Gracie asks, turnin round from the fridge.
‘Well, love, don’t rightly know. Sposed to be some big time drug dealer. Accordin to Max Brown, Isaac Edge is dealin drugs right here in this ol town. Missus Warby n Dotty Reedman told Max that it were Trevor here dealin dope. They seen him walkin through the gate with one of em briefcase things n thought it were full a drugs.’
‘Jesus Christ!’ Gracie bursts into loud laughter. ‘Talk about outta control!’
I reach up into the cupboard, searchin round for a packet a Tim Tams. ‘Gracie, ya ever heard anythin bout him?’
‘I think Big Boy know who he is.’
‘He does?’ We all chorus.
‘Was talkin bout him there the other day. You know how Big Boy likes his yarndi n shit. Yeah, he reckoned Edge was a real tough fucker. But you know what Big Boy’s like, exaggeratin everthin. Yep, he reckoned Edge met him under the ol bridge on the other side a town. He said Edge was from Bullya n he was here to even a score, whatever the fuck that means.’ Gracie laughs. ‘Reckoned he told him he was after some sheila by the name a Jean Reece. Sounds like Edge real fucked. I mean, ain’t no one in Mandamooka called Jean Reece.’ She grins.
‘Jean Rhys,’ I whisper, throwin a wild look at Nevil n Trevor.
Trevor stares at Gracie like she’s just thrown a bucket a piss at him, n Nevil, lipsticked mouth open, eyes bulgin like dog’s balls, gapes too.
I feel me gut rumble, the Tim Tams feelin hot n heavy in me sweaty palms as me eyes roam Gracie’s face for any signs a bullshit. Me ears start to ring. I walk over n sit down beside her.
‘Gracie, ya dead sure bout this?’ I ask in me most serious tone a voice.
‘That’s what Big Boy said. Mum, Nevil, Trevor—what’s goin on here?’ She looks at each a us.
No one answers. We all just sit starin at her. She wiggles on the chair, blinkin her eyes rapidly, lookin at us like she don’t know who we really are.
‘It’s not my fault! I didn’t buy no drugs offa him! Mum, you gotta believe me. Rodge the Dodge gave me some yarndi the other day, that’s where I get my stuff from. I didn’t buy no drugs offa Edge!’ She stands up, her face slack. ‘You think I’m some sorta druggie, Mum?’ she bursts out, her voice crackin.
‘He after Jean?’ Nevil whispers, grippin the edge of the table, his knuckles a faint shade of purple.
‘But how ... Nah, that can’t...’ Trevor begins, then stops, reaches into the fridge and hauls out a beer.
‘That can’t be right. You musta got your wires crossed, girl,’ I say, the sweat poppin out on me dial.
‘Nope, that’s what he said, ‘‘after the bitch Jean.’’ Yep, true words spoken. So are ya Edge?’ She half-yells this to Trevor as she walks to the other side a the room.
‘No, I...’ Trevor shrinks back into the chair.
‘Gracie, when’d this happen?’
‘Yesterday, Mum. Why?’ She turns to me.
‘Did Big Boy see what Edge looks like, eh?’
‘I dunno, why don’t you ask him yerself. Anyway, what’s goin on? Has Nevil done somethin?’ She throws him a look a blame.
‘No, no, Nevil ain’t done nothin. Gracie, you musta heard wrong, cos there ain’t no Jean Rhys.’ I stop n throw a look at Nevil to test his reaction. He ignores me n goes on starin at Gracie.
Trevor shrugs, his face lined as he fiddles with the beer label.
‘Wha? Whatcha mean by that?’ Gracie asks, then sits back down.
‘There ain’t no one here by the name a Jean Rhys. Less you wanna go down to the library n take out a book.’ I drum me fingers on the table.
How can a woman explain this, eh? The only Jean Rhys here is in that head a me son’s. No such woman, no way, no dice. She don’t come any deader n dead.
‘Mum, whatcha talkin bout?’ Gracie frowns.
‘There ain’t no woman by the name a Jean Rhys here in Mandamooka. She was a writer, Gracie, a book writer. Jean’s all in Nevil’s magination. He woke up one mornin sayin he’s her. It’s all in his head. Gracie, the woman dead. D-E-D.’
‘Wide Sargasso Sea and all that,’ Trevor puts in, a grin across his pale face.
‘About a woman going mad. Antoinette Cosway, married Mister Rochester then he took her to England. She became the woman in the attic. Bertha Rochester in Jane Eyre,’ Nevil adds.
The room goes quiet. Nobody moves or says a word. Then Gracie twists her lips into a grimace and with one stiff finger points to the top of her head, ‘Mad. M-A-D. Nevil, ya lost the fucken plot or what? What the fuck are ya on about!’ She explodes.
‘Just that there was a Jean Rhys but she’s...’ Trevor starts.
‘She’s me. I’m her,’ Nevil replies, slappin a hand to his chest.
‘Nevil. Nev, don’t...’ I begin.
‘You must know Wide Sargasso Sea...?’ Trevor smiles.
‘Shut up! Shut up!’ I shout.
‘I’m Jean Rhys!’ Nevil yells.
‘Nevil! Sit down n shut up!’ I smack the table whit me hand.
‘Oh Jean, oh Jean,’ Nevil sings, his eyes bright and mischievous.
‘A very fine writer...’ Trevor takes a sip of beer.
‘Jean Rhys, me arse!’ I yell at Trevor then glare at Nevil.
‘But now, with Jean, the thing was...’ Trevor starts.
‘Nough! Shut ya traps! Shut up! Just shut the hell up! Nough a this fucken shit!’ I shake me fist in front a Nevil, me voice-box stretched to the limit.
Everybody shuts up.
Gracie, by this time, has left her chair and stands near the door, like she gonna tear through it any minute. She chews on her bottom lip n looks at all a us like we all gone in the head. Her face all screwed up like skin on a lemon. She look real suss. Not likin this a bit.
‘I ... I gotta go,’ she mumbles then rushes out the door.
‘Gracie, Gracie, love. Stop, you gotta know bout this. Gracie, don’t go. It’s all a mistake. Gracie, Nevil got head trouble. He’s goin crazy mad or somethin. Love, he’s sick. A sick boy. We was jokin, yeah a big joke, har, har. Grraacieee!’ I puff and pant after her as she tears out the front gate.
‘Mavis, yahooo, Mavis.’
I turn to the scratchy voice comin from the other side a the fence. I spin round, ‘Missus Warby?’ I stride towards the fence line.
‘Oh, hello there. Nice day.’ She smiles over at me, the eye spotters hangin from her neck.
‘That’s enough. I’ve had it! Why the hell did ya tell Max Brown that Trevor’s a drug dealer? Tell me that!’ I blast her, wantin to tear her ol face right off.
‘Well, I never.’ She begins with a horrified tone, then not missin a beat she says, ‘Remember, Mavis, say ‘‘No’’ to drugs!’
I gawk
up at her. The hide a it. The fucken hide a it! Jeesus Christ Almighty, a woman just can’t win no matter what! ‘What are you on bout?’ I hiss.
‘I know what’s going on over there. You can tell me now while he’s out of earshot. I can help you, Mavis. I was never the one to turn my back on those in need. No, as my late husband, Reginald, would say—Ivy Warby, you have the biggest and kindest heart a man’s ever come across.
‘I can get you out of there, Mavis. With the Lord’s help I’ll free you from the Devil’s arms. I’ve got weapons in my house. A gun,’ she whispers, one eye turned towards me front door.
‘Missus Warby, ya got a gun in there! Don’t you go pullin it on anybody! Anyway, it’s all a mistake. Trevor ain’t no drug dealer. Trevor is definitely not Isaac Edge!’ I blurt out, me head thuddin. She one twisted ol sheila.
‘Oh my God!’ she gasps, her eyes wide, one hand placed near her heart, ‘Nevil, what has he done to Nevil!’
‘Nuthin. Missus Warby, you gotta stop all this! It’s makin me life hell! Ain’t no drugs, no nuthin! Hear that! Nuthin!’ I bust me guts.
Her mouth opens and she utters a little, ‘Oh.’
‘That’s right, you ol stickybeak! Ya makin Mavis Dooley’s life a livin hell! You n that Reedman bitch!’ I shake a fist at her.
Not put off, she says, ‘Well, I know you’re in denial, Mavis. But, Ivy Warby can get you out of that hell hole! Seen some mighty things in my life, had to deal with some real bastards, and there’s nothing, nothing that will stop me from helping those in need.
‘Mavis, I will be your rock. God will guide me to help you through this terrible time in your life. Yes, he will.’ She reaches out for me hand. ‘It’s all right, love. I know how scared you are. Threats usually do that to a person,’ she says, her eyes feverishly bright.
I fall back from her not believin me ears. She can’t be tole. Ain’t no language in this world is gonna make her listen. She thinks Trevor’s threatnin me. Oh Jeesus!
‘Jus forget it. Don’t worry bout it,’ I reply in a strained and weary voice. As I turn away there’s a shout, ‘Stop! Stop right there where you are!’
Max Brown stands at the gate, hat in one hand, the other resting on the revolver at his side. ‘Mavis Dooley, I’m here in an official capacity. I’m here to take you and Nevil in.’ He walks toward me, a sorry look on his face.
‘Why?’ I whisper, me legs weak, me heart thumpin slow.
‘Drugs. Now, no trouble, Mavis. Just doing my job is all.’ He grips me arm tight, as he steers me through the kitchen doorway. Nevil brings his head up from the table eyeshada n lipstick smudged cross his dial. Trevor looks at me, then at Max.
‘Oh no, not again,’ he croaks.
‘On your feet, Nevil!’ Max barks. ‘I’m taking you in, son.’
‘What now? No, no, don’t tell me, I already know. Drugs, right? Yeah, what else would it be.’ Nevil shakes his head wearily then gets up slowly to his feet. He glances at Max with a sour look, and comes over to where I’m standin. He loops a strong arm into mine and together we go out. I look across to the curb and parked there is the gleamin gungie machine, crouchin on the bitumen like the car from hell.
‘Get in, son.’ Max opens the door. ‘Mavis, you can sit in the front with me.’
I look up to see the neighbours comin out of their houses. Some of em point at the car, their mouths flipped open, their eyes wide. Others crowd round Missus Warby like a gaggle a old ducks, as she stands pointin a bony finger at Trevor, who is inchin his way back into the house. Missus Warby leads em forward, they close in on him. A small shiver dimples me arms as we speed off down the street.
THIRTEEN
The Setup
The fat D screws up his piggy eyes and stares at both of us. His skinny friend stands in the corner, arms crossed, lips curled back in a snarl. At the far end of the table, Max Brown sits lookin real nervy. He can’t stop lookin at Nevil’s lips. Like he be sussin it’s lipstick but not too sure.
‘So, what’s your story?’ Fat Man looks at me then Nevil.
I shrug me shoulders. I don’t know. Nevil throws me a look n jus grins.
‘We have received a number of phone calls naming you and that son of yours.’ Skinny suit stands behind me. ‘We know you’ve had contact with her, Missus Dooley.’
‘We mean Edge’s courier, of course you know that.’ Fat Man glares at me.
I smile up at him, all innocent. ‘I dunno. Anyway, who the hell ya talkin bout?’ I ask, pickin small pieces a fluff off me skirt. Me gut tells me who he’s talkin bout. Yep, It’s come to this. A woman just sick to death of it all.
I know who he’s gonna say. There ain’t a thing I can tell em. Nuh, ain’t jackshit ol Mavis Dooley can say.
‘Might make it easier on yourself if you just tell them the truth, Mavis,’ Max says, raising his thick eyebrows at me.
‘It’s all just another mistake. For God’s sake! I don’t know who ya askin bout! A woman ain’t no mind reader! First ya haul Trevor in, sayin he’s the Edge, next you got me n Nevie in sayin we know all bout it.
‘Max, it’s no good for the boy’s nerves, all this business. You know he got the big game comin up. Can’t take it, can you, son? Max, you know what we’re like. A woman ain’t got nuthin to do whit all this. Nev don’t even touch the shit, no good for his trainin. Nah, Max, I thought you knew us.’ I shake my head with all the disgust I can muster up.
Max Brown looks at me with a flicker of apology. ‘Sorry, Mavis, but when we get a lead we have to follow it,’ he says, in a soft tone a voice.
‘It’s gonna wear the boy down. The Rammers’ll take this year’s match out. Yep, n all Mandamooka gonna know who made Nevil a bag a nerves. They’ll lose the big match, you jus watch.’ I tighten me lips. A woman jus gettin tired a this shit.
‘Look, just tell us who she is and I’ll let you both go,’ Max says, his face goin pink.
Ol Max is all right really. A woman can’t blame the man for doin his job. But I gotta be careful whit what I say to him. He might spread it round town.
‘I done tole you I don’t know. Maybe, if ya tell me who we talkin bout here a woman can get some sorta idea.’ I chew me bottom lip.
‘Nevil, come on, boy, tell them who it is.’ Max urges.
‘Um ... I...’ Nevil stops abruptly, just as a voice from the doorway yells out, ‘What the hell?’
I swing round on my chair and smile with relief as Booty strides in the room.
‘Max! What the hell is me sister and nephew doin here!’ He booms, his face steely, eyes slitted.
Max pauses for a fraction of a second. ‘We got a lead.’
‘Well, there ain’t no lead here whit them.’ Booty glares at the Ds. His chest is puffed right out in front a him, his arms swingin back n forth.
‘Get this man out of here!’ Skinny D orders Max.
‘What you got them in for?’ Booty turns to Max.
‘Drugs. Saying we’re in a rackateering business,’ Nevil pipes up, wipin the back a his hand cross his lipsticked mouth.
Booty’s gob flips open. He looks at each of us then bursts into loud gut laughter. ‘Drugs! Drugs!’ he splutters, one hand holdin his big gut as he gasps for air.
‘Yeah, sayin we know who this courier person is,’ I put in, smirking at Fat Man. See, Fatty, ya got the wrong fellas again. Fatty n Skinny—good cop, bad cop, har, har, haaaaaarrr. That’s a hoot.
‘You fellas got the wrong people, that’s a fact,’ Booty laughs, as Max leads him out the door.
‘Who is this woman?’ Skinny pulls out a chair and sits in front a me while Fatty stands in front a Nevil and gives him a don’t-fuck-with-me look. ‘Anytime, son,’ Fatty says. ‘Tell me and you can go home. There’s no use of protecting her.’
‘Now, Missus Dooley, I’d reckon you’re a decent woman and have your problems but this courier will take you down with her when we bring her in. She’ll say it was you. One name. Just one name. That’s all I want.’
‘M
ister, I swear to God I dunno. If I did I’d defnitely tell ya!’
‘Okay, time for hardball. Who is Jean Rhys?’ He grins. Gotcha!
‘Whaa?’ I look at him, me chin droppin to me chest.
‘That’s right, Missus Dooley, Jean Rhys—R-H-Y-S.’
I sit right back in the chair, me ol head spinnin like a bottle top. Skinny grins at me like he’s onto something. Like he said the magic word. What can I tell the man? Anythin a woman says gonna sound friggin womba. Tell him Jean Rhys a writer n that she carked it a long time ago? Tell him me Nev thinks he’s Jean Rhys? What does a woman say? Yep, gonna sound like I’m the one fulla drugs, eh.
So I say: ‘Go to the library. You want your woman, go down to Lizzie there at the library.’ I tighten me mouth. I’ve had nough a Jean Rhys. Sick, sick to death of hearin that bloody name.
‘Lizzie at the library is Jean Rhys?’ Skinny cocks an eyebrow, a triumphant smile on his face.
‘No, no, not Lizzie! Just go n ask her bout this friggin Jean Rhys!’
Just then, across the room, the fat D bursts into laughter, his face scrunched up n red as he points at Nevil. ‘Fucking maniac,’ he gasps, holding onto the edge of the table like it’ll keep him standing up. ‘Reckons he’s Jean!’
Skinny casts a glance at Nevil and offers a weak smile. Yep, one kid fucked from the drugs, his look seems to suggest.
Next thing Max comes back and whispers something into the fat man’s ear. Then he turns to me. ‘Righto, Mavis, you’re free to go.’ He offers a hand to help me to my feet.
‘I want Nevil to come whit me.’ I stand, hands on hips n glare at all a them. Youse ain’t gonna mess whit me boy’s head, no way. Ain’t gonna rip into him like youse did to poor ol Trevor. No, no.
‘On your feet, boy.’ The fat cop slaps Nevil cross the back.
‘Hey, no need to hit so hard! Anyway, you’ll never find Jean. Hear that, never,’ Nevil says with a smirk, smudged lips curled into an oily grin.
‘Oh, we’ll find her and when we do we are gonna haul your arse in here, boy! By the way, sonny, what’s that shit on your lips?’ The fat cop peers hard at Nevil’s mouth. ‘Fuck me flying! The boy’s a fucking fag!’ He takes a step back, a pretend look a disbelief on his face.
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