Somebody's Crying

by Somebody's Crying (retail) (epub)

  He is looking at her steadily now, waiting for an answer. Alice takes a deep breath and looks away.

  ‘My grandmother is very upset about all this. It’s so horrible for us . . .’

  ‘I realise that.’

  ‘What does he want to talk to me about?’ Alice wishes she didn’t sound so damn desperate. ‘Is it going to be all about his father and why he’s confessing to it now and . . . all the rest of it?’ She shudders.

  ‘I don’t know. I just wanted to get him out of the house. Get him talking.’

  ‘So where are you going to meet?’

  ‘At the Vine, tomorrow night at six. Just for a couple of drinks?’ He is pleading with her now. ‘Please come, Alice?’

  She takes a deep breath and frowns. She hates that place. It will be full of her old schoolfriends on a Saturday night. All those girls she has avoided since coming back home, getting drunk en masse, screeching at each other, lolling all over their boyfriends. Then she remembers Eric.

  ‘I’ll have a friend staying,’ she says, relieved to have an excuse, ‘from Melbourne.’

  ‘Who is she?’ Tom demands.

  ‘It’s a guy,’ Alice explains hurriedly. ‘He’s coming tomorrow. I can’t just . . . leave him at home.’

  ‘A guy?’ Tom repeats suspiciously. He is standing in the doorway again.

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Does he . . . know about all this stuff?’

  ‘A bit.’

  ‘Well, bring him too, then,’ he mumbles, anxiously.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Sure. Why not? Just a drink to . . . you know break the ice.’

  Alice is suddenly curious. ‘Why do you care what happens to Jonno?’ she asks. Tom sighs and leans his shoulder against the doorway looking down at his feet. One of his pink laces is loose so he bends to retie it. Standing again he folds his arms and looks at Alice.

  ‘I betrayed him,’ he says softly.

  Betrayed? Such a heavy word. It’s in the air between them, like a huge mysterious box that has landed on the doorstep, waiting to be unpacked. She’s not sure she wants to see what, if anything, is inside. But there is something raw in his eyes as they shift from her to the window to his own hands. Pain flickers around the corner of his tight mouth. He’s not faking.

  ‘I’ll be there, then,’ she replies shortly.

  ‘Thanks, Alice.’

  She goes back to her filing. Her mother wanted her to be friends with Jonty. He’s the nearest you’ll ever have to a brother.

  ‘Oh my dear boy! What a relief to have you back here!’

  Alice’s grandmother comes into the lounge room, dressed for dinner. Ignoring the others sitting by the fire, the old lady only has eyes for Eric as she totters into the room. She is wearing a red dress and black pumps. Her hair has been done properly, too and she’s wearing bright lipstick.

  ‘Mrs Hickey, it’s wonderful to be back!’ Eric rises and greets the old lady warmly. ‘I’ve been so looking forward to seeing you.’

  After kissing him on both cheeks Phyllis takes both his hands in her own and looks into his face. ‘You’ve heard of the recent developments, I take it?’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Eric says quietly.

  ‘I don’t know how much longer I’ll last,’ Phyllis shakes her head dramatically. ‘The strain! How much more can one person take?’

  ‘Now don’t say that!’ Eric deflects the morbid moment beautifully. He squeezes her hands. ‘You promised to take me to the local show next year, remember!’

  ‘I did too,’ Phyllis chuckles.

  ‘And you’re a woman of your word.’

  ‘I am indeed!’ Phyllis smiles.

  ‘So that means you must be here.’

  ‘You’re right, of course,’ she actually laughs, ‘and you must be hungry?’

  ‘Of course,’ Eric replies.

  Alice hasn’t seen her grandmother downstairs for dinner in over two weeks. Seeing her animated again is good, but it’s downright embarrassing that she has ignored Sylvie and Leyla who have also been invited to dinner and are sitting right alongside Eric, dressed in their best. That they don’t seem to have taken offence and are watching the greeting of golden-boy Eric with obvious amusement, is beside the point.

  ‘Gran!’ Alice calls sharply.

  ‘Yes, dear?’ Her grandmother is leading Eric over to the table and speaking confidentially. ‘Alice has been absolutely marvellous throughout it all. I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s like her mother, you know, Eric. For a while there I thought I could see the father in her, you understand?’ Phyllis stops to shudder. ‘But no . . . she is just like my darling Lillian. She was always absolutely wonderful if I was in any kind of trouble.’

  ‘It doesn’t surprise me,’ Eric murmurs and then turns around to wink at the others.

  ‘Gran, the twins are here, too!’ Alice says quickly, motioning to Sylvie and Leyla, who get up and walk over shyly.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Hickey! Thanks for inviting us.’

  ‘Oh, you’re both so welcome, my dears,’ Phyllis says distractedly. ‘Welcome!’ She kisses first Sylvie and then her sister. ‘When did you come in? I didn’t see you.’

  ‘They were sitting right next to Eric, Gran,’ Alice says dryly.

  ‘Were they now?’ Her grandmother has the grace to give a wry self-deprecating smile before starting to look the twins up and down critically in just the way Alice loathes.

  ‘You’re both still in the cowgirl phase, I see.’ Phyllis is eyeing Sylvie’s plain pink cotton shirt and cord pants and Leyla’s jeans. ‘Jeans! Goodness me, everyone is in jeans!’

  Alice gives the twins a mortified look. Sorry! But the twins’ eyes are bright with suppressed laughter.

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Hickey!’ Sylvie manages.

  ‘Have either of you got a boyfriend yet?’

  ‘No,’ they answer demurely. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Well, I think it’s time you did.’ Phyllis is first to sit down at the table, and she motions for the rest of them to follow suit. ‘As you can see, it’s done Alice the world of good.’ Alice opens her mouth to protest . . . then closes it again. What is the point? It will only get more embarrassing. They are all looking at her now, her friends nodding and pretending to be serious.

  ‘Alice does look well, doesn’t she?’ her grandmother mumbles approvingly.

  ‘Yes, she does!’ Sylvie and Leyla chorus.

  Eric picks up his knife and fork and cuts into his meat. ‘She looks wonderful.’

  ‘All thanks to Eric,’ Phyllis declares, picking up her soup spoon. ‘Now, please begin, everyone! We don’t want it to get cold.’

  ‘Thank God for Eric, you gorgeous thing!’ Leyla mutters under her breath, kicking Alice’s foot.

  ‘Is it hard being her boyfriend?’ Sylvie asks innocently, nudging Eric in the ribs.

  ‘I’m sure it is quite difficult.’ Phyllis hasn’t missed the exchange. ‘Alice can be quite determined when she wants.’

  ‘I have an idea where she might have got that from, Mrs Hickey!’ Eric quips and Phyllis gives a small pleased smile.

  ‘Well, Eric,’ she replies demurely, ‘I’ve always operated on the principle that if I didn’t stick up for myself then no one else would.’

  ‘Quite!’ Eric nods approvingly.

  Later, when the twins have gone, Alice tells Eric about her strange visit from Tom and the invitation to the pub.

  ‘He might well be keen on you,’ is Eric’s thoughtful response. ‘I’ll be able to tell you when I meet him.’

  ‘How?’ Alice smiles.

  ‘I can tell by the eyes.’

  ‘Really!’

  ‘They’ll go drifty whenever you say anything.’

  ‘Oh, stop bullshitting me!’

  The whole idea of someone, anyone, being keen on her seems totally outside the realm of possibility. Especially him! It’s a preposterous idea and yet it pleases her, it’s a nice fantasy. Later that night it expands in her head, tripping about
like an inflated balloon-figure flapping outside a second-hand car dealership. What would it be like to touch Tom Mullaney? To feel the skin of his arms and back under her hands?

  TOM

  Tom turns up at on time but neither of the others is there. That’s cool. Not to worry. He’ll go get a drink. On the way to the bar he chats to a few local girls he used to know at high school. They want to know all about his course and where he lives and what it’s like being home again. Okay for twenty minutes. Still no show. So where are they?

  He’s looking at his watch when Alice comes in, all flustered, followed by this amazingly tall geeky-looking guy, dressed in black, with a long nose high forehead. God, he is really something! In the right gear and he’d fit one of those princes from the Renaissance. Either that or a praying mantis.

  ‘Sorry. We were waiting in the other bar,’ she explains breathlessly, looking around. ‘Jonty not here?’

  ‘No.’ Tom tries hard not to notice that she looks different. Her dark hair is spilling in curls around her face. He hasn’t seen it out like that. And she’s wearing a red shirt, the buttons open to the top of her breasts. Some lacy thing peeps out from underneath and he has to force himself to look away. She introduces the guy and they find a table.

  The guy, Eric, goes to buy the first round, and Alice sits down opposite Tom and folds her hands carefully in front of her. Then she looks up seriously and steadily as though accusing him of something. Her eyes in the yellow bar light are like pools of dark clear water.

  ‘So where is Jonty?’ She wants to know.

  ‘No idea,’ Tom says. ‘I don’t have his mobile. Not sure he’s even got one.’

  Tom tries to calm down but he is revved up just being here with her. Those eyes! The sweet oval cut of her face, all angles and planes. Every time she turns her head it’s different. Tom thinks he would like to put one hand under her chin and make her look at him. He’d like to reach out and run the thumb of his other hand along the soft shadow under her eyes. He wants to learn her face, commit it to memory. This is how far gone he is. The spell breaks when the tall guy gets back with the drinks.

  ‘Hey, a band is setting up over there,’ Eric says in this very assured toffy voice. ‘We could move over nearer.’

  ‘Later,’ Alice says. ‘We’ve got to wait for Jonty, remember?’

  ‘Okay.’

  After that they have a go at polite small talk as they wait. Eric is cheery and sociable, looking around and making smart comments about the rest of the clientele. Alice is laughing and making nervous chitchat about him being so much the city boy that she can’t believe he’s game enough to come back after the rabbit shooting.

  As though Tom cares! He hates dudes who act all wide-eyed as soon as they’re a few miles out of the burbs. It’s just another excuse to be superior as far as he’s concerned. The guy is looking around now as though he’s in a circus instead of an ordinary pub, and it suddenly gets Tom right offside, makes him want to smash his face in.

  ‘I might leave you two to catch up.’ Eric gets up eventually. ‘See if I can find a pool table.’

  ‘Okay.’ Tom tries one of his fake smiles. Hey, Eric, why don’t you fuck right off home? ‘We’ll come find you soon.’

  Alice watches him wander off into another room of the hotel. Tom wants to tell her she can do way better than him.

  Give me a chance, Alice! Come on, look at me! We could be good together. We’ve got so much to talk about. We got . . . history, baby. Okay, it’s a sad history, but . . .

  The band has started at the other end of the room and the crowd is building up quickly. A few people come by and shake Tom’s hand and say hello, but he makes it plain that he doesn’t want them to linger. A girl at another table asks if she can have their spare chairs and Tom says sure, because he doesn’t want anyone else sitting with them and it means he can move nearer to Alice.

  He’s jumpy, nervous.

  Her hand is playing with a cardboard coaster. Long white fingers, tapering off into these polished oval nails. He wonders what would happen if he reached out and took that hand.

  She looks around, her eyes flitting from the group of girls at the nearby table, to the doorway where her friend has gone and then back to Tom.

  ‘I know those girls,’ she says at last. ‘I went to school with them.’

  Tom nods and looks over, vaguely recognising a few faces. It’s his cue now to say, Do you want to ask them to join us? But he can’t bring himself to. It would ruin everything.

  ‘Hope they don’t see me!’ Alice gives a sudden girlish laugh and pulls her hair over her face to hide.

  ‘You didn’t like them?’ The laugh has undone Tom. He’s had no more than three sips of his beer, but everything suddenly feels like liquid, as if they’re both swimming underwater. He does his best to smile back.

  ‘They’re okay,’ she wrinkles up her nose, ‘but too much like hard work.’

  ‘Yeah, some people are hard work.’ Tom says, too carefully. After that, he’s weirdly tongue-tied. It’s his turn to chime in with some snippet of his own along the same lines, but he can’t think what. Not like him. He has never had a problem talking to girls before. He’s heard guys giving each other hints about how to open up a conversation with a female and always felt secretly superior. Now he’s in exactly the same boat. He needs to be impressive but . . . what about?

  Added to this, Tom has an insane sense that he has to hurry. That he doesn’t have much time. That he has to let her know how he feels soon or all will be lost. Jonty might turn up any minute, and the geek will probably be back soon, too. But what can he say?

  ‘You’re doing photography, right?’ she asks suddenly.

  ‘Yep,’ Tom nods.

  ‘So where do I go to print up some old negatives?’

  ‘How old are they?’

  ‘I don’t know, but they’re big square things.’ She makes the shape with her hand. ‘I don’t think they use cameras like that any more.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter,’ Tom says quickly, ‘as long as you have the negs.’

  ‘I asked the photo shop in town and they said they didn’t do that sort of work any more, that I’d have to send them away, but they weren’t exactly sure where to.’

  ‘I could do them for you. I’ve got a little darkroom at the old man’s place.’ He is suddenly drunk with the possibilities of such a scenario. It will give them an excuse to spend time together, for . . . all kinds of things to happen. Yes.

  ‘These are . . . black-and-white,’ she adds cautiously.

  ‘Yeah,’ Tom smiles, ‘I got that kind of old-fashioned set-up. You could come and help, if you like.’

  ‘Well . . . I don’t know.’ Her face closes warily, as though he’s just overstepped the mark and suggested something way too familiar.

  Tom immediately backtracks. ‘I can do them. Be no trouble. Just drop off the negatives.’

  ‘But you must be busy.’ He can tell she’s just filling in time trying to work out what she thinks about the idea.

  ‘I have spare time.’ Tom drains his glass and tries to make light of it. ‘Actually, I’ve been looking for an excuse to get into the old darkroom again. I enjoy it, actually.’

  She nods and his mind goes into overdrive. He’s imagining himself with her in that little cramped room, teaching her how to print up her photos under the red light. The smell of chemicals, their hands brushing over the fixer trays.

  ‘I think one of them is of . . . my mother and her sister, Marie, as little girls.’ She is frowning. ‘There might be a few like that.’

  Is she telling Tom she doesn’t want him to see those images? ‘Would that be a problem?’ he asks carefully.

  She turns back to him. Those pools of water are extra bright now. They make him think of rivers and rock springs, and the clear drops left on leaves after rain.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she says sternly. ‘I’ll have to think about it.’

  ‘Okay then.’ He looks up to see Eric making
his way across the room towards them, and adds lamely, ‘I’m happy to do it, if you want.’

  ‘Thanks, Tom.’

  Is that a yes or a no?

  The red-head sits down next to Tom and starts raving on about being off his form, and one of his pool opponents being amazingly good. Then it turns out he won anyway. Is Tom meant to be impressed? Interested? Alice’s phone rings and Tom tries to think of a way to get rid of him again. Pity he’s so ugly. The local girls aren’t going to be lining up.

  ‘Okay,’ Alice mutters into the phone, frowning. ‘Okay, I’ll be there.’

  She switches the phone off and slips it into her pocket before turning to Tom and Eric.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ she says. ‘My grandmother has had some kind of turn. The doctor is there already.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Eric is genuinely concerned.

  What do you think it means, you twerp!

  ‘Who knows, but I guess I’d better go.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’ Tom stands up.

  But Alice doesn’t hear him. She’s putting on her coat, picking up her bag and making for the door.

  ‘It’s okay.’ Eric takes keys from his pocket. ‘I’ll drive her home.’

  Outside in the cold air, Alice turns to Tom. ‘I guess Jonno forgot?’ she says.

  ‘Yeah.’ He looks at his watch. ‘He’s over an hour late, anyway.’

  ‘You sure he said he’d come?’

  ‘Of course,’ he sighs. You think I made it up?

  ‘Well, bye then, Tom.’

  ‘Bye, Alice. I hope your gran is . . . hope everything is all right.’ Tom stands alone, one foot up against the side of the pub watching the two of them walk off towards Eric’s car, feeling like absolute . . . shit. So that’s it! The big night out where everything gets off to a new start. Blah Blah.

  ‘Hey, Tom!’

  Tom turns in the direction of the voice. Someone is waving madly on the other side of the road. Jonty! Alice sees him too just as she’s getting into the car. Tom watches her hesitate, then bend to say something to Eric. His heart lifts when he sees her coming back.

  ‘Hey, he’s come!’ she smiles. ‘You weren’t lying!’