Ghost River

by Tony Birch

  ‘Did the doctors tell you what’s wrong with him?’

  ‘Nup. But he can’t move or talk properly. They’re gonna shift him to a ward tonight and do these other tests on him in the morning.’

  Rory coughed and spit dribbled from his mouth. Sonny wiped his uncle’s chin with a corner of the bed sheet.

  ‘What’ve you been doing all day, without me to look after you?’ Sonny asked.

  Ren told him about being at the river, seeing Cold Can and Tex with the fuel cart, and that Big Tiny had gone missing. ‘I couldn’t make sense of what Cold Can was saying, except that Tiny had gone.’ He didn’t tell Sonny he’d walked along the riverbank to the convent with Della. He wanted to steer Sonny away from any talk about how he’d spent his day. ‘What about you, Sonny? What have you been doing in here?’

  ‘Nothing. Have sat here the whole time, except for going home to pick up some stuff for Rory. They been good to me. Give me some sandwiches to eat and juice made out of real oranges instead of cordial.’

  ‘You been bored waiting round?’

  ‘Not really. It give me time to do some thinking.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About my old man borrowing that money from Vincent. He done me no favour doing that.’

  ‘That doesn’t take a lot of thinking. You already knew that. Anyway, the loan did you some good. Paid the rent and kept you in the house.’

  ‘Might have, but my old man would have known he wouldn’t be round to pay the money back. Planned it that way. And you don’t need to be a genius to know Vincent would find some way to get his money back and that he’d come after me, or maybe poor old Rory. Shows my dad has never given a fuck about what happens to me.’

  Rory’s arm fell from the bed. Sonny lifted it, rested it under the blanket and tucked the blanket into the mattress.

  ‘It’s just like Rory warned me. People like Vincent, once you start paying them you never stop. The only way out for me now is to shoot through. As soon as Rory is better, I’m outta here. And I won’t be coming back. The newspaper money is up to nearly a hundred and fifty dollars. It’s plenty enough for me to get away.’

  The curtain around the bed opened. It was the nurse from the front desk. ‘You boys need to leave your uncle to rest now.’ She stood and waited for them to say goodbye to Rory, tapping her foot impatiently on the floor.

  Sonny kissed Rory on his whiskered cheek. Seeing as the nurse presumed he was also a nephew, Ren thought it best to kiss Rory as well. She marched the two of them back to the waiting room. Ren looked over to the corner bench. Tallboy was gone.

  ‘Excuse me?’ the nurse called to Sonny as the boys were about to leave. ‘When I was taking information from you this morning you said you were the only relative your uncle has.’

  ‘Yep. Me and my brother here,’ Sonny said. ‘I didn’t mention him. Didn’t think he’d count, seeing as I’m the oldest.’

  ‘Is there nobody else to care for you?’

  ‘It’s just the two of us,’ Sonny answered, before realising where the conversation was heading.

  ‘And where are you two going now?’

  ‘Home.’

  ‘With nobody to care for you? Your uncle is your primary provider and is likely to be in hospital for some time. As minors you cannot be living alone without proper care. I will arrange for a social worker to visit the home and make the necessary arrangements for you.’

  She picked up Rory’s admission card and read over it. ‘There is no telephone number listed here.’

  ‘We don’t have one.’

  ‘Then please be sure you are home waiting for the social worker. Tomorrow morning.’

  ‘We’ll be there.’ Sonny smiled.

  The cleaner was standing outside smoking another cigarette. He waved at Ren like they were old friends.

  ‘Sonny, you know what she means when she says she’ll send a social worker round, don’t you? They’ll take you into care.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He laughed. ‘I know exactly what she means.’

  ‘What’s so funny? They won’t let you stay in the house on your own. They’ll put you in a foster home.’

  ‘No they won’t.’

  ‘What makes you so sure?’

  ‘Because last night when we got here they went through Rory’s wallet and wrote down his address. Of his old place. The social worker can call by anytime she wants. She won’t find me there.’

  ‘Maybe not tomorrow. Doesn’t mean they won’t grab hold of you next time you visit.’

  Sonny hadn’t thought through his next step. His face dropped. So did Ren’s. Sonny’s bike was gone.

  ‘Fuck!’

  ‘Fuck what?’

  ‘Your bike. I was in a hurry to get up here so I rode it. I left it here against the pole before I went inside.

  Shit!’ Sonny kicked the light pole with the heel of his shoe. ‘How’d you get it here, Ren? I was gonna ride it myself but saw it had a flat tyre.’

  ‘I didn’t know it was flat until I was on my way, and I just kept going. I can’t believe someone would knock it off. It’s a piece of junk.’

  ‘My fucken junk. What sort of arsehole would steal someone’s bike?’

  There couldn’t have been a worse moment for Ren to remind Sonny he’d stolen the bike in the first place.

  Walking home, Ren told Sonny about Detective Foy, that Spike had seen him early that morning across the road from the paper shop. ‘You’d better be careful. He must have been looking for you. Out that early in the morning.’

  ‘Maybe. And maybe not. Foy does a lot of business along the street. Probably out heavying the fishmonger or some other poor bastard. He and Vincent, both of them can get fucked. Once I’ve taken off they’ll never find me.’

  While Sonny was acting brave, Ren could see he looked worried. He didn’t blame him. Just hearing Foy’s name spoken aloud was enough to scare Ren. When they got to Sonny’s house, Ren waited with him until he’d opened the front door and turned the light on. A pile of mail was sitting on the floor in the hallway. Sonny picked it up and quickly shuffled through it until he found something that interested him.

  ‘Look at this, Ren. A letter addressed to me. Nobody’s written to me before, except that time I got the letter for my court date.’ He held the envelope up to the hallway lightbulb, as if searching for clues about who might have sent it. ‘Wonder who it’s from?’

  ‘Why don’t you open it up and see?’

  Ren was as curious as Sonny to know who had sent the letter. He followed Sonny into the kitchen and watched as his friend tore the envelope open and slowly read the letter under his breath. Ren picked up the envelope from the floor. Sonny’s name and address was written on the front in pencil and the address of a religious charity was stamped on the back.

  ‘Jesus,’ Sonny whispered to himself.

  ‘What?’

  ‘This don’t make any sense.’

  He read the letter over again to be sure he had understood it. When he finished he handed it to Ren.

  ‘You want me to read it?’

  ‘Yep.’

  Dear Sonny

  I have been wrong to wait until this time to write you. Please forgive me that. I left you alone sure that I was going to finish my life. And I just about did that. Knowing I was a coward and thinking about you and the wrong I have done by you has gone some way to saving me. I don’t have time to go into details at this time but I am being helped by good people who got me away from the alcohol and into regular work. I expect that your uncle Rory has been taking good care of you and that you are in better hands without me there to be a nuisance. I do not blame you at all if that is what you are thinking. You are a good boy at heart. You will know I had the rent paid up to save Rory any grief with money. You are smart enough to know that I didn’t have as much as a red cent to my name. I ha
ve been in work for some time now and with a weekly pay packet I have slowly managed to pay off a loan I took out for the rent. It has been paid in full. I will return home someday. It will be soon I hope. I expect to be a better man and a better father to you. I am praying that you will be able to forgive me for my wrongs I have done to you. And to your mother who I drove from your life.

  May God bless you

  Your father

  ‘What’s he mean with that? God bless you. The arsehole,’ Sonny said.

  Ren slowly folded the letter, put it back in the envelope and handed it to Sonny. He couldn’t understand why Sonny was so angry. ‘This is good news. Your old man is off the drink and he’s working and making some money. With Rory being sick it will be good to have him back home.’

  Sonny slammed the table so hard with his fist a glass sitting on the top bounced off and smashed on the floor. ‘If you think that’s all it means, Ren, you don’t know anything. I’m supposed to be the dumb one, not you.’

  ‘I don’t get it, Sonny.’

  ‘That cunt. Vincent.’

  ‘What’s this got to do with him?’

  ‘It has everything to do with him. Think. My old man took a loan from him and since then I’ve been Vincent’s boy because he told me he hadn’t been paid. All along he’s been getting his money. Fuck this, I’m not running another message for him.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Course I’m sure.’

  ‘Then you’ll need to stay away from him until your dad gets home and can prove the money was paid back.’

  ‘You reckon Vincent’s going to give a shit about what my old man has to say? And just because he says he’s off the drink in a letter he’s written it doesn’t mean I can believe a word of it. Or that he’ll turn up here sober. He promised me plenty of times before and fucked up the same day. No reason to believe him now.’

  ‘You don’t have to. Wait and see. It don’t hurt to give him a chance.’

  Sonny picked up the letter and tapped the envelope on the table. ‘And what am I supposed to do about Vincent while I’m waiting? I don’t wanna do one more run for that bastard.’

  ‘For now, maybe you have to. Pretend nothing’s happened. Run the messages until your father’s back.’

  ‘No! I’m not doing it.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to stay away from the pub.’

  ‘Can’t do that if I want to keep my job.’

  ‘Then quit your job. Doesn’t make any difference if you’re planning to take off anyway.’

  Sonny swept the mess of broken glass into a pan and emptied it in a bin under the sink. ‘Fuck Vincent. And fuck Foy too. You know what should happen?’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘Somebody should fix the cunts. Both of them.’

  ‘Somebody should. And someday it will probably happen. Between the two of them they’d have an army of enemies, and with a bit of luck their turn will come. But it won’t be you or me getting revenge, Sonny.’

  CHAPTER 16

  Sonny felt terrible about having to quit the job at the paper shop. He enjoyed the work, had saved some money and felt he would be letting Brixey down, who had given him a go when no one else would. It didn’t stop raining at all that week. Sonny spent his days delivering the papers of a morning through streets awash with storms, visiting Rory at the hospital, where he was able to convince a social worker that he and his brother, Ren, were staying with an aunty in Collingwood. He also avoided the pub and kept an eye out for Foy, in case Vincent set the copper on him. By the end of the week he knew he couldn’t wait any longer to break the bad news to Brixey.

  ‘This is it for me,’ he told Ren as they packed up the newsstand for the night. ‘I’m gonna let Brixey know when we get back to the shop. Tomorrow I’ll go see Rory, and then I’m taking off.’

  ‘Why don’t you wait until your father gets back and you can sort something out?’

  ‘Number one, because I already told you, it won’t matter what he has to say. Vincent will use me for as long as it suits him. If my old man tries standing up to him he’ll end up with a belting. Or something worse. And number two, waiting for my father to come home could take forever.’

  ‘It would have taken a lot for him to sit down and write the letter. Maybe he’s changed?’

  ‘I don’t have time to wait round and find out. Come on, let’s get back to the shop.’

  Brixey was seated at his usual spot, perched on the stool behind the counter, pencilling returns into a dog-eared exercise book. He alternated between a red and black pencil, sticking whichever one he wasn’t using behind his ear. When the boys entered the shop, Brixey looked over the top of the reading glasses that hung around his neck from a chain when he wasn’t wearing them. Sonny had been on edge all week and Brixey knew there was something wrong without needing to be told. He licked the end of his red pencil and continued his arithmetic. The paperboys knew better than to interrupt him when he was working on the nightly figures. But Sonny had no choice.

  ‘Wait here,’ he said to Ren. ‘I have to get something from the back room before I talk to him.’

  Sonny walked through the shop to the room where the lockers and prams were kept. Brixey’s eyes followed him. Ren heard the locker door slam loudly a couple of times. He thought that maybe someone had stolen Sonny’s money. He was relieved when he spotted a cloth money bag bulging from Sonny’s front pocket when he came back into the shop. Brixey put the ledger book away in a drawer beneath the counter and brushed pencil shavings from his dustcoat.

  ‘Sonny, you’ve been jittery on me all week, coming in late, forgetting your orders. I’ve been patient with you, but it’s time for an explanation.’

  ‘I know,’ Sonny said. ‘There’s something important that I need to talk to you about.’

  Brixey looked over at Ren. ‘Don’t tell me.’ He smiled. ‘You two are getting married.’

  ‘My uncle, Rory. He’s in the hospital, real sick. The doctors say he could be in there a long time before he’s good enough to come home. I been real worried about him.’

  ‘Oh, that’s no good,’ Brixey let his glasses drop to his chest. ‘He’s a top bloke, old Rory. You wanna take some time off to look after him? Your job will be here for you. I might even promote Spike while you’re away.’

  Spike smiled and puffed his chest out.

  ‘Thanks, Rory, but this has to be my last day,’ Sonny said. ‘I can’t come back to work.’

  ‘Can’t? Why not?’

  ‘It’s not only Rory. I’ve got myself in trouble.’

  ‘Jesus. What sort of trouble?’

  Sonny looked over at Ren for support. ‘It don’t matter. I can’t tell you.’

  ‘Of course you can. I might be able to help you out.’

  ‘No one can help me.’

  Although Sonny was clearly upset Brixey couldn’t help himself but laugh. ‘Bullshit. Even an accused murderer is entitled to a defence. Why don’t you try me?’

  ‘Tell him, Sonny,’ Ren said.

  ‘Do you know who Vincent is?’ Sonny whispered, as if the man was standing over his shoulder.

  ‘Who don’t?’ Brixey growled, not bothering to lower his own voice.

  Sonny’s eyes searched the shop before going on. ‘I’ve been doing jobs for him.’

  ‘For Vincent? How’d you get involved with a menace like him? I give you plenty of work here, don’t I?’

  ‘I never wanted to work for him. He forced me into it. Told me that my father owed him money and had shot through on him without paying up. Now I found out it’s not true. My old man paid the money he owed. Every cent of it. But Vincent never let on. He’s had me running round for him and won’t let me quit. Once a week I do a delivery for him, from the pub. With Ren. I missed last week and the next morning Foy was out the front here. I reckon he was looking for me.’

>   Brixey was losing track of the story. ‘What’s Foy got to do with it?’

  ‘Him and Vincent, they do business together. After that night Foy tried to grab me out front of the shop, when you come and helped me and Ren out, he never come near me. Vincent called him off.’

  ‘Of course they’d work together. Arseholes like them two are made for each other.’ Brixey shook his head in disgust.

  Sonny took the handwritten letter out of his pocket and handed it to Brixey. ‘My father wrote me this. Vincent’s been lying to me all along.’

  Brixey whispered the no good prick to himself as he read the letter. ‘And what’s this job you’ve been doing for him? Sonny, please don’t tell me you’ve been out thieving for him.’

  ‘It’s nothing like that. I run messages on the street. Envelopes with money in them. He said it was a one-off, because the police were watching him from a van in the street. But the van hasn’t been there since the first night. He conned me.’

  Brixey stuck a finger in the air like he’d had a brainwave. ‘Let me take a guess here. You making deliveries to Chris the Greek by any chance?’

  ‘How’d you know that?’ Ren butted in.

  ‘Because Vincent is mad on the punt and has always bet more than he can afford. And Chris the Greek happens to run the only SP book along the strip. He covers the lot. Horses. Dogs. The fucken cockroach derby. And a brick on the card game out of the shop itself. That’s a wog-only show, of course. I’ll guarantee you now, either Vincent laid a big losing bet he’s had trouble covering. Or he took a loan from Chris and he’s scratching to pay him back. The Greek can’t tolerate bad debts. It’s a terrible look for business.’

  ‘Why would he send us over there,’ Ren said, ‘if the cops aren’t even watching?’

  ‘Just because the van’s gone from the street, it don’t mean the two of them are not being tracked. There could be some truth in the story. Even if there’s not, Vincent could have sent himself crazy with fear. Or if he’s madder than even I know, it could be his way of showing disrespect without having the balls to front up himself. Sending a couple of kids over there with a fold of money is as good as telling Chris to go fuck himself.’