White Shoes, White Lines and Blackie

by Robert G. Barrett

  ‘About six. Whatever.’

  ‘I might take it for a bit of a spin. Dry the water off.’ Kramer just waved indifferently and the door closed behind him.

  Les stared at the flats for a moment or two, dropped the wet rag in the bucket then took the plastic bag Crystal had given him from the roof of the car and took out the rock cake. I wonder, he mused. An all-in brawl in a bar. A stool comes flying through the crowd and hits Crystal Linx right across the back of the head. Who’d see where it came from? And who’d give a stuff for that matter.

  Norton stood on one leg, was about to put his foot under the rock cake and changed his mind, deciding to give it to the willie-wagtails in the backyard. Figuring he’d put on the dutiful servant act long enough, Norton disconnected the hose and flung the lot in the garage. He closed the door, locked the Jag and went upstairs.

  The first thing Les did was to get the stuff he’d tossed up onto the balcony. Now what have we got here, he half chuckled to himself as he took it into the kitchen. One piece of rather thick sponge rubber. He tossed the rubber onto a shelf in the kitchen next to the micro-wave oven. One plastic bag containing a roll of Elastoplast, iodine and a rock cake. He dropped that on top of the sponge rubber. One tube of Super-glue. Of course. Les dropped that on the sponge rubber. And one fairly sharp kitchen knife. Not thinking, Les dropped the light-hanndled knife onto the sponge rubber. It bounced off, hit the side of the micro-wave oven, then flicked across and the point stuck in the crook of Norton’s arm just near his elbow. ‘Shit!’ cursed Les. The knife clattered onto the floor and Les watched a thin trickle of blood forming on his arm. Well, doesn’t that serve me right for being a dill. He picked the knife up and placed it, carefully this time, on the sponge rubber. The cut on Norton’s arm wasn’t bad, the knife had barely dug in. But if he didn’t cover it, it would keep bleeding and be an annoyance. Les walked to his room, got a pair of scissors from amongst some other odds and ends in his bag and came back out to the kitchen. Good thing bloody Crystal gave me that iodine and Elastoplast, mused Norton, wiping off the blood with his T-shirt. He cut a strip of Elastoplast off, daubed some iodine on the cut and pressed the strip of sticking plaster on top. Les looked at his bit of ‘first-aid’ for a second then started to laugh. I wonder? I just bloody wonder?

  Still wondering and still laughing, Les walked out onto the sundeck with the rock cake, broke it up and tossed it down into the backyard. In a few minutes seven or eight different birds were picking at it. Les watched their beaks pecking furiously up and down in the grass as they squawked at each other, then looked at his watch. Well, he thought, it sure would be nice to sit here all afternoon watching the little birdies. But if I’m going to be round a certain person’s place at four o’clock, looking reasonably clean and with a plausible story going, I’d better get my finger out. I can sort that other shit out in the kitchen when I get back. Les slid the fly-screen door closed, stripped off and got under the shower.

  About half an hour later Les was standing in front of the mirror freshly shaved, wearing clean jeans, his Wilderness-Not-Woodchips T-shirt and the R.M. Williams boots, and liberally daubed with Tabac. He’d changed the strip of Elastoplast on his arm and put a couple of strips over the cuts above his eyes and another over a cut on his nose, which he’d also liberally daubed with iodine.

  Well, he thought, putting on his sunglasses and jamming his cap down on his head. I definitely look like I’ve been in some sort of an accident. Now I’ll probably go round and get into another one. Still, who knows? He locked the flat and walked down to the Jag. As he shut the door to his flat, Les thought he heard music and a little laughter coming from next door. Oh well, at least someone’s having a good time in Surfers this afternoon. A minute or two later he was on his way to Main Beach via the shopping centre in Surfers Paradise. He may not have had left or right bower, but it doesn’t hurt to have an ace in your hand. And the way things were going, Les was going to need all the tricks he could muster.

  He parked on a bus-stop and it didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for — a flower shop. The young blonde girl behind the counter was most helpful and in no time at all she had a dozen long-stemmed red roses with six carnations in the middle, carefully wrapped and placed in a large, white plastic bag tied at the end so you couldn’t tell what was in it. The girl smiled and Norton winced like he’d been hit in the stomach with a baseball bat when she told him the price. He paid her cash and trotted back to the car. Christ, thought Les, looking at the flowers in the plastic bag on the seat next to him. I could’ve got a pile of CDs, enough bourbon to stay drunk for a week and a half a bag of dacca for what they cost. I wonder if I meant it when I told that bloody rickshaw driver I loved her? Either that or I’m not used to this Queensland sun. The Jag hummed into life again and Les headed for DD’s house, parking just across the road.

  Norton stared across at her place and drummed his fingers on the steering-wheel, thinking for a few moments. Now, what would Basil Fawlty do in a situation like this? Well, knowing old Basil, he’d tell the most outrageous lies imaginable straight off the top of his head, and act completely indignant at the same time. Les gave one of those grudging nods of approval. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. So look out, DD, here comes Basil Norton. With the plastic bag behind his back, Les jogged across the road, up the front steps and knocked on Desilu’s door. It opened about a minute or so later.

  DD was wearing no shoes, a pair of loose-fitting grey gym shorts and a fawn Rainbow-Warrior T-shirt. She also wore no make-up, no trace of a smile and her hair was all over head. Tall, tanned and fit, she still looked good enough to eat. Norton couldn’t help it, but his heart gave a little flutter as soon as he saw those beautiful emerald green eyes.

  ‘I’m early for once.’ Les smiled, bent his wrist and showed DD his watch which said ten minutes to four. Desilu wasn’t all that impressed. ‘Well, are you going to invite me in?’

  DD stared right at Les. ‘Does your watch have a minute hand?’ Les nodded. ‘Well, it’ll go round twice, then you’ll be back out here. Okay?’

  ‘Yeah. Good thing I caught you in a good mood, isn’t it?’

  DD moved aside, let Les in and closed the door. Norton walked straight to the kitchen, DD followed then stood next to the sink. She gave Les a brief once up and down then stared at him impassively.

  Les nodded at her T-shirt. ‘Well, at least so far we’re environmentally friendly — if nothing else.’

  Norton’s feeble idea of a joke almost, almost, got a reaction from DD. But not quite. ‘Have you got something you want to say, Les?’ she said, sounding a little tiresome.

  Norton stared back at her for a moment then went into full Basil Fawlty mode. Arms waving, neck stretching, chin jutting out: the works.

  ‘Yes, I’ve got something to say all right, DD. As a matter of fact I have. So I’m a bloody liar, am I? I got some mug to ring you up and string you a line of bullshit, did I?’ Les tossed the white plastic bag onto the kitchen table. ‘A liar eh. You skinny, horrible-looking beast. A liar.’ Les whipped off his cap and sunglasses and tossed them onto the kitchen table next to the plastic bag. ‘Well, what’s that?’

  DD gaped at Norton’s black eyes and bruised face, stuck with strips of Elastoplast and liberally daubed with iodine. She gave a double blink then a little gasp. ‘Good Lord, Les. What happened to your face?’

  Les looked at DD as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. ‘What happened to my face?’ he said. ‘What happened to my face!’ Then Les went into Basil Fawlty warp-ten, and his face reddened. ‘What do you think happened to my face, you inbred bloody wombat? I hit the dashboard of a stretch bloody limousine, that’s what happened. How do you think I did it? Fell off the bloody ski-lift at Thredbo, you stupid cow?’

  ‘I…’ DD was visibly shocked.

  ‘A liar eh? A bloody liar. And what’s that?’ Norton lifted up the left sleeve of his baggy T-shirt and peeled back half of the strip of Elastoplast
.

  DD stared at the hole in Norton’s arm them put her hand over her mouth. ‘What…?’

  ‘I was on a pethidine drip all night, that’s how much pain I was in.’ Les continued his tirade. ‘They kept me under observation then gave me a CAT scan. They thought I had a fractured skull. But it was all right. I only got concussion and a broken nose.’

  DD’s face dropped along with her defences. ‘Oh no.’

  ‘Yeah. I got out of hospital this morning, got home, didn’t know where I was. I tried to ring you up and the phone’s engaged. I crashed out and the first thing I do when I wake up is ring you again. And what do I get? A great torrent of abuse. No wonder I had the shits.’ Les gave DD a good view of his wounds, then looked more hurt and indignant than ever.

  DD seemed to shrink a little and her face sank. She made a gesture towards Norton. ‘Gee, Les, I didn’t know. I…’ Norton gave a little sniff and turned his face away from her. ‘Look, why don’t you sit down?’

  ‘Hah!’Norton tossed back his head. ‘Not much point in me sitting down.’ He showed DD his watch again. ‘I’m out the front bloody door in about another half a minute.’

  ‘Oh you are not. You know I never meant that. Now come on. Sit down and I’ll make you a cup of tea or something.’

  Les stood there for a moment, a mixture of hurt and defiance on his craggy face. ‘All right then,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t mind sitting down for a little while; to tell you the truth, I still don’t feel the best. I almost blacked out a couple of times driving over here.’ Norton sat down, tilted his head to one side and poked his bottom lip out and looked up at DD. It was the full-on little-boy-lost look, with just a touch of Basil Fawlty thrown in and the look of a good man completely shattered. ‘I don’t know, DD. I just thought you’d be a bit more understanding, that’s all. I really did.’

  DD moved away from the kitchen sink, put her arms around Norton’s neck and shoulders and kissed him on the head. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Norton faked a wince of pain. ‘Just watch my eyes there.’

  DD took her arms from around Norton’s neck and ran her hands lightly over his face; the gentle woman’s touch which Norton loved. Then she kissed him softly on the lips. ‘I am sorry, Les.’

  Norton hesitated for a moment, the bottom lip still sticking out, then he placed his hands on DD’s waist. ‘All right,’ he said ‘But gee, I’m just upset you’d think of me like that. That’s all.’ He looked up at DD. ‘Are we still mates?’

  DD’s face brightened. ‘Yes, we’re still mates. Of course we are. Anyway, I’ll make a cup of tea and you can tell me exactly what happened. It must have been dreadful. Funny, I didn’t see anything in the local papers.’ DD switched on the kettle and pulled up a chair facing Les. ‘So what happened?’

  ‘What happened?’ Norton blinked and started slipping into the other Basil Fawlty mode. ‘Well it…’ He stopped and ran his hand across his eyes. ‘Before I go on. You wouldn’t have a couple of asprin or something, would you? I left the tablets they gave me in the hospital back at the flat. I’ve still got a low headache.’

  ‘There’s some Panadol in the bathroom. I’ll go and get a couple.’

  Norton’s eyes followed her shapely backside as she went to the bathroom and his mind went blank. What happened? Shit! What did fuckin’ happen? Jesus! For Christ’s sake, Basil, don’t fail me now. DD returned with two Panadol, poured a glass of water, handed them to Les and sat back down. Norton swallowed the painkillers with nearly all the water.

  ‘Right. What happened? Okay. We were driving along the highway down near Tweed Heads. Crystal and KK were sitting in the back. I’m in the front next to the driver and didn’t bother to put my seat-belt on. We’d just been having dinner. Anyway, while we’re inside, the driver’s been hitting the bottle while he’s waiting. It turns out he’s a piss-pot. Even though he’s got five kids. Anyway, to make a long story short we take off, and we’re cruising along the highway and some bloke in a… big black Mercedes takes a wrong turn and plows straight into the front of the limo. Crash!’

  ‘Good lord.’

  ‘They’re okay in the back. But boofhead Les, not having his seat-belt on, I hit the dash. I’m stunned. And the driver shits himself. He’ll lose his job and cop a fine. Because in an accident, no matter whose fault it is, they still breath-test you. Especially up here in the Sunshine State.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’ DD’s eyes were brimming as she looked at Les. She placed her hands on his.

  ‘So half stunned and like a mug, I offer to get behind the wheel and say I was driving. It was the other driver’s fault anyway. So the cops and the ambulance arrive. They breath test me and I’m sweet. Apart from being covered in blood and not knowing where I am, that is. So they take me to hospital and in I go. And by this time I’m pretty stuffed. Don’t know where I am. But I told Kramer to ring you and say I was all right. I didn’t want you to worry.’

  ‘Oh Les.’ DD’s face was dripping more compassion than Mother Theresa. She bent over and kissed Norton on the face.

  The kettle boiled. DD made a pot of tea, poured them a cup each and put them on the kitchen table. Les took a sip, licked his lips and decided to keep the Basil Fawlty roll going. So far so good.

  ‘Anyway,’ he said, taking another sip of tea. ‘The offshoot of the whole thing is the other driver is some big-shot alderman on the Gold Coast council. He’s half pissed, but the cops aren’t game to pinch him. Or let the papers find out. Harris or something. Bit of a heavy dude evidently.’

  ‘Harris?’ DD’s face looked quizzical. ‘There’s a Henshaw.’

  ‘That’s him,’ said Les. ‘Big fat bloke.’

  ‘That’s Henshaw.’

  ‘And his wife was with him. Beryl… Belinda…’

  ‘Maxine,’ said DD.

  ‘That’s her. Dark-haired sheila. She had a wig on… Anyway, she throws a mickey and goes all hysterical and threatens all sorts of dramas unless I sign a statement to say it was nobody’s fault. Just an accident. So I’m in the hospital, got me head in a CAT scan, and I’m signing some statement. The cops were okay though.’

  DD’s eyes continued to drip sympathy as she sipped her tea. They were also glowing just a little with admiration. All the time she knew Les was a good bloke. How could she…?

  ‘Yeah. So it turns out everything’s sweet and I saved the silly bloody chauffeur’s job.’ Norton took another sip of tea and gave a derisive sort of laugh. ‘The other off-shoot of the thing though, Crystal being a big star and all that and Kramer being who he is, this Henshaw bloke and his wife have invited us back to their place for dinner tonight. So it looks like I have to go.’ Norton took another sip of tea and poked his bottom lip out again. Not all that much. But enough. ‘Not that it should make much difference. You’re going out somewhere. With a… friend.’

  DD’s face coloured. ‘Well, I… didn’t…’ Then she smiled at Les. ‘And he is only a friend.’

  ‘Must be nice to have friends. Not like poor bloody me.’ Les took another sip of tea and decided it might be a good time to change the subject. ‘So where’s the other girls?’

  ‘Fisherman’s Wharf. There’s a big boat function on. They started at three and finish at twelve.’ DD shook her head. ‘I’m glad it’s them and not me.’ Suddenly DD seemed to notice the white plastic bag. ‘What’s in the bag?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh that.’ Norton shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Just a few sandwiches. I was feeling a bit hungry, so I brought something to eat.’

  ‘I could have…’ DD’s face screwed up. ‘They’re not bloody sandwiches. What…?’

  DD opened the plastic bag and pulled out the bunch of roses with the carnations in the middle. Wide eyed, she held them out in front of her, stared at them, then looked at Norton.

  ‘Les.’ She was starting to gush a little. ‘What? I mean. God, you didn’t have to. Why did you…’

  ‘Why?’ Norton tried to look indignant and do another Basil but some emotion deep inside hi
m gave the big Queenslander away. ‘Have you ever thought when I told you I loved you the other morning I might’ve meant it? And I didn’t want to lose you.’ Les looked directly at DD. ‘And that lift to Taree’s still on tomorrow morning, if you want it.’

  DD looked at the roses and held them gently. She kissed Les again, only with a lot more affection this time, then looked around the room. ‘What am I going to do with them?’ she said absently.

  ‘I don’t really care,’ shrugged Norton. ‘Just don’t do what the last girl I gave a bunch of flowers to did.’

  DD peered at Les, just a hint of jealousy in her eyes. ‘Do you make a habit of this — do you?’

  ‘No,’ answered Les. ‘I just gave her a bunch of flowers, something like those. And she went into her room, took all her clothes off, and came back and lay on the table naked with her knees up. And I asked her what was that for? And she said for the flowers. I was a bit young at the time and I said to her. What’s the matter, haven’t you got a vase?’

  DD looked at Les and swung the bunch of flowers back over her head, trying not to smile. ‘If I didn’t know you better, Mr Norton, I’d hit you right across the bloody head with them.’

  Les shrugged again. ‘You may as well. I couldn’t feel any bloody worse than what I do now.’

  DD put the flowers in a big blue vase and placed them on the kitchen table. ‘God! Wait till the girls see these.’ Les could see DD was mesmerised. She was a shot bird. Norton had won hands down. He’d not only taken her every trick, he’d hardly given her a chance to turn a card over. Yeah, well, some blokes have got it. And some haven’t. Then there’s me. Les stretched uncomfortably in his chair and faked a yawn with a touch of pain.

  ‘I’ll tell you what,’ he said, ‘those Panadols on top of that cup of tea are starting to work. Jesus, I feel tired. Do you think I could lie down somewhere for a little while?’ ‘Where?’ asked DD, a little quietly.

  ‘I don’t know,’ shrugged Les. ‘On your bed for a few minutes’d be nice. But don’t let me fall asleep. I have to be back home by seven to get ready to go to that dinner.’