It’s true. The words left her mouth slowly and swelled until they filled the whole room, bulging the glass outwards in the windows, swelling into the corridor and down the stairs. True true true true true … My son’s a killer … a killer … a killer …
‘But what happened? Was it a fight?’
‘No. They happened to be the first two people he saw. He just shot them.’ Shot sank to the floor, a great weight that freed Marian to float upwards.
‘Oh my God,’ Evie said.
There was silence.
‘They said that, in the paper,’ she went on. ‘But I thought … I thought … Charlie wouldn’t do that. Not Charlie.’
Marian floated above the phone listening to Evie snuffling. Poor Evie, she thought. She’s very upset. Something has upset her.
There were nose-blowing sounds from the other end of the phone. ‘I’m sorry. I’m meant to be helping you, not bawling all over you. What can I do?’
Do?
‘Hey. Marian. Are you still there? Don’t blank out on me.’
Marian dragged herself down from the ceiling. ‘I’m all right. Tired.’
‘I can’t come over tonight. I’ve got a bloody dinner on. What do you have to do tomorrow?’
Go and see Charlie. ‘Um. Not much.’
‘I’ll come over. I’ve got to do a couple of things first. How about eleven?’
‘Oh. Yeah.’
‘Okay? Don’t go off anywhere without me.’
‘Okay.’
‘Bye Marian.’
Marian gripped the receiver. Go off? Where would she go?
The other piece of paper the girl had given her was blank. She turned it over. Please ring Ros 92714121.
Fear sent waves of acid up into her mouth. Why would Ros be ringing? Something must have happened. She dialled with shaking hands.
The ringing stopped and a voice said hello?
‘It’s Marian.’
‘Hi Marian. Thanks for ringing back.’
‘What’s wrong?’ Marian’s heart was pounding. She held the phone near her cheek.
The voice crackled nervously at her, a reflection of her own panic. ‘Wrong? Is something wrong?’
Marian tried to slow her breathing. ‘I thought you must have heard from the police. Or something.’
‘No. I didn’t mean to worry you. I just … Sam told me about yesterday. I’m sorry. I know Lee can get a bit prickly. She’s stressing about this presentation at Uni.’
‘I said things I shouldn’t have.’
‘Everyone’s upset. I was sort of hoping you might come and see us.’
No.
‘Maybe tomorrow?’ Ros went on. ‘For tea?’
‘Well …’
‘I mean it’s cool if you can’t come. It’s just, like, I thought we could make up for yesterday. Lee too.’
Marian didn’t want to see Lee again. The thought of Lee’s provocative smile made her angry all over again. Smug.
And even Ros and Sam. These young people … what did they have to do with her?
But she was touched, in spite of herself. Ros was young and different and believed in things Marian didn’t. But she was friendly.
‘I’m seeing someone tomorrow … I’m not sure …’
‘No worries. Really. Just come if you can. ’
Marian put the phone back in its cradle and stood with her hand on the counter. This light-headedness. Perhaps she should eat, she hadn’t had a proper meal for … but she couldn’t pin the days down.
There was that pancake place she’d passed not too far back. One foot in front of the other.
She stared listlessly at the partition until her Hawaiian Stack arrived, then she stared at the plate. A man stopped at the entrance to the booth and spoke to her.
‘Mind if I join you? They’re a bit full.’
Marian peered out. It didn’t look full to her but she couldn’t be bothered arguing.
‘Okay,’ she said, unsmiling.
The man sat on the edge of the bench diagonally opposite her. Having intruded, he now seemed anxious not to take up too much space. Once he’d ordered, he pushed himself back on the seat and cleared his throat. He was stocky and freckled, with colourless eyelashes and a raw, scrubbed face.
‘Sorry to push in on you. I thought you might not mind having company.’
‘Yes. I mean no. I don’t mind.’
‘It’s meal times, isn’t it?’
‘Meal times?’
‘I mean that’s when it gets you. You know, being on your own.’
On your own? Marian studied his face and he turned pink. With that colouring he would blush easily.
‘Anyway I’m Ron.’
‘Marian.’
‘Hi Marian.’
Now she should say hi Ron, but she couldn’t do it, could only concentrate on one thing at a time.
‘I shouldn’t have ordered this,’ she said. ‘I thought it would be healthy to have pineapple. I don’t like pineapple.’ The words sounded as though they had come from someone else, some cranky child.
Ron sat up straighter and patted his tie. ‘My sister’s allergic to pineapple. She gets a rash around her mouth. It lasts for hours. Allergies are like that. There’s always a good reason for disliking a thing, don’t you think? I’ll tell you what, why don’t we swap?’
Marian recoiled from the cheesy mess in front of him. ‘Thanks, but I’m not hungry. Really.’
This time his flush was brick red. ‘Oh no, of course not,’ he mumbled. ‘Sorry.’
Marian made an effort. ‘I’ll have a bit of this. I can push the pineapple to one side.’
Ron munched in silence. At least he keeps his mouth shut when he chews, she thought, and then wondered why it mattered. It was just a body. Why do we find it so disgusting? You have to push food into it. Mash the food up. Swallow it. Shit it out like any other animal.
She pushed her plate away from her.
Ron swallowed and wiped his mouth. ‘Could I order you a coffee?’ he asked cautiously.
His face was friendly. Plain and kind.
‘You know what I’d like?’ she said. ‘A brandy. Do you think we could go somewhere else?’
‘Of course,’ he said, on his feet at once, beaming, shepherding her out from behind the table, trying to pick up her bag. Marian grabbed it first, defeating him, but allowed him to take her elbow and steer her towards the desk.
‘Let me pay. You’ve hardly eaten anything anyway.’
I should argue, she thought, but didn’t have the energy. The room was spinning slowly round her and she was glad of this other solid presence.
The outside air was cold. They stood for a moment, awkwardly, then Ron straightened himself and spoke.
‘As a matter of fact I’m only staying a few minutes away. We could get a drink there. The Capri. Do you know it?’
‘No. I don’t know the city all that well.’
‘I always stay there. It’s comfortable and close to everything.’
Halfway round the revolving door Marian had a moment of doubt. Too much glass. What on earth was she doing?
‘I’m afraid I’m not dressed for this.’
Ron brushed this away. ‘You look very nice.’ Here in the hotel he was unexpectedly confident and ushered her into the bar. Perhaps this was a more normal setting for him than Martha’s Pancakes.
The bar was quiet, almost deserted, and more homely than the glass foyer.
Ron seemed to want her to subside into a large blue sofa. Its generous padding wrapped around her and she let her legs sprawl. With enormous relief she sank down, down, into a dream of soft blueness.
She came to the surface hours, or seconds, later as he plonked two drinks down on the low table. He handed her a glass and she struggled to sit upright.
‘Cheers,’ he said.
‘Oh yes. Cheers. Thank you.’
The brandy went straight to her elbows and knees, a beautiful spreading warmth.
‘So. Marian. What brings
you to the city?’
‘How do you know I don’t live here?’
‘You said you don’t know your way round.’
Oh yes.
‘Anyhow, you seem like a country woman to me.’
Her hands—that must be how he guessed. The bruised thumb, the lumpy knuckles and dry chapped skin, the lack of rings or nail polish. She moved to hide them under her coat and then changed her mind. No point pretending.
‘So you’ve just driven down for a break?’
Driven. Hell, she’d forgotten about the car.
‘I left the car …’
Ron waited and then laughed uncomfortably. ‘Fair enough. Not my business. Anything you do feel able to tell me?’
The warmth of the brandy had reached Marian’s fingers and toes.
‘I like the blue of this lounge,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ he said, lying back beside her and pressing his thigh against hers. The pressure felt good.
Through a blur of fatigue and alcohol Marian became aware that he was talking about his daughter. ‘She’s only fourteen. That’s too young. Don’t you think it’s too young? And he’s twenty-four so I blame him. He knows how old she is. But Moira won’t do anything about it, says it’s up to them. I should never have let her have custody. Do you have children?’
‘One daughter.’
Where did that come from?
‘Oh. You know all about it then. I can see you’d be a good mother.’
For a wild moment she thought of confessing. I’m not. I’ve failed. You wouldn’t want your children anywhere near me.
Ron patted her thigh. ‘Here. Let me get you another drink.’
While he was gone Marian gazed at the white fuzz above her. The ceiling. She put her glasses on but they were designed for reading and turned the whole room into a series of dim splodges.
The chair seemed to have expanded around her. It crossed her mind that she would have to get out of it eventually, but she couldn’t imagine how.
Ron came back with more drinks and wriggled closer, talking right into her ear. He was a meteorologist. ‘Funny word, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘Not meteors, weather.’
He’d been at a conference. They had a new radar system that could tell the difference between the weather in your front yard and in your back. Marian wondered why you would need to know. Would you move the washing?
The washing. Had she brought it in? Perhaps Michelle would notice.
Ron’s conference was about melting polar ice caps, global warming, global dimming, the threat to island nations, tsunami, typhoons and water temperature in the Gulf of Mexico.
Marian thought of the oceans surging, washing higher and higher up the beaches, the salt in the sea calling to the salt under the earth, drawing it to the surface in a white tide of its own, till the whole earth was covered in salty water.
By her third drink she realised that the ceiling was made of gauze bandages, drifting in the breeze, though she didn’t know where the breeze came from. Some climatic event. The body next to hers had become familiar, and the silence pleasant. Ron seemed to have finished talking. She was startled when he spoke right against her cheek. Why was he so breathless?
‘How about coming up to my room, honey?’
He must be mixing her up with another woman.
‘I’m Marian.’
‘It’s a beautiful name.’ His mouth nuzzled damply at her ear.
He wants me, she thought.
It was a long time since anyone had wanted her.
‘So how about it?’
‘I don’t mind.’ She rolled over and felt the squidging together of their bodies. Old salty tides sloshed inside her. Nice. Giggling, she let him haul her out of the sofa and usher her into the lift.
Marian’s head cleared as she sat on the toilet in the en-suite and realised with a start that the other people in the room were her. Mirrors everywhere. And why did they put such bright lights over them? There were brown marks under her eyes and her face was white, every line and wrinkle showing. She wiped herself and stood up, the room swinging around her.
Leaning into the mirror she opened her eyes wide. They were very red. Best keep them shut. Sunglasses would be good.
She had forgotten Ron. As soon as she opened the bathroom door she saw him sitting up expectantly in the bed, chest naked, sheet tucked over his lower half. Oh yes. That’s right.
Gingerly she lowered herself onto the edge of the bed.
‘Um.’
Ron looked eager, like a little boy.
‘I don’t suppose I could have a cup of tea?’ she said.
He patted the pillows next to him. ‘Stay here. I’ll see what I can rustle up.’
His boxers were white and his back was solid, with many freckles. It was a completely reliable and domestic back and matched his slightly hunched shoulders. He was a good man. No harm in this. Marian stretched out on the bed, feeling desire tighten her body. She dragged her jeans off, and her tee-shirt.
When Ron brought the cup she put it down next to the bed and reached out to touch him. He knelt heavily and put his arms around her but his weight was too much and they toppled sideways in an awkward embrace. Marian laughed.
Ron grunted angrily and pulled himself on top of her. With difficulty she freed her head from his arm so that she could breathe. He had pushed off his own underpants and was tugging at hers, trying to stuff himself inside her.
‘It’s okay,’ she gasped. ‘Slow down.’
If he heard her he didn’t respond. His face was red and desperate. But the flesh would not be stuffed. After five minutes of sweaty exertion he fell away from her with a groan and threw one arm across his face.
For a moment she was irritated, but the feeling floated away as quickly as it had come.
‘Ron?’
‘It’s no use,’ he said, voice muffled. ‘It’s no bloody use.’
Affection flooded her, not only for him but for all men. The frailty of them, their labouring, their longing to be big and grand and noble. Or at least to have an erection. The absurdity of them.
Quietly she moved alongside and cradled his bulk. He pulled away from her with a grunt, but she had all the patience of women. Generosity swelled in her. She could be gentle, lead him, coax him, and then could let him be master. When she felt his body softening she pressed herself against him, her own desire rising again.
But his breathing had slowed.
Surely he couldn’t just …?
A harumphing snore escaped his mouth. He was asleep.
She rolled away and lay on her back for a few moments. The snores became more regular.
Levering herself carefully out of the bed she pulled on her clothes, quietly at first. But nothing was going to wake him now.
There was no paper in her bag. Oh well. Then she saw the Gideon Bible. Tearing a neat page from the front she wrote thank you in large letters.
But perhaps he would think it was sarcastic?
Really, I mean it, she added, and put the page on the pillow. She draped the bedcover over him and tiptoed to the door, afraid now that he might wake. Nothing worse than to be caught half way, neither here nor gone.
When the lift doors closed behind her and the hum of descent began she was as relieved as if she’d reached home in a game of chasey. At the revolving door she ran into a girl and boy with their arms around each other. Marian stumbled in an attempt to avoid them and the girl reached out a steadying hand. Both young people beamed at her, including her in their abundant love, willing her to be happy too.
‘Have a good night,’ Marian said.
Their voices floated back as the door swallowed them. ‘You too.’
The street was still brightly lit and full of people. It wasn’t late after all.
Marian walked briskly back to West Perth, passed CWA for Home and Country and let herself in to her room. Undressing again she got into bed and fell deeply and instantly asleep.
thursday
A dull throbb
ing boom woke her. The wool stuffing in her head muffled the sound, and it took her a moment to realise that it was not outside but inside her. Staggering to the basin she rinsed out her mouth, then stuck her head cautiously out the door and ran for the toilet.
Back in her room she lay down on the bed. There was something she was supposed to think about, or do. She pulled the duna right over her head, making a safe cave.
But sleep had deserted her. Her head was pounding now and her teeth were fuzzy. The man in the hotel. Ron. That wasn’t her who’d done that, surely? What had come over her? Just now, when everything was in turmoil and Charlie needed her. To go off with some strange man.
She groaned and rolled over. The bedclothes were no longer a safe cave. The duna tangled and imprisoned her legs. Kicking it away in a panic she sat up.
Have a shower, said a small sane voice.
Draping a towel over her arm and picking up her toothbrush she went back to the bathroom. The shower water ran on and on. Bugger water restrictions, she needed it. The heat was calming and washed away any thoughts.
Dry and warm she pulled the bed straight, climbed into it, and slept again.
Marian and Evie were going out. But first Evie wanted Marian to put on different clothes. Not the fawn skirt, she kept saying, eyebrows raised, inviting the other girls to join her in laughing at Marian’s taste. Marian struggled to speak, but her mouth wouldn’t work properly. Mum bought it for me, she managed to squeeze out. She wanted to wear the right things, live up to these new friends. But pity and loyalty for her shabby mother tore at her. Her mother, who had packed Marian’s case with such anxious and hopeful loving. Tears spouted from Marian’s eyes.
Mum, she cried, waking herself up.
But Mum was gone.
Marian lay still and filled her mind with Evie instead.
That wasn’t hard since she’d always seen Evie as larger than life, ever since the first day at Teachers College. Marian, stiff and alone, hesitated at the edges with the other misfits. Evie, also new, was already at the heart of what was going to be the in-crowd. Miraculously Evie had scooped Marian up, included her. Evie knew how to make friends, was lively and generous. She might borrow your hand-knitted jumper and then leave it on the bus in a careless moment. But she’d be genuinely sorry and find you something special to take its place.
The First Week Page 10
