by S. J. Morgan
The surname Sindy had given to me for her mum was Haiden – not that unusual a name, but an unusual spelling. Perhaps if she’d been called Smith or Jones, we wouldn’t have even given this a shot. But in a small town in the middle of nowhere, it seemed not only possible that we’d find her, but maybe even probable.
I felt my shoulders slump as soon as I saw there were no Haidens in the phone book. I’d built myself up to imagine this would be straightforward, even though common sense and past experience should’ve told me that, when it came to Sindy, nothing was straightforward.
I sat down with the other Queensland directories and tried looking up the name in the bigger cities. Perhaps she’d shifted to Cairns or Brisbane. When I came out empty-handed, I looked again at Sindy’s scribbled notes. The other name she’d given me was Aaron Colbeck. I looked at it, wondering where this uncle fitted into the family tree. After all, Sindy seemed to think the mother wasn’t married, so how could she have a brother called Colbeck? Different father, perhaps? Brother-in-law?
I closed the directories and put them back, deciding I needed to get some clarification from Sindy before I was sent further on this wild-goose chase. It put a dampener on my mood to be honest: I realised I’d been one of those stupid tourists who assumes everyone in Australia knows everyone else.
When I got back to our room at the backpackers, Sindy wasn’t there. I hoped she wasn’t far away, given she’d left the door wide open with all our stuff on show. I glanced down the empty corridor and just as I was going back into the room, I saw her coming up the stairs.
‘Oh, Alec! You’re back,’ she said.
I nodded at the purse in her hand. ‘Where’ve you been?’
‘I rang the weather line.’
‘What?’
‘There’s a telephone downstairs,’ she said, speaking slowly like I was thick. ‘I used it to find out what today’s weather was going to be.’
‘Sind…Gina!’ I said, waving an arm at the window. ‘It’s hot and sunny. This is tropical Australia! It’s always fucking hot and sunny.’
I probably wouldn’t have been so bad-tempered if I’d had more luck at the post office.
‘For your information, they have storms,’ she said. ‘It rains sometimes.’
‘Well, not at the moment. So, stop wasting our money just so you can go downstairs and play with the frigging phone.’
I caught someone’s eye as he was going past our room. ‘Oh, hi,’ he said, pausing. He backed up a step and looked at Sindy. ‘You okay, Gina?’
I looked between them, confused: first, because who butts in on a stranger’s argument; and second, because how the hell did he know Sindy?
‘Oh, hi. Yes, I’m fine,’ Sindy said, all smiles. ‘Oh, this is my brother, Alec. Alec, this is Stu.’
We shook hands, but I was still recovering from Sindy’s sensible introduction. She acted like a dumb kid most of the time, and then, suddenly, she could switch to normal-human mode.
‘Stu’s Canadian,’ she told me.
‘Well, good to meet you,’ Stu said. He switched his attention back to Sindy. ‘We’ll be in the bar later if you wanna come say hi, okay?’
‘Yep. We’ll be there.’ She looked across at me with a smile. ‘Won’t we, Alec?’
And, before I’d had chance to open my mouth, she’d set up our very first social engagement.
Chapter 46
Minto pushes me in front of him, adding little jabs in the back so I stumble to wherever he wants to lead me. Flies buzz around my mouth, in my ears and up my nose as if my decay has already begun. The little bastards look for any way in and their company makes me nervous; like they’re the vultures blackening the skies overhead.
I’m pushed towards a massive corrugated building, its man-made presence startling amid the vast dry nothingness. We pass a generator by the back wall. It might be running, but with the blare of Black Sabbath, screaming from the massive speakers on the outside walls, you can forget about any soothing background hum. The roller doors are up, and I’m led to an inner door which Minto opens. The clubroom looks just like the one in Swansea but bigger. Way, way bigger. No residential corner block for them out here – no, they have room to spread themselves out as wide and loud and as in-your-face as they want.
Minto’s lapping up my terror. His movements are slow, easy and he barely looks at me. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t need to: he has all the time in the world, every option at his disposal. This world is his oyster.
‘What we have here, Alec, is part of an import-export venture,’ he says, still wandering around, all bonhomie like he has no subverted agenda. ‘It’s a manufacturing hub, so the stuff we import gets made into something new, something more desirable, and the finished magic is exported.’ He looks at me. ‘Supply and demand. That’s what it’s all about. They demand – they keep demanding – and so, we supply. Everybody’s happy. See how it works?’
He levels his gaze at me: the direct question clearly waiting for a direct answer. ‘I guess.’
‘It provides an income for a lot of people,’ he says, as if he’s giving me the executive’s tour of the plant. ‘There are hundreds involved in this. And all over the globe.’
‘Yeah?’
‘That’s why I always hoped you’d find a place with us. Your own little Alec niche. Well,’ he says, letting out a low chuckle. ‘I suppose you have found a place with us, whether by accident or design.’
My gaze doesn’t leave him for a second: I can’t trust taking my eyes off him. He’s like one of those desert snakes, upright and watchful, striking without warning – a head-flick and it’s over. That’s how it feels with Minto and his harmless chat. He’s just waiting for his moment, waiting till my guard is down.
Black Sabbath has left us, but Motorhead’s ‘Ace of Spades’ is now on repeat, adding an excruciating heavy metal torture to the proceedings. It’s louder too and Minto doesn’t adjust the volume of his speech, so I have to strain to hear what he says. Every sense is struggling to keep up and I’m afraid to so much as blink or swallow for fear of missing something vital.
Suddenly, Minto strides over to the door, throws it open and walks out. No explanations, no warning; just ups and leaves.
I’m left to nurse my panic.
I don’t move far but once ‘Ace of Spades’ comes on for the third time, I risk a visual inspection of the room.
Someone’s guarding the door outside, that much I can see from the shadowed strip of sunlight that occasionally moves. But if there are any hidden cameras and mics, I can’t pick them out. The only things on the walls are speakers, Apache motifs and nudie posters.
I wander past the pool table and roll a ball into the pocket. Even that feels like a dangerous move, but the longer Minto stays away, the more uneasy I become. I need to walk, to have something to do with my hands and my feet. Stillness is aching.
I look over briefly to the bar – all those bottles and glasses and potential weapons – what’s Minto doing leaving me alone with them? Behind the sofa, I spot another of those overfull boxes with gun butts sticking out. Has he really left me in here with an arsenal at my disposal? It has to be a trick.
I walk past them, swallowing and trying to put them from my mind but I keep coming back to them. I draw near, craning my neck to see just what’s in the box and I see pistols in there too. Harmless looking things, next to their big, gruntier brothers. They won’t be loaded. Of course, they wouldn’t be loaded.
But what if they are? Perhaps they’re for a quick getaway in an emergency – maybe a police raid would have them running in here grabbing their weapons. I glance out of the dusty window and before I’ve made the decision, I’ve pushed one of those little pistols into my pocket and moved away from the box.
I meander to the other side of the room, all innocence, and give the nudie posters a once-over. Someone in the past has chucked a dart and got a bullseye right in the nip. It reminds me of the dart holes in my ceiling at home and I have to close my eyes
to stop the floor tilting as I think of my room.
There’s a noise at the door and it flies open again. ‘Bit of clearing up to do in here first,’ Minto tells someone. I see the bouncer exit before the door closes again.
Minto parks his bulk on a stool, his arm crooked onto the bar and looks at me. ‘What to do with you,’ he says. ‘That’s the question. You know you’re very inconvenient.’
‘Maybe I should crawl back to where I came from,’ I say. ‘It’s not like I’m going to grass you up.’
‘Really?’ he says. ‘Your track record isn’t too good on that score, Mr Johnston.’
Even over the vocal thrashing coming from the speakers, I hear a roar of motorbikes outside, belching into life. The sound grows then fades and I wonder where they’re all off to and why Minto’s left behind. Am I the bit of clearing up he has to do before he can join them?
My hand’s in my pocket, tracing the contours of the trigger, getting acquainted with my unfamiliar friend. It won’t be loaded. He’ll know it won’t be loaded – these phrases form a mantra in my head. It won’t be loaded. He’ll know it won’t be loaded.
‘Here’s the thing, Alec,’ he says. ‘To kill you now would bring the inconvenience of your folks. James and Annie wouldn’t let it rest, would they? There’d be police and investigations and pigs sniffing around.’
‘So, let me go then.’
‘Well, Alec. You can imagine why I’m not keen on that idea.’
‘Look, you’ve won,’ I tell him. My voice is weak, dry, no substance to it – it doesn’t even sound like me. The yellow-bellied words do, though. ‘Sindy’s gone. There’s nothing left for me to…’ I shrug and look down. I think this is the first time it’s hit me that Sindy has gone; that I won’t see her again. I briefly wonder how I’m ever going to break it to Dad.
‘It was Sindy I tried to help, that’s all. I don’t care what else you’ve got going on. Really, I couldn’t give a shit about...all this other stuff.’
Minto seems to like my speech. He nods approvingly.
But something makes me uneasy again; something in his body language. He’s not pondering, he’s just waiting. Biding his time. Stalking and waiting for the moment to pounce.
The fact all the others have left is freshly sinister: a wave of nausea floods into my belly and sits there, festering.
The moment he stands, I yank the gun from my pocket and point it at him. It’s a base, instinctive movement and one I hadn’t known was going to happen. The decision hadn’t reached my brain – survival, it seems, isn’t a thought process.
‘Don’t move,’ I say, as he puts up calming hands and makes to approach me.
He smiles. ‘Alec, you know that thing’s not loaded.’
‘Sure? You want to risk it?’ I spot a flicker of hesitation, a sliver of doubt. And a sliver is all I need.
He rolls his eyes and sits back on the stool, like he’s annoyed at having to play my game.
There’s a mirror over the bar. It means I can keep an eye behind me at the big dusty windows and the tree line outside. But something catches my attention: something inside, close by. It’s a flash of pink. A deep red-raspberry pink that I instantly recognise. Why would Sindy’s case be here, lurking behind the couch?
Minto’s watching me, careful to show no emotion.
My voice rattles through my throat. ‘She’s not dead, is she?’
‘What?’ He runs a hand over his tattooed head and the gesture’s enough to confirm it.
‘Why would you kill her? She’s a cash cow for you. You wouldn’t toss all that income over a cliff. Certainly not to get me off your back.’
‘Sure? You wanna risk it?’ he says, throwing my words back in my face.
I swallow and his eyes trace the movement of my Adam’s apple. He’ll see the sweat on my top lip, the pulse in my neck.
He’s about to say something else when there’s a noise at the side of the room beyond the pool table. I turn my head but keep my gun pointed straight at him.
‘Put it down, Alec.’ Sindy emerges from the dimness and I see her holding a shotgun, tiptoeing forward like she’s stalking a deer. The weapon looks hellish heavy in her small hands.
She shuffles forward, pointing the barrel at me.
Sweat prickles on my forehead, the back of my neck. Half a breath later and I’ve sprung fifty leaks.
‘I feel like the odd one out, here,’ Minto says, spluttering a laugh as he holds up empty hands. He sounds a lot chirpier all of a sudden, and I tighten my hold on the pistol.
‘How much do you make from her?’ I say, keeping my focus on him. ‘You must earn a fortune. All those men paying big bucks to get their hands on her. And even bigger bucks for special treatments. Eh, Sindy?’ I slide my eyes to her, hoping whatever I say will be enough to make her ease the barrel across; point the thing his way instead of mine. ‘Do you realise how much he gets every time you service his friends? You could be rich by now, have anything you ever wanted.’
‘It’s not true.’ I can see her arms are getting tired. If I was closer, I could whip that gun away in a heartbeat.
‘Is that why she’s been brought here?’ I say to Minto. ‘Do they pay more for young bodies?’
‘It’s not like that!’ Sindy says. ‘You’ve got it wrong, Alec.’
I look at her, realising I’m winding up the wrong person: she’s the one with her finger on the trigger. ‘You don’t deserve to be treated like this, Sindy,’ I say.
‘It’s you he’s been using, not me,’ she tells me.
Minto explodes a laugh. ‘Children, children!’ he says. ‘Let’s not squabble about who’s my favourite. You’ve both been wonderfully...’
As he speaks, he suddenly lunges towards me. My finger jerks against the trigger and I pull, once, twice.
There’s an almighty bang and Sindy lands on the floor, the clatter of a shotgun falling at her side.
I don’t understand what’s happened – there’s dust and ringing in my ears.
The haze and smell clears, and ‘Ace of Spades’ comes to the fore again.
Sindy clambers to her feet and it’s only then I spot the blood beside me. It’s pooling on the concrete floor and it has Minto attached.
Chapter 47
We might’ve only just arrived in Mt Isa, but it already seemed to me that Sindy had lost interest in finding those relatives of hers. I could tell by the sour look on her face whenever I mentioned it.
We were in the bar at the backpackers that evening, waiting for the Canadians, when I next tackled Sindy about it. ‘So, who’s Aaron Colbeck?’ I said, unfolding the piece of paper I’d taken to the post office. ‘He’s got a different surname, so presumably not your mum’s brother. Maybe her brother-in-law or something?’
Sindy was sitting next to me on a bar stool. She leaned into me to look at the list of names again. ‘I don’t know.’
The strains of Slade’s ‘Merry Xmas, Everybody’ thumped from the speakers as Sindy sipped her piña colada. ‘Dad said he’s my uncle. That’s all I know.’ She dipped a finger in her drink and held her pinkie out to me. ‘Want a taste?’ she said.
I kept my head down. ‘No.’
I continued my study of the list, gradually easing away from her. Ever since we’d arrived, she’d seemed determined to be as physically close to me as possible. It would’ve been unwelcome enough at the best of times, but in this sticky heat, her proximity was almost unbearable.
She huffed a grumpy sigh and twisted around in her seat for the fiftieth time, to see if Stu was coming.
I tapped my finger at the piece of paper again. ‘Look, how are we supposed to approach these people if we don’t even know what relation they are to you?’
She shrugged as if to say this was my problem rather than hers. It was frustrating: I’d tried to pin her down for details countless times since we’d left Britain and, on each occasion, she’d been evasive to the point of being no bloody use whatsoever.
‘Look, Sindy, do
you…’
‘Gina.’
‘Gina,’ I said, tutting. ‘Do you want to find this family of yours, or not?’
‘Of course I do,’ she said, spearing a piece of pineapple with her umbrella stick. ‘But there’s no hurry, is there?’
‘Oh, isn’t there?’ My beer spilled as I thumped it down on the mat. ‘Well, maybe not for you, but I’d actually like to see my folks at Christmas, get together with Daniella, see the rest of my family. I don’t actually want to spend my Christmas stuck here, in the middle of fucking nowhere, with you!’
Sindy took her lips from her straw and blinked back at me. Her cheeks flushed. I knew tears were almost certainly on the cards, but her gaze suddenly flicked to the side. A beaming smile appeared on her face. ‘Hey, Stu!’
‘Hey! It’s our fellow travellers!’ Stu said, shaking our hands as they joined us at the table. ‘Boy, are we glad to meet some house mates who aren’t miners!’
They were good company as it turned out and they took the edge off things between me and Sindy. Stu was a stocky, solid guy around my age and there were two girls, Lexi and Jules, a year or so younger. They were all from Edmonton and they’d been travelling around in an old station wagon, headed for another part of Queensland to pick up work.
‘What about you two?’ Stu asked. ‘In Isa for a while?’
Sindy was about to answer. ‘Not sure yet,’ I said, quickly. ‘We’re hoping to visit some family but other than that, we’ll see how we go.’
Jules sat rolling a ciggie. ‘So – you two are, like brother and sister, or…’
‘Yes,’ said Sindy, a bit too proudly. ‘Alec’s my big brother.’
‘Yah, you look a bit alike,’ Jules said. ‘Similar bone structure. I can see the resemblance.’
Sindy looked up and grinned at me, like it was actually true.
I couldn’t figure out if Stu was ‘with’ either of the girls, but it turned out Lexi and Jules were just old mates of his from school. Lexi was the quieter of the two: ruddy cheeked and well-padded, looked like she’d easily survive the Canadian winters, whereas Jules was more your long, lithe sort, probably into yoga or running. She exploded into laughter a lot and tended to collapse against whoever was beside her whenever she had a fit of the giggles.
