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THE BROWN BULL WAS closed. Six thirty in the morning and it was closed. It didn’t matter that it was a Saturday. The only day it was closed was Sunday and Melody was always there to open up, soon after six, and get the kitchen ready for the morning lunch orders at the plantation and the timber mill.
Cassandra went along the side behind the lunch bar. She tried the back door, just to make sure Melody wasn’t there and had, for some unknown reason, forgotten to open the shopfront. It was closed, so she crossed the small yard to the house behind the lunch bar and knocked on the door. She hated doing this. It meant that Melody could be in trouble, but if the lunch bar remained closed, they’d all be in trouble. She waited almost a minute before she knocked again, this time harder.
The door opened. It was Michael.
“I thought you were with the circus now,” she said.
“I am,” Michael said. “I was kept back a while yesterday to help look for a couple of missing girls and was sent home after. They’ve not got a trailer or a tent for me and don’t need me in until later today.”
“Missing girls?” Cassandra asked.
“Two girls who perform in the cooch show, that’s dancing like...”
“I know what it is,” Cassandra said. “What happened to them?”
“Went for a walk and didn’t return. What can I do for you?”
“I need the lunch bar opened,” Cassandra said.
“Melody not in yet?”
“No, she isn’t.”
“I’ll see if I can find the key and open up for you. I’ll be quiet about it. Melody’s probably not far away. Probably a late night at the Timber Getters.”
“What makes you think she was there?” Cassandra asked.
“Heard from Tommy Grimes she was over there.”
“You’re not still hanging around with that bastard, are you?”
“Not anymore,” Michael said. “He come to the Feral looking for someone to drink with, seems his normal drinking buddies were off with someone named Jeffries and he didn’t like not being the centre of attention. He wanted to know if I wanted to drink with him, at the golf club. Said he might convince Melody to come along if she got bored with the goons at the Timber Getters.”
“And I suppose you went?”
“I told him to fuck off.”
Cassandra laughed. “You, Michael Conroy, told Tom Grimes to fuck off?”
“Yeah, I did. Why?”
“I never... what’s happened to you?”
“I think I finally got over this stinking town.” He smiled. “Something you should do too.”
“It’s a pity you didn’t get over it sooner than this.” Cassandra smiled.
“Why’s that,” Michael asked. “Do you think I might have had a chance with you?”
Cassandra’s jaw dropped. “Mister Conroy,” she said. “I’ll have you know that—”
“Miss Porterfield,” Michael countered. “I’ll have you know that it’s a little late for your advances. I’m soon to become a roustabout with the Circus Elysium and although I find you somewhat attractive, I cannot remain in this stinking little town that you’ve called home.”
Cassandra chuckled. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”
“Now, if you decide you wish to run away and join the circus, I may be able to put in a good word for you.”
Cassandra closed her eyes and shook her head.
“You’ve been a good friend,” Michael said softly. “I know I haven’t been, but you’re one of the few people in this town I’m proud to have known. I’ll get the key.”
He went back inside before she could say anything, which was fortunate because she couldn’t think of anything to say.
He returned and strode past her. “Let’s go open up.”
***
WITHIN THE FIRST HALF hour of the lunch bar opening, Cassandra had too many lunch orders. Though she hated to do it, she needed to go to the house again and ask for help. Although Jenna was likely to be alright about it, Michael’s father wouldn’t. According to Melody, Jenna Cage had Melody’s job before Lance Conroy took a liking to her. She went along with his advances to keep her job, then got pregnant with Michael and needed to keep more than just a job if she and her son were to survive in Pinecone. The Conroy family were barely high enough in the Pinecone social structure for Lance’s options among available women to be wide. According to local rumour, he’d fired a number of girls working for him for refusing his advances. Cassandra sometimes wondered why she’d kept her job so long, but decided that perhaps the local rumours were just that, rumours. It didn’t make her feel any better as she knocked on the door to their house.
“What’s wrong?” Jenna snapped as she came to the door. Though Cassandra knew she was in her early fifties, she looked barely north of forty, and would have been an incredibly attractive brunette in her twenties. She also had what Cassandra thought of as the look of a well-used woman. Unhappy with her lot in life but resigned to it.
“I need some help in the kitchen,” Cassandra said. “Melody isn’t here yet and—”
“Then you should have called me earlier.” Jenna closed the door and strode past toward the lunch bar. “Well come on!” she snapped from the back door.
Cassandra followed.
“Now, where’re the orders?”
Cassandra pointed to the pieces of paper on the bench.
“They in order?” Jenna asked.
“From left to right,” Cassandra said.
“Good, now get to the counter where you belong. I need to talk with you once these are done.”
The last of the orders were complete before eight, and there was still no Melody. Cassandra sat at a stool behind the counter while it was quiet. Jenna came from the kitchen and looked around the lunch bar.
“There’ll be breakfast soon?” she asked.
“Normally,” Cassandra said. “About another half hour before they start coming in.”
Jenna nodded solemnly. “Thank you for your good work,” she said.
Cassandra nodded and said nothing. There was something ominous about Jenna’s statement.
Jenna took a deep breath and looked around the lunch bar. “It’s been a while since I was here like this,” she said. “Mostly I’ve been needed in here when there are new girls. You know, keep an eye on them. Make sure they’re suitable, can serve customers properly, things like that.”
Cassandra nodded again.
“Your last name, Porterfield. Is that the name on your birth certificate?”
Bloody Melody must have been listening when that circus fellow was around. Cassandra felt sick, not about being found out, but about being betrayed by someone she thought was a friend.
“Well?” Jenna pressed. “Is it?”
“It’s the name on the papers of adoption,” Cassandra said. “It’s my last name, legal and legitimate.”
“I have no doubt about that,” Jenna said. “You’ve got a bank account by that name, so it must be your legal name. But there was a fellow who came around yesterday who said your name was something different.”
“Monroe?” Cassandra asked.
“That wasn’t the name he said.”
“No, I meant the name of the fellow who came around. Was it Monroe?”
“No dear. It was Jeffries. Frank Jeffries.”
“I don’t know anybody of that name,” Cassandra said.
“He told Lance your real name is Cassey Brown. Is that true?”
“My real name is Cassandra Porterfield, and although I haven’t seen it, I believe the name on my birth certificate is Cassandra, not Cassey.”
“And the last name, Brown?”
Cassandra nodded.
“So you’re related to the original owners of this place?”
“If I am, then it’s a coincidence,” Cassandra said carefully.
“Oh come now, you’re what, twenty-six?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Meaning you’d have been what, nine when Bradley Brown was hanged?”
Cassandra shook her head. “I was eight when mum hanged herself, only seven when they hanged dad.”
“I think it’s time for you to move on with your life, dear.”
“You want me to leave?”
“Sorry dear, we can’t have you here. The Frenches have owned this town since... Well, you probably know. I’ll do what I can to help you find something else, maybe in Meerton. You can stay until the end of the week.”
“Today is the end of the week.”
“I meant next week. Or a little longer if need be.”
“Thank you,” Cassandra said, although she didn’t know why.
“Nobody ever seems to have cared about any of the Browns of this town,” Jenna said sadly. “I can’t imagine why. Knowing you... I guess it’s because things would happen different if someone did. It’s a damn filthy business and this is a damn filthy town. You’re better away from it all.”