| |
TRAVELLING AROUND THE plantation with Bo and Graham Tyson, the chief of the plantation’s security, was exhausting. At first Graham wasn’t going to help them, saying the missing girls were probably lost. Then Sandy Carmichael arrived with news that it was Marie Schwartz’s body that was pulled from the river. Graham immediately organised a van for them and offered to escort them around to all of the lookouts. Michael had no idea there were so many, twelve or thirteen of them. He also didn’t expect to be the one to climb all the bloody ladders to each of them, some of them up trees fifty feet above the ground. No one expected he’d find the girls in a lookout. He was looking for where they might be.
It wasn’t until he’d returned from the fourth lookout that Michael understood why Graham was with them. He’d seen three suspicious clearings near the river and suggested they investigate them.
“Not today,” Graham told them. “Let me speak with the people who tend the market gardens round here. That way you don’t get shot.”
At the end of the day Michael was tired and sore. Bo gave him the night off, appreciative of his efforts, so Michael went to town. The news of Marie’s death was starting to feel real and he didn’t want to feel it sober. He parked his car at his home behind the Brown Bull and went to the Feral, determined that he was going to drink until he’d spent the fifty crown tokens in his pocket.
The front bar had the usual Saturday night crowd without the usual Saturday night noise. He wondered if the news was well known. He saw Sandy Carmichael sitting with Alina French in their corner. Of course the news was known. He went to the bar.
Claudette was ready for him.
“Double tequila with dry ginger,” he said.
“Take it that means you heard?” she asked.
Michael nodded.
She nodded to the other end of the bar. Cassandra was sitting with a glass of cola and Tommy Grimes.
“How long’s she been here?” Michael asked.
Claudette glanced to a clock on the wall behind her. “Too long.”
“And Tommy? He’s normally at the Timber Getters, when he’s not got an invite to the Golf Club.”
“Looks like he’s lowered himself for the chance of a...”
Michael shook his head. “What’s she drinking?”
“There’s scotch in that cola, and young Mister Grimes is happy to keep buying them for her. She won’t be able to walk soon.”
“I’ll just have dry ginger,” Michael said and went to Cassandra.
“Well,” Tommy said. “If it’s not the missing security guard.”
“Hello Tommy. What brings you down to the rest of us?”
“I thought I’d come to visit, see what’s happening with the rest of the town. I hear your family fired poor Cassandra here.”
Michael looked at her.
“That’s right,” she said. “Don’t want no stinking Browns among their cows.”
“That can’t be right.” He looked at Tommy. “So nothing’s happening at the Golf Club these days?”
“There’s a new player in town,” Tommy said. “No one you need to know. You’re a circus man now, aren’t you? Why aren’t you with your circus buddies?”
“I come to make sure Cassandra’s alright.” He looked at her. “I heard the news earlier today.”
“Well I don’t think Marie would want you sitting around feeling bad about her.” She raised her glass in a toast. “I think...” she drank it and put it on the bar.
“I’ll get you another,” Tommy said.
“I think you’ve had enough,” Michael said. “This isn’t going to—”
“Claudette!” Tommy called. “Another here.”
“Plain cola!” Michael called and looked at Tommy. “I’ll pay for this one.”
“I don’t remember you being invited into this conversation.”
“I’m a friend of Cassandra.” Michael locked eyes with Tommy. “I come to speak with my friend.”
Tommy took a deep breath. “Well I’m talking with your friend, my friend, and it’s rude of you to interrupt two friends talking.”
“You’re friends now?”
“We’re becoming quite close.” Tommy put his arm around Cassandra. “We’re becoming very close.” He looked at her. “Aren’t we dear?”
Cassandra fell against him.
Claudette put two glasses on the bar. “Cola and Dry Ginger.”
“Thanks Claudette,” Michael said.
“There scotch in that cola?” Tommy asked.
“I think she’s had enough,” Michael told him.
“I think she’s old enough to make up her own mind.” Tommy looked at Cassandra. “You want another scotch, don’t you?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine with this.”
Tommy looked at Claudette. “Scotch.”
Sandy put his hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “I think the lady just told you she’s had enough.”
“I just—”
“I don’t think your dad’s going to be happy if you get yourself in a fight tonight. Especially since he’s the one who’ll have to process the report in the morning.”
“You think you’re special because you’re fucking a French?” Tommy asked.
“I think I’m special because I’m a copper and capable of arresting another copper’s son, even if that copper is my boss. You know how Ed hates it when someone causes trouble in his town.”
Tommy pointed at Michael. “I’ll get you for this Conroy,” he said and stormed away.
“Thanks,” Michael said.
Sandy looked at Cassandra leaning against the bar, then at Michael. “She going to be alright?”
“I’ll get her home.” He drank his ginger ale and reached for his wallet.
“No,” Claudette said.
“Come on.” Michael took Cassandra’s arm and helped her to the door.
Once in the street, they head west, toward Cassandra’s flat. Tommy stepped in front of them before they were a block away from the Feral. “I’ll take over from here,” he said.
“No Tommy,” Michael said. “She’s—”
“You want to come home with me, don’t you?” Tommy said to Cassandra.
“I just want to go home,” Cassandra said.
“See?” Tommy said.
“No, I don’t.”
Tommy lunged at Michael.
Michael stepped aside.
Tommy tried to punch, but Michael slapped his fist away.
Tommy tried again but this time Michael not only slapped his fist away but punched Tommy’s side. Tommy buckled in pain.
A green car started up across the road and drove off.
***
CASSANDRA’S FLAT WAS a small, one bedroom place near the western edge of town. Michael managed to get her safely up the stairs and to her front door. She had so much trouble with her keys that Michael opened the door for her and helped her inside.
She fumbled to turn the light on. He knew the flat was small, but didn’t realise how small and sparse. The door opened onto a small living area which had a sofa, two single lounge chairs and a coffee table. There was a table against one wall to the left which had only a radio and a small bookshelf of books against another. To the back was a small dining table with four chairs, a counter in front of a kitchen. There was a door leading out and it looked like a laundry to the right of it. The door to the bathroom was to the right and it looked like the bedroom was against the other wall, and beside the laundry.
“It’s shitty, but it’s home,” Cassandra said, her speech slurred.
“Well, let’s get you to bed,” Michael said and started to steer her toward the bedroom.
“Aren’t you going to close the door first?”
“I’m not staying.”
“Please stay,” she said softly. “I don’t want to be alone, not tonight.”
“Should I have left you with Tommy?”
She shook her head. “I’m drunk, but not that bad. Tommy’s still an arsehole. If I’d gone home with him I’d have regretted it in the morning. I might have regretted it tonight, but... No. I don’t feel safe.”
Michael nodded. “Alright,” he said and closed the door. “Now, your bed.”
“It’s this way.” She led him to the door he’d figured was to her bedroom. Her large double bed took up most of the room. “I’ve a secret,” she announced.
“What’s that?” Michael asked.
“I don’t really study alchemy. That’s just an excuse.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?” She pouted.
“It’s alright. I understand.”
“No you don’t. If you did, then you’d understand.”
“You’re right,” Michael said soothingly. “Are you going to get ready for bed?”
She nodded. “And you?”
“When you’re ready, I’ll...”
She took her shirt off.
“I’ll leave you to—”
“Aren’t you going to get ready too?” She unfastened her bra and let it fall to the floor.
“I’ll be sleeping on the sofa,” Michael stepped backward through the door.
“I thought you said you’d stay. Don’t you want me?”
Michael took a deep breath and looked at her breasts. He looked into her eyes. “You know I like you, I’ve liked you for—”
“You’ve wanted me almost since you met me. Now I want you and—”
“Yes. It’s true. I wanted you like this, but not like this.”
“Topless?”
“No... I like you. You’ve a lovely personality, you’re kind, you’re someone I can admire, you—”
“I’ve got nice tits?”
Michael looked at her breasts and nodded. “Yes, they’re outstanding. More outstanding than I ever imagined they’d be.”
“But not good enough for you now?”
“I won’t hesitate if you want this when you’re sober, and not feeling vulnerable. It’ll be a dream come true for me. I’ve been so obvious about it, you know that. It’s hard for me to say no, but no. This isn’t what I want. If we’re together, I want it to be something you don’t regret in the morning.”
“Oh shit,” Cassandra said.
“No, I don’t mean it to—”
“No, not that.” She rushed past him to the door to the bathroom.
He followed in time to see her leaning over the toilet bowl. She hadn’t quite made it in time and so was kneeling in a puddle of scotch-scented, cola-coloured vomit.
“You can’t sleep in those jeans,” Michael said as she looked up.
“Want to take them off me?” She giggled.
“Do you have pyjamas?”
She leaned over the bowl and vomited again. “In the second drawer of the wardrobe,” she said between retches.
“I’ll get them. You start cleaning yourself up, when you can.”
He went to the bedroom. The wardrobe was on the other side of the bed. As he opened it he noticed something under one of the pillows. He lifted the pillow and saw a set of flannelette pyjamas. They were bright pink with white love hearts on them. He never imagined Cassandra with something like this. He looked in the second drawer and found a red nightie among the shirts. He took the pink pyjamas to the bathroom instead.
“I found these,” he said.
Cassandra was standing at the basin, washing her face. She looked at the pyjamas. “They’re...”
“They’re lovely.” Michael smiled. “Do you want to shower before getting changed?”
“I’ve got to clean—”
“Don’t worry about that, you shower and change.”
“I don’t...”
“I won’t look. I promise.”
“Because you don’t want to?”
“Because I do want to. Bucket and mop in the laundry?”
“Beside the kitchen.”
He found a bucket and filled it with hot water before he heard the sound of the shower. There was some bleach beneath the laundry sink which he put into the water, then looked for a blanket to put on the sofa.
Cassandra emerged from the bathroom in her pink pyjamas.
“Looks lovely,” Michael said.
“Like a little girl?”
Michael shook his head. “I’ve seen you without a shirt, remember? I can never think of you as a little girl after that.”
She smiled and shook her head.
“Come on.” He took her arm and helped her into her bed. “There’s room in the bed.”
“Then you’ll be uncomfortable in the morning.” He put the blanket over her and tucked it in.
“I’ll remember we didn’t...”
“Then I’ll be uncomfortable laying next to a beautiful woman in such sexy pyjamas.”
“I shouldn’t be smiling. Marie...”
“I know. I feel it too.”
“Sometime when we can smile because it’s not a time we shouldn’t smile.”
“There must’ve been some tequila in that ginger ale I had after all.”
“Why’s that?” Cassandra asked.
“Because I understood what you said.”
She smiled. He kissed her forehead and she rolled over to go to sleep.
Michael mopped the bathroom and put Cassandra’s jeans in the laundry sink to soak in water with detergent before making himself not quite comfortable on the sofa to sleep.
Cassandra got up in the night to use the toilet. She stopped by the sofa on her way back to bed. Michael pretended to be asleep.
“That bed in there’s capable of holding three people. There’s only me in it,” she said.
“I already told you that—”
“It gets cold out in this flat. I’m sober enough to know what I’m doing and I promise I won’t touch you.”
Michael sighed.
“Besides, I’ve got a headache.”
“I wonder why?”
“I’m sure I don’t know. You take the left side.’ She went to the bedroom.
Michael followed.