The
last Wednesday of first Term
Inveresk
Primary School
2.25pm
PROLOGUE The
dragon lady blocks
the
way, the safe
looms
empty. . ..he cringes
small
hand on the metal door.
She
charges
claws
grasp she’s
singeing
him with anger
crying
thief
Matthew’s first day That Matthew
Bandon’s only five
at Big School and
he’s already done
(Mrs Mawson speaks) the
teachers’ cars
‘cause I was bored he
said
(good
job the teachers keep
their
bags inside)
Jane
Wilson says he just likes
locks the stupid girl here even preps
need
watching.
A mother’s caution: Matthew never ever
touch locks: on
other people’s doors
or bikes or little
jewellery boxes,
or teachers’/anybody’s
cars
Now, do you
understand?
Yes Mummy,
Now tell me . . .
and
he did
he’s
a good boy, my
Matthew we’ll have
no
problems now.
Any
afternoon in Babies
propped one
Hunter Street at each breast nice hot
Meet Gaye cup of tea and the
latest
Sue Grafton
from
the library the world
turns
on its axis
Matthew
and Melissa are
safe
at school there’s peace here
before
the first term ends
well
almost
Jason’s
just out
in
the passage working
on
his motorbike.
The
phone shrills
Germaine
starts and bites my nipple
I
slop tea on Rosanne’s leg
she
screams
Get that Jason
I
yell above the din
I
hear a crash
and
Bloody leggo
then
a silence
Mum its school!
If
you’d ask The
teacher’s pay-cheques
Mrs
Mawson gone!
Where was Queasling this time?
Some
headmaster! The dregs will always
slither
through the gaps
and
steal he should
know
that and dregs
is
what we get at Inveresk.
The
paycheques (end of term)
three
hundred from
the
mini-fair in cash.
We
know that Matthew’s good with locks
his
mother (slut she is
with
all those kids) has trained
him
up now where
was
her Melissa?
Tableau from The Corner
a third rate play Uniforms
stoop
over
Matthew
whimpering
in
a chair
Behind
the desk
Our
principal, Queasling
his
consternation’s slipping
Against
the wall
Blank
Grey suit
plain
clothes
new
for sure
I’ve
never seen him at the dog track
In
the foreground
Mrs
Mawson hovers
Gaye’s view of I’ve never liked her that
Mrs Mawson Mawson woman’s got
no
imagination besides
my
Matthew never lies.
If
he says he didn’t, then that’s
enough
for me.
(I
wish I’d told him not
to
open safes)
The
fingerprint team are
outside I
hold
the dragon lady’s
spiteful
gaze.
What’s missing
then? I
ask
And
then
the
nightmare starts.
The inquisition “And
who is Matthew’s father?”
I really can’t recall . . .
(“Not too many
like your Dad”
my
Mum had warned,
when
John shot
through
with Aunt Rosie’s takings
from
the grey-hound track
“but
kiddies are ok”)
grey
suit’s face is very close to
mine
“ . . . and Jason’s?”
I
say I really wouldn’t know
Looks
flick between the players
Welfare ‘s
just around the corner.
Guilty He’ll go to children’s court?
I
try to keep it courteous even though
the
dragon lady’s rude even though
grey
suit is stuck
in
a groove “This,” he says
”is
a very serious business
this
is a very serious business.” I
believe
in manners.
What I ask
is the procedure?
Female
pc shiny as a cupie doll
hands
me Matthew “Don’t
worry
now,” she says
“he’s
underage he won’t
be
charged.”
my
legs buckle
no
investigation no hearing no
chance
to prove him
innocent
My
Matthew’s five years old and
finished.
Fingerprints Two sets on the safe
Melissa
overheard
Queasling’s and the
little kid’s
Gloves We all know thieves wear gloves
Jason’s
adamant
At
Inveresk?
That
should make it easy
After school next day: In the kitchen
A family portrait the
babies playing ‘shred
the
potplant’ with the cat.
Sprawled
on the lounge
eight-year-old
Melissa
engrossed
in the
Financial Times
her
Wednesday
treat.
(did
I mention she’s quite
bright?)
Reading
comics in the boys’ room
Jason he’s my eldest
Huddled
by the fire watching the telly
little
Matthew.
Gaye decides I’m
tired the twins
are
grizzling Jason’s
underfoot
as usual
(at
seventeen you’d think
he’d
try and get a job)
and
now I’ve failed
Matthew.
The
books all say
“encourage
their fine
motor
skills” but I guess
the
kiddy safe just wasn’t
such
a good idea
and
when everybody
thought
it cute
to
bring him their old
locks
to practice on
I
should have intervened.
But
this is getting
no-where Fisher
Price
have
taken
their
‘crack your
own
safe’ off the
market,
and Kinsey or V.I.
wouldn’t
sigh into their
cups
of tea they’d get up
off
their tails and
solve
the crime.
The neighbours
Friendly folk round
here they’ve all
called
in to sympathise
bring
me up to date
“Good
little boy your
Matthew I know he’d
never
do a thing like that.”
And
such a sudden interest
in
the furniture and nick nacks
round
the house
File Cards Just Like I crack the
cellophane,
a Real Detective one of Jason’s ‘network’
salvaged
these to help.
Where
from? It doesn’t
do
to ask too many questions.
The
house is quiet for once.
I start to jot:
The
dragon lady locked the cheques
away
at twelve (everybody knows
her
routine’s set in concrete)
Two
hours and
twenty
minutes
to
cover.
The final term assembly Ivy Croswell’s
The school cleaner gone cried she did cut to the
retires quick
no doubt with
no
more mopping floors
or
scrubbing out the
senior
boys’ urinal
Her
farewell speech was
moving,
so they tell me
(I
wouldn’t set a foot
in
Inveresk while Matthew’s
in
the frame)
Mrs
Croswell told the
kids
to keep their little hands
off
what’s not their’s and
aways
to uphold the
school’s
good name.
Our
school’s got a name
and
its holding up nicely.
Matthew
Matthew’s
thumb-sucking
off
his food
even
fish and chips
curled
up in the babies’ cot
the
watch his sister bought
him
with the savings from
her
piggy bank
unopened
Who’d have a clair- The phone its Mum
voyant for a mother? I
draw a breath
“The
energy round
your
place,” she snaps
is
heavy.”
Did you say heavy metal Mum?
Jason’s playing Kurt Cobain.
But
she’s having none of that.
“Think
you can keep your
mother
in the dark? Now
what
is going on?”
(Life
was so much simpler when
Mum
was into Mills & Boon)
Look
Mum, the cards aren’t always right!
“And
what about the gossip
round
White City?” She had
me
now Aunt Rosie runs a book
at
the dog track and punters
tend
to talk.
(I
study crayon scribble on the wall
the
peeling paper in the hall)
and
try a soft-shoe shuffle.
“Look
girl,” my mother fairly bites,
“who
do you think your humouring?”
Matthew has his say I’n
not a naughty boy
the
workjobs in the passage
was
too easy
Mr
Queasling wasn’t
there,
an’ Mummy
tol’
me, “Neva steal
a
fing.”
I
had a little safe
when
I was free
an’
I’m sure I heard
him
say one day
“That
safe’s a problem, always
b-word
sticks,” he
musta
been too
sad
to say a word
that
Mummy
doesn’t
like
so
I jus’ fought I’d help
an’
everybody’s cross
and
says I took the money
just
cause I’m
good
at locks
But
I’n not
a
naughty boy.
Counsel from “Don’t you dare: let
Gaye’s Mum that
child go as far as the
front
gate let alone
near
all those gossips down
the
street until this
things
cleared up
we’ve
got to keep
him
clear of
prying
eyes.”
I
wait
I
know there’s more
“In
fact your Aunt Ethel out at
Evandale,
could use some
company I’ll pick
Matthew
up
tomorrow.”
“And
talking of eyes
Have
you forgotten
I
can see further
than
most?”
Chalk
and cheese Aunt
Ethel’s
ducks
and chooks
starched
table-cloths
and
home-made
apple-pie.
Aunt
Rosie’s
sharpened
at
the
track she’s
got
contacts
and
Melissa’s
her
favourite.
The first reading Bliss
this couch is comfort, not
like mine at home
all lumps
Here there’s only grown-up mess
no lipstic murals on the wall
and quiet even the tea
tastes better.
Mum’s old rocker
marks its measured
pace
“What awful suits . . .”
her voice cuts
the silence
“St Vinnie’s
business line I think . . .”
her disgust is palpable . . .
I wonder if my house has
burnt down yet (Jason’s
sitting with the twins)
“They’re quite alright!”
my mother snaps. I don’t
dare ask.
Mother and the rocking
concentrate, “. . .how squalid!”
the rocking builds, this time
I hold my breath Mum’s
excited now “. . . a pile of t-shirts
on the floor . . . underneath
. . .a shoe box” (this was
looking good) “. . . with shoes inside
. . .”
the rocking slows
Great I breathe,
the chair jolts to a stop
Cool blue eyes snap open
“I have got other things to do!”
I shrink the room
chills
I’m
sorry Mum pathetic,
but the rocking starts
“. . . the stink . . . those runners
have
seen better days . . .”
the rhythm evens out
“. . .they’re stuffed with . . .”
(here my mother’s face contorts until
I’m scared the wind will change)
“At last
we’ve found the cheques!”
Queasling’s stepson’s The
Bitch!
not a happy lad Why she married
a
worm like him
I’ll
never know now it’s “Shane
its
time you earned
your
keep,” and she
lines
me up some stupid
job
with AMP.
You’d
think the
lousy
cow was broke.
I’ve
had to turn
my
hand to anything
I
can lucky
I
met up with
Ivy
Croswell.
4.20pm at An engine
Inveresk School shudders and dies
car door slams
No-one
else here
in
the early evening
shadows.
“Hey,
Mr Shonary,” the
gate
creaks more loudly
at
this hour.
Melissa
B’s so small beside
this
man his hand on
her
shoulder they fade
toward
a distant door.
“I
can’t stay long,, I’m
running
late.”
The
air grows chill as
they
disappear
inside.
Melissa’s late back “Don’t you
boss me Jason Bandon
from Aunt Rosie’s none of your business why I’m late
and
anyway,” she’s downright smug,
“I’ve
been helping Mr Shonary.”
I’m
cold
(perhaps
the fire’s
gone
out)
It’s
holidays the
school
librarian’s
first
year out
older
than most and
I
don’t like his style or
Melissa’s
tone of voice
Still
most problems
can
be solved with
tact.
Melissa! Get in here!
I
yell.
Mum’s won again! “Now what’s this all about?”
Mum
scrapes, I chop
carrots
clunk in the pot
the
kitchen’s almost quiet and
Mum
looks tired
It’s nothing Mum a
little plan that’s all, I
try to
keep
it cool.
“Of course dear now
I’ll tell you what
so you get safely home on time
next term I’ll get
your Gran to pick
you up right on the
bell
she’ll wait
outside your classroom
door.”
A little blackmail “He said I can
use
goes a long way the library,”
I
point out I’m
missing
something
here, “for my plan,”
she
says
For what?
“The
paycheques didn’t
fade
into thin air!”
Less cheek my girl, and anyway
I’m sorting that.
“At school?”
She
had a point besides
I
wasn’t getting far
So tell
“Simple
Mum I
log
the movements of
everyone
at school
‘on
the day in
question’
as they say and . . . ”
And why the library?
“Mum!
I can’t keep notes
about
them in my bag”
No dear they wouldn’t stay
there long
“So I keep them
in the library
and
work there first half
of
lunch and after school
when
kids aren’t there.
Ok?”
Melissa
waits
And you do what?
My
child spells it out again
slowly
in words of
one
syllable
“
. . . and Mr Shonary will help
by
making kids available
to
question.”
Melissa’s
smart and
the
more on the team
the
better but is it
safe?
A
Brief Interview You know my Aunty Rose
with Shonary I
trust
There’s
no point
wasting
words
“Is
that a threat?”
He’s
quite direct Dick
Shonary perhaps he’s not
so
shifty after all you
never
know with men.
Of course it is
Melissa’s eight.
He
nods we’ve reached
an
understanding, and
I
thank him for
his
time
Melissa’s
now
our
inside girl
The Second Reading “
The money’s gone!”
the
rocking stops abruptly
I
hold my tongue
no
point in pushing luck
“Ah, its been
moved . . .
under
a floorboard (how
unoriginal)
. . .” I wait
“There’s
a figure
shadowy
. . . a man I think . . .
oh
no, its gone.”
The
rocking slows and
Mum’s
a shadow of herself
the
light’s gone out.
School’s back and the One card for
each
file cards are out suspect
Now
who would know the
combination?
*Queasling
he’d
probably need to write it down
(he’s
not that bright)
*therefore
any child at
Inveresk
who can read
*Kay
Keys the secretary
she’s
new and only
works
part-time
the
pay’s not good
*and
Mrs Mawson I change
my
mind and cross her off the list
she
hasn’t got enough
immagination
*the
school cleaner
(now
retired),
nosy
enough to know
everything and she
wears
rubber gloves
I
save Mother’s
stuff
about the shoes
and
suits for later
and
start on ‘opportunity’.
In the playground The brawl
might
at Inveresk have lasted
longer
they
lunge
she
drops and rolls
clear
as her opponents sprawl
on
asphalt her shoe collides
with
one lad’s ribs
she
grabs the hand that’s
reaching
for her
ankle a finger cracks
the boys lie there in shock
she
ambles toward the library
dabbing
with her hanky at the grazes
on
her leg
Not a minute’s peace The
doorbell’s furious
I
hurtle down the passageway,
and
trip flay against the motorbike.
Shocked
I shout some
words
the children shouldn’t hear the
doorbell
won’t let up the babies start up
their
A’capella act I yell Hang on
hoist
the babies from their cots
(Rosanne
smells foul Germaine’s
a
trifle damp) and lower them
to
the floor.
They
head for the boys’ room
in
search of adventure.
I
ease my way towards the door why
is
everything so grey? I think
I
might just make it..
The
arms that steer me
to
the kitchen and a chair
are
soft I register
Kay
Keys
the
tell-tail cards
are
everywhere
“Cataloguing your household effects?”
Melissa’s in danger “Your girl’s
not safe at
Inveresk!”
What’s
this woman
on
about?
School’s safer than
my passage, I
retort,
I’m
feeling
better
now.
Kay
Keys hesitates the
silence
weighs
at
last she speaks.
“Your
daughter’s in
the
sick-room.
Two
grade-sixes tried
to
sort her out the word’s
got
round
Melissa’s
asking far
too
many questions.”
Melissa’s where?
I
know my daughter’s
brand
of self-defence
Aunt
Rosie taught
her
well.
“Just
grazes” and the boys?
“ they’re in
casualty,
they’ll
live.”
Jason helps “Mum,
you never listen!”
Jason’s
following me
round
the kitchen
the
twins need changing
dinner’s
late I’m
missing
Matthew.
I told you that I
can’t afford Macdonalds!
“Naw
Mum its those boys
what
tried to beat Melissa
up!” I’m weary Help
me with
the vegies then and tell.
A syndicate of The scheme’s adventurous,
grade six boys weekly
contributions
courtesy
the female staff
(men
tend to keep their wallets in their
pants)
capital invested in a
product market guaranteed.
“and
pot’s illegal Mum.”
Jason’s
stating the obvious,
these
boys have too much
to
protect “’an Mum,”
Jason’s
wide-eyed
with
horror at the thought
“they
reckon they’ve got real good
ways
of fixing girls.”
A little talk My version’s edited
with Melissa Melissa’s cool as
a
cucumber, “Don’t
worry
Mum I know
they
didn’t pinch the
cheques I’ve put the
word
around.”
Taking out The
library’s abuzz
Insurance with ‘big
boys’
I
casually scan feet
no
canvas Dunlops here mostly
K-mart
Nike lookalikes
some
leather shoes
and
as for business
suits my mind’s wandering
I
rein it in a boy
his
hand in plaster
hovers
“Ryan,
meet Melissa’s
mum.” the Librarian’s casual
friendly I firmly shake
the
plastered hand and
offer
advice on matters
of
personal
safety.
As
I leave I beckon Shonary
stage
a whisper . . .
Melissa tells me grade 6
boys are in the clear.
The Dream The pram’s so
hard
to
push I’m gasping,
lean
against a post
to
catch my breath it comes
from
nowhere screaches round
the
corner horn blaring, just
missing
the pram a gleaming
white
Mercedies.
A
pink mist near Roelf Voss
dissolves
the car
the
pram careers across
the
road, the babies scream
I
jolt awake.
a
fluro orange
number
plate flashes
across
my retina it reads
SHANO.
Gaye and Melissa The tray is
loaded
Catch Up eggs and toast
and tea
a
quartered orange
I
shake off the dream
and
note the two geraniums
in
a jar the extra cup
the
file cards tucked
under
Melissa’s arm.
Melissa
settles on the bed
“Don’t
think I’ll go to
school
today,” she says.
. . .
Melissa’s
all business
cards
arranged
in
labelled stacks (each fastened with
a
rubber band) she begins
with
card one.
“Old
Queasling . . . ”,
Mr to you, I snap it’s quite
an
effort keeping stern she
takes
the easy option tries again
Grade
six boys had something
called
‘career options’
at
Marsh Mechanics Melissa said
they
left with Queasling right
on
one (sexism’s rampant at Inveresk)
Mrs
Padgett had
the
girls for sewing.
So the headmaster had time
to take the cheques
“Don’
think so,” Melissa
plasters
Vegemite on toast I
shudder
as she bites
“two
girls were there
all
lunch they always do his
cupboards
end of term
He
put the mini-fair cash
in
the safe and left.
Chantelle’s
a bit thick but
Bianca’s
not so its gotta be right.”
And Mrs Keys? “She
leaves
at
one on Wednesday’s.”
Gossip at the 4-Square Some
life insurance
agent’s
working Inveresk.
The
grannies with
their
full-cream milk
and
sandwich sliced
are
full of it.
And
yesterday
guess
who popped
in
again for cigarettes?
Quite
odd when
Ivy
Croswell lives
the
other side
of
town.
What’s
she doing I’ll do that! I
snatch the
here this time? kettle rummage in the
cupboard there must
be
clean cups somewhere.
Kaye
Keys eyes me
“You
don’t like interlopers
in
your kitchen then?”
I
don’t need this I’m
missing
Matthew I can’t
get
to Evandale without a car
I’m
trying to solve the crime
and
clear his name “Or do
you
think its me who
took
the cheques?”
My
silence hangs heavy
she
twists a strand of hair and
finally
decides “I borrowed
baby
seats from down the
road I thought you’d like
to
go and see your
little
boy the car’s
outside.”
Gaye works late All
this tea’s getting
to
my bladder I think I’ve
overdone
the Tim Tams
and
file cards have
their
limitations.
Kay’s
been kind but
that
could be a ploy
she
knows the
combination
of the safe
and
still wants me to take
Melissa
out of school.
I
wonder where she was
that
Wednesday after lunch.
A Second Conference Thirty-five
with Melissa visits to the loo
by
varied routes
Melissa
details who was
where
when who saw
whom
do what
“Mum,
you’re not listening!”
Not true there was quite a spate
of bladder problems on that
afternoon and Rachael Lewis
left for the orthodontist
somewhere round 1.30.
“And
Justin Rawlings
said
he saw the meanest car”
she’s
full of eight-year-old derision
“said
Mrs Croswell pushed right past him
in
the doorway (prob’ly
coming
from the outside loos,
she
had a bucket she was
wearing
rubber gloves) and
then
he said he saw this car pull
into
Goderich Street.”
Did he I suck the
egg-yolk
from
my finger describe it?
“Sure did but
its the biggest load
of . . .”
Now you just tell me what
he said. “But
Mum . . . he said he
saw
a white Mercedes sports with
this
wierd fluro number
plate. Come on Mum
in
our school ground?”
Down at the The cheque’s one of them
dog track alright “My mother’s
she’s
endorsed it
on the back,”
he
says the wallet’s
Italian leather
monographed the clothes
shriek
money this boy’s no
teacher’s
son.
The
bookie’s cool and
takes
the bet.
Kay again She’s on the
phone
insisting,
“You’re
still
not sure I’m
in
the clear if I’m to
help
you sort this out its time
to
clear it up.”
“See
you at one!”
the
line goes dead.
I
never had a chance.
Aunt Rosie has Mrs Mawson’s paycheque is on the
some news table Kay Keys is due in half an hour
and
Auntie Rosie’s settling in.
Why
don’t I want her here
when
Kay arrives?
“Passed
at the track this morning”
I
angle for the short version,
“Flash
lad with
a
nice white Merc.”
That will, I
say, be Shano.
Its
almost one I’m still
explaining
and Aunt Rosie’s
toying
with her fruitcake.
“Right,”
she says suddenly,
brandishing
the cheque,
“I
think its time I visited
Detective
Sergeant, Jones!”
A strange visit “Try trusting your inner
voice”
Kay
Keys eyes my file cards
measures
my reactions explains
her
movements over that missing
hour she’s either on the level
or
she’s good.
“So
do I help or do I go?”
I’m
waiting for an omen,
the
phone shrills I’m short
and
Mother’s extra cool
“you’ll
be sorry if that woman
goes.”
What are you on about?
“Suit
yourself,” the line
goes
dead.
Kay’s
deadly pale and
waiting.
Would you like fruit-cake
with your tea?
I take Jason into “You never
tell me nothin’,”
my confidence Jason’s sulking just because
I
made him put the nappies out
and
pick up all the spark-plugs
off
the floor he’s in a huff
and
then I think
perhaps
I’m not quite fair
so
I tell him about the white Merc.
about
the loose floorboards and
Mrs
Mawson’s cheque.
“You
never heard from Jonsey then?”
I
admit he’s right maybe
Aunt
Rosie’s lost her touch.
“Jonsey’s
juvenile he’ll never
get
no points for solving
this
one.”
Jason’s
right again (its seems
the
boy has brains he’s never
used
before) the case will
go
to
for
Detective Seargant Jones.
It
seems its up to us.
Then we’ll have to find where
Shano’s put those cheques.
“That’s
easy,” says my eldest
I
wish I’d consulted Jason sooner.
A midnight exploit The rain’s a
solid wall
my
new St Vinnie’s rain-coat’s
failed
and I’m wedged in
the
BP depot fence I know
I’m
mad.
Jason get me out of here! I’m
released
by scrambling hands
and
wire-cutters we push
through
hidden undergrown
and
dodge round tanks “It’s safer
this
way won’t be seen,” Jason
has
his reasons I prefer
the
footpath.
Risdon
Street’s all charming rentals,
1920’s
originals no expense
wasted
on fripperies our
quarry’s
down in Hobart overnight,
(Jason
has his sources) and his
mate
Wade from No 23’s on watch.
The
rain lets up a cat prowls
past
22 “puss puss
puss,”
the voice is ancient
as
the sagging boards then silence.
Furtively
we head for 17.
“The
Garage ain’t any good, ‘he
keeps
the car in there!” Of course
he does! “I
mean ‘e’s had it fixed up
good ’e don’ want no-one
to
see the Merc no
loose
floorboards in a concrete
floor”
The
shed’s down the back
wind
whistles through
the
walls floorboards gape,
patched
with bits of tin but
none
of them are loose no cheques
or
shoe-box here. “Reckon its a
different
shed!” So much for
trusting
Jason!
“Aw
Mum, ya can’t do
that!” My bedroom key
turns
in the back-door lock and
we’re
inside the night rain’s
drumming
on the roof
I
flash my torch across the
floor “No good Mum,
its
all wall to wall” he’s right
old
lino and bits of carpet
firmly
nailed except
the
sunroom.
We’re
exposed the street
light
slats through
venetians Jason
finds
the loose board first
I
plunge my hand in deep my elbow
wedges Jason pulls me free.
“What
about the wardrobe, Mum?”
Grotty
business suits and shirts
and
in the corner very
smelly
Dunlops.
Eureka!
Jason looks at me
as
if I’m mad I’ve found it!
Counsel of war I’m
fuzzed with
food
& wine the children
are
at Sizzlers all five of them
(I
pity Aunty Rose & Mum)
an
open fire flickers
Dick Shonary and Kay and I
eat slowly
sweet silence.
Suddenly
I see myself wedged in the
BP
fence and start to laugh my sides
hurt by the time I’ve recovered
we’re
well into it. “And where was Shano?”
An insurance job in Hobart, Jason
said.
“OK,
supposing Shano’s got the cheques
and
Mrs Croswell slipped them to him
in
the carpark we still don’t know
where
they are now? and what on earth’s
he
doing in Risdon St?”
Kay’s
got a point.
A
conversation comes to me: Maggie
and
Ethel at the 4-Square said some
new
life insurance man had
sold
them policies.
“Young
women then,” Dick asks,
Oh no, Ethel Jones is 75 and
Maggie’s 85 if she’s a day.
“But
how does Ivy Croswell
come
into all of this?”
I bet she sets him up with
customers!
I
almost shriek must be the wine,
He owes her, so she gets him
to pass the cheques!
The
evening slows
Dick
makes to leave, Hey,
what about a lift!
talk about
the
quick and the dead did
he
think I was staying
all
night?
That nice young He’s not slick,
insurance man. got no company car
We meet Wade’s nan (he don’t make
and she explains. enough
commission)
doesn’t
even have
a
decent pair of shoes
but
that young
Alistair he does his
best
to see us right.
Aunt Rosie knows Gloria Smart?
Wade’s nan I
went to school with
her they say she
took
her niece’s little
boy that must be Wade.
So
that’s our Shano’s
game fleecing nice
old
ladies
I
must catch up with
Gloria
soon.
Aunt Rosie’s Her purse is battered
Masquerade She huddles in Wade’s Nan’s
old
chair carefully counts her money
out,
“Fifty dollars, you said?
I’ve
got enough,” she beams
“and
$3.95 until next pension
day,” The insurance agent
reaches
out his hand
“Remember
Dad’s old addage,
sister
dear no receipt no
money?” But Alistaire
is
on
the ball “The computer
keeps
a very accurate
record.”
She
cradles her
cash, “Oh, I don’t
trust
those computers!”
The
receipt’s plain label
Wade’s
Nan’s knitting anxiously
Auntie
Rosie sips her tea
complacently. “And now
your
policy,” Alistaire is
all
concern, “we’ll keep
that
in the vault for you.”
“That’s
ok,” Aunt Rosie
simpers
happily, “I’ve
got
a lovely safe you’ll
bring
it next week then?”
Wade’s
nan spears her knitting,
“We’ve
been had!”
there’s
no phone number on
the
receipt and no address and
Allistair’s
not coming back
next
week.
“Don’t
worry,” Kay and
I
emerge from behind
the
kitchen door, “We’ve
got
it all on tape.”
“Time
to call the cops”
she
grabs the phone
(Wade’s
nan doesn’t mess about)
Auntie
Rosie stops her just in time.
“E’s
not real bright then?”
We’ve
explained our theory
on
the pay-cheques on Mrs C
and
Shano
and
detective seargant Jones.
“Let’s
just wait a day or two
because
you’ve gotta clear
your
boy.”
What’s ‘luv’ on about? “Aunty Gloria”,
a
shrieking apparition
charges
in the door
“Aunty
Gloria, ya gotta help me!”
Wade’s
nan’s all patience
the
apparition sobs and gulps
at
sweetened tea then she spots me
“Who’s
she?” “Mrs Bandon, luv, you
know
her little Matthew ‘ad all that
trouble
down at school” ...luv’s’ looking
nervous, “an you know Mrs Saltswamp
she’s
little Matthew’s great Aunty Rose.”
‘Luv’s’
a startled rabbit frozen
“Shit!” she says
and
bolts.
All is revealed “Why’d
y’ do it luv?”,
Gloria’s
fussing with the tea,
‘luv’
twists a strand of stringy
hair her eyes are huge, “Mum
reckoned
school should haveta pay!”
“For
what?” Kay’s got a grip on ‘luv’
she
can’t resist, “You know, me braces!”
1.30 - orthodontist, I’m
reciting
from
my daughter’s list,
so this is Rachael Lewis!
Kay
eases ‘luv’ into a chair
the
girl chews fingers clothed in purple
woolie
gloves, “I ‘ad the register..
she
mutters, “an ol’ Queasling went an’
said
to put it on the desk an when I did
the
safe it wasn’ properly shut.”
she’s
whimpering now.
“I
thought I’d help me Mum.”
Kay’s
cross-examination’s cool,
but
kind her words are measured
“You
took the cash and cheques,”
the
subject nods, “but you don’t have
them
now?”
Rachel
pushes back
her
hair her sleeve slides
down
a skinny arm that’s
blooming
bruises.
“Mum
don’ believe me! She foun’
$10
in me jeans an’ made me tell!”
she
wails, “So where’s
the
money now?”
“I
can’ tell, truly, Mrs Keys,
Mrs
Croswell said that
there’d
be trouble if I did.”
The
the cheques and about the floorboards
Jason reflects I told her we shoulda looked
in
Shano’s loo.
A proposition from “Dinner for
two to celebrate,
Kay Keys my treat.”
I
think about Kay’s cosy flat
Without
Dick Shonary we’d
probably
run out of
conversation besides
Matthew’s
just come home
and
the kids deserve
a
treat.
What about fish and chips
at my place?
CONFIDENCE Jason would have got six years
for
TRICKSTERS less
than that but when you’ve got money
Saturday
Examiner, strings
are pulled the
13th
August, 1994. paycheques
hardly
got a mention in the press
At
least the locals know
our
Matthew’s in the clear
he’ll
be back at
school
on Monday
Divine Retribution The headline
says it all
Examiner,
siren’s
scream didn’t slow at the
20th
August, 1994. intersection the fire at the Board Mill was
nothing
compared to the
Mercede’s
twisted wreck.
The
fire-truck driver’s
in
the LGH in shock
he
dreams of a woman’s severed
leg,
of bloodied rubber gloves
and
Mr Sheen and a fluro
orange
number plate
throbbing.
. . . . .
The
article concludes:
Dr Threadbo of the LGH says the
unfortunate fire-officer has been
greatly encouraged by the flowers
and
streams letters of support from
well-wishers
and members of a group who
call themselves
“Grannies of Inveresk”