The Jacaranda House, page 13
Gina seemed to be having a lovely time, but Polly wasn’t.
After a few minutes she said a bit too sharply, ‘Gina.’
Gina stopped prancing about. ‘Mmm?’
Polly shook her head. ‘Never mind.’
Gina tried on another dress and did a few twirls while Rhoda and Star, clicking their fingers, launched into ‘Anything Goes’.
But Polly couldn’t stand it, though it was taking her a while to work out why. ‘That’s enough,’ she said eventually, not wanting to spoil Gina’s fun but unable to tolerate the larking about any longer. Even the remote thought of Gina earning her living on a stage the way she herself did horrified her. ‘Put the dresses back now.’
‘A bit too close to home?’ Rhoda said. ‘Sorry. Didn’t think.’
And then Terry arrived. Polly let him in. ‘I’ve got a bone to pick with you.’
‘Uh-oh,’ he said, sounding, to her, totally unconcerned.
‘You got Star a puppy. I said she wasn’t allowed to have one. Rhoda told you that. I heard her.’
‘Did she?’ Terry said, his head cocked to one side, curls flopping. ‘I don’t remember that. Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘But he’s a lovely little puppy, and a pedigree. And poor Star’s been so desperate for someone to love.’
Polly felt her temper slip its moorings, but lowered her voice for Gina’s sake. ‘Fuck you, Terry. You don’t even know Star.’
Terry stepped swiftly around her. ‘And who’s this gorgeous girl? You must be Gina. Honestly, Polly, she looks so like you. Those cheekbones! So, sweetheart, how do you like your new home?’
Polly closed her eyes. What a little fucker.
Gina looked at Terry for quite a long time. Then she said, ‘I like it a lot.’
‘Here, look, we’re trying on our old costumes,’ Rhoda blurted. She grabbed an emerald green gown covered with spangles. ‘This’d suit you. Try it.’
Terry’s hands went to his cheeks and he let out a squeak of delight. ‘Can I? Can I really? I’d love to.’
Rhoda handed him the gown.
‘And are there shoes?’
Rhoda peeped into a cloth bag hooked over the clothes rack, said ‘Nope, those are mine, too big for you. Hang on,’ and grabbed the next bag. ‘These might be a closer fit, they’re Star’s.’
‘Where can I change?’
‘In my room,’ Star said. ‘Watch out for the puppy’s box. I haven’t cleaned it yet.’
Off Terry went. Polly waited for Gina to say something about his ‘new home’ comment, but she didn’t. She looked at her daughter but Gina only smiled back, sitting now on the couch, Tatty on her lap and Baz, as she’d taken to calling Sebastian, snuggled into her side. She certainly looked at home.
Terry took ages. At one point he stuck his head out and asked, ‘Is this what you wear at Les Girls?’
‘It was,’ Rhoda said. ‘We’re not doing that act any more.’
Finally he came out, wearing the dress and the shoes, which were a little too big, with his hair piled on top of his head, a pair of Star’s dangly diamante earrings and about an inch of Star’s make-up, and looking quite stunning.
Rhoda whistled.
‘God,’ Star said. ‘You look amazing.’
‘I do, don’t I?’ Terry did a twirl and walked across the lounge, his narrow hips swaying smoothly, a shapely, hairless leg revealed through the slit in the dress every time he took a step. ‘Could do with some tits, though.’
‘Would you mind?’ Polly said. ‘There’s a child here.’
Terry looked contrite. ‘Oh, sorry, sweetie. How old are you again?’
‘Nearly twelve,’ Gina said, glancing down at her own chest. ‘How old are you?’
‘Old enough.’
Polly had had enough. ‘Look, if you don’t pull your head in you can leave.’
‘Sorry.’
‘I mean it,’ Polly warned.
Terry flopped down in a chair, looking deflated. ‘No, I really am sorry. I’m in one of my moods. Sorry.’ He heaved out a sigh. ‘I had a fight with my friend. He . . . well, it was a real fight.’ Slipping the neck of the dress off his shoulder he revealed an ugly, dark bruise surrounding a graze not yet scabbed over. ‘I don’t know if I can go back there. I don’t know if I should.’
‘Oh my God!’ Rhoda exclaimed. ‘No, you bloody well shouldn’t! No one has to put up with that sort of treatment.’
‘But I don’t have anywhere else to go,’ Terry said, looking down at his hands. ‘Except the streets.’
Polly said, ‘Well, unfortunately, we’re choc-a-bloc here.’
‘There’s the couch,’ Star suggested.
‘No there isn’t,’ Polly said. There was absolutely no way she was having Terry in the flat overnight, especially while Gina was there. She didn’t know why he gave her the shits, but he did. ‘My tenancy agreement says a maximum of four people here at a time. Sorry.’
‘Oh well,’ Terry said with another sigh. ‘I suppose I’ll just go back to Roslyn Gardens. He might have calmed down by now.’
‘No, don’t do that!’ Rhoda said. ‘Have you got any money?’
Terry shook his curls.
So what’s happened to your fantastic allowance? Polly wondered.
‘Hold on.’ Rhoda shot into her bedroom and came back with her purse. ‘Here’s twenty quid. It’s all I’ve got at the moment. Go and stay at the Y until you can get yourself sorted out.’
Polly barely succeeded in keeping her mouth shut. Giving him money was the worst thing Rhoda could do, like feeding a stray cat.
‘That’s really kind of you, Rho,’ Terry said, taking the cash. ‘I don’t know what to say. You’re a true girlfriend. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘I’ll have to get a job now to support myself, I suppose,’ Terry said. ‘Hey, do you think you could get me an interview at Les Girls?’
Star and Rhoda both looked uncomfortable. Star said, ‘Well, you definitely look the part, but darl, you’re not old enough.’
‘Couldn’t you tell a teeny-weeny lie for me?’ Terry said. ‘Couldn’t you say I’m a personal friend and vouch for me being twenty-one? I look older than eighteen with make-up on. I mean, you can see that.’
Rhoda looked at Star, who blew out her cheeks. ‘We can try, I suppose.’
‘Sammy the Shit will ask for ID,’ Rhoda said. ‘Whoops, sorry, Gina love, that was a bad word, wasn’t it?’
‘My Uncle Sonny says it all the time.’
‘Will he, though?’ Star said. ‘He’s not exactly on the straight and narrow.’
‘But he won’t want to be closed down for hiring under-age performers, will he?’
‘Oh, please can you try?’ Terry wheedled. ‘I could come with you tonight. I’ll come in drag and he’ll see how gorgeous I look.’
‘But can you dance?’ Rhoda asked. ‘It’s not just a matter of standing there looking fantabulous. You have to dance in a chorus, and if you’re a break-out act you have to mime as well. There’s more to that than meets the eye, you know. It’s quite an advanced skill. And we actually sing some of our numbers.’
‘I can do all that. I did ballet when I was younger, for years. I was very good.’
Rhoda and Star looked at each other. Star shrugged. ‘OK, we’ll ask Sammy tonight. But honestly, love, don’t get your hopes up. I’d love it if he gave you a job, but he can be really picky. And a bastard.’
Terry burst into tears. ‘Oh, thank you, girls. Thank you so much.’ He wept for a few moments, blotted his tears on his sleeve, then said, ‘Can I borrow this dress?’
‘It’s a bit big for you,’ Star said.
‘Can you take it in for me, Rhoda? You sew, don’t you? Please?’
‘Oh.’ Rhoda looked at her watch. ‘Well . . .’
‘No she can’t,’ Polly said. ‘She doesn’t have time, and anyway it’s Star’s dress, tailored to fit her. Why don’t you hire an outfit?’
‘I can’t afford it.’
Disgustedly, Polly took ten pounds from her purse and handed it to him. Anything to stop him leeching off her friends. ‘And you’d better turn up at Les Girls tonight in a hired dress. I’m not giving you that out of the goodness of my heart.’
‘Thank you,’ Terry said. ‘And I’m sure you’re not. You know, Polly, have you ever wondered why you’re always so angry?’
Rhoda stood quickly. ‘We’ll see you tonight, shall we, Terry? Do you know where the back door is to Les Girls? Shall we meet you there?’
They agreed on a time and Rhoda hurried Terry out the door.
No one said anything for perhaps half a minute, then Gina asked, ‘Don’t you like Terry, Mum?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘I think you’re being a bit mean,’ Rhoda said.
‘I think you’re being a bit naive,’ Polly replied. ‘He’s a user.’ That was it: he manipulated. He watched and listened and worked out what people wanted to hear, then used that knowledge to his own advantage. And if he knew he couldn’t exploit someone, he shot barbs at them to shut them down. ‘I don’t even think there was a friend at Roslyn Gardens. I think that was all a load of shit.’
‘You don’t know that,’ Star protested. ‘You saw that bruise. Someone had a go at him. I think you’re being a bit cruel.’
‘I think he got done over by a customer,’ Polly said. ‘And I think because he’s one of your lot, you’re so busy giving him the benefit of the doubt you can’t see what’s right in front of you. You’re tranny-biased.’
There was a ringing silence, then Star and Rhoda burst into laughter.
‘Tranny-biased! We’ve never been called that before, have we?’ Rhoda said.
Laughing too, now, Polly said, ‘Look, I know how hard it is for you, all of you. I live with you, remember? And I know Terry’s only here in the Cross because his life must have been rubbish in New Zealand. I understand all that. But trannies are still just people, and some people can be arseholes, never mind what else they are. So I’m just saying be careful. All right?’
‘That’s sweet of you, Pol,’ Star said, ‘but we’re right. We can look after ourselves.’
*
The following day Polly again didn’t get out of bed until almost lunchtime, and when she did it was because Gina came in to wake her and tell her Evie had arrived.
Polly felt awful on several levels: she’d left Gina alone all morning again, and also she was unwell from last night’s brandy intake and the after-effects of her sleeping tablets. They’d had a good time, her and Gina, going up the street for a takeaway then coming home and playing cards and talking and what have you, but she’d probably had more to drink than she should have.
‘Hi, Evie,’ she said. Then to Gina, ‘Where’s Rho and Star?’
‘Gone to the bakery.’
‘Evie and I’ve got the same hair style,’ Gina said.
They did too, Polly noted. ‘Do you remember Evie?’
‘Not really,’ Gina said.
‘I think we only met once or twice,’ Evie said. ‘And you were very little. Only a baby.’
‘Are you from New Zealand, too?’
‘I am. I came here not long before your mum did.’
‘God, I need coffee,’ Polly said, lighting a cigarette.
‘I’ll make it,’ Gina said, jumping up. ‘You have your smoke.’
‘No, I –’ But Gina had already trotted into the kitchen and was filling the jug.
‘She’s absolutely adorable,’ Evie said to Polly. ‘She was playing on the balcony with the cat and the puppy when I got here. By herself. At . . .’ She checked her watch. ‘Nearly midday. Have a bit of a rough night, did you?’
‘Oh, shut up.’
‘When are you off to Brisbane?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘And then what?’
Polly flicked ash towards an ashtray and scowled as it fell short. ‘I haven’t sorted that out yet. I’ll talk to her after the concert.’
‘You’re too scared to talk to her, aren’t you? In case she says she wants to go home and your lovely mother–daughter dream will be ruined?’
‘No, I’m not.’ Polly hated the way Evie was always right.
‘Is that why you got on the booze last night? Because you can’t face this not working out the way you want it to?’
‘No, it is not. I just . . . I just overdid it.’
Evie leant forwards and put a hand on top of Polly’s, which she wanted to snatch away. But she didn’t, because when Evie made an effort to touch you like this, you knew you’d better listen.
‘Polly. Love. Sort it out now. Stop being dishonest. It’ll be better for Gina, and for you. And, you know, even if Gina doesn’t want to stay, this weekend matters because she’ll know there’s always a place for her with you, if she wants it. That’s important. So sort it out. Trust me.’
And Polly did. She did trust Evie.
Gina came back carefully carrying two cups of coffee, the tip of her tongue poking out as she concentrated on not spilling any. ‘I made one for you, too, Evie,’ she said as she set them on the table. ‘Hang on, I’ll get the milk and sugar.’
As Polly watched her return with the sugar bowl and a bottle of milk, she repeated in her head, talk to her, talk to her, talk to her, building up the courage to ask Gina the question she was so afraid to have answered. Then, as she began to feel dizzy and her chest tightened, she bolted for her room and the respite of her drugs drawer. Digging about she found the Valium and swallowed two, feeling an instant surge of tranquillity wash through her, even though they couldn’t possibly be working yet.
She returned to the lounge and sat down at the table again. ‘Sorry. Had to blow my nose. Where were we?’
‘I think you were going to ask Gina something,’ Evie prompted.
‘Was I?’ Again that surge of dread.
Evie’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yes.’
Polly took a deep breath, then wasted more time lighting another cigarette. Finally, she said in a voice that sounded to her ears like someone else’s, ‘Gina, how would you feel about staying here, in Sydney? About living with me?’
And Gina said, ‘I’d like that, Mum. I’d like to stay.’
Polly stared at her. ‘You would? Really?’
‘Yes, because Nannie’s got Uncle Sonny to look after her. You haven’t got anyone.’
‘Better not let Rho and Star hear you say that,’ Evie said, but she was grinning hugely.
*
Star and Rhoda arrived home a short while later bearing boxes of delights from the French bakery on Victoria Street.
‘Hi, Evie,’ Star said. ‘Why is everyone looking so pleased?’
‘Well,’ Polly replied, unable to keep the smile off her face, ‘Gina’s decided she’d like to live here, with us.’
‘Permanently?’ Rhoda exclaimed. ‘Really? Bonzer! Well, welcome to your new home, Gina.’
‘Same from me,’ Star echoed. ‘You must be pleased, Pol.’
‘You have no idea,’ Polly said.
She felt as though she’d sprouted wings from her shoulders and was flying so high nothing could ever be a problem again. Trust good old Evie to zoom in immediately on what was wrong and tell her exactly what she should do about it.
Star burst into tears. Everyone stared at her.
Evie said, ‘What on earth’s the matter?’
Shaking her head, Star just flapped a hand and went on crying.
Then Polly realised, and felt horrible. She crossed to Star and gave her a hug. ‘It’s your girl, isn’t it?’
Star nodded.
‘I’m sorry, love,’ Polly said. ‘I should have thought.’
Rhoda found the tissues, pulled out about a dozen and gave them to Star, who blew her nose mightily. ‘Sorry. I just miss her. Not all the time. Just when . . . I’d just like to see her, that’s all. Sorry.’ She blew her nose again, wiped her top lip and took deep breath. ‘Well, it’s nice to have some good news. We had the shittiest night last night, didn’t we, Rho?’
‘God, did we ever.’
‘Bloody Terry.’
Polly had forgotten about Terry and Les Girls. ‘Why, what happened?’
Rhoda opened the bakery boxes and they all helped themselves to pastries.
‘Well, he turns up in the most gorgeous gold frock,’ she said through a mouthful of palmier, spraying pastry crumbs everywhere, ‘which I’m sure he’s pinched because the price tag’s still hanging off the back, and matching satin shoes and a bag –’
‘It was a lovely little bag, actually,’ Star interrupted, wiping cream off her top lip. ‘Shaped like a seashell with a gold chain.’
‘Who’s telling this story?’ Rhoda asked.
‘You.’
‘Yes, me. So we let him in the back door and hunt all over the place for Sammy the Shit, because you never know where he’s going to be, if he’s even in, which makes us late getting ready for our first turn, which was bloody annoying, but anyway we find him and say, “Sammy, this is our good friend Theresa, she’s a major new talent and she’d like an audition to join Les Girls.” And Sammy looks Terry up and down and goes, “ID.” And Terry buggers about looking in his bag and goes, “Oh, gosh, I must have left it at home.” So Sammy goes, “How old are you?” and Terry of course says twenty-one. And Sammy just laughs and says, “If you’re twenty-one I’m a monkey’s uncle,” which he probably is –’
‘A monkey’s fucking uncle,’ Star said. ‘Whoops, sorry, Gina. Christ, are we going to have to watch our language now?’
‘That’s right, a monkey’s effing uncle,’ Rhoda went on, ‘and then he tells Terry to come back in a couple of years.’
‘And Terry says he doesn’t want to come back, he wants a job now and Sammy’ll kick himself round the block if he doesn’t take this opportunity to hire the most sensational new drag act in the Cross. He says he’s so good, even Carlotta’s worried about him.’
Licking apricot glaze off her fingers, Rhoda said, ‘Well, you know, no one worries Carlotta, she’s that gorgeous. And Sammy Lee knows that because he employs Carlotta, doesn’t he? So he just laughs and tells Terry to run along. Well, anyway, by this time me and Star are feeling really quite embarrassed, and bad for Terry. Or at least I was. Were you?’ she asked Star.
