The Jacaranda House, page 22
‘I’m bored,’ she said to David.
‘Yep.’
Polly lit a cigarette. She didn’t offer David one as he didn’t smoke. He didn’t drink, either, and, based on what he’d told her, he ate more fruit and vegetables in a week than she ate in a year. He also did body-building, which was obvious when you looked at him, and he seemed never to sit down, though she assumed he must at some point when he wasn’t at work. He stood beside the door like one of those Easter Island statues – huge, monolithic and forbidding, except when he smiled, which was often. His smile was gorgeous, like his personality. He wasn’t even unkind when he threw people out. He didn’t push them or punch them, he simply escorted them firmly down the stairs and out the door and they had no say whatsoever, because once he got hold of you, that was it. Actually, she suspected that being got hold of by David might be quite nice.
Someone exited the Alibi Room, and Polly quickly set her smoke in an ashtray hidden in her booth. The man looked around then headed towards her.
‘Evening sir, may I help you?’ He was probably younger than her, but what the hell.
‘There’s something here for me to pick up,’ he said in a voice not much louder than a whisper, even though the foyer was empty except for himself, Polly and David. He pushed a small token that looked like a coin across the counter. ‘I’ve paid.’
‘Certainly, sir,’ Polly said, ignoring the curl of cigarette smoke rising up in her face. ‘One moment, please.’
She knew he’d paid: no one got a token unless they’d paid Ron, Adler’s man in the Alibi Room. She took a key from a small drawer and unlocked another drawer, inside which sat multiple rows of small brown packets. She took one out and passed it to him. He took it without a word and hurried off, disappearing down the stairs. Polly recorded the details of the transaction in a little notebook, then locked the drawer again and carefully put away the key.
David make a tutting noise.
‘Oh, don’t be so judgmental,’ Polly said.
‘I’m not being judgmental,’ David replied. ‘I’m just thinking it’s a shame. And a waste of money.’
‘Haven’t you got any bad habits?’
David thought for some time. ‘My flatmates say I spend too long in the toilet.’
‘That surprises me, all the bloody broccoli and fruit you reckon you eat.’
A crowd came in then, ruining Polly’s chances to finish her cigarette. Adler’s sideline in heroin had been doing a moderately brisk trade since the Alibi Room had opened. God only knew how word had got around so quickly – it was hardly the sort of thing you could advertise in the paper. And she was amazed at the type of people buying it. She was used to seeing the street people who were addicted to drugs, and those like herself working and living on the fringes of society who dabbled in a bit of this and a bit of that. But these people seemed quite well-off, and they probably had proper jobs, and some she thought she’d even seen in the social pages of the newspapers. What were they doing getting out of their heads on heroin?
She’d asked Evie, because Evie knew about that sort of thing, and she’d said, ‘Oh, they don’t inject it. Well, probably a lot of them don’t. They smoke it in a cigarette, or through a pipe. They think if they don’t inject it they’re not junkies, and that they won’t get addicted. Well, good luck with that. Idiots.’
The first time she’d exchanged someone’s token for a packet of heroin she’d felt vaguely guilty, as though she were the actual dealer, but now she didn’t. She didn’t know where Adler bought the stuff, she didn’t know how much the punters paid for it, and she didn’t much care what happened to them when they used it. It was their business, not hers, the same as it wasn’t her business if married men came to watch nearly naked girls dance around on stage, or bought sex from women out on the street. If she worried about all the unpleasant, stupid and bad things other people did, she wouldn’t be able to get out of bed in the morning. She almost couldn’t at the best of times.
She’s also given up worrying about Terry, who, as he’d announced, was indeed working as an escort out of the Alibi Room. It was hard, though, especially as every time he saw her he mouthed ‘Bitch’ or surreptitiously gave her the fingers, and she did hope he caught a horrible disease, but she’d definitely given up worrying about him. She knew how to pick her fights, and as he was in and out of the club with different punters as though he were on wheels, making loads of money for Adler, she knew she couldn’t win that one.
The other night had been strange, though. He’d gone past her booth, called her a shit-stirring cow out of the side of his mouth, then he’d stopped, turned around, come back, and said to her, ‘I’m sorry, Polly, I don’t know why I’m doing this to you,’ then off he’d gone again. She hadn’t known what to make of that. It had been very odd.
Now, she looked at her watch: eleven-thirty. God, was that all?
‘I’m hungry,’ David said.
‘You’re always hungry.’
The music from the Alibi Room got louder as a couple opened the door, came out and headed off down the stairs. Someone coming up stood aside to let them pass, then continued up to the foyer. He was carrying a bag over his shoulder and looked quite familiar.
Polly stared, astonished, her heart suddenly pounding. ‘Sonny?’
‘Hi, Polly.’
Stepping out of her booth, Polly said, ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Looking for you.’
‘Has something happened?’ Terrified, Polly gazed at her handsome but very weary-looking brother.
‘Everything’s fine. I’ve just come to see you.’
Polly’s fear immediately changed to suspicion. ‘Did Mum send you?’
‘No.’
Realising that this was probably quite awkward for David, Polly said, ‘Sorry. Dave, this is my big brother, Sonny Manaia. Sonny, this is David Ma’u.’
The two men shook. ‘Evening,’ Sonny said.
David said, ‘Nice to meet you.’
Sonny said, ‘I’ve been looking for you all night. Since I arrived, actually. Someone told me you were a dancer here.’
‘I was, for a while,’ Polly replied. ‘Now I’m a hostess.’
‘A hostess?’
Polly thought he said it the way you’d say, ‘An escort?’
‘I greet customers visiting the Alibi Room.’ She pointed. ‘That’s the bar in there. I sit in that booth all night, looking classy and being pleasant. They have dancers in the bar, and escorts. It’s supposed to be upmarket. You know, exclusive.’
Sonny’s dark eyebrows went up.
‘I get paid quite well, actually,’ Polly added, knowing she was sounding defensive. ‘Why are you really here?’
‘Honestly, I’ve just come for a visit,’ Sonny said. ‘To see how you and Gina are getting on.’
‘You’re not taking her.’
‘No,’ Sonny agreed. ‘I’m not. But I would like to see her.’
‘She’s fine. I know how to look after her. She’s in school and everything.’
‘I’m sure she is fine. But can I see her? I’d like to spend some time with you, too. I didn’t get to see you when you were home. I was really sorry I missed you. I’ve only got a couple of days, though.’
Polly hesitated. Did she want him to know where she lived? Keeping that from him – from the whole family – had felt like a magical circle of protection she’d drawn around herself. If he came to the flat the spell would be broken. But this was Sonny, and he’d come all this way and Gina loved him. And so did she.
‘Hang on,’ she said. She retrieved her bag from her booth and found her keys. ‘This is the key to the front door downstairs. Ours is the flat at the top. There’ll be an older lady there babysitting Gina, who’ll be asleep by now. Her name’s Emmeline Carver. My flatmates should be home at about half-past one and I’ll be home not long after. Be nice to them. They’re my friends. You can have the couch. We haven’t got a spare bed.’ Then she told him the address.
Sonny took the keys. ‘Thanks. I’ll wait up for you.’
‘You don’t have to,’ Polly said, though she knew he would. He’d never get to sleep in the lounge with everyone coming and going.
Then Sonny surprised her by dropping his bag, stepping forwards and hugging her. ‘It’s good to see you, Pol. It’s been a long time.’
Annoyingly, Polly felt hot tears prick her eyes and she looked at the ground as she stepped away. ‘It’s good to see you, too. You could get a taxi but it’s not that much of a walk. Keep going up Darlinghurst and it’s on your left. If you get to the William Street intersection you’ve gone too far.’
When Sonny had gone, David said, ‘That was a surprise.’
‘I’ll say it was.’
‘When was the last time you saw him?’
‘Eight years ago.’ Seeing David’s expression, Polly said, ‘Don’t ask.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s complicated.’
‘I don’t mind.’
Polly hesitated, then sighed. ‘My daughter doesn’t have a father. Well, you know. He’s not around.’
David nodded.
‘She’s lived with my mother since she was born because I’ve been . . . busy working and what have you, and it just worked out better like that. It was never going to be a permanent arrangement, not as far as I was concerned. Anyway when Gina was three, nearly four, my mother and I had a massive fight over something to do with Gina, and the whole family took my mother’s side so I came over here. It was just . . . easier.’
David was quiet for a moment. ‘Must have been a really good fight.’
Polly said, ‘Well, I did something I thought was in Gina’s best interests, but no one else thought so.’ She waited for David to ask what it was she’d done, but he didn’t, and for that she was grateful.
‘Must have been hard to leave your daughter, too.’
‘It was. Very.’
‘It was years ago, though, eh? Enough time to forgive and forget?’
‘Tell that to my mother.’
‘Well, you don’t know unless you go home and find out,’ David said.
‘I did go home, in June when I went back to get Gina.’
‘Was that the first time since you left New Zealand?’
Polly nodded.
‘And how were things with your family?’
‘Don’t know. I didn’t see them.’
‘And what about with your mum?’
Polly thought David was getting a bit nosy now. ‘Didn’t see her, either.’
‘OK,’ David said. ‘So no one can tell any more who’s still being stubborn?’
‘What?’
David laughed. ‘You should see your face. Talk to your brother, Polly. Things might not be as bad as you think they are. And if they are, I’m here. You can always talk to me.’
Chapter Twelve
Sonny had been quite shocked at Polly’s appearance. She was very thin: in that tight dress he could see her hip bones under the fabric, and her legs, though still shapely, were frankly skinny. And her chest – where had that gone? Her face, too, was looking a bit gaunt, especially with her hair pulled back like that. She looked . . . pinched. And suspicious! Mind you, she’d always been like that, always looking for ulterior motives in people, even when there weren’t any. He supposed he couldn’t blame her for thinking he’d come to steal Gina, because that’s exactly what she’d done the previous month in New Zealand. Though could you steal your own child? He’d probably have to ask a lawyer that, which he wouldn’t, because families like his didn’t consult lawyers.
His feet were really sore by the time he reached Polly’s house on Bayswater Road. By then it was well past midnight and he wondered if anyone would be awake, though he could see a light on in an upstairs window. He used Polly’s keys to unlock the front door and went up the stairs and knocked on the door at the top.
After a minute or so an elderly lady answered, wearing the brightest collection of clothes Sonny had ever seen not on a clown. She wasn’t daft, though, because she kept a slippered foot firmly wedged against her side of the door.
‘Good evening; may I help you?’
Sonny stepped back so he wouldn’t frighten her. ‘Hello. Sorry to bother you so late. My name’s Sonny Manaia and I’m Polly’s brother. From New Zealand? I’m over here for a visit. I’ve just seen her in town and she gave me her keys.’ He held them up. ‘Is it all right if I come in? You must be Mrs Carver.’
‘Miss Carver. Emmeline.’ She squinted at him, even though she was wearing spectacles. ‘You do look a lot like Polly, I must say, and Gina, but of course you have the masculine version of their features. You must have very strong genes in your family.’ She took her foot away from the door. Sonny noticed her slippers had rabbits embroidered on the front. ‘Please, do come in. I was just going to make tea.’
Sonny stepped into the flat.
‘Have a seat,’ Emmeline said, heading towards the kitchen, ‘but I urge you to be careful where you sit. There are small animals about.’
There were, too, Sonny noted. A grey kitten lay stretched out taking up as much room as possible on the couch, and a silly little dog of some sort was curled up on an armchair. They couldn’t be Polly’s – she’d never been an animal person. Maybe they belonged to Gina. She’d always wanted a pet of her own.
‘Whose are they?’ he asked.
‘Polly’s flatmates’. Rhoda owns the cat and Star owns the dog.’
Star? Sonny thought. What sort of a name is that?
‘The cat is called Tatiana and the dog Sebastian,’ Emmeline said. ‘Yes, flamboyant, I know, but you’ll understand when you meet the girls.’
Sonny moved the kitten and was rewarded with a bad-tempered squeak. He sat down and looked around. The flat seemed quite comfortable, if a little shabby: Polly had been telling the truth when she’d said she had a nice place to live.
‘Do you babysit often?’ he asked.
‘Four or five nights a week,’ Emmeline said, putting together cups and saucers. ‘Sometimes less if the girls aren’t working or Polly’s friend Evie is available.’
‘And you’re here until Polly gets home?’
‘Until someone gets home. That’s usually around one-thirty or two in the morning.’
‘That’s a lot to ask of –’ Sonny stopped before he put his foot in it.
‘An old lady like me?’ Emmeline laughed. ‘I’ve always been a night owl, and the older I get the less sleep I seem to need. I’m happy to be of use. Gina’s a lovely girl.’
As if at the sound of her name, a door flew open and Gina burst into the lounge. ‘Uncle Sonny!’ She raced across the floor and launched herself at him. ‘What are you doing here?’
Laughing, he caught her before she could knock him right off the couch. ‘Hello, Gina ballerina. How are you?’
‘I’m good, I’m good, I’m good! Did Auntie Allie and Angie and Tracey come?’
‘No, they’re still at home.’
‘You’re supposed to be asleep, young lady,’ Emmeline said.
‘No I’m not, ’cos Uncle Sonny’s here!’
‘Well, now that you’re up, would like some cocoa?’
‘Yes, please. And some biscuits? I’m starving!’
Emmeline opened the cupboard. ‘Would you like something to eat, Sonny?’
‘I could do with something, though I shouldn’t be hungry. I had a huge plate of chicken pyjama earlier.’
Gina gaped at him. ‘Chicken pyjama?’ And then she twigged and whacked him on the arm. ‘No, dummy, it’s chicken parmigiana!’
‘One shouldn’t call one’s uncle a dummy, dear,’ Emmeline said. ‘Would a toasted sandwich suit you, Sonny?’
‘Perfect but, honestly, I can make it. You come and sit down.’
‘No, I’m sure Gina’s got plenty to tell you. And it won’t take me a minute.’
Gina did have plenty to tell Sonny. She settled herself next to him, Tatty on her lap, and prattled on about her new school, the trip she and Polly took to Brisbane to see the Beatles and how they’d stayed in a hotel that had a television in their actual room, all the new things she’d seen and done in Sydney, delicatessens and cheese, and Rhoda and Star, the animals, the weather, Evie, her new clothes, someone ominously called Terry the thief, until finally she asked about Awhi.
‘Well, she does miss you a lot,’ Sonny said, taking a bite of his toasted sandwich and wincing as the scalding hot tomato in it burnt his mouth, ‘and she’s a little bit worried that . . . well, she’s worried.’
‘Why’s she worried?’ Gina asked, helping herself to her fifth biscuit.
Sonny hesitated. He didn’t know what Polly had told Gina when they left New Zealand, but he was pretty sure she would have spun a bit of a yarn to get Gina to leave without upsetting her. ‘What did your mum tell Nannie before you came over here, do you know?’
‘Dunno, really,’ Gina said through a mouthful of Monte Carlo. ‘She went to see her and when she came back she said Nan said it was all right for me to come with her to see the Beatles. And then I decided I wanted to stay here with Mum, but I couldn’t tell Nannie ’cos there’s a toll bar on the phone. But I wrote to her.’
Well, that’s a letter Awhi never got, Sonny thought. Good one, Polly. Mind you, Awhi had never, ever given Gina any of Polly’s letters.
‘But she hasn’t written back,’ Gina went on. ‘I thought she would.’
‘Well, you know, sometimes the post can take a long time.’ Sonny glanced at Emmeline, who was wearing a slightly disapproving look. ‘Do you know the story behind all this?’ he asked.
‘Not really. Your sister is a very private person.’
‘It’s ridiculous,’ Sonny said. ‘Two bad-tempered, stubborn women refusing to act like adults. It’s been going on for years.’
‘What women?’ Gina asked.
‘Your mother and your nan, actually,’ Sonny said, and then regretted it.
