CHAPTER NINE
Sean was in a buoyant mood. A new job, and a new flat, and tonight was party time. It was funny how things turned out. A few weeks back, and he could have jumped off the Harbour Bridge. It was like a seed struggling in the desert. When it seemed like it would wither, a little shoot appeared. He and Kelly would make the best of what life offered.
Kelly came back from the bathroom, and removing her robe, started dressing in an outfit he hadn't noticed before. She took his whole attention, and she noticed his look.
"Down boy."
He grinned and finished dressing. Not that he had a lot of choices to dress in. But he felt comfortable, and at a party, who noticed anyway.
They caught the tram, and hoped the instructions, about where to get off in Bondi Beach, would be suitable. They were, and as the first shops came up, they hopped off at the first stop, and headed for the flat. A couple of other people arrived at the door, at the same time, and they smiled. Bing Crosby music filtered outside. Kelly's friend answered the door, and ushered them in.
The place was full of noise and people, and smoke, and soon the music changed to a swing band, and couples began to dance. They were introduced to some people, and eventually abandoned to the evening. Sean got a beer, and a cocktail for Kelly, and then they were joined by Kelly's work offsider, and her boyfriend. He worked on the council, but Sean didn't quite make out what he did.
At one stage, a girl, asked Sean to dance, but he politely refused. She gave him a slow look up and down, and mentioned she would be around all night, if he changed his mind. Kelly was in stitches.
"I think that was out of this world," she said, "what do you reckon? Alcohol or short sighted?"
Sean looked at her, taking a long swig on his bottle. "I'd say she has good eyesight, and taste, myself."
"Men. What more can I say?. Anyway, I'm starving. Let's wander over to the table, and see what's offering." They pushed their way through some dancing couples and grabbed some of the nibbles on display.
A couple doing the same thing, introduced themselves. The four of them found some chairs, and after the preliminary small talk, Sean and Kelly found they had a couple of things in common. Sean was keen on football and cars, and Steve and Marilyn, were not only car lovers, they had access to a tourer, owned by a relative. There was a genuine offer to go for a run next weekend, and a phone number was scribbled on to a piece of paper.
"It's my brother's workshop. He'll pass it on," said Steve. Also, Steve played in the local footy club, and this kept the conversation going for a while. Kelly warmed to the girl, and liked her easy going manner.
Marilyn suggested dancing, and the four of them spent some time on the floor. The dancing wasn't a style, either Sean or Kelly were used to, but they managed. The tiny flat was packed, and the they both had to leave and get some fresh air on the even tinier balcony.
There was a sound of food being mentioned, and it took a little while to get to the table and fill a plate. By this time, most men who wore ties, had removed them. The record player was churning through the music, and every so often, someone would insert a new needle.
As Sean was stuffing a pastry down, a hand was placed on his shoulder, and a voice said, "Small world."
It was the dancer they had met on the tram, a few days before. "Roland's the name," and held out his hand to Sean.
"Sean, and this is Kelly. Good to see you. Sure is a small world." Roland was dressed much more flamboyantly than the others at the party, and his longish hair, made him stand out. A young girl in a low cut dress, again unusual, suddenly appeared, and hung on Roland's arm.
"This is, what did you say it was?"
She playfully hit him on the arm. "You are a devil, Roly."
"Min. Short for Minerva," replied Roland, "just kidding. Who do you people know, to be here?"
"Deb," replied Kelly, "I work with her at Mark Foys."
"Wonderful. Her sister, Beth, and I had a thing going, for a while. Still friends, but you know how it is. On the move all the time. She was here when I arrived. Introduce her if she surfaces."
"How's the show coming on," said Kelly.
"Blooming awful. Don't waste your money. Put your drink down, and let's dance." He grabbed her arm, before she could say anything.
"Oh, I couldn't," she started to say.
"Can't hear you." And next minute he was dragging her into the mêlée‚. She managed a look at Sean, who just shrugged his shoulders, and grinned.
His rest did not last long. A tall dark haired girl, came and asked who he was, and when he told her, said, "I'm Linda. Let's dance. "She grabbed his hand, pulled him up off the chair, so he danced.
Kelly was swept off her feet, by Roland. He was so light on his feet, and so fluid in his movements, that she just let herself go. It was so wonderful to be guided and not have to be in charge, for once. However, some of his hand positions, worried her, not that she minded so much. She didn't mind a bit of fun and living on the edge, so to speak, but when a hand ended up on her breast, and stayed there, she decided, that people would notice, and enough was enough.
She extricated herself, with an excuse of using the toilet, and not seeing Sean anywhere, headed for the kitchen. A girl and a fellow were leaning against the sink, locked in an embrace. Kelly went to walk out, but the girl broke it off, and said, "Come in. We were just going to dance, anyway. Name's Pearl. This is Pablo."
Kelly noticed that Pablo could do with a cold shower, and she looked away quickly. "I'm Kelly, a friend of Debs, from the store."
"So am I," squealed Pearl. "Pablo pretty. Go and get some fresh air or something, whilst I talk girl stuff." He grabbed her waist, and kissed he again, then managing a smile at Kelly, glided out of the room.
"He is just so much. I love the Latin types, and so romantic. He was getting carried away, then. Can't keep him down." Then laughed, realising the ambiguity she had made. "Met him at uni. Got a man?"
"Sure have," said Kelly, "the fair fellow. Green jumper, and gorgeous eyes."
"Caught him. Lucky girl. Made it yet?" Her candour, caught Kelly by surprise.
Kelly smirked. "Well and truly made. Another couple of months, and it will be showing."
Pearl, widened her eyes, then came and gave her a hug. "Keeping it? Probably depends on if he wants it, too. I do know of a bloke, but it's not cheap."
Kelly became defensive. "We both want it. We are married, you know." It wasn't exactly true, but why make it awkward.
"Sorry. Just me, not thinking properly. Want to come 'round tomorrow? I think the four of us will get on fabulously."
Kelly was a little flustered. This girl was so vibrant, so grown up, yet so naive. Pearl was someone, Kelly thought, she could feel comfortable with.
“That’s nice of you. We did have something planned for tomorrow. Is it possible, say, next Sunday?”
"Not a problem," said Pearl, "we might do the Art Gallery. Pablo is so knowledgeable about art. He used to paint, you know. Still wants to do a portrait of me, au natural. I don't know. A woman still needs to keep something hidden, don't you think?"
"Ah. Yes. Shouldn't give men everything at once," replied Kelly.
"Sort of. When you sleep with them, you have the memory of something nice, not the itty bitty details. A painting is different. It's there in every facet, and doesn't fade. For all the world to see."
"Still," said Kelly, "one still does remember some itty bitty details, and hopes they don't fade."
"True. Think I'll chase up Pablo, and keep the details alive. Don't leave without saying good bye." She kissed Kelly lightly on the cheek, and floated out of the kitchen.
Kelly leaned against the sink for a moment, then, thinking of Sean, grabbed her purse, and joined the noise.
She found him talking to three fellows. Seeing her, he detached himself, and moved up to her. "Wondered where you were. OK?"
She nodded.
"It seems they need some more beer, and a bottle of whisky. There's a bloke nearby. I'll go with them. Should only be 15 minutes, or less," he yelled, to get over a noisy piece of music.
Kelly seemed alarmed. "Do you have to go?"
"It'll be Ok." He kissed her, and followed the others out the door.
They walked two blocks down the street, and turned into a small lane, between two large buildings. At the end, a door, marked 'Private', was set into a high brick wall. One of the fellows knocked twice, then again. It immediately opened a fraction, and a voice from the darkness beyond, was heard. "Yes?"
"Frankie sent us." Sean noticed the other two were constantly looking back towards the street.
"What do you need? Have you checked the street? Been sniffing around again." The voice was soft, almost a woman's, Sean thought.
The order was placed and bank notes and alcohol changed hands. Then the door was quickly shut.
"Easy, see," said the fellow doing the buying.
Next minute a whistle pierced the air, and a torch flicked on at the end of the lane. "Police. Stay where you are."
"Cripes," said one of the fellows. The whisky was pushed into Sean's hand. "Go. Clear out."
One jumped and managed to get a hold on the wall, and pull himself up. Sean could hear bottles clinking in his coat pocket. As figures moved quickly down from the street, towards them, Sean came out of his confused state, and realised, he also needed to clear out. The other two seemed to have disappeared.
He looked at the wall, and thought better of it. Across the other side, in the darkness, he could make out a galvanised fence, and a shed. He jumped up, using the top of the fence as a lever. He scrambled on to the shed roof, feeling some pain from a cut in his right palm.
"Stop." It came from a voice, below. He didn't wait to hear more. From the shed he climbed quickly on to a veranda, and finding the door and window, closed, noticed that the building next door, had a veranda, the only problem was, at least six feet away.
The noise of someone scrambling onto the shed roof, projected a shaking Sean, into action. His foot hit a peg basket, and scooping it up, flung it at the house, behind him. Then balancing on the railing, lunged into space. For a moment, he thought it was all in vain. But his hands touched the opposite railing, and he gripped, as hard as he could. He was glad he'd played footy in previous years. In five seconds, he was over the top, and laid flat, hoping the darkness would conceal him.
A torch beam flashed over from next door, then disappeared. A steel ladder was dimly visible, at the end, coming vertically down from the roof. Sean crawled over and looked down. It went to the ground, in a narrow side passage. He heard a car pass by at the other end.
There were voices in the rear of the house on the other side, to the one he had scaled. He quickly rolled over the railing, and made a hurried decent to the passage. In less than thirty seconds, he was at a wooden gate, on the street front. A quick look over, didn't reveal any police. Sean popped over the top, and walked quickly down the street, the bottle of whisky, still in his coat pocket. He reached a main road, and getting his bearings, headed for the flats, where the party was.
"You look terrible," said Kelly, when he walked in , and made his way to her chair.
"I need some of this," and pulling out the bottle, grabbed a glass, and poured a small portion. He downed it in one motion.
"What happened. Two of the others came in and they seemed to be in a hurry, come to think of it."
Some colour was returning to Sean's cheeks. "If any one asks, I was here all the time," he said.
"Who would ask?" she responded in a voice tinged with uncertainty.
"Small run in with the law." Her face betrayed some alarm. "It's OK. They didn't see my face. Had to climb a few fences and ladders. All to buy booze. Which reminds me."
He got up, and went over to one of the lads who had returned. Kelly saw him hand over the whisky, say something, and then he was back.
"What did he say?"
"Good on you. After what I did, that was it. Remind me to never get sucked in again. One last dance, and let's go."
Some one opened the front door, and a policeman stood there, looking in. Sean froze. Manoeuvring Kelly, so only his back was visible, they made their way into the kitchen. Neither said anything. A few minutes later, Pearl waltzed into the kitchen.
"Oh. Wondered where you two went. Am I interrupting?" and turned to leave.
"No," said Sean, "Just, ah, finished. I saw a policeman."
"Oh, he's gone," she replied, "told us to turn the record player down. Some neighbour complained. Always some wet rag around."
Sean relaxed. "Yes. We're off. Kelly was saying something about next Sunday. Where do we go?"
Pearl grabbed a pencil and tore off a piece of the calendar, hanging on the wall. She scribbled a phone number, and gave it to him. "It's daddy's. He's in business. Has to have the telephone."
She gave both of them a quick kiss, and with a cheerio, left the room.
They found Deb, thanked her for the evening, and waving to no one in particular, left. Sean was still a bit cautious, but they made the tram stop, and only had a few minutes to wait, before it's presence was heard, in the cutting. They sat snuggled up, in a compartment to them selves, and then they were home.
They tried to enter quietly, but Sean tripped on something, that went clattering over the hall floor. Kelly giggled, and then couldn't stop. Theo Murray appeared at his door, in a pair of striped pyjama pants, muttered something about 'who else', and disappeared back inside. Sean and Kelly broke up, and could hardly contain their laughter. The tension had been released.
* * * * * * * * * *
Allan, dressed in a new shirt, he had borrowed from the lodger next door, told Robert to enjoy his evening, and confirming they would still do the Manly ferry bit, tomorrow, went to wait in the lounge. He had to confess to himself, that he hadn't missed television or videos, although it was only a week. He felt there had been a lot more human interaction, not only with himself, but generally. Maybe the age of modern technology, and computer entertainment, was forcing people into their own worlds, not to rely on others, but to create independent spheres, which in turn was leading to the need to be better than the others.
Still, if they never made it back, Robert and he could enjoy the 60s and 70s era, all over again. Perhaps do those things everyone else did, and they were too reserved to try. Trouble was, free love and pot and Carnaby Street, at their age, had its drawbacks. Life wasn't fair.
The younger fellow, who he met after breakfast, turned up, dressed in a suit. Allan felt uncomfortable, but could do little about it.
"Let's go. Got to get there early, otherwise all the decent looking women are taken," he said.
They walked out into the cool night, and headed down the hill.
Robert had also scored a new shirt and slacks. Only his came from the clothes line at the back, just after tea. He hoped he could return them, when he came back later in the evening, without any uproar.
He slipped out, and walked to the station. When he arrived at Burwood, he had about half an hour to spare, so had a leisurely cup of tea, at the cafe, near the station entrance. He was fairly hyped up. For the first time in his life, as far as he could remember, he had never felt this way about a woman, at least not so soon after meeting her. The closer to the appointed time, the faster his heart seemed to beat. He tried to think, what was it that made her, do this to him. As his father once said, 'you just know. Don't analyse it, flow with it.'
At five past nine, he couldn't sit any longer. Outside, he checked his hair in a window reflection, and walked slowly towards the Blue Bell. 'What would we talk about?' he thought. Then he realised that was a silly question. 'Would I tell her about the future? About the real me?' He would play that by ear, as it could upset the relationship. The thought of her, laughing at him, sent a tremor through his body.
Outside the door, he checked his attire, but again, then knocked. There was no immediate response, and just as he was about to give another four knocks, harder, the door opened, and there she was.
Myra wore a full length black dress, the top in a patented lace. Her hair was brushed back, and a hint of perfume, assailed Robert's nose. A small red rose, was pinned to her left side. Robert suddenly thought of flowers, and cursed himself, that he had not thought of it. But she was captivating, and he just stood there.
"Am I not worth, at least, a hello?" she said, the smile dancing in her eyes.
He recovered himself. "More than just an hello. Words wouldn't probably do you justice."
"Then no words."
"Actually, there is something," he ventured.
"Go ahead."
"Do you think I could come inside. It's bloody freezing."
She threw her head back and laughed. Then standing aside, let him enter the doorway. Closing it, she led the way up a flight of wooden stairs, through an archway, and into a sitting room. "This is it. My humble abode, where I may sleek away from the world."
"You don't seem the type of woman, to sleek away from the world," Robert said. "More like the world could..." He was lost for the right words, frightened that he would lose the essence.
"A woman has a right," she said, pouring some wine, "to place her self out of the spotlight, so to speak. This was recommended. I hope you will join me."
He nodded, and taking the offered glass, lightly touched her drink with his, and without moving his eyes from hers, sipped slowly. She did not look away. When she put her glass down on a small occasional table, he did the same, and without any reserve, took both her hands in his, and leaned forward, and kissed her on the lips. Not a light touch, but a sort of 'I don't want this moment to finish' touch.
Her response was similar. Then she pulled back slightly, still in his gentle grip. "Let's sit, and talk. The night is yet young." They sat on a huge three seater, close, Robert holding one of her hands. He felt the warmth of it, and the gentle lines.
After a silence, she asked, "What's the Robert story? You have a family?"
' The time of decision', he thought, 'perhaps as much truth as possible. 1998 can wait a little.' "Mother and father, and a brother," he replied.
"And?"
He caught the question. "No wife. Never married."
"But there would have been special persons?" It was not a probing question, just an establishment of where they were at.
"Yes. A couple, I thought they were it, but somehow it never worked out." He leaned forward and taking the bottle, topped her glass, then his. "And yourself? Anyone special?"
She didn't answer straight away, but looked at the far wall. Robert saw it had two photographs, hanging, but couldn't make out the outlines, in the subdued lighting. A piano caught his eye, and another frame sat on top.
"I have a son, Mathew."
It caught him by surprise. He smiled, to cover it.
"I was married. Once. I was twenty two and he was my gallant knight, so I thought. He was a commercial traveller. Five years or so of heaven, his times away making the times at home, worth it. A girl we had. Marianne. And then Mathew. She died of scarlet fever, when she was three. My shining knight died inside, also.
"I'm sorry," said Robert.
"Thank you, but no need. It was a long time ago."
Robert gave her hand a squeeze. "What happened to him?"
I found out, he had a Maid Marion in Brisbane. And then in Orange, and most other places. I can't place all the blame on him, but he could have tried. When he hit me one night, I picked up Mathew, and walked out. I have never seen him since."
Robert stood up, and walked to the wall. "Is this Mathew?"
"Yes." She joined him. "This one is when he started school. A bit rough for him, with no father, but he had my determination, and his father's outgoingness, and he survived. This one," she said, pointing to the other one, depicting a young man, astride a horse, "was taken on his twenty fourth birthday. He left home when he was sixteen and went to the bush. Hard for me, but I wouldn't have stopped him. It was in his heart, and we were, and still are, close. Married now, and talking about a child."
"You are a very lucky woman, Myra. You should feel proud." Robert felt good, when she laid her head on his shoulder.
"Time to eat," she said, and taking his hand, went to the dining table, and sat down. It wasn't a big meal, just some ham and pork slices, and salad, but it was nicely laid out. Robert offered her wine, but she declined, and topping his glass, ate. They chattered, and he gave a vague hint of coming from Queensland. She didn't ask any questions, just nodded.
She made coffee, on a small stove top, and they sat back on the lounge. "Robert," she said, after a long quiet period, "if you did find that right person, would you want to make it last?"
"Of course. Only a fool, would throw away something that doesn't come very often, if ever."
She looked at him "I couldn't truthfully say, that I would want the commitment. One marriage and two affairs, where I was just used, has made me, well, cautious."
Robert took her cup and saucer, and put them down. Then leaned over and kissed her. At first there was a slight, nothing, but then he felt her give, and it was the most memorable kiss, that either of them had experienced in years.
Somehow, the night just happened. Passionate embraces, Europhobia, and wanting. She stood up, and led him through a door, into the bedroom. They were lost in a world of shapes and dreams and consumed lovemaking.
As they lay there, later, she touched him gently on the chest, and the night went on. Robert couldn't remember a better night, or an equal in love. He wondered, if at his age, he could make a hat trick, and decided no. But as the first rays of light, trickled through the window, and Myra stirred, it became more intense, than before.
For Myra, this was an unusual man. He had a quality, she couldn't put her finger on, but liked. He seemed to be, a light, in a somewhat drab world. Almost a knight in shining armour, again. She knew about knights in shining armour, and wouldn't make the same mistake again. He wasn't exactly a Rudolph Valentino, but he it made her feel like a new chapter was opening up.
She got up and disappeared into a small bathroom. Then she came out, dressed in a loose top and slacks. "Breakfast?" she asked.
Robert thought he had just had breakfast, but decided this was not a woman to be base with. "I'll help," he said.
"No. I can cook eggs and toast. You wash up."
The bath had no shower, but a flexible pipe with a rose, was still attached to the tap. He washed, and was pleasantly surprised to find a razor laid out. He shaved, and dressed, and joined Myra at the small table. It was a simple breakfast, but he savoured every bit of it. They talked.
She mentioned she was going to visit her son, probably the following Saturday, and would stay a few days. He worked on a sheep property near Yass. Robert would have loved to spend the day with her, but she had business, she said, and hoped he could call in one night, during the week. When he mischievously said, how about every night, she gave that coy smile that so captivated him, and suggested some space. They walked down the stairs to the door, and embraced. Her lips and tongue were tantalising, and starting to embarrass him.
"Until next time," she said.
"Soon I hope," and turning, opened the door and left.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Allan's fears of a ghastly night, were found less. The venue wasn't that far to walk, and there seemed plenty of women only too eager to dance. His companion, seemed to know his way around, and about eleven o'clock, caught Allan, said he was on a good thing, and he was off.
Allan had one more dance, and then left. He wasn't really after any women, just a night out. He walked quickly, unsure of the neighbourhood, and crossed the main road, earlier than normal, when he noticed some men, lounging outside a doorway, ahead.
He arrived back at the boarding house, and headed for the kitchen, to make some tea. The nights were getting a little cooler. As the kettle boiled, Sylvia walked in. Allan poured her one, as well, and she suggested her lounge would be more comfortable, than the wooden chairs. She also had a radiator.
Normally that was an invitation, one would run a mile from, but he wasn't that tired, and their last meeting had been quite enjoyable. They drank tea, and talked. She showed him her doll collection. Dolls were all around the bedroom, on cupboards, on the window sill, everywhere. One moment he was holding a doll, the next, her. The kissing became more and more frenzied. When he realised, that her hands were avidly exploring and working him up, he abandoned any attempt at retreat. By the time he had removed his and her clothing, he just made it. He lay there, wondering what it was, that made her appealing. Underneath, he knew there was a hidden personality, covered up, so she could deal with the world. The real Sylvia was warm and open. The next time was more gentle, more a lovemaking.
He didn't stay long, after that. He would feel more comfortable, if daylight found him elsewhere, than the landlady's bed.
Finding that Robert was not back, and not really expecting him, he had a quick sponge down, and fell asleep, almost immediately.