Came Back to Show You I Could Fly Page 10

  ‘There’s rain on the way, told you so,’ Seymour said. ‘We’ll get soaked if we just stand around. Come on, Angie, your sister’s gone, anyway.’

  ‘Maybe old Morris had a point after all,’ said Angie.

  Angie,

  Thanks a lot for getting me in strife with the neighbours, all that row you made! I thought you were serious about wanting to come off it, needing somewhere to stay and someone to help you through it. What a joke.

  I made things clear, Ange, I’m NOT having stuff brought into this flat. You’re a creep. You know how dicey it still is for me at this stage of the game.

  You probably don’t even remember the things you said, the way you carried on. And I DIDN’T dob you in to your mum and dad. It wasn’t like that. I couldn’t handle the state you were in—what the hell was I supposed to do, ring up that ratbag Rick or someone? Anyhow, your dad guessed soon as he saw you.

  Listen, I don’t want you round here any more. I mean it. If I lose this flat I don’t know where Amy and I could go. I’ve got too much at stake. Everyone’s tried to help you, Angie, but you just use them up. All those times I stuck by you…well, I’ve had enough. I got my act together, why the hell can’t you? And I didn’t have any family helping me, either. Leave me right out of it from now on.

  Judy

  God, Angie, this is the hardest letter I ever had to write anyone!

  Dear Judy,

  I must have missed you on Saturday, knocked for ages and was just about to bust in through your bathroom window and wait (but didn’t think I’d better!).

  Listen, sorry about all that business last time I was around, didn’t mean it to end up heavy like that, honest! Jude, don’t give up on me, OK? We’ve been friends for so long—that letter of yours hurt, you know? I can’t believe you really meant it. I know I shouldn’t have landed on you out of the blue like that with all my problems and at that hour, but I was pretty desperate. Had nowhere else to go, couldn’t think straight. Judy, love, I’m SORRY!

  Hey, I’ve got a terrific little flat now, all self-contained, just about to do it up and everything! You and Amy will have to come round to visit. Amy is a real little doll, you’re so lucky, Judy, having a beaut little kid like that. I’m proud of you, the way you got it all together and dropped out of that ratty crowd. I’m doing the same, you wait and see. Judy, don’t stop being friends, we’ve been through a lot together.

  Please.

  Love from Angie

  P.S. The bundle of clothes I’ve left on your doorstep, thought you might be able to use them, they don’t fit me any more. They are: Doktor Hilde Humpeldink (grey suit, cost a mint, only one of the buttons is missing from the jacket); Lady Arabella Greensleeves (red and green brocadey thing with the gold edging, you might be able to take the skirt up or something); Rodeo Rose (leather fringed skirt and waistcoat, unreal, hey?). Also pink mohair sweater with sequins (some of them have come off, sorry!) and pair of white boots.

  The fluffy rabbit is for darling little Amy (to make up for not giving her anything when she was born).

  I’ve got this cute kid who comes round to visit all the time at my new flat. At first I thought he was a bit of a pain. He’s about ten, but more like a little old man, honest, you should hear how he fusses over what I eat and that! He’s so sweet and I could just about murder his mum and dad, he doesn’t say much, but you can tell he has a rough time. He’s a lonely kind of kid, it’s really sad how shy and lonely he is. If I had a beaut kid like that I’d never let them end up that way. I take him out places and we have a great time, he’s real good company believe it or not!

  P.S. Gotta rush. Jude, PLEASE don’t get Wayne to say you’re out when I phone. I heard you talking in the background.

  I’m SORRY, OK?

  Chapter 9

  ‘If any of my mates ever found out I went to the races with an old skinflint like you, I’d never live it down,’ Angie said. ‘Five dollars in your pocket…whoopee doo! Well, I’ll just have to tell you what to back and turn you into a millionaire.’

  Thelma and his mother considered all forms of betting a ploy of the devil and could quote scripture passages to prove it. Not that it had ever had any effect on his father. Quite a lot of his meagre income had melted away over the years in gambling. Seymour might not have gone if Angie had told him beforehand where she was planning to take him, although he’d known it would be somewhere special by the way she was dressed. Secret Agent, she called it. Secret Agent was black mesh tights, very high patent-leather sandals, a black dress which clung smoothly to her hips then flared out like an urn, and a little saucer-shaped hat with a dotted veil covering her eyes. Seymour thought she looked magnificent, like someone out of a television series.

  ‘I didn’t know they had horse racing on week days,’ he said. ‘You’d think everyone would be at work.’ He’d never been to a race meeting before and kept glancing guiltily over his shoulder in case Thelma or his mother might dart suddenly from the crowd and march him ignobly home.

  ‘Live and learn. It’s a good crowd today, I guess a lot of people are still on holidays, same as us. Only no one would even know you’re on holidays from that face you’ve got on. It’s a real Morris Carpenter face. You can’t play Morris Carpenter at the races, he wouldn’t be seen anywhere where people are enjoying themselves. Come on, let’s go behind the scenes and give the horses the once-over.’

  She seemed to know her way around very competently. Seymour had never been closer to a horse than watching the grand parade at a show once, and now hung, mesmerised, gazing over a wire fence at the stalls.

  ‘That one’s Maharajah, he’s the favourite in Race Three,’ Angie said. ‘And that little grey is Plumestone, I’m going to put some money on him. People reckon he’s had his day, but don’t you believe a word. Once he won me a whole month’s rent when things got tough, and he can do it again, easy, can’t you, fella?’

  She chirruped across the rail at the tethered horse and her face was tender, as though she were greeting a much-loved friend. Seymour wasn’t surprised that she knew the names of the beautiful horses; it was part of the magic of Angie that she should know things like that. She also seemed to have many acquaintances there, and was constantly waving or nodding to people passing by.

  Seymour noticed that they didn’t always seem to remember her name correctly. One called her Debbo and another called her Kaye, but when he asked her why, Angie said carelessly, ‘Oh, that’s nothing, they’re just nicknames. You always cop nicknames when you work in racing stables. You didn’t know I used to do that, did you? I was a strapper, only the trainer I worked for was a real creep, so I chucked it in. But I really liked working in those stables, except the part about having to get up so early and the boss being such a jerk. You should have seen how I looked when I was taking horses to the races—skin-tight white jodphurs and a pair of gorgeous hand-made boots. They belonged to a famous jockey, those boots, Clive Trelawney, and don’t you go telling me you’ve never ever heard of Clive Trelawney, or I’ll thump you! Anyway, those boots hardly had a scratch on them and they were real kid-leather, but he was throwing them out, so I struck it lucky. Some of those top jockeys get very fussy about what they wear. Wow, you could hardly speak to me when I was wearing those boots! Jockeys usually have small feet, see, to match the rest of them, and they fitted me because I’ve got small feet, too.’

  ‘Have you still got those boots? Can I try them on some time?’

  ‘I don’t know where they are now,’ Angie said ruefully. ‘I moved around a fair bit last year, all over the place, up in Sydney for a while, then back here, stayed in a flat with some mates, I’ve forgotten half of the places. Some of the things I’d stored at home, but Mum had a cleaning fit and chucked stuff out. You lose a heck of a lot of things when you move around. But if those boots ever turn up again, I’ll let you have them to keep. No, honest, I mean it. Then we could go out horse riding one Saturday. There’s this terrific place I know out in the hills and it’s not just
a namby-pamby little riding school, either. You can hire a proper horse and go across country all day. But enough of that now, let’s get down to business.’

  Before Seymour could come to terms with the unlikely mental picture of himself riding fearlessly across country, she had found a vacant bench under a tree and was busily going through her form guide. Seymour was content to sit for a while, letting the cheerful, highly charged atmosphere lap about him, elated to be part of it and sitting next to Angie in her eye-catching Secret Agent outfit. She was concentrating very hard, her tasselled pencil darting like a dragonfly down the list of names.

  ‘I’m going to put five dollars on Xanadu, for a win,’ she said. ‘How about you, Seymour. What do you fancy?’

  He looked down the list, replete with happiness, for the way she’d said that gave him the illusion that he came knowledgably and often to this fascinating place, and that the little form guide was no more difficult to decipher than a familiar bus time-table. He glanced suavely down the list: Charmaine Waltz, Jewel in the Crown, Black Satin…

  ‘They all sound like names for your clothes,’ he said. ‘Black Satin. Can I put some money on that?’

  ‘Black Satin’s fifty to one,’ Angie said. ‘A real roughie, and trust you to pick that, you dag. But it’s your dough. I’ll go and place our bets, only don’t go splurging more than fifty cents, and you can kiss that goodbye, too. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, pal.’

  She came back with two little slips of stamped paper, and Seymour held his tightly, like a talisman, as Angie hurried him into a stand to watch the race. Black Satin, as though sensing his will vibrating from the crowd, flew around the outside and won by half a length. Any disappointment Angie might have felt at her own lost bet was not evident. She jumped up and down and thumped Seymour joyfully on the back, and when she collected his winnings, he counted the notes speechlessly. Never in his life had he owned so much money!

  ‘Don’t get carried away and lose all that on the next race,’ she warned him. ‘That was just a flash in the pan, beginner’s luck. We’ll go and look the next lot over really carefully, because there’s a chestnut I like, but I want to see if he looks as good now as I remember.’

  Seymour could have hung over the rails gazing besottedly at the horses for the rest of the afternoon, but Angie pulled him on, laughing. ‘They’ll think you’re planning to nobble something,’ she said. ‘You’ll get arrested by the stewards and I won’t be able to bring you here any more. Warned off racetracks for life before you’re even in your teens, that’s what’ll happen to you. Look, there’s that chestnut I had in mind. He’s usually pretty smart on this track, though his last run was lousy. Maybe he just had an off day. He looks fighting fit now, don’t you reckon? What do you think I should do, bet on him for a place, or go all out for the favourite?’

  Seymour leant on the rail next to her, not really understanding her chatter, but highly flattered that she didn’t think she had to explain things to him. Suddenly she bounced away, offering no explanation, and when he hurried after her, she was with a nuggety, dour-faced little man.

  ‘Colin…I was hoping I might run into you!’ she cried.

  ‘Hello, what have you been up to then?’ The greeting was friendly enough, but the man continued to walk on as though he had no time to spare.

  ‘How about my old job back, Col?’ Angie said. ‘Go on, you could put in a word to the boss! I can start any time, tomorrow if you like…’

  ‘Sorry, love, there’s nothing going.’

  ‘Get away, you’re always short-staffed! I ran into Bo the other day in town, she’s left. I could have her job, and do it a lot better, too, You know how slack Bo was. Go on, Colin, be nice, have a word with the boss.’

  ‘Listen, Deb, you know as well as I do why you got the chop last time. He gave you every chance but you went and blew it, didn’t you? It’s your own fault.’

  ‘That’s history. I was living way over the other side of town then, and I didn’t have any reliable transport,’ Angie protested. ‘It wasn’t my fault I was late a couple of times. Well, all right then, a whole lot of times…But I worked bloody hard and you can’t say I didn’t! I could even live in this time if there’s room. And that other business, you know what I mean, what he found in the float…that was all a mistake, it had nothing to do with me, honest. I told you…’

  ‘No use telling me anything, princess. How about you ask the boss himself and leave me right out of it?’ the man said briskly and stepped around her and went on walking, not looking back.

  Angie kicked at the fence and glared after him through her little net veil. ‘That old grump of a Colin, talk about a sexist pig! He’s the foreman at the place where I used to work and I thought there just might be a chance…Oh, I should have just spat right in his eye instead of wasting all that charm! I always knew he didn’t like girls working there, even though we did a better job than all those other no-hopers they had on! Just because I got sprung, just once for heaven’s sake…Oh, I’m too mad to bother about this next race, Seymour! It’s okay, I’ll cool off in a minute, but let’s go and get a drink. You hungry?’

  Seymour, with all his new wealth, insisted on paying for lunch and felt grown-up and debonair as he carried it back to the table under the trees where Angie sat. He spread out the food, but she ate hardly anything.

  ‘You never eat properly, Angie,’ Seymour said. ‘You smoke too much, that’s why. When you have a baby, you’ll have to quit cigarettes altogether. I saw something about that on television one time.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Angie said. ‘When I have a baby I’ll have to turn over a lot of new leaves, just like an encyclopedia, won’t I? But who says I’m ever going to have a kid, anyway? That’s a very big decision to make, and if there’s one thing I absolutely loathe and detest, it’s having to make decisions. Besides, there’s a whole pile of things you can’t do if…oh, never mind. And I am eating properly, so you can leave off nagging.’

  ‘You only had coffee for breakfast.’

  ‘No I didn’t, smartypants. Before you showed up I had a big bowl of All-Bran, can’t get any healthier than that, can you? It must have been healthy, it tasted so yuk. Next week I’ll get really organised and stock up the fridge and not buy any junk food. And what’s more I took some Vitamin C and calcium tablets and stuff this doctor gave me.’

  ‘At the North Road place?’

  ‘No, not them. A different doctor, in town. I won’t be going back to North Road, we had a sort of row and little Angie got shown the door. It was a lie I told you this morning when you called in for me, that I’d already been out there today and got it over with. North Road’s finished and I’m not sorry, either. It wasn’t even working, that medicine they were giving me, it’s all a big joke. Besides, I don’t need any more medicine, I can get along without any. I feel terrific. Just to prove it, maybe tomorrow I’ll take you to the beach.’

  ‘I…can’t swim,’ Seymour said.

  ‘What do you mean, you can’t swim? Kids can swim, didn’t you get taught at school?’

  ‘I failed the test,’ he said and felt downcast all over again by that memory. It wasn’t fair, once you’d been through humiliation for a certain thing, that should be quite enough, all over and done with. It wasn’t fair how shame could rush back and engulf you again, come flooding back into your face…

  ‘What about your mum and dad, don’t they ever take you to the pool or the beach?’

  Seymour shook his head. ‘They’re busy with their own things,’ he said stiffly.

  ‘Oh…I’m sorry, I forgot you don’t like talking about your folks, do you? Well, all the same, Seymour, there’s plenty of things you can learn by yourself without them around. What’s to stop you going along to the pool yourself and learning to swim? Not scared of water, are you?’

  Scared of making a fool of myself, he thought miserably, of arms and legs that won’t coordinate and the other kids staring and sniggering, teachers getting narky…I never want to go thro
ugh that again, ever.

  He looked up and found Angie studying him gently.

  ‘I’ll take you to the beach and we’ll sort it all out,’ she said. ‘No worries. We’ll find a quiet bit of water and I’ll have you swimming in no time. I taught Lynne when she was only four.’

  ‘Probably chucked her in the deep end and rolled around laughing.’

  ‘I never did, you little brat! I don’t know why I’m even bothering, but when we go to the beach, it’ll be okay, you’ll see…’ She stopped, for someone had placed a hand on her shoulder and was grinning down into her upturned face. Angie didn’t return the smile, but the man acted as though she had. He sat on the bench next to her and nodded across at Seymour.

  ‘How are you going, mate?’ he asked. Although it was so hot, he wore a handsome leather jacket. Everything about him looked smooth and expensive, particularly the gold link chain around one wrist. He beamed at Seymour over the table, smiling and smiling. Seymour watched him, uncertainly. Something was wrong about that smile—the man’s eyes above it were as cold as coins. Angie didn’t make any introductions. She shoved her pencil inside her handbag, zipped it shut and started to get up.

  ‘Come on, Seymour, we’d better make a move,’ she said, but a hand was placed over hers where it lay on the handbag.

  ‘What’s the hurry, Deb?’ the man said. ‘Haven’t seen you around for some time, have I? Now, don’t go rushing off on me. What have you been up to? Last time I heard, you and James were racketing all over Sydney taking the town apart.’

  ‘My, you do know everything that’s going on, don’t you?’

  ‘Well, you know how it is…Who’s the little playmate?’

  ‘Seymour,’ Angie said curtly. ‘He’s on school holidays and I’m taking him out for the day.’