Ghost River (19 page)

‘They would put alcohol before their friends?' She looked over the empty campsite with disgust. ‘That's selfish. And sinful.'

Ren felt a need to defend the men again. ‘It's the way they are. They understand how the grog works. It's not a sin. It's the way their life is. Nothing more than that.'

Della didn't seem at all interested in his response. She walked to the water's edge and looked beyond the bridge to the next bend in the river. ‘I can see a cross and spire on the other side of those trees. Is there a church?'

‘Yeah. It's a convent with a stone church and graveyard belonging to the nuns. And they have a farm with animals.'

‘Show me,' she ordered.

Ren looked up at the bruised sky. ‘If it rains we'll get wet.'

‘I don't care.'

Ren was enjoying Della's company a little less each minute.

They followed the bend in the river circling the boundary of the farm. Just for a second Ren was sure he'd spotted Cold Can standing in a row of corn and thought that maybe he was working for his and Tex's supper. When they got closer he saw it was a scarecrow. Della looked across the fields, at the sheep, cows and hens.

‘You must enjoy it here?'

‘Hardly come here. We're trespassing. Nun's don't cop it.'

They reached the graveyard. The wind tore across the fields and it started to rain. Ren ran for the cover of a weeping willow tree and Della followed him. The branches of the tree touched the ground. They were hidden from view.

‘Who is buried here, in the earth?' Della asked.

‘Old nuns. And I mean ancient. If you read the headstones you'll see that some of them lived to nearly a hundred years old. Sonny reckons it's because they never had a drink of beer or smoked a cigarette for their whole lives. And they died vir … vir …'

‘Virgins?'

Ren blushed. ‘They say there are orphan kids buried here too. Nobody knows for sure how many of them there are. Because there are no marked graves and no visitors with flowers.'

‘That's sad. A grave must be marked for mourners to return and pray for the dead in
waiting.
'

‘What do you mean, waiting?'

‘The souls of the dead who have yet to be chosen for Heaven or Hell. Prayers must be said for them over the grave if God is to win.'

Ren was tired of Della's religion talk. ‘Well, can't find the graves of these kids. Nobody knows where it was they came from, who their family was, and what they did when they were here.'

The rain began to fall through the branches of the tree. ‘Maybe we should go into the church?' Ren offered. ‘We can shelter in there until the rain stops.'

‘I'm not able to do that. This is a Roman church. My father would not allow it.'

Churches were all the same to Ren. Full of prayers and hymns and plates going around chasing money. ‘But he's not here.'

‘He doesn't need to be. My father is a powerful man. He's able to touch people from great distances. As the Messenger did.'

At that moment Ren thought that Della was just as crazy as her father.

Della parted the branches of the willow and walked into the rain, along a narrow path between rows of graves. She stopped at the foot of each one and carefully read the headstones. She paused longest in front of the grave of Sister Mary Josephine. ‘The date of her death is very important. It is April fourteen.'

Ren could feel the rain soaking through his jumper.

‘What's important about that?'

‘It is Ruination Day. This woman may have done harm in her life and was duly punished. Or, it is possible that she died on behalf of the evil committed by somebody else. She may have been chosen for punishment as a
proxy.
That's what we call it in the church.
Representing the body
.'

‘Proxy? She was a nun. She would have done no harm but maybe give some kid a whack on the arse.'

Ren pointed to the headstone. ‘What's that mean, the date, April fourteen?'

‘It is the day of the year that the Messenger marks to punish those who have sinned in a grievous manner.'

‘What sort of punishments have there been?'

‘There have been many. Such as the sinking of the passenger liner, the Titanic, on her maiden voyage. She was sunk on the fourteenth day of April in the year nineteen hundred and twelve. A ship of steel was rendered powerless by the Messenger, Father Divine, delivering over one thousand and five hundred sinful lives to the bottom of the ocean.'

‘That can't be true, that one person could sink a ship and kill all them people. Or that all of them people on the ship needed to be punished. I bet there were children on the ship too.'

‘The Messenger announced such a prophesy before the ship had left port. Besides, it's not a question of truth. It is a matter of faith.'

Ren had had enough and wanted to leave.

Della walked further along the aisle, bent forward and picked a single weed from one of the graves. She noticed a line of bulbs poking the beginnings of their spears through the earth. She stood up and slowly walked between two rows further along and saw more spears.

‘Do you see these?' she pointed out to Ren. ‘These bulbs. They are most likely daffodils. Look how the lines of plantings form rectangles. They would have been to mark the graves of the children. They will flower.'

Ren looked down at the outline of a row of graves he hadn't noticed before. He felt a little better about the children who had lived and died at the convent.

‘We got to go, Della. It's getting late.'

Walking back along the riverbank to the camp Ren saw Tex and Cold Can on the track. Tex was laying in a wooden fuel cart, being pushed through the mud. The cart was bogged and Cold Can was getting nowhere in his attempt to drag it free.

‘There's a couple of the old boys,' Ren said. ‘I have to help them.'

Cold Can tried forcing the cart forward, with no luck. He shook it from side to side, throwing Tex around like a rag-doll. Ren got behind the cart and pushed. The cart inched forward but fell back in the hole. Ren lowered his shoulder and pressed it against the corner of the cart and counted, ‘One … two … three'.

With Cold Can's help they were able to free the cart, and together they kept pushing until they'd parked it alongside the 44 barrel stove at the camp.

‘Where's Big Tiny?' Ren asked Cold Can.

‘Tallboy gone … Big Tiny gone …'

‘Tiny's gone too?'

‘Big Tiny gone … all gone,' was all Cold Can could manage.

‘You seen Sonny down here? Has he visited you and Tex today?' Ren asked Cold Can.

Cold Can mumbled a few words to himself that Ren could make no sense of. He noticed a tear halfway down Tex's face. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the tear away.

Tex wouldn't take his eye off Della. He shook his head and tried to speak, but was unable to.

‘What's wrong with him?' Sonny asked Cold Can. ‘He looks real sick.'

‘No Tallboy … Big Tiny gone.'

Ren felt bad having to leave Tex in such a state, but he couldn't stay with him any longer. He pushed the cart as close to the stove as possible, lit a small fire and waited until it was strong enough to add some heavy timber. He went into the humpy and hunted around until he found half a loaf of stale bread, broke it into pieces and laid them around the edge of the fire. He got down on his knees at the side of the cart.

‘I have to be going home now, Tex, or I'll be in trouble off my mum. Tomorrow, me and Sonny, we'll come back with food for you.' He held Tex's nicotine fingers in his hands. ‘And I'll bring a new blanket for you.'

He watched as Cold Can piled the charcoaled bread onto a tin plate. He held a piece in front of Tex's face, who opened his mouth and flopped out his cracked tongue. Cold Can rested the piece of bread on his tongue.

‘This one, Tex. This one.' It was as if he was giving the old man Holy Communion.

‘I have to be going now,' Ren said to Cold Can.

He ignored the boy and went on feeding Tex.

Walking away from the camp that afternoon Ren thought about whether he would see Tex again, alive at least. If he did die, he and Sonny might have to help Cold Can dispose of his body. He didn't know if he'd have the courage to put Tex in the water, but didn't enjoy the thought that the old man could end up in the paupers' grave he was so haunted by.

The rain had slowed to a light drizzle. Ren and Della climbed to the car graveyard. She asked if they could stop walking. ‘You can go on ahead without me if you need to,' she said.

‘I don't mind waiting. I can walk home with you. You don't want to run into any strangers on your own.'

‘You must leave me,' she insisted. ‘I cannot be seen with you, by my father.'

‘You walk on ahead then and I'll keep my distance. That way your father won't see me.'

He looked at the back of her dress. It was a mess. ‘How are you gonna explain that to him?'

She grabbed hold of the dress, lifted it, carefully removed some blackberry thorns and tried shaking the dried mud from the hem. Ren couldn't take his eyes off her exposed legs. She saw where he was looking and quickly dropped the hem and straightened the dress.

‘I must go.'

Ren leaned against the wreck of the Holden and watched her walk away. He hadn't sighted Sonny at the river and had no idea where else to search for him. If it was true that Vincent controlled Foy, and he'd kept the policeman off Sonny's back, there was no reason for Foy to suddenly come after him. He was almost willing to pray that he was right. He followed Della from a distance and waited until she'd turned into their street before crossing into the lane. He opened Sonny's back gate. The bike was laying where he'd left it that morning. It made no sense. Sonny never travelled far without the bike.

Ren walked around to the front street and knocked at Sonny's door, with no luck. He was sitting on his front step, puzzling over what he should do next, when Loretta opened the front door and sat down next to him. He looked at her and wondered if he'd ever see his mother out of an apron. When she wasn't wearing one at home, she had her hospital apron tucked under one arm coming to and from work.

‘What are you doing out here?' she asked.

‘Sonny didn't call for me this morning and he didn't show up for work. I been looking for him.'

‘Well, you should have stayed around the house. He was just here calling for you.'

‘Here? Where's he been?'

‘His poor uncle Rory took sick last night. He was in so much pain Sonny had to get him to the hospital, with the help of Mr Portelli from up the street. He laid Rory in the back of his station wagon and drove him to Emergency.'

‘What's wrong with him?'

‘Sonny doesn't know. All he could tell me was that Rory is going to be moved to a ward tomorrow morning. He was only here long enough to collect a bag for him. Pyjamas, and a toothbrush.'

‘Mum, I should go to the hospital and see if Sonny needs my help.'

‘All you'll be doing is eating your tea. Come inside and sit down.'

‘The truck's not here. Where's Archie?'

‘Driving back from the border. He won't be in until late.'

Ren ate quietly, thinking about Sonny and Rory. Nothing was going to stop him getting to the hospital. He could always sneak out later on if he had to, but decided he'd chance honesty instead. He put his knife and fork on his plate and sat up straight.

‘Mum,' he said. ‘You know Sonny has been trying his best since he got the job at the paper shop.'

‘Hmm.'

The statement was more or less true, with the major exceptions of the episode of the runaway bulldozer and the trouble he was in with Vincent, but that wasn't Sonny's fault.

‘He's been doing well since Rory come to look after him. And he's been good to me too, giving me work on the newspapers.'

She collected his empty plate and put it in the sink. ‘And?'

‘And he's my best friend. I know he will be worried over Rory. I need to go to the hospital and see if there's anything I can do to help. I'll be straight back home. I know Sonny'd do the same for me.'

Loretta dug her hands in the front of her apron. ‘And how are you going to get to the hospital? Walk?'

‘I can take his bike. He left it in the yard. It wouldn't take me more than fifteen minutes to ride there.'

Loretta walked over to her son and stuck an unruly curl of hair behind his ear. ‘You look grubbier than a state ward. Don't be giving anyone your name and address at the hospital. I don't need the welfare creeping around here. And don't be away long.'

CHAPTER 15

Ren dragged Sonny's bike into the lane for the second time that day, hopped on and started pedalling. The ride proved tough going. He was pedalling by the railway station before he realised the bike had a puncture in the back wheel. ‘Shit!'

He had the choice of pushing the bike back to Sonny's place and running all the way to the hospital or to keep on pedalling, which he did, into a head wind, his arse out of the seat. Halfway up the Parade hill, a truck in the next lane shifted gear and slowly overtook him. Ren pedalled as hard as he could, reached out and hooked onto the back of the truck and soon picked up speed. He could smell burning rubber and looked down at the tyre. It had been reduced to shreds. Ren was riding on the metal rim.

At the top of the hill the truck turned one way and Ren steered the bicycle into the hospital driveway. He hopped off, rested the bike against a light pole, spat in the palms of his hands and ran them through his wild head of hair. A hospital cleaner, leaning on a mop and smoking a cigarette, looked across at him and laughed.

‘You want me to call for the stretcher?'

‘Fuck off,' Ren muttered under his breath. He looked up at the
EMERGENCY
sign above his head, lit in blue neon. ‘Is this where I go for sick people?'

The cleaner took a last puff on his cigarette, flicked it onto the road and opened the door for him. ‘After you.'

The waiting room was lined with wooden benches crowded with elderly people coughing, kids running around in their socks and mothers walking newborns across the room, trying to stop them from crying. A man resting his back against a bench had a bloodied nose, a cut above one eye and a swollen hand. He winked at Ren as he walked by and feigned a left-right combination.

An older man in the back corner was laid out on one of the benches, resting beneath a thick woollen coat. His face was caked with dirt and he wore long grey hair twisted into knots. Ren thought he looked familiar. When the old man saw Ren looking at him he buried himself in his coat and turned his head away. Ren realised who it was.

‘Tallboy,' he called out across the room. ‘What are you doing here?'

Tallboy ignored him. Ren walked over and sat on the bench opposite. Tallboy pulled the coat collar over his head.

‘Tallboy. It's me. Ren.'

A hand came out of the sleeve of the coat and weakly waved. The hand was black and crippled.

‘Hey, Tallboy,' he repeated, quietly. ‘It's me. Ren. You okay?'

Slowly Tallboy revealed his face, like a tortoise coming out of its shell. ‘Hey ya, young boy.' Tallboy's voice had been reduced to a rasp and his breath reeked of metho, which wasn't unusual, except that the last time Ren had seen him Tallboy had sworn off the grog for all time. Ren could hardly believe how poorly his old friend looked, worse than he had during his time on the river.

‘Tallboy, you were going to stay with your family. Did you find them?'

Tallboy reached for Ren's hand. His eyes were swollen and weeping. ‘You promise me,' he whispered.

‘Promise you what, Tallboy?'

‘You never seen this old boy, somebody asks you. This is no story to be telling.
Tallboy Garrett? Don't know where that fella's been.
You promise me that one, young bird.'

It would not be an easy promise for Ren to keep. Tex had been close to Tallboy and was sad to see him leave the camp, even though he was angry with him and called him a
fucken deserter
. He'd want to know if Tallboy was unwell in the hospital. Except that he was now in such a poor state himself it would be unlikely he'd know what Ren was talking about.

‘If you don't want me to, I won't say anything. I promise.'

Tallboy reached out and squeezed his hand in gratitude. ‘How's them old fellas?'

‘Tex and Cold Can are doing well,' Ren lied. ‘I been at the camp today visiting.'

‘And Big Tiny? What's he doing?' Tallboy asked.

‘He's gone missing. Maybe he's up in the Myer store sleeping on one of them mattresses you told us about,' Ren joked, trying to cheer him up. ‘Remember that story, Tallboy?'

‘I remember that one. But it was only a story. All of them stories was bullshit. Tex is no better. Bullshit is all he knows. You know he told me one time, before I ever put that white lady down my throat,
You gonna love her, boy, you gonna love her
. I took that drink and now she's killed me.' He reached out, grabbed Ren by the jumper and pulled him closer until their eyes met. ‘Anyone asks, you never seen the Tallboy. He's no place.
He's
dead
.'

Tallboy released his grip on the boy and rolled over to face the wall. Ren tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Hey, you're not dead, Tallboy.'

‘Leave me be,' the old man growled.

Ren realised there was nothing he could do to help and walked over to the admissions counter. A nurse sat behind a sliding glass window, writing on a yellow card. A sign on the wall above the window read
No Visitors – Family Members Excepted.
Ren coughed to get the nurse's attention. She finally put the pen down and slid the glass across.

‘Can I help you?'

‘I'm here to see my uncle. He's sick.'

‘And his name?'

‘Rory.'

‘I will need his full name.'

‘It's just Rory.'

‘I'm sorry, but it cannot be
just
Rory. If you are here to see a relative I will need his full name. You are related?'

‘It's Brewer!' Ren shouted, pleased with himself. ‘Mr Rory Brewer.'

She flicked through the cards on the desk, picked one up and read it. ‘Yes. Mr Rory Francis Brewer. He has been in here since late last night. Another boy has been with him throughout the day.'

‘That would be my brother. Sonny. Rory's our uncle.'

‘Wait here a moment.' She left the desk and pressed a red button on the wall. It opened an automatic door. She was back within couple of minutes – with Sonny in tow. ‘Your brother,' she announced.

Sonny winked at Ren and smiled. ‘Can I take him inside?' he asked. ‘My uncle's been calling his name in his sleep.'

‘You may, for a few minutes only. The pair of you will need to leave soon, as Mr Brewer is being moved upstairs.'

Ren followed Sonny along a corridor that had lines of different colours painted into the lino floor. The lines headed off in different directions, like the tracks in the railyards. Sonny led Ren into a room divided by beds on either side, most of them with a blue curtain around the bed, shutting the patients off from the world. Sonny opened a curtain at the end of the room and stepped inside. Rory was laying back with his head rested to one side. He was wearing a white hospital gown, had a plastic tube stuck up his nose and wires running from under the gown. The light on a machine was beeping away at the side of the bed. Another tube ran into a clear bag clipped to the other side of the bed. It was half full of piss.

Rory looked about a hundred years old.

‘What happened to him?' Ren asked.

‘Last night we were watching the late movie together when he went out the backyard to the toilet. He never come back and I went looking for him. The toilet light was out and I found him laying on the floor in a pool of piss. He couldn't speak and his body was shaking. I got him to his feet and helped him back into the house and put him on the couch. He couldn't stop shaking. I left him and come out in the street. I was gonna knock on your door. Then I saw Mr Portelli coming home from an afternoon shift. He was parking his car in the street. I told him what happened and he come in the house and carried Rory to the car and drove him here.'

‘Did the doctors tell you what's wrong with him?'

‘Nup. But he can't move or talk properly. They're gonna shift him to a ward tonight and do these other tests on him in the morning.'

Rory coughed and spit dribbled from his mouth. Sonny wiped his uncle's chin with a corner of the bed sheet.

‘What've you been doing all day, without me to look after you?' Sonny asked.

Ren told him about being at the river, seeing Cold Can and Tex with the fuel cart, and that Big Tiny had gone missing. ‘I couldn't make sense of what Cold Can was saying, except that Tiny had
gone
.' He didn't tell Sonny he'd walked along the riverbank to the convent with Della. He wanted to steer Sonny away from any talk about how he'd spent his day. ‘What about you, Sonny? What have you been doing in here?'

‘Nothing. Have sat here the whole time, except for going home to pick up some stuff for Rory. They been good to me. Give me some sandwiches to eat and juice made out of real oranges instead of cordial.'

‘You been bored waiting round?'

‘Not really. It give me time to do some thinking.'

‘About what?'

‘About my old man borrowing that money from Vincent. He done me no favour doing that.'

‘That doesn't take a lot of thinking. You already knew that. Anyway, the loan did you some good. Paid the rent and kept you in the house.'

‘Might have, but my old man would have known he wouldn't be round to pay the money back. Planned it that way. And you don't need to be a genius to know Vincent would find some way to get his money back and that he'd come after me, or maybe poor old Rory. Shows my dad has never given a fuck about what happens to me.'

Rory's arm fell from the bed. Sonny lifted it, rested it under the blanket and tucked the blanket into the mattress.

‘It's just like Rory warned me. People like Vincent, once you start paying them you never stop. The only way out for me now is to shoot through. As soon as Rory is better, I'm outta here. And I won't be coming back. The newspaper money is up to nearly a hundred and fifty dollars. It's plenty enough for me to get away.'

The curtain around the bed opened. It was the nurse from the front desk. ‘You boys need to leave your uncle to rest now.' She stood and waited for them to say goodbye to Rory, tapping her foot impatiently on the floor.

Sonny kissed Rory on his whiskered cheek. Seeing as the nurse presumed he was also a nephew, Ren thought it best to kiss Rory as well. She marched the two of them back to the waiting room. Ren looked over to the corner bench. Tallboy was gone.

‘Excuse me?' the nurse called to Sonny as the boys were about to leave. ‘When I was taking information from you this morning you said you were the only relative your uncle has.'

‘Yep. Me and my brother here,' Sonny said. ‘I didn't mention him. Didn't think he'd count, seeing as I'm the oldest.'

‘Is there nobody else to care for you?'

‘It's just the two of us,' Sonny answered, before realising where the conversation was heading.

‘And where are you two going now?'

‘Home.'

‘With nobody to care for you? Your uncle is your primary provider and is likely to be in hospital for some time. As minors you cannot be living alone without proper care. I will arrange for a social worker to visit the home and make the necessary arrangements for you.'

She picked up Rory's admission card and read over it. ‘There is no telephone number listed here.'

‘We don't have one.'

‘Then please be sure you are home waiting for the social worker. Tomorrow morning.'

‘We'll be there.' Sonny smiled.

The cleaner was standing outside smoking another cigarette. He waved at Ren like they were old friends.

‘Sonny, you know what she means when she says she'll send a social worker round, don't you? They'll take you into
care
.'

‘Yeah.' He laughed. ‘I know exactly what she means.'

‘What's so funny? They won't let you stay in the house on your own. They'll put you in a foster home.'

‘No they won't.'

‘What makes you so sure?'

‘Because last night when we got here they went through Rory's wallet and wrote down his address. Of his old place. The social worker can call by anytime she wants. She won't find me there.'

‘Maybe not tomorrow. Doesn't mean they won't grab hold of you next time you visit.'

Sonny hadn't thought through his next step. His face dropped. So did Ren's. Sonny's bike was gone.

‘Fuck!'

‘Fuck what?'

‘Your bike. I was in a hurry to get up here so I rode it. I left it here against the pole before I went inside.

Shit!' Sonny kicked the light pole with the heel of his shoe. ‘How'd you get it here, Ren? I was gonna ride it myself but saw it had a flat tyre.'

‘I didn't know it was flat until I was on my way, and I just kept going. I can't believe someone would knock it off. It's a piece of junk.'

‘My fucken junk. What sort of arsehole would steal someone's bike?'

There couldn't have been a worse moment for Ren to remind Sonny he'd stolen the bike in the first place.

Walking home, Ren told Sonny about Detective Foy, that Spike had seen him early that morning across the road from the paper shop. ‘You'd better be careful. He must have been looking for you. Out that early in the morning.'

‘Maybe. And maybe not. Foy does a lot of business along the street. Probably out heavying the fishmonger or some other poor bastard. He and Vincent, both of them can get fucked. Once I've taken off they'll never find me.'

While Sonny was acting brave, Ren could see he looked worried. He didn't blame him. Just hearing Foy's name spoken aloud was enough to scare Ren. When they got to Sonny's house, Ren waited with him until he'd opened the front door and turned the light on. A pile of mail was sitting on the floor in the hallway. Sonny picked it up and quickly shuffled through it until he found something that interested him.

‘Look at this, Ren. A letter addressed to me. Nobody's written to me before, except that time I got the letter for my court date.' He held the envelope up to the hallway lightbulb, as if searching for clues about who might have sent it. ‘Wonder who it's from?'