about such things. Not about the possibility of Riley being unfaithful — though no question he was a flirt — nor such a gruesome punishment if he was.
‘My deal is,’ Sue said, ‘I look after his —’
‘Too much information, as my daughters would say, Sue.’ Claire got in before Sue could make her predictable finish.
‘Just saying I’m good in the sack,’ Sue said. ‘Men and their dicks, though, honey. Not connected to any part of their brain.’
Claire suddenly aware of her close encounter with Riley a couple of hours back. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘They can allow it to dominate matters.’
‘Personally speaking …’
Claire found herself shifting to get ready for Sue’s frank summary of her own sexual needs. The woman was incorrigible.
Chapter eight
Lu hauled Jay and his flatmate, Bronson, out of their beds. Their dingy upstairs rooms were just round the corner from her parents’ Housing Commission flat from where she’d yet to make a break as it seemed something — or someone — had her frozen on the spot, unable to move, an easy prey for an uncle called Rick. Enslave early and you got them for life, Lu had read in some newspaper, maybe about the German father who kept his own daughter locked up for twenty-four years as his sex slave, the animal.
‘Come on, you blokes, it’s past eleven in the morning, a lovely day out. Let’s go to the fish market.’
Jay grumbling it was no reason to be woken from his beauty sleep. Lu thinking,
As if you need any more beauty you handsome bastard you,
now Daysh was gone.
They walked up through Hyde Park to Paddy’s Markets, Jay hostile at the begging homeless drunks, Bronson showing his Samoan side, even if he was born here and one of his parents was half German, asking Jay how would he like it in the same position? Samoans, every Australian knew, a tough race, warriors like their Maori cousins, but not as vicious. You fell out with a Samoan he came for you front on. A Maori he’d come through your window three o’clock in the morning. Scary bastards.
Jay said, ‘Rather be dead.
Don’t
feel sorry for them, Bron. Fuckin’ losers.’
From Paddy’s Markets they took the tram to Pyrmont, couldn’t jump it as the conductor was always right there, and being a lazy Sunday they couldn’t be bothered walking.
Always lots of people out on a leisurely Sunday — generated a kind of mild excitement that took them along too. Usually Lu had money to buy a bit of food, but this time she didn’t offer. It was her olds’ big-ask week where she had to pay all the rent and then some if her old lady had been gambling, as she never won since she never stopped when ahead. The price of a packet of fags between them, the three had to watch enviously people pig out on prawns, oysters in the shell glistening ‘like pussies’ Jay said, in the sunlight. Bron guffawed, Lu was hardly amused. Melted cheese on toasted chewy Persian or Dago bread, with chunks of bacon and little onion bits standing up waiting to burst in the mouth to set the other flavours off, like right off.
‘Shit, how much can people eat?’ Bronson, who’d said he was starving, hadn’t eaten since yesterday lunchtime. Too pissed and food took up beer room, he said, with that kind of endearing giggle, unless you weren’t in the mood and then it was irritating.
‘Least we got smokes,’ he added. The small mercy of their nicotine addiction satisfied. Something in the act of smoking that made you feel like you belonged.
Cigarettes all well and good, but hard seeing and smelling — savouring — the cooked food and the bounties of the sea.
‘Ah saw, you like nudder one, son?’ Jay being funny. But serious too, of an empty stomach kind, Lu judged.
‘Damn Chinks,’ he said. ‘Never see them broke. Some have a whole cooked crayfish —
each
— for lunch.’ Jay hadn’t eaten in about twenty-four hours himself. ‘One cray costs, what, thirty, forty bucks? Way they eat, though, even
‘My deal is,’ Sue said, ‘I look after his —’
‘Too much information, as my daughters would say, Sue.’ Claire got in before Sue could make her predictable finish.
‘Just saying I’m good in the sack,’ Sue said. ‘Men and their dicks, though, honey. Not connected to any part of their brain.’
Claire suddenly aware of her close encounter with Riley a couple of hours back. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘They can allow it to dominate matters.’
‘Personally speaking …’
Claire found herself shifting to get ready for Sue’s frank summary of her own sexual needs. The woman was incorrigible.
Chapter eight
Lu hauled Jay and his flatmate, Bronson, out of their beds. Their dingy upstairs rooms were just round the corner from her parents’ Housing Commission flat from where she’d yet to make a break as it seemed something — or someone — had her frozen on the spot, unable to move, an easy prey for an uncle called Rick. Enslave early and you got them for life, Lu had read in some newspaper, maybe about the German father who kept his own daughter locked up for twenty-four years as his sex slave, the animal.
‘Come on, you blokes, it’s past eleven in the morning, a lovely day out. Let’s go to the fish market.’
Jay grumbling it was no reason to be woken from his beauty sleep. Lu thinking,
As if you need any more beauty you handsome bastard you,
now Daysh was gone.
They walked up through Hyde Park to Paddy’s Markets, Jay hostile at the begging homeless drunks, Bronson showing his Samoan side, even if he was born here and one of his parents was half German, asking Jay how would he like it in the same position? Samoans, every Australian knew, a tough race, warriors like their Maori cousins, but not as vicious. You fell out with a Samoan he came for you front on. A Maori he’d come through your window three o’clock in the morning. Scary bastards.
Jay said, ‘Rather be dead.
Don’t
feel sorry for them, Bron. Fuckin’ losers.’
From Paddy’s Markets they took the tram to Pyrmont, couldn’t jump it as the conductor was always right there, and being a lazy Sunday they couldn’t be bothered walking.
Always lots of people out on a leisurely Sunday — generated a kind of mild excitement that took them along too. Usually Lu had money to buy a bit of food, but this time she didn’t offer. It was her olds’ big-ask week where she had to pay all the rent and then some if her old lady had been gambling, as she never won since she never stopped when ahead. The price of a packet of fags between them, the three had to watch enviously people pig out on prawns, oysters in the shell glistening ‘like pussies’ Jay said, in the sunlight. Bron guffawed, Lu was hardly amused. Melted cheese on toasted chewy Persian or Dago bread, with chunks of bacon and little onion bits standing up waiting to burst in the mouth to set the other flavours off, like right off.
‘Shit, how much can people eat?’ Bronson, who’d said he was starving, hadn’t eaten since yesterday lunchtime. Too pissed and food took up beer room, he said, with that kind of endearing giggle, unless you weren’t in the mood and then it was irritating.
‘Least we got smokes,’ he added. The small mercy of their nicotine addiction satisfied. Something in the act of smoking that made you feel like you belonged.
Cigarettes all well and good, but hard seeing and smelling — savouring — the cooked food and the bounties of the sea.
‘Ah saw, you like nudder one, son?’ Jay being funny. But serious too, of an empty stomach kind, Lu judged.
‘Damn Chinks,’ he said. ‘Never see them broke. Some have a whole cooked crayfish —
each
— for lunch.’ Jay hadn’t eaten in about twenty-four hours himself. ‘One cray costs, what, thirty, forty bucks? Way they eat, though, even
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