Midnight Deli - chapter 3B Home page | Floaters | Chapter 3A | Chapter 4
Late on a Saturday afternoon, Danny and Simone were in the hearse, on a very obscure road in the You Yangs - the nearest big hills to Sunshine. They'd been on the road for nearly an hour, looking for a deserted spot.
"Don't reckon anyone's been on this road for a long time," said Danny. "Look at the grass growing up the middle of it."
"Except pedestrians like that one," said Simone, pointing ahead.
Danny braked in a flurry of stones, to let a blue-tongue lizard cross the road. As it waddled over the gravel, it nodded majestically at the hearse, as if to say "sometimes a big lizard has to wait for a smaller one."
Simone noticed an overgrown track heading off the road.
"Why don't you go up there?" she suggested. "It doesn't look as if anybody's been on that track for years. Surely nobody will bother us there."
"Let's try it, then," said Danny. But he no longer believed there was anywhere in Australia where they could park the hearse and not have people bother them.
Last weekend they'd stopped in a farming area near Bacchus Marsh, on a back road where no pedestrians would ever go. But four boys on bikes had come past, and spent forever befriending Leicho through the driver's window.
"Let's just hope no EH admirers come past, though," said Simone. She was thinking of a time a few weeks ago when they'd stopped in a factory area, normally deserted at weekends. While she and Danny were hard at it inside, a group of men had come past and spent some time admiring the hearse, loudly observing the way it had been converted from an ordinary Holden. Finally one had slipped a note under the windscreen wiper offering to buy it. The note had ended "PS. I know you're in there. Have a good screw."
Danny stopped the hearse under a tree, a short distance up the side track. They both walked back to the road (such as it was) to check that the hearse couldn't be seen. Not a trace. The only sound was the rustling of leaves, and a few birds singing in the distance.
As they walked back to the hearse, Danny started to undress her. She unzipped his fly, too, so when they climbed in through the back doors, they were almost ready for action.
This time, Burke and Wills parachuted down onto a small hillock with a rounded top. Instead of their usual camels, this time a commando team of wild koalas parachuted down with them.
After deciding to name the rounded hillock The Kneecap, the party continued marching along a grassy ridge. They didn't have much alternative: on both sides of the ridge were sheer cliffs.
"Now they're coming out onto a wider plateau," Danny told her. "They've seen a clump of mallee trees and decided to see if they can fill their water bottles. And they're in luck!"
He should be a racing or football commentator, she thought, trying not to laugh.
"Look what they've found. A waterfall with big pink rocks. 'But it's dried up,' says Burky. 'What do you expect in this country, in the middle of summer?' says Willsy. 'But hey, look, a cave behind the waterfall. Maybe there's a spring in there.' And Burky says 'Let's try it, I'm dying of thirst.' So they go in, and what do you know, there's water trickling down the walls, all over these aboriginal cave paintings."
"What???" said Simone.
"You know, weird diagrams of roos and crocodiles and things. Handprints, too. It's like an art gallery. You haven't been getting tattooed on the quiet, have you Mone?"
"Get on with it," she laughed, fondling him. "Don't forget you have to rub the sacred rock over the tunnel entrance."
"'Hey, look at this,' says Willsy. 'Look Burky, these next ones are framed, and they've got these little lights over them. And the floor's pink carpet now, instead of rock, and this crabby old guy in a uniform is sitting there making sure nobody nicks the paintings.'"
Simone giggled loudly. "Stop it!"
"What?"
"Are you licking my feet? Don't - it tickles."
"Bloody Leicho!"
"Oh Gawd, not the dawg! If it's not bystanders, it's him."
"He's just trying to help me," said Danny defensively. "Leicho! Over the front! Or I'll send those wild koalas after you!"
The dog reluctantly jumped between the curtains, into the driver's seat.
Danny continued the story. " 'Ah jest don't believe what you're a-tellin' me,' says Burky. 'Right,' says Willsy, 'Bring in the star witness. Hope he doesn't mind, but it's danged wet in this cave now.' So here comes the witness, the big goanna's coming in for a look. He gives the sacred rock a kiss on his way in."
"Mmmmmmh," sighed Simone.
"Goanna's a bit worried, so he keeps backing out a ways and -"
Simone put a hand over his mouth.
"That's enough," she said. "No more commentary, let's just -"
After a minute of delight, there was a sound: a vehicle approaching. They could hear the motor and the crunching of gravel. But instead of continuing along the road, it came up the side track, and went past the hearse. Simone and Danny sighed with relief.
Then it reversed and stopped next to them. Dozens of doors slammed and a crowd of men started jabbering in a strange guttural language, with the odd English word thrown in.
A lot of laughing was coming from outside: the men seemed to be saying something like "arshebar underwaiter", over and over again.
It's the number-plate Danny thought. I've heard this before.
"Arshebar underwaiter," one man would say, and the rest would roar with laughter. This was repeated about six times, each one taking his turn.
"...camera?" one of them said.
As this cry was being taken up and repeated, one of them came around to the front of the hearse and noticed Leicho in the driver's seat. He must have put his hand in the open window, because Leicho growled at him.
"Sorry man, just sayin' gidday."
"Gidday" was repeated half a dozen times. They must have been crowding around Leicho. Let's hope they don't open the curtains, Simone thought.
Leicho growled viciously. From the back a deep-voiced man said "camera".
There were some loud thumps on the roof of the hearse. Danny hoped they weren't climbing on it. Then somebody flicked the spinning ventilator, a few inches above Danny's head. It spun furiously - till a man put his finger in it and howled with pain.
"Camera," commanded the deep voice again, and all of them stood around the back, so that their photo could be taken with this amazing number plate.
What's the number? Danny wondered. Something like HBR-128. Is that a rude saying in Arabic, or what?
Now the men came around to the front, to take more photos there. Just as well there were curtains behind the seat. Simone was dressing fast, and had most of her clothes on by now. She was furious. In fact, Danny had never seen her so angry. She was mouthing something at him, but he didn't understand it.
Leicho was growling constantly at the would-be photographers.
"Camera," a man kept saying, in a coquettish voice.
At last they piled into their car, with much shutting of doors, and drove off up the track.
Simone climbed out through the back door and marched around to the passenger door. Danny was still lying in the back with nothing on.
"What's the hurry, Mone?"
"I can't stand it!" she burst out. "Every single time we get together, something like this happens. Why do you have this stupid hearse, anyway? It attracts far too much attention."
"HBR 128?" he thought aloud, studying the Persian-style rugs he'd recently glued over the side walls.
"I want to go to bed with you, Danny," she howled. "Not lie in the back of a van like an animal."
He climbed over the seat and held her, stroking her to try and calm her down.
"Goanna wants to try the cave again," he observed, after a minute or two.
"It's no good Danny, something else will come past. Probably a bus full of tourists, or the cops. Put your pants on, and let's go home."
"If that's what you want, Mone," Danny said wearily. He dressed, and started to drive her home. She sat as far away from him as she could get.
After a few minutes she spoke, looking away from him.
"Another thing about the blues," she added viciously. "Point X: All the songs have practically the same tune and the same chords."
Danny was puzzled, but wanted to patch things up. "Well, that's what makes it blues, love. They do seem sort of similar at first, but then you start to concentrate on the differences. Don't the Eskimos have a hundred different words for snow? It's the same thing."
"Where did you drag that one up from? No, don't tell me, it's an old blues song." She gave a knowing laugh and resumed her stare into space.
"You should leave home and get a flat," she told the road a few minutes later.
"Maybe we could go to my place," Danny suggested. "Mum put up with it that other time."
"Put up with it!" Simone snapped. "She wouldn't leave us alone! Coming in every five minutes to see if we wanted a cup of tea, and then barging into the shower to check if there was enough soap. She means well, Danny, and she's nice, but I don't want her around. Let's start looking for a flat. I'll leave home and move in with you."
Danny was amazed. "What about your parents?"
"Stuff my parents! They'll come around after a while. I'm always arguing with them. It's time I left home."
"Flats are hard to get..." he protested.
"Crap! You can get one, you've just have to be determined." She was watching his face now. "What's the trouble, Danny, don't you want to live with me?"
"I'd like nothing better," he protested.
"But?"
This was getting serious. He stopped the hearse at the roadside, slid across the seat, and held her. After a minute or two, they climbed back over the seat, and the big goanna made a second visit to the cave. Though they were parked on a fairly busy road, nobody bothered them. By the time they came back over the seat, they'd decided to look for a flat together.
Simone wanted to stop off at Danny's place on the way back. What a masochist, Danny thought.
She was hoping to see Danny's father, but he spent Saturday afternoons at the pub with his mates. Danny's mother Kathleen, who was having a cup of tea with her friend Rosa, welcomed them.
"Message from Cindy," his mother told him. He could never leave home for more than a couple of hours without getting a call from Cindy.
"I suppose she can't make it tonight," Danny snapped.
"For a change, she can. But Jason can't. She left a message for you: ring Jason, and Sharlene will explain. That didn't sound right to me. Would that be the same Sharlene as...?" She glanced at Rosa.
"Probably," said Danny.
"It doesn't matter," said Kathleen.
While Danny dialled Jason's number, his mother resumed the interrogation of Simone, in her usual devious way.
"They have such safe drugs these days, don't they?" she began, holding a foil-backed plastic card with her supply of blood-pressure pills.
"I guess so," said Simone, waiting for Danny to come back so they could tell his mother they were getting a flat.
"But they can be so hard to get out of these packets, specially when your fingers are as old as mine. Do you have that problem, Simone?"
"No, I just press the plastic scooby-dooby and the pill pops out."
"I suppose a healthy young person like you doesn't need to take pills very often."
"As a matter of fact - " Simone began, falling right into the trap. Rosa was scanning her expertly, probably deciding her hips weren't wide enough for child-bearing.
"I'm sure it's a very sensible precaution," Kathleen continued, "but sometimes when you're getting on in years you can't help thinking, wouldn't it be nice if - "
"Shit!" said Danny, coming in with a face like thunder. "Jason's not showing up tonight because Sharlene says it's, get this, inauspicious for him to get out of bed today."
"I suppose she's in there with him," Simone giggled, pleased to change the subject.
"Yeah, she was there too. She foresees electrical danger for Jazza, whatever that means, so he has to stay in bed. That leaves us high and dry tonight. Now I'll have to find another drummer." He was talking to himself now. "Hey, didn't Kevin find a foreign student or something. Where's that phone number...?"
When he got off the phone, his mother was showing Rosa and Simone some revolting photos of Danny as a baby.
"Fantastic!" Danny announced. "We've got a guy called Peter, he's over from Africa, and he's been a jazz drummer."
Now! Simone decided.
"Has Danny told you he's leaving home? We're going to rent a flat together, to make sure we're compatible."
Danny opened his mouth to say something. He wasn't sure what, so Kathleen got in first. "I don't know if that's necessary, dear. You're always more than welcome here, and I can be very discreet."
"Oh yeah?" said Danny. "Name just one time."
"Not in front of Rosa," she answered sweetly. "Now, flats are very expensive these days, and because Danny's saving for a home of his own - "
"Crap!" he said.
"- home of his own, it's much more economical for him to stay here. Besides," Kathleen added, playing her trump card, "there's not much point in getting a flat - because you'd never see each other. You don't have your own car, do you Simone? By the time you got back from the airport each night, Danny would be on his way to work."
Simone's face fell. She hadn't thought of that. Bloody shift work! Maybe he could take a job in a printing place that worked normal hours.
"What do your parents think of this?" Kathleen continued.
"We're just going to tell them," said Danny. "See you later, Mum and Rosa. Come on, Mone."
"But you haven't finished your cup of tea," his mother called after him. "And Danny's very fussy about the way his meat's cooked, you know."
"Aren't children a Trial these days, Kathleen?" said Rosa, feeling malicious. (Hers had all been married off years ago.) "And he hasn't even bought her a ring yet."
When Danny came into the Blue Roo, he couldn't see Peter at first, in the smoky bar. Then he began to make out a brilliant white shirt and teeth, in the darkness. Peter was as black as coal, and wore a suit and tie.
Danny was impressed. For some reason, probably because of the English-sounding voice, he'd assumed Peter was a white South African. In fact, he was an Ethiopian, and a philosophy student. He was old, too: 32.
Peter had never played blues before, he told them, but he was in a Christian jazz band at Melbourne Uni.
"I didn't know Christians played jazz," said Kevin acidly. "Isn't it unholy, or something?"
"Jazz is for all the world, for everybody, Christians and heathens all," Peter explained.
"What about blues?" Danny asked. Some of the words they sang were pretty evil. In fact the more evil they were, the more the audience liked them.
"Blues is like a heartfelt prayer," said Peter.
"That sounds just like Sharlene," Cindy giggled, and told Peter about her. He sounded interested, specially when he heard about her occupation. He had to do a paper on new movements in popular philosophy, and she was just the sort of person he wanted to meet.
When they started rehearsing, the band members were most impressed with Peter's drumming. He was so much better than Jason that it wasn't funny. The three others each privately decided to hang on to Peter if they possibly could, and drop Jason, whose dog-like keenness was often irritating.This idea lasted about two minutes, because Peter's manner was equally annoying: he had a lofty scholarly air, as if he was deigning to play with some children to keep them happy.
Peter didn't smoke - anything - or drink alcohol. After the concert, the others slurped down bourbons while Peter sipped a large glass of lemonade. He'd enjoyed it, he said, but found the constant four-four rhythm a little monotonous.
"It would be much more interesting," he said, "if some of the better songs could have an altered time signature. Not three-four, of course, but something subtly different, such as seven-eight."
"Come again?" said Kevin.
"For example, take the one I liked most, the Flying Shark Blues."
Danny was suddenly his friend for life.
"If you halved the length of the last beat in each bar, the whole song would be so much tighter. Like this." He drummed his fingers on the table to demonstrate. A couple of groupies on the opposite side dutifully echoed the rhythm.
"But it wouldn't be blues," said Danny. The groupies glared at him.
They headed off to the beach for their usual barbecue, having assured Peter this was the normal thing in Australia. He'd only been in the country four months.
"This will be so exciting," he said.
But after the swim, when they came to collect the steaks from Danny, Peter was nowhere to be seen. They'd all had rather a lot to drink, and recollecting facts wasn't easy. Had he actually been in the water with them, for example? None of them were certain. It was a very dark night, and a black man wasn't highly visible.
"Maybe the flying shark got him," said Kevin, laughing.
"Maybe he walked out to sea in a sulk, like I hear you did once, Kev," Cindy suggested. "Drowning himself because we didn't go for the seven-eight time."
"I don't think he even got wet," said Danny. "Are his clothes on the beach?"
They wandered around calling Peter's name, and searching without success for his clothes. They checked the hearse and Kevin's Kombi van. No sign of him, or his clothes.
Eating their now-cold steaks, they decided they'd upset him, and he'd walked home. He lived in St Kilda, about an hour's walk along the beach. Puzzled, they left early.
"Where did you go today, Simone?" her little sister Kylie asked her that night.
"Danny took me to the You Yangs, down by Geelong."
"What did you see there?"
"A big lizard, and some aboriginal cave paintings."
"Wow, really? Do they have cave paintings down there? We're doing a school project on that next term. Mr Borsetti would be really interested. Could you show him where the paintings were?"
"I don't think I could find them by myself," said Simone.
"Did you go in the spooky hearse?"
"It's not spooky, Kylie. It's just a van, really."
"Was there a coffin in the back?"
"No, just a mattress."
"Why?"
"Sometimes Danny sleeps on it."
"Why? Doesn't he have a bed?"
"No," said Simone bitterly.
On Sunday afternoon, Danny was telling Simone about Peter's disappearance. At her suggestion, he rang the hostel where Peter was living. They hadn't seen him since yesterday morning.
Before going to work, he watched all the TV news bulletins, making sure there was nothing about the body of a black man washed up on the beach. Of course there wasn't.
The next night, Danny rang the hostel again.
"He's not here any more," the warden explained. "He had to go home suddenly. Something came up."
"To Africa?"
"I assume so. The carriers came today for all his gear."
Danny rang Kevin to give him the news. What the hell's going on? he'd have asked, but the number was engaged. He rang Cindy, but her number was engaged too. He wanted to ring Simone, but was worried she'd ask him if he'd started looking for a flat. As she'd pointed out when he dropped her off the other night, he could see the paper hours before most other people, decide on the best flats, and ring those numbers when he got home at breakfast time. All this sounded very reasonable, but he simply didn't feel like doing it. What with all this worry about Peter. Perhaps next week.
So he rang Sharlene, who answered in a high-pitched Indian-sounding voice.
"Is your guru speaking, Sharls," Danny told her. "I am telling you, is not good manners when you are making nice black mans disappearing."
"Come off it, Dan, what the fuck are you talking about?"
"You missed the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to meet our new African drummer who stood in for Jason the other night. He wanted to meet you, too. We took him to Sandridge and he disappeared while we were in the water. Next I heard, he's on the way back to Africa."
"Probably heard about your cooking," she taunted.
"What's wrong with my cooking?" he asked, injured. This thought hadn't occurred to him.
"Don't panic, Danny-boy. Just a joke."
"And what was all that shit about electrical danger the other night?"
"We were having quite a nice time in bed, Jason and I. A sort of Orphic frenzy."
"Thought so."
"But I really could see danger, in the crystals," she said enthusiastically. "They went blue, so I knew it was electrical."
"Where do you learn this crap, Sharls? Are there books about it?"
"Very few in English. Mostly it's deeply intuitive. You either have the power, or you don't. Of course, most people don't."
"So Peter disappeared instead of Jason?"
"Yes, that proves there was danger. I was right all along. The danger must have been in the instruments, not the individual."
"So what was electrical about his disappearance?"
"Come to think of it, maybe the blue represented the sea, instead of electricity. Occasionally it does. Are you happy now, Mister Smarty?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him down the phone.
"What a con artist!" Danny said, admiringly. "But I tell you, if you'd seen him you wouldn't have made him disappear. You'd have been lined up with the groupies, Sharls."
"Hmmmm," she said thoughtfully. "Peter who?"
Home page | Floaters | Chapter 3A | Chapter 4