Read Online Death in Brunswick by Boyd Oxlade - Free Book Online Page B

battered machines. Up and down the street were lines of take-away shops and coffee bars, each with their group of silent card players—Greek, Turkish, Lebanese.
    Outside a video game parlour was a group of husky boys, wearing sleeveless black T-shirts, on their backs in white letters ‘The Young Turks’. Carl walked past them.
    â€˜Hey, mister. Got a smoke?’
    â€˜Ah, yeah, sure.’
    He fumbled his cigarettes out. They all took one, grinning.
    â€˜Thanks, mate. We got a light!’
    He crossed the road feeling their eyes on his back.
    Shit! It’s getting like New York round here—why aren’t they at school? Oh yeah, holidays. I know where they’ll be tonight. The Marquee. That Laurie’s a prick but he sure knows how to deal with shit like that. I must stop riding home from work on my bike—I’ll get thumped one night. Imagine if they got me in one of those dark streets—Jesus.
    Carl, who had been bullied unmercifully at school, was deeply fearful of any sort of physical confrontation. He became paralysed and incoherent. He remembered being beaten to the ground and kicked by boys just like these. He looked back at them. Red, impotent thoughts of vengeance flickered through his mind. Ah, forget it—the only way you could deal with pricks like that is with a fucking Magnum. I’ll just have to get out—but how? At least that house is cheap.
    He turned into his street. He thought it looked worse than ever. The dusty ti-trees drooped in the hot dirty air and he saw with irritation that the rubbish hadn’t been collected again. Split green plastic bags lay spilling on the kerbs.
    His uncle’s car wasn’t there—too late. As he opened the front door, he could hear Mahler again. This time it was the Sixth. It sounded so bombastic and tasteless after the Charlie Parker tape. He could hear his mother singing along, a high tuneless keening which put his teeth on edge.
    She was sitting in his lounge room wearing a tweed skirt, twin set and pearls.
    Pearls! They looked real too.
    He looked at them with proprietary interest. A thunderous chord came from the stereo.
    â€˜Really, Mother, do you have to play that garbage? Turn it down for God’s sake.’
    â€˜Oh, there you are dear. Why? Don’t you like my beautiful Mahler? You’ve always loved good music. I hope that club isn’t spoiling your ear.’
    â€˜Yeah, well, Mother, maybe that’s a good reason for leaving. I don’t like that place much anyway.’
    â€˜Now Carl, I would be very unhappy if you left. Why can’t you see if you can stay in a job for a reasonable time?’
    â€˜Now look here, Mother!’
    â€˜Now, dear, that isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about. Your Uncle John has just left and we’ve finished drawing up my will. Do sit down dear, and stop fidgeting. You do want to hear, don’t you?’
    â€˜Yeah, I guess so.’
    â€˜Well now,’ she said, smiling at him, ‘you are to get all my pennies and half my bits and pieces, but one thing. You are not to sell them. You do promise me, don’t you, Carl? And that’s another thing. I’d really like you to change your name back to Charles as your father and I called you. I can’t think why you changed it in the first place.’
    â€˜Because, Mother, I didn’t like everyone calling me Charlie. Christ! That’s twenty years ago!’
    â€˜Well, dear, I think it’s little enough to ask. I remember your father was very unhappy about it at the time. But never mind that for now. Aren’t you pleased? You’ll be quite well off.’
    â€˜Yeah, of course. Yeah, I am. Listen, did you get some lunch?’
    She wasn’t listening.
    â€˜I feel a little tired. I think I’ll lie down this afternoon. Why don’t you go outside? It’s a beautiful day, and your back garden needs such a lot of work.’
    â€˜Gee, Mother. I