bays, the furthest, right at the end, near the point that took you out to the open sea. All that remained on her side, really, was the old Bullen house, the museum and the sand dunes. The other side of Whale Jetty was MacIver’s Seafood Bar and Grill, the fish market, and then, as you moved further from Kathleen’s, the growing spread of the town.
He told me his name was Mike, and I forget his surname. He didn’t say much else. I asked him if he was here on business, and he said, ‘Pleasure, mainly.’ I remember thinking, What the hell kind of bloke dresses like that on his holidays? He said he’d just got off the plane that morning and he should have had a hire car but the company had screwed up and said they’d deliver one to him up here from Newcastle tomorrow.
‘Long flight, but,’ I said.
He nodded.
‘Been here before?’
‘Sydney. Once. I wasn’t there very long.’
I figured he was in his mid-thirties. He looked at his watch a lot, for someone who wasn’t working. I asked him how he came to be booked in to Kathleen’s. ‘It’s not the busiest,’ I said, glancing pointedly at his expensive suit. ‘I thought someone like you’d want to be somewhere . . . you know . . . smarter.’
He looked straight ahead, as if he was working out his answer. ‘I heard the area was nice,’ he said. ‘It was the only hotel I could find listed.’
‘You really want to be over at the Blue Shoals up the coast there,’ I said. ‘Pretty nice place, that. En-suites, Olympic-sized pool, all that jazz. Monday to Thursday they do a pretty good all-you-can-eat buffet too. Fifteen dollars a head, I think it is. Fridays the price goes up a bit.’ I swerved to avoid a dog that loped across the road. ‘And there’s the Admiral, in Nelson Bay. Satellite telly in every room, the decent channels, not the crap. You’d get a good deal this time of year – I happen to know there’s hardly anyone in there.’
‘Thank you,’ he said eventually. ‘If I decide to move, that may come in useful.’
After that there wasn’t much we said to each other. I drove, feeling a bit irritated that the guy hadn’t made more of an effort. I’d picked him up, driven him all the way – a cab ride would have cost him a good ten bucks – given him the low-down on the area, and he made barely any effort to talk to me.
I was half thinking of saying something – I guess the beer had warmed me up a little – but then I realised he’d fallen asleep. Out cold. Not even a sharp-suited businessman looks like a winner when he’s drooling on his shoulder. For some reason this made me feel better and I found myself whistling all the way along the coast road to Silver Bay.
Kathleen had done up the table something beautiful. I saw the cloth and the balloons long before I saw anything else, the white damask billowing in the brisk winds, the balloons bobbing in a bid to break free for the heavens.
The home-made bunting read ‘Happy Birthday, Hannah’, and below it, the birthday girl and a gang of her mates were squealing at some bloke with a snake wrapped round his arm.
For a minute I forgot about the visitor in my cab. I climbed out and walked along the driveway, remembering with a jolt that the party had started an hour earlier.
‘Greg.’ Kathleen had a way of looking you up and down that told you she knew exactly where you were coming from. ‘Nice of you to make it.’
‘Who’s that?’ I nodded towards the bloke with the snake.
‘The Creature Teacher, I believe he calls himself. Every creepy-crawly you can imagine. Giant cockroaches, snakes, tarantulas . . . He lets the kids hold them, stroke them, that kind of thing. It was what Hannah asked for.’ She shuddered. ‘Can’t think of anything more disgusting.’
‘In my day you’d stamp on ’em,’ I agreed, ‘with your Blundstones on.’
There were eight kids, and a few adults, mainly other crew. That didn’t surprise me. Hannah was a funny kid, old before
He told me his name was Mike, and I forget his surname. He didn’t say much else. I asked him if he was here on business, and he said, ‘Pleasure, mainly.’ I remember thinking, What the hell kind of bloke dresses like that on his holidays? He said he’d just got off the plane that morning and he should have had a hire car but the company had screwed up and said they’d deliver one to him up here from Newcastle tomorrow.
‘Long flight, but,’ I said.
He nodded.
‘Been here before?’
‘Sydney. Once. I wasn’t there very long.’
I figured he was in his mid-thirties. He looked at his watch a lot, for someone who wasn’t working. I asked him how he came to be booked in to Kathleen’s. ‘It’s not the busiest,’ I said, glancing pointedly at his expensive suit. ‘I thought someone like you’d want to be somewhere . . . you know . . . smarter.’
He looked straight ahead, as if he was working out his answer. ‘I heard the area was nice,’ he said. ‘It was the only hotel I could find listed.’
‘You really want to be over at the Blue Shoals up the coast there,’ I said. ‘Pretty nice place, that. En-suites, Olympic-sized pool, all that jazz. Monday to Thursday they do a pretty good all-you-can-eat buffet too. Fifteen dollars a head, I think it is. Fridays the price goes up a bit.’ I swerved to avoid a dog that loped across the road. ‘And there’s the Admiral, in Nelson Bay. Satellite telly in every room, the decent channels, not the crap. You’d get a good deal this time of year – I happen to know there’s hardly anyone in there.’
‘Thank you,’ he said eventually. ‘If I decide to move, that may come in useful.’
After that there wasn’t much we said to each other. I drove, feeling a bit irritated that the guy hadn’t made more of an effort. I’d picked him up, driven him all the way – a cab ride would have cost him a good ten bucks – given him the low-down on the area, and he made barely any effort to talk to me.
I was half thinking of saying something – I guess the beer had warmed me up a little – but then I realised he’d fallen asleep. Out cold. Not even a sharp-suited businessman looks like a winner when he’s drooling on his shoulder. For some reason this made me feel better and I found myself whistling all the way along the coast road to Silver Bay.
Kathleen had done up the table something beautiful. I saw the cloth and the balloons long before I saw anything else, the white damask billowing in the brisk winds, the balloons bobbing in a bid to break free for the heavens.
The home-made bunting read ‘Happy Birthday, Hannah’, and below it, the birthday girl and a gang of her mates were squealing at some bloke with a snake wrapped round his arm.
For a minute I forgot about the visitor in my cab. I climbed out and walked along the driveway, remembering with a jolt that the party had started an hour earlier.
‘Greg.’ Kathleen had a way of looking you up and down that told you she knew exactly where you were coming from. ‘Nice of you to make it.’
‘Who’s that?’ I nodded towards the bloke with the snake.
‘The Creature Teacher, I believe he calls himself. Every creepy-crawly you can imagine. Giant cockroaches, snakes, tarantulas . . . He lets the kids hold them, stroke them, that kind of thing. It was what Hannah asked for.’ She shuddered. ‘Can’t think of anything more disgusting.’
‘In my day you’d stamp on ’em,’ I agreed, ‘with your Blundstones on.’
There were eight kids, and a few adults, mainly other crew. That didn’t surprise me. Hannah was a funny kid, old before
Similar Books
