A Wrong Turn at the Office of Unmade Lists Read online

  ‘Pardon me, miss.’

  She looked up. The soldier was standing in front of her.

  ‘Mind if I sit down?’

  He looked Indian, maybe Bangladeshi. He’d done well for himself. ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Nice manicure,’ he said.

  ‘Hey thanks. It’s brand new.’

  He sat for a moment, rocking his chair a little. Like an eleven-year-old, Caddy thought.

  ‘Can I buy you a drink, miss?’

  ‘Sure!’ She smiled, and wondered if he’d get in some kind of trouble, deserting his post like this.

  ‘Peira,’ she called. ‘Peira! This soldier wants a drink!’

  Peira reappeared from wherever she’d been. ‘Yes sir, what can I get you?’ She handed him the menu. Caddy had never been handed the menu. Only hillsiders and soldiers got the menu.

  ‘What are you drinking, miss?’

  ‘That’s Caddy,’ Peira said.

  ‘Vodka and tonic, please,’ Caddy said.

  ‘And I’ll have a water. Thank you, miss.’ He turned to Caddy. ‘Caddy?’

  She nodded.

  ‘My name is Deepra.’

  ‘It’s very nice to meet you.’

  ‘You also,’ she smiled and patted his leg. ‘I was looking at you before, thinking how handsome you looked. Don’t you get hot, standing out there all day?’

  ‘It’s my job, miss.’

  Peira, back with the drinks, frowned at her. ‘That will be $12.50 thank you sir.’

  The soldier counted out thirteen. ‘Keep the change.’

  ‘Thanks for the drink.’

  ‘No problem. I was very thirsty out there. Couldn’t just sit and drink by myself, could I, with you sitting right there?’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  He looked out at the street, tapping his fingers on the table.

  ‘Have you been here long?’ Caddy asked.

  ‘In this town? Not long. About …’ he stared up at the fan, still slowly spinning, while he calculated ‘… seven weeks.’

  ‘And before this?’

  ‘Northern England, after the floods.’

  ‘Ah. I saw some of the YouTubes.’

  He just nodded. Then, ‘So, you know, it’s quite nice being here.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s not bad here,’ she agreed. ‘Hot, though.’

  ‘Yes, it is hot.’

  ‘Where are you from originally?’ Caddy asked.

  ‘It was a place called Andaman Islands. You probably don’t know it.’

  ‘Yeah, I know it. I’m sorry.’

  He shrugged. ‘This is a good job, you know? There were no jobs in the Andaman Islands. It doesn’t matter. Everyone has problems.’

  She nodded. ‘Yep, everyone has problems. Except maybe those guys,’ she nodded over at the cocktail-drinking tourists, forgetting they’d left. ‘Oh, they’re not … never mind.’

  ‘No, I know who you mean,’ he said. ‘I saw, before. When you were getting your manicure and giving away half this newspaper.’ He smiled.

  ‘If you knew half of it was missing, why did you pay so much? It’s worth less than a dollar.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘What is it with you guys and money?’

  ‘I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter. It’s not so much to give a kid on the street a few extra dollars. It’s a tax, I guess.’

  ‘Yeah, great, but it pushes the prices up for the rest of us,’ Caddy said, knowing it wasn’t true at all. No one would ever try to sell her a paper for five dollars. No one would mistake her for a tourist or a hillsider, and she certainly didn’t have a blue beret.

  ‘Ah, I’m sorry. It must be awful,’ he smiled at her. ‘Can I buy you another drink to make up for it?’

  ‘Maybe you’d rather come back to my place and I could make you a drink?’ She put her hand on his knee again.

  ‘I’m not sure I have quite enough on me for a free drink,’ he replied, looking her straight in the eye.

  ‘Twenty dollars,’ she replied, but she couldn’t hold his gaze and looked down at her lap.

  She noticed he was playing with his wedding ring. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I think I don’t have that much on me.’

  ‘Seventeen,’ she said.

  ‘Hey look,’ he turned back to face her. ‘I think for now I’d rather just buy you another drink, OK? I should go back to my post.’ He stuck his hand in his pocket and put five dollars on the table. ‘Drink up,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you around.’ He stood up, put his sunglasses on and stepped back into the street.

  ‘At least I have a home,’ she muttered to herself. ‘You’re the one who should be taking charity.’ But she put the five dollars in her pocket and waited until the soldier had turned the corner. ‘Peira! I’m out of here. See you later.’ There was no reply, but as she began walking off she looked back to see Peira turning off the fan.

  NOT REAL GOOD VODKA, BUT REAL VODKA

  There had been no trains, but one of the boys waiting at the Cross had agreed to give her a ride as far as South K station for a dollar. She couldn’t really afford it, but she didn’t think three vodkas was good fuel for an hour’s walk with the sun still up.

  Caddy had finally gotten home around 8pm, the sun just setting as she crossed the footbridge below the old tennis courts. On her way home she’d rented a phone and called her friend Ray. Five rings, and it had gone through to his voicemail. For a second she thought about hanging up and saving her 30 cents, but she really needed to find him. She’d left a message: ‘Ray, it’s Caddy. Can I see you? I haven’t got a phone right now. Can you meet me at, um, oh: meet me at that internet café on Racecourse? You know the one – Sunny or something? Tomorrow? At eleven? Turn up if you can, or I’ll try and call you later. OK, bye.’

  At the Newell settlement someone had been cooking fish on a fire. It smelled good, but she’d learned a long time ago that she didn’t have the constitution for river fish. Instead, she’d pulled a pack of oat bars from her humpy. Three left. Man, she needed to find some work.

  It was too depressing to think about. While there was still some light left in the sky she’d taken out her notebook and done a little more work on her story. It was a good distraction, writing about people who lived in the cold and the rain. But it wasn’t any kind of way to make money. She’d gone to sleep hoping hard that she’d find Ray. But here it was, 11am, and no sign of the guy.

  She’d expected a hell of a walk up to Racecourse this morning, but when she’d come out of her humpy the sky was overcast. It didn’t look like the usual thunder and lightning summer storm sky. Even if it had been, those usually came through in the late afternoon, not eight in the morning. She didn’t know how to describe the clouds – like someone had built a trellis over the city during the night, then draped it with a deep silvery-grey cloth that buckled and puckered between the trellis slats. Mukhtar had been out staring at the clouds too, hands on hips while his fishing rod did its own work, propped on a forked stick by the river.

  ‘What do you think, Cad?’ he’d said. ‘Pretty strange, huh?’

  ‘Pretty strange all right. Change is as good as a holiday though, right?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You know, the saying. A change is as good as a holiday.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous. As good as a holiday? Ridiculous.’ He muttered to himself and turned back to his rod, ‘I don’t think I will ever understand this country.’

  So the walk had been better than she’d expected, maybe 32 degrees or something outside, warm and heavy. On her way up the hill to Racecourse she’d thought she’d heard a tram, too. Maybe, she’d thought, it was going to be a good day. Maybe some things would work.

  But now here it was, 11am, and, as she’d said, no sign of the guy. The traders had been packing up their stalls as she walked up, twelve dollars a kilo for bananas today, another good sign. She thought about buying one. Maybe once she’d seen Ray.

  Sunny Internet Café had set up in the shell of the old Arms. She’d heard
that in the old days, people would come by here after the races, spill out onto the footpaths with their sparkling wine and hats. It was hard to imagine, seeing the racegoers round November in their armoured four-wheel drives, speeding in and out of the course, security guards lining the streets. She ducked under the plastic sheeting nailed up to keep the dust out and looked around. No Ray. No nobody. She went out again. There were a couple of old milk crates on the footpath out front, so she pulled one up and sat to wait.

  Ten past, quarter past, twenty past. He wasn’t coming. She went back in to Sunny.

  Three laptops sat perched on old school desks, wired up to photovoltaics hung from the window frame. In the corner, a young guy in a Demons cap slouched in a battered armchair. Missing a leg on the front left corner it slumped forward, threatening to tip him onto the floor. He was reading a paperback.

  ‘Excuse me?’ Caddy asked.

  Without looking up he ran his finger along two more lines of text, slid a bookmark from under his leg and into the novel, closed it and placed it on the floor.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Hi. I’m looking for a friend of mine. Red hair. An Aboriginal bloke. You seen him?’

  ‘You mean Ray?’

  ‘Yeah. Has he been in here?’

  ‘Haven’t seen that guy in weeks. You see him, can you tell him to come by?’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’

  ‘Anything else?’ He was bending forward to pick the book up again.

  ‘How much for five minutes?’ She gestured towards one of the computers.

  ‘Two-fifty.’

  ‘Two-fifty? Come off it. Are you paying for your wireless or something?’

  ‘Nah.’

  ‘I’ll give you a dollar.’

  ‘You got no money? I can’t do it for a dollar, boss’ll kill me.’

  Caddy was pretty sure this guy didn’t have a boss – what would be the sense of paying someone to sit around in an armchair reading? The computers had to belong to him.

  ‘I’ve only got a dollar,’ she said. ‘It’s cool, I’ll go somewhere else. Up to LANtastic or something.’ She turned towards the doorway.

  ‘Nah, nah, tell you what. You do something for me, you can use the network for free.’

  Caddy gave him a dirty look. ‘I’m worth more than an internet connection, pal. I’ll go elsewhere.’

  ‘Hey, not like that! I don’t mean that!’ He pushed his cap back on his head ‘Sorry, don’t get me wrong. I just need someone to take those boxes into the city for me. I don’t have time to go myself.’

  She looked where he was pointing. Two shoeboxes, didn’t look too heavy.

  ‘Anything dangerous in those?’

  ‘Not dangerous.’ He didn’t sound sure.

  ‘Illegal?’

  ‘Isn’t everything?’ He smiled. Cute, she thought. Seriously, he wasn’t bad.

  ‘Yeah, I guess I can do that. Who am I taking them to?’ She was kind of hoping he’d need her to pick something up, something that needed bringing back here.

  ‘I’ll write you down the address. You don’t need to see anyone, just leave them inside the door, it’s OK.’

  ‘You need anything brought back? I live around here, so I don’t mind.’

  ‘Hey, nah. Not today. Praps later though, huh. You live around here? JJ Holland?’

  ‘No, down at Newell.’

  ‘By the river? Nice! I mostly live here. Gets real hot. Maybe I should come down there for a beer some time, huh?’ He smiled again. ‘So what do you say? You take the boxes?’

  ‘Yeah sure. What else am I going to do all day?’

  ‘Cool. I’ll set you up.’

  He heaved himself up out of the armchair and opened one of the laptops, pressed its ‘on’ button a few times. He stood back staring at it, hands on hips and head on the side. Caddy stole another look. Cute, alright.

  He pulled the screen down again, clicked it shut and tried the next computer.

  ‘Yo, this one’s a goer,’ he said. ‘Take your time, no limit.’ He pulled the chair out for her and swept a small bow. ‘If you please, miss.’

  ‘Thanks.’ This time she gave him a smile back, for free.

  Logging in took forever, of course. She was glad she wasn’t paying. Eventually, her email opened. There was just the one message, from Ray.

  Hey Cad, got the phone message, can’t make it, sorry. I guess you already know that. Events conspired and all. Did you see the sky this morning? I’m working on some things for you. Thinking of you. You are in my plans! Will see you around soon, OK? Maybe we can get you a new phone … xx

  Patience, patience. It was OK for Ray, he wasn’t counting down his last couple of dollars. She picked a scab on her hand, trying to decide her next move. She had a free connection, she might as well reply.

  Hey. I’ll be round the city later today if you see this, dropping off some stuff for the Sunny guy.

  ‘Hey, where do you want me to take that stuff?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, it’s in Drewery Lane. You know it? Up near Library station?’

  ‘I’ll find it. Thanks.’

  Got to go to Drewery Lane, I think it’s near Library. You know it? Anyway, I guess if you’re around look for me. Or maybe meet me near St George at 5pm. I’ll cruise by, see if you’re there. Keen to hear what you have in store. Kbai.

  She hit send and stretched her arms above her head. Right away, of course, she got a bounce back, ‘Mailbox full’. From long experience she knew that that meant she didn’t know anything. Maybe it had gone through, maybe not. She’d go to St George anyway. Nothing better to do.

  ‘You want me to turn this off?’

  ‘Sure, thanks.’ He didn’t look up. Must be a good book.

  ‘She shut down, and closed the laptop’s screen.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, standing up and grabbing her pack from the floor. ‘you got that address?’

  He closed the book again and stretched round to the boxes, slid them in front of his feet. He opened the top box and took out a slip of paper. She could see the boxes were full of bottles of something pink. He took a pen out of his back pocket and sketched out a little map.

  ‘OK, you see here? Get a train to Library … Ha!’

  ‘Yeah, good one. I don’t know though, thought I heard a tram on my way up here. Maybe I’ll walk up to Newmarket and see if there’s a train.’ Ah, shut up, she thought. You want this guy to think you’re an idiot?

  But he just smiled. ‘Always worth a try. OK, so get to Library somehow, then it’s west on LitLat and turn left at Drewery. There are three lanes off it, the drop off is on the corner of the third one.’

  ‘Sounds easy. Can I look in the boxes, or is this one of those spy kind of errands?’

  ‘Oh sure.’ He opened the box again, pulled out one of the bottles. ‘Have you seen these? Vodka Cruisers. Well cellared!’

  ‘Whoa, how old?’ She peered forward. The labels looked in perfect condition.

  ‘These are from around twenty twelve. They’re not mine, obviously; I’m just doing the delivery.’

  ‘Twenty twelve? So that’s real vodka? Whoa!’

  ‘Yeah, I reckon it is. Not real good vodka, but real vodka. Have you ever tried the real stuff?’

  ‘Once,’ she said.

  ‘Ray?’

  ‘Of course. He had a UDL, vodka and passionfruit. He shared it with me.’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s real vodka.’

  ‘Hey! Don’t mess with the fantasy!’

  He gave her a bit of a look, but she wasn’t sure what kind. ‘I tell you what,’ he said. ‘You’ll need a bag to carry these, right?’

  ‘Oh, I’ve got my pack.’

  ‘Shoosh. You’ll need a bag to carry these, right?’

  ‘Oh, right!’

  ‘So how about I lend you my Green Bag. I’ll need it back though, so how about I come down to Newell tomorrow evening, say around eight? You know, to get my bag back?’ He started picking through the bottles. ‘Did you see how many
bottles there were in this box? I sure didn’t. For all I know one of those bottles broke before I even got the box. Happens all the time …’ He took one of the bottles and slid it under the chair. ‘Back in a minute.’ He pushed himself up out of the chair and headed somewhere out the back, picking his way through a pile of timber offcuts and corrugated iron. A minute later he was back with a Green Bag. He loaded the boxes in and passed her the bag.

  ‘OK then, so I’ll see you tomorrow?’

  ‘You’ve got yourself a deal … um, should I know your name, do you think?’

  ‘Oh yeah, I suppose you should! I’m Lanh.’

  ‘Caddy.’

  ‘OK, Caddy, see you tomorrow. Oh yeah, and just put those inside the door. Did I say that already?’

  ‘Yeah. Are you sure? They seem kind of valuable.’

  ‘That’s what they told me.’

  ‘Cool. See ya.’

  Outside, she headed across the road, dodging traffic, and slipped into what was left of the market out the front of Woolies. Most of the stalls were covered in tarpaulins now, so she found a quiet corner and squatted down. Caddy took the boxes of bottles out of the green bag and loaded them into her pack, flattened the bag on top of them and zipped the pack closed. She hefted it back over both her shoulders and tested it for weight and comfort. No problems. Much better than lugging that stupid Green Bag round by its handles, one arm all useless for anything else.

  She had a quick scout around the open stalls. She really needed some soap. One of the Greek ladies had rough cakes of something grey-green and almost rectangular. A sign said they were made from olive oil and honey. Caddy wondered if the lady had bees somewhere, almost asked her before realizing it was stupid. How would she have bees? ‘Honey?’ she asked the woman.

  ‘Smells like honey, dear. Just like honey.’

  Maybe it did, maybe it didn’t. Caddy wouldn’t know. It smelled nice though, and Cad needed to wash herself and her clothes, preferably before Lanh came by tomorrow night. He seemed nice enough, she thought; he’d do.

  ‘How much?’

  ‘You can have three for five dollars.’

  ‘I only need one, it’s just for me.’