Weekend Reading

In the latest instalment of Family Lines Lucy recalls a surprise visitor but is he bringing news of her missing sister Deb or looking for some?

15 July 1980

Guess who turned up last Saturday? Fogo. Looking like a toilet brush in a pinstripe suit. His brother’s I suppose. It was at least two sizes two big for him. He seemed relieved that it was me who answered the door.  

  Howya Loose.

 Whassup? I asked.

  He shrugged. Jus’ yaknow – wanted to see how you’re doing. And your folks.

  I had a feeling there was more to this visit than a how-do-you-do. I stood aside to let him in. As he walked past me I caught a whiff of his nervousness. It was like it was radiating off of him. (Jasus! Don’t tell me I’m seeing auras now, like Mrs. Rip-Off Smith!) He sort of tiptoed down the hall to the kitchen. Ma was out. Good job or she’d have gone through him for a short-cut. Da was in the garden tinkering with the mower. I put on the kettle and called to Da out the window. He waved at me, wiped his hands on his jeans and came in slowly.

   Da did his best to be polite to Fogo but you know better than me that he and Ma never took to your fella, or his spiky hairdo. We sat around the table with our mugs of coffee staring at the plate of Marietta (that was all we had) saying nothing. Finally Da broke the silence.

  I thought we’d have seen you before now, Duane.

  Yeah, well, I didn’t – yaknow. I wanted to come around but I thought maybe yaknow you wouldn’t want to see me.

  Why would that be? Da gave him that intense look, the one that says you’re in deep shit.

  I began to feel sorry for Fogo the way he was shuffling on the chair, pulling at the collar and tie that were loose anyway.

 Da just kept looking at him. Waiting him out.

 After a lot of false starts Fogo spat it out, that he hadn’t knocked you up, and if he had of he would have taken responsibility. He wouldn’t have made you have an abortion.

 I told all this to the pi— the cops I mean, he said. And then my Ma said I that I better come and tell you and Mrs. Kane all that too. Jus’ yaknow so’s you’d know. Yaknow.  

  Fair play, I thought. It took guts to come over and say all that. Not that Ma would have believed him.

  Da sat back in his chair and relaxed a fraction then he nodded and said, Thank you for coming to tell us this. I can’t say it’s a comfort to us but it narrows the possibilities, a little. Now if you don’t mind I’ll— He stood up and made for the back door.

  Fogo stood up too and stammered, Yeah, sure. If you ever need a hand yaknow in the garden or anything . . . his voice trailed off.

  Thanks, Da nodded, then opened the door and went outside.  A minute later we could hear the mower’s engine roar and cut out.

  I offered Fogo a fag which he grabbed like a life belt.  

  Has there been any news? He asked on the first exhale.

  I shook my head.

  It doesn’t figure. She was supposed to be coming on tour with us next month.

  My sister a groupie? I don’t think so. I squinted against a curl of smoke.

  An assistant, he bristled. She designed the posters.

  I remembered you puzzling over how to put across The Pricks without being too obvious.  

  He tugged at the shirt collar again and loosened the knot on the tie.

  Nice suit, I said.

  Fuck off, he said.

  The mower’s engine roared and cut out again. The two of us glanced out the window at Da. He looked kind of old and sad out there. Fiddling with the mower because he couldn’t think of anything better to be doing and didn’t want to be sitting around thinking. He was never going to get that mower going.

  Are they yaknow doing all right? Fogo jerked his head at the window.

  They’re in bits, I said. It’s not like when someone dies. People don’t know what to say to us. Sometimes I set Deb’s place at the table. She’s like a phantom limb.

  Was she yaknow – was there someone else?

  So that’s why he took his time about coming around here. Thought you’d done the dirt on him.

  I don’t know.

  For fuck’s sake, Loose. You shared a room with her.

  Yeah but that doesn’t mean I knew where she was when she wasn’t in the room.

  That means you do know and she was.

  If you say so.

  He ground his butt into the ashtray and threw me a desperate look. Can I have another?   

  I handed him the pack.

  He took one out lit it, inhaled then let the smoke stream out the side of his mouth which was all twisted up in disgust.

  Are you going to write a song about her?

  Yeah. I’ll call it ‘I’ve Lost Me Mott and I Want to Slit Me Throat’. He snorted. The tour starts next week. I wish Deb was coming with us. His face quivered. He couldn’t keep up the hard man routine much longer.

  Well if I was you I’d be looking for a replacement – assistant that is, I said.

  You’re not giving much away.

  Not another one!

  Why does everyone think I know where she is? I asked him. I’m not a mind reader. We tried one of them and she wasn’t much use. Besides maybe Deb didn’t run away. I miss her too. Don’t you get that?

  I know. Yeah. I’m sorry. He bowed his head and clasped his hands around the fag. It’s awful, he said. Not knowing where she is, who she’s with, why she left like that. He took another pull on the fag. We didn’t have a row, in case that’s what you’re thinking. We were – we were – we were close. Yaknow.

  Sure, yeah. Okay. But I’m sick of everyone asking me as if I’m withholding information, I said. Any day now they’ll be sticking matches under my toenails and lighting them one by one until I tell them where she went or what I did to her.

  Deb was cool, he said, recovering himself. I think she took off. But she could have told me where she was going. I wouldn’t have tried to stop her.

  And would you have told us?

  I – ah – I don’t know. I mean yes of course if she hadn’t made contact. Yeah I would.

  Then that’s why she didn’t tell you.

  I suppose you’re right. He sank again.

  Thanks for coming, I said, standing. I gathered the mugs and placed them in the sink.

  Ok. He stood too. I’m sorry.

  So are we. I followed him through the hall. His shoulders jerked inside the big suit. Little boy lost. I put out my hand to touch him then let it fall.  

  He turned on the doorstep and said, Thanks Loose.

  Thank you, I said. You did right to come over. I’ll tell Ma what you said.

  See ya round, he gave a little wave and half ran down the path.  

When Fogo was gone I felt suddenly sick and tired. I came up here to our room and sat on your bed. There are moments when I want to rip down that poster you liked of the weird stretched out sleeping face. I don’t know how it didn’t give you nightmares. For the umpteenth time I fingered the things on your locker, the teddy bear with a crown and sash that Betty brought from Berlin, the scallop shell filled with beads and earrings, the photo of us all on your Confirmation day, my hand in yours, as I look up at you in wonder expecting to see a tongue of fire over your white straw hat, the half-finished bottle of Smitty (and no, I haven’t been using it), the Snoopy alarm clock. I opened the door of the locker and looked at the stack of diaries. I know Ma has been looking at them. She can’t have found any leads there. I pulled one out at random and flipped the pages. Mostly drawings. Very few words. And still you’re keeping your silence. Why? Why? Why?

  Your little copy of the Kama Sutra is still there too. I bet that gave Ma a shock! Or maybe she got some ideas from it for herself and Da to try out. I’d say they could do with some new moves. I knew she’d be turning the place upside down so I took the precaution of smoking your hash – burning the evidence. I stowed the whiskey in a new hiding place. Good job I did too because I’d swear she tried to pull up the carpet. The latest is she wants to go on ‘The Gay Byrne Show’ to beg you to come home. Not sure Gaybo is biting.

That evening Da and me told Ma about Fogo’s visit. She looked at me expecting that I got more info out of him than he gave Da. No dice. She wrinkled up her nose and called him a waster. I’d like to have seen her face when you announced you were going on tour with The Pricks!! Ma would have been stretched on the doormat clinging to your ankles begging you not to go. I’m sorry you’ve deprived us of that laugh. In fact there’s not much laughs around here since you left. Come back from wherever you are soon.

---

I hope you’re enjoying Family Lines. If so please share What’s the Story? with your friends.

And of course please also share your thoughts on this chapter and the story so far.