Part 3 (1/2)

As she unlocked the chemist shop door she saw Beula Harridene advancing. Her s.h.i.+ns were scratched and a purple petal clung to her cardigan. Nancy stepped into her path, smiled and said, 'Morning again, Mrs Harriden.'

Beula looked directly back at Nancy and said, 'One of these '

Suddenly she gasped, slapped a hand over her mouth and bolted. Nancy was both pleased and puzzled. She unlocked the chemist door, stood by the mirror to run a comb through her hair and saw why Beula had run a white milk smear rimmed her lips. She smiled.

By eight fifty on Monday morning Sergeant Farrat had bathed and dressed in his crisp navy uniform. His cap was perched gaily to one side, his navy skirt was taut across his thighs and generous b.u.t.tocks, and the seams at the back of his pale nylon calves were straight as a new fence line. His new checked gingham skirt hung starched and pressed on the wardrobe doork.n.o.b behind him. He was vacuuming the last of the telltale threads into the bladder of his upright Hoover.

Beula Harridene stood on the porch, her face pressed to the window, squinting into the dimness. She banged on the door. The sergeant switched off his cleaner and wound the cord precisely up and down the handle catches. He removed his skirt and hung it with his gingham skirt in the wardrobe, then locked the door. He paused a moment to run his hands over his nylon stockings and admire his new lace panties. Then he put on his navy trousers, socks and shoes. He checked his image in the mirror and made his way to the office.

Outside, Beula hopped from one foot to the other. Sergeant Farrat glanced up at the clock and unlocked the front door. Beula fell in blabbering.

'Those dogs barked all Sat.u.r.day night, stirred up by those hoodlum footballers, and since you haven't silenced them I've phoned Councillor Pettyman this morning and he's says he'll see to it, and I've written to your superiors again this time I told them everything. What's the point of having a law enforcer if he enforces the law according to himself, not the legal law? Your clock's set wrong, you open up late and I know you lock up early Fridays ...'

Beula Harridene had bloodshot-beige eyes that bulged. She had an undershot chin and rabbit-size buck teeth, so her bottom lip was forever blue with bruised imprints and froth gathered and dried at the corners of her unfortunate mouth. The sergeant concluded that because her bite was inefficient she was starving, therefore vicious, malnourished and mad. While Beula went on, and on, Sergeant Farrat placed a form on the counter, sharpened a pencil and wrote, 'Nine O-one Monday 9th October ...'

Beula stamped her feet. '... AND, that daughter of Mad Molly's is back the murderess! And that fancy William Beaumont's been hanging around town too, Sergeant, neglecting his poor mother and the property, hanging about with those hoodlum footballers, well let me tell you if he's got any queer ideas we'll all suffer, I know what men get up to when they go away to cities, there are men dressed as women and I know '

'How do you know Beula?'

Beula smiled, 'My father warned me.'

Sergeant Farrat looked directly at Beula and raised his pale eyebrows. 'And how did he know, Beula?'

Beula blinked.

'What is your particular problem today, Beula?'

'I've been a.s.saulted, this very morning, I've been a.s.saulted by a pack of marauding children '

'And what did these children look like Beula?'

'They looked like children short and grubby.'

'In school uniform?'

'Yes.'

As Beula talked the sergeant wrote. 'Sergeant Horatio Farrat, Dungatar police station, reports an official complaint made by Mrs Beula Harridene. Mrs Harridene has been the victim of marauding schoolchildren, two boys and a girl, who early this morning were seen fleeing from outside Mrs Harridene's residence having attacked her premises. Mrs Harridene accuses the said three school-children of throwing bunches of seed pods onto her corrugated iron roof, having stolen the bunches of seed pods from the jacaranda tree located on her nature strip.'

'It was those McSwineys! I saw them ...' She continued to screech, sweating, a sweet pungency permeating the room and small droplets of spittle flying, landing on Sergeant Farrat's logbook. He gathered the form and his book and took a step back. Beula clutched the counter, swaying, her teeth puncturing her lower lip.

'All right Beula. Lets go see Mae and Edward, look over a few of their kids.'

He drove Beula to her house. First they established that wind must have blown away all the bunches of seed pods from the guttering surrounding her roof. Next Sergeant Farrat drove in search of the said accused criminals. Nancy was leaning on her broom chatting while Purl hosed the footpath. Irma was at her front gate. Lois and Betty were at Pratts' window, their arms through wicker basket handles. Miss Dimm was standing in her school yard, waist deep in a pool of children. Opposite, Ruth Dimm and Norma Pullit paused while unloading mailbags from the small red post office van.

Everyone saw Beula drive past squawking away at poor old Sergeant Farrat and everyone smiled and waved back as the sergeant tooted his way through the main street.

It was a fine sweet Monday out at the McSwineys': there was an easterly blowing, which meant that their happy ramshackle home was downwind of the tip. Edward McSwiney sat on the car seat in the suns.h.i.+ne mending drum nets, threading new wire through bent and torn chicken wire and round and around rusty steel frames. Three small kids ran about cornering squawking flapping fowls, then took them to the chopping block where Barney, awkward, stood with an axe. The blade was stuck with blood-tipped feathers, Barney's s.h.i.+rt was red-splattered. He was crying, so Princess Margaret handed him the poker and sent him to stoke the fire under the boiling chook-filled copper while she wielded the axe. Mae grabbed the hot floating chickens from the copper to pluck them, then Elizabeth lay them on a tree stump and tore the entrails from their pink and dimpled carca.s.ses.

The Jack Russells started yapping urgently, turning circles and making eye contact with Mae. She studied them for a moment. 'Wallopers,' she said.

Edward was a quiet steady man, but at the sound of 'Wallopers', he leapt as though he'd been bitten and ran with his drum net. The chook herders, two small girls in bib and brace and a lad in striped pyjamas, ran to the front gate. The toddler fetched a bag of marbles and the girls a stick each. The taller la.s.s drew a circle in the dirt with her stick, the toddler emptied his marbles into it and both knelt down earnestly. The other la.s.s touched up the lines of an ancient hopscotch game chiselled into the raw red clay in front of the gateposts, and began to bounce through the squares on one foot. By the time the black Holden eased to a halt at the gate, the children were deep in play. Sergeant Farrat tooted. The children ignored him. He tooted again. The taller la.s.s slowly opened the gate. Edward ambled back and sat down innocently on the seat by the caravan.

Beula leapt from the car and Sergeant Farrat offered the three bawling children a bag of boiled lollies. They grabbed a handful each and ran to their mother, who was advancing with the bloodied axe in her hand. Margaret and Elizabeth walked either side of her, red-tinged feathers floating with them, Elizabeth red to her elbows and Margaret carrying a lighted tree branch. Beula stopped before them.

'Top of the morning to you,' said the friendly policeman. He smiled again at the three children. They smiled back, their cheeks bulging, and sweet saliva spilled and coated their chins.

'Would these three littlies here be the children you saw, Beula?'

'Yes,' cried Beula 'they're the scoundrels.' She lifted her hand to slap them. Sergeant Farrat, Edward, Mae and the daughters all took a step forward.

'It was two girls and a boy then, Beula?'

'Yes, it was, now that I see them.'

'And the school uniforms?'

'Obviously they took them off.'

'I don't go to school yet,' said the toddler, 'neither does Mary. Victoria goes next year but.'

'Are you looking forward to school Victoria?' asked Sergeant Farrat.

The three children answered as one. 'Na, rather go tip fis.h.i.+n'.'

Sergeant Farrat looked at the short grubby lineup in front of him. They looked back at the bag of lollies he held at his chest. 'You've all been tip fis.h.i.+ng this morning, have you?'

They answered now in turns. 'Na, b.u.g.g.e.r-all there today. We go Fridays garbage day.'

'We've been catchin' chooks today.'

'Creek fishn' tomorra, to catch fish.'

'Round off your words, stop dropping your G's and sound your vowels,' said Mae sternly.

'They're lying!' Beula was puce, damp and pungent. 'They threw seed pods on my roof.'

The children looked at each other. 'Not today we didn't.'

'Would you like us to?'

Beula jumped up and down, screeching and spitting, 'It was them, it was them.' The kiddies looked at her. The small boy said, 'You sure got s.h.i.+t on your liver today Mrs, you musta sunk a power of p.i.s.s last night.'