Chapters Three – Six
Cheryl Wilson
If you missed Part One and would like to read Part 3 links are at the end of this post.
Bookstore – is leased long term in a small terrace house in Carlton. The shop’s owner, Victoria, has suggested that liking old paperbacks, Loren start a second hand section in the room with pretty views of a park. As Victoria does the till, and talks books with anyone who wanders in, she skips lunch and leaves early. Meaning Loren now has a four day week – without it affecting time spent with Jack – and financially keeps her going. As she shelves paperbacks, Stanley, who is crouching nearby, digs through a new box of titles. “Goodness, Loren, look at this!” He is waving a much thumbed novel, something by Patrick White. “Now this I haven’t read.” He puts it to one side while Loren politely smiles, as Stanley has certain privileges. He and Victoria are old friends, and he assists Loren in managing the stock. – Though as he’s now eyeing a copy of Chandler’s The Big Sleep, she is suggesting, “Perhaps, Stan, we should wait for a second copy. In case it proves popular.” “Okay, dear,” he goes with fake sarcasm, “seeing as you know best.” Truth is she doesn’t, but has been given the final say. As her boss thinks she has a finger on what readers want, also she’s junior to Stanley’s senior – while Stan previously worked in the far moved area of social welfare. Still mindful of his experiences, he will usually mention Jack, also problems of the welfare system anytime they stay in to eat lunch. He’d bought up a case involving the father of a Downs Syndrome daughter, that hadn’t made it to court; and this experience had decided Stanley to quit. “Some men are hopeless with responsibility,” he spat out, “And so terrified at fathering a child born with a disability – Like it’s a reflection upon them; on their so called masculinity.” As this hit a nerve she quickly responded, “Thanks for that, Stan.” He’d smiled, patted her hand in a comforting way then concluded, “So I’m not at all surprised about Jack’s bloody absent father” – Although she did spot the unspoken question what really happened Loren? in his inquisitive intelligent eyes.
*
It is 5:30 when she arrives at a nearby café in Lygon Street; and across the road spots Max stepping from Professor Longhairs, two record albums gripped tight under an arm. Max smiles and waves. She’s returning the gesture as, “Hello Lorie” goes Abie who, strolling up, has been watching and comments, “He’s rather sexy – who is he?” “Just a friend of a friend. And mad on women. He has quite a reputation.” Following her drift Abie tries a smile, “Well, it’s possibly best then we stay away. No harm can be done.” “Yes, Abie. So let me shout you a coffee instead.” She props at a small table as Loren goes inside and waits patiently in the que. Aware that, while acting glib, Abie’s not quite over past events. Most of which she’d learnt after Abie arrived teary eyed at her door late one Sunday. It was timely that Alice was out, and Jack had been home the day before; as what Abie needed was to talk in private. Admitting that when she finally split with cheating Michael, her period was already five weeks overdue. “Not knowing if I was pregnant or not, I called him, constantly, only his phone kept ringing out. I drove past his flat, it looked empty Lorie, then I noticed the For Lease sign.” She’d added that as he worked on building sites all over Melbourne, he was obviously not going to be found. Or suspecting a compromising situation he’d fled, and was presuming he got off lightly. “A fortnight later I suddenly woke with cramps and.” For a moment Abie went very quiet. “I was in and out of bed the entire day it was awful – and wondered if I’d actually miscarried.” “Abie why didn’t you let me know!” “I was scared Loren – I couldn’t do anything,” – she’d almost moaned it – “anyway you’ve got Jack to contend with!” – “Abie that’s beside the point – it really worries me you handled it all alone,” – and yelped – “I really hope you’re okay!” “Yes Lorie,” she’d spluttered, “I’ve since checked with my doctor, she said it was likely a miscarriage though now everything’s regular…” and as Abie’s voice trailed she had quietly, quickly poured two slugs of Southern Comfort, and handed her one. “Thanks, Loren,” she’d went, and her hand slightly shook. “I think I feel back to normal.” “While I think Michael is an absolute bastard, also a coward,” was the response. “Doesn’t deserve to live,” Abie had grinned back. “Actually brother Ritchie knew Michael so knows what he is capable of. He’s been asking questions, I don’t say much, just that it didn’t work out. Only I think Ritchie’s still curious.”
From behind the counter, Loren hears a young freckle faced girl saying, “Sorry to keep you waiting,” while handing over two steaming whites. Loren pays, and joins Abie outside. Abie is lighting a rollie and there is a slight whiff of dope.
Chapter Four
Two months later
Stanley, in leaving, almost collides with a customer entering Bookstore. “Sorry” he goes to a man with good features and enticingly sharp haircut. “No worries,” he grins back, and now curious Stan does a very quick turn, and noting the stylish leather boots hurries on to Jimmy Watsons, where he is meeting a friend. Once inside Bookstore Jules is pleased he has not wasted time by calling in. She’s at the end of the cosey room, her back to him, and filing paperbacks on a rather tall shelf. “Hello Loren!” he goes. “Do you need a hand?” Swiftly she steps down from the stool and turns, surprise etched over her face. “Jules. It has been awhile.” “Yes, and I’m sorry about that,” he is rushing his words “And how is Jack?” “Jack is good.” Then changing the subject, “I did hear you got offered work – And had to leave Melbourne right away.” “True. True. I meant to ring or write. To yourself. Well to everyone actually. But all I did was work extremely hard,” then grins, “and also make very good money … So how’s things with you?” “Well, I run this section, plus I’m working more hours.” Then laughs, “I lock up and leave in twenty minutes… what else could I ask for?” “Do you fancy Watsonsfor a drink?” “Ooh, Jules, it will be crowded. But a coffee will do – as tomorrow I’m busy here.” “Okay, I’ll browse your books while I wait.” Though not an avid reader he is vaguely interested in the handful of fifties writers known as The Beats. So is lucky to find Kerouac’s On The Road, also a mint copy of Dharma Bums. While for form’s sake Lorie charges a tiny $2.50 for each. As it’s turned chilly they agree on indoors at Genevieve’s – it’ll be quiet until the crowd at next door’s Movie House surge in later for pizza. Both order cappuccinos. There is also a toasted ham sandwich for Jules to munch while he gets straight to a point: He has heard Abie isn’t happy and he is wondering why. “I have known Abie for years,” he starts. We once had a relationship … well, it was more like a fling really, it lasted four months.” He pauses, and frowns. “Both nineteen. Nothing lasts at that age. Does it, Lorie?” She doesn’t comment. Instead says truth is Abie’s not said a lot about her past. “So I’m rather surprised Jules,” adding, “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. I am certain Abie and myself are best at staying good friends,” again he is frowning, “as we each have a selfish streak.” “That’s a bit rough on you both!” “Maybe. But I’m glad she’s moved in with her brother. I know Ritchie. But their parents…ugh they were awful, both had money, still it was a messy divorce. Then both remarried. So now there are other kids in the equation.” “Yes, I am aware,” says Loren. “Abie’s told me no one talks. That she and Ritchie have been disinherited.” She touches his arm. “Like you say it is bloody awful.” Then is glancing at her watch. “Sorry Jules, I really have to go.” Her face is hopeful. “But come round soon, I know Jack will be happy to see you again.” “And me him” he smiles as he stands. “Perhaps we might do it Saturday week?”
Chapter Five
“I asked Jack if he wants to go to the park. I waited a sec. Then asked if he would rather watch cartoons.” “Bet I know the answer,” she says. “Cartoons. As it is pretty cold outside.” “And you’re right on both counts. Besides, he’s perfectly content on the bean bag watching Roadrunner. You’ve done wonders Lorie. Fitting Tv and bits of furniture into that tiny room.” “I’ve also moved other things around.” “So I can see,” he smiles while glancing toward an untidy lounge. At Alice’s piano; at her tapestry stool piled high with sheet music; the old cane table strewn with Lorie’s records. “My tinny old player’s had it, I hope to find another stereo next week.” She frowns. “Though getting a used car is way down the list,” then smiling hands him a beer. “Thanks. You not having one?” “No I might after Jack leaves. I think Abie is driving us back to Travancore.” “How is she? I haven’t seen her.” “Well Jules, you did disappear for a while.” “Point taken. And there’s no answer when I ring her at Ritchie’s.” “Hmm,” comments Loren – groping in the fridge for chicken pie; and placing it on the bench – a reminder for Jack’s early tea. “I must tell you this,” he continues. “After that coffee we recently had I called into Watsons – and at the bar someone named Stanley introduced himself. Said he remembered my face.” “Really? Where from?” “He’d actually bumped into me. Outside Bookstore, the day I called by to see you. “A small world,” she grins, and sits at the table. “He was drinking with a guy named Bill. A lawyer. Very chatty was Bill. Two daughters at Uni, and divorced. He also confided he now happily lives with a man. As for Stanley – ” “Actually, he worked in Welfare for ages,” she chips in. “Yes, he briefly touched on it. But after he heard my reason for going to Bookstore, he was keen to talk about you.” He pauses as Jack enters with textas and drawing paper. Waits patiently as Jack sets himself up at the kitchen table and he’s strategically placed himself between them both – then withdraws in silence to his art work. Next she is querying, “Stanley? Interested in me? Jules you’re joking of course!” “It’s not in that way,” he grins. “He said you often chat together about Jack.” “Only I haven’t asked Stanley – or anyone else for that matter – for any sympathy. Have I?” “No,” he says carefully, “You haven’t Lorie. But he’d have a fair idea of what you deal with. So possibly he cares.” And smiling down at her son adds, “As we all love Jack, don’t we Jack?” “Yes,” he answers, not looking up. “I imagine Stan’s old enough to be my son’s grandfather,” she tartly responds – “Loren, that’s a bit cruel – also not quite the case.” There is a mild chastising grin, “I’d say he’s forty at most. Also Stan obviously values the company of his friends. But knowing it’s been tough for you he’s just trying to be a good sport” – “Okay, I’m sorry, then,” she pulls a face. “Some days it’s hard to know who your friends really are.” “Yes,” he starts glumly, “And I have to agree – ” then stops as the phone rings and Loren’s hurrying off. Placing an arm along the back of Jack’s chair he hears a muffled exchange before she is back, eyebrows raised and exclaiming, “Hell! Abie can’t make it until later. At the very earliest half past eight.” “Exactly,” he mutters, and comments, “That’s what I mean,” then gallantly adds, “Don’t worry, I’ll drive you back. I’ll leave now and be here after Jack’s had his tea. Say 7:30.” “You sure?” “Of course. It’s too cold for public transport, and I imagine Alice is out.” “Yes, at Eltham for the weekend.” “Did Abie add anything? Like a reason for running late?” “No not really,” answers Lorie, slightly miffed. “Said it’s just one of those things.”
Chapter Six
Tete a tete
As it is wet Stan has dashed out, bringing back club sandwiches for their lunch. In the next room Victoria, while guarding the till plans an overseas trip on the phone – certain that in her absence both staff will jump at running the show. As Loren eats, Stan casually starts, “I have heard Jack doesn’t stay over” – at which she reddens, as it’s uncomfortably true but also is none of his business. “And who told you that?” she asks, thinking it must be Jules. “A friend of yours,” he answers. “Abigail.” “Huh?” is Loren’s dumb response. “I met her by accident last Saturday at Watson’s.” Stan sips at the straw of his Pepsi. “It was packed, and she was quite under the weather, also very much on her own. There was some shit named Max plying her with wine. So Bill and I took Abie under our extended wing, and ended driving her home.” “And did Abie mention anyone else?” “Well I’m not surprised she knows Jules, obviously he’s an old friend of hers – ” “He was once a bit more than that” – goes Loren. “Oh, well, perhaps that is their business,” he counters. “Though Abie could possibly do with Jules right now as he seems a decent sort.” “Only she has put both of us on hold,” she replies while looking gloomy. “Abie’s been an awfully good friend these last years – especially with Jack,” then pauses, her appetite for lunch gone; and Stan folding both hands as is his way when keen to listen. – And so it’s confirmed that as Jack showed signs of withdrawal, and wasn’t developing, his father lost interest. “To the point where he couldn’t settle when Howard was around,” continues Loren. “What a frightful bastard!” he comments. “He was,” she answers, head bowed, looking down. “And it was Abie who made such a show of befriending Jack. We’d take him on outings, go to the beach. She also took quite an interest in my discussions at Travancore… and I love her for that.” “Not everyone is as faithful,” goes Stan, “Most run a mile.” “Even if she’s now changed, I know Abie has her reasons. It’s partly her parents who gave her such a hard time.” Next Stan is catching her eye, “You once mentioned Loren that your own parents are in London.” “Yeah, they really don’t like living here,” she shrugs. “But we write, they send Jack gifts.” – “Generous of them,” – scoffs Stan, “Well at least it is something,” she goes, “Though I wish things were different” – and stops there. Reaching for a sandwich, Stan ventures, “It does seem you’ve both had your challenges; and that is what’s made you good friends.” “Yes, and that is true,” she concedes, at which he smiles, as, like a child she wipes at her nose. “If there is some way I can be of help. Or if you and Jack decide to do things a bit differently. Just say,” Stan adds quietly; though already he is thinking a plan.
About Cheryl Wilson
Writing stories may be a way of life or as an escape from real life. I enjoy inventing characters and placing them in surroundings once familiar to me – especially our inner northern suburbs during the seventies. I also write shorter pieces about real people who are closer to my heart.
Copyright Cheryl Wilson, March 2025. All rights reserved; this intellectual property belongs solely to Cheryl Wilson.
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