Free Death in Brunswick by Boyd Oxlade Page A

unfastening it, he rummaged through. Ah ha! He removed the plastic vial. As he did so he saw a green banded document tucked into a side pocket. Must be the will! Trying to unfold it with one hand, he dropped the bag and the vial. Little pink pills spilled across the floor. Shit! He was on his knees feverishly gathering them up when the phone rang outside the bedroom door. He heard his mother shuffle across the lounge room.
    â€˜I’ll go, dear.’
    Oh God.
    He scooped as many pills as he could into the bottle and flicked the rest under the bed. Moving with lightning speed he tucked the will back and replaced the bag on the chair. His mother opened the door.
    â€˜For you, Carl, a young lady.’
    â€˜OK, thanks, Mother.’
    He could feel sweat trickling down his back. Jesus! That was close. As she turned, he slipped the pills into her bag and went to the phone. It was Sophie.
    â€˜Hi, Sophie. I didn’t think you’d ring.’
    â€˜Hi, Cookie. I rang this morning. Your mum answered. She said she’d tell you.’
    â€˜Oh, right, yeah…um, where are you?’
    â€˜I’m at my Auntie Martha’s looking after my cousin Con. What’re you doin’?’
    â€˜Nothing much. Sitting round thinking about you.’
    â€˜Oh yeah?’
    â€˜No, really. Listen, what are you doing later on?’
    â€˜I got to take Con to the movies soon. It’s school holidays you know, and Auntie Martha’s at work. She works at Kmart.’
    â€˜Well, I might come, OK? What are you going to?’
    â€˜ Alien BattleStar —you don’t want to see that, do you?’
    â€˜Yeah, sure. It’s a kids’ film, is it? I don’t mind. Hey, don’t you want me to come?’
    â€˜Yeah, if you want to.’
    â€˜What time then?’
    â€˜Two fifteen. You know where?’
    â€˜I’ll find it. Ah…Can I meet you inside? In the foyer, I mean.’
    â€˜Yeah, OK, Cookie. I’ll see you there.’
    â€˜And Sophie, please don’t call me Cookie, huh?’
    â€˜OK. See you.’
    He put the phone down, doing a little dance step of delight. Hey, what about that!
    His mother came back with a cup of tea.
    â€˜Did you want one, dear?’
    â€˜No, Mother. Hey, why didn’t you tell me Sophie rang?’
    â€˜It must have slipped my mind, but I don’t really think you should be carrying on with other girls when you’re still married to poor Prue. Your divorce isn’t through yet, you know, which reminds me, I want to speak to you about that.’
    â€˜Oh Mother! That’s just a girl from work. She was ringing to tell me about last night.’ Thank Christ the old bag is a bit deaf.
    â€˜Yes, well, she sounds very common, Carl. Not like dear Prue. She sounds foreign. Is she Italian or something?’
    â€˜No, Mother, she’s Australian. Well, Greek-Australian, and listen, I don’t really want to talk about Prue. She won’t let me see Lilly, you know.’ And dear Prue licks cunts—I’d love to tell you about that, you old bag.
    â€˜What time is it? Ah, listen, Mother. I just remembered, I have to go into the city. I promised to meet someone.’
    â€˜Who, dear?’ She looked at him suspiciously.
    â€˜Ah… Dave. Yeah, I fixed it up ages ago.’
    â€˜That awful Dave. Oh Carl, I thought you had given him up.’
    â€˜Jesus, Mother, come on. He’s a respectable married man now. He’s got three little kids and a wife and everything.’
    â€˜Yes, Carl, and I remember he used to get you into so much trouble—is he still a communist?’
    â€˜No, no, Mother. He always asks after you—um…I’ll just get your flowers and then I better have a shower and get changed.’
    Carl scurried outside, grabbed a piece of foliage from the nearest tree, and, hurrying into his mother’s bedroom, shoved the spiny mass into a vase. He looked round furtively