Read Online Brown Skin Blue by Belinda Jeffrey - Free Book Online Page A

and black coffee.
    â€˜I knew you’d be back,’ she says.
    She leaves the plate on the table and goes back to the counter. I’m about to dig in when she calls out to me.
    â€˜Oh, Barry, I almost forgot. That young lass was in this morning. She said to give you this.’ She walks back over to me and pulls a piece of paper out from her apron pocket. She winks and nudges me with her elbow. ‘She’s a real sweetheart, that one,’ she says, then leaves me to the note and my food. I put my knife and fork down and open the piece of paper.
    Ask Bessy about Teabag. She can tell you a few things.
    S.
    I fold the paper and tuck it under my plate. S. S for Sally. S for Sweetheart. I turn slightly towards the counter where Bessy is wiping the bench and humming to herself. She doesn’t see me and I turn back to face the eggs and bacon.
    There’s other things I keep in my head besides stories. I collect facts. Incidental, meaningless facts. Sometimes I run them through my mind just for the fun of it. Sometimes they come up all on their own, like now.

    Sweetheart: a large male crocodile responsible for attacks and damage to boats and dinghies on the Finnis River. He was finally captured on 19 July 1979. In the process he died and is mounted on permanent exhibit in the Darwin Museum and Art Gallery. He was approximately 50 years old. He was 5.1 metres in length. He weighed 780 kilograms. The contents of Sweetheart’s stomach were:
    Pig bones and bristles
Two long-necked turtles
Parts of a large Barramundi.
    I’ve suddenly got a picture of Blue splayed and stuffed, hanging on a wall in the museum of depraved individuals. The Big Blue. His face in a plastic grin. His eyes wide and stunned. His teeth sharp and whitened. A noose higher up on the wall. Waxed and shiny. In my mind there’s a black space at his crotch, like a doll. No sex parts. Just the thought of them. And underneath there’s a plaque which reads:

    Sweet-tooth: a large male paedophile responsible for attacks in rural towns up the Top End of Australia. He was finally captured in Batchelor. In the process he died and is mounted in the Federal Office for Child Affairs. He was approximately 50 years old. He was 1.5 metres in length and weighed 89 kilograms. The contents of Sweettooth’s stomach were:
    Kids’ bones and sugar
Two long-necked beer bottles
Parts of a small Barramundy.
    I pick up my knife and fork and decide to eat my breakfast even though I’m not hungry any more. The egg’s on my fork and Bessy sits down on the chair next to me.
    â€˜Now,’ she says. ‘I’ve got a spare minute. The crowd hasn’t come in yet. Your sweetheart said you’d be wanting a word with me.’
    She’s sitting there smiling. Her face is round and pink and squashed up in an unknowing, pleasant sort of way. I’m cornered. Again. Nowhere to go. Too much to say and a fear of saying anything. I squash the eggs in my mouth and chew slowly. Bessy just sits there. She’s got her hands linked together, rolling one thumb over the other. She’s waiting. I have to swallow.
    â€˜Well,’ I start to say. ‘Um.’ I don’t want to talk to Bessy. I don’t want to say the name.
    â€˜Teabag. Teabag Jones. Your sw—’
    â€˜Sally. Her name’s Sally.’
    â€˜She asked if I knew a man by that name,’ she continues.
    â€˜And?’
    â€˜And I know him. Lives not far from here, as it happens. Teabag Jones,’ she says. ‘Well, that’s what he’s called. Can’t be too many of them around, hey?’
    â€˜No,’ I manage to say. The bacon looks good.
    â€˜You want me to give you his address?’
    I nod. It’s easier than anything else. She pulls a pencil out from between her boobs, licks the end and scribbles on the paper napkin. ‘There,’ she says. ‘Glad I could be of help.’ She stands, straightens her skirt then