Christine
an excerpt

Chapter One

Wednesday: Tilley’s

Whether or not it’s a wise move to record my story only time, and you the reader, can decide. For my part I’m not sure what purpose it serves other than to get a load of my chest and my mind. Let’s face it we’ve all said and done things we’d sooner forget. But some things can’t be wiped even if we wished, with all our hearts we could just start over.

It was a warm, sweetly scented spring day when I first set eyes on Christine. A Wednesday and I can still see her striding into Tilley’s and sweeping that ridiculously large green straw hat with an elegant motion. I can see her blue eyes taking in the room before she is waved over to a booth near the window. I was on my own, as usual, staring over the top of my laptop in quiet distraction – my right hand fiddling with my empty beer glass. On the one hand Christine was just like most of the regulars at Tilley’s. Fashionably bohemian and undoubtedly the essence of cool but Christine had something else that grabbed my attention that first day. It wasn’t her tanned arms and hands against her white shift or the way she cocked her head when she listened to her companions; nor was it her simple beauty. Rather it was her voice that somehow carried over the hubbub and made everyone else’s words seem like trivial nothings. It was a sweet voice yet rich and smooth like chocolate. I would do anything for a voice like that.

I listened and waited. Eventually her friends left and there seemed an opportunity. Now let me tell you, straight-up, that this was not my usual style at all. My technique in these situations was lamentably one of hopeful proximity; that is hang around in the vicinity in the hope that an opportunity arises to catch an eye, make a comment, pick up something dropped, anything that seems surreptitious and hopefully not too desperate - yes, pathetic I know! But this day was very different. It was like time and fate was convergent even contingent in this one place and at this time and inaction was unthinkable. In short, I walked over to her table, introduced myself and nervously offered coffee using the pretext that I thought I had her on radio – a lie but the only plausible thing I could think of at the time. It’s worthwhile recording that conversation as so much of what happened later can be traced back to then.

“Hey there – Jack Rankin is my name. I couldn’t help but overhear you with your friends just now and I’m sure that I’ve heard your voice before on the radio maybe?”

“Hi I’m Christine”….she gave me her hand – it was soft and cool and for the first time I noticed the gold on her ring finger. “It’s nice to meet you Jack and thanks for the compliment - you’ve made my day. I have done some voiceover work in the past, but no announcing or anything like that.”

I ordered the coffees, Espresso for me and Latte for Christine and brought my laptop over to Christine’s booth.

“What are you writing Jack?”

Now this was a question I always found it difficult to answer probably because I couldn’t work it myself. What was this writing caper all about – all my enthusiasm, my ideas and inspiration were like waves washing up on a rock when it came to actually achieving an outcome. Sure, I had grand ideas of being a writer, I’d read all the books, done the writing clubs and courses but had I finished a single story that I was happy with? So what did I do…I lied of course”

“I’m working on a number of short stories and I have some ideas for a first novel. Crime mostly but fantasy also”

She smiled her head cocked slightly to one side. I rambled on now confidence growing - I was on a heady high.

“I have an idea for a story about a group of adepts who patrol the dream world. They’re sort of astral travelers or warriors – who must have their sleeping bodies protected while they wage battle”

“I love that idea Jack”

My god her eyes were beautiful! But I suddenly realized that they were no longer looking at me but over my shoulder at the door. I became aware of the slow movement of the fans overhead, of the sounds of Miles Davis’ “Blue” drifting like smoke rings through the room – and I shivered as a chill stole down my neck.

I turned around walking towards us moping his brow with a red handkerchief was a tall thin man in a crumpled beige suit. His other hand held a heavy silver-like object – it was a cigarette lighter one of those old fashioned ones from the days before disposables. He pulled up a chair at our booth and we both recoiled away from him. He stank of sweat and cigarettes, and something else that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Christine and the man stared at each other – it was as if I wasn’t there. It was a bad vibe and my instincts screamed at me to leave but Christine turned to me her look said stay – no, it pleaded ‘don’t leave me alone with this man’. I knew I wasn’t going anywhere.

“What do you want Sly you know our time’s not up yet?” Christine’s voice was edgy almost harsh and her hands gripped the edge of the table.

Still he hadn’t looked at me. His hand compulsively twirled the lighter as if he was deep in thought or coming to a decision. Then he smacked the heavy lighter firmly down on the table and leaned towards Christine. His voice was just a hoarse whisper but it screamed danger in every word.

“Joe’s not happy Christine – you fucked up big this time.”

Christine’s face reddened and she made to stand up but Sly’s hand caught her wrist quick as a snake. Still he didn’t look at me. Still I did nothing.

“Let me spell it out nice and slow for you” Sly rasped. “You’ve forfeited a week which by my calculations means you pay up tomorrow”

“Let go…you’re hurting me….”

Sly held up his hand to quiet her “No ifs no buts…..just payment in full by 6pm tomorrow”
Christine’s face collapsed and at last Sly let go of her hand and snatched up his lighter.

“I think you should go I said”

My voice was weak, disembodied. It sounded like it was coming from across the room. Around us life was continuing as usual – Dave Brubeck’s Time Out had replaced Miles Davis, A group of women laughed loudly over a joke, and the espresso machine squealed over at the bar. All this I took in as Sly turned at looked at me for the first time. His head was small and irregular in a way I couldn’t put my finger on. His teeth incredibly even and disarmingly white for a smoker until I realized that they were all false. He leaned towards me and flicked open the cigarette lighter. Before I knew it a small jet of flame had singed my goatee beard. I leant quickly backwards and my hand shot to my chin. “What the fuck!”

“Leave him alone you sick bastard” Christine spat. Then she reached out a hand to me. I put my hand on hers and it was a few minutes before I realized that Sly had left.

We sat like that in silence for quite a while. I could still have left then but I didn’t. Shaken as I was by the encounter with Sly Christine had my hand still and I desperately wanted to be with her. Her mobile rang but she ignored it until the ringtone was so loud that we were attracting the attention of the whole of Tilley’s. Finally she took the handset from her bag, frowned as she read the caller ID and then switched the phone off. Still holding my hand she said “I have to get out of here Jack can you help me.”

I didn’t even think about it…not for a moment.

Chapter Two

At 23 I thought I knew a lot about the world – about how people work. Thought I knew enough to get by in most situations. I knew nothing. Here it’s a different world. One governed by routine, rules and above all violence. There are codes and signs to be learnt, alliances to be carefully made, places to be avoided, times when eyes need to be averted or look away. It’s all a dangerous and lonely game that starts each day and if you’re lucky enough you share a cell with someone you trust so that at the very least you can sleep soundly and drown out the cries from elsewhere.

We drove in silence to Christine’s flat in Ainslie. She drove an old yellow Torana and she drove fast but confidently. The flat was at the rear of a two storey concrete building – the gardens were untended and at the back of the driveway a blue and white GTHO falcon was rusting away on brick blocks. Towels hung out over window sills in several of the upstairs flats. Somewhere a baby was crying. Inside was a different world completely. The air was heavy with incense – on one wall hung a large batik hanging probably from Indonesia while a heavy Persian carpet hid the concrete floor. Straight ahead I could see a small kitchen area while off to the right hidden behind another silky hanging I guessed was the bedroom. Christine had left me for a moment. On the shelves were a number of miniature effigies – laughing Buddahs, Shiva and Ganesha in his Elephant form. Bean bags and an old red sofa strewn with multicolored cushions made up the furniture. The shelves held a fascinating array of books. Colin Wilson, Hermann Hesse, Ouspensky, as well as books on magic, paganism, feminism, tarot and I ching. Stubs of candles and the remains of incense sticks were everywhere. Much of this was exotic and strange to me back then but I’ve had plenty of time to learn more about the world since. I walked over and picked up a small photo in an antique silver frame- it was Christine laughing with an older man in a safari suit – there were palm trees in the background. The man’s gaze at the camera was penetrating enough to be disconcerting. I turned the photo over. On the back was simply Bali June 02.

Christine was beside me. I hadn’t picked up her bare footfall on the heavy carpet. “I see you’ve found Joe” she said. I put the photo down and turned to her.

“Is he the same ‘Joe’ that Sly was talking about?”

She folded her arms and looked down at her feet and with a sigh in her voice said “I was young and needed to get away – Joe had the money and he could be such a charming man when he wanted to be. I thought I had it made. How wrong could I have been?”

She sat down on the Sofa and motioned me to sit beside her. “I think I owe you an explanation Jack” she said “I’m in some serious shit with this man.”

“Money?” I asked.

“Yes, money and lots of it, but Joe wants more than that, much more.” She sighed again and then took a deep breath as if she had come to a decision. “But I never should have brought you here Jack I never should have involved you – if you leave now I won’t think the worse of you”