Eyrie by Tim Winton Read Free Book Online Page A

tunic.
    Nightshift?
    Packin shelves, she said. It’s real fulfillin.
    Keely smiled. Gemma tugged a bag across her shoulder. In her hand was an unlit cigarette. A moment passed and she gave a wry grin. As the door began to close once more Keely stepped into its path and let it butt his hip.
    What’d you forget?
    Your boy. I mean, I just . . .
    Asleep, said Gemma.
    Keely stood there with the door shoving at him, conscious of how much he’d assumed about her with no solid idea of her circumstances. For a moment he’d even thought she was leaving the child unattended.
    He’s a nice kid.
    Yeah. He is.
    Listen, sorry about today.
    Gemma shrugged.
    I was a bit of a mess.
    You reckon?
    I didn’t mean to be rude.
    Orright.
    I guess we’ll talk.
    Sorry?
    Maybe catch up on things.
    Oh. Yeah. Maybe.
    Well. Let you go.
    Night, she said.
    He stepped back and the door finally closed.
    For half a minute he stood there as the lift groaned and clanked down the shaft. Tired as he was, he knew he wouldn’t sleep. Or call his mother. He wouldn’t call Faith back, either, because it’d only set him off on some melancholy tangent. He’d watch some ancient B-movie and hope sleep stole up on him.
    As soon as he’d let himself in the phone rang. He hesitated a moment, then snatched it up. Instead of Faith it was Doris.
    What’s up? he asked.
    I’m watching Victor Mature. Could you imagine Samson being quite so wet-lipped and doe-eyed? I don’t think so.
    So, I take it Faith called you.
    Yes, but love set me free.
    Very funny, Mum.
    I called before, she said.
    I went for a walk.
    Good idea.
    Well, it wasn’t a Eureka moment. But yeah, it was nice.
    Faith says you ran into one of the Buck girls.
    That’s right. Gemma.
    God, she was a beautiful child. Don’t you remember that gorgeous hair?
    Hmm.
    She was like a little doll.
    Whatever happened to them? he said. The parents.
    Bunny left him in the end. John died at Port Hedland in the eighties. I used to wonder she didn’t kill him herself. Believe me, there were times when I could have done it for her.
    You were good to them. I haven’t forgotten.
    Tommy.
    I mean, how it was, what you did.
    You okay?
    Mum, I went for a walk. I’m fine.
    I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to —
    Not a problem.
    Tom, I’m not worried.
    He laughed.
    Why are you laughing?
    Well, Doris dear, not worrying seems to be a special mum-thing.
    Okay, she admitted. Caught.
    I give you cause, I know.
    You’re fine, love.
    Anyway, tonight you shouldn’t fret.
    It’ll get better, Tom.
    Yeah, he murmured. I expect so.
    Let’s have lunch.
    No worries.
    Monday?
    Alright.
    Call you Sunday night?
    Sure.
    Love you.
    You too.
    When he hung up, Keely realized his mother had barely asked about Gemma. It was unlike her. Perhaps it was a sign of how worried she was. Or how far she’d left the old days behind her. Maybe he’d figure that out at lunch. But his buoyant mood was gone.
    He lingered near the slider, flexed his toes in the nap of the carpet, felt nothing and was not much comforted.
    Felt a little thump. From whatever. Like an elbow against the wall of his skull. The tenant turning over in bed.
    He gobbed a couple of Nurofen Plus. A bit of sandbagging for good measure.
    Turned on the telly. And there he was in his loincloth. Victor Mature, looking camp as a row of tents. Soon to be eyeless in Gaza.
    Turned it off. Stared at his sadsack reflection in the window. Knew he’d end up back at the knife drawer any minute. For something to kick him over the edge. Tried to stare himself down. Et cetera. And blinked, of course.

A wrenching gasp and there he was. On the bed in the foetid room. Every surface dancing and flashing. A streetsweeper droned far below. Blood spritzed in his limbs as if he’d only just come off the boil.
    Three o’clock. He’d been dreaming – something awful, something that had mercifully evaporated the moment he woke.
    In the bathroom he sluiced himself with cool water, stood dripping a