Don't Let Your Quarry Get You Down

Two days and still no sign of the renegades. I wouldn’t be so concerned if it weren’t for the fact that in the Underbelly disappearance were not such a common yet forgotten local pastime. I also wanted to return to the Club and establish contact with Rocker and without Mike, that prospect seemed unlikely. To compound matters Beth rang me this morning.

“Hi Beth. Where did you my number by the way?”

“Ray had it pinned up.”

“Oh right. Is Ray there?”

“No that’s why I called. Do you know where he is? I feel fucking stupid but I’m worried sick what with his hand and everything.”

“What do you mean everything?”

“Well it’s Trudie too, have you seen her? I mean I’m convinced they’ve bunked off together. It’s happened before you know. I’ve never trusted him with her.”

“Look Beth, slow down. I think we need to talk.”

The Beth perched on the gate at the entrance to the Millenium Field was a fresher and more wholesome Beth than I had seen up until now. Gone were the spikey spider and the Bowie wafer. Her hair was flat, well conditioned and mousy. Her eyes were still painted with the black lines of rebellion but behind that she was undoubtedly plain. I have what I like to consider a knack of imagining people as they appear when they are older. It’s like a computer enhanced movie in my head that morphs people from young to old. Perhaps we all have that ability; I don’t know; I’ve never shared. In my head, I put the pounds around her chin, on her shoulders, lengthened her features and squeezed her eyes. Her breasts dropped and widened in line with her hips and too she became kinder and gentler. Beth became less inquisitive, more accepting. The vision seemed pejorative but at the same time appropriate.

Beth had joined me further along my country walk with Zac who seemed to have been playfully invigorated by his first foray into human blood rituals.

“Why’s he got pink feet?” Beth asked. I explained that Peter’s loss was Zac’s free pink rinse.

“Urrrgh that’s gross. There’s a lesson for us all there.” I just looked at her.

“Your surname isn’t Williams is it?”

We had walked through the Millennium Field, over Windmill Hill and towards the quarry. Over this course, we had said little except to laugh and cajole the dog as he reveled in his new colours. We reached the summit of the flooded quarry and looked out over the wasteland.

“It should be customary to come here to die. We should float out into the water. They say drowning is the best way to die.” Beth said.

“I can assure you it’s not.”

“I just think it might be when you’re old, you just can’t fight water. And then eventually, in thousands of years, the bones would rise up and form an island on which people can build a new place to live.”

“Beth.” I turned to face her but she continued to look out over the quarry basin. “I don’t think Ray has run off with Trudie, in fact I don’t think you really need to worry about Ray.”

“Ray is into some very bad things.”

“Ray has always been into some very bad things. I want to talk to you about Tru...”

“What is that?” Beth talked over me pointed down to the edge of the water. I looked down and saw the back of a disturbingly familiar object pointing its backside up at the sun. We both scrambled down the steep shingle dislodging large slates of limestone on our way. Zac in his wisdom remained where he was, unwilling to dirty his new socks. “How does a golf buggy end up in a quarry anyway?” said Beth.

“You know what I said about not worrying about Ray?”