One morning unable to bear the house any longer Jo waited until Mandy left for work, and dressed. Like a small time crim in an American detective series she put on a pair of sunglasses and a cap to disguise herself. She didn’t want to be seen but she had to get out. She opened the front door to a hot wind and a heavy cocktail of diesel and petrol as cars and trucks hurtled down Hyde Street and Francis Street. Next door Mrs Keen was listening to morning television. In the distance someone else was listening to the races.
Across the road behind the cyclone wire, several men in safety jackets and helmets stood at the base of one of the tanks looking up. The tanks still and defiant, shrugged them off. The men reminded her of the plastic characters …show more content…
It was impossible to walk, and so she ran, sweat building before she’d reached the next intersection. But she kept going, and then into the station and onto a train seconds before it left. She scanned the carriage. There was a woman with two young children, one of them a baby sleeping in his pusher, the other one a little girl in a fairy costume with her face pressed up against the window. The mother was sending a text message with one hand, the other hand was lightly touching her daughters back. Two seats down there was a man in an orange workman’s jacket, reading the newspaper. At the other end of the carriage four women, all of them in their 60s, talked in low voices to each other. Jo didn’t recognize any of them but she sat as far away as she …show more content…
Standing at the lights waiting to cross Flinders, waiting to cross Swanston. Standing at the tram stop. Walking up and down the steps; walking along the path in front of Young and Jacksons. Jo and Ash had gone into Young and Jacksons once. They went in with a man they’d met on a tram.
‘I’m here on holidays and don’t know anyone – can I buy you a drink?’
‘Yes,’ Ash said. And all three of them jumped off the tram and headed for the pub.
‘I’ll show you a real tourist sight. A real piece of Melbourne history – the naked Chloe,’ Ash said winking at Jo as they walked across the road.
The man, whose name they didn’t know, was in his 30s and excited, his wide mouth spreading into a broad grin. Two young girls, a painting of a naked woman, alcohol. The publican took one look at the them and asked for IDs. They didn’t have any. Ash and Jo ran out of the pub giggling. They didn’t see Chloe and lost the bloke. They planned to go back together.
So you’ll never go in to see Chloe?
Across the road behind the cyclone wire, several men in safety jackets and helmets stood at the base of one of the tanks looking up. The tanks still and defiant, shrugged them off. The men reminded her of the plastic characters …show more content…
It was impossible to walk, and so she ran, sweat building before she’d reached the next intersection. But she kept going, and then into the station and onto a train seconds before it left. She scanned the carriage. There was a woman with two young children, one of them a baby sleeping in his pusher, the other one a little girl in a fairy costume with her face pressed up against the window. The mother was sending a text message with one hand, the other hand was lightly touching her daughters back. Two seats down there was a man in an orange workman’s jacket, reading the newspaper. At the other end of the carriage four women, all of them in their 60s, talked in low voices to each other. Jo didn’t recognize any of them but she sat as far away as she …show more content…
Standing at the lights waiting to cross Flinders, waiting to cross Swanston. Standing at the tram stop. Walking up and down the steps; walking along the path in front of Young and Jacksons. Jo and Ash had gone into Young and Jacksons once. They went in with a man they’d met on a tram.
‘I’m here on holidays and don’t know anyone – can I buy you a drink?’
‘Yes,’ Ash said. And all three of them jumped off the tram and headed for the pub.
‘I’ll show you a real tourist sight. A real piece of Melbourne history – the naked Chloe,’ Ash said winking at Jo as they walked across the road.
The man, whose name they didn’t know, was in his 30s and excited, his wide mouth spreading into a broad grin. Two young girls, a painting of a naked woman, alcohol. The publican took one look at the them and asked for IDs. They didn’t have any. Ash and Jo ran out of the pub giggling. They didn’t see Chloe and lost the bloke. They planned to go back together.
So you’ll never go in to see Chloe?