Come Easy, Go Easy Part 6

He waved to the cabin.

"You go ahead. You want a wash and a shave." He gave me a nudge in the ribs that made me stagger. "You hungry? I'll get you something. You go ahead and clean up."

"When I'm througha"where do I come?"

He pointed to the lunch room.

"Right there," and nodding, he walked up the path to the bungalow.

I went over to the cabin, pushed open the door and walked into the living room. It was comfortably furnished, and there was a T.V. set in one of the corners. Beyond the living room was a tiny bedroom. I stripped off my clothes and went into the bathroom. It took me a little time to get clean and shave. By now I had raised quite a moustache, and I decided to keep it. I returned to the bedroom, put on my s.h.i.+rt and trousers, and then took a look at myself in the mirror on the wall.

The moustache made quite a difference, but I was still acutely aware that I was being hunted. Looking at myself now, I felt more secure. If there were pictures of me in the papers, I was pretty sure with this moustache, I wouldn't be recognised.

I went to the cabin door and stood looking across at the opposite buildings, then I looked back at the long winding road disappearing into the hills. The desert stretched either side of me: bleak, hot and desolate. It gave me a feeling of security. The police would be looking for me in Oakland or one of the other big towns. I was pretty sure they wouldn't think to look for me here.

I moved out into the suns.h.i.+ne and crossed over to the lunch room. There were ten fixed stools in front of the counter and five tables along the wall for those who wanted to eat in style. Along the counter were beer and soda spouts. There was a gla.s.s case full of pies, baked to a turn, with individual labels on each, reading: cherry, apple, pineapple, cranberry. There was a unit containing paper napkins, condiments, ketchup, gla.s.ses and knives and forks. Everything was spotlessly clean. On the wall was the menu written in bold, neat printing: Today's Specials Fried Chicken Veal Steaks Beef Hash Fruit Pies Through the half open door behind the counter came the smell of onions frying that made my mouth water. I was just about to tap on the counter to attract attention when I heard Jenson say, "Now look, Lola, you mustn't get worked up like this. I know what I'm doing. This young fella can take care of the place, and we two can go to Wentworth a couple times a week. I don't like you going there alone. It's not right for a woman to go to the movies on her own in a town like Wentworth."

"And why isn't it right?"

She spoke with a strong Italian accent and her voice was shrill.

"It isn't right. You're a respectable, married woman. There are guys in Wentworth ..."

"Are you telling me I go around with men in Wentworth? Is that it?"

"Of course I'm not! I'm just saying it isn't right. With this fella here, you and me can go together. That's what we want, isn't it?"

"I know one thinga"I don't want any strangers here! I've told you that a thousand times!"

"I know you've told me, but you're wrong. We've got to have help. How many times did you get up last night? Sixa"maybe seven times. You need your sleep. With this guy to help us out, we'll get our sleep and we'll get some freedom. When he's on night s.h.i.+ft, you and me can go to a movie. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"How many more times do I have to tell you?" Her voice was angry and excited, "I don't want strangers here. Besides, he isn't working for nothing, is he? Since when have you started to throw your money about?"

The hard shrill note in her voice bothered me. She sounded vindictive, and in a h.e.l.l of a rage.

"Stop yelling at me! Let's give him a trial. If you don't like him, well okay, then we'll get rid of him. You'll be glad to have him around. Now let's stop this. How about something to eat?"

"How do you know you can trust him? Do you mean you intend to leave him here to take the money, to have the run of this place while we're in Wentworth? You're crazy!"

I felt it was time to let them know I was here. I went on tiptoe to the door, opened it and let it slam shut. Then I walked heavy footed to the counter.

"Anyone here?" I called.

The angry voices abruptly came silent. There was a pause, then Jenson came out of the kitchen. His fat, good natured face was red, and there was an embarra.s.sed look in his eyes.

"There you are," he said. He looked me over and his expression altered a little. I could see he was relieved and pleased that I now looked presentable. "That's a good cabin, eh? Have you found everything you want?"

"It's fine," I said. The smell of the frying onions was driving me half crazy. "And this too. You've certainly got a place here, Mr. Jenson."

He nodded, but the beaming pride wasn't there. I could see he was still bothered about the argument he had been having with his wife.

"Yeah, it's pretty good." He rubbed his jaw, his eyes s.h.i.+fting away from me. "I guess you must be hungry. I'll see what I can rustic up for you."

"Don't worry about me, Mr. Jenson. You tell me what I'm to have and I'll fix it."

"You stick around. I'll talk to my wife."

He was so embarra.s.sed I felt sorry for him. He was starting back to the kitchen when a dusty Packard pulled up by the gas pumps and the driver honked on his horn.

"Shall I take care of him?" I said.

"It's okay. I'll do it. Time enough for you to start work when you've had something to eat."

He went out and I watched him through the open window as he began to service the car.

I heard a sound behind me and I looked over my shoulder, then I turned right around.

A woman was standing in the doorway. She was staring curiously at me.

She had t.i.tian red hair: a lot of it, piled to the top of her head, rather sloppily. She was a beauty although her mouth was too big and her lips too thick. There was a sensual quality about her that would attract any man: it attracted me.

She was wearing a crisp white overall, pulled tight around her, and as she moved through the doorway, I could see she hadn't a st.i.tch on under the overall. She was about thirty. She had cold green eyes and her skin was the colour of old ivory.

She didn't say anything. We just stood there, looking at each other. Then Jenson came in, grinning nervously and introduced me.

She nodded at me, still saying nothing: her green eyes hostile.

Jenson stood awkwardly, rubbing his jaw, grinning fatuously at us.

"I guess he could use some food. I know I could," he said finally. "How about it, Lola?"

Her face was expressionless as she said, "I'll get you something."

She turned and walked back into the kitchen.

I could see the outline of her heavy hips under the overall. They rolled sensually as she walked.

I picked up a paper napkin and wiped my face. Sweat was running off me.

"Pretty hot, huh?" Jenson said, his grin widening.

"If s hot all right," I said.

My face felt stiff as I tried to match his grin.

II.

It was while Jenson and I were unloading the sc.r.a.p off the truck that he began to talk about his wife.

I had eaten one of the best meals in my life. She had come out of the kitchen carrying two plates loaded with spaghetti and big veal steaks, and had planked them down on the counter and then had gone back into the kitchen without a word.

While we were eating and to ease Jenson's obvious embarra.s.sment I asked him what he wanted me to do now I was going to work for him.

He said he would like me to take care of the garage and the gas pumps so that he and Lola could concentrate on the lunch room. He would like me to do three night s.h.i.+fts every other week and two the alternate week. Any breakdown jobs that came in he expected me to handle, and it would be my job to keep the outside clean and tidy.

"You'll be busy, Jack," he said, "but in this heat and with nothing else to do, it's a good thing to be busy."

I said that was okay with me. I couldn't be busy enough. I meant that. I knew if I started sitting around doing nothing in this place, my mind wouldn't be anywhere else except in the kitchen where she was. She would have that effect on any man.

After we had finished the meal we went outside and he showed me how the gas pumps worked, explained what I had to do when a customer arrived and showed me the tariff of charges for oil and gas.

He then asked me to give him a hand unloading the sc.r.a.p.

By now the sun was sinking behind the hills and it was cooler. I was glad of the chance to exercise my muscles after being cooped up for so long in the freight truck.

As we worked, he talked.

"You don't have to worry about Lola," he said. "She hates to be crossed. I told you: she's always been against anyone working here. I don't know why. It's just one of those fool ideas women get into their heads." He looked at me anxiously. "You don't want to take it to heart. Maybe for a couple of days she will sulk, but she'll get over it."

I didn't say anything: there didn't seem anything to say.

We hauled a rusty rotary cultivator off the truck. I was impressed by Jenson's strength. He handled the machine as if it were a toy.

As we dragged the machine into the shed, he said, "Don't you think she's a fine looking woman?"

"Yes."

He took out a pack of cigarettes and offered me one. As we lit up, he went on, "Funny thing how we met. Two years ago she got off the Greyhound bus and walked into the lunch room. I was feeling pretty low at the time. My wife had died a couple of weeks back, and I was trying to run this place single handed. I was even trying to do the cooking, and let me tell you, the food was terrible. She asked for a hamburger. Funny how one remembers a thing like that, isn't it? I remember too she was wearing a green dress. The bus stopped for twenty minutes to collect the mail and parcels and give the pa.s.sengers a chance to get something to eat. They all crowded in: all yelling for sandwiches, pies, hamburgers and so on, and I was swamped. I didn't know whether I was on my head or my heels, then suddenly there she was behind the counter instead of in front of it, serving. I saw she knew the business, and I let her handle the rush. I just showed her where everything was. Before the bus left, everyone was fed. I couldn't have done it myself, but she had done it. I had the same feeling about her as I had about you. I told her if she wanted a job, there was one here for her." He squatted down by the rotary cultivator and began to loosen the gear wire. "Like you, she didn't hesitate. The bus left without her. I gave her the cabin: like I've given it to you. Well, she worked for me for a couple of weeks, then I got thinking." He looked up, his blue eyes guileless. "I knew it wasn't right to have her here alone. People at Wentworth began to talk. When they came here for a snack or for gas, they sn.i.g.g.e.red at us. They thought things were happening that weren't. So one evening, I talked to her. I asked her if she liked it here: if it wasn't too lonely for her. She said she liked it, so I suggested we got married. That way we'd stop the sn.i.g.g.e.ring and the talk. She would have security, and if anything happened to me, she'd have the place. So we got married." He got the gear wire loose and began to take off the cover of the gearbox. I stood by him, smoking and listening. "Mind you, she's twenty-three years younger than I am," he went on. "I wondered if I was doing right, but she wanted to stay and I couldn't have her here unless we were married. When a man of my age marries a woman as young as she is, he has to have a lot of patience. She'll sulk now for a couple of days, but she'll do her job. One of the great things about her is the way she works: I've never seen anyone work like her."

A car came out of the desert in a whirl of dust and pulled up by the gas pumps. That broke up our conversation. I went out and served my first customer. I gave him gas and oil. I checked his tyres, washed his winds.h.i.+eld, and while I worked I was aware Jenson had come to the door of the shed and was watching me.

The guy in the car was fat and elderly. He sat picking his teeth with a match while I worked over his car. I thought I would try a little salesmans.h.i.+p on him.

"Are you going to Tropica Springs, mister?" I asked as I polished his winds.h.i.+eld.

"Yeah."

"It'll take you best part of three hours. You won't get in before ten. Aren't you hungry? We serve the best beef hash in the district."

He blinked at me.

"Beef hash?" He looked at his watch. "No, I guess I haven't the time. I'm in a hurry."

"It's ready," I said. "Take you ten minutes, and we do a fruit pie that's really something. I've just had a slice: best pie I've ever tasted."

"Is that right?" He looked interested. "Well, okay. I'll give it a try if it's ready." He got out of the car. "Where do I go?"

I pointed to the lunch room.

"Did you spot the tappet?" I said as he moved off. "It should be fixed. I can do it while you're eating if it's okay with you."

"Sure. I should have had it fixed weeks ago. Thanks."

He went into the lunch room and Jenson, grinning from ear to ear came over.

"Nice work, Jack. That's what I call salesmans.h.i.+p. I'll give you a hand with the tappet."

While we were working on the car, a black Cadillac slid up to the pumps. I left Jenson to get on with the tappet and went over to the Caddy to serve gas. There was a man and a woman in the car. They looked hot and dusty.

"Can we get a wash here?" the man asked, getting out of the car.

"Sure thing. Round the back to your left. If you're hungry there's veal steaks and spaghetti all ready and waiting. Italian cooking: nothing to touch it, even in Tropica Springs."

The man c.o.c.ked his eyebrows at me.

"I bet it's old horse and rope."

"I've just had it. I didn't notice any rope in the spaghetti," I said cheerfully. "It was just a suggestion. You won't get to Tropica Springs until past ten. I thought maybe you were hungry."

"I'm starving," the woman said, getting out of the car. "Why not eat here, honey? It can't poison us."

"Okay, if you want to. I could do with something myself."

Ten minutes later, two big Buick Station wagons rolled up with a party of ten. While I was servicing the cars I suggested they might like to eat here and I gave them a lyrical description of the fried chicken. They fell for it.

Jenson had fixed the tappet by now and he went inside to help out with the rush.

A couple of trucks pulled in. The two truckers went into the lunch room for ham and eggs. Then a Jaguar came in with a boy and girl. I told them about the spaghetti and the veal steaks and reminded them how long it would be before they would get a meal unless they eat here. They fell for it too.

Jenson came out, looking worried.

"Jack, the steaks are off and we've only one chicken left," he said. "Go easy on the sales talk."

I stared, at him.

"You mean you've run out of food?"

"That's a fact. We don't usually serve more than three or four dinners a night. Usually it's snacks or hamburgers: stuff like that, but with your line of high pressure salesmans.h.i.+p we've got fifteen dinners in there."

"Don't you want them?"