One Way or Another by Nikki McWatters

Author:Nikki McWatters
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Black Inc.
Published: 2012-01-26T16:00:00+00:00

17.

From the bus stop at the Five Ways roundabout in Paddington, Billy and I walked down the gently sloping footpath of Goodhope Street. The suburb was steeped in history, and after the shiny tinsel of Surfers the tiny wrought-iron gates, quaint courtyards and ornate terraces made me feel I had stepped into an earlier era. I was certainly dressed for one, my puffy white pirate shirt billowing from beneath a thick black belt. Rouge slashed my cheeks in stark stripes and my hair was teased into a frizzy halo. Billy was a worthy partner in his stove-pipe jeans, green-and-black striped shirt and dangerously pointed shoes. We looked like we’d just jumped Black Beard’s ship.

For years, 39 Goodhope Street had been dubbed ‘Boystown’. A slightly shabby double-storey terrace painted faded yellow, it was the colour of a piece of newspaper left in a bottom drawer for twenty years. Skeletal trees and shrubs stood guard in the neglected excuse for a front courtyard. Thick black bars lined the front windows, as if the house was afraid the convicts might escape. A heavy wooden door with an ancient brass doorknob opened to Rhonda’s blazing smile.

‘Welcome, people.’ She dragged us down the tunnelled hallway to the living room.

I had never been inside a terrace house and was fascinated by the long, narrow layout. With framed gold records on the walls and faded green velvet lounges, the house was homely and hip at the same time. We were introduced to the two current tenants, Joey and Jock. I wasn’t sure which was Rhonda’s latest squeeze but soon discovered it was a fairly interchangeable arrangement. Jock was a tall but wiry fellow who could have given me a few tips on my Scottish accent. About thirty, he was charming and talked a lot about his work as a sound technician for Midnight Oil. Joey, a little younger, did lights for the Divinyls and was a small, ferrety guy with dark eyes and a floppy fringe. He busied himself in the little kitchen at the back of the house, making coffee and cracking open a packet of stale lamingtons. In what might have been a dining alcove sat a strange contraption that looked like a torture device.

‘I hang upside down,’ Joey explained to me. ‘For my spine.’

Upon closer inspection, I found that a giant pair of shoes, like snow boots, encased a person’s feet while they were elevated in mid-air. It was a hanging-upside-down machine and possibly the strangest thing I had ever seen.

‘That can’t be very comfortable.’

‘It’s actually very peaceful,’ smiled Joey as he bit into a coconut-encrusted cake. ‘You should try it.’

*

We were shown the large master bedroom upstairs, where a cute balcony overlooked the barren front courtyard. It was a beautifully furnished room with a large bed and an antique dresser. A lovely, intricately detailed mirror hung on one wall.

‘It’s great,’ I whispered to Billy, who nodded in assent.

‘We’ve never had a girl live here. It’s been strictly boys’ own. But hey, it might be nice to have a den mother,’ Jock laughed.

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