BIG BLUE

I met Alf at his local pub, in the beer garden actually, he was a compulsive smoker.

“Gunna kill you one day, mate,” I said, gesturing at the pall of smoke hovering over him.

“Something's gotta.” He shrugged.

“Alright Alf, a little something in appreciation for last week," I said. "I had a great day at the racetrack, thanks to your perceptiveness.

"Hang on Mate, that woman's staring at you.” Not that there was a lot else to stare at. High red brick walls, heavy table and bench sets and a couple of large potted shrubs. Tres chic. We both had a sneaky peek: dark coat, scarf over her head, big glasses, shopping bags at her feet, very ordinary. “All yours, Alf,” I told him.

“Not interested. They cost too much money, women do,” he said.

He pocketed the envelope I had proffered. “Ta Mate, wait till yer see what I've got for

yer this week.” He handed me a restaurant's business card.

“Thanks Alf, recommend it?”

“Turn it over, Freddy.”

And there, in tiny little spider-web writing was his racing tips for the mid-week meeting.

“Fair dinkum? This donkey? It's never, ever finished better than mid-field.”

“Timed it meself. It's finally up to pace,” Alf told me. “Yer can put yer house on it and the good

thing is, nobody knows. It'll start at long odds.”

“Okay, these other two?” I asked.

“Definitely tryers. Your choice. Now buy me a beer and let me read me newspaper.” Which I did

and walked the two klicks towards home praying for Alf 's longevity. He helped pay off my divorce settlement. Funny little bloke, he walked about the training tracks with a shovel, a wheel-barrow and a stopwatch concealed in his pocket. “I'm invisible, Freddy. Nobody ever notices me.” He called himself the inside man at the skunk-works, after a comic-strip character.

----

I put the coffee perc on when I got home, feet up, book and bickies to hand and planned the rest of my day.

I pottered about the house, dead-headed my few standard rose bushes, went back to the pub for a

counter-lunch, used their TAB to get some money on Alf's mid-week tips and purchased a nice glass of vino reddo ordinaire. Then strolled home for a postprandial power-nap. When I woke up and struggled to my feet I thought: well this was another wasted day! I was approaching middle-age and still hadn't scaled the heights, rescued a damsel in distress, or--- When I'm on my death-bed, I'll rue my mostly wasted life. I suppose most of us will or should. And then the phone rang. Damn, probably trouble.

“Fredreik, my boy, have I got something to show you.” It was my friend and diamond dealer.

“Waste of time, Zack. I'm skint, you took all my money a few months ago.”

“Doesn't matter, you've just got to look at this beauty. I don't think I even want to sell it.'

“Yer lyin' bastard, you'd sell me your wife if the price was right.” He went quiet for a minute.

“Well, I could do you a discount, a two-for-one price if you're interested,” he offered.

“You're on! I'm on my way. Give Ruth a brush-up and polish and I'll see you shortly.” Actually I

wouldn't mind. His missus was a little dark-haired beauty with flashing eyes.

I rang for a taxi and was in the city in less than an hour. I hate public transport, driving, parking and a

host of other things.

Ruth was behind the counter finalising a sale. When the customer left I said, “come along Ruth,

you're mine.”

“Has that swine sold me off again? Wait a minute, I'll pack a bag.”

“You'll only need a toothbrush,” I told her.

At that point, Zack emerged from the back room. “Don't waste your time there Fredreik. She's

only a woman, this is a diamond.”

This was displayed under a bright light in the middle of his workbench. My first impression was

2

that it's blue. And that's as rare as rocking horse droppings. Beautiful, but the purists still desired

clear, colourless, carats and of course- flawless. Zack put it under his microscope and pointed out two minor flaws. I'd learnt that very few diamonds are flawless.

“Holy Mother of God!” I gasped.

“What! You're not Jewish? The price has just gone up ten per cent.”

“I'm circumcised. Does that help?”

“Better check him, Zack,” Ruth yelled from the shop.

“Y'know Fredreik, the only thing worse than a shrieking wife is an eavesdropping wife.”

“Zack dear, if you're ever aware that I'm not doing either, beware, because I'll be coming up

behind you quickly and quietly,” Ruth told him rather frighteningly.

“Fredreik, I'm coming to live with you, I'll be a good house-mate,” Zack said. “I'm clean and

housebroken.”

“No you're not, I'm going!” Ruth was getting loud. “He asked me first.”

Now I was getting rattled. “No you're not.! You're both mad. I don't want anything to do with

either of you.” Aware that I was yelling now.

“What about our children?” Ruth sounded desperate.

“We haven't got any!” I yelled back.

“Not you, you idiot, I'm talking to the other idiot.” Ruth said. “I swear blind that Y chromosome

you blokes are afflicted with must come with an idiocy atom.”

“Fredreik, come out on the footpath where we can talk like gentlemen.”

“Yeah, a nice diamond, Zack, a shame the colour spoils it,” I told him. “That'll take twenty-per

off.”

Zack was rattling on but I was distracted by a staring, heavy-set woman across the road. She was

wearing a long brown coat and sunnies. Familiar? Nah, not really. Wait a minute, she looked a bit like the woman at Alf's pub. I wondered if I had a stalker. I hoped if I ever did, she'd be a hotty not a

grey-headed frump. Anyway, she put her head down and waddled off.

I became aware that Zack was banging on. We haggled half-heartedly, just for form's sake. I knew

that he's a fair man and he liked me.

“Okay, my friend, gimme a couple of days and I'll see if I can get the necessary together.”

“Take it with you. That way I'll know that it's sold. Because you'll never give it back.”

The bugger was right. Once he wrapped it in tissue paper and handed it to me it was mine!

That made the sixth decent rock that I owned. People collected paintings, stamps or even bottle

-tops, Me: I liked diamonds.

The taxi Ruth had booked for me was idling at the curb. Zack saw me safely aboard with my

precious booty, Ruth stood in the doorway grinning at me so I asked her if she could raise a decent

dowry. She said something very rude to me.

“Hey Zack, I'm gunna take a pass on Ruth. You're gunna have to keep her.”

“Damn!” said Zack.

I was thinking of my diamond when I realised that the taxi driver was talking to me.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said, what were the lady and yous all screaming about?” He asked.

“You don't wanna know," I told him.

“Try me.”

“Okay," I said. "My circumcision.”

“Yer right, I don't wanna know.”

He put his foot down and screeched away from the kerb. I think he was in a hurry to get rid of me.

I had my diamond in my fob pocket and a finger on top of it. And that's how I entered my house.

And stopped, backed up and looked up and down the street for my stalker. Nope, I'm imagining

things.

I put the diamond on the kitchen table, turned on the overhead light and watched it glinting,

sparkling and I just stared rapturously, muttering, “wow, wow, ---” The very pale blue colouring

3

made it appear harsh and ice-cold. I found my loupe and tried to spot the flaws, but it wasn't

powerful enough.

I fell asleep at the table and woke up stiff, sore and hungry.

I had to celebrate! Dinner at the club. Normally I didn't like dining out by myself, it was too lonely. Couples together, families having fun and me sitting alone. I decided to risk it. If I felt blue, I'd think of my diamond. The diamond! Big Blue, gotta hide it. You never know if the un-godly were going to come a-calling. And I certainly didn't want to walk about the streets after dark with that in my pocket.

I walked to the club in twenty minutes. Had a bistro feed and a rather nice bottle of wine. Didn't

know anybody, mostly older people, some were dancing. The young ones will swarm in about nine

o'clock and brighten the place up. About that time I tended to toddle off and leave it all to the

braying, hyper-active next de-generation.

I decided to put twenty into the pokies to support my club. I never liked pokies: anti-social

things, but when in Rome--- I strolled over to a bank of poker machine just as a dear old duck stood

up and left muttering in disgust. Aha I thought, if she didn't win, the machine must be ready to pay

out. Either soon, or anytime in the next decade.

I slowly played my allotted twenty, savoured little wins and the last of my wine. I was just filling in time till I went home for another look at my diamond. And then the machine went berserk!

Lights flashed, loud dong-dong music rang out. The screen was like a kaleidoscope. I was sitting

stunned, people crowded around, an attendant hovered demanding to see my membership card. And

the best part was the dear old duck who had deserted this noble machine was screeching that the one

thousand dollar jackpot should have been hers. I gave her a beatific smile which didn't seem to calm

her.

I played on. I still had a little of my original twenty left. And a splash of the wine. Too early to go

home. I'll wait for my next big win. These things are supposed to come in threes. My win on the

gee-gees, thanks to Alf. My big win on the pokeys. That's two. Hey, I bet the lotto office is looking

for me right now.

I noticed the bloke next to me rise and shuffle off mumbling something about luck. Instantly

a woman glommed onto his machine and looked at me. “Okay Ace, let's see if your luck's

catching.”

“It is, but you've got to be very close if you want to get lucky.”

She looked at me and raised an eyebrow at my clever double entendre.

I looked at her. “Anyway, don't call me Ace.” Very nice. Long straight blonde hair, modest black

dress. Whoops, not too modest, she just crossed her near-side leg over her far-side leg. Good choice,

sweetie. That shows just enough. “Call me Mister Ace. Or even Freddy.”

“I'll settle for Freddy. I'm Conny and if you tell me how to win a jackpot, I'll let you call me

anything.”

“What about for breakfast?”

“Just a bit forward, Ace. Sorry. Mister Ace. So, you seem to have mastered smooth-talking

repartee?”

“Yeah Conny, it was part of my floral arrangement course at uni. But enough about me, I'm giving

away all my secrets. Tell me about you.” I said, aware that I was staring. I thought maybe a tad too much make-up. Overall, a very nice looking woman. Hmm, nice perfume. too.

“Are you sniffing me? A little rude, don't you think?”

“Yes and no. I mean if you didn't want men to smell you, you shouldn't wear perfume,” I told her.

I didn't care what I said to her. Because: A, I don't know her and B or C whatever, she'll wander off

back to hubby shortly. Somebody who looks like that's gotta be spoken for.

“You're right. Sniff away but don't snort. I hate that.”

We chatted for a while. The lady was quite pleasant. I was enjoying her company. Her skirt's

creepng up I thought or was that just wishful thinking?

“Are you married. Freddy?” She asked me.

4

“I was but I've been divorced for years. It was all very civilized. We still exchange birthday and

Christmas cards. How about you?”

“Never. Oh, I've had some offers but I just couldn't commit. I suppose I enjoy my lifestyle.”

“No regrets then?” I asked.

A prolonged silence, then. “A daughter. I would love to have a daughter, to love and spoil, dress

her in ribbons and bows, to ---” she looked away produced a tissue from somewhere and dabbed at

her eyes, “damn you ,Freddy.”

She was obviously upset, should I try to console her or shut up? What the hell. “As I understand it

Conny, the logistics are straight forward. Step one, find a young bloke and give him a jolly good

seeing-to. And that's about it, I think. The rest just falls into place”

“Thank you, Freddy, that's very helpful. What you're saying is - just do it”

“Yup. If I were younger and wanted to be bogged down with dirty nappies and sleepless nights, I

would, in a manner of speaking, step into the breach for you. Oh, I don't mind you using me for

practice,” I leered, “but that's as far as it goes.”

“You're very kind Freddy, I'll put your name on the list.”

“Seriously Conny, do it or else, when you're old, worn and done, you'll regret it.”

She nodded and seemed to have brightened up a bit. But that's me. They always leave me

laughing - at me.

We sat in silence for a bit. “I've finished my drink, can I get you one?” Conny asked me.

“Lemme pay.” I said. “Just a middy of light beer.” Lemme pay? I was not speaking too well. Must

be late. I'll go home. Shortly. I watched Conny depart and head for the bar. Nice departure. I noticed

that her skirt had crept down to a modest knee-length. I peered between the pokies and saw her at

the bar. Some bloke was trying to chat her up. What an oily smile. No chance, mate. Yeah, she was

shaking her head, turning away from him. Ugly bugger. Here she comes with our drinks.

“You done good Conny,” I told her, “but I'm off after this drinky. I've had enough. Shouldna' drank

all that wine."

“Lucky you. I'm stuck here for another three hours.”

“How come?”

“Did I tell you that my flatmate was going to meet me here? I didn't? Well she texted me and told

me that her boyfriend showed up and please stay away until midnight. I'll be falling off this stool

by then.”

Quick as a flash I said, “Conny, I live five minutes away, I've got a lot of movie DVDs, tea,

coffee, scotch and a couch that you could put your feet up on. And I'll load you into a taxi at

midnight. That's if you don't want to stay for brekky,” I smirked.

“Oo, you're terrible Freddy.” she simpered and I thought that I was falling in love. “No brekky but

a midnight taxi would be good.”

As we left, Conny asked if I had to pick up my winnings.

“Nah, the pokey attendant downloaded it directly onto my credit card.”

“Good thinking, cowboy.”

The taxi was right there. May my good luck continue, I thought. The taxi had just unloaded the start of the young, loud crowd. “Madame's carriage awaits,” I said bowing. Getting home only took five minutes but it seemed to take forever. I fumbled with my keys and ushered her in. She took a

sweeping glance, turned and kissed me. My knees nearly buckled. This wasn't a going-home-at-

midnight kiss. This was definitely a stay-for-brekky kiss.

“Slow down Tiger, get the coffee going but first point to the loo,” Conny said.

I got the coffee perc bubbling, opened a packet of cream biscuits and the stage was set for the

Grande Alliance. Everything was here but her. I know women are slow, but--- Nah, I'm just

impatient. I took the opportunity to glance at my diamond's hiding place. Not disturbed, nobody

would ever look there, I sniggered to myself.

Conny entered, no - made a grand entrance like a one woman Triumphal March from Aida.

She really strutted her stuff. She's aware that I'm gaping. “Did you like that big boy?”

5

“You better pour please Conny, my hands are shaking.” Which she did.

“Freddy, do you have any napkins or a paper towel please?”

“I do.” I rushed to the kitchen and found a roll of paper towels.

We sat on the couch and talked, she was close, nearly in my lap. I was thinking that I better get theshow on the road if we're going to have a night of sin, gin and debauchery because I'm a little tired.

“Put your head on my shoulder for a minute, Sweetie. I suspect you've had a long day and we've

got all night.” Conny said and was humming something nice. I was probably purring.

----

I struggled awake feeling muzzy. No, bloody muzzy. Must of drunk too much, a bit dark, not

much light through the window, late afternoon. I must have slept the day away. My mouth's dry, I'll

get up and get a drink of water. Not just yet. I'll close my eyes and rest for a bit. When I woke up

again it was really dark. I felt dehydrated, gotta get a drink of water. Struggled up off the couch, I'm

dizzy but found the kitchen, picked up one of the two mugs draining on the sink and drank a lotta

water. Two mugs? Why are there two mugs draining? I didn't have anyone over? Nah. I'd remember

that.

I had to go to the bathroom. A shower will freshen me up. I smell perfume and it's not the dunny

deodorant, it smells like girl-type perfume. Must be the soap, very nice. I went to my bedroom for

some clean clothes. The bedroom was a mess! It had been turned over! I was stunned. I'd been

robbed. I hurried out to the lounge room. Yup, my super-duper-state-of-the-art TV's gone. And all

my speakers. I ran around the house, microwave and computer gone. The garage! My car's gone,

my toolbox and my carton of expensive red wine. Damn, damn. At least I'm insured. I reckon the

thieves loaded everything into my car, in the privacy of the closed garage and just drove off. A

thought – I clapped a hand to my hip-pocket and found that the bastards had taken my wallet too.

An immediate phone call to the bank cancelled my cards and as a bonus the nice lady told me that

the only recent movement on my account has been two hefty deposits. One from my club and the

other from my TAB account. Curiouser and curiouser. I haven't been to the club for a couple of

weeks.

The cops turned up quickly. Two of 'em. They wanted to know how the burglars got in. The doors

didn't seem to have been forced. They scratched their heads, looked at each other. “An inside job,”

one said, “maybe Freddy here, is pulling an insurance job.” They both stared at me.

One of the cops looked around. “Nice old house.” He said.

“Yeah,” I agreed. It's very old fashioned. Dark wood half-way up the walls, cream paint up the

rest, a fancy pressed tin ceiling. It's what's called Federation-style, which, I think, made it over

one hundred years old. It's been in the family for generations. But I did update the furniture.

“Yours?” The cop asked.

“Yeah.”

“You own it outright?” he asked me. How bloody rude.

“Yeah.” Not that it's any of your business.

“Are you working at the moment?”

“What are you on about?” I turned on the ignorant bastard.

“Just wondering how an upright citizen like yourself gets to own a nice house in a nice bay-side

suburb without working.”

“Yeah, I can see how that would puzzle you.” I was upset and angry. The house was an

inheritance. My parents died in a car crash a few years ago and I was injured and that's none of this cop's business.

“Take it easy, Sir. We like to consider the background with these incidents. For instance a

girlfriend or previous wife may be seeking revenge or what she considers her fair share.”

“My ex-wife lives interstate and is a good Christian.” I told him. “And I don't have a girlfriend.”

“Are you alright?” The cop's staring at me, “you don't look too good. Hey, what were you doing

last night when this incident was supposed to have taken place?”

6

I stared back. Trying to think. “Dunno. Sleeping?”

“Have you been taking drugs? Your eyes look funny and you don't remember last night. What do

you remember?”

“I met a mate this morning at the pub and we talked about sure things for the mid-week gallops.”

“Mid-week? Wednesday? Freddy, what day is it?”

“Um, Wednesday night.”

“Nope Thursday night,” the smart-alec cop told me. “You've lost a whole day.”

I stood there gobsmacked. They took me to the hospital for a drug test. The results showed that I'd

been fed rope-ho-something. The date-rape drug.

The thing with this drug is not only does it knock you out, the doctor told me, but it can blank your memory for a prior period, sometimes permanently. Which is why I had lost a day.

The cops couldn't find any fingerprints or other clues. I think they wrote the case off as a lost

cause. Then things started to come together for me. A prompt payout from my insurance company

was promised. So I'll be able to update all my tech gear.

My bank statement was couriered from the bank and I found that I was over two thousand dollars

in front. One thousand was from my club. A phone call revealed that I'd won it on the pokeys.

When? I'll be damned! I rarely played them. I wondered what brought that about? And I'd had a

feed there on my credit card last night. That's my missing day. I couldn't recall a thing. The other

big deposit was the TAB cheque. I remember meeting Alf at the pub in the morning. Oh yeah,

a strange matron was staring at us. Very odd. Alf and I aren't stare-worthy.

That's when it all fell apart. My mate Zack, the diamond trader, rang me and said very abruptly.

“The diamond or the dough!”

“What bloody diamond?”

“ The diamond or the dough! This afternoon! Or I'll unleash Ruth onto yer.” He threatened me.

“Gimme a break, not Ruth, I've been crook and I'm still weak. She'd kill me. Normally ----”

“Aha, the old sympathy ploy, ay.” He interrupted me unsympathetically.

“Listen mate, tell me about this diamond. I've been drugged, my memory's crap, I really don't

know what yer on about.”

“I sold you a diamond, it's two carats, big, beautiful and blue which you haven't paid for yet.

You took it away with you and I want it or the money.”

Blue? I remembered. Bloody big, beautiful and blue. “Yeah, I remember, I hid it.” I said.

“Do you know where you hid it?”

“No, but I'm remembering bits and pieces. It'll come to me. And if it doesn't, I've got the money

to pay you.”

“No worries, Stupid, get yer self sorted and let me know. Or else Ruth's coming for you.”

“Mercy.” I begged and nearly laughed.

I didn't sleep well that night. Tossed and turned, my mind churning but I couldn't get past a

beautiful blue diamond.

I slept in after an exhausting, fitful night. I was dreaming of strange, staring women and a

beautiful blonde woman, I think she must have been a film star I'd seen sometime. And then it hit

me - out of the blue - blue? an epiphany! I leapt out of bed, ran to the lounge room and reached for

my large, old leather-bound family bible on the bookshelf. But it was gone! So was my diamond. I'd hidden it down the spine. I collapsed on the couch, head in hands. Who in the hell would steal a bible?

Heavy, continued banging on the door disturbed my misery. “Coming.” I yelled. “Is that bloody

necessary?”

It was those two coppers, detectives actually. One of the buggers grinned. “Perks of the job Sir,

definitive door-banging.”

“Call me Freddy. Come in and watch me eat my breakfast. You want coffee?”

“Have you remembered anything yet.” The Good Cop asked me. The Bad Cop was practising his

glaring.

“Bits and pieces. I had dinner at the club and had a big win on the pokeys.”

7

“Well there you go! The case is practically solved. When we've finished breakfast we'll go to

the police station and look at mugshots and then onto the club and look at their security recordings.

“We're a bit early, wanna throw on four more eggs? Any bacon?” He turned to his glaring, Bad

Cop mate and said. “You're in charge of the toast. Snap to it.” His mate glared frighteningly at him

as I dug out more bread.

When we arrived at the police station they set me up in front of a computer and showed selected

pictures of wicked women. They were very ordinary looking, some were downright homely.

“A couple of them look a bit like my potential stalker.” I said.

The good cop told the computer bloke to put different wigs and lipstick on those two.

When they got to a blonde wig it hit me. “Yeah, that one. She doesn't look like my stalker but she

does look familiar.”

“Beverly, she's an actress in a small-time local theatrical company. She's very good with make-

up, artful in fact.”

We arrived at the club just before it opened. The large Bad Cop banged authoritatively on the

door. The Good Cop turned to me and said. “That's fun. Do you wanta have a go?”

I was seated in the club's little security office and shown Wednesday night's tape and there was I

winning the the jackpot. And like a sledgehammer hitting me I saw a gorgeous blonde sit down

beside me. “Bloody wow!” I breathed. Even the Bad Cop forgot to glare and gaped.

The Good Cop turned to me and said. “Did it occur to you how the hell you pulled her? She's

championship material.

“What are you saying? I'm not capable?”

“C'mon Freddy, take stock. You're hair's receding you're a little paunchy and, well we better leave

it there, Champ. I know! You gave her all your jackpot winnings.”

“Just a bit rude Officer.” I told him, incensed. “Any way, she walked over to the bar and bought us

drinks.”

The security bloke changed cameras and sped through to her arriving at the bar. Like a flash I saw that oily Casanova bloke tried to crack onto her but she was shaking her head.

“There you go Freddy, the case is solved. That's Basher Baz, a sinner of the first order and he's

consorting with your girlfriend.”

“I remember! That's Conny and she's not consorting. Look, she's shaking her head.” I insisted.

“Only because he's probably trying to bludge money off her.” The cop was more insistent. “What

that pair does is go to the race-track looking for winning punters and mug them or follow them

home and rob them there. As they did to you.”

----

Basher and Conny were arrested and charged. I didn't have to testify because they were pleading

guilty. I just gave the cops a statement. That was good, I didn't want to see Conny or whatever her

name was ever again.

The cops had collected my stat. dec. and read through it with me.

“Yeah, yeah,” one of them said, “ what's this family bible? You never mentioned it before.”

“A family heirloom, it belonged to my grandparents.”

“Was it valuable?

“Only to me,” I said. “It was leather-bound and looked nice.”

“Come with me, Freddy-boy.”

He took me to my garage and said. “Have a ferret through that pile.” Indicating a dark corner

between an old cupboard and the side wall. I stirred the pile of old clothes, the rubble of my history and - my family bible. I fell on it, held it to me and surreptitiously ran my hand up and down the

spine. Oh happy day! I could feel the slight lump. Big Blue, my diamond was still there.

“A bit emotional, Freddy. You religious?”

“Nah, just a family heirloom,” I told him. “How did it get here?”

“Simple. One of them was bringing their booty out to the garage, the other one was stacking it in the car and decided that your bible had no value in a pub carpark sale and chucked it into the

8

corner.”

----

It's all over now. The insurance company paid out replacement value so I was able to update my

sight and sound gear. That's a plus. The cops found my car before the bastards could flog it off or

burn it out. Another plus. I taxied around to the bank and put Big Blue in my safety deposit box

after a long, loving look. I took out a sizeable wedge to pay Zack for Big Blue. More pluses.

I rang Zack to tell him that I'm on my way with the money for Big Blue.

“Zackariah's Diamond Emporium.” Ruth answered. Fun time!

“Ah Ruth, I'm on my way to pay you for my big, blue diamond.” I told her.

“Just as well.”

“A bit of advice, if you would, my love. I'm having trouble finding women to bear my children

---”

“Oh, well you won't,” she interrupted, “that's because we women despise you.”

“Thank you Ruth, always nice to talk to you.”

“You too, Freddy, bye.”

I hung up and counted to ten (the normal reaction time) and the phone rang.

“What in the hell did you say to Ruth?” Zack screamed. “She's sitting there quietly, smiling to

herself and that's a worry.”

“No, it's okay. I just told her that I was bringing the money in for Big Blue and she said, don't

bother, the diamond is a gift from us to you. Thanks a lot Zack.”

Soon as I heard him start to scream at Ruth, I hung up and took the phone off the hook.

----

My life went back to normal. My memory was fully restored - I think. Alf came through with

another winner for me, thank heavens. Back into my routine, getting home early, barbie-ing a

couple of snags or scoffing a delivered pizza with extra anchovies - a contentious point with my ex -

and then feet up with a small port. Now that's good living!

The only thing that could have spoilt my ordered existence was a mid-evening door-knock when

I'm part-way into a movie. So of course, that's what happened. I was adult enough to contain my

annoyance and opened the door with just a hint of disapproval.

“Do you realise,” I said, “ what the --- There was something familiar about her.

“Good evening, Ace.”

“You!” No blonde hair, just a short brown bob. And a lot less make-up than I remembered.

I tried to close the door but she had her foot in it.

“Geddout.” I yelled. “you're supposed to be in gaol. I'm going to ring the police.”

“Freddy, listen to me please. I know that I've hurt you and I'm sorry. You''re a good, kind person.”

“No! No! Go away!” I paused, thinking. “You've escaped. I bet the cops are looking for you. Well

Miss, I' m going to have you put back where you belong.” I'm leaning against the door but she's got

her shoe firmly wedged in the gap.

“Freddy,” she said, “you really should work on your upper body strength.”

That was downright insulting.

“I came to apologise. I'm deeply sorry. My ex bullied me and threatened to kill me if I didn't do

what he said,” Conny told me. No it's not Conny it's--- um , I can't remember and I don't care.

“Why aren't you in gaol?” I asked.

“Basher admitted that he forced me. The judge sympathised with me. And awarded me a three

months good behaviour bond. So you see, I'm not really a bad person,” she told me with just a pitiful little smile, “not even the judge thought so.”

“Of course the silly bugger wouldn't think so, ” I said. But there's no way the deceitful trollop can trick this little black duck again.

“So Freddy, I'd like to take you out to dinner at my expense. To make up for the trouble I've

caused you.”

9

“No thank you Conny. I just don't want to know you,” I told her quite firmly. I took the moral

high ground. “Once trust has gone, that's it forever.” Wow, I was sounding like a Mills and Boone

heroine.

“Oh well Freddy,” she sighed, “I understand. Here's a little gift for you. I had hoped we could

share it, but ----.” She pulled something out of her handbag.

“What's that?” Curiosity had got the better of me.

“It's only a bottle of pancake mix. I had hoped that we may have had a pancake brekky.”

"Oh. Um, well---"

END

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Cheers

Vic.

Read more of Vic's Short Stories, Short Stories