On Cringila Hill by Noel Beddoe

other birds with red on their chests. Grandfather would point at them, and whisper about them, not to scare them away. He liked birds. I guess he still does. And down at the surf he’d take off his shoes and socks and leave them on the beach, and roll up his trouser legs and we’d walk along the low sand, maybe let the sea get over our feet, and point out at the ships on the horizon, goin’ somewhere. There would be rocks up out of the beach at low tide, and we’d look down into pools of water the sea had left and see little fish shoot this way and that, and wet crabs walkin’ that funny way they do, over the rocks.’
    They sit in the darkness for a while. Jimmy says, ‘You know anythin’ about your father?’
    â€˜Nah. Just one of the customers, you know. Even my mother couldn’t know who he was.’
    â€˜She still do that line of work?’
    â€˜Yeah.’
    Jimmy waits, wondering if he can say what’s come into his mind. Eventually he says, ‘Pardon me, Pig. No disrespect. But your mum don’t look like no young woman no more. She still gets men to come?’
    â€˜Well, yeah. See, she don’t charge very much. Some of the sailors hit Port, they come from Asia, Russia, places like that – they don’t make much money. Sometimes they sell things they brought, probably that’s their best way to make a buck. I guess they ask around, where’s it cheap. So Mum does some business.’
    â€˜Yeah. What do you do.’
    â€˜What, while they’re there?’
    â€˜Yeah.’
    â€˜I wait. I go out into the backyard till they’re finished.’
    â€˜Even in winter?’
    They sit for a while, listening to the rain over the pine tree needles. Piggy says, ‘Yeah.’
    â€˜Must get cold.’
    â€˜It does. But, see, what some of them like to do is hit her around while they’re doin’ what they’re doin’. And I don’t like to hear that. You know what I’m like, Jim, can’t handle that stuff like you. You’re fast and strong and I’m not. So I’m better off just being outside, so she can make her money.’
    â€˜I’m really sorry, Pig. Can’t be no fun for ya.’
    â€˜It’s not. Once I stayed in and I heard what someone was doin’ to her. I lost all control, you know, from anger, I was shakin’ with it, and I didn’t know what I was doin’ and I raced in and jumped on his back and tried to claw his eyes.’
    â€˜I recognise the feeling.’
    â€˜But he was a tough little bugger, you know, a Dutchman I think. He threw me off and beat me up, and then left without finishin’ and didn’t pay her nothin’, so she didn’t have her money for what she needed and she got the shits with me. So now I stay out in the yard, where I can’t hear what they’re doin’.’
    They sit together in silence for a while, thinking. Then, to break the line of discussion, Piggy says, ‘Where’d you learn to fight?’
    â€˜Didn’t learn much.’
    â€˜Well, you must of. That stuff, where you’ll hit a guy, you must of learned that.’
    â€˜That spot, behind the ear, hit that a good shot you cut off blood to the brain and he goes down and out. Anyone. I guess it’s what David done to Goliath. You just can’t always get at it. Grandfather showed me that. And some other stuff, you know. We’d go in the backyard and he’d show me, keep the right foot behind the left foot all the time, how to throw a punch, how you use your elbows and knees. Only a few times. You only need a few times.’
    â€˜Ever see himfight?’
    â€˜Only once, long time ago, someone upset him and upset him, and in the end he done it. There’s no one like him.’
    â€˜That’s what I’m told.’
    They wait, each hurting in his individual way. Piggy says, ‘I haven’t seen you too