Who Sings for Lu? Read online

  This moving, fast-paced novel is set in two contrasting worlds: the rich, horse-breeding milieu of Riley Chadwick and his family and the hand-to-mouth life on the street of Lu and her mates. What happens when those worlds collide? Riley’s daughter, Anna, seems to have everything: looks, money, confidence. Lu has nothing except her friends and the sense of inferiority and rage she feels the moment she sets eyes on Anna Chadwick. Feelings that will run out of control … A gritty portrait of envy and relationships gone awry.

  Dedicated to my daughters

  Katea and Alecia

  Thanks to my friends Graham and Deborah de Gruchy

  for their help on thoroughbreds. And Claire Gummer for great editing.

  Harriet Allan for never losing faith.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Part One

  Chapter one

  Chapter two

  Chapter three

  Chapter four

  Chapter five

  Chapter six

  Chapter seven

  Chapter eight

  Chapter nine

  Chapter ten

  Chapter eleven

  Chapter twelve

  Chapter thirteen

  Chapter fourteen

  Chapter fifteen

  Chapter sixteen

  Chapter seventeen

  Chapter eighteen

  Chapter nineteen

  Chapter twenty

  Chapter twenty-one

  Chapter twenty-two

  Chapter twenty-three

  Chapter twenty-four

  Chapter twenty-five

  Chapter twenty-six

  Chapter twenty-seven

  Part Two

  Chapter twenty-eight

  Chapter twenty-nine

  Chapter thirty

  Chapter thirty-one

  Chapter thirty-two

  Chapter thirty-three

  Chapter thirty-four

  Chapter thirty-five

  Chapter thirty-six

  Chapter thirty-seven

  Chapter thirty-eight

  Chapter thirty-nine

  Chapter forty

  Chapter forty-one

  Chapter forty-two

  Chapter forty-three

  Chapter forty-four

  Chapter forty-five

  Chapter forty-six

  Chapter forty-seven

  Chapter forty-eight

  Chapter forty-nine

  Chapter fifty

  Chapter fifty-one

  Chapter fifty-two

  Chapter fifty-three

  Chapter fifty-four

  Chapter fifty-five

  Chapter fifty-six

  Chapter fifty-seven

  Chapter fifty-eight

  Chapter fifty-nine

  Chapter sixty

  Chapter sixty-one

  Chapter sixty-two

  Chapter sixty-three

  Chapter sixty-four

  Chapter sixty-five

  Chapter sixty-six

  About the Author

  Copyright

  part one

  Chapter one

  This time she didn’t feel like indulging Rowan, a regular customer after the usual order of kebab and fries, adding up how many times he’d seen the Lord of the Rings trilogy. She’d lasted less than an hour watching it on DVD and trying to get it, unable to understand the appeal of little people and demons and sorcerers all chasing a stupid gold ring.

  ‘G’won, Lu, guess what number I’m up to now?’ Rowie was saying like they were old mates from way back, when they had nothing in common other than inner hurt, but she’d never told him nothing about that and nor had he asked: people like Rowan don’t — they’re not interested in you, the person who might also be hurting. If it wasn’t Jackson’s childish trilogy of cinema hits Rowie went on about it was something or someone gothic, or about computer games, or what he did with his lonely, boring days.

  ‘Not today, honey.’

  ‘What? You got a headache or something?’

  ‘No, Rowie, I got a Rowan-ache. Chicken salt with the fries today?’

  ‘Like always. What’s up with you? Can’t a bloke have an ordinary chat?’

  Ordinary was right.

  Lu turned from bagging Rowie’s Gargantuan Special to sight of him reverted to sulking childhood, not a man in his early thirties. Like someone had stolen his dog. Or he was the only one in his class not invited to the birthday party. A hundred-and-fifty-kilo-plus explanation of himself.

  She was thinking about how she never wanted to be fat, not with not much else going for her, when she saw the bloke staring at her.

  Chewing he was — what’s it called, sounds like, yuk, masturbating — masticating, that’s right. Like a cow on telly in India somewhere chewing on its own face — cud, that’s it. Chewing its cud. Funny saying. And too sure of himself for her liking, standing there behind Rowan. Not as if he was Russell Crowe just walked into her joint, sightings of him like of Elvis a constant on locals’ lips.

  This was a typical Malak Bros punter, with a worker’s face, if he’d been looking up at the menu board how they all did — why else would you come in here, even the regulars like Rowie considered their choices, though they mostly ordered the same thing as every yesterday — but he wasn’t looking up.

  He was staring at Lu and chewing his cud.

  Bloke wasn’t ugly nor handsome. Just different, in the instant.

  ‘I got a customer, Rowie.’ With a somewhat hissy please in her tone. Rowan muttered something and waddled off to his spot by the window on Woollo’s city-side boundary. People being the view, though what he got out of them Lu did not know.

  ‘What would you like, mate?’ she asked the guy. Kind of tall, lean and those taut muscles under the yellow teeshirt were for real, you know these things growing up where muscle counts for more than brains.

  Nice chunk of dark wavy hair, and she spotted the green tinge in his eyes. Nice. Yeah. But his nose and mouth and eyes didn’t match up, looked out of whack somehow. And jaw muscles like he had two little snakes trying to get out his gob. She felt like putting gum in her mouth and chewing back, just to let him know: Mate, that stare ain’t doing it for me.

  Soon the masturbator — oops, masticator — stepped up and said, ‘You’re real pretty.’ Chew-chew-chew.

  When she didn’t feel that, not real pretty not even plain pretty. Why should she? No one’d ever told her that, excepting horny boys and older men who should know better given her younger years, after only one thing. ‘You’re ugly’ were the words that stuck, from a certain someone.

  Give me some gum, I’ll throw it right back at him, this big act. As for the line.

  ‘Yair?’ She exaggerated the yeah, like her olds, bloody useless turds. ‘What would you like to order, mate?’ Giving him her shut-down look, the one that said, You’re not getting into my pants. If only she’d been able to put that look into action her whole remembering life. Friggin’ men and their dicks. Friggin’ Uncle Rick.

  ‘You,’ the bloke grinned. ‘On toast.’

  ‘Come on, mate, there’ll be other customers any sec.’

  He looked around, back at her. ‘Where? I don’t see any. Just you on that side. And me, only the lonely customer, on this side.’ Bloody stupid grin. One of those smartarse ones like his shit don’t stink.

  ‘Lonely is right. Any wonder, way you talk. You don’t even know me.’

  ‘Nah, but I wouldn’t mind. You are so pretty.’ He said it close to sooo.

  She sighed and started reading him the available junk food items from the board behind her, betting he was ogling her bottom.

  ‘Righto, I’ll start again. Gidday.’ With a
different grin, this one a full smile and quite appealing, on its own. Pity about the lip went with it. But what the hell.

  ‘Gidday to you too.’ But didn’t match his smile back, which was a nice one, kind of open and trusting.

  ‘What’s the name?’ he said.

  ‘The name?’ Friggin’ crude-arse. ‘My name is Lu. Short for Luana.’

  ‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘Kinda name I’d expect you to be called. I’m Rocky. Like the movie boxer, ’cept I’m taller.’

  And cheekier, she felt like saying. Trying to hold down her grin. No reason for it, just something about him made her want to laugh.

  ‘Than who?’ she said. May as well try it on.

  ‘Than the bloke who acts in it. He was in Rambo, years ago. There was an actual Rambo, out of a book I think.’

  ‘Oh. You mean Sly Stallone,’ she said, flat-toned as if the entire world except this guy knew that. ‘Sylvester. He was here.’

  ‘No. Gimme that. Sylvester Stallone? In this joint? What’d he order then?’

  ‘Nah, not here, asking for a double meat burger with bacon and no beetroot. He was visiting Sydney. Nearly got booted out.’

  ‘Stallone did? Rocky? Come on, the bloke’s a megastar, even if in only one movie six times over and that bullshit Rambo. You crapping me, Lu?’ Way he said her name, like they were old buddies joshing each other.

  ‘Steroids. Found a whole lotta steroid pills on him. I was really disappointed, wasn’t I?’

  ‘Yeah?’ His yeah was for real, a fair dinkum type. ‘What at? It’s his business what he does.’

  ‘I seen a couple of Rocky movies and he’s cute. He kind of seemed, like, real? Only to find out he’s a midget and pumps himself up with drugs.’

  She had to admit if you took only his eyes then this bloke was the opposite of ugly. But then wouldn’t everyone be handsome and ‘so pretty’ if you took the bad parts out?

  ‘Shit. I never heard about that. I looked up to him myself,’ the Aussie Rocky said, finally looking up at the menu board. ‘Steroids. Tell ya one thing: their vanity doesn’t need no pumping up.’

  Lu impressed by how he read that, vanity not needing pumping up.

  Scanning the board, it showed on his face he was impressed with what the Malaks had on offer. Till he said, ‘Don’t like kebabs. Hundred kilos of meat sitting there for days.’

  He looked accusingly at the spit, like a torso being slowly sliced to nothing but the rotating steel cylinder, a torso cooked by the vertical gas elements. ‘Crawling with bacteria — campylobacter, you wanna know.’

  ‘Yeah, right. Just what I was thinking about this morning: camphala bacta,’ she sneered. ‘In where? You mean the meat? For the kebabs?’ Lu quite shocked. ‘We’re well known for our kebabs. The Malak fries are a Sydney ledge. And our burgers make the Macs and Wendys and Burger Kings look like heated —’ Like heated something. The description suddenly left her. At his stare. Which for all his mouth and broad shoulders rocking like a boxer getting ready, the self-confidence didn’t come across as normal male sexual. Just a bloke with green in his eyes like a painter had just lightly touched them.

  ‘I heard about them. Why I’m here. Finally.’

  Had her wondering, why finally?

  ‘Did you say double meat with bacon? Throw an egg in with it, will ya? And I don’t mind the beetroot.’

  ‘Please,’ she said.

  ‘Please? You’re a sheila.’ The chewing stopped dead.

  ‘Bosses says I don’t have to serve no one who’s rude.’ He was supposed to say Only kidding.

  ‘I wasn’t rude — just asked for a friggin’ egg with me burger.’

  ‘Then just say please … Please?’ Fancy begging a creep like this. Cud chewing again.

  ‘Jeezuz. Please then.’ His shoulder movement stopped and so did movement of his eyes, like saying please grated with him, to a woman it did, and yet those eyes grew warm again, the kindness crept back in. Lu got the thought he was thinking about his mother, for some gut-instinct reason, something she’d done to him way back, stuff from the past. So where did he get his self-confidence from?

  And the smile returned. ‘I like me egg runny, Lu baby.’

  Her name again, dunno about the baby.

  ‘One double meat with bacon!’ she called over her shoulder to the cook. ‘Egg runny! Givvim extra beetroot please, Boris!’ To the cook who was a Russian and drank vodka like water, but he kept a good kitchen. Meant the boss brothers could go out and explore other business ventures, or stand outside how they were now, chatting with other swarthies, but in English. Sometimes the others’ accents gave away their origins, but the Malaks didn’t speak their mother tongue and nor should they, it seemed to Lu. They were all Australians: her, Boris, the Malaks and the others. Look at the names of any national sports teams, the Olympics over in China, their own here in Sydney, and see if a hundred different nationalities don’t march under one flag. ‘Advance Australia Fair’ — even Lu felt a swelling of pride at hearing the national anthem sung at sporting events on television.

  ‘Want any fries with that, Rocky?’ Surprised at her own tone — intimate, almost. ‘They’re good.’

  Yep, he’d have some of them too. Thumb and forefinger up to say small size, as if deciding he didn’t need his voice.

  He had made quite some impression on a gal.

  Chapter two

  When they got to hang out, Rocky became one of those rare creatures: a boy who never tried to stick his dick or finger or tongue in one of her orifices. She wouldn’t call him a gentleman because he walked the city’s mean streets with a toughness that had none mess with him, not even those who hunted in packs. He knew everyone and had their respect, didn’t stand over anyone. In fact Lu came to see Rocky had a heart of gold, for the street kids at least: gave them money or tough-love advice, a hug, one of his shoulder squeezes where he managed to convey love like some kind of fighting Jesus — since he did fight if some mug offered it to him, like some bully drunk picking the wrong man. Once it was a professional rugby league player new on the scene who challenged Rocky up at the Bourbon and Beefsteak, a common fight venue in King’s Cross that males for some reason got drawn to, probably because the press reported it and the whole town — so they thought — talked about it. Fighting, duh. Strictly for a certain type of male.

  So Lu got to witness a machine in action, close to a madman, but he was in control. Bang-bang-bang. Lights out. But no follow-up meant he had mercy. A heart therefore. Embarrassed when the diners and drinkers clapped his performance, wanted to buy him a beer: he grabbed Lu and was out of there. Never spoke a word about it. She didn’t mind the odd blue, okay when you grew up with fighting all around you, even a female came to appreciate certain qualities a male could display when he fought. Like courage, will and a certain appealing ruthlessness, the kind that made a girl tingle. As in, ahem, like that. With her, though, the tingle was in her mind. Just a theory.

  He lived in an ever-changing series of rental apartments and houses between tenants. Landlords trusted him to look after them. Many nights he’d be waiting for her shift to finish at the takeaway joint, and they’d go in his car to some nice apartment with a view of the city, the harbour all aglitter, the Opera House looking like out of a dream, so a girl would think: This is my city? With a certain gladness and happy disbelief. And when Rocky turned down the light dimmer, a girl could be forgiven for wanting more of living like this, she might even allow herself to think of having a man in a normal way. But it never held, the idea of ordinary romantic attachment. Why would it? That door was firmly closed, nailed and chain locked.

  That ‘so pretty’ line with the soft emphasis he never used again. It was just a bluff. Rocky in fact was a thinking guy, sensitive, considerate; remembered the streets he’d once lived on, the runaway kid of twelve. The landlords paid him a fee along with giving free rent, and in exchange he cleaned up the places, did a bit of painting and fixing, moved on to the next.

  One night he
told her, ‘Listen, Lu. There’s stuff going on: action, kid, you should take notice of. There are people doing things — business stuff — their way of thinking, people like me and you should be learning about.’ Over her head, till he mentioned her two boss brothers.

  ‘Those cunning Malak brothers are always talking business,’ he said. For someone new on her scene how did he know anything about her employers? ‘I hear them talking stuff over with their mates, each other. They got the hunger in their eyes, Lu. Best we learn it.’ She liked him saying ‘we’.

  He started on about recession and the credit market rules all changed by dramatic economic events. She said, ‘You sure you giving the lesson to the right person here, Rock? I might start yawning.’

  ‘The smart brains are figuring out where the next earner is. Just saying we got to follow them.’

  ‘The Malak brothers will always have a job for me.’

  ‘Shit, that’s ambitious. Working for a friggin’ wage. Wage-earners don’t rule this world — the self-employed do.’

  ‘So where would you go?’

  ‘Dunno. Why I keep my ear to the ground. When the herd’s running that way, you run this — right up the smartest one’s bum.’

  ‘And you’ll be running in the same direction?’ she got in more for reassurance of not just his integrity and fact he respected her, but to know she had company for when she faltered, got scared. Not as if she ran with the main pack at any rate. Just her tight circle of friends and this new one. A novelty at the expense of the others in the meantime, till the novelty wore off — if she ever wanted it to. As if his aura could ever weaken, let alone die.

  He said, ‘I sure will.’ That smile. ‘Specially if you’re heading the same way.’

  Made her blush, the intensity of his stare that yet was not sexual. Or not so it made her feel uneasy.

  One time Rocky took her to this old house near, he pointed out, one of Sydney’s best hotels, The Observatory up the top of Argyle Street. ‘That joint costs six to eight hundred a night. And that’s not the suite. Penthouse is several grand a night. One day I’m gonna stay in there,’ Rocky said. Lu hoping he’d add she was invited.