Novel - The Ozone Café - The Sins of Satara

The Sins of Satara

Marjorie put the phone down slowly, letting it click silently on its rest. She raised her chest, feeling the weight of trouble resting there. It all seemed so complicated. First, an irate call from Mayor Tyrone last Tuesday, now this. The office was so disheveled it looked like a storm had entered, leaving the detritus of a wild party. She thought back to closing time at work and wondered if the security latch on the back door had missed the lock. The thieves couldn't have possibly entered the front door, that was still firm with the iron bar clicked into place. What she couldn't understand was the trail of wet footprints that led to the bathroom and out the back. The safe had a dry handle. Not that she would touch it, not now, not while she waited for the police and Ronny to arrive. There were too many strange things happening of late, and what with her nerves being bad, today she had a mind to tell Ronnie she was quitting. She could handle some of the tenants being abusive over the phone, holding the receiver out at the cord's full stretch. But the Mayor was different, acting like a pig in her ear. 'Grunt, grunt, snort, snort'. What did she know about "matters going over his head". Then this week, not a peep out of Ronnie.

Ronnie pressed his face on the front door, tapping lightly. It took several minutes for him to hold his head up and look in Marjorie's direction, while she turned the key, releasing the bar.

'What the hell's going on, Ron?'

'Yeah, we've been burgled all right. What did they take?'

'How would I know. Got to wait for the police to find that out. You don't look well, Ron. Go and sit down and I'll make a cup of tea. I'll try to get through all this water. Bloody hell!'

Ronnie Williams shuffled his chair forward behind his desk, stacking the sheets of strewn paper. He sat there thump, thumping them, turning them clockwise until all the edges had joined.

Marjorie sat down in front of him, passing the tea, while she warmed her hands on her cup.

'You had a meeting with Tyrone, yet?'

'Next week. Marjorie.....' he paused for a few minutes, and looked out at the darkened window. Outside the rain renewed its slick path down the glass. The trees outside were in a mood of unutterable sadness. He thought he saw the figure of a dark man in a sailor's suit, then realised it was the baker next door. 'Storm's in,' he said, finally.

'What were you gonna say?'

'Oh, yeah. I'm thinking of selling the business.'

'You got big trouble and I know it,' said Marjorie, picking up the two empty cups. 'I don't wanna know,' she called from the kitchen. 'Because if it has anything to do with that Mayor Tyrone and Bob Haycock, I ain't gonna lose any sleep over it. In fact, the old man and I are thinking of moving to that new subdivision called Cove Heights or somethin'. I've already made enquiries, and I could easily give up travelling from Kildare, so I might as well be closer to the hub of it all. So don't worry, mate. I think we better get going while the iron's hot. What do ya, reckon?'

'Oh, your blood's worth bottling Marjorie.'

'Yeah, well....'

The door opened with a percussive suck. A very tall gentleman, and a smaller policeman entered the Real Estate Office. It was in their nature, to dip their caps at victims of a burglary.

Novel - The Ozone Café - The 3 Sisters

The Three Sisters

Lucy squeezes in beside Vincenzo and Rennie while Riesca and Natasha are in the back seat of the car. Vincenzo watches and listens as the two women open and close their mouths like pecking ravens. Watching them together, his three sisters and brother makes Vincenzo think about Sundays back in Paola. All the women talking, while the men played bocci.

Rennie swings the car around in the railway station's carpark, hearing the luggage on the roofrack bouncing. He nudges Vincenzo's shoulder. 'I love us all being together, Vinny old boy,' he says, 'but I'm afraid brother Maria is missing out.'

Vincenzo nods in agreement and Riesca goes quiet. Natasha who has been a veritable verbal outpour, slaps her knees, raising her hands in the air. 'We tried very, very hard Vin, but she insisted all of the time, blah, blah, blah, too much work at home, what about the girls, what about her paintings.'

'She wants you to come home,' adds Lucy, nudging his side. 'She thinks Australia has swallowed you up like one of these sharks. I tell you she has changed Vincenzo, not so friendly to us when we talked about coming to Sydney.'

'Cranky, cranky, all of the time,' says Natasha.

'Oh well, I make the best of it. We have a good time, hey?' Vincenzo stares out of the window. He had threatened her this time, if she didn't come he would get a divorce. 'I say, I divorce you, I divorce you three times and it is over,' he blurted down the phone. 'I find myself a nice Australian woman. There's plenty here in Satara Bay.' But seated in his arm chair after the call, he had sulked for the rest of the night. Of course, he would never leave her.

The car pulls into the drive. Rennie has taken two days off work to get his three sisters settled into his holiday house. Since the completion of the Ozone Café he has renovated, adding a sleepout to the back with louvres and a large patio that stretches across the width of the building. With his new girlfriend they have planted ferns and palms, making the area very cool and tropical.

Susan greets them at the front door, and after several toasts of red wine and helpings of pizza, they lounge on cane chairs in the backyard.
Everyone is drinking making an effort to keep talking about old times except for Vincenzo. He wasn't expecting so much Calabrian dialect to fly out of his sisters' mouths, all speaking over one another. He found that his constant switching from thinking in English to speaking in Italian very tiresome.

He opens one eye, then both. 'It's been a long day, and now I have to get back to the café. We see you tomorrow and I make a good Australian steak for you.'

'Ha, watch that banana lounge doesn't snap you up like a shark,' laughs Rennie. 'Remember, like last time.'

'I lost weight since then,' says Vincenzo, whistling for Pomadina to join him on his walk home. At the front gate, he can still hear the women's voices raised above the loudest octave, rabbiting on and on about their husbands, kids, jobs and the mafia. He wasn't at all concerned. Any doubts that he had about them not liking Satara Bay had been squashed in the afternoon with the women admiring the bay, the boats and distant foothills. 'It's heaven,' suggested Lucy. 'Paola with Australian trees,' said Riesca. Although there had been plenty of laughter, he felt a little sad that Maria hadn't made any effort to come. Her last letter had left him feeling puzzled about her strong criticisms of him living in Australia, and he didn't like her swearing down the phone at him. She was never like that before.

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