Peter Carey: The Tax Inspector

In this garden Cacka did not exist. Her children had not been born.

57

As Maria Takis entered the cellar, Benny Catchprice remained behind her with his shot gun pushing into the base of her spine. He had already cut her cheek with it, and it did not even occur to her to plead with him.

It was like a subway tunnel in here. She could smell her death in the stink of the water. Even while she had fought to stop his grandmother being committed, all this – the innards of Catchprice Motors – had been here, underneath her feet. She did not see her name written on the wall, but in any case she did not understand the parts or what they did – the snakes in bottles, the cords tied with plastic, the writing on the wall, the ugly white fibreglass board with its straps and buckles. How could you ever understand it? It was like some creature run over on the road. The rough-sawn barrel grabbed and tore at her dress.

Benny saw the thing he had made: belts, buckles, trusses. He knew already that it was wrong. He had built it for her but he had not thought of how she was. He said he was going to fuck her. He did not want to fuck her, not at all. On the other hand: this was his course. He had visualized it, committed to it. He was going down this road at 200Ks. No way could he turn around.

Maria felt the beginning of another period pain. It was only now she realized these must be contractions. They were coming every five minutes or so. The pain tightened in her gut – this one made it hard to breathe. Through the pain she heard Benny Catchprice: This is where I come from,’ he said. ‘This is where I live.’ He was whining. When he whined, he seemed softer, blond and pink-cheeked, baby-skinned, but he was not softer. The whining was joined to the anger, the anger was joined to the gas-jet eyes that threatened her and tore at her with the barbed steel of the shot gun barrel. ‘I know you wouldn’t ask a human being to live here. But you just walked away and left me here.’

The pain in her womb was like a great fist clenching. If it had been within her power she would have squashed him like a cockroach.

As the pain began to leave her, he moved round her and sat in front of her on the sofa. He balanced the gun on his knee while he began to take his shoes off.

‘I like you,’ Benny said, looking up from unlacing. He was taking one step at a time. He should tell her get her clothes off, but he did not want to. He did not have a fucking hard-on yet. He took his shoes off slowly, as slowly as he could manage it. ‘You tried to run away from me, but I still like you.’

Maria thought he had pretty, slippery lips and dangerous, sentimental eyes. She saw a teenage boy beset with lust and shyness – they were squashed in together like buckshot into chewing gum. He probably did not even know himself what cruelty he was capable of.

‘I won’t run away,’ she said.

‘Bullshit,’ he shouted. He liked to shout. He liked to feel his voice fill up the room. He scared himself at the thought of what crazy thing he might next do. When he shouted at Cathy she always, finally, collapsed before him. Her face would turn from hard to sorry.

Maria flinched when he shouted, but then the face just hardened. You could see it set into place. He saw her eyes becoming dark and hostile. He could not let her stay like this.

‘You don’t like me,’ he said. He wanted to be friends with her. He wanted her to stroke his hair, maybe, kiss him on his eyes, that sort of thing. Not fuck, not unless she made him. Most of all he wanted her to smile at him. He was trying to find a way back to the place where that might just be possible.

She watched him pout. She watched in chilly fascination as he pulled off his thin black socks, and rolled them up one-handed.

‘It’s dirty here,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry about that part of it.’ She noticed that his hands were trembling. He rubbed his heels and soles with his hands. He gave the impression of being fine and pretty, but his feet were big, netted with the red chain-mail imprint of his socks. ‘I didn’t want it to be dirty.’

Her mouth was dry. She thought of all the ‘useful tips’ in birth class, how you should take a spray pack of Evian water and a sponge to suck.

‘I wanted it to be clean.’

Now he was removing the trousers, with one hand, holding the shot gun with the other. He had shiny hairless legs like a girl.

‘This isn’t what you want,’ she said. ‘You don’t do this to someone you like.’

‘Shut up,’ he said. ‘You don’t even know what I’m going to do to you.’

‘This isn’t what you want,’ she repeated.

‘Shut up,’ he screamed. ‘I’m the one in charge.’

Her eyes just seemed to narrow. When he saw her go like this, he knew he would have to make her cry.

‘Don’t tell me what I want,’ he said. ‘I know what I want.’

He would have to make her soft.

She said it again: ‘This isn’t what you want.’

‘You don’t get it,’ he said. ‘I visualized what is happening now. I committed . With a witness. Everything I commit to, I do. This is why I am a success.’

‘You committed? You made an affirmation, is that what you mean? You sent away for the tape?’ She stepped towards him. He pushed back at her with the gun. ‘You paid five hundred dollars?’ she said.

‘You think I can’t afford it?’

Oh dear God, I am part of Benny Catchprice’s affirmation .

‘Benny, am I your objective?’

‘Mind your own business. How do you know about this stuff?’

‘What was your Desire?’

‘You bitch. Don’t you do this. Don’t you steal my stuff.’

‘I was your Desire?’

‘I am an angel. I’m a fucking angel now.’ He was standing and shouting. She had all her clothes on. He was almost fucking starkers. ‘I am an angel.’ He screamed at her. It was his mad act. He was a demon. He made himself dribble. ‘Ask me what angel I am.’

He had the gun up, pointed at her head.

Maria Takis knew she would have to die. Another contraction was here already, so soon. She felt the pain coming into the dark cloud of her present terror.

Benny Catchprice was still yelling: ‘Ask me! Ask me!’

She managed to say: ‘What angel are you?’

‘Angel of lust,’ he said. He licked his lips. ‘Angel of fire.’

‘You’re going to have to kill me,’ she said. ‘You know that. If you think you’re going to put me on that thing, you’re going to have to kill me. That means you’ll kill my baby too.’

‘No.’ He exploded. He was a spider, a lethal creature with his long shapely hairless legs protruding from a black silk carapace. He shoved his gun forward at her face. She screwed up her face against the darkness of the barrel, but then she saw him change his mind. He lowered the gun, and slapped her face. Her head jolted sideways and she felt a searing pain down her side. He did it again, so lights exploded against the screen of her retina. She stumbled and fell. ‘Don’t you ever, don’t you ever even think of it.’

On the floor, she scraped her arm across a board and found her hand in tepid water. It touched something – a bar, a rod. She grasped it. He took a step back and she clambered to her feet, holding out her weapon: a tyre lever, slimy with rust. She hardly recognized the voice that came from her throat. ‘You come near me,’ she shouted, ‘I’ll break your arm.’

She was breathing hard. The pain came again. It was a tight hard pain, so hard she could not have talked if she had wanted to.

‘You don’t like me,’ he said. ‘I like you but you don’t like me. What’s the matter? What’s the matter?’

The matter was the pain. ‘Shut up.’