by Mark Stewart
THE NEXT day happened to be Saturday. Lilly woke long before the sky started to lighten. Sitting in bed, the side table lamp burning bright, she finished her letter to Jack. On the way, out of the house, she grabbed a small paper bag and placed the leftover lollies in it. She swiped the letter from off the table and stepped out into the early morning air.
Four houses away she spied the milkman’s horse and cart. She stood under a gum tree to watch, hoping not to scare the horse.
“Morning,” called the stocky milkman. He darted across the road carrying a wire basket full of pint bottles of milk. In seconds, he returned to the cart, only to grab another half a dozen pint bottles.
Lilly stood counting the seconds waiting for his return. “I’m amazed at how fit you are,” she called.
The man walked behind the cart for a few seconds before darting to the other side of the road again.
“I have to keep up with the horse,” the milky explained. “Have a nice day.”
“You too.”
Lilly made her usual deviation to the general store so she could buy a stamp for the letter before work. What Gwen told her a few hours earlier weighed heavily on her mind.
“Morning Lilly,” greeted a man standing in the doorway of the general store.
“Good morning,” she replied, jumping a little. “You startled me.”
“My apologies. I didn’t take too much notice of how many people might be around this time of the morning. What will it be, the usual stamp?”
“Yes please, Mr. Finch.”
“I bet your husband looks forward to receiving the letters. You’re more regular than a clock.”
Though she smiled, Lilly’s thoughts were taking her elsewhere.
Mr. Finch moved his hand in front of Lilly’s face several times to get her attention. In the end, he spoke.
“I can tell you have troubles on your mind.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve been having a one-way conversation. If we didn’t know each other, I’d say you were ignoring me. What’s up, Lilly?”
Mr. Finch stopped what he started doing to lean his elbows on the bench top, looking up into her eyes.
“I’ve got this idea about starting a business selling lollies. My dear neighbor mentioned I’d never get a loan from the bank.”
“Your neighbor is probably right. Now or after the war, the Government will need all the money they can get. Borrowing for a brand-new business might be difficult if not impossible.”
“I’ve dwelled on the idea most of the night and again this morning. I’m determined to find a way to not only start my business, I want to see it grow into a success. I just don’t know what to do,” stated Lilly, groaning heavily.
“Forget about borrowing from the bank. Save the money instead.”
“Do you think I can?”
“If you cut your spending budget to the bone and I mean to practically zero, I believe you could save up enough to at least make a start.”
“I think maybe it might be a great idea.” Lilly held up her bag of sweets. “Try one. Another opinion will give me encouragement.”
The moment Mr. Finch tasted a sweet his face broke out into a grin. “Fantastic,” he reported.
“Are you being honest or just polite? Answer me truthfully. I’m strong; I can handle the truth.”
“Lilly, if I say they’re great I mean it. I tell you what I’ll do. You make up batches of the sweets. I’ll split the profits down the middle with you.”
Lilly’s eyes sparkled at the idea. “You have a deal.”
“At least it’ll help raise some revenue.” Mr. Finch slid the stamp across the bench top. “This stamp is on the house. Put the money towards your business.”
“Thank you so much,” chirped Lilly all excited. “The moment I get paid I’ll go buy more ingredients and pay you for the two cigars.”
“Righto,” replied Mr. Finch. “When my grandson told, me he sold two cigars and didn’t get the cash I did lose my temper. When he explained, who bought them, I apologized. I knew you’d never forget to pay.”
“Thanks for your understanding. When I’ve made my next batch of lollies I’ll bring them over.”
“I’ll be waiting to sell them.”
Humming to herself Lilly skipped out of the store. She made it to the factory in time to see Harry opening the main gate. She ran to catch him up.
“I’ve brought a few lolly samples.”
“I’m more than interested in tasting your cooking.” He pushed his hand into the open bag. The minute he tasted the sweet mixture he began to nod. “This is the best tasting lolly I’ve ever tried. They could be a winner.”
“If I can borrow the money I’d be able to start today,” reported Lilly. “I’ve just secured my first outlet.”
“I recommend you don’t borrow any money or put your savings in the bank. The Government will confiscate the lot, leaving you penniless for the duration of the war.” Harry squared himself to Lilly. “Take my advice; find a safe place for the money somewhere around your home. I do.”
“Can you tell me an example of a safe place?”
“I put my money in a tin then bury it.”
“I’ll take what you’ve told me under advisement,” said Lilly. “Have you made any progress about me being able to buy the bullet making machine?”
“Sort of. I’ve found out the Old Clunker isn’t worth much. I’m sure when the machine isn’t needed, it’ll be just about worthless.”
“How much do you think I could buy it for?”
“A few pounds I suppose. I’ll make more phone calls.”
Lilly bid Harry a good day and ran inside the factory to start work. Before she walked ten feet from the outside door, Suzie held out her hand for a lolly. She wasn’t disappointed. A couple of other ladies sprinted across the factory floor also eager to sample the home-made sweets.
The weeks slowly dragged into months then into years. Lilly’s sweets were selling well. She wasn’t making a lot of money, but they were selling, cementing the idea of a viable business for Jack and her to dive into when he returned home.
Each Saturday morning Lilly bought her stamp at the general store. She’d drop off more lollies and get paid for the previous week’s selling. To cut her budget even further, Lilly needed to make a tough decision. It was early November. The weather felt, warm. She couldn’t sleep. Lilly stepped outside and sat on the back verandah of her small house. Even the birds seemed to be awake. She looked up at the clear moonless night sky. She’d been crying over her plight of not sending a weekly letter to Jack. Harry gave her the news she could buy the Old Clunker provided she gave the army ten pounds. She needed to save another five. Lilly couldn’t see any other option except write to Jack only once every two weeks. Even the lolly sales were dropping. The war seemed to be taking its toll on everyone. The few dozen, she sold each week she religiously put towards reaching the ten pounds.
Lilly jumped to her feet. Strolling down the path, she swiped up the short handle shovel lying on the ground. In front of the second tomato plant, she pushed the metal blade into the soft dirt. She heard a thud. Placing the shovel against the fence, she dropped to her knees and dug her hands into the ground. Her fingers touched the metal biscuit tin. Each Saturday night she’d dig up the old tin and open the lid. This time, Lilly counted the money inside the tin and added another pound. She felt proud of the fact she counted out six pounds towards the bullet making machine.
Lilly reburied the tin, smoothing over the soil then walked back inside.
It seemed less than a minute before the sunshine covered her eyes. Lilly always enjoyed the Sunday morning sleep in.
At exactly7:00a.m. Lilly heard a knock on the front door. Pulling on her dressing gown, she tied the long cord around her waist, rushing down the hall. The closer she got to the door the more nervous she felt. Lilly opened the door to a man wearing a police uniform.
One hundred different scenarios simultaneously tumbled th
rough Lilly’s mind. On top of her list sat Carlisle’s murder. Did the police finally put two and two together and tracked her down, or did they question Suzie, forcing her to confess. Lilly’s head started throbbing at the idea someone, maybe Mr. Smith decided to tell how she murdered Carlisle.
Glaring directly at the Constable, Lilly’s knees began to tremble right before they gave way. She leaned against the wall to stop herself from crumpling to the floor. Her heart pounded inside her chest. Her windpipe and lungs ached from breathing too fast. Forcing herself to slow her breathing, Lilly listened to the laborious wheeze.
“Good morning,” announced the tall, handsome Constable. “Is your name Mrs. Lilly Barrett?”
“Yes,” she replied hesitantly.
The man took off his hat and produced an envelope, thrusting it at Lilly.
“What’s this? It looks official.”
“It’s a letter from the Royal Australian Navy,” reported the Constable.
“The Navy?” echoed Lilly, still trying to compose herself.
“Mrs. Barrett, the letter is self-explanatory.”
Staring at the Constable’s somber expression, Lilly gathered her wits, realizing he wasn’t going to arrest her. She pulled open the envelope and began to read.
“To Mrs. Lilly Barrett, we the Navy need to inform you, petty officer Jack Barrett has been wounded when the HMS Waterhen was bombed and sunk in the Mediterranean Sea. Most of the crew onboard the Waterhen were picked up by the HMS Perth. Jack sustained bad injuries. Of his medical condition or his whereabouts is unknown. We will endeavor to locate him: Regards the Royal Australian Navy.”
Lilly searched the Constable’s face looking for clues to any new information he might know.
The Constable saluted Lilly, turned and marched back to the police car.
Lilly clung to the front door watching the police car’s exhaust pipe smoking. She painted a brave look on her face. The moment the car was out of sight, she melted to the ground, sobbing. Not knowing if Jack was alive or dead played heavy on her nerves. Her headache grew steadily worse. The whole day came and went in a blur.
The next morning Lilly again started to walk towards the factory to begin the day. Her feet felt like they were inside concrete boots. Her walk looked slow and tedious. Even the milkman couldn’t get a smile out of her.
“Lilly, are you okay?” he asked. Stopping his horse, the milkman ran over.
“I’m okay,” she whispered.
“Bad news?”
Lilly felt her head nodding. “Jack has been injured. I’ve no idea if he’s alive or dead.”
“If he’s dead they’d inform you,” explained the milkman. Trying to sound encouraging, he continued. “Stay strong. It’ll be okay. The moment the war is over, he’ll be home.”
“Thanks for your support,” whispered Lilly. She even managed to wave at the man when he sprinted off to catch up to his horse.
Lilly somehow made it through the next ten months. Walking into the general store for her usual fortnightly stamp, Mr. Finch met her at the counter.
“Here you are,” he announced, sliding the stamp under her nose. “The stamp is on me. Keep your money today.” He leaned his elbows on the counter, whispering close to Lilly’s ear. “From now until the end of the war, the stamp is free. Go back to your weekly letter mailing too. By the way, here are a full two pounds for the sweets. I’ve found more regular customers wanting to taste your lollies.”
Lilly vaguely acknowledged the good news. “Thanks for your help,” she croaked. “I think I owe you an apology.”
“Whatever for?”
“I haven’t been too talkative these past three months.”
Mr. Finch patted Lilly on the arm. “It’s okay. I understand.”
“There’s still no news if Jack’s alive or dead.”
“In my opinion, no news is good news. I don’t even know where my letters end up.”
Lilly paused to think about his statement and to work out what he might have meant. “I guess you’re right. If the Navy discovered Jack had died they’d be knocking on my door.”
“I’m sure it’s the standard practice.”
Lilly managed to show Mr. Finch a smile before leaving the general store. Folding her arms, she hunched her shoulders against the predawn air. Fifty feet from the store she heard someone shouting her name. Looking over her shoulder, Lilly saw Mr. Finch running up. To be polite, she retraced a dozen steps.
“Lilly, the war is over! I’ve heard the news on the wireless just now. They reported we won.”
“We won!” echoed Lilly. Instead of shouting for joy, she remained reserved, not daring to hope Mr. Finch’s words were correct.
“The man on the radio reported the Japanese have surrendered.”
As if switching on a light, Lilly’s eyes sparked to life. “Thanks for telling me. I do pray you’re right. If I weren’t running late for work, I’d love to stay for a chat. I have to go.”
Lilly started running. When she closed in on the boy selling his newspapers, she slowed to a walk. The lad tipped his cap at her.
“Get your paper now,” he yelled. “Good news today. Buy your paper.”
Walking past the stack of unsold newspapers, Lilly read the headlines of the day.
‘WAR IS OVER. WE WON. FIRST SHIP HOME IN TWO DAYS.’
Snatching up the paper, Lilly read the entire article. The teenage boy trotted over.
“Morning Lilly. Good news Eh!”
“Do you know what this means?” asked Lilly, staring at him.
“The war is over,” explained the boy.
“Jack’s coming home.”
Lilly let her bottled scream out. She hugged the fourteen-year-old lad, lifting him off the ground. Feeling overjoyed, she gave the teenager a long kiss. His cheeks were red long before she let him loose.
“Have the paper for free,” he offered. “I loved the kiss. It’s a shame I’m not older.”
Giggling, Lilly pulled the cap over his eyes. She leapt into the air before sprinting down the road.
Still a fair distance from the factory, Lilly spied Harry standing at the gates, waving the workers away. Lilly got to the gates just as he finished closing them.
“Lilly, go home. The war’s over. Go back to your life. Start a family. Thanks for your toil. If you come back tomorrow, the last pay will be handed to you plus the bonus I promised.”
“I’m out of a job?”
“We’ve been through this several times over the past year. The moment the men step off the ships, they’ll be working at some of the jobs you ladies have done since the war began. I’m proud of every worker in this factory.”
“What about the Old Clunker?”
Harry scratched his head. “I forgot about our agreement.”
“I need the machine.”
Harry looked around to make sure the coast was clear then opened one of the gates, allowing Lilly to slip through. He quickly ushered her inside the factory. The moment he shut the door he relayed to her what was going to happen.
“This place is being turned into a warehouse for other machines, spares parts, army equipment. The first delivery is today. If you want the machine, you’ll have to take it out before the first truck arrives. By tomorrow, It will be buried in spare parts. It’ll be too hard to dig out.”
“Yes, I want the machine,” shrieked Lilly. “The problem is; I have no idea how to move it.”
“You’ve been a great worker Lilly. I’m going to stand by our agreement. While I make a phone call, find Mr. Smith and tell him to help you. In five minutes, I’ll be at the machine.”
“What about paying for the Old Clunker?”
Harry gave her a blank look. “Last week I made a few new phone calls. Nobody is interested in what I asked. I finally talked to an important person working for the Government. He suggested I take it. Besides, they need the space for the worthwhile machines.”
Lilly ran off. She found Mr. Smith sitting by himself at a bench s
moking a cigar to celebrate the end of the war.
“Please help me. I beg you. Harry told me to ask you for help. I need to move the Old Clunker out of this building.”
Mr. Smith took one last drag of his cigar then placed it on the bench. Standing, he said. “I know exactly what you need. I want you to go out to the scrap metal yard on the dead side of the building. Find me some angle iron and bring it to the Old Clunker.”
Lilly didn’t know why he wanted the metal. However, she needed to put her trust in the old man. Recalling what he told her when he bailed her up at the fence just after Carlisle died, the thought made her a little nervous. She’d known Harry and Mr. Smith for a long time, but how much did she know of the men. Were they actually in cahoots together? Maybe they informed the police on what she did. Maybe they conjured up a plan to get her into a confined space where she couldn’t get away. The police could come along at their leisure and arrest her. Lilly started to tremble as she struggled to push the rusting door open.
Standing underneath the metal door frame, Lilly stared at the tall weeds and the scrap metal. She quickly decided the wooden fence with the barbed wire running along the top edge looked too high and too dangerous to climb over if someone locked the door while she scrounged around for the metal. She felt trapped. Spying a small log of wood, she wedged the door open. Satisfied the makeshift alarm might give her a few seconds to get back inside so she could escape, Lilly, moved away from the doorway to begin her search. She walked around while watching the door.
Twenty feet from the doorway Lilly found the angle iron. She walked over to the metal, sizing up the weight. Glancing back at the doorway her constant thoughts were making the nerves around her eyes jump. Thinking of shutting her eyes for any length of time in an attempt to stop the twitches made her feel like vomiting. Above all else she must watch for any movement at the door. Lilly swallowed the bile rising in her throat.
Lilly screamed when she heard the scraping of a boot on the concrete floor at the doorway. Mr. Smith’s facial expression appeared cold as he stepped onto the weeds. Lilly was trapped. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Her only exit had been blocked. Lilly’s mind flashed up a scene of the gallows; of her walking in slow motion, her gaze zeroing in on the hangman’s noose. The rope looked to be moving ever so slightly. Stepping directly under the noose, the wooden trapdoor creaked. Lilly could feel the rough, thick rope around her neck. The fibers were scraping her skin. The scratches felt deep. She hoped blood wasn’t surfacing. Seeing a man standing in the shadows holding a black hessian bag, his deep chuckle sounded evil. His lifeless eyes watched Lilly’s every move. The man looked more than ready to slip the death bag over her head. To her left Carlisle’s family and friends were waiting for the clock to tick off the remaining few seconds of Lilly’s life. Carlisle’s wife sat in the front row left of center, crying over her loss. She didn’t believe her husband could ever be a rapist or a murderer.
Lilly felt convinced the man deserved what he got.
The ghosts of the dead girls he raped and murdered stood at the back of the small crowd waiting to welcome Lilly into the after-life. They wore the heavy chains Carlisle draped around them. They seemed pleased the man had died.
Mr. Smith shuffled up to Lilly. “Are you okay?”
His voice snapped Lilly back into reality. She thrashed her fists about in desperation hoping to avoid capture. Mr. Smith raised his hands to block her punches.
“It’s okay. I’m here to help you get the metal.”
Lilly’s shoulders slumped. She vomited on the ground.
“What’s wrong, do you feel sick?” He took hold of Lilly’s shoulders to help her keep balance.
“No,” she croaked. “For a few seconds, bad thoughts entered my mind.”
Mr. Smith kissed her forehead. “If the thoughts have anything to do with Carlisle’s death you can rest easy.”
“Please don’t tell my secret to anyone,” pleaded Lilly.
“I’ve already forgotten the incident.”
Lilly sighed nervously at hearing his statement. “I can’t wait to get back inside the factory,” she confessed, thankful her time out amongst the weeds will soon end.
“Come on, let’s hurry. I’ve already spoken to Harry. He’s outlined a plan to get the Old Clunker out of here.” Pointing at several long strips of angle iron Mr. Smith took hold of one end. “We’ll move one at a time. When we have enough, I’ll shut the door.”
Lilly clutched the other end of a ten-foot strip of angle iron. Leading the charge Mr. Smith navigated around the machines. In a matter of minutes, they’d shifted the metal to the Old Clunker. On their last trip, Harry stood next to the bullet making machine. A large coil of rope and a pulley lay on the floor at his feet.
“Ready to start work?” he questioned.
Lilly expressed a grin. Her answer came back as an excited nod.
Mr. Smith shuffled off towards his maintenance shed. When he returned, he was dragging a small metal cart full of welding equipment.
“How do you know exactly what needs doing?” Lilly asked, looking at her boss.
“Mr. Smith and I have been in this business for a long time. We worked together at the same place. Mr. Smith taught me when I was an apprentice.”
“We have to make a sturdy frame out of the angle iron, so we can lift the machine three feet off the floor,” commented Mr. Smith. “Lilly, when we get the machine to your place the frame can to be reused to help make a shed. We’ll form an insert which can be bolted together when you tell us exactly where you’d like it.”
“I take it we’ll have to push the Old Clunker into the backyard. Five metal pipes the same thickness, each about three feet long should do the job. One of us will place a pipe on the ground at the front of the machine while someone picks up the one at the back when the Old Clunker rolls off it,” instructed Harry.
“How are we going to get the machine from here to my place? It’s a fifteen-minute walk?” questioned Lilly.
“Bazza the milky will be here in half an hour,” said Harry. “Come on we have a lot to do.”
The men set to work. They moved fast. They measured the angle iron and the welder cut the metal easier than a knife slicing through butter. Lilly was asked to search for a pipe about two inches in diameter. She eventually found one fifteen feet long. Ten minutes of struggling found her back at the machine.
“While we cut the pipe, I need you to search for some bolts and nuts,” instructed Mr. Smith.
By the time, Lilly returned, the frame was almost built. Even the pipe was cut into five equal lengths.
A truck rumbled through the open gate and stopped at the roller door. Three men got out and walked over.
“G’day, in the factory,” called the driver. “The first lot of equipment is here. Where do you want them?”
Harry downed his tools, staring at the men.
Lilly let go of the pipe she held, eyeballing the driver. The man looked rough and talked tough. His two front teeth were missing. Something or someone had bitten a chunk out of his left ear. He wore shorts, boots, and a sleeveless brown shirt. Tattoos of an anchor was inked on both his arms. He gave Lilly the once over before winking at her.
“If you want me to show you a good time, just holler, sweet lips.”
Harry stood to full height, pointing to the side wall. “The young lady isn’t interested in you. Start storing everything on the other side of the factory.”
“Strange you’d answer me instead of the gorgeous woman. I never heard her say nothin.”
“She doesn’t have to say anything. I’m her boss. By the looks of you, I’d say no girl in her right mind would ever be interested in you. If she did show any inclination, she must have rocks in her head.”
“Is that what you reckon?” The man shoved a fist at Harry. “You wanna fight for her? Winner takes all.”
“I’m not in the mood for a fight.”
“You don’t wanna cause, you know I’d win. The last
man who tried to fight me bit half my ear off. He won’t be doing it to anyone else. If you wanna fight, I’m game.”
“What sort of rules do you fight by?” asked Harry.
“I play dirty. I have no rules.”
Harry launched himself at the man, downing him with the first blow to the jaw. The fight was over before anyone other than Harry knew the fight had even started. The stocky truck driver staggered to his feet, spitting blood onto the concrete floor. On his third step, he fell over Mr. Smith’s welding equipment. His cohorts rushed over, helping him to his feet, blood gushing from his nose. The two men took him outside and sat him on the ground, leaning against the truck’s rear wheel. They checked him over and re-entered the factory.
“Do you want to join your mate?” Harry growled, raising his fists.
“Dave must have got out on the wrong side of the bed this morning. We’re not here to cause trouble only to deliver the goods,” groaned one of the remaining two men.
“Good to hear.”
Lilly watched the metal walls being unloaded from the truck and stored. Harry saw them too.
When the truck drove away, Lilly turned to Harry. “Thank you for defending me.”
“Not a problem. I believe a man should treat a woman with respect. Someone had to teach the bloke named Dave a lesson.”
“I see you still got the moves,” hinted Mr. Smith.
“Thanks to you, old friend,” chuckled Harry.
“I don’t understand?” quizzed Lilly, volleying her attention between the two men.
“I taught Harry how to box. He might’ve been a champion if he didn’t meet his wife. She convinced him to give the boxing idea away.”
“Looking back, I reckon I made the right choice,” quoted Harry, chuckling again. “At least I still have my teeth.”
His comment made the three laugh. Finally, Harry spoke seriously.
“The sheets of metal those men delivered will make perfect walls and roof for your shed.”
Lilly looked excited at the amount of help she’d received.
“I suppose you have a way of getting the truck back here so everything can be loaded then unloaded at my house?”
“Help is at hand,” advised Harry, pointing to the main door.
Lilly turned her head in time to see Bazza the milky steer his horse and cart through the main entrance to the factory.
“G’day,” he called cheerfully, pulling back on the reins. The Clydesdale obediently stopped. “It looks like I’m in time to give a hand.”
“I don’t even know how to thank you, blokes, enough,” blurted Lilly, watching the slick operation unfolding.
“Free lollies will be sufficient for me,” hinted Mr. Smith.
“Me too,” chimed Harry.
“You have a deal.”
“What lollies?” Bazza questioned.
Lilly took the small paper bag out of her pocket. Bazza viewed the few remaining lollies enthusiastically. Reaching in, he took one. After he’d swallowed the sugar coated lolly, his face broke out into a grin.
“That was the best lolly I’ve ever tasted. You can put my name down for a few hundred. I reckon the blokes back at the dairy might buy some too.”
“I’ll keep you to your word,” said Lilly.
Bazza studied the work in progress. He snorted before walking back to the big male Clydesdale. He gave it a shove in the ribs, forcing it to do a U-turn then made him start to walk backwards. Just before the cart hit the Old Clunker, he gave the massive horse a pat on the neck, signaling for it not to move. He let go of the reins and walked over to the machine.
“Are you sure you want the old piece of equipment on the cart?” he questioned.
“Correct,” insisted Lilly. “I’ll need five metal walls too. The ones leaning against the factory framework are perfect for what I need.”
Bazza strolled across to the other side of the factory, sizing up the square walls. In a show of strength, he carried the walls back to the cart, leaning them against a bench.
Overseeing the welding, Bazza helped Harry and Mr. Smith to lift the shed size frame, upright. He then helped to tilt the machine to allow Harry to place the thick chain underneath both sides of the Old Clunker. Fortunately, the machine had been bolted to a large square piece of half-inch thick metal plate, making the leaning process relatively easy.
“Okay, now for the fun part,” said Mr. Smith.
The three men secured the winch to the top of the metal frame, and the chain on both sides of the bullet making machine was hooked. Harry pulled hard on the chain. The winch rotated. Slowly the slack chain tightened. Reaching up, Bazza used his weight to help pull on the chain.
The machine slowly rose, into the air.
When the Old Clunker looked clear of the cart, Bazza focused on Lilly.
“I need you to push the nose of the Clydesdale. It’ll force him to walk backward which in turn will make the cart roll. When I say hold his nose, Mick will stop.”
A few seconds ticked off before Mick started walking backward. When the middle of the cart appeared to be directly under the Old Clunker, Lilly stopped Mick. The machine was lowered onto the cart.
Harry and Bazza turned the frame with the winch still connected on its side so they could place it on the cart. The walls and the roof of the shed sat neatly against the cart’s right side. Bazza climbed onto the front of the milk cart, waiting for Lilly to sit next to him. Harry and Mr. Smith jumped on the back. Bazza was given the thumbs up; he flicked the reins which in turn signaled for the Clydesdale to start moving.
Mick soon began to trot in an Easterly direction along the road. Bazza didn’t need to know where Lilly lived he ran past her house every morning.
Minimal traffic helped them to make great progress. A tad longer than four minutes found the group turning into the narrow road where Lilly lived.
Bazza forced Mick to perform another U-turn so the cart could be backed up the driveway. Lilly jumped from the cart to open the side gate on the right-hand side of the house. Harry and Mr. Smith dragged the shed walls and the frame off the cart, positioning it in front of the gate. The three-foot-long pipes was placed on the ground in readiness. Bazza connected the chains to the winch before heaving on the chain which made the Old Clunker rise off the milk cart. Lilly pulled on Mick’s nose. He, in turn, dragged the milk cart away. Lilly gave the horse a loving pat. Mick snorted, bent his head to eat the short green grass.
“I’ll push the Old Clunker from the back,” shrieked Bazza. “Lilly, you grab the pipes from under the machine when they roll out and hand them to Harry. He’ll place them on the ground at the front of the machine. Mr. Smith, you help steer where we need to go.” Bazza looked at Lilly. “Where exactly do you want the machine?”
“Anywhere in the backyard is great. You three have done more than enough.”
Bazza folded his arms. “It’s not a problem. We’ve come this far. Moving the machine to the exact place you want it the first time will be good, though. I suggest close to the house.”
“Sounds good,” chirped Lilly.
“Try to keep the machine rolling. If we stop too many times it’ll be harder to get it moving again,” suggested Harry. “On the count of three, we begin.”
Painfully slow the machine moved down the narrow garden path. When it got to the end of the house, Mr. Smith needed to shoulder it several times before it changed direction. Groaning profusely from the effort the group finally managed to position the Old Clunker right next to the house.
They stood back to view their handy work.
“Fellas, thanks for your mighty efforts,” said Lilly.
“It certainly was a struggle,” confessed Harry.
Marching along the narrow path to the front of the house, Bazza clambered up onto the front of the milk cart. “I’ll be seeing you.”
“Before you go, can I offer you a drink or some home grown veggies?” asked Lilly.
Bazza looked down on the top of her head. “I’m right t
hanks. Say hello if you’re up early.”
“I will.”
Bazza flicked the reins. Mick lifted his head and trotted off, dragging the milk cart behind him.
“Thanks again,” Lilly called, waving.
Bazza raised his arm in the air just before turning the corner. In seconds, he’d gone.
Mr. Smith nodded politely before following Bazza. Harry wasn’t far behind. He left after bolting the middle section of the shed together, making it wider.
“Leave the walls and the roof,” insisted Lilly. “I have to do something.”
“Are you sure you can manage?” Harry asked.
“Yes. Not a problem. Thanks for organizing everything. I couldn’t do any of this on my own.”
“All the best for the future,” called Harry, marching off. “I hope the lolly business kicks off.”
“Me too and thanks again.”
Lilly closed the side gate before walking back to the Old Clunker. She sat on the verandah staring at the machine.
A slight cool breeze fanned Lilly’s face. Goosebumps erupted on her arms as doubt slowly crept into her mind about the business idea; of how Jack might react to the news. Will he be pleased or angry? Lilly closed her eyes, conjuring up the noise of the Old Clunker as it spat out her lollies. She crossed her arms before breaking into a grin. No matter what Jack thought, the Old Clunker was delivered. The war is over, and Jack will be home soon. She needed him. She wanted him to smile at her, to touch her, to make love to her. There was so much to catch up on. She wanted to hear his stories. She wanted to tell him hers. She imagined sitting next to Jack in front of the open fire talking about the Old Clunker. She wanted to tell him the news in a letter months ago. She’d even written the letter. Dismissing the thought, she burnt the paper. She wanted to surprise him. Besides, she wasn’t sure he even got her letters. It had been months since she heard his ship went down. She didn’t know if he was alive or dead from his injuries. She only knew the name of the hospital he’d been at.
Lilly’s grin fell away. She opened her eyes. They’d turned cold, hostile. She snorted at her secret.
“We will discuss everything, except Carlisle,” she spat.
Hearing a noise coming down the drive, Lilly stepped off the verandah. She rounded the corner of the house and found her neighbour, Mr. Hutchins who cut her lawn, approaching.
“I couldn’t help notice the machine on the cart,” he started. “I came over to have a look.”
Lilly grinned at her nosy neighbour. He followed her into the backyard. She watched him study the machine with great interest while she told him of her plans.
“I hope the machine serves you for a long time,” he croaked.
“I do too.”
“Before I leave, I bought the newspaper this morning. I came over to let you know the first of the medical ships bringing the men home will dock at Port Melbourne tomorrow morning at 8:00am. Lilly, there’s a full list of names, which ship each soldier is on and exactly when it’s due to arrive. To save you the trouble of spending hours searching for Jack’s name he’s coming in on the 9:00am ship.”
“He’s alive?” quizzed Lilly, tears flowing over her cheeks.
“He sure is.”
“I’ll be there,” Lilly sobbed. “My Jack is finally coming home.”
CHAPTER TEN