by Ron Thomas
‘Gee, that’s pretty tough. Uncle Guido won’t like that!’
‘No. But it’s his problem. I’m about ready to start packing up, Gilbert. How about you?’
‘Yes. It’s been a big day.’
‘A big day, and a great start. Mum’s got spaghetti bol on the stove, and she’s gone home to bake bread, so it will be ready when we get there. The girls have gone with her.’
‘I reckon your mum’s spaghetti Bol will finish off the day nicely. Let’s get into it.’
***
The aroma of spaghetti, and fresh bread baking in the wood fired oven greeted them as they opened the door. Meggsie headed for the kitchen and found Claudia stirring a huge saucepan of spaghetti. She had a smear of tomato across her cheek and Meggsie was struck by the beauty of her flawless skin.
‘It smells delicious,’ Meggsie said. Claudia’s welcoming smile made Meggsie forget his hunger for a moment.
‘It’s almost ready,’ she replied.
‘And you’ve sauced yourself up,’ he added, smiling.
‘Have I?’ she asked, looking down at the apron she wore.
‘Yes. There’s a big smear across your face. I’ll wipe it off for you, if you like.’ She turned readily to him, lifted her chin to him and looked up into his eyes. The impact was immediate.
‘Um, er, I need to get something to wipe it off with,’ Meggsie stammered, clearly flustered. Suddenly, Claudia had a white lace handkerchief in her hand, and she held it between them. When Meggsie took the handkerchief, she moved a little closer to him. He began to wipe the smear of sauce from her, conscious of feelings he’d never felt before.
‘Ciabatta!’ Therese announced, as she strode through the kitchen door. Suddenly seeing Claudia and Meggsie face to face, she paused, clearly surprised. She quickly regained her equilibrium and placed the large tray she was carrying on the corner of the kitchen bench as Meggsie and Claudia each took a small step backwards.
‘How is the spaghetti doing?’ she asked. ‘It should be ready by now.’ She picked up a large wooden spoon and stirred the spaghetti pot two or three times, then took a large spoonful from the bolognese pot.
‘I have to try,’ she announced, then blew across the spoon and took a noisy slurp of the sauce. ‘I think it’s about right,’ she said, ‘but perhaps I need a second opinion.’
Taking another spoonful, she turned to Meggsie. ‘You better give it a try,’ she said, holding the spoon out to him. As expected, the spaghetti was delicious.
‘Now, we gotta be serving up. Men can leave,’ she ordered. ‘We got Limoncello cheesecake after. Special treat.’
***
The excitement of the day was beginning to wear off, and weariness was beginning to set in by the time they finished the cheesecake.
‘I want to count out the takings, before I go to bed,’ Federico said.
‘We have to be out of bed before five to go to the markets,’ Meggsie replied. ‘As your dad once told me.’ He changed to a pretty good imitation of Benito’s manner of speaking. ‘Where do you think-a our fruit and a-veg come from? We have to go buy it! We’ll be out of stock by ten o’clock unless-a we go!’
‘I don’t know how I let myself in for this,’ Federico complained.
Therese, Meggsie and the girls sat and chatted about the events of the day until first Alessia, then Claudia declared they were going to bed. Despite his weariness, Meggsie didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, and Therese seemed happy to keep him company.
‘You like a hot chocolate, Gilberto?’ Therese asked. Meggsie was about to decline, but before he could speak, Therese continued. ‘I’d like one, and I’ll get one for you. I want to have a serious chat with you.’
She immediately got to her feet. Their eyes met for a second, and she raised her eyebrows to him, then turned on her heel and walked away to the kitchen.
Chapter 35
Comes the Blizzard
The front bar at the Tradesman’s Arms was a busy place in more ways than one. Friday nights were always like that, but particularly so as the football season came to a climax. Many came to get a bet on, some just to lubricate their tonsils. Others, like Guido Caletti liked to mix a little business with pleasure. The ‘Tradies’ was a melting pot of spivs, stand over men, pimps and pushers. Ray Blissett and Martin Fisher, with the consorting laws behind them and instructions to ‘go hard’, had planned to raid the place over a drink or two as they’d celebrated Blissett’s Melbourne Cup winnings. With time on their hands, they’d planned thoroughly and had been sitting in their unmarked car for more than two hours, watching the comings and goings around the hotel.
With squads of uniformed, baton wielding policeman forming up along Palmer Street and Liverpool Street, and a fleet of paddy wagons at their disposal, Blissett and Fisher were in a jovial mood.
‘What do you reckon, boss?’ Fisher asked. ‘There can’t be room for many more in there.’
‘Not yet. We’ll wait until just before the six o’clock swill starts.’ Blissett checked his watch. ‘Three minutes,’ he added.
With just seconds to go, Guido Caletti came to the door of the pub, and looked up and down Palmer Street as if he was expecting someone. Though they doubted he could see them, both Blissett and Fisher instinctively slid down in their seats.
‘Shit,’ Blissett said bitterly. ‘He’s bound to see somebody.’ Caletti swivelled his head in both directions, then turned and disappeared back into the bar.
‘Do you reckon he saw anything?’ Fisher asked. ‘He didn’t look panicked to me.’
‘It doesn’t matter now. We just have to go after them,’ Blissett replied, put his hand out of the car window and waved. Within seconds, there were police running from both directions. Some climbed the fence at the back of the pub, while others began shouting as they shoved their way through the public bar doors. A window flew up and a man leapt out and hared off down Palmer Street.
Blissett and Fisher took their time. They strolled to Tradies, nodded to the constable posted by the doorway and entered the pub.
The bar had a row of hard stools, mostly occupied, and there were a number of cheap wooden tables and chairs scattered around. Most of the patrons were standing, simply because there were many more patrons than chairs. The floor was of sawdust, to soak up the spillages, the spit and the spew. The air was thick with cigarette smoke.
Blissett stood immediately inside the door and gazed around the patrons, some of whom had continued about their business, considering that the raid must’ve been about someone else. He recognised many of them as ‘regular customers’. When his eyes lit on Guido Caletti and he noted that he was deep in conversation with Joey Pozziano and Mickey Milligan, Blissett merely nodded in their direction. Two constables immediately took up positions nearby. Next, Blissett noticed Tilly Devine and her husband Jim. A quick nod in their direction and they, too had unwanted company.
‘Now we have your attention, ladies and gentlemen!’ Blissett announced. ‘We need to tell you that a new law was passed yesterday.’ There were six different arguments in progress, but the noise began to subside.
‘This will affect you,’ Blissett began again. The bar quietened again, but Tilly Devine continued to protest. ‘Especially you, Tilly. Better listen up.’
Now the bar quietened. ‘It’s got a fancy handle, but for the sake of argument we’ll call it the consorting law. It says that mixing with criminals is against the law, and it carries a prison sentence of up to four months.’ A burble of animated conversation broke out, and Blissett let it run on for more than a minute.
‘That isn’t all it says. It says that if you carry a razor without an acceptable excuse, there’s a mandatory six-months gaol sentence.’ He strolled casually across to where a sulky-faced Guido glowered at him. ‘Do you know what mandatory means, Mr Caletti?’ Guido didn’t answer him. Blissett stepped back.
‘Mandatory means that if we find a razor on you, you’re in the booby-hatch for six. He let that sink in for a
moment. ‘No ifs, no buts. No friendly magistrates either,’ he added with a smile. ‘In for six.’ When Guido’s hand moved involuntarily towards his trouser pocket, Blissett stepped forward again.
‘And if your use that razor, you will be flogged as well as enjoy an extended spell inside,’ he added, and watched Guido’s hand fall back by his side.
‘That means, theoretically, we would be within our rights to arrest every man,’ he turned to Tilly, ‘and every woman in this room.’ He smiled and shrugged, palms upward. ‘But I’m a reasonable man, and I’ve only got seven paddy-waggons available.’ He nodded to the uniformed policemen standing either side of Guido. One of them produced a set of handcuffs and, in moments, Guido was manacled. One of them began to pat down Guido’s pockets and immediately produced a razor.
‘My, my. Six inside for that,’ Blissett tut-tutted. He motioned towards the door and the pair escorted a fuming Guido from the bar. Pozziano and Milligan soon followed. Tilly and her husband, Jim, had been mildly amused at Guido’s discomfort, but their smiles disappeared when Blissett turned his attention to them. He stood in front of Tilly.
‘Evening Tilly,’ he said chattily.
‘Evening, Mr Blissett,’ she said warily.
‘You’re consorting. In you go,’ he said.
‘Consorting?’ she exclaimed, her renowned temper flaring.
‘With him,’ Blissett replied, nodding toward her husband.
‘For Christ’s sake! He’s my husband! Of course I’m consorting!’ she shouted, then caught herself and smiled. ‘I’m doing more than that with him, I’ll say!’ A ripple of laughter spread across the room as the drinkers thought she might have the better of the policeman.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll take that as an admission of guilt,’ Blissett replied. ‘Don’t feel badly, Tilly. Jim’s in too, for consorting with you!’ Tilly replied with a stream of invective at the top of her voice. Blissett nodded again and the pair were led away.
Half an hour later, with his wagons fully loaded with criminals, four caught red-handed packing razors, Blissett stood in the middle of the sawdust-covered floor.
‘You folk can go back to your business. I’m sorry to have troubled you. If that man opposite you is a convicted criminal, I’ll be back for you later,’ he said, with a wry smile. He turned to the publican, who stood behind the bar, with nothing better to do than polish glasses.
‘I’m sorry about the disruption, Mr McFadden, but you should try to develop a better class of clientele,’ he said, then tipped the brim of his hat in salute and walked out into the street. It had been a good night for Ray Blissett and a bad night for the razor gangs of Darlinghurst.
Chapter 36
Dark Angels
Meggsie sat wondering what Therese wanted to talk about. He’d noticed her reaction when she’d walked into the kitchen and had seen Claudia and he close to each other. She hadn’t seemed angry, just momentarily surprised, but perhaps that was it. It was some time before Therese returned, carrying two large mugs of cocoa, and a plate with a few biscuits. When she sat down, she seemed to be in no hurry to begin the conversation. She took a shortbread biscuit, dunked it in her cocoa, and bit off half of it.
‘You know my Benito thinks a lot of you, don’t you?’ she began. It wasn’t the conversation Meggsie expected to be having, and he hesitated, gathering his thoughts.
‘He looks after me. He’s like my father,’ Meggsie replied. He paused for a few seconds. ‘I think a lot of him, too.’
‘You think boys should take notice of their fathers?’
‘I suppose so. Mine used to bash me if I didn’t take notice of him.’ He smiled broadly. ‘I found that was enough reason to take notice of him.’
‘Benito won’t bash you. He’s a gentle man. But perhaps you should take notice anyway. He worries about you.’
‘There’s no need to worry about me,’ Meggsie replied brashly, trying to sound nonchalant. ‘I can look after myself.’
There was another long pause. ‘Perhaps you can. Perhaps we’re both going to find out about that. Tell me about your mother. You don’t talk about her much.’
‘My mum did her best. She should have left Dad years ago. He used to bash her when he was drunk. That’s why she drank so much.’
‘Do you think she loves you?’ Therese asked. Meggsie, still not certain where the conversation was headed, thought about that for some time before he answered.
‘I think so.’ He thought again for some time. ‘It wasn’t like this family,’ he said wistfully.
‘You poor, poor boy. You must go and see your mum. She must wonder about you every day.’ Therese suddenly had tears in her eyes. Meggsie was lost for words for a few moments, then he found what he wanted to say.
‘I think I’m lucky. Lots of the boys who find themselves on the street have an awful life. I’m lucky I struck Benito. I try hard to make him proud of me.’
‘He told me once, you know, that you thought my Uncle Guido was a hero.’
‘Mister Caletti has been good to me too,’ Meggsie said, somewhat defensively. ‘I don’t think it’s fair that he’s back in gaol this time. He didn’t do anything. Consorting isn’t fair. He was just at the pub with his mates. Now they’re all in gaol for doing nothing.’
‘If it stops people firebombing and cutting people up, I’m all for it. So should you be, Gilberto.’
‘It don’t seem fair,’ Meggsie said with a hint of petulance.
‘Oh, Gilberto! How can I begin to tell you about my Uncle Guido?’ Therese said. ‘There is so much to tell. When I was a little girl, in Milano, I had many uncles. You see, my mother had four brothers, one older and three younger. Guido was youngest of all. We saw our uncles often, because they lived in a big house across the lane, and they often played with us. Like the others, Uncle Guido was always around our house. My mother was twelve years older than Guido, so he was only six years older than me. All the uncles were like big brothers to me, especially the younger ones. Sometimes, Uncle Guido could be the nicest of them all, but even then, there was a cruel streak in him.’ Therese gazed off into the distance, momentarily immersed in her own thoughts. As he watched, and waited for her to go on, Meggsie could feel her pain.
‘I was smaller, of course. If Guido wanted something, it didn’t matter whether it was mine, or whether I treasured it. Sometimes he would take my things simply so he could make me cry. Many times he would break my things, just for fun. I think my mother knew that Guido was cruel and violent, but he was family. To Italians, family is everything, so she turned a blind eye, and my father washed his hands of Guido. I don’t think that helped him very much. By the time he was your age, he was constantly in trouble with the police. Then, Guido wasn’t around anymore, and no one seemed to want to talk about him.’
‘I thought Benito told me that Guido was from Melbourne,’ Meggsie said.
‘Yes, but it’s a long story. I met my Benito, and that changed everything.’ Again, she paused and considered her words.
‘Oh, he was a handsome boy, my Benito. How hard he worked at Mercato Viale Papiniano, the best fruit market in all of Milano. I had dreams of marrying a rich doctor, or a lawyer perhaps, but when I met Benito, those dreams flew out of the window. My mother sent me to the markets each week, but I found myself going there every second day.’ Suddenly she laughed.
‘What a shameless young hussy I was, Gilberto. I would deliberately forget to buy carrots or zucchini, just so I would have to go back another day. Then I would decide we needed some melons, or perhaps some garlic, even though it grew wild in our garden. I would make eyes, you know, at Benito, and even then, for a while I didn’t think he’d noticed me. I thought it was the grandest day of my life when he asked me if he could walk me home. But I didn’t want him to see my home, to see how poor our family was, so I told him I lived in a fancy apartment in Via Stromboli, and for four months he would walk me there, and I would leave him at the front door and walk right out through the back and into the
lane. Soon, we found a better way. We would walk together, in Parco Don Giussani. It’s a beautiful park, and it’s where lovers in Milano meet to sit in the sun and touch each other. That’s when I found out that Benito’s dream was to come to Australia. I was bloody shocked, Gilberto, I don’t mind telling you. I don’t know how he came to think it was a better life here, but by the time I met him, that’s what he was intent on doing. He worked so hard to find the money. He said he wanted a better life for his children.’ She chuckled and nudged Meggsie in the ribs.
‘All I wanted was for Benito’s children to be my children. The only thing I knew about Australia was bloody kangaroos! Benito had almost enough money for one person to come to Australia, but he didn’t come. Instead, he kept saving. It took him another two years before he had money for both of us to come, and a little left over. The very day he had enough, he asked me to marry him. Imagine that! The very day! I’m lucky to have such a man, Gilberto; I’m so lucky. Except that he is lying in the hospital because of that bastard Guido.’
‘So, when you came to Australia, did Guido come too?’ Meggsie asked naively. Therese laughed out loud.
‘We left Italy less than a month after we were married. We sailed for Australia on the Giulio Cesare. My, that was a beautiful ship. It was like luna di miele; like a honeymoon. Just my Benito and me.’ She chuckled again. ‘No one else, just me and Benito, trying very hard to make me pregnant. Day and night, he was at it on that ship. By the time we landed here, I knew he’d succeeded, but I didn’t tell him at first because we were both, you know, enjoying ourselves. I told you I was a hussy! We landed here at Woolloomooloo, and that’s where we stayed. It was hard at first, but Benito worked tirelessly, and it took years, but we built a better life.’
‘What about Guido?’ Meggsie reminded her.
‘Oh yes,’ she said with a giggle. ‘I got right off the subject, didn’t I? I’m afraid that I probably caused that. I wrote letters to my mother, telling how Benito was looking after me, and how sweet our life here was. I didn’t realise that she was showing my letters to her brothers. Perhaps I should have known better, because one day I received a letter from Guido, telling me he was coming to Australia, and asking us to put him up. Believe me, Gilberto, that was the very last thing I wanted. We had a little flat in McElhone Street. Many Italian fishermen lived around there at that time. There would be fishermen’s nets drying up and down the whole street. Sad to say, most of them are gone now. Our flat was tiny. What is it they say? You couldn’t swing a cat in there!’