There were more empty stores than he recalled. And plastered to the walls were calls to strike action and other cries. Her boom had busted, poor love, but she was enduring and marvellous still.
He had in his pocket the address of a hotel Jonah had been recommended at some point. Word had been sent ahead to reserve a room. Matthew knew not to expect anything special, but he’d never had reason to rent accommodation in the city, and the novelty made him eager to be there and quickened him to the location. He could only laugh when he found which part of the city it turned out to be verging on, and wondered if Jonah had any idea what reputation the particular area was known for.
The landlady was a striking woman, tall, with a hearty laugh and flat New Zealander vowels, who clapped her hands delightedly when faced with a priest booking into her establishment. She picked straight away that Matthew wasn’t Catholic, but entreated him for a blessing all the same.
Matthew took soup in the hotel’s small dining room, then retired early, lying awake for hours listening to the sounds of Melbourne, too anticipatory about Wednesday for sleep to come swiftly.
***
A railway platform reunion had been dismissed, early in planning, as too like a romantic novel to risk, so Matthew had suggested a pub. Melbourne was certainly not wanting for watering holes, and Matthew had chosen one he remembered as being favoured by those whose business was the law, standing as it did near the courts. Jonah had scoffed but dutifully copied the address into his notebook.
To anyone looking on in the Mitre Tavern late on that Wednesday afternoon, there was a copper and a priest, quite evidently good old mates, bumping into one other.
‘We were stationed in the same town at one point,’ Matthew told the barkeep in explanation of the affectionate greeting his policeman friend was delivering upon him. He could barely believe how even and convincing his voice sounded. Then again, he was telling no lie, he could not be caught out.
‘Yer a sight for sore ones!’ Jonah beamed at him, squeezing his shoulder with a hand that Matthew could sense trembled.
They fell to a table in a dim corner, and large, cold beers duly followed.
‘I was about going outta me mind walking here from the station,’ Jonah confided, taking a long and satisfying drink of his beer.
‘Why?’ Matthew asked, suddenly panicked. ‘What was wrong?’
‘So many bloody people!’ Jonah’s eyes were wide. ‘Dashing all over and almost bumping into ya and hurrying ya along. I felt a bit like him.’ He jerked a thumb at a painting behind them, of a fox surrounded by hounds and horses. ‘Country folk leave a bit more room between all of themselves than this lot.’
Matthew shrugged. ‘It’s just how it is in a big city, I suppose.’
‘Well, I’m not used to it, am I?’
‘But you grew up in Ballarat,’ Matthew pointed out. ‘That’s a big city!’
‘Not as big as this bastard, it’s not! This is like, when I read stories about London in my periodicals, this is what I imagine that being like.’
Matthew smiled. ‘Well. I’m sure Melbourne’s not quite that big. Besides which, have you truly never been to Melbourne before? Surely you must have? Wouldn’t you have appeared at the Smith brothers’ trial, after your shoulder healed?’
‘Court sat in Bendigo for that one.’
‘What about when you arrived from America?’
Jonah shrugged. ‘When we got off the boat, I s’pose. Can’t say I really remember it at all though. Don’t think we stayed even just a night. It was straight off the boat and onto transport for the goldfields. No messin’ about in between.’
Matthew gestured at Jonah’s near empty glass. ‘Do you want another?’
‘Nah. Rather get indoors.’ Jonah’s lopsided smile pulled at his mouth. ‘And you know why.’
Matthew drained the remainder of his beer in one go. Jonah laughed and hefted his duffel bag onto one shoulder.
Walking the bustling streets of Melbourne with Jonah at his side made Matthew feel oddly liberated. No one knew them. No one knew who they were or what they might or might not be to one another. It felt safe.
‘You’ve met Miss Holland, then?’ Jonah asked, rolling a cigarette as they walked up Collins Street.
‘Who?’
‘Landlady. At the digs. Jolly sort.’
‘Ah. We didn’t introduce ourselves, but I think I met her briefly when I booked in, yes. You know her?’
‘Myrtle Holland,’ Jonah said with an air of wistfulness. ‘She ran the best grog tent in Ballarat, back in the day. She could make a gin with a hundred household uses.’ He lit his rollie, pushed his match book back into a pocket. ‘Many’s the morning I cursed her name when I was younger.’
‘You get along especially well with businesswomen,’ Matthew observed.
‘They’re reliable,’ was Jonah’s no-nonsense response.
‘On the subject of our digs, by the way, do you realise what area of town it’s in? Or practically, at any rate?’
‘Little Lon,’ Jonah replied around his smoke.
‘Exactly! It, well. It has a reputation.’
‘Yeah. Street gangs, knocking shops, dragon dens, sly grog, and maybe even places where fellas can dance the waltz together.’ He cut a sideways look at Matthew. ‘I do read the Police Gazette, y’know. Got a subscription and all.’
‘No need for sarcasm.’ Matthew chuckled. ‘Just wanted to know you were aware.’
‘Well aware.’ Jonah pushed his shoulder against Matthew’s briefly as they walked. ‘Bet yer waltzing’s bonza.’
‘Surely you don’t intend—!’
Jonah laughed. ‘Your face!’
Matthew swatted at his arm. ‘You tease.’
‘I do. Sorry. But I’m just pointing out …’ He craned his neck to look up at a building as they passed. ‘Our options have suddenly exploded. We can do anything, Matthew.’
‘You’re here to help convict a murderer.’
‘But my day in court’s not ‘til tomorrow.’ He gave Matthew a wink. ‘I intend to get a lot done before then.’
‘A lot of what?’
‘You, for starters.’
***
If Matthew expected to be thrown on a bed as soon as the room’s door closed behind them, he was mistaken, though there was no mistaking the fire in Jonah’s eyes. He stood and watched as Jonah toured the room, closing drapes, inspecting the behinds of picture frames, and tapping the mirror over the wash stand.
‘I trust Myrtle, of course,’ Jonah said as he locked the door. ‘But I don’t know any of the folk she employs.’ He removed the key from the lock and placed it on top of the chest of drawers, took his helmet off and sat it there, too. Crouching with his back to the door, then, he got his head down to roughly the level of the keyhole and looked at the two beds. Apparently making a decision, he rose again and fetched the room’s single chair, a cameo back, and moved it to a spot in the middle of the floor.
‘Dare I ask?’ said Matthew.
‘If you happened to be looking through our keyhole,’ Jonah said while removing his greatcoat, ‘that chair back would be blocking a lot of the view of that bed.’ He smirked. ‘And guess which bed we’ll be usin’?’
‘Not the other, I assume.’
‘And just to make sure …’ Jonah walked to the door and hung his coat on the hook there, arranging it purposely skew-whiff so it hung over the keyhole.
‘Why bother with the chair if you’re just going to do that?’
‘Because things can be stuck through keyholes, Matthew, and could easily move aside anything hanging over ‘em.’
‘Should I hold concern for your paranoia, or is this level of pragmatism a good thing?’
Jonah stepped up to him and put a hand on the back of Matthew’s neck. ‘A fucking good thing,’ he said, and kissed him. It was only a short kiss because Jonah pulled away again after only a moment. ‘One last thing to check,’ he mumbled, slightly apologetic.
He walked to
the chosen bed and leaned his fists into the mattress, proceeding to press them in several different spots. Very little sound met the motions.
‘Shit. Good mattress, that.’ He turned and sat heavily on the edge of the bed. ‘I expected at least a squeak.’
‘And what would you have done, if there were?’ Matthew asked him.
Jonah smiled roguishly, watching Matthew walk towards him. ‘I’ve got gun oil.’ His smile dropped as he looked at Matthew. ‘Fuck, it’s good to see you.’
Paranoia or preparedness, Matthew suddenly saw the tactical sweep of the room for what it truly was—making them safe.
He stepped close to where Jonah sat, pushing his fingers into Jonah’s hair. Jonah parted his legs further so that Matthew could step even closer, put his arms around Matthew’s waist and let his head fall forward, pressing his face to Matthew’s sternum. Several moments they stayed like that, breathing in unison. Eventually, Jonah tilted his face again, looking up at Matthew with an expression so open and honest that Matthew could do nothing but kiss him.
And kiss him.
Jonah stood up, forcing Matthew back a pace, and all hands fell to buttons. They undressed each other and themselves, mouths never too long parted, and eventually sank onto the bed together.
It was a single bed, a twin to the other across the room, and surely not designed with two grown men in mind. But for two people so determined to melt into one another, it worked. They had to take care when changing positions—when Jonah pushed up from beneath Matthew and rolled him onto his back, following him over and taking the top spot—care that one or both of them didn’t end up in a heap on the floor. The thought made Matthew chuckle, and Jonah licked the sounds out of his mouth.
Three weeks had passed since they’d last shared this, since their cocks had last known each other. Jonah put so much into each thrust and slide that they soon found the bed could squeak after all, making Jonah swear hotly and kneel up between Matthew’s legs.
‘Sit up.’
Matthew shoved the pillow against the headboard and did as he was told, Jonah wasting no time in crowding close and straddling his lap. Kisses again, sloppier than before, and hands working in concert to press their dicks together and stroke. Neither of them seemed inclined to draw out the moment. Three frustrated weeks stretched behind them, and four days and nights of blessed togetherness lay in front. If this pleasure mounted too soon, it didn’t matter. There was more to be had, more to be given and taken and shared, in the hours and days ahead.
Afterwards, Jonah took care of the squeak with a little gun oil. Round two had no noise issues.
***
‘Wake up. Matthew. Wake up, mate.’
Matthew stirred slowly, after what felt like a poke in the shoulder. He blinked up at Jonah. ‘What’s happening?’ His speech was slurred with sleep.
‘Nothing.’ Jonah leaned on one elbow, lifting his torso just enough that he could look down into Matthew’s face. ‘It’s just the dawn. That’s all. I even pulled the curtains back a bit so’s we can see it.’
‘Dawn isn’t particular to Melbourne,’ Matthew pointed out sleepily. ‘Dawns happen back in Dinbratten too.’
‘Yeah, but we’ve never got to see one together, have we? Though if yer always this sarky during ‘em maybe I’ve been lucky and just didn’t know it, eh?’ Jonah punctuated the end of his teasing with a quick wink.
Matthew rubbed his eyes and looked towards the room’s window. ‘I suppose we haven’t, at that.’
Jonah watched him intently a short while, and Matthew let him.
‘Ya look like an angel in this light, Matthew,’ Jonah all but whispered. ‘Like yer carved out of fucking marble, I swear.’
Matthew’s eyes drew back to him. ‘The dawn brings a romantic streak out in you?’
‘And what if it does?’ Jonah countered, smiling softly. ‘I’m allowed to romance as much as the next lover, aren’t I?’
Matthew smiled and Jonah’s gaze roved over him as though he were chasing the changing shadows on Matthew’s face.
‘Makes me angry,’ Jonah finally said, voice low.
‘What does?’
‘That others are allowed this and we aren’t. We’ve gotta lie and deceive for this, for the privilege of waking up together, seeing in the day together, in each other’s arms. And we risk everything for it. We can sneak about and fuck around together, and that’s risky enough on its own, but taking the risk of staying together ‘til the start of the new day …’ He sighed heavily. ‘I dunno. It’s just so fucking stupid. I can’t fathom any sense to be found in it. That us doing this is against the bloody law! How does that make sense, Matthew? How is this a crime? How?’
‘The law—’ Matthew began.
‘The law,’ Jonah interrupted him, ‘is a fucking ass. The law drives men to take risks with public decency, shagging in alleyways and behind theatres, because it’s so hard to arrange this, being able to get a bed together, a room, spend the night together. It’s like the law’s purposely made to try and turn folk into creeps and crims. It creates crime where there would otherwise be none.’
Matthew caught at Jonah’s hand and held it, squeezed it in his own.
‘The law,’ Jonah continued, though his ire was burning lower now that he was getting it off his chest, ‘has no place between the sheets of a citizen’s bed.’
‘And yet you’ve sworn an oath to uphold it.’
‘I know.’ There was a crack in Jonah’s voice. ‘Swore it on a Bible and everything.’ He gave a bitter little laugh. ‘You said something to me once about not being the same man I first met, the same priest.’ He looked up at the window, at the dawn. ‘It’s not possible for me to be the same copper I once was. Something’s gotta change.’
Matthew leaned up and kissed him. The new sun crept over them as they pressed together in a bed not intended for them.
***
They set out to walk after breakfast, skirting around the edge of Little Lon and heading eastward towards the Fitzroy Gardens. There, they walked slowly, just ambling really, along shaded pathways and arbour avenues, passing myriad mythological and classical figures frozen in cement and plaster.
‘Who’s this one supposed to be, ya reckon?’ Jonah asked as they approached a statue of a young woman with her arms raised, hands to her hair.
‘I don’t know,’ said Matthew. ‘Some nymph, perhaps? Or a vestal virgin?’
‘She’s got some nice hips on her.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Can I ask you about something?’
‘Of course.’
Jonah glanced around them surreptitiously before continuing. ‘It’s about sex.’
Matthew laughed. ‘Ah.’ He likewise cast his gaze about. They were quite alone in this part of the garden. ‘I’m afraid I have no expert advice to offer on the subject. Being the novice that I am.’
The smile Jonah turned on him was cheeky but fond. ‘Yer a fast learner. So I’ve found.’ His smile widened as he looked Matthew in the eye. ‘That’s why I wanna know what you think.’ He glanced around once more. ‘About fucking.’
Matthew stopped walking. ‘I thought … What we do …’
‘Is great,’ Jonah was quick to say. ‘It’s more than great, in fact. It’s wonderful and I bloody love it. But if we could, I dunno, maybe try a bit more …’ His voice trailed off, his expression now a little guarded.
‘You’re talking about sodomy? About actually …’ Matthew felt his eyes widen as his mind attempted to provide him more detail. ‘Is it even truly possible?’
Jonah’s short laugh at that had an edge of hysteria to it. Matthew didn’t blame him. ‘Humans have been doing it for thousands of years, Matthew. It’s definitely bloody possible.’
Slowly, even slower than before, Matthew started walking again and Jonah went with him. A young couple, a man and a woman, strolled by them arm-in-arm, smiling and bidding them cheery good mornings. We must seem so thoroughly respectable, Matthew pondered, the pr
iest and the police sergeant, walking embodiments of goodness and decency. Currently engaged in a discussion of sodomy. He laughed quietly to himself. He noticed Jonah look to him with a questioning expression, but they continued to walk in silence. When he deemed there to be a sufficiently safe distance between themselves and the other couple, he resumed their conversation.
‘You are the best man I have ever known, Jonah. And you challenge me in ways no other person has ever done.’
‘I’m not askin’ this as any sort of challenge.’
‘Nonetheless, my morals are indeed having a light shone upon them that I didn’t expect.’ He looked up at Jonah. ‘And my opinion of your morality, also.’
‘Does it disappoint ya that I think of such things? Have I disgusted you now?’
‘If I said yes,’ Matthew considered, ‘the word would be uttered with no thought behind it.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning, if I were to act disgusted with you right now, it would be precisely that. An act.’
‘A knee-jerk reaction?’
‘Exactly.’
Jonah gave a tiny smile. ‘But yer not acting disgusted.’
‘No, apparently not. I should point out this is surprising me as much as I suspect it’s surprising you.’
Jonah’s smile widened. ‘Well. Thanks. Thanks for not damning me to hell for thinking yer cock in my arse might be nice.’
Matthew halted abruptly. ‘You what?’
Jonah arched an eyebrow at him. ‘Ya do know what buggery entails, right? Which bits go where?’
‘In, in theory,’ Matthew stammered. ‘Yes. But I assumed … well. I assumed …’
Understanding smoothed Jonah’s brow. ‘That I was askin’ for a go at yours?’ That lopsided grin was downright kissable. ‘In time, Matthew. In time.’
With that last comment, Jonah seemed to have suddenly reminded himself of something, for he swung his watch from his pocket and checked the hour. ‘Speaking of. I should push off. Make sure I’m in court earlier than needed.’
For some reason, the memory of the moment they lowered Lan Ling into her grave flashed vividly through Matthew’s mind. Jonah standing in the fresh-dug hole and lifting his arms up to accept her, Matthew’s muscles trembling with even the slight weight of her as he passed her over, letting Jonah take her and lay her down to rest. Helping to haul Jonah out of the grave after. And later still, Jonah stripped to the waist in the rectory, sponging grave dirt and sweat from his beautiful flesh.
By the Currawong's Call Page 19