By the Currawong's Call

by Welton B. Marsland

  ‘Matthew?’

  ‘Poor Lan,’ he said absently.

  Jonah slipped his watch back into his pocket, nodding. ‘Yeah.’ He sighed, a noise most eloquent in its sadness. ‘We’ll get justice for her, starting today. I promised her.’

  ‘You’re a good man, Sergeant Parks.’

  Jonah put his helmet on and winked. ‘And you’re a surprising one, Father Ottenshaw.’ He made the chinstrap comfortable about his throat, and Matthew wondered vaguely if he might ever regrow his beard again one day. ‘You got plans for today?’

  ‘Books.’ Matthew clasped his hands behind his back due to a sudden urge to hug Jonah before he left. ‘I want to pay the State Library a visit. And find some book stores to lose myself in a while.’

  ‘Good-o. I’ll see you back at the rooms later, then. Whenever I get free.’

  ‘Give my regards to the Lings if you have a chance.’

  ‘I will.’ Jonah tapped two fingers against the brim of his helmet in salute. ‘Mind how ya go now.’ And with a rakish grin, he was walking away.

  The garden path sloped from there, and Matthew was rooted to the spot several moments, watching Jonah march smartly away. The uniform boots had been shined to a gleam in readiness of the day’s court appearance, and Matthew was hard-pressed to recall Jonah ever having looked quite so crisp and impressive as he did there in the garden’s dappled light. And considering how impressive Jonah appeared generally, that was no small accomplishment.

  What would it feel like, Matthew wondered suddenly, to fall in love? How would he recognise the signs, were it to happen? Would there even be signs?

  He needed to move. He needed to stop standing there, staring after a policeman’s trim and appealing form in this public space, in broad daylight. He generously allowed himself the indulgence of one last look at the shape of Jonah’s shoulders and arse and legs, then he resolutely turned to a pathway that crossed to the right and would take him deeper into the garden. He needed to talk with God a few moments before he’d be in any fit state to go about the rest of his day.

  ***

  Melbourne’s bookshops didn’t disappoint, particularly not the imposing Coles Book Arcade which trumpeted itself the largest book store in the world and, Matthew was certain, did not boast half-heartedly. Matthew procured several books, including an entire tome by an American who’d been dead forty years already, simply because of one poem his gaze fell on when the book opened at a random page. How he’d missed the freedom to roam without aim in book stores! How he’d missed book stores …

  ***

  He returned to their digs just before six, after hours of bookish abandon, to a telephone message telling him to meet Jonah in the Elms hotel around six-thirty. He freshened up, then sauntered the half a block to the Elms with perfect timing. As Matthew arrived at the corner hotel via Spring Street, Jonah was just walking in at the Little Lonsdale door. A steady drizzle began to make music against the windows.

  ‘Have you walked from the courts?’ were Matthew’s first words.

  ‘Haven’t had the balls to try mounting a tram yet,’ were Jonah’s.

  ‘You’re scared of trams?’

  Jonah shrugged. ‘Don’t like spiders neither.’

  Matthew laughed quietly. ‘Never stop being interesting, Sergeant.’

  ‘Buy me a beer,’ Jonah said, managing to sound amused and dismissive at the same time.

  Beers and seats procured, they shared the news of their respective days. Jonah had more to share than Matthew, murder trials being more exciting than browsing dusty shelves. (‘Says you,’ said Jonah.)

  ‘Benedict Ling says hullo, by the way.’

  Matthew nodded. ‘How is the family doing? The trial must be hard for them.’

  ‘He’s a pretty hard case, actually,’ Jonah said with obvious admiration. ‘Got a helluva game face on him. Doesn’t give much away.’

  ‘Except for when it comes to gold nuggets, evidently.’ Matthew glanced around quickly to make sure no one was close enough to overhear him say that. The fact they were in Little Lon still made him jumpy.

  Jonah set out on the table all his accoutrements for rolling a smoke. ‘We talked about that.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yeah. I told him what an argument it caused between you and me when the bloody package arrived. Almost came to blows, I said.’

  ‘We never!’

  Jonah’s grin was sly as he piled tobacco onto a rolling paper. ‘Made for a better tale to say we did.’

  Matthew shook his head. ‘It still amazes me, frankly. That that young man can be so determined to give that thing away to us. A part of his wealth!’

  Jonah licked the paper’s edge and rolled the cigarette in his fingers. ‘I don’t think he sees it as that. Far as he’s concerned, their wealth is in the business their father built. The house—the houses, I mean. The jewellery their mother commissioned. That rock was just somethin’ that came his way. There’s no attachment. And they’re not exactly needing the funds.’

  ‘Well, he could have given it to a charity,’ said Matthew.

  ‘In a funny way, I kinda get the impression that’s what he’s considered he did.’ Jonah lit his smoke. ‘That business makes more in five years than a copper makes in a lifetime, you know.’

  Matthew sighed. ‘Vicars too, I suspect.’

  Jonah blew out a column of smoke. ‘Definitely.’ He took another drag and leaned back in his chair. ‘Can’t say I envy him though, the responsibility on his shoulders. He’s taken what happened to Lan as a personal failing. That’s a weight I don’t think he’ll ever stop carryin’ around.’

  Matthew considered all this sombrely for a moment or two. ‘Perhaps, when a little time has passed and his emotional wounds aren’t so very raw, we might convince him the three of us could put some of that rock’s worth towards helping others?’

  ‘You wanna fund an orphanage or something?’

  ‘There are times, honestly, when I still can’t tell if you’re taking the mickey.’ He smiled across the table at Jonah’s insouciant expression. ‘But I was thinking more along the lines of a scholarship programme or some such.’

  ‘You really are the best sort, aren’t ya?’ Jonah drained his pint glass, apparently in an attempt to hide the overly fond look he’d started to bestow upon Matthew. He stubbed out his smoke and stood up. ‘Same again?’ He left for the bar without waiting on Matthew’s answer.

  Halfway through their next beers, there came a gentle knock against Matthew’s knee beneath the table. ‘Did ya think about it?’ Jonah asked. ‘What I mentioned in the park this mornin’?’

  Matthew swept a quick look around them. ‘You don’t expect a discussion about that here, do you? In public?’

  ‘We’re both intelligent blokes. I’m sure we can manage it.’ Jonah flicked a speck of loose tobacco from the tabletop. ‘Call it Mary.’

  ‘Hm?’

  ‘The subject of our conversation.’ Jonah grinned at him. ‘Mary.’

  Matthew picked up his beer and drank slowly. ‘I suppose I’m curious,’ he said after a moment, ‘why a man like you would be interested in Mary.’

  ‘Mary sounds like fun,’ Jonah responded slyly. ‘Especially with you around.’

  ‘So, you don’t think Mary would be much fun in anyone else’s presence?’

  Jonah shrugged one shoulder. ‘Never occurred to me before.’

  ‘Interesting,’ Matthew allowed and took another draught of his beer. ‘But what if, what if Mary hurt you?’

  ‘I don’t think she would. And even if she did, I’d know it weren’t intentional. We’d get over it. Might have to take things a little slower, maybe. But it’d be worth it—’

  ‘Please don’t add “in the end” to that sentence,’ Matthew warned, making Jonah chuckle into his pint glass.

  ‘What worries you about Mary?’ Jonah asked him.

  ‘Aside from all the obvious?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Matthew took a deep bre
ath and puffed it out again. ‘What if … we become attached to Mary?’

  Jonah’s eyebrows lifted. Clearly, he hadn’t expected that concern. ‘So what if we do?’

  ‘Well.’ Matthew grasped for words. ‘Isn’t there a danger Mary could usurp … Constance in our affections?’

  ‘Constance?’

  Ugh. This discussion was untenable. Matthew was ready to give up.

  ‘If Constance is the current dalliance,’ Jonah murmured. Matthew nodded, grateful that his cloaked meaning had taken, grateful for Jonah’s quick-wittedness. ‘Then no,’ Jonah said. ‘You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not saying Constance needs to be replaced.’ He grinned sharply. ‘I’m rather bloody fond of Constance, in case ya hadn’t noticed.’

  Matthew smiled into his beer. The two of them drank in silence a few moments, both lost in thought.

  ‘What time does yer missionary shit finish tomorrow?’

  Discussion of the esteemed qualities of Mary and Constance were at an end, evidently.

  ‘It finishes with a light luncheon,’ said Matthew. ‘So by half-one, I should think, I’d be all done. And then my meeting with Bishop Free should only be thirty minutes or so.’

  Jonah nodded and reached again for his rolling tobacco. ‘I’m back in the box first thing. Can’t see ‘em needing me much beyond lunchtime. Hows about when I’m done up there, I meet ya at the cathedral? Somewhere in the big bit?’

  ‘You’ve never been inside it, have you?’

  ‘Nuh. But it’s not a cathedral without a big bit, right?’

  ‘You are incorrigible.’

  Jonah winked and lit his rollie.

  ‘And what shall we do then?’ Matthew asked him.

  Jonah took his cigarette from his mouth, then a portion of tobacco leaf from the tip of his tongue. Matthew tried not to stare. ‘Wanna buy some new clothes while I’m here,’ said Jonah. ‘Civvies, I mean. So that’s my vote.’

  Clearing his throat, Matthew determinedly looked away from Jonah’s mouth. ‘Perhaps we should turn in for the night, then? Big day ahead for both of us.’ He glanced back to find Jonah giving him a cheeky smile around his smoke.

  ‘You’re so responsible, Father.’

  ***

  Matthew tried. He wanted nothing more than to please Jonah, and Jonah seemed to want this so badly. So very badly. Despite Jonah’s assurances to him earlier in the evening, Matthew was mortified at the thought of hurting his friend, particularly of hurting him with this body part, this pleasure-seeking part that could so easily inflict harm. Matthew was terrified of becoming, even by accident, a man so base and bestial.

  Beneath him, Jonah, stunning in his arousal and receptiveness, did his best to encourage him. First sensually, with his rolling movements and breathy moans. Then more imploringly, stretching himself wider and all but begging for Matthew’s possession.

  Matthew’s resolve was a fickle thing. One moment he would determine to be the delight Jonah sought. And the very next, his face would burn with self-reproach and he would shrink back.

  Finally, Matthew laid a hand flat between Jonah’s shoulder blades and asked his forgiveness.

  ‘I cannot,’ he whispered, a little heartbroken. ‘Forgive me, I can’t do this.’

  Jonah slumped into the mattress and sighed. ‘It’s alright. Didn’t mean to push ya.’

  ‘You didn’t. I’m simply not up to this.’ He leaned down until he could press a kiss to the back of Jonah’s neck, then he made to get out of bed. ‘I shall sleep in the other.’

  Jonah immediately twisted underneath him, grabbing at him. ‘No, don’t.’ He had hold of Matthew’s left arm and was pulling it around to his chest. ‘Stay, Matthew. Just stay. Don’t leave me be.’

  An emotion so tender welled up in Matthew that he had no option but to sink onto the mattress with Jonah wrapping tightly around him as they settled. Any other attempt would have found him too unsteady to even cross the room to the empty bed.

  ***

  Matthew roused from entangled sleep while the night was still dark, but the faintest haze outlining the window heralded dawn was near. He and Jonah still lay as they had before sleep found them, both on their sides with Matthew spooning behind. His left hand was cupped over Jonah’s left hip, and Jonah’s fingers were stroking over the top of Matthew’s own. It was a light, lazy caress, but it indicated Jonah was awake. As Jonah’s fingers stroked at his, so Matthew’s fingers now stroked Jonah’s hip, letting him know he was awake also. Jonah moved one leg against Matthew’s, the movement making the tiniest rustling sound from inside their cocoon of shared blankets.

  Nuzzling into the side of Jonah’s neck, Matthew made a decision. He ran the tip of his nose up the wondrous length of Jonah’s throat, stopping when he reached an earlobe to momentarily latch to and tug on languorously. ‘Very well,’ he whispered and felt Jonah go eerily still in his arms in response. ‘I shall give it another try. If you still wish it.’

  A few seconds ticked by before Jonah whispered back, ‘You sure?’

  ‘I think so. How shall we?’

  Movement. The bed dipped as Jonah moved himself about. Matthew had to trail his hands over Jonah’s body to work out the changes, in what position Jonah was presenting himself. Kneeling, it was. The blankets fell from their bodies, covering only their feet as Matthew clambered to his knees also, hands still on Jonah, and ran his fingers up onto Jonah’s shoulders, along his arms. Jonah was leaning his forearms on the bedhead, hands gripping the rounded wood.

  ‘Like this?’ Matthew asked, voice still the barest whisper. He repositioned behind Jonah, pressing himself against the long, smooth heat of Jonah’s back and wrapping his arms about his torso. The chillier air of the room, now that the blankets no longer covered them, made for sensitised nipples and Matthew enjoyed it, his hands at Jonah’s chest, his own chest against Jonah’s back.

  ‘Give me some fingers,’ Jonah murmured over his shoulder. ‘In my mouth.’

  Matthew obeyed, offering his right hand and sighing as Jonah sucked in Matthew’s index and middle fingers. As he thought of what next purpose his fingers would be put to, Matthew’s fears of unintended harm-doing again tried to waylay him. He took a long, steady breath and calmed his thoughts. Jonah wanted this, he reminded himself. Jonah wanted badly for him to do this. Jonah—strong, capable, heroic man that he was—had practically begged Matthew to perform this act upon him, and was even now presenting himself willingly for it, even preparing Matthew’s fingers with his own mouth. The sucking was very grounding, encouraging, and Matthew sighed out a heavy breath against the back of Jonah’s neck.

  With a slick sound, Jonah released the fingers from his mouth and muttered a soft encouragement. Matthew brought his hand around and let his fingers trail into the crease of Jonah’s arse. The first finger slid in an inch or so with little resistance. The second finger took a bit longer, but Jonah relaxed and took it, his breathing deepening as Matthew worked him open.

  I am going to do this. It was almost insane to think it, really. How could it even be? That any man would like and trust Matthew enough to allow such a thing? That the man in question should be a lawman, to boot, fully cognisant of the law and what an outrageous disrespect for it they were about to enact. It almost beggared belief.

  ‘Matthew,’ Jonah whispered, head turned on his shoulder. ‘I’m as patient as the next man, but honestly. You gonna get in me?’

  Matthew swallowed a laugh and pressed his forehead to the curve of Jonah’s shoulder. ‘Please don’t put it so crassly.’ He felt the shudders of Jonah laughing silently.

  ‘C’mon,’ Jonah coaxed him, voice soft, and Matthew could feel him moving his knees a little further apart, planting his weight more firmly into the mattress. ‘C’mon.’

  With his heartbeat thumping in his throat, Matthew slid his fingers free of Jonah’s body and took hold of his aching prick. It was full and heavy, apparently not at all troubled by Matthew’s fears. It leaked as he stroked it and Matthew g
ratefully smeared that around Jonah’s opening. Ideally, they should have thought ahead to have some form of assisting lubrication on hand, but now they’d simply have to make do with what they had at their disposal. Matthew lined himself up, emptied his mind of doubt, and pressed forward.

  Jonah’s shoulders tensed and Matthew felt engulfed in warmth. His hands settled on Jonah’s hips, holding him and holding him open at the same time, thumbs pressing into the cheeks of his bum. Jonah breathed deeply and bore down each time Matthew gently thrust forward and, together, they worked Matthew’s cock into the tightness of Jonah’s body.

  A couple of inches in, Matthew stilled and slid his hands up Jonah’s torso, rubbing his sides and his chest before wrapping his arms fast around him once again. He propped his chin on Jonah’s shoulder and luxuriated in the closeness. He’d never experienced anything even remotely comparable. It was beyond close. It was interconnectedness. He was within. Inside.

  ‘Jonah. I … God help me, I don’t know what to say.’ He murmured the words into Jonah’s flesh, pressed them against his skin with stuttering lips.

  A hand groped at the side of his thigh, sliding around to squeeze at his arse. Jonah was leaning all his weight, and a goodly amount of Matthew’s as well, onto just one arm now, still holding tight to the bedhead while his other now held tight to Matthew. ‘There’s more of ya, I know there is,’ he whispered hotly. ‘A lot more to go yet.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s possible,’ Matthew breathed back. ‘You’re too … I can’t get any deeper.’

  Jonah made a soft noise of frustration and rocked himself back onto Matthew’s prick. ‘Stay there, then,’ he ordered quietly, a repeat of the action making his breath hitch. ‘Lemme do this.’

  Matthew stilled as commanded and let Jonah take what he needed. He had to hold back his moans as Jonah worked himself on his cock, enjoying the luscious grip of Jonah’s eager body valiantly trying to take him deeper and more roughly. When Jonah pointedly moved Matthew’s right hand onto his neglected erection, Matthew took the hint and began stroking him, letting Jonah set the pace.