‘I put it all on me to win.’
‘All the bets? Even those you shoulda put on
Crick?’
‘I couldn’t stand to lose all that money.’
‘If Crick won and you didn’t pay up, they would’ve been lining up to murder you.’
‘But he didn’t win.’
‘You were nearly killed because you did! And there’s me, thinking I had my own troubles.’
Lonnie could sense the friction in the air.
‘You didn’t let slip to Slasher that he should bet on
Crick by any chance, did ya?’
This remark knocked Lonnie for six. He never even saw it coming. ‘Why would you say that?’
‘He’s vanished with Annie’s takings.’
Although Lonnie had fully expected to hear the news sooner or later, the knowledge that George had repaid the favour hung heavily on his conscience. He prayed the Push had done nothing more than scare him off.
‘Are you going to let him get away with it?’
Carlo was pressing him but Lonnie couldn’t seem to focus. ‘Who?’
‘Crick! He must have had you beat up. I’m up for a bit of payback if you are.’
What was Carlo asking? To wait in the shadows ready to beat the living daylight out of Crick? Slice his throat with a bit of broken bottle? Belt a knuckle duster into his face? Slip a knife into his heart? Lonnie had seen enough violence. He was through with it. All he knew was he had to see George as soon as possible and find out what was going on. ‘Let it go, mate,’ was all he could manage to say.
‘Suits me fine, then.’ Carlo replied, put out. He knew Lonnie was keeping something else from him. And he was dead right.
BILLIARD BALL
Item No. 4169
A well-used, chipped billiard ball.
Murder was on Lonnie’s mind in more ways than one. As soon as Carlo left, Lonnie made it his business to search out George Swiggins, knowing desolately he should have asked him one question much earlier – how do you go about warning someone off ? He needed an answer; he needed reassurance to bury this feeling of doom. He hobbled over to Mackinerny’s Billiard Hall where a loafer who was playing for sixpence a game mentioned he’d seen George heading for the skittle saloon.
‘Hey, George,’ Lonnie yelled, closing in on him,
‘wait up.’
Making every effort to catch his breath, Lonnie faced the Push leader. ‘What did you do to Slasher?’ George reached out to touch the healing scabs on
Lonnie’s face.
Shying away from the contact, Lonnie jerked his head back.
‘Geez, me old pigeon, it’s me who should be asking what someone’s done to you. Think you should really be joining us. There’s safety in numbers. As for Jack, we sorted him.’
‘How?’
George gave Lonnie an indifferent look then pulled him up close. Lonnie found himself staring at the scrapes and nicks from where George had been too rough with the razor that morning. ‘I’m begin- ning to think you’re my lucky charm,’ the leader of the Push said cryptically. ‘You seem to keep doing me favours. Easiest money I ever made without stealing.’ Lonnie looked at him in bewilderment. ‘What money?’
‘My little wager. Knew you had it in you.’
The last thing on Lonnie’s mind was the race. This was not what he had come to hear about. He pressed George for an answer about Slasher. ‘Tell me what you did with him!’
‘Don’t you go worrying about that mad vulture. Once the Push took over the business it weren’t your concern anymore.’ He flashed Lonnie a thin-lipped smile. Everything about his expression was stretched tight. ‘Only Push know Push doings. If you want to know more, join us. Otherwise, shut it. We don’t want no blabbering.’ George flicked a spot of dust off his lapel as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
‘Ever seen a body wrapped and prepared for burial at sea?’
Lonnie felt a strong wave of revulsion. It was true then. George had gone ahead and killed Slasher. Dumped him overboard in the bay without ceremony, leaving the devil to claim his lost and low soul as he sank, and George not even working up a sweat as he admitted to the deed. Here he was, without a hint of a worry, slipping Lonnie a purse, as if they were the best of friends and not accomplices in a murder. He tried to take in what else George was saying.
‘Make sure Annie Walker receives this. Tell Pearl she’s straight with her. Not a word about the Push, the glory’s all yours. Between you and me it’s a direct gift. Because I’m telling you, Jack was in no fit state to argue when we relieved him of it. Serves the mad bugger right.’
Lonnie’s body gave an uncontrollable shudder at the vision of Jack’s murder, his muscles and nerve ends seeming to expel the very last ounce of good- ness in him. He’d got his answer all right. Slasher Jack was dead and he was to blame. He could already hear the hangman draw the bolt, the floor fall from beneath him and his neck snap.
It tickled George Swiggins to see him squirm. If McGuinness believed he was somehow to blame for Jack’s disappearance, so much the better. Always wise to keep the upper hand. As for George, he had never experienced guilt over his own misdeeds. Supposing he ever had the misfortune to be afflicted by self blame, he would crush the emotion to pieces, ram his hard-knuckled fist into its cheekbone. All business settled as far as he was concerned, the leader of the Push idled off down the street, his hands in his pockets and whistling a tune.
SMALL INGOT OF GOLD
Item No. 3524
Small ingot of gold with no hallmark. All legal gold is hallmarked.
‘Pinch me if there isn’t something beating in that hard shell of hers, after all.’ Pearl could find no explanation for Annie’s sudden change of heart. But there was no doubting her relief. She gave a splurt of laughter, her open mouth sending out a generous spray of half-chewed oyster over Lonnie. ‘Oh and ’scuse my ill-bred manners,’ she tittered, reaching for another.
A warm smell of the sea enriched the tiny front room of the McGuinness house. The bag of shellfish, hot and steaming, brought over to cheer up Lonnie and put him on the road to recovery, was empty.
‘Got through those quick enough.’ She eyed him wickedly. ‘No wonder you love ’em so much, they do medicinal things for lads. Make your parts stronger, if you know what I mean.’
There was no denying that with Annie off her back Pearl was her old self again. She appeared to have completely struck out the memory of the past few months. If not for her teasing or the pride of his own manhood, Lonnie could have even believed she’d forgotten the night they spent together. Whatever the reason, her witty outbursts and high spirits were a fresh breeze, just what Lonnie needed to bring him out of the doldrums. And should he care to admit it, there was a great relief in never having to touch on the details of their love tryst ever again.
‘I just can’t get over how she marched up to me at the Governor and said clear as day, “You scums deserve each other”. Meant the same thing, didn’t it? That my debt’s paid and I’m free of her and Slasher Jack.’
Lonnie knew only too well why Annie’s change of mind had been swift, but he did not try to enlight- en his friend. After all, what could he say? Tell how he had persuaded George to make Jack disappear? And now Jack was dead. That the money Annie re- ceived was her own in the first place? No, he couldn’t come clean. Why, even now he was breaking out in a cold sweat that the law might be approaching his door anytime to arrest him for the murder. ‘Sounds like you’re off the hook,’ was all the reply he could muster.
He fought to control his own low spirits. His forced smile was a weak front that, thankfully, Pearl didn’t spot because she beamed right back at him.
‘Too right.’
‘Suppose you won’t be needing this then?’ Lonnie handed over her share of the winnings.
‘That’s plumb more than I’ve ever had in my whole life!’ She shook her head wondrously. ‘Is it all mine?’
‘Odds went up just before the start,’ he
explained.
‘Something to do with a large bet placed on a losing horse just before the off. Should be enough to set you up real decent somewhere.’
‘As if I’d ever leave Little Lon!’ Pearl would not hear of the idea, her dream of walking over the bridge and out of Melbourne gone of its own accord now she was free of danger.
Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. Daisy arrived, loaded up with beef broth and plum duff on the same errand of mercy. ‘I just called round to take a squiz at the new jockey. You know, the one everyone’s talking about, the one from Little Lon, that McGuinness lad, the one Carlo said I should pick up my winnings from before he bets it on something else …’
Pearl put in her own twopence worth. ‘Not the good-looking jockey who comes from …’
‘… Casselden Place,’ they chirped in unison.
‘Stop taking the micky,’ Lonnie said. ‘And I only bet on sure things.’
‘Same here,’ the girls chorused and burst into a fit of giggles.
‘Think I’ll book you two in the circus as a double act!’ He handed Daisy a tidy sum.
‘So much?’ she queried, in astonishment.
‘We won a bit more than expected. I’ve just fin- ished telling Pearl.’
Daisy stared at the money, half expecting a strike of lightning to hit or hellfire to scorch the soles of her feet. ‘I don’t know how you ever convinced me to take part in this escapade, Lonnie. The devil himself must be taking me over.’
‘Daisy Cameron having a small wager, tut-tut,’ re- marked Pearl. She was having none of this. ‘Strike her down! If it’ll make you feel any better, donate some to the Army and to Miss Selina. Then no one can say your heart isn’t in the right place.’
‘Well I don’t suppose it will matter if I keep a small amount for buttons or thread.’
‘Buy a sewing treadle,’ corrected Pearl. ‘You de- serve a break. Make life easier.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t! Maybe not easier, but …’ She seemed to be giving Pearl’s idea some serious consid- eration. ‘I could work faster, couldn’t I? Earn more and donate it to the poor.’
‘We’re the poor, yer soft-hearted chump,’ Pearl said fondly. When Daisy looked unnerved, she cheered her up with, ‘Yes, you could do a lot of good for folks with a sewing treadle.’
Thankfully Daisy was reconciling herself to keep- ing the winnings. Lonnie saw a good opportunity to continue the spread of charity. ‘Speaking of Miss Selina,’ he remarked, ‘Pearl was just saying before you arrived that with her help she may leave the trade.’
‘I never said such a thing, you’re putting words into my mouth.’ Pearl had better forms of entertain- ment going on in her head. ‘With all this cash we could have a party like them pollies who were gal- livanting around the Big House.’ She gave a hearty snigger. ‘Poor old Lonnie missed out on all the fun, slept through the whole thing.’
‘What fun?’ Daisy asked, although she preferred not to know what went on behind the closed doors of the Big House, or right in this very lane. She also felt the need to defend Lonnie, all cut up and bruised from that cruel attack. ‘You can’t blame him. He was all woozy.’ She smiled radiantly at him, with reassur- ing loyalty.
Lonnie didn’t see the point of Pearl’s joke either as he recollected the boisterous goings-on below on the night he lay in the dark hideaway with too many aches and pains to settle in comfort. ‘I heard them all right,’ he said, ‘and I met one of them gents as well. First I thought you’d sent a doctor, but he was only a drunken slob trying it on a girl.’
Daisy flinched. But not the devilish Pearl who, wanting one up on Lonnie, decided to elaborate on the events. ‘You don’t know the half of it. Every one of them pollies was as drunk as a brewery worker on a double shift. Should’a seen them, dressing up in our
best feathers, the mace in tow. They were thumping on the parlour door while we had to act all la-di-dah; made us speak like we had pokers stuck up our arses.’
‘Pearl!’ Daisy reprimanded, shocked at her evil tongue. She stopped abruptly, her eyes incredulous.
‘Wait a minute! You’re not talking about the mace that went missing from Parliament House?’ She looked at Lonnie’s bewildered expression. ‘Been all the talk since the theft. It’s real gold!’
‘That’s the secret of it,’ said Pearl, pleased as punch to be delivering this morsel of news to her as- tonished friends. ‘Let’s hope whoever sneaked it out has the brains to put it back where it belongs before the law gets wind of them.’
‘I thought me winning the street race was the big news around here.’
‘Old news,’ Pearl replied with a cheeky grin.
‘Life goes on,’ Daisy added philosophically.
‘Too fast from the sounds of it,’ said Lonnie, miffed that his goodhearted handing out of the win- nings had been gazumped by a golden mace. ‘I got a story myself. It’s about you, Daisy. I heard it while Pearl reckoned I was sleeping.’
‘Me?’ Daisy asked uncertainly.
Lonnie wondered if it was wise of him to mention it. With a little more caution, he replied, ‘In a way I’m afraid to say. You may not want to know.’
‘Is it important?’ she said.
Lonnie knew Daisy had a right to make up her own mind. Here goes, he thought, nodding. ‘While I was waiting to sneak out of the Big House, I over- heard Mrs B and Burke talking about the night your pa disappeared.’
At the mention of her pa, Daisy grabbed Pearl’s hand and squeezed it tightly.
Lonnie recreated the events. ‘Your pa must’ve been fighting with Burke and he fell down the stairs and hit his head. The fall killed him instantly.’
‘Like in my nightmare,’ Daisy agreed quietly.
‘You were there, Daise. You saw it. Mrs B says you don’t remember anything, but Burke thinks you do. If you ever breathe a word to anyone about this, you’ll be in grave danger. I hate to admit it, but that shyster Postlethwaite was right all along. Your fear section here,’ he tapped the nape of her neck, ‘hid the memory and made you forget. Except you only put it out of your mind during the day, while you remembered bits and pieces in your sleep.’
‘I know I should grieve for my pa,’ Daisy said, filled with regret. ‘God rest his soul, but my life up till then was horrible.’
‘You don’t have to tell us, Daise, we know. My mam was reduced to tears many a time knowing you were living in that squalor.’
‘Your mam’s beautiful. She’s always been kind to me. In a strange sort of way Madam Buckingham’s been kind too, setting me up in the room, arranging the work.’
‘She’s not a bit like Lonnie’s mam,’ cut in Pearl sharply. ‘She’s only been looking out for herself and Burke.’
‘Don’t be too hard on her,’ replied Daisy. ‘I like to think she cares for me, if only a little.’ She looked at her two friends. ‘What’s done is done. It’s the here and now we have to think about. I’ll sleep better from now on. No misgivings. But this stays forever between the three of us. Pact?’
She turned her palm upwards and waited for Pearl and Lonnie to place their hands on top of hers. They were three children again, binding their secrets together like they used to do around the cesspit. She made them stand up, clasp hands and walk around in a circle. Soon they were chanting their childhood song:
Around the rick, around the rick And there I found my Uncle Dick I screwed his neck
I sucked his blood
And left his body lying.
‘That’s settled, then,’ said Daisy.
‘Anyone for an Uncle Dick?’ Pearl offered, intent on brightening up their mood once more. So Uncle Dick was brought out of her basket in the shape of a bottle of French wine, Bordeaux, mixed in five parts, with the compliments of Madam Buckingham and the Big House pollies.
WALL HANGING
Item No. 727
Home sewn tapestry bearing:
‘Bless this house’.
By the time his mam arrived home, Pearl and Dai
sy had left. The house was quiet again. In a way Lonnie welcomed the silence. It gave him a chance to contemplate the recent shifts in his life. He wondered where he would end up. At worst, locked up for murder. At best, no guarantee of work, never a real certainty about his safety.
‘Lonnie, what in heaven’s name have you been doing?’ his mother exclaimed when she walked through the door and saw the state of his face.
‘Some lunatic knocked me over with his horse. It’s only a scratch or two.’
‘You’ve been fighting?’
‘No.’
‘What makes me think you’re not telling me everything?’
‘Leave it alone, Mam.’
‘And why should I do that, son?’ Lonnie braced himself for a lecture.
‘You’re never home these days, always out or coming in late at night. I wonder you ever come home at all, or if you’re really helping Carlo all the time like you say. Surely his cart is working all right by now, the amount of hours you both spend fixing it.’
‘You can’t expect me to stay at home all the time.’ His mother’s eyes searched his face in a baffled, sad sort of way. ‘So tell me it’s not true then. Tell me that everyone I’ve bumped into in Little Lon is lying. That it wasn’t you flying through town on a horse? Not on any old dobbin mind you, but on a thoroughbred. That it wasn’t you risking life and limb? My god, look at those injuries! Did you stop and think for one instant that your horse could’ve careered into some innocent soul, like what happened to that poor boy … or to that pollie last year. Stand there and tell me it’s not true?’
‘That pollie was drunk.’
His mother looked at him, at the empty glasses and bottle on the mantle. ‘You dare talk to me about drinking.’
‘But we were only celebrating ’cause I won. More money than we’ve ever seen in our lives.’
In Lonnie's Shadow Page 20