Sebastian Carmichael

by Gary Seeary

  Aunty May went to grab the teapot while Lettie sat down next to Walter on the far side of the table. I sat down next to Aunty May’s seat on the near side, facing them, as if it was a real interrogation.

  “Seb, Walter works on the docks in Port Melbourne as a welder, but he would love to be a painter if he could, like in portraits, you know,” Lettie said somewhat proudly, though it was always a little strange to hear Lettie call me Seb, instead of Grub.

  “On the docks, hey?” I returned. “I hear it gets a bit willing down there at times. Must be difficult to keep yourself out of trouble?”

  “It’s not easy, Seb,” Walter replied while sitting forward. “Hardly a day goes by when you don’t see someone pinned up against a wall. You have to keep your wits about you.”

  “Did I hear someone mention portraits before,” Aunty May asked as she returned to the communal table with her favourite silver teapot. “I love the fine arts.”

  “Walter is a portrait painter, Aunty. He is taking me to see the Autumn Exhibition at the Artists’ Society next weekend, just before your birthday, Seb,” said Lettie giving me a wink.

  “If that’s all right with you, May,” Walter added.

  “I may like to see the exhibition myself, Walter. If I’m not in the way,” Aunty May hinted. “Is there a featured artist this season?”

  “A small gallery will have selected works from the Heidelberg School,” Walter replied, his eyes lighting up. “Impressionist works are my favourite, May. They give so much depth to a tableau.”

  “I think the Impressionists are taking the easy way out, Walter. I like the subject to look just the way it does in real life,” Aunty May argued, sticking her nose up in the air.

  Walter and Aunty May then began discussing the merit, or lack of, of almost ever style of portraiture known to man, while Lettie and I made faces at each other like we used to when we were kids. Eventually, Lettie had to step in.

  “It’s starting to cloud over outside, Aunty. So, perhaps Walter and I should go for our walk now while we still can.”

  Everyone around the table got up, and then Walter thanked Aunty May for the tea and welcoming him into her home.

  “May, I insist that you accompany Lettie and me to the Autumn Exhibition, and if we are there at the right time, the Society’s resident opera students will be performing in the main gallery.”

  “It will be a pleasure to accompany you and Leticia,” Aunty May acknowledged. “It is so nice to meet a man that thinks for himself.”

  This was huge compliment, and didn’t go unnoticed by Lettie. I joked to Walter as he held open the screen door to allow Lettie to go through that I’d been thinking of going to an art exhibition myself for quite a while, which he discreetly shook his head to, before firmly shaking my hand on leaving.

  By the time Lettie and Walter had left, I had completely forgotten about the age difference between the art-loving dock worker and my kid sister.

  *

  I had tested the water during late April to see if it was safe to return to my original way home from work through the Magenta Push’s stomping ground. I figured that after two months all should be forgiven regarding my incident with the Pom and his little Irish mate. Although, I didn’t expect to be given a pat on the back from the owner for starting the ball rolling that got rid of them.

  I was fifty yards from Lygon Street, trudging along Queensberry on Friday afternoon at the end of another heavy day of work, when I saw a young woman in a bright pink polka dot dress, fluffing up her bouffant blonde hair whilst leaning against a brick wall near the front of a long porch that led to what I believed to be the rear of the Magenta Club.

  I nodded to this woman who continued to stare at me while taking a slow drag through her extended cigarette holder, blowing out a small cloud of smoke without returning my welcome.

  I passed the porch, not thinking anything of her lack of response, when suddenly I heard a squawking voice call out from behind me.

  “You’re Sebastian, aren’t you … William’s friend?”

  I turned around to see the young woman’s pale, overly made-up face, sticking out from around the porch, onto the footpath of Queensberry Street.

  “Yeah,” I replied without much thought, then realising she may have news of William, walked rapidly back towards her.

  “Have you heard from William?” I asked, anticipating that she had.

  “Nuh!” she gratingly replied “But, I was told to pass on a message from someone else if I ever saw you again.”

  Again! I’ve never seen her before in my life.

  “From whom?” I asked studying her to see if I recognised her from somewhere.

  “From Clarisse, she wanted me to pass on that she has been moved to Sydney by Madam Mayer. And that she is happy to go there, and not to be concerned for her.” The woman stopped, then walked out onto the footpath in front of me, stating: “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

  I was already taken aback by the mention of Clarisse, but for the life of me I didn’t know who this woman was.

  “Clarisse appreciated your discretion at the Parmenter’s soirée. It was for the best, not to make a scene,” the working girl declared, still staring at me, before taking another drag of her cigarette.

  This woman wasn’t the redhead; she wasn’t tall enough, so she had to be the dark-haired girl standing next to Clarisse at the soirée.

  “That was a great night. Do you know if Madam Mayer is going to let Clarisse do her nurse training in Sydney?” I asked, hoping she would be given a way out of the trade.

  “You know she won’t, Sebastian. A volunteer is the best she can hope for. None of us are allowed to dream.”

  “Thanks for passing on the news about Clarisse. I have lost a bit of contact with Elaine and Charlie since William left for Spain,” I explained, grateful in a way to have run into this woman. “I don’t even know how the Aid stands are goin’…”

  “They’re going well. I like doing them, it’s better than hanging around here. I’ve had to do a few extra since Clarisse and William left, though,” the young woman said and then almost laughed, which had me bemused.

  “You were really calm when William yelled at you in Emerald Hill, Sebastian. A lot of blokes would have jacked up at that.”

  I was gobsmacked by what she had just said. It now hit me that I had seen this woman before, probably many times; she was the assistant I never spoke, or paid much attention to at the Emerald Hill Aid for Spain stand.

  She was right in front of my eyes and I didn’t even notice her.

  “You were so naïve when I first saw you on Queensberry, it makes me laugh to think back. You have grown up so much since then. Sebastian, I have to go inside, and I better not be late, Madam has already had a few moments today.” The woman smiled, and then something seemed to cross her mind.

  “Can you do me a huge favour, Sebastian?”

  “Sure …” I replied cautiously. “If I can.”

  “Clarisse told me not to forget to let one of her best friends know she was going, but he’s always stuck in his projection room,” she said as if someone was hurrying her. “I’d love to go up to his room like William used to, but those steep stairs scare the hell out of me.” She then looked back at the silver sheet-metal door at the end of the porch, as if she expected it to open any second.

  “You’re talkin’ about Sidney, aren’t ya?”

  “Course. You know, he even told Clarisse that one day he would make an honest woman out of her.”

  Sidney, you old dog!

  I would go and tell Sidney tomorrow that Clarisse had gone, but how could a girl not much older than Lettie think that all her dreams were over.

  “What’s all this crap about not being able to dream? You can do whatever you want,” I told her as she stepped back up onto the porch.

  “You wouldn’t say that if you were born a girl, Sebastian?” the young woman scoffed. “There’s not too many choices if you don’t get married. And don�
�t tell me you like throwing sheepskins around all day.”

  “Tell ya what, what if …” It wasn’t clear in my mind what I was about to ask, but I had to wait as a big bruiser of a man in a black suit and bowler hat started shouting from the silver sheet-metal door.

  “Daphne, get your skinny arse in here. Madam wants ya, now.”

  “Are ya workin’ tomorra’ afternoon?” I asked quickly, trying not to get her into trouble.

  “Nuh … Why?” Daphne looked at me puzzled.

  “I said get your arse in here Daphne before I come out and kick it,” the large man snarled.

  “Can you give us one minute, mate? I just want to ask her a question,” I yelled back, not believing his rudeness.

  “You can talk to the stupid slut all you want if you go around the front and hand over some coin, you drongo.”

  “What did you call her, you friggin’ baboon,” I shouted stepping up onto the porch as the foul-mouthed thug slammed shut the sheet-metal door behind him.

  “Don’t get involved, you little turd. I’ll wipe the floor with ya. She’s not worth it.”

  Daphne grabbed me by the arm dragging me from the porch, telling me he was right, and I had no place in their world, at the same time as Madam Mayer opened the rear door to the Magenta Club, taking a step outside, and then stopping suddenly as she realised we were in the middle of something.

  “What’s happening, Daphne?” Madam Mayer asked a lot quieter than I expected. “Is everything all right here?”

  “I’m coming in, Madam,” Daphne replied just as quietly. “I ran into Sebastian. You remember his sister Lettie from the Parmenter’s soirée?”

  Madam Mayer looked at me as if I wasn’t even there, and then said, “Come in now, Daphne.”

  I stepped up onto the porch to show support to Daphne, not trusting my large friend or Madam. Daphne turned her face to me and whispered, “Regent” softly, before turning back to walk past the massive member of the Push, who stood arms crossed in front of me.

  The big thug then turned and yelled “Slut” into Daphne’s ear, making her cower. As he turned his face back to me, I struck him to the left of his jaw with as much force as I could muster, but with little effect, only seconds later his huge right fist smashed into my ribs.

  I hit the wall of the porch, and then dropped down onto the deck, as a kick to the same spot followed shortly afterwards. I felt myself drifting out of consciousness as I saw the thug step back to kick again.

  I could feel myself being dragged, it seemed like only seconds later, when I heard a familiar voice.

  “Now listen you half-wits, I want you to put him down … gentle.”

  “Piss off, you old bastard. This is none of your business,” said the large man that had hit me as I was dropped onto a hard surface.

  I sat up slowly, and then gradually became aware that I was on the Queensberry Street footpath near my foreman, his right hand stuck deeply inside his Gladstone bag, standing toe to toe on the porch with two of the Magenta Push boys; Daphne and Madam Mayer nowhere to be seen.

  My foreman then said quietly as the thug that I had not seen before went to step behind him.

  “Please, don’t do that, mate, I sharpened the fleshing knife in my hand before I left work.”

  The monster of a man stopped dead in his tracks, not prepared to take a chance.

  “I’ve seen you stupid bastards pushing people around here for years, and I’m not the only one fed up with it,” my foreman snarled and then started pushing them backward along the porch.

  “Sebastian and I are going home for tea, and if I so much as hear of any one of you pieces of shit, mistreating anybody, especially your girls, I will pick you off, one by bloody one, and leave your friggin’ ears stuck to this shiny, little door here. Is that clear enough for your thickheads?” the foreman shouted.

  The two members of the Push hesitated, they didn’t want to be shown up in front of the small crowd that had gathered, and I’m sure they would have had blades on them, but when knives come out, things take a serious turn. They stepped back to the silver sheet-metal door, unsure of, but not prepared to play my foreman’s bluff.

  I had managed to stand myself up, feeling massive pain with every movement while my foreman stepped slowly back to the edge of the porch and then lowered himself onto the footpath.

  No-one said a word to us as we left.

  I leant on my foreman’s shoulder for the short, but painful walk back to Aunty May’s, stopping before we entered the lane that led to the rear door of our doss house.

  “You’re a bloody fool, Carmichael, why do you keep getting mixed up with those mugs?” the foreman scowled but still held down his voice. “Now, we’ve gotta keep a lid on this, your aunt doesn’t need to know about any knife play … so as far as I’m concerned, this was an accident at work — right!”

  “Sorry,” I replied, nodding my acceptance to the foreman, “but I thought the bloke in the bowler hat was gonna hit one of the girls.”

  “You can’t save the world, Seb, and I couldn’t have saved either of us if they had known I only had a small apple pairing knife in my hand,” the foreman announced and then laughed to himself before we headed into the lane.

  I think that was the first time my foreman had called me Seb.

  *

  When I woke up, my tiny room was full of sunlight and I could hear a loud ringing sound in my ears. It took me nearly a minute to figure out what day it was and then another to remember the mess I had caused yesterday. I went to move, but the whole left side of my body was stiff and numb, and when I forced myself to sit up, I felt a massive stabbing pain around where my left ribs should be.

  I laid back again and made myself as comfortable as possible, realising too late that I shouldn’t have tried to be a hero and in the process probably made Daphne’s life a whole lot harder than it already was.

  What the hell was I thinking?

  Although, one thing I will never regret is hitting that bastard that abused her. He deserved it and a lot more than I could deliver. I should have stepped back and thought it through, there’s more than one way to fix people like him up, and I was just lucky my foreman came along at the right time, and decided to help me out.

  William had said that the owner of the Magenta Club in Sydney was a strong supporter of the Spanish Aid Committee, and although Clarisse may be telling him what’s happening in Melbourne, a few phone calls from committee members down here would make him stand up and take a lot more notice, because there is one thing I have learned over my time: bullies never stop, until someone decides to stop them.

  I don’t like doing it, being a dobber, but as soon I was able to I planned to talk to Elaine and tell her about the treatment the girls she works with every weekend on the Aid for Spain stands are receiving from the likes of Madam Mayer, and ask if she could pass that on to her mum and dad, and the Aid committee, who I am sure would not be very happy at all.

  It came back to me just then that Lettie and Walter were taking Aunty May to the Artists’ Society this afternoon, and I hoped it was going well, but what I didn’t know was if my foreman had told anyone about my being ‘injured at work’, or if he was keeping a complete lid on the whole horrible business.

  Yesterday, Daphne said “Regent” as she passed me on the porch at the rear of the Magenta Club, and I would have bet my life on the fact that she wanted me to meet her at the Regent Theatre today, so we could go and see Sidney together, high up in his projection room, which was pretty much the same thing that I was about to ask her, before the trouble began.

  I could really do without climbing up the steep stairs at the rear of the projection room at the moment, because I wasn’t even sure if I could get out of bed, let alone make it to the Regent, and then find Daphne, with the rarest of possibilities that Madam Mayer would allow her to leave the Club after what had happened yesterday.

  But as long as there was a slim chance Daphne might show up, I had to prove to her that sh
e was worth it.

  *

  It took me over an hour to walk from Aunty May’s to the Regent Theatre, and then I waited for another hour in front of the brilliantly lit foyer, before finally admitting that Daphne wasn’t going to show, or wasn’t permitted to; or perhaps I had got it all wrong in the first place.

  It was disappointing because it could have been quite a lot of fun going back to see Sidney again, with someone who had never seen his amazing little world before. But see Sidney I had to, because someone had to let him know about Clarisse leaving.

  I got the painful part of climbing up the steep stairs over quickly, basically using the right side of my body to pull myself up, before receiving a warm welcome from Sidney and a comfortable place to sit to watch the last of Lloyds of London; it was good to be back.

  After Sidney had wound down his projector until the evening session, I told him about Clarisse being sent to Sydney, and what had happened recently.

  “I knew Clarisse wasn’t happy with Madam, but I didn’t know how nasty she had become. And I can’t believe she didn’t do anything to stop her thug beating into you?” Sidney stated, seeing anger in him for the first time.

  “Didn’t have time, Sidney, it was all over in seconds,” I grinned. “I’m no prize-fighter.”

  “No, I can see that, Seb, but it shouldn’t have happened, and young Daphne works so hard on the Aid stands,” Sidney added shaking his head.

  “I am going to Sydney in a few weeks to look at a new style 35 mm projector that the owners want to buy, so while I’m there I will go and see Clarisse, and Isaiah, the owner of the Club, who I have met once before at an Aid committee meeting, and I will have a few strong words with him about Melbourne.”

  “It’s a shame it had to come to this,” I asserted, but knew I should lighten the subject up.

  “And, how are you going yourself at the moment, Sidney. Still tied to the projector?”

  “Can’t get away from it, flat out like a lizard, I think is the expression,” Sidney replied, and then laughed out loud, which was good to hear.

  “I think my job is the only one not affected by the Depression, in fact, every theatre owner is crying on my shoulder at the moment that they want projectionists. You should give it a go yourself, Seb. I think you would like it,” Sidney announced, looking like he was fair dinkum.