She struggled to give him a smile. ‘Yes.’ They fell silent.
∞∞∞∞
‘It was simply that I didn’t expect that,’ Frances said on the way home, before the trench between them turned into an unbridgeable abyss. ‘The violence and the blood, I mean.’
‘I wish you hadn’t seen it.’
‘No, it’s all right.’ She rubbed her forehead, struggling to sort out things for herself. ‘I’m not that naïve not to see that Len got off lightly. It just takes some time to understand.’ She swallowed. ‘I think that’s what Mum was afraid of, the seedy sides of …’ She broke off.
‘The seedy sides of people like me? You don’t have to be embarrassed. Like I said, I break the law, and I’m not ashamed of that, but I also won’t go past the line I’ve drawn for myself.’
His mouth tightened. ‘I can understand if your mum wants to keep you away from folks like Dolores and me. On the other hand, like I said, I’d be grateful if you spend a bit of time with Dolores, away from the club. She needs girlfriends.’
‘I won’t desert her,’ she said, hoping for a light tone that would make everything between them all right again. ‘But I don’t see why she would need me. She must have friends by the wagon load.’
‘Admirers, sure,’ Jack said with a hint of mockery. ‘And jokers who hope her magic will rub off on them. But most females don’t take to her.’
‘Jealousy, because she’s so stunning.’ Well, at least she didn’t envy her the beauty.
‘You’d know more about competition between girls than I.’ His smile helped ease the lump that still sat in her stomach.
He honked at a man who’d pushed his billy-cart on to the road. The Rover swerved. The traffic was unusually heavy, with cars piled high with families, dogs, and stacks of baggage.
‘It seems like the rest of Adelaide is making the most of Easter,’ he said. ‘What about you?’
She paused. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘Part of me is happy, with all the fun we’ve had, but only when I manage to forget that awful phone call.’ She hugged her arms to her chest. ‘Have you ever felt some menace that made your hair bristle?’ She shook herself. ‘I’m being fanciful.’
‘No,’ Jack said. ‘It would be more surprising if you’d feel all chipper after the series of frights you’ve had over the last week. Seeing me punching the living daylights out of Len wouldn’t have helped.’
‘One hit,’ she corrected him. ‘And he deserved it.’
‘Too right he did, and more than that.’
‘But what about the other man? The one with the drugs?’
‘Whitey Morgan?’ Jack’s mouth curled into a grim smile. ‘I’ve got friends in certain places who’ll be pleased to have an idea where to look for the snow that’s been falling out of the clouds recently.’ His grip on the steering wheel relaxed. ‘Your friend, Pauline, has earned a pay rise all right.’
‘I’m glad. How much more will you give her?’
‘Why? Do you suspect me of short-changing my staff?’
‘Not you,’ she said. ‘But I do hope it’ll be enough for her and her mum to get out of that dreadful hovel they’ve shifted to.’
‘Is it that bad? None of my employees is seriously hurting for money.’
‘Pauline was without work for over two months, and her mother’s been unable to earn money for even longer because she had an accident. If it hadn’t been for Dolores, they’d be desperate.’
‘Pauline’s a good kid,’ Jack said. ‘She cheers Dolores up no end, and she is smart enough to be quiet when Dolores needs a rest.’ He drummed his fingertips on the steering wheel. ‘I’ll see what we can do. I own a bit of property, mostly to house my staff. Maybe there’s something going. If Pauline and her mum want it.’
‘They would. It must be horrible for them, in that crude place.’
∞∞∞∞
‘You’re still looking fit to faint,’ Jack said as they turned on to Grenfell Street. ‘If I present you to your mother and Uncle Sal in this state, they’ll never let you go out with any of us again.’
‘I’m all right, simply tired.’
He eased the Rover around, heading back towards the city.
‘Where are we going?’ She sat up in alarm.
‘I’ll take you to a restaurant. That’s what I should have done in the first place. What you need is a steak, followed by coffee and a medicinal brandy.’ He indicated the glove box. ‘I’ve got a flask in there, for emergencies. You don’t want to trust on anyone selling you decent stuff, not these days. There’s too many sly-groggers around, hawking pink-eye and snake-juice.’
He was serious. Frances pressed her lips together to stifle a giggle. Instead, it turned into a snort. Jack gave a sigh of long-suffering patience. The snort became a hoot.
He signalled the driver behind him to overtake as he pulled the Rover over to the kerb. ‘Put your head between your knees and breathe in as deeply as you can,’ he said, unscrewing the leather-covered brandy flask. He poured an inch of brandy into the lid that doubled as a cup. ‘You’ve had a bit of a shock, but you don’t want to become hysterical.’
That did it. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but this time she couldn’t help it. She broke into laughter. ‘Stop that,’ she said between guffaws. ‘You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?’
‘Doing what?’
‘Sitting here acting all concerned like a card-carrying member of the temperance movement, warning me away from sly-groggers, and then hand me a drink.’
‘Who better than me?’ He patted her back. ‘Drink up, like a good girl. There’s a decent place to eat a couple yards further down. We can walk from here.’
The liquor filled France’s throat with a comforting warmth rather than burning with the fire she’d expected. She caught a drop running down the outside of the cup with her fingertip and licked it off. ‘Nice,’ she said.
‘Imported all the way from France for this occasion.’ Jack took the cup and screwed it back on again. ‘Any of the locally distilled stuff and you understand why our American friends call it rot-gut. Feeling better?’
She fanned her face. ‘Apart from the fact that it’s getting quite warm, yes.’ Her right foot wobbled as she stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk.
Jack steadied her. She leant in to him, breathing in his comforting after-shave. His lips were tantalisingly close for a moment. Their gaze met, as Jack pulled a few inches away, with an unreadable expression in his eyes.
‘Maybe that dose was a bit much,’ he said, stroking his chin. ‘I keep on forgetting you aren’t used to anything stronger than lemonade.’
She shook off his arm. ‘I happen to like it.’ She tried to look down her nose at him, a feat that was somehow hampered by the fact that Jack was taller than she. Still, he seemed to get the message because he gave her one of his slow smiles and said, ‘It was a compliment, believe it or not. Anyway, how about we postpone any discussion until we’re inside?’
∞∞∞∞
He led her to a corner table at the window. A mere third of the seats in the restaurant were taken, ensuring them of quick service as well as privacy.
The menu came on embossed paper, tucked into a leather-bound cover. At first glance it appeared very impressive, until Frances noticed the cracks in the leather and how the ink on the menu had become faint. The waitresses had seen better days too. The one strolling over to them, a professional smile frozen on to her face, clung to her past prime with the aid of a thick veneer of talcum powder that clogged every fold and wrinkle.
‘Are you ready to order, Frances? Or do you trust me to do it?’
She put down the menu. She’d been too busy trying to clear her head to take in what was on offer. ‘Yes please. You do it.’
‘We’ll both have the beef steak, medium rare, with chips, and pumpkin, a bottle of iced water and coffee for two, please.’ He smiled at the waitress.
‘Sweet.’ The woman swayed her hips a little bit wi
der as she walked away from their table.
Jack leant towards Frances. ‘Does that suit you?’
‘Very much,’ she said, feeling a rush of self-consciousness. ‘I’m not used to dining out.’
‘That's easy to change.’
∞∞∞∞
She found herself tucking in with relish, that awkward moment between them firmly behind her.
He watched her with obvious approval. ‘You have recovered.’
‘Perfectly. I hadn’t realised I was that hungry.’ She put knife and fork down onto her empty plate and reached for the napkin.
Jack took the coffeepot off the hot plate and poured them both another cup.
She spooned sugar into her cup, added some milk and stirred. ‘I almost forgot, over everything else that’s been going on, do you have any idea who the man might be? You know, the one Croaky talked about?’
She had lowered her voice to make sure no one could overhear, but still she couldn’t bring herself to express herself more clearly.
Jack folded his napkin and laid it across his plate. ‘It’s possible,’ he said, pushing the plate aside.
Frances leant forward on her elbows. ‘Then we can tell him to be careful, can’t we?’ She felt as if a heavy weight that nearly crushed her had been lifted off. ‘I knew it. Oh Jack, you’re wonderful.’
A nerve on his lower jaw twitched. ‘Don’t put too much trust in me, kiddo.’
She put her left hand on his. ‘Do you have his address? Please,’ she gave his fingers a squeeze. ‘Will you go there tonight to warn him? Or give him a buzz on the phone?’
His fingers stiffened under her touch. ‘You don’t understand, Frances. If I’m right, it’s too late.’
Her mouth formed a circle but no sound came out.
‘I may be wrong.’ Jack put a few coins for their meal on the saucer. He helped her up. ‘Come on, we’ll talk about it somewhere else.’
16
Frances kept silent on the way home. Thoughts were running through her head, fragmented like splintered glass, each painful and disturbing, but without forming a recognisable structure.
‘It’s a case for the police,’ Jack said as he took the key out of the ignition.
‘No.’
‘Are you sure? I’ll come up with something that leaves you out of it, if you want to. I could easily have overheard something in the club.’ He steered her towards the door. She fumbled in her bag for the door key. Her hand shook so hard she dropped the key into one of the planters that flanked the entrance.
He parted the chrysanthemums, retrieved the key and opened the door for her.
The house smelt of polish, beeswax, fried bacon, and sanity. Frances took a deep breath, letting the sense of home embrace her until she felt safe again.
Jack stood next to her. His lids were lowered, giving him that deceptively sleepy expression again. He watched her in the detached yet intense way a doctor watched a critical patient. ‘We need to talk.’
‘But not in the house,’ she said, her voice catching in her throat. ‘We’ll sit in the garden. I don’t want anyone to hear us.’ And she didn’t want to bring anything awful into her home. She couldn’t explain, but saying things out loud made them more real in a way, and her home was used to shared laughter and happiness. She wouldn’t have it violated.
She held her shoulders as stiffly as possible, as if bracing herself for a physical blow. Jack knocked on to the parlour door as they walked past, opened it wide enough to peek inside the room and say hello to Maggie and Uncle Sal.
She went ahead. Already contours were becoming blurred outside. Another half hour and the sky would be inky, smudged with grey smoke and studded with the glimmer of stars.
A storm lantern hung under the eave. Jack took it down to light the thick candle inside. He pulled out a chair for Frances, perching on the edge of the table himself.
He felt like a stranger as he loomed there, cold and intimidating. She hugged her arms to her chest.
He slid off the table and pulled out another chair for himself. ‘What do you want me to do?’ He sounded weary. ‘Forget the whole business? I will, if you’re sure that’s what you want.’ He raked his hand through his hair. He’d left his hat in the car, Frances realised. That was the single sign of distraction he’d shown.
But then he was used to things like this. Her chest tightened. The glimpse she’d had this afternoon of his life behind the glittering façade had shaken her more than she’d thought. She wondered fleetingly if Phil would break someone’s nose without flinching. He probably would. She shivered.
‘Well?’ Jack’s gaze held hers. ‘It’s up to you. If you think you can live with letting someone get away with murder—’ He shrugged. ‘It’s your decision.’
She winced.
Jack pulled her close. She sank against his shoulder.
He smoothed back her hair. ‘It’s all right, kiddo. We couldn’t have prevented it. Believe me, if someone wants you dead you haven’t got the chance of a three-legged horse in the Melbourne Cup.’
A sob escaped her throat.
‘It could be a different man. I swear, Frances, there’s nothing we could have done.’
‘It’s all my fault. We could have warned him if I’d told you early enough.’
‘And what would have happened then, even if we’d alarmed every man in the city? How do you prevent being coshed from behind as you climb into your car or shot when you come out of the door?’ He rocked her gently.
She shook her head. Her cheek rubbed against the fabric of his jacket. ‘There must have been something we could have done.’
‘There wasn’t. Believe me.’ Jack put one hand on the nape of her neck. She lifted her head off his shoulder and sat up straight.
He said, ‘Even if there had been anything, we’d have got it wrong. They changed the time frame, didn’t they?’
‘Yes.’ She stared into the crescent of light cast by the storm lantern. ‘Or maybe – I don’t know. I thought he said, after Easter, but the line crackled and snapped the way it sometimes does long-distance.’
She twisted a strand of hair around her finger and tugged it hard.
‘Easy.’ Jack’s face was almost completely in the shade. She sensed, more than she saw, the sympathy in his face. He must have been a good man to have around in the trenches. No wonder he’d been made captain, as young as he was. Dolores and the rest of the staff trusted him blindly. Even that wretched Len had believed Jack would let him get off with a slap on the wrist and chuckle. It was generous of Jack to spare the man a fiver. At least he had some means until he found another job. If he found one.
She pressed her knuckle into her eyes. Work was too precious. She couldn’t have risked her employment by going to the police. ‘They wouldn’t have believed my story anyway.’
‘The coppers? No.’
Frances realised she’d spoken her thoughts out aloud.
‘And now it’s too late. Water under the bridge.’ Her voice sounded insincere in her own ears. No. It was time she did the right thing. She couldn’t bring the man back to life, but she owed him that much. She dug her nails into her palm until it hurt. She had ignored the painful truth for too long already. ‘Jack? If I keep quiet about Croaky and the other man, I’m shielding a killer.’ Salty tears slid down the back of her throat. ‘I’m no better than Len.’
He took the storm lantern and set it on the table. Light fell on to his face. Her eyes searched his for the contempt he must feel for her. Instead she saw nothing but kindness.
‘You’re nothing like Len,’ he said. ‘He deliberately chose to aid and abet drug dealers. You, on the other hand, haven’t committed any crime. All you worry about is taking care of your family.’ He touched her cheek. ‘I might’ve done the same.’
‘Maybe that’s what Len was trying to do.’
‘No. There is no excuse for him. None.’ His hand slammed down on the table, making the storm lantern jerk. He got up and walked a few steps away, t
urning his back to her. ‘If it hadn’t been for his wife and baby, a broken nose would be the least of his concerns.’
She stared, wide-eyed.
He turned to face her. ‘We wouldn’t have taken him lakeside, if that’s what you’re thinking.’ Cold fury resonated in his voice. ‘But Bluey and I would have given him a hiding he’d never forget.’
‘Why? Couldn’t you have handed him over to the police?’
‘On what evidence? My insight into his shifty little mind?’ a shadow flitted over Jack’s face. It could have been the light cast by the lantern, but it made Frances tense even more. He went on, ‘Having the police sniffing around for drugs isn’t good for business either, and I won’t have the Top Note tainted with a snowy-white brush. Or Dolores.’
Her jaw dropped.
‘Don’t get any wrong ideas, kiddo. Dolores may act a bit spoilt, but she’s the most innocent soul I’ve met in the whole bloody business, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. I owe her more than I can repay.’
He pushed his hands into his pockets, gaze fixed on the stars.
His voice was so low Frances had to strain to hear as he began to talk. ‘It happened a few years after the war,’ he said, still not looking at her. ‘Most of us struggled to adjust. Nothing was the way we’d left it, neither places nor people.’ He paused. ‘We were, all of us, injured, some on the outside, all on the inside.’
The pain in his voice made her ache for him.
‘Dolores was shattered. It took her a while to get back on her feet after Simon’s death, so I stuck it out in Ballarat for a bit, to look after her and my kid sister Rachel, until she convinced me that I’d done my bit. All I needed to do was to find them a flat in Sydney, she said, and everything would turn out all right.’ He pulled one hand out of the pocket to rub his neck. ‘It sounded like a great idea all right, to let them go to the big city, because Dolores wanted to study music, and Rachel planned on taking up photography. Mother was all for it, she was already chafing at the bit to return home and tough it out in England with her husband.’
A Matter of Love and Death: a historical mystery you don't want to miss Page 14