Do You Dare? Tough Times

by Simon Mitchell

  ‘Well, let’s go and get our money for this lot,’ said Frank brightly, inspecting the pile of bottles. ‘Tom, at least you’ll be able to buy your cricket cards back from the pawn shop now.’

  As Tom got to his feet, a poster on the side wall of the shop across the road caught his eye. He crossed the street to inspect it, and Fungus scampered eagerly after him.

  MacRobertson’s

  Steam Confectionary Works

  Presents

  Fitzroy’s first

  All-breeds Dog Show

  Come to see a world of canine competition

  Including a special all-breeds trick contest – First Prize £10

  (Entry 3/- per dog)

  You’d be barking mad to miss it!

  2pm, Saturday November 14th

  Edinburgh Gardens, North Fitzroy

  Brought to you by MacRobertsons’

  Old Gold chocolates –

  a treasure trove of delight!

  The poster was decorated with crimson and yellow swirls surrounding a drawing of a panting labrador retriever next to a toy poodle. But it wasn’t the dogs that Tom had noticed – it was the number ten next to a great big pound sign. Tom’s heart skipped a few beats as he read the words. The dog show was this coming Saturday. And the ten quid first prize was just enough to cover what his parents owed the bank. ‘Fungus,’ he said to his dog, who was sniffing the wall underneath the poster, ‘if you can win MacRobertson’s trick competition, maybe I won’t have to leave you and the gang behind just yet. What do you reckon?’

  Fungus ignored him and started licking the brick wall, but Tom could swear his tail was wagging just a little bit faster.

  The other Daredevils wandered over to read the poster for themselves.

  Frank turned to Tom and raised one eyebrow. ‘Fungus?’ he asked.

  Tom nodded. ‘Why not?’ he said.

  ‘Erm, maybe because he’s as ugly as a hatful of monkeys’ bums?’ said Samson.

  ‘So what?’ said Tom. ‘Everyone knows he’s got the best trick of any dog in Fitzroy. Fungus – walkies!’

  Fungus stopped licking the wall and stood up on his stumpy back legs. Teetering only slightly, he waddled in a happy circle around the Daredevils, his dirty front paws held up in front of him and his tongue streaming behind like a motorist’s scarf.

  Frank and Samson cheered Fungus on as he trotted about on two legs. Joan, who had never seen the trick before, clapped her hands in delight. ‘How wonderful!’ she said. ‘What else can he do?’

  ‘Nothing much,’ said Tom. ‘Oh, I s’pose he’s got one more trick, if you can call it that. Fungus – pee-time!’

  Fungus dropped down onto all fours and immediately lifted his hind leg, sending a yellow stream in Samson’s direction. Samson gave a shout and leapt out of the way just in time to save his canvas shoes from getting soaked.

  Joan giggled. ‘I don’t think that’ll win you any trick competitions,’ she said. ‘But a dog walking on two legs – that just might.’

  Frank and Samson nodded in agreement. ‘If the judges have got any brains they’ll give him twenty quid for that!’ said Samson.

  ‘We’d better get these bottles down to the yard,’ said Frank. ‘We’re gonna need that three bob for Fungus’s entry fee.’

  The sound of breaking glass made them all jump. Tom spun towards the Brown Bullet in time to see another one of their bottles explode into shards, followed quickly by a third. Scanning the area, he spotted Razor McGee and the Spiders leaning around the corner of a laneway, laughing like a pack of mad hyenas as they used their slingshots to launch stones at the Daredevils’ precious cargo.

  Frank bellowed with rage and charged at the Spiders, but a well-aimed pebble from Razor hit him in the shoulder and he slipped onto the pavement. The Spiders cackled with glee and sent another volley of rocks in the Daredevils’ direction before retreating behind the fence.

  ‘You cowards!’ yelled Frank, picking himself up. ‘Hiding like a bunch of snot-faced babies. Come out of there!’

  Razor hauled his huge bulk out of the alleyway. ‘What for?’ he said. ‘To watch Parker’s flea-bitten mongrel do his stupid trick? That lousy animal couldn’t win a dog show if he was the only mutt that entered.’

  Tom didn’t want to hear such rot about Fungus. ‘The only lousy animal here is you,’ he said.

  Razor smirked, then motioned for Archie, Merv and Porky to come out of the laneway. They filed into place beside him, and the whole gang marched forward to stop a few feet away from the Daredevils. Merv spat on the ground in front of them, but misjudged the distance and ended up with a gob of saliva on his shoe.

  Razor turned his attention to Joan. ‘I can’t believe you peabrains let a girl in your gang,’ he said. ‘Oi, sweetheart, why don’t you forget about playing around on factory chimneys and run home to make me some biscuits?’

  Joan made a fist and shook it at Razor. ‘I’ve got your biscuits right here!’

  Razor grinned. ‘What are you gonna do, girly?’ he said. ‘Sew us to death?’

  Porky Stevens snorted so loudly that Tom thought his nose might actually turn inside out.

  Frank took a step forward. ‘You shut your face, McGee,’ he said. ‘If you know what’s good for you, you’ll turn around and take that pack of trained baboons you call a gang back home.’

  ‘We are home,’ said Razor. ‘Everyone knows this street is Spider territory. Which means those bottles are my bottles.’

  ‘Rubbish!’ said Tom. ‘They’re ours, and always will be.’

  Razor curled his upper lip, showing his chipped front teeth. ‘It’s funny you should say that, Parker,’ he said. ‘Because I’ve got something else here that used to be yours.’ He reached into the back pocket of his shorts and pulled out the wad of cricket cards that Tom had pawned to Mr Daley a few days earlier. Tom ground his teeth – Razor had been watching him through the pawnbroker’s window. And now he had bought all of Tom’s cards before Tom had had a chance to get them back.

  ‘Must’ve taken you quite a while to collect these,’ said Razor, fanning though the cards with his thumb. ‘I bet it’d break your heart if anything happened to them, eh?’ He snapped his fingers at Archie, who produced a box of matches.

  ‘You wouldn’t!’ said Tom.

  ‘Wouldn’t I?’ said Razor. He nodded, and Archie lit one of the matches, shielding it with his other hand and passing it carefully to Razor. Razor licked his lips as he slowly brought the match towards Tom’s cards, stopping when the flame was only about an inch away

  Frank drew himself up to his full height, which was still a good bit shorter than Razor. ‘You’d better blow that out, McGee,’ he said calmly. ‘Because if any of those cards gets even the slightest bit singed, I promise you’ll be sorrier than anyone who’s ever lived.’

  Tom heard a pounding noise in his ears. Every muscle in his body felt as if it was wound up like a spring. Beside him Fungus gave a low growl, and Samson started praying under his breath: ‘Please don’t let them break my specs.’

  Nobody said anything for a few seconds. Then Razor snarled and plunged the corner of the cards into the match flame. They lit up instantly. Sniggering to himself, Razor tossed the flaming bits of cardboard onto the ground in front of the Daredevils, where Tom caught a final glimpse of Don Bradman’s face before it curled and blackened into ashes.

  Frank roared like an angry gorilla and threw himself at Razor fist-first. Tom rushed towards Porky Stevens and shoved him in the chest. Porky gave an involuntary snort and went down on his backside, his snout pointing straight up at the sky. Beside Tom, Joan grabbed hold of the band of Merv’s trousers and was trying to pull it over his head, while Samson and Archie were half-wrestling on the ground, both looking like they’d rather be a million miles away.

  On the other side of Tom, Razor had Frank in a headlock and was really laying into him, directing punch after punch into his face and ribs. Porky started to stand up, but Tom shoved him down again and turn
ed to help Frank. Razor saw him coming and, still holding Frank with one arm, walloped Tom right in the nose.

  Tom saw bright flashes in the corner of his vision, and his mouth filled with the rusty taste of blood. Shaking his head to clear the stars, he looked up to see Razor’s fist drawing back for another blow. Tom put his hands up to protect himself, but Razor suddenly dropped his fist, let go of Frank and gave a loud yowl of pain. He spun around as fast as his immense size would allow, and Tom saw that Fungus had joined the battle by sinking his teeth deep into the flesh of Razor’s bum cheek. Razor hopped around in a figure eight, desperately swatting at the furry new addition to his backside as Fungus gnawed away happily – after all, it was the biggest meal he’d had for weeks.

  Tom saw his chance. He waited until Razor was halfway through a hop, then drove his shoulder straight into the bully’s ribs, sending him stumbling backwards just as Fungus tore the seat out of his pants. For a brief moment, Razor teetered and wobbled like an enormous spinning top, then he crashed bum-first on top of the Brown Bullet. The entire cart collapsed under his weight with a sound of smashing glass and splintering wood.

  Tom found himself suddenly being drenched with water. An old woman was standing in her front garden a few yards away and spraying him and Frank with a hose as her neighbours looked on. ‘Stop it at once!’ she called shrilly, ‘Stop or I’ll call the police!’ She turned the hose to where Samson and Archie were still rolling around in the dirt and they sat up with a start.

  As the old lady directed her hose at Razor, the Daredevils moved out of range and took stock of their injuries. Frank’s eye was starting to swell up, and blood was gushing out of Tom’s nose like water from a broken fire hydrant, but Samson and Joan were more or less unscathed. Meanwhile, Porky was completely covered in dirt and leaves, Merv was delicately trying to return his undies to their normal position and Razor was sprawled in the middle of the road, dripping wet. His face went almost black with fury as he saw Fungus galloping around with the seat of his extra-large pants in his teeth.

  Razor winced as he heaved himself up, but Tom could see the rage flashing in his eyes. Holding his ripped trousers up with one hand, Razor took a menacing step towards Tom, only to be halted in his tracks by another blast of cold water from the old lady. ‘I mean it, Razor McGee, you little lout,’ she said. ‘You’re as bad as your larrikin brother, fighting in the middle of the street like that. Take one more step and I’ll call the police on the lot of you.’

  Razor stopped, but shot a look at Tom that sent chills all the way down his spine into his scuffed boots. ‘I’ll make you pay for this, Parker,’ he said. ‘And it’s gonna be a lot worse than just a bloody nose. You’d better start treating every susso meal like it’s your last, because the next time I get hold of you, you and that mangy dog are both dead.’

  8

  The Daredevils went over the highlights of the battle as they made their way back home.

  ‘Did you see Razor go?’ chortled Frank, doing a very convincing imitation of their arch-enemy hopping around with a dog on his bum. ‘That was even better than a Laurel and Hardy film. Top work, Fungus!’

  ‘And what about poor old Merv?’ spluttered Joan. ‘I don’t think he’ll be too comfy sitting on the pews at church this Sunday!’

  ‘Ha!’ said Samson. ‘Did you see what I did to Archie?’

  ‘What’s that?’ said Frank, whose right eye had started swelling up like an overripe plum. ‘Messed up his hair a bit?’

  ‘Well, that,’ said Samson. ‘But I’m pretty sure I gave him a punch or two in the guts as well.’

  Frank grinned. ‘It doesn’t matter, Samson,’ he said. ‘We can’t all be great warriors like Tom here.’ He gave Tom a friendly pat on the back. ‘And it was good thinking to shove Razor right when he wasn’t expecting it.’

  ‘Too right,’ said Tom, forcing a smile. But inside he was worried sick – Razor had never liked him, of course, but Tom had never felt such hatred from him before. He shuddered to think what Razor would do the next time they met on the street. Or worse, what he might do to Fungus.

  Samson suddenly stopped in his tracks. ‘Oh, crikey,’ he said. ‘Our bottles!’

  In all the excitement, they had completely forgotten that Razor had squashed both their bottle collection and the Brown Bullet.

  But Frank wasn’t letting anyone spoil his good mood at getting the better of the Spiders. ‘No worries,’ he said. ‘There’s still a few days till the dog show. We’ll get the three-bob entry somehow.’

  That was easy for Frank to say, thought Tom, as they passed the long line of people lining up at St Mark’s for their bowl of soup. He wasn’t the one who was going to lose his family if they didn’t.

  Tom got home to find their neighbour Ted Sullivan drinking a mug of tea at the kitchen table while Dad hammered away at the sole of a boot. ‘G’day, comrade!’ said Ted. ‘Staying out of trouble?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Sullivan,’ lied Tom, taking the last of the biscuits from the plate on the table. It was so stale and tough that it hurt his jaw to chew.

  ‘Mr Sullivan was my old man’s name. Call me Ted.’

  Ted was the oldest of the four Sullivan brothers who shared the house next door. All of them had been unemployed for over a year, and Mum and Dad were often helping out by mending their boots, darning their socks or whipping up cakes for special occasions.

  Mum took one look at the blood on Tom’s shirt and knew straight away what had happened. ‘Thomas Parker, you’ve been fighting!’ she scolded. ‘Heavens above, I thought we brought you up better than that.’

  ‘Ah, don’t be so hard on him,’ said Dad. ‘I got into plenty of scraps when I was a kid.’

  ‘And just look at where you ended up,’ said Mum. ‘Out of work without a brass razoo in your pocket!’

  Dad’s face crumpled slightly. ‘So now I’m copping the blame for the whole bloomin’ Depression, am I?’ he snapped. ‘It wasn’t the banks and the stockmarket that got us here, it was me getting into the odd blue behind the shelter sheds at school!’

  Mum and Dad had been arguing almost every night. Dad always came home in a bad mood because he couldn’t find work, and Mum was still angry about him throwing all their money away on the Melbourne Cup.

  Ted spoke up. ‘No, it was the banks all right, John. And none of it would have happened if the Communists were in power. I’ve got some pamphlets I can show you –’

  ‘Oh no you don’t, Ted Sullivan,’ said Mum. ‘I won’t have any of that rubbish in my house. And Tom – you’re forbidden from seeing your friends for the rest of the week. You’ll come straight home after school until you’ve learned not to get into fights like some common thug.’

  Tom looked appealingly at Dad, who shrugged and went back to hammering the underside of Ted’s boot. His heart sinking, Tom slunk out of the kitchen and into his bedroom. This was just terrific – he might only have a few days left before he lost the Daredevils forever, and now he wasn’t even allowed to see them outside of school! Still, at least it would give him an excuse to avoid Razor for a few days. He winced as he gently felt the bridge of his swollen nose – that single punch had hurt enough, and he wasn’t too keen on getting any more.

  Petey’s face had been red and blotchy all afternoon, and as the evening went on he came down with a terrible barking cough that made him sound like one of the performing seals at the Exhibition Building Aquarium. Mum kept coming into their bedroom to fuss over him, pressing a cold washer against his forehead as he coughed and cried feverishly. Tom and Dot couldn’t sleep a wink.

  ‘I think he needs a doctor,’ said Tom, as Mum came in with a candle yet again.

  ‘Of course he does,’ said Mum. ‘But we’d have to pay ten and six for that. And at the moment we don’t even have threepence for the pharmacist.’ She patted Petey’s hand anxiously as Tom’s little brother hacked and gasped.

  Dad stumbled into the room rubbing his eyes. ‘Garn,’ he said. ‘We’ve been loyal customers of
Lawson’s for years. I’m going down there right now to ask him for a bottle of cough mixture on credit.’

  ‘But it’s after midnight!’

  ‘Then I’ll just have to flamin’ well wake him up,’ said Dad.

  So as Mum comforted Petey, Dad put on his coat and hat and walked down to Lawson’s Pharmacy on Gertrude Street. There was no chance of getting to sleep now, so Tom sat on Dot’s bed, pretending to be interested as she showed him her royal family of peg dolls for the thousandth time. But in his head he was desperately trying to figure out how to get the three shillings he needed for the dog show. Collecting bottles was out now – and even if Mum would let him leave the house, the Daredevils had already picked the area clean before Razor’s giant bum had ruined everything.

  Tom spent some time trying to figure out what Charles Kingsford Smith would do in this situation, but he couldn’t come up with anything. After all, if Smithy could afford to buy his own aeroplane he’d probably never had to worry about scraping together a few bob.

  Mum was adjusting Petey’s bedclothes. ‘My grandmother always said that a steamed orange with a bit of salt will cure any cough,’ she said. ‘Though at the price Mr Moltisano is charging for oranges this week, I’d swear he was trying to buy his own mansion.’

  Tom didn’t answer. He was trying to imagine what it would be like to have enough money to buy an aeroplane. But he gave up on that game after a few minutes – even before the Depression his family could hardly afford a trip to the beach, and it hurt his brain to think about being able to have anything he wanted.

  Dad burst in holding a brown paper bag. ‘Got it!’ he said. ‘I had to make a fair racket to get old Lawson out of bed, but he was very decent about the whole thing.’

  ‘Thank goodness,’ said Mum. She gave Dad a tired smile, and Dad rested his hand on her shoulder.

  Dot fetched a teaspoon from the kitchen and Mum forced a spoonful of the licorice-smelling liquid into Petey’s mouth. He started crying from the taste of it, but within a few minutes his cough had calmed down and he was breathing softly. Mum blew out the candle and waited beside Petey in the darkness.