Ricky

by Sheila Hunter

  This began quite an interesting friendship. Tad, as he was called, found that his life had changed for the better, but not without some misgivings. Ricky insisted on complete cleanliness and many a battle raged before that state was reached to Ricky's satisfaction. He threw away Tad's collection of rags which he had called clothes and Ricky spent some of his hard earned savings to buy the boy some more. Tad was extremely pleased with the result but once clean could not see the purpose of having to continue in that state. He felt the minimum of cleanliness was much more desirable, in fact could not see much use of water in any form except for drinking.

  Tad improved amazingly and was quite prepared to adapt himself to his new friend. Ricky found that he was an intelligent boy and thought that he must have had some decent antecedents, of whom Tad was very hazy. He had been "cared for" by some old woman he called "Gamma", but exactly who she was he was not sure. She had died some months before and he didn't seem to have many pleasant memories of her. She gave him enough food to exist but that was about all. He felt that he had fallen on his feet now and was quite co-operative and willing to fit in with Ricky's way of life.

  Ricky felt that he had taken on quite a burden though, and had to shelve his plans to get a barrow. But Tad was quick to learn and soon he was able to help in running messages and even carrying stories to the newspaper and getting cabs for the reporters. So as Tad developed the day came when Ricky drew out of his store of money and bought a barrow and the business that went with it . He would go to the markets early each morning and buy the best quality fruit and vegetables that he could and proceeded to sell them to the passers-by in Martin Place. He was soon known as a good, fair business man and he built up quite a clientele. He later added flowers to his range of products and quickly learned how to present them in a way that made people stop and look and of course, buy.

  Ricky's first winter as a barrow man was a very difficult one. It once more was a very wet season and he found that it was no fun to be standing out in the rain getting soaked to the skin. He got influenza when the cold was at its peak and had to depend on Tad to help him push the barrow to its usual place. He was later able to buy a driver's cape at Ma Parker's secondhand store which gave him greater comfort. He was determined that as soon as he could he would get himself into a shop, expanding his business greatly. But the thought of paying rent for such a place was a bit daunting to a lad of his years.

  Tad was a much more in touch with the seamier side of life in Sydney than Ricky had ever been. He was the sort of boy who apparently knew everyone and knew about everything that happened. He had a real nose for a good story. So much so that Ricky thought he would have a good future as a reporter if he could only teach him how to read and write properly. Tad hadn't been willing to learn those skills. Ricky had found that if he could get an idea into Tad that something was worthwhile, the boy would work with a will, but the big problem was getting him to that state, and reading and writing so far had no interest to him.

  The problem sorted itself out one day when Tad had found two stories for the newspaper at the same time. He was torn between running back to the office and reporting the first story and missing out on the second. He realised that if he had been able to get the first story down on paper he could have sent it to the office by cab. It made him think. That night he suggested to Ricky that he might be willing to give this writing stuff a try. He never looked back, and was soon proficient enough to get down on paper the bare bones of any scoop that might come his way. In the meantime he was always able to tell Mr Hughes a story with great lucidity, putting the facts together in a way that astounded the man.

  Of course, Mr Hughes, knew Tad quite well by this time, in fact he saw more of Tad than Ricky. Tad was much chattier than Ricky and was forever prattling away to the editor and telling him everything that happened to them. The younger lad was encouraged by the editor to bring his writings to him and he would help in the basics of grammar. He became so interested in him that he offered to give him an hour's instruction each afternoon after he finished work. It was not long before Ricky joined in these lessons as he had usually sold his stock by that time in the afternoon and didn't want to miss such a great opportunity to improve himself.

  Ricky's idea of renting a shop had to be put away once more for he soon acquired another dependent. The boys had noticed a lame boy hovering outside their door on numerous occasions. When Ricky spoke to him he would turn and hobble away. He asked Tad if he knew him, but Tad was a bit off-hand about him, and didn't really give a coherent answer. He told Ricky that his name was Will and that he seemed to eke out an existence by begging.

  One night while they were eating their evening meal, which was cooked in the communal kitchen of the lodging house, there was a knock at the door. Ricky found Will there.

  "Kin oi come in?" he asked.

  "I suppose so, but what do you want? Will, isn't it?" asked Ricky.

  "Yus, it's Will," was the reply.

  "What can we do for you?" Ricky asked again.

  Will pointed to Tad and said, "'E said, yer might take me in. Will yer?"

  Ricky turned to Tad and said, "Did you say that? You said you didn't know him. What's all this about?" he turned again to Will.

  "Oi ain't got no-where ter go," he said. "Kin Oi stay 'ere?"

  Ricky looked from one boy to the other. Tad was sitting with his bowl in his hands looking rather sheepish. "Come on, Tad, say something."

  "He's decent, true he is Rick. Give 'im a go," said Tad, putting his bowl down on the floor.

  "But, Tad, I'm finding it hard enough to do all I have to do now, I can't take any one else on. You know that," protested Ricky.

  "He don't eat much," said Tad.

  "Oi done eat much," the small boy echoed, nodding his head enthusiastically.

  Ricky looked at him and said, "He doesn't look as though he has ever eaten anything. But what am I supposed to be, some charity or something? Tad I can't."

  "Oi don' eat much," said Will, again, "Oi don' really. Jes' a crust'll do."

  Ricky threw his hands up in horror. "Did you cook this up between you?"

  Tad stood up, looked at Ricky and said, "Listen Rick, I am bringing in some money now and we could manage it, true we could. And I'll work harder. Maybe I'll get a job or something. Maybe he could stay here and keep the place clean or something, or cook or something."

  Ricky marveled at the way Tad spoke. He didn't drop an "h" and had chosen his words carefully to impress the older lad. Obviously his lessons with Mr Hughes were paying off. He must have rehearsed his speech well.

  "You're a young rat, Tad. You schemer," and smiled.

  The other boys relaxed but Will was still wondering what the outcome would be, when Ricky said, "Here you share your dinner with him as I've eaten mine, then you can go up and get some hot water and scrub him down. I'm not having any crawlies in here, and he looks as though he has brought plenty."

  Tad shoved his bowl at Will and told, "Here. Sit. You're in."

  Ricky played no part in the cleaning operations but lay on his bed reading while it was going on. When Will was as clean as Tad could make him the boy was red and shivering. Tad went through his meagre supply of clothes and shared them out. Ricky watched covertly and was pleased to see how the sharing went, for Tad gave him not his worst clothes but divided them fairly. The clothes hung loosely on the small boy but his beaming face showed his pleasure.

  Will had apparently been on the streets most of his life. As he couldn't run messages or do anything useful he usually stole what he needed or begged for coppers. His thin little body was emaciated and as Ricky watched him he wondered how many more boys there were in that same state. He knew from bitter experience how hard it was to keep body and soul together and again mentally thanked old Tom for the many nights he had been able to shelter in the stable.

  "There should be places where kids like us could live decently without being put into orphan homes," Ricky said to the others.


  Ricky found that taking Will in was the easiest part. This boy had no morals at all. He had never had any teaching of any kind and thought that anything was fair game. Stealing was second nature to him and he didn't seem to be able to learn that you just couldn't help yourself, even if you weren't caught doing it. He ate like an animal and had no idea of hygiene at all. Truth was something quite foreign to him. He was a trial.

  Tad and Ricky had their work cut out trying to keep Will on the straight and narrow. Nothing Ricky could say made any difference, Will just didn't understand. He looked upon Ricky as general provider and thought it was fair game to steal anything removable in the room and hock it at any of the dubious shops that abounded that would give money for such goods. He certainly was a trial.

  In the end Ricky left him to Tad to deal with, for when Tad dropped his newly found grammar and spoke to him in his old gutter language it had some effect. Ricky found it very interesting to watch the education of Will proceed and noted after some time that there was an improvement, but it didn't happen over night.

  "Blimey, Will yer'll be the death o'me," said Tad one evening when Will had been particularly trying. He had been so tried that he had dropped into his old speech, which always seemed to happen under duress.

  The older boys thought that Will would be a lot better if they could find something to do, but they racked their brains and so far had not come up with anything. Will was quite jealous of the other's sessions with the editor and couldn't understand why the boys were so keen to attend, but Ricky and Tad knew that they couldn't trust Will to sit tight and just listen, they knew he would help himself to anything that was lying around. They usually had a frisking session after they had been anywhere, such as in a shop where they bought food.

  One day after Will had performed once more at being left on his own, they took him with them, introducing him to Mr Hughes, and warning him that he mustn’t touch a thing. He promised, but the others knew just how much they could believe that and decided that if they made a proper search of the boy before they left, it should be all right.

  Will was made to sit in Mr Hughes office in a big chair, which really pleased him, for he had never sat in an upholstered chair before. He sat quite still listening to the lesson that was going on for a time, and then, as the other three had their heads down working hard he slipped out of the chair and wandered around the office. He walked over to a tall sloped desk where he was surprised to find a man working. The man was sketching things on paper in lightning strokes which fascinated the boy. Will stood open-mouthed as the man seemed to make the pencil marks come alive. He was so still that the man was not conscious of him for a time. But slowly the consciousness of being watched came to him and he turned to find a scraggy urchin taking it all in.

  "Where did you come from?" he was asked. "You shouldn't be here."

  Will's eyes were still glued to the drawings. He just pointed to Mr Hughes office. "I comed wi' 'em, over there," he said. "Ow jer do thet, Mister. "Ow jer do them pichers?"

  "Haven't you seen anyone draw before?" asked the man.

  "Nah, wot's draw."

  "That's what I am doing. I am drawing. You see I take some paper and then a pencil and I draw what I need to draw. For the newspaper, you see." The artist took a fresh piece of paper and drew a few lines on it and built up more and more until he had drawn a cat with a mouse.

  "Caw, ain't thet grand. Do some more," Will said.

  "I am not here to draw for you, my lad. I have work to do. I have to have something ready for tomorrow's paper. Here. Here's some paper and a pencil. You have a try. Sit over there." The man pointed to an empty desk. He lifted the small boy onto a tall stool before the sloped desk and put some sheets of paper down and gave him a pencil. Will settled himself down and the man watched him for a while, and then said, "No don't hold the pencil that way. Do it this way and hold it lightly. Now look what you've done, you've broken it." He took a knife from his pocket and proceeded to sharpen the pencil. "Look, sonny, hold the pencil like that, softly. So soft that you can pull it through your fingers. Then put soft strokes on the paper. See."

  Will bent over the paper with a forceful expression on his little sharp face and his tongue protruding from his mouth and drew some lines on it. His mentor said, "That's no good. Look, sit up a bit and relax. I mean, loosen up and let the lines flow. Here, let me hold your hand and get the feel of it. Just stroke it like a cat. There, got the idea?"

  Will did as he was asked and soon was putting soft lines and then hard lines all over the paper. He had a glorious time and forgot to notice that Ricky and Tad were finished their lesson. They walked over to him with the editor.

  "Got a pupil of your own, Colin?" Mr Hughes asked.

  "Yes, sir. The lad has never seen anyone put pencil to paper before, I do declare. He's making his way now, though. Is it all right if I send him off with off-cuts and some pencils, sir?"

  "Yes, certainly. I was going to give some to Tad and Ricky anyway. By the way, I don't know if you have met my pupils." He introduced the boys to Colin Fraser.

  "Are you Mr Fraser who does those wonderful drawings of people?" asked Tad.

  "I am glad you like them, lad. You're the one who wants to be a reporter, aren't you?"

  "Yes, sir, I am," answered Tad.

  Fraser looked at the editor, "Seems as though we have a budding artist here, Mr Hughes. Look what he's done first off, and he hadn't seen a drawing before today. Not bad for a first effort. Keep it up, sonny. If I can help you at anytime, I would like to. Is that all right, sir?"

  CHAPTER 4 Ricky, Tad and Will

  It was still very hot at 5 o'clock when Tad joined Ricky at the barrow. There was still quite a lot of fruit left on Ricky's barrow, but he had had a good day and was packing up as Tad joined him.

  "Had a good day, Tad?" Ricky asked.

  "Busy," said Tad. "Look what I made." He held out his hand and Ricky saw that he had not only coppers but quite a few silver coins.

  "You sure did," said Ricky. "What did you do to earn all that?"

  "Everyone seemed to want messages taken this morning. An' you know thet solicitor, thet I telled yer ... "

  "Told you, Tad," put in Ricky.

  "Well, all right. You know that solicitor fellow I told you about?" Tad mouthed carefully.

  "The one in Pitt Street? Yes, what about him?"

  "He's given me a job. I have to go to him every morning and deliver things for him. You know papers an' things. An' then he'll tell me if I have to go back in the afternoon. What d'yer think o' thet? What's more he pays me each message I run. He pays me for each one an' he says I'm quick and reliable."

  "Great, Tad. I can see us being able to eat like lords if we are both earning."

  Tad helped Ricky pack the remaining fruit into the boxes that Ricky kept under the barrow and together they pushed it back to their room. They parked the barrow in the back yard and carried in the boxes, where they were stored until the next day. They nudged their way through the door and stood gazing at the scene before them.

  "What's going on, Will?" asked Ricky.

  "Have you used all that paper, you young devil?" demanded Tad crossly. "Come on have you used it all? What am I going to do my work on?"

  Tad put the box that he was carrying down on the floor and looked at the crippled boy. Will was sitting on the floor surrounded by sheets of paper that were covered with all sorts of pencil marks. Apparently the boy had spent the day drawing continuously. Gone was the pile of off-cut sheets that they had collected the night before, which Tad had left neatly on the rickety table.

  "Lok wot ah done, Ricky. See Tad, I bin drawrin'. It's good, drawrin'"

  The older boys bent down and picked up some of the used sheets. Will had been drawing all right. Some were covered with scribbles, but on some there was a real attempt at making the lines mean something.

  "You enjoyed it, did you, Will? Its good to see that you had something to do," said Ricky. "But you'd better go carefully
with the paper. We don't get it easily, you know."

  "But the little blighter 'as used it all up. 'ow am I going to do me work?" asked Tad indignantly. "You could'a kept some for us, Will. In any case did yer get anything for us to eat? What did yer get with the money we left for you?"

  "Gee, Tad, I didn' think abaht thet. I jes' bin drawrin'"

  "You mean you've been drawing all day, Will?" asked Ricky.

  "Yus, an' I bruk the pencil and a' didn' know how to fix it. We ain't got a sharp knife like thet Mr Fraser, but I did it."

  "How?"

  "Look I took it ahtside on the stones and rubbed it." Will held out what was left of the pencil and the others laughed. He must have rubbed most of it away.

  This was the beginning for a budding artist. Will accompanied the other boys to the newspaper office when they had their lessons with Mr Hughes. Sometimes Fraser was there and those sessions were a delight to the lad. At other times when the illustrator was away Will would leave the drawings he had done on the desk, and then live in a state of excitement until he could hear what his teacher thought about them. He tried drawing everything, as Mr Fraser had told him to. One day he took in a drawing of a boot and Mr Fraser was able then to give him a lesson in perspective.