A Necessary Evil

by Bruce Venables

  Tommy Bromley couldn’t believe his luck. The ship-to-shore telegram from the S.S. Oronsiana had arrived a week earlier. It informed him that Josie was on board and that the ship would be docking in Sydney at Circular Quay in a week.

  He moved anxiously through the crowd on the dock. The ship’s hooter was blaring out a welcome as she moved alongside the wharf. He searched the faces on the weather deck and then the upper deck, but couldn’t see Josie. Panic began to rise within him. Maybe she isn’t on it, he panicked. Don’t be stupid, he reasoned, you’ve got the telegram in your hand, of course she’s on it.

  The gangways opened and passengers began to flow from the vessel. Long-lost relatives fell into each other’s arms and reunited lovers wept together. Tom searched the sea of faces. Where was she! The panic rose in him again.

  ‘Hello, Tommy,’ the voice behind him was deep and warm. He turned and there she was, smiling that Mona Lisa smile of hers. He didn’t react for a moment, just stood staring at her, then his arms went around her waist and he whispered her name as he buried his face in her hair.

  He took her face between his hands. ‘Oh Jose, I didn’t dare even hope,’ he whispered and kissed her.

  ‘I told you I’d come back,’ she said joyfully. ‘I told you I’d come back, you stupid boy!’ She kissed him long and hard. ‘Now take me home, Tommy.’

  Life was good to the Bromleys in the three years after Josie’s return. She was not fully recovered in the physical sense. She suffered bouts of fatigue and depression, but being a nurse she was able to recognise the symptoms and deal with them. She was also fully aware of the insidious nature of leukemia. Remission, she knew, was like sunny autumn weather—it could end as suddenly as it had begun. But they were together again and that was all that really mattered.

  It took a year for Josie to register the changes in Tommy. Changes in his character. He lacked any purpose. He didn’t seem to care about his work. He didn’t talk about his workmates and seemed not to have any friends in the job any more. At first Josie put it down to the terrible deaths of George Everard and Knocker Reid, but as time went on, she realised his problems were more complex. There was a sadness in him she could not draw out.

  Money also seemed to be of no importance to Tom. Not that there was any shortage of it. Anything Josie wanted was granted without hesitation.

  Tommy knew she’d catch him out eventually and, in a way, was relieved when it happened. It started with the arrival of a letter from their bank manager. Josie opened it to discover that the mortgage on their house had been finalised while she’d been in Austria and the bank was offering them an unlimited line of credit. When he arrived home that night he’d answered all her questions. Before he knew it he’d told her everything. Everything, that is, except the truth about the deaths of Everard and Reid. He couldn’t bring himself to admit that to her. That was something he could never voice and she would never forgive.

  Josie had taken it well. She’d understood his reasons for taking the dirty money and surprised him by saying she would have done precisely the same thing had she been forced to choose between corruption and his life. What she said next, however, knocked him for a six. She said she wanted to sell the house and give the money to the Salvation Army.

  ‘What!!’ Bromley couldn’t believe his ears.

  ‘It’s dirty money that bought this house, Tom. It doesn’t belong to us. We’re still young. We can buy another house with honest money. Like we were doing before I got sick. And no more dirty money, all right?’ she said as she took his hand and led him upstairs to their bed.

  Since her return their love-making had been even more complete than it had been before her illness. A desperation caused them to cling together and whisper lovers’ words. They had been confronted with the possibility of premature death and quickly realised that every single moment spent locked in each other’s embrace was priceless. Every single moment was a strand in the web of memory.

  Tommy had bitten the bullet. He’d gone to Harold, his new boss, and told him he wanted out.

  Harold had agreed. ‘I’ll arrange it for you Tom if that’s really what you want.’

  ‘It is, Harold. I want some peace of mind. Josie’s back and I want my time with her.’

  ‘I understand completely,’ said Harold sympathetically. ‘I lost my wife, you know.’ He looked hard at Bromley. ‘You realise, of course, that your new posting will be a dead end?’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And it’ll have to be somewhere close so I can keep an eye on you.’

  Bromley nodded. ‘You’ve got no worries with me, as long as you leave me alone.’

  ‘Consider it done.’ Harold lowered his head to his paperwork and Bromley opened the office door. ‘And you’ve got no worries with us as long as you keep your mouth shut.’

  Bromley turned back, but Harold had not even lifted his head. He was writing out Bromley’s transfer papers.

  The transfer orders had arrived in three days. He was the new Officer-in-Charge of Personnel and Records. Along with the Information Bureau and the Prosecution Section it was the most dead-end shitkicking job in the whole police force. But Tom didn’t mind. He had Josie and that was all that mattered.

  They sold the house and did what Josie wanted; they gave the money away. Half to the Cancer Research Foundation and half to the Salvos. Tom would never forget the look on the face of the Salvation Army Captain when Josie handed him the cheque. The bloke simply beamed like a kid who’d won a prize at school.

  For two more years he’d loved her.

  ‘Inspector Bromley?’ the voice over the phone was concerned and efficient. ‘It’s the Admissions Sister here from St Vincent’s Hospital. Doctor Miller asked me to contact you. Your wife was admitted an hour ago. She collapsed at the local supermarket and was conveyed here by ambulance. She’s suffered very severe blood loss. Doctor said you should hurry.’

  He’d found Miller in the Intensive Care Unit pacing up and down the corridor.

  ‘Thank God you got here,’ said Miller wearily.

  ‘What’s the matter with her?’ said Tommy with a sinking heart.

  The doctor looked grave. ‘It’s the leukemia, Tom. I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do for her.’

  ‘Leukemia can’t just come back overnight!’

  ‘It didn’t,’ he said gently. ‘Josie’s known for three months. She didn’t want you to know until it was too late.’

  ‘Too late?’ Bromley searched the doctor’s eyes.

  ‘You’d better say goodbye, Tom. She’ll slip into a coma before long and she won’t come back.’

  Tommy entered through the airlock door and stood at the foot of his wife’s bed. The Ward Sister had supplied him with a gown and mask which made him feel alien, remote. Josie opened her eyes, smiled and raised her hand slightly from the bed. He moved to her side and took her hand in his own.

  ‘Take that mask off,’ she whispered. ‘I want to see you.’

  Tommy placed the mask on the bed cover. ‘You’re looking pretty good for a girl who just had an accident, aren’t you?’ The forced lightness in his tone sounded desperate.

  ‘Let’s not waste time, darling,’ she smiled. ‘We don’t have much of it left.’

  Tears sprang up behind his eyes as her words sank in. ‘It’s not fair, Jose. It’s not bloody fair.’

  ‘Sshhhh,’ she murmured and squeezed his hand. ‘They’re waiting for me to go.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I don’t know. They’re just voices, warm voices. They’re waiting until I’m ready to go. I told them I must see you first.’

  ‘Oh, Josie. Please don’t do this.’ The tears rolled down his cheeks.

  ‘I said they’d have to share me with you for a while. So sit with me until I have to go.’

  Tommy sat holding his wife’s hand and listening to her frail, shallow breathing. He was lost for words. After several minutes Josie’s eyes flicked open.

  ‘Tommy? Do you love me?’


  ‘Always, Jose. Always.’ His voice was thick with emotion.

  ‘I love you too.’

  Once again her eyes closed and her breathing slowed even more. Tommy watched her and cried silently. He cried for Josie and he cried for himself and all the while visions of George Everard crept into his mind. He knew what they meant. He knew he couldn’t leave things unsaid. He had to confess to Josie. He had to cleanse his soul of guilt. He couldn’t leave the lie between them. He lay his forehead on her hand.

  ‘Josie. I have to tell you something.’ Bromley held his breath and sighed deeply before continuing. ‘It’s about George Everard, Jose. I … I … knew they were going to kill him. I knew they were going to kill him and I didn’t do anything to stop them. I wanted you to know. Please understand, darling …’ He was crying uncontrollably. He raised his head to look at his wife, hoping to find forgiveness.

  It was obvious at a glance that she was gone.

  ‘Josie? Darling?’ Tommy bowed his head. He leaned over and kissed her on the lips. The faint smile on her face was beatific. Wherever she’d gone she was happy. Tom Bromley wished with all his heart that he could be there with her.

  That had been Christmas Eve, 1965, Tommy thought, as his mind rolled back to the present. A couple more months and she’ll have been gone ten years. He shook his head and suddenly became aware of the young couple at the bar. He’d been gazing at them shortsightedly, barely seeing them as he lost himself in memories. Now he realised that they were staring at him. He blushed, embarrassed and busied himself fussing over his meal. The sausages were cold and the gravy congealed.

  He got to his feet, desperate to be gone from the place.

  ‘I’ll bet you he was a cop,’ Shayne Everard said as he signalled the barmaid for another round of drinks.

  ‘Who?’ his sister Penelope asked as she reached to the floor for her shoulder bag.

  ‘That old bloke who was staring at us.’ Shayne indicated the table Tommy had just vacated.

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  Shayne shrugged. ‘He’s got that look about him. Old-time copper. Probably doing a desk job at Police Headquarters.’

  ‘He looked sad. He hardly touched his food.’ Penelope got up from her bar stool. ‘I’m going to the loo, won’t be long.’

  Shayne watched his sister go as he paid for the drinks being placed before him.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  Shayne turned towards the voice and his heart leapt into his throat. The girl standing beside him was straight off the cover of Vogue magazine. She sat on the stool Penelope had been using and Shayne could just see her knickers as the incredibly short miniskirt she was wearing rode further up her legs.

  ‘I have yen,’ the girl said.

  ‘Me too,’ Shayne replied, nonplussed.

  ‘No not “a yen”. Yen.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘The girl waved a Japanese bank note in front of him. ‘Japanese money. Can you change it for me?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ Shayne croaked, feeling out of his depth and embarrassed.

  The girl smiled. ‘I just flew in from Japan and I haven’t got any Aussie money. Can you change this for me?’

  Shayne dragged his eyes away from her legs. ‘How much is it worth?’

  ‘The current exchange rate is 382.15 yen to the dollar. This is a ten thousand yen note. Give me thirty bucks we’ll call it square.’

  ‘I don’t have a lot of cash on me and I’m taking my sister to dinner,’ he said hesitantly.

  ‘That’s okay.’ The girl smiled and began to rise. ‘I’ll try somebody else.’

  ‘No!’ Shayne encouraged her to sit back on the stool. ‘I … er I can fix it! Wait here, I won’t be long.’ He pointed to the pile of money on the bar. ‘Buy yourself a drink out of my change—I’ll be five minutes.’ He got up and headed for the door, then returned to the young woman. ‘My sister will be back here in a minute; her name’s Penelope. Introduce yourself and wait for me. Promise you won’t go away.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Zoe.’ She smiled brilliantly and held out her hand. ‘Zoe Collingwood. What’s yours?’

  Shayne took the proffered hand and his mind froze. ‘Aaah … Shayne … Shayne …’

  ‘Shayne Shayne?’ she teased.

  ‘I mean … aah … Shayne Everard.’

  Her smile widened. ‘Well, I’m pleased to meet you, Shayne Everard.’

  ‘Me too.’ Shayne stared at her. She was too beautiful for words.

  ‘May I have my hand back?’

  ‘What?’ Shayne realised he was still pumping her hand. ‘Oh shit! Sorry.’ He pulled his own hand back as if he’d burnt it. ‘Will you wait here?’

  ‘I already said I would,’ she replied and began to laugh.

  Shayne took off for the door, his face red as beetroot, and bumped into his sister.

  ‘Watch where you’re going, stupid!’ she said affectionately.

  ‘Pen!’ Shayne grabbed her by the shoulders. ‘Pen, there’s a girl sitting on your bar stool. If she’s not there when I get back, your life will end abruptly. Do you understand?’

  ‘What?’

  But Shayne had already left.

  ‘Detective Buck please,’ Shayne said into the phone, ‘yes I’ll wait.’ He began pacing up and down in front of the telephone. ‘Hello, John? It’s Shayne. I’m in the Rose and Crown. Do you still want a date with my sister?’

  ‘You told me you’d kill me if I went anywhere near her,’ John Buck answered down the line.

  ‘Well, things have changed.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘Just get to the pub now!’ Shayne said urgently. ‘And bring some extra money with you—I need to borrow thirty-eight bucks until pay day!’

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Never mind that!’ hurried Shayne, desperate to get back to the bar. ‘Get to the pub! You’ve got thirty minutes or I’ll punch your fucking lights out!’

  ‘I see you two have introduced yourselves,’ said Shayne as he returned to the bar.

  ‘Where have you been?’ asked Penelope.

  Shayne ignored her question. ‘Guess what?’ he laughed and patted his sister on the shoulder. ‘You remember John Buck? Well, he wants to take you to dinner, Pen, so I just arranged it.’

  Her confusion was obvious. ‘But you said if I went anywhere near him you’d kill me!’

  ‘I was joking!’ He laughed again. ‘Can’t you take a joke? John’s a great bloke and you’re in Sydney for the weekend. Besides, he owes me some money and he’s bringing it over, so I thought we might make it a foursome for dinner. What do you say?’

  ‘I see.’ Penelope nodded her head and produced a wry smile. ‘So how long have you two known each other?’

  Zoe intervened. ‘We only just met—’

  ‘Again!’ Shayne interrupted. ‘… After five years—isn’t that right, Zoe?’

  Now it was Zoe’s turn to smile. ‘Yes, that’s right,’ she looked into his eyes, ‘after five years.’

  ‘Well, well, well. What a coincidence.’ Penelope pulled out her purse. ‘Let’s have another round, on me, and we’ll drink to coincidence.’

  ‘Great idea, sis.’ Shayne laughed and put his arm around Zoe. ‘Five years eh, Zoe girl? Seems like only yesterday, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It sure does, Shaynie boy!’ Zoe replied and the look she gave him sent his senses reeling.

  The three had no sooner received fresh drinks, when John Buck arrived out of breath.

  ‘There’s nothing like a sprint through the park to make you realise you’re unfit,’ he gasped and leaned against the bar-rail. In the same motion he removed forty dollars from his pocket and slipped it unnoticed into Shayne’s hand.

  ‘There you go,’ said Shayne as he waved the money at Zoe, ‘thirty-eight dollars for ten thousand yen. You owe me two bucks. I’ll get it from you at dinner.’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t go to dinner with y
ou, Shayne.’ Zoe placed the notes in her purse.

  ‘What??’

  ‘I’m meeting someone,’ she continued, standing up and straightening her dress. ‘Thanks for the money. You’re a darling.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Whoa! I’m late. Gotta run.’ She leaned forward, kissed Shayne on the cheek and was gone.

  Shayne stood for several seconds, mouth open in shock, then turned to his sister and John Buck. ‘Do you believe that? The girl of my dreams and she’s gone. I didn’t even get her telephone number.’

  Neither Penelope nor John responded to him. They were staring into each other’s eyes like school kids on a first date.

  ‘Excuse me!’ Shayne tapped John on the shoulder. ‘I said the girl of my dreams is gone.’

  ‘Eh? Oh, sorry mate, I wasn’t listening.’ John Buck took Penelope’s arm as she stood up. ‘Well, we’ll be off then. See you later.’

  When they were almost at the door, Penelope turned back. ‘Oh, by the way, brother dear, just remember: this was your idea.’

  Before Shayne could summon a reply they were gone.

  Bondi Beach on a sunny Saturday morning is just the place to work off a hangover and Shayne had worked desperately to rid himself of the effects of the beer he’d consumed the night before. He’d jogged sixteen lengths of the beach and engaged in a heavy battle with the surf. As he threw himself onto the sand, gasping for breath, he could sense the first signs of recovery from what he’d first suspected was alcohol poisoning. He rolled over onto his back and let the sun’s healing rays permeate his tanned body, then he sat up and looked out over the shimmering ocean.

  Shayne never tired of Bondi Beach. He’d loved it since he was a little kid. The huge stretch of white sand, the rolling ocean waves, the old Bondi Pavilion, the shop fronts that seemed never to change, the Icebergs Club with its salt water pool jutting out into the ocean. He loved it all.

  Shayne had shared a flat on the corner of Campbell Parade and Lamrock Avenue, right on the beach front, when he’d been a university student and had hated leaving the area when he’d joined the police force. Since transferring from Dubbo to detective work in Sydney, he’d found a one-room flat back on Campbell Parade and had never been happier.