Taking a Chance

by Deborah Burrows

  He was apprehensive. ‘They’re drunk. I’m injured. It could get nasty if you try to interfere, and I can’t do much to help you out.’

  ‘It’ll be fine.’

  When I started to rise, he grabbed my wrist. ‘Nellie, be careful,’ he said.

  Skin on skin, it was like an electrical charge and I gasped. That made me angry and I glared at him. ‘Don’t call me Nellie.’

  I shook off his hand and jumped up from my chair.

  ‘Oh my gosh, it is you,’ I said, crossing over to their table. ‘Evie! I hardly recognised you. You are going to be in big trouble when you get home.’

  Four pairs of eyes were fixed on me. Evie seemed to be asleep. I shook her shoulder.

  ‘Evie, it’s me, Nell. You’ll be in big trouble if you don’t come home now.’ I addressed the group, ‘I’m her cousin. She’s only fourteen, and she shouldn’t be out drinking.’

  Evie didn’t move her head, but opened her eyes widely; they were blue and unfocused.

  ‘I’m fifteen next month,’ she said dreamily. ‘So that counts as fifteen.’

  Her eyes closed again and she snuggled into Earl’s shoulder.

  ‘Hey, you leave her alone.’ This was Earl; I was tugging at Evie’s arm, trying to pull her up and off him.

  ‘You heard her, she’s not even fifteen. She should be at home, not drinking with sailors.’

  His voice was harsh. ‘I don’t believe that you are her cousin. I think you’re a busybody who should mind her own business.’

  He stood up, hauling an almost comatose Evie with him. ‘The young lady and I are leaving now.’

  My chin came up and I met his eyes squarely. My heart was beating so fast that I felt slightly faint, but I shook my head slowly. ‘Evie is staying with me. She’s fourteen and it’s a crime for you to go anywhere with her.’

  The other sailor, Larry, had also risen to his feet and was standing by Earl. They were both big men and they looked mean and angry. I realised, belatedly, that Johnny was right, and they were both drunk. My cousins had warned me about men and drink, how it made them unpredictable and violent. Rob had warned me about acting without thinking through the consequences: he thought I did it too often.

  I wished that one or more of my rowdy cousins were here now, because they could all take care of themselves in a fight, even Father Gerard. Dan, Charlie, Frank or Mick would have made short work of these fellows. The Dillon boys together could take on the world.

  ‘Oh, let her go, Earl,’ said Ida in a twittery voice, eyes wide with fear. ‘We don’t know Evie at all really. She might be her cousin, like she says.’

  ‘Now, fellers.’ It was Johnny’s voice, low and very reasonable. ‘Leave the girl. She’s too young. Our shore patrol and the Perth anti-vice squad aren’t at all happy about underage girls messing around with sailors.’

  ‘And they’re on their way,’ said Alma from the kitchen doorway. ‘I just telephoned them.’

  ‘Then we’d better leave,’ said Earl. ‘But Evie’s coming with us. Interfering bitch.’

  The last words were addressed to me as he started dragging Evie with him towards the door. She seemed to be waking up and whimpered softly.

  ‘You’re hurting me. Let go.’ She tried to shake free of him, but he had her in a hard grip.

  ‘Shhh, baby,’ he murmured, holding her close against his body. ‘You’ll be fine.’

  ‘This is crazy,’ said Johnny, now addressing Larry. ‘You won’t get far, and you’ll end up in the brig.’ Larry looked worried.

  ‘Let her go, Earl.’ He sounded uncertain. ‘There’s other dames.’

  Alma had marched to the door. ‘You’re not leaving this cafe with that little girl. I’m telling you now: it’s not happening.’ She was an incongruous guardian angel in her pink apron and frilly cap, but her face was grim and determined.

  I ran around behind Earl and Larry to join Alma at the door.

  ‘You’ll have to get past both of us,’ I said. Alma looked approvingly at me, but my voice sounded a lot less determined than hers. In fact, it sounded high and scared. Earl’s hand formed into a fist.

  Johnny was standing by our table, frowning. What could he do? He could scarcely walk, let alone fight. I saw him sigh.

  In his slow, rather dragging way Johnny walked up to Earl and Evie and stood in front of them. Earl regarded him with wary belligerence. Without any warning, Johnny grabbed the girl, pulled her away from Earl and almost threw her to me. She was awake now, but a dead weight in my arms. Somehow I managed to keep her from hitting the floor. Before Earl could react, Johnny used both hands to take firm hold of the collar of Earl’s uniform. He pushed Earl back suddenly, before ducking his own head as he pulled Earl’s head towards him. Earl’s face made contact with the top of Johnny’s forehead. There was a loud cracking sound and Earl fell to the floor, blood pouring from his nose.

  ‘Do you want the same?’ Johnny shouted at Larry. All of a sudden, Johnny seemed very dangerous indeed.

  Larry’s hands went up in a gesture of peace.

  ‘Then get him out of here before the shore patrol arrives.’

  Earl was shaking his head and trying to rise, but he was obviously disoriented; his nose was still bleeding and there was blood on his white uniform. Larry took hold of Earl’s arm and hauled him to his feet, then dragged him towards the door as Alma and I backed away from it. Once through the door, they disappeared into the crowds on the footpath.

  ‘Dublin kiss,’ said Alma to me.

  I was busy trying to keep Evie upright. ‘What?’

  ‘That’s what it’s called: the Dublin kiss. Street thugs use it,’ she said dismissively, but I could see that she was impressed.

  Johnny’s smile was self-deprecating. ‘I grew up in Chicago and my name was Horvath. I learned how to take care of myself. Anyhow, the guy was drunk, slowed him down.’ He looked at me. ‘Nell Fitzgerald, please don’t ever scare me like that again.’

  ‘I think you’re a horrible man.’ This was from Ida, who was crying loudly at the table. ‘Why’d you have to do that? They were nice.’

  ‘Oh shut up, Ida,’ said Shirley. ‘They weren’t nice at all. They haven’t been pawing you all day. Let’s go home. I’m tired.’

  Shirley took Ida’s arm and pulled her to the door. She flicked me a glance when they got there. Evie’s head was heavy on my shoulder, but she was watching everything with wide, slightly unfocused blue eyes.

  ‘She’s only a kid,’ Shirley said to me. ‘I knew she was too young, but she wouldn’t go away. Kept hanging around us. I don’t think she’s got anywhere to go.’

  ‘It’s all her fault,’ said Ida, sniffing.

  ‘Nothing happened to her,’ said Shirley. ‘We were dancing until late and I kept an eye on her. We got a few hours’ kip at the railway station and met those sailors. They had booze and we’ve been drinking with them most of the afternoon. Mind you, Evie’s a terrible tease. But if they were going to try to get a hotel room tonight I would’ve blown the whistle on her. She’s too young.’

  ‘You’re pretty young too,’ I said.

  Shirley’s smile was wistful. ‘I’m eighteen, and I’m married. My hubby is in a Nip POW camp. We got married just before he shipped out. He was in Singapore when it fell and they took him prisoner.’ She nodded towards Ida. ‘She’s married too. Her hubby’s fighting in New Guinea.’

  She must have seen something in my expression because her face twisted with an emotion I couldn’t read. ‘We just want a good time,’ she said. ‘Then I can forget what Bill’s going through. He’s only twenty.’ The look in her eyes implored my understanding. ‘I think I’m going mad sometimes, when I think about Bill in that camp.’

  With a little shake of her head, she took Ida’s arm and they slipped out the door.

  bout ten minutes later, a plainclothes policeman and policewoman arrived at the cafe, brushing water off their coats as they entered. They told us that they were the anti-vice squad. They were accompa
nied by three members of the US shore patrol, easily identified by the ‘SP’ on their armbands and the truncheons they were carrying. The Americans were big men and even without the armbands somehow you just knew they were The Law; it was something about their manner. From the amount of water they all tracked in with them it was clear that it was raining heavily, and I was worried about how I’d manage to get home without a drenching. My pretty straw hat could not survive that.

  After Johnny and Alma explained the situation the shore patrol departed in search of Earl and Larry, leaving Evie to the anti-vice squad. Constable Nora McKittrick was aged around thirty with soft brown hair and kind brown eyes. Her face darkened when she saw Evie lying sprawled against me. While we were waiting, and with Alma’s help, I had manoeuvred Evie into a chair. When I sat beside her she had collapsed onto my shoulder and fallen asleep. Now my shoulder was numb and Evie was still asleep, mouth half open and snoring softly.

  ‘Look, Syd, it’s young Evie Harris.’ Constable McKittrick called her partner away from Alma and Johnny, who had been providing him with more details about the afternoon’s events.

  Sergeant Sydney Smith’s world-weary demeanour spoke of years in the anti-vice squad. He sighed and shook his head. ‘Wasn’t she on probation? Magistrate Schroeder won’t be happy to see her back in front of him. She’s looking at serious detention time now; he’ll send her away until she’s eighteen.’

  My heart sank. ‘Surely not,’ I said. ‘What about her own family?’

  ‘Orphan,’ replied Sergeant Smith laconically. ‘Or good as. Never had a chance, poor kid.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked. Evie made a snuffling sound against my shoulder and settled in more comfortably.

  He said, ‘Evie was born in Broome. No family except a father who wanders around up north and drinks away any wages he earns. But he’s disappeared – they can’t even find him to conscript him. Mother died of some wasting illness last year. Evie was brought to Perth and sent to St Joseph’s Orphanage in Subiaco, but she ran away from there. She came to our attention a month or so ago as a “child at risk” and Magistrate Schroeder at the Children’s Court put her on probation. This time he’ll declare her an “uncontrollable child”. She’s looking at detention, all right. She was told to keep out of trouble.’

  ‘How is she supposed to stay out of trouble?’ I asked. ‘Who’s she got to help her do that?’ I tightened my hold on her shoulders. Poor girl. She was just like me, only I’d had Uncle Pat and the family to look after me. What if I’d ended up alone, like her?

  He shrugged.

  ‘Miss Bonehill will be disappointed,’ put in Constable McKittrick. ‘She thought that Evie was turning her life around. She’s a sweet kid.’

  ‘She’s a holy terror,’ said Smith.

  ‘Miss Bonehill?’ This was Johnny, who had come over to listen.

  ‘Female probation officer,’ replied Smith. ‘Responsible for the youngsters who come under the Child Welfare Act, especially the girls. Lovely lady.’ He shook Evie’s shoulder. ‘Come on, Evie, it’s time to get up.’

  Evie made an incoherent sound and snuggled more firmly against me. Her cheek was soft and her fair hair had spread over my arm.

  ‘Where will you take her tonight?’ I asked.

  ‘Government receiving depot in Walcott Street.’ He smiled at my look. ‘She’ll be fine, Miss Fitzgerald. It’s more like a hospital than a correctional facility.’

  But it was still a correctional facility. I thought of Lena Mitrovic, languishing in her cell. Almost against my will I found myself saying, in a very uncertain voice, ‘Can’t she come home with me? I live with my aunt in Shenton Park. We have a spare bedroom because my cousins are all away at the war.’

  Constable McKittrick seemed nervous. ‘I’m afraid not,’ she said. ‘We don’t know you at all, Miss Fitzgerald, and it’s against regulations.’

  My voice was stronger now. ‘I’m a reporter with the Marvel. I’ve been covering the Mitrovic trial. The editor will vouch for me.’

  Sergeant Smith nodded slowly. ‘I know Dave Gleddings.’

  Evie lifted her head and opened sleepy blue eyes. ‘Hullo,’ she said, to no one in particular. She lowered her head to my shoulder again and closed her eyes.

  Sergeant Smith had a considering look. ‘I could telephone Miss Bonehill,’ he said. ‘She’d rather keep the girls out of the facilities if possible. Evie will need to be brought before the court on Monday morning so the magistrate can work out what to do with her.’

  I gave him my address and handed over my identity card. But as he disappeared into the kitchen with Alma to use the telephone I had an almost overwhelming urge to call him back and tell him I’d changed my mind, this was a bad idea and my aunt would kill me. I caught Johnny’s amused glance.

  ‘Your Aunty May will be pleased,’ he murmured.

  ‘You don’t even know my aunt,’ I said, annoyed. ‘She wouldn’t want Evie to go to gaol, like she was a murderess, just because she had nowhere else to go.’

  Johnny shrugged, but he was definitely smirking. He could be very irritating. Still, I owed him a lot. Earl and Larry easily could have pushed through me and Alma, perhaps hurt us, and got away with Evie.

  ‘Come home with us, if you like,’ I said, without thinking. ‘For tea, I mean.’

  He looked surprised. His smile was very sweet, and perhaps even a bit shy. I realised that all my good intentions about keeping him at a distance had gone straight out of the window. Still, Aunty May couldn’t be too obviously annoyed with me for bringing Evie home if Johnny was there too.

  ‘Love to,’ he said, and his cheeky grin reappeared. ‘How could I miss Aunty May’s face when she’s confronted with your “uncontrollable child”.’

  The child was, at present, making little noises that indicated she really was waking up.

  ‘I’m starving,’ she said, lifting her head from my shoulder and blinking at us.

  Johnny went to our table and came back with half a scone that we hadn’t eaten. Evie demolished it in short order. ‘Is there anything else?’

  I turned to Alma, who sniffed and disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a rather dry-looking round of sandwiches.

  ‘Fish paste,’ she said. ‘Take it or leave it. Everything else has been put away for the night.’

  The sandwiches disappeared as quickly as the scone. ‘I haven’t had much of anything all day,’ Evie explained. ‘Except some booze.’

  I had no idea how to respond, so I said, ‘Evie, I’m Nell Fitzgerald. Would you like to come home with me tonight? I live with my aunt and we have a spare bedroom. Otherwise they’ll take you to the receiving centre in Mount Lawley.’

  She didn’t answer at once, but flicked a glance to Constable McKittrick. ‘Bet you’re surprised to see me,’ she said.

  ‘Disappointed is the word, Evie.’

  Evie pouted. ‘I just went dancing. I met up with Shirley and Ida. They work in the munitions factory in Welshpool and live up there. But the dancing finished really late, too late for them to get a train home, so we slept in the railway station. It was freezing. Then we met the Yank sailors this morning and they had booze. I didn’t like them much though. One of them kept touching me.’

  McKittrick looked very stern, but I thought it was to hide her concern. ‘How did he touch you, Evie?’

  ‘Oh, not like that. He just kept touching me. I didn’t like it.’ There was a pause, and she turned to Johnny with a challenge in her eyes. ‘Sometimes I do like it,’ she said, brushing some hair out of her eyes with a languid gesture.

  I realised that she was not necessarily a young innocent. My stomach clenched again. What was I taking home to Aunty May? Then Evie turned to me and smiled shyly. And as if there had been a sudden shift in my perception, she looked like a tired fourteen-year-old girl again.

  ‘Will your aunt have tea ready for us?’

  I noticed how her eyes were sunken into her face and red-rimmed with fatigue. It was a dirty
face. Evie needed something nourishing to eat, a bath and a long sleep.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure she will,’ I said. I glanced at Johnny. ‘This is John Horvath. He’s a friend of mine and he’s coming for tea too.’

  She turned to Johnny with a grin, eyes brighter.

  ‘That was grand, how you got that Yank sailor, Lootenant Horvath. He was out for the count. You’re a Yank, aren’t you? But you’re in the army, not the navy.’

  Johnny smiled at her. ‘Yes, I’m American, but I’m a war correspondent – a reporter, not a soldier. We wear the uniform of a US Army captain, but we don’t fight. We just write about it.’

  Evie’s eyes went wide.

  Constable McKittrick broke in, ‘John Horvath! I love your articles. You make it seem so real. Weren’t you injured in New Guinea?’

  ‘New Caledonia,’ said Johnny. ‘My ankle. I’ll be fine soon, and then I’m going back to the Pacific war zone.’

  Sergeant Smith had returned from the kitchen and

  McKittrick turned to him.

  ‘Syd, this is John Horvath. You know, the war correspondent.’

  1‘I enjoy your articles, Mr Horvath,’ said Smith, before turning to me. ‘You can take her for the weekend, Miss Fitzgerald. It’s not usually done, but Miss Bonehill says she’d be a lot happier if Evie was in a private home rather than in the receiving depot. She’ll drop by your house tomorrow with some extra food coupons. And she told me to tell you that she loves your column in the Marvel.’

  McKittrick made an excited little sound. ‘Oh, I just realised – you’re that Nell Fitzgerald.’ She was smiling. ‘Is your hair in the smooth roll you described last week? I tried it, but it didn’t work very well.’

  I touched my hair, ignoring Johnny’s grin. ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘It’s not that difficult, really, just a bit time-consuming. If you find that it isn’t staying put, then use sugar water to keep the hair in place. Your hair seems to be very fine, so roll it around a silk ribbon, not a stocking.’

  Johnny and Smith exchanged bewildered glances.

  Evie was ignoring us. Instead she gave Smith one of her grown-up smiles and said in a low, rather sultry voice, ‘Hullo, Smitty.’