Frances grabbed the strap dangling from the rail as the tram swayed when it turned around a corner. Rob must feel the pinch pretty badly, too, now that she thought of it. He had looked thin, and his smile had slipped when he felt himself unobserved.
The tram came to a halt, and Frances jumped off.
'Sorry, Clara,' she said as soon as she walked into the telephone exchange.
Her colleague took off her headset and ran her fingers through her frizzy hair, making it stick out in places. 'You sure took your sweet time, Franny,' she said, eyes gleaming with curiosity. 'Did anything happen at the club?'
Frances sat down and arranged her own headset. 'You could say that. My brother turned up out of the blue. That's why I'm late.'
'Oh, how lovely.' Clara lingered, clearly not in a hurry to go home. Poor thing, Frances thought, she didn't have too many pleasures to look forward to, with helping her widowed mother look after five younger siblings. Clara lived for the moments when Frances opened up a bit about the Top Note which to her seemed the pinnacle of high life. She'd never been there. Until now.
Frances angled for her handbag, glad that the lightbulbs that signalled a call stayed resolutely dim. She fished in the bag for an envelope and handed it to Clara. 'For you,' she said. 'Two tickets for the show, dinner and drinks included, courtesy of Uncle Sal and Jack.'
Clara's peaky face took on a pink glow. 'Are you kidding? Two tickets for me?'
'Sure,' Frances said. 'You deserve it, for everything you're doing to help me out here. And anyway, that's what friends are for, right?' That was exaggerating a bit, but it perked Clara up no end.
'Gosh,' she said. 'Thanks, that's spiffing, Fran. Only-', the glow left her face. 'I've got nothing to wear. But thanks anyway.' She put the envelope in Frances’s lap. The first lightbulbs began to glow. Drat.
'We'll work out something,' Frances said, as reassuring as she could, covering her mouthpiece with one hand. Clara broke into a hopeful grin and took the envelope again.
Dinner that evening was the most joyous she remembered in a long time. Uncle Sal had phoned Jack and excused themselves, and Mum had thrown herself into a cooking frenzy, judging from the menu. A roast joint, three veg, potatoes and an enormous pavlova for dessert because Rob had always had a sweet tooth. She must have spent the housekeeping money for a whole week on that meal, but Frances decided not to ask any questions.
Rob sat and ate, and Mum watched his every bite with the solicitude of a mother hen guarding her chick. Frances gave Uncle Sal a quick glance under her lashes. He winked at her.
After the third helping Rob pushed his plate aside. 'Sorry, Mum, I'm full. You’re still the best cook in all of Australia, if you ask me.'
'You don't have to flatter me, darling. I only hope you stay long enough for me to get some flesh on your ribs again. You work too hard. I wonder that Lucy didn't say anything.'
'Mum.' He held out his hand to her. 'She said exactly the same thing, and I tell her what I'm telling you now. I'm fine. There's no need to fret over me like I'm an over-grown schoolboy.'
'How is Lucy?' Frances said.
'She's good,' he said. 'Really good. She sends all her love by the way.'
'She must miss you,' Frances said.
'She does. And I miss them. But it can't be helped.' He drummed his fingertips on his glass. 'You see, we're having another baby, and I need every penny I can make.'
'Another little one.' Mum’s eyes shone. 'How wonderful. But poor Lucy, to be on her own at such a time.'
'She's not on her own,' Rob said, 'she's back on her parents' farm while I'm away. You don't think I'd leave her alone, do you?' His voice held enough tension to let Frances have an inkling of how bad he must feel about the situation.
She exchanged a swift glance with Uncle Sal. He got up and said, 'Congratulations, Rob. That calls for a celebration. Maggie, why don't you put your glad rags on while Frances and I clear the table, and then we'll set off to the Top Note. Jack's expecting us at eight.'
Mum clung to Rob's arm all the way to the club, as if he'd slip through her fingers if she let go. Frances and Uncle Sal followed behind as soon as they'd stepped off the tram, to give them some space. Frances was glad Jack hadn't sent the car around as he sometimes did. She didn't want her brother to think of him as flashy.
At the entrance Mum waited for them. Uncle Sal entered with Frances at his side, his head inclined in a small nod to Bluey that conveyed easy familiarity mixed with respect.
Mum handed her coat to Frances’s best friend Pauline, who worked as Dolores' Bardon’s dresser and doing odd jobs around the club. Pauline's eyes grew huge as she spotted Rob. She clasped a hand to her mouth to stifle a whoopee.
Frances grinned. Pauline never stinted on a dramatically magnified response, thanks to her predilection with actresses like the now out-of-favour Clara Bow, and she used to have a schoolgirl crush on Rob, ages ago.
Pauline came out from behind the cloakroom counter and stepped up to Rob, an impish smile on her glossy lips. 'Hello, stranger,' she said, just like in the pictures.
'Hello, Pauline,' he said, gazing at her in open amusement. 'You haven't changed a bit.' He gave her a swift peck on the cheek, making her smile even wider. 'Tell Tony from me he's a lucky dog.'
'He'll be disappointed to miss you,' she said. Tony Dixon, her fiancé, was busy doing maintenance on property Jack owned across the city.
'Tell him I'll stick around for a bit.'
They sauntered upstairs to the balcony, to the same table they'd sat at on their first evening at the Top Note, in April. The space only allowed for half a dozen tables, set in niches, and provided privacy coupled with a perfect view of the stage, the dance floor and the bar area downstairs. Blazing chandeliers, wall sconces and mirrors had transformed the lacklustre room. where Frances and Uncle Sal had rehearsed their act this morning, into a palace.
Rob gazed around with the same awe Frances remembered very well. The table was laid with china and crystal, and two silver-plated buckets held corked bottles.
Rob lifted one and whistled through his teeth. 'Champagne? The real thing, I presume?'
'Of course,' said Uncle Sal, secure in his role as a man of the world and almost-host. This was his world, after all. 'Shall we open it?'
'Not before I know what's in the other bottle,' Rob said, winking at Mum.
'It's the Frances Palmer special.' Jack appeared at the head of the staircase. 'Although you probably call it lemonade. Evening, Maggie, Uncle Sal, Frances. If you'd be willing to wait a bit, Dolores will join us after her first set tonight. She's only on for half an hour because we're trying out a new band.'
Rob fingered his tie and shifted around on his seat. He probably felt self-conscious in his blue suit that was shiny with wear, Frances thought, especially when confronted with Jack, who wore his dinner jacket with the same ease as Uncle Sal.
She touched Rob's arm. 'You look great, and you'll adore Dolores,' she said. 'Everybody loves her. Ask Mum if you don’t believe me.'
The lights went dim, as search lights hit the stage, illuminating a raven-haired woman dressed in a white satin dress that clung to her every curve. It would have looked cheap on every other woman, thought Frances, but there was nothing vulgar about Dolores Bardon. She glanced at Rob. He stared transfixed at the singer who now crooned 'Stardust' into the microphone. Frances only hoped he wouldn't fall in love with her, now that his wife was far away.
His face still had that dreamy look when Dolores finished her set and walked off-stage.
Mum had to pull his sleeve to get his attention. 'She's wonderful, isn't she? I always make my walnut coffee cake when she comes to visit because it's her favourite. And Phil's.'
Did Mum say that to break Rob's trance and warn him off gently, Frances wondered. Phil Anderson was not only their lodger and Dolores' beau, but also a policeman and as such an authority figure.
Dolores came gliding along, an apparition in black and white, the only bits of colour her
crimson lips. She gave Uncle Sal her hand for a kiss and bestowed a dazzling smile on the whole company. 'Frances, darling, you never bring Maggie along often enough. It's been ages, sweetheart.'
She sat down next to Mum, so she faced Rob. Her stockings rustled as she crossed her legs. 'And you must be the famous Rob. Lovely to meet you.'
Rob gazed at her in wonder. ‘I’m honoured to meet you, Miss Bardon.'
'Please,' her chocolate eyes twinkled, 'just call me Dolores.'
'Whatever you wish.' He swallowed. Mum frowned a little bit, and Frances suppressed a smile.
How did Dolores do that? She didn't openly flirt with the men, but there was something in her look and her voice that attracted them like honey attracted bluebottles.
Jack rested his hand on her arm. 'Uncle Sal, if you'd open the champagne?' The cork popped with a maximum of noise and no spillage, and Uncle Sal filled the glasses with an added flourish.
'Here's to Rob and happy family reunions,' Jack said as he raised his glass in a toast. 'And I want to bring out a special toast to Uncle Sal. If you'd do me the favour, I'd like to appoint you as artistic director of the Top Note, as well as the show. And before you say yes, that also includes trying to keep all of you guys out of trouble when I'm gone.'
Chapter Two
A chill ran down Frances’s spine. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Uncle Sal came to her rescue. ‘What do you mean, gone? You’re not in trouble, are you?’
Frances’s hand began to shake. Please no, a voice whispered inside her head. She’d known all along that Jack was breaking the law, selling alcohol after six o’clock, but hardly anyone paid attention to the prohibition, and most of Adelaide’s high-ranking councillors and police officers were regulars at the Top Note.
Mum looked as shocked as Frances felt.
Jack chuckled. ‘No worries, folks. I’m not on the run. All I’m going to do is make a voyage to New Zealand, to check out the joker my little sister’s fallen in love with. I’ll be back in less than a fortnight.’
Frances’s heart slowed to its usual pace.
‘That calls for a toast,’ Dolores said. She raised her glass. ‘To my darling Rachel. I wish I could go with you, Jack. I haven’t seen her for too long.’
‘The next time,’ he said. ‘Remember that sea voyages don’t agree with you, and the Tasman can get pretty rough.’
‘I know,’ Dolores said with a sigh. ‘But I miss her so much, and I’d love to see her new fellow.’
‘You shall,’ Jack said. ‘If there are to be wedding bells, you’ll be there. As will be others.’ He gave Frances a reassuring wink. ‘Here’s to my sister and to all our loved ones.’
‘To family,’ Frances said. ‘When are you leaving?’
‘In four days. Enough time to show Uncle Sal the ropes if he’s willing, and to dance with you. Shall we?’
Mum and Rob followed them onto the dance floor.
‘I’ve never seen Maggie this glowing,’ Jack said as he pulled Frances close.
‘She adores Rob, and she hasn’t seen him in such a long time.’ Her head barely touched his cheek. ‘He does appear strained though, doesn’t he? I only hope his new job isn’t too hard.’
‘What’s he going to do exactly?’
‘Travelling around the racecourses, looking after the horses.’ She paused. ‘He’ll be alright, won’t he?’
‘Sure,’ Jack said after a heartbeat’s pause. ‘As long as he steers away from the book-makers. Hard to tell crooks from straight fellows, but surely, he knows all about shady deals at the races. Anyway, a vet’s got nothing to do with them.’
‘You mean like Phar Lap?’ she said, thinking back to a scandal that had rocked Adelaide only last year. ‘When he was scratched from the Adelaide Cup at the last moment? Uncle Sal still swears he was nobbled, because no one would bet against him.’
‘That’s possible. What I do know is that there is a hell of a lot of race fixing going on, in every city. But your brother isn’t a jockey who might end up with a broken kneecap if he wins a certain race, so he has nothing to worry about.’
She snuggled closer into his arm. ‘Only four more days before you go …’
‘I’ll be back before you know it, kiddo. You’ll be busy enough, with your brother and work and rehearsing your act.’ He pushed a lock out of her eyes. ‘What’s bothering Uncle Sal, by the way?’
‘It’s his ankle. He says he’s too insecure on his feet to do the knife-throwing with me as his target, because he might stumble and lose his aim, and he can’t do it sitting down. It’s all very frustrating for him.’
‘But not as frustrating as skewering you. Well, you’ll come up with something.’
She missed a step. ‘He wouldn’t really hit me, would he?’
‘No, Frances, but that’s because Uncle Sal knows where to draw the line when it comes to risks.’
‘That’s true,’ she said. ‘But still, I hate to see him so disappointed.’
The music stopped and he led her back to the table.
Rob and Mum arrived one song later. Mum looked flushed, but happy. ‘That was wonderful,’ she said. ‘You’re just as good a dancer as your dad was.’
‘Only with the right partner,’ he said. ‘I hope we can do that again, sometime soon. But now I’d better get some sleep if I want to be any good tomorrow morning. I’ve been up since four.’
‘Why didn’t you say so?’ Mum said. ‘We could have had a quiet evening at home.’
‘And miss a swell party like this, with you and my little sister?’
‘Well, that’s true. Won’t you at least sleep at home tonight, and I’ll make you your favourite breakfast in the morning?’
Frances and Uncle Sal exchanged an amused glance. It would be hard for Rob to make his escape.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘But I don’t want to jeopardise my job, Mum. My employers don’t know I’ve got family down here. They like their people to be independent, without folks who hang around, looking for dead certs or inside tips.’
A note of embarrassment crept into his voice. ‘I don’t mean you, but, well, that’s how it is. You understand, right?’
‘Sure, my darling.’ Mum took his hand. ‘But you’ll be allowed to see us sometimes?’
‘He will,’ Frances said. ‘You haven’t enlisted in the army, have you? And even they have leave until curfew.’
They all got up.
‘I’ll be around so much you’ll tell me to get out of your hair, Mum,’ Rob said. ‘Miss Dolores, Jack, thanks for a spiffing evening.’
‘My pleasure,’ said Jack. ‘I’ll see you soon. When’s the next rehearsal, Uncle Sal? Tomorrow? Maybe you could stay on afterwards.’
‘Sure.’
Dolores blew him a kiss. ‘Bye, darlings. Bluey will take you home.’
It took Rob less than five minutes to arrange his few belongings in the small room next to the jockey school. A brass bedstead covered with a rough blanket, a scarred chest of drawers with a wobbly leg and a metal chair took up most of the space. He set the framed picture of Lucy and Rob Jnr on top of the chest and lay down on the bed, looking at his wife’s smiling face. He missed her so much it hurt. And his boy. He’d only been on the road for three weeks, and already he’d missed his son’s first steps.
Loud snores penetrated his ears. If Brocky, the blacksmith they’d put next to him, kept this racket on, there was no hope of sleep. A burly fellow, big enough to hold any horse single-handedly. Odd; he’d met Brocky first a week ago at Yarra Glen racecourse, and the blacksmith had told him he never steered further away than a hundred miles in each direction. When they’d met here at the wash house, Brocky had greeted him with a resounding smack on the back and a genuine smile.
Rob wondered briefly if the other man had left his family behind as well. He’d had a lonesome look in his eyes when he said that he didn’t know a single soul in Adelaide.
The snores changed their rhythm. It was almost a tun
e, thought Rob, although one he wouldn’t care to dance to. It had been great to see Mum, and Frances, and Uncle Sal. And Miss Dolores – any man would be hard pressed to keep his eyes off her. He only hoped that Jack fellow wouldn’t let her turn his head and hurt Frances. But no. Uncle Sal trusted the man, so he was okay in his book. Still, that singer was something.
Rob’s glance wandered towards Lucy’s photo. He didn’t need it to remind him of the way she looked, or how her red hair curled around her face. She wasn’t a beauty like Miss Dolores, but he wouldn’t trade places with any man in the world. No one in the whole world could touch his Lucy. Tomorrow he’d write her a long letter and tell her about the family.
What he wouldn’t tell her was that he’d come close to giving in to having the lads place a bet for him. ‘No-one will know, mate,’ the sandy-haired jockey had said. ‘She’s a sweet little runner, this mare. Odds of ten to one, too.’ He’d rustled two one-pound notes before Rob’s ears.
‘Sorry,’ Rob had said. ‘Can’t do that. I’m not allowed with me being the vet here.’
‘Sure?’ The jockey had shrugged and walked off. And confound it, if the mare hadn’t come first. Ten to one – two pounds would have brought in more than most fellows earned in a whole month.
No, he couldn’t tell Lucy that, especially not how tempted he’d really been. That one bet would have paid enough to buy everything Lucy needed for Rob Jnr and the new baby.
He turned down the kerosene lamp and drifted off into sleep to the accompaniment of Brocky’s snoring.
Frances lay awake until long after midnight. Thoughts chased each other in her mind. A fortnight without Jack – and hadn’t she heard something about how easily romance blossomed on board of a ship? And which girl wouldn’t find him attractive, with his easy confidence, broad shoulders, and the humour and intelligence in his sleepy eyes?
Murder at the Races Page 2