Dark Angels

by Ron Thomas

  ‘Hello Benny. Who’s the new helper? Shouldn’t he be at school?’ Meggsie heard a woman’s voice say.

  He looked up to see a lady standing beside Benito at the little counter. Not just any lady. Her hair was a dark red: not as red as Meggsie’s, though. She wore a white chemise, a fashionable cloche hat and a teal-blue boa. Her hair was bobbed in the modern style and her makeup was a little too garish, even for a boy’s taste. Meggsie recognised her immediately and, what was worse, the small details of her reaction, the momentary widening of her eyes and raising of her eyebrows, told him the she recognised him. Meggsie, in his embarrassment, wanted to just curl up and die right there among the discarded cabbage leaves.

  ‘Meggsie. We call him Meggsie,’ Benito responded. His voice was very respectful, and Meggsie thought that the lady must be someone important.

  ‘His old man threw him out of home a couple-a months ago. We caught him nicking bananas,’ Benito explained. ‘He’s been sentenced to life in-a the fruit and veg business.’ They laughed together, as if it was some private joke, then the woman said something that Meggsie wasn’t able to hear. Benito immediately beckoned to Meggsie. ‘This lady is the famous Nellie Cameron, Meggsie.’

  Nellie Cameron held her hand out. Her smile was kind of mocking, as if she could see right through him. Meggsie looked down at his hands, then wiped them on the back of his pants and self-consciously shook her soft white hand, noting that she sported rings on almost all her fingers.

  ‘Your name can’t possibly be Meggsie. What’s your real name?’ Nellie asked amiably, as if they’d never met. Meggsie looked up into her eyes and was immediately disconcerted. They were light blue coloured, alert and twinkling. He couldn’t help liking Nellie Cameron’s eyes.

  ‘Gilbert Maggs,’ Meggsie stumbled, expecting her to laugh. Instead, she just smiled. Her voice was conspiratorial. ‘That’s a nice name. I think I’ll call you Gilby. We carrot-tops have to stick together.’ Meggsie stood rooted to the spot, not knowing whether to say something or to run.

  ‘How old are you, Gilby?’ Nellie asked. She looked him directly in the eye and either seemed genuinely interested, or she was very practised at engaging the male of the species.

  He thought for a moment. Only then did he realise that his birthday had come and gone some two months previously, without notice. It didn’t matter much. He’d never received anything in the way of presents anyway. ‘I’m fourteen,’ he said.

  ‘Fourteen eh? And why aren’t you at school?’ Meggsie knew a loaded question when he heard one. A reticent Meggsie shrugged, realising that there was no option, with Benito listening in, but to provide a straight answer.

  ‘I don’t go,’ he mumbled.

  Nellie bent down and looked into the boy’s eyes. ‘You seem to be much too bright to be wagging school, Gilby. If you want to have a future, you have to be the one to make it happen, you see. That’s my motto.’

  ‘Yes,’ Meggsie replied. Something within made him perceive that Nellie was actually interested in his welfare. He’d experienced very little of that in the past and it struck a chord with him.

  At that moment, Benito noticed a customer waiting impatiently at the counter. With Benito gone for a moment, Nellie moved closer to the boy and spoke conspiratorially, her voice not much above a whisper.

  ‘We meet again, Gilby!’ she said. Meggsie nodded dumbly, stunned to silence.

  ‘And I suppose you gave up being a Peeping Tom when you took up larceny?’

  Meggs had no idea how to answer her, but her smile told him that she was enjoying her game.

  ‘And then you became a fruiterer. I suppose that’s a career step up, though there are plenty who’d dispute that. There’s not much future in fruit and veg. What would you like to be when you grow up, Gilby?’

  Meggsie, of course, quite liked the fruit and veg business, so he shrugged.

  ‘What do you like,’ Nellie asked.

  Meggsie thought for a moment. ‘I like motorcars,’ he replied brightly.

  ‘Well there you go then. If you want to be a mechanic, school’s the place to start.’

  ‘I want to drive them,’ Meggsie replied. ‘Fast.’

  Nellie looked nonplussed for a second. ‘Well, school’s still the place to start. Think about it, Gilby.’

  Benito finished serving his customer and, from the corner of his eye, Meggsie noticed Benito, still at the counter, signalling with his eyebrows and a subtle jerk of his head, for him to get back to work.

  ‘I have to finish stacking my cabbages,’ he said suddenly.

  Nellie’s tinkling laugh filled the shop. ‘Can’t hold you up from stacking your cabbages,’ she said. As he turned to go, Nellie Cameron held her hand out to him again and he liked the feel of it. Not at all like his mother’s dishpan hands.

  ‘I enjoyed meeting you, Gilby. Come and see me some time,’ she said, retaining the grip on his hand, her voice seductive, musical and heavy with innuendo. He didn’t have an appropriate response, and simply gulped, nodded and allowed her to hold his hand for as long as she wished.

  Nellie spoke quietly with Benito for some minutes, and while Meggsie couldn’t hear most of the words, he surmised that some of the conversation was about him. He gained the impression that Nellie had come to Benny’s looking for Guido and that Benito felt obliged to entertain her until he arrived. Finally, Guido appeared, dressed in a dapper pinstripe suit. Nellie immediately smiled and went to him. He kissed her on the cheek and she slipped her arm through his. She waved with her fingers to Meggsie, and he couldn’t take his eyes from the swing and sway of her hips as she walked out of the fruit shop on Guido’s arm.

  ***

  ‘She seemed like a nice lady,’ Meggsie ventured naively.

  ‘Nice lady!’ Benito exploded. ‘She’s as hard as any man in the ’Loo. You wouldn’t wanna cross Nellie, or you might find yourself lying in some gutter with your guts hanging out. And I’d wager you wouldn’t be the first. Nellie’s a poisoned chalice if ever there was one. Guido’s so thick he can’t see that.’ Meggsie didn’t know what a chalice was, but the message seemed clear enough.

  ‘She said to come and see her,’ Meggsie said naively. Benito’s cynical chuckle was followed by a wide grin. He concentrated on the cigarette he was rolling for a few moments before lighting it up, then lifted his gaze and looked into Meggsie’s eyes.

  ‘Did she tell-a you what she had in mind?’ Benito asked quizzically. The suppressed, sly grin on his face made Meggsie begin to wonder where the conversation was going. He shook his head.

  ‘Well, mate, among other things, Nellie’s a dance instructor at Professor Bolot’s Dance Academy just off Oxford Street, at Darlo,’ Benito suggested teasingly. ‘That’s on Tuesdays, I think.’ Meggsie just shrugged. ‘Perhaps, just perhaps, that’s what she has in mind.’

  Benito rubbed the stubble on his chin, feigning thoughtfulness. ‘Fantastica! More likely, she could have had some horizontal folk-dancing in mind! I suppose you know all about that?’ It was a question rather than a statement. ‘You gonna need to make a lotta money first. Nellie don’t come cheap.’ The look on Meggsie’s face told Benito that, despite his time on the street, his knowledge came from other boys of his age. He was obviously somewhat lacking in practical experience.

  ‘Nellie’s on-a the game, Meggsie. You know what that means don’t you?’ Meggsie nodded uncertainly and Benito waited. He seemed genuinely interested in plumbing Meggsie’s knowledge of such matters.

  ‘It means she goes with men for money,’ Meggsie said. For a boy who had only recently begun to a get strange unbidden stirring in his loins, it was all somewhat vague. Exciting, but vague, and it brought back disturbing memories of one dark night at The Doll House. He’d seen no money change hands, but it all added up.

  ‘Right on, Meggs.’ Benito said. ‘And I wonder what she wants with Uncle Guido. I thought she was shacked up with that other nasty bastard, Bruhn,’ Benito spat on the stone floor, showing his distaste. ‘H
e’s real bad. Whatever’s going on, some poor bastard’s in for trouble.’

  Chapter 10

  Getting Edication

  Nellie Cameron’s visit changed things around Benny’s fruit shop, but not in the way Meggsie might have expected. It all began two days later.

  Meggsie was carrying the last box of cauliflowers in from the truck when he was surprised to find Guido Caletti waiting for him in the shop. It was very unusual for Guido to show up before lunchtime, but he seemed cordial enough.

  ‘G’day, Meggsie,’ Guido said cheerily. ‘Dump the box. Benito can look after things here. We’re going to get you some decent togs.’ He sniffed. ‘Right after you clean up. You’re on the nose. You smell like cauliflowers. Then I’ll take you to the school.’ Somehow, Nellie Cameron had not only convinced Guido to pack Meggsie off to school, but also to buy him clothes.

  With the passing of days and weeks, Meggsie had begun to hope Guido had forgotten about his schooling, and he certainly hadn’t considered raising the subject. Meggsie’s shocked reaction left little doubt that he thought he’d contrived to avoid further involvement in education. He put the box down and turned to see a stony-faced Guido beckoning him with a forefinger. Guido put his hands on his knees and lowered his face to Meggsie’s level.

  ‘No need to pack the shits, son. Nellie’s right. Edication is very important,’ he explained. ‘Take me. I got none. You are quite bright, but if you don’t keep up your edication, all those other dummies will have an advantage. You don’t want that, do you, Meggs? You don’t want to be humping cabbages and caulis around for the rest of your life, do you? You gotta have options, y’know, better ways to make a quid. So, if you’re going to stay here at Benny’s, you’re going to go to school.’

  Meggsie wasn’t all that sure that ‘edication’ was actually any better than humping cabbages. When the alternative was living rough, eating garbage and sleeping cold, cabbage-humping was a distinct step up the society ladder. He was about to make his case for cabbage-humping when Guido put the issue beyond doubt.

  ‘Anyway, Meggs, at your age, school’s compulsory. That means you’re going whether you like it or not, got it? I got an obligation, see.’ Until that moment, Meggsie had no inkling that Guido felt any obligation towards him at all, except of course to ensure that he worked out the value of a couple of large trays of Benito’s top-grade Kensington Pride mangoes. In fact, he’d been wondering whether Guido knew about Benito actually paying him for his work.

  Guido cuffed him playfully behind the ear. ‘Get cleaned up and we’ll go and see old Abrahams about some clothes. Move it!’ Guido ordered. It was clear that, like it or not, Meggsie would be going to school.

  ***

  It wasn’t far to Abrahams Affordable Apparel Emporium, just a short walk down from Benny’s Fruit shop. There was violin music playing in the tailor’s shop, and for a moment the tailor, huddled over his sewing machine was engrossed in his work and failed to notice their arrival. Suddenly, he looked up, gave them a hurried wave and leapt to his feet. He carefully lifted the arm from the record that was playing on his gramophone and hurried to serve them.

  ‘Mister Caletti, so pleasant to see you,’ Abrahams said subserviently. ‘Sorry. I was engrossed with the music. Johannes Brahms has that effect.’ There was no smile and it was soon evident, even to the boy, that the tailor wasn’t actually pleased to see them.

  ‘How may I be of service?’ Abrahams asked, glancing warily from one to the other. He was a stooped, dark-clad figure with a gaunt face and a large jagged scar running from the corner of his left eye to the corner of his mouth. He wore a kippah, the little brimless cap that identified him as an adherent of the orthodox Jewish faith.

  ‘This young fellow needs some better clothes, and naturally I thought of you, Yosef. He’s starting school today,’ Guido explained. He waved his cigar around. ‘Fit him out for me, Yosef.’ Guido towered over the slumped-shouldered Jew, who seemed cowed by the larger man. He pulled out a tailor’s tape and busily began to take Meggsie’s measurements.

  As he took Meggsie’s inside leg measurement, he looked up at the lad. ‘What’s your name, boy,’ he asked.

  ‘Gilbert Maggs, sir,’ Meggsie answered.

  ‘Gilibert?’ Yosef Abrahams repeated.

  ‘Gilbert,’ Meggsie repeated. He pointed to his hair. ‘But people call me Meggsie.’

  ‘A-ha! Ginger Meggs. Then perhaps I should also call you Meggsie. On second thoughts, I think I like Gilbert.’ The way he said it still had the hint of a second ‘i’ in it.

  ***

  Gilbert Maggs had never owned any brand-new clothing in his entire life. His mother had always fitted him out second-hand from The Salvation Army shop, so his fit-out in Abrahams Affordable Apparel Emporium duds was something of an experience. It seemed that nothing was too much for Guido, and the pile on the tailor’s counter grew. Shirts, trousers long and short, socks, and even three sets of underwear. Meggsie would try on each item and parade up and down in front of Guido, who would either nod and the article would be added to the pile or he would shake his head and the item would magically disappear back into Yosef’s racks. There appeared to be no limit to Guido Caletti’s largesse.

  ‘Now, a couple of shirts for him to wear when he’s in the shop,’ Guido said. ‘Blue, or grey, with ‘Benny’s fruit’ embroidered on the pocket, and perhaps a red apple and a banana. He’s gotta look classy in the shop.’ Guido took a long drag on his cigar. ‘Shoes too. Meggsie can pick them up tomorrow, though. We have to get him to school now. He’ll have to go barefoot today.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Abrahams replied, but by now Meggsie realised that the tailor was a very reluctant participant in the exercise, and his reluctance was increasing as the pile grew. However, he began to pack the clothing into large paper bags and hand them to the boy. Then Guido simply nodded to the tailor and, without a word of thanks, they walked from the shop and into the sunshine of Oxford Street.

  ‘Thanks Mr Caletti, thanks so much,’ Meggsie said as they walked back towards the fruit shop.

  ‘It’s like this, Meggs. We gotta stick together, see. You’re part of the Darlinghurst Push now, and we gotta have each other’s backs. That’s how it is Meggsie. Now, pull on some of these glad rags and we’ll get our arses up to the school. You can start getting your edication under control. I got plans for you Meggsie. It’s a fine day, so we’ll walk to the school.’

  ***

  Meggsie wasn’t sure what sort of reception he could expect. He did expect to be recognised. When they arrived at Plunkett Street school, it was immediately plain that Guido Caletti was also known there. The kindly lady at the front desk immediately hurried away and, when she returned, the headmaster, dressed in his academic gown, was hot on her heels.

  ‘Can I help? I am Mr Southby, headmaster here.’ He turned to Meggsie. ‘We wondered where you had got to, Maggs. It’s been some time since we saw you at Plunkett Street. You are on the truant’s register.’

  Meggsie had presumed his absence would have been noticed, but he was momentarily lost for words.

  ‘I been looking after the boy,’ Guido interjected. ‘His old man threw him out on the street. Somebody had to look after him.’

  ‘I’m sure we all appreciate that, Mr Caletti. However, he can’t just go running off for three or four months at a time and expect that there will be no consequences. Truancy is a big problem in the education system. Maggs has been missing for so long that we’ve cancelled his name from the rolls. His absence has been reported to the relevant authority.’

  ‘Well, Southby, or whatever your name is,’ Guido responded, stepping forward menacingly. ‘I don’t want this boy to have no hassles you hear? Not from you, and not from no relevant authority. I’m the only authority relevant to Meggs.’

  Southby stepped back, clearly alarmed. Meggsie noted that the headmaster’s demeanour had changed to one of concern. ‘No hassles, y’ understand? The boy’s had enough already,’ Guido added, spit
ting out each word with venom.

  ‘I’m sure we can overlook the problem on this occasion,’ Southby stammered, stumbling over his words in his haste to please.

  ‘I’m sure you can,’ Guido replied, amiable again, his point made. ‘And there won’t be any more of that truancy stuff. He’ll be here every day.’ Guido turned to Meggsie. ‘Won’t you, Meggs?’ Meggsie was slow to reply and Guido repeated the question in a much louder, more strident voice.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Meggsie replied, his voice little more than a reticent mumble.

  ‘I’ll be seeing to that. And if he’s late, he’s been held up at the fruit markets,’ Guido added. Suddenly he chuckled. ‘You can keep him in if you like after school, but just for a quarter of an hour; after that he’s got work to do.’

  Southby nodded vigorously and turned to Meggsie. ‘You will be in Mr Mills’ class again, lad. I’ll have your name added to the roll and you can start tomorrow morning.’ He turned to Guido. ‘Is that satisfactory Mr Caletti?’ he asked ingratiatingly.

  Mission accomplished, Guido simply nodded to the headmaster, turned and walked out of the school. Any impressionable boy couldn’t help but be awed by Guido’s ability to get things done by just the power of his reputation. Clearly, people were quite prepared to accede to any of his requests and whatever Guido wanted, Guido got. Somehow by sheer luck, Meggsie had fallen into a situation where he was a beneficiary of the Italian’s power. Guido Caletti was fast becoming a hero figure to the gullible boy.

  ‘Now yers are going to have to work hard Meggs. You will have to go to the markets with Benito at least three days a week. That means you have to be back in time for school at nine. After school, you can work in the shop.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Caletti,’ Meggsie replied subserviently. What else could he say?

  ***

  That evening, Benito kept the shop open late, and darkness was beginning to fall.

  ‘Whatcha up to, giovanotto?’ Benito asked.

  ‘Mr Caletti said I should hang up the clothes he bought for me this morning. He got me proper hangers and all from Mr Abrahams. They are the best clothes I’ve ever had. Actually, I’ve never had any new clothes before.’