Dark Angels

by Ron Thomas

  It was a stark choice and Meggsie knew what his choice must be.

  ‘I’ll stop helping Mr Caletti,’ he said.

  ‘The right choice, Gilberto,’ Benito said, looking quietly pleased. ‘And one other thing. Tomorrow, I’m going to start teaching you to drive the truck. We’ll start by letting you drive to the end of the lane each morning.’

  ‘Gee, thanks, Benito!’ Meggsie replied. It had been a good day after all.

  Chapter 23

  A Case of Arson

  The tinkling sound of breaking glass, hauled Meggsie instantly from his deep slumber. For a few moments, he lay silent and still, wondering whether it was a noise from his dream. More sounds of glass breaking at the front of the shop had him leaping to his feet. He crept on bare feet across the icy floor and peered out into the dark shop. Silhouetted against the dim light of the street, he could just discern two dark shapes, and he could make out the spider-web edges of the jagged hole they’d punched in the front window. Meggsie thought quickly. He could shout and hope it might frighten them away; he could grab the pistol he knew was still hidden under the desk; he could hide; or, probably more sensibly, he could make a run for it out the back door.

  The decision was quickly taken out of his hands. A match flared and then a flame. A hand reached through the glass and threw the flaming object into the shop. When it hit the floor, flaming liquid quickly spread across the floor and the figures outside quickly disappeared. Within moments, he heard a squealing of tortured tyres and the grunty roar of a powerful engine accelerating away.

  Meggsie’s first instinct was to try to beat the fire out. He grabbed a couple of the bags he’d been sleeping on and ran to the front of the shop, where the fire was spreading fast, and was already licking the ceiling. He began to try to beat out the flames. From the start, it was a futile effort. Suddenly, to Meggsie’s amazement, Benito was there beside him, a jute bag in his hands, beating at the advancing flames and coughing as swirling smoke thickened and billowed around them.

  ‘I don’t think we can stop it! It’s in the roof!’ Meggsie shouted, as the clanging bells of a fire truck echoed in the empty street outside. Benito didn’t hear him over the roaring of the flames. Suddenly part of the ceiling collapsed. Meggsie danced out of the way as the dust and debris from the ceiling space filled the air, but Benito wasn’t there. It took Meggsie a moment to realise he was pinned under the fallen ceiling from the waist up. Rage and panic overtook him. He fell to his knees and, using the bag to protect his hands, tore wildly at the smouldering ceiling beams. With strength he didn’t know he possessed, he shifted one of the fiery beams that had laid Benito low, then put his arms around Benito’s ankles and hauled with all the strength of his legs, but he couldn’t move the fallen man.

  A burly fireman wearing a shiny-brass helmet and a mask covering his mouth and nose appeared suddenly by his side. ‘Let me help, son. See if you can lift that beam higher,’ he shouted. Despite the desperate situation, his voice was calm, and Meggsie was quick to follow orders. In a second, Benito was clear, just as a jet from a fire hose was turned fully on them from the front window of the shop.

  ‘Now, get out!’ The firefighter shouted, his voice hollow behind the mask. ‘I’ll get him out! Stay low! Crawl under the smoke!’

  Despite the burning sensation in his throat, Meggsie paused, wanting desperately to help. The fireman put his forearms under Benito’s armpits and hauled the unconscious man upward into a sitting position, then slung him expertly across his shoulders. He turned and saw Meggsie was still there.

  ‘Out! Lead the way!’ he screamed. With the fireman following, Meggsie walked on hands and feet out through the back room of the shop and into the backyard. He crab-walked his way clear the back door, then took two more uncertain steps, and collapsed, face down, coughing black phlegm from burning lungs. Desperate to reach safety, he tried hard to get to his feet, but he was at the end of his tether. He looked up to see bystanders pushing the Thornycroft out of the cobbled yard and into Hopewell Lane. That was the last thing Meggsie remembered.

  ***

  Meggsie woke with a start, to find a nurse standing over him. Her fingers were pressed to the side of his throat. He glanced down to see that his arms were resting on top of the sheet, and they were swathed in bandages from armpit to fingertips.

  ‘Sorry, young man. I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just taking your pulse,’ she said in a quiet, reassuring voice.

  ‘Where am I?’ he asked. His voice was little more than a croak, and his throat burned.

  ‘You are in St Vincent’s Hospital, the burns clinic. You’ve been burnt. It might be better if you remain still and don’t try to speak. I’m Nurse Hammond. You need to just lay quietly.’ Meggsie realised that it wasn’t just his throat. His arms and his face both felt as though he could still feel the flames.

  Nurse Hammond nodded as she took her finger from his throat. Apparently, his pulse was satisfactory.

  ‘You are a very lucky, young man,’ Nurse Hammond said. ‘Very lucky, indeed. Your burns are not nearly as serious as your friend’s. You should be able to go home within the week. I’ll be back to give you something for the pain.’

  ‘Benito?’ he asked. For a moment, the nurse appeared to be nonplussed.

  ‘Oh, you mean the other one? The older man?’ she asked. Meggsie managed a weak nod.

  ‘He’s still alive,’ she said. ‘He’s still in emergency.’

  It didn’t sound good to Meggsie. ‘Will he get better?’ he asked.

  ‘We hope so,’ she replied. She hurried away, but was back in a matter of seconds.

  ‘Now, I’m just going to give you something to help you to sleep. That’s the best thing for you.’ She offered him a medicine glass full of white liquid. It burned his throat as he drank it.

  ‘Can I see Benito? I want to see Benito.’

  ‘Benito can’t talk at the moment. Anyway, you’re much too ill to be seeing anybody. Sleep is what you need.’ Her words seemed fuzzy as Meggsie drifted off into unconsciousness.

  ***

  The next few days were very painful, and the pain seemed worse at night. But each day he was better than the previous one and soon the bandages were replaced with elastic sleeves that provided some comfort. The skin on his face peeled, leaving fresh new skin beneath. Soon, Meggsie was allowed to walk up and down the ward, and to eat normal meals without assistance.

  ***

  At first, Meggsie thought the man in the light grey suit walking towards him through the ward must be yet another doctor. Generally, that meant having the sleeves removed from his arms for examination, and that hurt … really hurt. However, it turned out to be worse than that. He recognised the visitor.

  ‘My name is Ray Blissett. Do you remember me?’

  ‘Yes,’ Meggsie replied. Blissett nodded and continued.

  ‘I tried to see you a few days ago, but the medicos wouldn’t let me in. I’m told you are quite the young hero. Lucky to be alive, too, it seems. It appears the fire was deliberately lit. What can you tell me about that?’

  In Meggsie’s young life, he’d learned to equate coppers with trouble. He knew from the look on Blissett’s face, that the policeman had judged from his initial reaction that he might be an unwilling witness.

  ‘We already know that someone broke the front window of the fruit shop and threw a firebomb inside. That much is quite clear. What we don’t know, is why you were in the shop in the first place.’

  ‘That’s where I live,’ Meggsie replied. ‘At the back.’

  ‘I see. So, you were asleep when it all began?’

  ‘Yes. The breaking glass woke me.’

  ‘And did you see anything?’

  ‘Nothing much. There were two men outside, perhaps three, but I only saw silhouettes. I heard a car driving away, just after the fire started. It sounded like a V8.’

  ‘And I don’t suppose you saw the car?’

  ‘No, sir, I didn’t see it at all.’ Meggsie d
educed that Blissett believed he was withholding information.

  The detective had been standing up to this point. Now he took a chair and placed it with the back facing Meggsie, and straddled it with his arms on the back.

  ‘Can you think of any reason why someone would want to throw a firebomb into Benny’s Fruit Market? People just don’t throw firebombs for no reason, do they?’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’ Meggsie was fighting a delaying action as he tried to gather his wits.

  ‘We understand that Guido Caletti and his boys are regular visitors to the shop. I don’t suppose you think that might have something to do with it all?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Meggsie said weakly.

  ‘Look son, it would be much better if you just told me what you know, and stopped mucking me around. Someone has tried to burn your boss’ shop down and bloody near killed him. That was deliberate. Someone threw a rock wrapped in a note through the window of his house, telling him his shop was about to be torched. He ran all the way and someone took a pot-shot at him as he crossed Darlinghurst Road. Was he there when the fire started?’

  ‘I didn’t see him until the fire was well underway.’

  ‘And was Caletti there? Did you see him at all?’

  ‘No.’ By now, Meggsie was in something of a panic, recognising that Blissett was a persistent and tricky interrogator and that every question was loaded. Fortunately, the matron’s timely arrival at his bedside saved him.

  ‘Detective-Sergeant, I think Mr Maggs has probably had quite enough for today,’ she said in her officious, no-nonsense voice.

  Meggsie immediately sensed the policeman’s displeasure, but he didn’t argue.

  ‘Thank you, matron,’ Blissett said, then turned back to Meggsie. ‘I’m only trying to nail someone for burning the shop. You should want that. Think about it, son. I’ll come back another day. If you think of anything important, tell the matron and she’ll pass on the message. I hope you get well soon. I meant what I said before. You are quite a hero, and I hope you’ve saved Mister Battaglia’s life.’

  The detective turned to walk away. He stopped in his tracks, and turned back to Meggsie.

  ‘You won’t be able to stay at Benny’s, with all the damage. Where will you live?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ve got no idea,’ Meggsie replied. It was an obvious question, but it shocked Meggsie to think that of the few things of value in his life, Benito, the nearest thing to a father he’d had, and the shop, the best home he’d ever lived in, were gone. Gilbert Maggs knew little of religion, and it was one of the few times in his short life that he felt an urge to pray to whatever God might be prepared to give him comfort.

  ***

  Another four days of hospital routine passed, and Meggsie was becoming more and more restless. After the detective’s visit, the doctors had given clearance for others to see him. Many of these visits were quite unexpected for Meggsie. Fred Loughlin and Lou Ricci from the Haymarket came, looking very much out of their element. Of course, they asked about Benito, but they were happy to chat, and to pass on best wishes from Meggsie’s friends at the markets.

  ‘When you’re up and about, if you need a job, Meggsie, there’s one for you at my stand at the market,’ Fred offered.

  ‘Or mine,’ Lou countered. ‘I’m a better boss by a country mile. You wouldn’t want to work for grumpy old Fred, anyone will tell you that.’

  ‘Seriously,’ Fred interjected, ignoring Lou’s jibe for the moment. ‘There are any number of blokes down there who would give you work, even if it’s just to see you through. I reckon some of Benito’s competitors up this way would be happy to help as well. Benny’s got plenty of mates in the business, and we all want him back on his feet. Benny’s mates are our mates.’

  Moe Zeller came to visit three times, and brought with him, along with flowers, the best wishes of the other shopkeepers. On the third visit, just before he was about to leave, he pulled a business card from his inside pocket.

  ‘Uncle Guido sends his regards,’ Moe said. ‘He said when you get a chance, to phone this number.’ He pointed to a circled number on a tatty business card from Mack’s Bar and Grill. Meggsie had been disappointed that Guido hadn’t taken the trouble to make contact. It wasn’t from his own point of view so much, but from Benito’s. Despite his reticence with Blissett, he was sure that Guido’s nefarious activities had been the root cause of the attack that had ruined Benito’s life.

  ‘I’ll ring it when I get a chance. He hasn’t been in to see about Benito: at least if he has, I’m not aware of it,’ Meggsie said. Moe must have detected the note of bitterness in his voice.

  ‘That’s not good,’ Moe replied. ‘But it’s Guido’s way.’

  ***

  Meggsie’s greatest surprise came with a visit from Mrs Worthington. She came bearing a gift of cheesecake.

  ‘I smuggled this in, Gilbert,’ she said, her voice a stage whisper. ‘I wasn’t sure they’d let you have it, so I hid it under my flowers. I’ve been in hospital myself, and I know what the food’s like. Not at all what a boy needs. If it’s squashed, I’m sorry, but it will taste the same.’

  Meggsie couldn’t help chuckling. ‘I’m sure the taste of it will help keep me going, Mrs Worthington.’ He opened the box and peeked inside. ‘It survived. There are only a few little dents,’ he said. With great care, he used his finger to wipe up an errant smear of cheesecake from the inside of the box, and stuck his finger in his mouth.

  ‘Yum,’ he said, and nodded appreciatively.

  ‘I’ll hide it in the cupboard for you,’ she said conspiratorially. ‘Nurses can be very strict. My sister was a nurse, and she was a pain in the … never mind. I’m hoping I can bring a cake for Benny in a week or two. He likes chocolate cake. He likes my fruitcake, too, with lashings of butter. You know, I’ve been buying fruit from Benny’s for twenty two years now, and I realise how spoilt I’ve been.’ She put a finger to her lips, and giggled to herself.

  ‘I’m getting forgetful, Gilbert, I knew about the fire, but out of habit, I still went to Benny’s before I remembered there was nothing there. I had to walk all the way to that awful shop down in Liverpool Street, you know the one. They are such a dreary lot down there, and I had to carry my groceries all the way home. I do hope you and Benny open another shop. I feel you’ve been, you know, friends. There many others who feel the same way. All my friends agree. We do hope the police catch the person who started the fire.’ Meggsie’s mind flicked briefly back to Blissett’s comment. He hoped the police caught the culprits too.

  Mrs Worthington’s visit provided a brief but welcome chance to think of things other than his own troubles. They chatted for an hour, and by that time Meggsie had learned quite a lot about Mrs Worthington and her family.

  It did, of course occur to Meggsie that the visitors had really come to visit Benito, but they all seemed to be happy to sit with him and chat. Each day, often more than once, he asked Nurse Hammond about Benito’s condition, and each time she gave the same reply. While he stayed alive, there was a chance, and God’s will would be done. When Meggsie asked to see Benito, her reply was always that Benito couldn’t have visitors. Sometimes she added a hopeful ‘yet’, and Meggsie learned to respond to that tiny ray of hope. It was all he could cling to.

  He heard her before he saw her. Therese was talking to Nurse Hammond somewhere down the corridor, and she seemed to be doing most of the talking. The moment she saw him, her conversation was forgotten and she rushed to him. Her hug was gentle and warm.

  ‘I been in to see you three times before. First time they wouldn’t let me in, then you were asleep,’ she said. ‘I see Benito every day. He’s just lying there. He don’t say anything at all,’ she said, then wiped her eyes on her lace handkerchief. ‘You look better.’

  They chatted for a half-hour. In her grief, much of the life had gone from Therese. Meggsie wondered how she would cope without Benito if he didn’t pull through. She was trying hard to hide it, but it was ev
ident that Therese was riding the extreme edge of her emotions.

  ***

  The following morning, when Nurse Hammond came to change his sheets, Meggsie noticed that she’d brought a large paper bag with her. She placed it on the floor, and he wondered idly what it contained. She sat him on the chair beside the bed. Within a minute or two, she had fitted clean linen and made the bed ready for him again.

  ‘There you go,’ she said, evidently pleased with her work. She picked up the paper bag and placed it on the foot of the bed.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, looking at the intriguing bag.

  ‘Doctor Jarvis says you are much improved, Gilbert,’ she announced. ‘He says you are ready to go home in the morning. You’ll have to come back here to have your dressings changed every second day. They will have to stay on for another three weeks or so: by then you should be good as new. There is a shirt, a pair of trousers and some underwear in the bag. Doctor Jarvis says we can’t send you out without clean clothing. That’s to prevent infection, you see. They are second hand, but they’ve been laundered, of course. The clothes you were wearing have been laundered too, but they didn’t scrub up very well. They’re in the bag too.’

  ‘When can I go, nurse?’ he asked. ‘Can I go now?’

  ‘It’s better that you stay the night. It’s getting quite late. Tomorrow morning, I will arrange some transport for you. There, the bed should be fresher for you. You can jump back in now, if you like. Make the most of it.’

  ‘I think I’ll sit here for a while. I’ve been lying down too long,’ Meggsie replied.

  ‘As you wish,’ Nurse Hammond said. As she walked away down the ward, Meggsie wondered where they thought they’d take him. He presumed the only address they had for him was a burnt-out fruit shop. Having no idea of what else he might do, he thought he might as well start from there as anywhere else.

  ***