by Ron Thomas
‘The last slice of pizza?’ Claudia asked. ‘Get it while it’s hot!’ They had become very close since their dancing lessons and she’d realised he was a good dancer. They were planning to go to the pictures the following Saturday.
‘Don’t mind if I do. I’m hungry,’ Meggsie replied, taking the slice. ‘Thanks for your help today. I was flat out.’
Claudia laughed. ‘We all were. Everyone wanted to talk to Dad.’
‘Yes. I meant to tell you that Yosef measured me for my suit today. I’ll be ready for the formal. I’m getting dancing pumps too.’
‘I’m going shopping on Saturday …’ Claudia began, then realised that Meggsie’s gaze was focussed on something over her shoulder. She glanced behind to see Guido Caletti striding purposefully towards the front gate, followed by Nellie Cameron.
‘Go and get some more pizza,’ Meggsie said. His urgent tone of voice told her something was amiss. ‘Go and get more pizza, Claudia,’ he repeated.
Benito looked tired, but with all his friends around him, he seemed to be enjoying every second of the buzz and excitement. His back was turned to Guido’s approach. The babble of talk subsided as partygoers became aware of a determined Guido Caletti and Nellie Cameron, almost being dragged behind him by her wrist. She didn’t look happy as Guido released his grip, and made a beeline for Benito, elbowing his way through the crowd.
Guido’s head swivelled back and forth, like a wild animal sensing danger. He grabbed Benito’s arm and turned him roughly around until they were facing. ‘Are there any cops around?’ he asked, interrupting the conversation.
‘Why would cops be here?’ Benito asked, surprised and wary.
‘What about those news bastards? They’re hounding me. Did you put those bastards on my tail? They ambushed me at the shop.’ Guido’s voice was demanding and ignored the other stunned partygoers.
‘Eh? I ain’t done nothing, Uncle Guido. I didn’t know you’ve been to the shop. It’s a party. Only friends here. Enjoy yourself! Have a drink!’ Benito’s attempt at conciliation fell on deaf ears. Guido stepped closer and jabbed Benito with a rigid index finger, anger rising. Benito took a step back in the face of Guido’s aggression.
‘Well, Benny, somebody let that bastard from The Truth lie in wait for me at Benny’s a couple of nights ago. I reckon you must have done it! Now, I’ve got that bastard Blissett and the consortos waiting at home and The Truth chasing me around the district. I’ve got nowhere to go!’
For a brief moment Meggsie thought Guido was intending to demand that Benito provide a hideout, but he would hardly do that in front of thirty witnesses. He began to edge his way through the crowd.
Guido’s temper was rising dangerously and it was clear he was seeking a confrontation. He grabbed Benito roughly by the shoulder and when Benito attempted feebly to push him away, suddenly Guido had a razor in his upraised hand, amid screams from nearby women.
Meggsie had never felt anything like the rage that exploded inside him. He pushed through the crowd and leapt onto Guido’s back, trying to grab the razor-wielding arm.
‘Benito did nothing! I did it! I did it!’ Meggsie screamed, his face contorted. Guido staggered in a circle, trying to dislodge the limpet as Meggsie clawed at his eyes.
‘Aargh!’ Guido growled and with a heave he managed to throw Meggsie from his back. Momentarily stunned and winded by the fall, Meggsie found himself at Nellie Cameron’s feet.
Suddenly Guido was towering over him, still holding the razor. Terror began to rise in his throat, and with wide eyes, he babbled the first thing that came into his head.
‘I did it! The old shop burned down because of you and Benito almost died!’ he yelled. For a horrible moment, he thought Guido was going to ignore him.
‘If you hurt that boy, you can forget about marrying me,’ Nellie said, surprisingly calmly. Slowly, Guido lowered the hand carrying the razor. Strangely he looked around him as though he became aware of the crowd around him for the first time. The razor flicked closed and was gone.
He turned back to Benito, but before he could speak, Therese came hurrying to them, having missed the confrontation.
‘Uncle Guido!’ she said.
‘We came to tell you we are going to Melbourne, Therese,’ Guido replied, abashed. ‘We’re getting married.’ Therese could tell there was something wrong, but she didn’t know what. Then she saw Meggsie sitting at Nellie’s feet.
‘What’s going on here? Why are you sitting down there?’
Meggsie thought fast. ‘I tripped over,’ he lied ruefully.
‘Help him up. He’s had a big day,’ Therese said.
A humiliated Guido offered Meggsie his hand and pulled him to his feet.
‘Nellie and I are getting married,’ Guido said. ‘We think we can start a new life in Melbourne, away from all the narks around here. We’re leaving now. We just came to say goodbye.’
Therese stepped to him and put her arms around him.
‘Congratulations,’ she said.
***
Once Guido and Nellie departed, the party had wound down despite a tired Benito’s entreaties for people to stay. The last guests had barely closed the gate when Therese ordered Benito and Federico to bed.
‘Gilberto, go to bed. The girls will help me here,’ Therese said.
‘When we clear up,’ Meggsie replied. ‘I’m all right. I hope Uncle Guido and Nellie make a go of it in Melbourne.’
‘I hope so.’ Therese seemed elated by this new development, and though she didn’t say so, Meggsie knew it was because Guido was gone from their lives.
‘I hope so too,’ Meggsie said with conviction. ‘I hope so too.’ Therese turned to him and felt the tea towel he was using.
‘That’s too wet. Get a dry one from the drawer. Better still I’ll take over. You must be very tired. You hardly stopped today. You’ve been working too hard, Gilberto. I hope you can ease off now. You need a holiday.’
‘There’s too much to do yet,’ Meggsie replied. ‘Dick’s a real asset, but the new boys don’t know the ropes yet. Herbie and Jack will be all right, I think. They both put in a long day without complaining today. Once they get a bit more experience, it should make it easier for Benito and me. Perhaps we can have the odd day off.’
‘Then maybe you will decide it’s time to take a day off and go see your mother.’ She waved an admonishing finger at him.
‘I will. I need to wait until I’m ready,’ he replied quietly.
Chapter 39
Full Circle
Wilhelmina Maggs wasn’t expecting visitors. Somehow, however, the rat-a-tat-tat on her door stirred something in her subconscious. There was something familiar about that knock that had her rushing to open it. She wiped her wet hands on her apron as she hurried down the hallway, then fumbled with the new-fangled lock. With the security chain in place, the door only opened wide enough for her to peer through a narrow slit.
‘Can I help you?’ she asked. The wide shouldered young man who stood there was silhouetted against the light, and she could see that he wore a conservative, dark suit. Her immediate thought was that it was one of those pests about to regale her with his version of salvation, but some sprite of recollection flitted through her consciousness and bade her hold her tongue.
‘Mum?’ Abruptly, her mood changed as she recognised her son’s voice.
‘Gilbert?’ Wilhelmina asked, hardly able to breathe with the shock and joy of it all.
‘That’s me,’ Gilbert replied.
‘It’s been so long!’ Wilhelmina exclaimed. ‘I thought I’d never see you again. I didn’t know what might have happened to you!’
‘If you like, I’ll tell you all about it. It might be better if you let me in, though.’
‘Yes, yes. Just a moment.’ She closed the door and unfastened the chain then opened the door and stood with her hands to her mouth.
Yes, it really was her Gilbert, but a grown-up version, much taller and with a working man’s broad sh
oulders. Best of all he was holding his arms wide and she came to him. With her son’s arms around her, it was as if the cares and troubles flowed from her, and she began to sob in an outpouring of emotion that racked her body. Gilbert’s strong arms held her tight until her sobbing subsided, and they just stood in an embrace that said more than words ever could.
Finally, Wilhelmina looked up at her boy, thinking how much taller he’d grown. ‘I’d better go and put the kettle on, son. I think I’m going to need a cup of tea.’ She stepped back and held him at arm’s length. ‘But first, I just want to have a good look at you. You’ve grown so much. You’re so handsome, and strong looking. I want to know everything that’s happened to you.’
‘First things first. Where’s Dad?’ Gilbert asked.
‘He’s not here. I’ll put the kettle on, then we can talk about it,’ she said.
***
Wilhelmina fussed in the kitchen for quite some time, and the memories came flooding back as Meggsie sat on the over-stuffed sofa, reminding himself of how his life had changed forever on that fateful Friday night. Little had changed in the Maggs’ house though. The paint was still peeling, the stuffing still spilling from the lounge chair where Albert had stabbed it in a drunken rage. The ugly leadlight fitting in the middle of the room still had a list to starboard and one of its glass panes had been replaced with a piece of cardboard.
‘I’ve only got milk arrowroot biscuits,’ Wilhelmina said as she came back carrying a tray with two cups, a teapot and half a dozen biscuits. ‘I know you like the shortbread ones but I don’t get them anymore.’ She seemed much more composed now.
‘Milk arrowroot are fine,’ Meggsie replied, remembering that he’d never drunk tea at home. It was a taste he’d acquired more recently at Therese’s insistence. He took the cup she offered him, helped himself to three teaspoons of sugar and ignored the little jug of milk beside the cracked sugar bowl. He wouldn’t be needing that. He blew gently across the surface of the tea, then took a tentative sip and waited.
‘Your father was fired from the docks,’ Wilhelmina began. She kept her eyes on the teacup she held, and seemed to be avoiding making eye contact.
‘He never told me what it was about, but his mate Eric Woodmore called in to see if I was alright afterwards. You probably remember Eric. He told me that your father had turned up drunk for work and had punched Williams, the manager over some trivial, imagined slight. You know what he was like when he’d had a skinful.’ Meggsie could only nod his head sadly as too many memories milled around his consciousness.
‘He sat around here brooding for a couple of weeks, then I didn’t see him for about a week, until one day he came and told me he was going shearing. He packed up a few things, walked out that door, and I’ve neither seen nor heard of him since. Good riddance to the bastard. I’ve had the locks changed. It’s been more than six months, now. Somehow, I think I’ve seen the last of him.’ She stopped and sipped her tea, seeming hesitant to continue.
‘Why is that, Mum?’ Meggsie asked. ‘What makes you think he won’t be back?’
‘Eric told me,’ Wilhelmina replied. ‘He’s been very good to me, has Eric, since your father left. He told me that Harry Williams was shot as he was going home the night before your father left. Eric thinks your father must have done it. That’s why Eric says your father won’t be coming back.’
Meggsie had no idea what to say in reply. He was sure his mother would be better off without Albert, and he was pretty certain that she thought so too. He watched his mother closely as he munched on his dry arrowroot biscuit, and he could tell she was wrestling with her feelings.
‘Gilbert you’re not what he said you are,’ she suddenly declared. For a brief second, he wasn’t following her train of thought.
‘You aren’t a bastard,’ she said. ‘Your father got drunk on our wedding night. That was the first time he bashed me. I didn’t even know what he was angry about. I’ve thought about that so much. I think it was because I danced with Eric. You know Eric.’
Meggsie couldn’t recall an Eric, but at that moment it didn’t seem to matter much.
‘Almost from the start,’ she continued, ‘Friday nights were a nightmare. There were many times I wanted to leave him, and I tried to get out. I’d go and stay with friends, then, once he’d sobered up, he’d find me and say he was sorry and it wouldn’t happen again. I’d give him another chance; more fool me.’ By now tears were streaming down her cheeks.
‘You don’t have to tell me all this, Mum,’ Meggsie said consolingly. ‘I know enough.’
‘Even when I swore I’d never be unfaithful to him, he never believed anything I said, almost from the start. As soon as he discovered you had red hair, it set him off. He only needed a few drinks and all that suspicion and hate would come spilling out.’
‘Yes, Mum, I know that only too well. He chased me with the kitchen knife, remember.’
‘Yes,’ Wilhelmina replied softly. ‘You know, Gilbert, I haven’t had a drink since the night he left. I poured the bottles I had hidden down the kitchen sink. Now he’s gone, I don’t need them anymore.’
‘I’m proud of you, Mum.’
‘But I do want you to know that you are his son. Thank God you aren’t like him.’
‘Not even a bit?’ Meggsie asked with a grin. Her smile was rather wan, and the sadness didn’t leave her eyes, but at least he’d succeeded in bringing a brief smile to her.
‘Not even a bit,’ she replied. ‘Now tell me all about what’s happened to you. I like your deep voice now it’s broken. You sound very grown-up. I see you’re shaving, too.’
***
Of course, like any normal boy, Meggsie didn’t tell his mother everything. Instead he told her everything he could. As he warmed to the subject, she appeared to forget her own situation, and she smiled and laughed and cried with him. It was the longest conversation they’d ever had, and he began to see a sparkle in her eyes that he’d seldom seen in his life.
The timing was perfect. He’d barely finished telling her about Benito’s return to the fruit and veg business, when there was a knock at the door.
‘That will be Eric,’ Wilhelmina said. ‘Stay there. I’ll let him in.’
Suddenly the name Eric had new meaning for him. Meggsie could hear his mother talking quietly to someone he presumed was Eric. As time passed, Meggsie anticipated that Eric had been expected, and that he was now being briefed about the unexpected arrival of her prodigal son.
When she returned, she was followed by a man he thought was somewhat older than his mother, with greying hair and a suit that had seen better days. Meggsie vaguely remembered the man’s face. The battered Akubra he was carrying, and the mismatched buttons of his waistcoat, marked him as a man who worked for a living.
‘This is Eric,’ Wilhelmina said. ‘You’ve met Eric before, a long time ago. He worked with your father. Perhaps he can tell you a little more about what happened, if you want. Eric has been very helpful since your father left. He’s staying for dinner, and there’s enough for you too, if you would like to stay.’
Eric smiled as he shook Meggsie’s hand. ‘I remember you, Gilbert. You were a smart little tacker if ever there was one. Do you remember me, son?’ he asked.
‘I think so, but it’s quite vague. It’s as though I know you, but I can’t remember anything about you.’
‘That would be because you only saw me when you were perhaps four or five. I didn’t come around after that, but your father and I were workmates for about twenty years.’
‘I’d better put the dinner on,’ Wilhelmina interjected. ‘We’re having rissoles, and I’d better get on the job.’ Her departure seemed to stall the momentum of the conversation for some minutes, and as men do, they turned to football to fill the gap.
‘I suppose you’re an East supporter like your old man, Gilbert,’ Eric suggested casually.
‘I used to be. I support Souths now.’ Meggsie found it hard to stifle a grin.
‘Geez! Old Albert wouldn’t have liked that!’ Eric exclaimed.
‘No. I think that’s one of the reasons I switched after I left home. I reckon Souths might win the comp this year.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Eric replied. ‘We’ll see about that. Do you go out to the matches?’
‘Sometimes, if I’ve got the day off. I work at a fruit shop up in Darlinghurst. My boss and his son follow the soccer, I keep trying to talk them into coming to see real football, but I’m not making much headway.’ He smiled, recollecting his many friendly, bantering debates with Benito and Fed, all of them knowing there would be no conversions of faith at the end.
‘There’s no accounting for taste,’ Eric replied with a smile. ‘Perhaps we could go out and see a game together some time. Mind you, we’d be barracking for opposing teams.’
‘Yes, I’d like that,’ Meggsie replied, beginning to think that Eric must be playing a much greater part in his mother’s life than he’d realised. They chatted inconsequentially until dinner was served.
The table had been laid with care and it had a starched white tablecloth. Meggsie had never seen a tablecloth on their dining room table in his life, and he could see that his mother was putting up a special effort. Given the timing, he suspected that it wasn’t him that she was trying to impress, but he felt no animosity. The meal of rissoles, peas and mash was tasty enough, but having been exposed to Therese’s extraordinary culinary skills, he realised how spoiled he’d been. He wasn’t surprised when there was no dessert.
‘Did Eric tell you about us?’ his mother asked.
Meggsie shrugged. ‘Not really,’ he replied, beginning to guess what might be behind the question.
‘I have to move out of this place,’ Wilhelmina said. ‘I can’t afford the rent. We were six weeks behind in the rent when your father walked out, and Eric helped me. Eric’s wife died about eighteen months ago, and he lives by himself on Chapel Street.’ She looked down at the table. ‘I’m going to move in with him,’ she mumbled. There was a long, pregnant pause as Meggsie tried to digest this information and Wilhelmina and Eric tried to gauge what he was thinking.
