by Gary Seeary
*
I could hear my destination, well before I saw it. Intermittent yelling, booing and even roars of laughter grew louder and louder, the further I went down Coventry Street. I turned right onto a large block of open land, shocked to see well over a thousand people moving around the dusty expanse. A bright light on the fascia of a hall lit up a roughly-built podium, ten yards in front.
How was it possible to entice this many people, so far out of the way?
I slowly mingled through the crowd, taking only sideways glances at the mixed bag of hard-faced men and occasional rough-looking woman that formed the majority; only a sprinkling of well-dressed types and people my own age were game enough to venture into this company. The rumbling storm clouds overhead gave the whole scene an unnatural feel, creating the impression that it was close to dark, when there had to be at least another hour of daylight left.
The focus of the crowd quickly shifted towards the makeshift podium, where a tall skinny man was striding confidently towards a rostrum, hastily lifted into position by two burly men. The skinny man wore a thick shapeless brown jacket, completely inappropriate for the heat at present, and sported a salt-and-pepper beard that came to a point in front of his green tartan tie, giving him more the appearance of an aristocrat, than the dungaree clad type I expected to front a crowd like this.
The glaring light behind the rostrum also gave the man the unexpected allure of a fire and brimstone preacher, ready to bring the wrath of God down on the unfaithful below.
The crowd roared with laughter as insults began being hurled by several rowdy groups, unwilling to wait for the speaker to commence before taking up their sport. A lot of these same blokes poured beer down their throats and then swore with a crudeness that would make wharfies blush.
“Shut up you morons! Listen to what I have to say,” the thin man yelled in a broad Scottish accent.
“This country has been bled dry by greedy bloody bosses for too long. They have no respect for what the average worker does for them. They want to send us to an early grave, while they count their profits. We need to unite, to stand up to the capitalists. And we need to do it now!” his voice rose to near breaking point.
“Ya look like ya never worked a day in ya bloody life, ya scrawny, pansy bastard,” shouted a thickset bloke wearing an army slouch hat, his mates giving him huge pats on the back as they took long swigs from their beer bottles.
This was great!
I moved a little closer to the front.
“I will have you know that I was wounded on the Western Front in 1918, and how much compensation did I get?… Nothing!” the skinny man yelled again, stretching out his arms like he’d been crucified.
“I got shot in the Dardanelles, mate,” another old digger shouted.
“That hurts more!” The crowd roared as the large man in the slouch hat held his crutch, digging up an old joke he knew would be a winner.
“I think he’s right!” protested a young man standing behind me, silencing the loud-mouths for a second, everybody nearby taking a step back to reveal the audacious upstart.
Well! If it wasn’t the angry young man from the Aid for Spain stand, without his girlfriend, Elaine, to keep him in line. He strode to within five yards of the big-mouthed interjector, pointing to the platform.
“Why don’t you get up there and tell us your great plan, King Kong, instead of hiding behind your drunken mates … Well, imbecile?”
“You’d better be careful what you say, you smart little shit. We were fighting the Hun when you were still sucking on your mother,” the Digger shouted in response, his mates moving as one towards the over-confident young man.
The thin man on the podium, who everyone had temporarily forgotten about, threw in his two bobs’ worth in a vain attempt to save the smart-arse. “What the young man is trying to say is that …” he searched for the right words, “the government can change things to suit themselves. They can send you to a government doctor, and they’ll stitch you up for good.”
A lot of people in the crowd nodded in agreement, but I didn’t think it would be enough to stop this young bloke getting a hiding he would never forget.
“The trouble with you old army rejects is, you were fighting the wrong enemy. Your commanders were puppets of their capitalist overlords, who profited from the death and misery of your mates,” mocked the Aid for Spain worker, holding his ground as the large Anzac ran at him, his face as red as a beetroot.
I moved forward myself, to try and help this smart-aleck, for no other reasons than to return a favour and minimise the pummelling he was going to get from the rampaging bull almost on him, but I was blocked by a surging mass desperate to see some blood flow.
Through the bobbing heads of a crowd at fever pitch, many of whom had swiftly taken sides, I could make out two large figures which stepped beside and then ahead of the young man.
“Whoa!” the crowd groaned as a huge blow was landed on the army veteran, just before he reached his objective. The king hit delivered by a massive assailant made blood spray from the Digger’s mouth as he fell back into his mate’s arms, who then managed to prop him up against the woodwork of the podium. I stood mouth agape, not only at the ease of the victory, but by the fact that there were two pugilists of equally humungous size. These two near identical twins stood either side of the unflinching antagonist, their arms crossed like the boxers you might find in front of a take-on-all-comers tent at a country show, waiting to beat up a local cocky.
I thought this little kerfuffle would have satisfied the bloodlust of the crowd, but the mood only got uglier as scuffles broke out in every quarter. I decided this place was too hot for me, and it might be better to make a dignified exit without any further ado. When more mates of the Digger turned up, and started to throw bottles in the direction of the twins and their handler, I moved right out to the periphery.
Just then, a woman’s shrill voice eclipsed all others.
“Gun!”
Everybody froze on the spot, eyes darting all around, trying to locate the person who could put them into the next world. No-one was sure what to do next; someone needed to take the lead.
Bang!
A loud clap of thunder cracked from directly above, making me and everyone else around me jump out of our collective skins.
I knew running wasn’t the right thing to do, and something I promised myself never to do again, but I ran as fast as I could back into the shadows of Coventry Street and then as far away from the Red Square as my legs would carry me, only slowing to a walk once I had crossed over the Yarra at the Spencer Street Bridge.
*
A cold drizzly rain began to fall as I crossed over Swanston Street along Latrobe, in an almost deserted city. A shiver ran down my spine as I tried to put my long day in Emerald Hill into perspective. I was glad I had taken Lenny’s advice and gone there, it really was an interesting place, and never mind some of the strange and scary incidents that occurred. It was well worth the trip but I may have to think twice about taking my sister there.
Before I turned into the quiet lane off Drummond Street that led to the rear of Aunty May’s boarding house, the woman from the university sprang to mind. There was something about her that I should have noticed right from the start, and I had completely missed it. She was certainly not a professor or teacher, so how could she manage to have a small house of her own in the grounds of a university college? An ordinary worker would live outside the grounds, so there was a slim chance she was a manager of sorts.
I made up my mind that in the morning I would go back to the college to see the woman. It was the longest of all shots that she would know of work for Lettie, but it was all I had to go on at the moment. Besides, I needed to talk to her.
5
* * *
Madeline
A large black sheet-metal sign hung from a chain, strung across the same driveway that the Pom had chased me down last Wednesday night, it read in white lettering:
&nbs
p; Entry to the University grounds is strictly prohibited to the General Public until further notice: Enquiries to the Administration Office.
Surely, this didn’t have anything to do with the fight I was in the other night.
There wasn’t a soul around to ask why the grounds were out of bounds, I could step over the chain and take a chance, although I didn’t feel like adding trespasser to my current notoriety in the university as a brawler.
I’d put little thought into this far-fetched plan formed late last night after a very tiring day, and had stopped a dozen times on the way to the university to ask myself:
Why am I doing something so daft, when I know I’ll only end up standing in front of a very puzzled woman, who’ll be wondering why she ever bothered helping a young fool with more front than Myers?
One thing I did plan to do before I got into the grounds, was to avoid being recognised by anyone that had a ringside seat from the second floor window on the night of the fight, one of whom I knew was a professor. I had decided to don a cap for the day, which had Aunty May giving me funnier looks than usual because she knows I rarely wear a hat, even on the hottest of days.
Before I turned around to head back home dejected, it occurred to me that I had made it out of the grounds via a path on Wednesday night, so why couldn’t I get back in the same way. The trouble was, everything looked completely different in broad daylight, compared to the darkness of that night. So, I didn’t have much hope of finding it now.
Bugger it! I’m going in this way.
I took a quick look around, before stepping over the chain and then walking at a brisk pace down the drive, hoping like hell I didn’t run into anybody. After a hundred yards, where the road started to curve, I turned right onto a paved pathway, where I could see another hundred yards ahead, the same small building I had been given refuge in.
“May we help you?” a cultured voice asked me from behind.
I swung around to see three prim and proper students in green and white jackets, embroidered with insignia.
Prefects! … They had to be.
The tallest student stepped forward, without saying a word.
“I’m just going to visit the lady who lives in the building down the path, to ask about work for my sister,” I replied, trying to think fast on my feet. “My aunt knows her.”
“Does she now?” the tallest prefect replied, with a smug grin on his face. “Then, what is the name of the lady in the building, and what is your aunt’s name?” After a second he added “And, may I ask what your name is?”
“I’m not telling you my name, or my aunt’s name, and I already told you, she knows her,” I shot back angrily, getting browned off, straight up, by this uppity bastard, and by the fact that I should have asked the woman’s name on Wednesday night.
“I’m not satisfied with the reason you’re sneaking around the grounds of our college,” the tallest prefect stated in an accusatory tone, before whispering something into the shortest prefect’s ear.
His lackey, then bolted towards the main college buildings, with my luck to get the professor who saw me in the fight last Wednesday night.
Now, I was getting annoyed. These blokes had me pegged as a lowlife thief, or worse.
“Listen here,” I insisted, the Irish rising in my voice. “I’m no bloody thief. I just wanted to ask the woman, that my aunt does know, if she’s heard of any work ’round here that might be suitable for my sister, who’s arriving down from the country on Tuesday. I thought the lady might …” I stopped, seeing only blank expressions on the students’ faces.
“It was a long shot. That’s all.”
“You should go now,” said the tallest of the students. “You can leave the same way as you came in. If you would like to make an appointment to visit the lady concerned, you can arrange it through our Administration Department during office hours, Monday to Friday. Then we can escort you through the grounds to see her after that.”
“But, I’m almost there,” I exclaimed, surprised by their officiousness.
“Why can’t you escort me now?”
“Are you not aware that there is an infantile paralysis epidemic spreading throughout the area?” the tallest prefect responded sharply, looking down on me as if I was an idiot. “The grounds have been closed to prevent the disease spreading from the public to the students.”
I stood in silence looking at the two students, understanding that they were right. I shouldn’t have just barged into the grounds. Hell, I might be spreading the disease right now and not even know it. Aunty May had told me how bad polio was but I hadn’t taken much notice of her.
The shorter prefect who had been quiet up until now, piped up, “She’s not in now anyway … she’s visiting her daughter at the Children’s.”
The tallest prefect turned around immediately, giving him a look that could kill.
*
I returned to Aunty May’s for Sunday lunch, I had no choice, but I was determined to get back to the college as soon as possible while there was still a slim chance of catching the woman on her way back from the Children’s Hospital.
Another reason I needed to return quickly, was that I had no way of complying with the requirements given to me by the prefects to arrange an appointment through the Administration Department, my ‘office’ hours far exceeded those of the University’s.
On returning, I slumped against the brick outer wall of the King’s College, taking advantage of the shade provided by a large river red gum, expecting a long wait ahead for a person that was possibly in the grounds already, and that I might be better off not seeing, anyway. I was upset by the revelation that this woman had a sick child and devastated to think that I may have caused it.
After more than an hour, I caught a glimpse of a woman in a blue hat and dress making her way around the slight curve of the College Crescent; a woman that I had been beginning to think was a figment of my imagination.
I felt a certain amount of dread at seeing her again, considering what I may have put her through, but then came a surge of relief.
As the woman drew nearer a smile appeared on her face.
“Sebastian, how are you?” she asked on reaching me. “It’s Madeline … My name is Madeline. I should have told you last Wednesday night.”
Madeline then leant forward and kissed me on the cheek. Her skin was soft against mine, with a faint scent of spice in her perfume, stepping back to look at my shocked face.
“Don’t worry, Sebastian. You won’t have to marry me!” Madeline added with a wry grin. “I’m already married.”
I had not expected this. Instantly, I saw her as someone different to the woman that had helped me, only a few days before.
“Come along with me, Sebastian, I’ll show you how to avoid being seen by the snitches.”
Madeline turned and walked down to a wall of greenery just before the main drive, and then pushed a concealed gate that opened into the grounds.
“Well, are you coming?” Madeline asked. “I have something I need to ask you.”
I followed Madeline along an overgrown, ivy-covered path, with so many twists and turns it made me wonder how I ever found my way last time.
“I was so worried about you after the fight, Sebastian. Were you fine the next day?” Madeline asked as the path opened onto the rear of her house.
“I got a bit of a hurry-up from my foreman at work that morning, but in the end he let me go home early, which was a first. My aunt wasn’t happy either, so I copped it for a couple of days, but it could ’a been worse. I’ve also managed to avoid running into my Pommy friend and his mates, so far,”
“Have you done anything else since then?” Madeline asked, while I held open the flyscreen door for her to unlock the main wooden door.
“Come in, Sebastian.”
I hesitated for a second, unsure if this was the right place to be.
“You are more than welcome,” Madeline assured me, holding the main door open. “Besides, you’ve
been here before.”
On entering the kitchen and looking around trying to familiarise myself again, I remembered that Madeline had asked me a question.
“Sorry, yeah. Yesterday, I went to South Melbourne. It’s quite a place!”
“It is a nice place, the shopping is always good there,” Madeline nodded in agreement, before removing her pixie-like, blue gorra hat.
She was younger and prettier than I recalled, shapely in an aqua-blue dress, her mousy hair was pulled back tightly from her scalp, finishing in a bun; a few strands of hair still managing to fly free in front of her forehead.
“I should explain why I asked you to come back to my house, Sebastian. But first, come into the lounge and make yourself comfortable. I’ll make a pot of tea for us.”
Madeline moved an old blanket from her couch and asked me if I would like to sit down. I sat on the edge of the leather, still surprised at being back in her digs again.
She stood in the doorway and must have noticed my discomfort. “I was informed by senior undergraduates from this college that a young man came into the grounds looking for me this morning. They thought it may have been a pretext for skulduggery, although the young man swore he was only in the grounds on behalf of his sister.”
Madeline shot me a quizzical look.
“I didn’t think they believed me.” I added.
She left to go and make the tea, leaving me completely on the edge of my seat. I wanted to ask about her daughter and selfishly how she became ill. But, decided quickly not to say a word, it might be too painful a subject to touch on. And, I was surprised she was married, I had no inkling of that the other night.
“I have a few questions I’d like to ask you, Sebastian,” Madeline declared on returning from the kitchen, placing a cup of tea, and scones on the low table in front of me. “But before that, the seniors did mention your sister was looking for work. She is obviously moving down to Melbourne, so you must be excited about that. I hope all the other news from home has been good?”
