Do You Dare? Jimmy's War

by Sherryl Clark

  Frank shrugged and was happy to get his money and have a day off, but Jimmy wasn’t pleased at all. That was five shillings he’d be short this week, and Mum still wasn’t back at the sugar works office. He wasn’t looking forward to telling her.

  ‘How about we meet tomorrow afternoon and go to the footy,’ Frank said. ‘Melbourne is playing Carlton in the semi-final. We can catch the train into the city and walk to the ground.’

  Jimmy’s face lit up. He hadn’t been to the footy for ages – not since Arthur had enlisted. ‘That’d be beaut.’ Then he stopped. ‘Except . . . I need to check with Mum first. With Arthur, you know . . . ’ And would there even be any money spare for a train ticket and then entrance to the game?

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ Frank said. ‘How about I meet you on the corner by the pub around lunchtime, and we’ll see then if you can come.’

  ‘All right.’

  Jimmy had great plans about asking Mum that evening, but after he’d collected his pay and walked home, he found Sergeant Ross knocking on the door.

  ‘Good timing,’ the policeman said. ‘I was coming to see your mum about a few things.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Jimmy made a face behind Ross’s back. Didn’t they have enough to worry about? Mum came to the door and invited Sergeant Ross in for a cup of tea, and when they got to the kitchen, Arthur was sitting there by the stove, hunched over his cup.

  ‘Arthur, good to see you home again,’ Ross said in a fake hearty voice that made Jimmy cringe.

  ‘Is it?’ Arthur growled.

  ‘Now, Arthur,’ Mum said, her face pink. She took the cake tin off the shelf and cut the last of the apple cake into small pieces, offering them to the policeman. He took one and bit into it. ‘Mmm, lovely.’

  Jimmy didn’t sit down. He took his cup and stood at the back door, watching the chooks pecking in the backyard while he waited to find out what Ross wanted. He had a fair idea and, sure enough, it didn’t take long to get to it.

  ‘I’ve had a report from the school that Jimmy hasn’t been attending. Is he sick?’

  Jimmy swung around, ready to tell Sergeant Ross what he thought of him, but Mum’s glare pulled him up. ‘I can’t afford for Jimmy to be at school. He’s a fine boy and he’s got himself a job down at the goods yard. His wages are all that’s keeping us right now.’

  ‘You’ve lost your job?’ the sergeant asked, his eyebrows raised.

  ‘I’ve been quite ill,’ Mum said. ‘There’s no wages for me when I’m not working, not like some. So I’ll thank you to tell the school that Jimmy will be back when we can manage it, and until then, if they want to take us to court, good luck to them!’

  Jimmy stared at Mum, hiding a grin behind his hand. He’d never heard Mum be so tough before. And he sure was glad that Sergeant Ross couldn’t make him go to school, but now he felt doubly bad about losing a day’s pay. After the sergeant finished his tea and cake and left, promising to let the school know, Jimmy faced his mum.

  ‘This is all I got paid this week,’ he said. ‘I’m really sorry but they just said no work again until Monday.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ Mum said. ‘We’ll manage. I should be able to go back to the sugar works very soon, I hope.’ She glanced at Arthur as she said it, but he sat in silence, staring at nothing, as if he hadn’t heard a word.

  Jimmy didn’t mention the footy game – instead he went out the back and fed the three chooks, and collected three eggs.

  ‘You girls are like a little egg factory,’ he said. He shooed them into the big shed and latched the door, and as he was carrying the eggs inside, an idea struck him. What if they had six chooks instead of three? There was plenty of food out in the paddocks he could get for them, and maybe he could ask the neighbours for food scraps. If he sold a few dozen eggs, then he could afford a bag of feed for them. Maybe Arthur could even take over their care and egg collecting when he was better.

  He bounded inside to tell Mum his idea.

  ‘Hmm. Let’s look at it in the spring,’ she said. ‘Any chooks you bought now would still be having their winter break from laying, I think, or be too young.’

  ‘All right.’ Jimmy sighed. He hadn’t even got as far as mentioning Arthur’s role.

  Mum made scones to go with their soup that night, and they all retired early to save on the kerosene lamps, but again, Mum and Jimmy were woken by Arthur’s nightmares, and this time Arthur thrashed around so much that he fell out of bed with a terrible crash. At least it woke him up, but he needed their help to get back up again.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ he gasped. A sob escaped, although clearly he was trying very hard not to cry.

  ‘You have to give yourself time,’ Mum said. ‘Would it help to talk about it? Tell me what happened?’

  ‘No!’ Arthur turned away from her. ‘Just leave me alone.’

  Mum hesitated but Jimmy took her arm and pulled her gently away. ‘Mum, come on.’ He led her to the kitchen and made them both a cup of tea. She sat at the table, her face white and drawn, her hands shaking.

  ‘It nearly kills me to see him like this,’ she said. ‘It’s so terrible. And there’s nothing we can do.’

  Jimmy drank his tea in silence. He didn’t know what to do either, but he knew one thing – he couldn’t gallivant off to the footy tomorrow acting like he didn’t have a care in the world and leave Mum to cope alone. He’d do his jobs in the morning and then meet Frank and give him the bad news.

  When they met the next day, Frank wasn’t upset with him at all, and said he wouldn’t go either. ‘But if it was Fitzroy playing, you couldn’t have kept me away.’

  ‘Fitzroy? Fancy barracking for a useless team like that!’ Jimmy laughed, knowing Frank wouldn’t take offence. He’d taken plenty of teasing from Frank over his support for Footscray, who weren’t even in the League. ‘Maybe we can watch Fitzroy play next week.’

  ‘You’re on,’ Frank said. ‘Let’s go and buy some licorice and then find the boys.’

  Sure enough, two of Frank’s mates, Walter and Freddie, were out in the paddock with a footy. The four of them kicked it around for a bit, but without enough boys for a game they soon grew bored.

  ‘I know where there’s an apple tree hanging over the back lane,’ Walter said. ‘I reckon they’re fair game.’

  They followed him through the back streets and into the laneway, but the tree had already been stripped bare. The boys trudged along and around the corner, and found Old Cobbley’s horse and cart waiting patiently in the street.

  ‘Let’s play a trick on him,’ Freddie said.

  ‘He’s delivering vegetables,’ Jimmy said. ‘He’ll be out any minute.’

  ‘Nah,’ Frank said. ‘He lives here. He’s having lunch before he finishes his deliveries. If we’re quick . . . ’ He scooted around to the front of the horse and started unbuckling the harness. ‘Quick, give me a hand.’

  Freddie ran around the other side and did the same, and then, while Jimmy held the cart shafts, Walter led the horse through the gate into the front garden. Frank and Jimmy quickly fed the shafts through the fence pickets, and Walter tied them back on the horse. In a few minutes, there stood the horse on one side of the fence and the cart on the other, all harnessed up again.

  The boys ran off and hid around the corner, poking each other and snorting with laughter. Not long after, Old Mr Cobbley came out of his house and exploded. ‘What nasty little rats did this?’ he roared. ‘If I get a hold of you, you’ll wish you’d never been born!’

  The boys were laughing so hard now they could barely stand, and they had to stagger off down the street before their merriment gave them away.

  ‘Oh my golly gosh,’ Frank said, holding his stomach. ‘That was a classic.’

  ‘It’s past two o’clock,’ Walter said. ‘What about going to the pictures this afternoon?’

  ‘Let’s see what’s on first,’ Frank said. They wandered up the main street and across the railway line, then turned right to the St George theatr
e. The films showing had been written up on a blackboard.

  ‘Oh, it’s Charlie Chaplin,’ Frank said. ‘At least he’s funny, not like that Mary Pickford, the soppy “sweetheart”.’ He wrapped his arms around himself and mimed someone giving big smooching kisses. ‘Mmm, oooh, you’re so handsome, Frederick.’

  Freddie’s face turned bright red and he wrestled Frank to the ground. The boys cheered and when Freddie let Frank up, he said, ‘Why can’t they show a film about the war? So we can see what adventures those soldiers are having. I can’t wait to join up. I’m going to sneak in as soon as I turn fifteen and tell them I’m older.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ Frank said. ‘You haven’t even got fluff on your face yet, let alone some decent whiskers. Who do you think you’re fooling?’

  Jimmy said nothing. It wasn’t so long ago he’d thought like Freddie and wanted to enlist like Arthur and maybe end up fighting next to him. Now it was different, and he wished he could take Freddie to see Arthur, see what really happened to soldiers.

  ‘Look,’ Walter said. ‘They’re going to show the film about Gallipoli next week! Hey, Jimmy, your brother should come and see it.’

  ‘What the hell for?’ Jimmy yelled. ‘He’s just bloody been there and got his leg blown off and his eye shot out. You think he needs a reminder?’

  ‘All right, all right,’ Walter grumbled.

  ‘Calm down, Jimmy,’ Frank said. ‘It’s just that the war is a long way away, and the papers make out like it’s the most exciting thing ever. Join up and see the world, they say!’

  Jimmy nodded and mumbled, ‘Sorry.’ There was no point yelling at Walter. He wasn’t to know any better.

  ‘I’ve gotta go and check my traps,’ Freddie said. ‘You coming?’

  They all decided to go, walking out into the paddocks towards Geelong Road, following cow tracks that meandered and crisscrossed. Freddie knew exactly where all of his traps were. ‘I’ve got my special spots,’ he told them, ‘and I know just where those bunnies like to run. I don’t need a dog or a ferret.’

  Sure enough, every trap but one had a rabbit in it and soon the boys were carrying two or three each. Freddie was happy to sell Jimmy a rabbit for their tea – Mum would be pleased to have fresh meat, although Jimmy wasn’t looking forward to gutting and skinning it.

  When he got home, Arthur was sitting by the fire, reading the newspaper and looking very gloomy. Mum was writing a letter and glanced up as Jimmy came in, holding the rabbit proudly out in front of him.

  ‘Where did you get that?’ she asked.

  ‘Off Freddie – he’s a mate from the goods yard. He’s got traps everywhere.’

  Mum fetched a sharp knife from the drawer. ‘That’ll be lovely for our tea. Now, Arthur, why don’t you give Jimmy a hand with getting it ready?’

  Arthur grunted something and Jimmy thought he was going to refuse, but he pulled himself to his feet and grabbed his crutches. ‘Best we do it in the backyard.’

  Jimmy had skinned and cleaned a rabbit several times before, but he was happy that Arthur was going to help. However, all Arthur did was lean against the back porch and criticise. ‘You need to cut further down than that’ and ‘Don’t pull the guts out like that’.

  Jimmy gritted his teeth and kept going, but he ended up making a bit of a mess of it, all thanks to Arthur, who took the rabbit in to Mum. Jimmy heard him say, ‘Sorry it’s all cut up. Jimmy’s not much good at this. You’d think he’d know by now. Has he been a lazy begger since I’ve been away?’

  Jimmy was so angry his hands were shaking. Why did Arthur have to be such a mongrel? He didn’t wait to hear what Mum said. He buried the rabbit guts and went to the tap for a bucket of water to clean off the back steps before finding an old frame in the shed for the rabbit skin. He washed the blood off and then stretched the skin over the frame and scraped it clean of fat and tissue. After it dried he’d hopefully be able to tan it. A couple of rabbit skins would make nice warm glove liners for Mum.

  It was dark by the time he finished up, so he put the chooks away and trudged back inside. The delicious smell of rabbit stew filled the kitchen, but Arthur was still there, sour-faced, so Jimmy went to his room to play with his marbles. But when he’d tipped them out of the bag, he no longer felt in the mood. He put them away, hoping Mum was right and Arthur would get better.

  At least Arthur seemed to enjoy the rabbit stew, eating seconds and thirds, leaving nothing in the pot. Mum said nothing, but usually she would’ve used the leftover stew and stretched it into Sunday tea for another meal. Arthur didn’t seem to realise that eating the whole lot was a problem. Jimmy watched him and couldn’t help worrying how much money would be left in the tin for food by the middle of next week.

  The next day, Mum and Jimmy got ready for church as usual, but Arthur refused to go.

  ‘I’m not hobbling down there just for them to stare and gossip about me. Besides, it’s pretty clear God has given up on me.’

  ‘Arthur!’ Mum’s mouth was a thin line. ‘If God had given up, you’d be lying under the dirt at Gallipoli, not home safe and . . . ’ Too late, she’d been about to say safe and sound, and sound was something Arthur was not.

  He just shook his head and stomped off to his room, his crutch clattering against the skirting board.

  After a long boring day, Jimmy went to bed, looking forward to work the next morning just to get away from the house.

  But bad news greeted him at the railway yards.

  ‘I’m sorry, lad,’ Mr Mellon said. ‘I can give you work today, but from tomorrow I need strong men to cope with the heavy freight coming in. Maybe next week we’ll have the lighter bags and crates again.’

  ‘But I need the money,’ Jimmy said.

  ‘I can’t pay you to sit around and watch. Why don’t you try the shops up the street. Surely they’re looking for delivery boys?’

  Delivery work paid less than half what he’d been getting at the yards – besides, he’d already tried that. All the same, when Jimmy finished work that afternoon, he started asking around, even going to Arthur’s old workplace. Everywhere he went, either the work was too hard for a boy or he needed experience.

  He walked home, worry dragging his feet and weighing him down like a ton of coal. How on earth was he going to tell Mum?

  Suddenly a voice hailed him from the door of the pub. ‘Jimmy! How’re you doing at the yards?’

  It was Bill Prosser, wearing what looked like a brand-new suit with a flower in the buttonhole. His shoes shone like black glass and his shirt was as white as a wedding dress.

  ‘Hello, Bill.’ Jimmy tried to sound happy but it wasn’t in him today.

  ‘Things not good?’ Bill asked. ‘George not giving you a hard time down there, is he?’

  ‘He’s a good boss,’ Jimmy said, ‘but he reckons I’m too small for a lot of the loading. He can’t give me a permanent job, only days here and there now when the freight is lighter.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ Bill said. ‘How’s Arthur?’

  ‘Not good.’ Jimmy grimaced as his stomach rumbled. He’d had no lunch again that day and had refused Frank’s half sandwich, feeling like a bludger.

  ‘Here,’ Bill said, reaching behind him to a table just inside the door. He presented Jimmy with a plate with a meat pie on it. ‘It’s a bit cold – I got talking and forgot about it. You have it.’

  Normally Jimmy would have refused someone else’s leavings but he was way too hungry. ‘Thanks.’ He grabbed the pie and took a huge bite, gravy running down his chin. At least if he ate this now, it wouldn’t matter if Arthur scoffed everything at home.

  ‘You know, I wish you would come and work for me,’ Bill said. ‘I know you’re trustworthy. And you’re a hard worker, aren’t you?’

  ‘I am,’ he replied cautiously.

  Bill leaned down close to Jimmy and tapped the side of his nose. ‘It’d be between you and me and the gatepost. No one else needs to know.’ Bill’s smile warmed Jimmy like a comfy blanket.<
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  ‘Sergeant Ross knows everything around here,’ Jimmy said.

  ‘No, he just likes to think he does,’ Bill said. ‘Ross does all right on the small stuff, like chasing up truant kids and throwing drunks out of the pub, but he stays out of my business. If you came to work for me, I can guarantee you won’t hear a word from the copper. Not one word.’

  ‘Really?’ Still, Jimmy hesitated. He was already in trouble for truancy. What if he ended up in gaol?

  ‘Look, I’ll pay you the same as the yards – five bob a day – plus bonuses for special jobs. No heavy lifting, but your bicycle will come in handy. Can’t say better than that.’

  Bill sipped his beer, his eyes shifting left and right as he waited for Jimmy’s answer.

  Jimmy couldn’t help it – he looked over his shoulder in case Sergeant Ross was coming up behind him, but the coast was clear. It was risky even talking to Bill. But Jimmy knew he had no job, a near-empty jam tin at home, and an injured brother to feed who wasn’t likely to get any kind of work either. Bill was offering good money. Surely the risk was worth it?

  Jimmy finished off the pie, chewing while he pretended to think about Bill’s offer, but he already knew he’d say yes.

  ‘Sounds like a fair deal,’ he finally said.

  Bill stuck out his hand. ‘We’ll shake on it, then. A man’s handshake is as good as a contract, right?’

  Jimmy nodded. His hand, calloused and rough, felt trapped by Bill’s strong, smooth grip, but it was too late to back out now. Besides, he needed the money – that’s all there was to it.

  ‘Righto, I’ll need you at eight sharp tomorrow. Come to Mum’s house, around to the back door.’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ Jimmy said, and set off for home. One minute he wanted to kick up his heels and skip, the next a dark sense of dread slid through him. He almost wished he could just go back to school and play with his marbles in the schoolyard again. But then he remembered Arthur, and Mum’s worried face, and the empty money tin, and knew he had no choice.

  The next morning he had no need to rise early for the goods yard, but still Jimmy was up before seven, stoking the fire for Mum and filling the kettle. He set the porridge on to cook and went to let the chooks out, shivering at the nip in the air. Time to go before Mum saw him.