Do You Dare? Jimmy's War

by Sherryl Clark

  Jimmy made sure he put on his good shirt and jumper, and cleaned his boots with a brush and rag. After breakfast, he wheeled his bicycle out to the street and set off for Somerville Road, arriving at Mrs Prosser’s back door well before eight o’clock. Rather than knock and maybe interrupt their breakfast, he sat on the step and waited. When he heard a mantel clock inside chime the hour, he stood and rapped on the door.

  Bill answered it. ‘You’re right on time, Jimmy. I like to be punctual myself. You’re off to a good start.’ He took a parcel off the shelf by the door. ‘Here’s your first job – take this to the post office for Mum. Here’s sixpence to pay for it.’

  Jimmy was a little taken aback. He’d expected to be doing something illegal, but maybe Bill was testing him. He put the parcel in his bicycle basket, rode to the post office and was back in less than half an hour, only to find that Bill had gone out. Mrs Prosser told him to spend the morning weeding her vegetable garden, and Bill would be back later.

  Indeed he was and, after a bowl of soup and some bread for lunch, he took Jimmy out in his car. ‘I want to show you where to go,’ he said. ‘You’ll need to know all the ins and outs before you start. I can’t be spending all my time explaining stuff.’ They drove around the streets of Yarraville and Footscray, past the fertiliser factories, the abattoir, the sawmill and the tanneries. At each one, Bill pointed out the main gate and the side entrances. ‘When you come here,’ he said, ‘you wait by that entrance and the men will come out to you. On no account do you ever go inside, even if they ask you to. You got that?’

  ‘Yeah, but what am I doing?’

  ‘Taking bets. You gotta problem with that?’ Bill’s voice was sharp.

  Jimmy shook his head. ‘Where will you be?’

  ‘Nowhere near you,’ Bill said with a short laugh. ‘I’ve got a few places I might be. The pub later in the day, or my own place.’

  ‘I thought you . . . ’

  ‘Lived with Mum?’ Bill laughed again. ‘Not likely. She’d cramp my style.’ He pulled up outside a large brick house not far from Seddon railway station. ‘This is my place. But you never come in the front door, right? There’s a back lane and a gate – you come in there so your bicycle is off the street, out of sight, and knock three times. Can you remember all that?’

  ‘Yep,’ Jimmy said, and shivered. What went on at Bill’s house? It had bars on all the windows, and the back gate looked like a fortress. Bill was showing him secret things that might get him in deep trouble if he wasn’t careful. He straightened his shoulders. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. ‘Yes, Bill. I won’t let you down.’

  ‘Good lad.’ Bill clapped him on the shoulder. They drove back to Somerville Road and Jimmy collected his bicycle. He rode home slowly, lost in thought, and nearly toppled off into the gutter when a voice boomed in his ear.

  ‘Where’ve you been?’

  It was Frank, grinning like a monkey, covered in dust and mud from the yards. He had his football tucked under his arm.

  ‘Working,’ Jimmy said. He was reluctant to tell anyone, even Frank, what his new job was.

  ‘Where?’ Frank didn’t beat around the bush.

  ‘Er . . . for Bill Prosser.’ Jimmy’s face reddened. ‘But don’t tell anyone.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep my trap shut,’ Frank said. ‘But watch yourself. Bill’s got a finger in lots of pies. The bookie business is only part of it. And watch Hector, too.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Hector’s always skiting about how he’s going to work for Bill one day. He won’t like it that you got in before him.’ Frank looked over his shoulder. ‘Look, here come the others. We’re off for a kick down the paddock. You coming?’

  ‘Yeah, that’d be great. I’ll see you there,’ Jimmy said, grinning. He rode on home and found Arthur on his own in the kitchen.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Arthur said. ‘Mum needs more wood for the stove.’

  Jimmy glanced at the wood bag beside the back door. It would’ve taken Arthur only a few minutes to sling the bag over his shoulder and fetch a couple of pieces of wood himself. Jimmy was about to say so when he noticed Arthur’s white, sweaty face and shaking hands.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Jimmy asked.

  ‘Of course I’m not!’ Arthur snapped, then sucked in a shuddering breath. ‘Sorry, Jimmy. I just . . . the pain in my head is giving me hell today.’ He went to pick up the cup of tea in front of him but his hand was shaking too much and the tea slopped across the table. ‘Ahh, for the love of . . . ’

  ‘I’ll fix it.’ Jimmy grabbed the dishcloth and mopped up the tea. ‘You want a fresh cup?’

  ‘Yeah, thanks.’ Arthur sat, hunched, staring at the table. He looked like an old man, older even than Dad had been when he’d died. Jimmy tried to conjure up a memory of Arthur in his football kit, face shining after a good game, but this weak, defeated Arthur in front of him made it impossible.

  Jimmy brought in some wood and stoked the fire, then he put the kettle on. The big pot held a delicious-smelling soup that set his stomach rumbling. He eyed Arthur and wondered whether to tell him about the new job, but decided against it. Even Mum needed to be kept in the dark, as she’d probably make him chuck it in.

  The front door opened and an icy gust swirled down the hallway to the kitchen. Mum came in, pulling her knitted hat off and unwinding a scarf. ‘It’s so cold out there tonight,’ she said. ‘Set the table, will you, Jimmy?’ She took a parcel out of her bag and set it down by Arthur’s elbow. ‘Here you are. Take some now and more before you go to bed.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum.’ Arthur managed a crooked smile.

  ‘And I bought a bandage and dressing for your eye,’ she said. ‘No argument, Arthur. I’m cleaning it after dinner and putting the new dressing on.’

  That was one thing Jimmy didn’t want to see, but after they’d eaten and washed the dishes, Mum asked him to help, fetching soap and warm water in a bowl and holding a towel ready. It took ages for her to peel the old dressing off, and Jimmy’s dinner rolled and churned in his stomach as he watched. What would Arthur’s missing eye look like? Would it be all bloody and full of pus? He swallowed hard and tried to look as though he wasn’t worried at all.

  Mum had to soak the dressing, which was stained reddish-brown and smelled like old meat, and dirty water ran down the side of Arthur’s face.

  ‘Hold the towel under his chin,’ Mum ordered, and winced as she pulled the last bit away. Arthur sat like a statue, not making a sound, but his teeth ground together. Instead of a hole, his eyelid had healed almost closed, and the surrounding skin was a combination of pink mostly healed scars and one raw patch.

  ‘There,’ Mum said. ‘Fresh air will do it good. I’ll dab on some of this ointment and cover it up again. You should be able to go without a dressing in a couple of days.’

  Arthur nodded but said nothing, and when Mum had finished, he said goodnight and went off to his room. Jimmy sank down onto a chair. ‘Phew. I was expecting . . . I dunno.’

  Mum smiled. ‘It would’ve been healed by now but he scratched it again in his sleep last night.’ She rinsed out the bowl and washed her hands again before sitting down with Jimmy. ‘I’m worried about him. He’s . . . not right, and I don’t know what to do about it. If only your dad was here.’

  ‘Can Arthur get a wooden leg?’ Jimmy asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Mum said. ‘I hope so, if it means he can move around more. It’s not good for him to sit inside here all day, every day. I’m not sure he could get any kind of job on crutches either.’

  ‘What sort of job could he get with one leg and one eye?’ Jimmy muttered.

  Mum didn’t have an answer for that. ‘I’m hoping he’ll be well enough that I can go back to work this week. I’ve just been down to the factory. They said they’ll give my job to someone else soon if I don’t.’

  Jimmy sat in silence. The way things were going, he was doomed to work for Bill forever, and where would that lead? Proba
bly straight to gaol. All he could do was hope Bill stuck to simple tasks and left him out of the really dangerous stuff.

  The next day, Bill sent him out on his bicycle as a runner around the factories and tanneries, taking bets and running messages. He had a leather pouch hidden under his shirt and it was soon bulging and heavy, filled with paper and money. By the time he pedalled home that night, he was exhausted. He reckoned he must have done about twenty miles or more. Just as well Yarraville and Footscray didn’t have many hills. There was no way he’d have any energy for footy if this kept up.

  The day after that, he arrived at Bill’s house to find a pretty red-haired young woman out in the backyard, hanging washing on the line. Jimmy felt his face flush red at the sight of the lacy drawers and petticoats hanging in the weak sunlight.

  ‘Hello,’ the young woman said, smiling. ‘You must be Jimmy. I’m Lola. Isn’t it lovely to see the first day of spring?’

  ‘Hello,’ Jimmy mumbled, keeping his eyes down.

  ‘Bill said you’d help me tidy up and move furniture this morning. Do you mind?’

  ‘No.’ Jimmy was relieved. His legs were aching from the hours on his bicycle the day before.

  Inside, Lola led him to a large room filled with chairs, a table, a dresser and some boxes. ‘We need to move all this out,’ she said, ‘so I can sweep and clean, then put the chairs back.’

  Jimmy didn’t ask questions, he just did as Lola directed. She made him a cup of tea and a sandwich for lunch, but the tea was weak and the bread was stale and dry. Cooking obviously wasn’t one of her skills.

  Bill turned up when all the work was done and inspected the room. ‘Good, good,’ he said. ‘Now, Jimmy, I need a hand tonight. You up for an extra few bob?’

  ‘Sure,’ Jimmy said, hoping it didn’t mean more cycling.

  ‘Be here by eight,’ Bill said, and sent him on his way.

  Jimmy couldn’t think what to tell Mum, short of a lie. But the Wimples next door had invited them all over for tea and a game of cards, and Mum was cheerfully ironing her good dress. Even Arthur had agreed to go, to keep Mum happy, and when the card game started it was easy enough for Jimmy to excuse himself and pretend he was going home. He put a couple of pillows in his bed to make it look like he’d had an early night, hopped on his bicycle and was soon at Bill’s house.

  ‘Where’s your coat, Jimmy?’ Bill said.

  ‘I don’t have one.’ Jimmy’s old coat for wearing to school and church was too small for him now, so he usually wore two jumpers when it was cold.

  Bill rummaged around in a cupboard by the back door and pulled out a moth-eaten tweed jacket. ‘Here. It’ll be too big for you but that doesn’t matter.’ He watched Jimmy put it on and laughed. ‘You look like my granddad. Never mind. I want you to stand by the back gate with the bar across it and let people in. No one’s allowed in without the password. It’s “first day of spring”. That was Lola’s idea.’

  ‘All right,’ Jimmy said. ‘How many are coming through?’

  ‘About a dozen,’ Bill said. His mouth thinned and his tone was steely. ‘But if the coppers turn up, make sure the bar is right across the gate. Then you come running in, quick smart, to let me know. Got it?’

  Jimmy nodded, but his stomach was twisting in knots. Lola came into the kitchen with a rag and some penny coins and started polishing them up. That meant just one thing – a two-up game! He went out in the backyard and waited by the locked gate. Within a few minutes there was a sharp knock and a man murmured on the other side, ‘First day of spring.’

  Jimmy let him in and the man brushed past without even looking at him. He was soon followed by several more, and after about twenty minutes Jimmy had counted fourteen had gone into the house. He was dying for a pee, and opened the gate to check the lane was empty, then closed it and put the bar down before rushing to use the dunny in the corner of the yard. The hours stretched out. It was boring standing out in the cold but he didn’t dare nick off home without Bill’s permission. The only entertainment was watching the men stagger out to the dunny and back in again, each one even drunker as the night went on.

  At last they had all left through the back gate again, and Bill came out, smoking a cigar. ‘Ah, what a night,’ he said. ‘You did a great job, Jimmy. Here’s your bonus.’ Bill handed him two half-crowns. ‘I’ll give you a lift home. You can get your bicycle tomorrow.’

  Jimmy wasn’t about to argue. His eyes felt like they were falling out of his head, and he was dozing off in the car before they were halfway back to Yarraville.

  Bill let him off at the corner and he crept into his house, suddenly realising when he heard the clock chime that it was well after midnight. All he wanted to do was drop into bed and sleep, but as he sat on the edge and bent to take his boots off, something moved under the covers and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest.

  ‘James Miller,’ Mum said, sitting up in his bed. ‘Where have you been?’

  Jimmy had to wait for his heart to slow down from a gallop before he could answer. ‘I’ve been working, Mum.’

  ‘The goods yard doesn’t operate at this time of night. What’s going on?’

  ‘I’ve got another job,’ Jimmy mumbled.

  ‘Doing what?’ She shook his arm. ‘Enough of the sidestepping, son. We’ll have no lies in this house.’

  Jimmy sighed. Mum put honesty above everything else, including money. He didn’t like his chances but it was time to front up. ‘I’m working for Bill Prosser, Mum. They put me off at the yards ’cause I’m too small, and I haven’t been able to find anything else.’

  Mum’s hand flew to her mouth in dismay. ‘Oh Jimmy, anything but that.’

  ‘I’ve got no choice!’ Jimmy cried. ‘I tried everywhere. They all say I’m too young, but they don’t seem to give a toss that we’ve not got enough food to put on the table!’ He took the coins from his pocket and pushed them into Mum’s hand. ‘Here – this is for tonight. We need to eat, Mum, and pay the bills, and I’m the only one can earn a living right now.’

  ‘Shhhh,’ Mum said. ‘Don’t let Arthur hear you talk like that. He’s upset enough about not working as it is.’

  ‘Well, it’s true!’ Jimmy squared his shoulders. ‘I’m sorry Arthur is in such a bad way, Mum, but if I have to look after us all, I will. I’m going to keep working for Bill, just for a while, until we get back on our feet. Then I’ll stop, I promise. But if you make me stop now, and then you lose your job, we’ll starve. We might even lose the house, and that’s a fact.’

  Mum sat in silence for a long time and then she let out a huge sigh. ‘All right, just for a while. But if Sergeant Ross comes calling, we mustn’t say a word about it, all right?’

  Jimmy thought Sergeant Ross only came calling at their house to see Mum, but he said nothing. He didn’t want the copper to be quizzing him about anything, and he planned to make himself scarce if Ross came around. Mum went off to bed and Jimmy was asleep in seconds, still in his clothes and Bill’s tatty jacket.

  The next morning, Mum insisted on giving the jacket a clean and mending the cuffs and collar before Jimmy took it back. Bill didn’t even notice – he shoved it back in the cupboard without looking at it and said, ‘Let’s get cracking. I’ve got several jobs for you today.’

  It meant more cycling around the factories, but not as far this time, and his last errand was to the butcher for Mrs Prosser. When he came back with her pounds of good steak, thinking she must be having a party, she wrapped three pieces up and said, ‘Here you are, lad. Take these home to your mum. Present from my Billy.’

  ‘Gee, thanks, Mrs Prosser.’ Jimmy pedalled home as fast as he could and handed the steak to Mum with a big grin. ‘Here you go, get your teeth into this.’

  ‘Steak!’ Mum said. ‘Golly, I can’t remember the last time I saw meat like this.’

  ‘My mouth’s watering already,’ Jimmy said. ‘I’m off to see if the boys are playing footy – won’t be long.’

  By the time he got t
o the paddocks, the other boys had already marked out an oval and stuck some trimmed tree branches up as goal posts. There were nearly two dozen boys milling around, laughing and practising their kicking with a couple of footballs, and Jimmy recognised some from school. One, a boy called Harold, said, ‘What happened to you? Miss Palmerston went looking for you outside with her paddle. You shoulda seen her face when she came back empty-handed!’

  Jimmy said, ‘I’ve got a job now. My brother’s come back from the war in a bad way. Mum needs me to bring in some money.’ He laughed. ‘I sure don’t miss Miss Palmerston!’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Harold said. ‘I wish I was you. She’s a right old witch.’

  ‘Come on!’ yelled Frank. ‘It’ll be dark soon. Let’s pick teams. Jimmy, you be captain of the red team and I’ll be captain of the blue.’

  Jimmy beamed with pride. He’d never been captain before – maybe this was his chance to shine. Even Hector’s sour face didn’t put him off, although he made sure not to pick Hector for his team. Frank had a bunch of blue material strips that his players tied around their arms.

  Then the game was on!

  They raced around the paddock, shouting and kicking and handballing, shoving and tackling. Frank was a good punter, but Harold on Jimmy’s team was, too, and it was an exciting, evenly matched game. Any time Hector came near, Jimmy set off after the ball, finding someone to tackle to stay out of Hector’s way.

  ‘Swap ends!’ Frank shouted. The goal post down one end had a big bend in it that made it easier to kick a goal, and now Jimmy’s team had that advantage. Harold put one through, and Jimmy followed with a beaut of a goal that went straight through the middle and gave them the lead. Hector’s face was like a storm, and a few minutes later, when the ball was heading their way, he came up behind Jimmy and pushed him hard.

  Jimmy staggered but then spun around quickly and gave Hector a good shove back. Hector grunted in surprise.