‘ “Been up to your old tricks, Bobby?” O’Callaghan says before anyone’s even opened their mouth.
‘The old man points to Bobby, “A bracelet he is stealink,” he shouts, now that he’s got the courage to be angry. He points to the place in the glass display box where the bracelet had been, “From zere he is takink.”
‘The sergeant tells Bobby to lift his hands above his head and proceeds to search him, going through his pockets. I can see the surprised look on Bobby’s face when he doesn’t find the bracelet.’ Nancy laughs. ‘Then O’Callaghan makes him take off his shoes, drop his daks and his underpants, then remove his jacket and shirt so he’s standing bollocky in the pawnshop with his hands cupping the family jewels. The sergeant winks at me and nods towards Bobby, “Nothin’ here you wouldn’t have seen plenty of times before, love. Pathetic, ain’t it, hiding with two hands what don’t need more than one?” I guess anyone going out with Bobby Devlin is going to make a cop jump to conclusions whether they deserve it or not. The sergeant turns to the old bloke. “Well, it ain’t here, Mr Jacobs, less he’s swallowed it,” he says, bending down and picking up Bobby’s clobber and shaking the lot before dropping it back on the floor. Suddenly he reaches out and grabs my handbag out of my grasp and hands it to the young cop, “Empty it on the floor,” he says.
‘The young cop hesitates, not sure what O’Callaghan means. “Empty the flamin’ handbag, upend the bloody thing, everything on the floor!” He turns suddenly and lunges at me, both his hands grabbing my boobs and he gives me a feel-up, thinking the bracelet may be in my brassiere. He flips the waistline of my skirt and does a quick fumble around my body, back and front. “Righto, drop your knickers, lady,” he orders.
‘I can tell you I’m a bit flabbergasted and took completely by surprise. But I lift me skirt so my hands are underneath but they can’t see them. Even then I’m a pretty big lass so, making like I’m pulling down my knickers, I wedge the bracelet between me cheeks, so to speak.’
‘Mum! That’s going too far!’ Sarah exclaims, and starts to leave. But me and Bozo are giggling and Tommy damn near falls off his chair, even Big Jack is rocking with laughter. Nancy loves an audience.
‘You’re disgusting!’ Sarah shouts at us, though I’m not sure she includes Big Jack in her disgust.
‘Ah, sit down, love, the worst is over,’ Nancy says to Sarah. Then proceeds again, ‘So I drop me knickers to me ankles. “Open your legs,” O’Callaghan commands. Well, that’s it, game’s up, I think. I open my legs as wide as they’ll go with my knickers stretched to the limit, expecting to hear the tinkle of a gold bracelet dropping to the floor. But no such thing happens, there’s enough good old bacon fat there to keep it wedged in place.
‘But the old cop isn’t through yet. He points to the contents of my bag strewn on the floor. “Pick up your stuff, put it back in your bag, keep your legs apart,” he orders.
‘ “Can’t open them any further!” I protest, pointing to my knickers which are stretched as wide as they’ll go already.
‘ “Step out of them,” he commands.
‘What can I do? So I do what he says.
‘ “Legs wide, lady!”
‘Next thing he’s going to make me squat down and then there’s no clamping possible.’
‘ “She ain’t took it!” Bobby shouts. Oh gawd, I think, he’s going to confess to save me further embarrassment.
‘But the old cop isn’t listening to Bobby. “Shut your mouth, son, or I’ll have to do it for you!” he bellows. O’Callaghan’s overweight and even Bobby would have dropped him in a fair fight.
‘ “Look,” Bobby protests, “she didn’t . . .”
‘O’Callaghan cracks Bobby over the head with the flat of his hand. “You heard me, son, now shut the eff up!”
‘I use the altercation between them two to keep me legs straight while gripping the you-know-what. It’s a real test of character I can tell you, good thing the nuns wouldn’t let us go to the toilet during class, because somehow I’m managing the deed. I guess I must have been pretty supple from a lifetime of milking cows because I can bend down with my legs straight and quickly fill me handbag.
‘By this time I’ve sort of got my second breath so I pull myself together and point to Bobby, who’s still got his hands cupped over his privates. “If you’re going to undress me like him, I’m going to make a formal complaint,” I warn O’Callaghan. “I ain’t got a police record, I ain’t a whore and I didn’t steal the old bloke’s flaming bracelet!” Then I add for good measure, giving a little sniff like I’m about to cry, “We only come in to look at engagement rings!”
‘ “Congratulations, you deserve each other,” the sergeant says sarcastic. “You can both get your gear back on or leave it off and continue the romance.” He turns to the pawnbroker, “Bracelet’s not on her neither, sir.”
‘The old pawnbroker opens his till and hands Sergeant O’Callaghan a quid, “Sorry to make trouble, Sergeant,” he apologises. “I am now not so sure.” He points to the display case and shakes his head, “I am seeing this bracelet when it is there,” he shrugs, “but maybe not.”
‘ “Oh, you can be sure these bludgers took your bracelet, Mr Jacobs, no risk.” The cop pockets the quid. “Very generous, ta.” He looks at the pawnbroker. “Take my advice, have a good look around in the mornin’.” He fixes us with a beady eye. “They’ve dropped the evidence somewhere, probably flung it. It will turn up in the morning behind or under something, you mark my words.”
‘When we were outside, Bobby Devlin turns to me, “It’s a bloody miracle, Nance. Flamin’ bracelet just disappeared out me jacket pocket!”
‘ “God must’ve took it, or the Virgin Mary,” I say.
‘ “Yeah? Do you think so?” he replies, dead serious, crossing himself.’
Nancy laughs, remembering, ‘I’m no thief so I wait a week and then take the bracelet back to the old man. I walk into the pawnshop and put the bracelet down on the counter. “Here’s your gold bracelet, Mr Jacobs,” I say. “I’m sorry we done what we did, we were drunk.” He looks at me then at the bracelet and back at me again. He picks up the bracelet and offers it to me. “Here, take. Please, younk lady.” ‘ “Huh?”
‘ “Take, please.”
‘I can’t believe my eyes, he’s giving me the gold bracelet. Well, I thank him and he shrugs his shoulders. “Enjoy. It is nothink,” he says, smiling. About two years later I find out what Mr Jacobs meant. I tried to hock the bracelet in Wangaratta. It turns out it isn’t even goldplated, it’s solid nickel. George Chan, the Wang jeweller, gimme two bob for it.’
Nancy pauses and brings up the piece of smocking she’s doing and bites off an end of cotton. Then she looks at Big Jack Donovan, ‘Bobby bloody Devlin is one of Tommy’s mob, Sergeant. He couldn’t tell the diamond in the centre of the Queen’s crown from a piece of cut glass off the town-hall chandelier, that is if you held both up to the light and made him choose.’
Big Jack Donovan laughs, ‘I ought to arrest you for being an accessory to a crime, Nancy Maloney. I remember Bertie O’Callaghan well. Tough as teak, a law unto himself, he was always being hauled in front of the commissioner for being overzealous in his duty. They put him on the liquor squad, a big mistake, the free booze killed him in the end.’
Big Jack clears his throat and, like the policeman he is, returns to the original subject of Bozo. ‘Nancy, what must I do to convince you, eh? Can’t you see this is in Bozo’s ultimate interest? It’s amateur boxing, he wears protective headgear, a good boxer like Bozo would have to go to a fair amount of trouble to get himself hit much less hurt.’ Big Jack Donovan leans back and spreads his big policeman’s hands wide, ‘If you want my opinion, Bozo shows every sign of quite soon becoming a contender for an Australian bantamweight title and, if he’s coached properly, is a certainty for the next Olympics.’
‘I didn’t bring
up my kid to be a contender,’ Nancy snaps.
‘I wouldn’t say it in front of the lad if it wasn’t true,’ Big Jack says. ‘Bozo Maloney could bring glory to this town.’
Nancy suddenly sits upright, ‘Glory? Bozo bring glory to this town? Pig’s arse! We’re the Maloneys, remember? Tommy’s old man brought “drunk and disorderly” to a new level in Yankalillee. Tommy followed in his old man’s footsteps and, while keeping up the family tradition, added one or two other bad habits to the Maloney ledger. I’m the walking whore with five kids from four different daddies, all of them except little Colleen conceived outside Holy Matrimony. This town believes justice is perfectly served by making us the bloody garbage collectors! Now Sarah has every tongue in the district wagging. “What can you expect?” they’re saying “Like mother, like daughter, the next generation of harlot!” ’ Nancy throws back her head. ‘Ha! Bozo bring glory to this town? Don’t talk shit, Sergeant!’
Big Jack Donovan isn’t that easily ruffled, I guess he’s seen and heard just about everything in his time and been insulted by better than Nancy. I don’t think he thinks the Maloneys are all that bad. He likes Nancy and us kids and he’ll give Tommy a break whenever he can. So he ignores Nancy’s outburst altogether, carries on like he hasn’t even heard it and takes one last stab on Bozo’s behalf. You’ve got to admire his persistence, I’ll say this for him, he don’t give up easy.
‘Nancy, fer chrissake! Bozo’s a natural and, in my experience, when you find a young bloke who is exceptional at something, I guess you try to help him develop his full potential.’ Big Jack looks over at Sarah. ‘I hear Sarah’s been accepted to study Medicine at Melbourne University, now that makes us all proud, because she’s using her full potential.’
To my certain knowledge we haven’t told a single person except Morrie and Sophie and, of course, Mrs Barrington-Stone about ‘the letter’ and nobody except us knows the Grand Plan. Yet Big Jack already knows she’s been accepted.
‘Well, it’s not all sweetness and light, Sergeant. You may have noticed Sarah’s pregnant.’
Sergeant Donovan doesn’t beat about the bush, but comes straight out and says, ‘Yes, you already said so, but I knew anyway and I’m sorry it happened the way it did.’ He turns to Sarah, ‘I’m glad you’re going through with it, girl. I want you to know we’re on your side all the way. Not only the Micks, most of the town, most of the fair-minded people and there are a good few despite the evidence your mother has just given to the contrary. She’s partially right, of course, this town can be pretty mean-spirited when it wants to be, but it can also make up its own mind about things. I want you to know most of us think that a certain someone’s family, no names, no pack drill, has done the dirty on you, hasn’t done the right thing. Is it true you’re not giving your baby up to the nuns?’
Well, well, well! It ain’t too hard to work out who’s been spreading the gossip now, is it? Father bloody Crosby! He’s the only one who knows Sarah’s not going to let the nuns take her baby. We haven’t told anyone except Mrs Barrington-Stone about the arrangement with Morrie and Sophie. It couldn’t be Mrs Barrington-Stone who’s told, because she specifically said when she talked to Nancy and Sarah the night she drove us home that it was best to say nothing to anyone about anything. ‘Let them keep guessing, what they don’t know can’t harm us,’ she said.
‘Forewarned is forearmed, many a slip between the cup and the lip, best to stay mum, my dears.’ She didn’t put all them expressions together like that but she used them all when she was here so you could tell she was serious. It can only have been Father Crosby. I suppose he thinks if something ain’t said in the confessional it can be public knowledge. He was that mad when he left here he was blowing steam through his nostrils, probably blurted it out to the first person he met in Bell Street.
‘I don’t want to give my baby away, Sergeant,’ Sarah says quietly, and her voice is quite steady. It’s the Sarah answering who’s unbreakable and the one we know when butter won’t melt in her mouth and, if she wants to, the Sarah who can make Nancy change her mind.
‘Good on ya, Sarah,’ Big Jack says quietly. ‘Don’t know how I can help, but you can count on me any time if I’m needed. You may think you’re disgraced, but you’re not. This town had a lot of respect for you before it happened and they still have. But let me tell you something, girl, they’ve lost a fair amount of respect for certain people who live in a big house up the hill. A real man doesn’t run away from his obligations. You stayed and faced the music. Take my word for it, this time it’s not about religion, their sympathy is for you, your reputation as an outstanding young woman remains intact.’
‘It’s still bloody no!’ Nancy says, but you can see she admires the big cop.
Now Sarah, copping all them compliments, does go red, because what she’s just heard is not expected and it’s not hard to tell Big Jack Donovan is speaking from the heart and means every word he’s said. He looks over at Bozo and shakes his hand, ‘Sorry, mate. I did me best. See yer in the ring tomorrow, lad.’
Bozo says nothing. He’s biting his bottom lip and trying not to cry. Of the lot of us Maloneys, deep down Bozo is the most emotional, but he’s never going to admit it and he always tries to act tough, Bozo, the Boy Boxer, the one all the hoons admire down at the Parthenon cafe.
‘Okay, Sergeant Donovan, thanks for comin’,’ he mumbles then turns away and starts to walk back up the yard. The Bitzers know there’s something wrong because there’s not a tail wagging among the lot of them and they follow Bozo with their heads down, as if he’s leading a funeral procession.
‘Bozo!’ Nancy calls after him.
Bozo stops, the Bitzers stop, but neither he, nor them, turn around.
‘I love you, son, but you’re too young to have a broken nose and no teeth.’
Bozo half turns, ‘I’m good, Mum. I could do it, I wouldn’t get hurt.’
‘Wait until you’re a little older, hey? Next Olympics will be somewhere overseas. You’ll be eighteen then and you’ll get to travel and see the world, eh? Be the first Maloney to go overseas without a rifle in his hand.’
Bozo doesn’t say nothing but turns and goes on walking and I reckon I can see from his shoulders he’s having a quiet blub. I decide I’ll go and clean the brush a little later when he’s had a bit of a sniff, Bozo wouldn’t want me to see him crying.
Nancy turns to me, ‘Mole, be so good as to see Sergeant Donovan to the door.’ She looks up at the policeman. ‘It was nice of you to call around, Sergeant. Don’t think I don’t appreciate what you’ve done for Bozo, because I do, he’s a good lad and you’ve helped to make him that.’ Then completely out of the blue, she says, ‘My little brother Joe once asked me to write a letter to the army recruitment pretending to be our mother and faking his age. He wasn’t much older than Bozo, and I told them he was eighteen because he was big enough to look eighteen. He never come back from Malaya. Never had a chance to grow up. Maybe you think this isn’t the same, just a weekend of boxing, but fourteen is not old enough to fight with grown men or for glory.’
Big Jack Donovan thinks for a moment and shakes his head. ‘I hear what you say, Nancy Maloney, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’m disappointed. Perhaps you’ll think about it, eh?’ He reaches down and picks up his cap from the floor and turns to follow me. I see he hasn’t touched his cup of tea.
When we’re out of earshot I say to him, ‘Mum’s pretty stubborn once she’s made up her mind, Sergeant.’ I try to comfort him, because I know he has high hopes for Bozo, the Boy Boxer.
He grins down at me. ‘All I hope is I never have to face your mother in court when she’s a hostile witness, son.’
I’m on my way back to the verandah when Tommy comes towards me, he’s also heading for the front door. Like I said, he’s been there the whole time, back of the verandah sitting on a kitchen chair, leaned back in the chair with his arms folded so
that the chair is mostly balanced on its two back legs. Nancy hasn’t spoken to him even once, though Big Jack acknowledged him with a nod when he left and Sarah brought him a cup of tea with the others. Now he walks with his head down and I know exactly what he’s about to do. ‘Where you going, Dad?’ I ask.
Tommy doesn’t answer, brushes past me and keeps walking out the front door and down the steps and out the gate. I catch up with him and put my hand on his shoulder, it’s his crook shoulder and you can feel all the lumps and bumps under his shirt. I ain’t big but he’s only a couple of inches bigger than me. ‘Please, Dad,’ I beg him, ‘don’t go to the Shamrock.’
He shrugs off my hand and faces me, ‘Mole, what’s the fuckin’ use? The police sergeant comes to see yer mum about me boy and I sit there like a fuckin’ sheila. I’m that proud of Bozo, the Boy Boxer, but I’m shittin’ meself, not able to say nothing to help him. I can’t even help a fuckin’ cop when he’s on my fuckin’ side for a fuckin’ change! Tell yer what, Mole, I’m not worth a pinch o’ dog shit!’
‘Dad, that’s not true! Please don’t go. Please, Dad, I’ll call your help buddy at the AA!’
But he just walks away from me. Then he turns and shouts back, ‘I done that heist on Middleton’s, them’s my fingerprints Donovan found.’ He turns back and shouts at Sergeant Donovan who is about a hundred yards up the street. ‘I don’t need your fuckin’ charity, you hear me, you bastard!’ Sergeant Donovan seems to pause just a fraction before he walks on like he’s not heard. Then Tommy starts to walk on down the road towards King Street and the Shamrock.
I stand there in the middle of Bell Street and he’s so little with a bit of a limp and his crook shoulder is lower than the good one. With his one eye he can probably only see half the road. Tommy’s wearing shorts and these steelcapped workman’s boots with no socks so that they look like Mickey Mouse shoes at the end of his skinny brown legs. You can see these big deep-purple scars on his legs that you could disappear your whole thumb into, they’re from tropical ulcers he got in Borneo when he was a POW. All I can think is he knows all those Latin names for eucalyptus trees and tonight he’ll be lying with the rest of the town drunks down by the lake pissing in his own pants.
Four Fires Page 27
