In Lonnie's Shadow (22 page)

IRON GRID

Item No. 732

A security grid for a small window, fitted with iron bars.

Lonnie was cleared of murder in his own mind. Cuckoo mad though he may be, Slasher was still alive and kicking. The threat of swinging for anyone’s murder had vanished and for this Lonnie was eternally grateful. The trouble was the law didn’t know. Billy Bottle was still bailed up, which meant something else needed fixing before he could breathe easy again.

At last Lonnie felt it was safe to tell Carlo. There’d be no harm or implication for him. With this in mind, he hightailed it over to Cumberland Place and made his big announcement. ‘Slasher’s not dead!’

‘Didn’t you see the Argus? Billy’s been charged

with his murder.’

‘Slasher’s in Western Australia. Took off in a hur- ry to the goldfields without a word to anyone, not even Annie Walker.’

Carlo couldn’t help but notice that Lonnie was looking a little too pleased and told him so.

‘Only relieved, mate,’ Lonnie said. ‘He disappeared in the first place because I set it up with the Push. Only to warn him off, mind, but I thought they’d gone and killed him.’

‘You mean you’ve been walking around for ages thinking you’re a murderer and you didn’t even tell me?’ Carlo was unable to hide his annoyance. ‘What sort of mate are you?’

‘I’m the sort of mate who thought he’d had a man killed. If it hadn’t been for the police arresting Billy over Slasher’s knife and me confronting George, I’d still be believing it. I couldn’t involve you in a murder. You would’ve done the same and not told me.’

Carlo shook his head. ‘Mate, you never fail to bamboozle me. But I reckon Pearl, for one, would’ve been much happier if George had broke Jack’s stinking neck and tossed him in the gutter. So how does all this help Billy get out of gaol?’

‘It doesn’t.’

Carlo sighed. ‘So what’re we going to do about it?’

RACING SILKS

Item No. 5127

Square cut of silk, possibly from a jockey’s racing vest
.

Daisy stepped out of the Leitrim on this fine and beautiful spring morning, with the sun already warming her and the sky a vast blue coverlet slung from one end of the world to the other. She couldn’t help but feel in high spirits, for through Lonnie’s new connections they were off to the races.

When Lonnie had invited her she had given long and hard contemplation to the dangers, eventually winning herself over with a mission – guidance of a spiritual kind, should her friends be tempted to gamble too much.

No sooner had her foot touched the footpath than who should come swaggering down the street almost upon her, but Billy Bottle, lately out of gaol. He took a speedy step to the side, aiming a deliberate bump.

‘Watch where you’re going, Francis,’ she scolded, brushing down her dress and pinning a stray hair back under her box hat. ‘You nearly bowled me over.’

‘Billy’s the name,’ he corrected in a hard-bitten voice. ‘Look at you, dressed like a Sunday dinner.’

He gave her a smug lingering leer from top to toe.

It had been Daisy’s plan to dress in her self- respecting Salvation Army suit, blue with the red trimmings. But Pearl had threatened if she turned up in her working clothes then she would as well. To prove the point she had slipped on a frivolously skittish gown with matching lace knickers and flapped around the floor doing a cancan. Told Daisy outright if she was going to hang around the spring carnival with a water hen then she would have no choice but to swish her feathers like a bird of paradise.

So Daisy countered this by dashing off a smart spring carnival outfit for them both modelled on the latest finery. A lovely cream dress with cherry prints ripening on the cotton for Pearl, while hers was a grey suit, much more high-necked and much less fanciful, apart from a peacock feather she couldn’t resist pinning to the hat and which she prayed the good Lord would not think too flamboyant.

‘Your larrikin stuff doesn’t work on me, Francis Todd,’ she said, ticking him off. ‘I heard you were locked up.’

‘Scum tried to pin a murder on me, but there’s no gaol built can hold Billy Bottle.’

What a windbag! Daisy couldn’t help but think if he puffed out his chest any more he’d look like a bloated frog. She tried hard not to laugh. ‘Bet you’re glad they let you go.’

‘Shows you what mugs they are. Caught me with Slasher’s knife so they thought I killed him. Took ’em long enough to find out he’s banged up in some Western Australian gaol.’

‘But for the grace of God there go you.’

‘Aw, I’m not that bad,’ he said, placidly enough.

‘Sometimes you make it hard for people to think so.’

‘Reckon I give a toss?’

Daisy’s Salvation Army training had taught her never to give up on anyone, so she pinned back her ears and let him mope through his whole hard luck story, wondering if there was any hope indeed for poor Francis Todd’s misguided spirit.

The rhythm of Bella’s clip-clopping along the street brought Daisy back to the day’s purpose. She waved to her friends. Pearl was seated up front, pestering Carlo to let her hold the reins, while Lonnie sat amongst the golden hay in the back of the wagon.

Three sets of eyes descended on her at once. Daisy caught Carlo’s questioning look at the same time as Billy swanked off down the street. He jumped in with the question they were all bursting to ask: ‘What’s he doing out?’

‘It’s quite a story,’ replied Daisy, as Lonnie gave her a leg up onto the back board and she wriggled into a comfortable position. ‘Seems Slasher isn’t dead after all. Word came he’d been carted off to gaol in Western Australia. Lucky for Francis. He would’ve needed a miracle to escape a trial.’

‘Woulda swung for it,’ added Pearl, with a grotesque shudder, ‘’cause they found Slasher’s knife on him.’

‘He would’ve only had to prove he’d swiped it off some geezer,’ said Lonnie, knowing any confession from Billy would have landed him and George Swiggins up to the neck in it. ‘He never did come clean about who he’d been brawling with, did he?’

‘Told them he was no dobber,’ replied Daisy, none the wiser.

Billy Bottle over and done with, it was left to Pearl to put an end to the whole chilling episode. ‘With a bit of luck they’ll hang Slasher over in the west.’

Daisy decided now was a good time to make known she fully intended keeping an eye on their purses. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t let you lose too much.’ And by the time they arrived at Flemington, exactly how much they were willing to gamble on the day’s racing had been wrung out of each and every one of them.

Daisy flatly refused to wager a penny. And she didn’t have to fret about Lonnie who was prudently safeguarding his own future. ‘This’ll be the last time,’ he said. ‘Can’t have a jockey riding one horse when his money’s on another.’

Carlo, who was ever cautious with his money, fully agreed.

In a fit of irritation, Pearl came back with a cracker, all barrels directed at him alone. ‘Stop being so stingy and enjoy yourself. It’s not as if you belong to the Sally Army. Our one and on

ly day out for the year, and you’re such a tight-fister, Mr Scaredy-Dare, you plan to wreck it as well.’

‘Why are you picking on me?’ Carlo protested.

‘What about them two?’ He turned to Lonnie. ‘What did I tell you, mate, she’s trouble with a capital P!’

Daisy was in no mind to spoil anyone’s outing.

‘Maybe a tiny wager, then,’ she relented. ‘But if Iwin it’s going straight to the Army.’

Nobody mooched for long and Daisy pretended not to notice the conspiring wink that passed between her three friends.

‘So, lads,’ said Pearl, as good-natured as ever.

‘How do we girls scrub up?’

‘You both look a treat.’

It was a relief to Daisy that Pearl had stuck to her part of the bargain and was wearing the dress she’d made. She’d added a few touches of her own, fresh cherries pinned to a ruffle on the bodice and a garland hat. Pearl looked every bit like a lovely, fruity pavlova.

‘Yer can even have me for lunch,’ she suggested, saucy as ever, picking off some cherries and offering them around.

FRAMED NEWSPRINT CUTTING

Item No. 1791

From an old Argus newspaper. Surprise win for Sinner’s Repent at 200 to 1.

Inside the grounds, scores of bookies and bagmen lined the rails under their gala flags and betting boards, trying their best to outdo each other as they shouted enticements. Lonnie had never been here for a major race day. Over the past few years, the spring carnival had become a society highlight, but it was a rare occasion when the likes of those from Little Lon were able to attend. It was only through Mr Alcock’s kindness that Lonnie was able to come at all, a generosity of nature which he had secretly taken upon himself to extend to Carlo, Daisy and Pearl.

‘Me and Mr Alcock are mates,’ he reassured them confidently, as they gaped in fascination at the fine- cut suits and large sums being handed over for a simple scrap of paper that no one could read.

‘Those betting slips must be coated in gold,’

marvelled Carlo.

As the young friends settled on the lawn, a lively assortment of colour encircled them. The sun was bright. The sky expansive. The roses were in full bloom and they drank in their heady scent. Lonnie, who hadn’t thought of his grandad in ages, could almost hear him singing up a ditty over the lush green grass, as green as any Irish meadow. Young women promenaded in rainbow colours. Here and there Daisy singled out a ribbon or feathers added to a dress by her own trusty hands.

‘Anyways, lads, here’s a few ring-ins you won’t want to bet on!’ Pearl chuckled, letting loose with her tongue as she larked about. ‘Get a load of the bustle on that old slapstick. Ain’t she a bit of mutton dressed as lamb with a sprig o’ mint on top?’ Her remarks were soon covering almost every creature on Noah’s ark. ‘Quick, a seal’s escaped from the circus, catch the walloper!’

The sound of Daisy’s shush-shushing, their happy laughter spilling over, mixed in with the bookmakers’ calls of ‘three to one the field’. Let anyone dare say his girls did not look as fine as any of these ladies in the members’ stand, thought Lonnie, taking proud ownership.

The jockeys shone sharp in their bright silks as they assembled for the first race. ‘I’m backing the red triangles,’ said Pearl. ‘Eight’s my lucky number.’

Daisy decided to go with the yellow spots. Carlo slipped off to place a real bet on the indigo stripes. Lonnie stayed put to study form.

Since Mr Alcock had sent him here to watch and learn, he was keeping a keen eye on the trainers and owners who milled around the riders to talk strategy. Never had his life been better. The Glen was even paying him a day’s wage to be here at the races, something he would gladly do for free. ‘That’s how Mr Alcock runs his business,’ Ned had told him quite unblinkingly. The Glen had some new-fangled ideas, like a jockey should see racing from every angle before he took to the field.

Pearl scarpered off looking for Carlo, leaving Daisy alone with Lonnie while she stopped to take a sip of cool water. She followed his eyes up into the members’ stand and saw Rose Payne, her father and Thomas Crick. ‘We don’t need the likes of them,’ she said. ‘We folks on Little Lon do well enough on our own.’

‘That’s a lesson I’ve well and truly learnt.’

Daisy pointed in a different direction. ‘See that podium? You’ll be there one day with a crowd of admiring racegoers and all your true friends around you. Guess what? You’ll be the winning jockey.’

Lonnie gave her a sly grin. ‘And Miss Daisy Cameron is a wise old owl who knows everything, does she? Tells the future.’

‘Mark my words and see if you don’t one day win the Melbourne Cup, Lonnie McGuinness.’ A wicked look entered her eye. ‘You may be the bestest and cleverest jockey, but sometimes when you knock there appears to be no one home.’

Instantly, as if in the company of their own seven- year-old selves, they began poking fun at one another.

‘Yeah and you may be wise all right. But sometimes your brain goes to your head.’

‘Sticks and stones may break my bones but names’ll never hurt me,’ retorted Daisy. ‘Anyway your face is so freckly you can’t tell where one starts and the other one ends.’

‘Well, I remember, Daisy Cameron, when you couldn’t wait and wet your knickers!’ It was all fun and games, matching wit against wit like they had played in the days before yesterday; all those childhood times before Daisy had joined the Sally Army and gone all prim and proper.

Lonnie continued the torment. ‘What about your teeth? There’s a gap as wide as –’ He meant to rib her, but all he could think of when he looked at Daisy’s mouth, generous with laughter and exposing that ever-so-appealing gap, was how she had grown up a beauty and her lips were a heart, a valentine and oh-so kissable.

Lonnie’s thoughts turned to romance so swiftly it was like he was one of the young stallions tethered around the enclosures; his mind on a filly when it should be on the day’s racing. He tried to shirk off the frisky feeling. ‘I wish we were kids again.’

‘Well, I for one don’t,’ Daisy replied. ‘I like being grown up, the way we are now.’

‘But we did have some good times, didn’t we, Daise?’

‘And a lot of trouble to go with them.’ She swept off Lonnie’s cap and playfully ruffled his hair. ‘It’s not over yet, you know. We’ve a lot more living to do.’ She gave him an encouraging glance. ‘Between us I reckon we can handle any trouble that’s thrown our way and it looks like some’s already here.’ She drew his attention to Carlo and Pearl. ‘Come on. We’ve left them alone for far too long and we both know how dangerous that can be.’ She linked her arm through his.

Within earshot they heard Pearl snapping poor Carlo’s head off. ‘Don’t be so stuffy, yer chump. Just because you’re such a stick in the mud. Mr Know-It- All can never stop working to enjoy himself. I, for one, wanna relax and have some fun today.’ She turned to Daisy for support. ‘All he can think about is selling green ice-cream. You know he’d rather be walking around here with Bella and his beloved wagon than enjoying himself with us.’

‘Time for our little flutter, you two,’ Daisy said, coming to the rescue. ‘I see that Sinner’s Repent is running in the next race.’