Miscarriages Chapter 15. Beware of them who have money to lend

15. Beware of them who have money to lend

Iris’s room had two chairs as well as a bed, so they went there. James sat on the bed and handed her a beer.

“You know I don’t drink that piss,” she said.

“Oh, right. I just thought that you might have come to it, living with Linda and all. Has her little brat been tamed yet?”

Iris sat on the bed beside him as he placed the beers on the small bedside table. “I helped her keep her books, counted her money.”

“But you can’t read.”

“Can now, sort of. Taught myself. Linda got me started, and I got the hang of it pretty soon.”

“And her clients?”

“Fuck you! Fuckn men, it’s all you think of!”

“Sweetie!”

“Do you have to call me that? I’m not sweet, am I? Never have been.”

“Shit, Iris. You are a sweetie to me, and that’s all that counts.”

James reached for her, she felt new, not like any girl he’d held. No longer a girl, a taut solid body. He longed to run his hands over those curves. She sat, stiff. Unresponsive. He turned his head to her lips, ran his fingers lightly over them, lips in full bloom, but now clenched shut. She was not ready. Whatever she had been through in Linda’s house, he didn’t want to imagine, but could not stop himself. It made no difference any way. He wanted a piece of her, that’s what. It had been a long time. And he pursed his own lips in an effort to put away those despicable thoughts.

Iris gently pulled away. “So, who is that Skeeter bloke? You were going to tell me.”

James reached for his beer and took a couple of gulps. He got up off the bed and sat on the old leather chair, cradling his beer in both hands.

“Back in the old Corio Shire, they called him Skeeter because he buzzed round the blokes like a mosquito. You had to be careful or he’d bite you for a few quid and a lot more. I was his errand boy. He bragged that he’d only ever worked four days in his life, He reckoned he worked just long enough to slip over and do his back in and go on workers comp. He was always spending dough. He’d come in to the pub every morning at nine, soon as it opened, and drink till twelve then he’d take home a pie for lunch and have a snooze and be back at four and drink till closing at six. And on Saturday nights he’d buy half a dozen bottles of beer and a bottle of plonk to tide him over the Sunday.”

“He was always on the take, though. He used to run a raffle. Mr. Counter wasn’t too keen about it because he said it was against the law, but Skeeter talked him into it, saying it was for charity. He was a smooth talker, was Skeeter. He could talk anyone into anything. And the prizes were pretty good. He started out raffling chickens and ducks at a bob a ticket, and I sold them for him while I did my rounds picking up glasses. This worked great until a bloke that won the raffle claimed the chook as his own! Skeeter’d been pinching them from blokes’ chicken coops!”

“But that never stopped him. He raffled radios and TVs. Of course, everyone knew he was pinching them, but nobody cared as long as it wasn’t their own stuff that was pinched. Then Mr. Counter noticed that the same stuff kept being raffled. Turned out that the raffles were drawn in secret, and that Skeeter picked out a few mates to always win and for a small cut, they’d give their prize back to him each week!”

“And you worked for this bloke?” said Iris, unimpressed. But James talked on, he was on a roll.

“He was the smartest bookie too. He never wrote anything down, kept all the bets in his head. He reckoned if there was nothing written down then the cops couldn’t get any evidence to do him in. And it was true, too. The cops knew what he was doing and besides some of them made a few quid off him themselves. A cop shows up and says to Skeeter, ‘I’ll have a quid straight out on the favourite in the last-race.’ He wouldn’t hand over any dough. If the horse lost, then nothing happened, but if it won, the cop comes around the back of the fence to pick up the winnings.”

“Then those other cops came down from Melbourne. The flying squad they called them. They were a pack of bastards, They showed up every month and demanded a twenty quid fine from Skeeter, and if he didn’t pay up, they’d make like they were going to take him in on some trumped up charge. He paid them for a while, but you know what cops are like. They wanted more and more and pretty soon poor Skeeter told them to get stuffed, and took off like a kangaroo across the paddock, chewing up the betting tickets and swallowing them as he ran. By the time they caught him there was no evidence, but that didn’t stop them, did it? Nah. They charged him with loitering, creating a public nuisance, abusing a police officer and resisting arrest. And in court they told all sorts of terrible lies about him, how he beats his wife, threatened them with a knife and stuff like that, so the JP gave him thirty days in the clink. That didn’t worry Skeeter one bit. He could make even the lousiest deal seem good. He said the only thing he missed in gaol was his regular few beers, but other¬wise he didn’t have to work, and what’s more he got free meals.”

Iris looked around the room. “How could you trust a bloke like him?” she asked in a matter of fact way.

“He always paid me pretty well. I had no complaints. But Mr. Counter put his foot down and wouldn’t let him do any more gambling in the pub. The cops got to him, I’m sure of that now. But it didn’t stop Skeeter coming up with other scams.”

“Like what?”

“Gees, Iris. What do you care?”

“You’re just the fuckn same, aren’t you? All you want is to do me. Your head is just one big prick!”

“And you haven’t changed either, it seems,” observed James coldly.

They both looked away, their eyes resting on the small window above the bed. Then their eyes met, each anticipating what the other would say.

“Don’t say it,” said Iris.

“It’s a long way down from the window, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I don’t do that anymore.”

“Yair, right. So why are you here then?”

“Not to climb in and out of windows, if that’s what you mean.”

“Why, then?”

“What else did Skeeter get up to? One thing I know. He never showed up at Linda’s, or I would have heard about it. And just about everyone from that pub did, you know.”

James leaned forward and extended his hand. She took it. “I’m trying to be good,” he said. “I’ve been through a lot.”

Iris ignored his plea for pity. “You’re obviously taken with this Skeeter bloke. If he means so much to you, I want to know what it is about him that’s got you in.”

“I’m not taken with him.”

“Is it because now he’s rich?”

“Iris!”

“Come on, you’re jealous. You’d like to be just like him,” chided Iris.

“He went to gaol, you know, as did I. I don’t want to go back there.”

“But?”

“All right. I’ll tell you more. gaol gave Skeeter time to think up another even better scam. When he came out, he went straight back to his old drinking routine at the pub and he got friendly with the postie and milkie. Mr. Counter kept a close eye on him but never saw him take any bets. But he had lots of dough and Mr. Counter was sure that something was going on. And it was. I knew all about it.”

“Skeeter got the milkies to leave betting cards—place cards they called them—when they delivered the milk in the morning to people’s houses, along with any money they won with the previous bet. Then later the postie would collect the card and the money that was bet. He never got caught all the time I was working for him. Only trouble was I lost a lot of dough because I wasn’t running bets.”

“So that’s it?” asked Iris.

“That’s enough isn’t it? The bastard pretends he doesn’t know me.”

“Who wouldn’t?” she joked.

It was her invitation. James leaned forward from his chair, and pushed his head into her robust breast. She leaned forward and ran her hands through his still abundant wavy hair. He reflexively lifted his head, and tossed his hair back in the way that had endeared him to her when they first met. “Remember the time on the grass in the old burned out building?” he said as he lifted her on to the bed, wincing when his injured leg got in the way.

“Oh poor darling! Your war wound!” whispered Iris, “let’s make it better.”

*

“St. Kilda hasn’t got a chance,” said Frank as he poured a beer for himself and Studs. He and Studs often had a quiet beer on a Saturday morning just before Studs went off to the races for the day. He let Studs into the Saloon bar early, before it opened at 11.00 am.

“How would you know?” asked Studs as he leaned his elbow on the bar, a foot resting on the railing below.

“Because I know the doctor who attends the St. Kilda team. He says they’re not up to it.”

“You mean Phil the dill?” laughed Studs.

“Yair. You know him too?

“Of course. I know everyone. He thinks they aren’t fit enough?”

“Won’t be able to go the distance. Says they carouse too much, they’re drunk every Friday night. What team could win if half them are playing with hangovers?”

“Hmm. What if Collingwood was in worse shape?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just saying. What if a few of their top players got sick?”

“Studs. Don’t go there. You’re not thinking of…”

“No! No! I would never think of such a thing.”

“That’s good to hear. The Grand Final. I mean, it would be a travesty. It’s sacred! You can’t fiddle with something like that.”

“No of course not. But I just have an inkling about this. I think I’ll offer good odds on St. Kilda to win. Besides Collingwood is the favourite.”

“No doubt about that.” Frank eyed Studs suspiciously. “You’re not going to…”

“Of course not. You know me…”

“That’s the trouble, I do.”

At that moment James appeared at the entrance. “Everything’s open, Frank. We’re right to go for the day.”

“Thanks, James.”

“Hey, Chooka! Come over here. I remember you now,” called Studs. “It was a while ago. Sorry I forgot. I was busy taking bets.”

“No worries, Skeeter.”

“It’s Studs, you bugger!”

“Oops! Sorry. Studs. Pleased to meet you again. And for me, it’s James. They don’t call me Chooka around here. What you got cooking? I know you always have something going.”

“As a matter of fact, how would you like to do a little job for me?”

“Wait a minute, Studs. He’s my head barman,” warned Frank.

“I know, I know. And a good one too I hear. Trained by one of the best at the old Corio Shire.”

“How’s Iris?” asked Frank, trying to change the subject.

“She’s great, Frank. She’s keen to help out or something. Could we try her out in the Ladies Lounge?”

“Doing what?”

“She could wait on the tables.”

“We don’t serve them. I don’t want to start that. Too much trouble.”

“Then something else?”

“Can she add up?” said Studs slyly.

“Yair. She’s great with numbers. Kept the books for her sister’s business.”

“You need someone in the office, don’t you Frank? Count the money, make it tally with the tills. Who’s doing that right now?”

“I was going to have James do it. I’ve been doing it up to now.”

“Gees, Frank. I wouldn’t want to take on something like that on my own. It would be great if Iris could help out.”

“It will mean you’ll have to be up and out of bed and ready to start work at 8.00 am. Count the money, check out the stock and there’s a lot more to do. The beer pipes have to be flushed out every week. Orders to place with suppliers. Could you and Iris do that?”

“Gee, that would be great, Frank. It will make Iris so happy.”

“Are you sure you want to have your missus at your elbow every minute of the day?” asked Studs with a mischievous grin.

“We’re not married,” said James. “Not yet, anyway.”

Studs and Frank looked at each other, amused. Neither of them had had much luck with their wives, of which there had been many.

“OK. We’ll give it a go,” said Frank as he emptied his glass and washed it under the counter. “But Studs, I don’t want him getting mixed up in any of your scams.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” smiled Studs as Frank looked at his watch and swaggered away to check out the rest of the premises before opening.

“Now, young man,” said Studs as he turned to James. “Can I buy you a beer?”

“Thanks Studs,” but I’m on duty. Not allowed to drink with the customers unless Frank says so.”

“Suit yourself. Just one thing, though. I’d strongly advise that you put as much money as you can get a hold of on St. Kilda to win the grand final on Saturday.”

James grinned a big grin. “That’s Skeeter talking!”

“Not a bit of it. Skeeter was small time.”

“Who’s taking bets on the footy?”

“Me of course! You can lay it with me.”

“But if you’re sure St. Kilda will win, why would you take my bet?”

“Because Collingwood is the favourite. Everyone will bet on them.”

“What odds are you offering?”

“For you, my new colleague, five to one.”

“And on Collingwood?”

“Two to one.”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“Sure. But don’t delay too long. The odds may change. You know where to find me, right here at my corner table.”

*

Eddie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Sugar handed Eddie the phone, but when he went to take it, Sugar’s hand didn’t let go. Tell-tale beads of sweat appeared on his bald head and he licked his lips with a loose tongue. “It’s your son,” he said with his usual smirk.

“Sugar, give me the phone, damn you!” He wrenched it away from him, and Sugar’s eyes stared blankly over his shoulder. “Get Sugar a biscuit!” he yelled out to the kitchen. Sugar had fallen to the floor, his arms and legs flailing, banging the unwashed lin¬oleum floor. His foot booted Eddie in the shins and Eddie unthinkingly kicked him back. “Quick, he’s going to kill himself!”

“Dad? Eddie? What’s going on?” came the distant voice on the phone.

“Jimmy? Oh, sorry. Sugar, the silly bugger, is having one of his diabetic fits and just kicked me in the shins.”

“Well kick him back!” mocked James.”

The cook appeared with an Anzac biscuit, crumbled it up in her hand and stuffed it into Sugar’s mouth while one of the other barmen held him down and stuck the wooden spoon in his mouth that the cook kept especially for these occasions. Eddie turned away and held the phone tightly to his ear.

“James, nice of you to call. How are you doing? The leg coming along OK?”

“Yes, Dad. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to say good-bye to you when you left last Saturday.”

“I had to hurry back to the pub. These new long hours, you know. We’re having a hard time getting used to them. Never know whether the customers will stay around after six or not.”

“Yair, I know what you mean, Dad.”

“And has Iris settled in OK?”

“Yair, she’s beaut, Dad. I’m hoping Mr. Highlands will give her a bit of work to do.”

There was a pause. Eddie waited. What was coming? Jimmy only called him when he wanted something. They never did chit-chat anyway.

“Dad? You still there?”

“Right here, Jimmy. Looks like Sugar is coming out of it.”

“Too bad,” said James, quickly regretting it, “I mean, poor bugger.”

Eddie waited again. The pause was a little longer this time.

“Dad?”

“What is it you want, son?”

Jimmy bristled. That word again, but he clenched his teeth and screwed up his cheeks.

“You must have plenty of money. This long distance call will cost you some,” quipped Eddie.

“Funny you should mention money.”

“Uh, oh. Out with it, Jimmy.”

“I was wondering if you could loan me a thousand dollars.”

“What?” Eddie held the phone away from his face and stared into the mouthpiece.

“A thousand? What for? You going to buy a house?”

“Not yet. But there’s auntie Connie’s house that’s mine, right? So you could loan me the money and if I don’t pay it back you can take it as a share of the house.”

“I don’t think so, son. What do you want the money for? Have you been gambling?”

“No, Dad, no! You know I don’t gamble… unless it’s on a sure thing of course.”

“Tell me what it’s for.”

“It’s to help Iris get on her feet. She wants to start a cleaning business.”

“A cleaning business? But she wouldn’t have a clue how to do it and where to get customers.”

“She’s real smart, you know. Just because she didn’t go to school. And she can read now, too.”

“Why don’t you save up and loan her the money? Why don’t the two of you get married, anyway?”

“Don’t start on that, please Dad. You know we don’t believe in it. And you ought to know why, oughtn’t you?” Jimmy retorted, then immediately wanting to take it back.

Eddie could imagine the smart-ass look on Jimmy’s face. “We all know what she’s like, Jimmy. She’ll just as likely take off through your window and take the thousand dollars with her.”

“She’s grown up, Dad. She’s not a kid any more, and neither am I, and the window is on the second floor so she can’t jump out of it anyway,” he blurted.

Eddie paused once more. He closed his eyes tightly as if it would help him to say what he knew he was about to say but didn’t want to. The little bugger! “All right. I’ll send you a check, but I want it paid back in three months.”

“Gee, thanks Dad. We’ll pay it back sooner than that. Iris is a great worker, you know. And don’t send us a check. We’re going to drive down and pick up the cash, if you don’t mind.”

“Drive? You drive? Whose car?”

“Yair, Dad. That’s one of the things I learnt in the army. Learnt how to smash up lots of trucks and jeeps.”

“You’ve got your license?”

“Yair,” he lied, “they had a special program for army blokes.”

“All right then. When are you coming down?”

“Tomorrow. It’s my day off. Mr. Highland’s lending me his car.”

“It will be great to see you, Jimmy. Iris will be coming too?”

“Yair, but I haven’t told her yet. Bye, Dad. See you tomorrow.”

“OK, son. Drive safely now.”

*

Iris didn’t like cars, she had hardly been in one. She refused to sit in the front beside James and sat curled up in a little ball on the back seat of Frank’s lumbering Humber. Frank had been reticent to lend it to him, but in the end, relented, especially after Studs spoke up and vouched for Jimmy.

“Do you know where to go?” asked Iris, her voice thin with fear.

“Of course, I do. Just straight down the Geelong road.”

“Why are you going back there? It’s good riddance, that’s what I say. Let’s not go, and take a ride somewhere else.”

“Iris, I can’t do that. I promised I’d go down to see Eddie and the other blokes, if they’re still working there.”

“You mean that weirdo Sugar?”

“Yair, right! I’ll give him another punch on the fuckn nose if he gets in our way, that’s what!”

“What have you got against him? What’d he do to you? We’re going down there just so you can punch a weirdo?”

“Iris, love. Cut it out will you? Anyway, don’t you want to see your mum and sister?”

“Fuck them all,” she mumbled.

“OK. Sorry. But Linda’s all right isn’t she? And I wonder if that little brat is still running around like crazy.”

“She was helping out in the business.”

“Business? No! You mean…”

“Not that. She’s too young, but nearly old enough, says Linda. She just cleans the house and tidies the beds.”

“Does she go to school yet?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think so. But Linda says she will send her, poor little kid. I’m glad I never had to go.”

“Yair? You would have learned to read and write, though.”

“I’ve learned enough of it from Linda. And I do the sums as well for her business.”

“You mean count the money?”

“More than that, don’t you know anything about running a business?”

“Nah, s’pose not.”

The Humber stopped at the traffic lights where Yarraville Road met the Geelong road. James pointed to the left. “You see that little house with the low brick fence and the vacant lot beside it with all them scotch thistles?”

“What about it?”

“That’s our house. Auntie Connie’s old house that she left to me.”

“So why aren’t we living there, then?”

“Because the windows open too easily and you would run away too often,” he joked.

“Ha! Ha!” Iris sat up and stared down the street. The lights turned green and the Humber lumbered forward. “But really. It would be better there and we could make it into our nice little home.”

“And get married?”

Iris did not answer. She nestled back onto her corner of the seat, pushing against the door.

*

They arrived at the Corio Shire pub. James turned the Humber into the car park, and parked beside the old cypress tree. He grinned to himself as he remembered the corpse that was, and Dopey trying to find it. Those were great days, never to return he supposed. They got out of the car and James locked it carefully, according to Frank’s seriously delivered instructions. Iris stood beside him, her arm linked to his. Unusual for her, thought James. “We’ll go in the back way,” he said.

“You mean, you want to kick that dog up the ass again?” quipped Iris.

“Yair, that would be a laugh, wouldn’t it? But Eddie told me they lost him. He got loose and ran across the Melbourne road and some bloke ran over him. Serve the little bastard right, anyway.”

James led Iris towards the back gate and was about to open it when he felt a bony hand clutch his shoulder, the fingers with long nails digging into his skin.

“Do not enter that place of evil!” croaked a hoarse, witch’s voice.

They both turned to see who it was, though both already knew who it had to be.

“Flo! You stupid fuckn bitch! Take your fingers off me!” growled James. He wasn’t beyond giving her a smack across that wizened nicotine stained mouth of hers.

“And the Lord said, do not partake of the evil drink.”

“Bull shit, Flo. He did not. Please fuck off,” ordered James.

“Don’t talk to my mother like that!” cried Iris as she pulled at his arm. “She might be a witch, but she’s my mother.”

“Oh yair, right. You want me to smack her one for you, after all she’s done to you?”

“Jimmy! Don’t!”

James was not sure whether Iris meant it or not. There was no love lost between the two of them. And he was not sure whether Iris knew the circumstances of her birth that Flo had revealed to him that terrible night at the Geelong Hospital.

Flo let go of James and turned to face Iris, her nose almost touching hers, her smoky breath causing Iris to grimace. She took Iris’s head in her hands, squeezing her cheeks. She then pulled her towards her and kissed her on her forehead. Iris let out a squeal of horror. Then Flo pushed her back and, still holding her head, pronounced in a screaming hoarse voice, “the devil lives inside the putrid innards of this boy! Leave him now while you can! The devil will play with you like a kitten with a mouse, he will taste your charms, then he will kill you like he did our dear sweet Millie!”

Iris shook herself free and recoiled in horror. But no sooner had she gotten free than she saw James poised, wound tightly, ready to spring like a tiger, his fists clenched as hard as cricket balls.

“No! Jimmy! No! Don’t do it! It’s what she wants! Jimmy, don’t!”

James wanted to knock her block off, that’s what. He grabbed the loose collar of her blouse and was about to strike her an unholy blow, when he felt a familiar hand grip his arm from behind.

“Take it easy, mate,” said Grecko, we don’t want another corpse in the car park do we?”

James turned to see Grecko smiling, tall, solid, steady, like he always was. The adrenalin suddenly washed away, he relaxed his grip of Flo’s collar, and his arms went limp. “Gees, Grecko. You’re a sight for sore eyes. You saved me!”

“That’s what I’m here for, mate.”

“And he saved Flo too,” put in Iris. She pulled at James’s arm. “Come on. Let’s get back in the car and go home. This placed brings out the worst of you.”

“I have to see Eddie to finish our business.”

“I know, mate, and here it is,” said Grecko, handing James an envelope.

“Gees, thanks Grecko. But I better go in and thank him.”

“You can, but it’s probably better that you don’t go in. Sugar is there and he’s the manager now. Things could get a bit nasty.”

“I’ll take that,” said Iris as she snatched the envelope out of James’s hand. “What’s in it anyway?”

James tried to snatch it back.

“OK, kids. I’ll leave you to it, but I think you had better get in the car if you’re going to fight over it.”

At this moment, they remembered Flo. She had dropped down on her knees, under the cypress tree, her gnarled hands clasped together, praying. James thought he saw the hulk of Tank, her husband-brother-father of Iris, fast approaching. “I think we’d better go,” he said to Iris. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the front seat of the Humber beside him. The car was still running. Grecko slammed the door behind them and they drove off. “We came all this way just for this?” asked Iris as she peaked inside the envelope.

“It’s a thousand dollars,” said James proudly, “and soon it will be five times that amount.”

“Jimmy, what are you up to?” asked Iris, worried.

“You’ll see,” said James.

They spoke no more, Iris now comfortably sitting in the front seat, staring out the window. James imagining what he will do with the winnings.

*

They lay in James’s bed, James well satisfied on many accounts.

“So why didn’t you stay at the uni?” asked Iris.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not? You’re always complaining that I don’t talk.”

“That’s different.”

“Bull shit.”

“OK. So you really want to know?”

“I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t.”

“I wasn’t good enough.”

“Why not?”

“Just like you couldn’t read when I first met you…”

“But now I can.”

“Yair, but I went to Geelong High School where they didn’t teach me anything, so when I got to uni I couldn’t do half the stuff. I was a big deal in my Latin class at High School. But at uni, all the other conchie private school kids were way better than me.”

“So you gave up?”

“Sort of.”

“You should go back.”

“I can’t. Because I flunked out.”

“Won’t they let you try again?”

“Nah. I did my dash. Besides I shouldn’t have been there in the first place. That’s what one bastard professor said, and he was right.”

“Yair? What was it like, then?”

“I just didn’t feel like I belonged there, you know?”

“Shit! I feel like that everywhere,” said Iris, half joking.

“Yair, I know. I think that’s why I love you so much.”

Iris took her eyes off the window through which she had been gazing wistfully and said, “you really mean that?”

“We found each other when I fell into your arms the day of my Latin exam.”

“But you passed that exam, didn’t you?”

“Yair, but I shouldn’t have. There’s ways to kind of fake it.”

“Fake? You mean cheat?”

“No, not really. I mean fake it. And the trouble was I felt like a fake walking around the uni pretending I was a uni student like the rest of them but I wasn’t.”

“But you were good enough to get accepted into the uni weren’t you? I don’t know. Can anyone just show up and go there?”

“Not really. Let’s not talk about it anymore? I want to be with blokes like my own kind. And it’s pubs where my kind hang out. It’s that simple.”

“And what about me?”

“You’re my kind too, that’s for sure,” said James with a grin. He pulled Iris to him and they held each other so tightly they were one.

They lay together, dozing until James leaned over and switched on the radio. The grand final would be almost over by now. They could hear the yells and screams of the bar crowd as they watched the match. It must be close, mumbled James to himself.

“What’s that sweetie?”

“So now I’m sweet?”

*

“And with seconds to go, the scores are level, it looks like this match will be a draw,” announced he commentator.

“Shit!” cried James. “They can’t do that!”

“Can’t do what?”

“Saint Kilda has to win. Studs said so!”

“You bet on the Grand Final?”

“What do you think I got the thousand dollars for?”

Iris roughly pushed him away and jumped off the bed. “You stupid shit! Studs is a crook! And you shouldn’t gamble anyway.”

“Studs said it was a sure thing. He’s got it fixed, that’s what he said.”

“And oh!” cries the commentator, as loud screams come from the bar, “with one minute to go Barry Breen has collected the ball from a scrimmage, throws it on his boot and it dribbles in for a point! The scores are now Collingwood 10.13, 73 and Saint Kilda 10.14, 74.”

“You see?” said James, now sitting on the side of the bed, try¬ing to grab Iris’s hands. “We’re going to be rich!”

“Jimmy, love. Don’t you see what Studs is up to? He’s pulling you in.”

“He’s a good mate,” Iris. I’ve known him since I was a kid. He always treated me right.”

Iris let herself be drawn back down to the bed. She ran her hand through his tussled hair like she always did. It calmed her, and it usually calmed him as well. “If we’re going to live together we are going to have to share ourselves, I mean really share, don’t you think? Remember that time we ran away from the pub and we were going to grow vegetables and sell them at the side of the road?”

James blinked and grabbed her hand, pulled it down to his mouth and kissed those beautiful slender fingers. Her hands were the most graceful thing about her. “We were just kids then,” he whispered.

“Yair, but we truly gave ourselves to each other, didn’t we?”

“Gees, Iris. I dunno. I never thought about anything like that.”

“Well it’s time you did.”

“Gees, Iris. Maybe you should go to uni you’re so smart.”

Iris squeezed his nose between her thumb and forefinger. “You’re a bastard, you know that?”

“We both are,” grinned James, possibly the first time he had joked about his uncertain origin, but also only now realizing that maybe Iris did not know about hers.

Iris stared out the window. She bit her bottom lip. “I know who my mother and father are, unfortunately,” she said wistfully.

James pinched her cheek with his rough hand and kissed her lightly on her fluttering lips. A seagull landed on the rusting corrugated iron roof just outside the window and wailed for something to eat. “Come on!” he said, let’s go down and collect the winnings!”

“Let’s not,” purred Iris, “let’s share our winnings right here. We’re worth more than a thousand dollars.”

*

Most of the bar were Collingwood supporters. A few fights erup¬ted over the loss, St. Kilda fans sneaking away quickly to find a St. Kilda-friendly pub, James emerged looking sleepy, as did Iris. Frank gave them a fierce look. They were supposed to have been in the bar long before to cater for the big crowd of heavy drinkers.

“You two, get into the saloon bar. There’s going to be some heavy drinking now till closing.”

“Right Frank. Sorry, we lost track of the time, and then got dis¬tracted listening to the footy.”

Yair. OK. You’re supposed to be the Saloon bar manager. Now do your job,” growled Frank as he waddled away, looking at his watch.

“We close at ten, right?” asked James.

“Right. So get to it.”

“What about dinner?”

“What about it?”

Frank stared at them both. Iris squeezed Jimmy’s hand. “I’ll take care of it,” she said, “we’ll grab a pie or something as we go.”

“And later on, Studs and I want to talk to you, Jimmy,” said Frank.

“Oh, you mean my winnings?” said James, excitedly.

“That and more. You’re a game young bloke, that’s for sure,” said Frank and he waddled away into the public bar, slapping customers lightly on their backs, buying them a drink here and there.

People were not yet used to the late closing hours. Most of the customers stayed around till six and then started to drift away. There was no six o’clock swill any more. Jimmy missed it, the mad excitement and shrill din of the drinkers calling for more rounds of drink, glasses clattering, money hitting the counter, the ring, ring, ring of the old cash register. By seven o’clock there were only a few customers still in the bar so Iris went off to get a couple of meat pies from the kitchen. And when she returned, she found Jimmy, Studs and Frank huddled in the corner around Studs’s table.

“Here’s your thousand and another two thousand for your big win,” said Studs as he thumped three wads of notes on the table in front of James who reflexively grabbed at them. Frank leaned forward over his paunch and slapped Jimmy’s hand. “Aren’t you going to count them?” he asked with a smirk.

“I trust Studs,” said Jimmy, “I’ve known him since I was a kid, and he never gypped me for a penny.”

“Well, that’s saying something. Better not let the blokes in the bar hear that or it will ruin Studs’s reputation!” joked Frank.

“What are you going to do with the money?” asked Studs. “It’s a lot of dough.”

“I dunno. Might buy a car. See what Iris wants to do.”

“I can tell you what Iris will want to do, I know women,” said Frank.

“You ought to, you’ve been through enough wives,” joked Studs.

Iris arrived with the pies. “One for Jimmy and one for me. Do you blokes want anything?”

“No thanks, I don’t eat while I’m doing business,” said Studs with an air of self-importance.

“I’ll have something after the pub closes,” said Frank.

James, always hungry, gulped down the pie.

“Don’t you want sauce?” joked Iris.

“Too late.”

“So now…” said Studs, looking around the bar.

“We’ve got business,” said Frank staring down at the cash sitting in front of James.

“What about giving the money to Iris and she can take it away and count it and no doubt she’ll have some ideas about spending it,” joked Frank.

James looked up at Iris who stood at his elbow.

“Good idea!” she said with a big smile as she leaned over to collect the three piles of cash.

“Hey! Wait a minute! They’re my winnings!” grinned James.

“You could spend it on a wedding,” said Frank, half seriously.

Iris pocketed the money and walked away.. “Thanks a lot Frank,” she said with a grin. James sat quietly

“I love weddings,” said Frank.

“That’s why you’ve had so many of them,” quipped Studs, “now let’s get down to business.”

“What business? I’ll let you two go to it then,” said James.

“No, stay,” said Studs, “you’re welcome to join us, isn’t that right Frank?”

“Absolutely. You’ve shown that you’re a gutsy gambler, James. With your help, we can make even more money,” said Frank.

“But I’m happy with what I made.”

“How would you like to make many thousands more, and I mean many thousands?” whispered Studs looking around the bar as though there were people trying to hear what he was about to say.

“Gees, maybe. Iris and me, we’re happy with what we’ve got.”

“And your auntie’s house? Does Iris want that?”

“Yair, she does, but I told her I’m going to sell it. I couldn’t live there. Too many horrible memories.”

“Eddie says it’s just a little house anyway and there’s tiger snakes all around the scotch thistles next door.”

“Did you tell her that?” asked Frank.

“No.”

“What the two of you need is a nice big house in Footscray or even Flemington near here, with a nice garden, big rooms where you can relax, and an outside where you can have a beer or two, and a garage for your new car.”

“And bedrooms for the kids you’ll have,” added Studs.

“Shit! We’re happy just working here in the pub and living upstairs. We don’t want for much,” said James.

“Well, as much as I’d like to be sure you’ll always be here working for me, wouldn’t you like to have enough money that you could go out on your own, be your own boss?” asked Frank.

James was about to answer, though he wasn’t sure what he would say, when he felt a heavy presence behind him. A large hand grabbed him by the back of his neck and pushed his head down to the table. Another large hand banged a dog-eared bible on the table.

*

“Preacher, fuck you!” cried Studs, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“Are you not aware that you are in consequence cohabiting with a known murderer?”

“What?” called Frank, incredulous.

“Come on Preacher,” snarled Studs, “he never did it and you know it.”

James stayed still, his head buried under his arms. The Prea¬cher lightened his grip.

“Don’t think you’ll get away with it, you disgusting little bastard, and I know that’s what you are, don’t think I don’t know it.”

“Fuck you!” mumbled James, the sound muffled under his arms.

“What did you say, child of sin, the devil himself?” cried the Preacher, loud enough for all to hear, even as far away as in the public bar.

“Preacher, sir, let him go,” said Frank, a smile always on his face, but this time his eyebrows sloping inward, pleading. “I will vouch for him. He is in my employ.”

“More fool you! The devil’s handyman that’s what you are!”

“Right. So, if you don’t mind, sir, we would like to close up the pub. It’s a quarter to ten.”

“I’ll take a beer and a whiskey,” demanded the Preacher, “and make it quick before the pub closes.”

Frank waddled back a little and looked at his watch. “Senior constable, you know damn well that I cannot serve a policeman alcohol while he is in uniform. You yourself have told me that, many times, isn’t that right?”

“Give him a fuckn beer,” muttered Studs, “anything to get rid of him.”

“What blasphemy did I hear, Mr. Mackerel? I’ve a good mind to take you in.”

“Give him a beer,” muttered James joining in the chorus.

At that moment Iris, who had been busying herself behind the bar counter, appeared with a tray on which were a large pot of beer and a double whiskey. “At your service, constable,” she said with an exaggerated smile.

“It’s senior constable, miss.” He scooped up the whiskey and downed it in one gulp. He then took the pot of beer, replaced it with his hat, quaffed down the beer, then replaced his hat with the empty glass. He let go of James’s neck, stepped back and said, “Good evening, gentlemen and ladies, snatched up his bible, loose pages still sticking out of it, and left.

*

Studs looked furtively around once again. Clearly, he was waiting for Iris to leave and this she did, giving James a slightly cross look.

“Now, James, this is what Frank and me are planning, and we think you have earned your place in our team.”

“I don’t know, Studs. I mean…”

“You haven’t heard what it is yet.”

“I know. But Iris. I don’t think she likes me gambling.”

“It’s not gambling. Gambling is when you don’t know what the outcome will be. This is investing. We know what the outcome will be, just like we knew St. Kilda would win.”

“You really knew that?”

“Of course! I only bet on a sure thing, and I cut you in as a big favour to Frank.”

“But how?”

“The footy timekeeper is a friend of mine. He wasn’t going to sound the siren until St. Kilda were in front.”

“But that could have been a long time, if at all. What if Colling¬wood was way in front in the last quarter?”

“We had taken steps to make sure that did not happen.”

“Like what?”

“I think it’s best if you don’t know, James, just in case the cops start to snoop around,” said Frank. “Don’t want you to get caught up in anything, given your, well, past dealings with the likes of the Preacher.”

“So, what’s the plan then?”

“We know already what horse will win the Melbourne cup.”

“You do?” Come on. Nobody could predict that and be so sure.”

“Well, let’s put it another way. We know for sure what horse will not win the Melbourne Cup.”

“And that is?”

“Galilee, the favourite.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Can’t tell you, unless we are sure that you are with us and will help us make sure of the outcome.”

“OK, I’m in.”

“Well, not quite. You have to put up some money, of course. There will be a few people to pay off, some expensive bills to pay.”

“How much?”

“More than you’ve got.”

“And how much are you blokes putting in?”

“Well I can’t put anything in because I’m the bookie, and it would be illegal for me to do it. I’d lose my license.”

“I’ve promised $20,000,” muttered Frank.

“But that’s how much my house in Yarraville is worth.”

“Who told you that?”

“My Dad, Eddie.”

“Are you in or not?” asked Studs, looking towards the door.

“The Preacher coming back?” asked Frank.

“No. My secretary, she should be here soon. She takes care of all the paperwork. If you want to put up your house instead of the money, that’s OK. She’s a justice of the peace, so she can take an affidavit or whatever it’s called, to confirm that you’ve put up the dough.”

“I’d better ask Iris. I need to think about it.”

“I can tell you now, Jimmy, I mean James, if you ask Iris, she’ll say no, but you probably already know that,” said Studs.

James looked across to Iris who was busy washing glasses. “Anyway, what’s the use of knowing what horse will not win? How can I make money on that? Don’t I need to know what horse will win?”

“Smart bloke you’ve got here, Frank!”

“That’s what his Dad, Eddie always said.”

“It would be stupid if I told you before you came in, wouldn’t it? I mean, you’d have the information and then it would be very likely that you’d blab it around to others, even though you would know that it was against your interest to do so.”

“How do you mean?”

“The more people that know it, the more who will bet on it, then the odds would go down. It’s that simple.”

*

It was closing time. Frank waddled over to the saloon bar door. He was about to close it when Dolly pushed past him, her hips that Frank knew so well, pressing on his belly. Dolly was her name, according to Studs who had named her because she always looked like a doll, especially her hair. Frank was much taken with her, they all knew that, and she returned the favours at times. Studs used her as a kind of bargaining chip with Frank when he wanted to do something that Frank might not like. And his cup caper was one of them.

“Why, Mr. Highlands. How nice of you to open the door for me!”

“Always my pleasure, Miss,” answered Frank, bowing to the extent his belly would allow it. “Unfortunately, I have to ask you both to leave now, as there’s a cop snooping around and I don’t want to get nabbed.” He looked nervously at his watch. “The Preacher is a nasty piece of work, as we all know.”

“This will only take a couple of minutes,” said Studs, staring at Frank and nodding towards the bar where Iris was still washing glasses. Dolly took her place nestled beside Studs.

“Dolly, you met Jimmy, I mean James, Henderson, here didn’t you?” said Studs.

“G’day love,” she said, her bright red lips flashing her well-practiced smile. “Nice hair you’ve got there.”

“Hey Iris, Jimmy and me will finish up the Saloon Bar. Could you give them a hand in the public bar? There’s a good girl,” called Frank, looking at his watch.

“Hello Iris!” called Dolly. “The rude buggers wouldn’t bother to introduce me to you. We girls have to stick together, you know.”

“Pleased to meet you, Dolly. I’ll go. I know when I’m not wanted,” answered Iris with a slight grin.

“All right then. Let’s get down to business,” said Studs. “Did you bring the papers?”

“All here Mr. Mackerel.” Dolly pulled out some papers typed with carbon copies still attached. “All he has to do is sign on the dotted line, right here.”

“There you go! You see what a great secretary she is?” said Studs, pushing the papers across to James.

“What are these for?” James asked.

Frank, always careful, quietly left the little group and began cleaning up the bar counter, putting glasses away, even sweeping the floor. He wanted to be able to say that he never knew what was going on.

“Don’t worry love,” said Dolly, “they’re just to make sure we all remember what we agreed on, that right Mr. Mackerel?”

“Exactly. So now, you have the three thousand you won on the Grand final.”

“Two thousand, one thousand I owe Eddie.”

“Oh, right. I forgot about that. Do you want to put the two thousand down on Light Fingers to win?”

“Light who?”

“Light Fingers. It’s the name of the horse that’s going to win the Melbourne cup in a few weeks.”

“You said you weren’t going to tell me.”

“Yair, I know. But I’ve decided I can trust you, now that you know just about everything.”

“Just about? What do you mean?”

“Well, there’s a little something that we need your help with to make absolutely sure that Light Fingers wins.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, it’s best I don’t tell you in front of Dolly. I don’t want to involve her in anything that might muck up her being a Justice of the Peace.”

“She can leave, then. Can’t she? And I’ll sign the papers later.”

“Trouble is that she has to witness you sign the paper, so she can legally put her JP stamp on it and sign it herself.”

“Gees, I don’t know Mr. Mackerel…”

“Studs to you, mate. You’re one of us now.”

“I better read this before I sign it, anyway. That’s what they always told me in the army.”

“Go ahead then. I’d suggest that you keep the two thousand winnings, or maybe give them to Iris to keep her happy. Then you can write me an IUO for whatever amount you want to place on Light Fingers.”

“What are the odds going to be?”

“So long as nobody else sniffs it out, it will be astronomical, about 35 to 1.”

“Gees, Studs! Are you sure?”

“Sure as Dolly is sitting beside me right now.”

On cue, Dolly called out to Frank, “Hey Frankie, love, aren’t you going to get me a little drinkie?”

“Can’t. It’s after hours,” grinned Frank, already mixing her a brandy and dry ginger, her favourite. He waddled over and handed it to her, his belly grazing the table as he leaned over and gave her a light kiss on her forehead, his nose getting a whiff of the scent of a hairdresser.

“Thank you, luvvy,” she said with coy exaggeration.

James peered closely at the document. It simply said:

I promise to pay Studs Mackerel $…….. within one week after the 1966 Melbourne Cup race and guarantee my house at 842 Geelong Road as surety in the event that I do not make such payment.

Signed ……….

James Henderson.

Witnessed by:………….

Justice of the Peace

“Just put in the amount you want to bet, luvvy,” urged Dolly, then sign it at the bottom.”

But I can’t put up the whole house, that would mean I’d be betting $20,000,” complained James.

“You’re right, of course, James. You always were a smart little bugger,” said Studs. “Then how much do you want to put up?”

“I was just going to use my Grand Final winnings.”

“Yair, makes sense. But from what I know of your little Iris, she won’t let you.”

“You’re right there.”

“Tell you what. Dolly will just cross out the house part, and just leave it as a simple IOU. And I’ll trust you to come up with the money, say within three weeks after the race. That would give you time to sell the house to raise the money in the very unlikely event that Light Fingers doesn’t win.”

Without waiting for James’s response, Dolly pulled the paper back and went to cross out the part that referred to the house as surety.

“You’re absolutely sure that Light Fingers will win?”

“As sure as you’re sitting there now. It’s guaranteed. This is just a small formality.”

“You’ll pay me all my winnings, and just keep the part I’m borrowing from you?”

“Right. Simple as that. Your house is only there in case Light Fingers has a heart attack or something. And God save us all if that happens, which it won’t.”

“Horses don’t have heart attacks, do they Mr. Mackerel?”

“Of course not, Dolly my dear, it was just an example.”

James stared at the document. Dolly handed him a ballpoint pen.

“It’s a sure thing?”

“Absolutely!”

“If it’s not, I’ll kill you Studs, and you won’t get the house anyway,” said James, looking Studs in the eye, then added for effect, “you know I’ve fought in Vietnam.”

“I know, I know. It’s a sure thing.”

“All right then, so long as we understand each other.”

James took the pen and wrote in $25,000.

“Press hard,” urged Dolly, “we have to have it in duplicate.”

James signed the form and pushed it back to Dolly who ceremoniously reached into her gold-sequined handbag for her JP stamp and pad, banged it on the ink pad, then with a flourish, signed on the dotted line, Dolly Mackerel.

“You two are married?” asked James, incredulous.

“Not really. It’s just a legal formality,” said Studs with a smirk. Dolly pretended not to hear.

“Now here’s your part, the last thing that we have to do, and it all depends on you.”

“What’s that?”

“Galilee’s trainer drinks here every Friday night and most Saturdays.”

“Buy him a few beers and make friends with him. Anyway, he’s also a mate of Swampy’s, who I know you know pretty well.”

“Yair, so what?”

“Take this.”

Studs nudged Dolly who rummaged in her handbag and finally retrieved a small medicine bottle. He shook it and held it up to the light. “You see this?” he said, “it’s our ticket to Heaven!”

“Oooh! Take me with you,” crooned Dolly.

“Dolly. I think you should leave right now. This is between only James and me. It’s better all round that nobody else knows any of this.”

“OK. Mr. Mackerel. I’m very professional.” She gathered up the papers, pen and stamp and left.

“You’ll have to go out the back door. Go through the kitchen.” Studs pointed.

“What’s in it?” asked James.

“You don’t need to know that either.”

“You want to poison the fuckn horse?”

“I wouldn’t call it that. Just make him a little sleepy at the right time.”

“But how can we get the horse to take it?”

“We don’t. We get the trainer to give it to him.”

“Make friends with him, so you can visit the horse a lot, people get used to seeing you there. Take Iris along. Women love horses, don’t they?”

“Studs, this is crazy.”

“And crazy not to do it. We’ll be as rich as kings!”

“I’m not gunna do it.”

“You just signed an IUO.”

“Then tear it up.”

“James, be sensible, be the smart bloke I know.”

“Find someone else to drug the horse. That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Tell you what. Think about it for a day. I will put off laying bets for twenty four hours.”

“But you’ve got the bet, haven’t you?”

“Are you kidding? You gave me an IUO. That’s just to cover my placing the bets with different bookies over the next few weeks. You can’t place a huge bet with one bookie on one horse to win. It will look suspicious, especially if the horse wins. I have to lay the bets slowly and carefully choose the bookies, including in other states. Got to spread the bets out, that way it won’t affect the odds too much, and we’ll get a great return on our investment.”

“You’re going to lay out your own money?”

“On your behalf, James, my boy. On your behalf.”

“I need to think about it.”

“Take a day, but promise me one thing.”

“Yair?”

“Don’t tell Iris. I can tell you now, mate, I know women. And if you tell her, all bets are off. She’ll go ape-shit.”

James stirred in his seat. He wanted badly to punch Studs hard, right between his furtive eyes. Studs sensed it. “Look, Jimmy, James, or whatever. Tell you what. I’ll get Dolly to draw up the papers so you and Iris can get married. I’m pretty sure that she could even marry the two of you, unless you want a church wedding.”

James’s eyes lit up. “You’ve given me a great idea!”

“What’s that?”

“We can get married on Swampy’s farm, have our honeymoon there as well, and Spuds can be best man!”

“Me? What? I don’t think so.”

“Not you, Studs. My old dago mate Spuds. We worked together on Swampy’s farm.”

“Oh, I think I remember him. The big muscly dark bloke, hair as black as coal. Always drinking with Swampy.”

“That’s him. Can you loan me $200?”

“But you just won $2,000 off me.”

“Iris has that. I want to buy her a ring, and can’t really ask her for that money, if you see what I mean.”

“Tell you what, mate. Here’s $200 Consider it a wedding gift from me to you both.”

“Gees, Studs. I didn’t think you had it in you. You’re such a good bloke.”

Studs raised his glass, still full. “To relationships,” he said, “you and me and you and Iris.”