Matthew Flinders' Cat (54 page)

‘“Well, whatever you heard, it’s worse! I was there when I was fifteen, I got raped and beaten up and nobody paid me for the privilege.”’

Billy immediately thought of Davo and wondered how many children this evil place had destroyed.

‘“You just shut your trap, you hear?” Monkey says. He smiles at me, “You’re one of us now, Ryan. You’re lucky, you’re prime meat and beautiful, darling. The Queenie will use you, but she’ll also take care of you until the pimples kick in. She and Alf only trade with the best. Stick with me and I’ll teach you the tricks and you can have anything you want. I’m not a paedophile so you’ll be safe.” He’s got this sort of smile on his face. “Well, safe until you’re seventeen anyway.” Then he gives me a card with his phone number on it. “You’ll be back, sweetie, call me when the time comes,” he says.

‘“I ain’t comin’ back,” I tell him again.

‘But he just laughs, and he pats me on me knee. “Don’t worry, angel, you’ll soon be bending over and thinking of the new set of wheels you want for your skateboard. There are worse ways to make a living, darl. This ain’t the worst thing that can happen to a kid, the Darlo Wall is the worst. That’s where you pick up the clap and lots of other nasties like AIDS. Be grateful that you’re with the best in the biz.” Then he lets me out. “See you soon, precious!” he shouts after me, “Tell your mum she’s got a sweet boy!”’

‘We’ll add Monkey to our list of mongrels,’ Billy said to Ryan. ‘Do you have the card?’

Ryan fished into his pocket and produced a card, which he’d folded into four, and handed it to Billy.

Billy simply dropped it into his briefcase. ‘Can you tell me what happened next?’

‘I come home and me mum’s a little better. She’s out of bed and says she’s a bit hungry but we’ve got nothin’ to eat, she ain’t et for five days. I give her the four caps and tell her about them being too pure, what Monkey told me, to make three hits out of two caps. She says that’s real cool and she loves me a lot. She’s okay to do her own needle so I go to the Just Enough Faith van and get something to eat and I bring her back some sticky date puddin’ ’cause that’s her favourite. When I come back she’s drinking some brandy I didn’t know she had and she eats a bit of puddin’ and says she’s going to bed. I’m pretty whacked meself and hurtin’ so I go to bed also where I do a bit of cryin’ ’cause I wish my nana was still there and I could talk to her.

‘In the mornin’ I looked at me mum but she were still asleep so I left and went to school.’

‘You went to school, that was the day your mother died, wasn’t it?’ Billy asked.

‘Yeah, that was later when I come back home.’

‘But you spent the day at school? Are you sure?’ Billy was concerned with Ryan’s answer because Dorothy Flanagan had said she hadn’t seen him since he’d tried to get some of Billy’s money.

‘Nah, I only went, but I couldn’t go in, I was frightened they’d see that I was now a poofter.’

Billy thought his heart would break, but he managed to say, ‘What did you do that morning?’

‘I come here,’ he pointed to the giant Moreton Bay.

‘Remember how you left me the book and buried it under some leaves? I come and sat under the tree but it was too dark and cold so I come here.’

‘Here, on this bench?’

Ryan nodded, unaware that Billy couldn’t quite believe that of all the dozens of benches in the Gardens Ryan had selected this particular one beside the rock pool. ‘Then I went home,’ Ryan concluded.

‘Approximately what time was that?’

‘It were one o’clock ’cause I heard the gun go at Pinchgut.’

‘So you got home, what, five minutes later?’

‘Yeah, I went to me mum’s room and the door was shut and I opened it real quiet and she was still asleep. When she ate some of the puddin’ I brung her from the van, it was half-past six and she went in her room with the brandy bottle. I didn’t worry because she’s a dancer, see, and she come back very late at night and she always sleeps ’til it’s arvo, I reckoned she’d wake up soon. So I put on the TV. At two o’clock I went to her bedroom again, she’s never slept this long even when she’s working. The brandy bottle was lying on the floor and I could see the syringe on the table and the lighter and the spoon, but then I seen there’s three caps left.’ Ryan looked to see if Billy understood the implication before he explained it. ‘You see, if she’d broke two caps to make three hits she’d ’ave wrapped the spare smack in silver foil, there shoulda only been two full caps on the table.’

‘You mean she took a full cap, that she didn’t split two to make three?’

‘Yeah, she musta got drunk and forgot or somethin’. When I touched her to wake her up she don’t move and she were cold. I shook her and shook her and put me hand on her heart, but she were dead like me nana said she would be.’

‘And so you decided to run away?’

‘She’d overdosed. The police always come when that happens. Monkey said if I didn’t come back, The Queenie and Mr Suleman would tell them about how I got the smack and they’d think I murdered me mum. But I didn’t, Billy, I told her it were too pure, she said that was cool, I was a good boy and she loved me.’ Ryan had started to tremble but he didn’t cry, Billy guessed he had just about used up all his tears.

Ryan told Billy how he’d found some kids who said he could share their squat if he stayed in at night and minded their gear. ‘That was good, because the police and DOCS look for missing kids at night. I had the two hundred bucks the German gimme and I buried it the same place you done with me book under that big tree. I’d come every day and take enough so I could get something to eat ’cause I couldn’t go to the food vans, there’s always plainclothes there and also DOCS, they’s lookin’ for kids, but two days ago there wasn’t no money left.’

‘You hadn’t eaten for two days?’

‘This Abo woman, she was drunk, she gimme a hamburger and half a packet o’ Smith’s chips.’

‘If you hadn’t found me, Ryan, what were you going to do?’

Ryan shrugged. ‘Like Monkey said, I was already a poofter, I was allowed ter go back to them.’

‘Ryan, why did you come to William Booth to see me and then run away?’

He was silent for a while. ‘I dunno. I just got scared. I wanted to tell you everything, about me nana and me mum and what happened, but then I thought you wouldn’t like me no more now I was a poofter and maybe you didn’t like me anyway ’cause you went away.’ He shrugged. ‘So I ran away and cried a bit.’

‘You know they all talked about your singing in the chapel, it was beautiful.’

‘It’s no big deal,’ Ryan said. ‘Singing’s just somethin’ some kids can do.’

‘What’s the time, lad?’ Billy asked.

Ryan looked at his oversized rubber-encased watch.

‘Ten minutes to seven.’

‘Heavens! Time to go.’

‘Where we goin’?’ Ryan asked.

‘Ryan, you have to go into hiding. I’m taking you down to the Quay, to Con at the New Hellas.’

Ryan still looked doubtful. ‘Billy, you ain’t gunna leave me again, are you?’

Billy was silent for a moment. ‘No, lad, I won’t do that, ever again, but I need to see some people today about the plan.’

They made their way down to Circular Quay, where Con seemed overjoyed to see them and wanted to make Ryan a milkshake.

When Ryan declined, he seemed upset, until Billy told him how he’d polished off all of Maria’s delicacies. ‘My wife, she like to cooks, all Greek women they likes to cooks. He patted his stomach. ‘She make you everything you wants, Ryan. You ask, she makes, fair dinkums, put down your glass.’

Con turned to prepare a takeaway coffee for an early commuter and Ryan, giggling, turned to Billy. ‘Me nana used ta say that, it’s “put down your
glasses
!”’ Billy could see that he was beginning to warm to the Greek cafe owner.

Con made a phone call home and announced that one of his daughters working in the back of the cafe would take Ryan to his Newtown house in a taxi. ‘Maria, she’s waitings at the gates.’

‘Can’t you come with me, Billy?’ Ryan asked plaintively.

‘Ryan, I’m sorry, mate. I have an AA meeting. I’m already five minutes late. It’s about staying off the grog. I have to go, lad, it’s part of my recovery. I’ll be back to pick you up at four o’clock.’ Billy placed his hands on Ryan’s shoulders. ‘Please, Ryan, don’t leave Con’s house on your own, it’s terribly important. Will you promise me?’

Ryan nodded. ‘Yiz’ll fetch me this arvo, Billy?’

‘I promise, around four o’clock, it’s part of the plan.’

‘You haven’t told me the Trim story,’ Ryan said, desperate to delay their departure.

‘Two stories! I’ll start one when we see each other this afternoon,’ Billy promised.

The AA meeting had already started when Billy entered the G’day Cafe but several of the men smiled and lifted their hands in recognition when he entered the room. Don did a silent little clap and then indicated a spare chair. After only three meetings Billy realised how important the fellowship was becoming. There was a genuine look of relief in the faces of the men who had seen him entering the room. The victory of his attendance was almost as much a confirmation for them as it was for him. It reinforced in their minds that the whole was greater than the sum of the parts and that they shared both triumph and disaster.

Despite the joy of reuniting with Ryan, the boy’s terrible distress could easily have tipped him over the edge. Billy needed the constant affirmation of AA to stay sober. He was about to tackle something that he’d have had serious doubts about doing on his own when he’d been at the height of his legal career. If he weakened for one moment and had a drink, he would be responsible for ruining a small boy’s life. He would be repeating what he’d done to Charlie, and Billy knew he didn’t want to live if that should happen. If only the craving would go away, he thought, just for a little while, so that he could cram everything he needed to know and do into his head without being constantly distracted by the need for a drink. But he knew it wouldn’t. The odds he was taking on were enormous and, without the support of AA, he had no chance.

It was pension day so after he’d shaved and showered at The Station he visited the bank at Martin Place and obtained five dollars worth of twenty-cent pieces for the phone. From a phone booth, he dialled a number.

The phone rang a couple of times before it was picked up. ‘Good morning, Justice Eisenstein’s phone, Doha Jebara speaking.’

‘Yes, good morning, may I speak to Marcus, please. It’s Billy O’Shannessy here, I’m a barrister.’ Billy hoped by using the chief justice’s first name he would avoid the usual runaround.

There was a moment’s hesitation on the phone and then the woman said, ‘He may have left for court. Just a moment, I’ll see if I can catch him.’

It was the standard response, she wasn’t falling for the first-name ploy. Billy knew what was to come. She’d return to the phone in a minute or so with the usual regrets that she’d missed him, he’d be in court all day, did Billy wish to leave a message? If she was any good, she’d do a bit of research on Billy and she’d call him back later in the day to say that Justice Eisenstein had asked her to get more details. Billy would say he couldn’t discuss the matter on the phone and she would ask him whether what he had to say pertained to any ongoing matter in the courts or public inquiries. Billy would be forced to admit that this was the case. She would tell him, again politely, that the chief justice could not receive such information and that he should take it either to the police or to the ombudsman.

Billy was relying heavily on a schoolboy friendship and the many years he and Marcus Eisenstein had practised together. It had always been thought in chambers that, of the two of them, it would be Billy O’Shannessy who would be the first to sit on the bench.

To Billy’s surprise, the woman returned and said, ‘Just one moment, Mr O’Shannessy, I’m putting you through now.’

‘Billy! How nice to hear from you. Marcus here. How are you keeping?’

Now that he was through to Marcus Eisenstein he wasn’t quite sure what to say. The judge knew of his circumstances and it showed some courage on his part that he had answered the phone. ‘Not too bad, thanks, Marcus. Thank you for taking my call, I’m sure you are busy.’

‘Got a bit on today, but how can I help you, Billy?’

‘Marcus, our worlds are very different now and I wouldn’t think of calling you if it wasn’t a matter of some urgency. May I see you privately?’

Billy waited for the pause but none came. ‘Of course, how long will it take and how private?’ Marcus Eisenstein, as usual, cut to the thrust.

‘About an hour and very confidential.’

‘Tonight, six o’clock at my home. Will you be alone?’

‘No, I’d like to bring an eleven-year-old boy with me.’

‘In some sort of trouble, is he?’

‘It’s rather bigger than that, I wouldn’t bother you otherwise.’

‘Good. I look forward to meeting you, Billy. It’s been some considerable time.’

‘Yes, thank you, Marcus, I appreciate your help.’

‘Haven’t done anything yet. Six o’clock tonight. Cheerio, Billy.’

Marcus Eisenstein hadn’t changed, he still seemed to calculate the allocation of his time by the seconds. He was notorious for cutting short extraneous verbiage from over-loquacious barristers; on the other hand, he would take infinite pains with a witness who wasn’t articulate or who needed help. Marcus Eisenstein was known to be a no-fear-or-favour judge who put justice ahead of any other consideration. He was a constant thorn in the side of self-seeking and ambitious politicians and big business who thought they knew what was best for society.