7. Family lies and family cant

Eddie Counter had never taken a day off since he became licensee of the Corio Shire pub in 1952. He was proud of the work he had done to build the business, not that there was any shortage of customers. Sundays were the only days he could take off, but there was so much to do checking the inventory, cleaning the beer pipes, patching up the old building that was crumbling away, keeping up with the accounts.

He would leave Sugar to look after the pub while he was in Melbourne for the day. Since Jimmy had left, he had become more and more dependent on Sugar who was a loyal employee and he had gradually groomed him to take over much of the day to day running of the pub, especially the counting of the day’s takings and watching over the accounts. The truth was that he felt responsible for Sugar’s dreadful beating suffered at the hands of Jimmy and kicked himself for not anticipating the whole awful business. It happened because he was trying to do the right thing by his old mate, by looking after his son, or more accurately “their” son as he thought of it.

So, Saturday night after all the barmen left, he and Sugar had a long talk, interspersed with a few whiskeys, about Sugar’s promotion. He would take over all the management of the barmen, dealing with their usual squabbles and complaints, watch over the inventory and the quick hands of the barmen to cut down on pilfering, do the daily balance of the cash registers, and supervise the cleaning of the pub by the women. In return Mr. Counter increased his weekly pay by ten pounds, a big raise that Sugar definitely appreciated. Further, Mr. Counter would not charge anything for his meals or his room. He would live in the pub for free. Mrs. Counter had complained that this was far too generous, but Eddie had insisted. It was the least he could do to make up for the lasting damage Jimmy had done to the poor wretch. He still needed his walking stick and likely would have it the rest of his life.

He kissed his wife lightly on the cheek, shook hands with Sugar and said good bye. This seemed very much overdone since he was only driving up to Melbourne for the day. It was not as if he were going away for a long time. Or at least he hoped it would be only for the day, but he did not know where Jimmy was and was taking a punt on visiting his mother in Yarraville, hoping that Jimmy had looked her up and stayed in touch at least with her. Jimmy had filled him with such disappointment. He had heard nothing of him since he left so abruptly. That bloke Paul Grimes had dropped by, a grammar school kid of all things, but had revealed nothing of Jimmy’s doings, except that he was “doing great” at the uni, which he took with a grain of salt. All the bloke would talk about was where Iris was, and nobody knew, not even her parents when he got them in to talk with Grimes. And he had to move mountains to get Tank and Flo to show up at the pub together to talk to Grimes who had no idea what had gone on, as far as he could make out.

Grimes asked for any letters for Jimmy and he handed them over with some hesitation. And now, after a couple more letters had arrived the Education Department, they suddenly stopped and were followed by a registered letter. He opened it and found a summons for Jimmy to appear before a magistrate on account of fraudulent cashing of checks. He opened the other letters and found checks made out to James Henderson. The little bugger had cashed them, but had not shown up at Teachers College and it had taken them all this time to find this out! He would have to fix it. After all, someone there had buggered things up, so they should be more than happy to make the problem go away. It would require a personal visit to the Education Department in Melbourne. “Someone has to talk some sense into him,” he said to his wife, “or he’s going to end up in gaol.”

*

Mr. Counter rolled up in front of the little cream painted terrace house, single story, black wrought iron fence, corrugated iron roof painted dark red, front windows filled with white lace curtains. It was a modest house, not much wider than the length of his new Humber now carefully parked in front. There were empty blocks on both sides, barren blocks, full of grey rocky outcrops, ubiquitous scotch thistles, and, he would bet, full of rabbits and enough tiger snakes to eat them. He sat in the car, unsure, even nervous. The fact was, he didn’t know what recep¬tion he would get. Her sister held tight with the secret, a secret that had been carried to Harry’s grave. Young Jimmy, when he made that crack in front of his wife had come closer to the truth than he knew. But he didn’t know. He couldn’t know. Harry didn’t know either. Or if he did, he never showed it or wouldn’t admit it. Or maybe he didn’t want to know. In any event, there was no way to really know, and in the long run it didn’t make a lot of differ¬ence since he had been as good a Dad to young Jimmy as was Harry, which admittedly wasn’t saying much.

He gathered up a couple of bottles of beer and a bottle of Crème de Menthe and walked quickly up to the front door, bending under an English drizzle that swept through the vacant blocks keeping the rabbits in their burrows. He had no time to ring the door bell, because it suddenly opened, and Connie stepped out, a frilly apron fluttering in the cold breeze, her face long and serious.

“Well, g’day Connie,” he said and stepped up to give her a little peck on her cold cheek.

“You’d better get going,” she said. “Vi’’s not feeling too good.”

“Gees, it’s the first day I’ve taken off since I took over the pub, and I’ve come here to see you two.”

“That’s a big fib, Eddie and you know it,” she said, a faint smile appearing at the corners of her mouth, a thin mouth, an unhappy mouth.

“Come on, we haven’t had a proper talk for years and it’s time we did. You wouldn’t even stop to talk the day of Harry’s funeral.”

“There was no talking to be done. You’d best go.”

“I need to talk to Violet. It’s about young Jimmy.”

“Who else would it be about? That little bugger has caused so much trouble for everyone around him.”

“I know, I know, and I can tell you, he’s caused me a lot more trouble than anyone else.”

“That’s your fault. You’ve turned him into an alcoholic like his no-hoper father.”

“Christ, Connie, stop it! Please, let me come in and we can have a drink and try to sort things out.”

“She doesn’t want to talk. You stole her son and her husband. She’s got nothing.”

“She’s got me.”

“Yair, a lot of use you are.”

“She could have had me fair and square, and she chose not to. You know that.”

Connie crossed her arms and took a step toward him. “Get the shit out of it,” she snarled. Eddie stepped to the side and said, “I’m going in.” He elbowed his way past her and barged through the door.

The kitchen was all the way at the back of the long passage. There was a light on, so Eddie made for it, chased by Connie, the corners of her mouth turned down so far, her cheeks hung almost to her chin.

He strode into the kitchen and placed the bottles of beer and Creme de Menthe on the table. It was an old wooden table, oval, polished and stained in a dark cherry, covered by a creamy white lace tablecloth. Violet sat at the end, sipping a cup of tea. Eddie leaned over and gave her a light kiss on her cheek, a cheek the same colour as her sister’s, but full, more nourished, even youthful.

“So you’ve finally come,” she mumbled.

“I had to. It’s Jimmy…”

“So now you can leave.” She took a sip of her tea. Her sister went to the oven and peeped in.

“It’s hot in here,” Eddie said, staring at the oven.

“The scones will be done in a few more minutes,” said Connie, “shall I make another pot of tea?”

“He’s not staying,” answered Vi.

“I am, and look, I brought you your favourite, Creme de Menthe. Remember how you used to go for that when we were…”

“Courting,” said Vi.

“Yes, right,” said Eddie as he sat down on a chair across from her.

“What’s he done now?” she asked.

“Well, I don’t know yet,” said Eddie.

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I thought you might know where he was…”

“How would I know? He hates me and my sister like we were the worst witches in the world.”

“…because I gave him your address and told him to come visit you. In fact, I hoped he might stay with you while he was at uni.”

“What? He’s at uni?”

“That’s right. Seems he got accepted at Melbourne uni. He started a few weeks ago.”

“I don’t believe it. Are you sure?”

“Yes. One of his mates, a grammar school kid, dropped in at the pub and told me he’s doing great.”

“I don’t believe it, Eddie. You’d believe anything, wouldn’t you, Eddie? Anything Jimmy told you, you’d believe.”

Eddie had just about enough of this abuse. He gritted his teeth and muttered, “that’s because he’s my son, and I love him, just as I loved his father.”

There was a crash. Connie dropped the tray of scones as she took them out of the oven. “Oh, shit! Look what you made me do!” she cried.

“What are you talking about?” cried Vi. “You killed his father with the booze, and then you started little Jimmy on the same path. Do you call that love?”

“You up and left them both to fend for themselves. The boy was only twelve. I gave him the support of a father when his father could not.”

“That’s right, his father.”

“Except that you know the truth, Vi. Jimmy’s mine, I know it.”

“Rubbish. He’s an alcoholic like his dad, and you helped them both on their way.”

“Jimmy’s not an alcoholic. In fact, he’s on the wagon. He’s been a teetotaller for several weeks, I know for sure, because I sat with him through the DTs.”

“Scone anyone?” asks Connie.

“He’s my son, and you are his mother. Now act like it,” lectured Eddie, shocked at his aggressive tone.

“He doesn’t look like you,” she sneered.

“He looks like you, though, and not at all like your former hus¬band, bless him.”

Connie plunks down a scone plastered with butter in front of him. Eddie reaches for the Crème de menthe and unscrews the top. “You got any liqueur glasses?” he asks, “this is better than tea.”

“Anyway, Jimmy hasn’t been here. He’ll never forgive me for walking out. I know that. But I had no choice. I couldn’t live with the two of them and watch his father drink himself to death and his son go the same way. A woman and mother can only stand so much.”

“You can’t blame her, Eddie, you really can’t. You must see that,” said Connie.

“I’m not blaming anyone. What’s done is done. I’m trying to get you two to help me take care of my, our, son. All is not lost, though it’s possible he may be a bit lost, and that’s not unusual for young blokes these days.”

“All right Eddie,” said Vi with a sigh, “then why are you here? What has brought this on? If Jimmy’s at uni, isn’t that good news? He’s gone further than any of us expected.”

“I was hoping he may have contacted you. I’m worried about him on several counts. First, he’s a hot headed little bugger with a violent temper. I got him out of a couple of tight spots at the pub when he bashed a couple of blokes up. I’m worried he may have too much freedom at the uni. He’s not really old enough to go there, in my opinion. He would have been better off at Teachers College, where he should have gone, by the way, as they were paying him the studentship money every couple of weeks. But he took the money and didn’t show up. And that’s the second problem. I opened a registered letter he received accusing him of fraudulent cashing of the checks. He could go to gaol for that, you know. So, I have to track him down and sort it out. There’s a lot of other stuff I could tell you about, but that’s enough. If he stayed with you, he would at least have some adult supervision and hopefully guidance at times when he was on the edge, which is often, drink or no drink.”

Silence overtook the kitchen. Connie put down the glasses and Eddie filled them with the bright green liqueur. The perfume filled the kitchen, floating on the hot air of the oven. All three grabbed their glass and took a large sip.

“Once I find him, can I tell him that you would love to have him stay with you for as long as he goes to the uni?”

The sisters looked at each other, and nodded.

“Thank you, girls. I know it’s a big commitment. The only trouble is that first I have to track him down, and second, I have to convince him to stay with you. And third, I have to find someone in the education department so I can make the fraud accusation go away. And there, I thought that maybe you, Connie, might be able help, since you work for the education department, don’t you?”

“Eddie, I can’t do that. I’m in teacher placement, anyway, not the bursary department or whatever it’s called.”

“Maybe you can suggest someone I can call on?”

“Let me think about it.”

“And while you’re thinking, I need one more favour. Can I stay here the night? Then I can get started at the university first thing, and if all goes well, I can drop Jimmy off here.”

“Eddie, it’s so good of you to want to do all this. But don’t you see? He will refuse to come here. What uni student would want to live with his mother and her sister?”

“I know, I know. But I have to try. Even if he stayed with you for a few weeks, it would be better than nothing.”

*

Sugar hung up the phone, a satisfied look on his face. He had received instructions on opening up the pub on Monday morning, the barmen’s shifts, till drawers checked and inserted. Everything he already knew, but he listened dutifully to Mr. Counter. Mrs. Counter had poked her head in the little office and asked him if everything was all right for the morning. Of course, it was. Though he hadn’t told Eddie, or anyone else, that he suspected someone was using Chooka’s old room. Even though Chooka (thankfully) made it very clear he was gone for good, it seems that Abbie went in there every morning after he left, and lately could be heard talking. For a while, Sugar just thought that it was Abbie pretending Chooka was still there because she loved the spoiled young brute, and Sugar couldn’t stand it. But a couple of nights recently he thought he heard a window open.

Monday morning came and he positioned himself in charge of the old bar and serving the Snake Pit out the back door. The usual characters showed up, though he did miss Millie. It was too bad what happened to her and the bastard who did it, undoubtedly that shit Chooka, should get what was coming to him. Unfortunately, when Sugar talked with the Preacher the other night, they had come to a bit of a dead end. Tank was seen visiting Millie’s about the time the cops think she was killed. Tank had tried to shove it off on to Chooka who everyone knew had threatened to kill Millie that night when he was in the hospital waiting room. But there was no evidence to prove otherwise, and anyway, Spuds had spoken up saying that he was with Chooka that night at the migrant hostel.

Then in comes Little Linda and her brat.

“The usual, Sugar, and make it quick!”

“O.K. Linda, me luv, anything for you,” says Sugar.

Sugar hands her the beer and whiskey chaser and then says to the brat, “you want a lemon squash?”

Linda is already on her way to the Snake Pit, but to everyone’s surprise, the brat stops and looks up at Sugar.

“What’s that for,” she asks, pointing to Sugar’s walking stick.

“It’s for beating cheeky little girls,” Sugar says as he hands the brat a small lemon squash.

“Where’s Chooka? I want him to give it to me,” says the brat with a pout.

“You want the lemon squash or not, you little shit?”

The brat snatches the glass from his hand and gulps down the drink.

“I know where he is anyway,” she says.

“What do you mean? He doesn’t work here anymore.”

“I know where he i-s, I know where he i-is-,” she sings.

“Yair? Where?”

“I saw him at Millie’s.” She runs off down the passage to the Snake Pit.

“When?” Sugar calls after her. But there’s no answer.

Sugar grabbed his walking stick and limped down to the office to phone the Preacher.

*

After several phone calls to the university, Eddie determined that Jimmy had indeed registered as a student, but his whereabouts as far as the university was concerned were unknown. When he arrived at the Registrar’s office at the university they did tell him the subjects Jimmy was enrolled in, so that he could meet up with him by going along to one of the tutorials or lectures. That would have been a bit too much even for Mr. Counter who, although he had been educated as far as fourth form and had done a couple of years at the Gordon Technical College, was as overwhelmed by the university as was his “son” Jimmy.

He had more luck with the Education Department, thanks to Connie’s efforts. She gave him specific instructions on how to get to the Department and who to ask for. When he produced a handful of uncashed checks and the registered letter threatening prosecution, he was quickly ushered into a tiny office shared by two people who were poring over stacks of papers. A withered little man looked out at him over tiny round spectacles.

“Please be seated Mr. Counter. I understand you have some money for us?”

“Yes. There’s been a bit of a misunderstanding. My son, I mean my adopted son, is going through a difficult period, and he, er, forgot to show up at Teachers’ College.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. He must be a troubled boy. Usually they are breaking their necks to get to Teachers’ College, they have such a marvellous time,” the withered man smiled, a glint in his eye.

“So I’ve heard. Anyway, I wanted to express how sorry I am for this mess-up and that I didn’t know he had cashed some of the checks. If I can make it up to you blokes in any way to avoid any more trouble, that would be best for us all, I should think.”

“What is your line of work, Mr. Counter?”

“I’m a publican.”

“I see. And what is James doing now?”

“Well, he was working in my pub for a while, but now he’s at the uni.”

“He chose that instead of Teachers’ College?”

“Seems like it.”

“He must be very bright, then.”

“Don’t know about that. He hasn’t been acting like it lately.”

The clerk made some calculations on a sheet of paper and then turned it around so Mr. Counter could read it.

“He owes the Education Department fifty-four pounds, eleven shillings and sixpence.”

“Then I’d like to pay you that amount, and a bit more to cover processing costs perhaps, and then you would not proceed with the prosecution?”

The clerk did not look up, but remained staring at the sheet of paper with the amount on it.

“I don’t think it would be right to charge you a processing fee. The mistake was as much our fault as his. We obviously should have known much sooner that he did not attend Teachers’ College.”

“Very good, then,” smiled Eddie as he pulled out his check book.”

“Ah, cash would be more suitable. Easier to process,” muttered the clerk, still looking down at his paper.”

“Of course.” Eddie was well prepared for it. He produced a large roll of bills, many crumpled and damp from beer, and counted out fifty-five pounds. “This should do it then?”

“Excellent, Mr. Counter. That will be fine.”

“Do I get a receipt?”

“If you want one, but I assure you it is not necessary.”

“OK, then. And if you’re down Geelong any time, please drop in and see me at the Corio Shire Hotel and I’ll make you most welcome.”

“Good day to you sir.”

*

Dopey and the Preacher showed up at closing time, as usual. The Preacher left Dopey to round up the drunks and get them out of the pub, while he went and talked to Sugar.

“So, the boss isn’t back yet, I presume in consequence?” he asked.

“Not yet,” smiled Sugar, “I’m expecting him late tonight. He had business in Melbourne.”

“Aiding and abetting that pugilistic delinquent son of his, I presume in consequence?”

“I couldn’t tell you that. He was visiting his old girlfriend, and the little pugilist’s mother.”

“He knows where that son of the devil is, then?”

“Don’t think so. Nobody does. He was going to bring him back with him, if he found him at his mother’s place. But he wasn’t expecting to.”

Mrs. Counter appeared in the passageway. “He’s on his way home now. He didn’t manage to find Jimmy. But he did find out that Jimmy is registered at Melbourne University.”

“That is information, I do regard seriously, and find it of much consequence,” said the Preacher.

“You’ll follow up that lead, then?” asked Sugar, that smirk well and truly back on his face.

“Taking care and following exact procedure, it is that I have already done so.”

“You’ll wait till Eddie gets here, then?”

“Is it possible that events suggest that Tank and Flo are in the Snake Pit?”

“It’s possible, but they aren’t. Neither is Linda, if that’s who you want to see,” said Sugar.

“Then after we have taken care of victuals and sustenance —I’ll have a small beer if you don’t mind and none for Dopey who has to make an arrest tonight—we shall proceed to our des¬tination and wrap up the case.”

“You mean you’ve solved the murder?”

“Of which are you referring, Mr. Sugar?”

“Millie’s, you silly bastard, there’s only one, isn’t there?”

“I am not at liberty to discuss such police business in detail, sir. Now if you don’t mind, fill up my glass.”

*

I took the long way back to the flat. If Iris had run away, where would she go? She’d be homeless, so I decided that she’d be doing what I’ve been doing this last couple of nights. Sleeping in doorways or under bridges. I walked all around the shops and streets of Melbourne, looking in every doorway, but found her nowhere. I went under Swanston Street bridge, and looked in all the nooks and crannies at Flinders Street Station, and found lots of homeless blokes, but no women among them. Not one. When I asked if they’d seen Iris, they looked at me like I was an idiot. Exhausted, I finally staggered into my flat, only to find Kate and Grimesy there, waiting for me.

“Where the hell have you been?” asked Kate, “we’ve been worried sick about you. Frieda said you’d rushed out like a mad dog.”

“I’ve been in the archives of births and deaths, that’s where.”

“For three days straight?” asked Grimesy, incredulous.

“Yair. Couldn’t be bothered coming all the way back here to sleep, so I slept in a doorway somewhere in Collins Street.”

“You’re nuts,” said Kate, “and that’s a professional diagnosis!”

“Yair, funny.” I pushed past them to the bedroom.

“What did you find out?” they asked in unison.

James could not answer. He was asleep.