Chapter 1
The knife whirred past its target with less than an inch to spare, burying itself deeply into the wood. Frances expelled her held breath in a loud whoosh, but Uncle Sal shook his head in dismay. ‘It’s no good, love,’ he said. ‘Did you see how I went off my aim when I stepped back?”
She hadn’t but then he was the professional, and she wasn’t. She said, ‘That’s only to be expected. You haven’t practiced in over two years.’
‘It’s not that. It’s my gammy ankle, Frances. I can’t risk it, not with you as target.’ He flung the two remaining knifes at the silhouette they’d painted onto a door that stood propped up centre-stage. They rose in an arc, making a full turn in the air, before embedding themselves blade-point between the outlined arms and chest.
‘I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I trust you. And maybe we could put saw-dust on the stage, to make it less slippery.’ She slid a sequinned shoe over the ground. The floorboards weren’t too smooth, if she were honest, because they were usually covered by black felt, but that had been taken off for their rehearsal. The room looked naked without, its night-time glamour replaced by a workmanlike atmosphere for a few hours before the magic got switched back on. Cinderella, waiting for pumpkin-time. Frances wondered if Uncle Sal felt the same about his surroundings. Probably not, for an old vaudeville artist a stage was a stage, wherever he was.
He said, ‘Thanks, love, but it’s no use, even if Dolores and the band wouldn’t mind looking like they’re playing in a barn. We’ll just have to spruce up our juggling act a bit, that’s all.’ He shrugged off his disappointment with his usual grace but she could see that it hurt.
‘Are you sure?’ she said.
‘Oh yes. Can you imagine what your mother would have to say if I so much as hurt a hair on your head? I’m not even thinking of what Jack would do.’
‘Or I, in that case,’ a voice said behind her back.
‘Rob!’ Her big brother dropped his suitcase as she jumped into his arms. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Checking up on you, of course. What do you expect when I find out that my little sister has taken up with a night club owner, Mum’s lodger has been seduced by a singer and Uncle Sal is returning to the stage, all within the span of a few months?’ He held her at arm’s length. ‘I wouldn’t have recognised you on the street, that’s for sure. Since when are you a platinum blonde? No wonder you set tongues buzzing.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ she said, whipping off the wig. ‘Uncle Sal will tell you all there is to know while I get changed.’
She smiled to herself as she ran towards the dressing room at the back of the stage. Things surely couldn’t get much better than this, she thought, as she took off the sequinned and tasselled dress Miss Francesca wore, to become plain old Frances Palmer again. Despite today’s setback Uncle Sal looked ten years younger since they’d started rehearsing for their part in the charity show that Jack was going to stage in the Top Note, Adelaide’s safest and, for her, best night club. Having Rob turn up on their doorstep made her joy complete. She’d wanted him for months to meet Jack and Dolores and all the rest, but coming all the way from Queensland when everyone was penny-pinching would have been impossible.
The men waited for her in the passage. Rob gave her an appraising look. ‘You’ve grown up to be quite a looker since I last saw you,’ he said with brotherly insouciance. ‘I bet Uncle Sal has his hands full keeping you out of trouble, from what he told me.’
Heat rose in her cheeks. She gave Uncle Sal a questioning glance. He’d promised to keep quiet about her and Jack Sullivan’s part in a murder investigation earlier this year. He shook his head imperceptibly.
Rob said, ’I can’t wait to lay eyes on this paragon of yours, who’s charmed my little sister and Mum at the same time. Uncle Sal tells me he is the whitest of men, but that I’ll have to see for myself.’ He grinned. ‘I am the man in the family after all.’
She gave him a fond box on the shoulder, wishing he’d hush his voice a bit, as a door opened and Jack stepped out of the room. He stretched out his hand and said, ’I couldn’t help but overhear that somewhat effusive praise. I hope you’re not too disappointed.’ His sleepy eyes held a decided twinkle.
‘Not at all,’ said Rob, faint colour rising in his pale skin. It made him look younger, more like an overgrown schoolboy than a fully qualified vet and father of one. Frances had to refrain from smoothing down his unruly hair.
Jack said, ‘In that case, maybe you’d care to join us tonight for dinner, unless you’ve got other plans?’
‘I promised Mum I’d spend the evening with her,’ Rob said, ‘so maybe afterwards?’
‘Fine,’ Jack said, stroking Frances’ cheek with his thumb. ‘How did the rehearsal go?’
Uncle Sal turned away from them as she said, ‘Why don’t you watch us the next time?’
‘If I can. I’ve got a ton of paperwork waiting for me. See you later, kiddo, Uncle Sal. Nice to meet you, Rob.’
‘Bye.’ Frances gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, before she slipped her arm through her brother’s. ‘Now, out with it, Rob. What brings you here? And where’s Lucy and Junior?’
He swung his suitcase in his free hand. ‘No need to worry, I’m here for a job.’
‘A job? But you’ve got one, haven’t you?’ Her heart-beat quickened.
‘Sure do. It’s only, well, most farmers can’t pay their bills, Frances, and some of them haven’t been able to make a single payment since the end of 1930, so I’ve got a bit of time off the practice.’
She heard Uncle Sal whistle under his breath as she took in the implications.
Rob put his suitcase down to pat her hand. ‘It’s fine, Frances. Honestly.’
They left the club through the back door. She blinked as the sunshine hit her. Not even noon, and already the heat settled in over the city.
‘Miss Frances?’ Bluey hailed her as he followed them. ‘If you’ll give me two minutes, I’ll get the Ford.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Bluey, this is my brother, Rob. Rob, I want you to meet Bluey.’
The men shook hands, in that slow way they employed when trying to take someone else’s measure. Frances smiled to herself. Rob hadn’t acted like that with Jack, but then she couldn’t imagine anyone doing that. Jack had the same air of easy command that Uncle Sal exuded on stage.
Rob gave her a brotherly poke with his elbow. ‘I’m impressed with you folks. How the other half lives, eh?’
‘They work just as hard as you do,’ Uncle Sal said. ‘Probably harder, especially Jack.’
‘I didn’t mean to criticise, Uncle Sal. Surely you know that.’
Bluey came in sight and pulled the automobile over to the kerb. Without asking, he stowed Rob’s suitcase away. ‘Where to?’ he asked as soon as Uncle Sal had climbed onto the passenger seat and Rob and Frances sat in the back. ‘Your home?’
‘Yes,’ said Frances, surprised at the question.
Rob cleared his throat. ‘If you don’t mind, I need to go down to the race course first and drop of my luggage, if it’s not too much to ask.’
‘Which one? Morphettville or Victoria Park?
‘Morphettville.’
‘Sweet,’ said Bluey as he started the motor.
‘But aren’t you staying with us?’ Frances asked.
‘Where? You’ve got no room unless I kip on the sofa, Frances, and anyway my new job comes with digs.’
‘What is it you’re going to do?’ asked Uncle Sal.
‘Working as a travelling vet for the racecourses.’ Rob’s eyes shone. He’d always loved high-bred horses, Frances recalled, but most of his working life involved sheep, cattle and workhorses.
‘But Lucy and your son?’
He ruffled his light-brown hair that was the same colour as hers until it stood up in spikes. ‘They’re fine back home. It’s only for a few months, and then I’ll return to my old job. I really need the money, Frances, and this was too good to miss.’
She leant against his shoulder. ‘I’m not complaining. It’s bonzer to have you back for a bit.’
***
At the racecourse, Rob was gone for less than five minutes, to drop off his luggage and get his key.
‘Maggie will be chuffed to bits,’ Uncle Sal said while they were waiting outside the gates. ‘She doesn’t say anything but she misses that boy, and her grandson.’ He paused. ‘I only hope it won’t spoil her visit to Melbourne, knowing that Rob’s here.’
‘I jolly well hope not. She’s been looking forward to seeing Uncle Fred and Aunt Millie for ages. And we’ve saved so hard for the train fare.’ Frances’ wages as a switchboard operator covered the mortgage and everyday bills, but they were hard pressed to save a penny until they’d taken in a lodger just before Easter. ‘And she’ll only been gone for a month.’
Rob strolled towards them, his empty hands dangling. He still looked like a gangly youth, Frances thought, despite his twenty-seven years.
‘Thanks,’ he said to Bluey as he got back in. ‘I appreciate that.’
Bluey nodded. It took a while for Jack’s right-hand man to loosen up around new people. As vexing as it could be, it made him invaluable when it came to dealing with unwanted people in the club. They all underestimated the quiet, burly man with the blank face. Frances hoped he and Rob would become friends. She wanted everyone she cared about to love her brother.
‘How did you know where to find us?’ Uncle Sal asked. ‘Don’t tell me Maggie let you run off as soon as you’d set foot in the house.’
‘She was gone, covering from someone at the soup kitchen,’ Rob said. ‘Miss Edna told me to try my luck at the Top Note and give your name as the magic word. It sure worked.’
Frances’ cheeks grew warm again. It seemed as if the whole neighbourhood took her relationship to Jack for granted. Or Uncle Sal’s. Or their lodger Phil’s involvement with Dolores Bardon, the ravishing singer whose husband had died a few weeks before the war ended in 1918. Alright, she admitted to herself, there were a few reasons why the Palmer household could be linked with the Top Note in the mind of people.
It wasn’t that she was ashamed of it, in the contrary, but she was so happy in the present that she didn’t want to think about the future. Or maybe deep down she wondered if she and Jack had a future together. He might get bored with her.
She suppressed that thought as soon as it had popped up in her head. Whatever the future held, it would be for a good reason. For now, it was good enough to have Jack, and to prepare for her stage debut with Uncle Sal, and enjoy Rob’s company. Plenty to be thankful for.
Bluey parked in his usual spot. ‘Thanks,’ she said as they alighted.
‘You’re welcome as usual,’ he said, giving her a smile that lit his whole face. ‘See you tomorrow.’
They stepped into the passage. A light breeze stirred the air, sending tiny dust and sand particles floating. No matter how much time Mum spent cleaning, the Australian wind always managed to find a way to invade houses, bringing sand in its wake. Nobody wanted to seal windows and doors anyway. You needed the wind to beat back the heat that settled like a blanket in closed rooms.
Rob followed her to the back door. Mum sat on the porch, shelling peas into a bowl on her lap.
He tiptoed over to her on silent feet. ‘I’m home,’ he said, touching her sleeve. Mum looked up with a startled expression. ‘Rob!’ She hugged him with a fierce intensity that surprised Frances. ‘Hold it,’ said, Rob, rescuing the bowl from falling over.
‘Oh Rob. I’ve missed you so much.’
Uncle Sal who stood behind Frances, took her hand. ‘Let’s give them some space,’ he said into her ear.
She followed him inside, still unsettled by the passion in Mum’s voice. She’d thought that Mum was content with her life but obviously she, Uncle Sal, their friends and neighbours weren’t enough. Mum must have been unhappy many times, being unable to visit her son and his family because of the money worries that dogged everyone’s life since 1929, but she’d never said a word. Or maybe Frances hadn’t listened, because she was too caught up in her own world. Well, now Mum had Rob back, if only for a little while. Although...
'Uncle Sal?'
'Yes, love?'
'You don't think there's trouble between Rob and Lucy, do you? Only it seems so odd for him to leave his family halfway across the country and come down here on his own.'
Uncle Sal gave her an encouraging pat. 'Don't fret about the boy, love. He told us himself that things are pretty tight, and he'd be a fool to turn down a few honest pounds if he can earn them.'
'Yes, but -'
'There is no but, Frances. If you want me to, I'll have a quiet word with your brother, but don't you have to get to work now? It's past noon already.'
'Heavens.' She blew him a kiss as she made for the door. Her boss, Mr Gibbons had been kind enough to rearrange her shift to accommodate her rehearsals - after all the show was intended to raise funds for the soup kitchen and the local orphanage which took in more abandoned waifs every day - but she didn't want to be late. She broke into a trot, catching the tram half a minute before the doors shut. Two pence gone, she thought, but without the urgency she used to feel before Phil and Jack came into their life. They still weren't affluent, by a long shot, but her purse was less strained these days. She'd even set aside two pounds as pocket money for Mum when she went to Melbourne, so her mother could treat herself to something nice. Frances grabbed the strap dangling from the rail as the tram swayed when it turned around a corner. Rob must feel the pinch pretty badly, too, now that she thought of it. He had looked thin, and his smile had slipped when he felt himself unobserved.
The tram came to a halt, and Frances jumped off.
'Sorry, Clara,' she said as soon as she walked into the telephone exchange.
Her colleague took off her headset and ran her fingers through her frizzy hair, making it stick out in places. 'You sure took your sweet time, Franny,' she said, eyes gleaming with curiosity. 'Did anything happen at the club?'
Frances sat down and arranged her own headset. 'You could say that. My brother turned up out of the blue. That's why I'm late.'
'Oh, how lovely.' Clara lingered, clearly not in a hurry to go home. Poor thing, Frances thought, she didn't have too many pleasures to look forward to, with helping her widowed mother look after five younger siblings. Clara lived for the moments when Frances opened up a bit about the Top Note which to her seemed the pinnacle of high life. She'd never been there. Until now.
Frances angled for her handbag, glad that the lightbulbs that signalled a call stayed resolutely dim. She fished in the bag for an envelope and handed it to Clara. 'For you,' she said. 'Two tickets for the show, dinner and drinks included, courtesy of Uncle Sal and Jack.'
Clara's peaky face took on a pink glow. 'Are you kidding? Two tickets for me?'
'Sure,' Frances said. 'You deserve it, for everything you're doing to help me out here. And anyway, that's what friends are for, right?' That was exaggerating a bit, but it perked Clara up no end.
'Gosh,' she said. 'Thanks, that's spiffing, Fran. Only-', the glow left her face. 'I've got nothing to wear. But thanks anyway.' She put the envelope in Frances' lap. The first lightbulbs began to glow. Drat.
'We'll work out something,' Frances said, as reassuring as she could, covering her mouthpiece with one hand. Clara broke into a hopeful grin and took the envelope again.
***
Dinner that evening was the most joyous she remembered in a long time. Uncle Sal had phoned Jack and excused themselves, and Mum had thrown herself into a cooking frenzy, judging from the menu. A roast joint, three veg, mashed potatoes drowning in butter and an enormous pavlova for dessert because Rob had always had a sweet tooth. She must have spent the housekeeping money for a whole week on that meal, but Frances decided not to ask any questions.
Rob sat and ate, and Mum watched his every bite with the solicitude of a mother hen guarding her chick. Frances gave Uncle Sal a quick glance under her lashes. He winked at her.
After the third helping Rob pushed his plate aside. 'Sorry, Mum, I'm full. You’re still the best cook in all of Australia, if you ask me.'
'You don't have to flatter me, darling. I only hope you stay long enough for me to get some flesh on your ribs again. You work too hard. I wonder that Lucy didn't say anything.'
'Mum.' he held out his hand to her. 'She said exactly the same thing, and I tell her what I'm telling you now. I'm fine. There's no need to fret over me like I'm an over-grown schoolboy.'
'How is Lucy?' Frances said.
'She's good,' he said. 'Really good. She sends all her love by the way.'
'She must miss you,' Frances said.
'She does. And I miss them. But it can't be helped.' He drummed his fingertips on his glass. 'You see, we're having another baby, and I need every penny I can make.'
'Another little one,' Mum said. 'How wonderful. But poor Lucy, to be on her own at such a time.'
'She's not on her own,' Rob said, 'she's back on her parents' farm while I'm away. You don't think I'd leave her alone, do you?' His voice held enough tension to let Frances get an inkling of how bad he must feel about the situation.
She exchanged a swift glance with Uncle Sal. He got up and said, 'Congratulations, Rob. That calls for a celebration. Maggie, why don't you put your glad rags on while Frances and I clear the table, and then we'll set off to the Top Note. Jack's expecting us at eight.'
***
Mum clung to Rob's arm all the way to the club, as if he'd slip through her fingers if she let go. Frances and Uncle Sal followed behind as soon as they'd stepped off the tram, to give them some space. Frances was glad Jack hadn't sent the automobile around as he sometimes did. She didn't want her brother to think of him as flashy.
At the entrance Mum waited for them. Uncle Sal entered with Frances at his side, his head inclined in a small nod to Bluey that conveyed easy familiarity mixed with respect. Mum handed her coat to Frances' best friend Pauline, who worked as Dolores' Bardon’s dresser and doing odd jobs around the club. Pauline's eyes grew huge as she spotted Rob. She clasped a hand to her mouth to stifle a whoopee. Frances grinned. Pauline never stinted on a dramatically magnified response, thanks to her predilection with actresses like the now out-of-favour Clara Bow, and she used to have a schoolgirl crush on Rob, ages ago.
Pauline came out from behind the cloakroom counter and stepped up to Rob, an impish smile on her glossy lips. 'Hello stranger,' she said, just like in the pictures.
'Hello Pauline,' he said, gazing at her in open amusement. 'You haven't changed a bit.' He gave her a swift peck on the cheek, making her smile even wider. 'Tell Tony from me he's a lucky dog.'
'He'll be disappointed to miss you,' she said. Tony, her fiance, was busy doing maintenance on property Jack owned across the city.
'Tell him I'll stick around for a bit.' They walked upstairs to the balcony, to the same table they'd sat at on their first evening at the Top Note, in April. The space only allowed for half a dozen tables, set in niches, and provided privacy coupled with a perfect view of the stage, the dance floor and the bar area downstairs. Blazing chandeliers, wall sconces and mirrors had transformed the lacklustre room where Frances and Uncle Sal had rehearsed their act this morning into a palace.
Rob looked around with the same awe Frances remembered very well. The table was laid with china and crystal, and two silver-plated buckets held corked bottles. Rob lifted one out. He arched one eyebrow. 'Champagne? The real thing, I presume?'
'Of course,' said Uncle Sal, secure in his role as a man of the world and almost-host. This was his world, after all. 'Shall we open it?'
'Not before I know what's in the other bottle,' Rob said, winking at Mum.
'It's the Frances Palmer special.' Jack appeared at the head of the staircase. 'Although you probably call it lemonade. Evening, Maggie, Uncle Sal, Frances. If you'd be willing to wait a bit, Dolores will join us after her first set tonight. She's only on for half an hour because we're trying out a new band.'
Rob fingered his tie and shifted around on his seat. He probably felt self-conscious in his blue suit that was shiny with wear, Frances thought, especially when confronted with Jack, who wore his dinner jacket with the same ease as Uncle Sal. She touched Rob's arm. 'You look great, and you'll adore Dolores,' she said. 'Everybody loves her. Ask Mum if you don’t believe me.'
The lights went dim, as search lights hit the stage, illuminating a raven-haired woman dressed in a white satin dress that clung to her every curve. It would have looked cheap on every other woman, thought Frances, but there was nothing vulgar about Dolores Bardon. She glanced at Rob who stared transfixed at the singer who now crooned 'Stardust' into the microphone. Frances only hoped he wouldn't fall in love with her, now that his wife was far away.
His face still had that dreamy look when Dolores finished her set and walked off-stage. Mum had to pull his sleeve to get his attention. 'She's wonderful, isn't she? I always make my walnut coffee cake when she comes to visit because it's her favourite. And Phil's.' Did Mum say that to break Rob's trance and warn him off gently, Frances wondered. Phil Anderson was not only their lodger and Dolores' beau, but also a policeman and as such an authority figure.
Dolores came gliding along, an apparition in black and white, the only bits of colour her crimson lips. She gave Uncle Sal her hand for a kiss and bestowed a dazzling smile on the whole company. 'Frances, darling, you never bring Maggie along often enough. It's been ages, sweetheart.' She sat down next to Mum, so she faced Rob. Her stockings rustled as she crossed her legs. 'And you must be the famous Rob. Lovely to meet you.'
Rob gazed at her in wonder. ''m honoured to meet you, Miss Bardon.'
'Please,' her chocolate eyes twinkled, 'just call me Dolores.'
'Whatever you wish.' He swallowed. Mum frowned a little bit, and Frances suppressed a smile. How did Dolores do that? She didn't openly flirt with the men, but there was something in her look and her voice that attracted them like honey attracted bluebottles.
Jack rested his hand on her arm. 'Uncle Sal, if you'd open the champagne?' The cork popped with a maximum of noise and no spillage, and Uncle Sal filled the glasses with an added flourish.
'Here's to Rob and happy family reunions,' Jack said as he raised his glass in a toast.
'And I'd like to bring out a special toast to Uncle Sal. If you'd do me the favour, I'd like to appoint you artistic director of the Top Note, as well as the show. And before you say yes, that also includes trying to keep all of you guys out of trouble when I'm gone.'
Chapter 2
A chill ran down Frances’ spine. She opened her mouth but no words came out. Uncle Sal came to her rescue. ‘What do you mean, gone? You’re not in trouble, are you?’
Frances’ hand began to shake. Please no, a voice whispered inside her head. She’d known all along that Jack was breaking the law, selling alcohol after six o’clock, but hardly anyone paid attention to the prohibition, and most of Adelaide’s high-ranking councillors and police officers were regulars at the Top Note.
Mum looked as shocked as Frances felt.
Jack chuckled. ‘No worries, folks. I’m not on the run. All I’m going to do is make a voyage to New Zealand, to check out the joker my sister’s fallen in love with. I’ll be back in less than a fortnight.’
Frances’ heart slowed to its usual pace.
‘That calls for a toast,’ Dolores said. She raised her glass. ‘To my darling Rachel. I wish I could go with you, Jack. I haven’t seen her for too long.’
‘The next time,’ he said. ‘Remember that sea voyages don’t agree with you, and the Tasman can get pretty rough.’
‘I know,’ Dolores said with a sigh. ‘But I miss her so much, and I’d love to see her new fellow.’
‘You shall,’ Jack said. ‘If there are to be wedding bells, you’ll be there. As will be others.’ He gave Frances a reassuring wink. ‘Here’s to my sister and to all our loved ones.’
‘To family,’ Frances said. ‘When are you leaving?’
‘In four days. Enough time to show Uncle Sal the ropes if he’s willing, and to dance with you. Shall we?’
Mum and Rob followed them onto the dance floor.
‘I’ve never seen Maggie this glowing,’ Jack said as he pulled Frances close.
‘She adores Rob, and she hasn’t seen him in such a long time.’ Her head barely touched his cheek. ‘He does look strained though, doesn’t he? I only hope his new job isn’t too hard.’
‘What’s he going to do exactly?’
‘Travelling around the racecourses, looking after the horses.’ She paused. ‘He’ll be alright, won’t he?’
‘Sure,’ Jack said after a heartbeat’s pause. ‘As long as he steers away from the book-makers. Hard to tell crooks from straight fellows, but surely he knows all about shady deals at the races. Anyway, a vet’s got nothing to do with them.’
‘You mean like Phar Lap?’ she said, thinking back to a scandal that had rocked Adelaide only last year. ‘When he was scratched from the Adelaide Cup at the last moment? Uncle Sal still swears he was nobbled, because no one would bet against him.’
‘That’s possible. What I do know is that there is a hell of a lot of race fixing going on, in every city. But your brother isn’t a jockey who might end up with a broken knee cap if he wins a certain race, so he has nothing to worry about.’
She snuggled closer into his arm. ‘Only four more days before you go…’
‘I’ll be back before you know it, kiddo. You’ll be busy enough, with your brother and work and rehearsing your act.’ He pushed a lock out of her eyes. ‘What’s bothering Uncle Sal, by the way?’
‘It’s his ankle. He says he’s too insecure on his feet to do the knife-throwing with me as his target, because he might stumble and lose his aim, and he can’t do it sitting down. It’s all very frustrating for him.’
‘But not as frustrating as skewering you. Well, you’ll come up with something.’
She missed a step. ‘He wouldn’t really hit me, would he?’
‘No, Frances, but that’s because Uncle Sal knows where to draw the line.’
‘That’s true,’ she said. ‘But still, I hate to see him so disappointed.’
The music stopped and he led her back to the table.
***
Rob and Mum arrived one song later. Mum looked flushed, but happy. ‘That was wonderful,’ she said. ‘You’re just as good a dancer as your dad was.’
‘Only with the right partner,’ he said. ‘I hope we can do that again, sometime soon. But now I’d better get some sleep if I want to be any good tomorrow morning. I’ve been up since four.’
‘Why didn’t you say so?’ Mum said. ‘We could have had a quiet evening at home.’
‘And miss a swell party like this, with you and my little sister?’
‘Well, that’s true. Won’t you at least sleep at home tonight, and I’ll make you your favourite breakfast in the morning?’
Frances and Uncle Sal exchanged an amused glance. It would be hard for Rob to make his escape.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘But I don’t want to jeopardise my job, Mum. My employers don’t know I’ve got family down here. They like their people to be independent, without folks who hang around, looking for dead certs or inside tips.’
A note of embarrassment crept into his voice. ‘I don’t mean you, but, well, that’s how it is. You understand, right?’
‘Sure, my darling.’ Mum took his hand. ‘But you’ll be allowed to see us sometimes?’
‘He will,’ Frances said. ‘You haven’t enlisted in the army, have you? And even they have leave until curfew.’
They all got up. ‘I’ll be around so much you’ll tell me to get out of your hair, Mum,’ Rob said. ‘Miss Dolores, Jack, thanks for a spiffing evening.’
‘My pleasure,’ said Jack. ‘I’ll see you soon. When’s the next rehearsal, Uncle Sal? Tomorrow? Maybe you could stay on afterwards.’
‘Sure.’
Dolores blew him a kiss. ‘Bye, darlings. Bluey will take you home.’
***
It took Rob less than five minutes to arrange his few belongings in the small room next to the jockey school. A brass bedstead covered with a rough blanket, a scarred chest of drawers with a wobbly leg and a metal chair took up most of the space. He set the framed picture of Lucy and Rob jr on top of the chest and lay down on the bed, looking at his wife’s smiling face. He missed her so much it hurt. And his boy. He’d only been on the road for three weeks, and already he’d missed his son’s first steps.
Loud snores penetrated his ears. If Brocky, the blacksmith they’d put next to him kept this racket on, there was no hope of sleep. A burly fellow, big enough to hold any horse single-handedly. Odd; he’d met Brocky first a week ago at Yarra Glen racecourse and the blacksmith had told him he never steered further away than a hundred miles in each direction. When they’d met here at the wash-house, Brocky had greeted him with a resounding smack on the back and a genuine smile.
Rob wondered briefly if the other man had left his family behind as well. He’d had a lonesome look in his eyes when he’d said that he didn’t know a single soul in Adelaide.
The snores changed their rhythm. It was almost a tune, thought Rob, although one he wouldn’t care to dance to. It had been great to see Mum, and Frances, and Uncle Sal. And Miss Dolores – any man would be hard pressed to keep his eyes off her. He only hoped that Jack fellow wouldn’t let her turn his head and hurt Frances. But no. Uncle Sal trusted the man, so he was okay in his book. Still, that singer was something.
Rob’s glance wandered towards Lucy’s photo. He didn’t need it to remind him of the way she looked, or how her red hair curled around her round face. She wasn’t a beauty like Miss Dolores, but he wouldn’t trade places with any man in the world. No one in the whole world could touch his Lucy. Tomorrow he’d write her a long letter and tell her about the family.
What he wouldn’t tell her was that he’d come close to giving in to having the lads place a bet for him. ‘No-one will know, mate,’ the sandy-haired jockey had said. ‘She’s a sweet little runner, this mare. Odds of ten to one, too.’ He’d rustled two one-pound notes before Rob’s ears.
‘Sorry,’ Rob had said. ‘Can’t do that. I’m not allowed with me being the vet here.’
‘Sure?’ The jockey had shrugged and walked off. And confound it, if the mare hadn’t come first. Ten to one – two pounds would have brought in more than most fellows earned in a whole month.
No, he couldn’t tell Lucy that, especially not how tempted he’d really been. That one bet would have paid enough to buy everything Lucy needed for Rob jr and the new baby.
He turned down the kerosene lamp and drifted off into sleep to the accompaniment of Brocky’s snoring.
***
Frances lay awake until long after midnight. Thoughts chased each other in her mind. A fortnight without Jack – and hadn’t she heard something about how easily romance blossomed on board of a ship? And which girl wouldn’t find him attractive, with his easy confidence, broad shoulders and the humour and intelligence in his sleepy eyes?
But she could trust him, couldn’t she? Just like Lucy could trust Rob. It was too bad that her brother had to leave them, but on the other hand it was nice to have him back for a while. And he’d always loved horses, so this was perfect for him.
She wondered if he’d have time to attend the charity variety. She’d be dazzling in the limelight, with thousands of sparks being reflected in the sequins of her dress, and the glittery eye-shadow that would make her look like a movie star.
She’d come up with something to let Uncle Sal show everyone that he was still Salvatore the Magnificent, and who knew, there might be a photograph of them in The Advertiser, and a paragraph about how he and Miss Francesca had stolen the show…
***
The whole next day she still felt as if she was floating on air. Her happiness wasn’t hurt by the fact that she saw several young men follow her with appreciative glances as she walked to work.
***
She used her lunch break for one of her favourite tasks, drawing up a list of pleasurable things to do. She wrote down Clara in nice big letters. Her workmate deserved a treat; whenever she'd asked Frances about her life, she'd done so without any rancour or reservations, happy enough to get a glimpse of a life beyond her own straitened circumstances. Poor Clara, she'd never be pretty with her thin, frizzy hair and pasty skin, but Frances jolly well intended to try.
She tapped at her lips with the end of the pencil. Pauline was a wiz when it came to beauty, and she'd be delighted to help. But what about a dress? Frances ran through her own restricted wardrobe in her mind, but where she tended to be more curvy than the current fashion, Clara was boyish to the extreme.
She wrote down, hair and face, Pauline, dress?
What next? Of course, the variety tickets for the O'Leary sisters who sold used clothes in their cramped shop around the corner. They were old friends, two spinsters whose kind hearts sometimes overruled their sharp minds.
Frances chuckled to herself. All she had to do was to hand them the invitations and mention Clara’s plight. They’d be sure to let her borrow a dress. Their names went next on the list. Now all she needed to sort out was Uncle Sal’s predicament.
The first lightbulb flashed. Frances pushed the list aside and returned to her duties.
***
When she left work, she found Jack waiting for her at the back door. The warm feeling inside her stomach that always appeared when she saw him spread until it reached her toes. It was an odd sensation that hadn’t lessened in the six months she had known him. She wondered if he felt the same, or if it was a girlish thing.
‘Hi kiddo,’ he said, giving her a crooked smile.
‘What a lovely surprise,’ she said, feeling her lips curl up at their own accord.
‘I’m not needed for a few hours, so I thought we’d make the most of it before I’m off. Bluey’s holding the fort for me, giving Uncle Sal the grand tour.’
He took her arm. ‘Shall I take you home, or shall we watch the latest show at the Empire? We’ve missed the first part of the double-bill, but I seem to remember that you wanted to see the main picture.’
‘Yes please,’ she said. ‘That is, I’d like to phone up Mum first and ask her if she knows if Rob’ll be around tonight.’
‘Sure, although I doubt if he’ll have an evening off soon,’ he said, leading her to the telephone kiosk on King William Street. ‘The racing business doesn’t conform to normal office hours.’
It still gave her a thrill to dial her own phone number. At first she’d worried about the expense of such a luxury as a telephone, but now she couldn’t imagine life without it. Apart from being indispensable to their police officer lodger, Dolores’ beau Phil Anderson, it also afforded her the freedom to stay out whenever she, or rather Jack, felt like it, without having Mum worry herself to a frazzle about where she was.
‘Mum?’ she said. ‘Have you heard from Rob yet?’
‘No,’ said Mum. ‘He’ll be way too busy.’
‘Right-ho. I just wanted to say I’ll be to the pictures with Jack. I’ll be home for dinner.’
‘Fine. Have fun, love.’
***
The girl in the ticket kiosk treated Frances to a conspiratorial wink as she handed her the tickets while Jack went to the rest room. ‘I haven’t seen you two love-birds in a while,’ she said. ‘Enjoy the show. It’s ever so lovely.’
Frances smiled at her. ‘We will. Thanks.’ Funny how she no longer blushed, when someone talked about her private life, but they’d been her so often the girl was almost an old acquaintance, and anyway there had been no-one else close by.
The picture was every bit as hilarious as Frances had hoped. ‘Palmy Days’ had been announced as one of the biggest hits of the year, with Eddie Cantor playing the patsy for a fortune-teller who planned to make off with the payroll money from a bakery.
The best part though was the dancing, with a line–up of the famous Goldwyn girls tapping and whirling their way from bakery to gymnasium in breath-taking speed. Their dresses alone beguiled Frances. She risked a sideways glance at Jack to see how he felt about all the female beauty showing off perfect legs and more cleavage than she could offer on the screen. Instead, she found him looking at her. She snuggled back against his shoulder until the curtain came down.
‘Thank you, Jack,’ she said as they left the Empire. ‘Did you enjoy it as much as I did?’
‘As long as it’s with you, I’d enjoy anything.’
She laughed. ‘Well, at least it should have given you some ideas for the variety show at the club, right?’
‘You mean I should hire the Goldwyn girls? Bit out of my league, I’m afraid, and the geography doesn’t work at all.’
She squeezed his arm. ‘Very funny, but you haven’t got a proper dance act lined up yet, do you?’
‘That’s true. What about you and Pauline? You’d make a lovely duo.’
‘Signorina Francesca is busy enough, thank you very much. Although Pauline is great on roller skates. We used to go down to the rink all the time.’
A thought formed in her head.
‘Jack?’
‘Yes?’
‘What if Uncle Sal sits on a bar stool, one that is fastened onto a small turn-table, so Uncle Sal can sit with his good leg on the ground, and someone on roller skates twirls him around when he throws the knifes? That might give him the speed and the movement in his upper body he needs.’
He pulled her close and dropped a kiss on her hair. ‘That’s my girl. We’d have to ask him, but it sounds good to me. Come on, he should still be at the Top Note.’
***
‘Yes,’ Uncle Sal said, when she explained her idea to him in the smoke-filled back room where the props were stored. He’d rehearsed without her today, and tiredness deepened the lines fanning out from his eyes like a spider web. But his evening clothes were as dapper as they could be, and his silver-shot black hair remained unruffled. He’d always come alive in the presence of a stage, Frances realised. They’d have to make the plan work, for his sake.
He stroked his chin. ‘The only thing is, who’ll push me around when I’m throwing my knives at you? You can’t do both, and Pauline, bless her heart, will have more than enough to do backstage, doing hair and make-up.’
They both looked at Jack. He raised his hands, palms outwards. ‘Don’t ask me,’ he said. ‘That is, unless…’
‘Yes?’
‘What about Marie? Bluey’s been feeling pretty bad about her having to stay at home with the kids and missing all the fun.’
‘That’s a bonzer idea. Shall we ask Bluey straight away?’ Jack’s right-hand man adored his headstrong wife, and so did everyone else.
‘Sure. He’ll take you two home now anyway. You can ask him then,’ Jack said. ‘And now I’ll have to leave you. I still have a few things to do.’ He blew her a kiss as he walked to the door.
‘By the way,’ he said, ‘you do have Saturday off, don’t you?’
‘Yes. And Sunday.’
‘Sunday’s too late for me, because my ship departs in the wee hours, but how about I take you and Uncle Sal to the races on Saturday? We won’t be able to see your brother, but at least you’ll get a feeling for his new work sphere.’
‘Good-oh,’ said Uncle Sal, rubbing his hands. ‘I’ve got a hunch I might have a light flutter if there’s a dappled grey running. They never lost me any money yet, dappled-greys. But we better don’t tell Maggie. She disapproves of gambling.’
‘No worries, Uncle Sal. Haven’t you forgotten that she leaves on Saturday on the midday train?’
Uncle Sal’s eyes lit up. ‘Great. We’ll miss her, of course, but, well, there’s no denying even she does have her shortcomings, great gal that she is.’
***
Mum left in a flurry of last minute instructions on who of the neighbours to look after, the number of casseroles and stews she’d prepared or had been promised by friends, and when to expect her phone call. Thanks to the fact that Rob had been able to spare her a couple of hours on Thursday morning while Frances was at work, Mum set off with a beaming smile.
She clutched her train ticket in a gloved hand while Frances searched for the reserved seat in the second-class coach. She’d insisted on leaving the packed sandwiches that her mother had intended for her dinner at home.
‘Do you see that?’ Frances pointed to a carriage with red velvet curtains draping the windows. ‘It’s the dining car, and I’ve made a reservation for you for the 6.30 dinner.’
‘But that must be horrifically expensive,’ Mum said, her brows divided by a big crease.
‘It’s already paid for, and everything is included.’ Frances opened the door to Mum’s carriage and ushered her inside. Two of the four seats were already taken, by an elderly priest and a woman who looked similar enough to be his sister. She peered at Mum with short-sighted eyes, her hands smoothing her skirt.
‘Good day,’ said Mum as she sat down.
Frances stored the suitcase on the overhead rack and bent down to kiss Mum’s cheek. ‘Bye, darling mother, and don’t forget to enjoy yourself. This is your holiday, remember? And give my love to Uncle Fred and Aunt Milly.’
She dashed off after one last fond look at her mother. Half an hour to get home and get ready for the races! She hadn’t mentioned that trip to her mother at all, although her conscience gave her a brief prick.
Uncle Sal waited at the station exit. ‘Well, love,’ he said as they boarded the tram, ‘now it’s just the two of us. We’ll be fine, eh?’
‘Absolutely,’ she said, although it did feel funny to have a whole month ahead, without Mum fussing over them. Phil must have felt the same, because he’d offered to move out while Mum was away, to keep propriety. Silly, but sweet. As if anybody could get the wrong idea, with Uncle Sal around.
‘Should we ask Phil if he wants to come along too, with Dolores?’ she asked.
Uncle Sal snorted. ‘Better not. You don’t turn up at the racecourse with the police in tow, love. People get funny ideas, and you don’t want them to get the wrong impression about Rob, in case someone makes the connection?’
Her cheeks grew warm. ‘But he isn’t doing anything wrong.’
‘Of course not. But you know, some people get kind of nervous when there’s police around. Especially where money flows.’ The tram swerved, and Uncle Sal nearly lost his balance. His jaw clenched as he grabbed the leather strap dangling from the ceiling.
Sometimes he walked painlessly, with barely a limp, but today the air had the soggy feel of a sweaty towel, and that caused him problems.
‘What should I wear?’ she asked as they entered the house.
‘Something pretty but not fancy,’ he said. ‘It can be a mite dusty, and there’s bound to be a throng at the grand stand.’
‘Right-ho,’ she said, as she rushed upstairs, taking two steps at once.
***
Jack rang at the door two minutes after she’d come down, freshly powdered and with a slick of lipstick on her mouth. Her yellow jumper and emerald skirt had seen better days, but the colours suited her.
Uncle Sal took off his hat like he always did as she entered the room. ‘Shall we, Signorina Francesca?’
She slid her arm through his. ‘With the greatest pleasure, gentlemen.’
***
The crowd and the noise at Morphettville were much bigger than she’d expected. Nattily dressed men rubbed shoulders with veterans in ill-fitting suits, urchins running errands, housewives on the search for a thrill and heavily made-up girls who tried to keep the attention of their male friends over the attractions of the bookies.
Jack nodded left and right as he secured them a way to the seats on the covered stand. ‘You two stay here,’ he said after they’d sat down. ‘I’ll get a racing programme and refreshments. Lemonade for you, kiddo, and beer for us, Uncle Sal?’
Uncle Sal chuckled as he watched Frances open astonishment. ‘This isn’t busy, love, just a nice turn-out. Nothing wrong with it, if you keep your head and don’t get carried away. Now my Dad, he always swore he’d inherited his horse-sense from his grandfather, an Italian grande. Blow me if he didn’t fall for every three-legged mare that ever set its hooves on the turf. He reckoned if they did come in, they’d come in big.’ He tapped his nose. ‘Never ever believe that a horse will make your luck, and you’ll be fine. Especially if it’s a dappled grey you’re betting on.’
Frances leant forward, watching the line-up of horses who got ready for the next race. ‘I like the black one,’ she said, ‘with the gold and green colours.’
‘That’s good to hear,’ Jack said, reappearing with a rolled-up paper under his arm and two pitchers. Cups were in his pockets. ‘I’ve put a guinea on that mare.’ He put the pitchers down in front of them.
‘I didn’t expect you so soon,’ said Uncle Sal as he took the paper and opened it. ‘You must have run into lots of mates, eh?’
‘Some,’ Jack said. ‘Anyway, whoever wants to talk to me knows where to find me. Most people asked about our show and Dolores.’
Frances fanned her face. The sun bleached the sky almost white. A shot rang out, and the crowd roared as the horses streaked out of their starting boxes. Her heart pounded in her ears as the black mare inched her way from second to last to runner-up position.
‘Come on,’ she yelled in unison with Uncle Sal, gripped by a feverish desire to see the horse win. The mare stretched her neck longer, as if she’d heard Frances, throwing up a cloud of dust with every step. The jockey in the lead began to whip the neck of his horse in a frantic rhythm. The black mare strained so hard, white foam dripped from her mouth. Half a length separated her from the number one, a quarter length, now they were neck to neck…
‘Oh, yes,’ Frances said, her mouth dry with excitement. Less than a hand was between the leading horses as the mare made a final effort and crossed the finish.
Jack pressed a filled cup into her hand.
‘She deserved to win.’
‘She sure did, kiddo. That was a great race.’ He tapped the pocket with his ticket. ‘A win of six shillings for me. Who shall we put that money on?’
Two hours later, Jack and Frances had pocketed six pounds between them, and Uncle Sal’s fondness of greys had netted him a handsome tenner.
Frances sighed as they made their way to the exit. She’d have liked to stay longer, but Jack needed to get home. She shaded her eyes to get one last good look at the horses, as the winner of the last race, an indescript brown horse was led to the blacksmith because it had lost a shoe when it came off the track.
The blacksmith signalled a slight boy of about fourteen to hold the horse while he lifted the hoof.
‘Bloody hell!’ he said, his mouth gaping wide. He let go off the horse’s leg. ‘I know this gelding, and if he’s a novice racer, I’m the bloody queen of the fairies.’
‘Damn,’ Jack said, steering Frances and Uncle Sal towards the exit as fast as he could.
A throng of men surrounded the blacksmith, who backed against the wall of the stable building, squaring his shoulders.
‘What’s going on?’ said Frances as soon as they’d reached the automobile. She heard shouts from outside, although she couldn’t make out the words.
‘Trouble,’ said Jack. ‘A hell of a lot of trouble. But nothing to do with Rob, if that’s what you’re afraid of.’