Published: 15 Sep 2022
Late spring came in unusually warm and as Dev made his way to visit Toby his mind returned to swimming in the Campaspe but more pressing was his moral situation. True he needed work to survive but his growing need to be with Toby was strong and daily growing stronger.
Reaching Jolimont Street something else was concerning, being more a feeling than actual, that being someone was following him. Turning he found many about but none who appeared provoked by his quick turning action. A woman with a young child, an elderly gentleman with a hobbled gait and stick, two boys playing with a hoop and a man ambling with his lady but all appeared oblivious to his presence. Except possibly a young man reading a newspaper but he folded the paper and diverted into the opposite direction to enter into the Argus Building.
Take the money and enjoy the pleasure, was Jones’ advice and well expected as to Jones sex was a commodity not a pleasure or sharing of intimacy. Douglas Jones was an unfortunate young man, who had no true understanding of compassion. With his mother passing when he was a boy and his father abusive and disregarding, rendered the lad incapable of feeling love but was blessed with a strong sense of loyalty towards those he considered to be his friends.
Working for Toby by day and sleeping with him by night wasn’t Dev’s only concern, foremost was his sexuality. Was he this, or that or somewhere in between. There were many words for a man who bedded his fellow man and none were complimentary, nor was the law towards such acts. Dev brought to mind Jack’s abusive intrusions but they were long ago. He remembered his only acceptance of money and how it felt degrading but with Toby it seemed natural. He shuddered and prevented further thought as he pass through Toby’s side gate, almost running into to Hubbard as he was leaving for the shops.
“Good morning young man, you almost knocked me from my feet,” Hubbard made exaggeration towards Dev’s obvious haste.
“My apology Mr. Hubbard,”
“Tobias is in the library and is expecting you, go right in.”
Dev enters and finds Toby removing a number of book titles from the extensive collection.
“They are for the State Library, mother promised them before leaving for England,” Toby says and places a large leather bound manuscript with others on a polished mahogany tabletop. “Old maps,” he says of the edition.
“Maps of where?” Dev asks
“They are mostly of countries that no longer exist and boundaries that have changed a hundred times from a thousand years of war.”
“So they are useless;” Dev surmises.
“I should think not so for those interested in history.”
“I like the library building in town and we often use its steps as a meeting place, also those outside Flinders Street Station.”
“Do you still meet with your friends?”
“Not as much, I have outgrown them, except for Doug,”
“Who is Doug?” Toby asks.
“He had an accident down at the docks and is now living with us,”
“Ah yes I remember the one who worked on the docks?”
“You could say that,”
Toby realizes he was entering a part of Dev’s life that obviously the lad didn’t wish to share, “did you walk over or catch the tram?”
“I walked as it’s a nice morning but does look like rain later. On the way I had a strange feeling I was being followed.”
“By whom?”
“That I couldn’t say but I feel I should explain a number of things to you.”
“Go on,”
“I’m not mixed up with it but I knew a man who was murdered and the police have questioned me about his business.”
“Continue,”
“Actually there isn’t anything to continue with. I knew him through my days on the street,” Dev begins to feel he is digging a deep hole into his past that could become detrimental to his developing relationship. “Honestly Toby there is nothing more and my street days are well behind.”
“I Believe you, come on enough of this, we’ll have coffee.” Toby places a second volume of ancient maps with the other on the table.
“How many books are there?” Dev asks scanning the three walls of shelving where books stood spine to spine in never-ending rows from floor to ceiling.
“Thousands I would say, both father and mother were avid collectors,” Toby points towards the wall with the most volumes, “those on that wall are father’s collection and those are mothers off to the right. Some of these books have travelled more leagues than the British navy.” Toby then points towards a row of books off to his left, “those are what father purchased in America,” he points to a higher shelf, “those are in French and were obtained from Mauritius by my Grandfather when it was a French territory, he was attached to the British consulate there at the time.” He points even higher, “those are mothers,”
“They also appear to be in a foreign language,”
“Italian, she speaks four languages,”
“And I can hardly speak one,” Dev sighs.
“You do well enough, besides except for a little French I am also lacking in language, I never found the necessity.”
“Where is your collection?” Dev asks.
Toby smiles and points to a small collection set to one side, no more than enough to fill a lad’s school bag.
“That isn’t many.”
“No need I suppose, I find gardening and going places more adventurous than reading.”
“Where have you travelled to?”
“Most everywhere, India of course, America, China, some European countries, even Africa but that was when father was a diplomat before he entered into politics.”
“Before travelling to Echuca with you, the furthest I had travelled was Yarra Bend,” Dev releases an ironic chuckle.
“Horses for courses Dev, it would be a very busy world if everyone travelled all the time. Would you like to travel?”
Dev thinks for a moment before answering, “I don’t know, maybe to England,”
Toby diverted towards silence and was obviously watching Dev.”
“What?” Dev says with a measure of embarrassment.
“You,”
“What do you mean by you?”
“I love the way you frown while you are thinking, it makes me smile.”
“Do I look silly?”
“Far from it, in my opinion you are a most handsome young man.”
“Get out with ya’, you are embarrassing me.”
“Not intended: What of my offer, have you thought more on it?”
“I have,”
“By your expression I believe I’m about to become disappointed.”
“I can’t take your money and be in your bed it would not be proper.”
“In my bed, then you have made half a decision?”
“Toby you have to realize this is new to me. I don’t understand myself never mind what you have suggested.” Dev takes a deep breath holds it for some seconds before slowly releasing, “I am emotionally confused” he says.
“How so?” Toby’s question is low and hopeful.
“Because what I feel for you. When I’m away I can think of nothing else but then there is my mother, my brother, how can I let them live in poverty while I’m in luxury.
“What attracted me to you in the first incident was your moral disposition, not forgetting your masculine good looks.”
“Again you embarrass me,”
“Anyway I had already predicted your answer.”
“In what way?” Dev asks.
“That you couldn’t work for me, so I have taken the liberty in finding you work elsewhere.”
“Oh,”
“As a gardener’s assistant in Richmond for an acquaintance who has an estate along the river and has three gardeners and a head gardener and it would be full time.”
“I don’t know what to say?”
“Say yes,”
Douglas Jones started work on the following Monday after Dev’s return from his trip to Echuca and was on day shift. Jack wished to give up nights but after being offered the night foreman’s position he stayed with it. In many ways Jones’ acquisition of work was well timed for Dev, as Ilene had not been well and with Jack on nights and Jones home at night it left opportunity for Dev to visit more with Toby, while starting his position as gardener’s assistant at the Como Estate.
The Estate and Como house was first owned by a Lawyer and later Victorian judge Edward Williams who was the son of a slave owning family from England. Later the property was purchased by Charles Armytage and since his demise, became the property of his children. It was a grand house on acreage boasting magnificent gardens, with many exotic plantings, making Dev nervous when it came to weeding but his supervisor was patient and a good teacher, relating back to Toby how quickly the young man learned his work.
At first Dev remained living at home but the distance soon became too great and it was agreed he should reside with Toby from where he could catch the ferry services that plied their trade from the flour mill at Dights Falls to the river mouth and across Hobsons Bay to Williamstown, or along the wide Eastern sweep of Port Phillip as far as the fishing village of Frankston.
Dev had been working at Como for a little more than a month when during one late morning he notices someone talking with his supervisor. At first he paid little notice until his supervisor pointed in his direction. Lifting from planting annuals in a large semicircular bed, he noticed it was his brother Jack. Some moments later Jack approached and by his expression something grave had occurred. At first Dev believed it was Jones and maybe he had an accident at work.
“What’s up?” Dev calls as Jack approached.
“You better get home quickly mum has taken a turn and she is asking for you.”
“Is she alright?”
“No, the doctor is with her now and he said she may not last the day.”
As they entered into the house Doctor West came from Ilene’s bedroom, his expression confirming their fear, as Ilene had passed away soon after Jack had departed to collect Dev.
“I’m afraid she has gone boys,” West says and sits to complete the death certificate.
“When Dev?” demands.
“Not long after Jack went for you.”
“What happened?” Jack asked being somewhat bewildered by Ilene’s sudden change in health.
“It was her heart, it had been weakening for many years and I warned her not to work so hard.”
“Only this morning she was fine,” Jack enforced his disbelief.
Doctor West continues writing, “I will make arrangements to have Ilene removed to the city morgue and let you know what is needed from there.”
“What about mum’s funeral?” Dev asks.
“Your mother has asked me to attend to that for her.” Doctor West assures.
“But how can we afford it,” Jack says.
“It is attended to, she was a thrifty woman and knowing her time was near, had put away enough for a simple plot. I have it with me and as I said I will arrange everything for you.”
“But she never said anything about being ill,” Dev protested.
“She didn’t wish to concern you. I’ll be going now and again don’t concern as I will arrange everything.”
Douglas Jones arrived home after his working to find the boys quietly seated at the kitchen table, immediately he realized something was amiss and perceiving their mood was about to make jest but thought better of doing so, “where is Ilene?” he asked noticing nothing was stewing on the stove.
“She died this morning Doug,” Dev quietly reveals, his voice trailing to but a whisper.
“What!”
“The doctor said it was her heart,”
“But,” was all Jones could say.
“They took her away this afternoon.”
“What now?” Jones says realising his new start to life was abruptly dissolving.
“I suppose life goes on,” Dev sighs.
During the course of the evening many things were discussed with Dev declaring he would remain for the present living with Toby while Jack offered Jones to keep the house going, which Jones quickly accepted.
“I’m going to miss Ilene,” Jones admitted with a rare display of affection.
“She was fond of you Jones,” Jack admitted, “but as well she didn’t know how you met with your accident.
“What do you mean by that?” Jones demanded.
“Come on Douglas we all knew about you doing the ships.”
“How do you know so?”
“I have a drinking mate who works on the docks, he’s seen you about and what you get up to.”
“Does that concern you if we continue living together?” Jones nervously asks.
Jack then released a rare smile for that day, “why should it, as long as you don’t go bringing your tricks home and you keep your hands to yourself.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t want me to move back home?” Dev asks.
“Why, there isn’t the room unless you want to bunk in with your mate or use his cot in the shed.”
“Not really,” Dev admits.
“You stay with your boyfriend.” Jack sarcastically suggests.
“I could mention something if you wish Jack,” Dev growls.
“Like what?”
“Do I have to spell it out?”
“That was then brother and not now; so you be careful what you say.”
Dev backs away from continuing further.
“I think we are getting a little heated,” Jones warns.
“True poor mum isn’t even in her grave, she would be most disapproving; sorry Jack.” Dev agrees.
Jack simply gives a forced smile.
Tom Hadley had called a meeting with his second at his city apartment for eleven and waited impatiently for the turning of the hour. It passed and Hadley growled as Joe Bolt was habitual towards lateness. Ten more minutes and a third double scotch. Hadley was feeling its effects while his hand began to tremble; he took a deep breath; “get hold of yourself!” he growled and thrust the hand into his coat pocket.
Hadley was becoming concerned for his position as head of the Firm, as only the previous day Bolt had challenged him publically on a decision while openly mocking its value. Even Lenny Worth was becoming insubordinate and appeared to be more supportive of Bolt than usual. Hadley wished he was a stronger man, at least Bryce could control with a single glare, while holding their fear if not their respect and it was more than obvious he had none of Bryce’s charm or charisma.
Eventually a knocking to the door but Hadley takes his time to respond.
“Joe,” he simply says and steps aside to allow entry, “scotch?” he offers but says nothing about Bolt’s lateness.
“It’s a little early for me,”
“Then don’t mind if I have one,”
Bolt watches Hadley as he pours his drink, noticing the tremor in Hadley’s hand as he spills a portion to the tabletop.
“What is this all about Tom?” Bolt asks.”
“The kid did you have him followed.”
“I had Bob Lawson follow him,”
“What did he discover?”
“Not a lot, Lawson said the kid may have sprung him, so he ducked into the Argus building but later followed him to the Nevis property in Jolimont.”
“What is he doing there?” The question was more rhetorical than in need of answering.
“He was hired for gardening but since has taken a job as gardener at Como House.”
“Como House you say,”
“I don’t understand what is your interest, as since Finn was done in their push has splintered. Besides they were never more than a small gang of rowdy pickpockets with aspirations towards grandeur. Bryce only had to say boo at any of them and they would piss their pants.”
“I reckon Bryce was jumping the kid and he may have information on the Firm.”
“I doubt it,” Bolt discouraged.
“Why so?”
“I know they only met on a couple of occasions and Stan considered having him as a lookout cocky or go-between but later thought better of doing so.”
“What was Bryce’s reason for not using him?”
“He said the kid had high moral fiber and could be hard to influence.”
‘How would you know that?’ Hadley thinks as he downed the last of his drink, believing Bryce may have been undermining his position in the Firm with Bolt long before his demise.
“We do have another problem,” Bolt admits.
“What would that be?”
“O’Keefe has requested a meeting with the Firm’s solicitor.”
“What would he want with Percy?” Hadley asks.
“That we won’t know until after the meeting but I hope Percy can be trusted to keep his trap shut.”
“I think so, although he is a nervous coot and O’Keefe is like a ferret and somewhat principled.”
“Everybody has their price,” Bolt laughs thinking of the sum the Firm paid monthly to keep the establishment at bay.
“Not this fellow, anyway what else did Lawson discover about young Gooding?”
“Nothing, only it is a little strange why a man of means would become somewhat attached to a street kid, as they are often seen together.”
“Yes I know the Nevis family his old man now lives back in England and an older son is favored.”
“Tobias Nevis is a man of separate means,” Bolt suggests.
“Possibly we could use a little pressure, maybe suggest there is something going on between Tobias and the kid.” Hadley likes the idea as it suited his character, he releases a rye smile.
“True but the Nevis family is well established and it could bring us down. In my opinion it would be better not to bring attention to us any more than necessary.”
“Point taken; yet again what should we do about Gooding?”
“Nothing – Tom I think you could be paranoid and looking for issues that don’t exist.”
‘Paranoid? Who are you to challenge me on such matters, you jumped-up little runt,’ Hadley thinks; “possibly you are correct,” Hadley reluctantly admitted.
“On the matter of O’Keefe, I’ve asked Percy to telephone me as soon as they have met.”
“I was about to suggest that Joe,” Hadley admits, realising Bolt was making more decisions than appreciated.
“I am saving you the bother,”
There was a measure of aloofness in Bolt’s suggestion that didn’t go unnoticed by Hadley, who was about to negatively riposte but thought better of doing so. “No matter but let me know when he calls back,”
Clive Percy’s office, he being a junior partner, was somewhat small and first off an antechamber governed over by a well attired clerk seated behind a desk of fastidious tidiness. Each file and there were many, straightened with the other until they appeared as one. The desk set had its base on the same plane as the table’s edge, with pencils and pens arranged like soldiers in rank. Beside the desk sat a waste basket – empty and at the corner a coat-stand that could be considered more ornamental than a useful item of furnishing.
As O’Keefe entered the clerk appeared to ignore his presence, until a slight cough brought attention. The man lifted his head as his starched collar dug deeply into the wrinkles of his neck. He spoke from a trivial mouth that hardly opened wide enough to allow the progress of speech.
“And sir you would be?”
“Sergeant O’Keefe from Russell Street,” there was a measure of annoyance in the policeman’s answer, believing the clerk considered himself far above his station.
“Oh yes Mr. Percy is expecting you.” The thin bent man lifted from his chair and as silent as a little mouse passed across the drab industrial kamptulicon flooring to gently knock on the first door.
“Yes,” came roughly from beyond. The clerk opened a fraction, “Mr. O’Keefe to see you Mr. Percy.”
“Show him in,”
The clerk opened the door a little wider and O’Keefe entered. It closed again without a sound.
“Mr. O’Keefe, it is a great pleasure to meet with one of those who keep our streets safe,” Percy imperiously says and offers the policeman a chair with a wave of his hand.
“Likewise I am sure Mr. Percy.”
“I would think you are a busy man Mr. O’Keefe, so let us go right to the point of your visit.”
“Busy yes Mr. Percy,” O’Keefe says but stalls his questioning while measuring the man’s manner. Behind the solicitor’s eyes he could see caution with need to govern his words, he also thought the man’s eyes were too close set and that was believed to be a slight of dishonesty.
“Yes, as you say, I’ll be to the point Mr. Percy, I have come about a client of your office.”
“You do understand Mr. O’Keefe that we are obliged towards privacy?” Percy explains dismissively.
“I do but the man is deceased,”
“Who would that be?”
“A Mr. Stanley Bryce recently of North Fitzroy,”
“Again Mr. O’Keefe -”
The policeman quickly cut across the man’s repetition, “if you wish Mr. Percy I could have treasury audit your business if that is more to your preference.”
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Percy reluctantly answers. “What is it you wish to know?”
“Firstly who inherited his estate?”
“A sister who lives in Geelong,”
“And what of his business interests,” O’Keefe asks while using the terminology somewhat loosely.
“In the most that would be his business partner a Mr. Thomas Hadley,”
“What is their main source of business?”
“Investment and hotelier,” Percy simplifies his reply.
“Who would now be the main signatory?” the policeman asks.
“That would now be Mr. Hadley.”
At last the policeman was finding ground as he withdrew an article from his coat pocket. Unfolding the document he offered it up to Percy
“Do you know this signature?”
Percy gives the page a quick glance without replying.
“Well Mr. Percy?”
“It does appear familiar,”
“Whose would it be?”
“Although it is a little scratchy, I believe it could be that of Mr. Hadley,”
“Do you have samples of Mr. Hadley’s handwriting on file?”
“We do.” Now the solicitor was in a quandary. What should he do? If he refused than the firm could be audited and that would prove most detrimental to him, especially as he was the junior member. If he obliges the policeman’s request it would be bad for Hadley’s so called Firm. Self preservation was foremost in Percy’s thoughts and after a lengthy search through a filing cabinet he found a sample that would be the least incriminating, arriving at a letter referring to Hadley purchasing his house in Fitzroy. Percy passes the document to O’Keefe. “This was filed some time back but has no importance to his business,” Percy says.
“May I keep this for a time?”
“If it is necessary but may I ask why you are interested in Mr. Hadley?” Percy cautiously asks.
“It is only a line of investigation we are following and I won’t bother you with the details.”
O’Keefe had been quietly brooding over two documents placed side by side on his desk. Eventually he called Turner for his opinion.
“Do you think they are penned by the same person?” O’Keefe asks.
“Similar I would say.”
“Yes similar but not the same, remembering they were penned at different times and I believe the note to Mr. Bryce was somewhat disguised but like the letter both lack an educated hand.”
“I would agree,” Turner says.
“So what next Turner,”
“I don’t know Mr. O’Keefe,” Turner says.
“No it was rhetorical, I think it is about time we had a little talk with our Mr. Hadley but first a little snooping.”
No sooner had O’Keefe departed and knowing Bolt would be at home waiting, Percy made the telephone call. “Not good news I’m afraid,” Percy quickly advised.
“For whom Clive?”
“Mostly Tom I would say. O’Keefe took away a sample of his writing, as he threatened to audit your accounts and the office; I had no other choice but to give it to him.”
“I wouldn’t say it is all bad news Clive,” Bolt declares.
“Why so Joe?”
“Bad news for Hadley possibly but I think there is enough distance between you, me and Hadley to let him carry anything the cops discover.”
“True you have been most cautious in your dealings with the Firm.”
“What do you think was the reasoning for taking a sample of Hadley’s handwriting?”
“O’Keefe wouldn’t say,”
“You will keep this to yourself as we agreed Clive,”
“I will Joe,”
Joe Bolt thought of telephoning Hadley with the information from Percy but knowing he would be in town at his flat and without a connection he decided to do so in person. It was now early afternoon and the many coffee houses along the Paris End of Collins Street were doing a fine trade as he passed. While pushing his way through a gathering outside the Melba coffee lounge, Bolt felt a slight push to his back, he turned and grabbed a young kid by the arm as he extracted his wallet. “Gotchya,” Bolt laughs as the kid panics.
“I’m sorry mister,” the kid is almost in tears.
“I’m a wakeup to all your little tricks,” Bolt laughed. Firstly he carried a second wallet, one empty in his pants pocket with the other deep within his coat.”
“What is your name kid?”
“Mickey sir,”
“Then Mickey,” Bolt takes a florin from his pocket and presses it into the kid’s hand, “here is two shillings for your trouble but next time I’ll break your fucken’ arm – understand?”
“Yes sir,”
“And learn your trade if you’re going to pick pockets. Now get out of here before I do you some grief.”
Bolt moved along with a happy gait. The kid had reminded him of his earlier days, before he was discovered by Bryce. He remembered that day vividly and how Bryce had also caught him applying his trade outside Flinders Street station and instead of a walloping offered him work. Although never Bryce’s favorite Bolt had always held respect for his boss, holding it beyond his demise and Hadley’s self appointed head of the Firm. Although openly supportive of Hadley, secretly Bolt would be more than happy to see Hadley fail.
“What did the cops want with Percy?” were Hadley’s first words on Bolt’s entry.
“Mix me a drink first,” Bolt says while gauging Hadley’s mood.
“Usual?”
“That will be fine,”
Hadley mixed two drinks, a double for himself, “right what did Percy have to say?” he again questioned this time with increased urgency.
“It appears the police wanted a sample of your handwriting.”
“Why would they want my handwriting?”
“O’Keefe had said it was a line of enquiry the police were following but nothing more.”
Hadley commences to panic as the booze fogged his judgment. Was it to do with the Firm’s accounts? It couldn’t be so, as with the help from Clive Percy there wasn’t a paper trail and the only name on the Firm’s documents was that of Bryce.
“I wouldn’t concern Tom, I’m sure it is nothing,” Bolt smugly assures.
“What can it be?” Hadley commences to slowly pace about, his hand retaining its developing tremble. “Bryce did all the banking and ran the Firm’s business,” Hadley says as if he was attempting to convince himself.
‘Samples of my writing,’ Hadley thinks.
‘There isn’t any,’
‘Bryce was signatory to all documents,’
Hadley continued his panic.
“As I said Tom, don’t concern I’m sure it is nothing.”
It was then Hadley remembered the conveyance for his house and the correspondence held at the solicitor’s office. He also remembered the one time he had taken out a bridging load from the Firm’s bank for the purchase and the signing of documents for the loan. Even so what use could they be to the police, how could his private correspondence be detrimental to the Firm?
Hadley mixes another drink, “would you like a top-up?”
“No thank you,”
“Then don’t mind if I do,”
“Tom you are really hitting the booze, that won’t help the situation or the wellbeing of the Firm,” Bolt warns.
“Do you think I should challenge O’Keefe on the matter?”
“What and bring more attention to yourself.”
“Possibly one of our retainers at Russell Street can do a little snooping.”
“I’ve tried but O’Keefe is a closed book, his only confident being an officer called Turner, also as there has been suspicion on activity within the ranks, they are in the most keeping a low profile for the present.”
“What do you think I should do?” Hadley asks.
‘You wanted the job so wear the heat,’ Bolt thinks.
“My advice Tom is sit tight do nothing and say nothing,” Bolt advised.
Gary’s stories are about life for gay men in Australia’s past and present. Your emails to him are the only payment he receives. Email Gary to let him know you are reading: Gary dot Conder at CastleRoland dot Net
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