lid off the bin nearest to the back of the pub door. ‘Those tired old hands of yours could do with not being up to the elbows in soapy water this fine evening,’ he charmed. She knew him well.
‘A full hour’s work or there’ll be nothing for ye!’ she growled. But she took his arm as she turned and walked Mick Doyle into the kitchen.
Chapter 6
Nursery Rhyme One year, two year, three year, four, Comes a khaki gentleman knocking at the door. ‘Any little boys at home, send them out to me To train them and brain them in battles yet to be.’ When a little boy is born feed him, train him so. Put him in a cattle pen and wait for him to grow. When he’s nice and plump and dear, and sensible and sweet, Throw him in the trenches for the great grey rats to eat. Toss him in the cannon’s mouth, cannon’s fancy best Tender little boys’ flesh that’s easy to digest. Frank Wilmot
Tomfool was the first to see it.
‘Kaiser Bill! Kaiser Bill! Kaiser Bill, come down the hill!’ he rhymed as he ran towards the sulky parked in the street.
Joe caught sight of the vehicle.
‘Yes, he must be waiting for Mum and Dad to get home.’
‘We’ve not been seeing Uncle Bill around lately,’ Molly said, her face alight with new excitement.
‘What would you be thinking he’ll be wanting?’
‘To see me of course,’ Joe laughed. He didn’t know why Uncle Bill was there either, but Uncle Bill, who wasn’t his, or anyone else’s uncle, was always great fun. He and Molly began to walk faster.
‘Ha, no, he’s come to take me on as his indispensable probationary nurse!’ Molly proposed in a voice that more than half-sounded as though she would very much like that to happen.
Tomfool scampered ahead of them like a happy pup. They both laughed at him as the dull feeling of the evening dropped away. Besides it was cooler now.
Joe mused that perhaps there was something in what Tomfool said about Bill. He could be a bit of a Kaiser with the nursing staff by all accounts. According to Kathleen O’Donahue he was misunderstood and he was only a stickler for cleanliness and getting everything … just so.
‘The sort of bloke who’d wrestle a crocodile in his evening suit, then come up looking like he’d just taken his coat out of the laundry press. A dapper little dandy,’ was what Ted Hill said.
But they didn’t work for him so they always wanted to see Uncle Bill. He was that sort of bloke. Hail-fellow, well-met. Had an outstanding bedside manner … according to all the society ladies of Brisbane.
Molly walked on ahead, quicker now.
Tomfool ran back to them trying to catch Joe’s eye.
‘I’ve been robbed?’ he asked plaintively.
‘Race you, rather!’ Molly cried as she scampered up the street, her face flushed to match the red of her hair. She had Joe’s full attention.
Tomfool made a strange, strangled sound in his throat, pleading with Joe, his face alive with anticipation.
‘Go on then. Quick!’ Joe encouraged him.
Tomfool ran towards Molly, pulling the insides of his trouser pockets out until they hung like white handkerchiefs from his hips. When he was close to her, he stopped dead. His face fell. His lips quivered.
‘Help!’ he wailed, pulling hopelessly at his pockets. ‘I’ve been robbed!’ he cried, his voice a telegraph of shock.
Molly stopped to play her part. She could never resist once the game had started. Her accent changed into that of an actress from a music hall melodrama.
‘What? What is it, my child?’ she cried, knuckles pressed to her mouth. ‘Oh you poor boy! Who could have done such a thing to an innocent young man.’
Molly turned, pulling Joe by the shirt until she’d forced him to stand very close to her. A broad smile flooded his face.
‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘What are you going to do about this outrage?’ Joe looked suitably upset.
‘I’ve been robbed,’ Tomfool wailed. Joe raised Tomfool’s, by now tear-soaked face, and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
‘I can see exactly what has happened here, Ladies and Gentlemen!’ Joe said, addressing Molly alone.
‘Yes, I can see very clearly! My friend has been robbed. But so have I!’ Joe yelled angrily. ‘Robbed by the Capitalist bosses, their pet bankers and all their idling class!’ Joe performed for an audience of one.
‘But most importantly, I’ve been robbed,’ he continued, playing his part to a ‘t’. Molly waited, enthralled, as Joe turned to her, his face suddenly miserable.
‘I’ve been robbed of a kiss from the most beautiful girl in Brisbane!’ Joe finished in a rush, taking his opportunity to kiss Molly full on her unsuspecting lips.
Joe’s shenanigans were too much for Tomfool. He began to laugh like a waterfall, great tumbling belly laughs poured down, the tears on his cheeks of pure joy. Molly broke from the kiss and smiled too.
It took all Joe’s willpower to drag his attention back to Tomas’s game, hoping that somehow he hadn’t seen what just happened or, at least, that he wouldn’t tell Mick.
‘You get them in every time, Big Fellow,’ Joe laughed, slapping Tomfool on the back.
Molly smiled her most mysterious smile. Joe thought he knew just what a smile like that meant. They turned together to continue up the street, eyes fixed on the Ted Hill’s front door, not so much as mentioning the thing that now lay between them, leaving Tomas to calm himself.
‘Come in and we’ll all say a quick hello to Bill,’ Joe urged as they arrived at the front gate. ‘He’ll only be reading the paper and spoiling for an argument.’
‘As usual,’ Molly said quietly, as though preoccupied, but added. ‘Not that I don’t like to listen, but we really need to get home now, Babushka will be waiting.’
It was Joe’s turn to turn on his best winning smile. Even though he knew what he’d done was utterly wrong, he didn’t want her to leave. Not yet. There was such deliciousness in this kiss, stolen in front of a witness as part of a charade and, he told himself, she kissed him back.
Molly nodded. Tomfool had stopped giggling like a ninny long enough to pat Bill’s horse and line up behind Molly at the gate.
‘Girls first,’ Joe said, swinging open the unlocked door and bowing for Molly, before jumping in front of Tomfool when he tried to push in second.
‘Don’t you mean ladies?’ Molly asked.
‘Maybe,’ Joe answered, wondering if that made him a coquette.
He began rehearsing what he’d tell Uncle Bill about the afternoon’s exploits. It’d be good with Molly to listen. Maybe he’d even mention what happened with Mick
