for his father or, after Mick’s mother first died, playing on the bar room floor in the sawdust, full of spit and beer spills, with him. Everyone up and down the whole length of the South Brisbane wharves knew them both by name. Every tapster, shyster, sailor, lady of loose virtue, Unionist, copper, criminal, as well as all the Russians, tried to keep Micky Doyle on the straight and narrow. Which was just as well as Joe Hill had nearly had enough.
Molly led Mick off hand in hand. Joe followed close behind, but Tomfool had crept along the footpath under the bar windows until he was close to where the soldier sat.
Tomas jumped up suddenly, thrusting his head and shoulders in through the window. Eyes bulging like an angry monkey he screamed in the unsuspecting serviceman’s face,
‘They’ll be wanting to hurt you a lot!’
The Digger jumped back, knocking the table over. His two remaining beers smashed on the tiled floor. Tom grinned like a madman.
‘What the blazes!’ the soldier swore. He tried to save the beer in his hand and whack Tomfool at the same time.
‘You bloody galoot!’
Tomas backed out as quick as he’d entered, banging the back of his head hard on the bottom of the hopper window as he scarpered.
‘Hoy, you!’ the Digger bellowed, wiping froth from his uniform. ‘You owe me two beers!’
But Tomas ran down the street, dodging the hansom cabs and buggies that had begun to appear just on closing time, he babbled loudly,
‘They’ll be wanting to hurt you a lot!’ as he rubbed hard at the back of his head.
But the soldier hadn’t finished with Tomfool. Downing his remaining beer he hobbled up the street. Joe turned at the kerfuffle.
‘Damn it, Tom!’ he swore loudly. ‘Why can’t we just walk home for once without you annoying someone!’ Molly and Mick turned too.
‘What’s he done now?’ Mick asked. He wasn’t in the mood for any tomfoolery.
‘Stop that idiot!’ the soldier yelled. His voice rang clear above the sudden six o’clock busyness.
‘Quick, Tomas,’ Molly called. ‘Quick! Time for tea!’ Not that Tomfool needed any encouragement, either to escape the trouble he was in or to get to his spot at the table. They were nearly at the tram. But the soldier was a stayer.
‘Stop that miserable … Socialist!’ He yelled his best insult as he hobbled across the uneven road. Only now could they see he carried a cane and dragged his left leg. Joe felt bad. Mick’s shame at his earlier outburst was written across his face. But being in the wrong never stopped Mick and as for feeling guilty about it? Hah!
‘Hop-a-long!’ he laughed at the Digger. The three of them were ready to jump the tram the moment Tomas caught up. Mick grabbed Tomfool’s arm and turned face to face with …
‘A copper!’ Mick moaned. ‘Of all the miserable!’
‘So, what do we have here?’ asked the policeman, his gaze roving over them, noting with interest the red rosette, the white, and the green.
‘Sergeant O’Hagen, what a happy surprise,’ Molly said, smiling her best smile, her eyes all aglitter, eyelashes aflutter. ‘How is Mrs Kerensky?’ Not waiting for a reply regarding the Sergeant’s landlady, she was interrupted by the arrival of Hop-a-long.
‘That runt there owes me two beers!’ he said, perforating the air with his cane. ‘I demand … remedy!’ he panted. Tomas moved behind Molly, a grin still flickering around his lips. Mick and Joe prepared for battle, fists clenched.
‘If it isn’t enough that these red-flaggers be allowed harangue decent people in the street but they drag along their tame monkey to attack them too,’ Hop-a-long began, but was interrupted by O’Hagen.
‘Attack people you say?’
‘Yes, attack!’ Hop-a-long repeated. ‘I was sitting in the public bar minding my own affairs when this, this … idiot,’ he said jabbing his stick at the hapless Tomfool, ‘jumped through the window and startled me.’
‘I thought you said he attacked you, sir!’ O’Hagen interrupted as Hop-a-long tried to stare Tomfool down. Tomas shadowed Molly’s every move. His ruse was more or less successful and Hop-a-long found himself glaring balefully at Molly instead of his hidden adversary. His ire could not outlast her smile.
‘Well, I was startled by this … this … fellow!’ Hop-a-long continued, but his heart was no longer in it. They all relaxed a little.
‘This … monkey, as you so kindly put it, is a little simple, Mister … Mister …?’ Molly asked for a name but continued without. ‘And as such he’s under the guardianship of my family. At the moment that means me.’
She smiled as she finished.
‘No,’ O’Hagen continued. ‘ I don’t think I caught your name either, sir?’ he finished, all very proper, taking the final wind from Hop-a-long’s sails.
‘Name, sir?’ he asked again.
Hop-a-long glanced to Tomfool but saw only Molly.
Polite and belligerent in the one look, Joe thought. Isn’t she better than breathing.
‘Winterson,’ Hop-a-long replied. ‘Harold Charles Winterson,’ he continued. ‘Everyone calls me Harry. But look,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to make a formal complaint, just a good telling off from you, or a swift kick in the seat of his pants.’ Harry Winterson’s voice trailed off.
‘Then you’ll not be making a complaint regarding the alleged attack?’ O’Hagen pressed. Winterson was beaten.
‘No,’ he said. ‘But I would like you to caution this buffoon. If I catch him spilling people’s beer like that again I’ll …’
‘Now, let me caution you, sir, against making threats,’ O’Hagen interjected. ‘You leave the policing to the police and we’ll all be sweet.’ Sergeant O’Hagen was finished with Winterson, but turned his gaze firmly to Tomfool.
‘As for you, Tomas Madorsky, it’s my very strong advice that you refrain from such reckless acts. If not I’ll be forced to talk to Mrs Kerensky about your wayward behaviour. You know she’ll not be liking that. No pudding for a week!’ he scowled at Tomfool, who winced obligingly at the thought. Molly took Tom’s hand. Winterson looked askance at the mention of Babushka’s name.
‘Be warned, Tommy. If I catch you doing the like of this again,’ O’Hagen lowered his voice, then yelled for effect,
‘I’ll boot your backside from here to blithering breakfast!’
Tomfool jumped like a shot rabbit.
‘We’ll take care of him,’ Joe said to O’Hagen. ‘We always do.’
‘Just make sure of it this time,’ O’Hagen answered, before adding brusquely for effect, ‘or else!’ Then he waved them away with a dismissive hand.
‘Time
