Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS writer
Tilly left her aunt’s place in West Perth without the trepidation that she had felt previously. She’d already ruined her reputation by visiting White City, what more harm could a visit to the King Street area do?
She walked quickly down Hay Street passing businesses and tradesmen who were out drinking after work. She stood out like a sore thumb. A young, unaccompanied, well-dressed woman walking down the street at twilight was a sight to behold.
Gritting her teeth and pretending she couldn’t hear the jeers, calls and stares, she continued at the same pace and made it to the King Street side of town; what some considered to be Perth’s den of iniquity.
Before she reached King Street, she turned down Shafto Lane. The Lane was absolute filth. The homes and businesses were rickety, dark hovels that should not house people. Dodgy characters were loitering about everywhere. Criminals, prostitutes, vagrants and women with tiny children clinging to their skirts all interacted with one another. Only the dirt poor would live in this part of town, and it showed.
Tilly finally reached the place she was looking for. It was a little neater than all the other buildings but it was still decrepit. There was no need to knock here, she simply pushed the door open and walked in. The barman looked up and immediately stopped wiping a glass when he saw her. A man noticed and stopped to turn to see what he was looking at. Then another man noticed, and he turned. Then another man and another. Within seconds the entire group of people who were frequenting the Royal Arms Hotel had stopped what they were doing to stare at Tilly; a woman who was quite obviously out of place.
Swallowing, she feigned confidence and strode purposely through the room. Most went back to their own business but some continued to watch and whispered in the ears of their companions.
Feeling awkward, she glanced across the room and spotted him. He looked much the same as she remembered him from the first time she saw him at White City. Blonde hair, blue eyes and a real ‘rough-as-guts’ look about him.
She made her way over to the table he was sitting at and sat down on the chair opposite. He looked her over as he lifted his beer to his lips. He took a large swig, placed the glass down and began constructing a rollie. She thought back to the day at White City and shivered. He was making her uncomfortable and boy, did he know it. She began.
“Thank you for meeting me. I’m actually a little surprised that you decided to come.”
He smirked and raised his left eyebrow.
“Ditto.” He took a long draw on the smoke. “If ya don’t mind my sayin’ so, Miss, what yav been doin’ isn’t what the likes of young ladies such as yaself should be doin’. Ya stickin’ ya nose where it’s not wanted and if ya not careful you’ll find yaself in a spot of botha.”
Tilly hissed out an exasperated response.
“Don’t you think I know that, Spike. But I can’t let this go. I think you know who murdered Private Investigator Tippett and I want to get to the bottom of it.”
Tilly watched Spike closely as he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.
“He. Is. Dead. Tis all I know.”
It was pretty obvious he didn’t want to talk but Tilly still wanted answers. She stared at him. He was a tough man who regularly got into fights. If he didn’t want to tell her, then he didn’t want to tell her. She could persist. She could nag. She could beg. But in the end it would all be for nothing and she would look like the fool.
“Fine.” she said as she stood up. “I apologise for wasting your time. Good evening.”
Without hesitating she strode away from the table and away from Spike without even looking back. She hoped he was going to follow but she didn’t want to turn around and risk him changing his mind. Tilly pushed the door open, exited the building and quickly made her way out of Shafto Lane to Hay Street. Turning right, she decided to walk into Town to (as well as hopefully entice Spike to follow) find old Percy Button.
It wasn’t late and as she drew ever closer to the centre of Perth, the crowd began to thicken. It was a Saturday night. The shows would soon be finishing and the streets would be alive with the throng of people eager to return to their homes. They gathered on the footpaths in droves and this was where she would find Percy; making his money by dancing, tumbling, cartwheeling and somersaulting all over the place. Singing for his supper is what some people described it as. To the public, he was nothing more than a vagrant. To Tilly, however, he was her friend, and he also knew all the secrets of Perth. If there were any whispers or rumours about the murder of Tippett, Perce would’ve heard them.
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Circus Break
A piece written incorporating a photo of an extremely tall man, an extremely small man and a man of average height; the word snail; the words “the rhythms of Africa” and various other prompts from Catherine Deveney.
Once upon a time there was a group of men. They weren’t a group, as such, they were a twosome. Jim the Giant (named for being short) and Small Bob (named for being tall) had worked in the circus for years. They were a double act who regularly played off each other’s differences. Their agent was a suave, smooth talking man who was never without a top hat. Jonathan Barber was growing restless however. He’d taken the men and their act all around Australia and Europe but now he wanted to conquer another continent. The rhythms of Africa were calling him.
He looked up at the pair rehearsing for their next show. Bob was gallivanting around while Jim weaved in and out around his legs, occasionally pretending he was a snail. Every day they’d practice the same things again and again. They’d essentially gotten their act down pat but Jonathan began to wonder if it was enough to impress the Cape Colony. Perhaps they should try something new.
“Stop!” he yelled at the top of his voice.
He marched over to Bob and Jim with the air of a man who means business.
“I’ve been thinking,” he began, “it’s time we start doing something a little different so the audience doesn’t become bored of us. Who knows? A change might mean we break into Africa!!”
He started slapping his hands on the stage in what he thought was an African beat.
“One day we’ll even conquer the world!!” he shouted with a final large slap to illustrate his point.
Bob and Jim were the best of friends and had been for years. They had no need to check with each other to see what the other was thinking but, still, they glanced at each other and then back at Jonathan. He’d managed them for years and had always done right by them (especially as they were considered freaks by most of the public) but it was reaching a point where they’d had enough. Jonathan’s focus on global domination was getting ridiculous. Because of that they were slowly resenting him and wanted out. They were getting older and slower and Jim’s snail act was starting to look a little like art imitating life. His little legs could no longer keep up.
They had of course discussed this many times before and it was decided that Jim would speak up. He cleared his throat and spoke in a voice deeper than anyone would expect.
“I’m sorry, Jonathan. We don’t want to go to Africa and because of that, I think it might be best if we part ways.”
He said it all in a rush so as not to stumble or trip over his words. Or chicken out.
Jonathan froze and appeared to go into a dream state until finally his face began to turn pink, red and then a scary shade of purple.
“After everything I’ve done for the both of you! You ungrateful beasts! We could make millions and you want to throw it away for, for, for…nothing!”
Spittle flew from his mouth as he screamed out the word ‘nothing’. Knowing he’d made a scene, he sharply inhaled and stormed away down the aisle, kicking over a cleaning bucket in the process. Dirty, soapy water saturated the pristine carpet.