‘A lady should not be harassed by a German.’
‘Harassed? Who is harassing? The lady is the mother of my pupil. I came to greet her and Matthew. Who is harassing?’
At other tables people had become interested.
‘Great heavens.’ Margaret looked about frantically. ‘Great heavens. This is frightful.’
‘Yes, frightful to be so intruded upon. Surely even a Hun can see when a lady is upset. You would like this creature to leave, my dear?’
‘No. I. Perhaps …’
‘You want him to go, at once, now, don’t you?’ He advanced on Mr Werther, who did not move.
‘No. I. Perhaps. Better …’
‘But, Mother, Mr Werther is my friend.’
‘No, Matthew. He can’t. I’m afraid. Impossible.’
‘Hello there. What’s all this?’ And Edward was there, looming over them all. His bulk interposed between Mr Werther and the man in the tight collar.
‘Edward,’ said Matthew. ‘This is Mr Werther. They want him to leave. They are being unkind to him.’
‘Mr Werther, eh?’ Edward beamed. ‘How do you do? Matthew’s friend and the brave man who will not cross the road. Is that right?’ Mr Werther smiled, a gentle smile, which born in his beard travelled toward his ears where it curled around comfortably and sweetly.
‘Who wants him to leave?’
‘That man.’ Matthew pointed and stopped. ‘He was next to Mother. He’s gone. He always has a brown suit, Edward, and a tight collar and a tiny tiny laugh. And he asks me questions outside school and at The Stump.’
‘Whoa, quietly.’ Edward squeezed his shoulder. ‘He’s just a ubiquitous fellow.’
‘What is that?’
Edward laughed. ‘Someone who seems to turn up everywhere I go. Such fellows are a nuisance but nothing to worry about. Now, Mr Werther, please take a seat. You’d like a piece of cake?’
Edward pulled out a chair but Mr Werther remained standing.
‘Perhaps not.’
‘Of course you would. You’d like Mr Werther to join us, wouldn’t you, Margaret?’ He smiled the smile that seemed to embrace all of life in a huge loving hug. Margaret’s glance skittered around the tables. It bounded from face to face. Each watched avidly.
‘Of course,’ she whispered faintly. ‘Of course.’ But her eyes looked beseechingly, first at Edward, then at Mr Werther.
‘Then that’s all right, isn’t it? Come, Mr Werther, sit down. We’d be honoured.’
Mr Werther smiled again and put a hand gently on Edward’s arm. ‘No, my friend. Not today. I have things I must attend to.’ He patted Matthew’s head, bowed with courtly courtesy to Margaret and with his usual sparrow hops bobbed between the tables and out of the restaurant.
‘How could you, Edward? How could you?’
‘How could I what, Margaret?’
‘How could you subject …?’
‘A fine friend, Matthew. You’re lucky. I wish I had had such a kind teacher. How privileged we are in Australia to attract such gentlemen, such cultured, gentle gentlemen.’
And Edward looked all around the circle of tables, his voice loud, his smile as tight and tough as the muscled arm with which he sliced himself a piece of chocolate cake.
Edward escorted them home. Margaret silent, walking quickly; Edward whistling. Matthew ran to keep up. Sometimes he glanced at Edward who grinned and winked.
‘Mother, please, I can’t …’
She yanked at his hand. ‘Don’t argue.’
‘I wasn’t. I …’ Edward leaned down and scooped him into his arms, then slid him across his shoulder so he was riding piggyback.
‘Whoops,’ Edward called and galloped past Margaret down the road.
One look and Gran said nothing. Margaret disappeared into her room; ‘To change,’ she said icily. Gran filled the teapot and set out cups.
‘What happened to the Lady Sheba at the docks on Saturday night?’ she asked Edward.
‘Someone put a couple of bombs on her and up she went like one of Drake’s fire ships. Luckily no one was aboard—the poor fellows would have been incinerated. McCorkell and his police thugs turned up at the Union office the next morning looking for the arsonists.
‘There we were, Gran,’ Edward chuckled. ‘Them on one side of the room with their guns and us on the other with our baling hooks. “Shoot just one man, McCorkell,” I told him, “and we’ll spill your guts all over the wharf.”’
‘“We want the arsonists!” McCorkell shouted. “The ones who blew up the Lady Sheba last night.”
‘“Then go and look for them in the boss’s office,’ I told him. “Everyone knows the owners were broke and wanted the insurance.”
‘“You bloody anarchist liar!” he yelled at me.
‘I heard my men growl, the pack when it’s threatened. He heard it, too, and backed off. I don’t blame him. I’d rather die from a bullet than a baling hook in my stomach.
‘“We’ll get you, Edward Kingsley! We’ll get you! Remember your twelve mates in gaol, who tried to burn Sydney down. We got them. Twenty-five years. You’ll rot like them.”
‘“Grr,” I said. “Get!” I couldn’t resist it. I lifted my baling hook and ran at them. They belted for the door and got jammed up trying to beat each other through. I slammed my hook into the door jamb and I’ll swear one of them moaned.’ Edward slapped his hat on the table and roared with laughter. Gran laughed with him. ‘Oh, Edward, it wasn’t wise.’
He shrugged impatiently. ‘I know, Gran, but I get tired of them bullying. Everywhere I go. They’re there following, pimping, pricking, prying, spying, goading. It’s only human to retaliate sometimes. You should have seen them.’ He laughed again.
‘Seen what? What are you two chortling about?’ Margaret sat down at the table.
‘Seen poor Matthew fall off his chair.’
‘But you weren’t …’
‘He told us about it—just now. Right, Matthew?’
‘I don’t believe you,’ she said flatly. ‘You and Mother are conspiring again.’ She sounded weary. ‘Great heavens it was hot in town today. I don’t know why I went. I’m exhausted. If only Victor doesn’t cough tonight or have one of his turns. To have a night of uninterrupted sleep. Sometimes I
