‘Sergeant Furey!’
Vera Anderson, the pinched-face, skinny clerk hisses at me from across the counter. ‘You can’t go in there. Mayor Jessop is involved in a very important meeting.’
Vera Anderson is always sour. I reckon it’s because she’s never had a bloke to take care of her. I don’t actually know if she’s ever had a bloke; I’ve never seen her with one. Now that she’s in the twilight of her thirties, time is running out for her.
I reckon she would be a lot nicer to people if she had a bloke.
‘This is important police business. I’m sure he won’t mind if I duck in for a minute.’ I’m forceful but polite.
‘But you must know that this is highly inappropriate, Sergeant Furey,’ she argues.
I’ve got better than things to do than stand around and listen to her prattling on.
‘Excuse me,’ I growl. I push on past her, and head down the corridor towards Jessop’s office. She manages to dart ahead of me and knocks on his door first.
It doesn’t open.
‘You need to give it a good whack. Here, I’ll give it a go.’ I nudge her away and thump. After a while, the door flies open.
The mayor looks a little crimson in the face. ‘What…on…earth…’ he stumbles over his words. ‘What…is the reason for this interruption? I’m preparing for a very important meeting. Miss Anderson, what is the meaning of this?’
I…I don’t really know,’ she stammers. ‘The sergeant said it was vital that he see you, a police matter.’
‘I won’t take up much of your time,’ I interrupt.
Jessop frowns. ‘Can’t you see I’m busy? Can’t it wait?’
‘No, it can’t. Best if we talk inside. Where we can’t be overheard. What I have to say is best kept between the two of us,’ I reply.
I can tell he’s worried. ‘I have Colonel Reynolds coming in here soon on a critical matter,’ he mumbles.
‘Well, that’s good. He can fill me in as well.’
Jessop’s mouth drops open. As I brush past him, I feel like warning him to close it before he swallows a fly. He slams the door shut.
I sit down without invitation opposite his big wooden desk.
‘This is highly inappropriate,’ he bleats. ‘I’ll be contacting your superiors.’
I have no patience for nonsense. ‘Sit down, Jessop, we need to talk.’
The thinning curls on the crown of his head spring up in spite of all the brilliantine trying to hold them down, and they jiggle as he speaks. He looks like a wet poodle.
He proclaims, ‘Some respect, please! I’m the mayor of this town! How dare you!’
I cross my legs. ‘How about you sit down and tell me all about the new dance hall? I hear you’re in it a lot deeper than you’re letting on.’ I want to laugh as Jessop goes from blustering blowfish to stunned mullet in an instant. ‘Sit down!’ I bark.
He returns to his desk and sits quietly but doesn’t answer straight away. He looks like he’s trying to find the words, the right ones, the ones that won’t dig him in deeper. His mouth is flapping soundlessly.
I prompt him. ‘I hear that you’ve put quite a few quid into this dance hall and that you expect to take quite a few out. And you were front-and-centre when the vote was taken, speaking up about its merits. Seems the only thing that you forgot to mention at the town meeting was that you were the one financing it. Got me to wondering: is that allowable in your position?’
‘Yes… No… Well… Perhaps there was a misunderstanding about my role in it,’ he begins, ‘but this is war, and the rules have changed.’ He lights up suddenly. ‘I didn’t want people thanking me personally for it. I think the troops deserve all the comforts of home.’
‘Right. So, the dance hall’s providing a service.’
He nods. ‘A service to servicemen, you might say.’
‘What I think you really mean is that you see a business opportunity in it,’ I throw back, ‘and you’re cashing in. On the war…’
‘Oh, no…’ he begins. ‘I wouldn’t say that.’
I watch him quiver. ‘I understand perfectly. Some people sacrifice their entire lives to fight wars, where others stay warm and dry, and reap the rewards.’
He sucks in air like a pair of bellows. ‘How dare you! How dare you insinuate…’
‘It’s all right, whether you’ve done the right thing or not, I don’t really care. If you want to get involved in dodgy business ventures,’ I reply, ‘go right ahead. But what I do care a lot about, is what will be happening in and around the dance hall.’
‘Meaning what?’
I tell him about Mr Sharman and his troupe.
Jessop rolls his eyes. ‘So what? They’re just the entertainment, Furey. They’re singers, come here all the way from Sydney.’
I shrug. ‘And does that entertainment involve them lying on their backs and collecting a few quid at the end? You see, Jessop, what you call entertainment, I call pandering.’
‘Oh, come on,’ he replies indignantly, ‘that’s most presumptive of you. Just because they’re singers, doesn’t mean they are…professional women.’
‘Prostitutes, you mean. I’ve seen my fair share of them and I’m not being presumptuous, Jessop, I’m being realistic. They don’t look like singers to me.’
‘For God sakes, they’re the entertainment.’ His eyes twitch more than a rabbit’s whiskers. ‘You were a soldier, you have to understand. Stop being a wowser, Furey. This town could do with a bit of livening up. It’s been dead for far too long.’
‘Which brings me to my next question…’
Without warning, the door opens and Colonel Reynolds marches in. He appears surprised that I’m with the mayor. He throws a glance at Jessop.
‘Sergeant Furey.’ The colonel shakes my hand. ‘What a pleasant surprise. I’m still waiting for your next visit out to the base.’
And I’m still waiting for your invitation.
‘I’ll come by, once everyone settles in,’ I return.
Jessop’s eyes are flying between my face and Reynolds’s. ‘So you two know each other?’
He’s put out, like a bloke who just spotted his wife out on the arm of another man.
‘Comrades-in-arms. We fought in the same battle in the last war,’ Reynolds replies.
And then just realised that the man he spotted her with is her brother.
‘That’s good then, Colonel,’ Jessop continues. ‘The sergeant was enquiring about the dance hall. You two can have a soldier-to-soldier talk and explain all the benefits.’
‘You know about the dance hall?’ Reynolds says with surprise. ‘It was supposed to be kept under wraps until the grand opening. I don’t want my boys finding out too soon. It might distract them from the job at hand.’
‘But you don’t have a business interest in this like the mayor?’ I enquire.
‘Of course not, Jack,’ Reynolds replies, ‘that would be highly improper. But the United States Air Force has provided some logistical support.’
‘So, is this going to be open for all personnel?’ I push.
Jessop shakes his head. ‘Just Americans.’
‘Really? And how do you reckon that’ll go with the Australian personnel? My advice to you both is, don’t do it.’
‘Jack, the Australians have their own facilities, so I think we deserve ours,’ Reynolds argues. ‘Our boys should be allowed to have somewhere of their own. A reminder of home.’
‘I’m sorry, Colonel, I have to disagree. The Australian canteens are open to everyone.’ I can tell he’s building a wall, even as I speak. ‘Come on, this is our country, you blokes are the guests here.’ I’m having trouble hiding my anger.
‘I’m sorry it upsets you so, Jack,’ he replies, ‘but I think you’re overreacting.’
‘Fine. We’ll see.’
‘Well your boys will have to accept it, or our MPs will arrest them the minute they step out of line. Just remember, we’re providing the bulk of the manpower and supplies, Jack. We deserve our comforts. Australians have to get used to how Americans do things.’
‘Then you better get a lot more MPs in. Some of our blokes are coming back from the Middle East. They’ve just been fighting the Afrika Korps; they’re tough soldiers. They won’t be taking any bullshit from a mob of MPs. Good luck, trying to turn them away.’
‘I tell you, you’re overreacting, Jack, they’ll be fine. There’s plenty of entertainment for your boys elsewhere.’
He lays a hand on my shoulder, but I brush it away.
‘You have to accept how we do things,’ he continues. ‘I accept that you’re worried about peace and good governance, but the thing is, it’s not peacetime. You’re going to have to cut us some slack. This is war. It’s different now.’
‘So I keep bloody hearing. I tell you what, a seedy dance hall and a bunch of mattress commandoes to service your blokes in my town—I never thought I’d see the day.’
‘They’re not prostitutes,’ Jessop interrupts.
‘Right, they’re singers. Pull the other one, Mayor Jessop, I didn’t come down in the last bloody shower,’ I growl as I uncross my legs, stand up and head to the door. ‘You haven’t heard the bloody last of this.’
‘Everything is going to be all right,’ Reynolds assures me as he follows me to the door. ‘Come out to the base for a drink. Let’s talk this through. We can sort this out between you and me, soldier to soldier.’
So, you think I can be bought for a beer and a steak.
‘No thanks, Colonel. I’ve got to see a man about a dog.’
‘What?’
‘You work it out,’ I reply.