Private Sydney (Private 12)

‘Well?’

Johnny explained that the plumber across the road thought he might be able to help.

The man stepped onto the verandah. ‘Did he now? If you ask me, that kid rules the roost. Carries on a treat every time he goes out.’

Johnny followed and clarified the reason for his visit.

The old man eased himself into his chair and pulled reading glasses from the pocket of his shirt. He gestured for his visitor to sit – on the cat’s chair.

Instead, Johnny squatted at his feet and handed over the woman’s picture first. The old man breathed loudly as he moved his chin up then down a little.

‘I’ve seen a lot of people in my time but not that one.’

Johnny passed him the man’s image.

Frank repeated the chin dropping. This time he grunted on the exhale. A gnarled finger tapped on the page.

‘This one. Reminds me of someone.’

Johnny pulled out his notebook. ‘Who?’

‘This one has more hair. Same beady eyes though.’ He lifted his finger and pointed. ‘Used to live on that old vacant block. Before the place got knocked down. Fella’s been dead years though.’

Johnny sighed. He could try the other houses but suspected they weren’t going to give him answers. He thanked Frank and made a move towards the footpath.

‘You young people. Always in a hurry. You miss all the good by rushing past it.’

‘Sorry, sir, but I have to keep door knocking.’

‘I haven’t finished. The bloke I mentioned. Well, he had two sons. Twins if I remember, born just after my wife died. 1970.’

That would make them in their forties. Johnny stepped back up, this time sitting on the edge of the cat’s chair.

‘Do you remember their names?’

Frank smacked his lips. ‘Gough and Whit. Have you ever heard such nonsense? Bloody communists. If you ask me –’

It was pretty clear they were fans of the former Prime Minister, Gough Whitlam. If nothing else, they could have been registered members of the local Labor Party branch.

‘And their surname?’

‘Oh. Let me think.’

The cat appeared and began to meow at Johnny’s feet.

‘Or where they ended up?’ John

ny tried.

‘Gough made a fortune out of paper cups of all things. The other one was pretty witless, from memory.’ He chuckled and coughed at the irony. ‘Became a gardener, I think, up Newcastle way.’

‘Do you remember anyone called Gus from the street? He’d be around the same age as the twins.’

Frank rubbed his stubbled chin again. ‘Now that rings a bell. They had a cousin who hung around them like a bad smell in summer. My grandkids used to play with them. Don’t know what it is with those people but this kid was named Alexandrus. Can you believe it? Alexandrus Wallace. No wonder everyone called him Gus.’

Chapter 45

I ANSWERED JOHNNY’S call before the second ring.