Before the Storm by Sean McMullen Read Free Book Online Page B

Street it is, Danny Boy, except that I expect you want a return tikky. Funny cove, don’t know why he didn’t get a return tikky when he came out ’ere. Oi, remember that postcard wot I showed you a while back?’
    Daniel blushed at once.
    â€˜Yes, the, er, artistic photograph of the, er, French girl.’
    â€˜Yeah, well, old man Aitkinson’s got a new bundle in and he says that they’re amazin’ly artistic. I got some old ones, an’ I thought, like, you’d like ’em for sixpence. That’s tuppence each, a real bargain.’
    â€˜You mean three?’ asked Daniel, torn between alarm and curiosity.
    â€˜Yeah, look, I got ’em ’ere. See, she’s takin’ ’er bathin’ costume off, and ’ere’s one sittin’ on a swing – that’s a good one, she’s showin’ the lot. And lookey, two sittin’ on a barrel. That’s two for one card, a penny each at tuppence, you know?’
    The whistle of a train sounded in the distance. Daniel glanced about, saw that nobody was watching, tried to convince himself that he had to buy the three postcards so that Barry would not become suspicious, then handed over his sixpence. That left only one other sixpence for emergencies, but then Daniel had got a strange feeling of satisfaction from spending Emily’s money on filthy pictures. Moments later he found himself on the platform with three French postcards in his coat pocket. He sat down and raised a newspaper he had taken from the rubbish bin, even though the train was approaching. The train chuffed into the station and stopped. Daniel waited until Fox was making for a carriage before he lowered his paper, got up, and hurried to board the train.
    The engine blew its whistle, then chuffed into life. The stations came and went, and people boarded and left the train. Daniel imagined that each and every one of them could see through his jacket to the postcards that were in his pocket. Some German doctor had invented rays that could do just that. He had heard his father talking about it. The German machine could even see through women’s clothing.
    â€˜Roentgen Rays or something,’ he whispered to himself, then wondered if any other passengers might be carrying a machine that could generate them. What was that rhyme about them?
    They see through corsets, lace, and stays
    Those naughty, naughty Roentgen Rays.
    Daniel felt for the three incriminating cards in his pocket. Why bother with my dirty postcards when there’s real women to look at? Daniel assured himself with a guilty glance about the carriage. Two rather serious-looking men wearing top hats were staring out of the windows, while a strict-looking middle-aged mother sat between two daughters of around sixteen. Both girls were studiously staring at bibles, but neither had turned a page in ten minutes. Do girls dream about boys who have their clothes off? Daniel wondered.
    It seemed an eternity before they reached the Richmond railway station. By now literally everything was suggesting women to Daniel’s tortured imagination.
    Sweet lass of Richmond Hill
    Sweet lass of Richmond Hill
    I’ll crown design
    To make you mine
    Sweet lass of Richmond Hill.
    The words of the song sounded so loudly in his mind that Daniel was sure the other passengers would hear. None gave any sign of doing so, however. Daniel tried to distract himself by recalling that the original Richmond Hill was in England. The train chugged away from the platform, and soon they were approaching Flinders Street Station.
    Daniel waited until he could see Fox on the station platform before he got out of the carriage. He followed the youth out of the station, then watched him walk down Swanston Street and turn into Flinders Lane. That was not a very respectable area, according to what his mother said. Tailors and dressmakers had workshops there, along with artists and loose women. This must be where the