Read Online Give the Devil His Due by Sulari Gentill - Free Book Online Page B

money, Ernie,” Rowland said, trying to sound stern.
    â€œI’d call it an equitable redistribution of wealth!” Milton laughed, handing back the shilling. “Keep it, Ernie mate, but you remember you made your first shilling off the back of a worker!”
    Ernest nodded solemnly, committing the poet’s words to memory. “Where are we going, Uncle Rowly?”
    â€œI thought perhaps we might catch the ferry across to Manly.”
    â€œCan we go to the Fun Pier?”
    â€œI don’t see why not.”
    Ernest beamed. “That’s so very kind of you, Uncle Rowly!”
    They left the Mercedes at Circular Quay and boarded the ferry to Manly, standing on the deck and taking in the glorious blue of the harbour on a clear day. Ernest pointed out landmarks and described them with potted histories as if Rowland and Milton were first-time visitors to the city. He told them of the day the Sydney Harbour Bridge had been opened, forgetting entirely that he’d seen it all from Rowland’s shoulders. Being a Saturday, the ferry was full with weekend trippers to the state’s premier seaside venue. The sea air seemed festive, a cheerful anticipation of sand and sunshine.
    The Fun Pier itself was a crush of families and sweethearts strolling arm in arm.
    â€œKeep your eyes peeled for pickpockets,” Milton warned as he glanced sideways at a band of youths moving through the crowd. Rowland grabbed Ernest’s hand and kept him close. They rode the Ferris wheel first, and then watched as Ernest took a turn on the carousel. They split up to race through the mirror maze, accepting the tin medals awarded at completion with gravitas and acceptance speeches. Once they’d been through every exhibit and entertainment at least twice, they left the Fun Pier for the Shark Aquarium next door. That done, the party of three found a table at Burt’s Milk Bar which stretched across the wharf frontage.
    â€œMay I have a milkshake, Uncle Rowly?” Ernest asked, having seen the American fad drink advertised on sandwich boards outside the milk bar.
    â€œIf it’s not a cocktail,” Rowland said, signalling a waitress. She assured him there was nothing stronger than flavouring in a milkshake and recommended the Girvana Sling for him and Milton. Apparently it was a specialty of the house.
    â€œSo what part of the Fun Pier did you like best, Ernie?” Milton asked as they enjoyed their respective beverages.
    â€œThe Ferris wheel, I suppose. The mirror maze was smashing too!” He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “The wax museum was appalling, don’t you think?”
    â€œIt wasn’t that bad, surely,” Rowland protested, defending the handful of wax fairytale characters out of some vague inexplicable sense that it would be impolite not to do so.
    â€œIt was pretty poor,” Milton confirmed.
    â€œThe statues weren’t frightening at all, and nothing looked real,” Ernest complained.
    â€œI do believe Madame Tussaud’s has made your standards a little high,” Rowland said wryly. He had taken Ernest to the iconic waxworks when they were in London the previous year. Expecting Tussaud’s at Manly Beach was probably optimistic.
    The boy’s deep blue eyes brightened on mention of the London wax museum. “Remember the werewolf? He was my favourite!”
    â€œI thought you were frightened?”
    â€œI’m seven years old now, Uncle Rowly,” Ernest replied fiercely. “You’ll find I’ve grown up quite a lot. And I do like being scared.”
    â€œIt’s a shame Magdalene’s is closed,” Milton sighed. “Plenty of ghouls and monsters there. Guaranteed to frighten even men of Ernie’s advanced years.”
    â€œIs it closed?” Rowland asked, forgetting about his nephew for a moment.
    â€œI expect so… after White.”
    Rowland frowned. “That was a couple of days ago. They