An Iron Rose Read Online Free PDF Page B

dropped out of school at the beginning of the year. I knew Ned had tried everything to prevent it happening but the boy became withdrawn and Ned gave up. I think his fear was that Lew would end up running away, as his mother had.
     
    ‘School.’ Lew took on a wary look. ‘I’ve got to shower.’
     
    ‘Hold on, mate,’ I said. ‘Ned asked me to look after you. That doesn’t give me any rights. But I want you to know what I think, okay?’
     
    He didn’t look at me. ‘Okay.’
     
    ‘Leaving school at sixteen is for people who for some reason don’t have any choice. That’s not you. I want you to think about going back.’
     
    He screwed up his face. ‘Mick says I could be a pro.’
     
    ‘Millions of kids want to do that, Lew. Maybe it’ll happen. But give yourself some other options.’
     
    He looked at me for a moment, in his dark eyes something I couldn’t read. ‘Got to shower,’ he said and left the room.
     
    I’d done my duty. Ned would have wanted me to try, but pushing it wouldn’t work. I wasn’t much and I wasn’t family but I was all Lew had now and he was at the age when the testosterone and the self-doubt turn some boys into unpredictable explosive devices. I couldn’t be a parent to him. The best I could hope for was that he would value my friendship, trust me. I had always been comfortable with him, liked the dry sense of humour he’d got from his grandfather’s genes and example. From the moment he came into my house to stay on that grim early morning, he’d fitted into the routines of the place. He helped out without being asked, washed clothes, vacuumed, made fires, cooked. By Ned’s account, Lew’s life with his mother had been anything but easy. You could read some of that in his self-contained manner, but he was still just a boy in most ways.
     
    I started work on supper: beef and vegetable stew. Open freezer door, take out two portions of beef and vegetable stew, made two weeks before. Place in microwave to defrost. Open bottle of beer. All the while I was trying to recall myself at Lew’s age. But I couldn’t remember where I’d been then, the places came and went so quickly.
     
    I took the beer to the sitting room, lit the fire and switched on the early television news. A man with a face immobilised by cosmetic surgery said: Heading tonight’s bulletin: Victoria goes to the polls in five weeks. The Premier, Mr Nash, today called a snap election fourteen months before the end of the government’s term.
     
    James Nash appeared on the screen seated next to his deputy, the Attorney General, Anthony Crewe, who was the MP for these parts. Nash was short and balding, with a worried expression. His suits had an inherited look. Crewe, on the other hand, looked like the advocate you want to plead your case to an all-female heterosexual jury: sharp features, smooth hair, dimpled chin. He had a wry, knowing smile and his suits lay on him like a benediction.
     
    ‘The Nash government hasn’t been afraid to take the hard decisions,’ the Premier said. ‘We’re confident that the people of Victoria value that and want us back for a third term of office.’ He didn’t look at all confident.
     
    ‘Premier,’ said a male voice, ‘how do you react to allegations within your own party that this election is designed to stave off a leadership challenge from Mr Crewe, the Attorney General?’
     
    Crewe smiled his wry smile and said, ‘I’ll answer that if I may, Premier. Mr Nash has my complete support and loyalty. There is no leadership challenge, election or no election. I’m happy to repeat that as many times as you want me to.’
     
    The rest of the news was the usual line-up of accidents, strikes, bomb threats and businessmen in court, concluding with the heartwarmer: a man had rescued a guinea pig from a burning house.
     
    Lew was silent during our meal but I couldn’t feel any tension in him, so I didn’t make an effort to talk. When we’d finished, he said,