Read In Lonnie's Shadow for Free Online

nightcart man. But she was far less sympathetic about his bumps and bruises than he’d hoped for, brushing off his injuries. ‘Yer soft chump, you’ll live.’
    She seemed much more interested in his grumbles about Thomas Crick. ‘Funny you should mention the right honourable. Wait till you hear what I found out.’ The tittle-tattle started pouring out of her mouth by the barrow load. ‘While I was at the Big House the other night, I came across him. And wasn’t he all hot and bothered about an upcoming horse race through the streets of Melbourne, blathering on no end about some gents who are wagering a lot of money on the outcome. He let slip that Lightning is running, but he ain’t going to win.’
    ‘Everyone knows Lightning’s never been beaten,’ Lonnie said, as he took in what Pearl was telling him. An illegal race through the streets held after the hotels closed was not so unusual. They’d even been known to race pigs once or twice. But Lightning set to lose meant someone was up to mischief. A race fix. So who was going to win? He quizzed Pearl further.
    ‘Know any more?’
    She shrugged. ‘Only that it’s late one Saturday night. Starts at the Exhibition Building, past Parliament, down Bourke Street and up Swanston, turning and ending back at the fountain. That’s all I know. You should be able to find out more, considering you work for the Cricks. It would be good if you discover who’s going to win, then I could have a bet myself.’
    Lonnie knew Pearl needed a break. Finding some money quick smart would see her free of her debt. And she had given him something to think about, what with Lightning being involved, although he hadn’t heard a breath about this at Golden Acres.
    ‘I’ll keep an ear open.’ He brushed off any more conversation, agreeing to meet Pearl later that evening on the promise of hot, battered oysters.
    For the time being he had some unfinished business. First up the horseshoe pin, which thanks to his good sense was back safe and sound in his pocket.

    Auntie Tilly lived within cooee in a nearby laneway called Cumberland Place. Her house had wooden shutters the colour of dark chocolate on each side of the front window, and would have been a canopy of gloom without the glass shone daily to a mirror and a central window box spilling out peppermint daisies and the promise of lilac remembrance.
    Her welcoming door always stood open. Like all the unruly doors of Little Lon, over the years its scarred timber had twisted so the door never properly closed. It took a kind-hearted woman like Tilly Palmer to turn this weakness into a neighbourly welcome.
    Fresh cooking smells of hot jam and buttered dough greeted Lonnie as he came in. He was one of many in the neighbourhood who had spent their childhood wandering in and out of Tilly’s home. No matter what time of day, there was always a bite to eat laid out on the snowy tablecloth. Piping hot plates of currant pastries. Freshly baked oatmeal rounds made with a teaspoon of honey and a dollop of laughter. It gave Tilly great joy to feed the children of Little Lon. Not that she didn’t expect good manners.
    ‘What do you say?’ she would ask if Lonnie forgot his, stretching out her hand and clipping him across the earhole with a sting that made him hear bells ring.
    He took the few short paces into the simple kitchen of gully trap, table and netted cupboard strung up high to deter the rats. With her back to him, Tilly was not aware of his arrival, or so she made out. Trying not to let on, he crept up and tied her apron strings to the leg of the table. Sometimes unknowingly she had walked off dragging a piece of furniture behind her. It usually put a smile on her face. This time she must have felt the slightest tug. She raised her head in surprise. ‘Lonnie duck, I’m not in the mood. Untie me now.’
    ‘What’s up, Auntie?’
    She smoothed down her apron with indignant strokes.
    Lonnie held out a closed hand. ‘This’ll cheer you