The Story of Danny Dunn (63 page)

Helen winced as she realised that her role in these grand plans would be as Danny's handbag. If this were the case, she intended being a crocodile-skin grip with a sharp snap, at the very least.

Askin paused and looked around, a boyish grin on his face. ‘There, I can't remember ever having pissed that deeply into anyone's pocket. Well, not since my last meeting with Sir Frank, anyway.'

The dinner table erupted in laughter and this last admission probably did more for Bob Askin's credibility than the somewhat overblown praise that had preceded it.

‘Bob, Helen and I live here and have no intention of moving, but to stand for the Liberal Party would be tantamount to suicide in Balmain.'

‘Oh, of course! We understand. The idea would be to find you a safe seat somewhere else. Just agree to come on side and leave those details to me.'

Danny glanced over at Helen, hoping to get some unspoken reaction. In a barely noticeable gesture she lowered her eyes and shook her head. They were in agreement, so there would be no argument later over the decision he was about to make. ‘Bob, while I am extremely flattered by your invitation to join and your offer of a safe seat, I am a Balmain boy and I am to be judged by the promises I make to my own people. I sink or swim by what they decide.'

Askin was silent, his chin on his chest. ‘That is disappointing, truly disappointing, Danny. If you change your mind, will you let me know?'

‘Of course, and thank you, Bob. Thank you also for your candid and open briefing, especially your willingness to accept Helen and me into your party. I regret I can't accept and I assure you what has been said here tonight won't go beyond this room.'

Askin was doing a fairly good job of hiding his annoyance. ‘Danny, you must understand any power you will have as an Independent will be minuscule; you will simply be a spare part in the engine room of politics.'

‘Then we must hope that the engine might have occasion to break down once in a while,' Danny replied.

Askin paused. ‘Pity. You would have been good – all the makings of a minister, in which case the things you want to achieve become a lot easier.'

After the last of the guests had departed, Helen made Danny a mug of Milo, their usual bedtime drink. ‘Darling, I couldn't have said it better, but I'm not sure we made a friend of Mr Askin. Do you think that part about being a minister with the power to change things was shorthand for “don't expect any help from us”?'

Danny laughed. ‘You know what I kept thinking when he made the offer?'

‘What?'

‘That if I accepted a safe seat I'd be corrupted even before I got into parliament.'

‘Looks like a rocky road down Brokendown Street, mate.' Helen sighed. ‘Do you think we've done the right thing?'

Danny grinned. ‘Growing up in Balmain, you start negotiating with the big boys in the playground in primary school, just to be allowed to eat your own sandwiches. The trick is to get elected; after that, I'll have to learn how to negotiate eating my own sandwiches with the people who run the show.'

‘You've positively made up your mind, haven't you?' Helen asked one last time.

‘Not to be a politician, but to be someone who brings about change.'

Helen knew that look. Danny's next obsession was building faster and faster. He had always been his own man – in a sense, always an independent – he would make it work; he always did.

Two days after the Askin dinner, Danny walked into Franz's office and flopped down in the old leather club chair that his partner had found at a Point Piper garage sale and of which he was inordinately proud – ‘Touch of gravitas, mate, scruff marks and all. Where could you buy one like that outside an Englishman's club?'

‘You mean they have garage sales in Point Piper?' Danny had quipped back.

‘Yes, when they have to throw out the worn Persian carpets,' Franz had laughed.

Danny had to admit it was comfortable; perfect for an afternoon nap. ‘Got a moment?' he said.

‘Not really, but in your case I'll make an exception.' Franz grinned.

‘Haven't seen you since the dinner at my place. What did you think?'

‘What about? Askin? My mum's cooking? Which reminds me, she phoned to say she'd left a saucepan behind. Will you bring it in?'

‘Yeah, sure. No, I mean, what did you think generally?'

‘Generally speaking I'd say you turned down a bloody good offer. Christ, Danny, he almost guaranteed you a minister's portfolio.'

‘Yeah, to sleep with the devil.'

‘And with Labor you're on the side of the angels?'

‘Well, no, but I'm standing as an Independent. My vote goes with whatever is the right thing to do.'

‘C'mon, Danny, you're not naïve; your vote is meaningless if the party in power has a clear majority.'

‘Yeah, I know, but —'

‘But what?'

‘Mate, I have to go in on my own terms. I might get lucky and it will be a close election and then I'll be able to make my presence felt.'

‘It's a lot to hope for. What if it's a landslide?'

Danny shrugged. ‘I'm only doing it for one reason and that's what I wanted to talk to you about.'

Franz glanced at his watch. ‘How long will it take? If it's changing Balmain, we've talked it out before and I have nothing more to add —'

‘To your cesspool argument . . . yeah, I know, but there's been a new development.'

‘Mate, I'm meeting a property developer for lunch.'

‘This is about the same thing – can you cancel?'

‘No, I bloody can't! Jesus, Danny, we're just starting to make real money and you're talking of abandoning ship. Someone's got to stay at the helm. You can't practise while you're in politics, which leaves me and the two students we've got from law school. It effectively halves our income.'

‘But I won't be taking any money out, we'll live on my parliamentary salary. Helen's also bringing a bit more home from the pub, although it doesn't yet match her uni salary. But it will, and soon. That's what I want to talk to you about.'

Franz sighed. ‘I can't miss this lunch – the project is potentially huge!'

‘Yeah, okay, but the one I'm going to talk about could be bigger.'

‘Bullshit, Danny! Stick to wives and children, and leave the conveyancing to me, will ya?'

‘You going to listen?' Danny demanded, not in the least put out by Franz's protests.

‘You've got exactly half an hour.'

‘Righto, now don't interrupt, no wisecracks, just listen – okay?'

‘Yes,
mein Herr
!'

Danny began by telling Franz that Brenda had bought the twenty-eight houses in Brokendown Street, but got no further.

‘So it's genetic, is it?' Franz said with a laugh. ‘Errors of judgment or plain stupidity – which is it?'

‘Franz! You promised. No smart-arse remarks!' Danny said. ‘And wipe that superior Hebrew smile off your face.' He then outlined the political campaign to come, explaining that renovating the houses – or some of them, anyway – would demonstrate what could be done.

‘Look, Danny, I'll give it to you straight: it all sounds pretty flaky to me. You can't just go around and change the social demographic of an entire suburb!'

‘Why not? I thought you approved of my going into politics?'

Franz drew back. ‘Mate, don't confuse me with Josef and Hester. My mum and dad didn't even mention it to me before Dad saw you here. It wasn't my idea — Jesus! I gotta go!'

Franz grabbed his briefcase and crossed the office.

‘When will you be back?' Danny called.

Franz propped and turned to face him. ‘When you're over your nervous breakdown!'

‘My office, four o'clock!' Danny said.

‘Yeah, okay.'

Franz returned around three-thirty. It may have been the half-bottle of wine he'd had at lunch, but he seemed in a better mood as he entered Danny's office and assumed his usual perch on the desk.

‘Good lunch? Did we win?' Danny asked.

‘Does a bird fly?' Franz said flippantly, the alcohol showing. He was usually pretty circumspect about his clients, his well-known discretion winning him more than a few contracts from the big end of town, where the development business wasn't always strictly above board. Franz, for instance, knew more about the getting things done between pollies and private individuals than did Danny. An appropriate contribution to election funds was the semi-honest way of getting a minister's ear, while the euphemistically named ‘brown envelope' – a more personal contribution in return for influence – was so common with the incumbent Labor government as to be almost routine.

‘So, are you too pissed to resume our talk?' Danny asked.

‘You know, you never give up, do you, Danny? Balmain has been chugging along for well over a century. It was designed to be a city dump – somewhere to put all the utilities and mess-makers in one inner-city industrial location and service them with the poor, who are not entitled to clean air, or to notice stink and abomination, as long as they're given a sufficient serve of bread and circuses to keep them thinking they're happy. Up the fucking Tigers!'

‘Yeah, I told you all that, but it can be changed. Look, I've got a proposition to put to you, one that could make us all rich, though that's not why I'm doing it.'

‘While your contributions to this firm can be said to be important, making us all rich hasn't been one of them to date.'

‘I guess you're right – it's not something I think about a lot.'

‘Well, if every battered wife and abused child pro bono had been fee paying, we would be. But pro bono-ing the entire peninsula is going a bit bloody far.'

‘Franz, it's not me you have to back, it's Helen and Brenda.'

‘Yeah, well, that's another thing. Helen has just given up a secure job with a guaranteed pension to run a pub, something she knows bugger all about. Your mother wants to retire, your dad isn't exactly a ball of energy, you're standing as an Independent with no power to change anything in the next election, and you're asking me to become involved?'

‘Mate, I know it doesn't look good on paper —'

‘Good? Shit, Danny, there's not a single thing about it that's sound business or even basic commonsense!' Franz, who usually drank very sparingly, suddenly lost his temper. ‘You're supposed to be bright, but this is the dumbest bunch of decisions I've seen in years! And just when things are looking up for the firm. We've got a more than enviable reputation for disputation and criminal law, and you're prepared to throw the whole lot away to save a recalcitrant fucking suburb from itself! This time, Don Quixote, there are too many windmills at the top of the hill, your lance is blunt and you're riding a donkey that's exhausted! If ever there was a well-named project it's Brokendown Street!' Franz snapped. ‘What you need to do, mate, is go and see Craig Woon, now that he's a fully qualified psychiatrist, and get yourself certified!'

Danny looked calmly at Franz. ‘Balmain is in better shape than the prison camp.'

‘What's that supposed to mean, for God's sake?'

‘It means this is not the hardest thing I've ever had to do.'

Franz gave Danny a look of bewilderment. ‘You
really
believe you can pull this off, don't you?'

‘Yes, but we need your help.'

‘Mate, I'm getting close to being rich. For a Jew that's just another word for “safe”. It hasn't been easy, but nowhere near as hard as it's been for my parents, who educated me and have a right to see me meet their expectations. Now, along comes some dumb Irishman with a proposition that is guaranteed to make me poor again!' Franz spread his arms. ‘What do you expect me to say?'

‘You'll never know unless you give it a go. If it looked easy, then everyone would be doing it. You have to see it differently. See the harbour not as a cesspool but as potentially one of the prettiest stretches of water in Sydney – quiet, tranquil and a stone's throw from the centre of the city. Under the crud lies a paradise. Things are looking up; we've finally recovered from the Depression and the war; there is a new upwardly mobile young generation emerging; this new contraceptive pill is going to change things for women; even Pineapple Joe is changing from men's suits to T-shirts. Can't you see we're paddling like mad but there's a good wave behind us, a big one, and if we catch it, it will take us all the way into shore?'

Franz sighed. ‘Danny, what do you expect me to say?'

‘Not say, do.'

‘Okay, do?'

‘Franz, you don't have to invest in it, though I think you'd be a fool if you didn't, but I want you to sit on the board, be the chairman. We need your know-how.'