One Sunday night Dennis just didn’t go back to the orphanage. Shirl would sing out ‘Dennis’ when the Welfare came looking for him and he’d run and hide at his neighbour’s house across the road: Stella, she had a three bedroom house that was one bedroom downstairs and two bedrooms upstairs, and she used to hide me upstairs and then her backyard used to look over on to our place, and Stella used to look out the window and she’d wait, ‘cause she could see when the Welfare would walk out of our place, she could see because, very rarely did you see cars coming up and down the street in our area, because no one could afford it, and people are dressed up in suits and things like that, that just wasn’t on. And she’d give us the nod, and Shirl would get the nod and send me back over. He marveled at Shirl’s knack of knowing when the Welfare was coming. Once she got her family back, there was no way she was handing anyone back to them again. Eventually she convinced the authorities to let him stay despite their objection to the overcrowding. Dennis was in his early teens. This was the beginning of his days running amok in Newtown.
History repeats Dennis guessed this was around the late 1950s, by which time Dadda lived with a new young family in Redfern. Dennis would often visit his younger siblings there. Dennis liked to tell a beloved family story of little Tom – no older than two – streaking in the back lane. Dennis would laugh as Tom jokingly groaned, ‘you had to tell it didn’t you?’ My sister’s got a favourite story she always tells. Because Skin used to go over and babysit at Dadda’s a lot. Tom had a bad habit – he’d take all his clothes off. He’d run out the back, he’d see that gate open, and I don’t know why before he run out he’d take all his clothes off. He’d scoot out that gate and he’d be runnin’ up the road and Skin would sing out, You mongrel bloody coot, get back here! Skin said she’d be chasing him up the lane and he’d be off. Oh it was funny!
16
