Ghost River by Tony Birch Page B

guess.’
    â€˜You sell papers in there?’
    â€˜Never stepped foot in the place. That bloke who just got in the car, just now is the first time he’s bought a paper from me. Usually sends a kid down to the shop of an afternoon for his paper.’
    Sonny’s job kept him so busy Ren was soon helping him out at the newsstand as well. At the end of the school day Ren would race home, drop his bag in his room and head down to the station. Passing by the Reverend’s house he’d often find Della sitting on the front verandah reading from a book. It looked just like the Bible the Reverend had held in his hand in the stable. Her mother would be sitting nearby, also reading, and there was no chance for Sonny to talk to her, which he’d been desperate to do since the day they’d spoken in the lane.
    From the day Sonny started his job he developed a work ethic that hardly seemed possible. He even lectured Ren on the best approach to selling newspapers.
    â€˜You will need to be here when it’s busiest, so you have to come straight after school. And it’s important that you learn to smile at the customers. That helps a lot, specially with the women buying magazines. He held up the latest copy of Woman’s Day , with a picture of Elizabeth Taylor on the front.
    â€˜Brixey’s been doing this for most of his life and he told me that hard work is number one in the newspaper business. Manners is number two, and a smile is close third. People are buggered after a day’s work. The last face they want to see on their way home is one that looks like a smacked arse, Brixey says. And it’s the best way to make tips.’
    â€˜How much you earn on tips?’
    â€˜Depends on the night. Thursdays, pay-night, is best, followed by Friday when people are out on the street. Early in the week it’s not so good, especially in the pub. Most of the drinkers are near broke, and a tip would cut them out of a beer. If the Truth didn’t come out on Tuesdays it wouldn’t be worth showing up. It’s dead.’
    The boys played handball against the wall under the rail bridge while they waited for the trains to pull in to the station. When one arrived they worked fast, selling the afternoon Herald and magazines to the workers pouring from the trains. The Truth newspaper, which came out twice a week, was a bestseller. It carried pictures of topless women and stories of girls who’d been caught by police in the back of a car or a telephone box, sometimes naked with an older boy. The stories were not all that different from each other. All that changed were the names and locations. It didn’t matter that none of the stories were actually true. They were read religiously.
    Ren would recite the stories aloud to Sonny as he sat on a stack of newspapers, smoking a cigarette and nodding his head up and down like he knew what was coming next. Ren had only started reading a story about a Fourteen-year-old topless girl discovered in wardrobe when Sonny interrupted him.
    â€˜I bet a dollar she comes from St Kilda.’
    â€˜It don’t say that here. There’s no address with this one. It says her name’s Ursula. That can’t be a real name.’
    â€˜Don’t matter if it says where she comes from or not. I bet she’s from St Kilda. Things are different on the other side of the river. You been over that way?’
    â€˜Nah. You?’
    â€˜Nup. Maybe we could go sometime? You can catch a tram to the beach. And to Luna Park. It’s over that side of the city too. I heard they have river boats and caves at Luna Park.’
    â€˜A real river?’
    â€˜No, a fake one.’
    â€˜We don’t have to go then. We got our own river.’
    Ren also helped out by dropping a bundle of newspapers on the front bar of the pub next door to the station, The Railway Hotel. On the way back to the paper shop they’d call into the pub, collect the takings and