A Poem for Sally by Judy Nunn

Author:Judy Nunn [Nunn, Judy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Random House Australia

The following day Reginald turned up at The Corner not long after four. He’d half-expected to find the dog there waiting for him. But it wasn’t.

Sally and Dan, however, were. Dan, eager to start his training session, produced a slim packet of dog treats from the pocket of his denim shirt. ‘Got them, just like you told me,’ he said, ‘and I checked. These are the smelly ones all right.’ He proffered the packet to Reginald, who shrank away.

‘No, no, don’t give them to me. They’re yours to share with the dog.’

‘Oh, yeah, right.’

‘You’ll need to open the packet so you have ready access,’ Reginald told him, ‘but best to keep it in your pocket where he can’t see it, so that he focuses on you and not the treats.’

Dan instantly followed the instruction, and Reginald hoped that the dog would indeed turn up. It might well not.

Then they sat on the bench, all three, waiting for the animal.

‘Reginald’s a poet,’ Sally said boastfully, filling in the time with chat.

‘How did you know that?’ Reginald asked, surprised.

‘Madge told me. She reckons you must be writing a poem about all of us.’ Sal’s gesture encompassed The Corner, where Syd the dero was having a snooze on the second of the two benches, Oskar the Pole was leafing through the newspapers in his shopping trolley, and a number of others were lounging around the cluster of wheelie bins, some with longnecks in brown paper bags.

Reginald cast a glance in Madge’s direction. Propped at her personal Otto bin, she was chatting to Criminal Johnnie while sipping a takeaway coffee, but he knew she was studying the three of them in her peripheral vision.

‘Maybe Madge is right,’ he said, ‘you’re a colourful lot.’

Sal wriggled her backside against Dan’s thigh and gave a cheeky smile. ‘Will you write a poem about me, Reginald?’

‘Yes.’ He wasn’t lying – he knew that he would. She’d become his favourite subject. He wasn’t sure why. He hadn’t figured that out yet. But he was drawn to young Sally and her story, whatever that might be.

‘Really?’ She stopped wriggling and sat bolt upright. She’d been joking.

‘Yes.’

Sal looked at Dan, her expression agog to the point of comical. She was overwhelmed.

‘You’re worth a poem, Sal,’ Dan said. ‘If I could write one for you, I would.’

They kissed.

Their kiss was so tender that Reginald felt he should look away, but somehow he couldn’t. He found them too fascinating. They’re only kids, he thought, kids from violent homes who’ve taken to the streets. They shouldn’t be living like this. Society’s abandoned them. He wondered how many others like these two might be out there. The idea seemed shocking. It’s not right.

The kiss was slowly developing a sense of urgency and hands were starting to wander, so he did look away – it seemed the decent thing to do – and there, right in his line of vision, was the dog, watching them from the laneway. Good timing, he thought. ‘He’s here.’

The young lovers broke apart, attention instantly directed to the dog.

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