(This is for NancyMay)

Meet the Pats

The morning sky was a deep ice blue and there was just a hint of crispness in the air. The currawongs, butcherbirds and magpies were creating a choral cacophony of bell-like song. Bill's face was set in his grim 'Sergeants' face, but inside he was smiling joyously. Yes, Autumn was certainly his favourite time of the year he thought as he lifted his face and inhaled the morning air deeply. If he could have gotten away with it he would have danced a happy little jig, but as always, he maintained a stoic, granite look. Wouldn't do to let anyone suspect his secret joy.

A week walking the beat! He was being 'disciplined'. Bill grinned secretly to himself. It took a fine art to mess up just the right amount. Don't get too much out of line so as to avoid a written report on his record, but just enough to earn a week of leisurely strolling about the Bathurst laneways enjoying the beautiful Autumn weather. Just as all the trees were changing colour and the weather was still fine but not too hot and not too cold. And the bonus was that 'Johnno' Johnson really did deserve that bit of a slap for the way he had treated his wife. Johnno would certainly think twice next time he was on the sauce! Two birds.

Although Bill suspected that Senior Inspector Matthew Lawson wasn't really fooled. Lawson had glared at him when handing down the punishment saying, 'A week's sabbatical for you Bill. Honestly, next year just ASK to be put on the Beat for a week!'

Ah well, maybe next year he would do that. But it wouldn't do to let them all think he ENJOYED walking the Beat – he would end up being rostered on to it permanently. At his age his feet and hips really couldn't take too much of that anymore, but no one needed to know that. No, one week in Autumn was just perfect. Almost a holiday.

His Beat took around the lake, patrolling the various 'sleep out' areas, rousing the drunks and moving them on. Then over the road and a circuit of the footy oval, checking if any of the local larrikins had left their mark. Stroll down Sturt Street past the Clarendon College to the sounds of young boys droning their times tables. He paused briefly to enjoy the wine-red colours of the old Liquid Amber tree on the corner. It was filled with screeching corellas that were stripping the tree its' seed balls and making an unholy mess.

Then a turn right, down Pleasant Street. And it was, too. Very pleasant. A wide avenue of neat white weatherboard cottages shaded by oaks, elm and plane trees. All of which were now turning various shades of yellows, russets and golden browns and dropping leaves everywhere. Bill happily shuffled through a mass of leaves enjoying the crisp, crunchy sound under his feet.

Left into Eyre Street and he would be halfway through the circuit. He just turned into the street when he heard a screeching louder and shriller than the corellas.

'Don't you dare! Don't you bloody-well dare!' sounded the high-pitched whine of a woman.

'Put a match to that and your done for Dan MacIntosh!' another

'I'll bloody well do as I please, you silly cow!' roared back a man's voice 'You lot clear off and let me to my business!'

'Silly cow, am I, I'll 'silly-cow' you, you filthy bastard!' and there was the sound of a slap, then several women screaming and shrieking foul language and threats.

Just two houses down, standing in the gutter were four middle-aged women surround a short, balding man. The man, Bill presumed it was the aforesaid Dan MacIntosh, stood over a pile of leaves in the gutter and held a leaf rake in both hands like a quarterstaff fending off the women. A stout dark-haired woman had grasped the rake and was trying to wrestle it from Dan's grasp. A young girl of about 10 or so was dancing around the pack shouting, 'Mum! Mum! Go at 'im Mum!'

Bill picked up the pace, quickly moving to the scene with a shout of, 'Oye! What's all this about! Settle down you lot, disturbing the peace you are!'

The group sprang apart in guilty surprise and turned to Bill. The child darted behind the stout woman and hid.

'Officer!' spoke an angry Dan, 'Thank Bloody goodness. Tell these wimen to leave off!'

'You leave off, Dan MacIntosh!' snarled back the stout woman. Her cronies stepped in closer to her in support.

'You silly bugger Dan! You're in for it now!' cackled one of the ladies, a stringy blond in an apron. The women sneered at him.

'Right.' Declared Bill in his best copper voice. 'Enough. What is this all about?'

All the adults began speaking at once, shouting over each other. Bill couldn't really get the gist of what was the problem, but it had something to do with the leaves. Not being able to make sense of what was being said he held his hands up and roared. 'QUIET!'

The group stopped shouting in shock.

Bill pulled out his notebook and pencil. 'I'm Sergeant Hobart. Stop messing me about and let's get this sorted. Right, you,' he said pointing to the stout woman, 'your name!'

'I ain't done nothing wrong officer!' protested the woman

'You bloody well hit me woman!' sparked back Dan.

'Quiet!' Bill glared at Dan and Dan subsided. 'Your name!' he demanded once again. The woman gulped.

'Pat. Pat Stevens.' She replied. Bill wrote it down.

He turned to the next woman. 'You?'

The stringy blond looked fearful but replied, 'Patricia DeAngelo, but they calls me Pat, too.

'Right.' Said Bill and wrote down her name. He looked at the third woman, a short, dumpy potato faced specimen.

'Pat.' She declared.

'Are you having a lend?' asked Bill incredulously. He heard Dan snicker and he shot him a menacing glance. Dan settled.

The third Pat shook her head anxiously, 'No officer, really, it is Pat, Patty Franklin.'

Bill shook his head and wrote down her name. Turning to the final woman he cocked his head at her and asked, 'Pat too?'

'Humph. Of course not! I'm Helen. Helen Gustin!' she declared.

Bill wrote her name down in relief, turned to the man and asked, 'And you're Dan MacIntosh?' Dan nodded back at Bill in acknowledgement.

'Me! Me!' Don't forget me!' said the child dancing out from behind her mother.

Bill raised an eyebrow at her and asked, 'Your name darlin'?'

'PATSY! I'm Patsy Stevens!' and she hopped up and down on one foot in glee.

'Of course you are,' muttered Bill under his breath in defeat.

'Right. You, Pat…' he referred to his notes, 'Stevens. What in the blue blazes is all this ruckus about?'

'Him and 'is bloody leafs is what its about!' said Pat Stevens with passion.

'Leaves? What is wrong with his leaves?' Bill was confused.

'Every day 'e does it! Every single bloomin' day 'e is out here raking and raking then burnin' and burnin the damn leaves!' put in Pat DeAngelo complaining.

Bill looked down at the gutter, and sure enough he could see burn marks all up and down the curb in front of Dan's house.

'Smoke gets into everything. Everywhere. Makes the curtains stink. The walls gets all sooty. It's gotta' stop.' Put in Helen Gustin.

'Makes me cough somefin' fierce.' Said Patsy with a wheezy sniff.

'I gotta' RIGHT to do it!' spoke up Dan. The women all turned on him angrily.

'Not on bloody warshin' day!' shouted Pat Stevens into his face. The other three women positively growled at him. Dan jumped back in the face of the woman's collective anger.

'Officer, we can't get none of our warshing done and hung out.' Protested Patty Franklin. 'He burned every day this week, and if I don't get me sheets out soon I'll just despair!'

'Its' been perfect warshing and drying weather all week and we can't do it because of him!' moaned one of the Pat's, Bill had forgotten which one she was. 'I'm ever so behind!'

'Every day, Ladies? He burned off every day?' confirmed Bill. The women all nodded back at him.

'You say Pat Stevens hit you, Dan?' asked Bill.

'Um, yes, well, not really.' Dan was a bit shamefaced. 'She sorta' just slapped the matches outa' me hands.' He indicated the box of strewn matches on the ground.

'So, you do not want to charge her with assault?' Bill asked. Pat Stevens gave a gasp in shock. The four women looked at each other in dismay. This sounded serious. Little Patsy's eyes got round, and she crept up and held her Mum's hand.

'No, no.' Said Dan shaking his head with a red face. 'It weren't nuthin' really. Not really a hit. But Officer! I gotta clean up all this mess! These leafs get everywhere and mess up me garden!' Dan indicated his immaculate front yard, free of any leaf or grass blade out of place.

'May I see your permit, please?' Bill held out his hand.

'P-p-permit?' stuttered Dan.

'Yes. Your Burning Off Permit.' Replied Bill. 'Surely you are aware that you need a Permit to burn anything in the open air this time of year. It's been in Courier and notices in every letterbox. Part of the new clean air program and reduced fire risk endeavour.'

The women slowly lost their frightened looks, sneaky grins began to blossom on their faces.

'Uh, I thought that was only for farm and country-folk' said Dan warily.

Bill let his face become stone. 'You do not have a Permit?'

Dan shook his head 'no'.

'Are you aware that I could charge you? It is a serious fine for burning off without a Permit these days. Could even be some jail time.' Bill let Dan stew a bit.

'ahh...' Dan just stood there with his mouth agape. 'I didn't realise…' he looked about at the grinning ladies. 'You don't want me to go to jail, do you?'

'We just want you to stop burning the damn things!' said Pat Stevens.

Bill looked at the group and considered. It was too nice a day to spend inside writing up paperwork for such a trivial matter. Call it Community Policing he thought.

'So, Dan, you are not pressing charges?' Dan shook his head no.

'And do you promise to stop burning off without a permit, so these good ladies can get there washing done?' Dan nodded eagerly.

'You ladies don't want to make any formal complaint?' Bill asked turning to the Pat's and Helen. They all shook their heads no. They just wanted to get the washing on the line!

'Fine, that's settled then.' Bill declared.

'But what do I do with all these leafs?' Dan looked at the pile at his feet in confusion.

'Mulch.' Said Bill decisively. 'Me Gran' always said they made the best mulch on the flower beds. Looks like you could use some around those roses over there.'

Dan looked over at his rose bed and nodded slowly. Maybe Officer Hobart was right, the beds did look in need of a good water and mulch. He turned to Bill and grasped his hand and gave it a hearty shake. 'Thank you, Officer! Much appreciated!'

Suddenly Bill found himself surrounded by the women and young Patsy, all wanting to shake his hand and say thanks. His arm was fairly pumped off his shoulder by their enthusiasm.

As they were laughing and shaking his hand a man came running up to street towards them calling, 'Helen! Helen! Are you alright, Helen!'

Laughing, Helen Gustin turned to the man and took his arm. 'It's all good, dear! Come, meet the man who saved the day!'

She gave Bill a cheeky grin, 'Sergeant Hobart, it would please me greatly to introduce you to my husband. This is my husband, Patrick Gustin. We call him Pat.'

….

Wild