as well, I figured that before too long they’d expect me to jump into bed with them all. So, I left whilst the going was good.
I was invited to go out to the movies with a fellow whose name escapes me. I had nothing better to do, so we went to the local pictures. I wasn’t particularly interested in the fellow or the movie for that matter. So, at interval when I met up with two friends whom I hadn’t seen for a while, I was only too pleased to stay with them and talk. We walked up the hill towards the cemetery away from the pictures on the other side of the road. We recognised a car, which belonged to another local bloke whom we all knew fairly well. The car was unlocked and one of us suggested that we should sit in it and talk in comfort. We saw no reason why we shouldn’t have been there we weren’t doing any harm just sitting and having a chat.
We were there for about twenty minutes or so when another fellow, Paul, whom we all knew, came staggering up the hill. It was obvious he’d been drinking but he was harmless enough and in good humour. He came over to the car and started talking to us. All of a sudden, the fellow I’d come to the pictures with, came up and accused me of two timing him with Paul. There was a lot of yelling and swearing and Paul threw an empty beer bottle, which hit the car smashing the window.
The old lady in the house nearest where the car was parked called out that she was calling the police. Everyone scattered and ran to the milk bar opposite the theatre. The police car arrived and of course no one knew anything about the car up the road being broken into. I hid behind the majority of the crowd but it didn’t do me any good. I heard Tony’s voice say, ‘The young lady standing in the back there, I’d like to have a talk to you, would you step this way please.’
Very sheepishly I walked out onto the footpath and Tony said in a hushed tone, ‘Righto, Amelia, what’s the story?’
Out of fear, I stammered, ‘I don’t know, Tony. Honest to God I don’t.
‘Don’t give me that, love. I can’t help you unless you help me.’
I confessed that I had been sitting in the car but I wouldn’t say who else was there other than that two guys started to fight and one of them threw a bottle.
He said, ‘Baby face is in charge of this, I’ll give him the information and I’ll get you home, away from all of this.’
I didn’t know if to cry with relief or cry with fear because I was relieved to be out of the mess. Being driven home in a cop car was going to be a bit difficult to explain to Edith and Dad. Tony drove me to the top of our street and as he pulled up, he said, ‘I could lose my job for doing this, Amelia, by rights I should take you directly home and speak to your parents.’
I promised him faithfully that I’d never tell anyone and I kept that promise. The following morning, I was walking past the local taxi rank on my way to meet a friend when a car full of demons (detectives) pulled up alongside me. One door flew open and the biggest Bull cop I’ve ever seen, growled,
‘Are you Amelia Long?’
Amelia ‘Y … y … yes,’
Bull cop ‘Get in the car.’
Perhaps I had seen too many Edward G Robinson films
Amelia ‘I don’t even know who you are. You could be gangsters for all I know.’
Bull cop ‘Don’t be a little smart arse.’
He grabbed my arm and dragged me into the big black car. They drove me home, and on the way, they told me that Sgt Neilson’ (Baby face) had found my diary which had fallen out of my handbag in the back of the car. I had also left a beautiful black cardigan with silver lurex thread through it, which I’d borrowed from Edith. Neither of which, was ever returned. I’ll bet London to a brick, that the Bull’s wife wore that for a long time.
I found out later that Tony had tried to stop Baby Face from contacting the Demons but to no avail. His co-workers hated Baby Face, as much as the teenagers who lived in the area hated him. Because I wouldn’t name names, the Demons wanted to charge me with wilful destruction of property, which of course would have resulted in me being sent into a girl’s home, if I was found guilty. That was a big possibility. The only thing that stopped them was the little old lady who had rung the police. She had told Tony that I had tried to break up the fight. It didn’t matter a hill of beans that I was innocent, or that I was a victim of circumstances, my mother and father judged me guilty, and that alone was punishment enough.
Years later I rang police headquarters and found out that Tony was still in the force and had been promoted to sergeant. I went to the station where he worked, and we had a good long chinwag over old times. He hadn’t changed one iota he was still a lovely bloke. He even confessed that he had been interested in me and would have loved to have taken me out. But as I had suspected, my age had been a big deterrent. He also told me that Baby Face had had heart surgery and that the doctor had replaced his heart valve with a pig’s valve. We both pissed ourselves with laughter when I exclaimed, ‘How appropriate.’ I thought at the time what a pity the Queensland Police Force couldn’t clone Constable Potlick. In the last twelve months I ‘tracked down’ Tony and I was given his mobile phone number. I rang him and we had a lengthy chat. He had become an Inspector and had retired many years previously. I asked him why he had chosen the alias Potlick and he replied that was my wife’s maiden name. He had given me enough information about his life that I was able to work out that he was twenty-eight years old when I was fifteen! My lifetime of wondering what my life would have been like if I’d married him was shattered in that lengthy phone call as I realised how close I came to a possible predator!
I became a bottle blonde and quite a few people commented that I looked like Doris Day. I tried to pretend that they were exaggerating, but I secretly thought I did too and every time she changed her hairstyle, I’d try and copy her. My only wish was that I could sing as good as she could and have the money she was earning. Bridget Bardot, Marilyn Monroe, Diana Dors and Jayne Mansfield were enjoying the limelight as sex
sirens. Two girlfriends, Lesley and Veronica, who lived around the corner from my grandmother’s home, talked me into allowing them to dye my hair ash blonde like Jayne Mansfield. It didn’t matter that I didn’t look like Jayne Mansfield or for that matter I didn’t even have long hair. Veronica honestly believed that she looked like Bridget Bardot and would tell people to call her Midget Bridget. Midget was about as much like Bridget Bardot as Jerry Lewis looked like Elvis Presley. Anyhow she and Lesley, equipped with the correct blonding emulsion, fervently went to work to perform a miraculous transformation of my crowning glory. They added the precious purple drops to the liquid, as the instructions stated. Carefully wiping the mixture on my head almost strand by strand, they chatted away animatedly telling me how good it was going to look, and then the chatter became muttered whispers. I heard Lesley issue instructions to try some water and Midget whispered back, ‘No that’s not right.’ A bit more whispered muttering and I eventually asked, ‘How’s it looking does it look okay?’ More mutterings and Lesley exclaimed, ‘Shit, Amelia, its purple.’
I laughed and said, ‘Don’t bullshit. Is it looking alright?’ Midget said, with urgency in her voice, ‘This is no bullshit, mate, your hair has turned purple.
‘Quick get me a mirror.
Lesley took the little mirror off her bathroom wall and handed it to me. I stared hard into the mirror and blinked hard, as I tried to focus in the dimly lit room. My hands poured with perspiration as I witnessed my crowning glory in the deepest shade of mauve I have ever seen. I cried out not caring who heard me, ‘Oh shit, one of you race down to the shop and get a bottle of peroxide quick.’ Midget said, ‘It’s after eight o’clock, they’ll be closed,’ I said, ‘I don’t give a stuff if they’re in bed fast asleep, you just get me the bottle of peroxide or you’re going to be bald.’ Lesley took off and was back within five minutes with two bottles of peroxide and we poured the contents of one over my head and kept rubbing it through my hair until all the purple turned yellow.
Two days later my grandmother took me into an exclusive hairdresser on the fourth floor of the Penny’s building