Mike Dixon

„I‟m told this was a popular place with the Americans dur-
ing the war.‟ He handed the print to Clary. „I‟m writing a
book on the war years. I‟m interested in the Island View and
the girls who worked here.‟
Clary examined the print.
„What‟s the matter with „em? Don‟t they „ave any clothes
on?‟
„The photo has been trimmed a little,‟ Humphrey replied
with a twinkle in his eye.
„It‟s been what?‟
„It‟s had the bottom cut off so you can‟t see what they‟re
doing.‟
„Oh ...‟
Clary stuck his head forward and took another look. He
was about seventy – too young, Humphrey figured, to have
had any direct involvement in what went on in the Island
View in Doris‟ days.
„Perhaps you might know someone who was here during
the war – someone who might recognize the young ladies.‟
Clary slipped his hand in his pocket and crinkled the banknote
Humphrey had just given him.
„Yeah … I might.‟
„I‟ll pay.‟
Clary considered the proposition.
„All right. I‟ll see what I can do.‟
He left and Humphrey heard him go downstairs and bang
on a door. There was a brief silence followed by female voices.
They sounded ancient in the extreme – the sort of age
the Curtin Girls would be if they were still around.
Humphrey left the room and peered over the balcony. In
the hall below, Clary was speaking to three elderly women.
He could make out little of what was being said but one
thing was certain: the photograph was causing a lot of excitement.
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