Lost & Found

Lost & Found

This is the amazing tale about the mystery of the little black notebook, a small thing that changed the lives of four people.

Right in the heart of Sydney you can take a beautiful walk through Belmore Park. There is a pathway through the park, from the grand, Central Railway Station through to China Town. This oasis is loved alike by city dwellers and visitors to the city. The park is lined with spreading trees, water fountains and supports a multitude of bird life. It is a wonderful escape from the hustle and bustle of the big smoke.

This serene place of inner-city respite is also sadly, the home for many homeless people. Some are transient, but others, through choice or misfortune, seem to be more permanent. There is one group however, who have formed a little family, living under some trees beside the pathway in the middle of the park. Let me tell you their story. The group’s members are not related but their circumstances have made them very close.

Young Jesse is only thirty and has been living here for twelve months. Jesse had it all! A great job working at the Stock Exchange had earned him a beautiful home in a beach-side suburb. He drove the latest sports coupe and had a glamorous wife. At 29 he had achieved his dreams. Then the stock market crashed, and Jesse lost it all. Losing the house and the car hadn’t hurt much. What rocked him to the core was when his wife left him for another woman! Unable to recover from that blow he turned to drink and now lives here, in the park, in a mortgage-free tent.

David is forty and has been here for five years. Financial difficulties and the death of his young daughter from leukemia had placed too much of a strain on his marriage. He and his wife could not seem to recover, no matter how much they still cared for each other. David felt that he had no other option but to leave, ending up in the park.

An attractive Aboriginal girl, Polly is the only female in this little group. Her dad walked out on her and her mum when she was 8, leaving them to struggle along as best they could with the help of Social Services and random men who her mum managed to pick up for varying lengths of time. When she was sixteen, her mother remarried a white bastard, who leaned on her mum to put her on the street. Scared of his fists and abuse her mum reluctantly agreed. Polly ended up on drugs, struggling to survive. Fortune must have briefly smiled on her when late one night, half off her chops, she stumbled into the camp. Now she too, lives with this little group. Polly makes money with her body and shares her earnings with the others.

The last one of this collection of odd-bods is old Ned. He is seventy years old and has been here for about fifteen years. Yes, fifteen years! He is the father figure to them all, teaching them what he knows about making do and staying safe. When his wife died, heartbreak and despair turned him to the drink. He still struggles. He ended up here all those years ago, a far cry from a semi-detached in Strathfield.

The day that started off slowly, but normally for the little family, was about to change. Hurrying down the path, amidst the other commuters rushing to make their connection was a well-dressed man. Well, he was half running, half walking. Old Ned laughed, “He must be in a hurry to catch his train! Be glad that you are still not one of them.”

It seemed strange for this lot, as they were never in a hurry to do anything anymore.

The man carried a leather satchel, clasped under his arm. His haste made it rub against the top pocket of his sports jacket. Jesse admired the jacket as he used to have a favourite one just like it. Unexpectedly, the satchel pushed something out of the pocket, making it fall to the ground. Unaware, the man hurried on. After the man had reached the end of the path without turning around, Jesse got up and went over. He picked up the object and observed that it was a little black notebook. He took it over to the others and showed them what he had found.

Opening it up they saw rows and rows of numbers on every page. At the end of every line of numbers were initials. Like the initials, the numbers were all different.

Excitedly Polly said, “This is just like James Bond! Do you think it could be a secret code?”

Ned gave a wry grin and whispered “You never know. It could even be a numbers racket for illegal gambling.”

They all laughed but they didn’t have a clue what it could be. “Anyway, I think it’s James Bond stuff!” said Polly “and we should leave it alone.”

That night they managed to be early and score a hot dinner from the soup kitchen that looked after the homeless people. Polly had bought them a couple bottles of wine for later, back at their camp. While enjoying a drink they started to talk about the little black book and the mystery attached to it.

David asked, “Do you think we should hand it into the police?”

“No” cried old Ned, “we don’t want them involved. Besides if this book is so important, that man will be back before long, looking for it.”

“That’s if he is still alive”, whispered Polly as she took a sip of wine and gave them a big smile.

David laughed, “So you still think this is a bit James Bond-ish, secret squirrel stuff?”

“You never, never know” she replied with a knowing grin.

The next morning, they read the newspapers they had found for free at Central Railway Station. After passengers finished reading them, they would be left on their seats, so all it took was just a short walk to gain a free paper. This was one of the handy hints that old Ned had passed on.

“There’s nothing in the Lost and Found in this morning’s Sydney Morning Herald,” exclaimed Ned.

Before he could say another word Jesse excitedly announced, “Look who’s coming?”

It was the same well-dressed man, and he was scouring the path and lawns for his book. The man stopped right in front of them. He was puffing hard and had a worried look on his face. Jesse stood up and stepped over to him, taking the black notebook out of his pocket.

Jesse said, “Hey mate, I think this belongs to you.”

The man’s worried look changed to a smile of relief. “You have saved my life,” he gasped. “I really mean it, you have literally saved my life. Thank you so very much.” Unexpectedly he took a cheque book from his pocket. He wrote out a cheque, signed it and handed it across to Jesse. The man then hurried away back up the path. Jesse sat back down with his friends and showed them the cheque. None of them could believe their eyes. The man had given Jesse a cheque for twenty thousand dollars.

“Wow!” “Shit!” “Holy Moley!” they all interjected at once.

Ned added “I hope that it doesn’t bounce!”

“Jesse, what are you going to do with it?” asked the others.

“I am going to play the stock market,” he replied with a big smile.

“No,” pleaded old Ned “you know that’s what brought you here in the first bloody place. Don’t get caught up in that rubbish again.”

Jesse stood up, “I know what I am doing this time.” He said confidently, “Finding that little black notebook was the stroke of luck that will get me out of this place and what’s more, you are all coming with me!”