The Boys from Binjiwunyawunya (33 page)

Norton took a hefty swallow and nodded slowly, without changing the expression on his face.

‘Well,' beamed Warren. ‘What's it taste like?'

‘Rat's piss. With a dash of pineapple flavouring.' He took another sip. ‘No, hold on. I think it's tom cat's piss. With turnips in it. Or is it potato peelings?'

‘Ohh you'd have to say that wouldn't you — you nark. It's sparkling white wine with pure mango juice.'

‘Mango! Listen mate...'

‘Yeah yeah. I know. You come from Queensland and they invented mangoes in Queensland. And if there's any mango in there...'

‘Yeah that's right. You can shove that six-pack up my arse.'

‘After three days in Long Bay it'd probably fit.'

‘What was that?'

‘All I know,' said Warren, pointing to the six-pack, ‘is that St Kilda Kooler's going to be a big seller. And the kids are going to love it.'

‘Oh of course they will,' snorted Norton. ‘By the time you unscrupulous pricks have finished with them. They'll be brainwashed into thinking it's uncool not to drink this crap.'

‘That's right,' grinned Warren. ‘There mightn't be a market there. But we'll soon create one. You should be in advertising Les.'

‘And what's your ad going to be like?' asked Norton sarcastically. ‘Dawn shots of horses galloping along the beach in slow motion. Bored looking bags in bikinis wearing big sunglasses. Pretty boys in white sports coats with their sleeves rolled up to their elbows. What about a few slim young men in dressing-gowns? What's the new image Woz? Tell us mate I'm all agog.'

‘Actually, we're shooting it in Melbourne. We're using a big Aussie Rules player.'

‘Well that figures,' sneered Norton. ‘Aussie Rules players'd drink this shit.'

‘Well they're not all beer-swilling thugs like you League players. Or should I say ex-League players?'

‘You've got me again Woz,' conceded Norton. ‘There is definitely no matching your rapier-like wit. Anyway,' Les picked his tuxedo jacket up from where it was sitting on the back of a kitchen chair, ‘this beer-swilling thug has to go to work and punch a few heads in up the Cross.'
It wasn't long after Les had let everyone know he was at work that he and Billy Dunne were standing outside the door, waiting to welcome the punters and discourage the mugs. Billy finished the apple he was eating and turned to his taller workmate.

‘I rang you a couple of times to see if you wanted to go for a run. But Warren kept saying you were out. What've you been up to?'

Norton grinned sheepishly down at the footpath for a moment or two before turning to face Billy. ‘If I tell you,' he chuckled awkwardly, ‘you promise you won't laugh?'

‘Well,' Billy had to think for a second, ‘I won't promise. But I'll certainly do my best. Where were you?'

‘I was in Long Bay cuttin' out a warrant.'

‘You were what?' The ex-prizefighter screwed up his face as if he didn't quite believe what he'd just heard.

‘I was in Long Bay. I went in Monday arvo, and got out this morning.'

‘How much was the warrant?'

‘Fifty-three bucks.'

‘How much?'

Billy didn't laugh, he almost cracked up. He fell against the wall behind them clutching at his ribs as he tried to get his breath; tears were starting to squeeze out of the corners of his eyes. Several patrons entering the club and a number of passers-by thought he was having a violent asthma attack. Finally he managed to regain his composure.

‘Fair dinkum, Les. Give me a break,' he gasped as he massaged the aching sides of his throat. ‘You're unbelievable. Does George know about this?'

‘Not yet,' replied Norton. ‘The fat cunt's going to have a picnic when he does though.'

‘Is he what?' chuckled Billy. He shook his head as if he didn't quite know what to say. ‘So what happened? What'd the coppers just catch you out in your car or something? Why didn't you ring one of us. You wouldn't have gone out there just to save fifty-odd bucks, would you?' Billy gave Norton a suspicious look. ‘Surely?'

Norton shook his big red head and had to look away. ‘I'm almost too ashamed to tell you Billy,' he chuckled.

Norton told Billy how he came to be in Long Bay. He didn't say anything about what happened out there, just that in retrospect he wished he hadn't done it and he swore he'd never do it again. When Norton had finished Billy didn't
quite know whether to laugh or cry but he settled mainly for laughter. He wasn't all that amazed, though, because most of the outrageous things Norton did had ceased to amaze him long ago — especially where it concerned money.

‘Fair dinkum Les,' said Billy. ‘You are unbelievable.'

‘Yeah,' agreed Norton. ‘I certainly have my moments at times — don't I? But like I said, Billy, I don't think I'll be doing it again.'

‘No. Long Bay's a prick of a joint ain't it. I spent a week in the remand yard out there on an assault charge. Years ago.'

‘Did you?'

‘Yeah. Price squared it all up for me. That was about when I first met him. Does he know you were out there?'

‘No.'

‘Christ! Wait till he and George find out. Hey you're going to have to let me do the lead up work when we knock off for a drink. It'll make Brennan's week.'

‘Fair enough,' grinned Norton. ‘Go for your life. I deserve all I get anyway'

The night went fairly uneventfully, as Wednesday nights usually do. Not even a cross word let alone a push and a shove or a fight. By three-thirty they had all the punters and most of the staff out and were seated in Price's office having their customary after-work drink.

Billy winked across the top of his bourbon and Coke at Norton sipping on a Fourex before turning to George.

‘Hey George,' Billy said slowly. ‘Have you heard about Les's latest little effort?'

‘No,' replied the corpulent casino manager. ‘What's the big goose been up to this time?'

‘It concerns money.'

‘Money.' This was George's cue. Immediately his ears pricked up and a grin spread across his face. ‘Hullo. What've you done this time Les?' he said, looking directly at Norton. ‘You found a box of corn plasters, so you bought a pair of shoes a size too small for you?'

‘Worse than that George.'

‘His mother visited him over the weekend and he hid her false teeth so she couldn't eat between meals.'

Billy turned to Norton. ‘I think you'd better tell him Les.'

Norton looked up at George. ‘It was nothing really,' he sniffed. ‘I've been out in Long Bay since Monday cutting out a traffic warrant. That's all.'

‘You what!'

‘He went into Long Bay for three days,' chortled Billy, ‘rather than pay a $53 fine.'

Brennan's jaw dropped. He stared firstly at Billy, then at Norton. ‘You miserable big prick. Is he fair dinkum?'

Norton nodded his head impassively.

Suddenly Price sat bolt upright in his chair and even the normally reticent Eddie Salita came to life in the corner.

‘Hey hold on a sec Les,' he said, tapping his index finger on the desk. ‘What you do in your own time is your business, but I don't like the idea of my employees spending time in the can. Bit of an explanation here son. And it better be good.'

Once again Les told his story about how he came to be in Long Bay and what it was like. Again he didn't mention the fight with Chopper or the sweeper's envelope, but the way Norton was telling the story and the inferences to his meanness had the others cracking up. With a bit of prompting he told them a few more things, especially about Max and his being sprung by Bernie Cottier and him promising to help train the kids this coming Saturday. But mainly, only for George's sake, Les made out he did it rather than pay the $53.

‘So that's about it George,' concluded Norton when the laughter was replaced by amazed looks. ‘It was a piece of piss to tell you the truth. I'd do it again any time.'

Price closed his eyes and rested his head back on his seat. ‘I'm completely lost for words.'

‘Me too,' added Eddie.

Billy remained silent but Brennan was nowhere near finished. ‘Les Norton,' he intoned, ‘you are without a doubt the meanest man in Australia. Possibly the world. You wouldn't help a blind spider back to his web.'

‘Whatever you say George,' shrugged Norton indifferently. ‘But one thing I do know.' He winked slyly across at Billy and pulled exactly $53 out of his coat pocket. ‘They never got my money though — did they George?' Norton waved the money at the others before putting it back. ‘And there it is. Right bloody there,' he added, giving his pocket a pat.

Nobody could think of anything to say, except George. ‘Well good on you Les,' he sneered. ‘Whatever turns you on. Now what are going to do with it? I'll bet you you don't spend any of it.'

‘I won't either. Don't worry about that,' agreed Norton.
‘This'll go straight into the Building Society.'

‘Yeah bullshit. You'll probably bury it.'

‘I might even do that too,' shrugged Norton.

‘Hey!' An excited look came across George's face. He grinned and turned to Price. ‘Remember when the big hillbilly first started work here? He hadn't been down from Queensland all that long and you told him to back that horse of your's. The two-year-old. Poker Face.'

‘Yeah. I remember,' smiled Price. ‘We almost had to put a gun to his head to get him to have a hundred on it.'

‘That's right,' chortled George. ‘His hands were shaking and he was sweating like he had malaria when he handed over the money. And it got up at 12–1. And Les had thirteen hundred dollars in his hand. He near shit himself. And you said to him, I suppose you'll put that straight in the bank Les? And the miserable big prick said, “Ohh I don't know, I think I might hold on to it for a while. I don't trust banks.” I don't trust banks. Hah!' George was laughing almost fit to burst.

‘So?' Norton shrugged his shoulders. ‘I still don't.'

There was silence for a few moments then George got up dabbing at his eyes. ‘I'll tell you what, Les,' he said while he was getting drinks all round. ‘Are you fair dinkum about going out there again rather than pay a fine?'

‘Bloody oath!' Norton nodded his head enthusiastically, slipping Billy a wink at the same time.

‘Well next time, see if you can get a cell with some dirty old lag doing life.'

‘Why's that?'

‘'Cause while you're there, you can get him to root some sense into that empty big red head of yours. Fifty-three bloody dollars. Fair dinkum — you are a wombat Les.'

Norton smiled and copped it sweet. And with the big Queenslander the butt of a few more jokes they stayed drinking till four-thirty then locked up and went home.

Apart from Billy giving a young drunk a backhander on Thursday night and Les having to cop a bit of a bagging every now and again, the rest of the working week went smooth as honey. Les and Billy did their training in the daytime and Warren was too involved in his agency's new campaign, getting home late every night, for Norton to see much of him either. George Brennan's football team, the Balmain Tigers, had just lost their third game on the trot and looked like missing out on the semis, so Norton had a little bit of
ammunition to fire back at the overweight manager. Although George lived near Bondi Junction he originally came from Rozelle and was still a red-hot belligerent one-eyed Tiger supporter and loathed it whenever his team lost. However, Norton wasn't really in the mood for any verbal jousting when they finished work on Friday night. He still had his promise to keep to Bernie Cottier early that morning so he left the others to have a drink without him and came straight home.

Bernie was all smiles at Waverley Oval when Norton arrived, still a little tired from not enough sleep and still a little hungry from not enough breakfast. The big prison guard had taken a slight advantage of the situation also. Besides Bernie's team there were three others, plus a horde of parents and the other coaches. By the time Norton finished talking, lecturing, shaking hands with parents and teaching the kids his way of tackling, plus getting tackled about one hundred times himself and watching the teams go through their paces afterwards, it was getting on for one when they finished. Then Bernie and the other coaches insisted on shouting Les a few beers at the bowling club across the road, where they ended up swapping old football yarns and swallowing schooners till three. Norton generally didn't like drinking through the day, especially if he had to go to work that night, and he wasn't all that pleased with himself when he arrived home around four still tired and still hungry. The Kentucky Fried Chicken he'd bought on the way home was a bit greasy too; but he tore into it and crashed out till six-thirty.

It was just as well Warren wasn't home when Norton got up because with his headache and indigestion Les was about as much company as Frankenstein as he stumbled half asleep between the bathroom and the kitchen. It was just as well there was no trouble at work that night either, because Norton would have been about 50–1 on to thump first and ask questions later. In Price's office after work the big Queenslander was almost nodding off over his first can of Fourex as he told the others about what sort of a day he'd had with Bernie and the kids and all that.

‘So. It's been a bit of a big week for me,' he concluded, after finishing his beer. ‘In fact I might make this one cobbler's.' He tossed the empty can in the office tidy, stretched and yawned. ‘About the only thing I've got to look forward to is knowing that Easts will beat Penrith. And Manly'll flog the shit out of Balmain.'

‘You want to make a bet on that, bloodnut?' cut in George Brennan quickly.

‘No.' Norton gave his head a tired shake. ‘But I will have a bet with you next week, when Easts play that motheaten team of yellow tabby cats you're silly enough to follow.'