The Godson (44 page)

Liam and Patrick listened to their story, shouted them another two beers then said goodbye and returned to the others with the round of drinks.

‘What was all that about?' asked Logan.

‘Lads,' replied Liam, as he and Patrick placed the beers on the table. ‘You're not going to believe this.'

W
ITH ANY SORT
of luck the train might be late, thought Les. With any sort of luck it might have been derailed and not turn up at all. But no. For once the New South Wales Railways had its act together and the 2 pm to Brisbane was right on time.

It hadn't been the easiest thirty minutes or so for Les waiting at the station drinking coffee and softdrinks. He was truly sorry, even sad, to see Alison go. The little waitress from Brisbane had not just plucked at Norton's heartstrings, she'd almost torn them out. It seemed like they'd been together a lot longer than just one night. But it wasn't the end of the world. She'd possibly be down again next weekend and he had her phone number. He could ring her through the week. Now it was time to go. She took her battered overnight bag from Les as they joined the last of the people waiting to board the train. Standing in the crowd, tiny Alison seemed even smaller and the lead weight in Norton's chest seemed to get heavier.

‘Well, I guess this is it, big Les.' Alison wrapped her slender arms around Norton's waist and gazed up into his eyes.

‘Yeah. I guess it is, big Al.' Norton held her tight, wanting to crush her into him. She reached up and kissed his lips and Les thought his sadness was going to engulf him when he felt her warm teardrops on his cheek.

‘Gee, I'm gonna miss you, Les,' she said.

‘And I'm gonna miss you too, Al,' replied Norton. ‘Like you wouldn't believe.'

They kissed again, then when they looked around they were almost the only people left on the platform. An ominous voice called in the distance. ‘All aboooaaaard.' Alison stepped up onto the train, tears staining her cheeks. She let go of Norton's hand and gave a tiny wave.

‘Hey, how are you going for chops?' said Les. Alison shook her head. ‘Money. You sweet for dough?'

‘Yes. I'm all right. Don't worry.'

Yeah, I'll bet, thought Les, looking at her battered overnight bag and worn shoes. He pulled five hundred from the back of his jeans and stuffed it in the front of Alison's.

‘Hey, I don't need this,' she said, and started to pull it out.

Les pushed her hand back down. ‘Keep it,' he smiled. ‘Get me a Brisbane T-shirt and bring it down with you next week-end.' Alison was about to say something when a whistle blew and a second or two later the train jolted forward.

‘Goodbye, Les,' she blurted, the tears really flowing now.

‘Goodbye Alison. You look after yourself. I'll ring you through the week.'

‘You promise?'

Norton had to start walking alongside now to keep up. ‘Of course I promise.'

Norton kept walking alongside the train till he was almost jogging. Alison gave another wave and Norton's last memory of her was the tears blending in with the look of complete helplessness on her face. Then she was gone.

Norton gave a last wave as the train pulled out of the station then joined the few other people walking back to their cars. Well, what a bastard, he thought. Little Alison was one in a million, even if she was a bit young. Oh well. He kicked at a stone laying on the road. No good moping around like a lovesick puppy, I've got to get back out to the farm and make sure Peregrine's all right. But as he slowly walked back to the car Les knew it was going to be a very sad and quiet old night back at Cedar Glen.

There was a chemist open a few doors up from the bottle shop where Peregrine had bought all the imported beers. Les got some cotton wool and bandages, Codral Reds and a jar of Icthyol. He told the chemist what had happened and he needed to knock Peregrine out for a good ten hours. Could the chemist…? The chemist slipped him six Normison without a prescription. Les left thirty dollars on the counter and a wink. As he was leaving he almost bumped into a small balding figure who had come in to pick up a prescription for his loving wife.

‘Mr Norton,' said the figure.

Les looked up from his purchases. ‘Oh. G'day Benny,' he replied quietly. ‘How's things?'

‘Very good, Mr Norton. Actually this is good bumping into you like this. It saves me a trip out to the farm.'

Norton looked quizzically at his old landlord. ‘Why? What's up?'

‘Oh nothing. Just that some English people were in town today, inquiring about purchasing Cedar Glen. I'd like to bring them out to inspect the property on Wednesday. You and your friend wouldn't mind?' Norton shook his head. ‘Good.'

‘English blokes, you say, Benny?'

‘Yes. Three nice gentlemen. Interested in investing in property around this area.'

Norton nodded despondently. He wasn't really in the mood for talking to anyone, least of all Benny Rabinski. ‘Yeah, righto. I'll see you on Wednesday, Benny. So long.'

‘Goodbye Mr Norton.'

The bottle shop was open. Les got a bottle of OP rum. He passed a fruit shop on the way home, and he got some more Coca Cola, a capsicum and some garlic. Before long he was back at Cedar Glen.

Peregrine was still in his dressing gown, sitting in the barbecue area sipping a bottle of champagne.

‘You're up and about, mate,' said Les, placing what he'd just bought on the table. ‘How are you feeling?'

‘Still absolutely wretched,' replied Peregrine. ‘I just got sick of laying in my room.'

‘Yeah, well you'll be okay in the morning. I got all the goodies right here.'

Peregrine gave the bandages and that a scant look. ‘You got young Alison away all right?'

‘Yeah. Two o'clock train. Right on time.'

‘Young would be the correct word there, too. My God, Les. How old was she?'

Norton got a Becks from the fridge. ‘Well, she tried to tell me she was fifteen, but I went through her bag while she was asleep and found her school bus pass. She's fourteen.'

‘Fourteen! Good Lord. Have you no shame, man? That's absolutely disgraceful.'

‘Ohh, I wouldn't say that,' grinned Les. ‘I had a pretty good night actually. Anyway you needn't talk. What about those two schoolgirls you had back in your room at Coffs Harbour? And nothing less than an orgy too, I might add.'

‘They weren't jolly fourteen.'

‘Yeah? So you tell me.' Norton took a good sip of beer. ‘Anyway, get into that champagne, Pezz. I want you nice and drunk tonight. You hungry?'

Peregrine shook his head. ‘I still don't think I could eat a thing.'

‘Well I'm going to barbecue myself a steak while I have a few beers. Then I'll fix up your back.'

Norton got his barbecue together, giving Peregrine a bit of a rundown on what happened the night before, encouraging the Englishman to get stuck into his bottle of Veuve Clicquot at the same time. While he did Peregrine told Les how Colleen drove him home, but he was entirely too ill to do any business, so she left, saying she'd call around through the week. When Peregrine had finished the champagne, Les started applying him liberally with OP rum and Coke. The Englishman complained bitterly, stating that he wasn't a midshipman on Nelson's flagship, but after a while he got the taste for it and they began sliding down a bit more easily. He watched with mild amusement as Les chopped up the garlic and the capsicum, then screwed up his face in disbelief when Les pushed the plate of it over in front of him.

‘And just what on earth is that?' demanded the Englishman.

‘That,' smiled Norton, ‘is garlic, nature's antibiotic. That will help to kill any germs and shit in your system. The green thing is a capsicum. It's packed with vitamin C. That'll build up your resistance. Wash it down as it is with rum and Coke.'

‘Oh, bloody wonderful. Then what's next? You dance around me with your face painted, rattling bones and chanting to keep away the evil spirits?'

‘No. I keep filling you full of rum then I rug you up and put you to bed with six sleeping pills under your belt. You
won't move for ten hours, sweating like a pig with all the rum and vitamins racing around in your system.'

‘Oh, good God.'

‘Ah yes,' said Norton. ‘But that's not all. I cover your back in black-zinc and that draws all the poison and inflammation out of you. Mate, you won't know yourself in the morning. You'll sweat the fever away, the poison'll all be gone, and you'll wake up with a horn a foot long.'

‘Oh good God,' repeated Peregrine, taking a slurp of rum and Coke. ‘Why me? Why bloody me?'

‘Why?' asked Les. ‘Because I think you're such a wonderful chap. Isn't that what you told me?' Les pushed the plate of diced garlic and capsicum under Peregrine's face. ‘Now, come on. Be a good boy and eat your din-dins. I'm going to put a steak on.'

Over the sound of the radio and Peregrine's complaints Les may have just faintly heard the two cars coming slowly down the road in the distance. If he did, he didn't take any notice. Hidden by the house and trees, he certainly didn't see them pull up at the front gate or see the six dark-haired men get out.

‘So, this is where they're holed up, is it?' said Liam. ‘Sure and it looks peaceful enough.'

The others gathered around. Patrick handed him a pair of binoculars. Logan checked the lock and chain on the front gate.

‘There's no security system,' he said. ‘And that lock's nothing. I could fairly bite it off with my teeth.'

Liam took the binoculars while Robert and Brendan checked the road. ‘It's nothing but a big wooden house,' he said, running them over the property. There's a set of stables to the right and some sort of a shed behind that old bridge there. This driveway goes right up to the house.' Liam held the binoculars on the smoke coming up from the rear of the house. ‘Looks like someone's out there having a barbecue or something.'

‘Do you want to go in now?' asked Patrick.

‘No,' replied Liam. He peered through the binoculars a little longer then put them down. ‘No. We'll come back when it's dark, as we planned. Around eight-thirty. I'm assuming this Norton fellow will have a gun with him, so we'll get the jump on him. In the meantime, we can go and test our own guns. Give you lads a chance to get the hang of these bullpups.'

‘Where are you thinking of going?' asked Brendan.

‘Remember that rattling old bridge we crossed over on the
way out here? We'll find a spot near that. It sounded like a machine gun going off when we drove over it. No one around will notice a thing. We'll rest there when we're finished. I don't want to go back into town. The less people that see us up here the better. We've thermos flasks of coffee in the car.' He took another look at the house and a malevolent smile creased his face. ‘Just one man and that English bastard. Dead easy.' He turned to the others. ‘We should be out of here well before ten. Back in Sydney by lunchtime tomorrow, and on the four o'clock plane back to Belfast.' He winked at Logan Colbain. ‘Dead easy.'

‘Aye,' smiled Logan. ‘Dead easy.'

Getting on for six, Les was sitting on a Gosser watching Peregrine who was blind, dribbling drunk on OP rum. He'd managed to get down the diced capsicum, but he'd refused to eat the raw garlic, until Les promised him that if he didn't swallow it he'd force it down his throat like one of those pate de fois gras geese.

‘So how are you feeling now, Pezz?'

‘Drunk.'

‘Good. 'Cause now comes the best part. Take off your dressing gown.'

‘I'm not taking off anything,' replied Peregrine, full of OP rum.

‘Peregrine. Take the fuckin' thing off, or I'll rip it off your back.'

‘Brute,' sulked Peregrine.

The inflammation had spread a little further across Peregrine's back, but at least the head was out and there was no more poison going into his blood stream. Les removed the band-aid and gave the hole a prod. He got the safety pin from his first-aid kit and poured rum over the point.

‘Hey, Peregrine,' said Les. ‘What's that over there?'

‘Huh?'

Les forced Peregrine against the back of the chair and quickly jabbed ten or so puncture wounds in the inflammation, squeezing open the hole at the same time. Peregrine howled in protest at the pain.

‘Good God, man?' he almost sobbed. ‘What are you doing to me?'

‘Just putting in a few more holes to help drain the poison away. You'll live.' Les watched it bleed for a while, then wiped the blood away with a piece of cotton wool splashed with methylated spirits.

‘Oh, you rotten monster!' howled Peregrine. ‘God that hurt.'

‘I'm sure it did,' replied Norton. ‘That looks bloody sore. I'm glad it's you and not me. But mate, you've got to be cruel to be kind.'

Les scooped enough Icthyol out of the jar to liberally cover the inflammation then placed a wad of cotton wool on top. He then covered that with a bandage and stuck the lot down securely with elastoplast.

‘There you go, mate,' he smiled, giving Peregrine a pat on the shoulder. ‘Put your dressing gown back on.'

Peregrine was almost in tears as he winced his way back into his dressing gown. ‘Now kindly leave me alone, you bloody great oaf.'

‘I know you didn't mean that,' grinned Norton. ‘You love me. Now throw these down your screech.' He took the six Normisons from the small packet the chemist had given him and handed them to Peregrine.

‘What are these?'

‘I told you. Sleeping tablets.'

‘Six of them?'

‘They're only mild. Come on, get them down. Then you can take a couple of painkillers before you go to bed.'

Peregrine swallowed the sleeping tablets with a glass of rum and Coke. ‘God, this is primitive,' he slurred.