‘What can I do you for?’ the young man at the counter asked.
‘Bike’s fucked.’
‘Right,’ he drew the word out. ‘Got any more information that might help me? I’m Isaac, by the way.’
‘Dave. And it won’t start.’
‘I’ll have a look. Bring it round.’
Dave wheeled the bike into the workshop and kicked out the stand. ‘There you go.’
‘Might take a few hours. Got something else you want to do?’
Dave looked around as if inspiration might strike. ‘Not really. Know of anywhere that might have a job going?’
Isaac looked up from the bike. ‘You gonna have trouble paying for this?’
‘Not if I get a job. My word is good. Got nothin’ but my word. You’ll get your money.’
‘Try the local farm store. They might be looking for a yard man. Or the pub. Sometimes Mac looks for someone to do the heavy lifting for him, and I know the other pub down the road was looking for someone to pull beers. Know how to do that, do you?’ Isaac grabbed a spanner from the workbench. ‘Come back in a couple of hours and I’ll see what I’ve got for you.’
Dave picked up his rucksack and set out by foot. ‘Cheers for the job advice.’
‘Heard you might have some work?’ Dave said to the manager at the Elders store.
‘What can you do?’
‘Turn my hand to anything.’
‘Oh yeah, and where are you staying?’
‘Nowhere yet, but I’ll find somewhere by the end of the day.’
‘Look, I haven’t got anything right now, but I’ll talk to a couple of others and see what we can do for you. Come back tomorrow.’
‘’Preciate that.’ Dave nodded and walked out.
He tried the caravan repair place next.
‘Wondering if you’ve got any work?’
The lady behind the counter looked nervous. ‘One moment.’ She almost ran to get the man Dave assumed was her husband. He could see her whispering to him through the mirrored wall.
It was a strange feeling to be rejected and have people afraid of him. Another learning curve.
‘How can I help?’ the man asked. He was different because he held out his hand. Dave shook it.
‘Name’s Dave. Bike’s broken down and I need a bit of work to get it fixed.’
‘I’d like to be able to help, but it’s the wrong time of year for us. Tourists have dried up and it’s a bit hard to make ends meet right now. But if you want a shower or a place to have a tidy-up, come to the bowling club tonight and I’ll get something organised for you.’
‘Might take you up on that. Thanks.’ Dave sounded surprised because he was. Nice bloke. ‘Thanks for your time.’ He nodded to him and left the shop, the doorbell ringing behind him.
He found a newsagency and bought some white card, a black texta and a packet of drawing pins. On four of the cards he wrote:
WORK WANTED
Can do anything
Contact Dave
West End Pub
Walking to the supermarket, he found the noticeboard and pinned one up there, then he stopped a woman who was hurrying out to her car. ‘Excuse me?’
She slowed but kept walking. Something like disgust crossed her face.
Dave pegged her as a church-going lady who wanted to do the right thing but really didn’t want to get too close.
‘Any other noticeboards around town I could put these up at?’
‘The roadhouse on the edge of town,’ she said. ‘Heaps of notices there and lots of the business owners go there to get lunch. And at the laundromat down that way.’ She pointed in the direction and wrinkled her nose.
Perhaps she was suggesting he should visit there anyway! Thanking her, Dave set out to walk the two kilometres to the roadhouse. He wasn’t going to the laundromat yet.
He found places to pin the remaining three cards and tried to work out the time from looking at the sun. He reckoned it was about 3.30 p.m. Not quite time to go back to see Isaac yet, but there was nothing else to do, so he started to walk again.
‘You’re early,’ Isaac said. ‘I’m not sure what’s wrong yet.’
‘No matter. I can wait.’ Dave pulled out his book and started to read.
An hour later, Isaac came to him.
‘You’ve got trouble, Dave,’ he said. ‘You pissed someone off or something?’
‘Only the coppers.’
‘Well, someone’s put water in your tank, or you’ve refuelled with fuel that’s got water in it. Going to take a bit to fix and it’s expensive. I’m going to need to order a new fuel tank and lines. All up? Maybe fifteen hundred. Two grand tops.’
‘Right. Better get that job. How long?’
‘Give me a week. Takes a bit to get parts out here.’
Dave nodded. ‘Sure thing.’ His new favourite saying. ‘I’ll get the money.’
Chapter 25
Dave was back in the pub, his back to the wall, looking at everybody and talking to no one. It was late in the evening and he was wondering where he was going to throw his swag tonight. He’d eyed off a nice spot in the park across the road, but he’d decided since his run-in with the coppers he’d better stay out of sight. He’d find somewhere when he left a bit later on.
The beer he’d bought about an hour ago was nearly finished and nearly flat. He’d spun it out for as long as he could, hoping that Bulldust and his team would be in tonight, but he was beginning to think tonight wasn’t his night. He’d have to be patient.
He signalled to the publican for another beer. One more wouldn’t hurt.
The bartender was clearly still pissed at Dave, because he slammed the glass down in front of him and held his hand out for the money.
‘Don’t suppose you’ve got any work?’ he asked as he handed over ten dollars.
‘Not for you.’
Dave nodded. ‘Fair call. Sorry about this morning.’
‘Don’t do it again and we’ll have an understanding.’
‘Sure thing.’ Dave sipped the beer and went back to watching people. He liked this game. In the middle of the bar there was an older man, balding and jovial. He talked to anyone who came in and he laughed a lot. Judging by his hands he was an office worker, and the way he worked the room and shook people’s hand, Dave pegged him for the local mayor or Member of Parliament. Someone who needed people’s support.
The bloke next to him was a bushie, there was no doubt. He had what Dave called koala eyes. He wore sunnies all the time he was outside and they had created a tan line around his eyes, with the skin on his face being ruddy brown, in contrast to the skin around the eyes, which was white. His jeans were clean but worn and his shirt was the uniform of any grazier—a checked blue Bullrush shirt and RM Williams boots. The woman next to him wore a suede skirt, with a white shirt, the collar turned up and, if Dave was closer, he thought he’d be able to see a string of pearls around her neck.
He wondered if they were asking the mayor for something—more water rights or dog baiting, perhaps.
The door swung open and Dave’s eyes flicked over and instantly they moved away.
Bulldust.
He was even larger than the brief gave him credit for. He would have to weigh about one hundred and fifteen kilos but he was tall; at a quick glance, Dave put him at six four or five. His arms were thick and shoulders broad.
There were three men with him, and from photos Dave knew they were Larry, the truck driver, George, the bike rider, and Chris, the chopper pilot. Bill was dead.
Dave concentrated on his beer, his back to the wall.
Bulldust strode up to the bar and ordered a beer. Dave saw him glance towards him and the bartender shrug his shoulder.
He must be in Bulldust’s spot. Ah well, that should make sure they had a conversation soon.
‘How you going, mate?’ It was Larry at his shoulder.
‘What’s it to you?’
Larry’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Whoa, steady there, I’
m just being welcoming. Haven’t seen you around before.’
‘Do I look like I need you to be friendly?’ Out of the corner of his eye he could see the other three turn and look at him and the bartender lean across the bar and speak to Bulldust. He guessed he was saying there’d already been trouble with him today.
‘Where you from?’
‘None of your business.’
‘Come on, talk to us. We like having a yarn.’
‘Leave me alone, man, I’ve told you. I’m not in the mood to be nice.’
‘Who pissed in your bed?’
‘Mate, I’m just not in the mood. And I’m not looking for friends. Leave me alone.’
‘You must be new around here because you don’t realise you’re sitting in my mate’s spot.’
Dave slowly turned his head and bored his eyes into Larry’s. ‘What the fuck? This some schoolyard pub? Everyone got their “spots”?’
‘Something like that, so you’re going to have to move.’
‘I was here first and I see plenty of other empty barstools to sit on, so how about you leave me alone and I’ll leave you alone and we’ll get along fine.’ He turned back to his beer just as he felt a hand on his shoulder.
‘Don’t touch me,’ he roared. He swung around and his fist connected with Larry’s jaw. Larry stumbled back, and George and Chris took three steps to grab each of Dave’s arms. They didn’t get them and he managed to get a fist to George’s stomach, which doubled him over. That left he and Chris eyeing each other off, while Larry collected himself.
The publican was on the phone, Dave assumed to the cops, so it might be time to get out of here before he got locked up for the night.
Chris took a swing and Dave ducked out to his right, stumbling over a table and chairs, while Larry ran at him, trying to grab him around the waist.
‘Hey! Hey! Stop! Police.’
Shit, it was too late to get out. The other two men stopped instantly and Dave stood up, his chest heaving. He came face-to-face with Joe.
‘Funny, I thought it might’ve been you,’ Joe said, wagging his finger at Dave. ‘Can’t stay out of trouble, can you?’
‘Yeah, he tried to punch Joe this morning,’ the bartender said. ‘Wouldn’t shift his motorbike when we asked him to. Trouble with a capital T.’
Dave saw Bulldust’s gaze on him. Not flinching, he stared back at Joe, even though he could feel a trickle of blood running down from the corner of his eye. He’d have a shiner in the morning.
‘He hasn’t made a good impression so far. Come on, you, let’s go. You can have a night in the cells and see if that’ll cool you down.’ Joe looked at the mayor and his companions, all of whom had taken a few steps back, and said, ‘Serious anger issues.’
‘Now, now, Joe.’ Bulldust came forward. ‘My boys started it. How about you leave the young fella alone tonight. One visit to the cop shop is enough in a day.’
Joe swung around. ‘Mate, I got this bloke earlier this afternoon for disorderly conduct, resisting arrest and assaulting a police officer.’
Bulldust smirked. ‘Assaulted you, did he? You’ll have to learn to manage yourself a bit better.’
Joe turned red.
‘Let him go, Joe. I told you, my boys started it.’ Bulldust turned to bartender. ‘Mac, I’ll pay for anything that needs fixing. Now you boys go and fight some real crime.’ Bulldust turned back to the bar.
Dave watched Larry and George carefully before going back to his barstool and sitting down again. He stared straight ahead, ignoring everyone.
‘Give him a beer,’ he heard Bulldust say. ‘You boys settle down and have another drink.’ He aimed his comments at George and Larry, who were wiping their faces. They sat as if they were dogs being told what to do by their owner. Dave found that interesting.
‘Don’t need your charity,’ Dave said loudly.
‘Not charity. An apology for my lads’ bad behaviour. They won’t bother you again.’
Dave nodded and accepted the beer. He skulled it, then picked up his rucksack and swag and walked out.
‘Where are you sleeping tonight?’ Bulldust asked.
Dave didn’t answer.
Dave walked the two blocks to where he’d seen a playground earlier. There were toilets there and he could have a quick scrub before he crawled into his swag. He turned the taps on, hoping for hot water, but there was only cold. Sighing, he fished the tiny piece of soap he’d taken from the hotel in Brisbane and washed his face and under his arms. Then he stripped off and, wincing as the cold water touched his penis and groin, he lathered and scrubbed, before rinsing himself, drying off with a small towel and getting dressed in the same clothes.
Grateful the public toilets didn’t smell, he rolled out his swag on the cement floor and got into it. He was tired, but so wired from the pub, he couldn’t sleep.
He’d made contact and the contact was good. It made him want to smile, but he didn’t. The heaviness in his heart reminded him he hadn’t seen Bec for three weeks. He wondered if she could say any more words, or she’d started to be toilet-trained yet. He wasn’t really sure when that was supposed to happen, but it would have to be soon, wouldn’t it?
Unexpectedly anger surged through him and he wanted to smack his fist into the floor. If Melinda hadn’t needed to go home to Bunbury, he mightn’t have taken this job and he’d still be able to see Bec.
‘Bullshit,’ he whispered. Then he rolled over and closed his eyes, because deep down he knew he would’ve taken this job whether Mel had still been home in Barrabine or not.
He thought about Joe talking loudly to anyone who’d listen about his arrest earlier. Now that did make him smile. There was a cop telling Bulldust about his bona fides. Dave was a bona fide troublemaker; just the sort of bloke that Bulldust would want to get to know.
Chapter 26
Dave didn’t want to get out of his swag the next morning. His body was aching from sleeping on cement and hurting from the long ride on the bike. Not to mention his eye felt swollen and sore.
He punched out two Panadol from the packet and swallowed them without water. Getting out of the swag took a bit of effort, but he glanced at his knuckles. Stay strong. Quickly he rolled the swag up and fossicked around in his backpack for his electric shaver. Not all public toilets had power points in them, but this one did. He’d chosen well for a sleeping spot, except for the cement floor.
Trying to make himself as presentable as he could, he ran the shaver over his head—his hair was getting a bit long—and washed his face and beard. There wasn’t much he could do about the black eye. Hopefully no one would ask.
In the novel he was reading, Trip Wire, the main character, Jack Reacher, had a thirst for coffee. Dave had that same requirement now and decided to walk to the roadhouse for breakfast. Hopefully it would have decent coffee. Not instant.
He packed everything back into his kit and swung his pack over his shoulder before putting on his old Farm Weekly hat and pulling it down over his eyes.
As he walked he thought about Jack Reacher and himself. There were similarities. They were both on their own. Both undercover in their own way. Jack could handle himself in a bar fight, so could Dave. They both loved and needed coffee and travelled light.
He trudged along the road, surprised at the humidity. It was different to Barrabine’s dry heat and zapped his energy a lot quicker. He’d noticed that yesterday when he’d been wandering around looking for work. The lethargy made it difficult to concentrate. He made a mental note to find a chemist and buy some Hydrolyte. He’d need to stay hydrated.
A couple of cars drove by and one of them slowed down as they passed him. A young boy’s face was in the passenger’s seat looking at him. He looked straight ahead, ignoring them. Clearly, seeing a drifter in Nundrew was unusual.
Twenty minutes later he was at the roadhouse and settled in the rear of the dining room, his back to the wall. Not that he needed to worry as the restaurant was empty.
The coff
ee was strong but the milk long-life.
‘Sure you don’t want to order food?’ the young waitress said as she bobbed up and down in time to the music on the radio.
‘I’m sure. But I’ll have another coffee.’ It was better than nothing, and it was helping clear his head.
The waitress went back into the kitchen and Dave heard her yell, ‘Just more coffee, Marie!’
Two minutes later she was back with another big white mug. ‘What’d you do to your eye?’
‘Ran into a door.’
She raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. ‘You should stay away from them,’ she answered in a cocky tone. ‘They hurt you.’
‘They do. Is there a local newspaper?’
‘Over by the door,’ she nodded to a newspaper stand. ‘Dollar fifty.’
Dave fished around in his pocket and came out with two dollars.
‘Thanks.’ She paused. ‘Listen, you sure you don’t want food? Maybe just something light like a ham, cheese and tomato sandwich?’
Dave wanted to laugh out loud, considering he’d been charged with that just yesterday.
‘No, thanks.’ He sipped his coffee then got up and went to get the newspaper. He spread it out on the table and looked through the first few pages.
There was an article on a fundraiser night the local P & C had held to raise money for the school library, and another about the local women’s refuge, which had opened four more beds for women in need.
He turned the page and saw a familiar face from the bar last night—not the mayor but the local state MP. Reading the article Dave gleaned he had organised funding of three million dollars for the local hospital. The lady who was standing alongside the pollie in the photo was the woman from the bar last night. Their smiles were worthy of a Colgate toothpaste advert.
Dave closed the paper, turned it over and opened the back page. The racing club was about to have its first meet. He scanned the names of the horses, so he had something to talk about, if he needed to, and then moved on to the adverts.
He heard the alarm of the door scream, letting the girls know someone was waiting to be served, and he looked up. From his vantage point, he could see Bulldust ordering a bacon and egg sandwich. He wouldn’t be able to see Dave unless he looked into the restaurant. Dave refocused on the paper and sipped his coffee, listening to him talk to the waitress.
Without a Doubt Page 17
