Free The Glass Canoe by David Ireland Page A

clear to go. There was a bloke outside that kept saying to people, ‘Have you seen my wife? Have you seen Annette?’
    No one had seen her and he didn’t look like going, so I opened the door and stepped down.
    â€˜Have you seen my wife?’ he says.
    â€˜I saw her over that way ten minutes ago,’ I said, pointing round the corner of the drinks tent. Off he goes.
    â€˜Mick,’ I call back inside the caravan, ‘Get her out. He’s gone over there.’
    â€˜I can’t,’ he says.
    â€˜What’s the matter?’
    â€˜She’s passed out. She’s too floppy to lift. Bugger it. Leave her here. Come on, let’s go.’
    We went.
    Next day we were back there but we kept away from the caravan. But you wouldn’t want to know, we run into Annette, with her friend Pam. They didn’t know us.
    We stopped in front of them.
    Mick said to me, with them a metre away, ‘Do you know where I can get a fuck?’
    Pam said indignantly, ‘Did you say fuck?’
    â€˜No, I didn’t say fuck.’
    â€˜I thought you said fuck,’ says Pam, winking at Annette.
    Annette didn’t want to know. The side of her face was puffed, make-up covered it. There was extra make-up at the corner of one eye. Her husband found her after all.
    As we walked on, Mick was grinning.
    â€˜Some of these blokes got no sense of humour at all. What’s the harm? She’s on the pill, she’s not going to have no kid, I haven’t had a load for three years and you’re clean aren’t you?’
    I said I was.
    â€˜Well then. Who do these jokers think they are? Jesus Christ?’
    He even had the hide to start getting indignant about it. I took him away towards the boxing tent.
    The last day of the show we ran into Sammy. Danny was with us.
    â€˜Hey, you bastards,’ Sammy called. ‘Come round the back and take a gander at my new vehicle.’
    We went round and there’s this Bentley, black, shining and elegant.
    â€˜This yours?’ says Mick, putting five prints and a palmprint on the duco for all to see.
    Sammy runs in with a white handkerchief and wipes off the prints.
    â€˜It’s not new, exactly. Someone in the government got rid of it and bought a newie.’
    Sammy has a lot of brass, he’s in the used car business.
    â€˜She takes a great shine, eh? You’ll never guess what I found in the glove box.’ He dives into the front seat and comes out with a little flag on a metal pole about a quarter metre high.
    â€˜You watch what happens when I put this on the front.’
    He goes to the bonnet and finds a little mounting and sure enough the flag fits into the socket.
    â€˜Now watch.’ He pulls out a black suit from the back seat, gets us round in a circle to shelter him and puts it on. There’s a cap too, and when he has it on he’s the perfect chauffeur.
    â€˜Now who’s got good mocha on?’ he says, looking round at us. Sure enough, Danny’s gone mad for the occasion and has his grey suit on that he wears to weddings, funerals and smokos.
    â€˜Danny, you’ll do.’
    Danny’s pretty right by this time. Not off his head, don’t get me wrong.
    In they get, Danny in the rear and Sammy driving. They head out to the street by the exit and round for the entrance. We all clear out round to the entrance to watch.
    Sammy gives a toot at the gates and gets in without paying. The man on the gate sort of salutes. Others look round at the toot and gape, then crowd over to line the road in. Sammy keeps the speed down to about ten. More people up ahead line the road.
    Danny’s pissing himself laughing by this time, but Sammy shushes him.
    â€˜Keep a straight face for Christ sake. A straight face.’
    Danny does his best.
    â€˜Now wave.’
    Danny waves like it was a bunch of council workers at the side of the road and he was yelling to them to get off their arses.
    â€˜Not like