Free You Wouldn't Be Dead for Quids by Robert G. Barrett Page A

hands were shaking a little but somehow he managed to take the strain and tie a knot. ‘I’ll — ah, get my gear and give you a hand up to your car,’ he said hoarsely.
    â€˜Thank you.’
    Les returned with his banana-chair. ‘If you two can make it to the path I’ll be with you in a minute. I just want to check on our friends here.’
    â€˜All right.’
    The yobbos were all lying in broken, bloody heaps on the sand, still snoring soundly from a combination of drinking in the sun and the horrible battering they’d sustained from Les.
    Now Norton wasn’t a thief, a bit shifty maybe, but a thief, never. And he never would be. However, living in Bondi and working at the Cross the past year or two had taught him one thing. An earn is an earn and in this world you’ve got to get it where you can. So while he checked the boys out he relieved them of the contents of their wallets; they were just a team of mugs anyway.
    â€˜Four hundred and sixty dollars’ said Les, counting the money and putting it in his back pocket. ‘Not bad, not bad at all. It’s a bone.’
    With the husband’s arm around his shoulder Les helped the newlyweds up to their car. It turned out she was Diane and he was Colin. They lived in Castlecrag but were spending their honeymoon at Diane’s sister Sophia’s house at Forresters Beach.
    As they were getting into the car Diane turned to her husband, a big smile spreading over her face.
    â€˜Darling, I’ve got a wonderful idea,’ she said happily. ‘Why don’t we invite Les around for dinner tonight? He could meet Sophia, too.’
    â€˜Hey, that’s a great idea,’ replied Colin. ‘Come round for dinner and a few drinks, it’s the least we can do. And Diane’s sister is a marvellous cook, Les.’
    Norton shrugged his shoulders. ‘Sounds all right to me,’ he said.
    â€˜Oh good. Look, here’s the address.’ Diane took a biro and paper out of the glove box, wrote it down and handed it to Les.‘Come round about seven, have a few drinks first and we’ll eat about eight. Okay?’
    â€˜Sounds all right to me,’ replied Norton again.
    He shook hands with Colin, Diane gave him a kiss on the cheek and they were off with Diane insisting and Les promising that he’d be there at seven. What have I got to lose? thought Les, I’m very partial to a bit of home cooking and this Sophia might be all right anyway.
    There was one other car in the small parking area besides Norton’s. An irridescent green, HK Holden with twin exhausts, fatties on the back, tiger-skin seat covers and rev-head decals all over the windows. Not a bad looking old HK mused Les — then let all the tyres down.
    It was about four o’clock when Les got back to Terrigal and he was in a fairly good mood considering what had happened. Even though what he had intended to be a day of peace and quiet had been disturbed, the $460 more than compensated for it. And there was still the evening to come.
    He had two quick schooners at the Florida then decided he’d better get some drink to take with him that night. He found a bottle shop a short stroll from the hotel, went inside and rang the bell on the counter.
    The attendant appeared from out the back. He was wearing the loudest Hawaiian shirt Les had ever seen along with a pair of yellow paisley pattern trousers — he looked like a walking green-house and was obviously gayer than carnival time in Rio.
    â€˜Yessss,’ he crooned, eyeing Norton up and down. ‘What can I do for yoouuu?’
    â€˜What can you do for meeee?’ replied Les derisively. ‘Just give me a couple of bottles of French shampoo, son. Dom Perignon 72. If you ain’t got that, Veuve Clicquot will suffice.’ What the hell, thought Norton, I got plenty, I may as well bung it on a bit.
    â€˜Ooooh, I don’t think we’ve got any of