seen a Nog soldier cry, but I reckon heâll do me.
Itâs nearly two oâclock, time to get the mob up to the
pub for a good nightâs kip before tomorrow arvo, when we get the debrief on Shortyâs bloody stupid idea. Itâs been a long day and Iâve got to get up early and clean the joint. I only pray there are no nightmares.
CHAPTER THREE
I âm up at sparrow fart to clean up the cafe. It looks a bit like a mine has gone off inside the joint. Iâd forgotten how many tinnies eleven blokes can drink in one sitting, because, of course, Bongface doesnât drink, though heâs got through a fair few cans of Coke. Theyâve, I mean weâve, also polished off Shortyâs plonk and thereâs cold chips, tomato sauce and bits of hamburger leftovers on just about every flat surface.
A broom and a mop, a bit of a wipe and a hose down where Animalâs been sick out the back and, by the time Wendy gets in around eight oâclock, the place is ship-shape and ready to trade.
Three of the old-timers are in for their regular breakfast. They eat at Smoky Joeâs and not at the pub because theyâve all had a blue with Willy McGregor some time in the past. As there is only one pub in town theyâre forced
to drink his grog, but theyâre buggered if theyâre gunna give Willy a penny more than their thirst demands. Small towns are like that, forgiveness comes real slow.
Wendy feeds Anna and gets her mum up and into her wheelchair. The old chook is already grumbling but Wendy takes no notice, sheâs always cheerful around Anna and wonât let the old girl spoil the day. First she does her motherâs hair while the silly old bugger holds up a mirror and gives instructions. Struth, sheâs foreman material all right, canât help herself, she does bugger all except carp and criticise and I can hear her all the way downstairs as she has a go at Wendy. âYer never get it right, do you. You want me to look old, thatâs it isnât it, old and miserable!â
I hear Wendy laugh, âMum, you are old and miserable but I love you anyway.â
âThatâs what you say to me but what do you tell him, eh? Behind the door when you think nobody can hear!â
âBeen sneaking up in your wheelchair, looking through the keyhole have you, Mum?â
âHumph! Donât think because Iâm sick I canât hear. Nothing wrong with me ears, girlie.â
âWhat do you hear then?â I hear Wendy say, her voice still light.
âNever you mind. Plenty!â
Thereâs a pause and I can imagine Wendy sighing. âHalf your luck, Mum, thereâs not a whole lot going on in our bedroom you couldnât tell in Sunday School.â
I can feel myself getting hot around the neck. Sheâs right of course, I havenât made love to her in months and when I do it ainât exactly fireworks.
âNanna says Iâm sick because of Daddy,â I hear Anna shout out. âIs that true, Mummy?â
âMum! How dare you!â I can hear Wendyâs anger. Then, âNo, darling, itâs just something that happens sometimes in families. Weâre going to make you better.â
Now there is silence upstairs and I groan, stupid old bitch has gone and upset Wendy. Sheâll be real quiet when she comes down and when I ask, âWhatâs the matter?â sheâll say, âNothing, itâs just Mum.â
Then I hear Anna giggling and I know Wendyâs plaiting her hair and tickling her under the nose with the fuzzy end of the completed plait before she asks Anna what colour ribbon she wants.
The old biddy will be sitting with her back turned to them feeding her face with a bowl of Cornflakes, milk dribbling down her chin. I wish sheâd hurry up and die and leave us in peace. I wouldnât put it past her to leave
her half of Smoky Joeâs to the Anglican bishop instead of her daughter!