The Godson by Robert G. Barrett Read Free Book Online

this rattle blows over in Ireland. Or England. Or wherever it bloody is.’
    â€˜Up the North Coast?’ Eddie’s eyes lit up as if an idea had just hit him. ‘How far up the North Coast?’
    â€˜Right up. The further the bloody better.’
    â€˜Jesus! I might be able to do something there. I got some old mates from Vietnam living in the Tweed Valley. I was only on the phone to them last week. There’s a big property up there used to belong to this colonel in the US Marines. There’s no one living there and they were thinking of buying it. But they haven’t got the money. You could rent it easy enough and snooker him up there.’
    â€˜Jesus, that’s a good idea,’ said Price.
    Eddie put his foot down and easily overtook a line of three cars. ‘You got anyone in mind to take this bloke up the North Coast and look after him?’
    A hint of a smile creased the corners of Price Galese’s dark brown eyes. ‘Yeah,’ he nodded slowly. ‘I think I know just the bloke.’
    S ITTING IN THE lounge room of his Bondi semi, watching the Saturday afternoon football live on the ABC, Les Norton could hardly have been in a better mood. It had been a pretty good day all round. He’d got out of bed at about ten thirty and had an enjoyable breakfast with Warren. Warren then left Les to go off to the Paddington stalls for a few drinks and have a look at the elfs and goblins and other endangered species that are apt to congregate in large numbers along that part of Oxford Street on Saturday. It was a cold but clear day with a light nor’wester blowing so Les opted to ring Billy Dunne for a run on Bondi Beach and a bit of bag work at North Bondi Surf Club, which, in the crisp winter weather, was more than enjoyable too. After this they had a T-bone and salad at the Bondi Icebergs plus a few beers. In between shouts he and Billy managed to pull three jackpots on the pokies. Then on the way home Les called in to the TAB and had $200 on one of Price’s horses, My Deal, which, by changing channels to ‘The Wide World Of Sport’, Norton was ecstatic to see it get up in the last few strides and win by half a length at 7/2. Quite a tasty result. But best of all, Easts had just knocked off Balmain with a dead set, flukeish try in the last two minutes when the Easts hooker went over from a Balmain knock-on. The Roosters missed the conversion but still managed to win by one point. Not a very convincing result and not that Norton was any sort of fanatical Easts supporter, apart from having a bit of a soft spot from his playing days with them. But when it came to football, a certain George Brennan, manager of the Kelly Club was: and his team was Balmain. He and Les had bet $100 on the game plus a carton of beer. Now Norton was even more in front. But no amount of liquor or money would be as good as seeing the look on George’s face when Les walked into the club that night or the ammunition he’d have to fire at him with absolutely none coming back.
    Aah yes, thought Norton, easing back happily into the lounge. How do the words go to that Louis Armstrong song? ‘And I say to myself, what a wonderful world.’ He raised his Kahlualacedcup of coffee to the TV screen and the players who were now leaving the field.
    â€˜You’re not wrong, Satchmo old mate,’ he said out loud.
    Norton finished his coffee, pottered around the house for a while, then had his usual hour’s nap before he got ready for work. Warren still wasn’t home when he got up. The pixies have probably taken him away, Les mused. So he ironed his shirt, had a couple of toasted ham sandwiches and was at the Kelly Club around eight-thirty. Billy was standing out the front when he got there.
    â€˜My Deal,’ grinned Les, as soon as he saw Billy. ‘Did you get on?’
    Billy nodded and returned Norton’s grin. ‘Reckon.’
    â€˜It paid $7.70 on the