The Story of Danny Dunn by Bryce Courtenay Read Free Book Online Page B

they should decide to drink at any of the other twenty-nine pubs we’ve got on the peninsula . . .’ He paused to let his meaning sink in, then stabbed his forefinger at Half Dunn and added, ‘We’re disappointed see, very bloody disappointed, and disappointed people who have been let down badly can get very cranky, know what I’m hintin’ at, mate? They’ve been known to change their mind about where they drink. Get my drift?’
    â€˜Yeah, righto,’ Half Dunn growled in an attempt at bravado. Despite his misgivings, he was annoyed that the union man felt it necessary to labour the point. ‘I got the fucking message the first time.’
    â€˜Good on ya, matey. Just wanted to make sure. We’ll send someone over in the morning to get the good news,’ O’Hearn said, smiling. Reaching out he squeezed Half Dunn reassuringly on the shoulder, his thumb sinking to the base knuckle and still not meeting any muscle. Pulling it out of the layer of blubber under the wet shirt made a small sucking sound. He rubbed his glistening thumb absently down the leg of his blue King Gee overalls and Half Dunn saw the pink blotches on the back of his hand where he’d been burnt by the raw caustic soda used for making soap. He also picked up the rank smell of sheep tallow that permeated the skin of workers at the Olive and the Lever Brothers soap factory, especially when they perspired. The union man grinned, then winked. ‘Might even buy you a beer, hey?’ His expression changed suddenly to a quizzical frown. ‘You’re not gunna let the side down now, are ya, mate? Balmain’s depending on you to come through for the water-polo team.’
    â€˜I don’t need your fucking free grog, I own a fucking pub!’ Half Dunn blustered.
    â€˜You’ll need somethin’ a damn sight stronger to drink if you don’t have some good news termorra, big boy,’ one of the blokes laughed.
    â€˜Nah, she’ll be right,’ O’Hearn said confidently, ushering them with a sweep of both hands towards the entrance to the vacant lot.
    They began to shuffle away, two of them touching him lightly on the cuff of his sleeve, the only part of his sweat-soaked shirt not clinging opaquely to his enormous ginger-haired pink-skinned chest above his trouser line. Half Dunn wasn’t sure whether this gesture was meant to be an additional threat or an encouragement. Both smelled of sheep fat.
    Half Dunn stood alone for a while, trying to think. The afternoon sun was beginning to sting his scalp, burning through the wisps of pasted-down ginger hair. Partially formed thoughts misted and dissolved like passing clouds. Where do I start? A wave of panic swept over him. How? When? Jesus! Fuck! How do I put it to her? Make her see the consequences. She won’t like losing customers one little bit. Fucking O’Hearn’s right. Customers, that’s the key. Do it at tea, with the boy at the kitchen table? Nah, if Danny blubs she’ll blame me. They’ll both agree I’m shickered. Tell her tonight in bed? No good. It’s her private time to read the new Women’s Weekly . She’s up at sparrow fart . . . tackle her then. Good idea. She won’t expect me to be up. Make her a cuppa. Catch her unawares.
    He glanced up to see the three magpies gliding in to land on the backyard fence on their late afternoon Sao-biscuit run. Shit, she’ll be out the back any moment emptying her pinafore pocket. Shoe’s fucking ruined!
    Even at fifteen, Danny Dunn was becoming a ‘somebody’, moreover a very fortunate somebody. Not only was he a brilliant young sportsman, he was also one of the select few who’d made it to Fort Street from primary school. His exam marks were good and there wasn’t any doubt that he’d pass. But, of course Brenda wanted to make sure he obtained university entrance level once he matriculated.