Authors: Robert G. Barrett
Robert G. Barrett was raised in Bondi where he has worked mainly as a butcher. After thirty years he moved to Terrigal on the Central Coast of New South Wales. Robert has appeared in a number of films and TV commercials but prefers to concentrate on a career as a writer.
Also by Robert G. Barrett in Pan
YOU WOULDN'T BE DEAD FOR QUIDS THE REAL THING THE BOYS FROM BINJIWUNYAWUNYA THE GODSON BETWEEN THE DEVLIN AND THE DEEP BLUE SEAS WHITE SHOES, WHITE LINES AND BLACKIE AND DE FUN DON'T DONE MELE KALIKIMAKA MR WALKER THE DAY OF THE GECKO RIDER ON THE STORM AND OTHER BITS AND BARRETT GUNS 'N' ROSÃ
This is a work of fiction and all characters in this book are a creation of the author's imagination.
First published 1992 in Pan by Pan Macmillan Publishers Australia This edition published by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Limited 1 Market Street, Sydney
Reprinted 1992, 1993 (twice), 1994, 1995, 1996, 1998, 2000, 2001 2002, 2004, 2006, 2009, 2011
Copyright Â© Robert G Barrett 1992
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication data:
Barrett, Robert G
Davo's little something
ISBN 978 0 330 27292 6
Typeset in 9/11 pt Varitimes by Midland Typesetters, Maryborough
Printed in Australia by McPherson's Printing Group
Papers used by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd are natural, recyclable products made from wood grown in sustainable forests. The manufacturing processes conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin.
This book is dedicated to Larry Crane and Michael Stevens. Michael Stevens I never knew but Fat Larry from Maroubra was a mate of mine. Neither man deserved to die in the despicable manner in which they did
The author would like to thank the following people for their invaluable assistance in the research and writing of this book: Thank you.
Dr JJ Kearney
M.B.B.S (SYD). F.R.A.C.G.P
Dr Gordion Fulde
. and the staff in the Casualty Ward at St Vincent's Hospital Sydney
Det. Const. First Class Glenn MoriartyâPolice Prosecutor
The staff and assistants at the City Morgue and Glebe Coroner's Court
John Wishart at the Gay Media Service
And a very special thanks to Sister Colleen McGrath
., now Mrs Colleen Burke.
âWhack-whack-whack-whack-whack.' The sharp-edged meat chopper crunched easily through the last of the rolled loins of lamb turning them into short-loin chops. Bob Davis scooped them up off the wooden block and placed them on the stainless steel tray sitting on the rubber rollers in front of him. From there one of the girls would weigh, price and pack them into small white polystyrene trays, to be heat-sealed with Glad wrap and stacked in the refrigerated display cabinet at the front of the supermarket butcher shop.
âRighto,' he said, flicking a few bone splinters off his hands and turning to Len Thompson the butcher shop manager. That's the last of the lamb chops. I might split those two pigs.'
Just then Irene Van Heeden the head packer came in through the swinging glass door that separated the butchery from the supermarket. âWe could do with some more T-bones out there,' she said, looking at Len Thompson. âThere's only about half a dozen left.'
âI might as well do that,' said Bob Davis. âI was gonna break up those rumps and loins anyway.'
Len grunted something in approval without moving his eyes from the topside he was slicing up with a huge steak knife on the block next to Bob. Bob turned to enter the cool room almost colliding with Dennis O'Brien the apprentice. Dennis was running a sloshy mound of lean beef trimmings through the mincer on the stainless steel bench behind them. They crunched
and slithered noisily out onto a stainless steel tray balanced on a plastic milk crate, ready to be weighed up and packed as Best Quality Topside Mince. Bob disappeared into the cool room, soon re-emerging with a rump and loin cradled in his arms.
Despite the repetitious, sometimes arduous work, Bob was whistling cheerfully to himself as he dumped the heavy, fatty rump and loin onto the block he'd just been working on. It took a lot to sour the happy demeanour of Bob Davis or âDavo' as most everybody called him. Davo didn't mind butchering for a living. He liked the people he worked with and he was the life of the small butcher shop at Woolworths supermarket in Bondi Junction.
With his dark brown hair, parted slightly on the side, hazel eyes and squared jaw, he had that typical, rugged, laconic Aussie look about him. The smiling, good bloke face you see on TV in dozens of beer and truck commercials. Tall and somewhat overweight, he wasn't unlike his immediate boss, only Len was slightly taller, beefier, a bit older and had red hair going grey round the sides. Len was also married with two kids whereas Davo had been divorced three years and was still single; which was probably why Davo was so happy Len often used to think to himself when he'd go home a bit pissed and his wife would start nagging at him the minute he walked in the front door.
Len liked working with Davo and was glad he had him in the shop. He brightened the place up and although his silly tricks and mucking around could get a little punishing at times, Davo always pulled his weight, never complained in earnest and if ever anyone was sick or hungover from the drink, Davo would carry him without grumbling about it. Instead he'd make a joke of the situation, always at the other person's expense of course.
In fact they were all a fairly happy crew in that particular butcher shop. Dennis the wiry framed apprentice with his black hair and pimply face tried hard, although at times it looked as if he was walking around in his sleep. But that was mainly from football trainingâDennis played league with Bondi United. He was a pretty good fullback for seventeen and there was a fair chance he'd be playing first grade with Easts before he was twenty.
Out the back in the loading dock, having a quick puff on a cigarette while he sharpened his knives, was Eddie Fuller the shop's other butcher. Eddie, twenty-seven and married, was a country boy from Grafton and looked much like a bigger version of young Dennis except that his arms were covered in the most ghastly display of tattoos imaginable. Chains round his wrists, spiders, Popeye, dogs piddling against tombstones. The first time Davo met Eddie, when the supermarket opened about two years previous, he'd nicknamed him Moving Pictures after a popular rock band. But although the tattoos gave Eddie a tough, almost sinister appearance, a nicer, easier going bloke you'd hardly wish to meet.