Davo's Little Something Read online

  Knowing how much Brinsden avoided the butchery and detested its lack of protocol, Davo was slightly surprised to see his thickset frame propped in the doorway. He looked up and flashed the store manager a superfluous grin.

  ‘G’day, Muzz,’ he said cheerfully. ‘How’s things?’

  You could see Mr Brinsden visibly wince as his eyes narrowed. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Davis,’ he replied testily. ‘Mrs Van Heeden. Girls.’

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Brinsden,’ came the sing-song chorus from the girls, like a group of schoolchildren addressing the headmaster when he walks into the classroom.

  ‘What brings you in here, Muzz old fella?’ asked Davo, finishing the last forequarter of lamb and switching off the band saw.

  ‘Mr Thompson has gone away for the afternoon. Is that right?’

  ‘Yeah pissed off on us. But it’s all sweet, Muzz. He’s left me in charge.’

  Brinsden closed his eyes for a second. ‘The ah . . . reason I’m here, Mr Davis, is that we have a group of Japanese businessmen touring the supermarket this afternoon.’

  ‘Christ, it’s a good thing Len’s not here. He fought the bludgers in New Guinea.’

  Brinsden did his best to ignore Davo’s comment but at the same time impress upon him the gravity of the situation. ‘They are specifically interested in the meat section, Mr Davis,’ he continued. ‘I can’t be here as I have to be in my office all afternoon, so I would appreciate it if you would offer them any assistance they require.’

  ‘Shit, I don’t know about that Muzz,’ replied Davo, shaking his head sagely. ‘I don’t speak Japanese. We got a Greek and a Yugoslav but they’re still at lunch. What about you Dutchy—can you speak Japanese?’

  ‘They will have an interpreter with them, Mr Davis.’

  ‘We can bloody do with one in here at times when Marie and Krystina go off.’

  Mr Brinsden took a deep breath trying his best to ignore Davo’s facetiousness. ‘Anyway, Mr Davis, I haven’t got a great deal of time.’

  ‘I can understand that, Muzz. Heavy sits the crown.’

  ‘And like I said. I would appreciate it if you would offer these people any assistance they require. Is that understood?’

  ‘No worries, Muzz. You can count on me. I might even take them all round the RSL for a beer when we knock off. Should make a big hit with all the old diggers.’

  Mr Brinsden’s mouth formed a smile but his eyes didn’t. ‘Anyway I shall leave you with it. Good afternoon Mr Davis. Ladies.’ He went back out the door and scowled off into the supermarket looking for a junior either to abuse or sack to make up for Davo’s flippant impertinence.

  ‘Jesus he’s a pain in the arse, the fat turd,’ said Davo, about two seconds after Mr Brinsden had left. ‘That’s all we need. A team of moonfaces geeking at us through the window all afternoon.’

  ‘Now Davo, don’t do anything silly,’ said Dutchy. ‘And just be nice to the visitors while they’re here.’

  ‘Yeah sure, Dutchy. I’ll make them feel right at home. I might go out and harpoon a few whales. Maybe slaughter a couple of hundred dolphins or something.’ Davo was about to continue his tirade about the Japanese nation’s questionable attitude towards the environment when Eddie and the others returned from lunch.

  ‘I’m four minutes late, boss,’ grinned Eddie, as he put on his coat and apron. ‘You won’t sack me will you?’

  ‘I’ve made a note of it. You needn’t worry about that,’ replied Davo.

  ‘Anyway, seeing as you’re in charge now, Mr Davis. What would you like me to do? I mean—I’m paid to work, not to think.’

  Davo walked over and consulted the note Len had left above the telephone. ‘Lennie wants those two bodies of beef that came in broken up. That’s your speciality, Ed. Why don’t you bring ’em up and do ’em in here.’

  ‘Righto, boss. Whatever you say.’ Eddie went down to the loading dock, slid the two bodies up into the shop and started working on them.

  Before moving to Sydney, Eddie had been a boner in an export meatworks and a good one at that; consequently Eddie got to do most of the boning and breaking up. He knew all the export cuts, kept a razor sharp knife and was about ten times faster than the others put together. Davo was glad of this in one way because it made his job a lot easier; he was also a little jealous in another because Eddie could do things in about five minutes that would take Davo almost half an hour. However Davo was unquestionably the better shop butcher.

  Eddie had just started on the first body when Davo heard Dutchy say. ‘Here’s all your little friends now, Davo.’

  He looked out the window and there were the Japanese: about a dozen of them. All with short, shiny black hair, some wearing glasses and wearing plain, dark suits with their names on a tag pinned to the lapels. Except one. He was standing in front of them wearing a mid-grey, three-piece suit and was obviously the interpreter.

  ‘Hello moonfaces,’ said Davo, giving a smile and a little wave through the window. The Japanese all smiled back and bowed politely. ‘Would you like to buy an atom bomb? You bunch of rotten little shits.’

  ‘Ohh Davo. For God’s sake,’ pleaded Dutchy.

  The Japanese all smiled and bowed politely again. ‘They’re alright,’ said Davo, winking at the interpreter through the window. The interpreter grinned enthusiastically and waved back.

  Davo continued working, slicing pork loin chops and preparing legs of lamb and trying his best to ignore the Japanese, who stood bunched in front of the meat cabinets getting an excellent view through the plate glass windows of Eddie ripping into the body of beef. They were almost mesmerised at the way he expertly whipped his knife through the various sections removing huge neat slabs of meat and bone in one continuous even cut, stopping only briefly to adroitly touch his razor sharp boning knife against his steel. The Japanese were awestruck—never had they seen anything like it.

  And with a bit of an audience Eddie was in his glory. Throwing his knife around in great flourishes, flicking it backwards into his pouch, steeling it all different ways as he flexed the muscles on his forearms. Every now and again one of the Japanese would point excitedly through the window and gesticulate wildly to the others as Eddie would perform another flamboyant manoeuvre with his boning knife.

  ‘What do you reckon, Davo?’ said Eddie, the muscles in his tattooed forearms glistening with animal fat as he whipped the last cut from the first body of beef and dropped the bone in the bone basket. ‘Those little Ninjas think I’m sensational. They’ll go back to Japan and name a sports car after me. I’m a star, baby.’

  ‘Yeah. You’re a bloody marvel,’ muttered Davo, getting a bit pissed off at Eddie’s lairising; and also a little jealous of Eddie getting all the attention.

  Eddie turned to the Japanese and held one arm above his head. ‘Don’t go away fans,’ he called out through the window. ‘I’ve got another one to go yet.’

  He slid the other body of beef further into the shop and went to work on it with even more flourish than before—if that was possible. The admiration of the Japanese increased as well—if that was possible.

  By now Davo was starting to get the shits. He was sick of Eddie getting all the limelight and sick of the Japanese staring at them through the window. They reminded him of a bunch of penguins the way they bobbed around in their dark suits bowing and scraping at each other like a lot of wind-up dolls.

  ‘Fair dinkum, I’ve bloody well had enough of this,’ he said to Dutchy, slipping off his kit and hanging it on the rail.

  ‘Davo—you’re not going to do anything stupid are you?’

  Davo stood there grinning fiendishly at her for a second or two, then disappeared into the cool room.

  He found what he was looking for hanging above the offal tubs. A large, untrimmed ox-tongue. He picked it up, moved the S-hook a little further back towards the fleshy part and hung it rough side up under the front of his apron on the belt supporting his jeans. Satisfied it was secure he went back out into the shop and
with a strange expression on his face stood next to Eddie; who was still going like a man possessed on the remaining body of beef while his Japanese fan club continued to gape in admiration through the window.

  ‘Davo, what the hell are you up to?’ said Dutchy, as the other girls noticing the look on his face, stopped to watch him too.

  Davo ignored them and turned his back, then reached up and took hold of the rail with both hands and with his legs spread apart started swinging from side to side like a monkey. The ox-tongue unfurled and from behind it hung down looking for all the world like some huge repulsive cock. An audible gasp went up from the stunned Japanese and embarrassed titters of laughter from the girls; except Kathy, she just about wet herself on the spot.

  Davo kept swinging away till his arms got tired then he dropped from the rail onto all fours and started running round the shop with his backside up in the air and the ox-tongue dragging on the ground, like a demented baboon, finally bursting out the front door and running up and down the cabinets in front of the horrified Japanese who didn’t know what to think or do. All at once they started firing questions at the interpreter who stood there wide-eyed like the rest of them shaking his head helplessly. Still on all fours Davo scampered up and down the cabinets a few more times making funny little animal noises and scratching under his armpits. He stopped directly in front of the Japanese, cocked his head to one side and picked at some imaginary lice in his hair then, still on all fours, ran back into the shop and into the cool room where he slipped the ox-tongue off and hung it back on the wall.

  ‘Hey, Dutchy,’ he called out, when he stepped back out of the freezer. ‘If Brinsden wants me tell him I’m down the back having a crap.’ With his newspaper tucked up under his arm he sauntered down to the toilets near the loading dock. When he came back about ten minutes later Eddie had finished the boning and the Japanese had disappeared.

  ‘Honestly, Davo,’ said Dutchy, trying her best to be serious. ‘You’re going to get yourself shot one of these days. That was one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘Yeah?’ replied Davo, smirking at her while he put his kit on. ‘Well how come you’re all laughing so much?’

  ‘Ohh well what else could you do,’ said Kathy. ‘Christ did you see the looks on those Japs’ faces?’

  ‘And in front of the apprentice too,’ said Dutchy.

  ‘Ahh, if the truth’s known you all got a bit turned on by it. That’s why you’re all dirty.’ Marie buried her face in her hands and turned away in an effort to hide her embarrassment—and laughter. ‘Yeah what are you laughing at you Greek tart?’

  But they all agreed it was a pretty hard act to follow so the rest of the afternoon was spent working fairly solidly keeping up the specials, with just the odd burst of giggling. Davo didn’t want to go too overboard with Len being away so he kept going, along with Eddie, fairly conscientiously through the rest of the afternoon. Before they knew it smoko was over and they were cleaned up and ready to go home.

  ‘Well, I s’pose you’re looking forward to the concert tonight eh, mate,’ said Eddie as they washed their hands in the sink.

  ‘I sure am,’ replied Davo.

  ‘Half your luck Davo,’ said Kathy. ‘I only wish I was going.’

  ‘Yeah, I reckon she’ll be a beauty.’ Davo wiped his hands on a paper towel and threw it in the basket. ‘Well I got to get going. I want to have a snooze for an hour or so. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you in the morning. See you all tomorrow.’

  ‘See you, Davo,’ they all chorused as he went out the door.

  Davo was all smiles and miles away thinking about the concert as he walked down the aisles towards the checkout when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

  ‘Yeah, what about you, shifty?’

  He turned around to see Jimmy Lessing pushing a trolley stacked with packets of pasta behind him.

  ‘Jimmy. How are you matey?’

  ‘I’m alright, Davo, but what about you. My sister eh. Just where do you think you’re taking her on the weekend?’ Jimmy had a smile on his face that started to turn into a grin when he noticed the tinges of embarrassment starting to show on Davo’s cheeks.

  ‘Mate. I only asked her out to a bit of a barbecue to be polite that’s all. Why what did she say to you?’

  ‘She told me she was going out with you this Saturday night. And she was looking forward to it.’

  ‘She said that did she?’ Beauty thought Davo. She’s coming for sure. And she’s keen.

  ‘Yeah, well you just have my sister home at a respectable hour, Davo. And no hankypanky. I know what you butchers are like.’ The grin on Jimmy’s face increased as did the colour in Davo’s cheeks.

  ‘Ohh turn it up Jimmy.’

  Davo did his best to explain to Jimmy the circumstances under which he’d come to ask his sister out. Jimmy was sceptical but pleased all the same: he liked Davo as much as what his sister did. He chided Davo over it a little more then they stood there talking a while longer; mainly about the concert that night.

  ‘But that’s the truth, Jimmy. If I could’ve taken your sister tonight I would have. But Wayne only invited me.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ replied Jimmy with a smile and a wink. ‘I know she’s looking forward to the weekend though.’

  ‘That’s good.’ Davo paused for a second or two. ‘Anyway mate—I got to get going. I want to have a bit of a snooze before I call round to Wayne’s.’

  ‘Alright, Davo. Have a good time tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Okay, Jimmy, I’ll tell you about it in the morning. See you, mate.’ Davo turned on his heel and walked briskly through the checkout and out of the supermarket.

  Well that’s alright he thought, as he stopped to get a paper in Oxford Street. Sandra’s looking forward to going out on the weekend. Things are getting better all the time. Come on Saturday night.

  By the time he got home, had a cup of tea and a quick read of the paper it was almost six when he lay down; it was just on 7.30 when the radio alarm went off. He had a shave and a shower and a quick bite to eat while he ironed a clean pair of jeans. Walking home earlier he’d noticed the wind had dropped off and it wasn’t anywhere near as cold as it had been in the morning so he just threw on a denim shirt and the same leather jacket he’d worn the previous night.

  Wayne’s flat was barely five minutes walk away. The stylish hairdresser was wearing a black suede jacket with enormous quilted shoulders and a big smile on his face when he opened the door.

  ‘Bob. Come in—how are you?’

  ‘Good, mate,’ replied Davo stepping inside and having a good look around to see if the boys had bought anything new: he was always impressed at their style and taste when he entered their unit. ‘How’s David?’

  ‘Getting better. The doctor told him to stay in bed though. Why don’t you go in and say hello while I finish getting ready.’

  ‘Okay. Don’t overdo it though. I don’t want to be fighting blokes off you all night.’

  Wayne gave Davo a wink and returned to the bathroom. Davo could hear a blow dryer whining as he walked over to David’s room.

  ‘Hello, digger,’ he smiled, as he stepped inside. ‘How are you feeling old fellah?’

  David looked up across his glasses from the book he was reading and smiled tiredly. Despite looking a lot better than he did a couple of days earlier he was still quite pale and didn’t look too healthy.

  ‘Hello, Bob,’ he said, giving a little cough. ‘I’m feeling a lot better than I was thanks. Shit I don’t think I could possibly have felt any worse.’

  ‘You’ll be alright in a couple of days.’

  ‘Yes, I hope so.’ He blew his nose delicately into a tissue. ‘It certainly doesn’t make me feel any better you going out with Wayne—and at my expense.’

  ‘What are you talking about you miserable prick. You got the tickets for nothing. Anyway serves you right for not taking your vitamin C.’

  ‘Not taki
ng my vitamins. God you’re joking, Bob.’ David waved to a vast array of pills, antibiotics, medicines and vitamin supplements sitting on an expensive antique table next to the bed. ‘Have a look at that,’ he said. ‘I’ve got vitamins coming out of my ears. There’s that much iron in my blood I’ve got to sleep facing the North Pole.’

  Davo started to laugh as Wayne appeared in the doorway next to him.

  ‘Poor David,’ he said. ‘We’ll try not to have too good a time while you’re suffering so much.’

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ grinned Davo. ‘I’m gonna have a ball.’

  ‘God you’re a bastard,’ said David.

  ‘Well, I don’t think we’re going to have time for a drink,’ Wayne looked at his gold Piaget watch. ‘It’s almost half past eight.’

  Davo shrugged his shoulders. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  Wayne walked over and gave David’s arm a gentle squeeze telling him he wouldn’t be home too late then, after a moment or two, he and Davo both said goodbye.

  ‘He doesn’t look too good,’ said Davo, as they walked down to the garage beneath the block of units. ‘What’d the doctor say was wrong with him?’

  ‘Twenty-four hour flu.’

  ‘How long’s he had it now?’

  ‘This’ll be the fourth day.’

  ‘That’s our David. Tougher than a boarding-house steak. When he dies they’ll boil him down and make Bovril out of him.’

  The next thing they were in Wayne’s metallic blue Alfa Romeo listening to some Talking Heads on the car stereo as they headed towards the Entertainment Centre.

  As they drove down Goulburn Street past the old Anthony Hordern building Davo noticed the traffic had begun to increase considerably with most of it heading in the same direction as they were.

  ‘Reckon you’ll find a parking spot?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, I’ve got a bit of a sneak going down near Darling Harbour.’

  Davo sat back and listened to the stereo as Wayne followed the traffic past Chinatown then turned right as if he was heading towards the Harbour Bridge; above him he could see the expressway heading towards Pyrmont. Wayne made a sharp left turn and pulled into an alley alongside a row of old houses that had been converted into offices and warehouses of some description. A dilapidated sign clinging grimly to the corner of an equally dilapidated building said Barker Street. He drove up another narrow lane past some cars already parked there, finally squeezing in behind a Holden opposite a rusty cyclonewire fence that seemed to run off into nowhere. It was a dimly lit, forbidding looking area when Wayne switched off the motor and the headlights. The streetlight above the car was out and the one a little further down the lane appeared to be on its last legs and instead of casting a visible light it seemed to just bathe the area lightly with a murky, yellow gloom. There were no other people around.