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Authors: T. W. Lawless
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‘I’m looking forward to it.’
8
The Tote was nearly empty when Peter wandered in for his pre-dinner ritual drink at six. Slugger wasn’t there. Thankfully. Neither was Irmgard.
She had told him on the phone that she was looking forward to seeing him. A thought drifted into his mind. Maybe Slugger had run off with Irmgard and her friend? Peter grinned to himself. With a wave, he called over Harry, a novice barman who had been leaning over the bar, watching television.
‘Where’s Irmgard?’ he asked.
‘You didn’t know?’ Harry looked surprised.
‘I’ve only just got back from Queensland.’
‘I thought she would have told you,’ Harry chuckled. ‘You were shagging her, weren’t you?’
‘Yeah. You’d think she’d tell me, wouldn’t you?’ he replied flippantly. He didn’t have a clue what Harry was talking about.
‘She left, while you were away.’
Peter zoomed in on Harry’s teeth as he spoke. Tar stains. Not a sight for sore eyes after a hard day’s work. Peter didn’t know which was worse: his needling personality, his scowl or the lank muffet on his head, as Peter called Harry’s hairstyle hybrid of the muffin-topped mullet. Possibly, it was all of the above. If Peter ever wanted to punch anyone, Hooray Harry would definitely be first in line. He wouldn’t want to connect with those teeth, though.
‘Obviously,’ Peter rolled his eyes. That was another irritant: Harry wasn’t the coldest beer in the fridge.
He began again. He knew it all. Filling Peter in on everything he’d missed. ‘She said her and her mate were going to travel. Heading to Western Australia, apparently.’ He looked Peter up and down and started to snigger. ‘You look cut up, mate.’
‘You continually dribble shit, Harry,’ Peter snapped back. ‘Just get me another beer then you can go back to watching Neighbours .’
Harry drifted away to the fridge. A snigger for the road.
*
Con and Roula both came around from behind the counter and greeted Peter with a hug when he entered the Apollo at seven. Someone cares , Peter thought. Someone cares. Stop beating yourself up, Peter Clancy. Did you think you were going to have a long-term relationship with Irmgard? You know relationships don’t suit you.
‘We missed you,’ Con said cheerfully.
‘I was only gone for a few days,’ Peter replied faintly, ‘but I’m glad to see you too.’
‘Isn’t it good to know someone misses you when you’re not here?’ Roula smiled and hugged Peter again.
‘What are you having tonight?’ Con asked, returning to his spot behind the counter. ‘If you say fish and chips again, I’m not going to make them. Too much! I know we have the best in Melbourne, but you eat too much the same thing, you have a heart attack.’ He clutched his hand to his chest. ‘Like the Greeks say, Pan metron ariston . You hear that before?’
‘All things in moderation. That’s Greek?’
‘Yes, that’s Greek. That’s very old Greek.’
‘We’ll make you something healthy all right,’ Roula added, rolling her eyes. ‘We’ll make you Greek salad and pastichio . Much better for you.’
‘Okay,’ he smiled. ‘I don’t know if my body will take it but I’ll give it a try.’
‘Very good,’ Roula replied. She shovelled a piece of the pastichio into an aluminium tray, while Peter wondered how a concoction of pasta, meat and cheese sauce could possibly be a healthier choice than fish and chips.
‘You looking very sad, Peter,’ Con fixed his large, dark eyes on Peter like a concerned parent.
‘I’m fine,’ he replied, scanning the menu on the wall that he already knew by heart.
‘I know! That German girl,’ Con continued. ‘She broke your heart.’
‘I’m not the broken heart sort of bloke, you know that.’
‘Sure, you are,’ Roula interrupted. ‘You very soft. I see it in your eyes. I have words of advice for you.’
Here we go, he grinned. Always full of useful advice for Peter which he always found
8
The Tote was nearly empty when Peter wandered in for his pre-dinner ritual drink at six. Slugger wasn’t there. Thankfully. Neither was Irmgard.
She had told him on the phone that she was looking forward to seeing him. A thought drifted into his mind. Maybe Slugger had run off with Irmgard and her friend? Peter grinned to himself. With a wave, he called over Harry, a novice barman who had been leaning over the bar, watching television.
‘Where’s Irmgard?’ he asked.
‘You didn’t know?’ Harry looked surprised.
‘I’ve only just got back from Queensland.’
‘I thought she would have told you,’ Harry chuckled. ‘You were shagging her, weren’t you?’
‘Yeah. You’d think she’d tell me, wouldn’t you?’ he replied flippantly. He didn’t have a clue what Harry was talking about.
‘She left, while you were away.’
Peter zoomed in on Harry’s teeth as he spoke. Tar stains. Not a sight for sore eyes after a hard day’s work. Peter didn’t know which was worse: his needling personality, his scowl or the lank muffet on his head, as Peter called Harry’s hairstyle hybrid of the muffin-topped mullet. Possibly, it was all of the above. If Peter ever wanted to punch anyone, Hooray Harry would definitely be first in line. He wouldn’t want to connect with those teeth, though.
‘Obviously,’ Peter rolled his eyes. That was another irritant: Harry wasn’t the coldest beer in the fridge.
He began again. He knew it all. Filling Peter in on everything he’d missed. ‘She said her and her mate were going to travel. Heading to Western Australia, apparently.’ He looked Peter up and down and started to snigger. ‘You look cut up, mate.’
‘You continually dribble shit, Harry,’ Peter snapped back. ‘Just get me another beer then you can go back to watching Neighbours .’
Harry drifted away to the fridge. A snigger for the road.
*
Con and Roula both came around from behind the counter and greeted Peter with a hug when he entered the Apollo at seven. Someone cares , Peter thought. Someone cares. Stop beating yourself up, Peter Clancy. Did you think you were going to have a long-term relationship with Irmgard? You know relationships don’t suit you.
‘We missed you,’ Con said cheerfully.
‘I was only gone for a few days,’ Peter replied faintly, ‘but I’m glad to see you too.’
‘Isn’t it good to know someone misses you when you’re not here?’ Roula smiled and hugged Peter again.
‘What are you having tonight?’ Con asked, returning to his spot behind the counter. ‘If you say fish and chips again, I’m not going to make them. Too much! I know we have the best in Melbourne, but you eat too much the same thing, you have a heart attack.’ He clutched his hand to his chest. ‘Like the Greeks say, Pan metron ariston . You hear that before?’
‘All things in moderation. That’s Greek?’
‘Yes, that’s Greek. That’s very old Greek.’
‘We’ll make you something healthy all right,’ Roula added, rolling her eyes. ‘We’ll make you Greek salad and pastichio . Much better for you.’
‘Okay,’ he smiled. ‘I don’t know if my body will take it but I’ll give it a try.’
‘Very good,’ Roula replied. She shovelled a piece of the pastichio into an aluminium tray, while Peter wondered how a concoction of pasta, meat and cheese sauce could possibly be a healthier choice than fish and chips.
‘You looking very sad, Peter,’ Con fixed his large, dark eyes on Peter like a concerned parent.
‘I’m fine,’ he replied, scanning the menu on the wall that he already knew by heart.
‘I know! That German girl,’ Con continued. ‘She broke your heart.’
‘I’m not the broken heart sort of bloke, you know that.’
‘Sure, you are,’ Roula interrupted. ‘You very soft. I see it in your eyes. I have words of advice for you.’
Here we go, he grinned. Always full of useful advice for Peter which he always found
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