Smoky Joe's Cafe

by Bryce Courtenay

  ‘That’s transport, not distribution,’ Wendy replies.

  I can’t believe me ears. Where does she get this stuff from, she a bloody school teacher when she isn’t running a greasy spoon?

  Animal looks confused and Killer Kowolski next to him shrugs his shoulders, ‘A deal is thirty bucks. It ain’t hard, lady. We’ll work the pubs, if it’s okay by you?’

  ‘Fair enough,’ I think.

  ‘Killer, how much do you think a bone-marrow transplant costs?’ Wendy asks him.

  ‘I wouldn’t have a clue, lady,’ Killer says. Killer likes his women to know their place, which is basically on the pillion seat of his Harley.

  ‘Twenty thousand dollars. That’s an estimate and if we can find a donor.’ She reaches for her handbag and takes out a calculator and punches the buttons. After a few moments she looks up. ‘At thirty dollars a bag that’s 666 deals, the Devil’s number. That just takes care of Anna, now what about the other kids who need help?’ She looks at Killer, ‘How long is it going to take you and Animal to sell that many deals through the nation’s pubs?’

  ‘Not just us, lady, the brothers, we’ve got a movement nationwide!’ It’s Animal again.

  ‘Oh, the selling and distribution is to go outside this inner circle, the Dirty Dozen? Everybody and his dog Spot is going to be a dope merchant for the cause, are they?’

  I’m looking down at me boots. ‘Shit, Wendy, leave off, will ya?’ I’m saying to meself. Now she’s embarrassing the bejesus out of two of me brothers. Killer ain’t gunna like it one bit. Like Animal, he likes his birds with big tits and zipped lips. Animal’s probably never even spoken to a bird with his trousers on.

  There is sudden silence. Like you can hear a pin drop. Then Lawsy laughs from the back. ‘Okay, fair enough, Wendy. But if Griffith is a small town, what would you call Currawong Creek? As I understand it you were born and raised here? How are you, or we, for that matter, going to do it differently? What do you know about the civilian jungle, Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane and the rest of the urban sprawls?’

  ‘When Thommo was in Vietnam, that was before we were married, I spent four years in Sydney,’ Wendy replies. I think she’s glad to get away from cross-examining Killer and Animal. ‘I couldn’t find a job as a teacher, as city vacancies were impossible to get, so I joined a small advertising agency and also worked in a supper club at night for a couple of years until my salary in the ad agency increased. My folk needed the money to pay off the mortgage on Smoky Joe’s and the job paid pretty well.’ She flicks her hair back and grins, ‘I’ve got a fair idea of the urban jungle. As a matter of fact, I’ve been propositioned by the best and the worst and survived both.’ She looks around the room and then at me, ‘In case you’re thinking anything, gentlemen, Mr Thompson married a virgin when he returned to make what’s laughingly known as his attempt at civilian life.’

  The boys all laugh at this crack at me. But they’ve all got this guilty look on their gobs, I know they’re thinking that maybe Wendy was like hinting that she was on ‘the game’ in Sydney.

  Lawsy stands up and we all turn to look at him, ‘I vote we start the serious meeting,’ he says. ‘We haven’t a collective clue how we are going to go about this thing. But one thing I do know, what we don’t need is a quarrel. Wendy’s raised a few points and has shown she can put a thought or two together on her own. She’s got under our skin a fair bit, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. And, I take her point, she is a Vietnam veteran.’ He stops talking and looks around, ‘What say we include Mrs Thompson, er . . .beg your pardon, Wendy, in?’

  There is a moment’s silence and then a bit of a laugh and then a bit of clapping. I look around and everyone seems happy except for Animal and Killer Kowolski, who are crouched forward, elbows on their knees, looking down at their boots.

  Shorty picks this up at the same time as me, ‘Killer? Animal? What do you reckon?’

  Killer Kowolski looks up slowly, ‘Mate, I dunno. I just dunno. I don’t like it.’

  ‘Me too,’ Animal grunts, glad Killer’s said it first.

  ‘Well, it’s got to be one in, all in,’ Shorty says, ‘We’re not splitting the platoon.’

  I glance over at Wendy, who is also looking down at her boots. Poor little bugger is still standing and now she looks alone, isolated, confused like.

  ‘If I could make a proposal?’ I say and stand up. Shorty nods and I turn to face the boys. ‘Let’s listen to what Mrs Thompson has to say,’ I say, real formal, ‘Then, if at the end of the meeting we think she can’t make a contribution, or can’t work with us, we tell her?’

  Wendy’s head shoots up, ‘No, that’s the very purpose of this meeting, that’s why you brought me here. Sorry, but no!’ She turns to Shorty, ‘I agree, the decision has to be unanimous.’

  Well, I reckon that little outburst will just about see us two out of the room and headed for home with me packin’ me bags for keeps.

  Then Macca speaks up slow and quiet. ‘You know, if Wendy were one of us and she’d come up with the exact selfsame arguments as she has today, I reckon we’d be pretty impressed. We’d be saying to ourselves that at least one of us is thinking straight. So why ain’t we saying that now?’

  ‘Most of us are,’ Lawsy calls out.

  ‘Okay, no point in going on like this, we’ll put it to the vote,’ Shorty says. ‘But before we do I’ve got something to say. Relax, it may take a few minutes.’ He clears his throat and begins.

  ‘Six months ago I drove up from the farm to see Thommo, to ask him to come to a reunion dinner in Griffith. I could have called him on the phone I expect, but it seemed like a good excuse to have a couple of beers with a mate. The dinner was just gunna be us four locals, Lawsy and Spags, him and me, a tinnie or two and bit of a chin-wag about old times.

  ‘Well, I get to the cafe and Thommo’s out somewhere and I get to talk to Wendy, who I haven’t seen since her and Thommo’s wedding. One thing leads to another and she tells me about her little girl Anna. How she’s got cancer of the blood. I ask the question, “Can it be cured?”

  ‘It’s very doubtful, she tells me. Finding a donor that’s suitable for a bone-marrow transplant isn’t easy. Even if they did, the operation would cost twenty grand. She doesn’t go on about it and we then talk about Agent Orange, all the usual stuff, what it’s doing to veterans’ children and how the government is denying everything and taking no responsibility.

  ‘Thommo doesn’t turn up so I leave and tell Wendy if he gets in I’m having a beer at the pub if he wants to join me. I’m having a quiet ale on my own when this kid walks in. He’s about eighteen, got the knees out of his jeans, his hair is damn near down to his waist and the whole of him looks like he could use a bloody good scrub. He goes over to the Kiwi barmaid and asks if she knows how to contact Peter Thompson?

  “Yeah,” she says, and points, “Out the door to your left, Smoky Joe’s Cafe, just down the road.”

  ‘He thanks her and turns to go. “He ain’t there,” I call out. Then on a hunch I say, “But he told me to expect you.”

  ‘The hippie kid props and takes a look at me, “I don’t think so,” he says. He’s seen me short back ‘n’ sides and I can tell he’s thinking it’s the fuzz and that he’s being set up for a bust. He looks at the door, but thinks better of it. If I’m inside, then there’s someone waiting outside to grab him. He’s a pretty cool customer. “Thanks for the offer, sir,” he says real polite, “I was told I must only see Mr Thompson.” He smiles, “No offence, hey? It’s like, you know, personal business.”

  ‘I’ve already figured he’s selling dope, or pills. “Righto, son, suit yerself, if you stick around, Mr Thompson may be coming along later,” I turn back to my beer. Then out of the corner of my eye I see him go to the toilet. I wait a moment then follow him in. He’s halfway through the window above the urinal when I jerk him down by the legs and he falls back into the porcelain in amongst the camphor tablets.’ Shorty grins, ‘I’m sorely tempted to
pull the chain, a wash would have done him good. I pull him to his feet and maintain a fairly firm grip to the back of his neck, “Righto, hand it over, everything!” I hold out my free hand. He doesn’t protest and he hands me over three little plastic bags of dope. “The money?” He takes out a stash and puts it into my hand, it looks like fives and tens mostly. “How much here?”

  “Three hundred dollars,” he says.

  “Been a good day, eh?”

  “Until now,” he replies.

  ‘I laugh, “Well, kid, this is your lucky day.” I hand him back the money and two of the three plastic bags. Then I hold up the other one. “How much?”

  “Thirty bucks, but you can have it for free if you don’t take me in, sir.” I let go his neck and give him thirty bucks, thinking I’ll keep the dope for Thommo if he comes in. Then I stand aside and nod in the direction of the toilet door, “Garn, scarper! Hey, don’t sell that shit to schoolkids!” I shout after him. Scrawny little bastard can’t believe his luck and he’s off like a rat up a drainpipe.

  ‘Well, I look at this little plastic bag and think about how much of the stuff I could grow on a couple of acres. Then, out of the blue, the idea of growing dope and getting us all together like this to help veterans’ sick kids comes to me.

  ‘As you all know, I’m not the world’s most impulsive bloke, so I sit and stew on it a while and try to think the whole thing out. A couple of weeks go by and I decide to call Wendy, find out more about the kid, you know, hospital costs and all that. She tells me and, of course, wants to know why I’m asking. Well, what the hell, she won’t dob me in if Thommo’s in the habit of smoking funny cigarettes, so I tell her confidentially what I’m thinking.’

  Shorty glances over at Wendy, ‘I don’t think she was all that impressed. She don’t say nothing for a while, then she says, “Can I think about it?” Well, I take that to mean she don’t like the idea. Which is okay, she’s a civilian, what can you expect, if the scam works I’ll find a way to help them anyway.

  ‘Then she calls me a week later and asks if we can meet. She’ll drive to Griffith and meet me there. We meet at Griffith and she tells me she wants to know more.

  “Have you spoken to Thommo?” I say. She says she hasn’t. “Why not?” I ask.

  “Because I don’t want him to get his hopes up,” she says. Then she tells me she likes the plan but it’s against the law.

  “It’s Agent Orange that’s done this to your girlie, ain’t it?” I argue back. “If the government won’t do anything, we’re forced to take the law in our own hands.”

  “That can’t be proved, Shorty. Lots of children die of leukaemia and they’re not all vets’ kids. It may not be Agent Orange in Anna’s case.”

  “Yeah, well, we can still raise the money for you. Twenty grand, that’s not impossible. It doesn’t matter how it happened, besides there’s lots of other bad things happening – cleft palate, cleft lip, spina bifida, gross deformities, strange things happening to vets’ children that don’t happen anything like as frequently in the general population. The only thing these children have in common is their daddy served in Vietnam.”

  ‘Then she comes out and says, “Shorty, it’s not the twenty thousand dollars it will cost for the operation. If it was we’d happily sell Smoky Joe’s to pay to get Anna better. The problem is finding the right donor. Our best chance is a relative and Thommo and me have no family to speak of. The thing is, we could test a million potential donors and not come up with a suitable one.”

  ‘Well, that kind of puts the kybosh on things. There’s not a whole lot I could say after that,’ Shorty says.

  “But it’s still a good idea and I’d like to be a part of it,” Wendy then says to me. “There are lots of other children in trouble. Vietnamese children as well as ours, they’re all just sick kids who need help.”

  ‘I shake my head, “No way, Wendy. We could all go to gaol if the scam doesn’t work. If I can get the platoon who fought at Long Tan together, they may buy the plan. I figure most of the blokes will reckon they ain’t got a helluva lot to lose anyway. But there’s no way they’re gunna buy it with someone from the outside involved. I mean no offence, love, but someone who ain’t a Vietnam veteran, least of all a woman with a small, sick child, would not be welcome.”

  ‘Wendy then gives me the routine you just heard, how she’s also a Vietnam veteran. I shake my head, “I can’t see it happening. No way!” Then she comes back again, “So I’m happy to put my husband in danger, that’s okay, is it?” I tell her that’s up to him, nobody’s going to force him.’

  Shorty looks around the room and then directly at me. He can see I’m totally gobsmacked, but he pretends not to notice. ‘Well, as you’ve seen, Mrs Thompson doesn’t take no for an answer. This morning Thommo came to me and put the hard word on me and I decide we’ll have this meeting and let the brothers decide.’

  Shorty shrugs and then he goes on, ‘What I’m trying to say now is Wendy knows her little daughter isn’t gunna benefit from anything we do, but, as you can see, she still wants to help. She knows the risks she’s taking. Well, there yer go then. It’s over to you, gentlemen. Let’s vote on it. But it’s all in or none and no more discussion.’

  I’m too scared to look, besides, I can’t believe what I’ve just heard. Jesus H. Christ! But I raise my hand anyway and I fix my eyes on Wendy, who doesn’t look at me. There’s a chorus of Ayes. Then I see her smile. ‘Thank you, gentlemen,’ she says quietly, ‘I won’t let you down.’

  I don’t know whether to go over and belt her or kiss her, but one thing I know for sure, she wasn’t never gunna dump me, wasn’t gunna give me my marching orders. It was all a ploy. I’m learning stuff about my wife I don’t know.

  The boys get up for a break before the next meeting starts with a new forward scout elected to the platoon they could never have imagined. I’ve still got me doubts about the whole thing and I wonder if me wife’s got the peripheral vision she’s gunna need in the civilian jungle?

  Maybe, maybe not, but she’s already got one good qualification for jungle warfare, she don’t wear underpants.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Shorty has done his homework. What he doesn’t know about growing marijuana ain’t worth knowing. Or so it seems to us. He doesn’t say where he gets his info, instead he gives us this long, boring lecture. Later we find out it’s from Nam Tran.

  In fairness, his briefing probably isn’t that long, but the hangovers are beginning to lift and, as every warrior knows, the best way to hasten this process is to build the beginnings of another one.

  I don’t know why Wendy needs to know all this stuff, Shorty and Spags can take care of the growing department and the rest of us can do as we’re told, same as the army. Shorty is enjoying himself, doing the long-winded, and Wendy’s questions are stirring the breeze he is causing to gale force. The sergeant and the school mistress, it’s gunna turn out to be a bloody nightmare combination.

  Soon enough the blokes are clasping their elbows and leaning on their knees, looking down at the space between their legs and giving out more than the occasional sigh.

  Shorty goes on about climate, planting just before the spring rains, soil conditions, irrigation, plant quality, the use of nitrates, lime and spraying insecticides. Humans are not the only ones to like dope neither. It seems bugs go ape over marijuana and bug control is a big problem as every manner of insect likes to take a chomp of it. I’ve never ever thought about a snail being stoned but there you go, there’s a lot of wicked stuff going on in mother nature we just don’t know about.

  Then Bongface mentions that there’s different sorts of cannabis for the use of.

  Wendy jumps on this. ‘Different how?’

  ‘Well, there’s the heads that you roll into a joint and smoke, then there’s hash and hash oil,’ Bongface says.

  ‘What’s the difference?’ she immediately wants to know.

  ‘Some’s better than others,’ he says.

  ‘Bett
er how?’ she asks.

  ‘Yeah, well, good hash gets you stoned quicker and hash oil is supposed to be even faster and better.’

  ‘Supposed? What’s that mean?’

  ‘Well, yeah, I ain’t used hash oil.’

  Nam Tran chips in, ‘Hash oil very good, better, hash honey.’

  ‘Hash honey? That’s a lovely name,’ Wendy says. ‘It’s the best, is it?’

  ‘Very good, very expensive, to make this one very hard.’

  ‘Can you make hash honey, Nam Tran?’

  He nods, ‘I can make.’

  ‘And the price? On the market?’

  Nam Tran shrugs. ‘Hash honey, you not find Australia. China, Hong Kong, New York maybe, only rich man, also movie star have this.’

  ‘And you can make it?’ Wendy’s eyes are shining.

  Nam Tran turns his palms upwards, ‘Of course.’

  ‘What does hash honey do that the other dope doesn’t?’

  Nam Tran giggles and covers his mouth with his hand, ‘I not say to a lady,’ he says.

  ‘Ah, it’s an aphrodisiac, is it?’

  ‘Excuse me?’ the little man says, looking confused.

  ‘Gives extra good sex,’ Lawsy offers.

  Nam Tran giggles again, ‘Special one, many, many for women, for man, long, long time.’

  We all laugh. I say to Wendy, ‘Can’t wait to try this hash honey, honey.’

  ‘Thommo!’ she exclaims. She’s smiling, but I know that particular smile, it’s strictly for public consumption. ‘You’ll keep,’ she says and this brings another laugh. Wendy’s winning the battle of the sexes and I can see the boys are getting to like her. They’d like her a lot better if only she’d stop asking so many goddamn questions and we could all go downstairs to the bar.

  But she ain’t finished yet. Nam Tran’s English is pretty good but he has some trouble with getting her answers about this hash honey gear. Though after a while what comes out is that you use the stuff for just about anything. Mix it with butter and spread it on your toast, mix it into a drink, cover a pin with it and stick it down the front of a cigarette, spread it on a cigarette paper and use it with weed, bong it, hot knife it, you name it, this hash honey is the original convenience dope. What’s more, whatever you do with it, it gives you a better, quicker and longer high. There’s only one thing against it, it takes four times as much weed to make hash honey, which means it’s gunna be very expensive on the street.