Two minutes late didn't mean anything in my analysis. We didn't get paid for the gig. He told me that his grandfather had been adamant that he came from a line of Travellers, not gypsies, and that recently he'd taken an interest in the subject and had looked it up in books and on the web. But they do coincide to give him a moment or two's thought. I could ask him about the Hamilton gig and the fire and I could go there and ask questions.
It spoils the perspective, and further back you miss some of the nuances. It was interesting, but a bit rural for me. Despite the Irish heritage, I didn't feel a particular connection to the place, unlike Patrick. The one of Angela Warburton in profile didn't do her justice. Szabo'd exceeded his brief and killed two people and would've killed me if I hadn't got lucky.
You know the Square Leg pub in Redfern? There's not a lot wrong with that. But who was the bullet aimed at, Malloy or Hardy? Is that plain enough for you? On their return, a shotgun blast shatters their camaraderie. Not the least because the contact comes out of the blue and impetuously leads to a trip to Ireland to track down their joint ancestors. She sat at the bench in the breakfast nook and I waited to hear the cigarettes come out and the click of the lighter. Cliff and his cousin become friends and travel to attend a gathering of the Irish Travellers, the gypsy-like folk from whom they are descended.
He scarcely involved himself in the business at all. Moody was tall and lean, teak-coloured and severe-looking in a grey hooded top and dark shorts. Acquisition of that sort was Carstairs' area of expertise. Nothing there but a cement bench to sit on and a metal toilet. Who is this guy and what is he? That was a bad scene. It was a gimcrack mob, half pisspots and half psychopaths.
We were downstairs, behaving slightly awkwardly. You know a fight can be a long, testing affair or over in a matter of seconds. We both sat and touched glasses without speaking. Inside the package to Patrick, Hardy finds steroids. He'd said it was one of the best books he'd ever read.
We had a house and other assets in common and when he left he managed to take them all out from under me. But of course he still ends up in troubles. The search takes Hardy north to a para-military training camp and south to a meeting of Traveller descendants in Kangaroo Valley. It's a terrible time to be getting old in, to be sure. Will you be inside, Kev? On their return, Malloy is brutally murdered—but perhaps the shotgun blast was intended for Hardy.
I didn't get enough shots to make a worthwhile piece, and most of the people clammed up once the clannish shit hit the fan. But who was the bullet aimed at, Malloy or Hardy? Cliff and his cousin become friends and travel to attend a gathering of the Irish Travellers - the gypsy-like folk from whom they are descended. It was published in the year 1986 by the Fawcett publication. I took a deep breath and put the mobile on the desk. It was a good bash-Pat would've loved it. If you've ever lived in Sydney, even more bun for your buck.
She probably doesn't even have to do that if no other claims are made. Will be tracking down books by the same author and recommending to friends. I topped the glasses up, more mixer for me than him. I was surprised that he accepted the more passive role and asked him about it. A fast, rangy Lebanese lightweight named Ali Ali boxed the ears off a stocky opponent for four rounds before unwisely deciding he could mix it in the fifth. Mind you, it's still a good, entertaining, perfect summer quick read, in the full-on style of Cliff Hardy. Not just about his wife.
It might have been different if the substance was anthrax or something similar, but I couldn't see Patrick as a terrorist. Having had a tremendous trip overseas, the cousins return to Sydney and Cliff's house, only to have Patrick shot to death in Cliff's back bathroom. The dollar was fairly strong against the pound but neither of us was economising. I stopped at the Toxteth for a drink and ordered a Jamesons, Patrick's favourite tipple. He tossed off half of the drink and I gave him a refill. There was enough coffee in the percolator for a couple of cups. Other players have other interests and their playing style is ruthless.