CHAPTER THREE.
I went to Tiffany’s hair stylist, while Fitzgerald took a walk down Burelli Street to the council office block.
It had been almost a week since coming out of hospital, and I’d never spent such a miserable time in all my life. Not because of the operation or even my hair, despite the pain they both brought me whenever I looked in the mirror, but mainly because of the small child who ran out in front of me during the hold-up.
There still hadn’t been any word of her, and the papers had relegated any mention of the story to page seven.
“There’s not a lot I can do with this,” Lisa said, dragging the hair to the right side of my head between… Continue reading Chapter Three
CHAPTER FIVE.
Fitzgerald and I were staying at a rented unit in Addison Street, not far from his favourite golf club in Shellharbour. The pro there, with the improbable name of Shaun O’Toole, became friends after a Saturday morning round of golf, when Fitzgerald had hit a satisfactory 94.
For him, it was like winning the open at Saint Andrews. Anything under a hundred was good, anything in the low nineties, was flair… or at least that’s what he told me.
The only thing to mar his delight, were the crows stealing golf balls on the 15th fairway. If he’d had a shotgun in the bag, I’m sure he would have used it, right then and there. It would have been his only birdie all day… Continue reading Chapter Five