THE BAKERY

A.G. Bennett

My name is Billy Peterson and Johnno and I spent three months together bakin' pies and preparin' cakes in a small business while we were secretly tunnellin' into the bank next door.

It was Johnno who really got the rough end of the stick - I can tell you that for sure. If the whole thing wasn't so absurdly funny it could have sprung from the pages of some old Greek tragedy. Instead, the whole fiasco was probably more like one of your Englishman's reformation comedies: complete farce in every bloody way.

It was 1994 and we had recently finished our respective stints in Grafton Gaol. There were no jobs waitin' for us when we got out, just our parole officer who suggested we keep our noses clean if we didn't want to re-occupy our former cells. We certainly felt aggrieved. Not just by the punishment the law dished out but also, and more so, by how they left us high and dry when we were released.

Johnno was like a big brother to me but not because of any age difference between us. We were both twenty-eight but he towered over me, so compared to him I felt like a short-arse. Johnno was a big bloke, tall and muscular. His dark eyes reinforced my thoughts that he was not about to bow and scrape to nobody.

Fair enough too, I considered. He'd done his ten years inside for bank robberies. He didn't receive no early parole, and now no one would employ either of us.

"Stuff this!" Johnno said. "What do they expect us to do? Go bush?"

"Maybe we should go up to North Queensland where no one knows us," I suggested. "We could do some work trawlin'."

"I'm not leavin' New South Wales ," Johnno said. "They can keep payin' me the dole forever for all I bloody care."

I had done the time for my crime but my indiscretion was nothin' as glamorous as Johnno's bank robberies. I had simply driven the odd unregistered car. Granted, I had formerly been suspended from drivin' six times and was not supposed to get behind a wheel until two thousand and eight, but I still tend to think the magistrate was a bit tough on me. Three years inside for just drivin' is a bit rough in anyone's language, even for some ponce of a lawmaker who probably went to Geelong Grammar, or its northern equivalent. I did finish my high school studies when I was inside, though, so it wasn't a complete waste of time. I even started the first year of a uni. course. I learnt a lot of interestin' stuff in that course - like how to talk well and use big words when I needed to, and it helped a lot when it came to tellin' this here true story.

Anyway, the way things worked out was that we met up with this bloke called Howard Bruce in a local pub in Ballina. We had both heard of him when we were in Grafton Gaol where he was considered a legend. Howard was a dodgy character. Now in his late forties, he'd been involved in all sorts of scams over the years but had never done any real gaol time. He was what we called a clean skin, which meant that he had always managed to stay one step ahead of the law. Perhaps he had made a large number of private donations to the boys in blue, or maybe he had a good old-fashioned crooked lawyer in his pocket. Whatever the case, he had avoided prison and I respected him for that.

Howard always wore a coat and tie and drank the finest scotch you could get. He fancied himself as a gentleman and so I was surprised when he approached Johnno and me and asked us if we were interested in a job. I was even more puzzled when he said it involved operatin' a bakery in Lismore, though it soon became apparent that Bruce had more in mind than sellin' dog's eyes. He had bought an old shop in the main street of Lismore, right beside the biggest bank in the town, and he told us that he had planned the perfect, if not original crime.

Johnno was reluctant to take up Howard's offer at first. I hesitated too before I saw that it was an opportunity of a lifetime. Johnno, though, needed much more persuadin'.

"Christ, Howard," he said. "I just got out of gaol after ten years inside. What's you're caper? Do you want me to be a permanent resident in there?"

"There's little chance of that," Howard replied. "I have organised everything to a tee - nothing can go wrong."

"I've heard that before," Johnno said. He sculled his beer and walked out the door of the hotel.

"He'll come around," Howard said, "I want you to work on him, Billy."

"Do we really need him?" I asked.

"He looks like a big strong boy and we need someone who can do some serious digging. Work on him, Billy. He'll come around."

"No worries," I said. "They don't call me King Billy for nothin'."

"I'm sure that they don't, Billy," Howard nodded his head, "and I know that I can rely upon you."

Bein' a Koori, I'd faced a fair bit of discrimination in the past but this Howard bloke seemed like the real deal. I didn't have all my education finished at that time - that came later on, but I could usually spot a good thing when I saw it. Howard told me that once I got Johnno on side we could open up the old shop as a bakery and within three months we'd have dug into the bank next door, taken the cash and disappeared to live on easy street. Howard had the floor plan for the bank and he said if we drilled through the adjacent shop wall we would emerge right within the bank vault.

I caught up with Johnno later that night.

"Come on, Johnno, you're me mate. I can't do this alone, bro."

Johnno shook his head.

"I promised my grandfather that I wouldn't go back inside."

"There's no risk," I said. "Howard has got it all planned. We'll be out of there with the cash before anyone knows it. It's safe as houses, bro."

Johnno didn't look convinced, so I tried another tack:

"What are ya gonna do then, Johnno? Sit on your bum and draw the stinkin' dole for the rest of ya life? That's one hell of a bloody strategy."

"What's the money split?" he asked.

"Forty grand each - Howard guarantees it."

"How much is Howard gettin'?"

"Well, he's settin' it up, so I s'pose he's gettin' a little bit more than us."

Johnno scratched his chin with the fingers of his left hand.

"We split the money equally, or I'm not involved."

"Ok," I said. "I'll tell him. I'll see what he says."

Howard surprisingly agreed, so we moved to Lismore the next week and set about preparin' the shop. Within two weeks we had refurbished the old building and Howard would drop in on a regular basis to see how things were goin'. He arranged for an oven to be installed and hired a third party to help Johnno dig through the sidewall into the bank. My role was to bake the pies and I was chosen to do this as I had been an apprentice baker in my teens. Johnno didn't want to worry about the bakin' side of things, but Howard insisted that we needed a legitimate front for the public.

The third party that Howard hired to help Johnno was an ex-bikie in his late thirties called Chain. He was almost as tall as Johnno, but was thin and wiry and I must have looked like a black midget beside the two of them. Chain rode an old Harley Davidson and had long, stringy red hair which hung about his shoulders, though he was badly recedin' on top. He and I didn't get on too well at first, as I found him to be a bit of a racist. He also seemed to have dropped one too many acid trips in the past.

I baked pies in the large oven, while Johnno and Chain started to dig through the concrete wall out in the back room. It was slow goin' as there must have been around twenty feet of concrete between the bank and us and most of the diggin' had to be done by hand so as not to alert the authorities.

On the first day we stopped for lunch and I gave Johnno and Chain some pies that I had made. Chain took one bite and spat it out onto the floor.

"Shit!" he said. "This tastes like crap."

"You do better then, bro," I said. I felt insulted.

Johnno took a bite of his pie. He also quickly spat it out and hurriedly wiped his mouth.

"This is the worst bloody pie I've ever tasted," he said.

"Fair go, Johnno," I said. "I dropped out of the bakin' apprenticeship after only two months."

"No bloody wonder," Chain said.

At that moment, Howard walked into the shop to pay his regular visit.

"Howard," I said. "Have a taste of the pies. These blokes say they're crap."

Howard took a tiny bite of pie then quickly produced a small, white handkerchief from his coat pocket and spat into it. He coughed and spluttered for a few moments until he caught his breath and spoke:

"Billy, no offence, but I believe your talents may, indeed, lie elsewhere."

After that, Chain and I switched roles. Chain baked the pies and I helped Johnno with the diggin'.

Chain's pies were very tasty and before too long we had a good followin' in the town. I had to help Chain serve in the shop most of the time and leave Johnno to do all the diggin'. Some days we ran out of pies and so Chain began to bake twice as many. He added sausage rolls to the menu and they proved very popular. Johnno was annoyed that he was the only one doing the diggin' and he was outraged when Chain began to prepare cakes and pastries for the clients.

"What is this?" Johnno asked. "Is this supposed to be a bank robbery or a bloody patisserie?"

Chain was offended by Johnno's comment.

"Just keep digging, man," he said, "and leave a true artist to do his work."

I must admit that Chain's cakes were superb. The sponges were moist and succulent and oh-so flavoursome but Howard, like Johnno, seemed to be disturbed by how the bakery was provin' to be so successful. He asked Chain to cut back on the produce but Chain would have none of it. Chain began to wear a pink apron when he was bakin' and even displayed it around his long waist when he served in the shop. I rarely had time to help Johnno with the diggin' because I was always servin' in the shop and Johnno's progress in reachin' the bank next door was becomin' slower by the day. I would sometimes glance out the shop window towards the adjoinin' bank and imagine the money that awaited us. Chain, though, seemed to have forgotten our true purpose. He had now added lamingtons to the menu and talked about introducin' fairy cakes, wedding cakes and anzac biscuits.

One day I arrived for work and Chain was wearin' a dress. I almost laughed, before I saw it was no a joke. Howard arrived and had words with Chain about his new apparel:

"Don't you consider you are taking this a bit far, Chain?"

Chain brushed back his scraggy, red hair from the top of his dress.

"I have decided not to go by that name anymore, Howard. I would prefer that you call me Sharon from now on."

I heard Howard sigh as he left the shop. Things were not goin' as he had planned.

"My God," he later said, "I have created a monster."

Johnno, too, seemed completely frustrated by proceedings. He had barely made an indent in the concrete wall and he tried to convince Howard that power tools would be needed if he wanted to stick to schedule. Chain, or Sharon as he now preferred to be called, didn't seem at all interested in the original plan to rob the bank. He was becomin' a celebrity around Lismore and even appeared on the local television station to share his recipes with the viewers. He seemed to have found his true calling in life and even sold his old Harley to a second-hand bike shop.

"No time for bloke's things anymore," he told me. "It takes me out of the kitchen too often."

I didn't mind the new Chain. He seemed to have softened considerably and no longer passed any racist comments to me. Howard, though, was becomin' worried by Chain's antics. One afternoon, it led to an angry verbal stoush.

Howard told Chain:

"All this baking has to stop."

He tried to remind Chain why they had set-up the shop in the first place. He pointed his finger towards the bank next door.

"You're drawing too much attention to this place. No more baking cakes, Chain - that's it! Just stick to pies, and only a few."

Chain removed his pink apron and threw it to the floor.

"Philistine!" he shouted. He walked out the shop door, never to return.

Howard thought it was a blessin' in disguise but the next week Chain opened his own bakery across the street: Sharon 's was what he called it. He now constantly wore a dress and had hired several young local girls to help him run the new business. Apparently, the young women also gave him some make-up tips as he now wore mascara and a bright shade of lipstick. I reckon that it looked a bit funny...I mean an ex-bikie, six-foot tall in the old scale with stringy red hair fallin' from his balding head, wearin' a red frock and thick, pink lipstick. The Hell's Angels would have been appalled. There was talk about the town that he was savin' up for a sex-change operation.

"Oh well...," Howard said. "At least we can now concentrate on the digging."

"Yeah," Johnno agreed. "We won't have to worry about any customers if Billy's doin' the bakin'..."

I was slightly aggrieved but I must admit that patronage for the shop dropped-off completely when I resumed the cookin' duties: I couldn't even give the pies away. Not even the local charities would have Ã¢â‚¬Ëœem. I gave some to my aunties and uncles and they later swore at me and said I was tryin' to poison Ã¢â‚¬Ëœem.

Howard and Johnno were both happy that we no longer had any customers to worry about, as Sharon 's had taken Ã¢â‚¬Ëœem all. Howard finally relented to Johnno's request for power tools and Johnno and I soundproofed the back room and worked at night to minimise the chances of someone in the street hearin' the drillin'. We made good progress and only had another metre or so to go to reach the bank when Johnno suggested we break for the night and finish it off the next day. We told Howard that we were set to go as planned and he shouted us to a feed at a local pub.

"Here's cheers!" Howard said. He raised his glass of scotch to clink against our respective beer glasses.

"I never thought I'd see the day," Johnno said.

I asked Johnno what he would do with his share of the money.

"I haven't decided yet," he said. "One thing's for sure - I won't be goin' into the pastry business."

"Quite right," Howard said. He smiled. "I don't believe any of us will require savoury foods for quite a while."

The big day finally arrived. Johnno drilled close to the bank perimeter and then let me have the honour of completin' the hole. I grabbed the drill with relish and forced it into the remainin' concrete. A loud cracking noise then sounded and water began to spray everywhere. Unfortunately, Howard's floor plan for the bank had been an old one. There had been some changes made since it was printed and we had drilled directly into the women's lavatory.

"Shit!" Johnno yelled. "Try and plug the leak."

I removed my Free Nelson Mandela t-shirt and tried to stop the water, but it was useless.

The bank's staff must have been astonished when they arrived at work the next mornin' with a flood of water pourin' into the street. Before too long, the cops came and arrested us. We didn't have nowhere to escape to.

I was given another three years in Grafton Gaol. It was no big deal and I got to finish the uni. degree I had started when I was previously in there. Later on, I actually put it to good use and I now help with legal aid for Kooris like me.

Howard remained a clean skin. He hired some hotshot lawyer who successfully argued that he had no knowledge of what Johnno and I were doin' in the back of the shop. I don't know where Howard is now but I'd wager he's still up to no good.

Chain, who later changed his name by deed poll to Sharon , was interviewed by the coppers but stated that he was a respected businesswoman with nothin' whatsoever to do with the activities of former employees. I hear that he still has the patisserie in Lismore and also a chain of stores in other country areas. I still see him on television sometimes, campaignin' for transsexual's rights. He never had the operation to become a fully-fledged female. Perhaps, unlike Johnno and me, he is still hedgin' his bets.

I felt so sorry for poor Johnno. They gave him another eight years inside, this time in Maitland Gaol. His previous convictions counted against him - that's the way the system works. He looked so despondent when they led him away after sentencin'. I wish I hadn't of talked him into followin' Howard's plan - it was a fiasco from start to finish, but it was Johnno's ultimate decision to agree to it.

I hope Johnno is well and now back on his feet. He was a really nice bloke and like a big brother to me. If he's as happy now as I am, he must be one big, happy, white-lookin' Koori.