Published: 24 Apr 2023

Chapter 21

True to his sister’s request Owen allowed a number of days to pass before contacting Winnie and was pleased she wasn’t suffering any noticeable effects, although against advice she did return to work the following day. Winnie’s first words even before Owen could enquire of her wellbeing had been a toweling for speaking with May on the subject of her new man, as within minutes of Owen’s mentioning to May, she had been on the telephone to Winnie. Owen explained if she hadn’t placed him under the duress of a lie he wouldn’t have said anything, so if anyone was a fault it was she for mentioning, without telling him to keep it to himself. Then to avoid further displeasure he enquired on the identity of her supposed husband to be. Enlightenment wasn’t forthcoming, only she hadn’t yet agreed to marry and as soon as she had, which she would, then all would be revealed.

“Was that Winnie on the telephone?” May asks on returning from emptying the scraps into the pig bucket.

“It was.”

“Was there any news on her new man?”

“Not a word.”

“You should have called me before calling off.”

“You could call back, she is at work.”

“No, best not, I’m sure Winnie will tell us in her own time.”

“I’ll be off as I need to look in on Ruby as Jim will be back tomorrow.”

As Owen approached Ruby’s paddock he observes smoke coming from the neighbour’s farm. He quickly crossed over and hurried to the source of the smoke, where he found the Joliffe’s youngest two boys playing with matches. Their game was to strike a match, throw it into the long grass while counting out loudly to see how high they could reach before the flame caught, before stamping it out with their shoes but on that final throw they were slow in preventing the fire from spreading.

Seeing Owen’s approach the boys scurried away like two startled field mice. Owen quickly bumped out the small fire with a branch of green foliage, as Joan Joliffe arrived from hanging out her washing.

“The little buggers!” she called.

“It is out now Joan, I was feeding Ruby when I saw them at it.”

“I don’t know how many times I’ve told the little tigers, if it got away in this weather with the dry grass, it could have been quite dangerous. Their dad will give them a right thrashing when he hears about it.”

“I’m sure they won’t do it again, how is Len?”

“His back hasn’t improved, nor has his complaining.”

“Then I would think that thrashing the kids would only aggravate his problem.”

“It is all in his head Owen and as idle as the day he was born. How is your Jim?”

“Much better I believe. I’m going into Rocky Creek to bring him home tomorrow, he’s been given a medical discharge and had to return there for final treatment.”

“Our poor Tom was recently killed in North Africa,” Joan relates about her younger brother, “he was a lieutenant you know at some place called Tobruk. I believe your dad was on the Somme in the last war.”

“He was but hardly ever mentions it except in humour. As for Jim the doc’ said an inch further to the right and he would also have been a goner.”

“I better get on with the washing, it won’t do itself and with this tribe of mine, it never ends.”

“Right you are.”

“Again Owen I thank you for putting out the fire, I’ll make them come over tomorrow and apologize in person.”

“No worries, I’m sure they won’t do it again.”

Once back with Ruby, Owen decided she was putting on a little more condition that usual and if it continued they wouldn’t be able to get the girth strap around her gut. He remembers an earlier time when he was but a boy and he attempted to do his own saddling. Ruby had a little ploy, that being when you were about to tighten the girth strap, she would fill her lungs with air and release it once the strap was tightened. Jim soon learned how to deal with her little game and that was to give her a quick poke in the flank as he tightened the strap, she would exhale and he would quickly reach the required hole in the girth strap before she had time for a further breath.

As a lad Owen wasn’t strong or savvy enough to realize and on one occasion, after he had mounted Ruby, the strap loosen and he found himself all but hanging upside down under Ruby’s gut, with her looking curiously at him and giving what could only be considered the horse laugh.

“Come on girl time for some exercise,” he says while retrieving a rope halter kept near the paddock gate.

On reaching the equipment shed he found Alf tinkling with an old motor bicycle that was once owned by Alf’s father.

“Going for a ride son?”

“Yes, if Jim is back tomorrow, he may have something to say about her fat condition.”

“Don’t be long I’ll need some help later on.”

“You will never get that heap of junk going again.”

“I don’t know. It only needs a couple of parts but with the war they are difficult to find.”

“Couldn’t you have them specially made?”

“I could but that would be costly. I’ll find them eventually, besides Tony Hobson over at the Walkamin Experimental Station has a shed full of motor bicycle parts, I’ll give him a visit one of these days when I have time.”

“Time dad?”

“Well inclination would be a truer expression.”

As the airfield was only two miles from gate to gate, Owen took Ruby along the access path beside the road in that direction. Within sight of the field a number of bombers commenced their approach, coming in quite low sending Ruby into panic.

“Settle girl,” he whispers close to her ear as the last of the B-17s came in at an equally low level and obviously fortunate to return at all, as part of one wing had been blown away, while the port engine sounded like a chaff cutter.

On reaching the gate he notice Bill Harding was on guard duty, being the soldier who was supposed to be there when he delivered Winnie for her procedure.

“I’m sorry young fellow I wasn’t on duty for you last Wednesday as arranged but that’s the army for ya’.”

“No matter Bill, it all went well.”

“I believe Winnie is interested in nursing?” Harding mentions that what he had been told by Chip.

“She was but I think she has given up on the idea.”

“I’ve never seen you riding before.”

“It’s my brother’s mare, he is back from the army tomorrow and I thought she needed a little exercise.”

“Too right she is fat.”

“The good life Bill, I reckon she eats better than we do.”

“Try army rations.”

“I have and stick by my commitment.”

Owen was exaggerating but the banter suited the encounter.

“Righto better quite the chat or I’ll have the corporal on my back.” Bill says as he returns to his guard post as the last and most damaged of the aircraft taxis towards the hangers, where a crowd had gathered to inspect the damage.

“I’ll swap ya’”

Owen turned to find a jeep entering close behind.

“You reckon,” Owen says as the driver pulls to the side and comes up to Ruby.

“Nice mare, she reminds me of my old girl.”

“Where are you from?”

“Goombooriam.”

“Where is that?”

“It is part way between Gympie and Tin Can Bay.”

“I don’t know it.”

“I better get a move on. A word of advice, I think you should put her on a diet.”

Owen had to wait for over an hour and a half while collecting Jim, as the army liked everything in triplicate and passed down a line of command until at last a corporal had the duty of handing over Jim’s discharge orders, with the ubiquitous words, lucky bugger, issued with an insincere hand shake.

During the return journey Jim had hardly spoken and as they approached the farm gate he finds voice; “keep going,” he demands while pointing along the road in the direction of town.

“Where to?”

“Town, I’m dying for a beer.”

“We have beer at home.”

“As I said keep going.”

“Dad is expecting you home.”

“And I’m expecting a beer.”

Owen continues on, “Royal or the Dunlop?” he suggests.

“Does dad still drink at the Royal?’

“He does at both depending on his mood but mostly it is the Dunlop.”

“The Royal will do, I’m not in the right humour to face his backslapping mates.”

Owen parks close by the post office, as being lunchtime the town’s main street is crowded.

“I warn you Jim, I’m broke at the moment.”

Jim jingles his hand in his pocket with coin on coin, “my shout on army pay kid.”

“Righto’,” Owen anxiously says as he turns off the motor, unsure if Jim being in a crowded bar is wise.

“Righto’ what?” Jim asks.

“Are you sure you are ready for a crowd?”

“As I can be. Come on.”

The brothers manage to enter the Royal bar without notice, taking a corner away from the crowd. Jim extracts some coins from his pocket and passes it to Owen, “you get the drinks, Wes is on bar duties and I owe him ten shillings from before the war and he’ll have to wait ‘til me money comes through.”

As Owen goes for the drinks Jim is approached.

“Jim Parker you old bugger, I heard you were back.” It was Ryan Todd one of Jim’s back slapping mates from the local rugby club and back-slap he did.Jim flinches away from the slap, “mind the shoulder Toddy.” Jim complains and gives the injury a rub.

“Sorry mate.”

“It’s alright.”

“I heard you were wounded.”

“It was through the shoulder, other’s got worse.”

“I hope I haven’t aggravated it.”

“I’ll survive.”

“I can’t stay; come down to the clubhouse Friday night, some of the boys would love to catch up. Possibly have a beer or two.”

“Who is around?”

Todd’s voice lowers into sadness as he speaks, “most are still away with the war and we are down to three; can’t make a team from that. We recently lost two more in North Africa and Europe.”

“Who?”

“Graeme Dodd was killed near Tripoli and Sid Harris over France in a downed Lancaster but come along, Col Langford will be there and was only asking after you yesterday and mentioned you were wounded.”

“I may do that Toddy.”

Owen returns with the drinks.

“Owen does your old man know you are drinking?” Todd asks Owen.

“Possibly not Toddy.”

“Then I won’t tell him. See you Jim. Don’t forget Friday night at the clubhouse.”

“It’s a sure thing mate.”

“Will you go?” Owen asks and tables the drinks as Todd departs.

“I’m not ready, so leave off about it.”

Owen kept to a second but Jim continued on for almost an hour and by their leaving he is quite merry.

“Dad is gonna’ shoot me for not coming directly home,” Owen deems as they approach the truck. Jim stumbles a little and rights himself with a silly giggle as Owen notices Ted coming towards them. “Shit,” he whispers and attempts to distract Jim from their uncle’s approach.

As Ted spies Jim his expression appears uneasy. For a moment it seemed as if Ted was going to approach but instead he goes into the post office.

Jim stood motionless.

“Jim,” Owen grabs his brother’s arm but Jim pulls away.

Jim remains steadfast his gaze vacantly on the door of the post office.

“Jim, get into the truck – now.”

Jim complies but in slow motion. Owen quickly joins his brother and fires the motor, moving away into the light traffic.

Nothing was spoken until past the welcome to Mareeba sign. By then Owen has had enough of the epic that was Uncle Ted and was going to force the issue regardless of consequences.

“What is it with Ted?” Owen’s voice was barely above the noise of the old motor.

“Just watch him,” Jim answers.

“Why? No one will tell me and I am sick and tired of it all.”

“I suppose I should say something,” Jim softly speaks, his eyes beyond the grime of the window glass of the truck, as the trees passed by in a blurred line against a cloudless late afternoon sky.

Still Jim is silent.

“Well?”

“Ted touched me when I was a kid,” Jim but whispers.

Gavin’s memory was slowly returning even if somewhat sketchy. Jim would have been in his first teenage year and Ted was helping Alf bring in a crop of potatoes before a pending storm ruined it. The crop was in and Alf was having a beer with Ted but the beer ran out and Alf went to the shed, where a supply was kept in an old kerosene refrigerator.

With Alf gone Jim was getting cocky with Ted. Owen now recollected part of their conversation but at that time was too young to understand. Jim was bragging and making suggestion to Ted. In Owen’s fresh memory there was motion but he was too distant to see. Moments later Alf was back and it was on.

“Where did he touch you?” Owen asks as he pulls the truck to the side of the road and kills the motor.

“Where do you fucken’ think!”

“Oh.”

“Dad walked in as Ted did so, then after one hell of a row, Dad ordered him out.”

“Then what?”

“Then nothing, I’ve already said too much, start the truck and get me home.”

Once at the farm Jim opens the door, “I’ll get the gate and walk the rest of the way,” he says.

Owen drives through and on to the shed where Alf is waiting but out of sight of the path to the gate.

“Where’s Jim?” Alf asks.

“Coming he decided to walk from the gate,”

“You took your time?”

“There was some administrative problem with his release papers and Jim wanted to go into town for a beer.”

“I hope you didn’t let him drink too much, as he is not supposed to with the medication they have him on.”

“Jim’s a big boy dad and I’m not his keeper.”

Alf ignores Owen’s excuse as he spies Jim along the path and by appearance, well influenced from his drinking session. Alf tutts loudly as Jim approaches.

Jim gives a broad infantile smile, “dad,” he says his tone gurgling in humour.

“Have you been drinking son?”

“Yep.”

“I believe you are supposed to keep of the booze with your medication.”

“What would those army quacks know?”

“Your mother was worried; you better go in and greet her and please try and act sober.”

“Acting sober,” Jim says and continues towards the house.

“You better go with him,” Alf suggests to Owen.

Alone during the evening’s watering Owen had time to reflect on the conversation he had with his brother on their return from town. At first he developed anger towards Ted but settled it somewhat, thinking if Ted was so inclined then by definition he was also, therefore had he the right to condemn his uncle but Ted had touched a child, yet there appeared to be something missing from Jim’s memory of the event and by Owen’s recollection nothing untoward happened, at least on that day.

At the time Owen may have been ignorant of such matters but Jim was well advanced for his age and by his recollection didn’t appear to have been upset with Ted’s approach until after Alf arrived back with the beer and the shouting commenced. The vision of the event remained strong in Owen’s mind, remembering where each was seated, along with a scattering of words that in the most had been meaningless.

‘Jim, if I recollect correctly you invited Ted’s approach,’ Owen thought as his memory further cleared, with the event flashing upon the inward eye, like a movie on the silver screen and by what he remembered Jim was not guiltless.

‘Still, Jim was but a boy and Ted should have known better.’

‘I think one day I’ll will approach Ted and allow him the opportunity to give his version of the event.’

‘But there must be more,’ he thinks.

Owen’s thoughts are disrupted.

“It’s a warm evening?” Jim says as he draws near, his figure dark against the dwindling light.

“You’ve sobered up?”

“For now,” Jim gives a rare laugh and sits close by and removes a packet of lucky strike cigarette from his pocket. He lights up and takes a deep breath.

“You’ve taken up smoking again,” Owen says.

“Have been since primary school,” Jim agrees, “I tried to give them up when I enlisted but in the army that’s impossible and they help a little while under fire.”

“Was that often?”

Jim doesn’t answer.

“This all must appear strange to you now?” Owen suggests.

“Your meaning?”

“Only you’ve been away from the farm and family for so long it must be strange being home.”

“Funny you should say that Owen. Yes I feel as I’m trying to shove my right foot into my left boot.”

“If I can help in any way don’t be afraid to ask,”

“It’s my problem brother and I’ll attend to it in my own way. I do have a question of you.”

“Being?”

“What were you doing in Moresby?”

“You have already asked me that question.”

“Then humour me, I couldn’t have been listening to your answer at the time, also these days I’m inclined to forget things.”

“Will that be permanent?”

“The quacks say not.”

“To answer your question I took a joyride, simply for a flight in an aircraft.”

“So you decided to fly into a war zone.”

“It wasn’t all that bad, although on the day the Japs bombed the airfield I was a little concerned.”

“You try living through it day after day but for the life of me I can’t understand your dumb action.”

Owen disregarded his brother’s comment, “dad has expectations you will soon take over the farm.”

“If expectations were pound notes kid, we would all be millionaires,” Jim says.

“So you don’t want to work the farm?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“What are you saying, Jim?”

“Do you want it?”

“No, after the war I would like to become a pilot, maybe a crop-duster or pilot one of those commercial birds that fly across the country, possibly the world.”

“Yes mum said you’ve been kicking around with one of those Yankee fly-boys.”

“I wouldn’t say kicking around.”

Jim gives a soft gurgling laugh and Owen being unsure of his meaning lets it pass, as Gavin joins them in the last of the day’s light.

“What’s the topic?” Gavin asks.

“You,” both brothers say in unison.

“Yea right on – Owen you have a telephone call, its Chip.”

“Who is Chip?” Jim asks.

“One of those Yankee fly-boys you spoke of,” Owen says while leaving Gavin to explain further and knowing his brother he would have told the most of it before Owen had reached the house.

Owen makes haste back but on arrival takes on a more sauntering gait not to appear enthusiastic.

“Chip is on the telephone,” May says but continues her conversation with Chip.

“He is here now,” May eventually says and passes the receiver to Owen.

“Don’t be long your father is expecting a call.”

Owen places his hand over the mouth piece, “from who?”

“Shouldn’t that be from whom?”

“Who, whom does it matter?”

“Your dad may have a surprise for us.”

Owen returns to his call, “hello.”

“Hello yourself – what are you doing on the weekend?”

“Working, I suppose.”

“If you can get away I may have a surprise for you.”

“What two surprises in the one night.”

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind, it was something mum said. What have you in mind?”

“You’ll see.”

“I like surprises, well those of the happy kind.”

“It will need a couple of days away, so can you swing it with Alf?”

“That is a good question, after the week at the lakes and Port Moresby dad is a little short on holidays.”

“It would only be for a couple of days, four at the most and leaving this Friday.”

“What have you got planned?” Owen asks

“How is Winnie?”

“You are changing the subject.”

“That I am, otherwise a surprise wouldn’t be a surprise.

“Winnie appears alright but doesn’t want to talk about it. I hope you medic mate hasn’t told Hank.”

“He wouldn’t; now what about Friday?”

“I’ll talk to dad, I’m sure I can swing something.”

“Gotta’ go, I’ll call you back on Thursday evening.” Chip rings off leaving Owen with a warm happy feeling.

“What have you got planned for Friday?” May asks as Owen comes away from his call.

“Chip has asked me away for a few days,”

“Where to?”

“I suppose that is the surprise but I’m not sure if I can swing it with dad.”

“I’ll have a word with him. There isn’t a lot on at the moment so I can’t see why not.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t you think you are becoming a little too involved?”

“How do you mean involved?”

“Simply the military don’t like civilians fraternizing, as it can lead to all sorts of problems.”

“Fraternizing?

“It can create loose tongues and who know who is listening.”

“As in your word, I only fraternize to learn more about aircraft and flying as I would like to fly commercially one day.”

“I will talk to your father, I am sure he will be in agreement but you spoke of Winnie.”

“Chip simply asked what she thought about taking on nursing. Mum you shouldn’t listen in on private conversations.”

“In passing only and I can’t help hearing, you have a booming voice Owen.”

Gary’s stories are about life for gay men in Australia’s past and present. Your emails to him are the only payment he receives. Email Gary to let him know you are reading: Conder 333 at Hotmail dot Com

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