Published: 30 Aug 2021

The weekend after Travis was given guarded consent to work at Bullock Creek Greg arrived back in town eager to spend his hard earned wages at the pub and once again willing to pay for Travis’ drinks. They met at the Royal and by Greg’s appearance he had already had more than his share of alcohol. Travis steered Greg to their usual quiet corner to relate his news.

“What’s got you so excited?” Greg asks while watching through the door of the ladies lounge towards two girls with the appearance of casual pickers for that season’s tobacco crop.

The girls appeared quite animated and lost in conversation somewhat oblivious to the men in the adjacent bar. A young man approached the girls while using the lounge as a shortcut to the bar. He paused and spoke. One of the girls laughed and quoted quite loudly “you wish.” He continued to the bar in playful mood and both girls showed a measure of interest in his progress.

Momentarily taking his thinking from Travis pending news Greg smiled and lifted his beer glass in friendly salute through the lounge entrance towards a cute brunette who chanced to look his way. She ignored his response then turning from Greg’s stare she spoke to her friend. Both girls simultaneously lifted their heads towards Greg but as quickly broke eye contact to giggle away their obvious lack of interest.

Greg released a sordid chortle, his gaze intensifying towards the brunette.

“What was that about?” Travis questioned noticing Greg’s obvious play towards the girls.

“If I wanted to I’d be in there,” Greg commented while unconsciously massaging his crotch below the rim of the table.

“In your dreams; she didn’t even give you a second glance, she was more taken with Josef Banovic as he passed.”

“She’s only playing hard to get I can read sheilas like a book.”

“Yea a Mickey Mouse comic more to fact,” Travis discredited.

“Truthfully,” Greg disagreed.

“When was your last?” Travis took a sip from his drink and laughed.

“Last weekend up at Tarzali, she was a right goer, what about you? I reckon you’re still a virgin.”

“Maybe,” now Travis felt wrong-footed.

“Come on truthfully Travis, how many?”

“I don’t keep count,” Travis lied.

“None plus none still remains at nil,” Greg teased.

“I haven’t had opportunity,” Travis excused believing his misgivings on Greg’s sexual antics had been impeded.

“Bullshit Travis I served Raelene up to you like Christmas Dinner and you chickened out.”

“That was different,”

“A root is a root,” Greg disagreed.

“You know she left town,”

“When?”

“Soon after you started work at Tarzali she went to live with relations down the coast, Babinda I think.”

“She didn’t even say goodbye,” Greg pretended to be hurt.

“Why should she, you were finished with her, even if she obviously forgave you and hung around.”

“She was too clingy. So you’re still a fucken’ virgin,” Greg laughed and grabbed Travis on the dick.

Travis backed away at a rate of knots.

“Fuck ya’ Travis I’m not gunna’ rape you,” Greg protested.

“You startled me.”

“Anyway what’s your fucken’ news?”

“I’m going bush,” Travis proudly divulged.

“When did you get your horse?”

“Haven’t – I’ll be working for my uncle for a while and he said I could keep one of his horses.”

“Not Uncle Roy from Bullock Creek!” Greg asks; his tone laced with disbelief and mischief as the brunette past by. Greg gave her a head nod and the broadest smile he could manage, “hello there,” Greg greeted in a deep masculine tone but she kept on walking, “nice arse,” Greg loudly commented. The brunette slightly turned but disregarded his comment.

“Yes it is Roy – why? Do you know Roy?”

“Everybody knows your Uncle Roy,” Greg laughed cruelly.

“What have you heard?”

“Nothing he’s just a goose that’s all and doesn’t pay much.”

“How do you know that?” Travis asks, feeling he was the only person in Mareeba not privy to the gossip about his Uncle Roy.

“Do you know Graham Dunn?” Greg asks while heading towards the bar for fresh drinks. He returned and Travis admitted he had not met Dunn but knew he was now working for the railway as a fettler.

“He worked for Roy for a couple of months,” Greg disclosed. He tasted his beer complaining quite loudly, “Higgins is a shit of a barman.” The barman hearing Greg’s insult came across to the table where they were seated and wiped away spillage from its surface.

“Greg Stanley, at your age you should think yourself lucky I don’t throw you out and if you weren’t here with Travis, I would,” he warned giving Travis a friendly but not approving glance before returning to the bar.

Greg refrained from further complaint, instead continued his conversation and his beer.

“By some chance does Graham Dunn have blond hair?” Travis cautiously requested.

“As a matter of fact he does. Well sort of blondish red, more like dirty rust water. Why do you ask?” Greg replied quizzically.

“Nothing – only there seems to be a family joke about Roy and his blond workers,” Travis mentioned as some inkling of realisation commenced to form. Greg released a short laugh while independently coming to the same conclusion on Roy.

“Maybe your Uncle is rooting his workers so you better watch that tight little arse of yours,” Greg cautioned, his voice lowering to almost a whisper and laced with malicious devilment.

“Anyway Roy has never approached me in that way, besides I’m not blond,” Travis protested not wishing to believe his own conclusion.

“Maybe it is because you’re family. Want another drink before the bar closes?” Travis nodded agreement. Greg returned with final drinks and continued with the subject he had left on. “Then again young Travis, I’ve heard that most kids who are molested are done so by an uncle. They are a randy lot those uncles.”

“Very funny, I don’t think Roy is like that, besides he has had many opportunities over the years and hasn’t even suggested anything remotely deviant,” Travis answered although unconvinced with his belief.

“They don’t ask you for permission but pounce and before you know it you’re wearing a tail and they a grin of satisfaction.”

Greg’s words came with a simulated pounce, causing Travis to spill his beer.”

“Shit Greg, you don’t have to be so rough,” he complained, his voice low not to attract attention. Looking up he found Higgins was still keeping an eye on them.

“Don’t be a girl!” Greg declared.

“Anyway how do you know about all that?”

“I don’t but you hear things.”

“I haven’t,” Travis assured.

“My guess you soon will,”

“Did you mate Dunn say something about Roy?” Travis enquired.

“Not about that, as I said he pays shit wages,” Greg says as the brunette returns by their table. She pauses close by Greg, “what is your name stud?” she quietly requested with a willing smile.

“Greg,”

“Then Greg, I wouldn’t do you if you were the last grub on earth,” she quietly announces and returns to the company of her friend.

“She’s got you there,” Travis laughed.

“Only playing hard to get,” Greg announced loudly as the two girls departed from the ladies lounge.

Travis finished what beer Greg had not spilt as Higgins once again glanced in their direction and declared time.

“Suppose we should be going,” Travis suggested as Greg attempted to buy one final drink.

His request failed.

“Are you still sleeping in the bungalow?” Greg asks as he returned from the bar.

“No it’s now full of junk; I’ve moved back into the house. Why?”

“Pity, I’m having problems with the old man and thought I could stay the night,”

“Mr. Stanley I don’t know what is wrong with your ears but I’ve called time,” the barman roughly spoke as the last of the drinkers departed.

“Come on out of here before we are banned permanently,” Travis warned.

Greg attempted to leave but that last drink got the better of him as he staggered.

“Do you want a hand there,” Higgins offered, more to clear the bar before Greg caused strife or chuck his drinking across the linoleum.

“I’ll manage,” Travis helped Greg out to the footpath where the cooler night air hit Greg like a sledge hammer. He buckled and groaned but was well adapt in keeping down his stomach after a bout of drinking.

“Where to,” Travis asks as he gazed about not wishing to see Greg’s motorbike. Fortunately it wasn’t to be seen.

“I’ll bunk down in our shed.”

“Aren’t you working?”

“Not at the moment Owen’s got another job going in Atherton so I’ve a week off.”

“I’ll help you home,”

“Na, I can fucken’ walk,” Greg took a step and staggered bringing Travis to approach and prevent a fall.

“Come on I’ll take you back to my place it is closer,” Travis offered.

It was an effort getting Greg down the side of the house to the bungalow without awaking his parents and had to shush him from singing as they went.

“You know what Brownie;” Greg belched loudly as his arm tightened around Travis’ shoulders, allowing his full wait to hover there.

“What?”

“You’re not a bad bloke for a cunt.”

“Choice,”

“I thought you said the bungalow was fulla’ junk,”

“It is but the bed is still there although Max has been using it.”

“Your mutt’s got fleas,” Greg protested.

“He’s in the house and fortunately mostly deaf so shouldn’t kick up a stink.”

Travis pushed open the bungalow door and helped Greg through, they both stumbled and laughed.

“Shush, you’ll wake the whole neighbourhood,” Travis cautioned.

A dog three down commenced to bark.

“See we’ve set off the scruffy mutt from thirty-seven now.”

“Shushing,” Greg laughed and fell onto the bed, in doing so the back light of the house brightly illuminated as Jim Brown called while letting the dog out, “who is there?”

“Only me dad,” Travis quietly answered.

“What are you doing out there?”

“Greg’s drunk, so I’ve put him to bed in the bungalow.”

“Can’t he go home?”

“His old man chucked him out,”

As Travis spoke Max bounded into the bungalow and onto the bed, Greg gave protest but let the dog be. Soon Greg could be heard snoring with the dog happily curled at his side.

Both Jim and Travis returned to the house.

“You do realise that boy is heading for big trouble,” Jim warned.

“Yes he is drinking far too often of late, that I agree.”

“The whole family is nothing but trouble and I hear his brother is back inside.”

“So I heard but it was for fighting.”

“Even so – I’m awake now put the kettle on but keep it down or you will wake your mother.”

Travis filled the kettle and put three teaspoons of leaves in the teapot.

“Stronger Travis, you’re sparing like your mother as I keep telling her the war is over.”

Travis added a fourth.

“Have you been drinking?”

“I had two beers at the Royal that’s all,”

“You and your mate shouldn’t be drinking, it’s a wonder the police haven’t challenged you before now.”

“They turn a blind eye as long as you are quiet and stick to beer. Reg Shaw asked after you as he did his nightly patrol, said he would catch up with you at the club.”

“All I’m saying -,”

“Dad I only have a social drink that’s all.”

Jim laughed.

“What was that for?”

“I was remembering my first drink, got stuck into the rotgut the neighbour brewed in his shed; me, Kevin and Bill and we were sick for a week.”

“What about Roy?”

“Roy was only a boy at the time.”

“What did Grandad Brown say?” Travis asks realising it was rare for his father to share his youthful tales.

“He didn’t find out, we blamed your Gran’s cooking.” Jim became serious, “about working for Roy, you do realise there isn’t a future in doing so?”

“It will be only for a while, call it a sabbatical between school and finding something suitable.”

“Why not go down the coast and stay with Ernie in Innisfail for a while, he could use a hand on the fishing boat?” Ernie Williamson was Jim’s brother-in-law and owned a number of favours.

“I like horses,”

“Your mother isn’t keen on you working for Roy.”

“Dad it will be fine,” Travis truly wished to again question further about his uncle but close to one in the morning was not the best time to start an argument with his father.

“Promise me one thing,”

“What?”

“On the first inkling of trouble you will come home.”

“I have already made that promise.”

“Then do so again,”

“I can promise but dad I’m not a kid anymore.”

“True kids grow up so fast these days.”

“Must be the French Bomb,”

“You may as well blame the testing as folk seem to blame it for everything else, from cows not giving milk to cyclones.”

“Even pimples,” Travis laughs.

“Yes even them,”

“I was joking but why don’t the test their a-bombs in France.”

“I couldn’t say;” Jim commenced to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“You, I was remembering myself at your age, I was as skinny as you are, now look at me.”

“Too much of the good life dad.”

“Too much of your mother’s cooking, she piles up the plate like there’s no tomorrow.”

“I should think the grog has given a helping hand,” Travis smirked.

“You cheeky pup, back to bed and get Greg out early in the morning before your mother sees him.”

Gary’s stories are about life in Australia as a gay man. Your emails to him are the only payment he receives. Email Gary to let him know you are reading: Gary dot Conder at CastleRoland dot Net

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