Published: 31 July 2017

Donna gave birth to a boy, eight pound three ounces, at three-thirty on the Monday morning and called him Jack, assuring he would never wear a badge of Welsh like his uncles, thus becoming the centre of humour in the school playground. By the following week she was home with brothers cooing over the infant and Mother declaring her daughter’s stay would be temporary, as she had already brought up another’s child and was much too old to repeat the procedure but both Donna and Margaret knew different, as the bonding between grandmother and child was strong and instantaneous. As for the happy grandfather, Reg kept his distance, hardly noticing little Jack’s existence.

Awen hadn’t revisited Alice’s since the night spent in bed with Bishop, being much too involved with Donna’s baby and having his sister at the family home to do so. When in pensive mood, Awen did allow his thoughts to wander to that night. It was true they had been inexperienced but found nature has a way of working out, as they had with each other, even if it was somewhat clumsy the end result was if not swift, satisfying, lending to a second bout before sleep took away further urge.

McDonald was back from fencing and between jobs. The three soon fell back into their routine except there was an air of change. Billings was seeing more of Rhonda Ashmore and McDonald found interest in some, as he called her, bit of skirt from a farm where he had been working and the two had found a quiet spot during a quiet afternoon away from her parents and McDonald’s father. McDonald gave vivid rendition with exaggerated hand gestures of the procedure, followed by sounds of satisfaction, while the two attempted to lessen his exaggerated narration.

At home it was a full house; Sam was laid off as the Sea Wind needed attention after hitting a whale, causing the crippled boat to limp home with pumps working overtime. Even Reg was home on most nights but kept to his study, retiring to the guest room once all were in their beds. If he chanced to be in the same room as Margaret or the boys, he remained silent and absent from conversation, speaking only when questioned, even then answering with short clipped sentences when a single yes or no would not suffice.

The relationship between Margaret and Reg settled into an understanding. He would provide for the family and remained married. She would reluctantly accept his infidelity, providing he kept it to himself. Having Donna’s baby in the house became a needed distraction and like the proud mother, grandmother also appeared to glow, as for the not so proud grandfather, Reg wasn’t too pleased having a bastard in the family. If it had been left to him, he would have sent Donna away to relations in the city to have the child, then quickly adopted out, or more to his liking, found a medical practitioner with the correct experience, willing to perform an illegal termination. This had been suggested at the time but alas too late in her gestation, while Donna had threatened to leave forever if her father even mentioned it again.

Late one evening Awen found Sam’s door open and invited himself in. Sam lifted his eyes from his magazine, smiled but didn’t speak.

“Do you mind if I come in?” Awen asked from a step inside the room.

“It appears you already have.” Sam answered and put aside his reading.

“Sorry if you’re busy I could come back later.” Awen apologised.

“No worries mate, I’ve always go time for my favourite nephew.”

“You know that always seems strange, you being the same age as Ely and all.”

“The luck of the draw I guess, what appears to be your problem?”

Awen sat at the end of Sam’s bed and collected the magazine. It was a brochure related to travelling to England by boat. “Thinking of taking a trip?” He asked.

“Na couldn’t afford to, I found it on the seat outside the newsagency; I like looking at the ship photos.”

“It’s somewhat bigger than the Sea Wind.”

“Just a little but you didn’t come in to talk about boats.”

Awen returned the magazine to the bed. “Do you remember I asked you if you believe in ghosts?”

“You did and I don’t.”

“And I said I thought I saw something at Alice’s.”

“Go on.” If nothing Sam was good at listening without becoming condescending.

“Well I’ve seen Bert on a number of occasions now, or at least I believe so and we’ve had conversations but although I visualise his form, his voice appears to come from inside my head.” Awen paused waiting for some disparaging attitude from Sam but his uncle remained resigned and content in listening further.

“What do you talk about?” Sam asked.

“Not a lot really and on a number of occasions I’ve attempted to ask where he was buried but each time something happens like a knock at the door or the telephone rings.”

“Are you frightened?”

“Not at all but I don’t like to visit too often or push for answers unless I loose the connection.”

“Have you spoken to anyone else about it? Sam asked.

“No I don’t think I could trust anyone else, you’re the only one who wouldn’t think I’m loosing it.”

“I know I asked you before but do you think it would be useful if I came and stayed with you one weekend?”

“Don’t rightly know. I’ll sleep on that one but I have attempted to discover where Bert is buried but no one knows. He isn’t registered at the cemetery and other than the night he was murdered and the inquest no one knows anything.”

“I can’t help you there.” Sam sighed. He was becoming concerned for his nephew’s mind set, he didn’t believe Awen was loosing reality but there was obviously something puzzling the lad and ridiculing what he believed he had seen and heard would not facilitate the situation.

“Did I tell you Bert was gay?” Awen asked sheepishly.

“You did but what has that got to do with anything?” Sam’s voice deepened.

“Do you think homosexuality can be inherited?”

“Bert was your great, great uncle not your parent, how could you inherit anything from Bert?” Sam commenced to show interest while in wonder where the conversation was heading.

“Not from Bert but maybe his father was that way and it could come down through our line.”

“Why Awen do you think you’re gay?” Sam laughed as Elyan passed by the door.

“What’s the joke?” Elyan paused with his outstretched hands holding onto the door frame.

“It’s none of you business.” Awen snapped in fear Elyan had overheard Sam’s suggestion.

“Suit yourself little brother, if you don’t wish to share it that’s fine with me.” Elyan moved away towards the kitchen as Awen once more became serious with Sam.

“You once told me you were gay out on Bradshaw, back when I was a little tacker.”

“No Awen, if I remember correctly I asked you what you would think if I was gay, I didn’t admit to being so.”

“Why did you ask me that anyway?”

“Christ Awen you were around twelve I was eighteen, why do teenagers say anything, besides it was years ago, I’m surprised you can even remember.”

“What’s the conversation?” Elyan ask on his return with a sandwich and a mug of coffee.

How long had Elyan been standing at the door was unclear and had he heard any of the conversation. If so, or not Elyan’s presence flushed embarrassingly in Awen as he attempted to conjure up some plausible answer. Fortunately it was Sam who relieved the situation. Collecting the brochure from his bed he spoke. “Awen was saying that the boat in the brochure was larger than the Sea Wind.”

“No shit Sherlock.” Elyan grunted, noticing the obvious definition between a fishing trawler and an ocean liner, “are you thinking of going somewhere?”

“As I told Awen, I found it outside the newsagency and the pics interested me.”

“You would think with half your time at sea you would be sick of boats.” Elyan assumed.

“I like the lines, it’s the Marco Polo, only launched a couple of months back; it was built in Germany for the Russians.” Sam boasted his knowledge.

“Did you know Donna was thinking of going on a working holiday to England?” Elyan presented. Neither had and with an all knowing grin Elyan continued “but she had one too many romps on the back seat of some car.”

“Did she ever say who the dad is?” Awen asked taking his thoughts away from ghosts and being gay.

“Na she won’t say; doesn’t want any man in control of her kid. I think it was that spotty grease monkey Trevor Davis. Like a greyhound that kid.” Elyan found humour in his own wit and moved away repeating his words.

“What did he mean like a grey hound?” Awen asked once his brother was gone.

“It is only a saying, Ely reckons Trevor is skinny and large in the dick department, you know all cock and ribs like a greyhound.”

“I don’t know, what do you think?” Awen reflected.

“What he’s skinny or has a big dick?” Sam made light of Awen’s question.

“No, do you think Trevor is the father? He’s not much older than I am.”

“I don’t rightly know, besides it’s up to Donna if she wishes to keep it secret or not, besides Trevor has black hair, what little the kid has in blond.”

“My hair was sorta blond until I was six or so, remember folk called me snowy.” Awen related.

“Maybe, I don’t recollect,” Sam stretched his arms and yawned, “I’d love a beer, be a mate and fetch me one.”

Returning with the beer Awen once again seated himself ready for more questions.

“You know I still haven’t taken you for that birthday drink I promised.” Sam remembered as he accepted his beer.

“There’s plenty of time.” Awen acknowledged holding his can of four-x lager he brought for himself, allowing the coolness of its surface to permeate through the pores of his palms.

“Not a bad drop this but I still prefer Fosters.” Sam acknowledged.

“Do you know Rol Bishop?” Awen asked in a final attempt to bring Sam’s sexuality to surface without admitting he had seen him with Ashe. Even so discovering Sam with Ashe wasn’t proof, as he hadn’t actually seen them embrace; hadn’t seen them in action, only as distraught shadows cast upon a white lounge room wall.

“Roland Bishop,” Sam repeated and laughed.

“So you’ve also heard the stories?” Awen asked.

“What stories would they be?”

“Him being caught in the scrub down by the jetty with McDonald:” Awen explained.

“Oh that story, how did you know, did Bishop tell you? As I don’t think it would have been McDonald, I guess he’d rather forget the incident.”

“No I had dinner at John Ashe’s one night some time back and he told me.” Awen admitted.

At last Awen believed he had found the catalyst but instead of expanding the conversation it had an opposing effect. Sam’s eyes narrowed as the humour fell from his voice. “When did you have dinner at Ashe’s?”

“A long time back, after I inherited Alice’s place, he came to mow the lawn and I didn’t have money on me, so I arranged to bring it over to his bungalow.”

“I see,” Sam declared incidentally and lifted from his bed, noting the time he continued, “well kiddo I have to be elsewhere, this conversation will have to be postponed for another time.”

It was almost eleven and the beach deserted, except for a couple of travellers booked into one of the hotels and enjoying the cool night air after their meal. On passing Sam acknowledged the couple, the man, still wearing his hat, nodded and the woman related her thoughts on the weather.

Firstly Sam called by to inspect the progress of work on the Sea Wind. Except for some recalking it was ready to once again put to sea. After a short conversation with Bert Jenkins, his captain, Sam continued along the beach, his thoughts polarising onto Awen’s visit with Ashe. Was he jealous or nervous for what Ashe may have divulged? It was obvious by Awen’s conversation he knew more than he was saying. It was equally obvious the lad was, as the saying goes, pussy-footing around the situation but why? Was it only interest in Sam’s private life, or was he attempting to include himself as being gay. Sam had always suspected Awen’s preference, believing the lad didn’t even realise it himself and one day it would all burst through the surface like heat from a boil and explode in either joy or depression.

Sam loved the lad dearly but didn’t wish to include him in his private life and now it was possible John Ashe had done so without his knowledge. He was angry and even more so by the time he reached Ashe’s bungalow. He knocked loudly.

“I’m behind you Sam; I was checking the crab pots.” Ashe acknowledged approaching with a large specimen. “I didn’t know you were coming around tonight? Come in.” Ashe offered and opened the door.

“I wasn’t,” Sam admitted.

“Want a beer?” Ashe placed the crab into the sink and went for beer.

“No thank you, I had one with young Awen.” Sam admitted.

“How is the lad?”

“No worries but he’s fishing for information.”

“What kind of information” Ashe asked.

“You know sexual. He tells me you had him over for dinner.”

“True, you were away fishing, it was not long after Alice passed on and.”

Sam cut him short. “Did you say anything about us?”

“Of course not and I wouldn’t – why do you ask?”

“Well he’s got this bee in his bonnet about seeing some ghost at Alice’s and something I said way back when he was a boy.” Sam calmed as the two walked towards the beach. Both sat on the sand verge watching as the waves attempted to devour the wide stretch of sand.

“I know all about Bert.” Ashe admitted.

“Don’t tell me you’ve seen it as well?”

“No but I didn’t tell Awen, Alice often had conversations with Bert even while I was there, yet I never heard or saw anything. What was it you told him back then?”

“I sort of suggested I was gay.” Sam released a nervous laugh.

“Then you can’t blame the kid fishing for information.”

“I know, I know but I didn’t think he would remember after all the years, besides I didn’t actually say I was gay, I only asked him what he would think if I were.”

“That was a good as admitting it. Anyway why would you say such a thing?”

Sam released a sigh, “Suppose I fancied the kid and I was only a teenager myself and you know how things are when you’re young and randy.”

“You’re still bloody randy.” Ashe laughed before walking to the ebb cooling his bare feet in the froth.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Sam called after Ashe and joined him at the water’s edge. “Want to go for a swim?”

“Not at this time of night the sharks will be feeding.”

“What do you think I should say to young Awen?” Sam asked.

“I wouldn’t say anything, eventually he’ll work it out for himself and I believe he’s mature enough to accept us: Besides.” Ashe offered.

“What do you mean besides?” Sam questioned.

“I reckon our Awen is gay anyway and is trying to find his level by using us as a yardstick.”

“Yes, I’ve always been under that impression but what makes you think so.” Sam asked.

“Young Rol has been seeing a lot of Awen of late and has become cagey on the subject. I wouldn’t be in the lease surprised if they haven’t already tried it on.”

“What Roland Bishop, get on with it.”

“He’s not a bad kid and fair in looks, I think he would suite our Awen.”

It was some time before Sam answered. He had reservation in coming out to his nephew. Some of his fellow crew had suspicion about his sexual preference but didn’t appear too concerned, offering light banter, a suggestion but little more. At home his sister and brother-in-law appeared oblivious, while his niece Donna was too preoccupied to contemplate. It was only Elyan who appeared alert towards Sam’s subtle differences, yet except for the occasional dig he remained disinterested. Awen’s knowledge could prove difficult, if he discovered Sam’s leaning and was himself gay, would he become obsessed with the situation, wanting to cling onto Sam at every moment, talking out of turn, creating a situation that made others aware.

‘Still John, I don’t know if it would be a good idea to let him know everything.” Sam warned.

“I agree but as I said, I guess sooner or later he will work it out.”

“I suppose you are right but let’s leave it for later.” Sam concluded as three long blasts of a ship’s siren sounded across the still night air.

“The Curlew,” Sam declared recognising the ships call signing.

The two strolled along the beach towards the jetty as the fishing boat passed from the north towards port.

“The captain said there were mackerel running up north and he’s none too happy being beached fro repairs.” Sam admitted.

“Should be only a couple of days before the Sea Wind’s ready?” Ashe paused and cast his eyes towards the jetty, as the crew of the Sea Wind answered The Curlew’s call.

“True but the mackerel run doesn’t last long.” Sam protested as they turned to retrace their tracks back to the bungalow. “What do you think of this ghost thing with Awen, should I worry about it.” Sam asked.

“In what way do you mean?”

“I don’t know, maybe he should see someone, you know a shrink or something.”

“Do you think he’s hallucinating?”

“I don’t know what to think.” Sam released a sigh, “I suppose I should be heading home.”

“Why not stay the night?” Ashe suggested and gave his friend a light shoulder hug.

“I should but I promised Margaret I’d help her take down the curtains for washing in the morning.”

“That woman and house work, does she ever stop.” Ashe released a knowing laugh.

“Again what should I do about young Awen?” Sam repeated.

“Na, he’s as sound as a bell, I wouldn’t let it worry you, it will all work out eventually,” Ashe paused, “you haven’t said anything to Margaret about it.”

“No,”

“Then don’t, let it ride and see how it all pans out. If you like I’ll have a word with Awen.” Ashe suggested.

“No John, leave it with me, I don’t want him to think he can’t trust me.”

“It was only a suggestion.”

“Fair enough, I guess you’re right I won’t worry about it, I’ll be off then. See you tomorrow night.”

“Come early and I’ll cook tea.” Ashe concluded.

If you are following this story, let Gary know what you think of it:Gary Conder

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