Published: 21 Aug 2017

Saturday afternoon found Awen carrying an overnight bag and arriving at Alice’s door. He hadn’t seen Sam since the invitation to dinner as his uncle had been away at sea until the Friday and didn’t come home that night, presuming he must have stayed with Ashe. As for his anxiety how he would react with his uncle that had lessened, realising he was being somewhat precious and seeing he had supposed about the relationship for some time without changing his attitude, there was no reason why he should in the future.

Once through the front door Awen thoughts immediately fell upon Bert and a notion he was developing to bring his remains back from the Bradshaw and rebury them on One Tree Hill but to initiate such a repatriation, he would need to confide in someone to help carry out such an adventure. Would that someone be Sam or Bishop or possibly both but most of all, would such an action be agreed to by Bert.

Once inside Awen forgot about Bert, as the intended arrival of Bishop for the weekend was immanent and he hadn’t tidied the house or made the bed. Quickly he did so, hardly finishing before he found Bishop at the door.

“Hey Rol right on time, come in.” Awen stepped aside to allow passage. “Dump your bag on the table.” Bishop did so.

“How did you enjoy your meal at Ashes?” was Bishop’s first question.

“Most interesting I was surprised to learn how well you knew him and of his friendship with Sam.”

“I couldn’t say anything before as I wasn’t sure how you would react.”

“Well now you know, want a beer?” Awen asked.

“Not yet but would love a coffee.”

Bishop appeared to be looking for something. His eyes were along the passage, then behind towards the front door, before once again along the passage towards Bert’s room.

“I only have instant.”

“That will do fine.”

“What’s the matter?” Awen asked as the kettle came to the boil, noticing his friend’s nervous disposition.

“Whenever I’m here I feel there is someone else present, as if I’m being watched and the house always seems cold,” with a shudder Bishop continued, “it is as if there are eyes spying on every move I make.”

“Just imagination,” Awen suggested.

“No really, it’s only here at Alices no where else.”

“I can guarantee you and I are the only living creatures in this house,” Awen laughed, “I did hear a rat or a mouse scurrying in the wall last time I was here. I set a trap with some cheese but it didn’t catch anything.”

“It must be ghosts.” Bishop suggested.

“It may be.” Awen jokingly agreed as he also scanned the room for Bert but they were truthfully alone. “Do you believe in ghosts?” He asked, attempting to be as flippant as possible.

“No but my mother does.” Bishop admitted.

“My mother doesn’t believe in anything but housework.” Awen made light.

“Mum reckons her mother still haunts her for marrying dad.”

“Didn’t you live over at Millers Falls before coming here?”

“We did, it was grandma’s house and when she died it went to Uncle Neil and his lot.”

“Then how can your grandmother still haunt your mother?” Awen asked remembering Bert’s admission he could only visit places he had known when he was living.

“I don’t know, maybe she packed her along with their furniture when them came over here.” Bishop suggested.

“Coffee’s ready.” Awen passed the mug and sat close by Bishop.

“Aren’t you having one?”

“Na I’ll have a beer with you when you’re ready.”

“You just want to get me drunk again.” Bishop made light.

“I reckon you can do that without my help.”

“I haven’t seen McDonald around.” Rol said attempting to make small talk but still appeared somewhat uneasy.

“No he’ll be gone for a month or so, he and his dad have a big job way up north across Two Rivers.”

“What about Billings, I didn’t see either of you at the pub last night.”

“Also gone, wont be back for yonks either.”

“That was sudden.” Bishop said.

“Yea his father had him take over management of their second store over in Watson’s Bay. The manager there was caught with his hand in the till.”

“Lucky for him he wasn’t Muslim.” Bishop offered.

“Why would that be?”

“They slice you hand off for theft.”

“That’s a little drastic.”

“They can be a little, or so I believe.” Bishop concluded.

Awen released a sigh. He would need to learn to live, at least for the near future without his friends, having to accept Bishop as substitute. This he did not mind but everything around him was in flux and he didn’t much like change. He would rather remain twenty forever, even seventeen if possible, as that had been a great carefree year. A time before his realisation of being gay, before his knowledge of Sam and Ashe, before Bert, when Alice was alive to share her many anecdotes on life, yet he realised it was not possible. His sigh was in admittance to that being so.

“What are you thinking?” Bishop asked, realising his friend’s vacant disposition.

“Not a lot, I was remembering how easy everything was during our last year of school.”

“Maybe easy for you;” Bishop disagreed.

“Why do you say that?” Awen asked.

“Firstly, as I recollect all through that last year you bragged about having a job with your old man at the mill, I had noting but stress about getting a job, then even an offer at the mill would have suited me.”

“Come on, you were the smartest in class, you could have done anything.” Awen appeared surprised.

“Being cleaver, or to the point having a memory for things, doesn’t help in a small community and I didn’t want to go to the city.”

“What about university?” Awen suggested.

“We couldn’t afford it and it was simply luck the bank had a training position.”

Bishop sat sipping his coffee, his gaze vacantly along the hall towards Bert’s room. Awen wondered if it would be possible to have a relationship with Bishop as Sam had with Ashe. What would be expected of such a union and how would he accept advancing their sexual activity beyond that of mutual masturbation. He had heard of fellatio, he knew of anal sex, ‘bum-jumping,’ he thought but could he, would he accept such an act. Ashe had said that if you loved a person, you accepted most from their little idiosyncrasies, like Sam’s smelly feet.

Awen shuddered at the thought of love, with Bishop he had only recently reached like, maybe a little more, as when they were apart he had to admit he missed his company. Could his like turn to love and if so? There wasn’t any if so, only a wall of fear between like and love and he for the moment couldn’t imagine how to scale it.

“Shall we get fish and chips for dinner?” Bishop suggested, bringing Awen back from somewhere beyond giving more than a cuddle and hand relief.

“Nope I’m cooking, do you like spaghetti?”

“I do but,”

“What’s the ‘but’ for?”

“Can you cook?” Bishop gave a disbelieving frown.

“I can try, I’ve watched mum do it enough times, besides I only have to boil water to soften the noodles and reheat some sauce. I nicked a supply of mum’s meat sauce and a stack of Parmesan cheese.” Awen held up a jar of sauce in one hand and a packet of cheese in the other. “What do you ‘reckon?”

“I’ll give it a go.”

“Better than fish and chips you wait until you taste mum’s spaghetti sauce.”

The spaghetti was fine and Bishop commented so, he even, somewhat mockingly, credited Awen’s ability to boil water for the noodles. “You have to admit I had to know when they were soft enough.” Awen offered in his defence, although he had found it necessary to remove a single noodle to taste every few minutes and apply his friend with sample for his approval.

During the meal Awen played a number of his records but the music quickly faded into the background of conversation.

“How did you feel finding out about the relationship between Sam and John?” Bishop asked.

“I suppose I have always suspected Sam and Ashe was always a candidate but I would never have associated them together and you sure kept it quiet from me.”

“I had to do so as it wasn’t my business to tell; besides I wasn’t sure about you, although you were given enough hints without coming straight out with it.”

“Well now you know and oddly I was doing the same with Sam.”

“Yes Sam is somewhat private.” Bishop suggested.

“You know I followed him one night to Ashe’s bungalow; that is how I came to believe there was something going on.”

“You saw them together?”

“Not as such but enough to realise they were at it.”

Bishop laughed. “At it well I guess that is one way of describing the situation.”

“That’s what Ashe said, you know what I mean.” Awen’s response appeared to be somewhat apologetic and stilted.

“Does Sam and John’s relationship worry you?” Bishop asked.

“Not really but at first it did concern me how I should relate to Sam in the future.”

“Why?”

“I can’t rightly say; suppose I was afraid of saying the wrong thing and being caught out, or break into laughter for no apparent reason. In a way it still does give some concern.”

“Did you do so before?”

“No.”

“Then you won’t in the future, nothing’s changed and Sam is still your mate.”

“I guess so.”

With dinner over, Bishop reminded Awen he had something he wished to divulge regarding Bert. It was then Bishop once again aware of a presence in the room, causing him to give a slight shudder.

“What’s the matter?” Awen asked.

“It probably nothing but it just happened again, I definitely felt a presence and I thought I saw someone or something duck into the end room.”

Awen cast his eyes around the room expecting to see Bert but again they were alone. “What I wanted to tell you was; well how can I put it?”

“As it is I supposed.” Bishop suggested, still displaying an uneasy attitude. Awen quickly rose from his seat and disappeared down the dull passage to Bert’s room. Moment later he returned carrying Bert’s letters from the mysterious ‘M’.

“What have you got there?” Bishop asked.

“Letters sent to Bert over sixty years back.” Awen passed the letters to Bishop who, one by one, read their contents.

“They appear to be love letters.” Bishop concluded and returned them to Awen. “But who is ‘M’?” He added.

“It would have to be your Martin.”

“How can you know that for sure?” Bishop asked.

“There’s a number of ways, firstly the letters are from Risdon Downs and Martin was working on Risdon.”

“True,”

“Also remember how Martin reacted when he saw me and thought I was Bert.”

“I did think it a little strange but that doesn’t prove anything, what was your next point?”

“You won’t laugh or think I’m crazy?” Awen believed he had no other choice but to bring Bishop into his secrete.

“I’ll try not to.”

“Bert told me, he also told me he was buried out on Bradshaw.”

“I promised not to laugh but how in hell can a man who’s been dead for over sixty years tell you anything?” Bishop commenced to smile but noticing Awen’s serious disposition decided against doing so.

“He’s all around us, you yourself admitted you feel a presence every time you visit; I’m telling you it’s Bert.”

“Alright for argument’s sake how can you conjure up this ghost of yours?”

“I don’t know, I guess you have to believe and want Bert to arrive. I don’t know the science of it all.”

“Say I believe Bert is around, what is it he want’s?”

“I’ve never asked, it’s only happened on a few occasions and I haven’t fully accepted what I’m saying myself as yet and I still believe I was only dreaming.”

“You know Awen you’ve really taken the edge of the night,” continuing Bishop nervously laughed, “or put a new edge on it.”

“Sorry about that Rol, it isn’t the kind of weekend I was expecting either. Come with me I’ll show you something.”

Awen led Bishop along the passage to Bert’s room and into what could only be described as a shrine to the nineteenth century.

“Wow!” Bishop exclaimed as Awen illuminated the room. “It’s like what you see in the western movies.”

“It was Bert’s room and Alice kept it as he had left it.”

“What about their parents?”

“I don’t rightly know, maybe they were the first to treat the room as a shrine. Mum wants me to clear it out but I don’t think it would be right to do so.”

Bishop entered further into the room and spied the old clothing folded at the end of the bed. Reaching out he as quickly drew his hand away. “They appear to be the same as in Bert’s photograph.”

“True and they fit me perfectly as if they were made for me.”

“I’d like to see you in them.”

“I’ve had them on but somehow I don’t feel right wearing Bert’s clothes any more.”

“So you reckon you’ve spoken with this, what would you call it, ghost?”

Bishop’s manner was neither belief nor disbelief, if Awen said he saw something than he must have done so. He knew imagination carried much in the human physic and under the correct circumstances the human mind could conjure up and believe almost anything. He had read many accounts of ghosts and the paranormal interested him but not to actually believe such things existed.

“I didn’t at first, I thought I was loosing it but now I’m not so sure.”

“So how do you conjure Bert to appear?”

“I don’t know it just happens, I can’t at will and although I see his image in the same clothes as in his photograph and he appears as if he is standing before me real flesh and blood, his voice comes from inside my head not from his image.

“Spooky, have you told anyone else?”

“Only Sam, I wouldn’t have told you except I’ll need your help doing something.”

“What would that be?” Bishop asked and left the room. Awen followed back to the living room, locking the door as they progressed.

“Has you family disbursed Martin’s ashes on top of One Tree Hill as yet?” Awen asked.

“Not as yet, next weekend I believe, why is that?” Bishop answered somewhat bewildered how doing so related to the situation with Bert.

“Are you attending?” Awen asked.

“I wasn’t why?”

“I would like you to attend and let me know where they are scattered. I can’t go I didn’t know Martin, I guess it will only be for family and friends.”

“I hadn’t intended to go, as for the family most are too old to climb the slope, besides why do you need to know where Martin’s ashes are scattered?”

Awen glanced around the room and without answering took Bishop by the arm, guiding him towards the front door. Once there he spoke. “Come on lets go for a short walk.”

“You know mate you’re starting to scare me.” Bishop answered while following Awen out of the house.

Once past the front gate Awen explained his reason. “What I would like to do is collect Bert’s remains from Bradshaw and rebury them on One Tree Hill with Martin that is why I need you to attend, so you can tell me where they scatter his ashes.”

“How are you going to bring him back from Bradshaw?”

“That’s were you come in, I’ll borrow dad’s skiff but will need a hand.”

Reaching the end of the street Awen turned, retracing their steps back to the house. “What do you think of my idea?” He asked.

“I suppose it’s a gesture but what would it prove?”

“Probably not a lot but it was Barry Field’s grandfather who led the lynch party and had Bert unceremoniously dumped out there, I think it is time he was brought back to town, even if it is only you and I who know it.”

“I suppose there’s no harm in helping; it’s not as if we would be raiding a cemetery and as you said, no one knows he’s buried out there anyway.” Bishop agreed as they re-entered the house.

“It’s kinda getting late?” Bishop said and yawned. “But you’ve wound me up so tight about Bert, I doubt if I could get any sleep in this house,” then laughing, “or do anything like, well you know.”

“We did last time you were here and nothing happened.”

“Yea but we were both drunk then and I didn’t know your departed uncle was watching.”

“True yet nothing happened.” Awen assured.

“We could get drunk again.” Bishop proposed.

“No way, this time I want to be sober.”

“Alright take me to your bed but mind you one word from Bert and I’m out of here.” Bishop laughed and offered Awen his arm.

If their first encounter was clumsy, their second was worse. Awen found performing sober most difficult; allowing his inhibitions to control his urge, while Bishop kept lifting his head and peering around the room expecting an audience. Eventually it happened and weariness took control.

It was only minutes before Awen was asleep, while Bishop lay awake listning to his friend’s deep breathing, he turned to his side and cuddled into the back of Awen, finding the experience most gratifying. Unconsciously Awen dragged Bishop’s arm across his chest. Soon Bishop’s arm became numb and he withdrew from their intertwining to lie on his back, his gaze through the open curtains to the orb of the moon directly over One Tree Hill. With a quiet yawn and closed eyes he commenced to drift down that semiconscious spiral towards sleep.

“Rol,”

Bishop heard his name announced and as Awen had suggested it came from inside his head. Now fully awake and in a whisper he answered. “Whose there?” Sitting upright he cast his eyes from one corner of the room to the other and back again. Moonlight streamed through the window throwing shadows across the walls, “Whose there?” Bishop repeated, his response croaked in his throat. Then within the frame of the open bedroom door he saw an image and most definitely that of Bert. For one moment he believed Awen was playing a trick and had gone to Bert’s room to dress in the old clothes but his friend was most definitely asleep beside him.

“Is that you Bert?” Bishop whispered, his voice croaked into controlled fear.

“I only wish to tell you that your presence here is alright, any friend of Awen’s is fine.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts?” Bishop admitted a little louder than before. For the moment he would play along while deciding what he was experiencing was a dream or not.

“Neither does Awen but here I am and whatever I may be doesn’t matter.”

“Why have you shown yourself to me?” Bishop asked.

“It is because you wish for me to do so.”

As Bert spoke his image commenced to dissipate. Bishop quickly left the bed and entered into the passage but there was no longer any trace of Bert only the milky pond of moonlight on the shiny surface of the linoleum. Once in the kitchen he poured a glass of water before returning to bed and after some difficulty, with his arm once more wrapped securely around Awen’s chest, he fell asleep.

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