Published: 28 Aug 2017

It was Sunday’s church bells that brought Bishop from his sleep, as from his parent’s house they were but a distant tintinnabulation, while from the cottage the Catholic Church was but doors away and the noisiest by far.

Awen was already awake and could be heard clanging pots about in the kitchen. Moments later the scent of frying bacon filled the room, along with Awen as naked as the day he was born.

“Nice sight.” Bishop admitted nodding towards his friend’s nakedness.

“Do you want me to put something on?”

“No don’t you dare, if I was to walk around the house like that at home mum would skin me.” Bishop laughed.

“Mum would probably take the carving knife and cut it off.” Awen suggested. “Do you usually have breakfast?”

“What are you offering?”

“I’m afraid it’s bacon, slightly burnt toast; Alice’s toaster doesn’t work very well and broken fried eggs.” Awen laughed “but the bacon’s not so bad, crispy just how I like it.”

“Is crispy a euphuism for burnt?” Bishop asked.

“No, only slightly singed.”

“Anything will do, I’d love some coffee.”

“I’ve made a pot of tea.”

“That will be fine. I hope you’re not expecting visitors this morning.”

“No why?”

“I was about to join you.”

“Come on then, it’s ready and I’ve never had breakfast in the nude.” Awen suggested.

During breakfast memory of the previous night’s experience returned to Bishop and he had need to share it with his friend. Taking a deep breath and choosing his words he commenced, “You know I had the strangest dream last night, probably your talk about Bert and ghosts and all that.”

“You mean your conversation with Bert?” Awen asked.

“You know?”

“Yea I was awake.” Awen binned the burnt toast and prepared more. “I’ve worked out the toaster, instead of using its lowest setting, you time out two minutes and it is almost perfect.” Awen commenced to time the toasting.

“Why didn’t you say something, I thought I was dreaming.” Bishop’s jaw dropped as the smile melted from his face.

“It was your and Bert’s conversation, I didn’t know what would happen if I interrupted. Do you believe me now?”

“I believe something happened and I can’t explain it but my head isn’t wired to believe in ghosts.” Bishop seriously answered half expecting Bert to pop up from some corner, shrieking boo or some other scary ridiculous notion.

“Likewise but I’m growing used to the idea, as for Bert, he must have had a hard life, you know being gay and all back then.” Awen suggested.

“It’s hard enough now I guess, if my parents found out they would chuck me out of the house, the old man is always on about faggots, if it wasn’t for John Ashe’s support over the years, I don’t know how I would have coped.” Bishop admitted.

“I never thought much about it.” Awen said as he removed the slice of almost perfect toast. “Truthfully I don’t think of myself as gay, I’m just me and I fancy men but that’s not my idea of gay, besides I always thought most blokes fancied their mates but once they found the right bird it would sorta change, becoming friendship.”

“So what is your idea of gay?” Bishop asked.

“You know girlie, wearing girls stuff and all that.” Awen answered.

“John Ashe isn’t like that, nor is Sam.” Bishop assured.

“Yea but I didn’t know about them until recently, although I always suspected Sam and in truth everyone suspects John, yet he doesn’t give them reason to do so.”

“That sounds like a copout; like someone hiding from the truth.”

“Not at all, I came to that conclusion at a young age and didn’t think a lot more about it until recently.” Awen corrected. He continued “there was the time when Sam asked me what I would think if he was gay but I was only around twelve and I don’t believe I thought much what was meant by being so.”

“Sam actually said he was gay?”

“No, he asked what I would think if he was.”

“Didn’t that make you realise what he meant.” Bishop asked.

“As I suggested, I thought it was a stage all boys went through, yet even then I fancied boys, or more appropriately I liked looking at boys.”

“Who did you fancy?” Bishop asked fishing for a complement.

“Mostly McDonald and believe it or not Barry Fields, his deep voice nailed me, it still does.”

“You didn’t fancy me!” Bishop protested.

“I was only a kid, besides you were too smart and we dumb kids didn’t much like a smart-alic.”

“Thanks a lot!”

“No really, besides back then McDonald chose who we liked or disliked. I guess in some ways he still has the tendency to do so.”

“What do you remember about being a kid, say fifteen?” Bishop asked.

“Actually, I remember most things, I even remember most things way back when I was a little tacker, why?”

“No reason, only I hated being young and believed I would go all my life being some joker who fancied boys,” Bishop laughed, “back then I believed everyone could read my thoughts and whenever anyone laughed with their mates I imagined they were laughing at me – there goes that poofter Bishop.”

“That doesn’t sound like a lot of fun,” Awen sympathised, “what about now?”

“Na, I had a good friend in John Ashe, I don’t care anymore.”

“Well that shows you how wrong you can be, we all thought you were straight and girl crazy, not once did I hear anyone suggest anything else,” Awen released a knowing laugh, “except maybe McDonald but he thinks everyone is gay.”

“No that was me trying to prove something but they didn’t last very long.”

“You know Rol, I can’t remember being young as such, I can’t even remember going through puberty. For me life’s been like travelling on a roller coaster that has had the hills and dips removed. One continuous straight line without the so called growing pains, without the usual chaos I keep hearing about, although for a while there I did have a habit of walking into door frames as I passed through.” Awen gave a chuckle and lifted a pointing finger, “ah but I don’t really like change, I get used to it but I would like everything to remain constant”

Bishop appeared to be lost in thought, eventually his thought surfaced with a cheeky grin.

“What?” Awen inquisitively asked.

“I was wondering what Bert looks like when naked.”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“I guess if you look like him and you are his size and shape, I suppose his old feller would be like your’s, average size with a little extra at the end.”

“Come on a little more than average.” Awen protested.

“How do you know what average is anyway.” Bishop asked.

“I guess I saw enough during school swimming carnivals.”

“Me too they were fun days eh.” Bishop laughed.

“As for the little extra, dad wanted it removed but I wasn’t well enough as a baby to do the snip.” Awen explained remembering his mother’s reasoning.

“Just as well, I like it.” Bishop complemented.

Although Awen and Rol stayed at Alices each weekend for a month, that first night was the only time Bert materialized, besides the two had become so engrossed in their own company, they almost forgot Bert but not Awen’s wish to rebury his great uncle’s remains on One Tree Hill. It would take some planning, firstly they would have to borrow the skiff and find a container larger enough to hold whatever they found, then after bringing Bert back, somehow would need to climb the hill without being detected. That would be most difficult as the approaches, except to seaward, were quite visible from many sections of town and a couple of young fellows carrying a box and shovels could appear a tad suspect.

Bishop did attend the spreading of Martin’s ashes and was asked to do the honours, finding a spot where the soil was less rocky and the ground appeared easiest to dig. This he related to Awen, who approached his father for the use of the skiff but disappointment soon set in, the skiff was no longer seaworthy.

Awen telephoned his friend with the news and designed they should meet by the jetty that afternoon.

“You sounded somewhat concerned on the telephone.” Bishop related as they congregated by Reg Pen’s boat shed.

“I didn’t want to say too much on the telephone, Ely was listning.” Awen opened the shed door and approached the skiff.

“The skiff’s not seaworthy,” pointing below the water line he continued, “see it has a ruddy big hole.”

“How did that happen?”

“Vandals I guess. Someone broke into the boatshed and smashed a few things for fun. I believe they rammed the side of the skiff with that sledge hammer.”

“When was this?”

“Dad reckons a couple of months back, just after the mill fire.” Awen explained.

“Who would do that?”

“I think you can guess who that could be.”

“Can it be fixed?” Bishop asked.

“I should think anything can be fixed but most of the timbers have rotted and finding someone with the skills; besides its dad’s skiff and he doesn’t seem interested in mending it.”

“Bugger,” Bishop grimaced while in some ways somewhat pleased, “I guess that puts an end to your idea.”

“Not at all, it only means a delay.”Awen released a long disappointed sigh, he didn’t wish involve Sam in the repatriation of Bert as his uncle had a moral leaning that would most probably be opposed to interfering with the remains.

With both hands Bishop rubbed the rear of his head. His eyes opened wide with a thought. “Barry Fields has a small rowing dingy,” he claimed before realising it wasn’t the most intelligent of answers.

“Would you ask him? Besides I’ve seen it and don’t think I would wish to use it in open water,” Awen dogmatically responded.

“Nope, I dare say I wouldn’t either but what else can you do, maybe ask John.”

“Ashe doesn’t have a boat.”

“No but he would know someone with a boat.”

“I didn’t wish to bring others into my plan. I guess I don’t have any other choice but to put it to Sam and see what he can come up with.” Awen suggested.

“He may not agree with moving Bert.”

“I don’t have any other option.”

Sam had been back from his latest fishing trip for two days and hadn’t returned to the Pen residence, so believing he was staying with Ashe, Awen with Bishop payed a visit. On approaching the bungalow they spotted Ashe beach-fishing but no sign of Sam. Awen called to Ashe.

“Hey John have you see Sam around today?”

“He’ll be back in ten, has gone into town for a couple of things.” The two approached. “Rol,” Ashe greeted with a gentle nod. Reeling in his surf line he complained about the fishing and invited them inside.

“So what are you two doing down this way so early on a Saturday morning?” He asked and offered a beer. Awen accepted but Bishop declined. “Good on ya lad you don’t want to end up a piss-pot like young Awen here.”

“Steady on John, I don’t drink that much.” Awen protested.

“As I said what brings you out so early.”

“I wanted to ask Sam for a favour but I can come back later.” As he spoke they heard Sam’s footsteps outside the door. Sam entered surprised to see visitors. Greeting the two he dumped his groceries onto the dining table.

“It seems they have a favour to ask of you.” John said and collected the groceries.

“What would that be young Awen” Sam sat himself and accepted a beer offered by Ashe.

“We wanted to borrow dad’s skiff but it’s been holed.”

Ashe with the pretext he wished to show Bishop something invited him outside.

“It’s more than holed, it won’t be going to sea again,” Sam agreed, “anyway what do you want with it, another fishing expedition with your mates?”

“Suppose I’ll have to tell you.” Awen sighed.

“I suppose you will.”

Awen fell silent; he could hear Ashe’s voice outside the door explaining the finer points of polishing a surf board. He felt silly for believing in seeing Bert’s image even with Bishop’s support. He knew there was a phenomenon called mass hysteria, maybe both wished to see Bert so much they believed they had.

There was a time with a new boy at school, Trevor Jackson Awen recollected. Both he and Jackson were in the second grade and from first glance the two became friends, going as far as telling others they had known each other from a previous year, a time when Awen’s parents lived away from town for a short period. The two had created stories of an imaginary past even continuing their charade while alone. Do you remember the time we, Awen would recall and Jackson would agree before adding another chapter to their fantasy but surely that was kid’s stuff, only lasting a short while and even then Awen realised it was only make-belief, something akin to imaginary friends to impress their mates and not the attitude of adults.

Awen decided he would explain only as far as Bert and Martin were once lovers and he thought it would be correct to bring Bert back from his isolation, reburying him close to where Martin’s ashes had been scattered. Sam already knew about Bert’s leaning, so that wouldn’t shock him, he also knew of Awen’s sighting of Bert but he could not be sure if Sam was playing his usual game, by going along with the story while not believing at all.

“How do you know Bert is the one buried out there, you know folk think it was some aboriginal bloke murdered by settlers.” Sam asked as Bishop and Ashe returned to the room.

“What’s the topic?” Ashe asked.

“Young Awen here believes the grave out on Bradshaw belongs to Alice’s brother Bert.” Sam explained.

“It does.” Ashe disclosed.

“How do you know that?” Awen interjected somewhat annoyed he had wasted so much time attempting to discover information on Bert, while Ashe was privy to it all the time.

“Alice told me years ago.”

“I wish you would have told me.” Awen growled displaying a rare measure of anger.

“Like most things Awen, I would have if I knew you wished to know besides I didn’t want to encourage you towards obsession. Anyhow what’s the go with where Bert’s buried?”

“Awen wants to dig him up and rebury him on One Tree Hill.” Sam explained.

“That is what Alice always wanted but I couldn’t do it on my own and I couldn’t trust the story to anyone else.”

“Who else would know he is buried out on the island?” Awen asked.

“Except for myself and Alice, and she’s now gone, I guess no one. The story of Bert was lost from town way back. I suppose no one wanted to remember because of guilt.” Ashe freely admitted.

“What do you think Sam?” Awen prompted for approval.

“And no one knows he’s out there?” Sam asked of Ashe.

“Not a living soul.”

“Well I suppose I’ll help you move Bert but I’m not too bright about it.” Sam agreed. Turning to Ashe he asked. “Has Lance Copeland still got that motor boat?”

“I saw him out on the river in it only last week.” Ashe said and commenced to prepare breakfast, “You two want some breakfast, only scrambled eggs I’m afraid.” Awen declined and Bishop had already eaten.

“Tell you what, I should be able to borrow Lance’s boat, he owes me a favour but it will have to wait until after my next trip.” Sam reluctantly agreed while remaining somewhat hesitant towards Awen’s scheme.

Happy with their decision the two went on their way. At the path Bishop departed for home but Awen needing of a little time alone took the less direct way along the beach. Pausing he cast his eyes across the narrow strait towards Bradshaw, standing sentinel against the south east wind, a lonely outcrop of granite covered with scrub and the occasional palm. It appeared beautiful but forlorn.

“It won’t be long Bert.” He sighed.

“They may not have allowed you to be with Martin in life but they won’t stop you in death.”

With his thoughts on Bert’s relationship with Martin, Awen realised for the first time, he was developing a relationship with Bishop. Slowly Rol was filling that gap in his existence where desire once lived alone. Not only was he becoming quite fond of Rol but longed for his company. It also occurred to him there was a similarity, a time line as not only was he a descendent from Bert’s family but Bishop was of Martin’s. It was as if Bert and Martin were once again coming together in their form. Possibly that was why the connection with Bert was so strong.

Passing the Jetty his thoughts were interrupted by a call from Mick Averill, crew member of the Sea Wind.

“Hey Bic have you seen Sam this morning?”

“Yea he’s down at Ashe’s bungalow, he should be passing by soon.”

“Fair enough but if he doesn’t let him know Jenkins wants to push off earlier.”

“Will do.”

Elyan was in his usual irritable morning mood. Margaret had been cleaning his room and found his stash of man magazines and disposed of them into the bin with the dregs of the teapot and the evening’s leftovers, spoiling their pages. Not daring to take his displeasure out on his mother he did on his brother.

“Anyway why do you want a stack of dirty magazines, doesn’t Sarah satisfy you?” Awen protested as Elyan placed him in a headlock.

Knuckling the crown of Awen’s head Elyan answered, slowly delivering each word with a rough knuckle.

“I like reading the stories.” He released his hold.

“Ow! You’re hurting – that’s a likely story.”

Margaret returned as the bickering between siblings calmed to sneering. “You shouldn’t be reading such filth anyway,” she crossly remarked, hearing the conversation on approach.

“It’s not filth mum it’s art.” Elyan objected.

“You don’t see your father reading such rubbish.” Margaret offered as she seriously took the polishing cloth to an already polished surface.

“Where do you think I got them?” Elyan quietly opposed.

“Come on you two out of here and let me get along with my work, Ely you can do the lawn as you promised.

Elyan couldn’t start the mower. “Is there any petrol?” Awen asked, standing some paces away, hands resting lazily on his hips.

“The tank’s full.”

“I saw Barry Fields in the pub the other night.” Awen offered and checked the tank. It was full.

“I know, I have him sighted,” another pull on the cord a splutter but nothing more, except for foul abuse from Elyan.

“You’re not doing it correctly.” Awen suggested as a third tug failed to start the machine. “I hope you’re not going to do anything silly with Fields?”

“As I said before, he’ll still be alive when I’m through. What’s wrong with this fucking mower?” Elyan released a soft boot to its dirt covered red chassis.

“Here give me a go.” Awen took control of the cord, one pull and it started within a veil of blue smoke. “You flooded it.”

“Seeing you’re an expert with it, you can mow the lawn.” With that suggestion Elyan quickly left his brother with the mowing.

“Don’t forget what I said about Fields.” Awen followed, receiving nothing but silence for his trouble.

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

23,754 views