Published: 18 Sept 2017

Sam returned from sea the day after Awen returned from his stint in the country. Firstly he apologised for not being able to borrow the boat to visit Bradshaw as his friend Lance Copeland, had recently sold his motor boat, secondly he attempted to talk Awen away from digging up Bert’s remains, believing it should be the position of some authority or even the historical society to do so but Awen was armament, Bert would lay for the rest of eternity with the ashes of Martin. If Sam was not prepared to help he would do so on his own, even if it meant swimming through shark infested water and carrying the remains home on his back.

“Very well if you must I suppose I can find another boat.” Sam reluctantly agreed as Elyan came into the living room.

“What do you want a boat for?” Elyan enquired hearing the last words of the conversation.

“Awen wants to go fishing out on Bradshaw.” Sam quickly answered.

“I thought you would have had enough of that place when you were a kid – and not a big kid as you are now.” Elyan commented helping himself to a big red apple from the fruit bowl. As quickly he replaced it and took another. “That one is bad I’ll leave it for you kid.”

“So don’t put it back, bin it.”

“You can eat around the bad bits; you know what they say, waste not want not.” After polishing the replacement apple on his shirt, he took an oversized bite. “Bloody good apples, where did mum get them?”

“The Greengrocery I suppose.” Awen answered.

“So you need a boat, what about the old man’s skiff?” Elyan asked.

“It has a hole in it and much of the woodwork needs replacing.”

“Then you’re in the shit.”

“Thanks a lot.” Awen sniped.

“A good job for a cleaver kid like you, besides you could get McDonald to help, he’s good with wood.” Elyan took another bite of his apple.

“Haven’t you got somewhere to go?” Awen snapped at his brother.

“As a matter of fact I have.” After a third bight he continued. “Do you know Eric Fowlers?”

“No who is he?”

“Eric Fowlers happens to be a mate of mine.”

“So?”

“And he owes me a favour or two.”

“What has that to do with anything?” Awen was growing tired of his brother’s mind games.

“Eric lives north of town on the river; his parents have that large house where the lawn that runs down to their own private jetty.” Elyan finished his apple and left the apple core in the bowl with the remaining fruit.

“Hey don’t leave that there.” Awen demanded.

“So you don’t want to hear the rest of the story?” Elyan asked.

“I suppose I’ll have to.” Awen crossed the room, retrieved the core and dumped it in the kitchen tidy.

“Well Eric happens to own the sister skiff to the old man’s and it doesn’t have a hole in it, or rotten woodwork. Would you like me to see if he will lend it to you?”

Awen’s expression brightened, “do you think he would lend it to me?”

“Probably, if you ask me nicely I could talk to him.”

“Please Ely would you ask your friend if I could borrow his skiff.”

“That’s better; I’ll be going see ya kid.” Without further ado or expansion to his promise to borrow the skiff Elyan departed.

“What do you think of that?” Awen asked Sam once he heard the front door close.

“I know Eric and I forgot he owned a skiff, so looks like you will get your way after all.”

“And you will help?” Awen enforced.

“I said I would but I’m still not happy doing so.”

Once again it was Friday night and McDonald was missing from town, leaving Billings as company for their regular night at the pub and the first words from Billings were in relation to how he enjoyed sleeping with a snake. Awen shuddered at the thought, declaring it was the first and last time he would sleep in a tent in the bush, Bradshaw Island being the exception, where, except for the occasional skink, there weren’t any reptiles.

“You do know they aren’t venomous?” Billings assured in reference to pythons.

“I know that but they have teeth and some old joker once told me if a python were to bite you it never really healed.”

Billing laughs, “I was told the same story but in mine it was a goanna, I guess it’s somewhat like the hoop snake and min-min lights. Why did you go camping with McDonald anyway?”

“That is a good question, something different I suppose.” As Awen spoke Donna passed collecting empty glasses. “Who’s looking after the kid?” He asked.

“Mum of course.”

Donna had once again moved out of home and found a small unit at the rear of a girlfriend’s house but most of the time young Jack would be found at the Pen resident, under the care of a doting grandmother.

“What’s it like working and bringing up a kid at the same time?” Billings asked.

“Easy when you have a control-freak for a mother. I think she would attempt breast feeding if she could.”

“Keep it nice sis, she’s not that bad.” Awen protested and finishing the dregs of his beer handed her the empty glass.

“Ely’s worse.” she surmised, “sometimes I think he believes he’s the father.”

“I’ll agree to that but I have to keep sweet with him at the mo, he is borrowing a skiff for me.”

Billings eyes lit with the mention of a skiff, “what’s the boat for?” he asked.

“The usual a short visit to Bradshaw.”

“Does McDonald know; when are we going?” Billings appeared most interested as it had been quite some time since the three had spent weekend fishing. Not since the shark took McDonald’s favourite rod.

“Sorry mate it’s just Sam and I, something we planned a long time back.”

Billings appeared dejected but didn’t comment further, his eyes fixed on Rol Bishop’s entry into the bar. Spotting Awen, Bishop approached and without invitation joined them. “I’ve been looking for you.” He directed to Awen and nodded towards Billings, “want a refill?” He asked noticing their glasses were all but empty.

“I’ll sit on this one for a while.” Billings answered somewhat annoyed with Bishop’s intrusion into what he believed to be a private conversation.

“What’s the prob?” Awen asked and accepted the offer for a further beer.

“It can wait,” Bishop rose to get the drinks.

Billings spoke. “What’s it with you two, I hear you were kicking around together like two sheilas at a church picnic.” He asked once Bishop was out of hearing.

“Nothing, you and McDonald were both out of town and we had a couple of drinks why?”

“McDonald doesn’t think much of him.”

“McDonald doesn’t think much of a lot of things but Rol is alright.”

Bishop returned with the drinks, “you sure you don’t want a refill, I don’t mind going back to the bar?” he offered. Billings shook his head and remained silent.

“What was it you wished to see me about?” Awen asked.

“The parents are leaving town, dad’s found work with his brother somewhere up north.”

“What about you.” There was urgency in Awen’s voice. It slipped unintentionally into his question like a thief. Had Billings noticed? He hoped not but couldn’t return his words to thought and rearrange their delivery but by his expression Billings had not noticed the anxiety in Awen’s tone.

“Good question, I suppose I’ll have to find lodgings somewhere in town.” Bishop answered as Awen distanced himself from his friend’s dilemma. He could offer Bishop Alice’s cottage but not while in earshot of Billings, as even sympathy may alert suspicion towards his thoughts. If there were to be an offer it would have to wait until they were private.

Fortunately Billings interjected and took away the need for further discussion on the matter.

“How’s the bank treating you?” Billings asked somewhat indifferently.

“I like it but sometimes it reminds me of being back at school. The manager reminds me of Mr. Crowley our maths teacher. I think he would give detention and lines if it were in banking regulations.”

Billings released a disinterested grunt and cast his eyes across the room towards Donna as she plied her charm on two mill workers, who were applying equal charm on her. He may have asked Bishop about his work but wasn’t interested in his answer but listning to the conversation between Awen and Rol he could find no reason to dislike the lad. He remembered schooldays but could hardly place Bishop. He was the kid at the back of the room, quiet, unobtrusive, somewhat nervous and always watching. That is what turned his opinion against Bishop, it was his watching without saying anything and when spoken to or affronted in some way, he would simply grin without giving recourse. It was that supercilious grin that remained in Billing’s memory, burnt onto his retinas like on a bill-board outside some main street shop.

“Hey Billings are you with us?” Awen asked noticing his friend had drifted away from the conversation.

“I was thinking about back at school, you know Bishop I can hardly remember you being there.”

“I was but I suppose we moved in different circles.” Bishop suggested.

“I suppose so.”

“I have to be going; I’ll talk to you later.” Bishop announced, finished his drink and nodded towards Billings, who forcing a smile nodded back.

“Righto,” Awen answered as Bishop departed.

“He’s changed somewhat.” Billings commented.

“I suppose we all have.”

“He used to have a stupid grin and never answered when spoken to.”

“Nervous of us I guess.” Awen suggested.

“Nervous? What did we do to make anyone nervous?”

“I suppose the three of us did exclude others from joining in.”

“Possibly; you do realise he’s a friend of Ashe?” Billings put forth somewhat accusingly.

“I know that, he was teaching him to surf.” Awen was becoming bold, deciding he would throw a degree of caution to the wind and somehow change his friend’s opinion of Ashe as well as Rol Bishop.

“I see; I wouldn’t mind trying myself.” Billings admitted and without having McDonald around to canvas his opinion of Ashe, half decided the man was probably normal, or not worth his concern.

“I wasn’t aware you wanted to surf?” Awen answered somewhat surprised by his friend’s admission.

“Have been since I can remember but I guess kicking around with you and McDonald changed my direction.”

“You should have said something, I can’t speak for McDonald but I would have had a go at it.”

“To late now, they say if you don’t start young you never really get the right balance.” Billings sighed and finished his drink, “want another?” He offered.

“I will if you’re having another.”

“Na I think I’ll give it a miss, shame about the trip to Bradshaw, maybe Sam won’t mind if I tag along.”

“Maybe,” Awen answered without conviction.

“No I suppose I should let you have your little bonding trip with your uncle, memory lane and all that.” Billings concluded.

It had been arranged. Elyan had managed to borrow the skiff but Eric Fowlers had enforced a regulation. He knew Awen well and was on the Sea Wind the day when Sam and Awen had to be rescued when the Pen skiff was allowed to drift. If he were to lend his craft, Sam would have to sail it.

“So kid you owe me one.” Elyan demanded with the offer.

“I think you’re in my debt and not me in yours.” Awen contradicted.

“What makes you say that?”

“I didn’t have to give you the car.”

Elyan thought for a moment but couldn’t come up with a suitable quip, only it had been month’s back, almost a year, since Awen gave him the car and favours become invalid after six months.

“I think you made that up.” Awen retorted.

“Prove it.”

“Doesn’t matter but I do thank you for arranging the skiff.”

“Don’t forget no Sam no skiff.” Elyan warned.

Awen had arranged for his lunch break to align with that of Rol Bishop as he needed to relate the news about the skiff, he also needed to learn more about Bishop’s parents leaving town and what he was to do for accommodation. It was true Awen had thought of letting Bishop live at the cottage but he was no longer comfortable living at home and thought it time he moved into the house himself.

Although Margaret and Reg had an unspoken understanding it was unravelling like two ends of a string ball with a tangle of confusing between, often ending in argument followed by lengthy periods of silence. Most believed it would only be time before a break-up of the marriage occurred and if so, Margaret threatened to leave town to live with a sister and if it were so, Awen would himself be needing accommodation.

Bishop was impatiently waiting outside his work when Awen arrived, his hands anxiously resting on hips as he gave an obvious glance towards the town hall clock.

“Sorry I’m a little late.” Awen apologised.

“I only get half an hour for lunch and almost ten minutes has gone already.” Bishop complained.

“Five maybe but I couldn’t get away, besides that clock is always a few minutes fast. Can’t you extend your break?”

“Nope have to be back for the others to have their lunch. We’ll grab a hamburger.”

“That’s fine by me.”

“Another thing, best not to telephone at work, the manager really gave me hell about receiving a call during working hours.” Bishop elaborated without any measure of annoyance.

“I forget others have restrictions, dad is quite easy about us using the telephone, I guess that is one of the perks working for your old man.”

“That’s alright but the manager did go on.” Bishop concluded.

Seated outside the café and scoffing their burgers as quickly as possible, Awen enquired about the departure of Bishop’s parents. It appeared their leaving wouldn’t eventuate for at least two months, giving Bishop ample opportunity to find accommodation and although the bank was generous enough to suggest a transfer he had declined preferring to remain in town.

“You haven’t told your dad?” Bishops words came most urgently.

“Told him what?”

“That my old man is leaving the mill.”

“No it isn’t my business to do so.” Awen was offended to think he would betray a confidence but was relieved to learn the departure wasn’t imminent, giving him ample time to work out if he was going to offer Alice’s cottage to Bishop, or move in himself and from that thought was born another, possibly they could live there together.

“Sorry but dads like that, he would skin me if he thought I told anyone.” Bishop atoned as he finished the last of his hamburger, “I should be going I only have a few minutes to get back to work.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

Reaching the office door Awen remembered his reason for meeting with Bishop and that was to give him the news on the skiff. “Hey I almost forgot, I’ve managed, or more to the point Ely did, get a skiff to go out to Bradshaw – would the weekend after the next be alright with you?”

“Sure let me know more on the weekend; I really have to go,” Bishop paused, “is it still on for me to come over this weekend?”

“I like that idea.” Awen agreed.

Friday night and Awen was scheduled to meet Billings. Instead after his meal he packed a few items and headed for Alice’s. It was his intention to speak with Bert on the removal of his remains to One Tree Hill. In his mind it was simple, he would be seated in conversation with his ghost and casually inform Bert his remains were to be reburied with the ashes of Martin.

Once at Alice’s nothing appeared simple. What if Bert didn’t wish to be moved, what would he find at Bradshaw? Over sixty years had passed, possibly nothing remained except for the cairn of stones and how would he handle what he found, was it Bert or only the memory of the man?

Standing in the kitchen with his few groceries Awen felt self conscious, even worse, ridiculous in thinking he could converse with the dead. Usually Bert appeared at will’ not on call yet he did attempt to do so.

“Hey Bert are you there?” He gave a nervous laugh remembering a film he has seen as a lad, while the film’s only line he could bring to mind was ‘you in there Zom?’It was a comedy and the zombie was in a cupboard, as for Bert he wasn’t to be heard or seen.

Subconsciously Awen went to Bert’s room. It lacked its usual atmosphere appearing instead as a dusty room, filled with ancient artefacts. “I’m loosing him.” He gave a shudder; it was as if he were killing Bert for a second time, this time was he the executioner.

“Bert.” Awen spoke softly from the centre of the room.

“I need to talk with you.”

“Please.”

“Maybe I’m trying too hard?”

“Bert, are you around?”

Another smile; a chuckle “try whistling:”

In so doing he scalded his action, “He’s not a bloody dog you nong.”

Releasing a deep disappointing sigh Awen left the room.

“Will I have tea or a beer?” His question was rhetorical and remained so although he half expected Bert to interact and suggest a long cold beer, or in the memorable words of Alice, ‘a nice cup of tea. Deciding on beer he tuned in the radio and reclined in Alice’s chair. He felt comfortable, belonging. Away from Elyan’s smart retorting, his mother’s constant cleaning and huffing and his father’s absence and silence.

Late night music. It wasn’t rock with its lively kick but slow mournful sounds of pre-war lamenting some call ‘music to ready for bed by.’

Awen wasn’t ready for sleep, feeling more hypnotic than tired. A second beer sunk him deeper into his comfort. Yes he could live here and enjoy the solitude, or if it came to it, share with Bishop. Doing so could be fun, ‘playing house,’ he thought and laughed. It was a quiet chortle, rising in the throat and hardly reaching the atmosphere in the living room. He smelt the faint scent of roses. Alice once had the habit of dripping rose oil in drawers and secret spots. Before she died it was strong but now he hardly ever noticed, unless while opening a drawer or a cupboard door but this night it appeared much stronger. “I could live here,” he repeated into the dim light in the room. “Could you live with me Bert?” He proclaimed even louder.

“As you are me there could be no other way.” Bert’s answer once again came from deep inside his head. Turning around he discovered Bert smiling, standing in the dullness of the passage.

“Bert I called you but you didn’t answer.”

“I’m afraid that is the way of it.”

“Will you always be here?”

“Always is a long time Awen, even you won’t be here always.”

“If I did live here would you concern if Rol Bishop also lived here?” Awen asked.

“Your friend reminds me much of Martin.”

“Martin was his great uncle.”

“I know that, I think your friend has merit.”

“I have something important to ask you.” Awen admitted.

“The answer is yes.”

Outside there was the sound of car horns and the hooting of young male voices as they burnt rubber along the street. Awen awoke with a jerk spilling the last of his beer down the front of his shirt. “Bert!” he heard his voice call but the words didn’t leave his lips. Eyes now wide and adrenaline pumping he searched the room. He was alone.

“Bert.” He called, this time loudly, still he lacked an answer.

“I was going to ask you if it were proper if we moved your remains to One Tree Hill to be with the ashes of Martin.” He called but again his words fell on silence.

It was then he remembered he had planned to meet Billings, he had also agreed to have Rol over that night but wasn’t in any mood for company or drinking. Going to Bert’s room he attempted to create atmosphere. Sitting on the bed he thought of again dressing in Bert’s clothing but decided against doing so. He remembered the letters they were real, as was Bert’s connection with Martin; that had been proven and Rol Bishop was party to their fellowship.

Awen was in doubt about Bert, had it all been imagination and nothing more, was he coming out of a long and complicated dream? He thought not as the arrangements for retrieving Bert’s remains from the Bradshaw were real and not created from some dream, besides there had been involved conversations with both Sam and John Ashe and much too complex to be dreaming, yet it must be so as there wasn’t such a thing as ghosts, no one in their right mind talked with the dead or conjured them to appear.

Giving up on his attempt to reconnect with Bert for the night, he brought to mind he had attempted to ask if Bert would agree to being brought back from the island but before he could ask, Bert had said his answer was yes, was that agreement or wishful thinking.

Finding it all too daunting and needing to be away from Alices for a while, Awen telephoned Bishop and arranged to meet at the hotel with Billings, while cancelling their weekend together.

“What’s the problem?” Bishop asked, becoming concerned by Awen’s tone of voice and the urgency of telephoning only moments before he left to join his friend.

“No prob Rol, only I need to think through a few things on my own.”

“Are you having second thoughts about bringing Bert back?” Bishop asked.

“Definitely not, that is still on no matter what.”

“Or is it about me?” Bishop dolefully questioned.

“Again no, I’ll talk to you later.”

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