Published: 22 May 2017

“So you’re too good to mix with the likes of us now?”

Rod McDonald lent back into his seat, his head turned up as he looked down the length of his nose towards Awen. Kevin Billings nodded in agreement, “Yea he’s a right toff now he has a house.” Billings wittedly agreed.

“Get out with ya I’m no different, besides.” Awen complained.

“Besides what?” McDonald added. His eyes past Awen, trained on Donna as she worked the bar. ‘There is something sexy about a pregnant woman,’ he thought, ‘she has a sort of glow about her. Strange I’ve never noticed it before.’

“I’m only looking after it for Alice.” It was true, that is how Awen perceived his tenure of the property, yet he felt somewhat ridiculous in saying so.

“Why is she coming back?” Billings made light of his friend’s account.

“No that’s not what I mean.”

“And you gave that superb MG to Elyan who doesn’t know how to look after such a beautiful machine.” McDonald announced “and he’s probably parked down at Benson’s Point at this very moment screwing Stella Parks across its immaculate leather seat.”

“I don’t drive so Ely may as well have it.” Awen asserted.

“I do, you could have given it to me.” McDonald protested and sent Billings to the bar for fresh drinks. “I’ll have a scotch – a double,” he ordered.

“When did you get your licence?” Awen asked as he down the dregs in his glass.

“Haven’t but I drive the old man’s truck when we go fencing, have been since I was a little tacker and if you can drive that heap of shit you can drive almost anything.”

Kevin Billings returned with the drinks, “you’re shout next rich boy.” He asserted as he past a beer to Awen. “Anyway what are you going to do with the old girl’s house?” He asked inquisitively.

“Suppose you’re gunna use it as a fuck-pad.” McDonald crudely suggested.

“I don’t know about that.” Awen drew anger with his friend’s suggestion but held it back. The house was like a chaste woman and he couldn’t abuse its ambience with such action, even associated language seemed to violate its atmosphere.

“I heard your brother talking to Stella the other night, bragging he would have somewhere comfortable to bed her down in the future.” McDonald proudly leaked.

“He has suggested something like that but I don’t think he’ll be getting it.”

“Come to think of it Bic, I haven’t seen you with a bird since Lorna Miles followed you about like a puppy in high school.” Billings laughed and gave Awen a friendly punch to his ribcage. “You haven’t gone queer on us have you?”

“I’m looking for the right one.” Awen unconvincingly assured.

“You better not leave it too long; they say it shrivels up without use.” McDonald declared his eyes remained trained on Donna. “You know something Pen, that sister of yours looks better the bigger her belly gets. When is the brat due?”

As McDonald spoke John Ashe arrived at the bar. McDonald’s lip unconsciously developed a sneer but it quickly dissipated as he returned to the conversation.

“Still two or three months I think, she isn’t giving much away.”

“She’s big it must be twins.” Billings assumed.

“I hope not, she will more than likely dump them onto mum to look after.” Awen spied Ashe in conversation with Donna and as the man turned he quickly withdrew his gaze. ‘Shit; don’t come over.’ Awen thought feeling his face prickle with fear. It had been almost two weeks since he promised to pay Ashe for mowing Alice’s lawn and he wished to keep that association secrete from his mates. He would pay but with his interest in the house doing so had slipped from his thoughts, deciding to he would as soon as a private opportunity arose.

As Ashe passed close by their table his eyes fell on Awen without acknowledgement. Awen somewhat relieved settled.

“He’s a good surfer.” Billings acknowledged, feeling someone should at least have one good opinion about the man but his account remained unconvincing.

“How would you know?” McDonald sharply questioned.

“I’ve seen him around at the point.”

“And you would know a good surfer from a bad one.” McDonald discredited his friend’s judgement.

“Well he stays on longer than the rest, even in high surf and is always giving others advice.”

“I wonder how many arses he’s violated in the town.” McDonald speculated while watching Ashe quietly sip at his beer. Moments later Ashe was joined by an older man, they shook hands as if well acquainted and after a short conversation the stranger parted company.

“They are only rumours and talk like that could get a bloke lynched.” Billing’s protested, while Awen wisely kept his distance from the conversation.

“You seem too ready to defend him, has he been screwing your scrawny little arse as well.” McDonald became agitated and it was left for Awen to attempt reinstatement of a measure of civility into their conversation.

“Do you reckon the Broncos will win tonight’s game?” He put to his mates without response.

A drift had developed between Billings and McDonald and although they sat shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee, their thoughts were poles apart. It was common place for hostilities to break out between them over the slightest disagreement and had been so for most of their friendship, even on the occasion developing into extended verbal abuse but come the following day it would be as if nothing unduly had occurred and once again they would be best of friends.

“So are you two going to sit there glaring daggers at each other all night or come back to the conversation?” Awen demanded.

“What’s it to you Bic.” McDonald growled then laughed and was back to his normal self. “The Broncos are crap mate, gone for the year.”

Eventually Ashe finished his single drink and left the bar, again passing Awen’s table. For an instance their eyes met but both remained expressionless, leaving Awen relieved the man refrained from acknowledging or speaking. As Ashe departed McDonald’s eyes were trained on his back with evil intent without uttering further dispraising remarks about the man.

“When are you going to throw a party?” Billings asked.

“What sort of party?”

“House warming, what do you think?”

“I’m not,”

“Come on now it’s customary to have a party when you move into a new place.”

“Yea I’ll draw up a guest list for you Bic.” McDonald’s eyes lit as a multitude of acquaintances of the female persuasion came to mind.

“I’m not living there.” Awen informed.

“Shit if I had my own place I’d be in the same day; anything to get away from the olds.” Billings suggested.

“Why not live there?” McDonald followed as his imaginary list dissipated from his thoughts.

“I guess I like mum’s cooking and I can’t boil water.” Awen freely admitted as he went to collect his shout from the bar.

“What’s McDonald looking at?” Donna asked. Her lip upturned as she spoke.

“You I suppose.” Awen suggested and asked for two beers and a double scotch.

“Tell him to bugger off.”

“I think he fancies you now that you’re expecting. It isn’t his is it” Awen lowered his eyes to his sister’s protruding belly.

“You can bugger off as well.”

Awen laughed as he returned to his table. He handed McDonald the scotch.

“I hope you asked for a double?” McDonald demanded.

“I did and at this rate I’ll be a pauper by closing.” Awen admitted as Billings agreed.

“Last one mate, what did Donna want?” McDonald enquired his eyes still on Donna.

“She told me to say for you to bugger off.” Awen was enjoying the banter, or at least being aimed at someone else for a change.

“She did, did she?” McDonald lifted his glass towards Donna, smiled and nodded.

“She did and I asked her if you were the proud dad.”

The smile melted from McDonald’s face, “you didn’t!” He snarled.

“I did.”

“Shit Bic don’t go spreading rumours like that, it could ruin a bloke’s chances around town.”

“What chances? These days you’re never around town to meet anyone.” Billings interjected.

“Ah but you should see those farm girls, gagging for it and no one around but little old me to satisfy them.”

“In your dreams,” Awen tersely answered.

“I’m telling you, chances or not, they are there and I see them all.” McDonald’s eyes appeared to glaze as he drifted towards hay stacks and secrete liaisons beside cool shady streams.

From her advantage behind a stack of glasses, Donna had secluded vision of McDonald as his expression turned from desire to denial. ‘He’s not a bad looker,’ she thought, ‘a little young for me but I don’t know in different circumstances.’ A punter ordered a beer and she lost the thought.

It had been three weeks since Awen promised to visit John Ashe with the mowing money and guilt was gnawing at his conscience. Awen disliked owing money and his lack of payment was constant on his mind, so late in the evening he excused himself from home on the guise he was taking a moonlit beach.

As the Sea Wind had been beached for repairs for some days, Sam was home with little to do but visit the pub or sit around the house reading his collection Zane Gray novels.

“Hey young Awen, would you like company?” Sam asked and closed his book, standing ready to depart.

“Not tonight Sam, I’m calling in on Billings first, another night eh.” Awen lied.

“Then suit yourself,” Sam returned to his reading.

It was a perfect night to enjoy a beach walk. The sea breeze came gently from beyond Bradshaw masking the odour of mangrove, to be replaced with cleansing salt air. The sky appeared as spilt milk, with the full moon still clinging onto its horizon and the island nothing more than an elongated dark smudge against the eastern sky. As he passed the sound of enterprise lifted from the jetty as a second boat, the Curlew, unloaded its catch.

Standing at the water’s edge Awen spent some minutes gazing at the dark outline of the Bradshaw, as an elderly couple with a Cocker Spaniel approached from the direction of Ashe’s bungalow. The man continuously threw a stick and the dog retrieved it, until eventually it fell close to where Awen was standing. The dog approached but wouldn’t retrieve the stick. Awen collected the stick and threw it further along the beach for the dog to chase. The couple drew near.

“Young Awen, isn’t it?” The man asked while passing.

“Yes Mr. Evans, nice night for a walk.”

“How’s Reg, I haven’t seen him at the club for a while.” The man enquired.

“Fine Mr. Evans, dad’s been somewhat busy at the mill of late.”

“Remember me to you mother.” The man nodded, his wife silently smiled and they continued on down the beach. Awen watched after the couple until they became dark shadows in the distance, before resuming in the direction of Ashe’s bungalow.

Some distance ahead a creek blocked Awen’s path but being shallow he waded through the cool water and continued on towards the northern end of the beach. Once past the creek the pungent aroma of decaying vegetation from the mangrove strengthened and as he turned the last twist of sand he spied the bungalow; a lone dark outline and point of light on an otherwise deserted beach.

He hesitated, maybe it wasn’t wise to visit the man at night, what if McDonald’s opinion of the man were correct and Ashe tried it on with him. ‘I do know how to say no.’ He thought, ‘besides he doesn’t appear to be the type to do so’. Awen confidently continued on towards the light at the end of the beach, believing the man much too maligned by McDonald and others to be the monster they portrayed.

Home for John Ashe was once a fisherman’s hut built by his grandfather in times before council planning restrictions, when Ashe’s father was born an additional room was added along with a wide awning to the front, while at the rear of the cottage, struggling among the tea tree was a vegetable patch, mostly burnt to useless by sea spray, poor soil and nightly raiding parties of bandicoots but supplying enough produce to offset Ashe’s meagre earning from mowing and maintenance.

Under the verandah a kerosene lamp dimly burnt as the figure of a man stripped to the waist, wearing what seemed to be a table cloth, bent over what appeared to be a long and broad plank of timber. Awen cautiously approached. “Mr. Ashe,” He called while still at distance. The man turned.

“Is that you Awen?”

“I’ve come to pay you the money I own.” Awen said, coming into the reach of the weak light.

“No worries you could have done so next time I do the mowing.”

Awen approached further, “what are you doing?”

“It’s called waxing, it makes the board go faster; do you surf?”

“Na but I did win the inter-school swimming a few years back.” Awen answered proudly before adding a footnote to his pride, as in school sports he had always carried the minor placing behind his friend, “it was the year McDonald broke his arm.”

“School sports,” Ashe commented dryly but didn’t expand further.

“Have you done the island race?” Awen asked.

“I won it twice.” Ashe answered somewhat nonchalantly.

“Only twice,” Awen gave humour.

“I won it in fifty-one and fifty two, the following year the told me not to enter and give someone else a chance.”

“That was somewhat unfair, if you’re the best than others should use you as the bench mark and try harder. Or that is what our school swimming coach said when McDonald won almost everything.” Awen related.

“Yes true but your school competition didn’t have a cash prize and the thought of money does strange things to folk.”

Awen sniffed at the air, “doesn’t the pong from the mangrove get to you?” he asked.

“Na after a while you don’t notice it; do you want a beer?”

Awen agreed as Ashe disappeared into the darkness of his hut. “No electricity,” he called from somewhere inside before returning holding two cold cans of beer. “I’ve a kero refrigerator but it doesn’t keep things for long.” He passed a can to Awen, “sit yourself and take the weight of your feet.”

“Don’t you get lonely living up here away from town?” Awen found an apple box and after checking its durability he sat.

“Not at all besides I do get visitors, mostly from the shire inventing new ways how to evict me, I hope you’re not bothered by me wearing the wrap but when I’m alone I find it more comfortable and it saves on the washing.”

“It sort of gives you a tropical island look. “How long had you known Alice, she often spoke of you?”

“Always, my Aunt Grace lived next door and as a kid I was often over there playing with the cousins.” He paused, “but like Alice, she’s gone now and the cousins left the district years ago.” Another pause, “you really don’t remember me – do you?” He asked quizzically. Awen admitted he did not, other that he had known him around town since he could remember.

“I used to look after you before you started school. Your mother helped with bookwork at the mill back before you dad hired himself a secretary and seeing I was broke and out of work I was your baby sitter. It was the year I left school.”

“How old are your Mr. Ashe?” Awen asked becoming quite confused with it all.

“The name’s John or Boardie if you like, I’m almost thirty four, why do you ask?”

“For some reason I always thought of you as much older.”

“Do I look that old?” Ashe laughed.

“Not at all, in fact you look younger than thirty four but you are always known as the old -” Realising what he was about to announce, Awen cut short and finished his beer.

Ah rumours, I suppose you got that from your mate McDonald. When he was younger he and the Bishop kid used to heave stones onto my roof and once through the side window.” Ashe gave a dissatisfying grunt and finished his beer. “Would you like another?”

“No thanks but I thought you didn’t drink much?”

“I don’t, I was offering it to you.” Ashe collected the empty cans and dumped them in a large metal container. “It appears you have a lot of unqualified information about me young Awen.” He sternly declared and returned to his board waxing.

“Rod’s not a bad bloke really.” Awen assured as he settled into the night and the hypnotic sound of breaking waves. “You know John I reckon I could get used to living here.”

“What are you going to do with Alice’s place?”

“I haven’t decided anything, you may think I’m being silly but I sort of feel as I’m only the caretaker for Alice’s memories.”

“No I understand where you’re coming from and Alice had plenty of memories.”

“You know John; I still can’t get my head around why she left the cottage to me.”

“It was simple you were the only family to give her the time of day.” Ashe explained.

“I didn’t do much.” Awen retrospectively apologised.

“You didn’t have to, you listened and that was enough. She often said she would leave you the cottage for that reason.”

“Do you know much about her past?” Awen asked feeling confident he could converse further with Ashe.

“Lots I suppose. Over her last year or so I would often visit and we would sit sipping cups of tea until it almost run back through my nose, while she reminisced the old days in such a way you would believe you were actually there. You could all but smell the cow dung and hear the horses galloping.” Ashe paused and released a smile, “and as for your family, I think I know more of them than you do.”

“That wouldn’t be difficult but did she ever speak of her brother Bert?” Awen asked.

“Often and with such clarity one would think he was standing right there in the room,” Ashe gave a gentle laugh, “sometimes when she believed she was alone she had conversations with Bert, or at least she appeared to do so. It wasn’t as she was telling him things but as if she was asking and answering questions and on the occasion she would become angered and rouse him.” Another smile, “it was nice in a way but I don’t think the old girl was crazy, Ashe paused, “just lonely I guess.”

“I noticed that the last time I visited. She said I look very much like Bert and by a photograph I found it could have been me in old clothes.”

Ashe finished waxing and leant his surf board against the wall of the house. “You know I made that board.” He declared proudly, standing back to admire his work.

“It’s a good job.”

“Be honest Awen, would you know a good board from a bad one?” Ashe laughed loudly.

“No but I’ve seen you riding the waves, so either you’re a good surfer or it’s a good board.”

“Both mate but then again I’ve been surfing since I could walk. Dad taught me, he was taken by a shark when I was seventeen.” Memories of that fatal day lowered the man’s tone but as quickly he brightened. “I had a real good board before I made this one and someone used an axe on it.”

“Who would do that?”

“I have my suspicions. Is Ely still stepping out with Stella Parkes?”

Awen thought ‘stepping out’ was rather old fashioned even for someone in their thirties but knew what Ashe meant.

“I believe so.”

“I don’t suppose you know Stella is a distant cousin of mine on my father’s side?”

“No I didn’t, if they get hitched I guess you would become my cousin-in-law, if there is such a thing.” Awen made light.

“We are already related, all be it loosely and somewhat debatable through your great-great grandmother on your mother’s side, Joan Evans.”

“I didn’t even know she existed, what else do you know?” Awen announced somewhat surprised with the sprouting family tree.

“Not a great deal about Joan, only what I gleaned from Alice and if I remember correctly Joan and Travis Evans, your great-great grandparents had five children, possibly more.” Ashe paused while arranging their order, “those I recollect Alice mentioning were Ivy, Alice, Mary, Henry and Bert, you are descendent from Mary and John Bunting your great grandparents and I fit in somewhere with Henry your great uncle, or smithing like that according to Alice. I get somewhat confused with who is a great uncle or a great-great uncle, while I believe Bert was the younger brother to them all.”

“Mum said that lot were all strange, especially Henry’s mob.” Awen disclosed.

“Yea, so I believe but my lot were alright; or at least my mother’s mob and they say I take after her side of the family,” Ashe assured before relating further, “according to Alice there were two Henry’s, father and son and no matter how she explained who was who, her stories become so entwined I was never sure which Henry she was talking about and somewhere amongst all the confusion there is another Bert, he was their uncle but mostly known as Albert.” Ashe laughed, “at times even Alice became confused with them all.”

“It’s all becoming too confusing for me as well.” Awen admitted, shaking his head in disbelief.

Ashe gave a long yawn. “Enough of family talk, I’m going to take a walk down the beach do you want to come?”

Awen followed without agreement and as they reached the water Ashe once again spoke. “You know I miss my visits to Alice, she was probably the only person in town who accepted people for whom they were and didn’t judge,” a pause and soft laugh, “although she loved her gossip and no one was safe from that.” There was a sting in Ashes statement, designed to account for any misconception Awen may have formed from McDonald about his character.

“Strange really,” Awen agreed, “I knew Alice all my life and didn’t know her at all. I believe I learnt more about Alice during those last two visits than the previous nineteen years.” Awen felt sadden from his disclosure.

“She often spoke of you and how you reminded her of Bert.” Ashe assured and turned towards the north and the mangrove. “Smells like rain.” He said inhaling from the salty air.

“All I can smell is mangrove.” Awen answered while inhaling deeply from the same air.

“Ah, when you’ve lived close to it for as long as I have, you get to understand the subtleties in nature.” Pointing towards where the river entered into the ocean through the thickest part of the mangrove he continued. “They say sometime crocs have been seen in the river.”

“I didn’t think they came down this far south.”

“Who knows, I’ve never seen one and I’ve been here all my life. Some say they bark like a dog.” Coincidentally as Ashe spoke, the sound of a barking came from along the beach.

“Is that one?” Awen comically asked.

“No for sure that’s Les Herbert’s dog, it’s always straying along the beach looking for dead things to roll on.”

Reaching the edge of the mangroves the two turned and headed back down the beach, retracing their steps towards Ashe’s bungalow.

“I suppose I should be going dad wants me to start work early tomorrow.” Awen said as a large black dog passed by at speed.

“That animal is crazy.” Ashe laughed as the dog entered into the surf, only to exit once more in great haste, before disappearing into the scrub at the head of the beach. “It’s a good swimmer, sometimes it paddles right out into the surf, I reckon one of these days a shark will get it.”

“Are there many sharks in this area?” Awen asked.

“They are everywhere up and down the coast, sometimes I see them from the beach but you get to know the best times to swim or surf,” Ashe paused, “there’s a saying, it’s safest to swim with a dog, as sharks like the taste of dog.”

“Is that true?” Awen asked.

“I very much doubt it, how do you like being foreman?” Ashe asked incidentally.

“How did you know that?”

“Nothing goes past without notice in this town.” Ashe answered and paused close by his hut.

“To be honest I don’t do much to earn the extra money, everyone knows their job and we all get on with it but Ely still pokes his nose into everything.” For a moment the two fell silent. “There’s still a lot I would like to know about the family especially Bert, could I visit you again some time?” Awen continued.

“Any time and Alice’s lawn is due again later in the month, do you still wish me to cut it?”

“Sure, I suppose I better head off – see ya.”

The visit with John Ashe left Awen with more questions than he received answers. He had also modified his opinion of the man. He still believed it possible McDonald was correct and Ashe was gay but being a molester of the town’s male youth, that didn’t sit well with Awen’s understanding. Ashe showed too much empathy to be considered a predator; even so he decided to keep their fledgling association private but within such a diminutive community privacy was not always an option.

“So Bic you’ve gone queer on us eh?” McDonald accused, offering a sneer of disapproval, as the three met for their customary drink.

“What’s got up your arse?” Awen snapped, while McDonald, his chin high and head back, peered in teasing gesture towards his obviously embarrassed friend.

“I saw you the other night.” McDonald declared, leaving Awen to wonder what he had done to deserve such a tirade.

“You will have to explain yourself.”

“I saw you coming away from the old poofs hut and by your ugly dial you looked most satisfied.”

“You should get your facts straight before you start accusing McDonald, I was only paying the man for mowing Alice’s lawn and if I appeared pleased it was because he had given me information about Alice and my family.”

“How would he know about your family?” McDonald asked inquisitively.

“John has been mowing Alice’s lawns for years and once had cousins living next door.” Awen cautiously omitted the man was possibly a distant relation.

“So it’s John now.” McDonald critically proclaimed.

“John, Ashe, fag whatever you want to call him but I found him to be quite ordinary.” Awen admitted becoming somewhat weary with his friend’s constant accusations.

“Maybe,” McDonald bit as Billings entered into the argument.

“Anyway McDonald how do you know he’s a poof, unless you’ve been there for a sleep-over?”

“Fuck off Billings.” Both Awen and Billings burst into laughter, causing McDonald cheeks to burn scarlet. “Very funny,” he concluded as Donna passed by collecting glasses from tables. Leaning close to Awen’s ear she whispered.

“Mum’s asked me to tea Thursday, what’s the mood like?”

“Mum’s calmed down somewhat but dad hasn’t said a word, besides he’s hardly home these days.” Awen admitted.

“You’ll be there?” Her question was almost begging.

“Sure.”

“Have you moved into Alice’s place?” She asked.

“No I’ve only stayed one weekend but I’m thinking of staying over more often.”

“What do you think you’re looking at Rodney McDonald?” Donna demanded, noticing his eyes fixed greedily onto her breasts.

“Dunno Donna but they appear to be growing, what have you been feeding them?” He answered almost salivating at the sight.

“Rod McDonald you’re a pig.” Donna snapped while collecting the last of the glasses. She returned to the bar, with both McDonald and Billings displaying interest in the swish of her rear.

“What!” McDonald complained as Awen silently shook his head. “Well she shouldn’t wear low cut dresses; she wants to be noticed; besides she has got lovely tits, so why not complement her on them.”

With Donna’s departure Awen sat silently listening to conversation between his friends. They had forgotten the tirade against Ashe and their interest in Donna’s breasts, as McDonald had been invited to return fencing with his old man on a regular basis and was more excited about earning money than the work, while Billings had been offered an apprenticeship with a plumber uncle but decided to take the position of assistant manager in his father’s grocery store, even if in reality assistant manager meant general dog’s body and shelf stacker, while his uncle’s position would more than likely be unblocking someone’s smelly dunny.

Studying McDonald’s form, his developing arms and shoulders, the power in his thighs as they protruded snugly from his shorts, his chest and the points of nipples visible through thin white cotton of his shirt, Awen believed he was envious for his friend’s body but at that moment it was more than envy and had always been so. It may have been McDonald’s green eyes that captivated the school boy but now it was the total package that was heating the sap of youth and Awen found it frightening, relating a sudden urge to leave and be where he could think without visual contact clouding his emotions.

Taking a deep breath he quickly shook away his passion while realising he was developing deeper feelings for his friend. His face commenced to prickle with embarrassment and all he could thing about was departing as quickly as possible.

“I’m off,” Awen nervously declared, finished his beer and stood from the table.

“What’s the sudden rush?” McDonald asked.

“I just remembered I have to do a job for mum.”

“What, you’re going back to Ashe’s for another go?” McDonald, not believing his friend’s excuse, continued with his obsession.

“Get fucked, is that all you can think about?” At least McDonald’s accusation managed to divert Awen’s panic attack but he still wished to leave.

“Surely you can stay for one last round?” McDonald suggested. Turning to Billings he shook his head in disbelief towards Awen’s abnormal conduct.

“Na I have to go, see ya,” He forwarded and quickly departed, leaving his friend’s confused by his action.

“What do you think of that?” McDonald asked of Billings once Awen had departed.

“Dunno; it was a bit strange I can’t think what’s got into him.”

“Do you reckon there is something in his visit with the old poof?” McDonald suggested.

“I doubt it,” Billings strongly disagreed.

“Never mind, I’m thirsty, you’re shout.” McDonald suggested.

“Actually it was Bic’s shout.” Billings corrected.

“Seeing he’s not here, it’s yours.”

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

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