Published: 11 Jun 2020

Lewis had answered Ashley’s letter in the affirmative and because he didn’t wish to be reunited with Ian, or more to the point his Cousin Liz he decided to visit Ashley in Sydney coinciding with their visit, proclaiming a prearrangement that couldn’t be rescheduled.

Being a quiet period with not a lot of work relating to stock and with the knowledge Bob Kelly could carry his work for a couple of weeks Lewis asked Jack for the time, offering instead he would work over the Christmas period. Jack agreed while paraphrasing Bob’s account he had plenty of time owing and on the arrival of the next mail truck Lewis was packed and ready to take it to Croydon where he would catch the air service to Normanton and then on to Cairns, to link with the southern connection.

It was Ivy who came to farewell Lewis and as he climbed into the cabin of the mail truck she took his hand, “you will be coming back?” she asked sincerely believing once he had been reunited with civilization it would hold him there.

“Sure I couldn’t just leave Horse could I?” Lewis answered, “and someone will have to keep an eye on Wayne when he arrives at Christmas,” he laughed while leaving Ivy waving as the mail truck crossed the grid and was beyond sight.

“Where are you off to?” Hal Tucker asked as he manoeuvred the old truck along the dusty track towards the Croydon Road.

“Sydney Hal,”

“Why would anyone in their right mind wish to go to flaming Sydney?”

“Holiday,”

“Flaming holiday; tell me about it. My last holiday was when the army sent me to New Guinea and that was no flaming holiday, I’ve still got the shrapnel in my flaming back as a souvenir.”

“It must have been a hell of a time.” Lewis lightly sympathised.

“That ain’t the half of it. I suppose the pay was good but only a fraction of what the yank’s got. The Poms had a saying for them, oversexed, overpaid and over here. It was the same here in the north, it’s said close on a million were scattered around the tableland at one time or another.” Hal lost his cordiality as he continued, “One shacked up with my girl and when I returned half dead with scrub fever and whatever else, she had scarpered with him to some place called California, no Dear John letter, no nothing. I knocked on her old woman’s door, ruddy great smile on my face, presenting a box of chocolates and a bunch of flowers at no mean expense and she had the privilege of explaining the situation. Her exact words were Jenny’s buggered off with some yank.”

“Yes I knew of them being on the tablelands and except for the unexploded bombs around Herberton you would never know they had been there.” Lewis admitted.

“Mark my word young fella’ they were. How long will you be gone?”

“Only for a couple of weeks – when is your new truck arriving?”

“Too expensive so I cancelled, beside these new models don’t have the grunt like this old girl, they are made for highways not bush tracks. Good British steel this motor, not pig iron like what Menzies sold to the Japs before the war. Flaming Japanese;” Hal as usual was in full complaint.

“Have to go with the times Hal,” Lewis flippantly answered allowing Hal to continue with his complaining and his disdain from the Japanese and his time serving in the war.

“Go with the flaming times. Christ you young fellows know jackshit.”

Lewis laughed as Hal came down through the gears to cross a dry creek.

“Hear that grinding, if it were Jap metal I would have lost those cogs long ago.”

Once in Croydon Lewis had an hour to kill before being transferred to the airdrome, which like most outback landing strips was a cow paddock without the cows. Sometimes even with cows and always a generous covering of cowpats.

While waiting for his flight Lewis meandered down to the rail shed to view the Croydon, Normanton Gulflander rail motor. It was an old single carriage motor, which at its front appeared to be a truck on iron wheels. This mode of transport would rattle its way across the gulf country to Normanton three times a week, to a timetable being whenever, as it was prone to breaking down at least once during each trip, while its driver was not only so but mechanic and ticket collector rolled into one sweaty, grumpy fellow with an attitude that disregarded its few passengers as being more an irritation than paying customers.

It was dark when Lewis arrived in Cairns and seeing his Sydney connection wasn’t until the following afternoon he took the bus into the city to find hotel accommodation for the night. It was the Criterion Hotel that came to mind, as he and Will had stayed there on a number of occasions.

At first he baulked at taking a room there, thinking it may bring back disturbing memories but the part of him that said he had to eventually come to terms with his shadows took control, with a deep breath he walked up to the desk and asked for a room, then once settled found the bar for a drink.

It took only two beers for Lewis to realise he had been off the fluid so long he could no longer hold the volume. Feeling somewhat light headed he pushed the half finish third aside and left to clear his head along the foreshore. There before him were the same mud crabs doing the same walk in the tidal mud towards the containing stone wall while never arriving and of course the same fragrant air when from the north east, of decaying mangrove.

Lewis’ thoughts digressed to a time after being caught in a cyclone and loosing his vehicle. On that night he slept on a bench listening to the aborigines arguing, it had been lightly raining but warm. He smiled on hearing voices coming from the very position as they had then. Looking into the dim light thrown from street lamps he noticed a small group of natives enjoying the night air while drinking questionable substance, as usual from bottles covered with brown paper bags. Why they would hide their habit beneath paper was baffling as everyone knew what the bags contained, possibility has it there still retained a measure of dignity to hide their addiction.

All about nothing had changed except Lewis himself and no matter how he attempted to hold onto those past experiences, they were fleeting, becoming but vague memories, some happy, some sad. He then realised he was moving on and with the advance, possibly he could put away the pain of loosing Will.

The foreshore may not have changed but the city’s commercial heart had, with ever more tourists discovering the north and its tropics. A group of such was enjoying the balmy night air along the foreshore, obviously amused with the party of aborigines, who by now commenced to sing, either from the effects of alcohol or to irritate the tourists. As for the singing it was more arguing in tune than any recognisable song and punctuated with Anglicised cursing. Some of the visitors stood close by while one lifted his camera and a flash disturbed the darkness, followed by a volley of abuse from the natives. The tourists with nervous tittering quickly moved on.

Lewis left the foreshore and entered the main commercial end of town. Here he found change as Cairns was in flux, many of the old shops had gone while new and modern buildings were taking place. Even the old Queenslander houses were making way for southern brick design and on one level. The nineteenth century concept of Cairns was becoming twentieth century functional and if there was heavy rain, not very functional at that.

Another point of notice was the street signage, as with of the influx of tourists from Japan those streets in the commercial district were now bilingual, English and Japanese. Lewis thought of Hal the mailman and what he would think of it, who won the flaming war, Hal would protest as he had done so on many occasions. At least the Japanese tourist brought with them full wallets, unlike those from the south escaping from the cold of winter looking for cheap warmth.

Lewis retired to his hotel room with its fancy bed head, replacing the old iron frame he remembered, now in place were matching bedside tables, side lights and fresh towels folded neatly in design. So pristine was the room he was afraid to disassemble its order, to disturb its purity but he did and sleep came quickly not reawakening until the light tap of gentle knuckles sounded.

“Cleaning,” a woman’s voice came softly through the closed door.

“Hang on a moment,” Lewis answered while removing his nakedness from between cool white sheets. He quickly dressed and answered the door.

“Hello there,” He greeted a pretty young blond girl of his own age. She smiled from behind a holding of fresh linen.

“Will you be staying on sir?” The blond asked from beneath long well groomed hair, her hotel uniform riding high above the knees and name tag proclaiming her name to be Roslyn.

“No I will be off to Sydney on the two-thirty jet.” Lewis mentioned jet as he felt important to be flying the friendly way with the new service. Roslyn appeared less moved by his travel plans.

“Check out is ten thirty sir and it’s gone eleven.” She advised courteously.

“Sorry I overslept could you give me ten to have a shower?”

“Sure I’ll do room twenty-four first – take you time.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure sir.”

Lewis amused at being called sir as he stood beneath the flow of water and noticed the small bottles of shampoo and conditioner that came complementary with the room. He knew well what shampoo was but the conditioner he left aside believing it was for the female guests, although he did unscrew the cap to sniff its scent. He thought of what Bob would say about anything perfumed and replaced the cap.

Lewis arrived at the airport early but the flight was delayed being held up at Brisbane with mechanical problem. The delay was somewhat a disappointment as he wished to arrive in Sydney during the daylight hours. He hadn’t been to Sydney since his journey to Melbourne when he was eighteen and that was only for a day while waiting for a connecting train, being when he decided on a sea-change, which only lasted over a southern summer.

While living in Mareeba dreaming of returning to Melbourne had been Lewis’ favourite occupation, thus becoming his life’s tag. Even Will would smile when he announced, I’m going back there one day, calling him the stay behind kid. Then when it had been decided and they were to travel to Melbourne Will had his accident and from then Lewis lost all interest in returning.

Sydney Lewis considered different than his beloved Melbourne. Notoriously described as Sin City, or that was how John Ashley described it in his correspondence, while a certain Reverend Fred Nile referred to Sydney as Babylon in the South, a place where anything went and debauchery was to be had on every street corner. Lewis did have inclination towards such sexual deviancy, even if it hadn’t developed past thinking but memory of Will was too fresh to spoil, yet he agreed with his conscience, thinking about such things could not harm.

It was Lewis’ first time on a jet. He had flown a number of times before but mostly on DC3’s or Fokker’s, even with Bush Pilot and their Cessna’s but this was a much smoother ride, with room to move and in-flight service, with the hostess addressing him as sir and offering beverages included in the price. The flight itself took four hours with a short stop over in Brisbane to refuel and pick up more passengers, arriving in Sydney late in the evening.

Once beyond the terminal Lewis appeared more akin to a fish out of water and appeared more country then he realised. Nervously he approached the taxi rank and asked the driver if he were free.

“Na mate I’m just siting here waiting the weather to change,” the driver answered sarcastically.

“Oh!”

“Joke mate – jump in.”

Lewis smiled weakly and threw his bag onto the rear seat.

“Where to?”

“Randwick,”

“Where ya’ from?”

“Near Georgetown at present.”

“Where the hell is that?” Asked the driver while speeding away from the rank and weaving vicariously through the traffic, only avoiding collision by the smallest of margin.

“Gulf country Queensland, west of Cairns,” Lewis answered, his hands gripping tightly to the torn vinyl seating, his eyes closed against expected collision. Fortunately there wasn’t any.

“Ah I thought you looked country- where in Randwick?”

“31 Avoca Street Randwick please.” Lewis said as he accustomed to the traffic and gained a little confidence in his survival.

“I guess it’s rather cold for you down here?” The driver asked as he made his way down Anzac Parade, “first day without rain for a bloody week,” he added gruffly.

“A little, I’m not really used to it but have had worse; I am originally from Melbourne.”

“Melbourne,” the driver repeated with a grin. “Here we are then,” he commented while pulling up outside a large two story brown brick house, its front on street level. Lewis hesitated while having second thoughts. What if Ashley wanted to jump him as he did when they first met? Now panic was building.

“That will be three dollars fifty mate.” The taxi driver requested, presenting the palm of his hand close to Lewis’ face.

“Sure sorry,” Lewis gave the driver four dollars, “keep the change.”

“Not big tippers you country folk,” the driver grumbled, placing the fare into his pocket.

“Not very rich either,”

Lewis knocked lightly and almost instantaneously the hall light illuminated, throwing brilliant colour through the ruby and blue glass panels alongside the door, giving an inner glow of comfort. The door opened to display Ashley who had hardly changed since Lewis made his farewell at the Mareeba Railway station. Same half ring of greying hair, ruddy face with a button nose, still resembling a friar from a Robin Hood fable but he had lost weight and it suited him.

“You’re late.” Ashley commented.

“The plane was delayed arriving in Cairns.”

Their last encounter was the day of Will’s accident and with the farewell came the promise Will and he would visit on their way to Melbourne. Now he had arrived but alone and it weighed heavy.

“Hello Herbie come in,” Ashley invited. Herbie was Ashley’s pet name for Lewis, in truth he used it on almost everyone he knew but Lewis accepted it as his personal handle. “You’ve bulked up and browned somewhat – obviously the bush life has treated you well,” Ashley commented.

“Older but maybe not wiser,” Lewis answered looking around the hall as Ashley guided him into a large well furnished living room. Ashley paused and gave Lewis a hug. Lewis froze within the embrace.

“I’m so sorry about Will,” Ashley said sympathetically.

“Thank you John but for the moment I think we shouldn’t talk about it.”

“Sure Herbie, are you hungry?” Ashley released his embrace.

“No they fed me on the plane.”

“Tired?”

“A little,” Lewis yawned as if in response to Ashley’s question.

“I’ll show you to your room.” Ashley took Lewis’ bag and guided him along a hall to a flight of stairs, the balustrade polished brown and gleaming under the dull light arriving from the upper passageway.

“By the way I have a friend from Melbourne staying with me, Peter Mitchell; we are having a sort of relationship but with Peter you are never quite sure,” Ashley laughed and turned to Lewis, “You will like Peter he’s easy going and thinks everyone is beautiful,” another laugh, “which is just as well with a face and body like mine.”

On reaching the upstairs landing Ashley pointed to the first door, “that’s our room.” Three steps on he paused; “your room.” Ashley opened the door and showed Lewis in, placing his bag on the bed. “There are two more bedrooms up here and a further two down stairs and the facilities are at the end of the hall. If you want a shower there is plenty of hot water.”

“Big house,” Lewis commented.

“Too big sometimes. I have a cleaner come in twice weekly, first day she does the down stairs and the upper on the second but it has sentimental value and I could never part with it being the family home, then after Alice’s and the kids – well you know the rest. The house was built for a-well-to-do family in the fifties – Eighteen fifties that is and my grandfather bought it in the same year as federation.”

“It has grandeur that is certain.”

And a number of leaks but mostly in places of little importance.”

As Ashley spoke the front door opened and as quickly closed, to the sound of a set of keys dropping into a metal bowel on the side table inside the hall.

“That will be Peter he’s been out entertaining,” Ashley stated and kissed at the air. Lewis smiled thinking his friend hadn’t changed, retaining the tendency to act theatrically. Moments later a young man with cropped ash blond hair and a ruggedly handsome face came bound up the stairs, his body hugging shirt and stretch jeans showing everything he owned.

“You must be Lewis,” Peter smiled, throwing out a hand in friendly gesture, “John has told me a lot about you,” he greeted with an all knowing grin while taking Lewis’ hand in lengthy gesture,

“Hope some of it was good,” Lewis appraised.

“More than that and now you’re here in the flesh I can see John wasn’t exaggerating.

Lewis’ face flushed with embarrassment as Peter’s eyes penetrated the material of his crotch, remaining there a little longer than comfort allowed. Ashley broke the interlock by again offering Lewis a shower before bed, which was quickly agreed to.

The shower took away the day’s travel and once between the sheets and covered by a doona away from the cool Sydney night, Lewis felt as if he was ready to sleep for a week but with the light doused he found street lighting flooded in from behind the flimsy curtains. There was also the continuous hum of the traffic which didn’t relent until well after midnight and passing pedestrians who chattered incessantly in loud and disregarding voices.

Eventually he did sleep and a second later, or so it seemed, it was early morning. Outside came the clatter of metal on metal as the rubbish collectors made their round and the well toned voices of what appeared to be some Verdi opera. Lewis awoke with a smile.

“Did you sleep well?” Ashley asked raising his eyes from the morning’s paper as Lewis found his way down stairs. He yawned and stretched, “that bed of yours sure beats station bunks’ I’ve been so long in the bush I’ve forgotten what comfort is – I heard singing earlier, what was that all about?”

“Ah the singing dustmen,”

“Somewhat bravura for garbage collectors,”

“They are gay you know, one is a barman at the Beresford Hotel on weekend nights.”

“Gay garbage collectors singing opera at five thirty in the morning, I don’t think I’ll share that with the men back on the station.”

“Breakfast?” Ashley offered.

“That would be nice. I forgot to ask, are you working back in radio?” Lewis enquired, remembering Ashley’s music for old fogies on Mareeba Radio.

“No semiretired now, I don’t think I would be welcome back on local radio although I tutor a couple of young fellows who have aspirations in that direction but in reality are a little ambitious although the money is handy.”

“Yes I remember you saying there was an incident but didn’t elaborate.”

“And still won’t, maybe someday. Peter works at the Barracks.” Ashley said looking back into the kitchen where the sound of bacon frying reached them before its marvellous scent.

“Is he in the Army?” Lewis innocently asked.

“No silly, the Barracks is a gay bar,” Peter called from the kitchen.

“Oh,” was all Lewis could muster from his innocence.

“He’s a barman there,” Ashley explained.

“You’ve been in the bush too long.” Peter offered as he brought in the breakfast, “I am also a short order cook at a gay café called Jackie-O,” he added, and I make a wicked breakfast.”

“Are these places only for gay people?” Lewis said stumbling over the word gay. He knew the term well but never felt comfortable using it so freely in conversation; usually it was colleagues disgusting themselves over the discovery of poofters at every turn, which brought him to employ the derogatory terminology himself.

“You’ve really have been in the bush far too long,” Peter repeated, “there are also gay saunas, you would love those and being a fresh face they would be lining up to get at you.”

“Peter, stop corrupting the lad,” Ashley growled while shaking his head in false disgust.

“Tell you what Lewis I’ll take you out and show you the town; I have this Friday night off.” Lewis didn’t answer only gave a grin of disbelief as he tasted Peter’s bacon and eggs benedict.

“Love your eggs.” Lewis complemented.

“Do you really want to know why John was sacked from Sydney radio? Peter asked as he served coffee, while glancing towards Ashley for approval.

“One more word Peter and it will be your last,” John warned.

“Not really Peter, if John wants to tell me I’m sure he will in his own time.”

“What are you going to do today?” Ashley asked removing the subject of his past misdemeanour from the conversation.

“I thought I’d have a look around the city, I like history and want to visit some of the historic sites.”

“Would you like me to show you around?” Ashley offered.

“Na should be okay, I’ve been to Sydney before – but if you want to.”

“I do have a few things I need to attend to, I could put them off.”

“She’ll be jake,” Lewis quoted to the amusement of Peter.

“She’ll be jake?” Peter quizzically repeated; “what does that mean and who is Jake?”

“Don’t you know your Aussie slang?” Ashley explained

“Umm, is that what it is?” said Peter with a smile and repeated Lewis’ colloquialism.

“I have been in the bush too long,” Lewis again admitted.

“No I like it, I was just kidding – would you like me to take you to a gay pub tonight?” Peter offered.

Lewis thought for a while, smiled and declined Peter’s offer, declaring he didn’t think he was ready to be thrown into a crowed of poofs.

“Another thing, don’t call them poofs, they may lynch you,” Peter warned.

“Sorry gays,”

“A rose by any other name,” Ashley added to the conversation.

“I wouldn’t call them roses either, or pansy or any other floral design,” Peter continued.

“Point taken,” Lewis concluded.

Although Lewis had been in Sydney twice before it was only for a single day on both occasions, he now found the grid quite confusing. It was somewhat different than Melbourne and its well laid out streets, here the streets were after the English Georgian period, the city being a full generation older and without conscious design, Melbourne was more a Victorian City by character and name, with everything planned within an inch of existence, while its people were as ridged as the plan itself.

Sydney like its grid had relinquished all convention; diving headlong into the flower power and free sex of West Coast America of the sixties, giving the feeling every young male was willing to experiment, all you had to do was ask and if you were slow in doing so they would ask you. Also the city was a destination for American soldiers on R-and-R, from the Vietnam War and as Peter was quick to acknowledge, some of their ranks were frequent to the Barracks bar and well cashed up, often in army dress and in Peter’s words, most tasteful at that, yet he preferred the sailors.

After two days of wandering about the city visiting the zoo, museum, Bondi Beach and Manly, Lewis had grown tired of sightseeing, deciding to explore the area around Randwick instead. Ashley had drawn up a list of places of interest such as Centennial Park while being sure to point out pick up places and beats which Lewis quickly rejected, while Peter again offered to take Lewis to a gay pub, this time Lewis cautiously agreed.

“Tomorrow night we will go to the Oxford,” Peter confirmed.

“I’ll try it but not one of those saunas you spoke of, I don’t know if I would ever be ready for them.”

“That is what I said when I first came up from Melbourne,” Peter declared.

“Don’t they have them in Melbourne?” Lewis asked from the knowledge that the two cities were similar in size.

“No Melbourne is too proper to have gay people; you will find them all up here.” Peter answered mockingly.

“But he took to it all like a duck in water, isn’t tomorrow drag night at the Oxford?” Ashley asked not being one for the gay scene.

“No it’s Saturday night,” Peter corrected.

“What is drag night,” Lewis innocently asked, his thoughts directed to car racing and how it would be possible in a hotel bar, or permitted in the adjoining streets.

“You’ll love it, drag is men dressed as women and Trish Bendover looks the real thing, down to tits and voice,” Peter announced proudly.

“Why would anyone wish to dress in women’s clothing and why would anyone want a bloke dressed in women clothing.” Lewis was not only confused but felt quite repulsed.

“It’s all in fun and not supposed to be taken seriously.”Peter said.

“Trish Bendover takes it most seriously, I’ve met her.” Ashley corrected.

“How do you address them?” Lewis asked from his country innocence.

“She or her silly what else?” Peter insisted but Lewis remained confused and happy it was not Saturday night for their visit.

“What do they do in bed?” Lewis asked giving a quizzical expression, while unsure if he wished to hear the answer.

“Same as you, up the back passage, only there are a couple of tits to explore as well but because some take hormones the other often shrinks.”

Lewis released a silent shudder.

“The Vikings had a name for that – rassragar.” Ashley cheekily announced. Both gave him a clueless glance while expecting clarification. “It doesn’t matter,” Ashley withdrew from the conversation.

“I have lived a sheltered life,” Lewis admitted.

“Never mind give you a couple of weeks and we’ll soon educate you.”

“As I said, I’ll try the pub but I don’t know if I am ready for this sauna you spoke of.”

That evening with Peter at work, Ashley projected the conversation towards Mareeba and Lewis’ relationship with Will although it was quite obvious Lewis had not yet dealt with his loss.

“Would you consider coming back south to live?” Ashley asked after quickly exhausting the conversation on Will.

“I don’t think so, possibly back to Melbourne but that would need to be long into the future, if ever.”

“Would you consider another relationship?”

Lewis gave Ashley’s question some thought and his answer even surprised himself, “You know Ashley if you had asked me that question six months back I would have definitely said no, now I’m not so sure but it would take a Will to replace Will and they broke the mould after making him.”

“I must say the two of you surprised me, especially Will.” Ashley remembered the wild youth he had encountered many years previous, when Billy, as Will was known in those days, half accepted Ashley’s hand and moist mouth then in guilt took revenge on his windows after robbing the house.

“Will once told me that National Service broke him like a wild horse.” Lewis answered sadly.

“Haven’t you met anyone since?” Ashley asked.

“Not a single person, whenever I chance to take notice of anyone I think of Will and that’s the end of that, besides out on the station it wouldn’t be wise to try or suggest anything.”

“Don’t you wank?”

Lewis laughed; “that’s a little personal John,”

“Then what’s the answer?”

“I could say no but a stockman once told me that anyone who admits doing so is a dirty bugger and he who says no is a bloody liar.”

“Which one are you a bugger or liar?” Ashley cheekily asked.

“Suppose I’m a dirty bugger but the urge doesn’t happen like it used to and when it does all I think of is Will.” As he spoke tears formed in his eyes which he shook away with a laugh, then as quickly he became serious. “I want to ask you something,”

“And Herbie what would that be?”

“Can you still see Alice’s face in your mind’s eye?”

“That’s a funny question Lewis why do you ask?”

“I have the fear that as time passes I won’t be able to see Will at all and even now when I close my eyes I can only see him as he was in the only photo I have of him.” Tears again formed but he once again shook them away as he took his wallet from his pocket and removed a single faded and stained photograph of Will which he passed to Ashley, “sorry about the water damage but it happened when I came off a motorbike in a flooded creek.”

“That my friend is nature’s way of moving us on from grief; for sure remember Will but you must move on before your grief destroys you and you know that would be exactly what Will would tell you if he were here.”

Lewis sighed. “I suppose you are correct.”

Ashley rose from his chair and approached a small side table at the far end of the room, “That reminds me I have something for you,” he spoke as he opened a drawer and shuffled through a mountain of papers and other odds and ends there in. Returning he handed Lewis an open envelope.

“What’s this?” Lewis asked inquisitively.

“You’ll see.”

Lewis peered though the gap to perceive what appeared to be a collection of photographs. Removing the contents he discovered a dozen or more photos of Will. Some as a child, others in army uniform and one of he and Will together taken at Port Douglas on the day he caught the Barramundi. That was the day they came out to each other and was the beginning of their relationship while recollecting how much difficulty they had setting the auto flash and wasting half the reel of film in the process. His heart jumped and a rare happy smile devoured his sadness. He burst into tears.

“Where did you get these?” Lewis exclaimed, his voice raising an octave.

“I found them after you and Will looked after my Mareeba house, they must have fallen out of his bag or something and with all that went on over those last days I forgot to return them to Will, so seeing you are his emotional next of kin, they are now yours.”

Lewis quickly viewed each photo then at the last started to view them again this time taking more time, shaking his head in disbelief. “You know John I loved that fellow and expected to grow old with him.” Lewis took a deep breath, “and I still love him and I think I always will.”

“I wish I could say something to make you feel better” Ashley sympathised while offering a beer, bringing a smile to Lewis’ face.

“What?” Ashley asked curiously.

“Last time you offered me a beer I ended up with my dick down your throat,” Lewis joked.

“Probably still would if I could get away with it.”

As Ashley spoke the front door opened and Peter entered, “you there John?” he called while dumping his backpack in the hall. Keys rattled in the metal bowl as he passed.

“In here.” Ashley answered.

“What are you up to?”

“Lewis was offering me to give him head.” Ashley laughed.

“Lucky you, I’d take the offer if it was me.” Peter said while looking Lewis up and down, his eyes once again terminating at the bulge in Lewis’ crotch.

“What you got there?” Peter asked noticing the envelope and photos.

“John gave me a stack of photos of a friend who died in an accident.” Lewis answered.

“Ah I’ve seen those, Will was a spunk, you were a lucky boy to have met him.”

Lewis refrained from answering which gave Peter the feeling of faux pas.

“Still want to go to the Oxford tonight?” Peter asked.

Lewis returned the photos to the envelope and placed it aside, smiling at the image of Will and himself on their fishing trip, with Lewis proudly holding up his catch. Beginner’s luck came to mind, it was pure skill Lewis had answered.

“Okay but I’m a little apprehensive,”

“I’ll look after you,” Peter promised.

“Don’t mind me, left behind and alone again,” Ashley complained while returning to the kitchen to prepare the evening’s meal.

“Do you want to come along John?” Peter asked sincerely.

“And be a wall flower to you two, I don’t think so – go on enjoy yourselves.”

From the exterior the Oxford appeared like many old Sydney pub, double story with a generous run of brown ceramic tiles supporting an Art nouveau motive along the skirting and the smell of sick, urine, stale beer seeping out of every orifice.

Once inside one was met by a soup of smoke making the atmosphere almost sliceable. The bar was elongated, with three sides running between two entries and was crowded and noisy, creating the need to shout to be heard over the shrieks of excitement, wow look at him and get you bitch, mixed with some conversation of social value. On the surface a happy lot enjoying a regular night out.

Lewis nervously followed close behind Peter as they pushed their way through the Friday night patrons towards the bar, “Benny.” Peter called as he reached the bar holding the attention of the cropped dark headed barman with a neatly trimmed beard, his leather gherkin opened displaying a mat of chest hair and nipple rings. Lewis was immediately drawn to the jewellery, reminding him of snapshots of prize bulls with rings through their nose he had viewed in Country Wide magazines.

“Peter.” Benny answered as Peter held up two fingers and placed a note on the bar.

“Hello who’s the new face?” Benny asked giving Lewis the once over, the twice over and back for a third.

“Be sweet mate he’s new to all this, don’t scare him off before his first drink.” Peter declared.

“Umm, ‘Sparkie? – Chippie?” Benny asked.

“Neither mate – Bushie,” Peter answered, “I’ll talk to you later.” Peter collected the beers then guided Lewis away from the crowd to a less noisy corner.

“I can guess what a Bushie is but what’s a Sparkie and Chippie?” Lewis asked.

Peter laughed as he explained, “both are used when describing a spunky guy or a good looking straight kinda’ fellow and a Sparkie is an apprentice electrician while a Chippie is a builder. You pass on both counts.”

“What about a Brickie?” Lewis seriously asked having heard the terminology referred to those who lay bricks.

“Doesn’t count unless one is as thick as a brick, somehow Brickie remind me of plumber’s crack and that is definitely not you.”

Lewis appeared confused.

“Plumber’s crack is a middle age over weight tradesman bending over your kitchen sink with half his fat hairy arse hanging out.”

“What is it with the barman’s rings through his tits?”

“Not only his nipples,”

Lewis again appeared confused.

“He also has a prince Albert,”

“What’s that?”

“A ring through the eye of his dick, he will show you if you ask.”

Lewis gave a shudder; a splinter pain was enough, who would wish to voluntary disfigure such a sensitive part of the anatomy and for what rational reason. Lewis wished to ask further but refrained from doing so, as he may not like the answer. Sydney was quickly becoming all of Ashley’s portrayal as Sin City and more.

“Hey Peter whose your friend?” reverberated across the sea of faces and endless chatter.

“Greg what are you doing out and about?” Peter asked as a tall blond freckled face young man whispered close to Peter’s ear, his eyes on Lewis as he did so. Peter laughed and shook his head in negative reaction. “How did you escape that new boyfriend of yours?” Peter asked.

“It’s finished – too clingy,” Greg pouted. “Have you seen the new day barman?” he asked shaking his hands as if burnt by fire, “hot! He growled and repeated the word to enforce his opinion.”

“I’ve had him,” Peter eagerly admitted.

“Want another beer?” Peter asked Lewis noticing his empty glass and a sober nervousness about him that only alcohol could cure. Lewis agreed.

“Greg keep Lewis entertained while I go to the bar.”

Maybe it was the line of freckles across the bridge of Greg’s nose or his cute infectious smile that created interest with Lewis and for a rare moment since leaving Mareeba he fancied another male then as quickly he felt a deep guilt of betrayal towards Will’s memory as the fancy dissipated.

“Where are you from Lewis?” Greg asked above the hum of the crowd.

“Mareeba.” Lewis answered.

“Oh.” It was obvious Greg was clueless of the town’s whereabouts, or had true interest in finding out.

“How long are you in Sydney?”

“A couple of weeks.”

“What’s your work?”

“Cowboy,” Lewis answered.

“What shooting Indians?” Greg ignorantly laughed.

“I work on a cattle station near Georgetown in the Gulf Country of Queensland and a Cowboy is what the Americans call a Roustabout, except in our circumstance a permanent position.”

“What the hell is a Roustabout?” Greg asked obviously confused with both professions.

“A Cowboy,” Lewis answered somewhat sarcastically, then realising Greg was clueless explained every part of his work. Greg politely listened until Lewis realised he was gilding the lily and moved on.

“What do you do Greg?” Lewis enquired.

“Nothing I’m on the dole, have been since leaving school, I let the government pay my way.”

Peter returned with three beers, “Greg is what one would call a gigolo,” he declared while passing around the drinks, “but he fancies you Lewis,” Peter gave a cheeky wink, “and said he would do you for nothing.”

Lewis refrained from answering. He was quickly reaching the conclusion that sex in sin city was extremely transient and lacking in substance being the opposite of his needs.

For the first time since his arrival Lewis felt homesick for the heat, dust and flies, even the scent of cow shit was becoming more acceptable than the sickly smell of cheap aftershave. He was missing Horse and the lack of simple conversation with Bob Kelly with his yes, no answers. He even missed the ribbing he received from Mary White but most of all he missed the solitude where he could at least stop for a moment or longer and meditate.

“What’s sex like with all those cowboys?” Greg asked.

“Ringers, there is only one cowboy on each station.” Lewis’ original fancy for Greg was fast waning, finding him to be shallow and ignorant but for the sake of Peter he remained in concord.

“Whatever, still I bet the sex is hot?” Greg added.

“Stockmen aren’t like that.” Lewis sincerely answered; “they are simple clean living men who would never understand anything like this.”

“How would they be at a gay sauna?” Greg said through a haze of alcohol.

“Settle Greg, some people think of things other than their dicks,” Peter objected as Greg commenced to run his hand down Lewis’ back but recoiled with Peter’s dissent. Lewis remained rigid without comment and if it weren’t for the sake of Peter and his friendship with Ashley he would have fled the establishment never to return.

“Did you see who just entered?” Greg asked turning Peter’s attention to the new arrival.

“Nice,” Peter admitted.

“Moore than nice.” Greg left their company.

“How are you enjoying your first gay bar?” Peter asked.

“I’ll admit it’s different but I have a question?”

“Go on,”

“What’s a knob gobble?”

Peter laughed; “where did you hear that?”

“Something your mate offered me.”

“He just offered to suck your dick and for free.”

“He charges?” Lewis asked with surprise.

“Ten dollars a gobble more for a root and if you’re over thirty then it’s double.”

Lewis gave a shudder, “it’s definitely different that Gilbert Downs. Doesn’t anyone have sex for love?”

“I guess they simply love having sex.” Peter frankly admitted, “what about Greg, are you interested?”

“You mean sex with him?”

“Yes,”

Lewis left the question unanswered and in its place he issued his own. “What of you and your relationship with John, you mentioned earlier you had sex with the new barman.”

“John knows what I get up to, we aren’t monogamous.”

“Then why bother with a relationship?” Lewis asked but his question remained unattended.

Lewis felt most relieved as they taxied back to Randwick.

“What did you think of the Oxford?” Peter asked as they alighted from the cab outside Ashley’s house.

“Not my kind of pub I’m afraid.”

“Sorry about Greg he can be a bit over the top.”

“I’m sure he’s okay when he’s sober.”

Peter released a light chortle, “I’m afraid he’s worse but is a good friend in a crisis.”

As they entered the house Ashley called from the living room where he was seated reading. He offered a beer but both declined declaring they had more then their fill at the Oxford, then after offering food he offered himself.

“Not tonight John we had a hamburger at Greasy Joe’s.” Peter answered while Lewis giggled remembering the same offer often made by Ashley back in Mareeba.

“I wasn’t referring to food.” Ashley corrected Peter’s refusal.

“I guessed that, I’m off to bed – early start tomorrow.” Peter declared, kissing Ashley lightly on the cheek he excused himself. As for Lewis he wasn’t tired and asked if he could join Ashley for a little conversation.

“How did you like the Oxford?” Ashley asked placing his book down on the coffee table.

“I didn’t – much too in your face and smoky, my eyes are still stinging.”

“See anyone you liked better than me?”

“One, a friend of Peter’s but he was a right pain.”

“It wasn’t Greg was it?” Ashley laughed.

“As a matter of fact it was – do you know him?” Lewis answered showing surprise.

“I’ve met him a couple of times and he’s, as you said, a bit over the top but he’s harmless enough.”

“Maybe but I’m not use to all that. I find love down here is like a dog chasing its tail, which although it is always in its mouth, it never quite catches it.”

“Now that’s astute Lewis, again do you think you would like to live back down this way?” there is plenty of room here and Peter likes you.”

“Na, my heart isn’t country but I could never live in the city without someone to love and what I perceive many here appear lonely, even within a crowd.”

“Don’t you get lonely on the station and miles from anywhere?” Ashley asked.

“Not at all, I think loneliness is but a state of mind, besides there are always people around and plenty to do but what I didn’t realise was how many poofs there are here in Sydney and how open they are.”

“The new title is gays.” Ashley advised rising an eyebrow in dissent.

“Sorry but I almost laugh when I hear someone described as gay as most of them don’t appear to be happy at all.” Lewis stated as Ashley collected his book and after marking his page placed it aside.

“What are you reading?” Lewis asked.

“It’s a book on a young fellow who is gay in a small community. Do you do much reading on the station?”

“Not really and I don’t think the ringers would appreciate such a story, what’s it called?”

“In a distant dream;” Ashley answered.

“Any good?”

“Light reading, the main character reminds me of you.” Ashley stood from his chair and headed for the kitchen, “are you sure you don’t want a beverage, scotch maybe?”

“It’s getting a little late, Lewis stated, “okay may as well but a beer,” he agreed out of courtesy, “I’ve never been one for the spirits,” he added while picking up Ashley’s book and turning towards the end. He read a few paragraphs then returned it to the coffee table. “It ends a bit sad,” he stated as Ashley returned with the drinks.

“You’re not supposed to read the end first and thank you for telling me how it ends. “Well that’s only my opinion.” Lewis said as he accepted the beer.

“Are you going to the sauna with Peter tomorrow night?”

“Oh I forgot about that, I don’t know; if it is anything like the Oxford I may give it a miss,”

“It’s not so bad and a lot quieter, you may like it.” Ashley answered reassuringly, “how would you like me to go with you on a train trip up to Katoomba.” Ashley suggested.

“Sounds good but don’t forget my flight back is Wednesday.”

“Then how about Sunday? You can try the sauna tomorrow night and we can go up by train on Sunday.

“Yes I would like that, I always wished to visit Katoomba in the winter and see the Three Sisters monoliths in snow.”

“I have, Alice and I lived up there for a time.”

“You never said,”

“That was long ago when we first married but I don’t remember much of it. Katoomba was a village then, now it’s a trendy tourist destination.”

As Ashley spoke Peter returned down the stairs wearing nothing but his underwear, or what could be considered to be so as it was barely covering his vital statistics.

“Ash,” I have an early start would you be sure to give me a shove as I usually sleep through the alarm.

“I’ll do an early breakfast.” Ashley offered.

“No need, I’ll get something at the station on the way to work.”

Ashley agreed while Lewis could but notice Peter’s almost naked state.

“What have you been up to?” Ashley asked.

“Nothing why?”

“You appear a little excited have you been reading those dirty magazines you’ve got hidden under the bed again?”

“Keep it nice Ash,” Peter about faced and returned up stairs.

Ashley gave a knowing grin, “he’s a big boy, Lewis.”

“That’s obvious,”

“And lacking in decorum,”

“That is also obvious,” Lewis answered.

“Now about Katoomba, is it a date?”

“Yes I would like that.”

Gary’s stories are all about what life in Australia was like for a homosexual man (mostly, before we used the term, “gay”). Email Gary to let him know you are reading: Gary dot Conder at CastleRoland dot Net

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