Published: 9 Jul 2020

The Holden sedan pulled up outside the store and moments later the driver alighted and introduced himself to Stan Wilson who was having a quiet smoke and a break from his bookwork. Stan had been watching the vehicle’s arrival as it appeared as a speck from the trees to the east. At first he believed it was Hal with the mail and he had correspondence to complete for the post but then realised the mail wasn’t due until the following week. “Flaming tourists,” Stan thought as the driver alighted and approached smiling with self importance while doing the infamous Aussie salute as a swarm of flies settled on his face, one up his nose but no matter how he waved his arms about they still returned to enjoy a fresh new face.

Although the main gulf development road ran a little north of the station, tourists would often take a detour to admire the homestead building, being the only double story structure between Georgetown and Croydon. Often the arrival would be through lack of foresight, running out of petrol or needing mechanical attention while driving vehicles unsuited for the rough conditions, or being accustom to city miles with but a short drive between fuel stops.

“Hi I’m Ian Warwick a friend of Lewis Smith.” Ian confidently put forth his hand which was cautiously accepted by Stan, being one somewhat suspicious of all strangers. Stan’s favourite adage was they took you by the hand while their other was searching through your pockets either for your small change or your business.

“Lewis is expecting you he is over at the stockyards up behind the kitchen.” Stan pointed in the direction of the yards, “come I’ll show you.”

Once past the kitchen they could see Lewis as he fed the pigs while making all kinds of sounds he believed pigs would like to hear and they squealed in response while fighting for the tastier morsels.

“What do you do young fellow?” Stan asked as he caught Lewis’ attention and waved.

“I manage Jack and Newell in Townsville.” Ian answered and thought better, “well assistant manager in truth but -”

Stan cut him short, “Can you ride a horse?”

“Not that well, why do you ask?” Ian admitted, being untrue as he had never even patted a horse, never mind climbed onto one.

“Then this could be a joy in the making,” Stan roughly answered.

“You made it then?” Lewis called as the two approached. They met shook hands as Stan returned to the store while remaining amused with Ian’s admittance on horse riding.

“What’s this about my ability to ride?” Ian asked inquisitively once Stan had departed company.

“I have the night and tomorrow off and instead of heading into Georgetown, I thought we may go camping along the river.”

“Camping!?”

“I have everything ready; all you need do is tag along.”

“Riding horses?” Ian added abruptly.

“Don’t panic I have a quiet one for you and its not far to travel,” Lewis promised, “and I have all the supplies we will need, swag, food and a good spot for a couple of day’s relaxation.”

“That’s a little rural, why not a room in town.” Ian queried while giving his hurt puppy look with his eyebrows, which Lewis hadn’t seen since Ian left Mareeba to work in Townsville. Lewis laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“That look you give, it always makes me laugh.” Lewis answered.

“What look?”

“Never mind come on I’ll introduce you to the others.”

Lewis gave his friend the once over observing married life had stacked a few extra pounds around his midriff, while his face had filled out somewhat loosing its elongated appearance which Lewis once found attractive but Ian’s eyes were still ocean blue and although they had lost the twinkle of freedom they remained endearing.

“You haven’t changed much, bit skinnier I should think?” Ian declared as Lewis guided him towards where he had tethered the horses in readiness for their adventure.

Lewis had saddled Flea-bitten for himself while assuming Ian had not ridden before, he arranged one of the ponies kept for the Thompson’s children believing it would suffice his lack of experience. On seeing the saddled and packed horses Ian shook his head in disbelief, “how did you know I would agree to all this? Which I haven’t yet.”

“I didn’t.”

Ian again shook his head, “I don’t know why I’m about to agree but I think I will regret it.”

“You’ll be alright I’ll look after you.”

“Famous last words, does the animal know that?”

“She’s called Candy and is as quiet as a mouse.”

“It is giving me the eye,” Ian nervously admitted in a whisper.

“Only the loving eye, come on but first have you eaten, I can get cook to rustle up some grub before we go.”

“No need I had a meal in Georgetown before coming out.”

“I think you should change into old clothes, did you bring anything.”

“To be honest I didn’t think I would need extra gear, except a change of underwear, which I may need sooner than anticipated.” As Ian spoke Stan came from his office and threw down an old pair of strides.

“Try these for size I’d reckon they will fit you. They were left behind by one of the ringers during the muster.” Ian caught the trousers while giving a look that said, what change here on the road with everyone watching. Stan understood, “you can use the office if you’re shy.”

With an unspoken agreement on the ride, Ian moved his vehicle from blocking the roadway. On his return he discovered a gathered audience. Bob Kelly came from the tackle shed, while Ivy and Jack Thompson came across from the big house, with Joyce Marshall promising to join but with the baking of the daily bread at a crucial state missed the opportunity.

“Shit!” Ian exclaimed softly on seeing the small group of smiling faces, realising if he wasn’t nervous before he certainly was now.

Standing beside his allotted mounted with a hand on the saddle’s pummel Ian faltered, “What did you say it’s called?” He asked while clearing his throat and bringing to mind past memories he had stored about horses and riders, which none referred to his own experiences and in the main were from visits to the Mareeba rodeo, none of those recollections were pleasant or ended well for the riders.

“Candy.” Walter declared coming late from the vehicle shed and not wishing to miss an opportunity to break an otherwise uneventful morning.

“Cute.” Ian exhaled as he attempted to mount the horse, which realising it was in the company of someone who lacked skill, moved away from Ian making him hop with one foot in the stirrup and the other on the ground.

“Alright then how do I keep it still?” Ian complained wishing he had not agreed. Lewis soon came to his aid and holding Candy’s head with the reins tightly under his left arm legged Ian into the saddle, almost causing him to topple from the opposing side. Ian righted himself and with nervous reaction clinched his legs as tightly as possible to the horses’ flanks.

“Keep your legs forward mate you’ll end up tickling her flanks and she don’t like that.” Bob Kelly advised shaking his head in disbelief.

“Bob give him a break,” Ivy interjected.

“Yea give me a break!” Ian agreed anxiously as Candy began to move away from the store verandah. Ian commenced to make a gurgling sound and pulled tightly on the reins causing Candy to throw her head about.

“Give her reins; she won’t bolt.” Lewis advised.

“I thought you said you could ride?” Stan Wilson enquired amused at Ian’s look of pain and terror.

“I said not that well,” Ian admitted.

Lewis quickly mounted and swung Flea-bitten around to face Ian.

“Ready?”

“You’re just showing off.” Ian remarked while finding his centre of balance. With the sideshow at its end the audience dissipated with Jack asking Lewis to look after Ian, or more to the point Candy.

By the time the two reached the river Ian had become a little more comfortable with his mount, although the crossing with the run of water on the far bank close to his stirrups did bring on a moment of nervous tension but was soon released as Lewis took control of Candy’s reins and guided her up the bank.

“That was a little deep,” Ian admitted.

“We had some rain up in the catchment last week; usually it’s but a stretch of sand this time of the year.”

“Have you ever fallen off?” Ian asked.

“Thrown – yes on a number of occasions but not since I was a kid, you quickly learn it is better to remain in the saddle than meet the ground.”

“What happens if you come off at full run?”

“Gallop – you just don’t, if you don’t wish to break your neck, but during this trip there won’t be any galloping.”

“That’s a scary thought.”

Lewis released a chuckle of memory.

“What’s funny?” Ian asked.

“I was remembering when I was on Dunluce Station and out riding with the ringers. I was around five at the time.”

“Five!”

“Yes five and at that age often went riding on my own, sometime gone for half the day and no one knew where I was,” Lewis gave a grin, “sometimes I didn’t know where I was either.”

“How did you find your way back?”

“Using an old trick, give the horse its head and eventually it will return home for its oats.”

Lewis commenced to narrate his recollection.

It was to be a morning’s ride so the young Lewis was given privilege to go with the men. A short distance along the bore drain channel they came across a feral sow with a number of very young piglets. One of the men chased after the sow and scattered her young, one hiding in a small bush. It was quickly caught and being tiny trusted with a sock over its head. Secured the piglet was tied to Lewis’ saddle but it wasn’t a happy little chappy and bit through the sock, sinking its teeth into the horse’s flank. The fright was on and Lewis was off over Roany’s head and into the dust wondering what had happened, while the men laughed at his disposition. The piglet managed to escape running squealing into the undergrowth.

“Did you hurt yourself?” Ian asked.

“She was a small horse and it wasn’t far to fall, I guess only my pride.”

“You know Lewis this is one part of you I didn’t know back in Mareeba.” Ian admitted with renewed respect.

“What part is that?” Lewis asked.

“I always thought of you as the shopkeeper and somewhat unsure of yourself and I didn’t think you knew anything about horses.”

“I told you many times,”

“Maybe I wasn’t listening, you did prattle on somewhat.”

“Prattle,” Lewis gave a grin.

“Yes, carry on,” Ian explained.

“I got your drift; I was remembering a conversation I had recently. As for riding, I was brought up in the saddle out Hughenden way; could almost ride before I could walk.” Lewis admitted proudly.

“Show riding?” Ian asked.

“No never, show riding is a totally different style and would never do around stock but I did once win second prize for riding in the Hughenden show.

“That’s impressive.”

“It wasn’t,” Lewis commenced to relate yet another of his life’s anecdotes.

Not long after the incident with the piglet, the station entered Lewis into the kids section of the Hughenden show, even with his riding skills described as a sack of spuds balanced on the saddle but well enough to hold on at full gallop. All that was expected of the kids was to ride from the holding yards to the centre of the showground and receive a prize; nothing fancy, only a simple walk and a smile, maybe a gentle lifting of the hat to acknowledge the crowd. Lewis’ mount bolted into the arena, he lost his hat and Roany knocked over one of the judges, being but another of Roany’s little exploits. He was awarded a red felt ribbon inscribed second prize.

“Again impressive,” Ian admitted.

“That is what I thought at the time but many years later I reminded my mother about my riding skill and she simply laughed.”

“Why?”

“She said they gave all the kids who had entered into that section second prize and a ribbon.”

“Aw,” Ian sympathised.

“Did deflate my ego a little and I chucked out the ribbon but I can now understand and see the point in the exercise.”

As they closed in on Lewis’ cairn he thought he noticed movement. It was Ian who spoke first. “I think I saw someone over there above those rocks,” he declared pointing in that direction. Then as they entered into the cairn’s shadows and cast their gaze skywards they perceived the outline of a human figure silhouetted against the late morning’s sun standing at the top.

“Who is that!?” Ian gasped as Candy shied sidewards almost dismounting him.

“Jimmy what are you doing up there chasing ghosts?” Lewis called to the black man, “come down and talk to us.”

Jimmy didn’t answer but obeyed and was soon standing before the horses and smiling broadly as he waded through the river’s shallow overflow that had almost moated the cairn. Candy immediately recognised Jimmy and nudged his pocket for treats.

“Jimmy, meet a friend of mine, Ian Warwick.” Lewis introduced. Ian nodded while Jimmy reached out his hand. Ian accepted the offer.

“I thought you didn’t go up the top eh Jimmy?” Lewis asked.

“Had to Lewis.”

“Why is that?”

“Ghosts wanted to show me something,” Jimmy said.

“And what was that?” Lewis asked as Jimmy removed a shining object from the pocket of his torn moleskins. He handed it to Lewis. It was the tobacco tin Lewis had secretly placed under some stones when he first found the Cairn.

“It belongs to you Lewis,” Jimmy said as Lewis accepted the tin.

“Do you know what’s in it?” Lewis asked noticing the tin had rusted shut and had not been opened since he placed it there.

“Jimmy knows, the redhead ghost told him.” As he spoke Jimmy touched his hair and pointed to the tin.

“I thought the white ghost didn’t speak and it was only a story to scare Mary and Molly?” Lewis said.

“Sometimes he does but not in words. He is your ghost and he said you must forget and stop riding these sad horses.” Jimmy shook his head as a cheerless disposition overwhelmed him, “Lewis you should leave blackfella’ country and go home. Jimmy can tell you no more.” Jimmy then commence to walk away in the direction of Freshwater and the distant Gregory Ranges.

“Where are you going?” Lewis asked as Jimmy reached the first of the scrub.

“I told you Lewis, Jimmy die before your Christmas, I have to go to the mountains now.”

“When will we see you again Jimmy?” Lewis asked as Jimmy commenced to softly sing.

“You will see me no more Lewis but you forget your ghost and let him rest in peace, there is someone waiting for you back east eh.” Then he was gone, leaving Lewis confused and uneasy.

“Who was that crazy boong?” Ian asked once Jimmy had disappeared among the distant gum trees.

“He’s not crazy but a wonderful true man and it’s a pity others weren’t as true and he’s no boong.” Lewis’ statement was somewhat directed towards Ian and Ian’s past treatment when they lived in Mareeba but went unnoticed.

“What was all that ghost crap?” Ian asked.

“Don’t rightly know and with Jimmy one never knows. Sometimes what he says makes sense and others its just mumbo jumbo.

“He’s put a damper on the day,” Ian gave a shudder.

“Don’t concern, he is harmless except possibly to himself but I must admit I’d love to know what he’s on about.”

“He said someone is waiting for you.”

“I think someone has fed him information about me.”

“What’s in the tin?” Ian asked.

“Don’t know,” Lewis lied as he tucked it away in a saddlebag.

“Blacks and their ghosts, the lot back in Mareeba used to carry on about ghosts.” Ian recollected.

Lewis laughed, “I once read when Europeans arrived and being white the natives thought them to be ghosts. Possibly because when one of their tribe died they cover everything in white ash. There was a story.”

“Not another of your historical stories.”

“Tis – when the first fleet arrived and Governor Philip landed at a beach in a whale boat he encountered a group of natives who thought the white men were ghosts and not men at all. Philip ordered a young fellow to drop his pants and show them his tackle.”

“Did he do it?”

“So the history books say,”

“Still, it’s all a little spooky.”

“Come on it isn’t far now.”

As they rode away from the cairn of rocks Lewis continued to turn in his saddle to see if Jimmy was still around but he had gone, leaving Lewis with an empty feeling as he realised if Jimmy was true to his word he would never see him again. With an escaping of breath Lewis mentally placed such thoughts aside and returned to the present and Ian’s company.

“How is my cousin, does she still hate me? Lewis asked from his advantage a few meters ahead of Ian while searching for a spot to pitch their tent.

“She doesn’t hate you, she doesn’t understand you.” Ian answered, “how far is this camping area?”

“Almost there, do you understand me?”

“I think so.”

“What is your understanding?”

“I will need time to think on that before answering.”

Lewis lead the way across the flood plane they called the cow paddock as there was always green pickings, to a thicket of trees with a small clearing beside the bank of the river. Here the water’s ran somewhat deeper but slowly because of a bend in the river, its width but a few yards across a half mile stretch of sand but so clear small fish could be seen milling close by a partly submerged log.

“This will do,” Lewis declared and dismounted, tethering Flea-bitten to one of the trees while encouraging Ian to do likewise.

As Ian’s feet touched the ground he realised he had lost his land legs and almost collapsed to the earth. He released his grip on Candy’s reins and sat himself on an overturned termite mound.

“Do you want a hand?” Ian offered with negative expectations.

“No, she’ll be jake you get your legs working again.”

“I’ve only been on the damn thing for an hour and already my legs have gone to jelly.”

“You get used to it in time.”

“Yea and end up bandy-legged.”

“That a fallacy, it doesn’t happen in reality. Well possibly if you started riding as a very young child and didn’t get off until an adult – maybe.”

Lewis pitched the small tent close to the water and threw in two swag rolls, then with ease set up their supplies, from which he extracted a number of bottles he had kept for the occasion and while securing them with a length of cord he placed them in the water.

“Why did you do that?” Ian asked.

“It will cool them,”

“You bushies know all the tricks.”

“Have to, no refrigeration one can rely on out here, only kerosene and they don’t work well with the heat.”

“Can’t you get an electric refrigerator?”

“Could I guess but we don’t have mains electricity and the generator isn’t strong enough to run much more than lights.”

“Why would anyone wish to live out here?” Ian shook his head in disbelief.

“Modern convenience isn’t everything, throw over those hobbles.” Lewis asked as he removed the saddles from their mounts.

“These?” Ian asked holding up two sets of leather and chain implements.

“That’s them.”

“What are they for?”

“Show ya’.” Lewis strapped a set of hobbles to the front legs of each horse then removed the bridles releasing them to graze.

“Why did you do that?” Ian asked inquisitively.

“Stops them from wondering off during the night.” Lewis advised as the horses moved onto the grass, “do you want to go for a swim?”

“Not at the moment but I could kill for a beer.”

“Not cold enough, you will have to wait a while.” Lewis took off his boots then hung his socks on a tree branch, followed by his shirt.”

“Blue singlet Lewis – working man’s gear,” Ian smiled.

“That’s me mate, working class as you used to be.”

“What made you go bush? You were always heading back to Melbourne.”

“A lot happened after you left Mareeba, some good, some not so good and some excellent.”

Lewis decanted his past, neglecting those few short months he had with Will and then his thoughts drifted to the time he worked at Mareeba’s Jack and Newell store with Ian. True they were also fondly remembered and Lewis was more than a little attracted to Ian, being close to devastated when he married Liz and moved to Townsville. Then came Will and Ian was all but forgotten. Then there was nothing but as Jimmy would say, sad horses to ride.

“Anyway how are you enjoying married life?” Lewis continued as he placed aside such memories.

“The sex is good but I miss the freedom.” There was a sad longing in Ian’s voice which as quickly he shook free.

“What freedom would that be?” Lewis asked.

“Being able to do things without having to answer for and explain every move I make.”

“I would think marriage is supposed to be that.” Lewis suggested.

“Yes but not a straight jacket.” Ian laughed and quickly pulled back from his complaining; “no it’s fine, only sometimes I miss the old days.”

The noon turned into afternoon and as the sun began to sink the day became its hottest, giving Lewis reason to cool in the river.

“Coming in?” he asked while removing his blue singlet and pants and without warning his underwear to stand naked before his friend. At first Ian appeared to be uncomfortable with Lewis’ nakedness but agreed to join him.

“It hasn’t shrunk with all that use.” Lewis commented nodding towards Ian’s crotch.

“Nor has yours through lack of it,” Ian retaliated.

“Don’t worry it gets used,” Lewis protested comically.

“Wanking doesn’t count.”

The water soon cooled and soothed Ian’s riding muscles bringing him back to almost normality but not looking forward to the return ride on the following day, “I don’t know how you lot can sit all day in the saddle and still walk.” Ian perceived.

“Like I said, you get used to it and I guess becomes second nature. How do you feel now?”

“Much better, being in the water seems to take away the ache.”

On leaving the water Ian thought he had felt something brush his leg and thinking it was Lewis turned but Lewis wasn’t anywhere near.

“Something is in the water.”

“A catfish – or,” Lewis laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Ian demanded his head quizzically to one side.

“Maybe a croc, the river’s full of them, or so Bob reckons.”

“A croc, and you’ve had me bloody well swimming with them?” He shrieked in dismay and quickly left the water, thinking of the salty monsters they found along the tropical coast and the occasional story of some misguided southern traveller disregarding the warnings.

“Don’t worry they are only Johnstone freshwater crocs and fish eaters, unless they think your dick is a fish, they wouldn’t touch you.” Lewis dried and threw the towel to Ian.

“Still they are bloody crocs.” Ian grumbled hanging the wet towel on a branch to dry.

“Hungry?” Lewis asked while setting a fire in a ring of well chosen rocks with fastidious care, that didn’t go unseen by Ian, bringing him to ask why he did so.

“You have to be careful some stones are liable to explode under heat and could take out an eye or worse,” Lewis explained while placing a pan onto the fire and dropping a slice of beef dripping onto its heated surface. It sizzled and melted to receive two large steaks.

“Where did you learn that about the rocks?” Ian asked.

“That black fellow you met earlier, he is a wealth of information if only one is willing to listen.”

“I guess that information isn’t of much use with an electric stove.”

“I suppose not, do you cook?” Lewis asked.

“No Liz does all that but I do help around the house.”

“Like what?”

“I watch her clean and give encouragement,” Ian laughed; “besides she is a little anal when it comes to housework she insists a man hasn’t the patience to do the job properly.”

With Ian a pattern was developing and Lewis perceived that married life wasn’t all beer and skittles, or to point Liz was true to the character he had perceived of her.

“Hope you like salad.” Lewis asked removing a large container from one of the saddle packs; “it’s a little ordinary as by the time vegetables arrive on the mail they are almost at an end.”

“Could eat anything at the moment,” Ian admitted as the steaks were turned releasing a gentle flow of red juices and an overpowering aroma.

“I’m afraid there isn’t any pudding.” Lewis apologised at meal’s end.

“Bloody awful service but I loved the steak.”

“A little fresh, we had the monthly kill only two days back.”

“Don’t tell me you do the killing.”

“No Walt does that, a quick bullet to the brain sends them out but I could if called to do so.” Lewis answered.

“You’re definitely not the bloke I knew back in Mareeba.”

“I’m the same fellow Ian, only back then I didn’t have the necessity.”

Ian took a deep breath of disagreement, “I don’t know about that, you were somewhat indecisive in my opinion.”

“As I said before, a lot has happened in a short time but I guarantee underneath this hard exterior you will find the same Lewis.”

“Hard exterior? Bullshit Lewis that of you I could never agree with.”

With the fire low and the moon high and dancing in flashes across the tranquil surface of the slow moving waters, the two lay back in gentle conversation. There appeared to be a question on the tip of Ian’s tongue and had been there all day. It would surface and be almost spilt then as quickly dissipate but not forgotten. Now it was once more ready to be spoken and with the third long neck almost empty and their spirits intertwined Ian released his inquisitiveness.

“What did happen after I left Mareeba?” he asked softly.

“What do you mean happen?” Lewis shammed although he understood Ian’s question.

“There were stories.” Now Ian was obviously fishing for information without bait.

“There are always stories and what people don’t know they create.” Lewis answered without being forthcoming, leaving it up to Ian to declare the extent of his knowledge.

“Well a certain distant relation of mine was spreading rumours about you.”

“That would be Trevor Davies, you couldn’t believe anything he said he was so full of hate.” Lewis became sullen as the turmoil of his last month in Mareeba returned bringing with it all its negativity, while excluding the good he received from his relationship with Will.

Trevor Davies was also remotely related to Will as was half of Mareeba. Their fathers had once been business partners and after the business went belly-up they drew apart, while Trevor’s father blamed Will’s father for the failure, therefore the hate of the father became the hate of the son and Trevor extended his odium to Will, which overtime became so intense it was destroying him.

“I would agree with that, no one on my side of the family will have anything to do with him.” Ian added but obviously wasn’t prepared to let his questions remain unanswered. Smoke and fire were undividable and Ian had seen the smoke, now he was hunting for the flame.

Lewis became silent and wished to change the subject. Ian was now annoying him, causing anxiety to develop but instead of shying from his friend’s verbal advances he met them headlong, even surprising his usually private self.

“It’s all about Billy McKee and me right?” He demanded, his words escaping on the back of a deep breath of warm night air.

“Along those lines but knowing McKee no one believed Trevor.” Ian said.

“Well Ian for you’re information the whole sordid episode is true. Except it wasn’t sordid.”

“What?” Ian gasped not believing what he was hearing.

“I’m a poof Ian and if it came to it so was Will and I loved him and he loved me.” There were tears building in Lewis as he spoke but with the floodgate of truth open it could not be closed and he was prepared to be honest with his friend.

“Oh,” was all Ian could say in disbelief towards something he had always expected.

“Now you know.”

“I sort of guessed that.”

“And I fancied you once.” Lewis laughed while his courage strengthened past caring.

“I knew that as well and must apologise for leading you on but I liked your advances, besides I found them cute,” Ian honestly admitted.

“Cute?”

“Maybe not so much as cute but it made me feel important and you were so clumsy with your advances it was obvious where you were heading.”

“And I thought I was most subtle.”

“As subtle as a charging bull but your mate McKee on the other hand, although I hardly knew him one would never believe him to be so.” Ian admitted.

“Will was known as the bad boy around town but he used it as a disguise to hide his true emotions and it took National Service to bring him to understand himself.”

“But McKee fucked everything in a skirt!” Ian offered. He could believe Lewis’ sexuality but McKee’ was taboo as he was the town’s icon of masculinity.

“Also any colour, there is a black girl back in Mareeba with a baby with red hair and she says it is Will’s child,” Lewis admitted.

“Doesn’t that disturb you?”

Lewis laughed, “I’ve fucked the same girl and for a while I thought the child may have been mine, as for Will? No it actually brings me closer to him knowing that part of him is still living.” Lewis smiled in recollection, “Do you remember when you accused me of being a gin jockey and how embarrassed I was with the suggestion?”

“Vaguely,”

“Now I couldn’t care less but don’t get the idea I still chase them.”

“Then you’re not a poof?” Ian declared.

“A friend of mine once told me not to place people in little boxes, besides there are a lot of shades of sexuality and I’m just being me.” Lewis explained, remembering Ashley’s advised when at the time Lewis shamed from admitting his affections towards Will.

“So my friend you are out here riding Jimmy’s so called horses of sadness trying to drown your sorrows and loss, so who is being dishonest?” Ian’s words were profound and for him quite out of character.

Lewis fell silent, wishing he hadn’t released his story but like all things once spoken can not be unspoken. As for Ian, he appeared to be more understanding than Lewis expected, believing his friend would exclaim disgust and shun him.

“It seems you really loved McKee?” Ian’s said his voice soothing and empathetic.

“You will never know how much and the day he was killed we were to announce our departure for Melbourne, now I feel I can never return there at all.” Lewis sighed while looking skywards to that carpet of twinkling lights that even the brush of some acclaimed artist could not duplicate.

“The stay behind kid;” Ian said.

“What do you mean?”

“That is what we called you because you were always returning to Melbourne but never departing.”

“Be nice,”

“It wasn’t said to be insulting Lewis, it was just you and I guess you couldn’t shake the country out of your head.”

“Funny isn’t it?” Lewis said.

“What?”

“I almost went and with Will’s accident it was as if the north was saying I must remain.”

“Has there been anyone else in your life since Will?” Ian asked.

“No, I’m afraid Will is still there and I can’t let go.”

“More to point you won’t let go, I think you should before it becomes an obsession.”

“Point taken but I don’t think I could return to Melbourne, not now.”

“I think one day Lewis you will.”

“Maybe,”

“That brings me to your earlier question.”

“Being?”

“Do I understand you?”

“So do you?”

“I thought so before our little talk, now I am certain but with the understanding there is a reverse question. Do you understand me?”

“I never considered so; I suppose I was too involved with my own sexuality to see past the barrier of being discovered.” Lewis admitted.

“There lies the truth, as you said little boxes and in retrospect I suppose I’m a small distance along a sliding scale. I’m no poof mind you, I like being married and even believe I love Liz, or at least the comfortability marriage brings but I don’t mind paddling in that pond.”

“Paddling that’s a funny way of explaining it.” Lewis challenged.

“Well call it what you may but since I married Liz that part of me has all but gone, although there is someone.”

“So you do,”

“No it is only a close friendship and will never develop further. I guess we touch with our eyes and our words. We go fishing for the occasional weekend but nothing ever happens. Now back to Liz and her opinion of you. There are two things at work there.”

“And?”

“Firstly she is confused by your sexuality,”

“Did you tell her anything?”

“No you did with that stupid diary of yours. Secondly she is jealous of you.”

“Why?”

“That my friend I cannot work out but that’s it all in a nutshell.”

“Do you think anything will eventuate with your friend?” Lewis asked.

“No it would be the end of a good friendship, it almost did once but without speaking we both diverted away from physical.”

“It must be difficult,” Lewis suggested.

“Not really I find it most comfortable.” Ian paused, “you probably don’t know about Sarah.”

“I haven’t been in touch with anyone since leaving Mareeba.” Lewis admitted.

“She married and has a son, he’s almost two now, cute kid but cries a lot, she called him James.”

“I’m pleased for her.”

“I was only talking to her last week and she still holds feelings for you but she understood you better than you did yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“As you said, your sexuality, she let you go because of it and knew if she married you it would fail and sometime in the future it would come out.”

“Sarah knew about me?”

“Not as such but women do realise things we men don’t.”

“So Liz would also know?”

“No Sarah spoke to me on the matter but never Liz, besides Liz is much too evolved in her own little world to care.”

“Yes even being family I could never warm to her.”

“She has changed somewhat,” Ian admitted.

“For the better I hope.”

“I guess that depends on your perspective, to me she is fine but has become a little bitter to anyone I meet and if I socialise without her she checks up on me.”

“How?”

“On washday I caught her checking my undies for snail tracks.”

“Snail tracks?”

“You know cum stains, she is much against men masturbating and can’t understand why a married man would need to do so. Once she wouldn’t come across and I started to wank, boy did I cop it.”

“That is a little excessive, surely even married men give it a go on the occasion.”

“There’s ways around it but at first she would check my undies after a weekend away with Jerry. I think she thought we were gangbanging the local sheilas at the camping ground.”

“Or each other,” Lewis grinned.

“I don’t think so.”

“What about with Jerry, how does she treat him?”

“With Jerry she’s fine, which surprises me but he knows how to massage her ego.”

“Is Jerry married?”

“He is and Anne and Liz are quite friendly, possibly that is why Liz has taken to Jerry.”

“Aren’t you afraid the women will discover your desire, you did say they have a sense towards such things?”

“It’s been two years now and nothing has been said. Besides why should there be as nothing has physically happened.”

Lewis then moved from the conversation and with a light giggle shoved his friend to the shoulder. “Do you remember your two broken arms?”

Ian did;

It had been a Saturday morning when Ian work back and help with stocktaking. He had reached for a light box high above his head without realising it was full and heavy, bringing the whole pile down on him, breaking one arm and the wrist on the other.

“Sure and I also remember you giving me a hand job.” Ian added with a cheeky smirk.

“I did and twice and I was most upset when your arms mended.”

Ian released a chortle of memory as Lewis continued.

“I have a question that has bugged me since you were living with John Ashley.” Lewis said.

“I guess I know what that would be.”

“Well answer truthfully, did Ashley get at you.”

“I know he did with you,” Ian answered.

“How, did he tell you?”

“No, John would never betray a trust. It was written all over your face that first time I was back home in Townsville, when I returned you avoided visiting me as if I had plague and when you did eventually visit you also avoided John.”

“Was I that easy to read?”

“Lewis, you were never good at hiding guilt.”

“Maybe so but you still haven’t answered my question.”

“The answer is yes and no.” Ian remained evasive.

“It has to be either yes or no, it can’t be maybe.”

“He tried enough and fiddled a lot. One time he attempted to go down on my dick and all I could see was the top of his bald head and wrinkles; I commenced laughing and couldn’t stop and that was the end of it. I never allowed myself to be in that situation again.”

“I was drunk, what was your excuse?” Lewis asked.

“Didn’t need one, if it were you I would have let you.”

“What go down on your dick?”

“Then I would have, yes.”

“Ah but then I wouldn’t have done so, I was straight, or so I thought and giving head was what poofs did.”

“So John gave you head, you dirty little bugger.”

“I was drunk,” Lewis laughed, “and to be truthful I was drunk during a couple of later visits, I guess it was a good excuse.”

“Guess what?” Ian said.

“What?”

“Your talk is giving me an erection.”

“And you a married man?”

“I still get erections.”

“And?”

“Just pretend my arms are broken like before, only this time if you like I’ll give you a hand job.”

“Are you sure?” Lewis quizzically asked not believing what he was hearing yet strangely accepting the approach.

“Come on or I’ll change my mind.”

Ian’s Holden disappeared along the dusty Georgetown road leaving Lewis to give a weak farewell wave. Ian’s visit had changed his opinion of his friend but not of his cousin. She still held him in low esteem and by Ian’s words thought of Lewis as the other woman in their marriage. Lewis felt pleased with that.

Liz had gleaned enough information from a diary Lewis once kept but had destroyed after Will’s death, to realise his affections towards Ian were more than innocent. Although Ian had emphatically denied any impropriety she still believed Lewis would have if Ian had allowed, adding to her already inane disrespect towards him. Yet Liz allowed Ian to visit unsupervised, proving her trust in Ian was stronger than her dislike towards her cousin.

Lewis smiled at that thought. He had stolen a chance on her and would hold it forever. She could hate as much as she wished but Ian did have balls after all. Although Liz had her way on who was to be Ian’s best man, she hadn’t full control of his sexuality and as in Ashley’s words; Ian came back for the receipt. As for Ian’s suggestion Lewis should visit and they could go fishing he surprised himself, one day he may do so.

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

33,695 views