Published: 16 Apr 2020

The second rover was the oldest of the station’s three vehicles yet most reliable, while the other two were a long wheel base rover, which Jack would be using and an old utility, for carting equipment around the station. Although Jack had Bob do so the previous day, Lewis again checked the water and petrol and before the sun arrived was gone to collect the housemaid’s son at the Forsayth rail head.

On route Lewis had to pass through Georgetown a good fifty miles distance, with a further twenty-five to Forsayth and the rail head. Before his departure Stan had contacted Forsayth on the service’s schedule and as usual it would be late, giving Lewis ample time to meet it also to attend to a list of items for Stan from the hardware store while in town.

Before reaching Georgetown Lewis paused for a while at the deserted gold town of Cumberland, now all that remained was a grid where streets once were and a brick chimneystack reaching tall from the parched land into the dust hazed blue vault above.

Down a slight rise was a small lagoon covered with water lilies in flower, a refreshing contrast against the red earth, while giving a false sense of tranquillity, as if one became disorientated in this territory and without sensibility wouldn’t last but a day or two. Even experienced bushmen occasionally became perplexed with the sameness of the terrain, quickly bringing searches from near and far, mostly they were found but sometime never heard of again, nor their remains discovered.

Lewis disregarded the building black cloud mass to the far west, which appeared to tumble one over another, building, threatening but not yet ready to advance further. It was early for the wet, which would come closer to the Christmas break and the stations downtime. Yet sometime nature would have a mind change bringing flooding, cutting the west from civilization for weeks at a time, sending rivers from their sandy beds to become virtual shallow sea covering hundreds of square miles of country.

‘Will would love it here,’ Lewis though disengaging from the view of the lagoon and its lilies. He could imagine riding free with Will at his side in quiet procession behind a mob of cattle, possibly with Will singing one of his favourite country tunes. He smiled with the though and softly admitted, “Will couldn’t ride,” he laughed a rare laugh and spoke out loud, “I could have taught him.” Lewis drew quiet, took a deep breath, “oh Will, Will, Will – where are you, is there a god, is there a heaven.” He wished there was but having no belief in religion he thought not, or a god so cruel to take away his future, his simple happiness, for no other reason than divine providence and design.

A priest may say it was to test his metal, or even Will was needed elsewhere. Others may say Will’s sexual orientation was enough to take all homosexuals away from the company of clean god fearing folk. Lewis would strongly disagree, he wasn’t evil and neither he nor Will asked to be gay, that he knew as he had fort being so often and for long enough. He could meet their argument with, if we are so, it was by God’s willing, besides aren’t all men, and women created in his image. A smile, a silent comment, ‘god must be a hermaphrodite,’ another thought, ‘a cruel unforgiving hermaphrodite that hates his, her or its creation.’

Lewis once envisaged marriage, of having children, many, the first being name Lachlan but there the image faded into nothing but a forecasted lifetime of pretence. There was also talk of engagement with a cousin of Ian a friend from Mareeba. Sarah was a good girl, possibly much too good for Lewis’ intention at the time, as all he wished for was sex and that wasn’t on offer until there was a ring on Sarah’s finger. Lewis had tried hard enough to have his way with her, even tried to love her but couldn’t see past Ian’s appendage and the attraction he had towards his mate’s body. Then there was Will and all thoughts of Sarah or anyone of the fairer sex became obsolete. Even Ian and his handsome face became redundant.

If he closed his eyes there would be Will in perfect memory, it frightened him to think the image would eventually fade. He again took a full chest of breath and slowly released it into the hot air with a deep sigh.

“This isn’t getting me to Forsayth is it?” he growled rhetorically as he shook the depression from his thoughts and climbed back into the vehicle, then watching the disappearing chimney in the vehicles dust coated rear vision mirror he slowly rejoined the main road.

It was dusk when Lewis brought the rover to a halt outside Forsayth’s only hotel, parking across the dusty street from the railway yard in time for the train’s arrival but like all outback trains; it would arrive in its own good time, which was acceptable as time was one commodity in abundance. Moments later from the north east across the dry river bed came the mournful sound of a steam whistle, followed by the strain of steam forcing steel up the final rise into town, giving Lewis enough time to acquire half a dozen longneck bottles of beer, which he hid beneath some old bags in the back of the land-rover.

Management didn’t exclude drinking but did prefer the men to participate off station, except for special occasions but as long as one didn’t become intoxicated Jack turned a blind eye to the occasional bottle, yet it was never his choice to offer drink to any of workmen.

Since he arrived at Gilbert Downs Lewis had significantly curbed his drinking, as back in Mareeba it had become a habit and almost daily, now the occasional bottle satisfied him but he still chanced to overindulge if staying in Georgetown for a weekend or attending local race meetings, besides he found that drinking on his own dragged him down into a spiral of unpleasant memories.

Lewis closed the land-rover’s rear door as the locomotive powered into the Forsayth siding with a flurry steam and noise. Leaning back on the vehicles bull bar Lewis watched as it gave up its few passengers. There were two aboriginal stockmen, carrying their worldly belongings wrapped in dirty blankets tied with lengths of leather strapping and a young white ringer, tall and slender with almost ginger hair which he wore rather long for a cattleman, his walk displayed confidence like on born to the outback with acceptance to all its faults and failures.

‘Not quite Will’s colouring,’ Lewis offered as a thought, casting an unconscious eye from the ringer’s youthful handsome face to his well fitting jeans, crotch and down to his unpolished William’s boots. For a moment the urges of the youth returned, he felt the sap rise through his body, the fire in the pit of his stomach. So the embers remained and only needed rekindling but almost immediately were doused.

The ringer stood for a moment their eyes caught but etiquette turned their heads and with a gentle smile and a nod the stranger acknowledged the owner of Robin Hood Station. Crossing the dusty road he threw his bag into the back of the dark blue utility and climbed into the cabin without speaking.

The two Aborigines were quite the opposite, arguing and pushing at each other as they crossed the street while completely ignoring their chauffeur, who in turn showed little respect towards them. The balding overweight driver pointed to the back of his tray-truck and once their swags were loaded, told them to join with their belongings, then slamming his vehicle’s door drove off, leaving the two bickering astern in a cloud of dust and flies.

Lewis watched with humour as the truck drove away, almost forgetting he had come to collect the housemaid’s son. Turning back towards the train Lewis perceived the presence of a young lad in his mid teens, wearing the countenance of a lost and nervous puppy. The lad’s youthful stand gave the impression of one younger than his years, while his side parted dark brown hair was crowned with a brave wave at the front, which in wonder had stood up to a hot and long journey. His eyes were sad but expression filled and those of his mother, while his forehead supported two small but distinguishable bumps, one above each eyebrow which depicted the males of his family, going back for as many generations that could be called upon. Some would tease the lad, saying they were the beginning of devil’s horns but he accepted their jest with pride.

The lad wore a light blue shirt buttoned at the wrists and smart long school pants, belted tightly at the waist to prevent them falling from his hipless frame to join his school shoes, which may have been well polished at journey’s commencement but now faded with layers of outback dust. Both shoelaces were undone, and his shirt tailed over his undeveloped backside, while displaying in one youthful package both conformity and rebellion.

As Lewis stood watching the lad, it came to him that it had been only a few short years previous, he himself stood alone on that very spot while waiting a lift to be with his mother, who at that time was the station’s housemaid. How he had craved for a friendly face and it came in the form of the then manager, with a wide smile and kind words, while trying his best to explain the rudimentary workings of a large cattle station in terms a young lad would understand.

“Wayne?” Lewis called across the road as he approached the lad.

“Yes.” The lad answered and in anticipation lifted his battered case. Lewis offered his hand before taking charge of the case. It was light and almost falling apart. “Your case could do with an extra strap; we should be able to find something for it in the tackle room.” Lewis suggested as the lad took his hand, “I’m Lewis the cowboy from Gilbert Downs and I’m to take to your mother.”

With those words Wayne instantly settled and for the first time that day anxiety appeared to lift from him and was replaced by a pending excitement.

“How far is it to the station?” Wayne asked as Lewis nosed the land-rover out of Forsayth, with the last of the daylight chasing towards the west and the developing storm.

“You’ve been there before.”

“True but it was by car and not by train and from a different direction.”

“Well it about twenty miles to Georgetown and then a good fifty miles to Gilbert Downs,” Lewis paused checking left and right at the town’s only cross road, “not your eastern miles mate, it will take us a good three or four hours and if that storm breaks maybe a week.”

“Is it going to rain?”

“Doubt it, wishful thinking I guess but the boss thinks so.”

“Is Mr. Thompson still there?”

“Yes, I believe you have already met him.”

“How big is Gilbert Downs?” Wayne asked, his eyes everywhere in the dying light as they crawled along the dusty road towards Georgetown.

“Dunno’ mate pretty big I guess.”

“How many cattle?” Wayne continued.

“The station runs three or four per square mile – or so I’m told, surly you would have found that out during your last visit.”

“It was only for a couple of days and the lot at the hostel asked me, I said it was eleven thousand square miles.”

“More like eleven hundred I should say but if you include the two substations I guess it’s up in the thousands.” Lewis corrected.

“Any horses, I didn’t get to ride last time”

“Lots but mostly brumbies but a little wild for your use, unless you are into rodeo riding;”

“Will I be able to ride?”

“I guess so, if you know how.”

“Of course I do,” Wayne quickly responded, not wishing to be thought of as some town kid.

“Show riding I should think.” Lewis was teasing.

“I once had my own horse,”

“We’ll see but it will be up to Mr. Thompson.”

Georgetown arrived out of the night’s darkness as a scattering of lights, while a lone neon sign above the Georgetown Hotel, reading NQ Lager, flickered on and off through lack of maintenance. Beyond Georgetown the land-rover soon approached the silhouetted outline of Cumberland’s chimney, standing lonely against the rising moon in ghostly array.

“What’s that?” Wayne gasped while pointing towards the monolith.

“That’s Cumberland, or what’s left of it.” Lewis answered, and then explained what he knew of its existence.

“Can we have a look?”

“Maybe another time, it’s a little dark to see anything at the moment. How long are you up for?” Lewis’ question was relevant as it would more than likely be he who would have to deliver the lad back to the train at the end of his stay.

“Ten days but I will be up again at Christmas.” Wayne answered showing disappointment in his allotted time.

“Well if I’m still here and you come up, I’ll show you around Cumberland at Christmas.” Lewis paused, “and in answer to your question on horse riding, you probably could use the manager’s kid’s horses until they arrive but after that you may have to wait until they are bored with riding.”

“How old are the kids?”

“Somewhat younger than you but they won’t be up until the end of the week and will be staying longer. They are going to do school by correspondence for a while, before returning back down the coast later in the year, then back again for the Christmas holidays.”

“I wish I could stay here and do correspondence.”

“Yea maybe so, they are only doing correspondence because they board with their grandparents and their grandmother will be in hospital.”

Wayne became silent, content in watching the vehicle lights flash against the trees and the furrows in the narrow road, crossing two dry creeks before conversation recommenced. Lewis pointed into the night and spoke above the noise of the vehicle’s motor, “lights ahead,” he declared.

“Is that the homestead?”

“Sure is Wayne we are home.” Lewis said as the pinholes of light drew larger and the outline of a windmill appeared etched against the stars.

As they reached the stockyard Lewis sniffed at the air, “no rain only dust,” he reported then slowly guided the Rover past the homestead building and a long white picketed fence, to stop outside the store, “I suppose we better get you to the kitchen, your mother will be eager to see you.” Lewis collected the battered case from the rear of the vehicle and headed in the direction of the kitchen, with Wayne now silent close behind, his eyes peering into the night trying to make out as much as he could about his home for the coming ten days.

The house was dark against the moon’s sky as the two made their way towards the kitchen block, which also housed the men’s dining room and two rooms for the cook and housemaid. These were positioned behind the main building along a covered passageway and of more recent structure than what was know as the big house.

As they entered through the yard gate a dull light shone from the kitchen verandah where two figures were clearly visible, Wayne immediately recognised his mother.

“You there Ivy?” Lewis called as they crossed the yard to be met by the stations dogs Bonnie and Sam. One ran up and sniffed Wayne, the other stood sentinel at distance while releasing a low warning. Wayne patted the first dog’s head, it appeared it accept the lad.

“Watch the other one; it can get a little nasty if she doesn’t know you,” Lewis warned.

“Yes here Lewis,” Ivy answered excitedly while rising from the comfort of an old cane chair to strain her sight into the darkness.

“I have Wayne here.” Lewis guided Wayne to the kitchen verandah and placed the case down, “Suppose you two have plenty to catch up on and I have an early start.”

“Goodnight and thank you Lewis.” Ivy said and gave her son a hug.

“Thank you Lewis.” Wayne credited, while cook went to the kitchen to fetch a meal she had prepared in anticipation of his arrival.

As he would need the vehicle in the morning, Lewis drove the short distance to the lagoon parking close by the steps. Looking up into the dim light of the second house he noticed Stan Wilson leaning over the verandah railing.

“Want to come up for a beer?” Stan offered.

“Na mate, I have an early start. What happened to the rain?”

“It will be here in its own good time.” Stan answered and lifted his beer glass towards Lewis in cheerful acknowledgement.

“Gulf time I guess Stan.”

“Gulf time yes, how’s the young fellow?”

“Talks a lot Stan and asks far too many questions.”

“That’s the young’uns of today.”

“I guess so Stan,”

“What you got there?” Stan asked noticing the box Lewis was carrying.

“Fresh supplies, I got you a couple.”

“Good I’m out after this one. Did you fill my list?”

“Most but they had to order the horseshoes, said they would be up on the next rail service.”

“The farrier is coming next week, I’ll have to make a phone call. What about the saddle soap?”

“Different brand but old Reg said it was just as good.”

“Fair enough,”

“See you in the morning.”

“Righto, by the way Jack telephoned, he will be away for an extra day, something to do with a delayed meeting.”

Placing two of his supply aside for Stan, Lewis took the remainder to the lagoon behind the house, where under strong moonlight he tied a length of cord around each neck submerging them into the red muddy water, while most careful to secure them to a close by log. The only refrigeration on the station being two kerosene refrigerators in the kitchen and these were always filled to capacity with the necessities for daily existence. Still the waters of the Lagoon had cooling properties and brought the beer temperature down to a palatable degree.

The trip to Forsayth had tired Lewis to such a measure he didn’t even light the carbide lights, nor did he join in the chorus of frogs and night life on the lagoon bank as was his usual pleasure. Instead he took to his bedroom where he slowly shook his head at the outline that was his single bed and sighed, “oh Will where are you mate,” a slight huff of memory, ‘what did Ashley say, ah yes, never have a single bed as it represents remaining so, always get a double at least it gives the opinion there may be someone in the future.’ The thought brought on a weak smile but little more, all he could envisage was a long and lonely future where a single bed would suffice. “A swag roll under some tree would do,” he quietly grumbled.

Throwing his tired body along the length of his bed and sending the aging springs into frenzy, he was soon asleep. That night Lewis dreamed of cool eastern forests and lakes of water. He was once again with Will, swimming naked in Lake Eacham and he was happy. Will came to him smiling and as Lewis reached to touch those smiling lips Will’s image turned to dark fog and was gone. Lewis woke with a start and found it most difficult to return to sleep. He was up with the sun and early to work.

Lewis hadn’t seen much of Wayne since his arrival except at breakfast, when he, the head stockman and Bob Kelly and others would need to pass the lad’s bed on the kitchen’s back verandah on way to the dining room. By this time of the morning Ivy would be at work at the big house while Wayne remained in his bed and appeared to be waiting for the arrival of the men, who showed him much attention as they passed.

It was young Bob Kelly who displayed the most interest and would sham pretence in groping the lad. Wayne would feign displeasure but by his attitude loved the attention.

“Hey Wayne you heavy on the peg mate?” Kelly asked humorously as he faked his bogus grope while passing towards the dining room.

“No!” Wayne protested knowing full well that the term meant wanking.

“Hey mate anyone who admits doing so is a dirty bugger and he who reckons he doesn’t is a bloody liar, so which is you Wayne.”

“Which one is you Bob?” Wayne asked boldly.

“He’s got you there Bob,” Walter said as he brought up the rear behind Bob and pushed past into the dining room to join the already seated Stan.

“Pegging it is for kids,” Bob suggested and followed through with Walter.

“Bob Kelly, leave the lad alone.” Joyce Marshall called from the kitchen over the sound of steak sizzling on the large wood-range.

“Is breakfast ready yet Mrs. Marshall?” Walter Drysdale asked on entering the dining room to find the table void of food or utensils.

“Running a little late Walter five minutes okay?”

“I’ll give you a hand.” Lewis offered and collected the breakfast utensils and the condiments, not forgetting the Holbrook’s sauce, it was Walter’s favourite and he drowned almost everything in the dark stuff, adding copious amounts of salt, even to salted meat. Joyce would dissuade reminding him of his arteries but Walter declared if they hadn’t been wrecked after so many years they would see him through the few that were left.

“You’re a good lad Lewis, thanks.” Joyce expressed gratitude as she turned the steaks. They sizzled loudly and spat fat high into the air.

“A good schmoozer,” Bob Kelly called back to the kitchen.

“Steak for breakfast?” Walter called from the dining room while rubbing his hands gleefully together, his eyes assuring the sauce was present.

The men were seated as Joyce poured tar coloured tea from a large steaming aluminium teapot into a series of enamelled pannikins.

“You coming on the muster young Lewis?” Walter asked while shovelling teaspoon after teaspoon of sugar into his brew, causing his mug to overflow onto the bare boards of the breakfast table.

“The boss has said so.”

“Think that mare of your’s is upta’ it eh?” Walter asked as Joyce returned with a large server of steak, bacon and eggs, she placed it middle table, “help yourselves,” she then left the men to their conversation. Wayne came to the door in his pyjamas, “Wayne, come here a minute,” cook called from the kitchen.

“Yes Mrs. Marshall,” Wayne entered into the kitchen.

“Leave the men to their breakfast; best you dress I’ll have ours ready on the front verandah in a while.”

“Yea she’s a bit short on mate.” Bob Kelly referred to Lewis’ mount, releasing his usual machine gun laugh, his deep blue eyes mischievously twinkling with wit under a covering of long pitch black hair, which he pushed back across his forehead as he spoke.

“Get yourself a haircut Bob. Christ you young fellas are getting like them pommy blokes- the bugs.” Walter Drysdale suggested and mischievously rolled his eyes back with a head nod.

“I need one, it’s been a couple of months,” Bob agreed.

“I’ll give you one, I useta’ shear for a quid out Hughenden way.” Walter offered.

“I don’t think so Walt,”

“They are called the Beatles Walt.” Lewis corrected.

“Bugs, Beatles all the same and they look like sheilas,” Walter concluded.

“Aren’t the men for the muster arriving tomorrow?” Bob Kelly asked from a mouth full of tough steak. “Hey cookie, the meat’s tough.” Bob called through the open door as Joyce returned with more bacon.

“Can’t help that Bob, Jack said there would be a fresh kill next week.” Bob threw a glance towards Walter, “how you gnaw through it without any teeth?”

“Also the bloody boongs!” Walter protested in answer to Bob’s question on the arrival of the extra men.

“Yea Walt why aren’t you using that false set you got last year.”

“I keep them for special occasions so not to wear them out.”

“Lewis you’d be a bit of a gin-jockey I reckon?” Bob Kelly joked as Lewis’ expression took on an almost scarlet complexion, sending his thoughts back to his one and only encounter with a woman of colour, when Mary White took him into the lane beside Pollards Store back in Mareeba and like some big black spider devoured his virginity. That was before he met Will and once and for all turned from his pseudo heterosexual pretence.

“Get real Bob I wouldn’t touch one with yours, besides you should show them a little respect.” Lewis remonstrated then changed the subject back to the muster, while lowering his head towards his breakfast plate to disguise his enflamed embarrassment.

“I dunno’ the last lot of kitchen help weren’t that bad,” Bob recalled while issuing a filthy shit eating grin.

“As I said Bob respect.” Lewis protested. Stan gave a soft grunt but didn’t speak.

“Anyway Bob, I don’t think the boss will be too happy if you go sniffing about the new lot.” Lewis announced remembering Jack’s previous warning.

“Only looking mate, there’s no harm in looking,” Bob lightly protested.

“Young Bob, I think you could get yourself in a lot of trouble even looking.” Walter warned.

“It was a joke Walt but you would know all about that.”

Walter took a deep breath as if to retaliate but slowly released it remaining silent for the sake of the others.

“So you’re off to your brother’s wedding,” Stan asked diverting the subject from the pending black kitchen help.

“Tomorrow, he’s picking me up on the way back to Normanton.”

“Anyone for more steak?” Joyce called from the dining room doorway, all answered negatively but positively for bacon, “more for the dogs,” she grumbled and left the men to finish their meal in peace.

On finishing breakfast Lewis chanced upon Wayne near the kitchen stairs as the lad went to view the horses, “what have you been up to?” Lewis asked, bashing shape back into his hat along his thigh. He had placed it on a chair while helping set the breakfast table and Bob sat on it.

“I asked mum about riding.”

“It’s the busy time mate; you may not get the chance in the little time you are here.”

“I’m out of eggs and need some for the big house,” Joyce called from the kitchen.

“Going to collect them now Mrs. Marshall.” Lewis returned to conversation with the lad as he travelled, “there are plenty of things to keep you entertained, Bonnie has recently had puppies and there is plenty of wildlife down by the lagoon, only last night four red kangaroos came right up to the back fence, so close I could almost reach out and touch it. Real big bugger but if you see them don’t approach as the can get a little nasty when disturbed, especially if there are females around.

“I’d rather go riding,”

“Maybe so,” was all Lewis could answer, it wasn’t his decision although he felt for the lad, remembering he was once in similar position but then his luck was more forthcoming.

Wayne appeared to accept his lot and left to meet up with Bob and Walter as they readied for their daily work. “Hey kid what you like doing?” Walter gruffly asked as Bob departed company.

“Riding I guess.”

“A lad like you would be better with a car; can’t date a girl on a saddle, no back seat for a bit of,” Walter suggested and attempted to depart Wayne’s company.

“I once had my own horse,”

“Did you now,” Walter commenced to put space between himself and Wayne. “I’ve got work to do lad, so maybe you should go find Lewis, he knows more about horses.”

The suggestion failed and Wayne continued to follow to the displeasure of Walter, as children as well as blacks, or women of any colour were on his list of displeasing. “As I said, I’ve work to do so best you go find something to entertain yourself,” Walter suggested as politely as he could but Wayne remained.

“Hey kid, do you like chicken?” Walter asked from a display of seriousness and a laconic sense for shocking any adversary.

“I guess so,”

Walter took a handful of his own crutch and gave a suggestive squeeze, “then suck this it’s foul.” Doing so had the desired effect, Wayne’s face twisted with disapproval as he departed.

That evening the air hung damp over the lagoon and as dusk settled Lewis progressed to his favourite spot on the lagoon bank close to where his bottles of cooled beer dangled from their twine lines. He opened one and poured the amber fluid into a glass. It was his pleasure not to drink directly from the bottle while often declaring most emphatically the taste was much improved from a glass.

Holding the glass up in the fading light he smiled, remembering the first time he had seen the glass. It had a row of fornicating frogs embossed around the girth and was a gift from Ashley on the very day of Will’s accident and Ashley departed for Sydney. A day that left him alone in a town he no longer had happy issue with. “The frogs are at,” he softly humoured, “then why aren’t I?”

Easing back against a fallen tree trunk Lewis closed his eyes and with pensive mind thought of Will, while inward reflection brought back the sight of Will’s smiling face, his honey blond hair, royal blue eyes and those strong arms in which Lewis spent so many nights entangled. He heard Will’s voice and deep laughter, also his advice; Lewis don’t worry everything will turn out alright. “But it didn’t; Did it?” Lewis spoke softly and sadly shook his head. He sent a deep sigh over the lagoon, while those thoughts turned to what life they may have had in Melbourne while playing house in the suburbs, Will mowing the lawn while he attended their kitchen garden, visiting newly found likeminded friends, or relaxing the darker hours at home during a winter’s night, possibly purchasing one of those newly introduced televisions, or the radio on country hour. He could now clearly see Will’s face reflected onto the reverse of his eyelids and drew fear. What would happen if he lost that ability, would he lose Will forever? A cold shudder overpowered him; then by choice he forced the thought from his mind.

As Lewis reclined a small mob of red kangaroos nervously came to drink on the far bank of the lagoon, silhouetted against the darkening sky. After a few sips they quickly shied and bounded over a low rise into the trees beyond. It was then he realised something was moving a short distance along the lagoon to his right and was coming towards him. It was Wayne.

“Wayne what are you up to down here at this time of night?” Lewis asked as the lad came closer.

“Not much, mum’s working and I was a bit bored, can I join you for a while?” and without invitation seated quite close to Lewis, Wayne was not one for, or didn’t understand the issue of personal space.

“Sure, pull up a chair,” Lewis drolly agreed.

“Lewis can I ride your horse.” Wayne nervously asked.

“No Wayne, I don’t allow anyone to ride her.”

“Oh, and why?” The lad asked showing obvious disappointment.

“Don’t take it personally but horses aren’t toys and she knows and trusts me.”

“What’s her name?”

“Horse.” Lewis answered and offered Wayne a beer, then thought better of his offer.

“No thanks, I don’t drink the stuff,” Wayne declined, “why just Horse?” he added inquisitively.

“No real reason, so how’s school?”

“I hate the hostel!”

“What hostel is that?” Lewis was teasing, knowing well where the lad was in board.

“The Methodist Hostel in Herberton.”

“I’ve heard of it.” Lewis smiled remembering his own days spent at that very establishment and with equal disdain as Wayne was presently displaying but didn’t wish to disclose his own internment.

“What grade are you in?”

“Grade Eight.”

“Name some of your teachers?”

“Why do you know Herberton?” Wayne asked suspiciously.

“Just showing interested that’s all.”

Wayne reeled off a good half dozen names of which none meant anything to Lewis, nor did any names from the hostel’s inmates, making Lewis feel somewhat old but certainly didn’t give him an ache to return to his school days and the loneliness of the weekends when there wasn’t much else to do but dream about other places, anywhere but there.

“How are you getting on with the Thompson kids?” Lewis asked. Ronald and Susan had arrived the previous day and had taken control of their horses before Wayne had chance to ride.

“I don’t see much of them, I think they believe I’m staff and don’t want to mix and I haven’t been able to ride their horses either and I only have a few days left.”

“Never mind there is always Christmas. It’s getting late; don’t you think your mother will wonder where you are?”

“I told her I was coming down to see you.”

“Well some of us have to work tomorrow, so I’m going upstairs.”

“Can I come and talk for a while?” Wayne asked as Lewis rose from his advantage and dusted his rear.

“No mate, I think there’s been enough talk tonight, maybe another night okay?”

Wayne reluctantly agreed and slowly retraced his steps along the Lagoon.

‘There’s something odd about that kid.’ Lewis thought as Wayne’s form melted into the dark space towards the end of the lagoon. In some ways it was like looking back through a mirror to his youthful days giving a sense of deja-vu. Sometimes he felt as if he knew what Wayne’s next sentence would be and understood well his emotions. Also Wayne appeared to be sexually drawn towards him. If so Lewis realised it could not go further than conversation and friendship.

To Wayne sex would be experimental while Lewis had done his share of that as a kid and had no intention of becoming another’s instructor, especially one as young as Wayne. Lewis thought of Ashley and had no wish to become his surrogate in life, besides Will was still deep within and there wasn’t any room for another, especially one who was just knocking on the door of early manhood.

“Goodnight.” Echoed back from the darkness at the east end of the lagoon. Lewis waved but didn’t answer. Wayne had obviously paused among the trees where he remained observing Lewis as he retreated up the stairs.

“There is definitely something strange about that kid.” Lewis repeated as he closed the door against further scrutiny. ‘Possibly strange isn’t the word but I think I will need to take care in what I say, I don’t want to encourage him,’ Lewis thought.

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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