Published: 11 Sep 2023

Morning with an early rise for the boys, although Taylor was a little slow leaving the comfort of his bed, suffering from too much champagne on a beer stomach.

“Come on, we have filming this morning,” Alun gives Taylor an encouraging shake, “you are usually up before sparrow’s fart.”

“I’m awake. What time is it?”

“Six thirty and we have a long bus ride so up you get.”

Ten minutes pass and still Taylor hasn’t dressed.

“Coffee?” Alun offers as Taylor eventually comes to the small kitchen and flops down into the closest chair.

“Yes please. You’re unusually chirpy?”

“I only had a couple of drinks,” Alun admits.

“Possibly I had too many, It was the champagne; beer doesn’t bother me as much. Besides the party was winding down when I left for my walk.”

Alun makes coffee and is seated watching Taylor slowly sip at his brew.”

“What were you up to last night?” Alun asks.

“I told you. I went for a walk and was watching a platypus swimming in the moonlight.”

“Romantic.”

“You could say that.”

“I noticed Ricky went out soon after you left.”

“Did he?”

Taylor finishes his coffee, he rinses his mug as knocking is heard, “you lot up yet?” Simon calls without entering.

“Won’t be long,” Alun answers ending further inquiry into Taylor’s romantic moonlight walk by the creek.

“Okay – five minutes.” Alun answers.

“No hurry,” Simon says and enters.

“Why?”

“The filming trip has been postponed until tomorrow, something to do with arranging the extra for the native camp shooting.”

“So what’s on today?”

“Stu’ has planned a little early morning riding, other than that not a lot so you can have some free time, go for a drive and get to know the local area.”

Once their riding lessons were done, the boy’s way of getting to know the area, was into Ballarat to find a bar. The first they chanced upon was Craig’s Royal Hotel, chosen for its exterior design and grandeur. On entry Alun takes hold of Taylor’s arm, “hold on,” he says.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing is the matter, only it is too grand for simply drinking. I saw a bar down the street. I would rather go there.”

The boys retrace their steps reaching the Nugget Inn Bar and bistro, they enter and Alun releases a satisfactory breath into the bar’s atmosphere of sweaty armpits and stale beer, “this is better,” he comments then marches up to the bar and orders two schooners of beer.

Taylor sniffs at the air and pulls a face.

“What is your problem?”

“It is better if you like the smell of the unwashed.”

“I didn’t take you as a snob Taylor.”

“I’m not and I agree I do prefer the atmosphere here. At Craig’s I would be afraid of spilling my drink but you must admit the air is a little ripe.”

“It will do.”

They had hardly taken a sip before being approached with a tap to Taylor’s shoulder,” didn’t I see you out at Bill Linton’s place when I was delivering timber last week?”

“Who is Bill Linton?” Taylor asks while giving the intruder the once over to determine his motive. Alun simply turns away from the intrusion.

“He owns the property out on McKees Road near Garibaldi, the one with the oversize tin shed.”

“You may have.”

“What’s the film they are making?”

“Who said anyone is making a film?” Taylor challenges as he remembers their instruction not to speak on the project.

“Everyone knows what goes on out there, besides one of the actors was in here a couple of days back, he said he had a leading role in the movie.”

Alun now becomes curious, “what role did he mention?”

“He didn’t give much away on his part, only it was to do with the gold mining around Ballarat.”

“And he said he had a leading role in this film? Alun asks.

“He did and was quite free when it came to his own importance, especially after a gut full of grog.”

“What did this joker look like?” Alun asks.

“He was sorta’ athletic and full of himself – he needed a shave, I think he said his name was Michael.”

“Was it Michael Long?” Taylor suggests.

“That was him, Michael long. When is the film coming out?”

“I don’t know anything about any film,” Alun discredits.

“Hey Johnno’ it’s my shout,” comes from across the bar, “are you drinking or yapping?”

“Got to go,” the stranger is quick in departing when free beer is in the offering.

“What do you think of that?” Taylor questions Alun.

“You mean Michael shouting his mouth off?”

“Do you think we should let Simon know?”

“Na, I don’t think he has given much away, besides types like Michael Long always bring themselves undone in the end. Drink up we better hit the track and get ready for tomorrow.”

To reach the Campaspe River property there was a three hour drive, arriving in time for a late lunch. Once refreshments had been taken it was time for familiarization of the site and what filming was programmed for the day. Simon takes the boys aside, “come with me I have some more introductions to make.”

“Who would they be?” Taylor asks.

“You’ll see,” Simon leads past the trailers to a temporary yard holding a number of horses. It soon becomes obvious they were not those used during lessons back on the property, appearing larger and more energetic than their usual mounts.

“You look worried,” Simon say while observing the boy’s reaction.

“No worries,” Taylor assures.

“What about you Alun?” Simon asks.

“They are big buggers.”

“Don’t panic they are well broken and we have Stu’ here to keep an eye on the proceedings.”

“What is today’s shooting?” Alun questions, his eyes are cautiously on the horses as they toss their heads about and snort dust, while impatiently stamping feet in retaliation towards a swarm of annoying sweat flies, bothering eyes and nostrils.

“Haven’t you read your handout?”

“I did but it was a little vague.”

“Scene twenty-eight, Logan and Chance meet up with Yuka at the native camp.” Simon points along the riverbank to where a group of natives sit aimlessly about a mock-up native camp waiting for instructions, in most they looked the part even if lacking in enthusiasm.

“It appears authentic enough, where did you get the actors for the native scene?”

“At much expense, we had to fly them in from the Northern Territory.”

“Why?”

“Those locally are too fair skinned.”

“What I recollect from the novel they should be naked,” Alun deduces.

“We will have to be cautions of the censor, so it will be tits and bums and no full frontal, even so we have already been accused of racist behavour towards the natives.”

“What about the scene when Logan and Chance are naked while swimming?”

“Again it will be clever filming besides white men don’t count, political correctness doesn’t consider it possible to be racist towards whites, unless they are from different ethnic group. Anyway that will be the job of the censor, now come on let’s get you fitted out and on the nags.”

Stu’ is close by observing the proceedings and joins in with the conversation, “Alun are you ready to put all my days of hard work to the test?”

Alun gives a weak smile without agreeing as Michael Long approaches.

“Is everything ready Michael?” Simon asks.

“Ready as I can be, now it’s up to you to get some animation out of the natives, as they are threatening to walk.”

“Why?”

“You will have to ask them. I do have a further suggestion.”

“What would that be?”

“I was thinking about the nude swimming scene with Chance and Logan before they depart for the gold fields.”

“What about it?”

“We may as well shoot it after we’ve done the scene with their meeting with the natives.”

Simon appears impressed, “what about you Alun, how does it sit with you?”

“It is as good a time as any.”

“Shooting will be in twenty. I’ll go and see what’s upsetting the natives. You two off to wardrobe to get into costume.”

The wardrobe caravan had been set up the previous day under the shading of a large Blackwood on the river bank. As the boys make their way for fitting Taylor believes Alun appears troubled. “What’s up?” he asks on approaching the van.

“Nothing’s up, why?”

“You’re quieter than usual, are you worried about the nude swimming?”

“A little.”

Taylor releases a cheeky chortle, “shy?” he suggests.

“No nothing like that, more what my old man will say if he ever gets to see the film.”

“I thought you said you had worked through that?”

“So I did but it appears not.”

“You said he doesn’t watch period movies.”

No but he has a number of mates who would find pleasure in telling him.”

“Can I make an observation Alun?”

“Go on.”

“You worry too much about what your father may think.”

Before Alun could respond there is a further call from Simon, “ten minutes and counting.” Alun turns and waves his agreement.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Taylor says.

“It was a statement, not a question and I don’t have an answer.”

“You have to live your own life, chase your own dreams and not that what your parents want.”

“Give it a miss Taylor – okay.”

“Sure.”

Stu’ arrives with the saddled mounts and patiently waits while the natives appear to be in a huddle and arguing.

“What’s the problem now?” Simon’s voice booms across the verge towards the river and the native camp set. His attention is on the natives and their obvious lack of coordination towards what had been instructed. Close by Eric Plank is holding his boom mic as one would a war pike in readiness for battle. Simon is obviously frustrated with the lack of response, “Eric, stand down, we are nowhere near ready.”

Eric places the boom to the ground and immediately commences his fly squatting tic.

“For Christ sake Eric keep still you’re making me nervous, the project is becoming a farce.” Simon shouts and approaches the group of native actors to ascertain their readiness. One of their group advances. Soon he and Simon are observed in heated conversation.

As the set stands down, Stu’ remains with the horses while smirking at the situation. He had spent much of his youth in the Northern Territory working with native stockmen and nothing surprised him when it came to the black man’s ability to frustrate the white man’s wishes at every turn.

For some time the native’s representative and Simon were locked in debate while the lads stood with the horses waiting for their prompt to mount and approach. One of the mounts, a big chestnut with mad eyes becomes restless. Stu’ quickly calms it with a few soothing words and rub to its withers.

“That one is yours,” Taylor teases Alun.

“Huh.”

“You’ll be right lad, it doesn’t buck it only bites,” Stu’ suggests.

“What do you think?” Alun asks Taylor.

“About what?”

“Even with bringing the natives from the Territory they still appear to be a little light skinned,” Alun concerns.

“I hear they were the only ones that agreed to act in the part. Many refused, saying it was the invasion of the white man all over again and in doing so it would be like endorsing colonialism.”

“I think it is one country and we should all learn to live as one, besides if the Brits’ didn’t come here others would have. Do you really believe Australia would have been left as it was perpetually?” Alun shares in a rare political opinion.

“What about them having a voice in parliament,” Taylor asks.

“That’s another thing.” Alun huffs.

“Are you against the native voice?”

“I’m not for or against it but from what I hear, it wouldn’t be politically binding and the politicians would simply disregard it, as they often do even with constitutional law – besides.”

“Go on.” Taylor is smirking while enjoying Alun’s frustrated outburst of opinion.

“Besides the natives living in the outback far away from the city and government who really need a voice wouldn’t have one.”

“And why not?”

“It’s the so called city natives who are whiter than you or me with education and show more attitude than a junkyard dog, who would run the voice to suit their agenda and I have notice it isn’t usually to help any situation but to hinder.”

“You sure are in fine form today,” Taylor laughs away his friend’s outburst.

“It’s simply observation Taylor. Didn’t you find similar when you lived on the cattle property in Queensland?”

“True many of the stockmen were natives but they seemed to love working with cattle and horses and better horsemen you would never find.”

Eventually Simon and the native extras come to an agreement and Simon returns to where the boys are patiently waiting. He appears to have settled from his rage.

“What seems to be the problem Simon?” Alun asks.

“Money, they want more.”

“Did you agree?”

“No, I reminded them they were contracted and should have thought of it earlier. I said if they didn’t like it they could bugger off and walk home as I won’t be issuing airline tickets.”

“What is the final outcome?”

“They agreed to continue with the filming.”

“So we are ready?” Alun asks.

“Will be, once I’ve managed to get everybody at their stations again and now I notice Michael Long is missing. We can’t progress without both cameramen.” Simon looks about and spies Michael returning from a thicket. “Where the hell have you been?” Simon shouts.

“I was having a piss Simon.”

“If you need to piss then do so in your own time.” Simon instantly realizes the inanity of his words and goes to speak with Michael. Soon both appear happy as they return to set.

Gary’s stories are about life for gay men in Australia’s past and present. Your emails to him are the only payment he receives. Email Gary to let him know you are reading: Conder 333 at Hotmail dot Com

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