Published: 4 Dec 2023

Unexpectedly light rain arrived with the cold front but not enough to douse the fire as it slowly moved along the coast to the west of town but it was now manageable. Not a single soul had departed the beach, remaining there as the first light of the new day struggled through the smoke haze. This day those first rays had lost their usually happy gold becoming blood red within the dread.

Eventually the fire trucks return and the crowd began to mill. There was a multitude of questions with very few answers. Everyone wishes to know about their personal property, about their stock and animals but it would be some days before many of the roads and back tracks were once again open.

Taylor stands gazing towards the burned out forest, he takes a deep smoky breath and slowly releases, “Well,” he says more from relief than any need to make a statement.

“Well what Taylor?”

“We are still alive,” he turns towards the ocean where gentle waves lap on smooth pristine sand, while gulls call as they hover above a flat ocean. He turns back to the forest, “it is like standing at the threshold between heaven and hell,” he says.

“That is deep,” Alun comments.

“Hey I just remembered something – It’s Christmas day,” Taylor bursts into animation and at the top of his voice he cries out, “everybody it is Christmas – Merry Christmas everyone.”

The Crowd drew silent then like Taylor burst into voice with greeting, handshakes and kisses shared about and even through tragedy the human spirit came through.

“I haven’t got you a present,” Alun’s tone carries guilt.

“No matter, I haven’t got you one either.”

“We should head back and see it the van has survived.”

The boys had parked their vehicle under a large sign reading no parking at any time. As they walk back to the van park Taylor gives a titter and wonders if they would receive a parking ticket.

“Knowing the officious attitude of councils I wouldn’t be surprised. As I recall Peter was once given a ticket for parking over our drive at home.”

“I’ve never had a car,” Taylor admits.

“I haven’t either, although dad promised me a new BMW for my eighteenth. I got my license a week before my birthday and for my birthday dad said the company was having liquidity problems and I should get a job and buy my own car. His reasoning being at eighteen a man should be able to stand on his own legs, not look for handouts from his family.

“What did he give you?”

“Mum bought me a watch which I lost while surfing down at Bells Beach.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“I believe it did.”

“So you got nothing from your father.”

“Oddly dad traded in his old car and bought the Lexus the following week.”

“It appears your father has been a disappointment to you.”

“Or I have been for him; if you agree to his account but I’m beyond caring.”

There is a high hedge along the side of the van park and except for a little singing had survived the fire but as they entered into the park they are shocked. All except one of the vans on the site had burned and the one that remained was not theirs.

“Bugger,” was all Taylor could muster.

“That’s understating. We were fortunate to have packed the car before leaving,” Alun says and recalls Simon’s demand on their use of the van, being to leave it as they found it. “That stuffed up our promise to Simon.”

“What promise would that have been?”

“He said for us to leave the van as we found it,” as Alun speaks his mobile buzzes. He notices it has little charge, also the caller’s identification is lacking. He quickly answers, “Yep,”

“It’s Simon, Alun.”

“I recognized your voice, what’s up?”

“More what’s up down there, we heard about the fire and are a little concerned.”

“Surprisingly we were only mentioning you that very moment.”

“In what way would that be?”

“As we departed you warned us to leave the van as we found it. We ‘re alright but you will need to let your mate know he has lost his van.”

“Never mind the van, as long as you are both alright. What are your plans?”

“We thought of taking a room at the hotel until the roads reopen, then I suppose we should head back.”

“Righto, charge the hotel room to us and we will see you when you return. As none of the crew will be there, I’ll square it with the owner.”

Alun finishes the call and approaches Taylor, “what do you think?”

“Do you mean taking a room?”

“Yes, we need to clean up, have a meal and recharge our phones.”

“That is if everything isn’t fully booked.”

During that Christmas morning there were spot fires about the town and an unattended shed on a property close by the van park burst into flames when a storage of petrol ignited but the fire was soon extinguished before spreading to the adjacent house. Everywhere folk moved about as if in a dream. Tourists attempted to find interest as they waited for the roads to reopen, while shopkeepers opened their doors as if to say, we survived this one, so let’s get on with business.

The air about was damp and heavy with the acidic odor of burning while everything was covered by a fine layer of ash and with every breath one took came the taste of charred timber and scorched bitumen. As the boys walk into town Taylor makes an obvious observation, “I stink,” he exclaims with a supporting laugh.

“So do I.”

“Then as you suggested we should find somewhere with a shower.”

Firstly they try a motel closest to the van park but it lacked water as the fire and heat had buckled and broken the pipes, it also lacked power. There were a number of guest houses and B&B’s which in the most were displaying no-vacancies, or showing obvious signs of fire stress. Only the hotel at mid town had a vacancy that being one room but the kitchen was down, as during the fire the power failed and with the heat the refrigerators defrosted, spoiling their contents, while the power from the hotel’s emergency generator was barely enough to run lighting. Even so light refreshments were available in the form of sandwiches with nonperishable contents.

There was one consolation being the room was offered without charge as because of the power shortage there wasn’t any air-conditioning or room service.

“At least there is a shower,” Taylor says and bags first.

“I haven’t slept in a single bed since sixth grade, excluding that back at the Buninyong property.” Alun complains.

“A bed is a bed,” Taylor pushes at the closest mattress, “it is solid enough, “anyway what is your aversion towards single beds?”

“It was from when I was first dating.”

“Continue.”

“Back then I had a dumb obsession that a single bed meant single for life, I think it came from that song Single Bed by Noosha Fox, so I asked dad to buy me a double.”

“Did he?”

“In a roundabout way I suppose he did. Mum wanted a new bed so they got a new king size and gave me their old mattress with a dip at its middle and a rogue spring where your arse rested.”

“There isn’t any hot water,” Taylor calls from the bathroom.

“I would think on a day like today the cold water would be warm enough.”

“As you suggested, it’s warmish,” Taylor says and commences singing.

“What are you singing?”

Taylor goes quiet.

“Don’t stop, you haven’t a bad voice. How come I’ve never heard it before?”

“Don’t know, possibly I hadn’t anything to sing about.”

“And now you have?”

“We are alive and it’s Christmas.”

“I didn’t know you are religious,” Alun calls across the fall of water.

“I’m not but I like presents.”

“No presents this year.”

“Did your parents send you anything?”

“Mum said she has something and would hold it until I visit next. What about you?”

“As mum hasn’t much left after the bills, I told her not to buy me anything but I gave her a hundred dollars. Do you know there is a scene where Chance joins in singing while panning with Scobie and his mate Peter Martin?”

“I didn’t. Am I in the scene?” Alun asks.

“You are and you make much the same comment as you just did.”

“What did Chance sing?”

“I’m not sure, most likely a sea-shanty; I don’t think it will be anything by Ed Sheeran. What are we going to do until after the New Year?”

Alun comes to the bathroom, “we may as well stay here, at least the beach wasn’t burned and for now the room is free.”

Before Taylor is finished with dressing, Alun is under the water; “it’s cold, I hate cold showers.”

“I can’t help you there, what are we going to do about meals?”

“The manager said the dining room will be running by tomorrow and the restaurant down the street should be also open this evening.”

“What about the New Year’s concert?”

“There is a notice down in the lobby advising its going ahead except it will set up on the beach front as the usual venue was burned.”

Alun turns off the water and reaches for the towel.

“Did Simon say what we will be doing when we return?” Taylor asks.

“No, only that it will be full on from the first day.”

“I can still smell smoke I think it is permeating in my hair and clothes. It reminds me of nights in earlier years at the clubs,” Taylor sniffs at his shirt sleeve and pulls a face.

“So you never smoked?” Alun asks.

“I tried but couldn’t see any advantage.”

“Me neither, mum used to smoke but dad has an aversion towards it so she gave up. Peter smokes although I think it is only to razz dad but he wouldn’t dare do so in the house.”

“It appears your family is in a perpetual state of conflict.”

“I often believe ours isn’t a family but a collective of warring adversaries.”

“What about your sister?’

“Dianne is no better and I think she went out of her way to marry Michael to spite dad, it is only Peter I get along with.”

“What about your mother?

“Mum tried to be the binding glue and all it’s got her is shattered nerves and continuing anxiety – how about making coffee.”

“The power is off.”

“I’ll go down and ask when the bar is opening.” Alun pulls on a pair of shorts.

“Don’t you think it is a little early for drinking?” Taylor suggests

“I need to wash the taste of smoke from my throat, so a nice cold beer will have to do.”

“Cold beer you say?”

“Warm will do as long as it is wet.”

The lighting in the bar was dull as the hotel’s manager had turned off the generator to conserve fuel, believing it could be some time before the town was again supplied with diesel. Furthering the problem the town’s petrol station had exploded in a giant fireball at the height of the fire, sending a shockwave felt by all those who had been sheltering on the beach.

The bar was typical of a country pub, long and u-shape, with a highly polished surface, although the bottles behind the bar and stack of glasses all had a fine dusting in gray.

While entering the boys noticed two patrons seated towards the far end, they gave the strangers a gentle nod as they found seating. What Taylor perceives of the strangers is one appeared to be in his forties, the other young enough to be his son. Also holding Taylor’s attention was the older man appeared too youthfully dressed for his advancing years and the younger man’s clothing and persona appeared somewhat androgynous.

Taylor catches the older man’s eye and quickly turned away as the bar attendant approached.

“What will you lads be having?” the barman asks as he wipes away a few drops of spillage from the bar.

“Two beers please;” Alun orders.

“Tap or bottle?”

“Anything, as long as it washes away the taste of ash.”

“It will have to be bottle; the taps are down as power is off.

“Good, have you any Asahi?”

“What’s Asahi?”

“Japanese beer,” Alun says, as since visiting Sydney he had developed a taste for Asahi.

“I believe you can get it on tap in Tokyo,” the barman dryly comments, “I guess you aren’t from about these parts?”

“Whatever you have will do. No, were having a break from work and were staying at the van park until the van burned.”

“Which van would that be?”

“They all burned but one, we were in the yellow van with the brown stripe that was closest to the river.”

“That would be Bert Hutton’s van; he’ll be really pissed off as he only recently spent money on it.”

“We didn’t know the owner, as someone from work arranged its use for us.”

The barman is called away by one of the drinkers. “Work to do,” he says and serves their drinks then he is interrupted by the ringing of a telephone.

It is Alun who is first to make the suggestion and gives Taylor a jab in the ribs. He whispers close to Taylor’s ear; “one of those jokers is gawking at you.”

“Yes I have noticed.”

“He must fancy you,” Alun comically says.

“I can’t imagine why?”

“I dunno’ I’d have ya’.”

“You sound as if you are serious Alun.”

“That my friend you will never know.”

Taylor appears bemused.”

“Joking mate –only teasing.”

Alun’s response may have been negative but his expression was something different while Taylor remains uncertain without questioning Alun’s denial.

The older of the two strangers breaks his gaze and returns to conversation with his friend, they continue talking for a time then the older man returns his interest towards Taylor. He appears to be smiling as if Taylor is known to him.

The younger man speaks and his friend displays agreement. There is further conversation and both rise and approach the boys.

“I saw you on the beach,’ the older man says.

“Yes we were there; I guess no one had much choice otherwise.”

“Bad fire.”

“Is there anything as a good fire?” Taylor asks.

“I guess not.”

“Do you live in Lorne?” Taylor asks.

“No we are up from the city – I’m Steve, this is my husband Hugh.”

“Oh!” Taylor gasps while Alun sniggers then turns away.

“I’m sorry if I shocked you boys.”

“It isn’t every day a complete stranger approaches and declares his sexuality,” Taylor admits.

“I apologize; I thought by your body language you two were an item.”

“We work together, if that could be considered being an item” Taylor strongly offers in their defense and turns away from the man’s approach.

Alun is obviously amused but without word as he quietly sits aside.

“Would your name be Taylor Hardwick?” The older man asks.

“It is but I don’t know you.”

“More so Taylor you don’t remember me and you can’t be blamed for that.”

Alun is now feeling uncomfortable and taps Taylor’s shoulder to be away but Taylor becomes captivated by the stranger’s apparent knowledge of him. “How come you know my name?”

“Your mother is Jane?”

“Do you know my mother?”

“I did once but it was a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry but whoever you are, what has all this got to do with me.”

“I didn’t mean to insinuate that you and your friend were -,”

“What gay? I think you have some explaining to do.”

“Taylor I am your father.”

“My father is dead!”

“I’m sorry son but I am very much alive.”

Taylor quickly turns to Alun and is obviously distressed – “get me out of here, I’ve heard enough.”

“No wait at least hear him out.” Alun quietly suggests and holds Taylor back by the arm as he attempts to leave.

“Your friend shows initiative.”

Taylor appears to be in shock as he folds his arms across his chest but stays his ground, “have you been stalking me? His words appear to rumble from deep down and are barely audible.

“No boy not stalking but ever since your mother kicked me out, I have followed your progress at a distance. I had no idea you would be here at Lorne this weekend. Hugh and I have a holiday house here in Lorne and often come down for weekends.”

“Mum said you died when I was a baby.”

“I can understand why. How is Jane? Did she ever remarry?”

“She is fine and no she never remarried.”

“I loved your mother.”

“Then you had a funny way of showing it.”

“It was for the best Taylor, she would have been miserable if I stayed.”

“I don’t know how I should react – It is too much to take on in one go.”

“Hugh and I are returning to the city once the roads open.” Steve takes a business card from his pocket and passes it to Taylor, “You are an adult now Taylor and can make up your own mind. Here is my address and telephone number, when the shock passes, please son give me a call.” Once spoken Steve returns to the bar, collects his belongings and departs.

“How are you feeling?” Alun asks.

“I can honestly say shocked, what a way to be introduced to a family ghost.”

“Do you believe he is your dad?”

“What do you think?”

“I must admit there is an uncanny resemblance and he appears to know a lot about you and your mother.”

“Truthfully I don’t know what to believe. If he is my father he is not only alive but gay.” Taylor takes a further glance at the business card, it reads Stephen Hardwick, “possibly what he said is fact as it appears we have the same family name.”

“He is also married,” Alun issues to the developing saga, “did your mother ever divorce him?’

“I don’t think so. She often suggested he had died, so there wouldn’t be any need to go through divorce.”

“You know what that means?” Alun says.

“I’m too numb to think.”

“Steve is a bigamist as the new gay marriage act runs parallel to the straight marriage act.”

“Possibly saying Hugh is his husband is more a title than actual.”

“Does he being gay worry you, or is it the lie your mother has let you believe all your life?”

“Possibly it is the shock of him living more than anything,” Taylor again pockets the business card.

“Will you meet up at a later date?”

“I don’t think so; I haven’t had a father for twenty years, so I don’t need one now.”

“Will you tell your mother?”

“I’ll have to think long and hard on that one but I’ll say one thing Alun.”

“Go ahead.”

“Keep the drinks coming; I’m in the mood to get drunk.”

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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