Published: 21 Aug 2023

It was the boys first weekend away from the property and Alun brought Taylor with him to stay at his apartment while arranging to meet with Jillian for a meal that night. Also as he would not have need of the apartment for at least the rest of the year, possibly long into the following year, he had decided to give it up and store his belongings. Doing so wasn’t difficult as Alun had already made the decision even before being contracted to the film, intending to find somewhere closer to the city beaches, or possibly further south along the surf coast and Bell’s Beach.

Jillian had arranged the restaurant for the night and as usual invited Vivien and Wayne to join them. She also intended to stay the night at Alun’s apartment, so on arrival Alun offered Taylor the spare room with comment it would be the first time in a month they had not shared the same cell.

“I hope you don’t mind but the bed is only a futon,” Alun apologizes, “and about dinner tonight,” Alun quickly attaches while explaining the apartment’s facilities, “Jillian has already chosen the restaurant.”

“Where are we going?”

“Norma Jean, it is in St. Kilda.”

“I have been there.”

“Also she is bringing a couple of mates with her.”

“No worries,” Taylor assures.

“There will be Vivien and her friend, Wayne.” Alun hesitates. “I should warn you Wayne is gay,” he nervously relates.

Taylor laughs.

“What?”

“Possibly we could get a few pointers for our parts in the movie from Wayne.”

“As long as they are only pointers,” Alun quickly asserts.

“If Jillian is coming back tonight will she mind me being here?”

“I’ve already told her you are visiting and she is looking forward in meeting you.”

The restaurant with its subdued lighting and soft music was rowdy and although it had potential to be romantic, its patronage was from the upwardly mobile twenty something, with more attitude than amorous intention, while the conversation centered on expected promotions, pay packets and the new office chic with the big tits. There were always a number of creative types from struggling artists to would-be actors, along with those who would be if they possessed talent, they being the most rowdy, as they attempted to outdo each other for attention.

On arrival at the restaurant Alun notices Vivien and Wayne are already seated but there wasn’t any sign of Jillian.

Vivian beckons Alun to approach.

“Where is Jillian?” Alun asks.

“She missed her tram.”

“She is always missing trams.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce your friend?”

“Sorry Viv’, this is Taylor and -;”

Wayne stands and offers his hand, “I’m Wayne.”

Taylor simply accepts and gives a gentle nod as Jillian is spied entering into the restaurant. Vivien loudly calls out to her.

While Alun is greeting Jillian they all fail to notice a measure of disquiet between Wayne and Taylor.

“You won’t say anything.” Taylor quietly pleads.

“About what would that be Taylor?” Wayne’s tone is soft and amused.

“I think you know what I’m getting at.”

Vivien quickly returns and apologizes for her rudeness, “now what are you two talking about.”

“I was asking Taylor about the movie he and Alun are in,” Wayne says.

“With your background and what I’ve heard of the movie, you could find a part as an extra, or at least advisory,” Vivien suggests.

“I don’t know about that,” Wayne discredits as Alun and Jillian return to their seats.

“I’m Jillian, so at last I have the pleasure of meeting Alun’s new boyfriend.” She says.

“In the movie,” Alun correct.

“You would be Taylor,” Jillian suggests.

“That’s me Jillian.”

“I suppose you have been introduced to Viv’ and Wayne; Alun is a bugger for introductions.”

“I have.”

“What is your background Taylor?” Jillian asks.

“City mostly, although my earlier years were on stations in Queensland, I also have an uncle with a cattle property in Gippsland.”

“Country hols’ and horse riding I would think.”

“A little like that, yet of late I’ve become rusty and during our recent instructions, I almost had a fall.”

Jillian turns to Alun, “knowing your paranoia for horses, I would have loved to be there when it was your turn.”

“I did alright Jillian thank you.”

“Anyway, how far into the story of Logan and Chance are we?”

“Not very far at all, a couple of short scenes are in the can. Mostly it has been getting use to the characters and learning how to ride while feeling comfortable in costume.”

“I think you would look rather smart in country attire,” Vivien surmises.

“It isn’t the kind of gear you probably envisage Viv’. In all honesty I don’t know how they managed to do anything in what they wore and it takes an age to dress, nothing like pulling on your t-shirt and trackies’.”

“Tell me about it, my latest part in the play has me in a crinoline with half a dozen petticoats,” Jillian shares as she runs her eyes over the menu, “what would like Alun?” she asks.

“It all looks good,” Alun’s eyes go directly to the Wagyu steak and is about to make a suggestion.

“Why not simply order four different meals and share,” Vivien proposes then before Alun can protest Jillian is in agreement and between her and Vivien the meal is ordered, “You don’t mind sharing do you Alun?” Vivien asks as the waiter jots down the girl’s selection.

“That will be fine,” Alun lies, truthfully he hated shared meals as he always ended up with less than desired and what he didn’t enjoy.

“Is it alright with you Taylor?” Vivien includes without sincerity.

“That’s good with me,” he agrees.

What brought about reflection, Alun could not comprehend.

Possible it was as simple as a sideways glance, maybe an unfinished sentence or evasion of some question but it had been enough for Alun to digress to earlier while arriving at the restaurant. Now at home in the quiet of the evening, with Jillian showering before honoring a most anticipated promise and Taylor preparing to turn in, Alun had a question for Taylor although he is slow with its issue.

“Well,” Taylor says and rises to his feet, “I’ll be off and leave you to your privacy.”

“There’s no need to go to bed. If you like you can watch television, or listen to music.”

“Thank you but I’ll be off – see you in the morning.”

“Taylor.”

“Yes that’s me,” Taylor pauses his progress towards his room, instead he goes into the kitchen and pours a glass of water.”

“I want to ask you something.”

Taylor returns to the room. “Go on; ask away.”

“Tonight at the restaurant, I had the impression you and Wayne were previously known to each other.”

“What has brought you to that conclusion Alun?”

“I can’t honestly say, possibly simply body language but I felt there was some affinity between the two of you.”

“Affinity, I like that.”

“Well?”

“Alun!” Jillian calls from the bathroom.

“Yep.”

There is tittering from along the hall, “come here and scrub my back,” the tittering dies away.

“I better go, I don’t ever get a second request,” Alun cuts short his questioning of Taylor with an expecting grin.

“Goodnight – have fun,” Taylor says as he retires to his room.

“Goodnight and don’t forget we have an early morning meeting with Mr. Barrington tomorrow.”

“I haven’t.”

During a scheduled meeting with Barrington the boy’s week at home was cut short. It appeared their riding instructor had commitments towards the end of that week and he needed to bring the boys up to at least comfortable around horses before he departed. For their return Barrington had leased a vehicle which would be theirs for the duration of their stay at the property and with the keys came instructions they would need to leave as soon as they had gathered their belongings from Alun’s apartment.

As they departed company with Barrington he has one final requirement for the boys, being the following weekend they had hotel reservations in Ballarat. He wanted them to get a feel for the city and its golden days, while instructing them to visit the so named Eureka Stockade, even if its site was somewhat suspect. Barrington also suggested they visit the many sites mentioned in the original novel, of which some were imaginary, while others were well documented and on the modern tourist trail of Ballarat and surrounding district.

“Do I have time to visit my girlfriend first?” Alun asks as Barrington passes the vehicle keys to Taylor.”

“You can telephone. You are expected to be back by two this afternoon with riding lessons arranged soon after.”

“Jillian will be cranky as we had arrangements for tonight.”

“Alun you are either in the industry or not. You have to realise time is money and plans can change at a moment’s notice. Do you have issue with that?”

“No Mr. Barrington.”

“What about you Taylor?”

“I don’t have anyone special at the moment.”

While passing through the township of Buninyong, Alun instructs Taylor to pull over.

Taylor appears concerned thinking something has gone wrong with the vehicle, “what’s the prob’?” he quickly says and pulls to the side of the road.

“Nothing, only I noticed the local cemetery and I thought seeing Buninyong is part of the gold rush area, we could get a feel for some of the names of those who lived around that time.”

After parking they make their way towards that part of the cemetery classified as pioneer with its marble stones and effigies of angels and cherubs, many had been badly vandalized over a hundred years or more of neglect. Adding to the neglect, a recent bushfire had pass through that part of the cemetery giving the marble a bleak smoky appearance, while about is a scattering of burned or melted plastic flowers.

“Snakes,” Alun softly utters.

“Why do you mention snakes?”

“I hate them.”

“I would think with the burning, the ground would be too open for them to slither about.”

Alun gives an exaggerated shudder.

“Is it a phobia of yours Alun?”

“Not really, only I wouldn’t want to stand on one.”

“I remember when I was a kid -.”

Alun cuts Taylor short, “I suppose you are going to bother me with some snake story.”

“I was going to say there were plenty and you needed to be careful.”

What Taylor was about to share being a time when his horse shied toppling him over her neck to the ground to land almost on top of a big brown bugger. The horse bolted one way, Taylor the other, while the snake found a third option and was quickly gone.

Slowly they walked along the rows reading out the dedications and commenting on the youthful age of most and the number of infants who hadn’t even managed their first anniversary.

“Look at the name on this one,” Alun pauses and points to the fading inscription on a broken headstone. He reads aloud the name, “Harold L. McGregor.”

“It could be the resting place for Logan,” Taylor suggests.

Alun laughs.

“What?”

“Logan and Chance are fictitious. Besides if you recollect how the story ends, they returned to New South Wales, therefore if they existed they would be buried up that way.” says Alun

“To us and for the benefit of filming they are real.”

“True I guess although in an abstract sort of way.”

“I had a thought,” Taylor proclaims.

“Go on.”

“It’s about Logan and Chance being gay.”

“The script only hints at them being gay,” Alun says.

“That is true, although it would be more than obvious to anyone. What I was thinking, in their time it was a punishable crime; therefore how would a couple of men live together as sexual partners without raising suspicion?”

“A good question, from what I have read back in those days there was a higher percentage of men than women on the goldfields, so I would think many men hit the track and travelled together for companionship also protection, so it wouldn’t be considered abnormal. I also read it wasn’t uncommon to book a hotel room and have to share a room and the bed with a stranger.”

Taylor moves a weed aside to better observe the name on a fallen and broken stone. “Like us nothing lasts forever,” he refers to the damaged stone and the young man buried beneath, “Thomas Henry age nineteen. He didn’t even reach his majority.”

“I can’t really connect with those buried here in relation to the film,” Alun admits.

“Can you relate to Logan?”

“That is a fair question. I’m sure once the camera starts rolling everything will be fine.”

“Are you having second thoughts Alun?”

“What gives you that idea?”

“Attitude I suppose as you don’t appear positive.”

“I wouldn’t say second thoughts, yet I do concern how I will approach some of the more intimate scenes between Logan and Chance.”

“Would you rather have someone else take on the role of Chance and not me?” Taylor asks.

“No. I don’t concern about the part in the main, mostly how my parents will react and dad’s reaction is a certainty.”

“You said your father is against your acting.”

“He is simply against having kids and has often mentioned we are a drain on the pocket and restrictive to his lifestyle.”

Taylor appears shocked, “he actually used those words?”

“Not exactly but his meaning was more than obvious.”

“Then why have kids?”

“In his words all three of us were accidents and he said I was the result of a power strike while they were holidaying at Surfers Paradise.

“What about your brother?”

“He blamed Peter on a night on the whisky bottle and Dianne to a broken condom.”

“What about your mother?”

“I suppose she loves us but mum has the tendency to go along with dad to keep the peace.”

“Anyway regardless of what your father may think, in my opinion you will act professionally,” Taylor suggests.

“I do hope so. What about you Taylor, have you any misgivings?”

“No – it is only acting and I’m looking forward to the real work, the part being gay doesn’t concern me.”

“I only hope I don’t freeze.” Alun then diverts, “what do you think of Wayne?”

“Why do you ask about Wayne?”

“I was thinking how Wayne is so open with his sexuality and although these days’ gay people are considered to be equal they really aren’t.”

“How do you mean?”

“They aren’t truly equal. Think about it, yes maybe to an extent in the city but not up here in the country. A straight man can find sex or a partner almost anywhere and is accepted without hesitation but a gay man has to hide his sexuality. He may fancy some young fellow but can’t declare his fancy without ridicule, or worse. A straight man can let his intentions towards a girl be known but if a gay man tried to do likewise towards another bloke, you can guess the result.”

“There is some truth in what you say.”

They move along the line of graves while returning to their vehicle but obviously Alun isn’t finished with his analogy.

“Therefore even today a gay man is as much in a prison cell as his equivalent would have been back in the eighteen-fifties.”

“You say prison cell?”

“Yes a prison of sorts, although not one with bars and restricting walls but one of the mind and he would be trapped within his sexuality without being capable of free expression.”

“Is there any point coming from your thinking?”

“Only from what I understand from the script, being Logan and Chance don’t appear to suffer prejudice.”

“True, although it is only a story.”

“Don’t you think there should be at least a touch of animosity towards their association?”

“You could ask Simon and see what he thinks but I wouldn’t suggest any rewriting of the story, you know how directors react to actors interfering with the script.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I haven’t seen this side of you before,”

Alun laughs, “nor would you have done so before accepting the role of Logan McGregor, his spirit must be taking over.”

“Is that bad?”

“I wasn’t serious Taylor,” Alun dismisses but in truth he was beginning to find his opinion on many aspects to be changing.

“Look over there?” Taylor points beyond a weathered slip-rail fence and a number of rows of wooden markers, “I would say it is the Chinese cemetery and there is a stack of them. I never realized there were so many Chinese on the gold fields in those days.”

“From what I’ve heard there were thousands and they were given a hard time by our lot.”

Taylor climbs through the fence to stand before the first line of wooden markers, believing by the crispness of the characters their descendants still gave homage to the ancestors. Taylor passes beyond the first row to right a fallen marker. It refuses the upright, so he allows it to remain where it lay.

“There are a number of Chinese in our story” Alun recollects.

“Mostly in the scenes on the goldfields and when the gold ran out they moved to other fields.”

“Or they opened a Chinese restaurant.”

“Or were sent home when the colonies federated,” Taylor turns back towards the road with Alun following.

“Retribution,” Alun says as they approach their vehicle.

“What is?”

“The way China is treating us these days is probably retribution for how we treated them back then.”

“The Chinese do have a streak of revenge in them. I recollect a story a friend of my mother tells of her grandparents.”

“I’m listening.”

“During the communist takeover her English grandfather had property in China but was smart enough to realise the communists were winning and befriended them. Some years later they decided to come to Australia and the Chinese authorities allowed them to ship much of their possessions but with a proviso.”

“What was the proviso?”

“I am getting to that. They could take the table but not the chairs, cups without saucers, the suit jacket without the suit pants and nothing made from gold or silver.”

“Why would they do that?”

“I would think to show who is in charge or to humiliate.”

“Enough of dead men’s graves, or we will be late for our riding lesson,” Alun encourages as they reach the car.

The short drive from the cemetery back to the property was in almost silence then within sight of the gate Taylor has a question, “you appear troubled by something.”

“Not troubled, possible I’m coming to some understanding of how Logan and Chance felt for each other and I hope that helps when I need to be Logan, also during our next break I have to visit home.”

“You say that as if it is something to avoid.”

“It is.”

“What of your father Alun, as I said you always avoid any positive conversation about him.”

“In a word, he hates poofters, or any boy who can’t show raw masculinity.”

“Was he violent towards you?”

“Not with his fists only words, although since leaving home he has toned it down somewhat, now I mostly get silent glares of disappointment.”

“I never had a dad,” Taylor admits.

“Everyone has a dad,” Alun discredits.

“I meant I never had a real family. My mother had partners after dad cleared out but they were often abusive and she soon moved on.”

“What about when you lived in Queensland.”

“Mostly it was mum and me, although I envy you for having an extended family, even if your old man isn’t supportive.”

“It wasn’t all that bad but dad can be somewhat a chameleon, making it clear from an early age the house belonged to him and we were simply passing through.”

“You said you have a brother living at home.”

“Yes Peter and dad would love to move him on but Peter has difficulty holding down a job, I also have a married sister with two boys. Dad does get along with Dianne’s husband Michael, as they are quite similar. Do you have brothers or sisters?”

“I believe I have a sister. More correct she would be a half sister as my father was divorced before he met my mother.”

“He must have married his first when he was very young.”

“I use the word loosely, from what I understand they shacked up when he was seventeen and then he deserted the girl when she became pregnant and took up with mum.”

“Not that it matters these days but did he marry your mother?”

“Mum kept the wedding certificate and I saw it while snooping when I was a kid.”

“Have you ever heard from your father?” Alun asks.

“No, mum would never speak of him and it wasn’t until I was eighteen that I learned who my real father was. When I suggested I could look for him, mum said she believed he died in some accident.”

“What has turning eighteen got to do with anything?”

“I suppose mum thought eighteen was adult enough to make my own decisions. She gave me two photographs of dad and a little information that in the most wasn’t helpful except to confuse me even further.”

“So you never thought of discovering more about him for yourself?”

“I did consider doing so but I guess it is better left in the past.”

The conversation dies as they reach the property, “I’ll get the gate,” Alun offers and is out of the vehicle within an instant.

“Father,” Taylor thinks as Alun goes for the gate. He recalls an incident long past but not forgotten, “Taffy Jones,” is the name is attached to the thought. “I had a family once, or at least believed it to be so.”

It had been Taylor’s first school with a real teacher and not his mother using work sent by mail via some correspondence organization. Taylor releases an embarrassing tut as in those early days he believed Taffy to be his father.

In retrospect Taylor should have known better as their family names differed but as Taffy was the first man who appeared as a family unit, the boy could be forgiven for believing Taffy was his father. ‘I remember that night as if it was yesterday,’ he thinks while transported back through the years.

It was the night the children from the small town were surprised with a fancy dress party; that is if a town of no more than two or three hundred, mainly trucking and railway workers, could produce enough children to form a party. The school had one teacher who taught six grades in a single room; a desk row for each grade. Taylor had been in his second year and there were three in his grade, with a single pupil in grade six. A song comes to mind, it is an American Confederate battle song and in retrospect he couldn’t understand how an American civil war song could or would relate to a small outback Queensland town but the lyrics had John Brown dead in his grave and John Brown was the name of the lad in the sixth grade. Taylor gives a smile as their teacher never did understand the reason or association for his tears over that long ago passing.

The fancy dress party had been held at the hotel situated beside Taylor’s home in the town’s main street, being part of the east west highway from Townsville to Mount Isa. Taylor had been dressed as a pirate wearing an eye patch a knotted handkerchief as a hat and totting Taffy Jones’ small tomahawk axe as a weapon. The party was short lived and mostly enjoyed by the adults in the bar, while the children ran amuck in the hotel’s dining room. As the party concluded every child was given first prize for their costume, being no more than a few kind words and a head pat.

Returning home through the rear of their house yard, Taylor tripped over a length of barbed wire fencing, cutting the bridge of his foot and as he did he remembered he had forgotten Taffy’s tomahawk. His mother quickly retraced the short distance to collect the axe but alas the tomahawk had already been souvenired.

Once home Jane had Taylor stand on the kitchen table, his foot submerged in a dish of dettol infused water. She assured death wasn’t immanent, although he would be left with a pretty little scar to remind him of the incident.

As Jane finished with the bathing and covered the wound with a small plaster, Taffy was heard returning along the passage and by his tone somewhat heated from a skin-full of booze and hearing about the loss of the axe from his drinking mates. Jane attempted to pacify Taffy but made the mistake of saying, it was only a small axe so why carry on. Taffy then lost his control giving Jane a number of slaps about the head. It was at that point Taylor became animated shrieking hysterically, don’t you hit my mother and as he was standing on the table being at Taffy’s head height, he commenced to pummel at Taffy’s head with his little fists while repeating, don’t you hit my mother.

Taylor’s recall ended with a smile as he and Jane departed the following day and a new adventure was to commence but for now those memories were interrupted with a shout from Alun.

“Come on cut the dreaming!” Alun calls while holding the gate open as he waves Taylor through. Alun closes the gate and climbs back into the cabin, “I thought you had fallen asleep or something.”

Taylor ignores the remark and drives on.

As the boys park they spy Stu’ at the horse yard, appearing none the worse for his previous tumble, although he is wearing a plaster on his forehead covering a small wound delivered by the offending tree branch. He impatiently beckons them to approach with haste.

“I thought Terry is taking the lessons?” Alun asks.

“No, it will be me from here on. You took your time. Simon said you would be back an hour ago.

“We stopped to have a look around the graveyard back towards town.”

“If you don’t take notice of what I say you may end up there.”

“How’s the head Stu’?” Taylor asks giving a cheeky grin and a nod towards the plaster covering.

Stu’ unconsciously touched his forehead then pulls his hat further down. “It will mend.”

“I thought real horsemen didn’t fall off,” Taylor mockingly suggests, then immediately regrets as Stu’ wasn’t one for banter, especially when it was at his expense.

Are you ready for some riding?”

“In body Stu’ but I’m not sure about in head,” Alun admits.

“You’ll be okay lad but I’m not so sure about you’re cheeky mate, I’ll have to find him a mount with some real spirit.”

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

16,534 views