A sequel to ‘At the Turning’

Published: 30 Aug 2018

The night creatures were out early and their singing was like a lullaby to the boys as they relaxed at the close of a long day’s lethargy. After two beers Ralph had had enough and yawning loudly decided to call it a day, “you know one thing.”

“What would that be Ralph?”

“Doing nothing makes you tired.”

“I wouldn’t say nothing as you did spend most of the morning in your patch.”

“I don’t count that as work.”

“Then what is it?”

“What’s your hobby Wayne?” Ralph asked, causing Wayne to dig deeply into his thoughts.

“A good question, it was rooting,” Wayne gave a cheeky grin.

“That’s not exactly what I was referring to.”

“I’ve never had one, as a kid I kept stamps for a while, then it was football cards which lead into coins but I was never very serious with any of it, I ended giving the lot to a young cousin.”

“I had a stamp collection, it was only small but Bob turfed it out.”

“There’s that Bob again, I’d like to take a swing at him.”

“Unfortunately Wayne I think you would come off second best.”

“Yet I would like to do so.”

“I think my hobby is growing things.” Again Ralph yawned; “well I guess I’ll be off.”

As he prepared to retired Ralph remembered, “I spoke to Bert Floss the greengrocer about purchasing some vegies.”

“Good what did he have to say?” Wayne asked as he once again opened Lachlan’s journal.

“Wasn’t interested, actually he was somewhat abrupt about it, his actual words were bugger off.”

“What will you do with your surplus?”

“I’ll give it to the old folk’s home over on Cable Street.”

“Good idea,”

“How is the journal going?” Ralph asked as an afterthought as he departed company.

Wayne returned to his reading, “Lachlan is just going to bid for the Henderson farm and in doing so will, in his words, alienate himself from his father as the old man wants the land.”

“Sounds like another Verrocchi eh?” Ralph perceived.

“Odd you should say that as the Verrocchi house is built on the exact site of the original McBride mansion and by accounts it was an equal monstrosity as is that of Verrocchi.”

“What happened to the McBride house?” Ralph asked.

“Dunno yet,”

“Tell me the rest tomorrow – goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Once alone Wayne read on – It appeared that Jock McBride had sent his eldest son to the auction with strict instructions not to pay more than a set price. Lachlan had outwitted his family by bidding by proxy, winning the day and the title was drawn up in both his and Stephen Henderson’s names, while being held in trust by the same friend who did his bidding until the following year, when both lads turned Twenty-one and their majority.

“What part are you up to?” The voice came from the shadows at the end of the verandah, turning Wayne’s head sharply in that direction.

“Lachlan you’ve returned, how did you get over there? I didn’t see you climb the stairs.”

“I always loved this verandah, Stephen and I would sit out here listening to the night creatures for most of the night.” Lachlan released a longing sighed.

“I’m dreaming aren’t I?” Wayne asked while marking his page and closing the journal.

“Only you would know that Wayne, where are you up to?”

Wayne thought he may as well go along with his dream and answer the question, as by doing so maybe some ideas may eventuate.

“You have purchased the farm.”

“Ah that was a most marvellous day and father never forgave me.”

“You bought it in two names why?”

“It was always Stephen’s farm; I didn’t have the right to it.” The image deduced.

“Then how did it end up back in the McBride family hands?”

“Simple there wasn’t any Henderson’s interested and your Great Aunt Grace took it over, but you have done the correct thing by young Ralph, I admire your gesture.”

“Why are you here?” Wayne asked.

“You want me here.” Lachlan softly answered.

“I am asleep aren’t I?” Wayne asked once more but his question was not answered. He reopened the book and read the next paragraph and was shocked.

“Yes Wayne that was the pride of Lachlan McBride, I loved Stephen with all my being and he me.” There was sadness within the effigy as Lachlan spoke.

“You were gay?” Wayne gasped.

“If you mean two men in love then yes, although we had to keep our secret as it was against the law but most of the town’s folk guessed so anyway.”

“It isn’t illegal now you can even marry, I’d say everyone has a gay friend in their teledex and most families have a gay skeleton or two in their closet.” Wayne laughed.

“What about yourself Wayne?” Lachlan asked.

“Na mate I’m what we call straight, I am to marry.” Wayne heard the words rumble inside his head, “well was to marry,” he corrected.

There was a clap of thunder directly overhead and Wayne jumped with a start, moments later rain came in sending him inside from the verandah. Once in the kitchen he placed the journal on the table and opened it to his marked page. There before him was the paragraph.

He read.

‘Today being some short time after the auction, I took Stephen over to the old Henderson farm, to which he was not amused, as he thought I was playing a cruel joke. Once there I withdrew the deed of sale from my shirt and handed it to him, saying it’s now yours again. I have my name on the title as well as yours but once we are twenty one, you can remove it. Stephen burst into tears and threw his arms around my neck and on doing so, I kissed him on the lips and as I did the words, I love you Stephen, escaped from my lips. Stephen declared that he always knew it and he had the same feelings for me.’

Wayne remarked the page and closed the book.

“Well I’ll be buggered they were a gay couple but were does Daniel and Toby fit into the equation, they must have known.” Yet there was a great sadness about Lachlan and Stephen’s love, maybe because they couldn’t display it publicly.

“Morning, Travis,” Stanley Travis barked into the receiver. His head still thumping from an overdose of alcohol he had consumed the previous night, while his stomach rebelled against the remedy of aspirin and alka-seltzer.

“Mister Travis its Wayne Jenkins,”

“Yes Mister Jenkins.” Travis roughly greeted his voice like acid over gravel.

“Do you still have the original deed to Henderson Farm?”

“It’s in the safe why?”

“Any chance you could post it down, I would like to give it to the new owner.” Wayne requested.

“I can do that, by the way have you thought any more on selling that unit of yours, my contact is still interested?”

“Not yet but you never know.” Wayne answered.

“Then come to me first, what is the address for the deed?”

“Henderson Farm Junction Western Highway and McBride Roads Federation Bay,” Wayne disclosed.

“Postcode,” Travis barked into the receiver.

“Not sure, same as Tully I should think, I’m nowhere near my laptop to Google it.”

“Alright young fellow, call in next time you are passing and we’ll discuss a price for that unit.” Travis hung up the receiver then paced the room to his office safe to retrieve the deed.

Wayne looked for Ralph but he wasn’t in the house. He eventually found him attending to his garden.

“Hey Ralph I have some more news from the Journal.” Wayne called from the back verandah before joining his friend at the patch, “what are you going to do with the excess, there’s more every time I come out.”

“Pickle it I suppose.”

“Pickle?”

“Yes you know in vinegar or something besides the old folks can use it.”

“With the size of your garden you will have to put in a bigger water tank, besides I don’t know why you don’t use the mains water.” Wayne suggested.

“I was thinking a small pump from the creek would do the trick. The tank and creek water are free and it makes growing stuff more appreciable. What did you learn from the journal?”

“You may not like it.” Wayne warned.

“Go ahead anyway.”

“My great uncle gave your great uncle the farm but both were on title – and.” Wayne paused.

“And what?”

“They were in a gay relationship.” Once spoken Wayne waited for his friend’s reaction yet all he received was Ralph’s usual unswayable nature.

“Does the journal actually say that or are you reading into it.” Ralph enquired softly.

“No its words out of Lachlan’s mouth himself.” At this point Wayne almost shared his dream, in which Lachlan had told him personally. Then it struck him how could he dream of something that had not yet happened as he had only read that paragraph after his encounter with Lachlan.

“So Lachlan told you.”

“No I assumed it to be so through the journal. I hope that doesn’t concern you.” Wayne added.

“No why should it, love is love no matter who it is with.” Ralph answered, “I hope it doesn’t worry you?” he included standing from his vegetables and stretching his back, while giving a broad friendly smile.

“No it doesn’t. Nice day for a drive, want a driving lesson?”

“Not today thank you and you only asked to be funny.”

“Nothing funny in learning to drive, what happens if I break a leg or something?”

“I guess I’ll have to dink you into town on the pushbike.”

“Yea smartarse I can really see that, now who’s trying to be funny.”

“If I tried I would be.” Ralph smirked

During the afternoon Wayne commenced to analyse his emotions and found his knowledge wanting. Firstly his love for Louise, which if he was perfectly honest was mostly to satisfy his sexual needs and companionship. If he took sex away from the equation, he realised there wasn’t any company. Then there was Ralph who was quickly filling the companionship gap. Wayne’s thoughts returned to the night in Yungaburra, when he believed or imagined that Stephen Henderson had taken advantage of him, which in retrospect he hadn’t protest against. He didn’t canvas the approach but neither did it revolt him.

Further on there was the night he shared a bed with Ralph, who had just heard that his mother had passed on and the feel of Ralph’s naked body against his own. Again this didn’t concern him greatly but still he wouldn’t accept any of it as proof of character, he remained heterosexual even to a fault.

It was tea time and Ralph had once again prepared a meal that many restaurants would be proud to place on their menu.

“That looks good maybe I should marry you.” Wayne declared without thinking.

“Maybe I would let you.” Ralph playfully answered removing all wit from Wayne’s response.

“Seriously Ralph, where did you learn to cook?”

“I worked in a restaurant for a few weeks until it was discovered I was under age and asked to leave and they kept my pay, said I was lucky they didn’t turn me into the cops.

“Weeks? It takes longer than weeks to learn to cook.”

“I’m a quick learner.”

“At the time where were you living?”

“In a park shelter and using the basin in the public toilet to wash. That’s how the boss discovered about me, after a couple of weeks he said he could smell me coming from the end of the street; he said I stunk like stale spaghetti sauce.”

“Why sack you for that?”

“During his questioning he realised my age but the bugger made me working right up to the following pay day before sacking me.”

“So you should be able to drive after a couple of lessons.” Wayne assumed.

“You are really persistent about this driving.” Ralph dryly answered.

That evening during a quiet drink on the front verandah Ralph asked if Wayne was going to read more of the journal, to which he said he wanted to try some different approaches first.

“What would they be?” Ralph asked while retrieving fresh drinks from the kitchen, “just one more,” he said somewhat apologetic.

“In town there is a Millie someone, who also knew Lachlan, I want to talk to her and maybe visit Molly McBride again, I’m interested in what the connection is with Daniel McBride and the fellow called Toby.”

“Oh I almost forgot.” Ralph declared springing to his feet and disappearing back into the house, only to return moments later carrying what appeared to be a photograph.

“You asked about old photographs and I found this in that chest of drawers in what was Grace’s room; it’s funny ‘tho.”

“What is?”

“Where I found it, I had only recently cleared everything out of the drawers.”

“One photo, it would be easy to overlook.” Wayne reasoned.

“Not this one, it lay as if placed there for me to find.

Ralph handed the photograph to Wayne who read the reverse before viewing the image.

‘Christmas day 1902,’ was roughly noted in pencil at one corner, Wayne turned the photograph and smiled.

“Who do you think they are?” Ralph asked inquisitively.

“Well I’ll be – that would have to be Lachlan McBride at the left end.” Wayne’s heart commenced to beat faster.

“How do you know that?” Ralph asked.

“I feel I have met him. – It is Lachlan alright and that would have to be his brother Daniel to the far right but doesn’t look a scrap like Lachlan and next to Lachlan with his arm around Lachlan’s shoulder would be Stephen Henderson; look he is the image of you.”

“Do you think so?”

“I do, take a look.”

Ralph checked the photo and pointed to the forth figure in the image. “That must be Toby.”

“Yes it must, I wonder what Toby has to do with them all.”

“They look like a happy lot.” Ralph admitted.

“They do and look you can see it is Christmas by the decorations and the silly hats they are wearing, and by the house in the background it was taken here in the garden.”

“Their vegie patch takes up almost all the yard.” Ralph noted.

“I should think you needed to grow most things yourself back then.”

“Kill your own chooks as well, that I’ve never had to do.” Ralph gave a light shudder.

“I remember when I was a kid chicken was a special occasion, like Christmas and birthdays.” Wayne reminisced.

“We had our own chooks and mum was invested with the axe,” Ralph added and laughed, “dad was too soft so mum became an expert at swinging the axe, I recollect on one occasion I was told to hold the chook by the legs as mum decapitated it with one strike, I let it go and the poor dead dumb bird bounced about squirting blood in every direction.”

“You actually helped in killing something?” Wayne was most impressed.

“Only the once but not by choice and that night I refused to eat any of it.”

“They look a fine lot.” Wayne cheerfully admitted returning to the large photo before them.

“I remember Christmas as a kid and my father would make such a fuss over it with decorations, huge amounts of food and presents,” Ralph recalled, “and one year my joy was a horse, she was tethered in the back yard with a large red bow around her neck, the poor girl really looked stressed from the trimmings.” Ralph’s eyes came to life with the memories and for an instant he had been transported back to those happy days.

“The Jenkins house was more sober.” Wayne admitted.

“What no presents?”

“Yes when my parents were alive but living with my uncle, or to be accurate uncles, before going to my grandmother’s, I received presents more out of necessity as the main attention understandably was always their kids.”

“Oh,”

“No really it didn’t concern me and I didn’t even realise until reflecting on the time in later years but I tell you what Ralph Matthews, if I am still here, no wherever we are come the next Christmas there will be a big celebration.” Wayne became most animated.

“A small celebration and I’ll hold you to that thought.” Ralph replied.

“But no silly hats;” Wayne exclaimed.

“Yes, there will have to be silly hats.” Ralph corrected as his gaze fell back onto the photograph and Toby, noting his stocky disposition and handsome face crowned by what appeared to be a thick mop of blond hair. “Was Toby the friend of your Uncle Daniel?” He questioned.

“Do you mean like Lachlan and Stephen?”

“I guess so.”

“That I don’t know, nothing is mentioned in the journal as yet but I must admit it does run the mind to wonder.”

It was three days before the Henderson farm deed arrived in the mail. Alison Peterson sounded her vehicle’s horn long before reaching the gate, not wanting to run into Ralph in all his naked glory again. Instead it was Wayne who eagerly collected the mail and quickly brought the official looking envelope to Ralph.

“I have something here that may interest you.” Wayne called from midway along the gravel path.

“What’s would that be?”

“You’ll see.” Wayne quickly tore the envelope open and withdrew the ancient document from inside. He read.

“Well there you go have a look at that.” Wayne handed the parchment to Ralph who commenced to read.

“What is it?”

“The original deed to the farm and have a look at the owners.

Ralph read.

Firstly it was a land grant to a William Tompkins in the year 1878, who sold it for ten pound to Tobias Joliffe and less than one year later it was sold again to the Henderson family then after the bank foreclosed on the mortgage it became the property of Lachlan McBride and Stephen Henderson. Two years later the deed had once again been altered and held other names, firstly Stephen Henderson then Lachlan McBride and Daniel McBride and finally Toby, just Toby with a much later alteration in red ink to Toby McBride and finally Grace McBride before in all pride to Ralph Matthews.

“My name is on it!” Ralph appeared quite surprised.

“Of course it is it’s your land.”

“Oh.”

“What do you think it means?” Wayne asked pointing at the four owners and the order they had been entered, “See there has also been an order change, from Lachlan first ahead of Stephen then to Stephen then Lachlan. It is as if Lachlan is trying to prove a point, that the farm was really Stephen’s” Wayne declared much convinced by his hypothesis.

“It does appear to be so but what does that prove?”

“It is my guess there is some kind of relationship going on here, we have a relationship between Lachlan and Stephen and possibly between Daniel and Toby and eventually Toby is considered as one of the family.” Wayne read the deed once more, folded it back into its envelope and handed it to Ralph, “it belongs to you, put it with the bill of sale I gave you.”

Ralph accepted the deed but shook his head.

“What’s wrong?” Wayne asked while giving Ralph a gentle shove.

“I’m not very good at accepting gifts, it embarrasses me.” Ralph lowered his eyes away from Wayne.

“Then it is about time you learnt – you are worth it.” Wayne jested.

“Does that make me Stephen and you Lachlan?” Ralph’s answer came more as a serious question than the humour he made off it but he wasn’t ready for the answer he received.

“What if it does?”

They both laughed and moved on from the subject of deeds and past relationships but it did leave behind two unanswered questions. For Ralph, was Wayne joking of meaningful in his agreement, while in Wayne the fear that he wasn’t who he thought he may have been, should have been for all his years.

Let Gary Know that you are reading and what you think of his story. Drop an email to him: Gary dot Conder at CastleRoland dot Net.

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