A sequel to ‘At the Turning’

Published: 22 Nov 2018

With Tim once again travelling it was time for Wayne to face the music and Louise’s expectancy. He had arranged to meet Louise some time previously but with the arrival of the horses, then Tim he had cancelled for a second time and rescheduled for that night. Now with the morning and breakfast he was running cold, regretting his decision to meet at all, believing he should keep a low profile on the farm with the mobile telephone permanently in the switched off mode.

Ralph being the holder of correctness, compelled Wayne to go through with the meeting, besides doing so would put an end to the saga. If it were to be Wayne’s child then it would be correct to acknowledge and show responsibility, if not his, it would be a good way of cutting the cotton thread that still held them once and for all.

Wayne’s initial intention was to disregard the situation entirely and place the matter aside in the same waste receptacle that held his relationship but Ralph explained it was the coward’s way out and not true to Wayne’s character. Again Ralph was correct and Wayne eventually admitted so.

During his original conversation with Louise, it had been arranged to meet at the unit but Wayne second thought the decision, believing it should be at a restaurant, as Louise had tendency to hurl objects at people and possibly being in public she would be less likely to do so.

“How will you handle it?” Ralph quietly asked as he poured the breakfast coffee while Wayne sat nursing his mug, his gaze beyond the window glass, lost somewhere in forest on the sacred one hundred, his thoughts aimlessly wandering from one concept to another, from decision to indecision.

“Don’t rightly know, I guess I’ll listen, show sympathy and do nothing.” Wayne sighed and sunk deeply into the brew.

“Do you think it could be yours?”

“No it can’t be mine as the dates are all wrong.” Yet Wayne wasn’t convinced, what if his memory was faulted. True he had not recognised Louise’s condition during their last encounter but why would he and if noticed would he have but suggested her condition to be good living and little more than excess weight. Now no amount of contemplation could bring him to conclusion and his judgement turned in circles.

“What about her parents are they likely to take the matter further?” Ralph asked.

“I suppose there is always paternity testing but I’m sure it wouldn’t go that far, I don’t think Jack would want me around, even if it were to be mine.” Wayne glanced to the kitchen wall clock, “I should make a move.”

“Would you like me to come with you?” Ralph offered.

“I wouldn’t be company. I’ll stay at the unit tonight and ring you in the morning.”

“I know you when you have a problem Wayne, don’t overdo the booze and don’t drink and drive.” Ralph warned.

“Don’t worry Ralph, I’m alright, truly.”

“And telephone tonight after your meeting, doesn’t matter what time.”

Wayne arrived at his Cairn’s apartment during the afternoon and entering stood mid room without purpose. All appeared to be alien to his life, it was his past and not his future and gave him little comfort.

“I’ll take a shower,” he said in a low and disassociated tone, ‘I’m hot and sweaty – that’s it,’ he thought.

“What’s the time?” He loudly questioned, realising he still had a number of hours to kill before his arranged meeting at the House on the Hill restaurant with Louise.

“Four hours,” he commanded of the empty room and commenced to run through his prologue with Louise.

“Shut up man you know you can’t predict what she will say, she’s a loose cannon at the best of time and with this expected kid blowing smoke up her arse, who knows how she will react.”

Under the shower Wayne thought of Ralph and smiled. ‘He’s a good kid, possibly Lachlan is right,’ the sign of modification, ‘well strongly like but I don’t know about sex, he released a shudder, ‘sex, what was actually performed?’ He attempted to visualise sex with Ralph, he could understand cuddle, even mutual masturbation but penetration of the anal kind, he wasn’t even sure if it were possible.

A deeper thought, ‘it must be, as Louise’s friend Stella liked it that way.’ Wayne gave a cheeky grin as the water soothed away his reservations.

‘How did she explain it?”

‘Ah yes, through the back door.’

‘Yes as it was a tighter fit for Peter’s small apparatus,’ now Wayne felt superior towards both Stella and Peter Turner.

‘I wonder what it feels like.’

A shudder, ‘don’t even think of it.’

Before Wayne could continue with that thought the telephone rang. Dripping water across the carpet he answered.

“Hello,”

“Oh it’s you Ralph.”

“No everything is alright; I’m standing dripping all over the floor from the shower.”

“No worries I’ll telephone tomorrow.”

“Alright late tonight but I can’t say what time.”

“No truly I’m alright,”

“No I haven’t had a drink – yet.”

“I won’t overdo it, I promise.”

Wayne returned the receiver to its cradle.

“That was nice of him,” He admitted freely, “a little anal but nice.” And the expression brought him back to his thought on through the back door but it wasn’t the time of place to contemplate such a transaction.

Wayne found a note from the cleaning lady on the kitchen bench asking if he wished to continue cleaning seeing he hadn’t been at the unit for what appeared to be an age. Finding a pen he answered to the bottom of the note, that even with his absence dust from the busy street soon built up and to continue. There was also a small pile of mail neatly stacked close by, mostly fliers and reports on his share portfolio. There was also an overdue electricity account for the unit. He would pay that by telephone and thought he should place a redirection order with the Post Office, seeing he was living down the coast for an extended period. ‘Extended?’ he thought, ‘how long is an extension? I guess as long as it takes and Ralph can put up with me.’ Again the telephone rang.

“Hello!” this time he was more abrupt.

“Louise,”

“How did you know I was here?” Wayne asked.

“I rang the farm and your mate,” she emphasised mate, “said you had already left.”

“I told you I would be at the restaurant tonight.” Wayne snapped.

“Knowing what you are like, I thought you would chicken out.” Louise spoke curtly.

“I’ll be there alright.” Wayne terminated the call and took on a deep sigh.

“Bitch!” He cruelly laughed, “I’m never called her a bitch before, well not often anyway.” He admitted and repeated the insult.

“What’s the time?”

“Three hours, what should I do?” Wayne commenced to read his correspondence but soon lost interest. He collected his wallet and left the unit.

Some distance along the esplanade was his favourite café the Mud Skipper. Settling into his usual corner his back to the kitchen and the view of Trinity Bay stretching from left vista to right he relaxed into the afternoon. For a moment he forgot about Louise, the meeting and how he would frame his innocence.

“Wayne Jenkins.” The voice brought him back from his mental void.

“Kevin,”

“Haven’t seen you in yonks.”

Kevin Fleming was a casual associate of his and Louise but one Wayne could trust with most things. It had been alleged he had once tried it on with Louise in their early relationship but that was according to Louise and she had tendency to believe all males of the human species were endeavouring to score on her dance card.

“I’ve been staying down the coast.” Wayne freely admitted.

“I’m sorry to hear about you and Louise.” There was genuine sympathy in Fleming’s reveal.

“I suppose it had been coming for quite some time.” Wayne admitted.

“Now that you’re no longer seeing her, I guess I can say.”

“What would that be Kevin?”

“She was always playing the field behind your back,” Fleming paused, “not with me but with others,” he carefully assured while probing for Wayne’s reaction.

“I don’t think I wanted to know that.” Wayne drew a measure of anger but held it down; “who with?” he coldly asked.

“I shouldn’t reveal but there were others, although I believe she was only having them on, like fly fishing seeing who took the bait.”

“Did you know she is pregnant?” Wayne asked.

“No I didn’t, I haven’t seen her in quite a while, is it yours?”

“That is what I’m about to discover but I very much doubt it, for now enough about Louise, how have you been travelling?”

With Fleming gone Wayne returned to his now tepid coffee. Taking a sip he decided he had enough and pushed it aside.

“Would you like a top-up Mister Jenkins?” The Barista asked.

“No thank you Graham, I think I’ve had enough.”

“I haven’t seen you around for some time,” he spoke over the hiss of a coffee pour.

“No I’ve been away down the coast, only up for the afternoon.” Wayne sighed and paid for his coffee, “thank you and up to your usual immaculate standard but I should be going.”

Still two hours until his meeting with Louise so he walked the Esplanade from one end to the other, reaching the wharf as a navy patrol boat came to dock, holding his interest for a period before retracing his way back along the Esplanade.

Back past the Mud Skipper Wayne still had half an hour, so instead of treading time he drove to the restaurant and parked well away, lest Louise decided to key the other door of his car. Slowly he approached the restaurant only to be accosted by a young woman with a bucket of attitude as she left an upmarket frock shop close by.

“You’re brave coming around these parts Wayne,” she remarked acerbically.

“Brenda, why would that be?” Wayne held his tone.

“Louise is gunning for you and has both barrels loaded.”

“I’m about to meet her.”

“Huh,” Brenda growled and continued on her way, meeting with some older man at the street corner, who to Wayne’s recollection wasn’t her partner.

“And a good morning to you Brenda, and don’t forget that loan I didn’t have to help your Donnie with and he still hasn’t repaid it.” Wayne mumbled, noticing the man she was meeting and pecking on the cheek wasn’t Donnie, ‘New partner eh, I guess that is one loan that will not be honoured,’ he soon recognised.

The loan was a substantial undertaking at the insistence of Louise, to cover some gambling debt that the toe-cutters were demanding, while threatening to confiscate Don’s Alpha Romeo sports if not repaid on that very day. “Brenda is your friend, why can’t you help?” Wayne had protested at the time but as usual, for Louise to do so she would have to approach her father and everyone knew his opinion on charity. “It’s only a loan; Brenda said Donnie is good for it and will get it from his parents when they return from Europe.” Louise promised knowing well when it came to money Don Lennox was a bottomless pit. Yet Wayne agreed while knowing it would be the last he would see of the five thousand dollars plus.

Wayne equalled Brenda’s huh and stepped into the restaurant.

“Mister Jenkins, you are early I haven’t prepared your usual table yet.”

“Jeremiah, no worries any table will do but a dark corner away from everyone would be preferred.”

“Will you be eating alone?” The waiter showed Wayne to a small table to the rear of the restaurant.

“No I am expecting Louise to join me. How is your Rodney?”

“Don’t ask.” Jeremiah’s eyes rose as his hands flapped.

“Don’t tell me it’s over.”

“Heavens no Mister Jenkins but he is so demanding, can’t get enough.”

“I won’t ask enough of what Jeremiah. Bring me a half bottle of the usual and for now one glass.”

From where Wayne waited in his dim corner he could see the passing traffic and as he took his first sip of wine his face went cold and the blood drained clear away.

“Shit no,” he growled spying Jack and Fay Miller approaching the door. He quickly settled as they continued on their way, most probably to the Brother’s League club some distance further along the street. It was game night and was Jack’s routine to visit the Brother’s Club when the Cowboy’s were playing.

Passing Wayne’s table with a plate of crab and garnishing, Jeremiah paused and whispered close to Wayne’s ear, “Louise has been in with Eddie Roberts on a number of occasions.” He continued on with his order, pausing once more on his return to the kitchen.

Wayne gently gripped the waiter’s arm as he passed, “Who is Eddie Roberts?”

“I only know him in passing; I believe he is one of the Port Douglas crowd.”

“I don’t know him.” Wayne admitted believing he knew most of her fancy friends.

“They were both in with Peter and Stella Turner only last week.” As Jeremiah spoke Louise arrived. Casting her eyes towards their usual table she scowled finding it still occupied but soon settled as Jeremiah approached and guided her to Wayne’s table.

“Why are you sitting here in the dark?” She asked and accepted her seat from the waiter.

“I was early and our table was occupied.” Wayne explained as he examined Louise’s belly, yes she was most definitely expecting but not advanced enough to be Wayne’s responsibility.

“I guess this will do.” Louise sat and immediately commenced to ponder over the contents of her handbag.

“Why do women do that?” Wayne appeared irritated.

“Do what Wayne?”

“No sooner do you sit at a table before you find it necessary to paw through your hand bag.”

“Unlike men, women have needs.”

“I’ve ordered the crab.” Wayne changed from aggravation to mild indifference as Jeremiah brought an extra glass and offered to pour the wine, “that will be all thank you Jeremiah” Wayne softly negated the offer.

“I guess crab will do but I’m not actually hungry.” Louise poured herself a glass of wine. Sampling it she pulled a face, “what is this crap?”

“It is you’re usual.”

“It must be off.” Yet she still emptied her glass and poured a second as the mud crab arrived.

The minute hand unwound.

Louise picked at her meal in silence. Eventually she spoke.

“Dad still hasn’t forgiven you for not selling the farm to Verrocchi.”

“The man’s dead does it matter anymore?” Wayne complained.

“It doesn’t to me but you know Jack he must have his way. I need a smoke.”

“You can’t smoke in here.” Wayne advised the obvious.

“I know that.”

“What about this pregnancy?” Wayne coyly asked.

“It’s a boy, I’ve had an ultrasound.”

“That is typically you.” Wayne shook his head in dismay.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You couldn’t wait for the birth and be surprised.”

“How can you tell people what to buy if you don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“How far advanced are you?”

“Almost four months, what are you going to do about it?” Louise unashamedly demanded.

“Not a lot,” Wayne softly answered.

“I think you should show some responsibility.” Louise’s blood was rising.

“What marry you?” Wayne laughed.

“No but at least help to look after it.”

“Why should I it isn’t mine.” Wayne was feeling most confident.

“What makes you think that,” Louise snapped and lit a cigarette. Almost immediately she inhaled and stubbed it out on the side of her plate, exhaling a lung full of smoke in Wayne’s direction. He gave a light cough but didn’t complain.

“If you are four months gone, we haven’t had sex for past six months now, so it can’t be mine, you were never very good at mathematics and who is this Eddie Roberts?”

“He is a friend of Peter and Stella.” Louise answered showing a measure of surprise Wayne would know his name.

“So is it this Roberts fellow’s kid?” Wayne was growing confident.

“No it isn’t, anyway what are you doing down the coast and who is this bloke at the farm?” Louise was avoiding conversation on her friend Eddie Roberts.

“He is just a bloke who bought the farm.”

“Peter agrees the kid couldn’t be yours, he reckons you are probably gay.”

“He does, does he? I guess he and Stella are off my Christmas card list.”

“Well are you gay?” Louise’s voice rose and as was her intention, loud enough for most in the restraint to hear, even Jeremiah’s head turned towards her accusation. She smugly awaited his reply knowing any attack on Wayne’s frail masculinity usually worked.

“I guess gay enough to root you.” Wayne coldly answered in an equally pitched tone.

“Fuck you.” Louise growled while again digging about in her bag. She produced something at threw it into Wayne’s half finished meal. It was her engagement ring, “you can shove that as well.

Wayne removed the ring from the crab shell and cleaned it on a napkin. He offered the ring back. “In a situation such as this, it is traditional for the bride to be to keep the ring.”

“Shove it Wayne!” Louise collected her belongings and left.

“I’ll be sending you the quote to have the scratch removed from my car.” He called after Louise as Jeremiah arrived at his table, “the bill please Jeremiah,” Wayne was physically shaking. He paid the bill and stood from the table.

“My apologies for causing a scene in your restaurant,” Wayne sighed and held out his hand in motion to pass something to the waiter.

“What is it Mister Jenkins?” The water asked.

“It’s Louise’s engagement ring she threw it at me. You take it to the pawn shop and cash it in.”

“I couldn’t do that.” Jeremiah gasped.

“You can, it’s worth a good four thousand so don’t let them cheat you, if you don’t take it, I’ll bin it on the way out.”

“But…”

“No but; just cash it in and treat yourself to something nice.” Wayne closed Jeremiah’s fingers over the ring and departed.

Late evening and Wayne’s esplanade apartment was even less appealing than it had been that afternoon. Once it was his world, a marvel of electronic gadgetry, now only sterile rooms leading into more sterile rooms he no longer wished to be part of.

“Fuck you Louise!” The shout into the void didn’t help only made him more depressed as he slumped into the comfort of his couch.

The meeting with Louise had left him empty. If their relationship wasn’t final before the night, it was most certainly over now, also the association with many of their mutual friends but there was Ralph and at that moment he was the only constant in Wayne’s life and he had promised to telephone.

It was much too late in the night to drive back to Federation Bay, besides he had need to attend to some business the following morning so he would return to the farm during the afternoon. It was even later when Wayne eventually made his call to Ralph and after a number of drinks added to what he had at the restaurant he was well past driving. He made the call.

“How did it all go?” Ralph immediately asked.

“Not so good, it ended in an argument.”

“You expected that.”

“I did but I don’t like arguing.”

“Is the baby yours?” Ralph finally asked.

“No, the time is all wrong and she has been seeing someone else.”

“So you’re pleased?”

Wayne became silent.

“Are you still there?” Ralph quietly asked.

“Yea, oddly part of me was hoping it was mine; I think I liked the idea of being a father.” Wayne became despondent; he released a sigh and withdrew from the thought. “Then again I’d have to contend with the mother for the rest of my days. I don’t think I would survive that.” Another pause as that statement also drifted from his thoughts, “how about you Ralph, is everything alright there?”

“Sure I took Patchy for a ride up to the native camp this afternoon, she went well. I think she will be quiet enough for you now.”

“Great, I’ll stay in town tonight and have some business to attend to in the morning, so I’ll see you sometime tomorrow afternoon.”

“Sure have a good night.”

“Ralph?” Wayne stalled.

“What Wayne?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll see you tomorrow so good night.” The call ended with time to reflect.

Outside the Esplanade travelled as if in slow silent motion. Tourists going about their hunt for Mister Good bar without result, looking for that hype of excitement to allocate bragging rights to friends back home. Wayne stood at the sliding balcony door watching the procession. “Tourists, huh,” he grunted and opened the door to receive the full blast of the tropical night. His movement on the balcony brought passing heads to momentary turn, ‘it’s like living in a fishbowl,’ he thought.

A neighbour was seated on the adjacent balcony, “g’day,” Wayne greeted, it was a rental unit, the type that rented by the day, week, month and the current visitor wasn’t interested in friendly conversation. The visitor’s eyes lifted from his reading and forced a smile, “Good evening,” he acknowledged expressionlessly but no more. Wayne returned to his air-conditioning.

Wayne reached for the drinks cabinet but went no further as he had already overindulged and was feeling the effects. He settled and stared through the wall of glass past the balcony to the south channel light. It flashed on and off like his thoughts.

‘I would like to father a little nipper.’ He smiled.

‘I’d call him Lachlan.’ He agreed with the thought.

‘Possibly Ralph – Ralph Lachlan.’

‘Doesn’t sit right – Lachlan Ralph.’

‘Yea but knowing Louise it would be Patrick or Jason, Simon.”

‘I could become a single father as I’m sure Louise wouldn’t wish to keep him.’

‘It could be a girl – no matter the scenario would be the same.’

The thought became depressing, not from fathering a kid but not doing so. Possibly he would never become a father. The end of the line, a dead end a full stop. Placed on earth to procreate and pass on his genes only to become an unremembered dot in the scheme of thing. A sigh, ‘I guess it doesn’t matter, there are millions of full stops, so I wouldn’t be alone.’

‘Bed, this punctuation mark is going to bed.’ Wayne made fun of his prognosis before concluding it lacked any level of humour.

Morning came delivering Wayne a king size hangover and regret, seeing he had promised himself and Ralph not to over indulge. After a long shower and three cups of strong black coffee he pealed back the heavy curtains of the living room to bright sunlight, “shit!” he exclaimed loudly and as quickly drew them back. “How much did I drink last night?” Across on the coffee table was an empty rum bottle, “huh,” he quickly binned the bottle as if by hiding the evidence would take away the guilt – ‘and the wine at the restaurant,’ he mentally added to that telly.

By late morning Wayne was feeling almost presentable, or at least enough together to make his telephone call.

“Good morning, Travis, Davis and Coen,” came the singsong voice of Stanley Travis’ secretary.

“Good morning Kathy, it’s Wayne Jenkins, is there any chance of quickly seeing Mister Travis this morning?” Wayne enquired, the words bounced about inside his head and stabbed at the back of his eyes. He closed them against the light.

“Yes I remember you,” a pause, “not this morning Mister Jenkins but I could squeeze you in at one thirty this afternoon but it would need to be quick, as Mister Travis has another meeting at four.”

“That would be fine as my business should only take a few minutes.”

Wayne completed the call, ‘that should give me time to feel somewhere towards respectable,’ he attempted to convince himself but even after a fourth coffee still wasn’t ready to face the day.

The office of Travis, Davis and Coen appeared even less inviting that Wayne’s last visit but the warmth and attitude of Kathy was enough to paper over the cracks of neglect. He entered.

“Good afternoon Mister Jenkins.” Kathy greeted and stood from her desk, offering him her dove like hand.

“Good afternoon Kathy,”

“It’s a hot day.” She made small talk while showing Wayne towards Travis’ office door.

“It’s Cairns, it’s always hot.”

“True, Mister Travis is expecting you, please go right in.”

“Thank you.”

As if he was a permanent fixture, Stanley Travis remained behind his oversized desk with its chaotic clutter of files and documents and there as before was the ashtray of the naked woman with the wide legs, smiling up at the fat belly of the solicitor.

Travis half stood and offered his hand. “I hope you aren’t having regrets about the farm young man; that I must say was the most bizarre contract I had encountered.”

“None at all.”

“What about that unit of yours on the Esplanade?” If nothing else Travis was consistent.

“That is what I wish to see you about. I wish to put it on the market.”

“You do?” Travis appeared surprised, more so with Wayne’s contacts why he would come to him to handle the sale and not one of the upmarket Estate Agents, even if he had so often attempted to obtain the unit for his books.

“Yes I thought it time to move on.” Wayne admitted.

“You do realise there is a bit of a downturn at the moment and my client who showed interest has found something else, also there are a number of properties similar to yours on the market?” Travis suggested; “even one in your apartment block.”

“Yes number seven but it has only one bedroom, mine has three. There isn’t any hurry.”

“I am curious why you have offered me the conveyance.” Travis asked.

“Do you know Jack Miller?”

“I do know the Miller family and you are engaged to Jack’s daughter.” Travis admitted.

“Was Mister Travis – was. If you handle the conveyance I don’t want anything to get back to Jack or any of his family, I ask you because most of the agents in town are in his pocket.” Wayne demanded.

“I don’t know the man that well.” Travis assured.

“Good, so you will take on the conveyancing?”

“I would be more than pleased to do so young man.”

It was almost midnight before Wayne arrived back at the farm to find Ralph waiting and somewhat relieved to hear the vehicle along the gravel path. He met Wayne at the door.

“I thought you would be in bed.” Wayne assumed as he entered.

“No I was a little concerned for you.”

“Why would that be?”

“You sounded somewhat upset last night and as if you were drinking. I didn’t want you to drive like that.”

“That’s nice, not even Louise would show that measure of concern.” Wayne made light of his friend’s anxiety.

“So it’s all finished with?” Ralph asked.

“What the engagement or being considered to be the father?”

“Only your distress Wayne, the other isn’t any of my business. Have you eaten?”

“I had a hamburger on the road.”

“I could warm up some leftovers if you like, or make a sandwich.” Ralph offered.

“Ralph all I want at the moment is a little peace and quiet; I think I’ve had enough of talking for a while.” The words slipped from his lips before he could vet them and almost immediately he reneged, “sorry mate, I guess I’m a little over tied, we’ll talk in the morning.”

“Sure,”

“Oh by the way I’ve put my flat on the market.”

“I could ask why.”

“I guess it doesn’t mean anything to me now, it isn’t something I wish to explain at present but will sooner or later.” Wayne yawned and commenced towards his room.

“Goodnight Wayne,” Ralph spoke after him.

Wayne paused at his door, “that probably doesn’t make a lot of sense to you but it will in time,” the pause lengthened, “maybe – maybe not – see you in the morning.”

“Again goodnight Wayne.”

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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