A sequel to ‘At the Turning’

Published: 29 Nov 2018

Ralph had cooked a hearty meal and had decided to have drinks on the front verandah in honour of Wayne becoming a true horseman. Even if the statement was given with the proverbial tongue planted deeply into the proverbial cheek.

“When do you want to go and see your cousin and meet the family.” Wayne asked while stirring his ice cubes into his scotch. He smiled as the cubes clunked against the side of the glass and smiled even more as Ralph without realising what he was doing copied his actions.

“What?” Ralph questioned of Wayne’s humour.

“You – stirring your drink with your finger.”

“Oh sorry I didn’t realise I was doing so, does it worry you?” Ralph removed his finger and sucked the liquid from it.

“No but it does Louise’s father, in fact it drives the old bugger crazy, so much so he would not give me ice in my drink. Sometimes I would do it just to annoy him.”

“That’s not like you Wayne.” Ralph condoned.

“I can be vindictive when it suits me.”

“I was thinking.” Ralph expressed and once again unconsciously returned to stirring his ice cubes.

“It worries me when you start thinking.”

“No seriously Wayne, when we do go to visit Stephen, you have become quite comfortable riding, why don’t we go by horseback?”

“It a long ride, how long do you think it would take?” Wayne asked and offered to top up Ralph’s drink.

“Probably the most of four days but we would have to go up the back of the mountains, cross over west of here and take the back roads; too steep and too much traffic going north and following any of the usual roads, besides I don’t think you can take animals up the range unless they are trucked.”

“I don’t know if I could stay in the saddle that long.” Wayne said, his face grimacing in memory of the soreness he received over the first few rides.

“We would camp at night, make a holiday of it.” Ralph suggested. Wayne didn’t answer but he did like the idea as much as one who watched a documentary on Kakadu National Park from the comfort of their chair; without experiencing the heat, the flies and the dust and the endless miles to get there.

“So when is all this supposed to happen?”

“Don’t know Stephen hasn’t contacted back with the arrangements.”

“Tell you what, I hear Berringar is performing at the Great Northern in Cairns this weekend, how about I take you up to see them, have a meal and stay overnight at my apartment?”

Ralph thought for a moment.

“But not on horseback,” Wayne enforced before his friend could answer.

Ralph agreed. “I thought you were selling your unit?” he asked and collected the empty glasses, “want a top up?’

“No I’ve had enough, as for the unit the only offer I’ve had is well below its value. There isn’t any hurry.”

“What will you do, buy a house somewhere or another unit?”

“Another unit or house is something I don’t need; besides I have an empty house in Atherton and another in Mareeba where the tenant went amuck and left a mess to clean up, so I can store my stuff there and if I wish buy again later.”

“You can stay here forever or I could give it back.” Ralph offered.

“No Ralph this is your home now and I’m a visitor but you would tell me if you become tired of me being here?”

“That could never happen.”

“But you would tell me if so?”

“It won’t – I better check in on the horses then I’m off to bed.”

Ralph descended the stairs three at a time and crunched onto the gravel below, quietly grumbling as he twisted his ankle in the gravel, finding no obvious harm he continued. Minutes later he was back declaring that all was well as he left for bed.

“How’s your ankle?” Wayne enquired noticing a slight limp.”

“Fine, I guess only a light muscle sprain it will be right as rain in the morning.”

“Goodnight.” Wayne called after him, while settling back into his chair feeling most comfortable and contemplating Ralph’s suggestion of riding to visit Stephen, it would be a long ride and that did concern him but Ralph knew the bush and how to transverse it without difficulty, he would be in safe hands.

It was more the sleeping arrangements that became paramount of thought, bundled beside some camp fire, the sky ablaze with stars and every creature that flew, walked or crawled attempting to bed down within your uncomfortable sleeping bag. He digressed to his conversation with Jimmy at the native camp, of Millie’s husband, Jack Haslow and his entanglement with a large angry snake. He shuddered, “I don’t know,” he breathed into the still night air, “I don’t think I would like sleeping rough.”

Since returning from Cairns and his meeting with Louise Wayne had all but forgotten her, her jealous manipulating ways, her sulking temper and lies, instead becoming the very image of a country squire and he wasn’t in any hurry to go anywhere, while if he were to leave he was developing the opinion Ralph would go with him.

A light breeze arrived from the sea, bringing with it the scent of forest blossoms. There was also a serenade of crickets and frogs to sooth away the day, carrying him to almost sleep.

“So you think you are a horseman?” The voice came from its usual place at the end of the verandah.

“Lachlan!” Wayne greeted bolting to upright in his chair.

“You learn quickly.” Lachlan complemented.

“Ah but I suppose not as quickly as yourself or Stephen eh?” Wayne answered allowing a measure of sarcasm.

“Different times we had to learn to ride from an early age or walk.”

“Suppose so. Where are Stephen and Daniel and Toby?” Wayne asked as he had not seen any of them around for some time and usually not all together.”

“They are here.” Lachlan answered.

“I don’t see them.” Wayne looked around the verandah then peered into the darkness beyond the steps.

“You have to want to see them.” Lachlan said

“I am here.” Stephen’s voice came from somewhere beyond the stairs in the darkness of the nights black cloak. Then another voice came through the night. It was Daniel.

“You were also my uncle.” Wayne assumed of Daniel.

“Evening Wayne,” Came a forth voice from the same direction of that of Daniel.

“Is that you Toby?”

“Yes Wayne it is me, Toby.”

“You buggered off before I could ask anything last time. What is your story and how come you are just Toby on the document of deed with an ink correction as a later date to Toby McBride?” Wayne asked as Toby’s image came into view at the base of the steps.

“It’s all in Lachlan’s journal and if you look I have added a few pages towards the end.” Toby explained.

“Thank you for looking after Ralph,” Stephen Henderson said as he moved about in the gravel without releasing sound from his moving feet.

“He’s a good kid, I like him.” Wayne answered proudly.

“You realise he loves you.” Stephen declared.

“You are telling tales Stephen.” Lachlan gave warning.

“I love him as well he is a good friend.”

“No Wayne he loves you.” Stephen disregarded Lachlan’s advice.

“What do you mean?” Wayne asked standing from his chair and walking to the head of the stairs but Stephen was no longer there. He turned to Lachlan.

“Stephen should not have told you that.” Lachlan voice came across the dull light of the verandah but at sentence’s end Lachlan’s image was also gone.

“Well.” Wayne declared to the empty darkness of the night. For some reason the connection was broken and all he could assume was his mind set, possibly he was the key and he would need to learn control of his thinking and concentration.

“How do I read that?” Wayne asked sucking in an angry lung full of air. He released it as quickly.

“Bloody riddles!” Wayne became infused with annoy but quickly settled.

“I wonder if Ralph also sees them.” Wayne had on many occasions tried to ascertain that fact without actually asking outright. True he could just come out and ask but if the answer was negative possibly Ralph may find him a little weird.

It was late but Wayne’s brain was extremely active and with the insinuation of Ralph’s love added to his mental load from his visit to Louise he reached for Lachlan’s journal and read well into the morning. There hidden in the pages he found the Story of Toby, how he abandoned a life at sea to become the life partner of Daniel McBride and how he was given up as a baby to the doorstep of a sea captain whose sister brought him up until at ten years of age he went to sea, as cabin boy for the captain.

Saturday afternoon and Ralph was behind the wheel of the car heading north towards Cairns. As a driver he executed the duty with little conversation, his concentration directed to the road ahead and when spoken to would answer with a minimal yes or no, a simply nod of the head or silence.

This day was no different but as they arrived at the outskirts of Cairns Ralph brought the vehicle to the side of the road admitting he didn’t have the confidence to drive through a city the size of Cairns with its number of traffic lights, busy intersections and continuous lines of traffic.

“How would you go driving through Brisbane, or Sydney?” Wayne teased Ralph as they changed places.

“Have you driven there?” Ralph placed in his defence.

“No but I would.” Wayne assured.

“That is the difference between you and me – I wouldn’t.”

Once at Wayne’s unit the two showered and changed their clothes and seeing the publicity in the Cairn’s Post declared Berringar wasn’t performing until eight that night, Wayne booked a table for dinner at The House on the Hill Restaurant.

The restaurant was as up market as Cairns could provide, creating an experience Ralph had not encountered. A hotel counter meal or MacDonald’s was fine, as were the many cafés in the small towns along the coast, still he was prepared to go along for the experience, being something he would not have considered only a few month’s previous.

“You can’t wear those.” Wayne dictated as Ralph commenced to pull on his old jeans.

“Why not they are clean, I washed them,” Ralph sounded most indignant as he fiddled with the threads on a tear above the knee, “besides what I’ve noticed torn jeans are in fashion.”

“Not that torn and there is paint on the bottoms.”

“It will be dark, no one will notice.”

“Didn’t you bring a clean pair without rips and stains with you?”

“No I didn’t think we were going to some swank restaurant.”

“What about the new pair I gave you last month?”

“They are in the wash.” Ralph stood in his boxer shorts with his jeans around his ankles, as if waiting for Wayne’s next command.

Wayne advanced to the spare bedroom, returning moments later with a pair of his jeans and top.

“Here you go, a little large but you’ll grow into them.” Wayne made light but to his surprise the pants were a perfect fit. No longer was Ralph the skinny kid he had met as caretaker to his aunt’s farm. He had filled out to become a well defined young man all happening without Wayne realising.

“They fit,” Ralph admired his reflection in the long bedroom mirror. “But they make my bum look bigger.”

“You sound like Louise; she was always paranoid of showing a large arse.”

“Did she have a big bum?”

“As women go she had a nice arse but it is a common trait amongst women to worry about fat arses, I don’t know why as most blokes like something meaty to cling on to.”

“I wouldn’t know, besides I wasn’t complaining about the size of my backside, only that they make it stand out and these are also somewhat showy in the front as well.” Ralph complained.”

“You know the old saying if you have it, show it.” Again Wayne attempted humour but it wasn’t his day for it, his words fell on serious ears.

“I guess they’ll do.” Ralph declared while trying to manipulate the bulging in his crotch to become less conspicuous. It didn’t work and the handling only made a bad situation worse as his member commenced to rise under his touch, until it snaked across one side and showed more than ever.

“Think of something else.” Wayne laughed as he watched the bulge lengthen, without realising he was also affected by the sight. The telephone rang becoming a good distraction.

“Hello Wayne Jenkins.” Wayne answered.

“Can I speak to Julie please?” The voice of a young woman came clearly across the service.

“Sorry but you have the wrong number.” Wayne said. Then with an apology the caller disconnected and as for the distraction, it had been successful, both had forgotten Ralph’s previous indiscretions.

The House on the Hill Restaurant was quite busy and there was a line at the door waiting for an empty table. Fortunately Wayne had booked ahead and as they approached the entrance, the waiter recognised Wayne, escorting them towards a quiet dimly lit corner.

“Good evening Mister Jenkins, your table is ready.” The waiter greeted.

“Jeremiah I’ve told you before call me Wayne, Mister Jenkins was my father.”

Jeremiah handed Wayne the wine list but Wayne suggested his usual then before the waiter could offer the menu Wayne ordered.

“You do like mud crab? he asked Ralph.

“I’ve never had it but I like Crayfish.”

“Then you will like crab, especially the way they do it here, it is their specialty.”

Ralph did like the crab but found the establishment a little stuffy, almost too posh too encourage conversation and when he did so, it was in a whisper.

At the meal’s end Wayne called for the bill.

“How’s that friend of yours?” Wayne enquired placing his credit card on the waiter’s tray without checking the price.

“Oh heavens Mister Jenkins, he ran off with a merchant marine.”

“Sorry to hear that but your last report was the he couldn’t get enough of you.” Wayne sympathised.

“Obviously he did, never mind – and what is your friend’s name Mister Jenkins?” The waiter asked giving an all known wink.

“Ralph and we aren’t all like you Jeremiah.”

“Shame Mr Jenkins, it’s a crying shame, it would make life a lot easier.” The waiter took Wayne’s card, returning moments later with the receipt.

“What was all that about?” Ralph asked as Wayne placed a fifty dollar tip on the plate.

“He’s gay,” Wayne clarified once Jeremiah was at distance.

“Oh.”

“Somewhat over the top eh but a good enough fellow,” Wayne elucidated.

“Somewhat.” Ralph cautiously admitted.

They both enjoyed the Berringar concert although more so Ralph. A little too country but the lead has a good voice, was Wayne’s opinion.

After the concert Wayne suggest they go for a drink but Ralph had had enough alcohol for a while and wanted to sleep. Once back at the unit Wayne put on some soft music while pouring a rum and coke.

With the lights low he relaxed back into the large leather couch while Ralph changed his mind and helped himself to a beer.

“Have you seen the view from the balcony yet?” Wayne asked.

“I have but during daylight hours.”

“Come on,” Wayne led Ralph through the glass doors to the balcony, “what do you think?” He asked referring to the night view of Trinity Bay and the lights of Cairns, stretching in a semicircle towards Sunny Bay and Yarrabah. Out at sea there was a storm brewing, a common occurrence during that time of the year, often missing the city, skirting to the north or south, while on the point the navigation light flashed and all about on the water were the lights of small fishing craft adding to the fairyland sight.

“Most impressive.” Ralph admitted and lingered in the tepid night air of the balcony.

“When there’s a storm, I often sit out here for half the night watching and never grow tired of it.”

“Why would you sell the unit; it’s worth keeping just for this.”

“Yes I am having second thoughts.”

Ralph yawned.

“Am I keeping you up?”

“No, no worries.”

“That brings to mind, I only have one bed here, we will have to share, or I could use the couch.”

“It won’t be the first time we’ve shared a bed, I’m sorta getting use to doing so.”

“Would you like to go sightseeing tomorrow?”

“If you wish, do you mind if I turn in?” Ralph again yawned and took to his feet, “Same side then?”

“Either,”

“Goodnight,”

“I won’t be long I’ll finish this drink and tidy up.”

By the time Wayne was ready for bed Ralph was asleep, covered only with the light sheet and lying to his side. Undressing to his undershorts Wayne placed his body towards the lad’s back with his arm over Ralph’s shoulder to rest across his chest. Doing so was an experiment, firstly to discover if Ralph would protest and secondly to understand his own feelings which of late were at best confusing. Ralph’s breathing was long and deep and as Wayne’s arm came close to his chest Ralph reached and held it without waking. Wayne smiled and fell asleep.

With the morning Wayne awoke and to his surprise was still in the cuddled position as the previous night. Ralph woke at the same time but didn’t discard the cuddled arm. Slowly he rolled onto his back and took a deep breath.

“I hope you had enough room.” Wayne asked as he removed his arm from Ralph’s person.

“Plenty,”

“What would you like to do today?”

“I’ll leave that to you, I haven’t been this far north before, except when you took me up to meet Stephen.”

“We could take a cruise.”

“Coffee,” Ralph offered as he rose from bed.

“That would be nice are you making?”

Moments later Ralph was heard complaining in the kitchen.

“What’s the prob can’t you find the coffee?” Wayne called.

“I guess I’ll manage, we can’t do much sightseeing don’t forget the horses.” Ralph explained.

“I suppose so – what’s up?” Wayne called as all became silent in his kitchen.

“I’ve found coffee, or something that is labelled coffee and smells like coffee but looks more like dark brown baked beans.”

“Coffee beans, you have to grind them first.”

“Grind?” The word came singular and doubting.

“Yea grind, hang on I’ll do it for you.” Wayne joined Ralph in the kitchen and collected a small electric appliance from a cupboard. He soon had a supply ground to powder and handed it to Ralph, “there you go.”

“What do I do now?”

“You need a plunger.”

“Shit Wayne all this to make coffee, what happened to instant?”

“It tastes better.” Wayne protested and took charge.

“All right I’ll watch and learn; coffee in the shape of beans.” Ralph appeared amused.

“How do you think coffee grows?”

“To be honest, I never thought much of it. All I’ve ever know of coffee was it came in powder form and in a jar.”

“What about milk, do you believe it grows in cartons on milk trees?”

“I’m not that dumb but I guess with coffee as a lot of other things I never thought much of it; took it for granted I presume.”

Wayne made the coffee and poured the contents into two mugs.

“Try that,” Wayne offered a mug.

“Tastes like coffee I guess,” Ralph agreed.

“Better than instant?”

“I prefer instant, I’m a simple fellow with simple tastes.”

“No Ralph, simplicity is the last thing anyone could accuse you of being, resolute yes but you are more complex than the workings of a Swiss watch.”

“Battery or mechanical,” Ralph jibed.

“Mechanical to be sure.”

“So about the horses?” Ralph reminded disregarding Wayne simile.

“I had almost forgotten them,” Wayne admitted but surely they would be alright until this evening?”

“I suppose so,”

“Then what would you like to do?”

“I don’t like Cairns, too big,” he paused, “too noisy and too many people with too much money to spend.” Ralph sipped his coffee, “Yes it does taste like coffee but I still prefer instant.” Ralph once again commented.

“I suppose your prognosis includes me.” Wayne asked.

“No, if you had ten million or just one dollar, I believe you would be the same.”

“If that was a complement, I should be satisfied.”

“It was.” Ralph answered without displaying an ounce of sentiment.

“I’ve an idea?” Wayne’s eyes lit with the thought, “it will only take a couple of hours, half the day at the most. Why don’t we take the Skyrail up to Kuranda?”

“What’s the Skyrail?”

“You remember when I took you to visit your cousin and you though the gondola was going to hit us on the road? That was the flying fox or Skyrail. How would you like to take a ride on it?”

“I guess I could.”

“Really!”

“You appeared surprised.”

“I tell you what, get dressed and we’ll have breakfast somewhere on the way.” Wayne quickly finished his coffee and headed for the bedroom. “Come on.”

Smithfield and the lower reach of Skyrail was only a leisurely drive and they arrived moments before two tour busses pulled into the car park, spilling out excited travellers and all destined for the ride. Quickly purchasing tickets they were soon marshalled towards the continuous arrival of gondolas and with little time to consider Wayne’s nervousness of heights they were inside what could be only described as a flimsy plastic and metal bubble with loosely locking doors.

“I don’t like this,” Wayne anxiously complained of the door latch as the gondola swiftly left the ground station to quickly climb high over cane fields, going from ground level to far above the trees in an instant.

“So don’t fiddle with it.” Ralph tensely advised, thinking of his own anxious disposition. Moments later they were heading towards the first tall tower.

As the gondola met the tower it appeared too slow and with a clunk, clunk, clunking passed over, giving a most disturbing sound of breaking metallic parts.

“Shit,” Wayne exclaimed and looked up towards the passing tower as at the dizzy speed of a slow run they continued. The second tower and more clunking and seeing they hadn’t fallen to the ground Wayne half settled, “how are you feeling?” Wayne asked.

“I love it.” Ralph acknowledged his eyes everywhere, to the tall mountains covered with thick jungle, to the distant ocean and the cars on the road beneath, appearing like dinky toys on a child’s roadway.

Soon they reached the range and the distance between gondola and ground increased, so did the span between towers. Now there were steep valleys between towers making the distance from the forest canopy to their precarious position even greater.

“What do you think?” Ralph asked.

“I think it is bloody high,” and as Wayne spoke the gondola paused halfway between two towers and so high one would think they were in an aeroplane.

“The tallest tower is only forty metres; I read it while you were buying the tickets.” Ralph related.

“Yea but add that to the tens of meters to the valley floor, it becomes a bloody long way down.”

“I think it great.” Ralph admitted.

“What happens if it breaks down?” Wayne spoke at an almost whisper.

“I asked you that when we passed under it when we visited Stephen.”

“What did I answer?”

“Nothing that would help, I guess just enjoy the view and don’t think about it.” As Ralph spoke they were once again on the move and clunking over the next tower, clunk, clunk, clunk followed by a slight vibration of the gondola as a gentle breeze came down a valley.

“Those cables don’t look very strong.” Wayne assumed while glancing up at the lines.

“I should think they are tried and true but I must agree.” Ralph answered.

By the time they reached the first station Wayne had settled into the ride but both decided not to get off, instead travel on to Kuranda. Past the second stop the gondola followed along the Barron Gorge giving a wonderful view of the power of nature and how the river had gouged through the landscape, displaying bare volcanic basalt along the run of the river, then from a turning in the gorge they were confronted by the might of the Barron falls and with the recent rain, in full flow, bringing both to marvel at its power.

“Look at that!” Ralph gasped and pointed towards the falls and their craggy descent into the bare grey-black rock of the gorge, “I’d love to see it during a cyclone.”

“I have but not from up here.” Wayne admitted.

Once above the falls the forest softened and the view became more pastoral, with a low dam built above the falls to create a small lake, while its water was diverted through a hydro electric plant. The advancement of civilization over the power of nature, yes but in such a way it appeared quite natural.

Beside the water the forest was more controlled, with acres of freshly mowed lawns and tropical flowering plants, where epiphytes hung from lofty branches and elk or staghorn ferns nestled where bough met bole and the village of Kuranda, with its leafy existence, becoming a Mecca for tourists and the dormitory for the rich of Cairns. A place where one could live in comfort yet close enough for a daily commute to the city.

“I stayed here for two weeks once.” Wayne admitted and pointed to a large building towards the back of the town. “I was living with my uncle in Mareeba just after my parents were lost in an accident. They were travelling south during some school break to visit other family who didn’t have enough room for me, so they placed me in a holiday camp; It’s a backpacker lodge now.”

“What was that like?”

“Alright I guess but somewhat daunting having a couple of dozen kids to share your day,” Wayne paused before adjusting his account, “I actually liked it.”

“Possibly like being at boarding school,” Ralph suggested.

“I couldn’t say but at one time before living with my grandmother my uncle was going to put me in a hostel up at Herberton.”

“Where’s Herberton?” Ralph asked.

“It is on the roof of the Tablelands and not far from Atherton and Yungaburra.”

“I remember now I did notice it on the map when I was contemplating out trip to visit Stephen by horses and it was once a tin mining town.”

“So you still wish to do that trip?” Wayne had been hoping Ralph had forgotten.

“I do and I think you would enjoy the ride.”

“Umm…”

“Relating back, what is this Hostel you spoke of?”

“I guess a sorta’ boarding school but you go to the regular state school each day.”

Ralph laughed.

“What has got your humour up?”

“I was remembering what my mother suggested when I tried to explain what Bob was up to.”

“What was that?”

“She said, if you keep up your lies young man, I’ll have to put you in a reform school.”

“Did you manage to tell your mother the full extent of Bob’s treatment?” Wayne cautiously asked.

“Not all of it, I did the hidings, the other I hinted at but the look of pure disdain on my mother’s face I diluted my explanation.”

“Did she approach Bob on the matter?’

“I couldn’t say but possibly so, as the next and last thrashing convinced me to leave and quickly.”

While waiting for their return journey lunch was taken and on their walk back to the Skyrail Wayne had a change of plan, brought on by the notion one trip on the Skyrail was adequate experience. “Why not return by train?” he suggested.

“What train is that?” Ralph asked as he had not heard of any rail link to the tablelands.

“The tourist train, it follows the Barron Gorge on the opposite side to the Skyrail.

“That would be different.” Ralph agreed.

“Yes and to be honest I don’t think I could take another ride in those flimsy gondolas.”

“Are you frightened of heights Wayne?” Ralph smirked although inwardly agreeing once was more than enough but would have to admit the view was more than magnificent.

“It isn’t the same as flying, the gondola was much too open to the elements, while swinging even in a slight breeze and that door wasn’t what I would call secure.” Wayne gave a shudder of memory as he cast his eyes to the treetops realising the breeze had picked up since their arrival.

“Then train it is, besides I haven’t travelled by train except the Tilt Train from Townsville to Tully.” Ralph agreed.

At the station both were pleasantly surprised. They had chosen the day of a rare event, as a steam locomotive was to pull the ancient carriages in place of the usual diesel. While waiting for departure a rain storm developed, increasing the value in their decision not to return by gondola.

“I’m going to enjoy this.” Ralph joyfully admitted as he quickly found a window seat and like an excited child stuck his head through the open window to catch a full blast of smoke and coal soot for his enthusiasm.

The return trip by train was most enjoyable, the rail hung precariously to the side of the gorge while twisting and turning its way down towards the coast, giving a splendid view of the Barron Gorge. Along the way it crossed a number of trestle bridges and powered through more than a dozen tunnels, while the engine’s huge wheels slipped on the wet track, squealing loudly as brakes were applied and jerking violently to retake the load on an incline.

At one long trestle bridge the train made a stop, allowing passengers to leisurely stroll across the bridge and take photographs of what was known as Stony Creek falls. High above the water cascaded out of a rocky slope to pass behind the bridge and tumble into the depths of the gorge.

“Is that high enough for you?” Ralph asked as both peered over the railings into the deep ravine below.

“It is rather.”

“You don’t appear impressed,” Ralph noted.

“I’ve seen it all many times before when there was a rail service but true never from standing on the bridge.”

Once again travelling, it wasn’t long before they wound their way out of the mountains when Wayne came to the realisation the car was left at the Skyrail station and the train’s destination was Cairns but his alarm was soon diminished as an announcement was given that they were reaching Smithfield station and a scheduled stop.

“Come on we will get off here and catch a taxi back to Skyrail.” Wayne quickly encouraged at the train reached Smithfield.

With both legs back on solid ground Wayne smiled broadly and canvassed Ralph for his opinion. “Great,” Ralph freely admitted, “the Skyrail was a little scary but not enough to freak me out – like you appeared to be.”

“Be nice, want to go again?”

“The train yes but I think once on the Skyrail was enough.”

It was early evening before the two arrived back in Federation Bay and Biff’s store.

“You two are about late.” Biff suggested.

“We are just now returning from Cairns.” Wayne acknowledged.

“We went on the Sky rail.” Ralph cut in.

“I haven’t done so but hear the view is worth it.” Biff freely responded.

“It was, you could see most of Cairns and way out to sea and the Barron Gorge is quite impressive.” Ralph omitted their nervous disposition.

“Ralph what vegies have you got ready.” Biff asked while Ralph rummaged through her supply of second hand comics and novels.

“I’ve read most of these,” he complained before discovering a stash of Phantom Comics off to one side, “hello I haven’t seen these.”

“They just come in; there isn’t call for comics these days too much television and computer games but I do a fair trade in the books.”

Ralph collected the small pile and placed them on the counter.

“I thought you rather read novels?” Wayne interrupted.

“With comics you don’t have to think but there is a book here on tropical gardening that’s caught my interest.”

“That one only came in today Peg Ramsay from out El Arish way exchanged it.”

“I know her; she has that nice garden close by Sleeping Dog Creek and the fern nursery. As for what’s ready, not a lot at the moment Biff, few weeks yet.”

“What else do we need Ralph?” Wayne asked with his nose in the milk refrigerator.

“Milk, butter, bread, bacon the usual I guess.” Ralph answered.

“Hey there is some of that cheese you like here.”

Wayne gathered their supplies together and placed them on the counter beside the comics while Ralph collected a selection drink mixers from the soft drink refrigerator.

“You two are becoming like an old married couple.” Biff commented as Ralph returned with an armful of soft drink bottles.

“Without the arguments Biff and the moods,” Wayne laughed.

“Don’t you miss Cairns?” Biff enquired while calculating their groceries on a sheet of newsprint.

“As a matter of fact Biff I don’t and I’ve put my apartment on the market.”

Biff recalculated the bill and rounded it down for good measure.

“Where will you go?” She asked while tilling the money.

“Did I tell you Ralph has been teaching me to ride?” Wayne declared changing the direction of the subject of his future.

“He’s a good little rider; I used to see him down in Townsville when he was a nipper, frightened of nothing and fast. He loved that horse of his.”

“Are you two talking about me again?” Ralph conjectured returning from the hardware store with a fist full of seed packets, “Pumpkins they should do well here, possibly a bit humid – I’ll give them a go anyhow. Oh I’ll have some of those apples as well.”

“Pumpkins should be fine, I remember when I would visit Grace as a kid, she had them growing all across the back yard and some of her pumpkins were almost as big as I was.” Wayne admitted.

“Then pumpkins it will be,”

“You can have those apples they are past their use by date and spotted.” Biff admitted.

“We already had fruit at home.” Wayne informed as Ralph selected a supply of apples.

“They aren’t for us but for the horses.”

“Do horses like apples?” Wayne asked.

“I guess you really don’t know horses.” Biff interrupted.

“No Biff but I’m learning.

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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