A sequel to ‘At the Turning’

Published: 14 Jun 2018

Jack Miller had invited Wayne for Sunday roast but during the early evening he appeared somewhat distant and even more abrupt than usual. Such attitude didn’t greatly concern Wayne as Louise’s old man was mostly so, while invites often had some alternate purpose, as when all was measured, Wayne was not considered the right partner for his little princess. Jack Miller had made that emphatically clear to the lad on a number of occasions but for Louise’s sake he was prepared to allow the union, while predicting it would end in tears and divorce.

Wealth had taken Wayne’s future father-in-law beyond the realm of the common man in both attitude and action, thinking nothing of destroying a financial opponent. Truthfully he would relish such destruction as if it were sport, while vociferously brag about doing so to his circle of noted friends. Charity was also missing from the Miller house as Jack Miller believed that like himself, any man was capable of rising above poverty, all it took was to get off one’s arse and do something about it. If one was to fail in life or business, it was because he lacked fortitude and the killer instinct and not opportunity, believing it to be up to the individual to create their own opportunity.

As for Wayne’s financial status, if it wasn’t for the fact that Louise had fallen for the lad, even with Wayne’s prosperity he would not have risen to the status of Miller’s dinner table. It was Jack’s opinion one had to strive for wealth as he had, not inherit. Still, although he thought Louise had made a bad choice, he believed Wayne Jenkins had the spark something of what it took to become part of the Miller family and in time he would dilute his future son-in-law’s attitude towards common and give him financial balls but if he were to marry his daughter he must also marry the father’s belief and that was not negotiable.

If Jack Miller’s character could be defined at best it would be considered socially repugnant, possibly excusable as the result of an overbearing father. Jack’s father had taken his son at eighteen aside, dictating what was expected of him. Firstly being the only son of an only son, it was Jack’s duty to marry and sire, to carry on the family name and status. Jack had his heart on university, then travel but Donald, his father, had a different future for his son and that was to run, increase and advance the family business and wealth.

Jack had the knowhow as general business had been drummed into the lad from an early age and at eleven he could calculate a page of debit and credit most accurately, so the day after completing high school he was assigned work, squashing any desire he may have had to travel. A week later he had been introduced to Fay, the daughter of one of his father’s associates and told in no uncertain terms she had the background, and attributes to become the perfect wife and hostess; but I don’t love her, Jack had firmly protested but without attainment. He was to marry the girl and treat her right and before his nineteenth birthday he was married. Yet in time Jack came to love Fay, or reach a compromise that bordered on comfortable and the two settled into something that represented a relationship.

After dinner Jack Miller withdrew from the family to the balcony of his hillside mansion, where he could light up one of his favourite foul smelling cigars without complaint from Fay.

“Come on.” Jack gruffly demanded of Wayne nodding towards the balcony. Wayne followed and as they closed the sliding glass doors away from the overworked air conditioner, the evening heat hit them like a sledge hammer.

“Bloody hot!” Miller complained and slumped into a lounge chair close by.

“Tis,”

“A man should close in the balcony and have it air conditioned.” Jack laughed then lit his cigar.

“It would be a lot of glass.” Wayne calculated somewhat flippantly.

“Want one?” Jack offered without true conviction in the offer.

“No thank you Mister Miller, I don’t smoke.” Wayne gently declined.

“No you don’t do you – by the way its Jack, my workers call me Mister Miller. You will soon be family and I don’t want a son-in-law lowing himself to the level of the common worker.”

Wayne didn’t answer.

“How old are you son?”

“I’ll be twenty-two in September.”

“Are you planning on getting a job?” Miller asked directly while having trouble in keeping his cigar alight. Walking to the balcony rail Jack tossed the dead match into the garden. He returned to his seat, “about this job.”

“I’m not really looking, I don’t need one.”

“Don’t need a job eh. So you wish to marry my daughter?”

“That I do Jack.” Wayne answered knowing full well his future father-in-law knew so, while appraising where Jack’s conversation was heading, being certain it had little to do with him marrying Louise.

“Women don’t like husbands who hang around the house all day, they get in the way – ask Fay about that,” a slight guttural sound of discord, he continued, “about this wedding, you do realise it will be a Catholic affair?”

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” Wayne admitted.

“You are Catholic?”

“No, I guess I was Church of England, or to say my parents were.” Wayne answered as if being so was a stain on his character.

“You are religious?”

“Again I’ve never thought much of religion either but I suppose.” Wayne’s answer was left open ended. It was true he hadn’t thought greatly about religion, nor did he have any set belief in a spiritual existence but realised being under his future father-in-law’s interrogation it was best to admit to a measure of faith, no matter how small.

“We’ll soon fix that lad, come to dinner Wednesday next, I will invite Father O’Malley, he’ll soon put you right. Bloody Church of England, what are you some Pom?”

“Don’t rightly know Jack. I believe way back it was Scot and English, or so my grandmother said and my mother was McBride, I guess that sounds Scottish.”

“Is the old girl still around?” Miller unsuccessfully puffed on his cigar.

“No Mavis Jenkins passed away some moths back, the day after my twenty-first birthday, she was eighty-nine.”

“A good age,”

“I guess no age is good for dying but she wasn’t well towards the end.”

“Anglican eh,” Jack uttered and released a deep breath with a huffing sound, “Fay is religious,” Jack added as if it were an excuse. Wayne remained silent.

“Myself I’m more Celtic than Catholic but I do believe in the church.”

Wayne kept his silence.

“Louise is from fine Irish stock.” Miller bragged.

“Miller isn’t very Irish.” Wayne quietly mused.

“Some confusion during the convict days I believe but I guarantee you cut any one of us and it will flow genuine Irish blood.

“I don’t know a lot about my lineage, haven’t had the interest.” Wayne admitted, attempting to place a measure of distance between being of British stock or Irish.

“One should know their lineage. It is not only their past but their present and future, something to proudly pass on. My lot were sent out here in chains in the bilge of some stinking British hulk, forced to work until they dropped on chain gangs.” Truthfully and not related to the lad, Millers convict past was fact but quickly his convict ancestors chassed with the foxes, gained tickets of leave and set about making their fortune at other’s expense, only to lose it all with Jack’s grandfather in the crash of thirty-two. To their credit it was Jack’s father who developed a new empire and again at other’s expense, while Jack increased the margins beyond even his own expectation.

“I was under the impression the bible has as all coming from Adam and Eve, so our ancestry should all the same, English, Irish, Jew, black or white.” Wayne answered attempting to appear genuine but meant as a front to the man’s insinuation on race.

“Possibly so but it was corrupted with your treacherous King Henry.”

“I wouldn’t know Jack, I was never strong on history.” Wayne backed away from the argument, “Louise tells me she is thinking of purchasing a car,” he offered.

“She does but Fay is against the idea, said it was a waste of money, besides she can always use Fay’s merceries,” Jack paused, “or when you are married, she can use your BMW, or you can get one for her.” He gave a smirk, believing he had passed the problem onto the soon to be weds.

At last the cigar lit and Miller exhaled a cloud of blue smoke across the balcony rail into the warm Cairns night, it remained suspended in the still air as the first wave of insects arrived to dance around the balcony light. A mosquito bit into Miller’s naked arm, he savagely slapped it, causing a stain of blood to remain on his skin as he reached for the repellent. Ambitiously he sprayed the surrounding air and his flabby torso. Once done he offered the can to Wayne.

“I’m fine Jack; Mossies don’t appear to bother me.” Wayne answered smugly.

“No they wouldn’t would they?” Miller answered, placing the repellent beside his cane chair. Satisfied Miller returned to the conversation.

“You know that new block of high rise apartments going up at the top end of the Esplanade?” He asked and pointed into the darkness in the general direction of North Esplanade.

“I’ve past it on the occasion, about fourteen floors isn’t it.” Wayne admitted.

“Fifteen actually, that is a Miller construction as is the new casino down in town.”

“You don’t say Jack and a fine building it is.” Wayne answered somewhat flippantly.

“Now about work; I could give you a managerial position at one of the factories or what are you like at PR?”

“I’ve never thought about it Jack, I don’t need money and I can keep Louise more than financially satisfied.” Wayne answered smugly.

“Listen boy, it isn’t about money, it position in the community and standing. You have to prove yourself to the bastards if you want to fit in. No good acting like some toff from the old country, they will just laugh at you.”

“PR?” Wayne repeated.

“Public Relations, maybe manage one of the resorts.” Miller loosely suggested.

“Yes I do understand what public relations means but I’ve never thought of myself running around cleaning up after hotel guests, or attending to their petty complaints.

“So what are your thoughts?”

Again Wayne didn’t answer, he had none. He didn’t care what the community thought of him and in general didn’t think a great deal about the community either. He was a free spirit going about life on a whim. At that moment his thoughts meandered to Ralph Matthews and the lad’s self confessed nakedness in the scrub. There was someone who most definitely didn’t need work in public relations, except possibly managing a nudist club. He gave a smile but the dullness of the balcony kept it private.

At that very moment Wayne wished to be as naked in that forest and carefree, away from Miller’s constrictor like society. As for Ralph’s state of undress; before returning to Cairns Wayne had bought his Caretaker a new set of clothes, which had been reluctantly accepted and seeing Ralph was to be his caretaker, he had also set up a bank account for his new friend, demanding he used it for his needs but after a month noticed that it had hardly been touched and when Wayne suggest he should buy Ralph a car, a small run-around from farm to town, the lad laughed loudly, declaring he couldn’t drive but may accept a bicycle. Not some fancy racing bicycle but second hand, strong and proven, something along the lines of the cumbersome machines used by postmen on their delivery rounds.

“There is one other thing.” Miller declared as the last of his cigar burnt to within reach of his fat nicotine stained fingers. Flicking the butt into the garden he took a deep breath then after a fit of coughing continued.

“You have inherited a parcel of land down at Federation Bay.” Miller paused while pouring two glasses of scotch, adding ice he passed one to Wayne.

“True.” Wayne agreed as he swirled the contents of the glass with his finger making the ice cubes clink against the sides of the glass.

Miller hated the habit and became annoyed. There was one thing he detested above most others and that was a man who played with his beverage, now the sound of the clinking ice blocks reacted on him like chalk scratching a black board. He shrugged within himself as he continued.

“What are you going to do with it?” Miller asked turning away from the clinking ice towards the city of Cairns far below his mountain retreat.

“I haven’t much thought about it Jack.” Wayne answered.

“You do realise Albert Verrocchi is most interested in the land and is more than willing to offer above the market for it?”

“Yes I do Jack.”

“Verrocchi is a member of my club.” Miller said in an attempt to influence any decision. He refilled Wayne’s glass, this time minus the ice.

“Is that so Jack.”

Miller’s Club was a local establishment set up for the North Queensland elite. It didn’t have a name, or commission as such but its members met every second month over a meal to discuss what influence they could impose on local councils and authorities to benefit themselves but was mostly blokie and an excuse for bragging rights and a piss-up.

Wayne knew of the club but had no interest in it, no more than its members had in him. In truth before the mentioning of Verrocchi’s name, Wayne had never known the identity of another member, except for Jack Miller himself, while his knowledge of its existence came from conversation with Louise.

“So you know he wants that land.” Miller reiterated.

“Yes, but surely he has enough already, besides with the economic turndown there is plenty more of higher quality for sale in the district, Grace’s few acres aren’t fit for growing anything.” Wayne lightly protested, relating the words of the solicitor and Biff the shop keeper.

“Maybe so but I have promised him I would talk to you about it.”

“So now you have Jack.” Wayne answered, placing his empty glass down on the glass top table between the two chairs. The clash of glass on glass top added to Miller’s annoyance.

“He will have that land one way or another – you know that?” Jack Miller stood, refreshed his drink and reached for a second cigar.

“It was my aunt’s family home and I believe somewhere way back was that of my mother’s relations as well.” Wayne’s statement came more as a protest but fell on uninterested ears. Miller had promised he would persuade the sale as he owed Verrocchi a favour, which would be repaid as was the tradition of their association.

“When are you and Louise to marry?” Jack Miller asked incidentally.

“You know that Jack, you are arranging it.” Wayne answered unsure of the man’s direction.

Now Miller became bothered with being called Jack. It was commencing to sound sarcastic and out of the mouth of one he considered unworthy of his company, even less the hand of his daughter in marriage.

“I’ll tell you this much lad, if you don’t sell the property to Verrocchi, there won’t be a wedding.” Miller’s blood was on the rise and once pushed to decision he would not recant. Wayne knew this but was now in that well known proverbial corner with a raging bull bearing down on him.

“What does Louise think of that?” Wayne asked quietly.

“She will do what I tell her.” Miller snarled but his displeasure calmed as his wife opened the sliding glass door, bringing a rush of conditioned air from inside.

“Coffee dear?” She asked in her usual sweet sing song tone, as she collected the empty glasses.

“I will be in directly.” Miller gruffly answered.

“Coffee Wayne?”

Fay Miller was a slight woman, whose most probably grey hair was permanently dyed auburn and piled like junk upon the crown of her head. It somehow suited but offset her slender frame causing her to appear somewhat top heavy. Fay could by no means be considered a good looking woman, with her small breasts and sarcastic character but was quick witted while having the ability to supply the right complement at the appropriate time, making her the perfect host, also being a marvellous cook became requirement for Jack to impress clients and friends alike.

“Thank you dear but Jenkins was just leaving.” Miller answered before Wayne could agree to coffee.

“No thank you Fay I should be going. Is Louise downstairs?” Wayne asked while standing to leave. Jack entered inside ahead, offering no more conversation on the land or marriage but it was foremost in his thoughts with his decision made, without the land being sold to his Italian friend, there would be no wedding and that suited Jack Miller perfectly.

“No she has gone next door for a few minutes, old Missus Harrison isn’t feeling well. She had a nasty fall.”

“If you don’t mind Fay, tell Louise I will call tomorrow.”

“Are you coming to dinner Sunday?” Fay asked as Jack followed him to the door.

“Yes thank you Fay.” Wayne assumed the question strange. Sunday evening’s meal was a constant and had been since Wayne and Louise became an item. Had Louise’s parents been plotting about this accursed block of land and was Louise part of some conspiracy? Wayne gave a shudder, realising he was becoming paranoid, believing it was much too deep for Louise’s to be part off, she was a party girl, dresses, shoes and a good time and wouldn’t have the capacity to scheme.

“You think about what I’ve said, I’ll give you a month to come up with the right answer,” Miller warned once away from Fay’s hearing.

Wayne waited at the gate for Louise to return but after some minutes without her showing he departed. Glancing towards the second floor balcony he noticed Jack Miller watching from the shadows.

“Good night Jack.” Wayne softly called.

“You remember what I said young fellow, a month and that’s all.”

It was almost nine and the House on the Hill restaurant’s resident jazz band was quieting down to a drowsy tiff-tiff-tiff. Wayne once again checked his watch then a few seconds later unconsciously did so again.

“Where is she?” He softly questioned while emptying the final drink from the half wine bottle into his glass. Wayne called the waiter and ordered a second bottle of wine, then cancelled the order. Instead he asked for the bill and as he prepared to leave he felt hands placed on his shoulders.

“Sorry I’m late but father had an unscheduled meeting and he wanted me there.” Louise whispered close to his ear and gently bit the lobe.

“That’s alright but I was beginning to think I had the wrong night. Have you already eaten?”

“No, have you ordered?” She asked.

“Not yet, what was the meeting?”

“You know just his business cronies.”

“Why did he want you to attend?”

“Waitress with good legs and a decent pair of tits; loosens their purse strings.” Louise gently laughed.

“That is called sexual exploitation.”

“No really, only if it was intrusive and I don’t mind, Wayne you are such a prude.”

Wayne reordered the bottle of wine. “Who was at the meeting?”

“Just the usual old balding, fat business jocks, you know the type.”

“Was Albert Verrocchi there?” Wayne quizzically asked.

“As a matter of fact he was; why do you ask?”

“Did he say anything about my aunt’s property?”

“I couldn’t say dad took him aside, besides I never listen in, just a lot of boring business.”

Local mud crab was the restraint’s specialty and the couple’s favourite. During the main course Wayne paused and smiled, his eyes fixed on Louise’s bust.

“What?” She protested.

“I like that dress, it shows your best attributes.” He complemented.

“Do you mean my tits?” Louise answered crudely, gently touching fingertips to her cleavage while fiddling with the small gold locket captured there. Wayne had bought the locket for Louise’s on her last birthday and being a photo locket had placed a headshot photo of him within. Louise immediately removed the photo and replaced it with a picture of the Miller’s pet Golden Retriever dog. That should have been a fair enough warning but she assured Wayne it was only humour, even so the photograph of Goldie remained.

“No I mean all of you.” Wayne slowly shook his head and took a deep breath as the blood drained to his crotch, “Do you want to come around to my place tonight?” He asked while reorganising his clothing below the protection of the long table cloth.

“Are you doing what I think you are doing?” Louise asked then kicked his leg with the point of her shoe.

“No.”

“Liar,”

“Well do you want to come around tonight?”

“Not tonight lover, I have to be up early, dad wants me to hostess an early work function.” Louise answered, reaching for her cigarettes.

“Another meeting?”

“Yes something to do with building a resort on Russell Island, he’s having a problem with the local authorities and thinks a gut full of crayfish, oysters and French champagne will swing their opinion,” Louise explained and selected a smoke from the engraved gold case. She gently tapped it against the case.

“What authorities?”

“Mainly the Greens they said it should remain a nature reserve but dad believes it can be both and by doing so would be a way of managing its potential.”

“You mean financially manage Jack’s bottom line.”

“Whatever I don’t know anything about business and care even less about nature reserves.” Louise flippantly cast aside.

“You can’t smoke in here.” Wayne advised. Louise reluctantly replaced the cigarette back into its case and returned to her meal.

“Has you father told you about the other night?” Wayne asked after the conversation appeared to have lost its pace.

“Told me about what?”

“About his threat if I don’t sell the farm to this mate of his called Verrocchi.”

“Yes he did.” Louise answered as she replaced her mobile phone and cigarettes back into her handbag.

“Really lover, I have to go.” She declared. Standing she kissed Wayne on the cheek.

“Hang on.” Wayne declared gently taking hold of Louise by the arm.

“I have to go; I’ll meet you at the club tomorrow night; seven alright? We will talk about it then.” She again kissed him on the cheek and left.

Wayne ogled Louise’s arse as she crossed the floor, pausing momentarily she spoke with a diner near the door. They both laughed, Louise turned back and smiled at Wayne, waggled her fingers in a feeble nondescript gesture and was gone.

‘Lovely arse,’ Wayne thought and reached for his wallet.

“Not a good night sir?” The waiter’s comment came sympathetically with the bill.

“Seems that way Jeremiah – have you a girl friend?” Wayne chuckled as he placed his credit card onto the plate along with two twenty dollar notes, while knowing well the waiter’s preference.

“Heavens no Mister Jenkins,” Jeremiah pouted as he collected the card.

“Then you don’t have a bloody future father-in-law trying to run your life.” Wayne complained loudly, turning the heads of the couple on the adjacent table.

“I wish I had, instead of having to keep mum about my relationships.” The waiter declared, while keeping an eye on the night manager.

“Are you still living with Vince?” Wayne cheekily asked.

“That was last season’s fiasco Vincent is now working the cabins of some cruise ship in the Caribbean.”

“I guess that’s the breaks.” Wayne flippantly suggested.

“I believe you are soon to marry.”

“That is so Jeremiah but how soon hasn’t yet been established.” Wayne paused, “are you religious?” he asked.

“Not at all Mister Jenkins,” Jeremiah’s eye remained on the night manager who appeared to be contemplating a move towards him.

“Louise’s family is Catholic and want me to convert.”

The waiter softly laughed, “I wouldn’t concern.”

“And why would that be?”

“Just go along with it all and after the wedding forget about it.” Jeremiah suggested.

“Where is that advice coming from?”

“My parents, mum is Catholic and dad is who knows what, he had to jump through the religious hoops before they married and after the event never again entered a church of any domination as for me I grew up Callithumpian.”

“What in blazes is Callithumpian?” Wayne asked.

“I never quite found that out but it was what my mother said I was; that and a heathen tearaway.”

“I’m not a good liar.” Wayne admitted.

“Besides Louise is a lovely girl, I’m sure she will understand; you are a lucky man finding someone to share your future with.” As Jeremiah spoke the surely night manager commenced to cross the floor in his direction.”

Wayne released a disengaging sigh, nodded and commenced to leave. “You’ll soon find someone Jeremiah the north is awash with southern single men looking for a little excitement and I guess a number are willing to have their heads turned.”

“I guess so but most don’t get excited with someone who waits on tables and then there’s the hours, I’m working while they are having fun.” I better get going, I’m about to be roused at. “Thank you and good evening Mister Jenkins.” Jeremiah greeted as the manager changed his direction.

At the door Wayne was stopped by the same couple that interrupted Louise’s departure.

“I hear congratulations are in order.” The man commented while his wife smiled in unison, “I saw Fay earlier this week,” he explained.

“Thank you Arthur,” Wayne answered unsure if the man was commenting on his approaching marriage or inheritance.

“Louise is a fine girl.” Arthur Evans confirmed and called the waiter.

“Sit with us Wayne and celebrate, Jeremiah another bottle of bolly;”

“I appreciate the invite Arthur but I really need to be somewhere.”

“Forget the bolly Jeremiah,” the man waved away the waiter, “another time then.”

“Yes for certain Arthur,” Wayne nodded to the woman, she nodded back without comment. As Wayne departed he clearly heard the man speak to his wife, “fine lad that,” Wayne smiled and continued on his way.

It was still early and seeing his evening had been interrupted by Louise’s untimely departure, Wayne was somewhat amiss for entertainment although not in the mood for conversation, so took a leisurely stroll.

Some distance along the Esplanade he encountered the usual rowdy gathering of aborigines who had built an illegal bonfire out of palm fronds and discarded rubbish and sat around squabbling over a bottle of something wrapped in a brown paper bag. ‘Why build a fire on such a hot night?’ Wayne thought, without realising it was their gathering point and a way of pissing off the white establishment.

As Wayne passed one in the group commenced to sing and the squabble paused but only long enough to allow the bottle to be passed around. Wayne continued on his way while keeping his distance.

“Hey white feller gotta’ smoke?” One in the group called, his alcoholic voice gravelled by many years of excess.

“Sorry mate I don’t smoke.” Wayne honestly admitted.

“Gotta’ drink?” Another accosted bring the whole group to murmur in broken language,

“Na ya fucken’ white bugger,” Wayne heard as a number of police officers arrived on the scene, while parking their divisional van on the lawn close by the group.

“Good evening gentlemen.” The police sergeant greeted as his men stood menacing over the gathering, only to receive a volley of abusive language for their trouble.

“I guess you gentlemen know it’s not permissible to light a fire on the Esplanade foreshore.” The sergeant quietly advised, receiving more language and a well aimed empty beer can, hitting the closest constable on his shoulder. It was then police came from all directions, with drunken punches thrown without hitting their target, while one and all were unceremoniously wrestled to the grown, cuffed and frogmarched to the waiting divisional van.

“Better than television,” Wayne laughed, about turned and headed back towards his apartment.

Four walls, mood lighting and soft music but the ambience was not correct. A sigh and a thought how to make something different of his unit, make it feel homely, lived in instead of functional.

‘It’s strange,’ Wayne thought, ‘I’ve been with Louise for two years and her personality isn’t here.’ Yes there were her clothes in the bedroom cupboard, makeup in the bathroom but little else; except for the sweat pungent trailing of expensive perfume that Wayne declared was more smelling of cat’s piss than something one would wish to dab behind the ears, otherwise no Louise. No silly comfort cushions or useless ornaments cluttering his clean modern surfaces – nothing. All of which brought to mind what someone shared about the local women, smiling he remembered the gag, what do Australian women place behind their ears to attract an Australian man, he laughed as the response came to mind – being her legs.

‘Who told me that?’ Wayne put to thought.

‘I know it was Peter Turner during our last visit.’

Another smile, ‘and it didn’t go down well with Louise at all.’

‘Funny girl, if she had thought up the joke it would have pleased her greatly to share it and in truth, I would rather she did the trick with the legs than wear that rancid perfume – it could be fun.’

‘Oh well, I guess it wasn’t all that humorous but Peter is somewhat a misogynous at the best of time.’

Wayne fixed a final drink then put it aside. Drinking alone was never his partiality, he once heard it was the first step towards dependency and although on the occasion he did over indulge he could never be considered dependent on alcohol, while judging those who succumb to drink as little better than simpletons.

Something was worrying Wayne. Deep down in his subconscious there was an itch he could not scratch, could not describe with language and as he quietly sat contemplating bed that itch intensified. Did he want to marry Louise, or was it only convenience and inability to say no but most of all did he wish to be associated with Louise’s family. His conclusion, their love and respect for each other would be strong enough to break the bond between Louise and her parents. He hoped so but now alone in his apartment with the four walls appearing to close in on him he was having real doubt, even stronger reservation on love.

Wayne thought of his own parents and how close they were in the early years and how they slowly drew apart until they couldn’t abide to be in the same room. Sadly he remembered that final year when they couldn’t even speak without argument, doing away with even simple requests and childishly writing notes, while leaving them on the kitchen table. A thought of amusement, remembering he often added words to their messages, in text that was obviously that of a child but was never scalded. His hope being by doing so the humour would return, the smiles, the parties but the silence in the house became absolute.

What of his union with Louise? Did he love her and what had they in common, what was the adhesive to bind a long and happy relationship? That was one question that frightened Wayne. They had nothing in common except sex and that was becoming infrequent and what of her parents. It is said when you marry you not only marry the woman but her family. That was a most sobering thought to conclude with.

Outside the apartment the traffic slowed and across Trinity Bay the south head light blinked its warning. Wayne sat watching its code, one quick flash followed by two slow and one knew Cairns to be in the approach. Wayne put aside his attitude towards lone drinking and retrieved his drink, taking it to the balcony.

The late evening brought a sea breeze. Not strong enough to rustle the palms between his block of units and the next but enough to take away the humidity. Wayne gave a smile as a number of curlews decided to chase each other under the lighting along the beach path only to scatter as a scrawny black dog gave chase with much noise but little success. Taking a deep cool breath he settled into the night.

A second group of aborigines had gathered around the embers of the camp fire, again drinking, squabbling and cursing those who chanced by. Once his was the quiet end of town, away from the bars and eating houses of the tourist precinct but slowly more found Cairns the perfect escape from southern winters or overseas travellers wishing to have their memories of a world icon in the Great Barrier Reef before global warming destroyed it completely.

Closing his door on the late night squabbling Wayne finished his drink and readied for bed. With a deep sigh he looked down upon the bed’s comfort with the expectancy Louise was staying the night. “Marriage,” he grunted into his solitude and wondered if then she would be dashing off to her father’s bidding.

Wayne lay on his bed contemplating their coming nuptials and how they would fill their days. Louise more than likely would flitter back to mother, sharing with her his sexual attributes or lack of, while being on call for Jack and his ever increasing business meetings.

Most annoyingly Louise did find pleasure sharing their sexual experiences with her friends and often while Wayne was present as if she was divulging the antics of her pet retriever Goldie. He had often asked her not to do so but she was a free spirit and he was considered fair game for her humour. Lighten up Wayne, can’t you take a joke, became her standard response and no amount of complaining was going to convince otherwise.

Wayne’s thought returned to how he would fill his day. ‘As I do now I guess,’ he considered with a sigh, ‘I’ll manage my share portfolio, visit my accountant and spend as much time by myself as I do at present.’ Concluding he could not anticipate how marriage would improve his daily distraction or his sex life.

In the bathroom with toothbrush in hand Wayne became interest in the many bottles and medications belonging to Louise. He read the labels, most were pertaining towards woman’s problems and to be sure that ubiquitous headache that appeared to arrive anytime he suggested sex. One box caught his eye, he read the inscription. “She didn’t mention being on the pill.”

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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