A sequel to ‘At the Turning’

Published: 5 Jul 2018

Wayne arrived back in Cairns a little after midday and drove directly to Louise’s unit, where he found a note tied to her door handle.

“I am around at dad’s, tried to reach you on your mobile but as usual turned off – meet me there.” He read and placed her message into his pocket as he reached for his mobile telephone.

“Hi lover back in Cairns yet?” Louise answered. There was the sound of her mother’s voice in the background and obviously within the kitchen, giving a mother’s usual instructions, along with an invite for him to dinner.

“I’m around at your unit.” Wayne answered as he climbed back into his vehicle.

“Come around. Mum’s doing a lamb roast, she is expecting you, and the Johnston’s will be here.”

“Up from Bowen?” Wayne asked.

“Yes they are staying for the week George has some business in Cairns.”

“Not tonight eh, I’m feeling a little tired of conversation, you come around to my place after dinner.” Another lie, he was becoming the master of such of late, his reason being he didn’t wish to confront Louise’s father in relation to the sale of the farm until he had thought through a plan he had hatched while driving back from Federation Bay.

As for the Johnston’s, George talked nothing but business, always attempting to encourage Wayne to invest in some hare-brained scheme that usually failed, taking other people’s money but not his own. Bev Johnston, his wife, was in habit of repeating ones name in every spoken sentence. Nice to see you Wayne, what have you been up to Wayne, on and on until it almost made his head explode with torment. Bev was also the touching kind, unable to hold a conversation unless an elongated finger was lightly resting vicariously some distance above the knee, sending unwanted signals of intent that made on flinch with every touch.

“Hey mum wants’ to know if you sold the farm.” Louise asked as Wayne was ending the call. He didn’t answer pretending not to have heard her.

“I can see this is going to end up very messy.” Wayne sighed as he pocketed his mobile telephone and drove towards his unit, in hope Louise would see his position in the ordeal and side with him.

“Very messy,” He repeated while turning into his unit’s car park, the thought continued as he progressed.

Louise arrived late in the evening appearing somewhat weathered. She had been drinking and had caught a taxi from her parent’s home. Normally Louise, not owning her own vehicle, would have borrowed her mother’s Mercedes but she had already been warned by the local establishment in reference to drink driving and if it wasn’t for her father’s standing in the community, she would have been breathalysed. Her suggested condition was related back to Jack who read the riot act, declaring next time he would throw her to the wolves.

“You there Wayne?” Louise’s voice demanded across the unit’s intercom.

“Haven’t you got your key?” Wayne released the door.

“Be a darling and come down and pay the nice taxi driver man, I left my bag over at my parents.”

“Sure I’ll be right down.” Wayne retrieved his wallet from the lounge room table and met Louise on her way up.

“The driver’s waiting at the door,” she instructed, “don’t forget the tip.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“Only a little, have you any gin?”

“No don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

“Not yet lover, enough is never enough.” She giggled and pushed past.

Wayne paid the taxi driver and returning found Louise had passed out on his bed, stretching diagonally with her arms wide while she softly snored.

“I guess you have had enough,” Wayne agreed with his previous comment.

“I suppose a root is out of the question?” He sighed as he straightened Louise’s limp body into a more comfortable position. She stirred, swallowed at her dry mouth, “come to bed,” she suggested before returning to sleep.

Earlier he was eager for sex. It had been on his mind all day while being partly aroused for the last hour in anticipation, finding it difficult not to alleviate his frustration manually. Now the urge had gone and all that remained was disappointment and a drunk taking up most of his bed.

“Not a pretty sight.” Wayne shook his head in disgust as Louise slept on. He rolled her onto her side and the snoring stopped. Now she was dribbling onto the bedspread. Wayne turned out the light and left the room to watch television while Louise slept through her drunken state.

It was early morning and the television was on mute while its picture flickered onto the darken walls of the lounge room. Wayne had fallen asleep on the couch but awoke abruptly as Louise came to her senses and staggered into the room, using the door frame to keep herself upright.

“Are you coming to bed?” She demanded from the bedroom door. Wayne jumped at the sound of her voice, “What’s wrong!” he gasped from his state of unconsciousness.

“Are you coming to bed or are you going to watch television all night.” Louise demanded.

“I was asleep.”

“Come to bed.” Louise demanded before returning to the bedroom.

“I’ll sleep here tonight.” Wayne declared.

“Suit yourself.” Louise answered as she fell back onto the bed, then moments later was once again heard snoring. Wayne rose closed the bedroom door. Stripped to his underwear he made comfort on the couch.

There was a rare coolness to the morning and Wayne awoke with the sunrise streaming through his lounge room window, with the sound of the early traffic hurrying to its work. Yawning loudly he advanced to the window while stretching the roughness of sleep from aching joints. He observed how the new sun touched to glow the tips of the trees having a fresh and happy appearance. He wondered how scenic that same sunrise would be from the farm or even from the beach at Federation Bay and wished he was there, bringing to mind his approaching marriage and more soul searching if he had made the correct decision. Could he live a lifetime of restaurants, night clubs, visits to dizzy airhead friends and Sunday roasts with the Miller family? He didn’t wish to answer such an issue coming to such a sweet morning like a horror movie with a bad script.

Why not just co-reside? Was he marrying for the convenience of sex on call or for love, or because it was expected of him to do the correct thing. He had friends who had been married for some years and they were rationed under the guise of headaches, not in the mood or not the right time of the month. There was a joke among them referring to the fact that a quick wank in the shed over a dirty magazine was just as satisfying and it never had a headache, besides even at the fresh end of their relationship Wayne masturbated more often than he was offered sex.

Now there was something building deep inside his chest that was travelling to his brain. A feeling of panic confronted him and he wanted to run and hide away from Louise and her overpowering family. If he felt this way before marriage what would forty years or more of marriage do to him. Forty years of being directed by her father, while never reaching Jack’s expectations and an equal time listening to the false subserviency of the mother with her high pitched voice, her sarcasm, her cracked laughter that could surely shatter glass. He thought his head would explode as he heard Louise call from the bedroom.

“Wayne.”

“Wayne you out there?”

“Come in here I need a cuddle.”

“Wayne!” Her voice began to whine.

“Wayne!” she called once more.

Wayne opened the bedroom door. During the night Louise had undressed and placed herself between the cooling sheets, her pert breasts pointing desire towards him, her hair a mess and makeup smeared.

“Why didn’t you come to bed?” She asked, her voice somewhat croaked.

“I didn’t want to disturb you.” Wayne answered with a forced smile.

“Never mind come here and give me a cuddle.”

The suggestion brought Wayne’s member to immediate attention displaying its desire beyond the light cloth of his underwear. Louise smiled at the control she could command with such a simple suggestion. Wayne removed his shorts and placed himself beside her. Louise giggled while taking control guiding him towards his destination, she sighed loudly as he pushed ever deeper into her pleasure. Then as quickly it was over.

“Lover, you will have to learn to control that.” Louise complained as Wayne disconnected from her and headed for the shower.

“If you let me more often then,” Wayne cut short his complaint.

“I was joking lover.” Louise called after him.

“You will joke once too often.” Wayne called back over the sound of falling water.

“Would you like to go somewhere today?” Louise called as Wayne soaped away the smell of Louise’s stale alcohol and cigarette breath from his body. Finding a pimple on his chest he attended to it, “where?”

“I don’t know, you think of something.”

“I don’t mind, wherever but I do have to see my stock broker at some point during the morning.”

“Why don’t you use the internet?” She called.

“For some things I like the personal touch.”

“We could visit Sue and Graham at Kuranda and there is that lovely new restraint, The Falls or some name like that.”

“I’m not in the mood for visiting.” Wayne turned off the shower and reached for his towel.

“You never are.” Louise came to the bathroom door, her eyes fixed on his exposed backside.

“What?” Wayne inquisitively asked and wrapped the towel around his waist.

“I’ve always said you have a nice bum.” Louise admitted.

“So you do like something about me.”

“That and other things,” she laughed, “Stella agrees.”

“Stella would, Peter is as flat in the arse as she is on the chest.” Wayne vindictively commented.

“So you do notice other bloke’s bums?” Louise gave an accusing glance.

“Not notice but I guess if something is in front of you and your eyes are open you do see these things.”

“Stella isn’t flat chested.” Louise corrected.

“What size cup is she?”

“I don’t know; 14C I guess.”

“What’s that in simple English?” Wayne asked.

“A little smaller that I am.”

“A lot smaller if you want my opinion.”

“So where would you like to go?” Louise diverted.

“We could go waterskiing up at the lakes.” Wayne suggested.

“You mean you ski and I watch – anyway can’t.”

“And why not?”

“Don’t you ever read the newspapers? They have placed a ban on skiing at the lakes as it is destroying the ecology or something.” Louise explained.

“That will upset your old man.” Wayne envisaged.

“Why?”

“Isn’t Jack a partner in the skiing business?”

“Not anymore he sold out when he heard it was to be banned.”

“How would he know that was to happen?”

“The usual way through his mates on the Shire Planning Committee.”

“Typical, then you think of something that isn’t visiting your air-head friends.” Wayne was growing bored with the conversation, “be a dear and put the coffee on,” he suggested.

“You’re out of coffee, I looked.”

“There are some tea bags in the top cupboard.” Wayne suggested.

“Never mind, I’ll shower and we can go to that lovely new café that opened in Abbott Street down near the Pullman Reef Casino.”

It was Sunday roast and Wayne had arrived at the Miller house as late as possible, which somewhat angered Jack Miller, while Fay panicked as her meal grew ever closer to ready. Her slender frame flitted about the oversized kitchen from sink to oven to bench top to dining table, while giving Louise directions, then as quickly changing them.

“Where is the boy?”

“Mother it’s only Wayne don’t fuss, you could serve him McDonald’s and he would be happy, food to Wayne is only a necessity, not a delight.”

“He appears to enjoy my lamb roasts.”

“Yes but anything culinary, I tried him on sushi and he stacked a turn about the health risks in eating raw fish,” Louise said as the sound of knocking came to the front door.

“He’s late; you did tell Wayne six thirty.” Fay asked while extracting the roasted vegetables from the oven and placing them on the server with rested leg of lamb.

“Yes mother I did, he’s here now so stop panicking.”

“Gravy.” The woman fussed.

“I’m doing it mum.”

“Mind the lumps.”

“Minding the lumps.” Louise mocked sarcastically.

“You will have to bring Wayne right to the table and Jack wished to talk to him first,” Fay disclosed with a sigh while carrying the roast to the head of the table ready for Jack to carve.

“Then dad will have to talk to him after dinner.”

“You’re late,” Jack Miller gruffly claimed while meeting Wayne at the door.

“Sorry Jack but the traffic is bad tonight.”

“You have Fay in a fluster.” Jack released a chuckle.

“I better go through and apologise.” Wayne move through to the kitchen.

“You’re late and have mum in a panic.” Louise wittedly announced before Wayne had chance to repent.

“That isn’t true Louise,” Fay spoke in her defence.

“I see you are making the gravy.” Wayne nodded towards Louise’s handy work.

“I am – why?”

“Your last batch was a little lumpy.” Wayne said, bringing a grin to Fay as she placed the finishing touches to her meal table.

“Aw be nice I make great gravy.”

“Wayne you will have to go straight to the table, the meal is ready.” Fay snatched the gravy boat from Louise and scrutinised from lumps. Satisfied she followed to the dining room.

“Sorry traffic.” Wayne repeated, displaying his best apologetic expression.

“Do you want a drink first?” Jack called from the sitting room.

“Dinner is on the table Jack and I’ve opened a bottle of merlot.” Fay complained.

“Rum if you have it Jack.” Wayne answered.

“It will be scotch and no ice.”

“Fair enough,”

“It’s Jonnie Walker blue label,” Jack admitted and placed a measure in two crystal tumblers.

“That would be fine Jack.” Wayne agreed.

“Fine – at almost two hundred dollars a bottle, it’s more than fine lad.” Jack grumbled at Wayne’s lack of appreciation.

“Come on you two the dinner’s getting cold, you can talk later.” Fay called as she fussed about her table settings. Wayne advanced to his usual placing beside Louise. Fay quickly intervened, “no Wayne you sit near Jack, so he doesn’t have to shout across the table. Louise gave Fay a look of discontent but without argument changed places with Wayne.

The meal advanced cordiality but Wayne could feel an underlining current, with Jack chaffing to ask, Fay edging towards supporting her husband and Louise appearing somewhat distant while totally over the question of the farm. On a number of occasions there were hints but well avoided as Louise manipulated the conversation by directing it towards the wedding and how the planning was progressing.

“And what will the bridesmaids be wearing?” Fay asked as she served the dessert.

“I thought apricot.” Louise suggested.

“Pink would be nice, what do you think Jack?” Fay inferred, “Sally Blakely’s bridesmaids were in pink, weren’t they beautiful Jack?”

“I still would prefer apricot.” Louise contradicted, attempting to place strength against Fay’s determination to control her daughter’s special day.

“What do you think Wayne?” Fay asked.

“You answer that question and you won’t be marrying into this family.” Jack cut across the conversation of bridesmaids and dresses.

“Truly Fay I hadn’t thought of it but I guess if Louise wants apricot – well.”

“You men.” Fay sighed and commenced to clear the table, “come on Louise you can give me a hand, and that gravy was lumpy.”

“So why ask me to make it.” Louise quietly bit at Fay’s backhanded comment as she stacked the dishwasher.

Wayne still felt he was a target and sooner or later they would perfect their aim. Then as Fay cleared the final table Jack nodded for Wayne to follow him to the balcony.

“I guess this is it.” Wayne declared under his breath while following Jack to the balcony, thinking he was the sacrificial lamb being lead to slaughter. This time there wasn’t any scotch to clunk its ice around the glass, nor an offer to one of Miller’s foul cigars, only a wave of his hand as an invite to become seated. Wayne took the offer and sat gazing vacantly across the lights of Cairns spread out before him.

“I’ve approached most of the owners in your building.” Jack disclosed.

“Why would that be?” Wayne asked knowing full well where the question was leading.

“Trinity house is sitting on a prime piece of real estate.” Jack issued.

“Yes it is.”

“I guess you own your unit?”

“Yes I paid it outright when I purchased it.” Wayne admitted.

“I’m thinking of purchasing the complex, knocking it down and putting up a high rise, maybe thirty floors. Would you be prepared to sell if I can get the others?”

“Don’t rightly know Jack, I like living there and it’s convenient but if the offer was good anything is possible.”

“I guess I’m getting ahead of myself,” Jack admitted, while to Wayne it was but bluff and another leaver to pressure him in selling the farm to Jack’s Italian mate, so his best defence would be a display of indifference.

“Well lad, have you thought about our last conversation?” Jack asked while puffing again unsuccessfully at his cigar, then relighting it.

“Do you mean about selling the McBride farm to Verrocchi?” Wayne gave emphases to the word McBride.

“That is correct.” The cigar sprung into life while its pungent smell hung in the still air of the balcony.

“It has sentimental value Jack; I need a little more time,” Wayne issued.

“You don’t have much, the wedding’s coming up and I want it finalised before then.” There was threat in Jack’s tone and the sale of the farm had now become a power play rather that the need to satisfy Verrocchi and to Jack relevant in forcing cancellation of his daughter’s choice of partner, a deed that would give him much satisfaction.

“Umm give me a fortnight.” Wayne offered.

“More to the point you will have signed the papers at the end of two weeks,” Miller paused, “so I can let Verrocchi know you agree?”

Wayne didn’t answer. ‘You can let bloody Verrocchi know what you like,’ he thought as the evening grew to closure.

“Mark my words,” Jack Miller finalised as Louise followed Wayne to his vehicle. Wayne again refrained from replying.

“What’s up your fathers arse about this land?” Wayne asked of Louise as he kissed her goodnight, being sure they were out of sight of the balcony. Even so she was wooden under his touch. She folded her arms and followed him along the drive.

“I don’t want anything to do with it.” She replied and changed the subject, “I’ll come around tomorrow night.”

“Sure but if I were to refuse the sale would you back me?” The question that had plagued Wayne for some time was now finally out in the open and would need to be answered.

“Wayne, dad is family.” Louise appeared to be annoyed and backed a pace away, “see you tomorrow night.”

“And after the marriage we will be family, will you support me?” Wayne was becoming irritated and demanded an answer.

“If dad says no to the marriage then I would have to obey him but I know it won’t come to that eh lover.”

Wayne didn’t press further. He was now fuming and quickly taking on the opinion that marriage to Louise may not be what he thought it could be. His independence would be devoured by an overpowering father-in-law, while becoming married to a superficial wife who wouldn’t be prepared to cut the ties of family for the sake of love. It was therefore definitely time to set in motion an idea he had been dwelling on since his last visit to the farm, even if by doing so he could alienate himself from the Miller family and jeopardise his marriage to Louise.

“Tomorrow night then?” Louise repeated as Wayne fired his motor.

“Can’t you talk to Jack about this obsession he has on selling the land?” Wayne appealed.

“I don’t know why you would want to hold onto some dumb farm, besides you could buy another with the money, or a nice apartment up at Port Douglas.” Louise answered without compassion.

“Wouldn’t you like to be a farmer’s wife?” Wayne sarcastically asked and revved the motor.

“I wouldn’t think so, what about entertainment?”

“I guess I can think of plenty of that.” Wayne smirked.

“No Wayne I wouldn’t like living in the bush.” Louise again folded her arms and stepped away from the vehicle.

“Have you thought further where we are going to live after the wedding?” now Wayne was itching for an argument.

“Dad said we could use the house up at Port Douglas but would have to leave a room for their visits and the boat in the garage.”

“I don’t like Port Douglas.” Wayne protested.

“I do, besides Stella and Peter are there. Wayne if we are going to argue over every little point, then.”

“Then what Louise?”

As Wayne spoke Jack returned to the balcony and stood with his hands resting on the rail, “Louise you mother wants you,” he gruffly demanded from the shadows.

“Coming,” She called back but remained standing at Wayne’s vehicle door.

“She said now Louise.” Jack growled.

“I said I’m coming. Wayne we can talk about this tomorrow night.”

“Alright then but no matter what, I won’t be living up at Port Douglas, or at your parent’s place.”

“We’ll talk about it another time. I have to go.”

On reaching his unit Wayne hardly had time to key the lock and enter before the telephone rang.

“Hello,” he barked into the receiver.

“Are you annoyed with me?” It was Louise and she sounded as if she had been drinking.

“Have you been drinking Louise?” Wayne demanded.

“Only a little.”

“I don’t have much more to say on tonight’s conversation.” Wayne quietly spoke into the receiver.

“Look lover, just for me sell the silly old farm and buy another, if not Port Douglas maybe up at Yungaburra, you like it there.” She was begging.

“Has Jack put you up to this?” Wayne demanded.

“Maybe – just a little.”

“Again Louise, if I don’t sell the farm would you support me?” Wayne doggedly asked.

“Wayne that’s not fair, you are putting me in the middle between my family and you.”

“No Louise Jack is doing so.”

Louise released a long sigh, “I don’t know how to answer.”

“It is a simple enough question.”

Silence from Louise.

“Louise I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Wayne was much to incensed to continue with the conversation and rang off.

If the plan Wayne had concocted was only loosely made before that night by the time he retired it was settled and no matter what was to eventuate he would continue with it and was determined Jack Miller or Verrocchi would not change his decision.

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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