Published: 3 Feb 2025

Neil thinks about his one word questions for a moment as the recorder makes its quiet whirring sound, memorable birthdays he eventually asks.

“Now that is an interesting question.”

“Why do you say interesting?”

“I say interesting as I don’t think any were memorable, well not in an earth shaking positive way that is.”

“What about your sixteenth birthday?”

“It was a normal day at the hostel. I remember saying to someone; sweet sixteen and never been kissed but no one was interested in celebrating with me.”

“Did you get presents?”

“No, mum was working at Forest Home cattle station at the time and I received a birthday letter with a ten shilling note. I think I received a letter from my grandmother in Melbourne as well.”

“What about the hostel staff, did they give you greetings?”

“I suppose with so many boys and girls there would be a birthday every second day therefore they simply ignored the fact.”

“What about your eighteenth birthday?”

“I was living in Atherton and mum had me come to dinner and gave me two shirts that were much too large, saying I’d grow into them.”

“Did you grow into them?”

“No but when to came to clothing that wasn’t unusual as I was in between boy’s size and small men’s, eventually I made small men’s.”

“How about your twenty-first did you have a party?”

“I’ve never had a birthday party. By then I was living back in Melbourne with my grandparents and spent that evening giving someone a lift across town. Mum sent down an electric shaver but I didn’t shave much and my cousin wrecked it shaving her legs” Kevin releases a titter.

“Do you care to share your humour?”

“I had a saying when anyone comments on my lack of shaving being we aren’t a hairy family, my mother never saved either but I’m yet to get even a smile out of that one.”

“It is the kind of humour that sneaks up on you. By all accounts you have been hard done by when it comes to celebrations.”

“Wayne did take me down to Hobart in Tasmania for my sixtieth but that trip cost me four hundred dollars with car hire as he doesn’t drive, although I did enjoy the long weekend as I took an extra day from work. What about you Neil, your twenty-first is coming up.”

“Yes in January and mum is arranging something but dad will be away on business. Another question what is your opinion of religion?”

“I would say in most I have none.”

“What brought about your disbelief?”

Kevin appears somewhat uncomfortable as he doesn’t wish to challenge any belief Neil may have, “Firstly Neil I’ll reverse your question.”

“Go ahead.”

“What of your religion?”

“I guess if I had to nominate any I would say Catholic but don’t I follow any. As the hostel was run by the Methodist Church, did you have to attend church?”

“We did but only on Sunday night and the church was part of the hostel precinct being no more that a few yards from the dormitory building. The town’s folk also attended services and like in all services there was that one woman whose trilled voice overpowered everyone.”

“What did you get from attending the services?”

“I remember how difficult it was to stay awake. I also remember during the last year I feigned sick after Sunday dinner and went and lay on my bed.”

“You got away with that?”

“Yes for most of the year. I knew if discovered I could get away with it once but no one ever checked on me.”

“Knowing what kids are like, it is a wonder one of your mates didn’t tell on you.”

“Fortunately they didn’t; I am remembering something my mother once said. It was her opinion god is akin to a blind man in a dark room, looking for a black cat that isn’t there.”

Neil laughs, “I like it and most definitely will use it.”

“I could back up mum’s words with those from a song by Crosby, Stills and Nash titled the Cathedral song.”

“I’ve heard of the group but don’t know their music, how does it go?”

“I’ll simply give the relative words being too many people have died in the name of Christ that I can ever believe at all: that isn’t answering your question. My first knowledge of being aware of anything to do with religion was as a five year old on Dunluce Station before leaving for Torrens Creek. I remember it was late afternoon and I was bunging on a turn. Mum tried to quieten me not to annoy the manager as he often took a nap during the heat of the afternoon but I continued. Mum then said, if you keep that up the devil will come and get you.”

“Did that shut you up?”

“No I didn’t believe in the devil either and went outside stamping my feet into the dust while screaming come and get me, as even at that young age I knew there wasn’t any devil.” Kevin grins before continuing; “and I still remember what I was thinking at the time.”

“What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking what if I am wrong.”

“Were you wrong?”

“Not so far. There was a further time when I chanced to challenge belief. It was during seventh grade, me and a mate were walking back to the hostel after swimming at a water hole known as the devil’s elbow, when we got onto the subject of god. Possibly it was the name of the swimming hole that brought about the conversation. Before the conversation advanced far we concluded as we couldn’t fit the dinosaurs into any of the bible stories therefore like the black cat, god didn’t exist.”

“Family,” Neil says.

“I did have one.”

“You have spoken of your mother and grandparents and your attempt to find your father, also,” Neil gives a cheeky grin, “played dickies with your cousin but did they realise you were gay?”

“I suppose their knowing or not had never crossed my mind and certainly none ever approached me on the matter. Well not until I met Wayne.”

“Was it from your mother?”

“No she remained in North Queensland while I was down here in the city. At the time I was living with my grandparents and staying weekends with Wayne. It was after dinner during an early Sunday evening when I was helping my grandmother with the dishes. From a pause in the conversation Nelly asked after Wayne.”

“What was asked?”

“Simply how is Wayne, to which I attempted to move away from the question by saying, alright I suppose, while endeavouring to sound as vague as I possibly could.”

“Did it end there?”

“No she said; you’re not going to marry, to which I answered probably not.”

“Then what happened?”

“That was the most of it and from then on she would invite Wayne for Sunday dinner.”

“She appears to be a cluey lady, what of other relations as they must talk among themselves, was anything said?”

“Nothing that I am aware off, although I didn’t try to hide the fact as it was obvious I was living with Wayne, even more so when we bought the house, besides the family is so scattered about the country, they never really get together long enough to discuss anything.”

“So you don’t have brothers or sisters?”

“Nope, mum and dad didn’t stay together long enough to make more. I often wondered if they were married, so I applied for their marriage certificate and found they married while hop picking near Leeton in New South Wales; and before you ask it wasn’t a shot gun wedding, I didn’t turn up for eighteen months.”

“I can’t admit the same of my parents as my sister arrived only six months after they married. It was another three years for me with a brother between but enough of me.”

“Have you heard of Bastardy-prone sub-society?” Kevin asks.

“It does sound like a mouth full of words, what does it mean?”

“During the early eighteen hundreds in Wiltshire England it was common for a woman to have one or two children out of wedlock to prove her fertility. If she had more than two she could be charged in law and considered a loose woman.”

“The past is a strange country; possibly my next question is two words, so I’ll hyphenate it – youthful-aspirations?”

“Umm, that is a tricky question, hyphenated or not. If I am honest, I never had any. A Jewish friend one told me the meaning of life is to get from birth to death with the maximum of comfort and minimum level of fuss. In retrospect possibly that could be considered my aspirations.”

“You must have aspired to something, policeman, fire-fighter, train driver, maybe astronaut.”

“There weren’t astronauts during my school days, although I do remember Russia’s sputnik and the dog they launched.”

“Laika.”

“That was her,” Kevin agrees.

“The poor little bugger died up there.”

“As did a number of chimpanzees, in answer to your question, I found during the earlier years life was nothing but a game. Possibly I aspired to working with sheep or cattle, anything to do with horses, besides unless you lived in town there was only station work or the railways, or shearing but that’s back breaking. When in high school I like painting so I guess I did aspire in becoming an artist and when I told my mother she said, yes love a bullshit artist. Even without any lack of encouragement I took a mail order commercial art course but soon discovered I lacked talent. It was as well as in no time advertising design was by computer, even then the camera was becoming the way to go and very few of us had cameras.”

“I noticed a couple of paintings in the passage, are they yours?”

“Yes I painted them yonks (years) back.”

“I think they are good.”

“For an amateur – maybe.”

“Do you still paint?”

“One day some thirty years ago I simply put away the brushes. At one time I did aspire towards becoming a famous writer but my spelling was and remains atrocious.”

“You should give it a go, there is always spell check.”

“True,” Kevin hesitates, “you asked what I aspired towards?”

“I did.”

“In truth Neil, while growing up I had no idea what I wanted to be and guess what? I didn’t know then and I still don’t know, although I must admit when I holidayed with mum’s friend Edith who ran the railway refreshment rooms in Mareeba and she had me serve her customers. I declared then I would never work behind a counter. I guess that is a type of negative aspiration.”

“Did you declaration work?”

“I did not, for most of my working life I did nothing but subserviency to the public.”

“Entertainment – what did you do for entertainment during your school holidays in Mareeba?”

“Mostly we made our own entertainment. In Mareeba there was swimming at the Brewery Hole or under the rail bridge on the Granite. Back then the town had two picture theatres with matinees on Saturday afternoon. It cost the equivalent of fifteen cents for the matinee and twenty cents for the night showing. If I had the money I would pay two and sixpence translating to twenty-five cents and sit upstairs in the dress circle to avoid kids kicking your arse from behind in the canvas seating and the wads of chewing gum stuck under the seats.”

“As your mother was away working while you stayed with Edith, what did you do for spending money?”

“Ah, that was one of Edith’s little ploys; she would have me out of bed by six in the morning and with an old sack, I would scour the town for empty beer and soft drink (soda pop) bottles to sell back to the cordial factory. If you were out early enough it could be quite lucrative with twopence for the branded bottles and threepence for the clean skins.”

“What were clean skins?”

“They were bottles without branding so they could be used by anyone. There was other entertainment but in the most not designed for young boys, like most kids in a small town we gathered and made general nuisance. For the teenagers there would be the monthly dance night, or hanging about the Tip-top café, eating potato scallops (potato cakes – named as cut with a scalloping iron) and drinking malted milk, while feeding their precious few coins into the jukebox. For adults in the most it was the town’s five hotels with the men drinking in the bar and their women in the lady’s lounge sipping shandy (beer with lemonade) or pimms, while watching the men’s camaraderie through the adjoining bar door.”

“No gay clubs?”

“Definitely no gay clubs and by all accounts no gay people either but to watch the men in the hotel bars you would be left wondering. Backslaps and shoulder pats were as close a men got to touching, while wandering eyes would soon be averted and devious thoughts guarded with silent caution.”

“Did you make much money from your bottle collecting?”

“Not a lot, for a while I had a little ploy. I would steal bottles from over the local milk bar’s rear fence and sell them back. The owner soon cottoned onto my game as the same bottle kept reappearing. Soon after when I reached over his fence my hand was almost in the gob (mouth) of a big dog. That put an end to that little caper.”

“Relationships?”

“Do you mean gay relationships?”

“Yes was there evidence of men forming lasting relationships or living together as couples?”

“Not that I noticed although back then I wasn’t really looking, besides if you had feelings for men you kept them to yourself, you married and suffered the isolation. Or went on fishing trips with your mates and who knows what went on while they were away from their women. I do remember a story about an obviously gay couple living together somewhere near Ipswich in Southern Queensland, they were discovered and charged with buggery. Instead of goal time they were directed to permanently part from each other’s company.”

“Did they conform to the ruling?”

“That was never reported.”

“Isolation – did you ever feel isolated?”
 
 
Neil’s question was one Kevin had never reflected on. At sixteen he had just finished his sub-junior year, that being year nine and Queensland’s first year of high school to those from different education systems. After declaring he wouldn’t advance his education as it would be necessary to once again change schools, Kevin decided to go onto the land with his mother and her partner Bob Ferguson who she had met the previous year while down for a break from the station.

Kevin’s decision against further education had been made without much thought for future or life’s direction. His mother would dearly love him to go to university but that was a dream too far. Firstly Kevin didn’t have his sub-junior school results and was too afraid to follow up less he had once again failed those final exams. He had been kept down a grade before but that was in the city and in most the result of changing school while in a different state with a different curriculum. Besides even if by chance he had passed his first year of high school three more remained and they weren’t going to get any easier. Without hesitation Kevin agreed to the alternative being to join with his mother and Bob growing spuds and beans on the roof of the Atherton Tableland at a place called East Barron.

Once on the land there wasn’t time to feel isolated although he did miss the company of the hostel boys. Possibly what he mostly missed was the occasional hiding away for devious purposes with his mate Will Harrington and others. During his first year on the farm, Kevin did return to visit the hostel finding many of his old mates had either departed or now considered him an outsider, a sort of quasi town’s boy, as the hostel and town’s boys were somewhat shy of each other. The rejection deeply hurt Kevin, so he never made further visits therefore he soon lost contact with even his closest hostel mates.

Kevin did have one friend on the farm in the presence of a two year old Kelpie cross dog called Sooky. Bob had been in town on his greengrocery run when approached by the wife of one of his customers suggesting, seeing he was on the land and young Kevin was in need of company, possibly he could take the dog as her husband was inclined to display cruelty towards it. Immediately Sooky and Kevin became the best of friends and she followed him everywhere.

A short while after moving to the farm, Bob discovered his farming prowess was somewhat lacking. True he knew much about growing stuff because he had done so for most of his life. Bob was also proficient at marketing at a local level as on a number of occasions he had vegetable runs about both Atherton and Mareeba, also shops in those towns. What became Bob’s nemeses was the farmer who owned the land not living up to his agreement. Firstly the farmer allowed only half the land he promised and of poor quality, secondly there was argument on what portion of Bob’s crop would become payment back to the farmer.

It soon became obvious that Bob Ferguson wasn’t making enough out of share farming, so he turned to what he knew best that was shopkeeping and he opened yet another shop in town. As Bob and Ivy remained on the farm it was necessary for someone to run the shop and the obvious choice would be; you guessed correctly it would be Kevin. Besides as a farmer Kevin was almost useless, therefore without choice the lad’s promise to self he would never work behind a shop counter was falling short of fruition.
 
 
Because the farm was some distant from town it was necessary for Kevin to find board, also he would need someone who would accept Sooky, as the landowner’s dogs constantly challenged her. Bob found Kevin board with a divorced, or more to point, forsaken woman who took in boarders to make end’s meet. She had two daughters and a son Michael who was a few months younger than Kevin and before Kevin could disagree with his new career he once again became a townie.

In no time Kevin and Michael developed a cautious friendship and as teenagers are prone towards masculinity, supremacy would eventually be challenged. It was on a late Sunday afternoon while in Michael’s room with his family away visiting when the conversation turned to who was the strongest, with Michael assuming Kevin was somewhat small for his age.

“Good things come in small packages,” Kevin argued.

“Better things come in bigger ones.”

“I’m strong enough and can easily carry a full bag of potatoes on my back.”

Michael doubts so, “then prove it.”

A wrestling match commences with Michael placing Kevin in a headlock, “get outa’ that,” Michael boisterously suggests.

“I know one way.”

“How?”

Kevin reaches and takes hold of the crotch of Michael’s shorts.

There is hardening beneath.

“That’s how.”

Michael releases the headlock and returns the grope.

“You’ve got hard on,” Michael declares.

“So have you.”

At last Kevin had found someone to play dickies with.
 
 
For a time the lad’s secretly had their game although it was obviously somewhat one sided and limited. Kevin didn’t mind as most of his past encounters had been that way, then when late on a Sunday afternoon returning from walking with Sooky, Kevin found Michael home alone playing with his previous birthday present; a microscope.

“What are you looking at?” Kevin asks.

“It’s an ant and you can see even down to the sections in its eyes.”

“It’s that good?”

“Take a look.”

Kevin looks through the viewfinder and agrees.

“What do you think of that?” Michael asks.

“Impressive – I wonder.”

“What?”

“No it doesn’t matter.”

By Michael’s expression he realises what Kevin is thinking, “go on you may as well say what you are thinking.”

“I wonder what our wrigglers look like.”

“There’s no one around why don’t we find out?”

“Go on,” Kevin suggests for Michael to produce the necessary sample.

“No you.”

“Paper rock.”

Michael agrees.

Kevin comes up rock.

Paper wins and it is Kevin who has to produce the sample. He does in no time and Michael smears a specimen onto a glass slide.

“At least you have wrigglers,” Michael announces while offering Kevin a viewing.

“So I’m not sterile.”

“Did you think you would be?”

“No but I would like to see what yours look like.”

“I don’t think so.”
 
 
Michael’s refusal should have been a warning to Kevin as Michael was becoming interested in the opposite sex, besides he had his school mates, making Kevin redundant to necessity. There were other encounters but less frequent and could only be described as Kevin servicing Michael’s hormonal needs after he sneaked back home unresolved from a night’s prowling with his mates.

With their rooms adjoining, Michael’s late returns would find Kevin laying awake for the sound of the back door then once Michael’s light had been extinguished he would sneak like a thief in the dark into Michael’s room and slip a nervous hand under the covers.

Kevin would find willingness.

Michael would feign sleep.

Kevin would service then return to his room.

It wasn’t long before Michael put an end to the late night encounters by bolting his bedroom door. Then before the end of Michael’s school year all hell broke out and Michael left home to take up work away from town with the father of one of his school mates, leaving Kevin to his memories and solitary renditions.
 
 
It wasn’t long before Kevin found a distraction in the form of a fifteen year old girl who would visit his shop more often than necessary and stay longer than appreciated, then after a number of visits she slipped Kevin a note neatly written and decorated with love hearts on a page torn from an exercise book, declaring Judy’s undying admiration.

The idea of having a girlfriend more fed the lad’s ego than his hormones, besides he was almost friendless in a town he didn’t much like, so even Judy with her moon face and trowelled on makeup was better than the solitary existence he was experiencing.

For the following months leading up to Kevin’s eighteenth birthday there were late night walks, Friday night pictures and caution not to be caught by Judy’s parents who were less than appreciative of him companying their eldest daughter.

Kissing was the go and Judy was insatiable with Kevin a novice as Judy was the first he had ever kissed in that way, male or female and it did little for him, possibly it was the taste of her excessive makeup, the stickiness of her lip gloss, or simply she wasn’t a boy. After a night at the pictures they would walk hand in hand to the top of her street and away from the lamplight commence the goodnight kissing, instead of rising his manhood it gave him stress that remained until Judy’s eleven o’clock curfew eventuated.
 
 
With Kevin’s eighteenth birthday and his first work holiday approaching, Kevin made the decision to holiday with his grandparents in Melbourne. The decision was threefold, firstly he had never lost his love of his southern birth city, he didn’t much like the town where he was living and it would be a way of breaking up with Judy without the ubiquitous dear Jude letter.

Somewhat excited by his decision Kevin wished to share his intention with his mother. Ivy knew Kevin had never been happier than when at the age of nine she took him from the hostel and returned to Melbourne and never so desponded as when two years later she returned to Queensland, enrolled him in three schools before returning to the hostel, so that drizzly day at the shop when Ivy came to help with the cleaning would become one of joy and sadness.

Before attending to the comics Kevin had been eating a granny Smith green apple, leaving the remainder under the counter while he tidied. Next to the apple was a salt shaker. After a short stint tidying he returned to his apple to find his mother sniggering. Kevin thought her humour strange but allowed it to pass. It did when he collected the salt shaker and commenced to add salt onto the apple.

Ivy’s expression changed.

“What?”

“You put salt on your apple?”

“It’s great, you should try it. Mum did you also add salt to my apple?”

Ivy owned up to the prank being one more example of her humour.

Kevin finished his apple but found difficulty relating his decision to travel therefore his incidental conversation continued.

“Twelve pound ten shillings,” he laughs.

“That is what your grandad called the bird.”

“Yes and how upset I was with the loss of my savings, I was going to give you the money towards travelling expenses.”

“It would have been helpful but we got along alright.”

“I still think the pet shop fellow pocketed the money.”
 
 
During the previous day before travelling back to Queensland Kevin had decided to give his grandmother a going away present in for form of a budgerigar parrot and after withdrawing his savings from the Commonwealth Bank he went to the local pet shop and purchased a pure white bird he called Princess-snow-flake, the bird cost ten shillings (one dollar). On returning home he discovered he had left his wallet with twelve pound in savings on the pet shop counter. On returning to the shop he was informed it wasn’t left behind and he must have dropped the wallet from his pocket.

The information about the bird’s demise came in a letter from his grandfather who had coined the name for the bird, advising Twelve pound ten had died. A second part to his grandfather’s letter was chiding him for asking his grandmother in previous correspondence about his father, writing he should forget about the past and realise what his mother had done for him. In truth there wasn’t reason for his grandfather to remind Kevin about his mother’s sacrifices, as that had already been realised but what harm could there be in discovering a little about his unknown past.
 
 
For a time the conversation continued about their time in Melbourne then Kevin became unusually quiet.

“You appear as if you have something to say,” Ivy suggests as like most mothers she can read her son with clarity.

“Why do you say that?”

“Your thoughts are easy to read.”

“I’ve been working in the shop for almost a year and have holidays coming up.”

“You do and if I’m not mistaken, you want to visit your grandparents in Melbourne.”

“How did you know?”

“You have been hinting at doing so for ages. Are you sure it is what you want love?”

“It is.”

“Will you come back here?”

“Dunno’, maybe I’ll stay in Melbourne for a while.”

“What about Judy, you seem to like her, what does she think?”

“I haven’t told her yet. I do worry who will work the shop once I’ve gone.”

“I suppose it will be me.”

“Sorry mum.”

“Never mind I knew it would happen sooner or later. I do want you to promise me one thing.”

“What would that be?”

“I don’t want you to leave until after your eighteenth birthday.”

“I hadn’t intended to and I will add that to the advice Mrs. Robinson gave.”

“What advice did she offer?”

“She said always have a pound note in your pocket so you can’t be charged with vagrancy.”

“So you have told Mrs. Robinson?”

“I only made a suggestion.”
 
 
Kevin’s birthday arrived two days before he planned to travel, with his mother giving him a simple celebratory dinner while inviting Judy. Gifts were given, and as previously stated, two shirts from his mother; a size too large with the promise he would grow into them, also a wrist bracelet from Judy.

With dinner over it was time for that final walk to the top of Judy’s street and that final extended kiss away from the glare of the street lamp, followed by that final taste of caked makeup and sticky lip gloss.

There were tears from Judy.

Pretence towards sadness from Kevin.

“I don’t want you to go,” Judy pleads.

Kevin doesn’t answer.

“Are you coming back to Atherton?”

“I don’t know.”

“You will write.”

“Yes.”

“Every day.”

“Once a week.”

More tears and it is time for one last kiss as the eleven o’clock curfew arrives with Judy’s mother illuminating the porch light.

She is clearly seen peering into the darkness for her daughter.

“Time to go or your mother will be out looking for you.”

Their hands remain clenched as Judy moves away.

At arms length the clench is broken.

“Don’t look back,” Kevin whispers.

As Judy reaches her yard gate she looks back.

She is obviously crying.

Kevin also takes a final glance and for the first time he is saddened.

As Judy goes into the house Kevin moves into the shadows remaining there long after the porch light is extinguished. Eventually he takes a deep breath and turns then for the first time since he made the decision to travel he challenges the wisdom.

His next farewell would be with Michael’s family the Robinsons also his mother and Bob but the most difficult for the lad was with Sooky, even with Michael’s mother promising to give her a good home.
 
 
Eventually it was time to depart, with a short walk to the main street to catch the White Car buss service down to Cairns and the Sunlander train for a four day trip to Melbourne, changing railway gauge at Brisbane then Sydney. If it were three years earlier there would have been a third gauge change at the Victorian border but since the Sydney to Melbourne gauge had been standardised from Victoria’s five feet three gauge to New South Wales’ four feet eight and a half inches. Queensland remained at three feet six inches.

Then came the hardest farewell of them all and that was with Sooky. It was obvious she knew what was going on but the decision had been made and as Kevin departed he could hear her howling two streets away, if only he could have taken Sooky with him and in his mind it was the loss of Roany all over again.
 
 
“It is said that decision making is a sign of becoming an adult,” Neil suggests.

“I think my decision had another reason and one at the time I didn’t quite understand.”

“Please elaborate.”

“I have mentioned I didn’t realise or associate with being gay. Possible that isn’t totally correct. I now believe I had a fair idea what I was about and staying in a country town especially one like Atherton, I realised I couldn’t continually disguise my sexuality, so by returning to the city I could loose myself in the crowd.”

“Therefore in a way you were running away from the truth.”

“I would say not running away but realising what would have been if I remained, I would more say running towards.”

“What do you believe would have been your lot if you remained in Atherton?”

“That is a good question. Probably I would have married Judy had a kid or two while trying to disguise my sideward glances at any young man with a lump in his crotch or a nice arse. Eventually Judy would have realised I was immature and left me.”

“Then what do you think would happen?”

“I would think it is too frightening to contemplate. I suppose simply drifted, doing what ever work was in the offering and had a miserable life, possibly taken to drink and dying young.”

“Did you keep in contact with Judy?”

“For a while there was an exchange of letters and many years later I visited her in Atherton. By then she had married, had a kid and divorced but remained living in her parent’s house.”

“What happened to your mate Michael?”

“I think I told you about his fight with his mother, for a time he left home finding work with a friend’s father but after a couple of months he returned but our friendship was never the same. We did have a couple of encounters although it was obvious he only tolerated my approach, then after a second blow up with his mother over his refusal to return to school and an unrelated incident, he departed for good.”

“Did you contact Michael after coming to Melbourne?”

“No I think our association was well and truly at an end. I did see him some years later during a visit.”

“How did you mother feel about you leaving?”

“As said she always knew the day would come and I supposed she was resigned to it. I called in to say goodbye on my way to the bus but little was spoken. I could see she had been crying and that only made it worse for me. I then understood why she would never see me off while leaving Forest Home station after my holidays and departed from my company without a word when I first went to the hostel. Possible I should have done the same and not called in that morning before catching the bus.”

“So no regrets?”

“Regrets – I guess not, although on the way down to Cairns I felt if the bus was to stop and there was a return service I would have taken it back to Atherton.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I think it was more from the embarrassment returning would cause.”

“Was leaving Atherton your first major decision in life?” Neil asks.

Gary’s stories are about life for gay men in Australia’s past and present. Your emails to him are the only payment he receives. Email Gary to let him know you are reading: Conder 333 at Hotmail dot Com

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