Published: 30 Dec 2024

While Kevin makes the coffee he has time to contemplate Neil’s question regarding his first love and as he does memories he believed lost are returning, some humorous others not amusing and some he would not share with anyone except his subconscious.

Neil appears captured by something in the garden beyond the large glass windows, “I am noticing a number of small birds in a fuchsia bush.”

“They are probably finches.”

“I’ve never seen them before,” Neil admits.

“They are often there and keep the cat amused for hours. Do you have a garden?”

“Lawn,” Neil responds with a huff, “fence to fence lawn and mowed within a centimetre of its life. Dad makes sure of that.”

“Then your father is the gardener?”

“Not likely, it is up to either me or my brother to do the mowing, he simply supervises – it has to look just right for barbecues with my mates from the club, he says.”

“What club would that be?”

“The MCC.”

“The Melbourne Cricket Club, is your father into cricket?”

“He’s into any sport he can place a bet on. What about you Kevin are you interested in sport?”

“I used to follow Collingwood in the AFL but these days I like watching cricket test matches and a little rugby.”

“What do you like about rugby?”

“I think it is more amusement than a true interest. I am in wonder how men built like tanks can charge each other with so much force, while wearing nothing but a club guernsey and shorts without breaking something.”

“I find cricket slow,” Neil says.

“I like working out run rates with the day night matches and like watching the build in test cricket.”

“What do you mean by build?”

“To me test matches are like watching a storm brewing, slowly, slowly until you realise there had been something planing from day one.”

“But five days?”

“True although you don’t watch non stop for five days Neil;” Kevin gives a cheeky smile, “you do stop watching for coffee breaks now and then you know.”

“Anyway with the thesis I don’t have much time for sport. At school I was into track and field but only at state level, I could never match it with the big boys.”

“Yes you do have an athletic body, not an ounce of fat to be seen.”

“It takes work; that I assure you.”

“Then you use the gym?”

“No I can’t afford gym prices, I have weights at home and I run most days; what about you Kevin, do you work out?”

“I walk a lot and do the house shopping daily and it is about a K to the supermarket.”

“Daily you say. That seems a little excessive.”

“I use it for exercise and socialising, I also go for a short run most days, nothing too strenuous mind you.”

Kevin returns with the coffee, he is seated, “now where were we?”

“You were about to share your first love.”

“Ah yes; first love. You never forget your first love do you?”

“I can’t answer that question Kevin, as I said I’m a little busy to become that involved.”

“Yes of course,”

What was his name?” Neil asks.

It is obvious Kevin is winding back to a happy memory with his answer. “His name was Will Harrison, William I should think but I always called him Will. He had ginger hair and most called him Ginger Megs from the cartoon character.”

“How old were you?”

“I had just turned sixteen and Will was seventeen and in the year above me at school.”

“So it occurred while you were still at school?”

“After school hours and back at the hostel as there was plenty of time to become acquainted, if you know what I mean.”

“Was homosexuality rife at the hostel?”

“I knew a few played although nothing serious, mostly mutual masturbation, besides at that age it was experimental, some called it horseplay but I spent many years around horses and never saw any play that game, besides I don’t think anyone believed it would be their life’s ambition. I supposed someone else’s hand felt better than your own. Some said one of the hostel masters was at it but I never noticed anything out of the ordinary, definitely nothing like the buggery or the molestation you hear of such organizations these days. Will was a country boy whose parents owned a property that was close to the station where my mother was working at the time. I suppose our mutual love of horses and the outback brought us towards friendship.”

“How did it start with your mate Will?”

“Incidentally and surprising I would say.”

It was a cold northern winter’s afternoon. Most would think the tablelands being in the tropical zone would not have winter but the town was high in the dividing range directly behind Mount Bartle Frere Queensland’s highest mountain and on some nights the ground temperature would drop to well below zero. Occasionally icicles formed on the metal rails on the bridge that crossed the Wild River dividing the hostel’s side of town from the state school and small patches of ice would form at the edges of the river as it flowed through the town.

A lazy Saturday afternoon and it was raining, not the heavy downpours the tropics are know for but a slow demoralizing drizzle, keeping the boys inside to find alternative entertainment such as playing cards. One of the lads had a monopoly set but half the money was missing, so we made our own rules with extra money created, sometime even during the game when one or another ran out. You also learned not to turn your eyes as cheating was common; throw a five and move six places, to avoid the go to goal or income tax squares. There was also a new rule being once you had hotels you could have a second hotel on the same square thus doubling the rent while bringing a swifter end to an otherwise lengthy game. The extra hotel was devised by turning the red plastic effigy of a hotel onto its side; again watch out or nimble hands could quickly turn an existing hotel into multi. Not only was this day wet but cold enough for many to find warmth and as it wasn’t permitted to use your bunk before the evening, some took a blanket from their beds.

This afternoon while waiting for the dinner going Kevin found a warm secluded space within a large floor to ceiling cupboard in a disused locker room adjoining the study building that also held seldom used gym equipment and an upright piano that no one knew how to play.

Kevin’s seclusion was soon discovered by his mate Will Harrison.

“What are you doing in there Kev?” Will’s tone is accusing but humoured.

“I’m trying to keep warm.”

“I hope you’re not tugging on your dick.”

“No I’m not – wanna’ join me?”

To Kevin’s surprise Will obliged and snuggled in beside him under the blanket.

“I must admit the winter is colder this year.” Will admitted as Kevin’s wandering hand arrived followed by a cheeky giggle.

“I don’t think so,” Will discourages as he removes the exploring fingers.

There were further attempts by Kevin over the duration of their seclusion and all rejected even if Will’s member appeared to be willing.

The night’s meal gong sounds, bringing the boys to scurry to the dining room for a helping of three vegies boiled almost too valueless and pressed meat they called brawn created from a weeks worth of leftovers, held together with gelatine made from pig’s trotters. Also a slice of almost stale bread and a dab of butter no larger than a thumb nail. Not excluding the dishwater grey cup of sweet tea, followed by something called Blancmange colloquially named Burdekin Mud, the Burdekin being a large Queensland river, surrounded by some congealed yellow substance masquerading as custard.

Kevin’s table was with three other boys from his school class while Will, as he was in a higher grade, was with those of his year, also at that time Will was one of the boys chosen for dish washing duties, being paid seven shillings a fortnight for the privilege. On a number of occasions Kevin believed he caught Will’s eye but with the banter around the table he passed it away as wishful thinking.

Banter amongst Kevin’s grade mates was as usual for lads in their mid teenage years, heavy in sexual innuendo as far as giving each other silly names and as homosexuality is always far game the insults and names around the table became related to, as was the common vernacular, poofters.

Who instigated the titles was no longer apparent but Tony became, Hurry-the-spurry, being another word for seminal fluid, Lenny was Backs-to-the-wall, Frank Flogsta-squirt, another word for seminal fluid while flogsta’ insinuated masturbating and Kevin from his own lips was Pleasure-poofter. Nothing derogatory was intended by the names only the wish to appear as crude as conceivably possibly. As quickly the name calling fell away with the evening meal ending and before Kevin’s table broke up for Saturday night’s study, Will chanced by Kevin’s table.

Kevin caught Will’s eye sending a wave of emotion to rise up from his gut.

“We’ll finish that conversation later,” Will suggests as he departed the dining room on his way to his part with wash-up duties.

“Okay,” Kevin nervously agrees.

“What was that about?” Tony McDonald asks. By his tone he had notice the interlocking between the boy’s eyes, also Kevin’s obviously nervous disposition.

“Nothing,” Kevin’s denial is flavoured with guilt.

Tony releases a huff of disbelief.

Kevin’s cheeks flush, “we were talking about Will coming to visit the property where mum works during the Christmas break and maybe we could go riding together.”

“Huh,” Tony exhales in disbelief as the dinner concludes with a mass exodus in the direction of the tuck-shop before study.

With the night’s study at an end finding Will wasn’t easy. Eventually Kevin found his mate in conversation with two of his classmates. Will spies Kevin and gives a head flick towards the passage between the dormitory and the study block.

Kevin understands the message and quickly departed.

It was an age before Will finally arrived, his handsome frame swaggering in the darkness of the passage; the dull light appeared to turn his ginger hair to glow.

“Are you ready for some conversation?”

“Conversation?” Kevin questions

“I think you get the idea.”

“Where can we go to have this conversation?”

“Follow me.”

Will leads the way through the passage, pass the study to the hostel’s garage, its front is at street level but with a gentle gradient and ample room to crawl under at the rear.

“Where to?” Kevin asks not wishing to spent time with the dust and spiders.

“We should be safe in the garage.”

“We can go in there, besides it’s locked.”

“The way I go, it isn’t.”

In the floor towards the rear of the garage there is a trapdoor opening beside the first of the hostel’s vehicles, a Holden utility with the second a Combi van closer to the road.

Will opens the utility’s door, “go on slide in.”

“What do we say if we’re caught?”

Will pats his shirt pocket holding a cigarette lighter and some lose cigarettes, “we popped in for a smoke.”

“I don’t smoke,” Kevin protests.

“You do if we are caught, don’t worry and trust me they never use the vehicles this late at night.” Will slides in besides Kevin, “well here we are what are you going to do about it?” Will smiles and winks in the dull lighting coming from a Perspex skylight in the garage roofing.

“Do what?”

“You tried hard enough this afternoon, don’t tell me you’ve gone all coy.”

Nervously the lads advanced to a state of undress their naked arse cheeks becoming sweaty against the vinyl of the car seats.

As hands silently explored Will breaks the quiet in the cabin. “You know with all the washing we do our dicks must be the cleanest part of our bodies.”

Kevin thinks it is a strange observation but he must respond, “I guess so,” he softly agrees.

“Would you like me to suck on it?”

‘Wow,’ Kevin can’t believe Will’s offer, fellatio wasn’t unknown to him but it was mostly spoken in jest and at that very moment he was so involved in Will, he would have agreed to anything.

“I guess so,” he repeats.

“I’ll go first, then you can do me,” Will’s head lowers, “don’t you blow in my mouth,” he warns.

“I won’t.”

Thirty seconds and it is Kevin’s turn, thirty seconds more and Will lifts Kevin’s head away, “better stop now I’m about to shoot, we’ll finish up by hand,” he says.

In no time the encounter is over and as the lads lift their shorts from their ankles, they hear voices behind as the garage door opens. It is Stan Linton who had recently taking over as the hostel manager from the reverend Thomas and is with one of the house masters.

“Shit we’re in for it,” Kevin whispers.

“Keep your fucken’ head down,” Will growls a warning, dragging Kevin’s head lower from sight to rest in his lap. Kevin can feel his heart racing in his ears while imagining the outcome of being caught, also would simply having a quiet cigarette cut the mustard and why do so in one of the vehicles where the smell of cigarettes would linger for days.

Muffled voices continue at the open door to the garage with little of the conversation audible until the word Combi is mention, lessening the boy’s concern.

Luck prevails as the sound of the Combi van’s engine starts.

“That was close,” Kevin whispers.

“No shit, we better fuck off before they return.”

As the garage door remains open they leave with caution knowing if there is a future encounter it would not be such a dumb place as the seat of the hostel’s utility.

Will and Kevin’s late arrival for bed was again notice by Tony McDonald as Kevin shared the next bed; also Will was spied sneaking into the adjoining room.

“Where have you been Barker?” asks McDonald.

“Nowhere.”

“Huh.”

“What’s it to you?”

“I saw Harrington sneaking back as well.”

“How would I know,” Kevin answers as the housemaster calls for lights out and a little less chatter.

For some time Kevin lay in the darkness his thoughts bolstered by the encounter with Will to such an extent it became necessary to once again release the pressure but as quickly he is disturbed with harshness from the lower bunk.

“Barker, stop shaking the bloody bed!”

There is laughter across the room.

“I’m not!”

“You are; fucken’ leave it alone, so I can get some flaming sleep.”

“Did you meet up with Will again?” Neil asks.

“Yes on a number of occasions.”

“And you say you remain in contact with Will although none of it has come up in conversation?”

“When I first discovered Will on facebook he said he only vaguely remembered me. I said there was something I could say to help his memory but possibly it was better to leave it until another time.”

“That was brave of you.”

“More to point and in retrospect it was stupid.”

“How did Will respond?”

“He said that was then, this is now.”

“Then what happened?”

“We continued our contact as if nothing out of ordinary occurred, besides from what I understand he has married twice and is now living with a new lady in Adelaide.”

“I like the story but how come you didn’t remain in contact from your school days?”

“A lot happened during that last school term with Will getting into all sorts of trouble. Firstly there was the rebellion among the older hostel boys ending with Will giving our dormitory master a wack. Fortunately it was no more than a shove and he wasn’t charged instead he was expelled.”

“Were you part of the rebellion?”

“Not really although I must admit I agreed with it.”

“Go on.”

During the final term of the school year something occurred that changed everything for young Kevin. There had been a pillow fight after lights-out with some of the pillows damaged, sending kapok to fall like snow about the dormitory. The fight was soon discovered and the dormitory master demanded to know who the ringleaders were. As no one owned up punishment would be given to everyone. Then a strange thing occurred, Kevin approached the manager Stan Linton about the unfairness towards punishing everyone.

“Were you part of the fracas Barker?” Linton demanded believing he at last had someone prepared to admit his guilt or give up the names of his associates.

“No Mr. Linton.”

“But you do know who was.”

“I’m just saying it isn’t fair to blame everyone, I’ll take the blame if that helps.”

“If you have nothing to say then you can take the punishment with the rest.”

At 2am the older boys were wakened and herded to the study in their pyjamas during a very cold morning then ordered to stand silently facing the wall until someone owned up, or a weaker lad offered the names of those who started the ruckus. No one spoke, besides even the boys didn’t know how it started therefore as nothing was admitted the punishment continued nightly for the remainder of the week.

Eventually there was a mass exodus as almost all the high school lads rebelled over the nightly punishment. The exodus wasn’t well thought out nor did they go very far, in the most it was no more than a late night stroll about town before realising there was nothing they could do, so they returned to face the consequences and the rebellion ringleaders discovered by their own confession. Will happened to be one the ringleaders and soon after he and one other was expelled.

Will Harrington didn’t go far instead he found board in town and finish that year of high school as a town’s boy. As for Kevin he would see Will during school time but never again were they associated, besides it was obvious by Will’s attitude he was developing interested in girls.

For Kevin the remainder of the year was like standing on the far side of a large cyclone wire fence, able to see Will but never approach.

“That would have been sad for you.”

“For a time but it was also my last year at the hostel although I didn’t know it. Besides I had final exams to concern with and absolutely no idea where I was heading for the end of year holidays.”

“Yet Will has remained strong in your memory for all these years.”

“More as a comfortable and pleasant memory, although I did have a surprise while visiting the Tablelands some years later.”

“Continue.”

“During that last year at the hostel we had a number of excursions to the volcanic lakes and at one named Lake Eacham there was a stand of giant bamboo where I carved K.B – L – W.H. onto one of the larger lengths of bamboo and during a later visit I found the bamboo was still there.”

“Does that mean what it suggests?”

“Yes, I love Will Harrington and there was a double surprise. Firstly after all that time my carving was still there even if the length of bamboo had died off and withered, secondly someone had carved under my notice – so do I.”

“Do you believe someone realised they were your and Will’s initials?”

“Possibly, as most of the carving on the bamboo was by hostel boys.”

“With exams pending, what was your aim in life?”

“To be honest Neil, I didn’t have any; I simply cruised along doing just enough work to pass and little more.”

“So you didn’t want to be a computer programmer or work in IT?”

Kevin laughs.

“What is amusing you?”

“There weren’t any computers and the position of IT hadn’t been invented. We often talked about computers but they were so big they took up a whole room and at that time there were only three computers in the world.

“You say three?” Neil repeats in disbelief.

“Well three that we knew about, the first was in Manchester England back in fifty-one, although Bletchley Park had one for code breaking during the war but was dismantled. The same year there was one here in Sydney, which I believe survives somewhere in boxes and a few months later there was one in America, all created separate of each other. I guess by my second time at the hostel in the early sixties there were more but we never heard about them, besides what the early computers could calculate in a day, your modern pocket calculator can do in an instant.”

“Didn’t your school have career advisory sessions?”

“Huh, it was enough to teach us to read and write and add up a column of figures then get us out of the class rooms as quick as possible. To be truthful I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do when I left school and guess what Neil?”

“I’m guessing.”

“I still haven’t got a clue.”

“Even so you did okay in life,”

“Yes I grew up somewhat when I came to the city and eight years later I skipped two years of high school and passed the states leaving certificate in one year, also obtained third division in the public service but I would think that is also outside your field of interest.”

“I still find it interesting. I have heard of public service divisions but what did obtaining third division mean for you?”

“It gave clerical status in any of the government departments and in those days it was possible to transfer from the PMG or other departments such as Defence or Finance.”

“What was the PMG?”

“Post Master General, the post office, these days a clerk in the post office is nothing but a name. It’s funny how importance changes in time.”

“What do you mean by importance?”

“When I was a kid there was a survey taken on the most important people in society, in the top ten or so were school teachers, the police, railway station master, post master, doctor and when the survey was retaken some years later, none of them were even mentioned and the position of postal manager became nothing but a glorified shop assistant.”

“How did promotion work?”

“Have you heard of next cab of the rank?”

“No.”

“Promotion mostly worked on seniority being whoever had worked the longest got a tap on the shoulder and offered the position, as long as they had their leaving certificate or equivalent.”

“What if you were all but useless?”

Kevin laughs.

“What’s the joke Kevin?”

“You collected your pay and let those who had ability but lacked the required education do the work for you and there were many who did that.”

“Were you one of them Kevin?”

“I like to think not, besides Australia Post got its worth out of me. Over the last ten years or so as manager of a suburban post office, I was putting in up to ten hours a day but I didn’t find doing the extra hours stressful, it wasn’t as if I had a family to go home to. I also retired with over a hundred weeks of accumulative sick leave, which came to nothing, not even appreciation.”

“Didn’t you get overtime pay for the extra hours?”

“Not a cent, once when I spoke to my area manager about the extra work his managers put in, he simply said if you can’t do your allotted work in the time provided than you must be useless.”

“How did you react to that?”

“I simply replied, as in your words, I must be useless.”

“What was his reception towards your answer?”

“He simply laughed. By this time I was approaching retirement and the department was offering generous packages. I suggested I could be given a package but with my length of service it would be excessive, he said I would either retire or die before such an offer was made.”

“That appears a little off-putting.”

“Not really by that time I had worked out how to work with the system, besides if I don’t mind a little self appraisal, my office was thought to be the most profitable and best managed in the area. It was called the cream.”

“What does that mean?”

“They never heard from me, while I proudly ran the office as if it was my own business, although by the time I retired any entrepreneurial attitude was discredited as they wanted uniformity across the network and you didn’t even have the authority where to best display product. As for bad or underperforming staff, you simply had to suffer them.”

“You say you finished at the hostel in sixty-four why didn’t you return the following year?”

“Ah yes that was the year that was,” Kevin gives a long sigh of memory, “the following few months turned out somewhat confusing.”

“Do you care to share?”

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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