CH9 Fictitious Facts I: 'Cultivation of a Murderer'. continued

CH 9, FFI 'Cultivation of a Murderer' continued.
BUY:
FFI.
FFII 'Patsy toEspionage'.
FFIII 'Equanimity':

http://www.amazon.com/author/dennisdurant

Chapter 9

Immature Gratification

Monday was a school day. Next to the school on the downhill side was a post office owned by Mrs Fry, she was of medium height with a friendly temperament, quite large around the girth and very capable of exerting her authority. In her tiny shop she dabbled in a variety of trade such as gift lines and confectionary and proudly advertised in full view sweets stored in jars along the counter and on the back shelf, they were specifically presented to encourage the school kids to spend their money. Don’s mother owed Mrs Fry three shillings and sixpence for stamps and stationary she purchased the previous week. Before Don left home and boarded the bus for school his mother gave him four shillings to pay the debt. Don, in his childish wisdom, thought the money would be better spent on sweet treats for himself and his mates; the four shillings was spent on a large bag of mixed confectionary. He took the bagful back to school and at lunchtime he, Sam, and a few others hid behind the weather-shed and scoffed the lot. Weepy, in-between wiping his eyes and blowing his nose produced a small packet of cigarettes for which he was not going to share, Don and the others wanted one so he gave Weepy the change out of the four shillings for the rest of the cigarettes. They all puffed away while chewing with remarkable alacrity, hurrying to finish their booty before the ‘bell’ sounded. Achieving this goal gave them the pleasure they sought, yet whilst being pleased with themselves they were not feeling as well as they should and went back to class suffering quietly as if nothing happened. At the end of the day when Don arrived home his mother said;

       “Hello. How did your day go at school? What did you get up to today?”

       “Good,” he said with a downward stare. “Nothing much mum.” With a hint of trouble in her voice she said;

       “Okay, go and change out of your school clothes.” As he undressed in the bedroom she followed him in;

       “Did you pay Mrs Fry the money I owed her?”

       “Yes,” he replied. Don goaded her trustful temperament with his blatant lie. In a harsh voice she asked;

       “Where’s the sixpence change from the four shillings I gave you?”

Don whimpered, he knew by the hostility in her tone something was wrong and feared telling her the truth would be detrimental to his ability to sit for a long time, so with great and foolish temerity he wrongly responded;

       “Sorry mum. I lost it.” Without notice and with instant pain she held and squeezed his arm with one hand and with great force her other struck his bare posterior over and over again. While she was slapping him she did so with a raised voice insistent on getting the message through;

       “Don’t you ever, ever lie to me again, ever, or else. Do you understand? You spent the money didn’t you?”

       “Yes mummy,” he said wailing. Don was in pain and full of regret. Apologizing frantically he sobbed;

       “Sorry mummy, sorry mummy. I won’t do it again, I promise.” Still smacking firmly but sporadically, she said;

       “I rang Mrs Fry. She told me you spent the money on ‘lollies’ rather than pay her the money, which was hers, not yours. That is stealing Don. Why did you lie to me?”

       “I don’t know, sorry mummy, sorry.” He was remorseful in reply, but this was mainly due to the hiding he received, not so much for the lie told. She shouted;

       “Get into bed! And don’t come out until I tell you.” She scurried out of the room and slammed the door shut behind her.

Hours passed before she returned. He was still awake and still throbbing and sobbing from the spanking. She sat on the bedside indicating compassion by addressing him with calm and sombre vocal inflections;

       “What you did was very wrong. I’m more disappointed in you for lying to me than I am for you spending the money. Do you understand what I told you before? You can go to jail for stealing. Did you know you can go to jail?”

       “Yes,” he sniffled.

       “I never want you to lie to me again; or steal from anyone. Do you understand?” Subdued and with convulsive gasps left over from such prolonged weeping, he replied;

       “Yes mummy. I won’t do it again. I won’t steal.” A short silence filled the room as she tried reaching into her mental lexicon to say something to ensure this never happened again, but it was a futile attempt because there were no such words either could say to guarantee his future behaviour. She ordered;

       “Because you did the wrong thing and because you lied to me you are not allowed out to play or see your friends outside of school for three weeks. Three weeks, do you hear? And straight after dinner each night you go straight to your room. Okay? You’re lucky your father isn’t here or your bum would be a lot redder.”

       “Yes mummy,” he said, with more teary-eyed snivels.

His mother valued the hiding he received as absolutely necessary because through experience she knew incessant pettifoggery with a nine year old was near impossible due the child’s inability to apply extended logic other than which is egotistical or self- centred; dialogue itself would have no meaning, it had to be reinforced with a penalty. The sequence of events which took hold on that day did educate him towards the wrongs of stealing, and untrue justifications, but more importantly he took another lesson from his unfortunate encounter; the lesson of logic only a child could figure. From his ignominious capture he reasoned, deceit and veracity were separated only by the fact of getting caught, and appropriate punishment was convened due to the belief of the arbitrator; in this case his mother. The memory of a sore bum from her hand and the humiliation of his vapid inanity in excuses also taught him; if he were to wrong again he would need to ensure better planning and constructive fabrication of a pragmatic account of his actions, then if he were caught again he would be believed.

Don’s three weeks of home detention passed slowly and the time spent in his room had insignificant didactical meaning towards the offence committed. Being housebound on the weekends had its benefits, it allowed him to appreciate life around his family somewhat, and he even realised better the exertion put into the business, yet what gave him the greatest pleasure was remembering the exhilaration attained from attempting deception. While he moped bored in his room Sandy was with him more than not. She would whine outside the bedroom door until Rene got sick of the noise and let her in. At the end of his detention he was allowed to return to his normal day to day routine and visit his friends on the weekends. Seeing all was now well at home he set off early Saturday morning and tried to ‘hitch’ a ride to Sam’s, but to no avail; he slogged the two mile. When he arrived the greeting from Sam was typical of friends and the drink and food from his mother appreciative. Sam knew of the strife Don got himself into from their conversations at school and was elated Don did not involve him in the fiasco. This showing of comradeship contributed in cementing a more trustful and congenial relationship between the two.

In the three weeks of Don’s absence Sam’s parent’s built a bedroom on the front of the house adjacent to the wash room. The whole inside of the house had its timber studs covered here and there with fibro sheets, only some long enough to reach the ceiling joists. Most of the roof cavity was bare, exposing the frame and giving view to the inside of the corrugated tin roof. In very cold weather with the kerosene heater on, condensation would form inside on the tin and run down the slope, when obstructed by a roofing nail it would drip annoyingly; the new bedroom was no different. On what was a rare occasion, Sam’s parents decided to go to Skishon pub for a few hours relaxation. His oldest sister Doris was left with the charge of watching over the five children and prepared a bath in the copper for all to use; Don, Sam, herself and her three sisters. Before they utilised the bath there was a cement sink and a few plastic pails filled to wash off the extra dirty bits so as not to soil the bathwater too much. In accordance with regular practice and procedure she organised herself and her three younger sisters to wash first, when they finished it was to be the boys turn. Through the thin wall Don and Sam could hear the mirth shared by the girls. A compelling urge to satisfy their curiosity beget a plan to spy on them. They climbed onto the ceiling rafters by way of access from the new room and crawled just far enough to peak undetected into the washroom. Nobody was in the ‘copper’, they were all standing around in a mischievous and teasing mood, slapping soap suds everywhere, laughing, joking and lathering each other liberally to hair and private areas. Don walked in on his sister before while she was showering and quickly censured, he was told to scat. This was the first time he witnessed live naked girls in this type of environment and was astonished at their sexual characteristics, the beauty of their femininity and pleasant form pleased him no end.

The two younger girls were gifted with long blonde tresses and hairless smooth bodies, each not yet old enough to sprout maturity in breast formation. The next oldest had small breasts with prickly looking pubic hairs and short light auburn coloured locks. The oldest, Doris, was well established in all areas. She was slim and captivating with a curvaceous form, her hair was brown and short but it was the perfect breasts attracting Don’s undivided attention. They were the largest he had ever seen, upright and firm with light brown nipples protruding slightly and ostentatiously with poise. The girl’s infantile behaviour was exciting Don, his focus in ‘perving’ quietly but attentively brought on salacious unexplored feelings of arousal. He could feel desires from his lower abdomen through to his thighs he had never before encountered until now. As most children of his age he experimented with himself, but never had he psychologically or physically experienced such sexual urges. Mesmerised by the girlish frolic and innocent charm he continued to cast covetous eyes upon them. Stunned by their magnetism he was in a trance until a tap on his back from Sam caused a startled acknowledgement and such absorption in the spectacle was unfortunately interrupted; he was signalled to retreat. Don mumbled his disappointment on leaving the vantage point. The reasons for Sam’s decision to get Don down could have been due to a moral dilemma over the lecherous scenario, or maybe because of Don’s intense concentration on the girls and his disregard for Sam’s presence, or he could have suspected not all was as it should be, or he could have simply been bored. Either way, they backtracked through the ceiling, down the wall into the bedroom, then went into the lounge room and waited for their turn.

They passed the time by listening to the record player spinning ‘seventy eights’. When the girls finished they made their entrance through the front door, each covered only by a small towel. It wrapped the younger ones with sufficient cover, yet proved very scanty on Doris, barely covering anything but her middle section. Don needed little encouragement to indulge in horseplay and their half naked presence helped promote an indulgence to gratify a desire his mind still pictured in the washroom; he was inspired by what he saw and wanted to see it again. In playful gesture he reached out to pull the towel off Doris, with a flirtatious whine and speedy reflexes she pushed his arm away just in the nick of time. Her slight prissy scream was met with a knock at the door; this immediately subdued further action except the girls charge into the bedroom.

       “Bastard!” Don exclaimed in disappointment of the interruption. Sam opened the door. It was Weepy, he brought with him two large bottles of ‘DA’ (beer). They left the girls inside and went out to the paddocks edge where they lit a small campfire and sat around swapping stories, smoking cigarettes and drinking. Don told Weepy of their stimulating escapade involving the girls in the washroom but he seemed unimpressed and uninterested. Sam offered no help in relaying the story, leaving Don bemused why this adventure was not raising discussion and curiosity; especially from Weepy. He was to soon learn why.

Because Sam and Weepy had been neighbours since birth they saw each other every day and built a special bond in which no outsider could ever infiltrate to share replication. Living in such close proximity to each other gave them lots more time to engage in a social network. There were stories Don had yet to hear; secrets yet to be relayed; eventually they informed him of a few youthful exploits. Weepy told Don;

       “Sam’s been ‘scrapping’ my sister for a long time now. Sally likes him and won’t leave him alone. She’s a real pain, and annoys us all the time.” Don was already aware of Sally’s feelings for Sam but did not know they had sexual encounters. Weepy went on;

       “And I’ve been doing his sister for ages. We do it all the time.” To add to Don’s look of incredulity was his envy, and making worse his enigma was when they told him they were experimenting sexually with their other neighbour Fran. Both spoke in accordance and told him Fran was willing to play with anyone and always wanted sex. Apparently she loved to put into practice novel abstractions. They asked Don;

       “Do you want to fuck Fran? She wouldn’t say no if we asked her. Are you game or chicken?” He never tried anything like this before, the thought of it terrified and excited him. Anyway he could not say ‘no’ because to refuse would expose his trepidation and cowardice, so he gingerly agreed to join in the fun and asked;

       “When? I’m not chicken. When will she do it?” Weepy replied;

       “Next weekend probably. We’ll ask her during the week if she wants to. I know she will. Then we’ll go for a walk to Fowler’s next weekend. You’d better show up.”

Don had been to Fowler’s place a couple of times before, with Sam, Weepy and Sterge. It was a place to play and catch ‘yabbies’. The deserted and desolate old busted up homestead was near a fresh water stream surrounded by stagnated ponds. Light scrub was slowly engulfing the once cleared land encircling the house. It was situated across the road from Sam’s but a good distance away; far into the thick bushland. On approach they weaved between old ploughs, rusty farm equipment and large blue stones covered in moss. Everywhere was fenced by tall grasses and shrub which swallowed everything into hiding. The house itself was an old shack with walls of obliterated fibro and tin. The remains of the eves barely clung suspended due to the weight of the hornet’s nests, and the leaking rusted tin roof had more holes than tin. Low woody perennial plants grew wildly through the floorboards around a single dilapidated iron framed bed. This bed was minus one leg and without a mattress; for horizontal stability it had an ‘Arnotts’ biscuit tin under the legless corner keeping it level. Rags and old towels lined the wire base of the bed and next to it stood an old cupboard and a three legged wooden stool. There were beer bottles, empty cigarette packets and confectionary wrappers scattered throughout. At various times Don participated in the fun and secrecy of this place; but never with girls in the way planning was taking effect.

School day; Friday afternoon arrived so fast it was as if a romantic prestidigitator performed an illusory feat with the calendar. Weepy and Sam reminded Don of their plan to coach Fran to Fowler’s, although he still agreed to the idea he was strongly befuddled by thoughts of responding to unversed upcoming activities. Not having any knowledge of the intended events he would be required to undertake when alone with Fran petrified him, yet the capacity to reflect on the sight of those naked girls in the bathroom filled his senses with inquisitiveness and sexual stimulation which helped to overshadow his fear. Ultimately he was unsure of his own total readiness; even so, he prepared to try anything involving nude girls.

Weepy and Fran were older than Don and Sam and in their last year of primary school. For Don the age difference was never a problem, it was the sort of play expected of him with Fran that was baffling. He was past the phallic stage of psychosexual development, and well aware of his own erogenous zones. Self exploration of his penis led to pleasurable experiences demanding orgasmic sexual satisfaction, but he never touched or really saw a vagina until his encounter with Sam’s sisters’. However, he felt he had one thing in his favour, although he was shy and reserved around most girls in general he believed he had sort of an encouraging connection with Fran and figured this kindred spirit would make it easier to falsify a display of courage. The day had come to ask Fran if she wanted to go with them on the coming weekend. In the school playground Weepy called out to Sam and Don;

       “Hey,” he shouted, waving an arm for attention. “Come here.” Sam was first on the spot;

       “What ya want?” Then Don showed. Weepy asked;

       “Com’n, are ya’s ready, we’ll go and ask Fran if she wants to go yabbying with us tomorrow.”

       “Ok,” replied Sam. Don agreed with a nervous response;

       “Oookaay.” Weepy could sense the hesitation in Don’s voice, he suspected Don may demur so he made sounds like a chicken;

       “Brrk, broookkk, brook, brroook, brk, brk; chickening out are ya? Defensive in reply Don barked;

       “No! I’m not.” They walked over to the bench where Fran and her friends were sitting. Weepy did most of the talking;

       “Hi Fran, d’ya wonna come yabbying with us tomorrow?”     “Woooooohh,” harmonised the other girls before singing in tune;

       “Fran has a boyfriend, Fran has a boyfriend.”

       “No!” Fran’s rejection was more from embarrassment than desire. Sam retorted with indignation to her blunt refusal;

       “Why not?” She moved off the bench away from the other girls and made her way through the assembly area before responding;

       “My mum goes crook when I go out with you boys.”

       “Com’n,” pouted Weepy attempting to apply pressure so she would change her mind. “It’ll be good fun. We’ll have a good time and play doctors and nurses again.” She said;

       “I don’t know yet. Ask me again tomorrow morning and I might.”      “Ok.” C’mon fella’s let’s play brandings. You’re in Don,” said Weepy, as he threw a cricket ball at his leg and branded it with a bright red welt. Don was nearly in tears but dare not show weakness. While holding his leg with one hand and picking up the ball with the other, he was two minded in the outcome of Fran’s deliberation. He felt relieved in one way; she was not thrilled about joining them, and yet disappointed he may not get to partake in things he could only characterize through subconscious and imaginary design. He put the perchance of intimacy in the back of his mind for now and chased Weepy.

After branding him on the back, Weepy in turn branded Sam. Sam now had the ball and set after Don through the school yard, he was in full flight making a hasty escape, then he turned his head slightly to see if Sam was gaining and, ‘BANG’, he ran head on into a galvanised iron water tank. The sudden stop knocked him backwards, and nearing an unconscious state he lay there with blood drooling from his mouth, tears gushing, and cries of pain echoing. The other kids gathered around and thought it a great joke. It was no joke for Don. He was seeing stars, cut his gum, and took a large chip out of his front tooth. Fran was the only one who took the trouble to assist him, none of the kids showed any sign of concern or sorrow but she did. She stood over him looking down and graciously put out a hand to help him to his feet. Don put on a brave face as Mr Tems the teacher came to his rescue with a hankie, he soaked the hankie with water from the pesky tank of cause and wiped away the blood and tears from his face. The teacher promised Don he would live, when he finished attending his wounds he said;

       “You’ll be okay but it looks as though you’ve chipped your front tooth. Does it hurt? Is it sore?” Don was speechless; he shook his head in a positive up and down motion to explicate a ‘yes’. Tems held his mouth and squeezed his cheeks to get a good look at the damage before commenting;

       “You’re a lucky boy you know? You should be able to spit water a fair distance through the gap it created.” He was right. Don rinsed his mouth out and tried his new cutting-edge toy, it worked great, he could spit a steady stream about six feet further than anyone in his class.

CH 8 continued. "Fictitious Facts 1; 'Cultivation of a Murderer'."

Chapter 8 continued

Bonding with Friends

By now Rene engraved quite a name for herself in the eatery section with her culinary ‘specials’, This area of service soon became the ventures main source of income deriving most of its reputation from the kind words of the drivers in the trucking industry; mostly those operating semi trailers for ‘Hancock’s Transport’, ‘Hayes and Kidd’ and other firms stopping for meals on a regular basis. At times there were no less than fifteen semis lined along the roadside. It would be all hands on deck to cook a mixed bag of orders fresh from the generous menu; toasted sandwiches, hamburgers and chips, steak and eggs and much more. But the profits were chewed up by the demand of ever increasing bills and the need to upgrade and replace stock, including general living expenses. At the end of the day there was little change over for profit; most times not even enough to pay the mortgage or utilities. It was a struggle to survive and obvious to the Scotsdon’s there was still not enough trade for consistency in earnings to allow Ted to give up his main job, and any thoughts about concentrating on expansion or further business speculations was an aspiration best left in the back of the mind.

No-one had yet claimed Nellie so she was Don’s to keep and in addition they accumulated a varied selection of pets; sheep, rabbits, chickens, kangaroos, geese, ducks, cats, a horse and pigs. Ted acquired most of these animals by completing ‘foreign orders’ (odd jobs) for people in his lunch breaks at work and on weekends. He was not really allowed to use council machinery for personal use, but because his work was always on tracks many miles away from the employer’s base and he would only see the overseer one day in each week, payday, every other day he was left to work according to his own judgement. The acquisition of a few Merino sheep had to be chained around the neck most of the time to stop them straying onto the road or becoming a meal for the dingo’s. One was different, it was special to Don because it showed a loveable nature and was more a pet than just kept for its meat and thick fleece, although it did have a nasty habit of head butting anyone within sight. It was a large animal and did painful damage to people at times, but luckily for Ted the word ‘suing’ was not yet part of the customers’ vernacular; if it was the lawyers would have had a glut of clients. After a period of time the constant chaffing from the wearing of the chain around its neck caused deep gashes and gangrene soon set in. The open wound was green with rot and white with puss together with blowflies egging into maggots and feeding freely; it was an ugly sight. Ted tried caring for her by building an enclosure so the chain could be removed and by cleaning the wound regularly, but she still took on a sickly condition and rendered no confidence for survival. On daily assessments Ted thought it best to shoot her, he could see no hope for its survival and wanted to put it out of its misery, it seemed the only humane thing to do. For sake of sentiment or compassion, or his son’s loyalty to the animal, he could not bring himself to pull the trigger. Over the next few days of contemplation his change in heart proved to be the correct course of action because Nellie decided to take on the job of nursing and would constantly lick clean the wound, she only left the sheep’s side for food and drink; it tended the animal for weeks until it completely recovered. It was a special dog, having a strong bond for all living creatures and never harmed anybody or any other livestock.

Don cherished the demented comedy the sheep created and he cared for its wellbeing as best he could, right up to the following Christmas when it mysteriously disappeared. When he asked his parents of its whereabouts he was told it got out of its pen and ran away. They explained to him it may have been taken by a dingo or rustlers and said they were uncertain as to why or how. In the future when Don became a lot older he learnt the truth, because business was in a seasonal decline and his parent’s could not afford food to sell in the restaurant his dad had it butchered and received a small sum for the sale of its wool. It was not long after it became lamb chops Nellie disappeared as well. This was double heartrending and an inexplicable phase for Don. It was possible she wandered into the bush as would happen on regular occasions and maybe suffered a snake bite and died, but this account was only speculation, whatever the truth for her disappearance was a mystery; he never saw her again. Don lost his best friends, especially Nellie, and although life continued on he never forgot the good times and fun he shared with them. Due to the variety of animals he was fortunate enough to enjoy he learnt to understand why people care more about their pets than they do their fellow humans. For him, this one part of life’s many miseries he was yet to experience left a void in his heart which would take time to fill.

His parents realised their son’s loss was important to him, it was unequivocally clear to them he needed another pet. By way of a friend they acquired through purchase a ‘German Shepherd’ pup for two purposes; a pet for Don and a watch-dog for the business. They aptly named her ‘Sandy’ because her coat was a light sandpapery colour. She grew into an obedient animal and became attached to the family as a whole, but more specifically to Don. If anyone dare raise a hand to him she would counterattack with savage growls to warn against the act, no-one was brave enough to test her allegiance to him. One night an intruder attempted entry into the premises, the dog woke Ted with ferocious barking, he grabbed his rifle, by this time the barking scared the intruder into running. Ted could see an Aboriginal fleeing by foot up the road so he let loose the dog and fired a warning shot into the air. Sandy took flight biting and chomping at his rear end. Ted called out to her and she returned immediately with a piece of material hanging from her mouth. They did not have any more burglary attempts by the locals.

At primary school Don made a few mortal friends, one none better than Sam Clay. Sam was about two months older. He was born in the bush and showed a greater maturity even at such a young age. They were similar in build and height, lean, sinewy, not an ounce of fat on either; both were full of energy and stockpiled a deliberate and stubborn unruliness. They differed in small ways; Sam resisted guidance and discipline moreso than Don and the colour of his hair was black where Don’s was blonde, and maybe Sam was embonpoint in face a tad more than Don, but the difference ended there. They were carefree and great mates in those early days but in the years to follow Don would learn an important lesson; people change.

Sam was the youngest and only boy of five children. He lived on five acres near a service station and within walking distance to the school. His parent’s house was an old two room fibro construction, bare of paint and the inside walls unlined; overall the house bestowed very little in the way of comforts. The same as all who lived in this area they were a soiled tatterdemalion bunch who, like the Scotsdon’s relied on tank water, combustion stoves, kerosene fridges, wood and kerosene heaters and outside ‘pans’ for toilets; there was no town water, septic, sewerage or luxuries like bathtubs. Necessity deemed it necessary to bathe in the washing ‘copper’; this was a large copper tub with a wood fire underneath, usually used for washing clothes. When it was utilized for bathing, the same water would be used over and over again until each family member had their turn, whoever or whatever went first was lucky enough to come out fairly clean but the last in turn was not so fortunate because the remaining water was grey soapy waste.

If you were prosperous enough to own a washing machine and unlucky enough for it to break, then Sam’s father was the one to repair it. He worked as a machine mechanic for ‘HG Palmers’, but sales were not great in such an area housing the impoverished, meaning breakdowns were scarce. As a result he was ‘laid off’ not long after he started. Mrs Clay was a stay at home mum and a strict catholic but found it hard to practice appropriately considering everyone else around her acted as a ruffian and a heathen. In a place of pride in the lounge room was a visual representation of a red robed ‘Jesus Christ’ china statue sitting on a shelf below a wooden cross nailed to a wall joist, underneath was a picture of herself as a child taking her first reception of the sacrament of the Holy Eucharist; her ‘Holy Communion’. She was a wonderful lady, kind of heart and would be the first to offer anyone her last penny or her last mouthful of food.

Being the only boy in the family meant Sam usually received the ‘short end of the stick’ when it came to blaming someone for trouble. Mrs Clay sent all her children to church each Sunday but it was not easy as Mr Clay refused to go, he thought it to be a load of nonsense and believed strongly there was no supernatural power or anything controlling human destiny. He wanted no part of religion so Mrs Clay was quickly losing the fight to catholicize her four girls. She greatly desired for Sam to attend church and wanted him to be as good a ‘Catholic’ as she would have liked to have been allowed to be, this resulted in an involuntary attendance. Although Don was a ‘Church of England’ he would go with Sam on the odd occasion, but as children any religious ideology was not within their intellect, they just wanted to play and went along with the facade so they could be together. In reality they both detested wasting a good Sunday sitting in a little hall singing and undertaking study relating to what they considered to be boring schoolwork.

Sam was always thinking of a scheme to get out of deserting his mothers moral duty. He had many tricks, like fake sickness, screaming his way out with tantrums and tears, or running away and hiding until the time past. Most Sundays the local priest, named Father Punty, drove to the Clay’s property to collect Sam for church, on this day he was his normal mulish and defiant self. Sam saw Punty coming and slid under his father’s work van; the ‘HG Palmers’ ‘Volkswagon’. They looked around and called out aloud but he stayed firm and would not divulge his hiding place by sound or surrender. Old Punty told Sam’s mother;

       “Your son will grow to be a degenerate like your husband. He’ll never amount to anything in this world. He’s a heathen who’ll probably turn out to be an enemy of the law for carrying out hideous crimes. Only God can save him, then only when he repents in front of the almighty will he stand a chance of normality in this life. You’d better get the strap to him and ensure he attends next week.” His scathing attack on Sam’s character hurt Mrs Clay, she bawled her eyes out. Sam remained still and only moved out from under the van when it was safe to do so, well after Punty had long gone. Even the times his mother did find him in hiding she could only concede defeat because the more she tried coaxing him, the more obstinate he became. On most occasions when Punty came calling Sam would simply run in the bush, but his mother knew he had to come home eventually, and when he did, all those desperate escapades would end in a trouncing. Yet the strap never deterred him, it was his preference between the two choices; attending church or not attending church with a sore rear. Punty eventually stopped calling.

A small winding track through the bush joined the Clay’s property to another two more homesteads also engulfed by acres of bush. The occupants were named the Sturt’s and the Rob’s. Both homes were small fibro shacks bearing the same lack of essentials as all the others. The acreage they dwelt upon was large in space and miles from suburbia, thus restricting the adult’s ability to find work. Clothing, appliances, outings, cars, maintenance on the home, and other taken for granted inclusions were unaffordable; living conditions equal to a third world country made for a difficult life. The struggle to survive in such a poverty-stricken arena produced hard people who within themselves could not help feeling depths of despair.

Mrs Sturt was never seen with a man to look after her and nobody knew what happened in her life. She had a daughter named Fran and one older son. Fran was 3 years older than Don and her brother much older she was tall for her age and quite slender with lengthy blonde hair covering deep set blue eyes, her attire shabby and torn. The secluded environment affected her family the same, her mother could not afford good clothes, shoes or sparkly trinkets for Fran, but personal hygiene was considered important by most and most bathed regularly, even if it was in dirty water. Don would later become aware of Fran’s femininity, her morbid sexual desires and propensity for lewd behaviours. As she aged she was always eager and willing to experiment and did her best to satisfy her needs by influencing boys to seduce her; this was probably the one small thing they could enjoy in their youth without sacrifice or conflict of adult type issues interfering with the few personal pleasures on offer.

In the house next to Fran’s lived Mrs Rob and her four children, three boys and a girl; the youngest was Rod, a year younger than Don, he was a bit of a loner, rarely played with Don and was always in battle with the rest of his siblings. He was given little or no protection from their harassment and his mother rarely sided with him. Sterge was the oldest he was five years older than Don, Tom three years older, and Sally one year older. The conditions endured by the Rob family were very cramped and at times chaotic. Their father abandoned them years before nineteen sixty, since then they were cared for by their mother and her mother, but without male guidance and a strong hand to mollify angers and irrationalities they lacked in discipline and control, and were unrestrained to the point Mrs Rob could not cope with their insolence. To make matters worse financial help in the way of child maintenance or other income was not being provided by the father, she survived on government payments and handouts and lived to the same poor standards or even poorer than others. They had nothing for extras or to indulge in a treat now or then. It would be a rare occasion if Mrs Rob went out for any other purpose except to shop for the essentials; most greens came from the vegetable garden, eggs and meat from the chickens, and at times kangaroo meat.

The oldest of the Rob clan, Sterge, was solid and strong in body, he drew the short end of the straw and suffered from a difficult delivery in which the pressure of the forceps on the brain rendered him with a slight mental impairment and since suffered mild partial seizures forcing a reliance on a daily medication of ‘Phenobarbital’. The side effects caused him to suffer a periodic ‘depression’ of the body’s systems, mainly the central and peripheral nervous systems. If he was not careful in the dosage consumed, even a small overdose would bring on a slowing of bodily functions, including decreased consciousness, a slow heartbeat, abnormally slow breathing, hypothermia and hypotension. He always seemed on the edge of abnormal and could be likened to a street urchin, whether this was due to his bad luck in genetic allocations or his upbringing was open to debate. Other conditions for which he suffered was crooked teeth and ‘gingivitis’. The 'gingivitis’ was not treated properly and contributed to advanced ‘periodontitis’. His gums would become inflamed and sore affecting his breath to release a nocuous odour smelling like cow manure. Those factors relating to his many problems determined his medicinal requirements, such as tablets and the use of therapeutic toothpastes scripted by doctors and mixed by pharmacists to help alleviate the symptoms. Under normal circumstances he was very aggressive and quick to unleash his hostilities, usually without provocation. At first Don would be privy to the details of his violent acts and deep enmity, but he soon learnt of Sterge’s psychosis and gross stupidity and acted accordingly by staying well out of his way; although this was not always possible. Sterge was a bully and in constant battle with everybody; including himself. Fist fights were the norm for him, with his brothers or anyone he felt fit to challenge. From a young age Don had no choice but to run or fight, if he did neither when Sterge was present he would be beaten to a pulp.

Sterge’s younger brother Tom, was more sociable than he, and when threatened was one of the very few brazen enough to willingly confront Sterge. Tom was all skin and bone with a drawn out face and larger than normal ears, it was he and Sam Don mainly played with, they shunned Sterge as often as possible; that was on most occasions. They did so not only due to his domineering antisocial behaviours but also because of his age and size. Like his brother, Tom also inherited lasting health issues from birth, his problems affected his eyesight. He suffered from chronic ‘blepharitis’, an inflammation of the eyelids characterized by redness and swelling. His eyes would discharge a yellowish, sticky, crusty substance called ‘rheum’ causing his lids to glue shut. This condition, from which he failed to find permanent relief, gave much irritation and aggravation. The symptoms included; burning, flaking, crusting, tearing, irritation, itching, redness in the eyelid margins and a foreign body sensation forever infuriating his nerves. He was constantly wiping his eyes and practised a regimental usage of eye-drops in attempt to gain relief. As he and his brother grew their health affected their confidence and inhibited social integration. When Don first met Tom’s family and friends he was unsure why the nickname ‘Weepy’ was given to him, but he soon figured it out.

Their sister Sally was a nice girl, very quiet but demanding and strong-minded. She was typical of the environment and threadbare dress code, but not as rude and crude as the others in tongue or manners, and unlike her brothers she was pretty, somewhat polite and definitely superior in diction. Sally always liked Sam; from a very early age he knew he had her affections. This partiality for his affections continued into their teens and beyond, she was smitten with him and would make no effort to consort with other males. Sam and Sally played together in ways way beyond their years, they would touch and caress in search of secret delights not yet ready in maturity to fully explore.

Times may have been tough for the adults but as a child Don knew only of happiness and good times. The social rules such as who were friends with whom, or who partnered who, or who was the regnant force at the top of the pyramid, were understood by all who mixed in this company. Most of Don’s weekends and holidays would be spent in this environment at the Clay’s or Rob’s residence. Of course his parents were unaware of all the predicaments, dilemmas and personal battles he underwent, but they were glad he had friends. On his ninth birthday they bought him a pushbike so he could ride to their house, it did make it easier, but sometimes he would still walk or bum a lift for the two mile distance. The times and living conditions may have been harsh, but for Don those initial years with his mates and animals produced a lot of good memories and allowed for a fleeting stage of contentment.

Most of Don’s time was spent away from home, there were times when Sam or Weepy would go to his place but they never did feel comfortable. The Scotsdon’s ran a more restrained and managed household kept within certain bounds by disciplinary action and the controlling authority of a father figure. This was a new scenario for which they had trouble adapting to. Overall they were good times, especially when Bing was taking a rest from the romantic interludes Zoe planned for him between her duties in the shop. He notched up thousands of miles in travel to see Zoe and was finding the ordeal of each weekend ‘hitch - hiking’ the hundred miles there and a hundred miles back to Ingleburn very tiring, because he was determined to keep courting her he managed to save enough money to purchase a vehicle of his own; a 650cc ‘Triumph’ motorbike and sidecar. It was black in colour, clean and tidy, with spoke wheels and saddlebags each side. He looked just the part with his black chrome studded leather jacket and debonair charm some girls see and like in a rapscallion. When Ted laid eyes on the bike he did not find Bing’s transition from difficulty in travel to a super-link in highway transport to his daughter very amusing. Still he had not come to terms with Bing’s persona and was unimpressed with Zoe’s choice in men. The palpable reality of his daughter riding in a sidecar with a young lout rendered him apprehensive in sanctioning the act and yet his options were limited; he could not deny her every freedom of choice or she would rebel like most robust teenagers, instead he took the time to speak to her about the dangers of motorbikes, especially with someone who obviously lacked the practical experience or training as Bing did, and he let be known the narrow escapes from serious injury when he rode motorbikes in England. Like most young people when given the benefit of adult advice the words of caution went through one ear and out the other without any positive impressions on her cognitive processes.

On one of those rare and occasional weekends when Don did not go to Sam’s place, meant Sam went to his. Bing took them for rides around the paddock and went to great lengths to teach them how to ride his cycle. This was the highlight of their weekend, they were not strong enough to kick start it so Bing would do it for them, and because they could not reach the pedals he would put it in gear and let them release the clutch at their leisure. While riding in circles and figure eights each took turns sitting in the sidecar whilst the other operated the controls. Ted did not seem to mind as they were always within sight and under his restraint if and when they decided to get overconfident in speed or out of the safe locality of the immediate paddock. But as the weekends came and went they did get more blasé in attitude, a display of certitude in their own ability to control the machine at faster speeds was imminent. By this time Ted had trust in their skills and went about his business without supervising them with as much pernicketiness as before.

This day Don was driving with Sam seated in the sidecar, both audaciously executing figure eights and breaching faster and faster speeds. As they approached the top of the corner Don’s small weighted frame and ineffectual strength made no alteration to the turning of the steering. In a state of panic he turned the throttle up instead of down and crashed straight through a rusty barbed wire fence. The wire strands broke and rapped themselves around the back chain sprocket firmly stalling the bike and bringing it to a standstill. Bing sensing fear in anticipation of a specific bollocking from Ted, went running to the rescue. He made sure they were okay, repaired the bike and hung his head down as he parked it. Bing was not going to tell Ted of the incident at first, but he knew he saw it happen from afar and ignorance was not going to free him from blame or obligation. Ted gave him a harsh reprimand and let it be known exactly what he thought of him and the bike. Needless to say, Ted’s words prevailed to put an end to Don’s bike rides around the paddock. Bing never showed resentment or disrespect to any of the Scotsdon’s and this time was no different, after copping a roasting from Ted he took it on the chin and went inside to help Zoe clean the kitchen.

Considering the hardships he encountered while courting Zoe, and to remain valiant in weekly returns, proved his perfervid love for Zoe even Ted could not dismiss. Bing heeded Ted’s warnings of the dangers of riding a motorbike and with thoughtful modesty and much regret he sold the bike during the week of his work, only to return the next weekend with a two door ‘Ford Anglia’ convertible. It had leopard skin seat covers, mirrors everywhere including on the mudguards and a black stripe through the bonnet of the white painted body. When Ted saw it, he despondently muttered:

       “Oooh Ccchrist almighty! Ssshit! Here we go again.” Rene always sided with her daughter and assisted in conveying Zoe’s feelings for Bing to Ted. The pressure was mounting, Ted had few options left. As it turned out he not only wanted to keep the peace with his wife and daughter but he slowly became influenced by the magnitude of Bing’s resilience. He still had reservations but tolerated him and allowed him to help more around the place working on cars, doing a variety of chores in the shop and around the property such as stump removal, attending the vegetable garden and general duties. Now Bing had to earn his weekend keep, in doing so he found the exhaustive interaction an ameliorator for the improvement of his identity and individuality within the family.

It was nine thirty, closing time on Saturday night. They finished dinner and settled on the lounge prior to Bing deciding to take a shower. The household could hear him whistling and singing to the tune off; ‘All I have to do is dream,’ by the ‘Everly Brothers,’ then between words, a thud and loud agonising howl echoed from the bathroom. Everybody jumped to attention and scrambled to the bathroom. Ted was in the lead, he shouted through the door to Bing;

       “Are you okay?”

       “Ahhh, No!” He replied with an agonising slur. “I slipped over in the shower.” Ted forced the locked door open with a shoulder barge and looked at him spread helplessly on the shower floor.

       “I think I’ve broken my leg,” he groaned. Concern for his well being was authentic as faces took on a look of tense solicitude but when he explained he slipped on the soap the amusing side became evident. He lay there with a towel half over his body unable to move. With the shower still dripping on him and one leg stuck up in the air resting on the wall, Ted said;

       “It’s not a pretty sight Bing, but I’ve seen bigger and better; broken legs Bing, broken legs.” They could not contain their chuckles at his expense. Ted made a rough splint from timber scraps and took him to Naretha hospital. He applied for and was granted a two week pass from the need to report for army duties and reckoned the vacation far more compensated for the pain of the broken bone. Needless to say Zoe gave him all the attention necessary, and more.

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CH 7 CONTINUED: Fictitious Facts I, 'Cultivation of a Murderer'.

Chapter 7

Primary School – continued......

Bing was in no position to argue. Being squeezed between the two antisocial mongrels gave him no room or justification for heroism, besides he could not access his own knife undetected, and even if her could he knew any sudden resistance would trigger a reaction causing the blade against his throat to be a bump closer from cutting him. In the absence of available solutions, or incentives for noncompliance to the order, he handed over his wallet. The driver slammed on the brakes causing the car to skid sideways along the shoulder of the road and stopped with its rear end only inches from the edge of a deep slope. The passenger, still with knife in hand, dragged Bing out of the car and took great pleasure in pushing him down over the embankment. To a degree the fall intruded on his sentience but he was still conscious enough to hear the merciless laughter of the perpetrators and the slamming of the car door before they sped off with his belongings; they left him for dead.

Unknowingly they had his army issue pistol which was not really allowed off the barracks. He knew he would be in grave trouble if it was not returned to its rightful space by Monday morning and in a lot more trouble if it was found to be used for illegal purposes. His mind endured many scenarios, none good, and if any came to fruition he would probably be court marshalled and discharged from the army. A little dirty and bruised but otherwise in good physical condition, a recovery of senses stated the urgency of need to clamber up the embankment back onto the roadside for help. The problem was he was stranded in the middle of nowhere. It was around midnight, freezing cold, there was absolutely no traffic to be seen or heard, and he was mentally anguished. All there was left to do was settle down, brush himself off, continue his journey by foot and pray another car would soon come along.

Another car did arrive, no more than fifteen minutes after his severe and trying experience. The driver who offered him a ride was an older person who lived in Wollongong . Bing did not tell him of the robbery because of the missing pistol, he was scared the police may get involved and thought long and hard as to how he can get help if he kept it a secret. Even explaining his dirty appearance and disturbed state meant fabricating a story to keep the driver happy.

       “I’m an idiot. It was dark, I slipped and fell down an embankment and hit my head. I still feel a little woozy but I’m okay; a bit sketchy on details though.” The driver accepted his explanation and agreed to take him as far as the turnoff from the highway to his home. Only ten minutes lapsed from getting into the car to the point of nearing a small wooden railed bridge, the driver noticed an abnormality, he slowed and pointed to the broken railing and on further  inspection, over the side in the dry creek bed they could see a car toppled on its roof. Bing recognized it instantly, it was the green Chevy, but he did not reveal specifics or disclose awareness to their identity. The driver pulled off the road and unlatched the glove compartment to produce a torch before walking back and shining a beam onto the belly of the car. They could not see inside the car from above so slid down the face of the incline. Inside they found two men trapped and unconscious. Neither person was wearing a seat belt thus contributing to the reason for their spread and mess of tangled limbs which lay twisted and torn on the roof inside; dispersed particles of blood, broken glass, beer bottles and junk lay everywhere. It was obvious they had many injuries, external and internal. Don assessed the situation and deemed them lucky there was no danger of the car catching fire or other deadly scenarios such as rising water. A weak pulse was detected on both the unconscious occupants and the decision was made not to move them in case of causing further injury such as spinal or neck damage. The driver of the car told Bing to stay with them while he drove to the nearest phone box to ring for help.

Bing was not a sadistic person but he knew this catastrophe was not his doing, as far as he was concerned they got what they deserved. In further processing the accidental results and in relation to his prior confrontation with these people he concluded their welfare should come second to his getting back the property which belonged to him. His duffle was easy to reach, he pulled it out and checked its contents; everything was there, including his gun. Then being extra careful not to bloody his hands too much he went through every one of their pockets to locate his wallet. In the search he removed all three wallets and found a bonus, they had lots of notes in theirs, ‘maybe from robberies,’ he thought, but he was not worried were the money came from, it was all his now. He placed the empty wallets back into their pockets, his in his own, and sat on a rock in the still of the night holding lengthy deliberations into the availability of his options. Mental exhaustion was strangling logical reasoning and intensified fear in thoughts: ‘If I wait for the police and the driver who left me here to come back and he mentions to them I didn’t have a duffle bag on me when he picked me up, they’ll ask where it came from. Christ, if they searched me they would surely want to know why I have such a large sum of money, worse still, if they searched my bag and found the gun it could be bedlam.’ With each waiting minute Bing grew restless and impatient. The longer he sat there the augmentation of doubt eroded his better judgment, and what was probably insignificant certainties regarding police presence transgressed his boundaries of decency; he made a decision to gather his things and take to the road in search of another ride and complete his journey. But within a few short strides a reconsideration of his actions saw him pause in a self-incriminating stoop. Deeply absorbed in thought he could not leave, whatever the outcome, he was not maliciously wounded in character enough to walk away from those injured. He returned and placed his duffle on the side of the road before sliding back down to the scene of the accident.

Whilst waiting, pondering and evaluating the rationale of choice, he set fire to a pile of dry tinder for warmth and light. As he clasped his hands and vigorously rubbed them together over the welcome heat, one of the wounded made a conscious murmur and few slight movements. Bing stuck his head in the car body to offer comfort;

       “I’m here. How are ya? Can you talk? Are you all right?” The passenger was awake but not fully cognizant of his whereabouts or his grim predicament. He groaned in pain;

       “Ahhh. What happened? Please help, please help me. Please.”

Bing tried harder to console him;

       “Lay still you’ve been in a car accident. Help is on the way.” The other person, the driver lay motionless. Bing felt for a pulse again, but there was no more a sign or feeling of any rhythmic contraction or expansion of the arteries; he was dead. As the passenger started to wriggle erratically with noticeable incoherency, shock and severe pain, he tried freeing himself from the entanglement of limbs and debris. With each move his shrill cries in pain pierced the night and were made louder in defiance of his confinement.

       “Help, heeelllppp, get me out, please help.” Loudly in sickly tones he repeated his plea. Bing was unsure of medical protocols in this type of situation and was ignorant towards the procedure for how the removal of an injured person should be performed to ensure minimal damage, but he dealt with it as well as he could despite difficulty in coming to terms with rescuing him; after all, it was this person who robbed him and left him to die. He untangled the driver’s arms and legs which must have broken in many places because they had the passenger entwined like a knotted tree trunk, and then he put his hands under the passenger’s shoulders, edged his cut and bruised body out of the car and placed him in a spot next to the warmth of the fire. Bing did his best to make him comfortable by using an old rag dipped in a puddle to wipe his brow and covered him with a few items of his clothing, but without medical knowledge, equipment or bandages, he could only wait for the professionals.

The blaring of sirens could be heard from far away and alerted him early as to the arrival of the police and ambulance. He was very jittery over the circumstances linking his attendance at the scene, but luckily for him when the authorities arrived, the driver who gave him a ride and reported the accident was absent. He already gave his statement to the police and was allowed to go home. The medics pronounced the driver dead and did their doctoring on the passenger before putting him in the back of the ambulance for transport to hospital. The police thanked Bing for waiting and offered him a ride to the police station so he could clean himself up; naturally he was uncomfortable with their generosity but could hardly refuse for fear of raising suspicion. After a quick wash and a wipe down he thanked them and paced swiftly out of sight to begin thumbing a ride again. It was no trouble finding another lift through to Wirrageen.

After detailing these events to Zoe and bleeding as much sympathy as he thought possible from her he was gladdened by the attention he received. On finishing his true but overinflated story he went for a shower, she followed him in for a few stolen minutes, taking full advantage of the moment everybody was busy serving and attending the shop. Don was in earshot of the bathroom and heard pleasurable groans, being so young he knew not of their toying. Ignorant to their blissful rapture he merrily went about his play.

The next day they were still lovey-dovey to the point of embarrassment. Ted’s instant reaction was to punch the crap out of Bing but thought better of it. Instead he used friendly tactics to get him away from her, he asked him to help with the mechanics and cleaning of his newly purchased, faded red, ‘Hillman’ utility. Ted needed this car desperately to get himself to work and back. It replaced the old worn out ‘Austin’ and was the only car he ever owned he could actually drive home rather than have it towed. Also in his possession, given free of charge, was an old car chassis with an operable motor, steering, one seat and a tow-ball; no body. No-one knew how old the car was or what type, but this bodiless work-horse was used around the property for towing things like a trailer and plough. It was a great vehicle for Don to drive because without a shell meant there were no obstructions like a dashboard to block his view, all he needed was a small orange box to sit on and he could steer and still reach the pedals. Business in the shop slowly improved and the sight of seeing such a young boy driving a chassis with a trailer in tow and working the shovel became a talking point among many of the travellers. Don enjoyed the art of driving and yearned for the day when he could get his license and drive on the road. Although he could not reach the pedals or see over the dash in the full bodied ‘Hillman’ just yet, the privilege was not far away and before long he was allowed to drive anything around the property.

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