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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