Fictitious Facts I; CH5 conclusion....

Fictitious Facts I; CH5 conclusion....

The time came to leave this beautiful place, it seemed the stay was as short as the drive home was to be long, and the thought of leaving induced a feeling of great sorrow shared by all. On packing the camping gear and thanking Pollie and Ernie for their hospitality, Ted and Rene expressed their desire to live in such a wonderful place.

       “It’s beautiful here. It would be good to live somewhere like this, wouldn’t it Ted?” He acknowledged with wishful hopes;

       “Hmmm. It sure would.”

       “Yes it’s so peaceful,” said Ernie. “We’ve been here for ten years now and have often thought about selling and going travelling.” He stretches out his arm and points towards an old caravan at the back of the property and nostalgically expresses his disappointment; “We’ve got that old van up the back there and haven’t even used it yet, not for travel anyway.” Ted and Rene glanced at each other, after an encouraging moment of silence Rene with gauche and inquisitiveness in approach blurted out;

       “How much?” Ted was astounded, not because of her candour but due the fact she wanted to know. Without any hesitation whatsoever Pollie replied;

       “Three thousand pounds.”

       “Can we ‘ave it dad, can we? Are we gonna live ‘ere?” pestered Don. Rene replied with sarcasm to conceal her real aspirations;

       “Yes of course Don, we’ll buy two, one for Saturday and one for Sunday.” Everyone laughed but Don, he was too young to understand ridicule. Ted and Rene took the conversation with ‘a grain of salt’ because they realised raising such a hefty sum of money was a pipedream; it was three thousand pounds more than they could afford, so once again they politely expressed their gratitude, said their goodbyes and made ready for the drive home.

A very happy holiday was now near its end. On the drive home the prospect of ownership of their own business planted a seed in their minds causing the trip back to be a little melancholy. A deliberation of a visionary future innocently implanted by Pollie and Ernie’s conversation of sale stirred their inner cravings. The entrepreneurial opportunity was exactly what Ted was looking for in lifestyle and security.

Back to the normal routine of ‘Hostel’ life made the time pass slowly. The holiday had taken the opposite effect to its purpose and they were now more disgruntled with their present situation than they were before being taunted by implausible opportunities and beautiful places. The drudgery of a repetitive daily toil and the need to progress onto a more satisfying existence continued to torment, they could not free their minds of the experiences encountered. It nagged them so much they discussed the possibilities of buying the business night after night after night. This went on incessantly for about three months after returning home; it drove them balmy. They could not obviate objections any longer and had to make an attempt to satisfy their curiosity. One morning Ted made an appointment with a bank manager to explore his prospects regarding a loan to buy the business. The first visit was promising, leading to further enquiry, then official procedures began, and finally formal legalities took place which brought beneficial outcomes.

Difficulties arose in negotiations due to the distance of about one hundred and ten miles between Sydney and the Wirrageen station. Ted was required to meet Pollie and Ernie on a few occasions to discuss the intended agreement, and although he was his usual resilient self, each obligatory trip completed in his old car would generate lots of stories surrounding the countless mechanical breakdowns. The car never once betrayed its right to have some type of operational failure in the middle of nowhere. If not for his mechanical dexterity, neither he, nor the car would have completed the journeys. He normally worked Saturday mornings and usually set out from Sydney straight after work; stay the night at Wirrageen and return home on Sunday afternoon. It was a stressful but exciting time for him, and the travel was crucial in finalisation of ownership; to his joy the deal had been done, the Scotsdon’s were now to all intents and purposes the proud owners of a service station, café (restaurant), and house, combined with acreage and had in their sights a prosperous future.

The last few months of Hostel living was a long-drawn-out period as is always the case when someone is anticipating something they deem to be worthwhile. In one way the wait was beneficial because it allocated time to get specifics in order and prepare for farewells to friends. On the other hand, as the interval allowed thought towards the reality of the task ahead it had the danger of provoking quarrels in the family. The time given and plausible negativity from ‘cold feet’ had the ability to substitute enthusiasm with trepidation. And to make worse their final preparation was the job of informing the children of the news of certainty in relocation; not an enviable position to be in. Although the job of easing this news should be classed as a labour of love, it was not going to be an easy liaison because as much as they enjoyed the holiday away from the ‘Hostel’, moving away permanently from their friends was another matter already tested in the past and received poorly. They had been displaced from friends, relatives, schools and familiar surroundings in England and only begun to settle within their new environment in Sydney. Don’s feelings were of no consequence to his parents, before or now because he was too young to remember or have an opinion, and being unfledged in years meant he would make friends quickly no matter where he moved to. The concern was more-so for Tim and Zoe. Zoe had grown very close to Bing and would dread the thought of being separated from him. The kids knew prior of their parents plans and grumbled a little about the possibility of moving but never thought it would come to fruition so remained relatively passive up to now. Ted and Rene knew the moment of truth was better done as soon as possible before they found out from other sources; they sat them down and explained the specifics of their plan.

Don was happy with the news because he thought it was just another holiday and could get to see all the great places again. Tim was not perturbed one way or the other and took the news with a ‘grain of salt’, but when Zoe was told she was deeply antagonised by the ruling and rebelled with tears and uttered sentiments in protest before running out of the unit screaming like a banshee;

       “It’s not fair, it’s not fair. I’m not going. You’ve already dragged me away from my real friends at home and now you want to do it again, I’m not going.” The selfish side of Zoe’s immaturity neglected to take into account the gamble and risks involved by her parent’s undertaking such a risky enterprise. They are once again putting ‘everything on the line’ in a venture and a dream of fortuity and will again have to adapt, feed and provide a stable environment for themselves and their children; not an easy grind without money. But in reality, whatever the children’s cogitative faculties perceived to be correct was irrelevant because their parents signed the contract and were now compelled by a covenant to move and make the deal binding. Zoe knew she had to abide by her parents wishes, but saying goodbye to Bing was to be a poignant reminder of her feelings for him and before the final move they spent as many a precious hour together as they could. Ted was sad for her emotional state, yet on the other hand he was relieved the distance to be formed between her and Bing, who had to stay due to his army commitments, would see an end to their relationship; so he thought.

In hindsight, when Don was old enough to form a process of rational inference in relation to his own upbringing, he realized he had a great admiration for his parents. To leave England and tackle a mystifying land was one huge risk, then to once again mount the courage to undertake another such move involving living in the bush with no support, no money, no doctors and miles from any main town, took a lot of audacity, spirit, perception and trust in each other. In his own mind Don could justify the decision if it was only husband and wife but with three children in tow he imagined the vision, acumen, and grit for such a daring exploit could not be obvious to anyone but themselves.

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

GOOGLE BLOG:    http://dennisdrnt.blogspot.com

MY WEBSITE:       http://dennisdrnt.wix.com/fictitious-facts

CH 5 CONTINUED...........

CH 5 CONTINUED...........

The petrol station was called ‘Jack’s Roadhouse’. The fibro edifice was built on stumps as a single level structure. ‘L’ shaped it stood on a level piece of ground surrounded by ‘Gumtrees’ and scrub which bordered more ‘Gumtrees’ and scrub and sat about 70 feet off the highway. The double glass door entrance was set in the form of a concrete patio proudly flowered by steps giving access both sides. Both flights of stairs were partly fenced by a deformed steel railing on the outside and dwarfed by a large window on the other side. Sitting proudly at the front, on entry to each staircase, was a solid concrete golden coloured lion statue about three feet in height. The perimeter of the stair’s substructure was lined with small advertising blackboards promoting food and other merchandise such as; ‘meat pies’, chips’, mixed grills’, ‘frankfurts’, ‘ham and egg salad’ sandwiches, cigarettes and other items. A sign above the entrance under the awning, made distinguishable by bright red paint, displayed the word ‘CAFÉ’, so publicising the buildings purpose. And written on the window in big white letters was; ‘OYSTERS 3/- bottle’. On the side of the building for display to the south bound traffic read; ‘Penguin Ice Cream’.

The shop bore the cachet of warm homely charm. In it were three small tables with four chairs belonging to each and a long counter with a round glass front from top to bottom displaying chocolates, confectionary and other ready-to-eat food products. Next to the counter sat the fridge which housed cold bottles of drinks, ice cream and other dairy products, and behind the counter three long wooden shelves held items like; tobacco, matches, ‘lactogen’, biscuits, cans of soup, coffee, tea and other saleable provisions. The living quarters were situated at the rear of the building and were very large compared to what they were accustomed to on the ‘Hostel’. It boasted three bedrooms, a good sized lounge, and an open brick fireplace in support of a long thick wooden mantelpiece. Featured was a very large kitchen with a kerosene fridge, a wood fired combustion oven and a ‘BBQ’ plate to grill steaks and other customer choices.

Next door to the main building was a shed measuring about twelve by twenty feet in size. It was used for the sole purpose of storing the oil bottles, bric-a-brac, batteries and mechanical tools. Out front on display next to the barn type doors was a steel rack holding a row of automobile tyres, about six tyres in total was on sale with a sign advertising ‘Golden Fleece Tyres’ fixed above them. Further towards the road stood side by side two ‘bowsers’ (petrol pumps). Their position at the front of the land was in the middle of a large empty space with more than enough room to park four bulky semi-trailers.

The property itself consisted of seven acres, but only two of the seven was cleared, contributing more than enough space for the business to operate effectively. Most of the driveway surface between the road and the residence was a blend of light gravel and a road-base mixture, but this mix was not firm enough to stop a quagmire from occurring during the many rainy periods. The ‘rest room’, or ‘thunderbox’ as they were commonly known, was a hole in the ground with the ‘dunny’ precariously positioned over it. It was housed in a small, unlined fibro shed under a rusty old corrugated tin roof. One could never eliminate the ‘shitty’ vapour completely and there were always spiders and their webs to contend with, including the odd snake, and many moths, but overall they were maintained in a clean and hygienic manner considering the remote locality.

Ted got talking to the elderly owners who were both well into their seventies; they called themselves ‘Pollie’ and ‘Ernie’. It was getting late in the afternoon so he asked if there was a caravan park or camping ground somewhere in close proximity where he could pitch a tent and camp for the night. They were very hospitable people and offered them the option of pitching their tent, free of charge, on the grassy side of the house where the galvanised iron water tank stood. The tank was uncovered and collected run-off water from the roof, it was not a big tank but the amount of precipitation falling annually proved sufficient for collection to service the shop and the residence, and the design was a bonus because it had a tap on the bottom which allowed for personal washing and drinking. The owners did not bother the Scotsdon’s while they erected their tent and made comfortable the campsite. On completion a well deserved rest was afforded with the slurping of a cup of tea before the cooking of sausages and eggs on the wood fired BBQ built specifically for customers in the expanse of the visitor’s grounds. After eating and vegging around the naked flames for a while it was not long before total exhaustion from the busy events of the day meant it was time to extinguish the kerosene lamps and retire for an early night’s sleep.

The morning sun offered shadows abound from trees lining the property boundary, and together with the clean crisp air it extended the hours for the dew tipped grass to be allowed to bask in the warming environment. It was a haven for the kangaroos; they came in droves to graze on moist sweet pastures. The Scotsdon’s saw kangaroos on the ‘Hostel’ where the bush met the cleared grounds but not many and certainly not as big and healthy as these, it was the first time away from civilization they could enjoy seeing so many congregate in a ‘troop’ in such a wonderful and free environment. They were magnificent specimen’s which to some extent tolerated humans without the stress and fear of association and this made even more pronounce the absence of imposed restraints and the bountiful space this area had to offer.

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

GOOGLE BLOG:    http://dennisdrnt.blogspot.com

MY WEBSITE:       http://dennisdrnt.wix.com/fictitious-facts

Ch 5 continued. Fictitious Facts I

Ch 5 continued. Fictitious Facts I

They drove many miles south past Naretha, turned east, and continuing their journey along a dirt road lined with ‘Spotted Gum’ and thick scrub. At the roads end was a place called Skishon which was situated in a large bay named; Visarg Bay. It was there they parked. The street was long and wide and lined with old but functional retail outlets. Behind the shops presented a marvellous ocean scenery upon which moored a fleet of fishing trawlers. While Ted was questioning a local shop keeper regarding who was able to authorize his intent to camp on the foreshore, everyone else got out of the car, took a deep breath of fresh air and stretched their legs in play. Ted returned with good news; they were allowed to camp anywhere they wished for a small fee payable on-site to a Council ranger, when and if they made their rounds. The campsite they chose was on an elevated bank overlooking the vast blue waters of the bay. Only another two tents were in view and they were placed far enough away to afford the Scotsdon’s complete privacy. The land virtually encircled the bay, reaching nearly to the centre on one side, and in the distance perched high on the end of the headland was a lighthouse; it looked to be lonely and isolated like it sprouted in a forsaken land. A small island to the far right of the bay likened itself to images of paradise. It was empty and secluded and yet near enough to fantasize how great it would be to settle on it for a reclusive lifestyle, familiar only to the rich and famous; the setting was inexpressible and warranted many admirable and silent stares. They remained speechless while their senses adapted to the beauty and freedom the townsfolk and the wildlife inhabiting this area so nonchalantly enjoyed. The helical threaded eggs of the ‘Port Jackson’ sharks scattered the beach, and the clean grains of sand swept in and out with the roll of each wave leaving a perfect reflection of the clouds in the wet smooth glistening surface. At first Don beheld the same appreciation to the scenic setting as his family, he thought it to be the biggest and best bay in the world, but as all children his admiration soon wavered into decline and it did not take long before his boredom and restless nature began looking to annoy someone. All tried to ignore his disruptive conduct, instead focusing on relaxation and absorption of the splendour around them. Ted was contemplating the possibility of being marooned on that little island: ‘It would allow perfect isolation to dodge the problems and predicaments of work, finance, housing, and life in general.’ His mentations led to a mixture of extraordinary adventures lending fabrications only possible within storybooks; ‘It’s nice to dream,’ he thought. Rene and the older two children went about organising the site while chastising Don.

Over the following few days they explored as much of the area as possible. Regrettably the essence of time meant they had to move on because Ted wanted to make the best of his planned schedule to involve seeing as much of the wider region as he could before returning to work; this meant it was time to pack up the gear. All chipped in, but not without gripe and objection. Leaving a place with such magnetism brought on heavy hearts, yet they knew deep down the infeasibility of staying. A continuation of their journey was out of Skishon by return of the same road as already travelled inbound. When they got to a point where the road met the main highway at Wirrageen a decision was called for. Here at the junction two petrol stations rest adjacent to one another; one on each corner. Don and his siblings expected their father to head north for the return home but Ted adjudicated otherwise and made a sharp left turn. When a few miles further south he looked at the map and positioned himself about two miles short of the next town named, Tongerma. At first he was going to stop there to refuel, but a glance down at the petrol gauge found the needle near empty so he chose to pull into the first ‘service station’ in view; it was a ‘Golden Fleece’. Besides he had to stop because members were complaining of their bladder issues needing instant attention.

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

GOOGLE BLOG:    http://dennisdrnt.blogspot.com

MY WEBSITE:       http://dennisdrnt.wix.com/fictitious-facts

CH 5 'LEAVING EAST HILLS HOSTEL' continued...

Read the continuation of "Fictitious Facts I: 'Cultivation of a Murderer'. Ch:5.

Chapter 5

Leaving ‘East Hills Hostel

Rene eventually conformed just as others do in times of hardship. Her and her family formed bonds with neighbours making easier each other’s circumstances, but unknown to them, just as life settled into a routine there were changes looming. Their lives were about to turn another corner; a pleasant modification to their now happier existence was building by way of a succession of events to change forever the future of their existence.

Late 1959, nearly two years passed since arriving into Australia. In this time the Scotsdon’s ventured no further north than Bondi and no further south than Heathcote. They were definitely not associated to any portion of the honoured ‘jet-set’ and when they learned about Ted’s plans to take them on a vacation a little further afield they were elated. Where they went was of no concern, they were just happy to know they were to experience their first real holiday in Australia. He borrowed a small tent from Mr Sharp, loaded the car with the necessities he was able to accommodate and squeezed everybody in around and over those items. Rene, Zoe, Tim and Don gladly accepted any discomfort caused by the essentials carried; there was no hullabaloo in protest because the snugness was overshadowed by the excitement. They headed south towards a small town called Naretha, located about ten times further from the ‘Hostel’ than they ever travelled before. Why this area was chosen for a holiday no-one knew, and no-one really cared, they just wanted to get away from the mundane daily routines and the ‘hustle and bustle’ of the ‘Hostel’ and take pleasure in exploring other parts of Australia.

Ted nursed the car like a baby to minimize the risk of breakdowns, and as the car was not capable of excessive speeds the travel was at a safe and steady pace. Air conditioning was a luxury not available in the cars of low income affordability; hence, paramount in stopping sufferance from heat exhaustion was by the opening of windows. As a result the hot summer rush of air would burn exposed skin and sting the red soreness as each trickle of perspiration oozed from ones brow, but there were no complaints from the kids or ‘are we there yet dad’ irritations. Everyone was overjoyed with the chance to holiday and no-one was going to spoil the thrill by upsetting either parent.

The road along the ‘Princess Highway’ was hilly and narrow with lots of bends and as a result of the past foul weather there unforgiving potholes the size of craters. In general the road was in very poor condition and for the driver a mental effort. The car found most hills a challenge and demanded many radiator re-fills along the way to prevent the engine from overheating. Don was in awe at the miles and miles of bush, interrupted occasionally only by the odd house and spasmodic sightings of vehicles. On the climb of steep hills and on the turn of bends at the top offered gaping sights of beauty; Wollongong and Kiama gave them their first glimpse of the coastline outside of places such as Bondi. They were astonished by the amazing scale of exquisite unpopulated land. None of them could believe the greenery and sloping grassy hills rolling ever so gently into the calm deep blue ocean was part of the same earth they inhabited to date. The scenery through and after Kiama was astonishing and symptomatic of the pamphlets perused in England; it was beautiful. The beaches proudly displayed fine bright yellow sands together with spacious surroundings and unfaultable, uncontaminated panorama giving the impression this area had been unoccupied and untouched by humans throughout history. Ted was in awe and gasped;

       “This is what it’s all about, stunning isn’t it? What fantastic views.”

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

GOOGLE BLOG:    http://dennisdrnt.blogspot.com

MY WEBSITE:       http://dennisdrnt.wix.com/fictitious-facts

Chapter 4 conclusion....

Conclusion of CH 4.....

Another stupid prank was when he wrote a note with his name and address on it saying he had been kidnapped and threw it out the train window. Someone found it and immediately presented it to the police. Without delay they went around to his parent’s house and began questioning them to try and find a logical reason for their child’s abduction. When Bing arrived home it was to a reception of police, devastated parent’s, and to what could only be described as another complete debacle. When the truth was told he was warned by the police and grounded forever with another sore rear end.

Bing was lucky to escape serious injury during his growth spurt. He had not gained a lot within the throes of formal education, and not yet reached full maturity, but was old enough for recruitment into the army. His parents fought hard to sway his decision because they wanted him to follow a path of education and become a professional like his father, but in the end they acceded to his request and agreed enlistment would be the best thing. They came to believe the discipline would rectify his unruly manner, and their resolve gave positive results when in hope of attaining a ‘trade’ he became a model soldier at ‘Ingleburn Army Camp’.

CHAPTER 5 NEXT WEEK

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

GOOGLE BLOG:    http://dennisdrnt.blogspot.com

MY WEBSITE:       http://dennisdrnt.wix.com/fictitious-facts

CHAPTER 4 CONTINUED.......

Chapter 4 continued.............

When she returned home with her arm in a sling, upon first entry in facing the family, she burst out in a lusty guffaw to hide her embarrassment and went on to endorse gingerly the obvious with sarcasm towards self clumsiness;

       “You have to be dumb to fall out of a stationary car don’t you?”

       “Well you are”, replied Tim with brotherly sardonic pleasures.

       “Leave her alone,” Ted barked. “She needs rest and is in no state for stupidity.” Following this reprimand Bing walked in, and much to Zoe’s delight and Ted’s trepidation he immediately begins cosseting her like a queen. She thrived on the attention and Bing enjoyed the fact she was home bound and helpless.

Around this point in time Ted saved a small nest-egg and gave great thought towards prospects in work and housing outside of the comfort zone of the ‘Hostel’. He was an altruist whose sole aim as patriarch was to care for his family and try to offer them the best chance for success in life. He was making the most of the limited leisure time he had available to scour newspapers for business opportunities outside of the square; he thought the ‘Hostel’ had been good to them but it was time to move on. One factoring fixation of influence to his thinking was; he could see Bing and Zoe getting a little too cosy together and preferred they break and be of a larger distance away from each other. Also, he was truly passionate about wanting to sample new adventures and test other moneymaking prospects. His reasons took in a diverse mixture of considerations, each one egging him on to change the present circumstances. His concerns about Zoe were not placed on a complete disparagement of Bing’s calibre, it was more to the fact he thought her too young to be getting so heavily involved in an immature crush, and as most fathers would think in the same situation, he was not impressed with any boy who intimately invaded the space of his daughter; as proven by the secret surrounding the disappearance of Battista. It became very clear to him his concerns could well be ascertained as correct because the fulfilment of Bing’s endearing demeanour was ultimately captivating all her attention.

Bing, being a lot older than Don, was in his last few years of completing school. In many ways Don was a lot like Bing, who in his younger days would go to school in the mornings and walk off the grounds at recess with his mates to ‘hitch’ a ride back to the ‘Hostel’. Letter after letter from school authorities were sent home to Bing’s parents in disapproval of his raft of truancies. They punished him severely, countless times, and ‘strap’ after ‘strap’ to his rear was painfully applied; but all to no avail. He continued such taxing conducts all through his schooling years. Don enjoyed the familiarity Bing undertook to establish a friendship with him and his family; even with the age difference they shared a bond. His continual presence was prioritised towards Zoe, and being friendly to Don was probably an excuse to help prevent invidious discrimination from other family members, but regardless of the reasons for his amity, and the likely tactical obsequious charm, he was good to Don and his friends. He would spend a lot of time teaching Don to swim in the water hole located a short distance from the ‘Hostel’ and took a great interest in his safety; sadly he was not so prudent as to the relevance of his own wellbeing and continued to do stupid things. At times his inanity was surpassed only by his inability to realise the consequences of his actions. He and his mates climbed out of the window of a moving train, just like in the Western movies, and stood on the roof top playing ‘chicken’ with the face of overhead tunnels. The rules, unlike the skills in reflex, was lacking in complexity; as the tunnel grew nearer and nearer the first to ‘duck’ would lose.

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

GOOGLE BLOG:    http://dennisdrnt.blogspot.com

MY WEBSITE:       http://dennisdrnt.wix.com/fictitious-facts

CHAPTER 4 OF FFI CONTINUED.........

CHAPTER 4 OF FFI CONTINUED.........

On another day, relaxing at a pleasant beach outing, Tim was playing around the rocks and throwing stones to kill crabs. Don did not appreciate his abusive act and began throwing stones at him, ordering him to stop or he would keep throwing stones. The age difference between them caused Tim irritation at the best of times but he took great offence to being stoned, in retaliation with a degree of rage he chased Don along the beach throwing sticks and anything else he could use as a missile. Don sprinted as hard as his small legs would alternate until he reached sight of his mother. Her instincts knew trouble was brewing and shouted aloud at both to behave, she was too late a large seashell hit Don in the back of the head; it drew blood, but his screams were much worse than the injury.

       “What are you doing?” She bellowed. “Come here Tim this instant!” Tim complained from afar so as not to get a hiding;

       “Don’s throwing stones at me.” Safely in his mother’s arms getting first aid Don whimpered;

       “He was killing things.”

       “What do you mean he was killing things,” she asked inquisitively.

       “He was killing crabs,” cried Don.

       “Oh Don,” she said with a sigh, “you have to grow up. Leave Tim alone and don’t ever throw stones at people again. Go away and play nicely.” She checked his head; “It’s just a scratch, go and play,” she ruled while pushing him off her lap. When that little scuffle was sorted, Ben and Ted, who during the fracas did not move anyway, stayed lazing about on the sand discussing their dreams whilst Rene and Peg set the picnic blanket with home-made cordial, baked beans sandwiches and tasty treats. They called out to all the kids to come for food. Most sat happily and replenished the energy lost from running and bellyaching, but not Don, he decided he was still peeved with the prior dispute regarding Tim and himself and tormented him by making snorting noises in close proximity to his face, and provoked him further by prodding his leg with his fingers. Tim pushed Don’s face away with the palm of his hand, in anger Don latched his teeth into the flesh of his wrist and gnawed firmly. Don’s father was quick to react with a few mighty slaps around his thigh and bum. Don bellowed loudly, not only because of the pain but because his feelings were hurt and his brother won the battle without chastisement. He was told to be quiet and never, ever, bite again. Ted made him sit quietly, eat his lunch and threatened another smack would be forthcoming if he did not behave; silent he was.

The afternoon clouds made unwelcome the glow of full sun and gave warning of a storm appearing imminent. Zoe was the first to feel the chill and walked to uncle Ben’s ‘van’ to change into warmer clothes. The back of the ‘van’ had two doors which opened outwards for easy access and allowed for room and privacy when closed. She completed her change from scanty swimwear into shorts and a blouse, on exit from the ‘van’ she caught one foot in the jumble and stumbled head first onto the ground. On the way down she extended her arms with her palms smashing into the gravel to break the fall and screamed an agonizing pain as she made contact with the rough surface. Ted was alarmed and startled by her screams and rushed to her aid. Being the first on site he tried to calm her, as others arrived and huddled around they offered various appraisals of the injury. She could not move one arm and was in immense agony with stone bruises and cuts on her hands. Ted asserted his authority and ordered the immediate packing of the cars. He sat her down and made her as comfortable as he could until those travelling with him were in the vehicle, then he took her to hospital. She was diagnosed with a fractured shoulder and admitted for two nights.

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

GOOGLE BLOG:    http://dennisdrnt.blogspot.com

MY WEBSITE:       http://dennisdrnt.wix.com/fictitious-facts