Story CHANGES OF PACE

[Bidadisndat]

The intention had been to be on the road by six thirty a.m. however by that time they were already forty five minutes into the trip, having left much earlier than planned. Around a quarter to five they’d both woken, with Bron saying that maybe she’d need to water a lemon tree after all as she was sure she wouldn’t be able wait until they went by the hotel. Telling her to stay there for a moment Dave leapt from the bed and raced out to start the generator, then returned to the bedroom where he pulled her up and led her to the bathroom.

Turning on the tap over the vanity he was relieved to find that the system was functioning as it should and a strong flow of water poured into the basin. Bron’s sleepy eyes snapped wide open wide in surprise and a smile spread across her face when Dave told her that although they as yet had no hot water at least she could now use the toilet. She wasted no time in doing that and shortly after joined him in the kitchen where he explained how he had worked on the system the afternoon before, and of how he had obtained the water to fill the tank. Praising him for his efforts, though not too much of course, she thought to herself how really lucky she was to have found such a practical man and hoped that his parents would approve of her... And their living together. For his part, unbeknownst to her Dave felt the same way.

As she set about making breakfast she suggested that rather than make up sandwiches now it would be easy enough to do that during the trip, and after they had eaten they should just put everything in the big esky. It was a practical suggestion too, thought Dave as while waiting for her to finish making the French toast he retrieved an extra sleeping bag from the room where he’d stored his camping gear and placed it in the truck. It wasn’t going to be a camping trip and they’d be sleeping in real beds each night, but he never travelled with less than the minimum equipment that he might need if he got stranded somewhere.

His own BOB would cover such situations and although Bron’s overnight bag seemed to contain all she’d need in the normal course of events he decided that together they should make up a proper BOB for her too. When he suggested that, she was all for it and said it would also be a good idea to test it out by going camping on a regular basis.

Dave grinned and told her that the term she should be using when taking off with her BOB was “Bug Out” and that in such a situation his truck was known as a “BOV”, short for “Bug out Vehicle”. If they were ever forced to evacuate their home their destination was a “BOL”, short for “Bug out Location”, and currently that was his parent’s farm.

He also told her a little about preparing caches, and how he intended to set up several between their farm and that of his parents, and while she found that to be very interesting and practical the one thing that stuck in her mind most was that he had referred to the farm as “our” place.

They’d passed through the small and attractive town of Gloucester and were now on “Thunderbolt’s Way”, a spectacular thickly forested road that was named after a bushranger and wound its way through one of the most mountainous regions in the state and then on to Goondiwindi in Queensland. They wouldn’t be travelling that far of course, but would join the New England Highway at Uralla and then drive up through Armidale, Guyra and Glen Innes to Tenterfield.

The names meant little at present to Bron, who had never travelled in that part of the country until now however she had her camera ready to snap a photo of every interesting feature that Dave pointed out to her during the trip. By the time they reached Tenterfield she had used three rolls of film, each of thirty six exposures, and had loaded a fourth.

The journey turned out to be every bit as good as Dave had said it would be and this was probably due as much to his knowledge of the area and its people as it was to the scenery. In fact if it hadn’t been for his pointing out features of interest and telling her about events that happened or stories about people in the places they passed through, had she been travelling by herself she would in all likelihood have missed a great part of it.

They made several stops along the way so that they could stretch their legs and have a cup of tea or coffee and a bite to eat, and arrived at Dave’s parent’s farm in the mid afternoon. After opening the front gate, crossing the cattle grid and then closing the gate behind them it was still another five minutes drive before they reached the homestead, and Bron was quite surprised by the size of the property.

They found that both his parents, who had been watching for their arrival and had seen the dust raised by the truck as they came up the driveway, were standing on the wrap-around veranda of the big Queenslander style house waiting to welcome them.

Before they got out of the cab Dave told Bron that the night before he had told his folks that she had moved into the farmhouse at Brocklesbury, and that she needn’t be worried about meeting them. Bron pouted and directing narrowed eyes at him said that it would have saved her hours of worry if he had told her that before they’d left home.

One look at his parent’s faces assured Bron that she had nothing to worry about anyway as both were wreathed in smiles that showed obvious pleasure in her arrival, and in no time at all she found herself being warmly embraced by first his mother then by his father.

Of course Dave too was greeted warmly however after introducing Bron to his mother, Gwen, and his father, Gareth, he had found himself left to bring their bags up to the house as she was escorted up the steps to the front entrance. By the time he’d deposited the bags in the hallway that ran from the front door through to the back door the two women were chatting together as if they’d known each other forever.

His father knew when men weren’t needed around and taking two long-necks of beer from the fridge and two glasses from a cupboard motioned Dave to follow him and went out onto the front veranda. Pouring them each a glass he told Dave that for all the friendly chat that was going on in the kitchen his mother was probably subjecting Bron to an interrogation of sorts, and laughed when Dave told him that Bron was probably doing the same to his mother.

“She’s more than just passing attractive, Dai. In fact she’s quite stunning. I can’t understand why some young man hasn’t already taken her out of circulation, so to speak. Hmm. No, that’s probably not the best way to phrase that: Having read your letter and now met her in person I don’t think that she’s the type of girl that would circulate, and I don’t mean that in a coarse way naturally.”

“I understand what you mean, Dad. And for all I know she may have had a boyfriend or two before we met, but if she did it was before we met, and I haven’t asked her anything about her personal life before that. She’s a very open and direct woman and I’m sure that if there’s anything I need to know about her past, she’ll tell me.”

“Of course we may be overlooking the obvious: She might have already learned of your reputation for being kind, caring and considerate as well as being devilishly handsome, and was lying in wait to ambush you.”

“That’s true. Though she could turn out to be just incredibly naïve, or stupid, or both; and I’ve been extremely lucky.”

“Yeah. Well, I guess that’s probably more likely.”

The subject was changed as Morgan Snr told his son about what had been done with the farm since his last visit and during that discussion Bron appeared at the front screen door.

“Dad, Dave, dinner’s ready,” she said before suddenly retreating to the kitchen in laughter that was accompanied with a snort.

The bemused pair followed her inside, still holding their unfinished glasses of beer and wondering what had made her laugh so hard sat down at the table and asked her to explain.

“Well, Mum said “Go and tell Dad and Dave that dinner’s ready” and as I was doing just that I just couldn’t help thinking “I’m glad my name’s not Mabel.”

Although it took Dave a few seconds to realise what she was talking about his parents caught on immediately and began laughing.

“Dad and Dave from Snake Gully,” said Gareth. “Gosh, that takes me way back. Did they broadcast that radio program in New Zealand too? Even if they did it would have been before you were born, surely. How did you get to know about it?”

“I heard a few episodes when they were broadcast on some sort of nostalgia program that my dad used to listen to. And of course there were lots of Dad, Dave and Mabel jokes about when I was at school, though nearly all of those were smutty boys’ jokes that well-bred young ladies such as myself had to pretend they either didn’t hear or didn’t understand.”

During the extended time that was taken over dinner both Dave and Bron described the farm at Brocklesbury, what had been done with it so far and what Dave planned to do with it in the future. When Bron said that for the most part the farmhouse was going to be the castle from which she would rule the estate Gwen advised her that it was important to keep firm control over any serfs that worked the fields. Especially if any singular serf tried to exert undue influence on how the estate should be managed.

“Would Your Highness be so kind as to pass me the raspberry syrup?” interrupted a grinning Dave, whose mother had just placed a large bowl of vanilla ice-cream in front of him.

Bron rolled her eyes in a way that he was very quickly going to learn conveyed best-unspoken but nevertheless unmistakable replies to what she considered to be his droll if not ridiculous comments, and then passed him the syrup. Unseen by Dave his mother, who was just now standing behind him, grinned and gave Bron an approving wink and a nod, knowing that she was going to have quite a positive influence on her son. When Bron also grinned Dave turned to look enquiringly at his mother who simply cocked her head to one side a little and with a smile raised her eyebrows.

“Just remember when we get home,” he growled, turning back to face Bron. “It’s me who wears the pants around the house.”

“Well of course you do darlin’,” Bron replied sweetly, adding “After I’ve approved of the colour and style of course.”

His father wisely refrained from saying anything but it was obvious that Dave had just lost whatever it was that he was supposed not to have lost; namely his right to rule the roost.

However Dave knew all was well when later that evening his mother pulled out her stack of family albums and began showing Bron the many photographs that she had taken of Dave and his sister Patricia right up until the time they had both left home. Even more so when he discovered that she had quietly directed his father to take both his back-pack and Bron’s overnight bag to ’Trish’s bedroom, which had had her queen-size double bed made up. If he had checked his own room he would have found that his own king-single bed had also been made up, just in case his mother found something about Bron she disapproved of, but he didn’t look in there until late the next day.

Nobody seemed to find it out of the ordinary that Bron referred to Dave’s parents as Mum and Dad either, or if they did it was obviously considered to be completely acceptable and when Gwen Morgan went to bed later that night she was happy to know that she now had a daughter-in-law. Even if unofficially and even if nobody else, including Bron, was aware of it yet.

The really-not-newly-weds were also happy when they retired that night, both feeling that a major hurdle had been taken with little effort and that the next few days would be happy ones. And as the ceiling fan above quietly directed a cool flow of air down onto the bed, making Dave glad that Sparks had suggested installing the same back at their farm, Bron snuggled up to him and they drifted slowly off to a land of very pleasant dreams.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

If Dave had expected that the visit to his parent’s property would give him a chance to simply sit back and relax for a few days the fact that Bron was with him would have quickly altered that as both parents seemed eager to show the entire district of Tenterfield to their new family member. Or perhaps it was to show their new family member to the entire district of Tenterfield, but either way early morning found them all at the breakfast table discussing how the next few days would mostly be spent touring the surrounding countryside.

Bron was thrilled to find that when Gwen had learned that she had once owned a horse back in New Zealand and could ride, much of today would be spent in the saddle looking over the property and those of two or three adjoining neighbours’, one of whom had recently begun importing Boer goats, embryos and semen from South Africa.

Dave was surprised on two counts here: The first was that despite being a good rider himself he hadn’t thought to ask Bron if she could ride, and was unaware that she knew anything about horses let alone had once owned one. The second was that their neighbour Jacob Steencamp, an expatriate South African, had established a goat farm on a property that had been well known for raising prime beef cattle and not a few sheep.

“I would’ve thought importing more goats was the last thing this country needs,” said Dave, who was then told by his father that he had obviously been at sea too long and had lost touch with what was happening on the land these days.

“I have to admit that that was my first reaction too though, I guess, but after listening to Jacob talk about the potential of the export market I reckon he might be on to a good thing. I wasn’t aware until he told me that goat meat is actually the most eaten red meat in the world, and demand for it far exceeds the current supply. According to him the two million plus feral goats we have in the country are worth a few bob too. At least the does are. Would you believe he actually buys feral does from properties further out west and uses them in a breeding program to increase his herd?”

“Why doesn’t he just breed the goats we already have in Australia?”

“Completely different goat altogether, but rather than me trying to explain I’ll leave it to Jacob to tell you all about that: A bit later we’ll be riding over to his property where he’ll be delighted to have a couple of new ears to bash about his venture. By the way Bron, we’ll be carrying a couple of rifles with us but Jacob knows that if we’re out to shoot anything it’ll only be foxes, not goats. You’re not in Aotearoa now,” he said with a grin, having heard from Dave about her shooting in New Zealand.

The grin disappeared from his face to be replaced by a look of bewilderment when after hearing him use the word Aotearoa, by which name the Māoris call The Land of the Long White Cloud, she replied with a sentence in the Māori tongue, none of which he understood though he laughed when she translated it for him: “He’d probably be happy just to know I wasn’t on his property hunting for Long Pig if he learns that I come from New Zealand.”

Dave had laughed too, even before she translated as though he didn’t understand Te reo Māori, the language spoken by the natives of New Zealand, he knew enough Te reo Ipukarea (Rarotongan) which was similar enough for him to pick up the gist of what she had said.

Gwen was a little shocked to learn that the term Long Pig was used by Polynesians to describe human flesh at a time when cannibalism wasn’t exactly unheard of, however she had to laugh when reminded by Gareth that even their own ancestors weren’t exactly adverse to spilling a bit of their enemies’ blood in order to whip up a quick batch of black pudding.

Shortly after the breakfast dishes had been cleared away the whole family was occupied with saddling up the horses that each would be riding that day. The horses were Walers, an Australian breed renowned for the versatility, speed, stamina and endurance that make them very competitive in all forms of equine sport and competition.

They were also famous for having been the mounts used by Australian Light Horse Brigades during the Boer and First World Wars. During World War Two, three hundred and sixty Australian Walers were assigned to the Texas National Guard 112th Cavalry in New Caledonia however they were eventually deemed unfit for jungle warfare and were sent to India. There they served briefly with the Chinese Army before being assigned to the American 5307th Composite Unit often referred to as “Merrill’s Marauders”. Unfortunately none of the horses survived the bitter warfare conducted in the tropical jungles of Burma where they operated and in fact such were the conditions that of the two thousand seven hundred and fifty men of the unit that fought there, only two were left alive who had never been hospitalized with wounds or major illness.

However Walers had never been bred specifically as a war horse and with their loyal nature, patience and kind temperament were considered by Gareth and Gwen to be the ideal breed not only for working their property but also for teaching their children to ride. Being always treated with the kindness, respect and consideration they deserved the horses seemed to enjoy being ridden just for the sheer pleasure of it.

The saddles they used were Australian Stock Saddles, now popular worldwide for activities that require a secure seat for long hours spent on the back of a horse. Dave had long ago brought a Western Saddle back from the U.S. after one of his stints at sea however it wasn’t long before he found that it just wasn’t as good as what he was used to and sold it, at a handsome profit of course, and reverted to the custom-made saddle that he was now using. Bron had never used one before however at the end of the day she said that it had proved to be every bit as comfortable as she had been told it would be; and certainly more so than the English style saddle that she had used in New Zealand. Gwen told her that the saddle belonged to ’Trish, as did “Pepper”, the horse on which she rode, and it was lucky that she and Trish were of the same build as the saddle had been custom-made to suit both horse and rider.

“I don’t know if it will suit her when she comes back from Europe though,” said Gwen. “The last letter I got from her she was complaining about having put on a lot of weight and that her backside now looked to be three hatchet handles wide.

When Dave laughed and said that if they could find a wide enough saddle and a Clydesdale or Percheron with the same colouring as “Pepper” she might not notice any difference when she went out riding he received a swift rebuke from his mother.

“Dai, you know very well that your sister’s over sensitive about her weight and that every ounce she puts on she imagines is a pound. And what does she look like whenever she complains about being overweight? No heavier than Bron here who is the same height and shape, and I doubt very much that you consider her to be overweight!”

Under Bron’s gaze he wasn’t game to even think of a smart retort to that one, particularly as everyone could see that Bron had a very shapely figure, so he simply grinned and carried on saddling his horse.

Gareth hadn’t been joking when he had said they’d be carrying rifles with them and Bron was shown how to attach a scabbard to her saddle before being handed an unloaded Winchester lever-action 30-30 which she looked at rather dubiously, never having used one before.

“We’ve got a small range set up just over that ridge to the left,” said Gareth as he pointed in its direction. “We could probably fire a canon there without attracting much attention but I did call Jacob and let him know that we’d be out there shooting, just in case he heard a shot or two and thought someone was out hunting his goats. Anyway, we’ll go over there and familiarise you with the 30-30... Unless you’d rather not of course.”

“Now I know where Dai learned how to make stupid statements,” she replied with a laugh and after mounting her horse leaned down to grab the bandolier that he was now holding up to her.

“I’m glad you worked that out quickly dear,” said Gwen with a laugh as she manoeuvred her mount alongside Bron’s. “I’d hate to think you might believe it came from my side of the family.”

“You needn’t worry about that, Mum,” Bron replied as she placed the bandolier over her head and looped it diagonally across her chest and back. “I learned a long time ago that making silly remarks and asking even more silly questions is an unfortunate trait common to men.”

“Just treat ’em wiv’ ignore, Dave,” said Gareth, sticking his nose in the air and giving an exaggerated sniff as the two men walked their horses ahead of the girls’ mounts. “They obviously don’t appreciate a man’s good sense of humour.”

He turned in the saddle when he heard the sound of sniggering behind him and though his glare was met by innocent looks from the girls the sound came again when he once again faced forward and took his horse to a trot.
From the get-up it was clear that the four horses were eager to stretch their legs and after a brief canter they were given free rein to gallop half the length of the relatively wide and tractor graded access road that spanned the property between the fence-lines on each side. Dave ceased worrying about Bron’s riding prowess when he saw not just how easily she handled the gallop but also the way she took the jump over an old tree that had fallen across the road. It had remained unseen until they’d rounded a bend and suddenly found it right in front of them, so close that it couldn’t be completely avoided at the pace they were riding. Fortunately the agile and sure-footed Walers managed to clear the obstacle with good jumps and having done so the riders reigned in, dismounted and together tried to haul it around so that the bulk of its branches would be off the road. It quickly became evident however that despite it not being an overly large tree a chainsaw would be needed to cut it up for complete removal, however as that could be done later they remounted and continued their ride.

Upon reaching the boundary they left the graded road and walked the horses upwards along the fence-line trail to the highest point on the property from where they could see most of its two thousand hectares spread out before them. What couldn’t be seen was hidden by two small hills between which ran a permanent creek connecting several dams along its length, and although Bron could also see large areas of pasture where cattle grazed these were separated by wide swathes of native bushland which Gareth described as being wildlife corridors.

Moving over to the creek they followed a drop in the bank down to one of the dams which turned out to be an enlarged natural pond into which a waterfall tumbled from the rocky bed of the stream now some twelve feet above them. The pond was the first of two swimming holes that the family used, the second being further downstream and a bit closer to the homestead, and while both had seen more frequent use as Dave and his sister were growing up they were still enjoyed by the family on hot summer days.

The trail they were on also led to the range where Bron was to be instructed in the use of the 30-30 and it wasn’t long before they broke into the clearing where it was located. She was surprised to find what looked like an old WWII concrete gun emplacement had been constructed at the open end of a small gully, the steep sides of which were about fifty feet apart and the bottom of which had been flattened out for a distance of a little over two hundred yards.

A twelve foot high berm at the far end, in front of which a variety of fixed targets had been set up, faced what the men referred to as The Bunker. The bunker had been constructed by the previous owners of the property as during the war it was feared that Japanese troops invading the country would use the main road through town as they headed south, and indeed there were still tank traps and gun emplacements to be found all around the local area.

The clearing in front of it had space enough to park eight, maybe ten cars and from it a gravel road wound its way down towards the farm buildings adjacent to the house. A grassed area to one side the car park had been fenced off and a gate and a water trough for horses had been put in, and into this coral the horses were turned for the duration of Bron’s instruction. Another grassed area on the other side had been prepared for camping, with a number of tent sites arranged around a large open fireplace, and Dave explained that a number of shooters from the surrounding district occasionally met there.

Dave undertook the task of instructing Bron in the handling of the 30-30, with his mother advising him that while he might think it a good time to do his impersonation of Chuck Connors he should stick to teaching Bron the basics. Perhaps after he had ensured that she could safely load, fire, and eject both spent and live cartridges, and in particular that she understood how ease the hammer to the half cock position so as not to accidently fire the rifle after chambering a round, he could show off some of his fancy tricks.

Bron thoroughly enjoyed the lesson and in no time at all had mastered the basics, however despite using all of the ammunition in her bandolier during the shoot she felt she wasn’t able to be quite as accurate with it as she would have been with a bolt action ·223. Nevertheless, her groups were considered by the others to be a lot better than might have been expected, especially given that she had never used a lever action until then, and she came away quite satisfied with her efforts. The other three also sent quite a few rounds down-range though the object of the exercise had been merely to let Bron have a bit of fun and it wasn’t too long before they were back in the saddle and heading towards Jacob Steencamp’s run to have a look at his goats.

And to a barbeque, as it turned out: Gwen had neglected to tell them that after Gareth had spoken to Jacob she had spoken to his wife Maryke, and when told that they were bringing Dave’s partner along she had invited them all to lunch. Naturally the meat that Jacob was cooking over the coals of the BBQ he had fashioned from a forty-four gallon petrol drum that had been cut in half lengthways was that of one of his own goats, and he showed great pride when his neighbours praised the taste and texture of the cuts that he’d prepared. Bron gave Dave a smug grin when she admitted that not only had she eaten goat meat before but had also been taught by her father how to field-dress and butcher the animals they’d hunted together in New Zealand. She added that although it’d probably be a bit more work than gutting and scaling fish she shouldn’t have much of a problem with kangaroo either, and Dave laughed when he recalled his comment following their first fishing trip.

Not surprisingly perhaps, the conversation over lunch was somewhat one-sided as he extolled the virtues of Boer goats, the rosy future for the industry plus his own plans for being a large part of it, and gave Dave some very persuasive reasons as to why he should consider investing in them himself.

Maryke was equally enthused about the goats, claiming that not only did their meat have more protein and less cholesterol than lamb it also had a much nicer smell. Gareth, who ran quite few sheep on his own property vigorously denied that lamb had any type of odour that might be thought objectionable, though he did concede that from a farming point of view goats were possibly much easier to look after, apart from the expense of shelter from wind and rain and good fencing to keep them contained.

After having eaten probably more than they should have Jacob led them all down to the large fox-proof pens where in one of which two high quality breeding bucks were happily demolishing a bale of lucerne hay and in another five contented does were confined with their very recently born kids. Maryke lifted up one of the smallest kids and placed it in Bron’s arms and after holding it for a couple of minutes she found herself completely captivated by what she said was an adorable baby, and actually looked as if she wasn’t willing to part with it anytime soon.

Dave grinned and said that he wouldn’t be surprised if their farm down at Brocklesbury ended up becoming a zoo, knowing that if Bron wanted to have a goat or three he’d be unable to resist another opportunity to make her happy. He also hadn’t forgotten the day of their first meeting when she’d told him that she’d love to have ducks and geese and, without her knowledge as it was going to be a surprise, he had already spoken to Darren about putting in a large pond close to the house from where the waterfowl, when he got some, could be watched.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

In a large paddock nearby a herd of some fifty does, many with half- grown offspring in attendance shared their space with a single donkey that trotted over to the fence as soon as he saw people approaching.

“This is Dennis,” Maryke told them as she reached the fence and producing an apple from a pocket of the pinafore she was wearing gave it to him. “We’d originally thought of putting a couple of Italian Maremma sheep dogs or perhaps some alpacas with the goats as both have good reputations as guard animals, but then we heard that donkeys were just as effective and cost a lot less to buy and maintain. In fact we got Dennis here from a donkey rescue centre for free, though we did make a large donation to the centre. He’s not only turned out to be a good guard but as you can see he’s also very affectionate.

“Are they easy to train as guards?” asked Dave, who knew that if Bron wanted a few goats it would probably mean having to get a donkey too, at least if judging by the way she was now petting Dennis it would.

“Oh, you don’t really have to train them: They just have a natural hatred of foxes and dogs, along with a rather nasty desire to stomp them death if they catch them. Some people find that their braying can be a bit noisy but we’ve found that Dennis usually only sounds off when he thinks something’s amiss... Or when he’s hungry... Or bored... Or lonely... Hmm... Come to think of it, he can be a bit noisy at times I suppose, but it’s never really bothered us.”

When they finally rode away from the Steencamp property later that afternoon it may have been felt by the horses that their riders were a tad heavier, not only by the weight of an overly large barbeque lunch but also by a decent sized slab of apfelstrudel. Maryke had made six large strudels and had divided two of them into three pieces each over which she poured a generous amount of rich double cream before serving them along with cups of strong sweet coffee.

She had carefully wrapped two more for the visitors to take when they returned home however not wanting to have them break up during the ride Gwen asked her if she could put them in the ’fridge for now and Gareth could come by later in the ute and pick them up. At the same time he could bring over the air small compressor that Jacob wanted to borrow, his being broken to the point of needing replacement.

By the time the horses had been unsaddled, hosed down, dried, brushed, watered and fed it was getting quite late though there was still plenty of light and enough time for Gareth to take the compressor over to Jacob... And pick up the apfelstrudels of course.

While he was gone Bron and Gwen each had a shower and Dave did the same but used an outdoors shower that had been rigged up under a tower supporting a small water tank. Gareth had coupled together four radiators that he’d taken from old cars at a wrecking yard, ensured they didn’t leak and set them up on the tank tower facing north. They worked well as a solar heater and the water in the tank was very hot: In fact so much so that Dave thought it might be a good idea to build a similar system for the farm back in Brocklesbury.

When Gareth returned they set up a table on the veranda, opened a couple of bottles of beer, and a wine cask for the girls, then sat back to enjoy a lovely sunset. After the large lunch they’d had nobody felt like sitting down to a full dinner so the girls had made up two large plates of nibbles and they all simply sat and talked until well after the sun had set and the veranda lights had been turned on.

During the conversation Bron asked Dave how had he known what she’d said when she’d spoken to his father in Te rio that morning and was thrilled to hear that not only did he speak some Rarotongan and knew quite a few words of Tahitian too, but loving the music of the islands he had collected a large number of vinyl 33’s. He went to his old bedroom, where he found his bed made up, dug out several records and returning to the lounge placed a stack of three onto the spindle of the AWA stereo phonograph’s turntable and then triggered the play lever.

As he returned to the veranda the sounds of guitars and ukuleles followed him and Bron clapped her hands together and laughed as he swayed in an island dance fashion through the door to the melody of “To Reo Iti Maru”, the first track of Eddie Lund’s album “I Remember Tahiti”. As they listened to the music Bron closed her eyes and began softly singing along with the record, and a few moments later Dave saw a couple of tears creep from under her eyelids and run down her cheeks.

“I hope those are tears of happiness,” he whispered into her hair as he moved to sit down beside her, place his arms around her and draw her close.

“They are,” she snuffled. “I haven’t heard this music for such a long time and it just brings back so many happy memories. Most of my school friends were Māoris and Islanders and I learned a lot of their songs and dances. They were really fun times.”

“Well, on our next holiday we should go to New Zealand then. You can visit your friends, I can visit some of mine, and you can introduce me to your parents. How does that sound?”

“Really? Oh Dai, it sounds perfect. When do you think we can go?

“Since we’re now living together I think we should go sooner rather than later, don’t you? We can work out a definite plan for it when we get home, but I think not too far into the New Year would be good.”

“Any chance of us tagging along?” asked Gwen. “We haven’t been to New Zealand since... When was it Gareth? Sixty seven? Sixty eight?”

“Sixty eight,” said Gareth.

“Oh, that’d be fantastic!” said a smiling Bron, suddenly sitting up with her eyes shining but tears no longer visible. “How about it Dad? Do you want to go?”

“Don’t see why Mum and I shouldn’t have a bit of a holiday. OK. Let us know when you want to go so that I can get things around here organised. Anyway, it’s goodnight from me now because I’m off to bed. How about you Gwen. Are you coming?”

“If you help take these plates and glasses through to the kitchen I’ll be right with you. Goodnight you two. See you in the morning.”

“G’night Mum, Dad,” Bron and Dave chorused in reply.

The excitement of the day caught up with Bron almost as soon as she laid her head on the pillow that night and although she was sound asleep by the time Dave turned in about ten minutes later he softly kissed her goodnight anyway. She didn’t wake up but a small smile seemed to cross her face and Dave smiled in response as he watched her for a minute before turning off the light, sliding beneath the sheets and also quickly falling asleep.

* * *

​

 

[Bidadisndat]

The following day Dave and Bron were up and about well before the sun had even thought of rising and it was still early in the morning when they arrived at the large sheep and cattle station west of Gilgandra, where their aim was to eradicate as many rabbits and foxes as they could. According to Dick Strachan, the owner, there were also quite a few feral goats and pigs on the property, though for the most part they kept themselves at quite a distance from the homestead and it wasn’t considered likely that they’d see any on this trip.

Of course Dave had his ’scoped ·308 in the truck’s safe anyway and was hoping he might get the chance to reach out and touch one or two. He’d offered Bron the use of either his ·22 or ·223 however she was keen to try out the 30-30 on a live shoot and had brought along the same rifle she had used at the range back at the family’s farm.

On this trip they used Dick’s old WWII Willys jeep to travel around the property though had they been staying for more than one night he said they could have carried out the hunt on horseback and camped out each night, adding that if they’d like to do that they were welcome to come back anytime. That was something the couple would be keen on doing in the future, they said, and added that had they not been pressed for time they would have been happy to do so on this trip. Despite their staying over for one night only, and that in the relative comfort of the presently unused shearer’s quarters, the hunt resulted in a take of five foxes and thirty two rabbits, all taken in the early morning and late evening.

Both Dave and Dick were very impressed by the fact that Bron had taken out one of the foxes at a distance of 180 yards over open sights in failing light and opined that had the rifle been fitted with a ’scope she couldn’t have done better.

Dave had called the foxes in with a Tenterfield Whistle, famous for its mimicking of distressed or injured animals, and Dick, not knowing her sense of humour laughed when Bron asked how far out from Tenterfield would the whistle be effective. Dave also laughed and though knowing she was joking called her an idiot anyway, which wasn’t a smart thing to do while she was holding the carcass of a dead rabbit in her hand and he got soundly whacked in the stomach with it.

The thick fur that helped protect the foxes from the cold of winter had thinned out during the summer however Dick decided that the pelts were still well worth recovering and offered to tan them, although Dave and Bron would have to skin the critters. Eager to show she was up to the task Bron followed Dick’s instructions as he first demonstrated the process on one of the foxes he’d shot and before long all five pelts had been removed, pinned out on sheets of plywood and laid out in his shed for drying.

When the pelts were properly tanned Dick would call Dave’s parents and have them drive over and pick them up, or if Dave paid the postage he could send them straight down to Brocklesbury. As it would be quite a long drive out to the property for his parents Dave said that he’d prefer to do it that way and gave Dick more than enough cash to cover the postage involved but said the extra was for a bottle of the Bundaberg O.P. rum that he knew Dick enjoyed.

Around mid-day Bron took the wheel as they headed off and keeping a sharp lookout for vehicles that might turn out to be police cars took delight in hammering the truck at speed along the outback highway back to Tenterfield. They made pretty good time and arrived at the township before the shops were closed for the day, and after calling his mother from a ’phone booth Dave did a little shopping for a few things she needed before they returned to the farm, and to a big roast-beef-with-Yorkshire-pudding dinner that Gwen had spent the afternoon preparing.

During the meal that evening the family, of which Bron was now a fully accepted member, discussed the upcoming trip that Gareth and Gwen would be making to visit Brocklesbury, with Dave assuring them that the farmhouse would be ready in time to accommodate them without their having to assist with any renovations.

“You might be able to help with some digging in the garden if you really want to,” said Dave. “Though there’s a slight problem there because at the moment we’ve got no garden at all to dig in. There used to be a fair sized one, fenced in to protect it from rabbits, but there's not much of the beds or fence left now.”

“Well, with four of us working at it, I don’t think it’d take too long to put one in. What’s the soil like down there?”

“Sand, clay, loam. It changes all over the place. Stand on one type and the other two types will be six feet away in opposite directions. There was quite a bit of good soil taken from the side of the hill when the pad for the water tanks was dug out though, and that was placed where the old veggie garden used to be. Darren, the bloke who did the job also levelled it out so basically I only have to mark out the beds and paths and build a fence around them. But we’re not inviting you down to work: We just want to show off the farm, introduce you to some of our friends and have you both enjoy a bit of a holiday.”

When the meal was finished Dave told his parents about the foxes Bron had taken out with the 30-30, and how she’d had no problem parting them from their coats. When Gwen asked about the rabbit pelts she was told that Dick, who had skinned an uncountable number over the years and now took only a minute or so to peel one, had said to just leave them and he’d do those after they’d gone. He was going to put the carcasses in his big freezer and, apart from a couple that he would use himself as there was no myxy in them, feed them to his four dogs over the next few months.

That led to a discussion about the viability of raising rabbits for food, with Gwen saying that she was surprised to learn that unlike the dark meat of wild rabbits, farmed rabbit meat was white, much like chicken. At least, the one friends had purchased from a delicatessen in the city when she and Gareth were visiting had been.

“Bloody amazing, isn’t it?” said Dave. “As if we didn’t already have enough we imported rabbits from New Zealand and the U.S. and bred even more; the country has over two million feral goats and we want to import and breed more of those. We’ll be importing flamin’ cockroaches next.”

However the seeds of interest had been sown and although Dave didn’t give a lot of thought to breeding either goats or rabbits at this time he could see that both animals were ideally suited to small scale farming, especially so when considered in terms of self-sufficiency.

The time spent with his parents was very pleasant, and he and Bron enjoyed themselves immensely, however Dave was itching to get back to their own farm and get stuck into the many jobs that needed doing there. His parents weren’t at all put out by his wanting to return so quickly, understanding his desire to get his house in order as soon as possible, and besides, it had already been decided that they would visit the farm over the Christmas-New Year break and help out where they could.

Because he’d be driving over to the coast and travelling down the Pacific Highway, which would take a bit longer than their trip up, Dave wanted to get a reasonably early start and so the evening was spent loading the truck. He’d stored the wind turbine, batteries and switch-gear that he’d purchased in the U.S. in one of his father’s sheds rather than in the storage unit he had in the city and this was loaded with the aid of a chain hoist attached to the loading bucket of Gareth’s old grey Ferguson tractor.

Each of the twelve big deep-cycle batteries were heavy enough by themselves so it was quite a load when they were all placed together on the truck, and after the turbine, switchgear and various other items were added the total weight was probably a bit over the truck’s rated load limit.

Despite feeling that he needn’t worry about that too much as his rig wasn’t required to stop at any of the RTA inspection stations his father wanted to unload four of the batteries and take them down to Brocklesbury in his own truck when he and Gwen came down for Christmas. Dave decided instead to take off several other items that apart from being heavy wouldn’t be needed for some time yet and could be taken down later.

“I can’t see you leaving all that early in the morning unless you intend to get no sleep at all tonight,” said Gwen to Dave when the men finally came into the house after the loading was complete. “Bron has already gone to bed, sensible girl that she is, but don’t use that as an excuse to get her to drive first. You know that the road over to the coast isn’t one she’s familiar with and I don’t want to hear about your truck going over the side of a cliff.”

Dave was surprised that the hour was so late, having not only been busy with loading but also talking to his father at length about his ideas for the farm, but following a quick shower he was soon stretched out beside Bron and fast asleep.

* * *
​

Leaving Tenterfield early, although not quite as early as Dave had hoped, they made their way via the Bruxner Highway to join the Pacific Highway at the coastal town of Ballina, travelling through heavily timbered and hilly terrain to Drake and then down to Tabulum on the Clarence River. The narrow timber truss bridge which crossed the river at that point had been completed in 1903 and was reputed to be the longest single-span wooden bridge in the southern hemisphere, so of course they had to stop so that Bron could take several photos of the structure.

Having climbed up out of the Clarence valley then descended into the Richmond River Valley they found the going a little easier and around mid-day arrived in Ballina where they took time to sit on the beach and enjoy the picnic lunch that Gwen had packed for them.

Back on the road and now heading South on the Pacific Highway Bron had taken the wheel for the next leg of the journey which would take them down to Coffs Harbour, following which Dave would again take over and drive to Port Macquarie. The distance of each leg was arbitrary at the moment however, and would depend on how tired each of them felt after a couple of hours driving. Bron knew that Dave would try and shrug off any tiredness that he felt in an effort to get them home in good time however she was determined to not let him get away with that, telling him that she wanted to arrive home in the truck and not in an ambulance. As it turned out they arrived back in Brocklesbury a little before seven in the evening, having driven at a safe speed all the way, and were able to have dinner at the Cock & Bull before returning to the farmhouse.

Tony and Trev were well pleased to see them back, and after bringing them up to date on what little had been happening during their time away asked them if they would be able to come back next day around lunch time: The owner of the diamond earring that Dave had found would be staying for a few days, and her husband thought it would be a good idea for its finder to hand it to her, especially as she didn’t know it had been found. Dave was amazed to hear that she hadn’t been informed yet but would be happy to meet the couple and take part in the planned surprise.

Bron had gone off to the rest room when Tony remembered something and slipped Dave a card on which was written a telephone number, telling him as he did so that the mayor had had a word to the local manager of telecom, and the result had been that the ’phone line at the farm had quickly been connected. Tony had gone with the technician and let him into the house to wire up the old-style handset that Dave had purchased and mounted on the wall over the bench-top in the kitchen, and check that the line was working.

When Bron returned they went to the dining room where Olivia made sure that their dinner plates were filled to capacity when they ordered the roast pork with apple sauce, and added more than a fair share of the crackling that she knew Dave was partial to. In fact, it was such a substantial serving that there was almost no room left in their stomachs for a desert of wine trifle. Almost no room said Dave as he succumbed to temptation after seeing the large bowl of trifle that Olivia herself brought to the table, while Bron settled for a smaller portion. In fact hers was much smaller.

After dinner they returned to the farm where Dave, after telling Bron to sit tight for a moment, started the generator, unlocked and opened the front door then returned to the truck and carried a laughing Bron up the steps and over the threshold. They were home again, and very happy to be. And it was that night that they became lovers.

* * *
​

 

[Siskiyoumom]

Sweet story with a foundation of preppier minded folks. Thank you.

 

[Bidadisndat]

Early in the morning Dave rose and without waking Bron padded out to the kitchen where he lifted the telephone handset from its cradle and placing it to his ear was gratified to hear the sound of a dial tone indicating that, as Tony had told him, it was connected. Quickly searching through his wallet he located the piece of paper on which he’d written Bron’s parent’s address and ’phone number in New Zealand and dialled, praying that the letter Bron told him she’d written to her parents had arrived, and they would be aware that he and their daughter were now living together as a couple. He also hoped somebody would be home as it was two hours later in New Zealand than it was in Australia.

Fortunately there was, with her father answering after only a few rings, and after Dave had introduced himself, and speaking very quietly so that Bron wouldn’t hear, told him that his daughter now had a new ‘phone number where she could be contacted. After explaining that he hadn’t yet told Bron that the phone had been connected and wanted to surprise her, he asked if it would be possible for her father to call the number he gave him in about half an hour, by which time he would ensure that Bron was close to the ’phone when it rang. This he achieved by preparing a big breakfast of scrambled eggs with bacon and tomatoes for them both, plus a couple of slices of black pudding for himself, before calling for her to come and join him before everything got cold.

When she arrived in the kitchen he had already set her plate on the benchtop within easy reach of the ’phone, then sat himself opposite so that he could watch her reaction when it rang. He was in the process of pouring her a mug of coffee when it did, and he grinned like an ape when she stared at the instrument in wide-eyed surprise before reaching out and tentatively lifting the receiver.

Her look suddenly changed to one of amazement when after the couple of seconds it took to recognise the voice that asked if Bronwyn Phillips was there when she said “Hello?” she was able to talk to her father. After a purse-mouthed glare, followed by a big grin at Dave for not having told her that the ’phone had been connected, the conversation that followed was, along with several tears of happiness, interspersed with lots of laughter.

Not being needed, for the moment at least, and having finished his breakfast, Dave took a look around the outside of the house and was happy to see that all was as it had been before their trip, with the exception that the first of the two large water tanks he wanted had been delivered, and was now sitting atop its pad on the slope above. Walking up to the tank he saw that it had not only been positioned but had also been connected to the new house supply pipe that ran in the trench down to the house.

An overflow pipe had been put in place and led well away from the pad on which the tank sat, and the water level indicator that he’d ordered had also been fitted, though it seemed to be a bit small to be viewed easily from the house. At the house end of the trench the supply pipe to the house had been plumbed in to the system however the pipe which would deliver water from the collection tank beside the house up to the main tank, temporarily capped to prevent dirt and insects from entering, was waiting for the diesel pump to be installed before also being connected.

He’d have time to go into town before lunch and check on the delivery of the pump and also arrange for the delivery of a tanker load of water, this time not from the rural fire service, though he’d call in to the brigade’s building and make a donation as he’d promised Bob Watson. Before going back inside he looked up the slope to the tank and was able to discern the water level indicator, but only just, and decided it would be easier to see if he painted the ball fluorescent orange and put a matt-black painted board behind it.

When he returned inside it was to find that Bron had finished speaking to her father, and her grandmother, and was now talking to her mother. He didn’t actually listen to the conversation however he did overhear Bron say a couple of nice things about him, though she later claimed that they were only said to ease any concern her parents might have about her relationship with him, and he shouldn’t get a swelled head because of them. Of course after she’d hung up the ’phone she was quick to give him a kiss and a powerful hug for the wonderful surprise he’d given her, and he was happy enough with that.

She was keen to go into town with him as she wanted to check out the second-hand furniture shop again for some items they still needed, and not long after she’d finished on the ’phone they were on their way. After Dave dropped her off at the store, saying that he’d be back after going to the irrigation supply place, and filling the truck’s fuel tank, she spent some time looking around before finding some of the pieces she wanted. These included an old style chintz-covered lounge suite which she thought would suit the décor of the house, and a large coffee table that would need a good sanding and be either re-stained or painted. The lounge suite looked to be in near-new condition despite that it was obviously an old design, and the salesman explained that it had been professionally re-upholstered not long before its owners decided that they really wanted something more modern.

When Dave returned to the store, having sorted out the delivery of the diesel pump he wanted and filled the truck’s fuel tank, he tried out one of the chairs Bron had chosen and finding it to be very comfortable asked her if she wanted to take the chair with them.

“Do you think there’ll be enough room on the truck for the whole suite and the coffee table too?” she asked.

“The whole suite? I thought it was just this chair you wanted to buy for me,” he answered, quickly adding that there was probably enough room for a chair for her too when he saw the look on her face.

“You really enjoy living on the edge, don’t you?” she said, with a grin suddenly replacing the stern look he’d gotten when he was trying to be funny. “Anyway, we won’t be taking anything back with us on this trip, unless you want to balance it on top of the load we already have, or have you forgotten about that?”

Sheepishly Dave had to admit that he had forgotten but despite that he paid for the furniture and told the salesman that he’d be back on the following Monday to pick everything up, including the two carvers that belonged to the dining suite.

During the drive back to the village he told Bron that although he was able to get a diesel driven pump which could be used for fire-fighting as well as transferring water to the storage tank on the slope, they didn’t sell windmills, and didn’t know who did, so he’d have to look elsewhere for one. The pump he’d ordered wasn’t overly large and could easily be carried by two people, and he’d be able to pick it up on Monday when he came in to get the lounge suite and coffee table.

Back in the village Bron went shopping for the groceries they needed and Dave went over the road to the Bush Fire Brigade building where he found Bob Watson with a number of volunteers who after the morning training session were setting up for a barbeque. Bob took him inside to write out a receipt for the donation he was making to the brigade and was surprised at the large amount that Dave handed to him.

“Blimey, Dave, I was hoping you could spare a few dollars but this is way and above just for a few litres of water.”

“Water? What water, Bob? This is a Bush Fire Brigade isn’t it? And if I remember rightly you happened to mention that the brigade depends a lot on donations to keep things running. I wasn’t aware you did water carting too!”

Bob laughed as he remembered their conversation when he took the old Bedford up to the farm and “accidently spilled a bit of water” during the trip. When asked, Dave told him that everything was going well and that he hoped to have the diesel pump fitted during the week so he could pump the water in the house tank up to the new tank. He also told Bob that the new tank was fitted with a connection that the brigade could use if they needed to fill their tanker in an emergency, though they’d have to wait until there’d been enough rain to fill it first. He’d had a few extra keys cut for the padlock on the front gate and now gave one to the brigade in case they needed access to the tank if he or Bron weren’t around. Bob thanked him, introduced him to the other members present and invited him to stay for the barbeque. When Dave said that he’d like to but had a prior engagement he was asked to come back again soon... and bring Bron with him.

Returning to the shops he helped Bron load the groceries she’d bought and after delivering them to the farm they returned in Bron’s car to the Cock & Bull in time for lunch, and to meet the couple who had lost the diamond earring. As they entered the car-park they were spotted by Tony who waved then motioned for them to come over to the office outside which he was standing. Once inside he told them that his friends would be down for lunch shortly and handed Dave the earring that was to be returned, and which was now wrapped in a small square of blue velvet that Trev had gotten from who-knows-where. He then led them to the beer garden where Trev was waiting at one of the tables that had been set up for six diners and a short time later they were joined by Brian and Kate Osterly, to whom they were introduced.

Dave noted that Brian was not only tall and solidly built but had the weathered features of someone who spent a considerable amount of time outdoors rather than in chambers or a courtroom. Likewise Kate, although being a woman she had obviously and sensibly taken more care of her skin when outdoors than her husband had of his, and even now in the shade of the trees around the garden she wore a wide-brimmed sun hat.

With introductions done with they all sat around the table and while they checked out the menu before ordering Tony gave his two friends an account of what Dave had been doing in the way of painting and carrying out repairs around the hotel. When he mentioned that it had apparently been a filthy job to clear out the bathroom drains of some of the guest suites it was Dave’s cue to explain that it was usually wads of tissue paper, hair pins and long hair that caused most blockages. Sometimes it was something different though: A tea-bag that had accidently been tipped down the sink when a cup was rinsed out, or even a piece of jewellery such as a wedding ring.

“In fact, it was a piece of jewellery that caused the problem in one of the units I cleaned here. It looks like it’s set with a diamond but more than likely it’s a rhinestone,” he said, rising from his seat and extracting his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. He opened it and withdrew the small piece of velvet which he laid on the table between Brian and Kate, and opening it said “What do you make of this?”

Kate looked down at the glittering piece and gave a shriek of surprise when she recognised her lost earring. She looked up to see that the others were all grinning at her like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland, and when Brian withdrew its mate from the button-down pocket of his shirt and placed it alongside she burst into tears. Rising from her chair she quickly came around the table and gave Dave a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, in the process dampening the collar of his shirt with her tears, and thanked him repeatedly for being so honest as to return it.

“When did you find out about this?” she rounded on Brian, who had to admit it was on the night he’d told her they would be coming down for a few days, and with an innocent looking smile said that he’d had absolutely no problem at all in keeping the knowledge to himself until she could be surprised.


The lunch became somewhat of a celebration after that, with Kate now happily wearing both earrings which, she assured everyone, she would take very good care never to lose again.

The topic of conversation around the table soon turned to Dave’s taking over management of the McKenzie’s property, and he had no doubt that Brian was fully aware of the actual situation regarding his occupation of the place. In fact he felt at times during the discussion that he was being cross-examined by Brian, even if in a friendly way, and decided that keeping all three legal eagles at the table on-side would best be achieved by laying everything out in the open. At least, as far as this small group was concerned.

When Dave had finished outlining the ideas he had so far both Brian and Kate expressed an interest in visiting the property and in the absence of any other plans they had for the day it was decided that that could be done after lunch, and that Tony and Trev should go along too. As it was, “after lunch” turned out to be almost two hours later due to the fact that they were all having such a good time and didn’t feel the need to hurry.

As they drove up the hill they were passed by Bob Watson who was coming in the opposite direction in the fire brigade’s old Bedford, and Bob had given them a honk of the horn and a cheerful wave as they passed. Bob hadn’t recognised the car that Brian was driving and only recognised Dave in the passenger seat at the last moment, but such was his nature that he would give a friendly wave to just about everyone he passed, which Bron said was yet another good reason for living in Brocklesbury: The natives there were all so friendly.

 

[Bidadisndat]

Before driving to the farm they did a quick trip down to the bay as Tony had told them that council had already made arrangements to have the road to the beach cleared, and that he’d seen a couple of their trucks driving past in that direction. The main work had yet to be commenced but Dave noted with satisfaction that markers with bright yellow ribbons to guide the machinery had been hammered into the ground on each side of the now-cleared road from the wharf all the way down to the car-park at the beach.

A new and stronger security fence had also been erected around the wharf and though Dave doubted that it would stop any determined fishermen from accessing it at least the signs made it quite clear that council wouldn’t be responsible for any injuries suffered by people trespassing on the site.

When they finally did get to the farm an hour and a half was spent looking over both the house and the land, and also at some of the sketches that Dave had made of how he envisaged the place would, or at least should look when all had been completed. The sketches were actually very well done and Brian was of the opinion that if the finished work was even half as good as what Dave had drawn the farm would be quite successful. What Brian didn’t say was that if it was successful Dave would be offered the job of transforming a large but currently neglected property in a remote rural area that he, Kate, Trevor and Tony had purchased as an investment, or retreat, depending on circumstances.

Although the kitchen and dining area of the house were the only rooms to have been furnished and decorated, and even they needed a coat of paint said Bron, the visitors were quite impressed with what she had achieved so far. Kate was even of the opinion that the house would be worthy of being featured in a Country Living magazine if Bron continued its refurbishment in the same manner.... And if Dave was to attend to the exterior as he planned. Magazine feature or not, Bron told her, she’d be making sure that Dave did just that!

Brian seemed to be most interested in Dave’s plans to become as self-sufficient as possible, asking him if he thought it would be possible to establish a whole community that would be willing to work along the same lines. He was spot-on with his assessment of Dave in that regard, however although it was something that Dave had often thought about he was inclined to be somewhat guarded in his reply.

That is, until the penny dropped and he equated the word retreat as used to describe the four members’ investment property with Bug-Out Location. Even so, he thought it would be wiser to listen more than talk at this point: The last thing anyone possibly wanting to establish a community of survivalists needed was someone with a big mouth.

Despite Dave’s answers being rather general in nature Brian was astute enough to read his body language and knew that he’d hit pay dirt. Tony and Trev certainly had been on the money with this one, he told them later that afternoon, though he’d wait a while longer before offering Dave the opportunity to visit and give his opinion on their investment property.

While the men were talking the girls had got together and were now going through a pile of House & Garden and other like magazines, looking for paint schemes that could be used for the other rooms of the house. Kate had said to Bron that although she enjoyed coming to Brocklesbury with her husband, and the company of the men, she was glad that she had another woman to talk to and was happy to know that Bron would be staying.

“Have you thought much about what you want to do a bit further down the track?” she asked. “I mean, are you going to keep on working or do you think you might want to start a family?”

Women seem to intuitively know who they can talk openly with and who they can’t, and in this case Bron felt comfortable enough to tell Kate that having a family of her own was a definite.

“I’m not deliberately planning to become pregnant, but at the same time I’m not going to take any steps to prevent it happening,” she replied. “I’m just going to let nature take its course and in the meantime keep working to build up my bank account a bit.”

“Good idea. Building up the bank account I mean: I’ve never heard them complaining about it mind you, but some of our friends who have children have commented about how expensive feeding, clothing and educating them can be, not to mention keeping them entertained. Unfortunately Brian and I can’t have children,” she added a little wistfully, “but I’m not sure that I’m cut out to be a mother anyway, really. I do enjoy babysitting my friend’s children from time to time, but then again, I know I can give them back to their parents at the end of the day.”

The men interrupted the girls’ conversation when they came in off the back veranda where they’d been talking and Brian said that they were going back to the hotel but asked Dave and Bron if they would like to join him and Kate for dinner that night. They were planning to try one of the restaurants in town but as at the moment they didn’t know which one Bron suggested that they go to either the Milano or the Brumby, if they didn’t mind a bit of noise, or perhaps they could all try the recently opened Greek restaurant that was above the fish and chip shop. Whichever they chose, Bron said, she and Dave would be happy to join them. Dave had no say in the matter apparently, but nevertheless agreed that it was a good idea when Kate opted to try the Greek restaurant.

Tony and Trev declined the invitation more to allow Brian and Kate to get to know Dave, without them being present to offer what might be considered biased opinions in an effort to get their potential protégé accepted into their tight circle of like-minded friends. So it was that the four diners later that evening found themselves sat at a table enjoying both authentic Greek food and entertainment, the latter being provided by a five piece band playing a mandolin, bouzouki, violin, accordion and drums. And while it wasn’t quite as noisy as either the Brumby or the Milano, Bron said that if the current number of diners was anything to go by it wouldn’t be too long before it became as popular... and probably as noisy.

This became even more evident later in the night when a group of enthusiastic local Greek patrons moved a number of tables out of the way, increasing the size of the diminutive dance floor so that they could perform sirtaki. All four were dragged onto the dance floor by people keen to get them involved and by the end of the night they found themselves sitting at a long table with a very happy crowd of revellers celebrating two of their number’s twenty fifth wedding anniversary.

Fortunately Bron and Kate had the good sense to limit their drinks to a sober amount, unlike Dave and Brian who had had one or two ouzos too many and despite being in an extremely good mood were incapable of driving without being done for DUI if the police pulled them up on the way back to the village. When they left the restaurant Kate drove their car back to the hotel and after agreeing that the two couples should meet again the next day and go for a drive through the hinterland Bron drove Dave and herself back to the farm in the truck.

Around two a.m. when finally getting into bed Bron told Dave that she thought it had been a really good night however she found herself talking to a non responsive partner who’d flaked out as soon as he’d hit the sheets. Smiling at her now soundly sleeping man she slid in beside him and after brushing his cheek with a soft kiss also drifted off to sleep.

* * *​

The trip through the hinterland with Brian and Kate was pretty much a repeat of the tour that Bron had taken Dave on when he first arrived in the town, but with the addition of a barbeque lunch served at one of the many vineyards they visited, and the purchase by both couples of several cases of very good local wines. During the drive Brian sounded Dave about how he would go about setting up a self-sufficient farm in a remote location, such as the investment property that he, Trevor and Anthony owned, and when Dave said it’d be difficult to determine exactly what would be needed unless he was able to see the land itself, asked him if he’d be willing to go and have a look.

“I’d be happy to,” said Dave, though it wouldn’t be until around the middle of summer as I want to get our own farm up and running as soon as possible. Hmm... Perhaps Bron and I could go out and camp there for a night or two. That’d give me time to not only check the property out, but the surrounding district too. Are there any towns close by, or is it really remote?”

“Most city folk would probably claim it’s in the middle of nowhere,” Brian replied. “But from what you’ve told me about your parent’s place I don’t think you’d agree. It’s located on the Golden Highway this side of Dubbo so you might be familiar with the type of land out there.”

“Well, yes, I am. How big is the property?”

“Fifty hectares. There’s a vacant house there, and several sheds, though only Tony and Trev have been there. Kate and I haven’t had time to go and inspect it ourselves yet.”

“Fifty hectares... Hmm... Around a hundred and twenty five acres in old money. It’s not a bad area - in fact it has a lot going for it - though there’s quite a bit of erosion and land degradation in many places, a lot due to clearing the land, overgrazing and other inappropriate uses, but with proper management most if not all of it could be restored. One problem is trying to convince graziers that by growing trees they wouldn’t be reducing their land’s holding capacity for cattle and sheep but they’d actually be able to increase it. It was amply demonstrated many years ago by P.A.Yeomans that by the use of his Keyline concepts, and of the slipper plow he invented, most of the water that runs off the land carrying good soil with it could actually be retained and fertility restored.”

“I’ve never heard of him. Is he one of those Permaculturists that you’ve been telling me about?”

“No. His well-proven concepts were formulated long before Mollison and Holmgren came on the scene, though I think his work may have had significant influence in the development of permaculture design. He died a couple of years ago, unfortunately without the accolades that in my opinion he deserved. It’s amazing that his concepts have been widely adopted in countries all around the world to good effect, and in fact are included in the curriculum of many sustainable agricultural courses in colleges and universities, but have too often been ignored by farmers in Australia. Had he been an American and devised the system in the U.S. it would probably have found immediate acceptance here, but it often seems that Aussies have little trust or confidence in their own.

“You’ve probably never heard of Peter Andrews and his Natural Sequence Farming either, but the same goes for him: He’s managed to restore his property Tarwin Park from the severely degraded and salinised disaster zone that it had become over many years of bad farming practice before he purchased it, into one of if not the most drought resistant and fertile land holdings in the area. From what I’ve heard, neighbouring properties that haven’t followed his lead are practically barren in comparison, and Tarwin Park looks like an oasis in a desert when viewed from the air. Despite that he’s been able to prove that his system works, and works well, he gets bugger-all support from those who are most foolishly expected to be taking care of the country. Worse still, there are people who either discredit his work completely or conversely are only too willing to pirate it and using a different name flog it off as their own idea.”

“Be careful, Brian,” Bron warned, “Dai gets quite hot under the collar when it comes to the lack of support shown by our Government, the scientific community and what he calls vested interests. Especially when it comes to recognising the good work done by the pioneers of agricultural research and development in Australia.”

“I wouldn’t hold that against him, Bron: Even from my early experience in the courts I quickly came to understand that when it comes to Big Business, profit takes precedence over all, including ethics and morals, and whatever gets in the way is quickly trampled underfoot. But don’t believe for a moment that that’s only true in Australia: It’s the same the whole world over.”

“It’s the same the whole world over; it’s the poor what gets the blame. It’s the rich what gets the pleasure; ain’t it all a bleedin’ shame?” Dave suddenly interrupted as he began singing the words from the old British song She Was Poor but She Was Honest.

The others all laughed and agreed that it often seemed to be so, though Kate voiced her opinion that education of the masses by both state and church was generally intended to ensure that the system remained that way.

“Unfortunately,” she added, “I believe that those who are able to think beyond themselves and their immediate wants have always been a minority but even more so these days with MSM fully on the side of government and big business. You know, I sometimes wonder if the government offers subsidies to those who produce mindless and inane prime-time so-called entertainment shows in order to keep people from thinking too much about more important issues.”

“Which is why when we have kids they’re going to be home-schooled,” said Bron, much to Dave’s surprise. He was pleased with the idea though, having been introduced to the concept of home schooling by friends in the states who did just that for their children, though admittedly with varying degrees of success. He also wasn’t slow in picking up on the fact that Bron had said when, rather than if they have kids, and wasn’t at all perturbed by that idea either.

Not the concept of home-schooling was unknown in Australia, where the School of the Air had been in operation since 1951 and children in the outback and remote areas once used pedal powered radios to communicate with teachers in cities far away. There were all sorts of hoops one had to jump through to get approval these days however, especially if there were schools within what the Education Department considered to be reasonable travelling distance to and from home. That is, Dave had said, reasonable for those people who didn’t have to sit in a bus for four or five hours a day.

“Actually parents do have the legal right to home-school their children if they want to,” put in Brian. “Although from what I’ve been led to believe, the Education Department and many schools intimate that it’s a long and complicated process to get approval. Then again, there are any number of people who have successfully home-schooled their children, plus several organisations who would be willing to give you advice and assistance if and when you need it. In fact, the daughter of a client of mine was home-schooled and is now at university studying medicine.”

That information was well received by Bron who decided quietly to herself that she’d begin gathering all the information she could about home-schooling, even if it might be some years before it was needed. But well before any formal schooling was required she was determined that her children would be well on the way to a good education in regards to practical subjects such as cooking, sewing and gardening, just as she had been taught by her own parents.

Admittedly she had only learned the more simple part of those subjects, however they had been a good grounding, plus she had also been able to read the many Little Golden Books given to her by her Nan, (and which she still owned), count to a hundred, do simple addition and subtraction and print the alphabet in both upper and lower case before she began school. She didn’t mention these achievements however, and Dave didn’t learn of them until much to Bron’s embarrassment her proud father, as proud fathers have the right to do, began bragging about “his little girl” when they met a few months later in New Zealand.

By the time the two couples retuned to Brocklesbury they had formed a solid and reliable friendship that would last for many years, although as they lived some distance apart probably not as close as those that Dave and Bron would form with others they had yet to meet.

During their absence that day Trev had received an urgent ’phone call from one of Brian’s associates that caused his and Kate’s sojourn to be cut short, and that same evening the two were headed back to Sydney to deal with whatever problem had suddenly been thrown in Brian’s lap. They did however promise to return at the first opportunity, especially as being regular visitors to the exclusive resort on Lizard Island on the Great Barrier Reef where they enjoyed snorkelling but had never used scuba, and now knowing that Dave was a PADI Instructor, they would like him to teach them both to dive.

As they drove away from the Cock & Bull Brian honked his car’s horn a couple of times and Kate blew kisses and waved them goodbye with the two Dive Course application forms she had been given clutched in her hand, and Dave and Bron made their way back to the farm. It had been a long day for them all despite that they’d spent most of the time in the car sitting on their bums, and Bron said she felt sorry for Brian now having to drive all the way back to the city.

“Ahh well, that’s the way the mop flops sometimes,” said Dave, leaving Bron somewhat bemused by the remark until she thought about it for a minute and began to laugh.

“You come out with some of the strangest expressions at times,” she said. “Very amusing of course, but still strange.”

* * *
​

 

[Bidadisndat]

Early in the morning after Bron had driven into town to work at the bakery Dave ’phoned Pete Jacobs to find out if he’d be able to commence work on installing the Gyprock in the main bedroom of the farmhouse, and was pleased to hear that he was actually just about to leave home and come over. Sparks had also decided to come along and make sure that the wiring Dave had installed was all in order before the sheeting went up, and would be at the farm around the same time as Pete.

While waiting for the two men to arrive Dave went about unloading as much of truck as he could by himself but after trying to take the batteries off the tray decided to wait until he had some help. When the extra strong backs, arms and legs turned up the truck was quickly unloaded and Dave made them all a coffee to have while they discussed the plan of attack on the day’s work.

Sparks looked at the new wiring and said that apart from being a bit unusual to see conduits being used to carry wiring in houses these days the circuits tested OK and Dave had done a good job. He marked on the floorboards and the door architrave the positions where the light switch and power outlets would go after the Gyprock had been installed then set about reconnecting the old water heater in the roof, reminding Dave that it would suck quite a bit of power from his generator when it was operating. Not that that worried Dave too much now as the big 11KVa jenny was more than capable of handling the load.

The wind turbine, batteries and switchgear for the off-grid power supply were given a careful inspection and though Paul wasn’t familiar with the particular brands of the equipment, it having been imported from the United States, he said he’d have no problem in getting it installed and made operational. The fact that the system was originally set up to supply 110V A.C. wasn’t a problem either, as the batteries were set up to supply 24V D.C., and a new 240V inverter would be used to supply power to the house.

Siting and erecting a tower, placing the turbine on top and moving the batteries would be a big job however, and one that should be done properly, so it should be placed on the back burner for the time being. Dave thought that to be a reasonable suggestion and decided to push on with doing up the house first.

Thanks to his having cleaned the wall cavity, installed the Pink Bats of insulation and removed all protruding nails that had secured the original linings of Masonite and Caneite, the job of installing the sheets of Gyprock proceeded quite quickly.

He was impressed with the hoist that Pete showed him how to use to position the sheets as, despite having sold a few of them in the hardware store where he once worked, he had never actually handled one himself. He was also rather surprised to find that the sheets for the ceiling were put up first, which wasn’t what he’d expected, and that the hoist could also be used to position the sheets on the walls. The work itself seemed to be pretty straight forward, and he carefully took note of the tips Pete gave him as the job progressed.

With the three men working together, by day’s end all of the sheets had been installed, the joints plastered and taped then plastered again, and the first coat of sealing compound had been applied. Sparks had also cut out holes, put in ‘C’ clips and fitted the light switch and speed controller for the ceiling fan, plus double power outlets each side of where a Queen-sized bed would be placed.

All in all he thought it had been a very satisfying day’s work, though Pete joked that the job had taken a lot longer than usual due to the time he and Paul had taken to spend teaching Dave how to do things right... And that it might have taken even longer if Dave hadn’t taken an hour off to go into town and pick up his furniture and the water pump, thus leaving them free to get on with the job.

Dave merely grinned as he had taken careful note of how each of the tasks had been done and was confident that he and Bron would be able to do the rest of the house by themselves and save a bit of money... Not that Pete was unaware of that of course!

The next day the cornices would be fitted, the original moulded skirting boards, temporarily removed when the Masonite was pulled off, would be replaced and by Thursday the room, including the woodwork should have been completely under-coated, top-coated and ready to move in to. He’d probably wait until Saturday before doing so however as the smell of fresh paint would probably be a bit overpowering until the room had aired a bit.

Bron inspected the work done when she got home and after looking at the floorboards exposed when the old carpet had been removed asked Dave if he could run his belt sander around the base of the walls before the skirting board was reinstalled: She felt that the bare wood if stained and polished would look far better and be more practical than re-carpeting, and despite the extra time and work that would be required to do the whole floor Dave agreed with her.

She also reminded him that there was a council meeting the next night, and they should be there to see what developments had been made since the last one. Dave replied that he hadn’t forgotten and was looking forward to it, as were a few others that he knew were interested.

By the time he and Pete packed up their tools the following day the floorboards around the walls had been sanded back, the skirting had been replaced, as had the architraves around the door and window, and the room was now ready to be painted. Bron had already decided on the colour scheme and was keen to do as much of the job herself as she could, and to that end Dave had rigged up a small scaffold so she could paint the higher part of the walls without having to repeatedly climb up and down a ladder.
That night he and Bron, as well as most of the Brocklesbury residents who had been present at the previous meeting, turned up at the council chambers in anticipation of hearing some good news for a change. They were well rewarded for having made the trip as it was revealed by council that a number of major projects were to be undertaken in the village.

Apart from clearing the road to the beach and extending the car-park at its end, upon which work had already commenced, several streets were to be resurfaced, street lighting would be improved, and as funds became available the tennis courts would be repaired.

Toilet and shower facilities would be installed at the beach; however repairs to the wharf would have to wait until legal issues regarding the fishing co-op that had owned the building on it were sorted out. Council was confident that while that problem would be finalised fairly quickly it would unfortunately probably not be before winter had set in.

All in all, the Brocklesbury residents were quite happy with what they heard, however more importantly they felt that in future their village would receive a lot more welcome attention from council than it had had since the bushfire that had devastated it eight years before.

While Dave was widely credited by the residents with having brought about the developments he deflected all praise towards the Brocklesbury Progress Association which had developed a strong working relationship with the council, which in so doing only earned him more respect.

Thus it was that when he and Bron returned to the hotel with Tony and Trev a bottle of champagne was opened and shared, and he was also presented with a second bottle which he was not required to open and share until he was at home with Bron.

Olivia had stayed back and waited for their return so that she could give him one of her famous fruit-cakes, made especially for him after she’d been told two days before by a friend at council that the tennis courts were going to be repaired. Dave immediately took a large slice of the cake and after adding it to a big bowl of ice-cream that he helped himself to in the kitchen invited the others to also help themselves.

Trev said that it was very considerate of Dave to share his cake with everybody... Along with the hotel’s ice-cream he added with a laugh, and the evening ended on a high note.

* * *​

When Bron arrived home after having worked during the morning at the bakery in town she got stuck straight into the painting, and Dave was surprised to find that she needed no instruction or even advice as to how to use a brush, roller or painting pad to make a good job of what she was doing. He did insist on doing the ceiling however, as he knew that she would otherwise get a crick in her neck, and possibly develop a bad headache by keeping her head tilted back during the job.

The room had been fully painted by Thursday evening and by Friday afternoon Dave had also managed, by renting an industrial machine, to get the floor sanded. He’d had to use a small amount of filler here and there but after it had dried and been sanded lightly again in those places Bron tested a patch of wood with the polyurethane finish she had chosen, and finding that it didn't affect its beautiful natural colour they set to with wide brushes and soon had the entire floor covered.

Due to the sanding and coating of the floorboards it wasn’t until the Sunday that they would have been able to move into the bedroom, however they agreed that because Dave’s parents would be given that room for the duration of their stay when they arrived there was no real point in moving everything just yet, so their air-bed and clothing stayed put. On the other hand, another bed would still be needed so they’d decided to purchase a new sprung base and mattress and team it with an old style bed-head, side-rails and foot that they’d seen at the pre-loved furniture shop.

Unfortunately it turned out that the piece they’d admired was just a bit too small to accommodate the Queen-sized mattress they wanted, so they opted to purchase a brand new bed. With Dave intent on sanding the floor Bron had gone into town to look for one and though it took most of the morning she was able to find one that would fit in with her plans for the room, and Dave had to agree that along with the mattress being very supportive and comfortable the style was just right.

Then of course after two matching bedside tables, a dressing table, a tall-boy plus a wardrobe that would cover most of one wall were added, curtains would also be needed, but they could be purchased later.

Dave wasn’t overly concerned about the expense of these items as they could be taken with them if they were forced to move, however he knew that he would have to be quite careful where he spent his money because despite having a healthy bank balance his funds weren’t exactly unlimited.

The same thoughts had also been going through Bron’s mind and later that night they both seemed to broach the subject at the same time, and together they calculated that they’d spent the equivalent of perhaps six months’ rent that would have to considered lost if they moved now.

“That’s actually pretty good, Dai, especially if you think about how much people can lose when they suffer disasters they can’t control, like a bush-fire or flood for example.”

“You’re right, sweetheart. On balance, I think we’re doing pretty well, but I also think we’re going to have to put the land to practical use fairly soon: Merely having cows graze the grass isn’t going to feed us.”

“Well, I’ve still got work enough to cover the day-to-day expenses of living, and I even manage to add a little to my savings account each week, but while I’m not too worried, I think it might be a good idea for us to work out a budget.”

“You’re right of course, but from this point at least we’ll be comfortable enough to be able to ease back on major projects that involve spending a lot. Other projects, like putting up the chook pen and getting the veggie garden going will cost more in sweat than cash, and they’ll give us a continuous return in food.”

“I’m actually looking forward to that. You know, it’d be nice if I could find a part-time job in the village, apart from the hotel I mean, because then I wouldn’t have to spend time and money driving into town. Just go in once a week maybe, to see our friends.”

“Yeah, like a Friday night when we could meet up with the tradies. By the way, Tony asked me if I’d be able to paint the exterior wood-work of the hotel, and has also offered me a casual bar position on Saturdays and Sundays, beginning this weekend. Those are good days as they attract a bit more money so I’m taking up his offer. Even with doing that work I think we might be able to get the veggie garden started before Christmas, though the fence for it and the chook run might have to wait for a bit.”

“OK. Hard to believe that Christmas is less than three weeks away so it looks like we’re going to be pretty busy. That in itself makes me feel pretty confident that we’re going to be OK though.”

“Same here. Right; it’s already been a full day and I’m about ready for a shower and then bed. How about you?”

“I think so... Wait a minute... Did you say a shower and then bed?”

“Yeah, I did. Oh, I forgot to tell you: Sparks wired the water heater in and it’s working OK. I thought you would’ve noticed.”

“No. If I’d known that I wouldn’t have been using the gas cook-top to boil water now, would I?

“Ahh... I guess not.”

“You’re really good at that, aren’t you?”

“Good at what?”

“Doing things like that without telling me.”

“I like to surprise you.”

“The next time you want to surprise me, can you give me a bit of warning?”

“Now that’s something that I’d expect a Welshman to come out with,” Dave laughed. “You go ahead and use the shower first. Call me if you need help.”

“As if!” she said with a grin, but a few minutes after he heard the faint sound of water running through the pipes in the roof cavity above the ceiling came a call of “Dai. Can you come here please?”

And with a smile he headed for the shower to find out what help she needed.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

On Saturday morning, with Bron having gone to work, Dave went down to the hotel to organise with Tony a rough plan of how the painting of its exterior would be organised, then to the hardware store to buy the paint needed. He also returned the hired sanding machine and picked up a heavy duty polisher and a large tub of wax, then returned to the farm where he set about giving the bedroom floorboards a good polishing.

When he’d finished the job the floor looked so good that he was sure Bron would want the other rooms done in the same manner, and if that was to be the case he lifted a section of linoleum where a refrigerator would stand in the kitchen to check the boards there. They seemed to be in as good condition as those in the bedroom and he guessed that the flooring in the rest of the house was just as good.

When Bron saw the finish of the polished floor after she came home he knew that he’d been right: She was thrilled with it and, knowing precisely what she was going to say beat her to the punch by telling her that he had decided to do all of the flooring in the house in the same manner.

They both had a quick shower and a bite to eat before driving down to the village where Dave returned the polisher to the hardware store before they went to the hotel to commence their shifts behind the bar. They’d be working together for the shift as Dave needed to be shown the ropes, though that didn’t really take much time as he’d been able to observe everything from the other side of the bar on many occasions and already had a good handle on where everything was and how things were done.

He’d also gotten to know quite a few of the regulars and knew that he’d get to know many more as time went by. A barman, he had learned some time ago, generally seemed to be considered a good source of information or advice, and a person who could be confided in, especially if it was known that he could be trusted never to reveal any information given in confidence.

A big advantage of this was that a barman might at times become privy to some very useful knowledge, and was also sometimes able to make suggestions in a way that let patrons believe that a good idea put forward was their own. He was also expected to have a good knowledge of football, cricket, fishing, politics and whatever else was being discussed at a bar, though not enough to support one side above another. As Dave wasn’t really a follower of team sports he didn’t have the in-depth knowledge needed to support arguments as to which was a better team in any sport anyway, however by listening to conversations at one end of the bar he was able to inject the odd comment into conversations at the other end, thus giving the impression at least that he knew what he was talking about.

Good waitresses, Bron told him later, were in addition to those things a consoling shoulder to cry on at times, particularly if a patron was down in his or her cups, and she had often found herself in the role of Aunt Abby when working behind either the public or the lounge bar.

It being a Saturday night the bar was quite busy, and though the time seemed to pass quickly enough it was still a long shift, especially as the meal breaks they both took were at different times and they couldn’t sit and chat together. During his break Dave was approached by two patrons he recognised as being darts players and was asked if he had a couple of minutes to look at something they had brought to the beer garden.

When he went out it was to find that they had placed on one of the tables a wooden cabinet measuring about two foot six square and having two doors on the front which when opened revealed a regulation sized dart board. The board itself was made of bristles of sisal, and its twenty segments, doubles and triples rings plus its inner and outer bull’s eye circles were separated by imbedded blades rather than stapled wire. These were features that Dave recognised as being those of a professional tournament board, and he knew that such boards weren’t to be had cheaply.

While the board itself had been purchased the cabinet in which it was mounted had been crafted by the two players showing it to him, and they rightly felt quite proud of their work. The outside of the two doors had been painted with the crest of the hotel encircled by the words Cock & Bull Darts Association with a pair of crossed darts at the bottom, and scoreboards had been mounted on their inside surfaces.

Dave immediately called Tony and Trev to come and have a look and they were so impressed that it was decided that the hotel would add a brass plaque attributing the work to the two men, and that it would also pay for engraved name plaques for each winner of an annual tournament. They were told that the plaque attributing the work should actually have three names on it, the third being that of the sign-writer who had painted the crest and wording, a work of art in itself, free of charge.

Looking at the back of the cabinet Dave saw that mounting bolts had already been installed so all that was needed was a solid support stand and a position where the unit should be placed. And illuminated, added one of the men, as it was expected that games would often be played well into the evenings.

Remembering his visit to the Riverside hotel before his trip up north Dave asked Tony and Trev if they’d be able to accompany him and Bron to that venue for lunch next day, as his idea for a self-cook barbeque similar to the one there would, if adopted, would need to be taken into account when sitting the dartboard.

Actually, Dave had already thought out a plan for an entirely revamped beer garden, and put it on paper, however he needed to persuade the owners that it would be well worth doing before he showed it to them. As it turned out his previous mention of the idea had already set the wheels of their minds in motion and they were quick to agree to have a look at the other hotel’s facility.

Once back behind the bar Dave realised that he had been so taken up with the dartboard that he hadn’t eaten anything, so after explaining to Bron what had gone on asked her if she wouldn’t mind bringing back a plate of fish and chips when she came back from her own break. This she did, and then covered for him as he quickly emptied the plate.

As the night drew to close Dave realised that unlike pubs that he’d been to in the city there was no sudden rush of drinkers determined to down as much alcohol as possible before the doors were shut, and fifteen minutes after "Time, Gentlemen, please" was called all the patrons had left in a quiet and orderly fashion.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

Ian Reece arrived at the farm early in the morning to begin plumbing in the diesel pump and connecting the hill tank’s supply pipe, and as Dave was planning to put in a solar hot water system, put in the pipework for that too. The system Dave had decided upon would include an on-demand gas booster and by-pass the electrically heated tank that was currently in use, and he had Ian install isolation valves that would enable either system to be used. That job was only a little bit more involved than it might have been however it would allow him to disconnect, remove and take away the solar system if he and Bron were ever forced to vacate the farm.

Leaving Ian to get on with the job Dave drove down to the hotel and began work on preparing the exterior woodwork prior to painting. After a close look he found that fortunately it wasn’t going to be necessary to completely remove the old paintwork, as is often required when doing up old buildings, and a good sanding would be all that was needed.

His belt and orbital sanders would make short work of that task and as there would be a bit of noise created when he used them he ducked into the office to let Tony and Trev know what would be happening. That wasn’t going to be a problem, he was told, provided that if he started early it should be at the front of the hotel, away from the guest rooms, and only use the machines around those rooms after ten a.m., by which time most guests would have departed anyway.

Despite the machines being much faster than hand sanding, and using a moveable scaffold rather than going up and down a ladder to work on the upper floors, it still took him three days to complete the preparation work. It would work out to be time well spent however as repainting wouldn’t be required for several years, and probably a lot longer if the woodwork was washed down regularly.

Ian turned up at the hotel before Dave had finished his work for the day and told him that the diesel pump was installed and operating well, and that in addition to the bypass pipework for the solar hot water system he’d also put another bypass for the automatic pressure pump.

“I pumped all the water from the house tank up to the hill tank,” Ian said, “and turned off the automatic pump to see if there was enough pressure without it. There was, so as long as you have water in the hill tank you won’t need to use the pump. I was surprised to see the gauge on the hill tank showed that it was almost full when I finished so I went up and checked to see if it was working properly and it was. I didn’t know you’d already put water in the tank.”

“I didn’t,” Dave answered, sounding rather surprised, then casting his mind back and remembering passing the brigade’s tanker when he and Brian were driving to the farm told Ian that Bob Watson must have filled it in response to the donation he’d given the brigade.

“The brigade has a key to the gate and the tank is fitted with an outlet to fill the brigade’s trucks in an emergency. I bet Bob’s excuse will be that he was only filling the tank in case there is an emergency.”

“Possibly, but it may also have been in response to the council suddenly giving the brigade several thousand dollars to upgrade some of their equipment. That wasn’t announced at the last council meeting, but you can bet your boots the brigade thinks it was a result of your efforts to get things done in the village.”

“In that case maybe I’ll have to thank the mayor as well as Bob.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t do that: I’m fairly sure that nobody but the brigade knows that they’ve been sucking water from the town’s mains on the odd occasion.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” laughed Dave as he paid Ian for his work and returned to his sanding.

For the rest of the working week and all of the next Dave applied himself to getting the painting at the hotel finished, several times putting in a good ten hours a day, though he did pack up at midday on the Fridays. This of course meant that little to nothing was done around the farm during that time, but then, as Dave explained to Bron, the farm wouldn’t be expecting paying guests.

She had hoped that they’d be at least able to make a start on the vegetable garden but understood Dave’s position and consoled herself by going into town and looking for a refrigerator-freezer. One that would fit nicely into the space left when the McKenzies removed theirs, so it would have to be a large one.

The cream coloured unit that she finally found and decided she wanted turned out to be not a new one but an old one, actually a very old one, but she thought it would fit nicely into the space and look “just right”. Both its inside and outside looked in pristine condition, so its previous owner had obviously taken good care of it, and she asked the salesman to put it on hold until Friday afternoon when she would drag Dave in to look at it.

Dave was a bit sceptical when she told him about it but after having a look at what he at first considered a behemoth decided that it was in fact a beautiful appliance and would look great in the kitchen. If it worked.

While the salesman assured him that it obviously did work, “because you can hear the motor running when the power’s turned on”, it was also obvious to Dave that it was at the very least in need of new door seals. It was already priced quite low as it had stood at the rear of the second-hand shop for more than two years without attracting a buyer, but the price was lowered even further when Dave explained why it would need new seals to work effectively. It was arranged for a local refrigeration company to check that both the compressor and condenser were good, and for the seals to be replaced, then have it delivered to the farm as soon as that was done.

Before leaving the shop Dave had a good look around and suddenly spied another appliance that he knew they needed, though he decided not to say anything to Bron about it for the moment. Not that it would make much difference, but a vague suspicion had crossed his mind on seeing it and he wanted to confirm something before he made yet another purchase.

“I forgot to tell them to have the refrigeration company call me when the ‘fridge is ready to be delivered, or if there are any expensive problems,” he said when they got into the truck. “Wait here, I’ll only be a moment,” he added as he quickly went back into the shop where he had a few words with the salesman.

“Why do I get the impression there’s something you’re not telling me?” Bron asked when he returned with a very pleased look on his face and told her that the ‘fridge would be delivered the following Friday.

“What do you mean?” he asked in reply, wondering what it was about him that gave her such an impression.

“Not sure really. Just a feeling I have.”

“You either have an over-active imagination or a very suspicious mind, neither of which is good.”

“It’s called intuition, and we women are well endowed with it. Well, if you are up to something, knowing you you’ll probably have some sort of excuse and will have to be forgiven eventually I suppose. Anyway, we’re finished here so let’s go. Want to go over to the pub and meet up with the tradies?”

“Just what I was planning to do,” he answered as he put the truck in gear, pulled out of the shop’s parking lot and drove them to the other side of town where the pub was located. “Tony and Trev have given the go-ahead to install a barbeque in the beer garden, and they’ve left it to me to get it organised. Might as well use tradesmen we know to do the install, don’t you think?”

“Of course. I suppose you just happen to be carrying the plans you drew up?”

“Funny about that: They’re in the folder on the seat behind you.”

“Now why am I not surprised by that?” she laughed.

Much as the tradies were pleased to be offered the work when Dave told them about the plans for the Cock & Bull when he arrived at the pub, they had to tell him that there was no way the job could be completed before the New Year: They were booked solid by people wanting jobs finished before Christmas, and they’d also planned on taking a break between then and New Year’s day.

“We’re actually a quite bit behind schedule at the moment,” he was told, “Mostly due to some impatient bloke on the other side of the expressway demanding that our plasterer, plumber and electrician drop everything to work on his ramshackle farmhouse.”

“Really? The hide of some people, aye? Anyway, Tony and Trev aren’t really expecting the job to be done immediately so it’s not a problem if you can’t start until early January. When you can get around to it, could you have a look at these drawings I’ve done and tell me what you think?”

Bear took the proffered folder and without even glancing at it handed it to Debbie, who placed it in her shoulder bag.

“Can’t look at it right now, Dai: Work’s finished for the day. Alright: Whose shout is it?”

“Yours,” was the unanimous answer given by the men, including Dave, and a few minutes later they were all nursing a beer, or in the case of the girls, a mixed drink. Apart from Karen, who very happily for her and her husband had had her much hoped for pregnancy confirmed, and Annette, who thought that she might very well be pregnant too.

“So the condition is contagious after all,” joked Bron, remembering the discussion the girls had had at the pub some weeks before, and suddenly realising that she was sitting between the two girls got a laugh by adding “Maybe I’d better sit at the other end of the table.”

As Boxing Day is often spent by many Aussies at a beach it had become a tradition with the tradies to take their wives for a bit of a frolic in the sea before pigging out on a lunch of left-overs from their Christmas dinners. And because it was not considered wise to go swimming too soon after eating a heavy meal and drinking alcohol they instead would spend some time sitting on the sand or rocks and holding long poles which they’d use to keep their balance. The only problem with that, they said, is that their balance might be upset by a fish suddenly tugging at the line that secured the thin end of the pole to the sea with a weighted hook.

When Dave and Bron laughed at the way they put their excuse for going fishing they were immediately invited to join the group, and the invitation was extended to include Dave’s parents who, he told them, would be visiting the farm at that time. Not surprisingly Bron accepted their invitation before Dave had time to think about it, and it was decided that, weather permitting, they would all meet at the farm before going to Hook’s Eye on the day.

At the end of a fun night, with Bear promising to go over Dave’s plans for the barbeque over the weekend and work out a quote for the work, which would be made at the regular rate as the hotel would be footing the bill, everybody made their way home.

With the farm being in darkness when they arrived home, as the generator had been shut down, Dave thought that it might be an idea to have a word with Paul about setting up the batteries and inverter to supply power to the house even if the wind turbine wasn’t up and running yet. Until such time as that was installed the batteries could be charged by the generator, as they would be if there was insufficient wind to drive the turbine, and it would mean having power available all the time.

A constant source of power would be needed once the refrigerator was installed anyway, so he’d call Paul first thing in the morning and ask him if it would be at all possible to have that done before Christmas. He wouldn’t be put out if it couldn’t be of course, because the tradies did have a lot of work on at the moment, and he could get plenty of ice from the hotel to keep their two eskies cold.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

When Bron returned from working at the bakery in town until midday on Saturday it was to find that Dave had at last managed to begin work on their vegetable garden, a job he thought would be made a little easier by simply digging over the beds that had been established by the McKenzies.

Unfortunately however the old beds had settled over the years that the farm had remained vacant and it took quite a lot of effort to open up the soil of the one bed that he’d managed to finish by the time Bron called from the back veranda that she was home.

She came over to where he was working and after looking at the bed he had done, and those that he’d marked out to do next, suggested that it might be easier if he hired a rotary hoe for a day. Looking at the blisters on his hands caused by the several hours he’d spent using a spade and a rake he was inclined to agree with her, and said that when they went down to the Cock & Bull to begin their shifts maybe they should go a little earlier so that he could stop by the hardware store and see if there was one available.

As it turned out, there wasn’t. At least not at the Brocklesbury store: There was one available at the store in town, though it had already been rented out for the weekend and it wouldn’t be returned until the following Monday. Dave, looking at the blisters on his hands decided that waiting until the machine was available would be much better than losing more skin, so he booked it for the following weekend and paid for it on the spot.

After a quick counter lunch he and Bron took over from two of the outgoing shift and soon found themselves going flat out to keep up with the demands of a bar that was unexpectedly packed with thirsty drinkers. It turned out that the organisers of a motoring club based in Sydney had decided that Brocklesbury would be a perfect place for a rendezvous, and the members had booked all the available rooms in the hotel. They were obviously impressed with the village and its surrounds, and from the way many of them were talking it appeared that the hotel might in future become a regular stop-over.

“Never heard of this place until now,” said one of the drivers who was standing at the bar. “I’m pretty sure we’ll be coming back though,” he added as the two friends standing either side of him nodded in agreement.

“Well, mine might be a biased opinion because I’m a local,” Bron replied, “but I’d have to agree that it’s a beautiful place. Of course, one of its main attractions is that it’s somewhat off the beaten track and isn’t overrun with tourists. I don’t mean people like yourselves naturally, as I’m sure you appreciate being able to find a place where you don’t have put up with the bad manners, disrespect and hooliganism that is often displayed by young people haunting popular seaside towns these days.”

“True, very true,” said one of the trio. “We’ve had to bypass a number of places that we once enjoyed going to for that very reason. Still, more people coming through would mean more business for the hotel here, wouldn’t it?”

“Possibly. But then again, more business and making money doesn’t always mean a better quality of life, as you gentlemen would understand. My main concern for this place would be that if it became too well known it would quickly be taken over by developers who’d carve the town up, swamp it with McMansions, and then move on after having destroyed the very things that they would have used to attracted buyers.”

“I agree,” said the third member. “We see it all the time, all over the country. But how do you prevent that from happening?”

“I suppose in most places you probably couldn’t prevent it; at least not completely. I guess about the best we can hope for here is that the village remains undiscovered by developers for a very long time.”

“Yes, I see your point, Bronwyn,” said the first man, reading the name tag that Tony had given her to wear when working behind the bar. “Well, I think that the three of us here would be willing to keep the place a secret in order to continue enjoying its quiet hospitality. What do you fellows think?” he asked of his companions.

Dave, working at the beer taps alongside where Bron was talking to the men had overheard much of the conversation and gave the men a friendly smile when they all agreed that the peaceful village of Brocklesbury would not be advertised by them as a wonderful place to visit.

“Of course, from a slightly selfish point of view perhaps, that should make getting accommodation here a bit easier when we do come,” laughed the first speaker, and the others, including Bron and Dave, laughed with him.

Shortly after that Dave was approached by the members of the club who had constructed the darts cabinet and he told them that Tony and Trev had approved the upgrading of the beer garden, and that their work would be placed in a prominent and well-lit position. He was introduced to their friend who had done the paintwork on the cabinet and Dave asked him if he would be able to design and paint another sign for him.

The new sign he wanted was to be for a fishing club, and he thought that if a sign was made and placed in a corner of the bar it wouldn’t be too long before it attracted the attention of avid fishermen, and as there actually wasn’t such a club at present they would quickly form one. The signwriter thought it was a really good idea too, especially as he himself was such a person, and by the following Friday afternoon a splendid new sign depicting a big red snapper mounted below a pair of crossed fishing rods was seen to be hanging at the opposite end of the bar to where the indoor dart board was mounted.

Tony and Trev were delighted with the sign and asked Dave if it might be a good idea to have an annual fishing competition, with the winner’s name to be engraved on a brass plaque mounted on a board, similar to that which they’d offered the darts club. Needless to say Bron thought it was a good idea and told them to expect to see her name on at least one of the plaques. “Probably the first one,” she’d added with a cheeky grin.

The night seemed to go by very quickly, probably because they were so busy, and when the bar closed and the locals had gone home the car club members moved to the lounge and enjoyed a few more drinks, which kept Dave and Bron working for an extra hour. Not that they minded helping out, and besides, next day was Sunday and as neither of them was rostered to work they might just sleep in for an hour to make up for it.

With the weekend out of the way Dave resumed his painting at the hotel and worked at his usual flat-out pace, expecting to have the job completed in time for the Christmas-New Year break, when he and Bron could spend time with his parents.

His work was interrupted on the Tuesday when he received a ’phone call from the appliance repair company telling him that they had found a fault with the ’fridge: The bearings of the motor were worn, which was why the unit sounded so loud when it was turned on, plus the compressor wasn’t working as well as it should be, and would probably fail completely before too long.

After talking to the owner-manager for some minutes Dave decided that it would be best to replace the compressor, preferably with one of the same vintage if possible. Not because a refurbished one would be any cheaper - in fact it would cost about the same - but because he had more faith in older machinery than in new. The manager agreed with him completely in that regard, adding that the fact that the old ’fridge had already outlasted much newer models by many years was proof enough of that.

Arrangements were also made for the delivery truck to pick up the rotary hoe from the hardware store in town and bring it over to the farm on the same trip, and Dave would pay the driver for the extra service. The manager told him not to bother as the truck was going to Brocklesbury anyway and it would only take them a few extra minutes to pick up the machine.

On Friday morning Dave was waiting at the gate when the truck carrying the appliances and the rotary hoe arrived, and with its driver and his offsider helping everything was quickly unloaded and the refrigerator was soon positioned in its place in the kitchen. The driver’s offsider asked why there were so many holes in the floorboards behind the ’fridge and Dave told him that he had put them there in order to increase its efficiency.

He explained that the coils at the back of a ’fridge work somewhat like a car’s radiator which transfers heat from the engine to the air and in doing so cools the water in the system. In the case of a ’fridge heat is transferred from evaporator coils in its inside to condenser coils at its back, though a gas is used instead of water. Because warm air rises, convection would draw cool air from under the house and over the coils and make it work much more efficiently. He also mentioned that under the house he had covered the holes with mesh to prevent insects coming inside. Both men were impressed with the idea and the driver said that he might try the same thing for his own ’fridge at home... if he could convince his wife that drilling holes in the floor was a good idea.

With the refrigerator in place, the three men then set about moving into position the second appliance that Dave had quietly purchased in order to surprise Bron. It didn’t take long to do that and shortly afterwards the truck drove away leaving Dave to connect up and test the appliance before going down to the hotel for the few hours of painting needed to finish the hotel’s exterior.

Bron called into the hotel on the way back from the bakery and found Dave had just finished cleaning up and putting away the painting gear, and after spending a few minutes talking to Tony and Trev they both headed for the farm; Bron keen to see her new ’fridge in place and Dave to see her reaction to his surprise purchase.

After parking the car and truck Dave quickly started the generator before they entered through the back door, with Bron’s eyes going straight to the new fridge, and a big smile creased her face when she looked at its gleaming cream enamel finish and chromed badge and handles.

“Gosh Dai, it’s perfect!” she exclaimed as she walked across the room and opened the top door to find that as Dave had connected the power the interior light came on, and a quiet hum was emanating from the motor. “It sounds a lot quieter here than it did in the shop,” she said.

“Yeah. The motor’s bearings were shot so I had them replaced, and had the compressor overhauled too. With the new door seals we should expect to get quite a few more years of life out of the old girl yet. So I gather you’re quite happy with it?”

“Oh yes!” she said. “Now all we need is.....”

Her sentence was cut short as she suddenly clapped her hands across her mouth, and her eyes opened wide as turning around her gaze fell on the large gleaming cream-coloured and chrome-badged gas range with double ovens that now filled the open space where one would have normally have been placed.

“Dai!” she finally managed to squeal. “Oh my God...! It’s beautiful! And it matches the ’fridge perfectly! Does it work?”

“No, I only bought it as a decoration.... Of course it works, you ninny! And I connected the small barbeque cylinder to the supply pipe and tested it to make sure. I ordered a couple of large gas cylinders and they should have arrived today. I haven’t checked yet but they may have been delivered while I was painting at the hotel.”

“You know, they look as if they really belong here,” she said as she moved to where she had a good view of the entire kitchen.

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“Oh? What do you mean?”

“They do belong here. I found out that that appliance shop purchased them from the McKenzies more than two years ago, and they’ve been sitting in the back of the shop ever since. I guess we’re lucky that people around here only want to buy more modern appliances than these.”

He went outside and when he returned a few minutes later to tell her that the two gas cylinders he’d ordered had not only been delivered but had also been connected, found that she’d put the kettle on and was boiling water for a pot of tea. However she was using the picnic stove that was sitting on top of the combustion stove.

“I don’t know why really, but I just couldn’t bring myself to start using the new range.”

There was something in her voice that had Dave quickly standing beside her, reaching an arm around her shoulders and drawing her close. She suddenly turned, put her arms around him, buried her face in his shirt and emitted a small muffled sob.

“What is it, Princess?”

“Oh I don’t know. I was just thinking of the McKenzies: We never knew them but I was just imagining the heartbreak they must have gone through when they gave up this place. Maybe Colin was very ill, but you can see how spotless Heather kept everything here. I think she was a very house-proud woman and she must have been hurting terribly when they left. You know, I was thinking for a long time about what we should call the farm now that we’ve taken it over, but I can only think of it now as McKenzie’s Farm.”

“Then that’s what it will always be known as,” he said as he planted a kiss on her forehead. “Apart from the fact that everybody knows it as that anyway, there’s really no need to change it. OK, it’s only six o’clock so what do you want to do? Have dinner here at home or go into town and meet up with the tradies?”

“Actually, I don’t feel like cooking or going into town. How about we have Chinese take-away? I can ’phone the Ying Wah with an order and you could go down and pick it up, if that’s alright with you.”

“Good idea. OK if I pick up a bottle of Kaiser Stühl Rosé to go with it?”

“That’d be nice. I’ll ’phone the order through now and by the time you get there it’ll probably be ready.”

So it was that with no cooking to do and only a couple of bowls and glasses to wash up and put away after dinner they had an early night.

 

[Bidadisndat]

Dave was up early in the morning and by the time Bron had prepared breakfast he had already dug over a garden bed using the rotary hoe, mildly annoyed with himself for not having thought to use a machine from the beginning. In fact it was so easy to use and so effective that after he’d had breakfast and before lunch all the marked out beds had been turned over, another two were added, and he was now looking for somewhere else to play with it.

Bron suggested that as he was so keen maybe he could turn over several patches along the property’s front fence-line so that she could plant a hedge of flowering trees, shrubs and ornamental plants. She had seen a number of homesteads where that had been done, she said, and they not only looked really nice but some of the hedges were also very effective in shielding the houses behind them from the view of people passing by.

With no idea of what the names of most of the plants were she decided that if she wanted to find out, the best way was simply to knock on the door of the property where they were growing and ask the residents. And knowing Bron as he did, Dave had no doubt that she would have no hesitation in doing just that.

Before leaving the farm to go down to the hotel for their shifts they stopped at the front gate and walked the fence-line so that Bron could point out where she wanted the rock hard soil loosened enough to give her planned seedling trees and shrubs a fighting chance of surviving. Even then they’d struggle as the soil was as dry as it was hard, however Bron thought that if she could get Charles Barley to deliver a truckload or two of wood-chip mulch and they spread it thickly around the plants then give it all a heavy watering it should be OK.

When they arrived at the hotel Tony told them that from the following day they’d work the same shifts they were working now, however one of them would work in the public bar and the other in the lounge bar. It would be up to them who worked where, and they could swap positions between themselves at any time, but it would mean that they wouldn’t be living in each other’s pockets, so to speak. It was also more preferable than having them each work a different shift, in which case they wouldn’t see a lot of each other when they were off duty.

What Tony didn’t say was that the two were so well liked by the hotel’s patrons that he simply wanted to make sure that both bars benefited by the presence of either one. While it was true that this was only the third weekend that Dave had worked behind the bar, his involvement with council regarding the situation at Fish Hook Bay and some of the problems around the village council was well known to everyone. In fact he was regarded almost in the same light as Tony and Trev, and it wasn’t long before the Brocklesbury Progress Association asked all three if they wouldn’t mind attending the monthly meetings that they had instigated.

To make it easier for them to do so it was decided that the meetings should be held in the guests’ lounge at the Cock & Bull on the Monday evening preceding the council’s Tuesday evening meeting in town. Not all three were expected to attend every meeting, but even if only one turned up the other two would quickly be apprised of anything that the members of the association felt should be brought up before council.

Not that he was asked to do so but it was hoped by some, assumed by others, but expected by all the association members that Dave would be the person who would approach the mayor if there were any problems in the village that required the council’s attention. In fact there were many people in Brocklesbury who thought that Dave should actually be on the council, however he’d only lived in the village for two and a half months and didn’t consider that long enough to represent it. And while it was something he thought might be considered sometime in the future, at the present time he already had enough on his plate anyway.

The shift passed quickly as both bars and the beer garden were full of people already mentally geared up for the coming Christmas/New-Year break, and the summer holidays that many would take following it. Dave didn’t mind working at this time of year, he told Bron when they sat down to a meal at the end of their shift, because if they took their holidays around the colder months of June, July or August they could head to Queensland and enjoy weather that was very warm but not too hot.

“Don’t forget we’re all going to New Zealand,” Bron quickly reminded him. “I’ve already written to my family and told them to expect us sometime around the end of summer or the beginning of autumn, and they’re quite excited about us coming. And yes, I did tell them that your parents will be coming too, and that they’re both of Welsh stock. That, and the fact that you’d been the captain of the Aitutaki, which my dad had been aboard a couple of times by the way, was more than enough to convince him that I’d made a good choice. My mum told him that my choice was more to do with the common sense that I’d inherited from her that made it OK as far as she was concerned, and I bet my dad wouldn’t have dared argue with her on that point.”

“Why would your father have been aboard the Aitutaki?” Dave asked.

“Because he worked for the Department of Island Territories which until 1975 administered the Cook Islands, Niue and Tokelau, and as part of his job he was occasionally required to go to those islands. He used to say it was surprising that he got annual holidays in addition to being paid to cruise around the South Pacific, but he was well known as a hard worker and the trips were probably organised as some sort of reward. He didn’t actually travel on your old ship because the department controlled the Moana Roa, and its staff travelled on that, if they didn’t fly, but he was some sort of purchasing agent for the Territories and had to oversee the transport of goods. Something like that, anyway.”

“Well I guess that would put him and me on common ground. I think I should take along some of the photos I took when I was aboard ship: He might find some of them interesting.”

“Oh, there’s no doubt about that. Throw in a few photos that I took when we did that shooting trip, and some of the house and veggie garden, and both my parents might be convinced you’re a reasonably good catch for their daughter. I’ve already taken lots of photos of the work we’ve done around the house but we’ll have to get a move on with the garden because unless we plant things that grow quickly there won’t be much to take photos of.”

“Yeah. About that: I’ve read lots of books on vegetable gardening but when it comes down to the nitty gritty I don’t really have much practical experience. I’m thinking that it’d probably be best to start off with seedling plants and see how I go before trying to grow stuff from seed. I’m also a bit concerned about adequate water for the garden too, though the Bureau of Meteorology reckons that we’ll soon be getting some of the heavy rains that have fallen all over the state recently. That is, all over the state except here apparently. Mind you, I think we’re pretty lucky to have had good weather so far, and I’d be happy to see it stay dry until I get the exterior of the house repainted.”

“And the work the council is doing to fix the roads, especially that rough one between the beach and the village.”

“You mean the one that purely by coincidence of course just happens to go past our front gate?”

“Is that the one? Hmm... Oh yeah, so it is. How convenient.”

“That reminds me: I need to talk to the supervisor of the crew working on that road. I’m hoping he’ll agree to do the invert between the road and our gate. It’s only a few metres but if it’s not done the asphalt will start to crumble at the side where we come in and go out of our driveway. If they can do it I’ll ask if they can do the same for Rick Martin’s entrance too.”

“Well, it’s not as if you’d be asking for the whole driveway to be done, and it’d be in the council’s best interests to make sure that they wouldn’t need to be called back every six months to repair the edges. That being the case, why not just put it to the mayor? I’m sure he’d agree.”

“Hmm... Yeah, you’re probably right. OK, I’ll give him a call on Monday.”

With their dinner finished and the dishes washed and put away they used the hotel’s staff bathroom and shower facilities before heading home, dead beat as it had been a long day and knowing that tomorrow would be the same.

It was almost the same next day: The going turned out to be much harder in the packed soil where Bron wanted to plant her hedge, and the roots of several trees that Dave had to manouvre the machine around were a further impediment. It took him most of the morning to complete the job, and by the time it was done he’d decided that if Bron wanted more such work done it’d probably be easier if he got Darren to come over with his Bob-Cat and do it.

He was glad that he’d arranged to return the rotary hoe to the hardware store in the village rather than have to take it back into town, however he was lucky that the staff, who always closed and locked the doors precisely at midday on Sundays, was running a few minutes late because he arrived at ten past the hour, just as they were about to hang the “CLOSED” sign on the main gate. There were several ribald comments made when he thanked them for waiting back for him to arrive, but they were all made in good humour and it only took them a few minutes to unload the hoe from the back of the truck and lock it away at the rear of their compound.

After a quick shower and a bite to eat they decided that Bron would serve and entertain the patrons in the public bar while Dave did the same in the lounge bar, then swap over halfway through the shift. It was lucky that the hotel closed early on Sundays, Bron said later when they were having dinner with Tony and Trev, because both bars were fairly quiet and it actually became a bit boring after a while.

“That will change once the barbeque facilities are installed in the beer garden,” he promised. “In fact it’ll probably be necessary to employ another hand to look after that section, at least during the summer months.”

“Do you really think it’ll pull in that much business?” Tony asked.

“Most definitely, Tony. You had a good look at the plan I drew up so you can see that it’s designed be a family friendly environment where mum and dad can relax while their kids play safely in the fenced playground.”

“I didn’t know a playground was included in your plan, Dai,” said Bron.

“That’s something that the Riverview Hotel doesn’t have,” Tony bragged.

“Nor The Oaks, which is the pub in Neutral Bay I sometimes went to. Trev, you said something once before about advertising the improvements being made here, but I honestly don’t think that’ll be necessary. In fact it might be better not to.”

“Why do you think that, Dai?”

“First, the locals will see the work being carried out, plus we could put up a large sign showing an artist’s impression of the finished plan, and you can bet your boots they’ll all be wanting to try it out. Any money you thought of spending on advertising should instead be put towards a Grand Opening of the new beer garden. Word-of-mouth will soon have the place full, and once the road to the beach is open you can be sure there’ll be a few out-of-area visitors going there who will call in. Before too long you’ll have more people here than you could wave a stick at... Which is probably not what you really want.”

“Oh really? How do you figure that?”

“Well, the last thing this village needs is a venue that would attract less desirable types, such as young hooligans who are looking for a good time and are often inclined to drink too much and cause all sorts of problems. I’ve seen it happen in other places and I’d hate to see it happening here. We’d be able to control the local young people easily enough, but those that come from elsewhere could be a real pain in the butt. As it is, with the all the works being carried out around the village it’ll very likely come to the attention of the people we really don’t want around here anyway.”

“You mean Property Developers, don’t you?” Bron suddenly put in. “I agree with you there. As far as I’m concerned, developers moving in would mean us moving out. In fact, I’d want to move out if they put in traffic lights or, God forbid, a McDonald’s outlet.”

They all laughed at that, though there was no doubting the sincerity of her feelings and they decided that in the best interests of the village as a whole it would be probably be better not to widely advertise any of its attractions. Of course they’d also consult with the Progress Association on the matter, but as all of its members were village people to the core it was felt doubtful that any of them would disagree.

Knowing that Dave’s parents would be visiting their farm over the Christmas and New-Year period Tony asked them if they wanted to have the next weekend off, but they’d already decided some time before that that wouldn’t be necessary and told him so. He did insist however that they bring Dave’s parents down for a meal in the dining room one evening when they were all free, and Dave was happy to accept the invitation.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

“Only three more sleeps ’till Christmas,” said Bron as Dave sat down to breakfast early Monday morning. “Got any shopping you need done while I’m in town?”

“Nothing I can think of at the moment. You seem to have gotten everything sorted out with all the goodies you’ve been accumulating over the past few weeks, and on Christmas Eve I’ll pick up that leg of ham you ordered from the butcher. We’ve got more than enough beer, wine and spirits to carry us through to New Year and I guess the only thing we haven’t got yet is a Christmas tree.”

“Alice down at the Trading Post has some coming in on Tuesday and promised she’d hold one for us. She’s also selling some lovely decorations that the local school kids made up to raise funds for something or other. The kids got a load of small pine-cones and other native bush seed pods, painted them up and sprinkled glitter on them and they look fabulous. I decided to get those rather than the baubles they sell in Big W, though I’ll still want to get some tinsel and a few other small things.”

“You can get some lights for the tree too if you like: I’m planning on running the generator through the daytime so we can have the ’fridge operating, plus have plenty of hot water. With mum and dad here it’ll be worth the few dollars of diesel needed to keep it operating. I’m also hoping that when they bring the rest of the power equipment down I can rig up the batteries and charge them at the same time, then use those and the inverter to keep the fridge going overnight when the Jenny’s turned off.”

“That’d be good. Right then; I’m off to work. See you when I get back.”

After she’d gone Dave cleaned up the breakfast dishes then headed down to the hardware store to see if he could hire a pressure washer, intending to use it to strip the loose paint from the house’s exterior as Speedy had suggested. He was in luck as they had several models available, and he decided to go with the most powerful one they had, figuring that it should make the job a lot easier and faster. “And wetter,” said the salesman. Dave hadn’t really considered that aspect until now however he wasn’t overly worried as he knew his Drizabone® coat and Sou’wester hat, which together had provided him with plenty of protection during some pretty rough weather when at sea would be enough to keep him reasonably dry during the work.

It wasn’t long before he was back at the farm and with the generator providing power, the washer connected to the water supply from the tank on the hill, and using the ladders and planks he’d used as a scaffold when painting at the hotel, he was soon removing the paint from the exterior walls of house. As Speedy had told him it would, the old paint came away very easily and he was surprised at how little water was actually used as he blasted away at the walls. He avoided going too close to the windows as he thought the power of the blaster would probably be strong enough to remove the old putty around the glass, and there were a few places where the paint had actually adhered properly, though that would be remedied when he used his belt and orbital sanders to remove the gloss before applying a new coat of primer.

By the end of the day he’d managed to go right around the house and by the time the last wall had been done the first wall was already dry enough to begin sanding, though that wouldn’t be started until the next day. The sanding would take longer and be a lot harder as he would have to support the weight of the machines as he worked, and he decided that it would probably be more practical as well as a lot safer to use proper scaffolding for the job. To that end he’d give Speedy a call in the morning to see if he could borrow some from him.

It turned out to be good timing as when he rang Speedy it was to find that the painter had just finished a job where the scaffolding was being used and, as it wouldn’t be needed again until sometime around mid January, Dave was welcome to borrow it. In fact, Speedy said, if Dave had the time he could pick it up from the worksite where it was located at the moment and take it straight home, thus saving him the job of transporting it to his place. Dave was happy to agree to that and at seven-thirty the next morning had his truck at the site, where the tradies who were in the process of cleaning up the last of the building rubbish took only a few minutes to load it with the scaffolding, plus five bags of cement that were left over from the job and that they had no immediate use for.

The cost of the cement had already been covered by the client whose four-apartment complex the men had been working on, however if Dave felt a bit guilty about accepting them he should follow the time-honoured tradition of paying for them by shouting the crew a beer the next time they met at the pub. And of course, as Bear said, that would make it all kosher, wouldn’t it?

The sanding turned out to be more time consuming than difficult and it took him almost a day and a half just to do the front wall of the house, though admittedly it was the finicky fret-worked decorations of the porch that took up most of the time, and when Bron arrived home at midday on Christmas eve he was happy to call it quits for the day. Besides, his parents were due to arrive in the afternoon and he wanted to be out of his overalls, showered, shaved and neatly dressed before they drove through the gate.

However before he could do that Bron reminded him that he still had to pick up the Christmas tree and decorations from the Trading Post, and the ham from the butchers, both of which he’d completely forgotten about, and promptly sent him to the village to get them. As he would be close to the Cock & Bull he decided that he might as well use the hot shower there, and after collecting the tree, decorations and ham, plus a couple of horseshoes of black pudding that the butcher had freshly made, emerged from the hotel ready to meet his parents.

Before he got into the truck Tony came out of the office and handed him a cardboard box containing a stack of envelopes addressed to both him and Bron. A redirection advice lodged at the post office meant that any mail addressed to McKenzie’s farm was delivered to the hotel and nobody had thought to have it changed. After telling Tony that he’d rectify that situation on the following Monday, and would be coming by the next day with his parents he jumped into his truck and drove out of the hotel’s grounds.

He grinned when by pure coincidence he saw his father’s truck ahead of him as he turned onto Brocklesbury Road and flashing his lights and honking the horn he overtook the vehicle and waving as he drove past led the way back to the farm where both trucks drove straight through the entrance. As the gate was already open there was no need to stop and close it behind them and when his father slowed down and prepared to do so Dave waved for him to keep on coming.

Bron had been making a final check of the immaculately prepared bedroom that his parents would be using when she saw through its window that the two trucks were coming down the driveway and ran out to greet them, almost dancing with excitement and she stood waiting for them to alight. There were broad smiles and laughter as she flung herself at each of his parents in turn, giving each a kiss on both cheeks and a monstrous hug of welcome.

“Blimey,” laughed Gareth, “We’ve not seen each other for what? Less than two months. What would the welcome be like if it hadn’t been for two years?”

“I couldn’t imagine not seeing you for that long,” replied Bron sincerely as she smiled at them both and led them to the house. “How was the trip down? You obviously had no problem finding the place.”

“Pretty good run straight through despite the traffic. Dai’s directions were pretty clear and the turn-off to the village is well sign-posted. Or it is if you’re looking for it. We also realised there’s no signs indicating the existence of a beach, let alone a boat-launching ramp that you told us was around here.”

“Which is a good thing, Dad: Saves us having to go out in the dark of night and remove it,” laughed Dave.

“Good Lord. Are you really that serious about keeping this place a secret?”

Bron grinned. “You’d better believe it. Actually, it’ll be more like an open secret among those in the know. And after you’ve been here a few days you’ll understand why the all villagers here feel the same way. Even our tradie friends from town have decided to keep it to themselves as they know how hard it’d be to get parking if everyone started coming here. Right; anyone for a cuppa?”

“Love one,” replied Gwen, casting an appreciative eye around the house as they went through to the family room and kitchen where Bron put the kettle on. “Gosh Bron, this place is absolutely beautiful. I’m guessing Dai didn’t have a lot to do with the décore?

“Actually, you’d be surprised just how helpful he was with it, Mum: Agreed with everything I suggested. I also have to admit that he surprised me when he located that gas range and oven that matches the refrigerator I found,” she added, going into detail about how the two items had been found and re-installed in their former positions. “He also did the sanding and polishing of the wood floors here, and in the main bedroom where you and dad will be sleeping.”

Without saying as much Gwen was pleased to admit when she looked at her de-facto daughter-in-law that her son really was capable of making some very intelligent choices. Had she voiced such an opinion Gareth would have no doubt agreed, probably adding that it was a trait that would obviously have been inherited from his father who had made just such a choice many years before.

They spent some time chatting over a couple of cups of tea before Dave helped his father unload the truck, first bringing in several suitcases and a number of gift wrapped parcels which would wind up under the tree that Bron and Gwen had set up in the lounge and were now happily decorating. His mother had also bought along the old but still working AWA portable record player that he’d purchased second hand back in nineteen sixty nine when he was still in High School, and a large cardboard box containing many of his vinyl L.P.s. Naturally she had packed his collection of South Sea Islands music as she knew Bron would enjoy those, but also included many albums popular in the sixties and a few musical soundtracks of shows such as "My Fair Lady," "The King and I," "South Pacific" and "Oklahoma!"

Apart from a tower that would have to be constructed locally the equipment required to get the wind turbine operating and producing power was unloaded and stored in the garage, though Dave kept aside the manuals that went with it so that he could pass them on to Paul to read.

Also taken inside were two items that Dave hoped would be used on a regular basis: One each of the two Kitchen-Aid mixers and American Pressure Canners that he had purchased when in the U.S. The first of each had been given to his mother and although Bron had seen and admired both when they visited his parent’s farm she wasn’t aware that he had purchased two of each. The canner was placed in the pantry on one of the top shelves where he knew Bron wouldn’t see it until he took it down to show her, and the mixer was placed in a cupboard under one of the kitchen bench-tops where he hoped she wouldn’t find it until next morning.
With the longest day of the year only two days past there was still plenty of daylight left after the truck had been unloaded, everything put away and the Christmas tree decorated so it was decided that they would go for a quick drive down to the beach before dinner. Dave slowed down as they passed the first car-park so that he could point out the boat launching ramp, the rusted slipway and the wharf that he hoped might be able to be rebuilt sometime in the not too distant future, and proceeded to the second car-park at the beach.

He was very surprised to find that there were four cars parked there and that several locals that he and Bron knew were there with their families enjoying a picnic during the last few hours of daylight. Dave and Bron were recognised immediately of course, and as they went to each family in turn and wished them all a Merry Christmas received the same in turn, along with profuse thanks for his having organised access to the beach that had been a favoured spot for them for many years prior to its closure. Dave grinned and suggested that they’d probably have easy access in the future provided not too many people knew about the remedial work that had been carried out, and they all laughed and agreed that it was in their own best interests to keep quiet about it.

“You’re a master of cunning, Dai,” said his father as Dave pointed out where he hoped it wouldn’t be too long before four or five covered barbeques with tables and seating, plus an amenities block would be installed. “But I’m already beginning to see why the locals wouldn’t want this place inundated with tourists.”

After returning to the house Bron set out the table for a meal that turned out to be a variety of cooked but now chilled dishes that she’d purchased at Jorge Swede’s delicatessen. These included flattened chicken breast fillets, rolled up with a stuffing of spinach and fetta and secured by thin strips of bacon, a vegetable lasagne of aubergine, capsicum, courgette, tomato, and sliced mushrooms, a four-bean salad with thinly sliced Spanish onion and capers, and a potato salad that included crisp diced apple and cucumber.

This was to have been followed by a freshly made fruit salad with ice-cream, however when everyone had eaten their fill of the main course it was decided that they really didn’t need anything more, other than to finish the bottle of wine that had been opened to go with the meal.

“I’m going to be spending a good deal of time cooking Christmas dinner tomorrow,” said Bron, “so I didn’t want to do any cooking tonight.”

“I don’t blame you,” said Gwen. “You know, I’ve always thought it’s ridiculous to have a full-on roast dinner for Christmas in a country where the season is so damned hot, but on the other hand it wouldn’t really be right not to have one. Says a lot for a need to follow tradition I guess.”

It had been a long day for Dave’s parents, especially when taking into account the drive they’d made down to Brocklesbury, and around nine-thirty they were all ready to hit the hay. As the generator would be turned off a flashlight was placed on each bedside table in case someone needed to get up during the night and after saying goodnight all were soon in bed and sound asleep, Gareth’s fairly quiet snoring not keeping anyone awake.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

With no children in the house there was no need to be woken at sunrise to see what Santa had left under the tree and all were able to sleep until a reasonable eight a.m. when they gathered for a continental breakfast of coffee and croissants. When Gwen placed a jar of home-made apricot jam on the table and asked everybody what they thought of the taste she was pleased to hear Bron immediately ask for the recipe after trying it. She had expected it to be fairly sweet, however it had a tartness much like a true English breakfast marmalade that made it ideal for croissants or toast in the mornings.

“It couldn’t be simpler, dear, especially as I know you have a lot of Vacola preserving jars. I use dried apricots and rehydrate them as they give a deeper flavour. For each pound of chopped dried apricots add a pint of water, a pound of sugar and a tablespoon of freshly squeezed lemon juice. Cover the apricots with the water and let them stand until the fruit swells, then add the sugar and lemon juice and very slowly bring the mixture to a boil over a low heat, stirring it until the sugar’s dissolved. You then take it up to a rolling boil for thirty minutes, stirring it often so it doesn’t stick, take it off the heat and fill your sterilized jars to within a quarter inch of the top. Process the jars in the water bath for ten minutes and that’s all there is to it. I got the recipe from Maryke, along with quite a few pounds of the apricots she grows and dehydrates. She said there’s no need to use pectin but Jacob does insist she add a splash of Kirsch to the mix before bottling the jam.”

Bron wrote the recipe down in one of her notebooks, including the fact that a “splash” of kirsch could be added, after which they all trooped through to the lounge where the Christmas tree had been set up.

As he looked at the packages underneath Dave, suddenly remembering the box of mail that Tony had given him but he’d left in the truck nipped out to get it. After returning, and before looking at the parcels under the tree he and Bron spent some fifteen minutes going through the letters to find that they contained Christmas cards from just about everyone who knew their address, or at least where mail could be forwarded to where it would find them. Some came from Bron’s friends in Australia and New Zealand, as did a few from Dave’s friends, some to him from the U.S., and many from local residents who wished them both all the best as well as thanking them for their efforts on behalf of the community. Quite a few were from people they didn’t actually know, and Bron put those aside so that they could reply with New-Year Greetings cards, telling Dave that on the weekend they would drive around the village and personally deliver them to the return addresses shown on the envelopes.

With the mail set aside attention was turned to the tree, the first package being pulled out from under it and handed to Gwen. It contained a hand knitted and beautifully patterned pullover and a scarf made from alpaca fleece, and she marvelled at the softness of the material, claiming that it was even softer than that of the finest Marino wool she’d ever felt.

“It actually is,” said know-it-all Dave. “If you looked at the fibres under a microscope you’d find that unlike wool they’re actually hollow, like a tube. That makes them more insulative but at the same time so supple that they need to be combined with wool or some other fibre if you want material for making suits or garments that need to hold a crease.”

“No wonder they survive so well in the Andes. The scarf is so warm that I daren’t try on the pullover in case I get heat-stroke,” said Gwen as she held the garment against her body to check the size and found that it would be just right.”

“Only problem is that the fleece contains no lanolin and although it’s hypoallergenic it absorbs water easily. I’ve been told it’s not a good idea to wear it out in heavy rain though rain, sleet and snow doesn’t appear to bother alpacas so I’m not too sure if that’s right.”

“Great: Too hot to wear in summer and it’ll be too wet in winter to wear it. It’ll look good hung on the wall though, I guess,” laughed Gareth, though the laugh died in his throat as opening the parcel that a grinning Bron handed him he found that it contained a men’s scarf and pullover that matched that of his wife’s.

He was quick on the uptake though and told Bron that they would be able to wear the clothing in late summer and autumn as that was about when they’d all be going to New Zealand to meet her parents. Not put out by his shot at New Zealand’s cooler climate she simply laughed, screwed up her nose and poked her tongue out at him.

Next it was Bron’s turn and Gareth pushed a largish parcel across the floor to where she was sitting with her back to a lounge chair. It was a trifle on the heavy side and she heaved it across her upper legs and tore away the wrapping to find a varnished wooden case that when opened revealed the 30-30 lever-action Winchester that she’d used at Tenterfield.

“Oh, No! Oh, this is too much!” she cried behind the hand clasped across her mouth as tears suddenly sprang from her eyes.

“Why? Do you already have one?” Gwen laughed. “Sweetheart, it spends all its time in our gun safe and you’ve been the only person that has fired it in several years. Dai has enough rifles, as do we, and ’Trish spends most of her time in Europe, so it might as well belong to someone who we know will really appreciate it. Now, enough of the waterworks,” she went on quickly. “Dai, here’s a little something for you.”

The pretty blue ribbon tied to the metal case that was pushed towards him couldn’t disguise the fact that it was a surplus military ammunition box however he laughed uproariously when he opened it to find that it contained not as might be expected a supply of ·223 or ·308 that would suit either of his centre-fire rifles, but several hundred rounds of 30-30 ammunition. There was also a card expressing the hope that he would have a Very Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year... And be able to find a use for the ammunition that was now surplus to the requirements of the family in Tenterfield. When his laughter stopped Gareth pulled a second box from behind the tree and pushed it towards him with a grin, and this one actually contained the same number of rounds that he could use in his ·308.

“Dai, you know this means we have to go down to Sydney and retrieve that safe you’ve got in storage don’t you?”

“Yeah. And we could visit Allan and Lynne again. Make a full weekend of it. Anyway, I’ve also got a little something for you, although it’s not under the tree, or even in this room.”

He stood up and was about to lead her to the bedroom where he’d put the Horn sewing cabinet and overlocker when he saw his mother purse her lips slightly, roll her eyes and shake her head ever so slightly. Bron hadn’t seen the actions but Dave suddenly felt with certainty that she had already discovered the items and had said something to his mother about them.

Thinking quickly he asked her to wait a moment then headed for the hallway, but instead of going to the bedroom he crept around to the kitchen where he very quietly pulled the Kitchen-Aid mixer from the cupboard, placed it on the bench top and covered it with two tea-towels. He then retraced his steps and back at the doorway to the lounge beckoned for Bron to follow him.

With a seemingly knowing wink at Gwen, Bron followed him oh-so- innocently but was quite surprised when he led her past the bedroom door and on to the family room and then the kitchen. His body blocked her view of the benchtop and once there he turned, asked her to extend both hands together and with his right hand grasped them both. He reached around behind himself, located the tea-towels and stepping to one side whipped them away while still holding her hands and cried “Ta-dah! Merry Christmas Sweetheart!”

Bron was stunned by the sight of the pale blue machine standing on the bench-top, especially as she had expected something completely different.

“But I thought...” she began, thus giving away the fact that she had found the sewing cabinet and overlocker, then quickly asked “But why are you holding my hands?”

“To stop you clapping them over your mouth: You know how doing that always brings tears to your eyes.”

She threw his hands off, launched herself at him, flung her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight, which if the wetness on his neck was anything to go by seemed to have the same result as putting a hand across her mouth.

“Oh you bugger! Can’t you do anything wrong?”

“Well, trying to hide something from you would probably be one thing,” he laughed.

“Oh, yeah. About that: Sorry if my sticky-beaking spoiled any surprise you were planning. How did you know I knew about it?”

“A man’s intuition I guess,” Dave replied, not wishing to let her know that it was his mother’s body language that had tipped him off.

They returned to the lounge where Bron wiped her eyes before giving Gwen a look that conveyed a message that the surprise gift she’d been expecting hadn’t eventuated but that all was good. In fact, she admitted later, it was even better as she would never use the overlocker as much as she would the mixer.

Finally it was Dave’s turn and Bron hauled from behind the tree a large box. Opening it he found inside a traditional wicker fisherman’s creel which in turn contained another box, this one wrapped in decorative paper featuring a man casting for fish from the bank of a river. It was the closest wrapping that she could find that might give some indication of the contents and he opened the box to find a top quality side-cast Alvey fishing reel.

“I asked the guys in the Fishing Club to help me get what they could all agree was the best, and that was their recommendation. That’s the surf rod to match it lying on the floor against the skirting board,” she added as she pointed out what he hadn’t noticed before. “Plus there’s line, sinkers and a number of accessories that the members will show you how to use when you accept their kind offer to teach you how to fish in the surf.”

“Wow. That’ll be good: I’ve never done any surf fishing before.”

“Yeah. The guys thought you might not have so they suggested taking you down to the beach at Fish Hook Bay first, so you can practice casting without being frightened by the big waves where real fisherman go.”

Dave scowled but the others had a good laugh at what had obviously been said in jest. Hopefully said in jest, anyway.

With the exchange of presents over and done with the two men, having been told by the women to make themselves scarce while the Christmas dinner was being prepared headed down to the Cock & Bull to toss a few darts. Only the public bar was open and they ordered a couple of schooners before heading out to the beer garden where the new dart-board had been temporarily set up. There was a mix of about twenty hotel guests and locals occupying the tables there and Dave and Gareth were called to come and sit at one where several members of the fishing club were sat. It appeared that all of the local men bar one had likewise been banished from their homes by wives who were busy cooking, and this would have made for instant camaraderie among them even if a shared passion for fishing and/or darts didn’t.

The members of both passions were only too happy to inform Gareth that in the short time he’d lived in the village his son had done more good for the place than anyone except the owners of the hotel who had virtually kept the town alive after the big bushfires destroyed most of it some eight years before. They also took great delight in telling him about the rout of the councillor Shady Read, who in the local area had been about as popular as a pork chop in a synagogue. It was an expression that never having heard before made Gareth snort a mouthful of beer through his nose when he suddenly laughed, much to the amusement of those not sitting right next to or directly opposite him.

The time passed pleasantly and Dave noted that apart from the only unmarried man present nobody was inclined to drink too much, and even he got only slightly tipsy and soon fell asleep on a deck chair in the shade of the old oak tree. Dave heard later that before everyone left late in the afternoon the deck chair had been carefully carried into the office and its occupant covered with a light cotton sheet, and been allowed to sleep until about six when Tony and Trev woke him, invited him to have dinner with them then afterwards drove him home.

He wondered what Jeff Mullins, being single and with no family, was up to and was relieved and delighted to hear from Tony that although Jeff had been invited to join him and Trev he was having Christmas dinner with Laura and Brian at his own home. That being the case, Dave called in to Jeff’s on the way home and after introducing his father and wishing the three there a Merry Christmas suggested to them that if they had nothing else planned they were welcome to join him, his parents, Bron and the tradies at Hook’s Eye for some fishing the next day.

As it turned out they had intended to go to the beach, but young Brian on hearing the invitation to go fishing could hardly contain his excitement and told Dave that this had to be the best Christmas he’d ever had. Dave grinned, ruffled the lad’s hair and told him the only rule was that he wasn’t allowed to catch more fish than he did, but laughed and added “and Bron” when solemnly asked what would be the rule if Dave caught none.

“From the reaction you got by adding “and Bron” to the rule you gave the young fellow I gather that she’s considered to be very good at fishing,” said Gareth as they continued the trip back to the farm.

“She certainly is. And she’s determined that hers will be the first name that’ll be put on the winner’s plaque on the Fishing Club’s Annual Trophy.”

“Which, I was told by Tony, along with the Cock & Bull’s Darts Association you instigated. He also showed me the sketches of the planned new beer garden and I have to say I’m pretty impressed by your efforts. You know, I think you’re going to have an uphill battle ahead of you trying to keep the developers away when word finally gets out about this place though, as it inevitably will.”

“Unfortunately I have to agree with you dad, but I think Bron and I will get a lot of enjoyment out of fighting them every step of the way when that time comes. Unless of course I win enough money in the lottery to buy the district or I’m elected Dictator of the country, though the chances of either happening are Buckley’s and none.”

“Ah yes, but it’s nice to have a dream.”

Simultaneously they both broke into the same song, singing “Happy talk, keep talkin’ happy talk... Talk about things you’d like to do... You got to have a dream, if you don’t have a dream... How you gonna have a dream come true?” The song was from the musical South Pacific, and by the time they drove through the gateway and down to the house they’d also managed to go through “There Is Nothin’ Like a Dame” and “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair” and arrived in high spirits.

The girls had finished all the dinner preparations and had laid out the table which was now covered with a very Christmassy looking tablecloth in the centre of which stood a faux-holly-decoration that held a row of five squat red candles. Bon-bons,, the traditional Christmas crackers holding a paper crown, a small trinket and a joke or riddle were laid on one side of each setting, with a rolled napkin on the other.

While waiting for the roast to finish cooking, (a boned and rolled loin of pork heavily scored and salted to produce a good crackling), Dave took his parents for a walk around the farm, pointing out the work that had been done and where he had plans for future projects. It was going to take quite some time and lots of work to have it all up and running as planned, he conceded, but it would be worth the effort in the long run. Nothing was said about the possibility that Colin McKenzie might suddenly turn up to reclaim his land, and though it did remain at the back of his mind he thought that it was highly unlikely.

 

[Bidadisndat]

By the time they returned to the house it was time to take the roast out of the oven and let it sit while the gravy was being made, and as of course roast pork just wouldn’t be complete without apple sauce Gwen had made this up earlier, adding several slices of quince to the apples as she did so.

She had also brought with her one of two calico-wrapped steamed Christmas puddings that she had made six weeks before and had hung in a meat safe under their house in Tenterfield. She had fed them daily with brandy for the first week and then once a week after though that didn’t prevent a patina of green forming on the calico during the hanging. Before leaving she had taken one of the puddings over to give to Maryke and Jacob and received in return two apfelstrudels and a hindquarter of goat, and as these had also accompanied her Bron and Dave’s new fridge was now packed so full that the beer and wine in it had to be transferred to an ice-filled esky.

She had, before beginning to help Bron prepare the main meal, removed the old calico, re-wrapped and tied it in a freshly floured piece and had set it to steaming in a large pan at the back of the gas range when the meat went into the oven. After use the calico would be cleaned and used again next year, as it had been this year, last year and for many years before then. She then went about making some brandied butter and a litre or so of vanilla-bean custard to go with the pudding.

When they finally sat down to dinner Gareth offered a prayer of thanks, not only for the meal but also for the fact that they were all healthy, happy and above all a family. The prayer was followed by the pouring of glasses of Champagne and the snapping of Bon-Bons, and before long all were leisurely working their way through full plates of the roast pork with gravy and apple sauce, plus roast potatoes, pumpkin, carrots, parsnips, beetroot, onions and garlic.

Despite only a very small portion of the leg of ham also being carved it seemed to be an extravagant meal however as Gwen pointed out the left-overs would be used over two or three days, and when you thought about it, it hadn’t really been much more difficult to prepare than a normal Sunday dinner. The main difference, she felt, was that along with tradition there was the participation and sense of family that the season induced. Not that a Sunday dinner wasn’t a family affair anyway, at least in the Morgan household, and Bron agreed, saying that it was the same with her family back in New Zealand.

Earlier, Gareth had set up Dave’s old record player on a small space he’d managed to clear on one of the kitchen bench-tops and Bing Crosby’s album of Christmas carols certainly added to the ambience, as it always did in thousands of houses around English speaking countries at this time of year. Dave said he thought that in Australia the song “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” referred to the hot sands of the beaches at Jervis Bay, reputed to be the whitest in the world. Bron laughed and told them that as hot as the sand may be down there it was nothing compared to the sands of some beaches in New Zealand which due to their iron content were much hotter, though unfortunately that sand was as black as coal.

It was lucky that the fan above the table circulated enough cooling air to prevent the heat of the day sapping their appetites as well as their energy and they were able to do justice to the work done in preparing the festive spread. There was also a decent interval between the main course and the Christmas pudding that followed, which was just as well because they were now well into their second bottle of bubbly.

Bron was amazed to find that buried in the pudding were quite a few silver threepenny and sixpenny pieces. It was an old tradition and one that hadn’t been followed since nineteen sixty-six when decimal coins were introduced. The new coins couldn’t be used as due to the type of metal used in their production they turned green and were thought to be toxic; however Gwen had been wise enough to save many of the old coins just for this purpose. Normally the coins were returned to her when a pudding was finished, so that they could be used again the next year, however this time Bron and Dave were told to keep theirs and use them for their own pudding in the future.

Dave grinned and told her that she could take them back as he had a good supply of the old coins, plus shilling and florins. He’d obtained them after learning from prepper friends in the U.S. that their old five and ten cent coins had a silver content greater than their face value. His Financial Advisor friend Alan in Sydney had confirmed for him that that was so even in Australia and although most of the old coins had been removed from circulation there were still some out there that the banks were slowly removing. Allan had quietly arranged for each of them to obtain five hundred dollars worth at face value and Dave had his securely locked away at his father’s property.

When the sun finally sank below the horizon and it was felt that more than enough food had been consumed to keep them all alive until breakfast the table was cleared, the dishes washed, dried and put away, and waiting beds were allowed to lure four tired but happy people to a good night’s sleep.

* * *
​

Dave’s parents weren’t surprised by the number of friends that Dave and Bron had made in both the village and the town, but they were by the number who turned up for the get-together at Hook’s Eye on Boxing Day. Bron was also a bit surprised, having until now thought that her favourite fishing spot was known only to perhaps a dozen people, rather than the two dozen plus who were now present. Although the number had been limited to those that knew the location of the almost private fishing spot there was still insufficient parking for all of the vehicles that people arrived in, and several had been left parked at the farm with their drivers and passengers then being shuttled to the site.

Not all had came for the fishing of course, and though quite a few rods and lines were to be seen set up on the far side of the eye, the side closest to where the party was gathered had been ruled off limits for the day so that people could go swimming without fear of being hooked. In fact, it being quite a hot day there were already several people swimming in the warm and crystal clear water, with an optimistic young Brian hoping that their splashing would drive any fish in the hole over to the side where he sat patiently with his line out.

A large and colourful assortment of folding camp chairs, eskies, beach umbrellas, and picnic blankets upon which was arranged enough food to feed an army were spread out on a small grassy area on the southern side of the eye, and it wasn’t too long before those not swimming began helping themselves.

Men who had partners sat with them for the obligatory hour of mundane conversations that didn’t involve manly pursuits, with a few unattached singles who thought that it’d be polite to do the same sitting with them, until finally getting the courage to break away and form several separate groups, with each having topics of mutual interest to talk about.

They’d never admit as much to their men-folk but mostly the wives were happy to let them go so that they could discuss, not gossip, you understand, but discuss among themselves things that, quite simply put, men couldn’t even begin to comprehend the importance of.

Not surprisingly, the tradies from town sat together with a couple of the men from the village who used the same fishing hole, including Dave and the excavator owner-operator Darren, and beers in hand began discussing some ideas for improving their hidden-away spot.

“Well,” began Bear, “For starters I think we could flatten an area large enough to put in a couple of tables with bench seats. Use the same design as the one we’re planning to submit to council for the beach contract.”

“Yeah, that’d be good,” replied Pipes. “Though I think we should also flatten enough ground to be able to park our utes properly. What do you think guys....? Space for half a dozen cars?”

“Going to take quite a bit of spade work to do that much by hand,” said Chips, and for some reason they all looked rather expectantly at Darren.

“Hmm... If I understand correctly what you’re all trying very hard not to ask outright,” Darren said with a grin, “is that knowing that council’s given me the go-ahead to extend the car-park at the beach, could I make a bit of a detour and use my machinery to flatten some ground here.”

“Oh, what a good idea, Darren! You know Mate, that would probably never have occurred to me if you hadn’t been around,” laughed Bear. “Would it be much of a problem to do that?”

“Nah. In fact given the tightness of the bends on the descent down to the bay I can only float the machines to the top of the road anyway, and that’s not too far from here. Should be able to knock it off with the Bob-cat in an hour or so.”

“Hmm.... Since you’re going to be working down this way I’ve got another job at the farm for you if you want it,” Dave quietly said to Darren. “And it’ll be a paid job this time. I’ll talk to you about it later.”

“Thanks mate,” Darren replied. “I can always use some extra work.”

“Right,” Bear went on. “The tables and seating should be easy to organise, especially if we get the council contract to install the facilities at the beach: We could build two table and bench seat combos for us at the same time as we do theirs. I don’t intend to rip the council off - well, not much anyway - because we might be able to get more work from them in the future, but we might be able to pad our quote out a small amount.... Say, enough to cover the cost of one of the table and seat combos.”

“Sounds quite reasonable,” offered Chips. “And if we keep in mind that any facilities we put here would be available for use by the general public, if they happen to find the place that is, our consciences would be clear.... Well, mostly clear.”

“Anyone think it’d be good to have a barbeque hot-plate here too, same as at the beach?” Pipes asked.

A barbeque was thought to be an excellent idea by all and after some ideas were bandied about it was decided that they should build one that was fitted with removable cast iron gas burners and had both a hot-plate and a grill, with those wanting to use it bringing along and connecting their own gas bottle. The idea of having a padlocked cover over the hot-plate and grill was voted down as that would prevent people other than those with a key using them, though a lockable compartment to hold the burners when not in use could be incorporated. “Outsiders” wanting to use the barbeque would have to bring along a supply of wood or heat beads if they wanted to use it, and although that might deter some people it was considered to be a fair compromise.

Jeff Mullins had been with the group, sitting in a position where he could keep a watchful eye on young Brian, and seeing the lad haul in what was probably his fourth or fifth fish got up and made his way to where he was proudly shown a bucket containing two nice flathead and three bream.

“Dave, I was watching you and Bron while I was fishing,” said a very happy Brian when he returned with Jeff to show off his catch. Both of you didn't even try to do any fishing, which means I’m not breaking any rules!”

“Good for you, Brian. Looks like you’re going to have a pretty good meal tonight,” Bron said, putting an arm across his shoulders, giving him a squeeze and making him glow with pleasure when she added “I think I’m going to have some pretty stiff competition when you’re old enough to join the Cock & Bull Fishing Club.”

“Actually, under eighteens are allowed into the beer garden of any hotel provided they’re accompanied by a parent,” said Gareth who was standing nearby. “Can’t drink alcohol of course, but I can’t see why Brian couldn’t become a junior member of the club,” he added with a wink at Bron.

Brian swung towards his mother in excitement. “Is that true mum? Could I really become a junior member?”

Before she had a chance to answer Jeff chipped in with “Of course you can. And if your mum can’t be with you, I can. Of course, in that case you’ll have to share any fish you catch with me as well as your mum.”

“Gosh, I’d do that anyway, Jeff: You’re always really good to me and mum, and I know she’s really happy when we’re all together.”

“OK Matey,” growled Jeff over a sudden lump in his throat. “We need to take these back down to the water and gut ’n’ scale ’em: Don’t want to make a mess in our kitchen, do we? Are you coming with us... Mum?” he asked Laura as he picked up the bucket of fish and began walking back towards the rocks.”

“Out of the mouths of babes,” murmured Gwen when she and others close to Laura and Jeff couldn’t help but notice that when the two walked away on either side of Brian they’d both coloured somewhat more than what might have been blamed on too much sunshine.

As the day’s happy event began to wind down those that needed to be were ferried back to the farm to pick up their cars and head for home and soon it was only the tradies who were left to make a final check to make sure no litter had been left behind.

“I think we should attach a sign to the barbeque, asking people to make sure they take their rubbish home with them,” said Pipes. “I know our lot would, but there are many drop-ins that might not.”

“Unfortunately true. It’s a pity there isn’t some way we could restrict access to the place, but it is on public land after all. By the way, Dave’s father gave me ten dollars towards the hire of the portaloo. Said it was the first time he’d ever seen one used at a private function and he was very impressed. He reckoned it was a much better idea than digging a hole in the ground and rigging up a screen around it, especially where ladies are concerned.”

“That was good of him. Both his parents seem to be really nice people don’t they? I wonder if the driver delivering and picking up the portaloo is impressed with the idea, given the state of the track he has to drive along to get here.”

“I doubt that it’d be much of a problem for him: Access to some of our building sites is often a lot worse than here. Besides, our company’s a regular customer and his company’s already been paid for the hire, so no need for us to worry about it. OK then, let’s get out of here.” Shortly after, the last cars drove away, leaving behind two seagulls looking in vain for any scraps of food that may have been left behind.

Back at the farm the ladies set about preparing dinner while the men went into the garage to begin work on the restoration of several rusted but still good tools that had been left by McKenzie. Among these were three wood-planes, the working parts of which were disassembled, wire brushed clean and lightly oiled then put aside while the bodies were worked on. Fortunately their soles and sides had only a very light covering of rust and to remove that Gareth simply tacked a long strip of fine emery cloth to a perfectly straight and flat board and worked the planes back and forth along it until the metal was smooth and shiny, then finished off by using a pad of fine steel wool to polish them.

“Like brand new,” he said after the blades had been sharpened, the knobs and totes sanded smooth and rubbed over with a little linseed oil and turpentine, and all the parts reassembled. He then took apart and did the same for a block plane and a spoke-shave, both of which Dave had thought were not worth the effort of salvaging and had been proven wrong.

Gareth and Gwen had enjoyed the day out immensely, and having met many of their friends, both at the get-together and elsewhere, understood why the young couple had decided to make Brocklesbury their home.

“In fact,” Gwen said over dinner that evening, “if we ever get too old and worn out to run our own farm up north, I think this place would be an ideal place to spend our retirement.”

“I think so too, dear, though me having only recently turned sixty-two, I hope that time’s a long way off yet.”

“You’ve only just turned sixty-two!?” said Bron, trying to sound quite surprised. “Honestly, dad, you really don’t look a day over seventy-six.”

Although everyone laughed the real joke lay in the fact that anyone who met Gareth for the first time would think he was barely in his fifties, if that, not just because of his very youthful looks but also because he was more fit than many men half his age. And Gwen felt fortunate that despite her advancing years she too had somehow managed to retain her attractive looks and figure, otherwise she may have had to spend a lot of time chasing younger women away from her husband!

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

Jeff Mullins was sat at the kitchen table having a cup of tea and Laura was drying the dishes after a meal of the freshly caught fish when Brian, who was struggling to concentrate on a fishing magazine in front of him, looked up with a worried frown on his face.

“Jeff, you remember when Mister Morgan said I could go into the beer garden of the hotel if I was with a parent... If I’m not with mum, how can I go in with you, like you said? I mean, you’re not my father and everybody knows that, so how would that work?”

“Well, Mate, everybody around here knows me pretty well, and they probably also know how much I care about you and your mum, so I don’t think anybody would think or say anything about it.”

“Oh. Be a lot easier if you were my dad though, wouldn’t it?”

Laura paused in drying the dishes and, wondering how Jeff was going to handle that question, tightly gripped the baking dish she was holding and waited a bit apprehensively for the answer.

Jeff looked at Brian in the way that only a man who cared about him as much as a father could and quietly asked “Brian, would you really want an old man like me as a dad?”

“Of course I would! And you’re not an old man either!”

“You think not? Oh well, in that case I guess I’ll have to talk to your mum about it.”

He’d spoken without remembering that Laura was standing well within earshot of the conversation but was made aware of that when the baking tray she was holding suddenly slipped from her fingers and dropped to the floor with a clatter. By the time he’d risen from his chair and got to her she had already turned to stare unseeingly through the kitchen window into the night, and when he placed is hands on her upper arms he could feel her trembling beneath his touch.

Slowly he turned her to face him and the expression on both their faces as they looked at each other seemed to make any speech unnecessary, and when Jeff drew her close Laura buried her head in his shoulder and quiet unbidden tears soaked unheeded into his shirt. They held each other tightly for several minutes without saying a word, and a watching Brian somehow knew that though his mother was crying something magical had happened, and there was nothing for him to get worried about.

“You know what I want to ask, don’t you?” Jeff asked her quietly as he gently eased her back to where he could look into her eyes.

“Are you really sure you want to?” she replied huskily.

“Of course I’m sure; otherwise I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“You don’t have to you know.”

“Perhaps not, but I’m a bit old fashioned that way I guess.”

“You know what my answer will be, don’t you?”

“Well, I think I know that too, but just the same I reckon it’d be proper if I went through some of the hoops at least: I know it’s all a bit sudden, and maybe I’m jumping the gun, but I’ve given it a lot of serious thought and I’m asking anyway. Laura, will you marry me?”

“Yes Jeff. Yes, I will.”

As they held each other close again he whispered in her ear, “And if it’s alright by you, I’d also like to adopt Brian.”

Laura held him even more tightly and overcome with emotion could only nod her head before finally managing a muffled “I’m fine with that, and I know Brian will be thrilled.”

There was a slight pause, then...

“Brian!”

“Yes Jeff?”

“I spoke to your mum and she said I can be your dad.”

“Really!?”

“Yes, really. Now, go and get ready for bed.”

“OK... Dad.” And as a grinning Brian quickly jumped up from his chair and happily padded off to put on his pyjamas his mum set about making him and herself a hot cup of cocoa, and one for Jeff, whose cup of tea had gone cold.

* * *
​

Most of the small shops and businesses were closed for the Christmas- New Year break however a telephone call earlier had confirmed that the on the Saturday morning when the whole family drove into town in Gareth’s Land Cruiser the gardening centre towards which they were heading wasn’t one of them. It would be open from today right through to New Year’s Eve, but Dave had decided to get a large six by nine metre greenhouse he’d found in the catalogue he’d picked up on his last visit there, and wanted to order it in as soon as possible.

Besides, it was on the way to the Rifle Club where She-who-was-now-a-licensed-shooter wanted to use her new toy and hurl a few rounds of 30-30 lead down-range. It would also be an opportunity for Dave’s parents to have a look around the area, and when lunch-time came sample some of the local fare in one of the outlying villages.

The greenhouse they wanted was a bit larger than the typical backyard variety usually sold by the Garden Centre and as they weren’t held in stock one would have to be ordered in. Unfortunately the city-based manufacturers were closed for the holiday period and they were advised that any order placed now wouldn’t be delivered until at least the middle of January.

“Not a problem,” Dave told the centre’s staff. “I thought that’d be the case, but I’m hoping that by putting the order in now it’ll be one of the first they make up and dispatch when they go back to work. If it’s possible I want to prepare the footings for it though, but the brochure doesn’t have any details regarding the measurements for those. Don’t suppose you’d have the plans available would you?”

“Well, as a matter of fact we do, Dave. Our installers put the same sized greenhouse up for another client three or four months ago and once it was up he said we could keep the plans. You can have those now if you want, and we’ll keep the set that comes with the kit when it arrives. Ahh... Wait a minute: If I remember correctly, there are lots of hold-down bolts supplied with the kit and they have to be set in the concrete when the footings are poured.”

“Hmm... OK. Let’s have a look at the plans and see if the bolts used aren’t of a type that we can’t get locally.”

After retrieving the plans from the office and checking them it was quickly determined that the bolts needed could be purchased at any good hardware store, so after paying the deposit required for the greenhouse Dave rolled the plans up and took them out to the truck.

With everybody buckled up, and following the same route that Bron had shown him when he first arrived in town, Dave drove towards the rifle range. Passing the farm where Bron had previously bought mushrooms they saw that it still had its sign out, so a brief stop was made to purchase a large bagful. Dave saw that this time there was an extra sign up advertising bulk mushroom compost for sale, and though he was tempted to buy some he wasn’t really dressed for shovelling the mix of manure and straw that it consisted of, even if it had been sterilised. He’d keep it in mind though, as it’d be ideal for use on his veggie garden in the future.

When they arrived at the range they found that there were only a few other gun-club members present, however all had the same idea in mind: To try out the toys that they’d purchased as Christmas gifts for themselves. It turned out during conversation that Bron was not only the one member there to have received a rifle as a present without having to buy it for herself, but also the only one to possess a lever action, which by itself was enough to generate a bit of interest among the shooters, three of whom had never had the opportunity to even hold let alone fire one.

Knowing the three men fairly well, and the way in which they handled their own rifles, Bron felt quite comfortable offering to let them put a few rounds through hers and each of them, promising to replace the ammo they used, leapt at the chance. Of course they had to wait until Bron had emptied the magazine a few times herself first, but when they finally did get to shoot a half dozen rounds each they agreed that the wait hadn’t been all that long, and had been worth it anyway.

Dave also got in a few shots with his ’scoped ·308 but came in for some good-natured ribbing after it was claimed by some of those watching that his groupings, though really good, didn’t really seem to be any tighter than those Bron had achieved over open sights.

“More like spreads than groups,” said one, with another agreeing by saying “Thought you might’ve been using a shotgun when I saw your targets.” And Gareth didn’t help matters much when he told them with a laugh that Dave’s shooting would be sure to improve if Bron, after she’d finished playing with her new rifle, would agree to coach him.

“Lord, what’ve I done to deserve this?” Dave murmured almost but not quite to himself as throwing his gaze skywards he put his rifle back in its carry-case and walked to the truck.

Walking beside him Bron grinned but decided not to add any smart comments of her own because apart from knowing that Dave was much more than just a fair shot she knew that everybody had been joking. Even so, and much to her own surprise she confessed to herself, she was proud of having demonstrated that she could handle the 30-30, and much better than she’d thought she would given the few times she’d used it. Which was probably just as well really: With the going price of 30-30 rounds it’d be a somewhat expensive exercise for her to practice a lot with it, even if Dave did police their used brass for reloading.

It was his father who’d shown him how to do that, using the equipment he used, but it wasn’t until Dave had spent a lot of time shooting dollars from the fantails of various ships he served on that he invested in a similar set-up, purchasing it from the friend of a friend of a friend in The States. He worked out that in the long run he didn’t really save all that much, simply because he shot a lot more, but he did know that the skill of reloading was one worth having.

As his equipment was currently in storage Gareth was going to take the used cases back to Tenterfield and reload them there as he had a good supply of powder, primers and bullets for each of the calibres the family used, including but of course never admitted to, those required for Dave’s 1911 ·45APC.

That particular handgun had been “lost or mislaid” a few months before he brought his ship back to Australia on its last voyage and stepped ashore as a landsman; however he was quite confident that he’d be able to find it again.... If and when he joined a pistol club and could possess it legally.

Their time spent at the range had them travelling in almost the same time frame as when Bron had shown Dave around the area when he’d first arrived in town, and following a light lunch at an outlying village cafe then following the same route they wound up at the no less packed Thai restaurant where he’d bought dinner for her less than three months before. The two girls shared a bottle of the currently popular Blue Nun Liebfraumilch over the rather large meal they’d ordered but when Gwen volunteered to drive the Toyota back to the farm when they’d finished, the two men decided they’d crack a couple of bottles of Thai Singha beer instead.

According to Gareth, one bottle, especially a small one such as he was holding, was barely enough to dampen a man’s tonsils let alone wash down a decent meal, and he ordered two more even before their first bottles were half empty. Those were followed by two more for each of them, and by the time they left the restaurant it was just as well that Gwen would be driving, not so much because Gareth was incapable of doing so but more because he was beginning to fall asleep in his chair.

Dave didn’t appear to be overly affected by the four beers he’d downed however while he found it difficult to follow the conversation that the girls were having as they travelled back to the farm it was probably due to the topics they were discussing; none of which concerned gardening, guns or anything else of interest to a man like himself. However after he’d made the almost fatal mistake of telling Bron that, when she’d asked him what he thought about something she and his mother had been talking about, he decided that until they got home maybe it’d be a good idea to pay a bit of attention to what they were saying. Not that that would do much good now as home was less than ten minutes away and the girls, quite deliberately he thought, seemed to have nothing further to say about any topic, though he did note that they exchanged some meaningful grins.

* * *
​

 

[Bidadisndat]

On Sunday Dave was fortunately able to borrow Rick Martin’s grey Fergie which had a backhoe attachment, and he and Gareth had been able to mark out and dig trenches for the footings for the greenhouse walls. The trenches weren’t really all that deep; nevertheless the backhoe sure saved them a lot digging by hand.

From Darren he was able to borrow the wooden formwork required, and at the same time made arrangements for him to bring his excavator over to begin construction of the dam Bron wanted for ducks and geese, though that wouldn’t be until the middle of next month as he was booked up until then.

That certainly wasn’t a problem, Dave had told him, as he knew that that work involved resurfacing the road from the wharf to the beach and extending the car-park at its end, and of course flattening out the ground for the parking and picnic area at Hook’s Eye was also a priority.

Rather than mix and pour the concrete for the footings himself Dave had opted to order a load of concrete from the Readymix business in town, so when the formwork was finished they moved on to the next job needing to be done, which was to paint the exterior of the house.

Bron was keen to get in on the act with this one, and early Monday morning found her out with the two men while Gwen set about making breakfast for them all. Their first task was to complete the sanding of the woodwork as Dave had previously got no further than doing the wall at the front of the house, however even with three of them working at it, it still took it a full day to finish the sides and the back wall. That was mostly because they were all agreed that doing the job properly to begin with would be worth the effort in the long run. “If it’s not worth doing well, it’s not worth doing at all” was just one of many maxims that Gareth adhered to and passed on to his children, and Bron said that her dad had also often told her the same thing.

With the sanding complete they moved on to the actual painting, and as this involved both undercoating and top-coating Dave thought it would probably take them three or four days to get it finished. They were making good progress but early on Wednesday morning the job was interrupted by the arrival of the Readymix concrete truck that Dave had ordered on the previous Monday, so half the day was spent filling the formwork and, following the green-house plans, setting the hold-down bolts in place.

Of course that was after Dave had raced down to the hardware store to find that the bolts that he’d forgotten about until the truck arrived were fortunately in stock and he was able to purchase them.

With the footings poured they decided that as it was New Year's Eve and going down to the Cock & Bull to welcome in the New Year wasn’t something they were going to miss out on, rather than continue with the painting they’d just put their feet up and relax until it was time to go.

At least the girls relaxed, because less than thirty minutes later the men got restless, and forty five minutes later were back at the hardware store buying sheets of plywood, peg-board and dressed pine with which to make a shadow-board for Dave’s wood-working hand tools. On a scrap sheet of paper Dave sketched up a rough plan of what he wanted and shortly after came the sound of saws cutting into the timber that would form a cabinet with two doors which when shut would enclose the tools.

It would be much like the cabinet that had been made for the dartboard at the Cock & Bull, though being eight foot wide when open it would be quite a bit larger. Pegboard was mounted a little clear of the back of the cabinet so that hooks could be positioned to hold tools, and Gareth made up and positioned inside the doors several wooden pieces with holes drilled in them to hold chisels, screwdrivers, drill bits and the like. Dave also mounted wooden blocks on the insides of the doors so that a keyed lock could be fitted, rather than just a hasp and staple with a padlock.

Once finished, which would be after the positions of the tools to be mounted were outlined and coloured in, probably with the bright orange paint that Dave had found a small tin of and which would make it really obvious when a tool was not in place, it would be mounted on the wall above the workbench.

As Gareth had found when working on his project that the daylight coming through the window above the bench wasn’t all that bright, and at night the single light hanging from the apex of the roof cast a person’s shadow over the work area, two fluorescent tubes would be mounted above it. It was a far better setup than the wandering lead light that Dave had rigged up so that he could work there in the evenings and with winter coming in a few months that would probably be quite often.

 

[Lake Lili]

Fantastic story Bida!
Re: Post #49 - there is a repeated section... enjoyable to read twice but perhaps not what you had mean to do.

Lili

 

[Bidadisndat]

Lake Lili,

Thank you very much for pointing that out to me.
I went back and checked the original to make sure I hadn't cut and pasted over some part of the story; fortunately I hadn't!
That's as much of this story as I've written so far but I intend to continue as time permits, especially as several of my other stories tie into this one.

cheers,

Bid

 

[Lake Lili]

Look forward to more! I am so impressed that you have written so much, especially about Australia, and managed not mentioned a single snake or spider... very much appreciated.

Lili

 

[john70]

??aka "CAPTAIN DAVE BECOMES A FARMER"

GREAT STORY

 

[Bidadisndat]

That's correct John. Don't know if you've read "Liam and Samira" but that one is posted here as "Blackwattle Creek."
Each of the stories I'm carrying over from SB contain a few changes and updates tin order to make them interlock.

Cheers,

Bid

 

[Bidadisndat]

Look forward to more! I am so impressed that you have written so much, especially about Australia, and managed not mentioned a single snake or spider... very much appreciated.

Lili

Yes, but did you note my avatar? It's a Red-Bellied Black Snake.

 

[Kiwibutterfly]

Crikey mate, bluddy great yarn. Can't wait to read all the others.

Cheers
Kiwi

 

[sssarawolf]

Thank you,, moar please lol

 

[Sportsman]

Love your writing, and waiting for more. Unfortunately, reading about Dave sure makes me feel like a slacker!

Thank you.

 

[Laurane]

Vanilla slices, cream buns, hamburgers with fried egg and beetroot and tomato, lamingtons, jaffas, cherry ripe bars, curry or hawaiian pies, sausage rolls, clotted cream on jammy biscuits, ....... oooooh.....

 

[Bidadisndat]

Works Burger: Hamburger with egg, lettuce (not slaw), fried onion, cheese, bacon, tomato, beetroot, pineapple, with tomato or BBQ sauce.
Thickly cut potato "chips" (not those shoe-lace type French Fries.)
Pavlovas - Originally from New Zealand but falsely claimed to be an Aussie invention, so too Lamingtons which were originally know as Wellingtons.
The original M & Ms were called Smarties when I was a kid.
And how could you not mention VEGEMITE? (Thankfully back in Australian hands after a stint with an American company.)

Don't know if you'd see the humour in this: There was an an Australian Aboriginal guy driving around Cairns in a bright orange coloured Holden with the number plate JAFFAS.

 

[Lake Lili]

Works Burger: Hamburger with egg, lettuce (not slaw), fried onion, cheese, bacon, tomato, beetroot, pineapple, with tomato or BBQ sauce.
Thickly cut potato "chips" (not those shoe-lace type French Fries.)
Pavlovas - Originally from New Zealand but falsely claimed to be an Aussie invention, so too Lamingtons which were originally know as Wellingtons.
The original M & Ms were called Smarties when I was a kid.

Is the egg on the Works Burger a fried egg or mixed into the meat as a binder?
In Canada the thick cut fries are called "wedges"... and we prefer ours covered in cheese curds and beef gravy.
For us a Pavlova is a dessert with ice cream and meringue and Wellington is either a pair of rain boots or beef wrapped in pastry (ideally rare, none of that boot leather).
In Canada, Smarties are an M&M-type chocolate with a harder thicker shell... and the colour bleeds.
We'll leave the vegimite to you all. Enjoy.
Hope you had a great family vacation.

Lili

 

[nancy98]

Jeff?? LOL I think I see a match being made. <3

 

[Laurane]

Is the egg on the Works Burger a fried egg or mixed into the meat as a binder?
In Canada the thick cut fries are called "wedges"... and we prefer ours covered in cheese curds and beef gravy.
For us a Pavlova is a dessert with ice cream and meringue and Wellington is either a pair of rain boots or beef wrapped in pastry (ideally rare, none of that boot leather).
In Canada, Smarties are an M&M-type chocolate with a harder thicker shell... and the colour bleeds.
We'll leave the vegimite to you all. Enjoy.
Hope you had a great family vacation.

Lili

 

[Laurane]

We used to invite our American visitors to share bread and chocolate “jam”.... vegemite.... I never could come at that

 

[Siskiyoumom]

When dear hubby and I went to New Zealand and went to McDonalds for a burger the young fella asked if I wanted beetroot on it as they were out of tomatoes. Blew my mind. I had never thought if beets as part of a hamburger. He also blushed when I asked for napkins. He said they were for purchase in the restroom vending machine. Turns out napkins were the term used sanitary pads. for Oh my gosh, I thought I knew English. A kind lady informed me to ask for serviettes. The locals were so done with tourists and we tried to not be a bother as we traveled there.

 

[Laurane]

Those woolly sheep are Merinos, (not Marino)...... seems Dave still has a marine outlook on life/spelling. I used to call my kids Sticky Beaks when they were little and it fit. Enjoying this immensely.

 

[Bidadisndat]

It's a fried egg in a worksburger. If not cooked enough the yolk tends to run from the burger, and down your chin onto your shirt/blouse. (The chances of this happening are in direct proportion to the expense of the shirt/blouse.)
I found where I'd typed Marino instead of Merino and corrected it. It actually had nothing to do with anything of a maritime nature but I think because I had been reading a Patricia Cornwall novel that featured a character known as Sam Marino.
Sticky Beaks? Lol, haven't heard that term in a long time.
I'm currently working on bringing this story up to date as the other related stories seem to have outstripped it, and I've had to draw up a five-year calendar with which I can now keep track of where and every story should be merged.
If anybody finds mistakes or that things are out of whack in a chapter I'd appreciate being told, especially if it's in time for me to make corrections while the edit function is available.

 

[ComCamGuy]

It's a fried egg in a worksburger. If not cooked enough the yolk tends to run from the burger, and down your chin onto your shirt/blouse. (The chances of this happening are in direct proportion to the expense of the shirt/blouse.)
I found where I'd typed Marino instead of Merino and corrected it. It actually had nothing to do with anything of a maritime nature but I think because I had been reading a Patricia Cornwall novel that featured a character known as Sam Marino.
Sticky Beaks? Lol, haven't heard that term in a long time.
I'm currently working on bringing this story up to date as the other related stories seem to have outstripped it, and I've had to draw up a five-year calendar with which I can now keep track of where and every story should be merged.
If anybody finds mistakes or that things are out of whack in a chapter I'd appreciate being told, especially if it's in time for me to make corrections while the edit function is available.

keeping parallel timelines across multiple stories is a bitch. I know