Story CHANGES OF PACE

[Bidadisndat]

CHANGES of PACE
Book 1
​

Quite some distance north of the city Dave (Dai) Morgan stopped at a large town to top-up his Toyota Landcruiser’s long-range fuel tank, despite that it was still two thirds full and could very easily have taken him to the next state’s Capitol city. However as he also wanted something to eat he parked the truck then began looking for a take-away shop where he could get a hamburger, or more likely a couple of sandwiches as they were his favourite fast-food.

As he walked along the town’s busy main-street footpath he couldn’t help but notice a very attractive girl who came quickly towards and then past him, and after turning to watch her shapely figure as she moved down the street saw her enter a bakery a little further along from where he was standing. That seemed to make up his mind for him and a minute later he found himself also inside the shop where to his surprise he found that the same girl was now behind the counter, serving a little old lady. As she was doing so he was able to study her more closely, which he somehow managed to do without actually staring, and was quite impressed with what he saw.

She looked to be in her mid twenties, stood about five foot six, had a light tan, auburn hair that tumbled down around her shoulders, and slightly almond-shaped eyes hinting at a touch of Asian. However when she spoke it was with a New Zealand accent so it may have been a touch of Polynesian, but either way, he thought, she sure was beautiful. With the little old lady ahead of him served Dave held the door open for her as she exited with a nod and a smile at him and then turned his attention back towards the counter.

The girl behind it also gave him a smile that reached from slightly parted lips, revealing teeth that made him feel that his own white ivories were yellow in comparison, to a pair of lovely warm brown eyes, and asked how could she help him. There were no sandwiches on offer so he ordered a couple of steak and kidney pies and two vanilla slices, then asked her if there was a park nearby where he could sit and have his lunch. She suggested that the big park down by the river was the best place, and in fact as she was due to finish for the day she herself was going to walk down there to have her own lunch and throw some bread to the ducks and geese. He knew he was being a bit bold when he then asked her if it was possible that, when she got off work, she could direct him, and if she agreed he would in the meantime go and fuel up his truck, then come back and give her a lift.

She was about to tell him that the park was only four streets over and two down, and that he could easily find it by himself, however after examining him closely for a bit seemed to make up her mind that he wasn’t dangerous and told him to come back in thirty minutes, by which time she would be finished. He paid for the food he’d ordered, left the shop and having actually fuelled the truck beforehand spent some time browsing through magazines at a nearby newsagency.

When he returned she took his pies from the oven, plus a pastie and a large sausage roll for herself, added his two vanilla slices and a couple of custard tarts, some bread for the ducks, said goodbye to the shop’s owner then directed him as they drove to the park. She seemed quite impressed with his truck and even more so when after parking it and then getting out a small gas burner, billy and two Bakelite mugs to make them both a hot cup of tea he explained how he had set it up for camping.

She had introduced herself simply as Bronwyn, or Bron for short, and it turned out that she was a New Zealander who hailed from the Whakatane area in the North Island’s Bay of Plenty. She’d travelled to Australia to work at fruit picking and when the season finished down south was slowly working her way up the coast headed for Queensland when her car broke down.

Wanting to earn a bit of money rather than dig into her savings to have the car repaired she found work in the bakery where they’d just met, and also worked a few shifts behind the bar of an hotel in a village about forty minutes drive further north. Neither was a full time job and she didn’t earn all that much, but she enjoyed both jobs and having made quite a few friends in the town she wasn’t concerned about having to stay a while longer than planned.

For his part Dave told her how he had spent twelve years at sea in the merchant marine and had come ashore to try life on terra firma for a while. He’d gained employment at a large hardware store and quickly worked his way up to become a department manager, however after developing itchy feet being in the one place for so long had decided to take all the leave he was entitled to. Now he was slowly meandering towards his parent’s property on the northern side of Tenterfield, close to the border with Queensland. At this point he wasn’t too sure that he wanted to return to his job as he found that working indoors all the time made him feel claustrophobic, but as yet hadn’t found a suitable alternative, unless of course he went back to sea.

When Dave had finished his pies she asked him if he’d care to swap one of his vanilla slices for one of the two custard tarts she had brought, and he was happy to do so as he liked both. Together they broke up and threw pieces of the half loaf of bread that she had brought to feed the ducks and geese, many of which had come out of the water to stand around the park table at which they were seated.

She loved watching the antics of the ducks when they played in the water and the stately gait of the geese as they strutted around the grounds of the park, and said that if she ever had a property it would have to have a large dam and enough pasture to keep a large flock of each. And chickens too, because her family over in New Zealand kept them, and she’d loved collecting the eggs each morning. Her grandma also kept ducks because she and many of her friends preferred their eggs to those of chickens, and claimed that they had no equal when it came to using them for cakes, pastries and pastas.

“Gran’s right about that, too: I won a couple of prizes for cakes that I made using them, though I have to admit that she sat in the kitchen and guided me through the first few cakes that I baked. Both Mum and Gran are really good cooks and I guess I inherited their love of cooking.”

Dave was somehow pleased to hear her say that she would hate living in a city: She was a country at heart girl and had no desire to adopt the fashions and trappings that seemed to be so important to most of the city girls that she knew. In fact, she added, most of the skirts, blouses and dresses she wore, including the dress she was wearing now, she sewed herself, rather than buy what she considered to be mainly overpriced and quite often shoddily made goods.

Looking at the dress Dave said that as well made as it was, it was her that made it look really nice, but spoiled the compliment somewhat when he asked if the style was the latest fashion in New Zealand as it looked to be from the early sixties. He was rewarded for that not-so-amusing comment by her tossing the last of the loaf of bread at him and telling him with a small pout “I can walk home from here, thank you very much.”

“Hey! I’m sorry. I was only kidding. Well, mostly, but I do think the dress suits you, and it really is beautiful. Honestly it is.”

He managed to stop himself saying that he thought it was her that was beautiful rather than the dress, but as he sounded really sincere she admitted that the style was actually from the late fifties, and that she had found the pattern amongst the many that her mother had. Her mum had taught her how to use patterns, hand stitch and use a sewing machine long before she went to high school, and though she enjoyed dressmaking, cooking was where she excelled.

Emboldened by the fact that she had agreed to accompany him to the park, and having seen it advertised on a sidewalk sandwich board he said he was thinking of going to the B & S country dance and barbeque at the big woolshed outside town that night, and asked her if she would be interested in going with him. That is, he said, if she didn’t already have someone to go with.

She’d only been vaguely aware that there actually was a dance being held that night but now that she’d been asked decided to go with him. And as he was obviously going to be staying overnight she told him that if he was going to stick around for a while there was also a big market at the local showground on the following day if he was interested. He was, although he had to admit to himself that that was probably due more to her wanting to go, and that he was quite attracted to her. They spent the rest of the afternoon together, looking around town, after which he took her to her lodgings to change for the dance.

The jeans he was wearing were OK but he took the opportunity while she was changing to put on a clean shirt that was more suited to the dance than the one he was wearing. He also put on the Western style boots and belt plus the Stetson that he’d bought when in he was in the U.S.

When Bron came out she was dressed in a denim skirt with matching top over a checked shirt and was also wearing a pair of high soft leather boots, but after seeing Dave’s outfit she quickly dashed back inside and reappeared wearing an Akubra cowboy hat. Together, she said, they looked the part, and that all they needed to do now was arrive at the dance in a horse drawn surry with a fringe on the top, just like the one in that old movie Oklahoma!

The dance was a roaring success, as B & S events usually are, and they had a really good time, especially after Dave taught her the basic steps of the Texas Two-Step which he had learned at The Palomino, one of San Diego’s popular night spots that he frequented when he lived there for several months in 1980. Bron was a quick learner and picked up not only the basic steps but a few of the more advanced ones as well.

They soon found themselves demonstrating the steps to several couples who had been watching and wanted to join in, and by the end of the night seemed to have gained a bit of a following. They were asked if they ever went to The Brumby, which was a local steakhouse that had a dance floor and featured a Country and Western band, and Dave had to admit that he was new in town and hadn’t heard of it. By the end of the night they both felt totally exhausted, and after taking Bron home again Dave had no trouble falling asleep, once again on the back of the truck, parked at a truck stop a little out of town.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

After waking at six, as he normally did, he showered and had a substantial breakfast at the truck stop, then drove back into town where he picked Bron up and took her to the markets. It was actually quite a big affair, with food vans, side shows, pony and camel rides for children, and sellers coming from all over the county, and they were both amazed at the amount and types of goods on offer. It was lucky that he was driving the truck because one of the items she found and quickly purchased was a fully adjustable dress-makers mannequin fitted with a hem marker.

Well, it was almost fully adjustable as its only fault seemed to be that the stand was firmly stuck in the extended position and it couldn’t be rotated, or moved up and down to alter the height, thus it might have been a bit awkward putting it into a small car. Going to his tool-box he retrieved a can of WD-40 and gave the shaft and collar-lock of the stand a good spray hoping that it would help free up the mechanism.

“I guess this’ll come in handy for your dressmaking,” Dave said as after wrapping the mannequin in an old blanket they placed it on the back of the truck and secured it with one of several hanks of rope that hung on the bulkhead of the tray behind the cab.

“Yes, but the main reason I bought it was because it was so cheap. If you wanted to buy this particular model at a retail outlet it’d be very expensive, even without the hem marker which is usually an accessory that has to be purchased separately. Considering it’s in virtually new condition it was a bargain just too good to pass up. Anyway, I could easily sell it for twice or more than what I paid for it if I decided I didn’t really need it.”

Dave grinned and thought to himself that she just might be a bit of a crafty trader somewhat like himself, or at least have the makings of one.

For lunch, while sitting on the grass and listening to a small trad-jazz band they each had a steak sandwich with all the trimmings, shared a large bucket of chips and downed a middy of light beer each.

“It’s only just gone twelve thirty so there’s lots of daylight left,” said Bron after they’d finished eating. “Got anything in mind for the rest of the day, or are you keen to continue your trip?”

“Nothing planned,” he replied, draining the last of his middy. “I’ve got plenty of time on my hands though, and having seen the town I thought I might take a drive and have a look around the outlying countryside.”

“Well, that sounds like a good idea, but it’d probably be better if you had a local guide. And fortunately for you I just happen to know that there’s a very knowledgeable one currently available.”

“Not too expensive, I hope,” he said with a grin as they got up to leave. “Dinner for two tonight at a local restaurant is about all I can afford,” he added as he dropped their cardboard meal cartons and beer cups into a rubbish bin.

“Hmm... O.K, I think the guide could be persuaded to accept that. We might as well start from here and head inland as that’s where the road leads. Most of the roads are sealed but there are two or three that aren’t, though nothing so bad that would stop your truck I should imagine.”

“Yeah, I have to admit that with its raised suspension, large tyres and under-body armour the truck is well suited for bush-bashing, and the long-range fuel tank lets me travel quite a distance between fills too. I can easily drive from Melbourne to Sydney without having to stop for fuel, though unless I don’t have a choice I never let the tank go under a third full. If for some reason I ever do get to that point I also carry twenty gallons in Jerry cans to top it up.”

“Under-body armour? Are you expecting to travel over mine-fields?”

Dave laughed. “No. It’s not really armour; just several heavy metal plates fitted underneath to protect the engine, transmission and fuel tank from being damaged by rocks and stuff if I travel over really rough terrain. It also has a good winch mounted behind the ’roo bar. That stuff was already fitted when I bought the truck but I added the roof-rack over the cab, the high-lift jack and a few other accessories.”

Climbing into the truck and looking more carefully around the cab now she discovered that it was fitted out with a hand-held dry-powder fire extinguisher, a fire blanket, a very large first-aid kit, and what looked like two CB radios but which turned out to be a radio and a scanner. A large military style back-pack sat on the squab behind the front passenger seat, kept in place by bungee cords attached to the metalwork of the cab. He explained that it was his friend BOB, short for Bug Out Bag, and it contained enough equipment and supplies to last three or four days if he was ever forced to abandon the truck and hoof it.

On the opposite side, hanging on a hook above the window behind the driver’s seat were two suit bags, one of which contained his diving wet-suit. On the squab under the suit bags was a large echelon bag containing his mask, fins and snorkel, diving boots and gloves, two underwater torches, a diver’s knife, a scuba divers regulator with a tri-combo of pressure and depth gauges plus a compass, a B.C, and a lift bag for raising heavy objects from the sea-bed. A pouch on one side of the bag contained an underwater slate and grease pencil, PADI Dive Tables, his Log-Book, a book on fish identification and two books by Dr Carl Edmonds; Dangerous Marine Animals of the South Pacific and The Diver’s Medical Companion, each sealed in a zip-loc bag.

As Dave put the truck in gear and drove out of the car-park she thought to herself that she’d never known anyone as well prepared as Dave seemed to be, and realised that she felt completely safe being in his company. Not only that, in her opinion he wasn’t too bad looking either. She decided with a smile to herself that having a BOB probably wouldn’t necessary if she had a Dave like this one to take care of her; however the smile faded a bit when she remembered that he was merely passing through town and would most likely be gone the next day.

There were several small hamlets that they passed through, all surrounded by properties ranging from five acre hobby farms to fairly large acreages, and Dave closely observed the many various enterprises that were being conducted in the region. He was pleased to note that there appeared to be a quite diverse range of farming operations including pasture grazed beef, dairying, sheep, goats, pigs, poultry and even alpacas, plus vineyards, orchards, and market gardens. Grain cropping seemed to be pretty much small scale when compared to the vast fields further out west, but he did find that bee hives were abundant and they stopped at a roadside stall where they purchased two small buckets of honey at a much lower price than what supermarkets were charging.

A little further along the same road a sign outside another property invited motorists to “Come in and buy mushrooms direct from the farm that grows them.” It was an offer too good for Bron to pass up, so once again they stopped and she took advantage of the low price that the grower charged. Of course, everybody knew that as often as not these sales were cash in hand and though the ATO would no doubt be aware of it, nothing was done in the way of trying to collect GST on them.

Another road on which they travelled had cultivated farms on one side and mostly virgin bushland on the other, and Bron told him that the scrub there was popular with several of her friends who often used it for bush-bashing in their 4WD utes and pick-up trucks. On the same side a signpost beside a rough, unsealed but obviously well-used road pointed the way to a rifle range used by members of the local gun club, and he grinned when she admitted that despite being unlicensed she herself had on several occasions sent quite a bit of lead down-range. Even with that open admission he thought it would still be best not to mention anything about the gun-safe under the squab behind the front seats, or the rifles and ammunition it held.

The circuitous route that they had taken during the drive brought them out onto the freeway quite a few miles north of town and the sun, already low on the horizon when Dave began the drive back, had fully set by the time they arrived at the small Thai restaurant that she had chosen. The restaurant was a recent addition to the town and had quickly become very popular, however despite it being rather busy they didn’t have to wait too long for a table.

Dave was glad that they’d had a chance to look at the menu while they were waiting as there was a large selection of dishes to choose from, and all were very appealing. They finally decided to go with two seafood dishes for the main course and during the dinner conversation he learned that she loved fishing, and knew of a really good spot not too far from the hotel where she sometimes worked. As she wasn’t rostered to work the next day he offered to drive her there: She could go fishing and afterwards maybe they could have a beer at the hotel where she worked. She was pretty excited about the idea and wanted to get a really early start the next day, so after dinner he took her straight back to her lodgings to get a good night’s sleep.

They unloaded the mannequin from the back of the truck, finding that it now rotated freely on its stand even if it didn’t yet go up and down. Going to his tool-box Dave came back with a small hammer and while Bron held the mannequin up in an horizontal position he turned the locking collar back as far as it would go and gave the base of the stand a few light taps. The stand moved slightly so he gave it a slightly heavier whack and that did the trick, freeing it up completely and allowing Bron to adjust the height quite easily. After carrying her prize up onto the front porch for her Dave said goodnight, then it was back to the same rest stop that he had stayed at the previous night for another sleep on the back of the truck.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

Waking early again he topped up the truck’s fuel tanks, checked the oil and water and purchased a large bag of ice, some of which went into the esky where he kept his milk, butter, cheese, bacon, sliced ham and a few salad vegetables. The bulk of the ice he put into a larger but empty esky in case they managed to catch some fish then drove to Bron’s digs. He was half expecting her to be a bit late coming out however when he pulled up outside the gate she was already waiting and greeted him with a big smile.

Throwing her fishing gear, which included an extra rod for Dave to use, and a large bag onto the back of the truck she climbed into the cab and they left, heading towards the freeway junction and the road on the other side that led to the village. She explained that the new freeway by-passed the village by a large margin and due to a lack of passing traffic several businesses there had been forced to close down, though those that remained supported a small but close-knit community.

According to the sign he saw as they entered the village it was named Brocklesbury and it had a population of twelve hundred, though Bron told him that that number included families that lived on properties in the surrounding area. They passed through the village just before seven a.m. and about ten minutes later left the sealed road and drove along a dirt track to her favourite fishing spot, which she’d named “Hook’s Eye” because of its rounded shape and its position at the top end of Fish Hook Bay.

After parking the truck he thought it might be good to start the day with a hot drink, so retrieved both the gas burner and a percolator from the truck and began brewing some coffee. He thought she may have been surprised by the percolator however when the aroma of hot coffee began drifting through the air it was she who surprised him by producing from her bag four large croissants that she’d brought from the cake shop and put in her landlady’s freezer several nights before. He placed them on a hotplate above his gas burner to warm and with the addition of a little tart marmalade that she had also brought they were soon enjoying a continental breakfast.

Hook’s Eye turned out to be an almost circular shaped pool of water about a hundred metres across that over time had been carved by nature into the rocky coastline, and with the wind being offshore at present it was as smooth as a millpond. The water was also incredibly clear and with his polarised sunglasses Dave could see the bottom for a good distance out from the rocks on which he stood, noting as he looked that as well as a quite a lot of kelp growing in the deeper part there was a surprising number and species of fish to be seen.

“Do you lose many hooks and sinkers here?” he asked.

“I’ve lost the odd one or two, but I learned quickly not to throw my line out into the centre where the kelp is thickest. I don’t use heavy line either because if it gets snagged it’s too hard to break and has to be cut. What I really don’t like here though are Moray eels: If one of those takes the bait it twists and squirms and tangles up the line so much that you have to cut it free and risk being bitten. That’s happened once so far though I felt pretty bad about the poor things being so tangled up that it wouldn’t be able to work its way free and would eventually die.”

Dave then told her that once when diving he had found a Moray that had a hook with about a metre and a half of line attached imbedded in its mouth, and the poor thing looked half starved. He had managed to grab the line and after holding the eel’s head firmly under the flat blade of his diving knife was finally able to work the hook free. When released, the eel quickly disappeared under a ledge of rocks so he had chopped up a load of sea urchins and pushed the roe under the ledge in the hope that it would get a bit of a feed.

As he dived regularly at that spot he began taking small bags of fishing bait in a pocket of his BC each time he went and after a couple of months of feeding the eel, which had remained in the same spot, was able to entice it out and eventually had it literally feeding out of his hand. It had never bitten him and he named it Bruce, and it had become a star attraction when he was able to show his students just how tame and friendly a Moray eel could be, especially when it learned which pocket the food was in and began trying to get at it itself!

The morning’s fishing was very successful and well before midday, while he managed to catch six bream of a reasonable size, plus a large puffer-fish that inflated itself into a spine covered globe when he pulled it out of the water, she landed five big bream, plus three good sized flathead. While she impressed him no end by quickly and skilfully gutting and scaling the fish he made them both some ham and salad sandwiches and another mug of hot coffee. The fish were placed in the ice filled esky and after clearing up they began the drive back towards the village.

Back on the sealed road he’d driven less than a quarter mile when he saw what appeared to be an old abandoned farmhouse at the end of an eroded driveway leading from a rusty gate that was chained, padlocked and seemed not to have been used for a long time. He pulled the truck to the side of the road and asked her if she knew anything about the place. She didn’t, apart from the fact that it had been abandoned some two years before, but as she was just as keen as he was to go and have a look they got out, he locked the truck, and they crossed the road to the property.

Climbing carefully through what was left of a rusty barbed-wire fence they walked down the drive to the house, which was much larger than it appeared from the road, and by walking around the outside and peering through all of the windows they confirmed that it definitely was deserted. Both the front and back doors were locked however after checking above the door frame and then the timbers supporting the roof of the front porch Dave found a key which opened the front door. If the key hadn’t been there, he said with a grin, it’d probably have been beneath one of the old flower pots that stood on the porch.

Once inside they found themselves in a small vestibule that had an open doorway on the right giving access to a lounge room, and although the room was unfurnished there was a free-standing combustion fireplace positioned along one wall. The fireplace sat on a raised hearth of tiles that had been laid on fireproof sheeting placed on the wooden floor, with the same sheeting and tiles extending about half-way up the wall behind it, and an insulated flue went from the top of the firebox straight up through the ceiling. A metal hot-plate set into the top was a very practical feature that would be ideal for keeping a kettle or a pot of soup or stew hot. Bron said she thought that on a cold winter’s night, with the heater going and the right furnishings, it would be a very cosy room in which to sit and sew, or curl up with a good book.

A wide doorway to the left of the fireplace led to a combined dining area and kitchen separated by a row of bench-top high cupboards that, judging by dimpled impressions left in the linoleum floor covering, once had several bar stools arranged along its length. The kitchen part was quite large and along with built-in benches and wall cupboards featured a combustion stove with a tap on one side at the front, indicating that it had a built-in water heating tank. There was also an empty space beside it where, judging from a small brass tap and threaded fitting that protruded from the wall, a free-standing gas range/oven had once been positioned. Another empty space with a power point high on the wall would have been taken up by a refrigerator and from the size of the space he assumed it would have been a fairly large one. Presumably both had been taken by the owners when they left.

He was surprised to find that there was also a very large walk-in pantry off the kitchen and stepping inside noted in the little light available there that a number of large cardboard boxes were stacked on the uppermost shelves. They were too high to reach without having to climb onto the bench that ran along one of the walls though, and a step ladder would be needed to get up safely to examine their contents.

The interior walls of the house were lined with Masonite and over time many of the panels had buckled quite visibly, and though not really enough to require replacing at present, apart from one that had had a large hole kicked in it, Bron thought a lick of paint might improve their appearance.

The house was fully wired for power, with light fittings and several power outlets evident, however there was no electricity connected and Dave had seen no wires connecting the house to the power lines that ran alongside the road in front of the property. He had also noticed a telephone connection socket on the wall above the benchtop dividing the kitchen and dining area, however as there was no handset he assumed that the service had been disconnected before the McKenzies had vacated the house.

Further exploration revealed that there were four bedrooms, the largest one being the main bedroom, with a small en-suite, two more each of a size able to accommodate twin beds, and a smaller one that looked as if it had once been used as an office. There was a bathroom that had the usual wash-basin, bath and shower stall, plus a separate flush toilet. This was quite something considering that the house would have been built at a time when indoor toilets were usually incorporated into the bathroom. Obviously it was connected to a septic system as there was no sewerage system to any of the properties along this end of the road. In fact there was no mains water supply connected either, and the rainwater tank he’d seen at the side of the house would have been barely adequate for drinking, cooking and bathing let alone using a flush toilet.

Given the dry weather conditions that had prevailed over the past few years he assumed that the residents would have had their tank refilled on a fairly regular basis by a local water carrier. The tank sat on a stand about four feet off the ground, but showed obvious signs of leakage at a number of points around it, and he knew that any water in it now would be undrinkable. About two cords of dry firewood, half of which seemed to have been cut for use in the combustion stove in the kitchen had been neatly stacked beneath the tank stand.

The back door, unlocked with the same key as the front door, opened onto a veranda running the full width of the building, with steps down to a short path leading to a small building that was probably a laundry. A large wooden box on the veranda held enough firewood for a full night’s use of both the open fireplace in the lounge and the combustion stove in the kitchen, obviating the need to fetch wood from under the water tank stand if it was raining.

From the veranda he could see that to the western side of the house there was a chicken coop and meshed run, and the remains of several raised garden beds within a fenced area designed to keep rabbits out, although the wire mesh of both run and fence had all but rusted away. Several citrus and other fruit trees, most in dire need of a savage pruning, struggled to survive in what was probably meant to be a small orchard.

Almost hidden in the grass above where the citrus trees were located was the circular concrete top of what was obviously the tank for the septic system as it had a sealed access hatch, air vent, and a protruding pipe that curved over and was fitted with a connector for attaching a pump-out hose. It didn’t take Dave long to work out that the tank had an attached leach field in which the fruit trees had been planted and had the house been occupied it would have supplied them with most of the water they’d need.

There was another small building further over, however many weeds had sprung up thickly around it and probably would have covered it if the long drought that the area had suffered for some time hadn’t kept them somewhat in check. Because recent but brief rains had brought renewed growth he knew that it wouldn’t be too long before the weeds would completely take over the building, and probably the house too if they weren’t kept in check.

On the other side of the house stood a large double lock-up garage with a single carport attached to the side nearest the house. Going inside he found that it had been organized so that half was actually a generously sized workshop, with a long workbench against one side wall and several shelves above it. The shelves held a variety of tins and jars containing a large assortment of mostly rusty nails, screws, nuts, bolts, and washers, and an old Astor mantle radio.

Opening several drawers and doors of cupboards under the two benches he found a number of old tools that despite looking a bit rusty could probably be restored by the use of a wire brush and some oil, and be put back into use.

Having completed their exploration they retraced their steps back up the driveway and when about to go back through the fence discovered a large piece of plywood that had fallen into the thick grass alongside. Picking it up he saw that it was a sign that was probably once attached to the gate and though very weathered it was still possible to read on one side “LAND FOR SALE – 32 Acres – Enquire Within”, and on the other “PRIVATE PROPERTY – KEEP OUT”. Which side faced the road probably would have depended on whether the owners were at home or not, but how long it had lain unseen in the grass was anybody’s guess.

Remembering that he hadn’t seen any power lines leading to the house he had a look at the roadside power pole and found that there were cables that led from that pole to a galvanised metal pole close to two large trees inside the fence-line. A check of the metal pole revealed that wires had been run down inside it, and a plastic conduit that probably contained the telephone wiring had been fixed to its outside. He assumed that the McKenzies had probably had the lines from there to the house buried to avoid spoiling the view of their property.

Back in the truck and driving on he made the comment that despite its dilapidated appearance the house appeared to be structurally sound, and it wouldn’t take too much work to make it once again habitable and even quite comfortable. He was silent for some time, appearing to be lost in thought when she said rather suddenly, “Are you thinking of squatting there?”

He smiled at her but was non committal in his reply: “I was just saying it wouldn’t be too difficult to fix the old place up. I actually enjoy doing that sort of thing.”

 

[Bidadisndat]

Arriving back at the village she directed him to the parking area at the rear of the hotel where, she assured him, the truck would be quite safe to leave without having to lock it. Despite her assurances Dave, explaining that it was a habit he didn’t want to break, locked it anyway.

He lifted the large fish laden esky off the tray of the truck and carrying it between them they proceeded through a back door to the kitchen. They had barely set it down on the floor when a casually but impeccably dressed man a little taller than Dave strode in from the dining room, his face alight with pleasure upon seeing Bron.

“Our prayers are answered!” he exclaimed, his voice dropping as he added “I hope” when catching sight of Dave.

“What’s happened that you need me to rescue you... again?” she laughed.

Before he could explain his current predicament, she quickly introduced the two men to each other.

“Dave, this is Anthony, who is a dear, dear friend, and is also half owner of the hotel. Tony, this is Dave, a new friend who was kind enough to drive me out here. Not that we came directly: He also drove me down to Hook’s Eye. Look!” And in so saying she pulled the lid off the esky, revealing their catch. “Don’t suppose you could put fish on tonight’s menu, could you?” she asked.

“Good Lord!” cried Anthony. “You are an angel!”

“Had some help,” she said quickly. “Dave caught some too.”

“Yeah,” added Dave with a smile. “The six smallest.”

Anthony appeared flustered for a moment, then “Oh? Oh! Oh I really am being rude. Really I am. Please forgive me. How do you do, Dave? Any friend of our Bron is always most welcome here. Come, come: You must meet the other half of this little enterprise.” And in saying this, he led the way from the kitchen and through the dining room to the entrance foyer.

Bron gave Dave a wink and a shove in the direction that Anthony had taken, and he dutifully followed along. Once in the foyer he was introduced to Trevor, who was unmistakably the other half of the enterprise as he and Anthony were identical twins. With the introductions done, she asked Tony what he was praying for when they arrived.

“Oh, yes. Well, we’ve suddenly got a few unexpected guests for tonight, and because our husband and wife kitchen team is off work due to a car accident, we’re short of staff. The public bar and lounge are staffed OK, but that’s about it. Trev said he could handle the kitchen by himself, but only if the guests like baked beans on toast. Of course, they’d have a choice of hot beans on toast, or beans on hot toast, but not both hot together as that would be quite beyond his expertise.”

“So not only do I bring you the fish of the day, you’re now asking me to cook it too?!” Bron exclaimed with a laugh.

“Well, honestly, I didn’t have any idea of what to do. The company that takes bookings for us called rather unexpectedly and I said yes to them before thinking about it. Could’ve fobbed them off I suppose, but then we might lose future business, which is something we don’t want to do. I tried ‘phoning you but Rebecca said you’d gone out and she didn’t know when you’d be back.”

“OK, Tony.” She Said. “I’ll handle the kitchen, though I’ll need Trev’s help.”

“That would be absolutely wonderful,” gushed Tony. “Now I’ll only have to dash between playing waiter and barman.”

“Well,” said Dave. “As you’ll all be busy enjoying yourselves, could you make use of my services? I can handle beer taps and plutos, and I’m OK with mixed drinks. I could handle the bar for you.”

“You’ve done that before?” Bron asked.

“Yes. A man of many talents I am,” he replied.

“I noticed that gutting and scaling fish wasn’t among them, or was that particular talent just kept hidden while I did all the dirty work?”

“Each to his own”, he said. “Want to go ‘roo hunting some time? That’d really give you some gutting and cleaning practice. Maybe you could learn some butchering too.”

In answer she screwed up her nose and poked her tongue out at him, but he had the distinct feeling that she would probably be more than up to that task too, if required.

Anthony gladly accepted his offer and told him that he would be given accommodation for the night, in addition to being paid for his time. Due to his new position as temporary barman for the evening Trevor assigned him a room in the staff quarters for the night, and he was able to have a good hot shower and change into clothes more suited to the occasion.

He had intended wearing a pair of slacks and a plain coloured open necked shirt, however when he returned from the bathroom he found that a pair of black trousers and a crisp white shirt, plus a ready-made bow tie, had been laid out on the bed for him. Surprisingly, both trousers and shirt fitted him very well and he found later that Trevor had the ability to size people accurately without the need to run a tape measure around them. The only change that Trevor had to make to the clothes he had laid out for Dave was to take up each leg of the trousers a little, and this he had done correctly to within a quarter of an inch. Dave had caught a glimpse of Bron through the kitchen door later and saw that she too was dressed for the part, being attired in the chequered pants and white jacket of a chef, replete with cap, though she was far too busy to notice him.

It was now six-thirty and several guests at the bar kept Dave making polite small talk as he filled their orders for various drinks, however neither of these tasks was at all difficult and in fact he was quite enjoying the moment. He wondered how Bron was faring beyond the kitchen doors across the far side of the dining room, but would have been very surprised not only at the professional manner in which she had arranged the menu and schedule for cooking the various dishes that were ordered, so that they would arrive at the tables both hot and within a reasonable time, but also in the way that she had organized Anthony and Trevor into a well run team. And despite the fact that she was under a lot more pressure than Dave, she was also enjoying herself.

To the great relief of all, the evening wore on without any problems, although there would be quite a lot to do in the kitchen in the morning as without sufficient staff it was impossible to have a clean-as-you-go system operating. By ten p.m. the kitchen was able to close down and Anthony and Trevor joined a few remaining guests at the bar for a nightcap. The real hero, or rather heroine of the night joined the group about fifteen minutes later, having doffed her uniform and donned a pair of comfortable slacks and a sweater, and was roundly applauded by all present for her efforts.

The bar was officially closed and Dave was relieved of his position, however drinks were still being dispensed by either Anthony or Trevor, (please Dave; ‘Tony’ and ‘Trev’ is fine by us), depending on whose glass was empty at the time. During the evening it was soon found by those who engaged him in conversation that Dave was a masterful storyteller, and he spent quite some time entertaining them with hilarious yarns about life on the ocean blue. Bron suspected that several of the events that he described were perhaps tinged with more than just a bit of the blarney, however his way of describing them often had his audience roaring with laughter, and it was all good fun anyway.

Over the course of the next two hours Dave and Bron both managed to put back a drink or two more than they might normally would have, and a little after midnight they decided that rather than have any more it would probably be wise to call it a night. After calling a “good-night” to Tony, Trev and all the guests they headed for their respective rooms and shortly after parting were both sound asleep, oblivious to the many kind remarks being made about them after they had left.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

Dave slept soundly until just before seven a.m. when, about an hour later than he usually did, he woke up with the unreasonable feeling of having slept in. He had a quick shower and a shave then made his way to the dining room for breakfast. Finding that somehow he had built up quite an appetite he ordered bacon and eggs with grilled tomatoes, mushrooms and, very surprised that it was on the menu, black pudding, plus four slices of toast and a pot of tea.

“Mind if I join you?” asked Bron somewhat rhetorically as she suddenly appeared and with a big smile dropped into the chair opposite him. He looked up and matched her smile then looked around for the waitress, but was forestalled when Bron told him that she’d ordered her breakfast when she first walked in.

Their breakfasts arrived quite quickly and Dave, getting stuck into his, noted that while Bron had also ordered a substantial plateful it didn’t include the black pudding that he enjoyed. She wasn’t sure that she could handle it, she said, knowing what it was made from, and although she would probably try it some-day, today wasn’t going to be the day. He thought it would be wise not to mention that although it was now made with pig’s blood, at one time in the distant past it was made by his Celtic ancestors from the blood of their enemies.

“So, what’s on your agenda for today?” Dave asked. “Do you need a lift back into town?”

“No. Trev asked me if I’d be willing to help out for a few hours again tonight, but in the bar. From six ‘til ten, plus cleaning. It’s not my normal shift but I told him I’d help out. And I could use the money. What about you?”

“Well, if you’re not doing anything in particular before you start work tonight, do you think we could go and have a look at Fish Hook Bay?”

“Sure. That’d be good actually. Did you want to do some more fishing? We could take a picnic lunch with us if we’re going to be there a while.”

“I’m all fished out after yesterday. But there’s also something else I want to check out. Hmm... I wonder if Tony has a step ladder I could borrow.”

“Aha! You want to go back to that farmhouse, don’t you? Well, Tony does have a step ladder. In fact he has two, and I’m sure he’d lend one of them to me... If I ask him,” she said with a sly grin.

“Do I gather that you’re so desperate to come along that you’d resort to blackmail? I don’t mind if you want to tag along though I’d like to get going as soon as we’ve finished breakfast, if that’s OK with you.”

“I’m done here, so I’ll go see Trev about that ladder and pinch a few things from the kitchen and then we can go.”
Tony was quite happy to lend them one of his ladders and with it loaded onto the back of the truck, along with a basket and a small esky that Bron put into the back of the cab, they headed towards the bay. About a half mile after passing the turnoff to Hook’s Eye Dave drove the truck down a steep hair-pinned road that culminated in a parking area probably big enough for twenty cars at most, but half that if they were towing boat trailers.

After getting out of the truck and locking it they strolled across the carpark to where a wharf was positioned to take advantage of a stretch of deep water that ran alongside the rocky edge of the bay. The wharf had actually been fenced off by the local council following a severe storm that had torn up a lot of its decking and made it unsafe to walk on. That hadn’t deterred a few local anglers from fishing there occasionally, but the Co-op that once occupied the building that stood to the landward side of the wharf had been forced to close down as neither it nor the council had the funds to repair the wharf.

They climbed through a gap in the fencing and carefully made their way along the remaining timbers to the far end, and then back again, but this time going through the building. Dave noted that although the wharf’s decking was pretty much messed up or missing, the piles and supporting timbers were actually in reasonably good condition. The building seemed in fairly good condition too, and only looked much worse than it really was due to exposure to the elements and a lack of basic maintenance and some paint. Behind the building ran a narrow road that Bron told him led to the beach at the end of the bay, however a rock fall had covered a large section of it a bit further along, making it impassable for vehicles.

Leaving the wharf they walked along the seafront to where a concrete boat launching ramp extended well down past low tide mark, and Bron said that it was still being used by a few local boat owners. A set of rusted rails was bedded into the concrete of the ramp and an old boat cradle, once hauled up by an electric winch, stood at its top end. The electric motor had been removed but the winch itself remained and although quite rusted could still be turned, albeit with a lot of effort.

Looking out into the bay Dave could see through the beautifully clear water that close to the boat ramp the bottom shelved steeply out on the left-hand side, but on the right-hand side towards the wharf it dropped even more steeply. Beyond the wharf the water gradually became shallower until at the far end of the bay the rocks gave way to a small sandy beach that curved around to meet the rocky sides opposite. It would be a great spot for teaching scuba diving, and he wondered if there was a dive school in the area. All in all, he thought, the bay had a lot of potential, and it was surprising that nobody seemed to have realised just how much.

Having completed their inspection of the bay for the time being they both climbed back into the truck and drove back up the road and on to the abandoned farm where Dave pulled in to stop at the gate. Telling Bron to sit tight he went to the big toolbox bolted to the tray and retrieved a large pair of bolt cutters which he used to sever the chain securing the gate, cutting a link at each side the padlock. After driving through the now open gate he got out and secured the chain with one of several new padlocks that he kept in the toolbox, and then drove down to the farmhouse. If Bron was surprised by this she didn’t show it, let alone say anything, and she had to admit to herself that she was slightly in awe of his brazen action. But truth be told, had she had bolt cutters of her own she herself may very well have done the same!

Retrieving the key from its not-very-well-hidden spot he unlocked the door and they entered the house carrying the step ladder between them and set it up below a manhole cover in the ceiling of the pantry. Dave had already checked out the roof’s exterior and it seemed that although several panels of its corrugated iron appeared to be have some rust on them it seemed to be in reasonably good condition. The guttering around the roof had rusted badly and in several places some small holes were evident, and it was doubtful that it would have carried much if any water to the tank he had looked at previously.

Despite seeing no water stains on any of the room’s ceilings, he now wanted to check inside the roof cavity, so after donning a pair of coveralls and clutching a flashlight he climbed the ladder, raised the cover of the manhole and hoisted himself up into the darkness. The flashlight remained off until he was able to discern that no sunlight penetrated through any holes in the corrugated iron, but when he did turn it on he realised that even if there had been holes, he wouldn’t have seen them due to the sarking that had been laid on the battens before the iron had gone on.

Shining the light around he found that a number of wide boards had been laid on top of the chords and it was thus quite easy to walk around the space. To one side, midway between the kitchen and bathroom there was an electric hot water tank, and although he hadn’t seen a pressure pump he knew there had to be one somewhere as the rainwater tank supplying it was well below where the heater was situated. He was pleased to see that there was no evidence of possums, rats, mice or birds having gained entry to the space, though he did note that there was no insulation installed, not that it normally was in houses as old as this one.

Leaving the ladder where it was, because Bron wanted to have a look in the boxes that were on the pantry’s top shelves, he went outside and began to crawl under the house. The underside was dry and fairly free of clutter, though there were the few long pieces of good timber and lengths of pipe that often seem to accumulate under a house, the bearers and joists were all sound and there was no sign of floor sag or, thankfully, white-ants.

The waste pipes from the kitchen and toilet went down into the ground and would have led to the septic system however the grey-water pipes from the bathroom appeared to be quite separate and may have been directed straight to the leach-field. He was slowly extricating himself when there was a sudden yelp from Bron and, worried that she had perhaps fallen from the ladder, he quickly hauled himself out and ran for the back door.

“What happened?” he called out as he ran through the door. “I heard you yell. Is everything OK?”

“You didn’t tell me about these!” she exclaimed, pointing at several of the boxes that she had retrieved from the top shelves of the pantry.

“You mean I should’ve known somehow? What’s in them anyway?”

“Look! They’re full of Vacola preserving jars! And not only that, I found the water bath for them in one of the cupboards under the kitchen benchtop. There’s also a thermometer, a pair of lifting tongs and even an instruction booklet.”

Together they brought down the rest of the boxes and after opening them counted ninety six jars in assorted sizes, plus a heap of lids, clips and rubber seals, all still in their original packaging.

“Wow! What a find! Do you know how expensive this stuff is now?”

“No, I don’t. But it’s only good if you know how to use it, and are going to. I wonder if the rightful owners of this stuff ever did,” Dave said, looking sideways at her when he emphasised rightful owners, then laughed when he got the downcast reaction he’d expected. “Of course, if you wanted to bring all your fruit and veggies and do your canning and preserving right here, you’d only be borrowing the use of it, wouldn’t you? Speaking of which, do you know how to use this stuff?”

“Oh yes. My parents are well into canning, and I often helped them when I was at home. Mind you, this one might take a bit of getting used to as the one my parents have is a modern electrically heated model, with a timer. This one’s intended for stove-top use. Still, the basic operation is the same.”

“Hmm. All this has made me a bit peckish. What say we have the tea and bikkies here? I’ll bring in the basket, and the gas burner so’s we can boil the water.”

“Good idea. Let’s have it on the back veranda, in the sun. Don’t bother with the gas burner though: I filled a Thermos with coffee, and it’s fruit cake, not biscuits.”

They sat enjoying their coffee and the couple of slices of fruit cake that Bron had cajoled from the hotel’s kitchen staff and looked down the slope of the property, admiring the view. Dave saw that there were a few cows grazing at the bottom end and wondered if it they were on this property or on the other side of the boundary fence. After chatting for a while Bron began putting everything away while Dave went down to have a look at what he’d presumed was a laundry. It was, and it contained a wood-fired copper boiler and a pair of cement washing tubs with an old hand operated wringer clamped between them. A small room attached had at one time been an outside dunny, but this had been changed to a storage space for gardening tools, many of which were still there, rusting quietly away in the dark.

From there he traversed across to the shed he’d noted on his first visit and found that it was a four-bay milking shed with a large room at one end. The door to the room resisted his efforts to push it open and thinking that it was probably locked was about to leave when he saw that it had been secured by small slide bolts at the top and bottom. Pulling the bolts back enabled him to enter and he was very surprised to find that the room was immaculately clean, with the door and a single window having been shut firmly enough to prevent dust from entering.

Not that Dave knew a lot about dairying, but it looked like the farm’s owner had spent quite a lot of money on the setup as the room contained everything needed for machine milking, and the equipment looked like it could be used with nothing more than a good rinse in hot water. After closing the door and securing it again he retraced his steps back up to the house and told Bron that he’d seen enough and they might as well go back to the hotel and return Tony’s stepladder.

 

[Bidadisndat]

Despite the time they’d spent exploring the bay and the farm, it was only about one-thirty in the afternoon when they arrived back at the hotel to find Trev and Tony about to sit down to a late lunch in the beer garden.

“Care to join us?” asked Tony. “We’ll tell you what we’ve been doing this morning and you can tell us what you’ve been up to. Providing it wasn’t something that’s none of our business of course. Oh, and we’ve ordered fish and chips by the way, though the kitchen has quiche and salad if you’d rather have that.”

“Fish’n’chips sound good to me. How about you Bron? The same?”

“Yes. You sit with the boys Dai, while I go and order ours. Do you want a piece of lemon, or tartare sauce, or both?”

“Both, thanks Bron,” he replied as he sat down. “It’s a beautiful day for it, don’t you think, whatever ‘it’ happens to be,” he added, speaking to the two men.

“It certainly is Dave,” replied Tony. “Provided ‘it’ doesn’t involve a lot of paperwork such as I’m doing now, hard physical labour, or even worse, trying to persuade one’s brother to help with some of it.”

Trev gave a low growl and Dave laughed. “What hard physical labour needs doing around here? Something I could help with perhaps?”

“Well, you don’t have to look too closely at this place to see that quite a bit of maintenance work needs to be done on it. Mostly painting, but there a also a number of bathroom taps that need their valves, O-rings and washers replaced, and one of the units has a drain in its shower that needs to be unblocked. Not sure, but the roof tiles might need a bit of repointing done too.”

“And the brickwork of the front fence needs rebuilding after that idiot from down south got drunk and ran into it with his truck,” Trev put in.

“Yes, but at least that will be covered by his insurance. If and when we find a brickie that has time to do the job that is,” said Tony with a sigh.

“Well guys, I don’t think anything of what you want done is beyond my capabilities, so I’d be willing to take it on.”

“Thanks Dave. Kind of you to offer but you’re on holidays. I don’t think it’d be right to keep you here working when you could be sunning yourself on some beach up north or wherever it is you’re headed to.”

Bron returned with a large tray bearing plates of fish and chips for all four of them and placed it on the table, then dashed back to the bar where she picked up the four tall glasses of cold beer that she’d also ordered. She returned to the table in time to hear Dave say that as he was on holidays it was up to him as to how he wanted to enjoy himself, and that he would enjoy doing the work.

“How about this: You show me what you need done and I decide how much of it I can do, how long it would take me to do it, and then I do the work in exchange for meals and accommodation.”

There was some disagreement about that as both Tony and Trev felt that Dave should be paid for his work, even if meals and accommodation were included, however after some haggling Bron was pleased to hear that Dave would be staying on for a while. The deal was that he would work in the morning, painting each of the hotel’s twenty four suites and doing other maintenance jobs as required, and have the afternoons off. Apart from the meals and accommodation they would pay him an hourly rate and also pick up his bar tab, provided he didn’t drink too much of course.

That was no problem for Dave who didn’t drink on working days anyway. Well, except maybe a couple of beers after work on Friday nights. All the materials required would be supplied by the hotel, and to that end Dave would be given permission to use the hotel’s account with the hardware store in town. With all that out of the way, Tony changed the subject:

“So Dave, what did you two to get up to this morning? If you don’t mind me asking of course.”

“Bron took me down to have a look around Fish Hook Bay. It’s a pity that the road to the beach hasn’t been cleared and the wharf repaired because it’s a lovely spot and I think it has a lot of potential.”

Tony explained that the council, apart from being cash-strapped, was controlled by local council members more concerned with their own little fiefdoms than with this far-flung outpost that didn’t earn them any votes. The beach and its environs were so low on the priority list that it appeared to have been dropped off the list completely. Unfortunately it was a fact that almost anything that needed doing or got done in the village was due almost entirely to the efforts of the community that lived here. On the other hand, council wasn’t too concerned about what the residents here did on their properties and no rangers were ever sent out to hassle them about by-laws, building regulations, permits or other such nonsense. Fortunately it did include the village on the travelling library’s circuit of the county and a dedicated parking space for it had been set aside on Mayne Street close to the community hall.

Dave went on to tell them, without admitting to their having gone inside, that they’d also had a look at the abandoned farm-house just short of the bay, and he was wondering what the story behind that was.

“Ahh... That’d be McKenzie’s farm. Colin McKenzie lived in the city and was just an average Six-Pack Simon when he and his wife Heather won a bit of cash in the lottery. He’d always dreamed of living in the country and was persuaded by a real estate salesman that the property you were looking at was just what he wanted. Colin purchased what he thought was a working dairy farm but what turned out to be a large block of very poor soil with grass that could barely support the dozen cows that went with the sale. He was given a lot of advice on how to run the place though about ninety percent of that advice was either plain bad, or given in order to extract more money from him in order to keep the farm running.

“Unfortunately it all ran downhill and before long he found himself in financial difficulties. It might surprise you, but did you know that within two years of winning a major prize more than eighty percent of lottery winners are worse off than they were before they had all that money?

“He put the property on the market but couldn’t find a buyer. Problem was that he was asking for much more than what it was worth and he wasn’t going to accept anything less. He withdrew the property from the agents’ listings saying he would sell it himself but things went from bad to worse and he got himself into debt with several businesses in the area. He became morose, despondent and stopped trusting people around him - even those that genuinely wanted to help - and unfortunately took to the bottle.

“Despite the fact that Heather really loved him she threatened to leave if he didn’t give up the farm, and one day he just seemed to snap. He loaded up what possessions they hadn’t been able to sell and then drove away. He dropped in here and asked if I could collect his mail and he would send me a forwarding address when they got settled back in the city, but he never did. And that was a little over two years ago.”

“I noticed that there was a bunch of cows down the bottom end of the property. Did he just leave them too?”

A small frown briefly creased Tony’s brow before he answered. “I don’t think so: I heard he managed to sell all his cows, apart from a Jersey named Bessie which was Heather’s pet. I don’t know what happened to her. The cows you saw probably belong to the next door neighbour, Rick Martin. Rumour has it that Martin was one of those who’d made McKenzie a low-ball offer for the property thinking that he was desperate enough for money to accept it. They’d been friendly up until that point and then there was a big falling-out, or so the story goes. If you walked down the paddock you’d probably find a temporary fence strung across the property to stop the cows going up to the house and being visible from the road.”

“Has he had much mail delivered since he left?”

“The occasional letter gets delivered. Some have legal firms’ logos on them and I suspect they’re letters of demand. Actually, this one from the local council arrived last Friday and it’s stamped URGENT,” Tony said as he withdrew an envelope from the stack of papers beside him.

“Must be important. You haven’t opened it?”

“I guess I could, since he entrusted his mail to me.”

Tony slid a finger under the partially sealed flap and withdrew a letter, quickly read it and then handed it to Dave.

“Hmm. It’s a final demand for unpaid rates. "Unless council receives full payment for the sum of.... blah - blah - blah - blah..." Poor bastard: They’re going to take his property and put it up for auction if the arrears aren’t paid by the close of business on the last working day of this month. Hmm... Good God! That’s just over three weeks away! I don’t suppose there’s any way of finding him before then, is there?”

“I doubt it. I do know that ads were placed in the city newspapers by people looking to have their accounts paid, but there was no response either from him, Heather or anybody that might have known their whereabouts. It seems like they just dropped off the map. Not thinking of buying the place are you Dave?”

“No. Well, not exactly. I do have an idea but I’ll have to think on it for a bit. Do you have any friends on council that could give me some information about the property, without appearing to be too inquisitive if you know what I mean?”

“I have a good friend who works as a clerk in the council chambers,” said Bron. “She’s not actually on the council itself, but she could probably find the information you want, I think. And she’s also not the type of girl who would gossip about it, especially if you wanted to keep it all quiet.”

“Yeah, that’d be good. I’ll have think about things tonight and talk to you about it later though. Tony, Trev, do you happen to know a legal eagle that I could go to for advice if I need it?”

“Well,” said Tony, “I could recommend Trev, or he could recommend me, so I don’t really see the need to involve someone you don’t know.”

“You mean the two of you are lawyers?” asked Dave in astonishment.

“Barristers at Law, if you please, young man. Though we did have to serve our time as lawyers first of course. When we were in practice we ran this place as a hobby, and a way to escape the pressures of dealing with people we more often than not didn’t like. When we semi-retired two years ago we decided to make this place our permanent home.”

“Well if that don’t beat all,” said Dave, bunging on a Texan drawl that made Bron giggle and the two men raise their eyebrows.

 

[Bidadisndat]

The conversation had taken them right through lunch and as they had finished, and as Bron had some time to fill in before beginning her shift, she asked him if he was interested in having a look around the village. He didn’t need much if any persuasion, and after finishing their beers and returning the now empty plates and glasses to the kitchen and bar they walked down Brocklesbury Road to the main street which, though not deliberately, just happened to be named Mayne Street.

On the corner of Brocklesbury and Mayne stood Jeff Mullins’ Petrol Station and Auto-Mechanical Workshop, which position gave it the advantage of having cars able to pull in and get fuel whether entering or leaving the village. Jeff, a ruggedly handsome bachelor, had lived in the village most of his life, and was one of the friendliest and most helpful men you were ever likely to meet. He had been engaged once, many years before, but his fiancée had been killed in a car accident three weeks before their wedding, and Jeff had never gotten over it. He and his team of three mechanics seemed to be busy all the time, and when the others went home after work he could often be found doing whatever extra it took to get a customer’s car serviced or repaired on time.

From there they strolled slowly along the wide footpath, with Bron giving Dave the Full Guided Tour, with information about each shop as they passed it. Being the Monday of the October long weekend and thus a public holiday all the shops apart from the milk bar and the Chinese restaurant were closed, but even during working hours he couldn’t imagine it being a lot busier.

“Not so,” said Bron, rather defensively for a non-resident he thought. “True, it’s not as busy or filled with people as the town is, but it actually supports quite a thriving community.”

The first shop on the row was a milk bar known locally as Jay Jays, short for Jumping Jimmy’s, which was its nickname. Nobody seemed to know what the shop’s original name was. On the outside the shop looked just the same as it did when erected in the early fifties, but inside the décor had been upgraded to that of the late sixties. It had a long counter on one side and booths with tables and bench seats on the other, and at the end was an old juke box with a small dance area in front of it.

“You can choose the records you want to listen to even when sitting at a booth because there’s a selector thingamajig at each one.”

Dave smiled to himself when he heard her use the word thingamajig as he hadn’t heard anyone use it for years, although her Kiwi accent made it sound like thengymajeg. He’d made the mistake of laughing aloud earlier when he thought she’d referred to his esky as a “Jelly Bean”, though it turned out that New Zealanders call them “Chilly Bins” and he’d gotten a hard punch on the shoulder for it. Lesson learned: Don’t knock her Kiwi accent or you’ll very likely get badly bruised.

“Jimmy was a dance teacher many years ago, and he still loves to teach the kids to Jive. This place is where many of the young people hang out on a Friday or Saturday night and sometimes Jimmy can be persuaded to stay open really late, which for him is about eleven-thirty, especially if the kids turn up dressed in fifties or sixties outfits. You’d be amazed at how often they do that. There’s absolutely no smoking, alcohol or bad language allowed, and he enforces it too. And as being banned from Jay-Jays is bad Jou-Jou as far as the kids here are concerned parents are quite happy to let their kids hang out there.”

The next shop was a Newsagency in which was located the local Post Office. It also sold books, stationery, artists’ supplies, gifts and a small range of children’s wooden toys, all of which were handmade by a local craftsman. And of course lottery tickets that never won anything more than that required to purchase yet another ticket or two.
Then came a two story building, the husband and wife owners of which were pharmacists as familiar with herbal remedies as they were with pharmaceuticals. The wife was also an over-qualified Registered Nurse who often acted as an unpaid community nurse. This was a situation that the villagers were keen to see rectified and some approaches had been made to the Local Member in that regard.

The rooms above the shop had been set aside as a surgery for consultations and treatment by the local doctor although appointments were only available in the mornings as the afternoons were reserved for making house-calls to outlying properties. The only problem seemed to be that one had to travel to town for dental or more specialised treatment; however this didn’t seem to be of great concern to most people as the town was only forty minutes away. A lot faster if it was an emergency of course, and to that end the community had purchased and now maintained its own ambulance, which they stationed at the local Bush Fire Brigade’s building.

The village also boasted its own bus service, which in reality was a single bus that in the mornings took the local kids to the high school in town and brought them home again in the afternoon, and made two extra return trips through the day. It was also used on Tuesday nights to bring home those students who were in the high school’s cadet unit, plus there was a return trip each Friday and Saturday night for those wanting to go to the cinema in town.

Alongside the chemist was a large premises that housed a bakery and a coffee shop, both of which were owned and operated by the Tran family. The family, consisting of father, mother, two sons and a daughter had arrived in Australia as refugees from the war in Vietnam. After a short time working in the city Mr. Tran moved his family to the village and took over the running of its bakery, which business he was able to purchase outright after three years of hard work.

The local community had openly welcomed them and despite their Asian features were now considered to be as Australian as anyone else. Mr Tran, who for reasons unknown had adopted the name of Julius, joined the local volunteer bushfire brigade and was one of its most active members. And during fund raising events or bush fires Mrs. Tran was always there providing sandwiches, tea and cakes to the volunteers. Their two sons, Peter and Richard had joined the army cadets at high school, and both played cricket in the summer and Aussie Rules football in the winter. Their very attractive daughter Julia was a more studious type and although spending a lot of time with her head in books or helping her mother with household chores still played netball with the local team.

When the coffee shop next door was put on the market Julius not only bought the business but also bought the entire building. The coffee shop was altered by the addition of lots of shelving for a book exchange, and customers could not only sit and enjoy their lattes, cappuccinos and the delicious pastries and strudels that were made in the family’s own bakery, but sit and read any of the books on the shelves. For a very small fee they could also exchange books that they owned and had read for books that they hadn’t.

The shop was a popular meeting place for those who felt that they were probably a bit too old to be hanging out at Jay-jays, and it was even more so after Julius built a courtyard out the back. He set the courtyard up with several sets of wrought-iron tables and chairs under a pergola over which grew a beautiful blue wisteria vine, and in summer it was the preferred spot for many local ladies to meet up and relax in.

The delicatessen next door provided an astounding variety of cheeses, salamis, pickled this and thats, and many items that one might only find in deli’s located in the cities. This was because the owner, Jorge Swede, was the son of a family that actually owned a large chain of deli’s in those cities and their motto seemed to be, “If we don’t have it in stock, well get it in for you.” In one of the glass-fronted display cabinets there was also a wide selection of dishes such as ratatouille, vegetable lasagnes, salads of various types, cold meats, prosciutto wrapped chicken breasts and more, all of which were prepared onsite and could be ordered as a plate to take out.

As the many people who ordered such dishes quite often took them next door to eat in the courtyard at the back of the coffee shop, Jorge and Julius decided to put in a door between the two shops. The door was locked each night or if one of the shops was closed, but when the door was open it enabled customers to move freely between the two shops, to the benefit of all.

A butcher’s shop alongside the deli was well regarded not only for the excellent quality of the meat it sold but also for its prices, which were less expensive than might have been expected. Of course, the fact that the butcher actually raised his own beef and lambs had a lot to do with it, as did the fact that he traded personally with friends who ran a piggery and a poultry farm.

The sausages he made on-site were more meat than filler and were so popular that people who lived out of the area would come in to purchase them, and of course once they’d seen the prices of his meat would then buy all they needed from him. If you wanted duck, goat or rabbit he could provide that too, and his business had gotten so good that he was now thinking of employing an apprentice, in addition to the worker he already had.

There was no big Coles or Woolworths style supermarket in the village however the Brocklesbury Trading Post sold almost everything that anybody needed, and few people felt that they had to travel into town just to save the one or two cents more that their local store charged. And it was only a cent or two as the store’s owner, Alice Cooper, felt that she only needed to cover the small cost of transporting the goods in, without using that as an excuse to rip people off. Besides, it would cost people more in time and petrol money to go into the town and back than it would to shop locally.

A very small shop was squeezed in between the General Store and the village’s Chinese restaurant, and on the three days a week that it was open sold materials, patterns, haberdashery, linen and Manchester. It was very busy on those days as many people in the area were of necessity pretty much self-reliant, usually tending to repair, reuse and recycle rather than replace, and there were many ladies and who actually made most of their own and their family’s clothes. Lucky were those households where mum could read patterns and use a sewing machine!

The Ying Wah, the Chinese restaurant next door had very recently changed hands and the new owners had, to the great relief of the two young local girls employed as waitresses, decided not only to retain them but also employ a local lad as a kitchen hand. It was noted that the new owners, who were obviously of Chinese ancestry, didn’t so much speak English as they did pure Australian, right down to its slang. It was learned later that their forebears had arrived in the country in 1853 during one of the first Australian gold-rushes, and that these people here now were, according to one of the hotel’s regular bar flies who lived next door to them, “about as Chinese as kangaroos.”

Signs in the window of the vacant shop next door indicated that it had once been used by an estate agency; however it had closed down due to a lack of business. It seemed that as the village had very little through traffic, and there weren’t enough people in the area wanting to sell their properties anyway, it wasn’t worth keeping the branch open, so what little buying and selling that was done was handled by one of the agencies in town.

Next was the greengrocer, selling fresh fruit and vegetables to those people who didn’t grow most of their own, and not surprisingly it wasn’t a large shop by any means. Bananas, mangoes, paw-paws, pineapples and the odd coconut sold well though.

The last premises in the line was home to a Veterinary Clinic, and was considered by anyone who had an animal or bird of any type, which was just about everybody in the village, to be a vital element of the community. There were three fully qualified vetinarians on the staff and while they did attend to people’s pet cats, dogs and the occasional guinea pig or rabbit at the clinic, most of their time was spent offsite treating farm animals.

Bron told Dave the story of how a bloke once took a goldfish in to the clinic, claiming that he thought it had epilepsy. The vet took a look at the fish swimming around in the bowl, chased it around with a finger in the water and told the bloke that it appeared to be quite OK, and not to worry.

“Hang on,” said the bloke. “I haven’t taken it out of the bowl yet.”

Dave was silent for all of five seconds then erupted in laughter. “You had me taken in for a bit there,” he said. “I don’t know if I could keep a straight face telling a joke like that!”

“You mean it was a joke?”

Dave looked at her in bewilderment. “Surely you don’t think...” But that was as far as he got before Bron too burst out in laughter at the look on his face.

“Sucked in. Twice in a row,” she said, slowly shaking her head with a grin. “Poor Dave.”

There was a sidestreet at the end of the line of shops and it had to be crossed to get to the hardware store and lumber yard. According to Bron, just about everything that you might need for building anything, or for farming, could be purchased there. And it was another of those places where if they didn’t have what you wanted in stock, they’d get it in for you. Sometimes that might take a day or two depending on the schedule of the delivery truck that came from the main hardware store on the other side of the town, but nobody in the village seemed to mind, especially as there was no extra charge involved. On the other side of the store and part of the same complex was another large building, half of which was devoted to saddles, halters, bridles and basically anything to do with horses and their riders, and the other half to animal feed.
Bron directed his attention to the large park on the other side of the street. “It wasn’t always a park,” she said. “At one time there were as many shops on that side of the road as there are on this, but about eight years ago a large bushfire came through and destroyed a large part of the town, including most of the shops that stood over there. Most of those that weren’t destroyed were so badly damaged that they had to be condemned.

Around the same time it was learned that a new freeway was going to be put through, and because it would bypass the town by several miles, many of those that had lost their businesses decided that it wouldn’t be worth the effort to rebuild here. Some of the business owners on this side also decided to up stakes and move on, and for a while the future looked pretty bleak for those that remained. At a meeting of the residents at the community hall it was decided by those that were staying that if they put in the effort and all pulled together the village could not only survive, but thrive.”

“Hmm. There must have been some very persuasive arguments made to get people to stay here following all that. What was the driving force that saved the place, do you know?”

“Not ‘what’. It was ‘who’. Two ‘whos’ in fact: Tony and Trev. They’d bought the hotel a few years previously and very quickly came up with a couple of plans that they believed would not only save the village, but also their investment. There was some uncertainty to begin with of course, as the two men hadn’t been in the area all that long, but as you said, they must have been very persuasive. Anyway, to cut a long story short the village you see now is mostly the result of work done by the residents, inspired by the two.”

“I guess that they’d be considered local heroes by those who stayed.”

“Most definitely. The park opposite is a good example of what they achieved: All the destroyed and damaged building were removed and the ground cleared and landscaped. Then the gardens, picnic tables and kiddies playground, almost all of the materials for which were donated, were put in by volunteers. See that small lake over to the left? It’s one of the few things that the local council did for the village. Actually it was forced to do the work as part of a flood mitigation program, and the lake is really a retention basin for excess water. The ducks and geese on it were donated to the village, which I think is probably just a polite way of saying that they were dumped there by an owner who no longer wanted to keep them.”

Dave laughed at that before asking, “What are the buildings over to the right? I’m guessing that one of them is the community hall.”

“Yes, it is. It’s a lot bigger than might be expected for a village this size, but it was built when the place had twice as many people. And it wasn’t always where it is now: It used to be located halfway up Brocklesbury Road, but it was thought that it would be better down here in the park, so it was moved. A mammoth undertaking I’ve been told, but it was all part of the plan to revitalise the village and there was no shortage of people wanting to help with the work. Apparently at one time the hall was the venue for a very popular monthly country dance night, but that came to a stop when many residents left following the fire.”

“Why did they follow the fire?”

“Idiot. You know what I mean,” said Bron, laughing and giving him a quick slap on the arm before continuing her narrative.

“The building beyond it is the local Bush Fire Brigade Headquarters, and also where the ambulance is stationed. Last year they put up a carport big enough to house it and the community bus, so that’s now parked there too. Between the two buildings is a large barbeque area that’s occasionally used by the volunteer firemen.... like every Saturday that it’s not raining, and it’s probably the only one in the whole country where an extinguisher, fire blanket and first-aid kit is put in place before the gas is turned on.”

Opposite those buildings, on the same side of the street they were now standing but further along, a row of large colour-bond sheds were being erected with the intention of renting them out for light industrial use. They didn’t bother going any further than where they now stood but turned and retraced their steps back to the hotel, arriving in plenty of time for Bron to get ready for her shift behind the bar.

 

[Bidadisndat]

After she had gone Dave went to his room, took a writing pad and pen from his bag and began writing a long letter to his parents, explaining what he was doing and advising them that he would be visiting them a bit later than he had originally planned. It wasn’t unusual for him to communicate with his family by mail as it was a habit he had developed when at sea, and he knew that his mother saved and cherished every letter that he had ever sent them.

He then pulled out a notebook and jotted down some of the ideas that he wanted to talk to Trev and Tony about regarding the McKenzie’s farm. He finally decided against talking to them that night as he wanted to make sure that he had all his ducks in a row, so to speak, and needed more information and perhaps some advice before committing himself to the presently tenuous plan that had formed in his mind.

Putting aside the notebook for the time being he wandered over to the public bar and joined a few of the hotel’s patrons who were playing darts. It was a cosy place and, along with the main building of the hotel complex had been designed along the lines of an Olde English country pub, complete with a circular gravel driveway and a swinging sign hung above the entrance to the bar. The sign, featuring a picture of a cockerel standing on the back of a bull, proclaimed the name of the pub to be the “Cock & Bull”, which the previous owners had said was a reflection on the stories that they heard people telling after they’d had a few beers. It turned out to be quite a pleasant evening, however as he had arranged to take Bron into town in time to get ready for her job at the bakery, he called it a night around nine p.m. and headed for bed. She had to begin work at eight a.m. and as it was thirty minute drive into town, she and Dave would have to get up early enough for her to go home and change, which meant they’d have to leave around seven.

* * *
​

Next morning, having returned from taking Bron back to town after they’d had breakfast, Dave began his first working day by making an inspection of the rooms, all except two of which were now vacant, that might need painting. He decided that they all did, really, and took some quick measurements that would enable him to order a sufficient quantity of paint to do the job, plus leave some for touch-ups if and when needed. In the hotel’s large store room at the back of the main building he found that there were enough brushes, rollers and paint trays to do the job, so he wouldn’t need to purchase any of those. There was also the step ladder that he had borrowed plus an extra one, and several long planks that he could set up as a low painting stage, saving him from having to go repeatedly up and down one ladder. He would need sandpaper though, so jotted that down in his notebook, and while he had it open worked out how much paint he would need and wrote that down too.

After talking to Tony and Trev about what needed to be done, Tony drove with him in the truck down to the hardware store and introduced him to its owner/manager. It was organised for him to purchase on the hotel’s account all the material required for the work he’d be doing, rather than have him pay for it and then have to be reimbursed. This, thought Dave, showed the high level of trust that Tony and Trev placed in him, even though they had only known him for a few days.

Although the agreement was for Dave to work in the mornings and have the afternoons off, he spent a good ten hours each day over the next four working hard at it. Each evening, at their invitation he dined with the two men, and during each meal gave them a run-down on what work he had done through the day, and outlined his plans for the next.

On the Friday afternoon he drove into town and collected Bron, who was unfortunately rostered to work that night, as well as the Saturday and Sunday late shifts. At least, it was unfortunate for him, but not so much so for Bron as she needed the money. However that did at least leave her free for the days, and remembering that she had once admitted to “sending quite a bit of lead down-range,” asked her if she wouldn’t mind going with him the next day to the rifle range that they had passed on their countryside drive. She didn’t mind that at all but pointed out that as she wouldn’t be with the friends who lent her their rifles to shoot with; she wondered why he wanted to go there. He simply shrugged his shoulders and told her that he wanted to meet the Range Officer and find out if he might be able to use the range himself sometime in the future, despite not being a club member. She was happy enough with that as it implied that maybe he was going to stick around for a while, and so didn’t ask any more questions.

It was overcast when they left the village at nine in the morning, and during the hour it took them to cover the distance to the range the rain that had been threatening began to fall. It was only light at this time, but heavy black clouds that were gathering over the sea were heading their way and they were going to be in for a good soaking before too long. Dave’s attitude was that rain was good for the land, and though it might dampen your clothes occasionally, it shouldn’t dampen your spirits... Unless you were camped out under the stars of course.

Not that the rain would bother them too much just now as the part of the range where they would be was under cover, and they both had wet weather gear with them anyway. As might be expected, Dave had his Drizabone® coat and hat in the back of the cab, and Bron carried a poncho in the bum-bag she had brought with her.

“You said before that your friends often lent you their rifles to shoot with. What calibres do you use?” Dave asked as he drove.

“Well, usually ·22's, though I occasionally fire ·223's,” she said. “I also put a quite few rounds through Debbie’s husband’s ·303 SMLE once, and though I could handle the kick OK I found it to be a bit heavy to hold for any length of time. If I was living here I’d most likely join the club and get my own rifles... And a license.”

“Rifles? You mean you’d want more than one?”

“Yes. I want a ·223 but the ammo would work out a bit expensive on my budget, so I’d also get a ·22. Probably get that first, really.”

“Good idea, but don’t you think it might be better to get your shooter’s permit first?”

“Yeah, probably,” she replied with a laugh.

Upon arrival at the range Bron introduced Dave to the Range Officer and also to several other shooters there that she knew, and saw that she appeared to be quite popular with them. Especially two of the members who were actually from Brocklesbury. They knew her from the bar at the Cock & Bull, which they visited more frequently than they did the range, but then of course the bar was much closer than the range.

While Bron was talking to the men Dave had a word with the Range Officer, produced his license and signed in, then went out to the truck where he unlocked the gun-safe and withdrew his three rifles and six ammo pouches. Bron was still talking to the men when he returned and under the eye of the R.O. laid out his rifles and the ammo on one of the shooting benches. When she came over to him Bron was stunned to see the rifles, the magazine of one of which Dave was now loading.

“You didn’t tell me you had those!” she accused.

“There wasn’t any need to ’til now. I prefer to keep the fact that I’ve got a gun-safe in the truck quiet as I don’t want to become the target of thieves, or people who are against guns. Anyway, you know now. Would you like to shoot one? Oh, wait a minute... You don’t have a license do you? Hmm... How do you get away with shooting here?

“Actually, it’s quite legal, provided I’m doing it under the watchful eye of a licensed shooter at all times. Can’t do that outside the range of course, but here it’s not what you know; it’s who you know, and I’ve been lucky enough to know a few of the right people. The guys I introduced you to when we arrived for example: The tall fair-haired one is Bill May, the local copper at Brocklesbury. He’s turned a blind eye so far, but I admit that he did tell me to get a permit if I want to continue shooting with my friends.”

“Good. I presume you can pick up an application form here, so why not get the ball rolling on that today?” and before she could protest or make any excuses he waved to the R.O., who came straight over. “Ray, Bron needs an application form to obtain a shooter’s permit. Can you fix her up with one?”

“Well, you normally have to contact the local police and ask for one, but I think we might have a form or two here. I’ll go and check.” As he walked past the other shooters towards the small cubicle that served as an office he said something to Bill May, who came straight over to talk to Bron.

“Ray told me you’re applying for a license, Bron. About bloody time you got one. Look, if you’re really serious about this we could put you through the club’s safety course now if you want. Then we can send the paperwork in with everything signed off.”

“That’d be really good, Bill, but I don’t want to put any of you out so I could do it sometime later if that’d be more convenient.”

“No, right now is fine. You’ve been shooting with us for a while and you obviously know your way around guns, so it won’t take long anyway. And I’d also strongly suggest joining the SSAA.”

“Sounds good to me. That OK with you Dave, if I do the course now?” she asked, and when Dave nodded his head and said “Of course it is” she turned back to Bill, saying “Right, let’s do it then.”

When they left the range about two hours later Bron had completed her course and, at first using Dave’s ·22 and then his ·223, had sent fifty rounds of each calibre into the berm directly behind the targets in front of her. Dave was amazed at the tight groupings of her shots that revealed she was actually an extremely good shooter, even over the longest distance of the range. While Bron was using the ·22 he used the ·223, and half way through their shoot he handed her the rifle he was using and switched to his ·308.

He was surprised to hear that she had never used a bipod or a ’scope so he gave her the opportunity to try the heavier weapon, which was fitted with both. She put two full magazines through it and told him that while it didn’t appear to have any more kick than Bear’s ·303 it sure was a lot easier to handle, probably due to the support given by the bipod.

“My dad taught me, back in New Zealand. He often went shooting for deer and sometimes I got to go along. And as I know you’re going to ask, yes, I did manage to shoot a couple myself: Two deer and three goats in total. I have to admit I was pretty pleased with myself, but I think dad went a bit over the top with bragging about me to his friends.”

By the time they arrived back at the hotel it was raining steadily and they had to make a quick dash for their rooms to shower and change into clothes that weren’t damp and tainted with the smell of gun-smoke. After a leisurely lunch in the dining room Bron went to work behind the public bar and, as it was now raining very heavily Dave headed for the lounge where he could relax and read one of the many novels on the bookshelf there. It looked like there would be no let-up in the downpour and after reading for a couple of hours he decided that an early night was in order. He had a light dinner after which he quickly poked his head into the public bar and said goodnight to Bron then headed for his room.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

The heavy rain abated during the early hours of the morning and even the light showers that followed had gone by mid morning, being replaced by a clear sky and a hot sun that quickly evaporated most of the rain-water on the ground. Bron had already decided that after lunch she would occupy herself by assisting Olivia to clean out and reorganising both the store-room and cool-room of the hotel’s kitchen, so Dave decided to make another visit to the farm.

The main purpose of this visit was to thoroughly clean the kitchen, including the combustion stove, and the dining area, and to this end he loaded the truck with as much cleaning gear as he could persuade Olivia to lend him. There was a problem however, as the farm had no water supply, and he had already ascertained that the rain-water tank there was not only empty but due to its extremely poor condition was not worth repairing, and it would have to be replaced.

A temporary solution was found when Olivia told him that there were several empty two-hundred litre plastic drums behind the storage shed that he could use if that was any good to him. Finding that they were all clean he loaded three of them onto the back of the truck and secured them with ropes before filling two with water, using a hose from an outside tap.

When he got to the farm the empty drum was unloaded and placed on the back veranda and water from one of the full drums was siphoned into it using the hose he’d borrowed from the hotel. When that drum was empty it too was unloaded and placed on the veranda and was also filled. The now empty drum on the truck was left there, ready for Dave to fill before he came back to the farm again.

After carrying all the cleaning materials into the house he first inspected the combustion stove and found to his surprise that it had already been thoroughly cleaned out, probably one of the last things that Heather McKenzie had done in the kitchen before the couple had left the property. It didn’t take Dave long to bring in some of the firewood that was stacked under the tank stand, and before long he had the firebox in operation.

He used a bucket to put some water in the tank at the back of the range then ran a small amount through the tap on its front to make sure there was no rust or dirt present. Finding nothing that would indicate that the tank was anything but clean he filled it completely and waited for the water to heat. He would only be using the water for cleaning so it didn’t need to be boiling just now, but later he would get it to that point and make sure that the tank was sound.

He spent almost four hours using sugar soap, cream cleanser, a scrubbing brush, scourer and several cleaning cloths to thoroughly clean the kitchen and dining area from the ceiling down to the linoleum covered floor, including the cupboards, bench-tops and windows. With those spotless he then set about cleaning the pantry in the same way, using the Coleman lantern from his camping gear to provide more than enough light. By the time he had finished it looked as if only the provision of a table and chairs, curtains and a few kitchen accessories would be needed to give the appearance of being lived in, and he felt well satisfied with the effort he had put into the work.

He took a bucket of warm water and some cleanser into the main bedroom and scrubbed an area of one of its green walls and, finding that the underlying colour was very much lighter than he expected, used the stepladder and did a small patch on the ceiling. This also was much lighter after being cleaned and when he smelled the water in the bucket he realised that the whole room was covered with a patina of cigarette smoke. Colin McKenzie had obviously been a very heavy smoker during his residency, and his wife had most likely been also as Dave couldn’t imagine a non-smoker putting up with the strong smell of tobacco that would have permeated the room. There was no way Dave was going to spend days trying to scrub the room clean and decided that the best thing to do would be to remove the Masonite and replace it with Gyprock, which was what he would eventually have done anyway.

By the time he had cleaned up, returned to the hotel and showered it had gone eight-thirty and feeling quite hungry went to the dining room. He arrived just in time to be offered a plate of “whatever’s left over”, as the kitchen was on the verge of closing. The waitress beckoned him into the kitchen and he stepped inside to find that the cook, Olivia, had set out several plates of food for Bron and the boys to have when the bar was closed.

“Hullo Dave. Left it a little late didn’t you?” she said, laying out an extra plate for him. “Do you want to eat now, or wait until the Bron and the boys come in? The bar closed early and they’re just doing a bit of cleaning up so you won’t have to wait long.”

“Thanks Olivia. I’m hungry but not actually starving to death yet so I think I’ll wait for the others. Hasn’t been a busy night then?”

“Not nearly as busy as we thought it was going to be. Most of the guests left during the afternoon, after they’d finished playing golf.”

“Oh? I didn’t know the village has a golf club.”

“It doesn’t. They were playing at the one in town. Some sort of corporate tournament I believe. We do have a nice oval though. Cricket in the summer and football in the winter. There are tennis courts too, but unfortunately they’ve fallen into disrepair and the council closed them, which is a pity because I really like tennis.”

“Not enough players to make it worthwhile having the courts fixed?”

“There might be. Probably are actually, but at the end of the day it comes down to money and the council says that at present they don’t have the funds to carry out repairs.”

Before Dave could make any comment Bron and the boys walked into the kitchen, looking for the meals they knew were waiting for them. They were all pleased to see that Dave was there, and that he would be eating with them, and they made their way to a table in the dining room where Olivia said she would bring their meals after she had reheated them.

“Thought you’d be in bed asleep by now,” said Tony.

“Probably should be, but I have something on my mind and wanted to ask you for some information and advice. I’ll wait until after we’ve eaten first though.”

Olivia and the waitress came out of the kitchen bearing the meals, placed them on the table and then retired, saying that they were off home now, and if anybody wanted dessert they could help themselves to what was in the ’fridge. Tony thanked her for staying back to look after them and when they’d gone the four turned their attention to the loaded plates in front of them. Nobody felt like having dessert after emptying their plates, and they moved to the lounge, where they helped themselves to the hot coffee that was on the sideboard.

Once they had settled into comfortable armchairs Tony invited Dave to ask him for whatever information or advice he needed, with the hope that either he or Trevor would be able to provide it. The tiredness that Bron felt after her long day receded when Dave also asked her if she could stay for a few minutes as he wanted to ask her to help too, if she possibly could.

“Tony, how long did you say McKenzie has been gone?”

“Just over two years. And we haven’t heard a thing from him since. And just between us, I don’t think it’s likely that we will.”

“Hmm. OK. And again, just between us: I’m planning to take up residence in the farmhouse. I won’t consider myself to be squatting there because I intend to go to the council and pay the rates on the property. I’ll consider that to be rent paid in advance.”

“How long did you say you’re on holidays for? Only six weeks if I remember correctly, and one of those is almost gone. That’s an awful lot of rent to be paying for a holiday house for five weeks, don’t you think?”

“It would be, if I was only going to stay for five weeks. However, the longer I stay, the cheaper it would be, and if I forge ahead with the plan I have in mind it would be worth it. Of course I’d have to go back to my employer and put in my resignation well before the six weeks of my holiday is up, and there are a few other things I’d have to do while I’m in the Big Smoke.”

“You might be skating on thin ice Dave, especially if McKenzie turns up and wants his house back,” said Tony.

“Yeah. A bit of a risk maybe, but if the annual rates are all I’d be paying it’d be cheap rent. Besides, if I’m lucky he won’t turn up for another twelve years.”

“Have you studied law, Dave?” Trev asked as his eyes revealed a sudden flash of understanding.

“No. But I did read up a bit on “Adverse Possession” after reading an interesting article about it in a Tasmanian newspaper some years ago. The article was about a claim that had been lodged by two brothers for a piece of a neighbour’s land that they’d been using. The claim was approved despite the fact that the brothers had only grazed their cattle on the land and hadn’t actually occupied it. Of course the owner of the land had been kept in the dark over their intentions and only found out about the claim when he decided to sell his farm some two years later, and by that time the brothers were long gone. It apparently stirred up quite a bit of controversy at the time.”

“Am I missing something here?” asked Bron, who had been more than a bit surprised when Dave had openly announced his intention of moving into the farmhouse, even if it was only to be for a short time.

“It’s not often that you see it done now,” said Trev, “but Adverse Possession is where a person occupies land that is not theirs and after a certain period of unchallenged occupation has the legal right to put in a claim for ownership. If the claim is successful, the occupier will be given title of the land. The laws are slightly different for each state, and you’d need the services of a good attorney, but in the case of a property like McKenzie’s it could well be worth the effort.”

“This is getting interesting,” said Trev. “I’m not about to start giving you any free legal advice on the matter at this point, Dave, but I am keen to hear more of your dastardly plan, so please continue.”

“Well, first off, and for the record, I’m not out to rip McKenzie off: If he comes back before the twelve years is up and wants his farm, he can have it back, subject to a condition that I’ll come to later. Trev, you said before that he’d gotten himself into debt with several businesses in the area. Would you happen to know which businesses were involved?”

“Well, there are several, and it’s pretty much common knowledge, so I suppose there’s no harm in telling you. Let’s see now... There’s Jeff Mullins at the Garage, Alice Cooper at the Brocklesbury Trading Post, the Veterinary Clinic, the Hardware Store, the Chemist, the Hair Salon, and possibly a couple of places in town, though I can’t be sure of that. Don’t go asking me how much is owed to each though, as I really don’t know. Of course if you were to rely on rumour it would probably be a quite a few thousand by now, but I seriously doubt it would be anywhere near that. Dave, the rates I can understand, but surely you’re not thinking of paying his outstanding accounts too.... are you?”

“Not exactly, but I do have an idea, though before I decide what I’m going to do I’ll have to find out just how much money those accounts come to. I’ve set myself a limit in that regard, and if the total amount isn’t over that limit I’ll go to the next step.”

“How am I going to be of help, Dai?” asked Bron, who was finding it hard to stifle a yawn.

“I’d like to find out what interest, apart from the outstanding rates, that the council might have in McKenzie’s property. You said you had a friend working at the Council Chambers. Do you think you could arrange a meeting between her and me?”

“That’ll be easy to do. My friend Debbie, her husband, his tradie mates and their wives usually go to the pub on a Friday night for karaoke, and I join them when I can. I’m off next Friday night and I could ask her to come a bit earlier if you’d like to have a talk to her without a crowd around. Her husband would be there too, but he’s a reliable bloke and wouldn’t be a problem. Do you want me to ’phone you here when I’ve got a meeting time organised?”

Dave said yes to that, adding that he thought that meeting her friends and their husbands at the pub was a very good idea as he’d probably feel like a beer or two after four days of painting. The night was now well advanced, and with Dave having gained the information he’d asked for, plus the fact that they were all pretty tired, they all returned their coffee cups to the kitchen and then headed for bed.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

As he had done on the previous Tuesday, Dave drove Bron back to town in time to start work, then returned to continue with the painting of the hotel’s rooms. Having seen the work that Dave so far, and knowing that he now intended staying in the village, Tony had asked him if he’d also be able to paint the lounge, dining room and other parts of the hotel, and Dave had agreed. Knowing that summer would soon be upon them he kept up the pace that he had begun with, planning to complete all the painting well before the holiday season kicked in.

Bron ’phoned Dave in the evening to tell him she had arranged for her friend Debbie to meet with them on Friday evening at the pub that they all went to. As she herself always finished early on Fridays, and her digs were only a few blocks from the shop, she would be going home to change out of her work clothes beforehand. He could park his truck at the pub, hoof it over to her place, then walk her back to the pub in time for the meeting. He could also drive her back with him to the hotel when they’d finished as Trev had asked her if she could work on the Saturday.

On Thursday he picked up a copy of the local paper, delivered free to all houses and businesses in the district, and that evening spent a bit of time reading it. It was when he was idly looking at the advertisements in the back section that his eye was drawn to the For Sale columns. There was a “General For Sale” section followed by “Bargains Under $50”, and below this was a list of Garage Sales being held in the town and the surrounding villages. Dave loved garage sales and often attended them even if he had no real intention of buying anything simply because a man just couldn’t know when an unexpected bargain might present itself.

Going to the office he asked Tony if they had a local street directory that he could borrow and when one was handed to him he returned to his room and made a list of the addresses, five in all, where a sale was being held, plus map references that would enable him to find them. As Bron would be working in the bar that day he would leave really early and go to each one to check out what was on offer.

Due to the concentrated effort that he was putting in to his work Friday seemed to arrive quite suddenly and he found himself wondering where the week had gone. He finished up at midday having completed painting four more rooms during that week, and got ready for the drive into town and the meeting with Bron’s friend from the council.

Although Dave was unaware of it at the time, Trev and Tony inspected the work after he had gone and being well pleased with what had been done congratulated themselves on having found such a capable person to do it.
The back of the truck was loaded with camping gear and deciding that it might be best to unload it he took the time to move everything to his room. He then drove to the town and to the pub’s carpark and reversed into a position where the truck would be illuminated at night by one of the big lights there, and allow him to drive straight out at the end of the night. It was the way he always parked any vehicle that he was driving after learning it from his prepping friends in the U.S.

With the truck’s cab locked securely and the back tray also secured he walked to Bron’s place where he found a lady standing in the front garden directing a hose at one of the flower beds alongside the front fence.

“Let me guess. You must be Dave,” she said with a smile as he went through the gate. “Bron told me that you’d be coming to pick her up, and described you reasonably well, though from her description I was rather expecting you to look just a little more like Rock Hudson.”

Dave grinned. “You don’t even know me and already you’re trying to earn yourself a nice Christmas present!” he joked, adding “You’ve got a lovely garden here.”

“Darned well should have too, with all the time I spend weeding and watering it.”

“Actually, you could save yourself a lot of time doing that by using a thick layer of mulch: It’d suppress the weeds and stop evaporation, and as it rots down it would also add nutrients to the soil.”

“I have heard that. Do you think it really works? Where would I get it? Is it expensive?” she asked. “Oh, good heavens! Listen to me with all the questions! I really should have introduced myself first. I’m Rebecca Manning, Bron’s landlady,” she said, extending a hand.

“Pleased to meet you Rebecca,” said Dave, shaking her hand. “Yes, mulching really does work. You can get bags of it at hardware stores, and garden centres of course, though to my mind people are being way overcharged for the stuff. As I was walking here I passed a truck that had a mulcher behind it, and the operators were feeding it branches that had been pruned from the trees in the street. When I’m walking back I could ask them if they could drop some of the mulch over here if you'd like to try it. They might say they can’t, but there’s no harm in me asking them.”

“Really? That would be very good of you Dave. Oh look, here comes Bron now.”

Bron, dressed much as she was when they’d gone to the B & S dance though with a checked shirt of a different colour, came down the steps that led down from the veranda. She was holding a large overnight bag that Dave immediately took from her.

“Hi Dave. I see you’ve already met my gardener,” she said, then had to duck behind him as a laughing Rebecca began turning the garden hose towards her. She was too late, and both she and Dave got a sprinkling of water that was fortunately for them both light enough to evaporate before they had walked to the end of the block. “OK Rebecca! I’m sorry. I surrender!” squealed Bron as she also began laughing.

Rebecca turned the tap off and they all spent a couple of minutes chatting before Bron took Dave’s arm and they began walking along the footpath towards the pub. Dave paused to call over his shoulder “Bye, Rebecca. And I won’t forget about the mulch, despite being drenched.” She grinned as she waved in acknowledgement and the pair continued walking.
“So what’s with the mulch you were talking about?”

Dave explained it to her and she thought it was a good idea, and if he could organise some she would help Rebecca spread it on the garden.

A block and a half further on they stopped where the crew working with the mulcher and watched as the machine spewed the finely shredded leaves and tree branches into the back of the truck that towed it. The person in charge and the two boys working with him were obviously of aboriginal background, and Dave noted that they were doing their job quickly and efficiently. After several minutes of watching Dave attracted the attention of the boss, who came over and with a friendly smile asked how could he help them.

“I was just wondering what you do with the mulch,” said Dave.

“We usually take it to a landfill site that the council has, and dump it. Why, do you need some?”

“I don’t. At least not at the moment, but there’s a lady living down the street a bit who could use some. How much do you charge for a load of, say, a cubic metre?”

“Well, we don’t charge anything for residents who want it, as it saves us having to take it to the council’s landfill site. But they usually bring a trailer and we help load it up for them. Who wants it?”

“Mrs. Manning, at number forty nine,” Bron contributed. “Her house is in the middle of the second block down from here.”

“Manning... Manning... Hmm, that name rings a bell. Hey, Adam!” he yelled at a young lad hauling a large branch towards the chipper. “That lady who gave us lunch when we were removing a tree stump from her backyard last year. Can you remember what her name is?”

“Yeah. It’s Rebecca Manning. She’s a really nice lady.”

“Well there you go,” said the man, turning back to Dave. “Is she in a hurry for the mulch do you know?”

“I doubt it: She didn’t know much about the stuff until I was talking to her a while ago. I just that I told her I’d seen you working down here and that I’d ask you about getting some.”

“Tell you what: We’ll be working along this street all next week, so I’ll get my boys to take some mulch in and spread it for her. Save her the work. She looked after us, so we’ll look after her. How does that sound?”

“Sounds terrific, Mate. By the way, the name’s Dave Morgan, and the lovely young lady here is Bron,” Dave said as he put his hand out.

“Charles Barley,” said the man, shaking Dave’s hand. “Charlie for short, though behind my back a few call me Black Barley, as if I didn’t know it,” he laughed. “The two boys here are my sons, Adam and Troy.”

“We know Bron,” said the second lad who had appeared from the other side of the mulcher. “She works at the shop where we get our pies and sausage rolls”

“And apple pies... And custard tarts... And vanilla slices,” said Bron with a big smile, recognising him immediately. “Hullo Troy.”

“Seems a bit off to me,” said Charlie. “A black man eating vanilla slices sounds a bit cannibalistic,” adding with a mischievous grin, “Hey, Dave. What do you call an aborigine with dandruff?”

“I’ve got no idea Charlie. What do you call him?”

“Lamington!” roared Charlie, cracking up with laughter.

Dave was amazed: He’d never heard an aborigine telling a joke of any type before, let alone one regarding the colour of his own skin.

“Do you have a card, Charlie?” asked Dave as both he and Bron laughed. “I just might need a bit of mulch myself in the future, and if I do I’ll call you.”

Charlie fished a business card from his shirt pocket and handed it to Dave saying “Anytime Mate.” They talked to Charlie for a few more minutes then continued on to the pub, going through the carpark where Dave locked Bron’s overnight bag in the back of his truck’s cab. Going into the pub they ordered a drink each at the bar of the outdoor area where Bron had arranged to meet her friend.

 

[Bidadisndat]

They’d only been seated for a few minutes before Debbie arrived and after introductions, and Dave getting her a drink, the three pulled their chairs closer to the end of the long table at which they sat. When Bron asked her friend if she’d been able to find out anything about McKenzie’s farm Debbie nodded her head with a have-I-got-some-news-for-you type of smile.

Apparently Debbie hadn’t needed to poke around too much as a co-worker, a young man who liked to think that he knew everything that was going on, provided her with all the details she thought Bron and Dave needed. She had been careful to extract the information in a casual way, knowing the man’s propensity to tell all, confidentially of course, would ensure that anyone overhearing their conversation would regard it as just idle gossip.

“From what I’ve been able to find out,” she began. “McKenzie is nearly four years behind with his rates payments, and the council wants their money. It seems that one councillor in particular is pushing to have the property seized and be sold off, with the money from the sale being used to pay the arrears and the balance held in escrow until the owner of the property can be traced. Now, that would be all well and good if it wasn’t for the fact that the councillor pushing for the seizure is in league with Rick Martin, who strangely enough just happens to own the property next door to McKenzie’s.”

“Let me guess,” put in Bron. “The councillor wouldn’t happen to be “Shady” Reed, would it?”

“Bingo! Buy the lady another drink. Mind you, it would probably be surprising if it wasn’t him. That bastard has more perks going than a coffee pot on high heat. Anyway Michael, that’s the guy who gave me the info by the way, told me that if the council does take the land and sells it, the sale would probably be done by tender, and he reckons that Shady and his mates on council would ensure that any bid made by Rick Martin would be accepted.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me at all, Deb,” said Bron, and then turning slightly towards Dave told him that the councillor that they were talking about was actually named Duncan Reed: The nickname of “Shady” wasn’t given to him because of the sunglasses he habitually wore, but because of all the shady deals he was involved with.

Debbie was beginning to get excited now as she had some more information that she thought would really surprise them. In fact, she thought it’d probably shock as much as surprise the local voters if they learned of it.

“You probably know that McKenzie sold just about everything he had before he took off, including his dairy cows. Well guess who bought the cows? It was Shady! And what’s more, they’re actually still on the property. And who do you think is milking them? Rick Martin! Now try and convince me there isn’t some sort of collusion between those two!”

“Oh, well done, Detective Debbie,” Dave laughed. “You’ve certainly come up with the goods. Now, I have a favour to ask: As exciting as the knowledge may be, could you keep it under your hat for a while? I’m working on a plan of my own that just might scuttle the plans of Messrs Reed and Martin, and any whispers going around might make them wary.”

Feeling quite chuffed with being called “Detective”, Debbie assured Dave that she would say nothing about it to anybody... Except her husband Brian, who had just appeared at the door looking for them, and who hated most of the councillors with a vengeance. Debbie waved him over to their table and introduced him to Dave by his nickname, “Bear”, and he took a seat beside his wife.

“We’ve just been talking about the council,” said Debbie, and Bear gave a growl. “Tell everybody how much you love the council, Bear.”

“Don’t get me started,” he replied with another growl. Then he started anyway: “I’m a brickie by trade, and my mates and I are in the building game. We do a lot of contract work, mostly on residential buildings, and do OK, but we’d do a lot better if it wasn’t for the council. Every time we lodge a D.A. the council sits on it until the last possible moment, and then knocks us back for some trivial point that could be easily fixed with a bit of communication between us. Or it’ll be approved subject to a raft of conditions that are either impossible or impractical to comply with. Other businesses don’t seem to have any problems and though I’m inclined to believe that some kick-backs are involved, I can’t say that out loud.”

“And just by pure coincidence of course,” added Debbie. “Our friend Shady heads a panel of councillors that holds sway on granting approval for D.A.s.”

“Hmm. OK. Bear, if she hasn’t already, Debbie can fill you in on what she’s been able to learn about what we think is another of Shady’s deals that I’m personally a little concerned about. I’ve got a plan in mind that should stop that, though I’ll need to think on it a bit more before I start putting my neck on the line. Debbie, Bron told me that you work at the front desk. Does that mean you can take payments for fees, charges and rates, etc?”

“Sure. It’s usually Cynthia Blount that does that, though any of the four of us there can do it. And for what it’s worth, Cynthia has a thing going with Shady and probably reports everything she hears or sees to him, so you have to be careful of anything you say in front of her.”

“Thanks for warning me. I presume she takes regular lunch breaks?”

“Yes. Her breaks are always from twelve ’till one and mine are one ’till two. When she’s out it’s usually me who takes any payments that come in. The problem is that if I’m correct in thinking of what you have in mind, she always has a look at the receipt books when she comes back from lunch.”

“You certainly are on the ball, Detective,” Dave said with a grin. “Is there an accountant who I could deal with directly, perhaps?”

Debbie clapped her hands together and matching his grin said “Yes! Brilliant idea! Why didn’t I think of that? The accountant, Laura Bates, is a very good friend of mine and we often have lunch together. She’s actually a very attractive woman and absolutely loathes Shady because, apart from his cheating on his wife with Cynthia, he regularly tries to hit on her.”

“Last one: I know that councils are supposed to hold meetings that are open to the public, and I presume this one does. Do they allow questions from the public?”

“Yes. There’s a meeting held on the evening of the first Tuesday of each month where residents and ratepayers can attend. It can get pretty heated at times, especially when it’s obvious that council is trying to duck an issue.”

“Getting better and better. You know, I think next month’s meeting might be very well worth attending.”

At this point they were interrupted by three couples who came in and began seating themselves at the same table, the men calling a “hello” to Debbie and Bron, and the girls calling a “hello” to them whilst giving Dave an appraising look over.

Dave told Debbie that he thought he had all the info he needed for the moment and would keep her advised as to what he would be doing in the future, then turned his attention to the new arrivals. Bear did the introductions, telling Dave not only the names of his tradesmen friends but also the trade of each as he did so.

First there was Chris “Chips” Robinson, a carpenter, and his wife Karen, Ian “Pipes” Royce, a plumber, and wife Fiona, and finally the plasterer and painter Pete “Speedy” Jacobs and his wife Annette. Still to arrive was Paul “Sparks” Davies, who was an electrician and presently unattached, despite the attempts of the four wives present to set him up with at least a regular girlfriend if not a wife of his own.

Naturally enough everyone wanted to know what Dave was doing in town and he explained to them that he’d come up from the city to take care of some property business, and was currently staying at the hotel in Brocklesbury. He quickly turned any further questions aside by stating that he was going to the bar, and asked them what were they drinking. A short time later four large jugs of beer had been set on the table, the ladies had had their requests seen to and the conversation turned to topics that were much covered in bars all around Australia: Sports, politics and sports.

Sparks arrived about half an hour later, “Just in time for your shout” he was told, and they all ordered meals from the servery adjacent to the bar. Around seven thirty the karaoke system was set up and from then on the evening became very gregarious. Although some of those that got up to sing were as expected quite woeful and received a lot of cat-calls, there were also a number of singers that were surprisingly good. One of these was Bron who, from the reception she got when she took hold of the microphone, was obviously very popular with the regulars. Dave was among those who applauded her loudly after she had finished her number, and when she returned to the table he told her how good he thought she was.

Bron gave him a fiendish grin and asked him none to quietly if he was ready to have a go at singing a song himself. With the eyes of the others at the table now on him he accepted the challenge and went up to the raised platform where the mike was set up in front of the instruments used by the pub’s regular band. He leafed through the pages listing the songs that there was music for then apparently not finding one that he wanted, turned and spoke briefly to the karaoke system’s D.J.

There was a brief discussion between the D.J. and a couple of guys sitting close to him and Dave was given a nod of approval. He reached over and picked up an acoustic guitar from the range of instruments, held it close to his ear and ran through a couple of chords then, finding that it was perfectly in tune, stepped up to the mike. The D.J. approached him and inserted a jack for the amplifier into the socket in the guitar’s body, after which he stepped back and let Dave begin. This was something new, and the whole place went quiet as he began to play and sing the well known Marty Robbins’ ballad El Paso.

To say that Bron and her friends were surprised would perhaps be a bit of an understatement as it turned out that Dave had an extremely good voice and though slightly deeper sounded very much like Marty Robbins himself. He also appeared to be an accomplished guitarist. When he had finished the place went wild with applause and there were repeated calls for more of the same.

He stood for a moment, looking as though he was about to step down, however following another nod from the D.J. and to the applause of the crowd he again brought the guitar back into play. He followed his first song with Feleena - from El Paso, which very surprisingly wasn’t quite as well known in Australia as it was back in the U.S, except by Marty Robbins fans of course. At the end of the second song Dave smiled and gave a wave of acknowledgement to the loudly applauding crowd before replacing the guitar and returning to the table.

The rest of the night was spent with Dave getting to know a little more about the tradies and their wives. He did this mostly by listening to their conversation as he had long ago learned that that there was much to be gained by keeping one’s own mouth shut and both ears open. Not that he didn’t contribute anything to the conversation, as Bron had mentioned that they had gone fishing at Hook’s Eye the previous Sunday and had caught a fair haul of fish.

Apparently the spot was popular with them all and as it had been some time since they’d been there it was decided that they should all go there the Sunday after next, weather permitting. They could have a barbeque lunch and Dave was asked if he’d like to go along with them, an offer that he readily accepted. With arrangements made for meeting up, and as it was almost closing time for the bar, they all decided to call it a night and headed to the car-park.

Saying goodnight to all, Dave and Bron climbed into his truck and he drove carefully out onto the main street and then back to Brocklesbury at a speed that wouldn’t attract the attention of any local police that might be cruising the area. Not that he’d had too much to drink, he thought. Well, probably not, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Once back at the hotel they each headed for their separate rooms, though not before Bron had told him that she had had a really good time and given him an affectionate peck on the cheek, and before long they were both fast asleep.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

Next morning Dave had a very early breakfast before driving back into town, taking with him the street directory and the list of addresses where the garage sales were being held. He had carefully mapped out a route that would eliminate having to back-track all over the place, and hopefully save him a lot of time and frustration looking for each one. The first place he stopped at offered nothing of interest to him, and neither did the second, however at the third stop he found a near-new petrol powered whipper-snipper that he knew would be quite useful. It had been an unwanted gift from a son who didn’t seem to understand that his father had no wish to operate such a noisy machine in the small quiet garden that he enjoyed pottering around in.

Dave rummaged through the glove box of the truck and withdrew a note-book that he always used when buying second-hand goods, whether privately, at garage sales, boot sales or markets. Each page of the book was ruled up so that it reflected the time and date of a purchase, the seller’s name and address, the amount paid, and at the bottom a declaration that the goods being sold were the legal and unencumbered property of the seller. It was a precaution in case the goods on sale may have been stolen, though Dave always told the sellers that it was just so he could keep track of his spending, and nobody yet had objected to signing when asked to do so.

He placed the tool in the back of the truck and was proceeding to the next house on the list when he saw a man putting up a sign on his lawn advertising a garage sale that hadn’t been listed in the newspaper, not that there was any legal requirement to do so of course. Sometimes people didn’t because they either couldn’t be bothered, or they thought that it would be expensive.

When he went into the garage and saw what was up for sale Dave was glad that it hadn’t been advertised, and that he appeared to be the first buyer on site. He quickly went through the offerings and after asking the seller for the price on many of them asked him if he was willing to sell everything as a job lot. Together they totalled up the cost of the individual items and then Dave made an offer that he knew well was on the low side, and with the expectation that it would be argued up.

It took a bit of dickering, though not as much as Dave had expected, but the result was that he was able to load onto the back of his truck a 5-tonne trolley jack, an engine crane with a leveller, an engine stand and a home-made engine cradle, a garage creeper, two portable car ramps and four 2-tonne axle stands. Next came a number of tools including a ball-joint separator, a pair of spring compressors, a torque wrench, gear puller, cylinder hone, and a kit that contained a timing strobe light, multimeter and a cylinder pressure test gauge. There was also a full set of metric and imperial sockets, with several extensions and two wrenches, plus a full set of metric and imperial combination ring and open ended spanners.

Dave went to his truck to access the gun safe and after unlocking it took out a wad of cash. The amount he was paying for the goods was a pittance compared to the price he would have had to pay for new tools, and it seemed to him that the seller was in a hurry to get rid of the stuff. He explained to Dave that the tools originally belonged to his father who had passed away the month before, and as he had no use for the tools he might as well sell them off. He signed Dave’s note book, though with some reluctance Dave felt, and he wondered if the man had any siblings that would be missing out on the proceeds of the sale. “There’s being a cynic you are, Dai bach”, he could almost hear his Welsh mother saying, and smiled inwardly as he drove to the next address.

Although he already had a whipper-snipper it was comparatively light compared to the much heavier metal-bladed brush-cutter that he was just now purchasing along with a large chainsaw at the next stop. A spare chain for the saw and a large container each of two-stroke and bar oil was also thrown in as the new owners of the house had moved from a large property some distance away from town, and with the small garden they now had would no longer need them.

He was about to leave when he noticed that standing to one side was a nice cabinet with a price tag that seemed to him to be a little bit on the high side. When Dave asked about it the seller laughed and said that it was a “Horn” brand sewing cabinet and the price included an overlocker that was inside it but should really be displayed on top. Remembering that Bron had purchased a dress-maker’s mannequin at the markets on the previous Saturday he decided to make an offer on it, and with the offer accepted the seller was now helping him to rearrange the load on the back of the truck so that it would fit without being damaged. The overlocker itself was placed on the floor of the truck’s cab and Dave used an old blanket to cover the cabinet on the back, as much to hide it from Bron as to protect it.

The final purchase he made was not at the last garage sale on his list, which had nothing of interest to him on offer, but was something he had found in the Bargains Under $50 column of the paper. It was for a Home Brewing Kit, with all the accessories, six cartons of empty Grolsch swing-top bottles and four cans of hopped malt. These were all placed in the back of the cab and Dave packed them as firmly as he could to prevent any damage that might be caused by sudden braking if he was forced to do that, though he’d be careful on the return drive to the village. Driving back, he was well satisfied with the morning’s foray and in fact felt that it had been one of the most successful he had ever made.

Not bothering to stop at the hotel he drove through to the farm and after unlocking the gate drove down to the house and the garage beside it. He spent some time in the garage brushing down the work benches and the shelves above them, clearing out the cupboards and drawers below them, and sweeping the floor. Everything in the garage he felt he wouldn’t have any use for was stacked at one end of the long workbench while anything useful was placed at the other.

When it was all done he reversed the truck up to the open door, dropped the tailgate and unloaded the tray, with the larger items being placed against the back wall and the other tools in one of the under-bench cupboards. As one of the garage’s large doors had been nailed shut he secured the other, and the side access door, with two more padlocks, the keys for which he placed on the same ring as he had the key for the padlock on the front gate.

He thought that the sewing cabinet might be a bit difficult to handle by himself and he didn’t want to risk damaging it, however he found that with the overlocker removed it wasn’t all that heavy. Leaving it on the back of the truck he carefully reversed up to the porch and from there he was easily able to move it onto the tailgate and then lift it onto the veranda. He unlocked the house and carefully moved the cabinet into one of the bedrooms then carried the overlocker in and placed it back in its place.

He had almost forgotten about the Home-Brewing Kit but soon it too was moved into the garage, along with the cartons of empty bottles. When he locked the house up again he decided it would be best if he kept the key with him, and then looking at the door thought that it would be even better if he fitted deadlocks to both the front and back doors.

It was now well after the time that the hotel’s dining room would have closed so there was no point going back for lunch. Jay-jays would be open and he’d be able to grab a hamburger there, but before leaving the farm he’d take a walk around its perimeter and check the fences. He began at the front corner on the western side, noting that between the gate and the corner there was hardly any fence left at all, then walked along the boundary down to the lower end.

The fence between the farm and that of Rick Martin’s property next door was in quite good condition however about a quarter of the way down he came across a hot-wire that had been strung across the width of the farm. It was, just as Trev had suspected, an electric hot-wire that had been put there to keep cattle from coming up to the house where they might be seen by anybody passing by.

At the Martin’s property end of the wire he found the battery powered unit that powered it but rather than turn it off he simply ducked under the wire and continued down the slope. The stretch of fence from there down to the bottom corner was in the same condition as the top section, however at one point it had been cut through and a gate had been installed. The gate was open now, thus allowing cows to wander back to Martin’s milking shed at the end of the day, and Dave left it that way.

He noted that at no point along the fence-line was he able to see Martin’s house, so it followed that Rick Martin, if he was at home, was unlikely to have seen him walking about the property. The fences along the back and the eastern side of the property were not in quite as good condition as that on the western side, however though they weren’t so bad that they needed to be completely replaced in a hurry, some sections were in need of repair.

With his circuit of the property completed he got into the truck and returned to the car-park at the hotel, then walked down to Jay-Jays to get a hamburger, chips and a milk shake. He had these in one of the booths at which he was able to use the thengymajeg to choose a couple of records for the juke box to play, and smiled as he remembered Bron’s description of the selector and suddenly wished that she was there with him. Jimmy himself was working behind the counter and after he had made a comment about Dave’s choice of music, not surprisingly Country and Western number, they got into conversation.

Dave learned that Jimmy wasn’t all that keen on the raucous sounds that passed for music with the young people these days, and he preferred songs that had a good melody and words that could be understood. And the gyrations and body shaking that passed for dancing was even worse, though of course he had been a dance instructor for a long time and admitted that he was probably a bit biased in that regard.

There was some hope for the local kids though, he said, as many of them were quite happy to listen to the old songs on his juke box, and he had even been able to teach quite a few to jive. But what he really missed was the old-time dances that used to be held at the community hall. They had a good band back then, and it was “Bring a Plate” rather than pay admission. Ahh, the good old days!

 

[Bidadisndat]

Back at the hotel he met up with Bron, who had finished her shift and was now free for the rest of the day, and asked her if she would be interested in going to the cinema in town that night. If she’d been going back to town she would have been, she told him, but as she’d be working in the bar again tomorrow and would be staying overnight, it’d be a waste of time and money driving there and back. There was, however, a good movie on TV that night, and if he didn’t mind they could sit in the comfortable arm-chairs of the hotel’s guest lounge and watch that instead. Dave agreed, saying that that was actually a much better idea, especially as they could also eat in the dining room instead of going to a restaurant.

He then told her about the bargains he had picked up at the garage sales, without mentioning the sewing cabinet and overlocker of course, and how he had cleaned out the garage at the farmhouse and locked the tools up inside it.

The one disappointment he had when in town was finding that while there had been a Dive Store there at one time, it had closed down and he would have to drive quite some distance to get his scuba tanks filled if he wanted to go diving after the two full tanks he had on the truck were empty.

When she asked him if he was planning to go diving anytime soon he replied that he would be going to explore Fish Hook Bay the next day, when she would be working behind the bar. The fact that he would be enjoying himself in the water while she was working didn’t bother her so much as did the thought of him diving without a buddy, and she said as much.

“Well, it’s not as if I’ve never dived alone before,” he said. “In fact I’ve done it quite often. Besides, for the most part I’ll only be diving in the shallow water around the edges of the bay.”

“Yeah, maybe, but I wish I had a license so I could dive with you.”

“That can be arranged, if you’re really serious about doing a course. I am a qualified Instructor, and both my teaching certification and insurance liability cover is current. You’d have to have a diving medical exam first though. You don’t suffer from asthma at all, do you?”

“No. Can I get the local G.P. in town to do the exam?”

“Most Dive Schools would find that acceptable but the problem there is that the average G.P. has little to no knowledge of what to look for beyond what they read on a Divers’ Medical Questionnaire. One of the main concerns I have is that few of them are aware of the importance of a lung function test. And before you start worrying about that, it’s just a simple test where you blow hard and fast into a spirometer, which measures how effectively you can expel air from your lungs in the case of an emergency ascent. Probably ninety nine percent of people would pass that test with no problems, but if you were to be one of the one percent that couldn’t it would be of concern to me.

“Tell you what: I’ll be going back the city to hand in my resignation next Friday and if you’re still keen on learning to dive then, and you can get the day off, you could come down with me and go to the Diving Medical Centre. I’ll have to pick up all my teaching aids and the rest of my diving equipment to teach you with, so I couldn’t teach you before that anyway.”

“That seems fair enough I guess. Good to know that you consider the safety of your students to be important. I bet you don’t admit to them that you dive by yourself though.”

“Most definitely not. I tell them that diving with a buddy is one of the most important rules of diving: It reduces your chance of shark attack by fifty percent. And always carry a knife, especially if there are sharks around.”

“You’re kidding! Surely no student would really believe that a puny diver’s knife would be much defence against a shark attack?”

“Not exactly. I tell them that if they spot a shark they should swim as close to their buddy as possible, keeping the knife held up between them and the shark. If it comes in for an attack, they should quickly slash their buddy’s arm and swim like blazes the other way in the hope that the shark will go for the blood.”

“Dai! That’s really terrible!” she cried in a shocked tone, then started laughing when she realised that it was a joke, and this time it was Dave that had sucked her in. He did concede to her though that whilst the joke might have been funny to divers it may not have been appreciated by non divers, and may even have been considered by some people to be in poor taste. Then again, there were probably very few sports that involve risk to life and limb that didn’t involve a little black humour occasionally, and she took it in good stead. She also told him that when he went down to the city she would go with him and have a divers’ medical check.
That evening, after a quiet dinner together they sat in the lounge and watched Paul Newman and Robert Redford in The Sting, which neither of them had seen before, before retiring to their rooms. Although Bron was soon fast asleep, Dave spent some time reading a recently published book that he had borrowed from the bookshelf in the hotel’s lounge. The book, John & Sally Seymour’s Self-Sufficiency - The Science & Art of Producing & Preserving your own Food, had been written in England, and whilst the chapters outlined many ways to go about self-sufficient farming in the northern hemisphere many of the ideas were adaptable to Australian conditions.

Most people who didn’t know Dave well, and perhaps a few that did, would have said that he was rushing headlong into disaster with his crazy scheme, but those who really knew him would understand that he was one who was always prepared to seize the day. Nevertheless, he never did this without a lot of careful consideration for the outcome of a plan, and was prepared to take the carefully calculated risks that others would baulk at. And when he did finally go to sleep it was with the confidence that the plan he was working on would have a good outcome.

* * *
​

An offshore breeze had blown gently across the waters of Fish Hook Bay all night and the sun had risen over a now mirror smooth surface that was begging Dave to slide beneath it and examine the bottom below. He had already assembled the tank, regulator, gauges and jacket style B.C. of his scuba, donned his three piece wetsuit and booties, and then put on and fastened his weight-belt.

Going down onto his right knee he strapped his diving knife to the inside calf of his left leg then thrust an arm into the left arm hole of the B.C. jacket before standing and bringing the unit in a smooth movement around his back to where he could put his right arm in. In the past he would have simply lifted it with both arms, pass it over his head and allow it to drop into place, however he had ceased doing it that way following the advice of a chiropractor friend who had told him that that manoeuvre could eventually do permanent damage to his back.

He waded into the water over the boat ramp then stopped to rinse his mask; rub saliva over the inner surface of its glass faceplate to prevent fogging then rinsed it again before positioning it on his head. His snorkel was positioned on the left side so that it wouldn’t interfere with the regulator second stage that came from over his right shoulder. The hose for his tri-combo unit also came over his right shoulder and was held in front by the chest strap of his B.C., enabling him to pick up and view the gauges in it without having to grope around trying to find them. The air hose for the inflator of the B.C. came over his left shoulder, and unlike most rigs, so too did the spare “octopus” second stage. As he’d be diving by himself the “occy” wouldn’t be needed, so rather than use the quick-release holder that would normally position it on his chest, he put it into a pocket of the B.C.

Moving further out into deeper water he inflated the B.C. and then floated on his back while putting on his fins. He had found this method far easier than putting on his fins while standing on the beach and then walking backwards into the water, and taught it to all his students, albeit in a manner that required two divers to work together as a buddy team. Still floating on his back he set the bezel of his divers’ watch to indicate the start time of the dive, gently clamped the mouthpiece in position with his lips and teeth then rolled over and began dumping air from the B.C. as he began a slow angled descent, heading in the direction of the wharf. The maximum depth of water along the length of the wharf was only a little over fifteen feet and after adjusting for neutral buoyancy he levelled off slightly above the bottom and finned slowly along, being careful not to stir up any silt that that might obscure his examination of the wharf’s pilings.

Satisfied that the pilings were not nearly in as bad condition as the remains of the decking above that they supported, and were in fact much more solid than he’d expected, he continued moving down the bay towards the little beach at its end. For a bay that was hemmed in by rocks on either side he found when surfacing in the shallows that the beach was surprisingly sandy, and extended much further back from the water’s edge than expected. Noting that there was a large flat grassy area beyond that he decided that it would also be worth doing a land based reconnaissance, although that would have to wait until he’d finished his underwater exploration of the bay.

Submerged again, he swam to the opposite side of the bay, stopping briefly to play with a little lined dumpling squid that had tried to hide by burying itself in the sandy bottom as he passed, then continued towards the seaward end. The water progressively deepened and his depth gauge showed twenty five feet when he reached what he had judged to be the end of the bay. He was about to surface when he observed a Weedy Sea-dragon moving slowly through the kelp close to the bottom and stopped for a few minutes to admire the unusual creature.

Finally, raising one arm above his head and looking upwards, he slowly spiralled towards the surface where he found that his estimation had been pretty close, as he was only about seventy or eighty feet off the point and in line with the boat ramp on the other side. He didn’t know if the point had an official, or even a local name, but from now on he would think of it as “Hook’s Point”.

Feeling quite satisfied with his underwater navigation thus far he took a quick compass bearing on the ramp then submerged again and set course directly towards it. Almost halfway across, at a depth of thirty five feet, the seafloor changed from sand to a shallow reef of rocks in the middle of which were several deep gutters. In one of the gutters he found two wobbegongs, more commonly known as carpet sharks due to their colouring, concealed in the kelp growing there and wisely left them alone. He knew that more than one diver had been stupid enough to prod or try and grab one only to learn the hard way that they were one of the very few species of shark that could actually turn their bodies enough to bite their own tails.

The reef gave way to sand again as he continued following the compass course and he was pleased to see the rusted rails of the slipway come into view when he reached the other side of the bay. He didn’t know the state of the tide at present, however unless it had been at full flood or ebb there didn’t appear to be much current to affect his navigation, so he should have been close to his target anyway. Still....

Dave was a little perplexed by the fact that whilst the bay appeared to be an ideal location for both teaching and recreational diving, it also appeared that nobody had taken advantage of it. There had to be more to it than just the destruction of the wharf and the rock-fall that blocked vehicular access to the beach, and it was something that he felt should be looked into. Deciding that rather than do a second dive as he had planned he would secure his gear in the truck then hike down to the sandy beach he had seen at the end of the bay and look it over.

The scuba was disassembled and along with his wet suit was placed into a large plastic tote that he put on the back seat of the truck’s cab, and the tank returned to the box on the tray. With his log-book filled in with details of the dive, everything secured, and now dressed in jeans, T-shirt and sneakers he walked down the narrow road that ran behind the shed on the wharf until he came to the rock-fall. It wasn’t difficult to bypass as it really wasn’t all that bad, and a good day’s work with an excavator should have been all that was required to make the road passable, even if it took a bit longer to have it repaved if necessary. Obviously the beach was still being accessed as a track had been worn over the fall by people walking back and forth between it and the car parking area where he’d left the truck.

After the rock-fall the road continued towards the end of the bay and terminated in another small parking area, probably big enough for ten or twelve cars. To the left of the parking area there was a short drop down to the sandy beach, and from its end and encompassing the beach was the flat grassy area that was quite a bit larger than he’d thought it would be. Beyond that, the rocky land sloped up very steeply and was covered with scrub and mostly native trees, though there were a few Coral and Jacaranda trees scattered among them. He came across a couple of circles of rocks containing ashes and bits of unburned wood indicating that people had had barbeques or camp fires there, and in fact there were numerous spots that were ideal for pitching a tent if one wanted to camp overnight.

Unfortunately, as he was making his way back to the truck he found in the small parking area a sign erected by the local council declaring the beach and park to be a Passive Recreational Area and camping was prohibited. As were open fires, alcohol, loud music, team ball-games and unleashed dogs. No wonder the beach wasn’t used much, he thought, as he made his way back to the truck.

 

[Bidadisndat]

Very surprisingly he found Bron waiting for him when he got there. She’d been worried about him diving alone, despite his assurances that he’d be OK, and when her shift was finished had asked Trev if he wouldn’t mind driving her down to the bay so that she could check. Trev hadn’t minded at all, and before driving back to the hotel had asked her to tell Dave that they were both welcome to have dinner with him and Tony later if they wished. Dave thought that they should, especially as he wanted to pump the two men for all the information they had about the bay.

As they drove back Bron asked him if he would be stopping off at the farm house but he said no to that as he felt really sticky with salt from the dive and wanted to have a shower. However the real reason for his not stopping was that he didn’t want to risk Bron finding the sewing cabinet and overlocker before he’d had a chance to find out when her birthday was and give it to her as a present.

When they arrived at the hotel Dave’s first job was to rinse each part of his scuba in fresh water then using warm water with a bit of laundry powder wash his wet-suit, rinse it thoroughly and hang it in the shade to dry. To kill a bit of time before dinner they sat in the beer garden talking with a few of the locals and playing several games of darts with them. Dave had considered asking them some questions about Fish Hook Bay but then decided to wait until he could talk to Tony and Trev.

Later, over dinner he and Bron learned that the demise of the bay as an attractive destination for divers was due less to the effects of the storm that destroyed the wharf and caused the rock-fall than it was to the local council... or rather, to certain parties on the council. Due to its popularity it was proposed by one councillor that the local Diving School should be charged an annual fee for using the bay as it was making money out of what was essentially a free public asset. Along the same lines it was proposed that Dive Schools located outside the area should also be charged a daily fee. At the same time it was also decided that to prevent any larrikinism by visitors to the bay the beach and park should be made into the Passive Recreational Area that the sign Dave saw proclaimed it to be.

To the anger of several local businesses, including Jay-Jays which sold quite a few take-away meals to ravenous divers, Tan’s Bakery and Coffee Shop, and the hotel which often accommodated divers who were staying over, the proposals were approved. Tony and Trev had been particularly annoyed as they had recently enclosed one of the carports normally reserved for guests so that it could be used by visiting divers to hang their equipment to dry.

The council’s rangers had been tasked with monitoring the divers and it got to the point where recreational divers not associated with any school were regularly harassed, and the word quickly went out that the place wasn’t worth going to. The fees being charged were also on the verge of being exorbitant and the local Dive Store finally decided that it wasn’t worth all the hassle and finally closed down. By the time the wharf was wrecked and the road blocked by the rock-fall use of the bay had dwindled to the point where repairing either was not considered a priority by the cash-strapped council, and nothing had been done. And wasn’t likely to be, at least in the near future, opined Tony, while Trev suspected that there was more to it than what they already knew, but for the life of him couldn’t work out what it was.

When Dave asked if he needed to ask who the councillor was that made that insane proposal Trev and Tony both shook their heads with a sad sort of smile while Bron rolled her eyes in a way that Dave would learn was her way of intimating that questions with obvious answers need not be asked. He looked thoughtful for a while and finally said that perhaps a certain councillor may have to provide answers to some very pointed questions in the not too distant future. Perhaps even at the next monthly Council Meeting?

Bron would be working at the bakery in town next day so when they had finished their meal she said goodnight to Tony and Trev and Dave drove her back to town. Being the gentleman that he was he escorted her to the front door of her lodgings, said goodnight and was about to turn and leave when, after telling him what a good weekend she’d had, she stepped forward, held his face in her hands and gave him a kiss on the lips. Taken completely by surprise he didn’t really have time to respond in kind before she stepped back, opened the door and walked quickly inside before closing it again. He couldn’t recall the drive back to the village, though he did remember that he was feeling extremely happy when he arrived.

* * *​

The next day Dave continued his work around the hotel, and during that time managed not only to repaint another room but attend to the blocked shower drain in one of the units. He did that as the first job of the day and it was when he was engaged in the task that he found an earring in the gunk that came out of the drain. After extracting the piece of jewellery he rinsed it clean running water and after having a close look at it decided that the stone wasn’t an imitation, and that it might be worth a few bob. Trev and Tony were flabbergasted when Dave handed them the piece soon after he’d rinsed it off.

“Good Lord!” exclaimed Tony. “We know the woman who owns this, don’t we Trev? It’s Kate Osterley’s. She thought she must’ve lost it at the beach when she and her husband went swimming and was absolutely devastated at the time. Her husband had given her the earrings as a birthday present, and I can assure you that it’s worth considerably more than just a few bob as you thought it might be. The couple are good friends of ours so I’ll call Brian and tell him the good news. Thank you very much for handing it in, Dai. I know that there are many people who wouldn’t have.”

“You’re welcome guys. Mind you, only one earring of a pair isn’t much good, is it then? Of course, if it had been a single gold hoop and I was a pirate it might just be dangling from my own ear right now. Anyway, I hope the owner has kept hold of the other one.”

“You can bet on it: knowing Kate, she’d place more sentimental value on it than anything else. I’ll give Brian a call tonight.”

“Tony, before I get back on the job, can I ask a favour of you?”

“Certainly Dave. What is it?”

“If you have the time, when I finish up today could you possibly go down to the garage with me? I want to discuss some business with the owner and I think it’d be better if I was introduced, rather than have me just walk in off the street.”

“Good thinking. That won’t be a problem. There wouldn’t by chance be anybody else you might want me to introduce you too while we’re down there, would there?” he asked with a knowing smile.

“Well, yes, there are several actually,” Dave admitted, matching Tony’s smile. “Those that McKenzie has outstanding accounts with.”

“Thought so. OK, I’ll see you when you’re done for the day.”

Dave decided that before he began painting he’d quickly check the roof first as he remembered that Trev had said that some of the tiles up there may need repointing. Once up on the roof he checked the ridge capping and edging above the gables and found that everything appeared to be in good order. He also found at one corner of the roof a cable that ran to tall lattice mast that had been erected above the maintenance shed where all the hotel’s tools, ladders, paint and other equipment was stored.

At first glance the mast appeared to be simply for the large TV antenna that it supported, however Dave’s practiced eye saw that there were also a number of other antennae sprouting from cross-arms about two thirds of the way up. The casual observer probably wouldn’t have given the structure a second look, or thought anything about it if they had, but Dave had enough experience of ship’s radios to know that there must be some very serious equipment installed somewhere below him. He’d have to ask the two men about it later.

He also had a look at the carport that Tony said had been enclosed so that divers staying at the hotel could store their equipment overnight. This had been done by using decorative Besser blocks that allowed air to flow through and, along with the heavy steel barred gate that had been fitted, provided a good measure of security. As it would have taken more than just a few dollars to construct he was not surprised that the two men had been angered by the council’s meddling that left them out of pocket for their efforts.

Returning to his originally planned task he worked quickly and efficiently, managing to complete the painting of one more room by three-thirty. Finished for the day he showered and, dressed in casual slacks, collared shirt and comfortable loafers went to meet Tony. Tony had been waiting for him and the two walked down to the garage where Dave was introduced to Jeff Mullins. With pleasantries exchanged, Dave got straight to the point of his visit.

“Jeff, I’ll shortly be taking over the running of McKenzie’s farm, and I understand that he has an outstanding account with you.”

Jeff looked towards Tony who ducked his head in a brief nod that silently conveyed to him that Dave had something worth listening too, and that Tony apparently approved.

“Yes, he certainly does. And it’s not exactly chicken feed either. To me at least. Are you here to pay the account?”

“In a round-about way. I’m not exactly paying the account: What I want to do is buy it from you.”

“You mean like collection agencies do? How much in the dollar are you offering, not that it makes much difference I guess, because I don’t think we’ll ever see McKenzie again.”

“Well Jeff, I’m not here to rip people off, so how does a hundred cents in the dollar sound?”

“You’re kidding! You’ll pay all of it?”

“Not paying it, Jeff: Buying it. There’s no difference as far as you’re concerned though, as you’ll get all your money. But for me it’s important because when McKenzie comes back he’ll owe me the money rather than you. It might sound a bit complicated, but I have good reasons for doing it this way. There are a couple of things that I would ask of you though: First, I’ll need a receipt stating that I’ve purchased the outstanding account, rather than having paid it. Second, I’ll give you a personal cheque for the entire amount, but you only give me the receipt after it’s been cleared. And finally, this has to be kept confidential. Does that sound agreeable?”

“Is this all legal?” Jeff asked, looking at Tony.

“Nothing illegal about it, Jeff. I think Dave’s taking a bit of a risk, but from what I’ve learned so far I think it’ll be worth it for him in the long run. More importantly, Trev and I both think that he’s trustworthy enough for you to be able to accept the deal.”

“That’s good enough for me then. Dave, I guess you know that McKenzie has a few other creditors around here. Are you intending to buy their invoices too? Of course I know it’s really none of my business, but I’d hate to think I’m being favoured over others that probably need the money more than me.”

“No favouritism Jeff: I’m going to offer them all the same deal.”

 

[Bidadisndat]

Dave wrote out a cheque for the amount that Jeff had written on an invoice for the sale of the outstanding account and passed it to him and Jeff wrote out and signed a receipt for the payment. He was about to hand it over but before he could Dave reminded him that he was to keep it until after Dave’s cheque had cleared. They shook hands, and the deal was done.

Then it was on to the next creditor, Alice Cooper at the Brocklesbury Trading Post, who was very relieved to be able to take advantage of the same offer and under the same conditions. It was the same for the Veterinary Clinic, and the Hardware Store, the account for which was quite high as it included a fair bit of feed that McKenzie had purchased for his stock during the drought. By the time Dave and Tony walked back to the shops the Chemist had closed, leaving it and the hair dresser the only accounts in the village that hadn't been paid, at least as far as Tony knew, and Dave would see to those next day.

“Tony, is Bron working behind the bar next weekend?” Dave asked as they walked back to the hotel.

“She doesn’t have to be, if you’ve got something special planned. I can always get one of the other girls to cover for her.”

“Well, I have to go down to the City and put in my resignation, plus do a few other things, and I thought it might be a good chance for her to get her Diving Medical. Did she tell you she wants to do a Scuba Diving Course?”

“She did mention it, yes. Said you’d have to go down there and bring your equipment back first though.”

“That’s right. If she can get next Friday off from the bakery we’ll leave first thing that morning. We should be back in time for dinner on the Sunday.”

“Sounds like a good plan. You do remember that our agreement was for you to work in the mornings and have the afternoons off, don’t you? You haven’t taken any afternoons off. We don’t expect you to work yourself to the bone you know. Speaking of work, there are a couple of things I have to attend to so I’m going back. And speaking of dinner, it’ll soon be that time. Care to join us?”

“I haven’t forgotten. It’s all swings and roundabouts really: I can work a little extra on some days and on others have a bit more time to do other things. It all works out the same in the end. And yes, I would like to join you for dinner. By the way, you wouldn’t happen to know where the hairdresser is would you? I didn’t see one in the main street.”

“It’s a home business. It’s somewhere along Williams Street though I can’t remember which number. You could ask Jeff Mullins though: He and the hairdresser’s husband Darren are good friends.”

“Thanks. I’ll go and ask him now seeing as I’m down here. You go ahead and I’ll catch up with you at dinner.”

Tony headed back up to the hotel, Dave and went back to the garage where he found Jeff just locking the doors. When asked for the address of the hair salon Jeff told him that he would take him there now if he liked, as he himself lived fairly close by and would be walking past it anyway. As they walked to the address Jeff told him about how he had grown up in the village, lived there most of his life, and would probably die there. Dave didn’t ask him about the fiancée that he knew had been killed in a car accident years before, sensing that for Jeff it had been a really tragic loss and was a topic best left alone. He did sense however that Jeff, for all his friendliness, was essentially a lonely man.

They arrived at the house where the hairdresser was located and Dave saw that the front driveway had been enlarged so that several cars could be parked there, no doubt for the benefit of the salon’s clientele. At the end of the driveway a double garage under the main roof of the house had been converted to be used for the salon, however as that was now closed Jeff took Dave to the front door of the house and rang the doorbell.

The door was opened by an attractive young lady who cradled a baby in her arms, whilst another youngster stood behind and slightly to one side of her so that he could see who was calling. Knowing Jeff well she invited them both inside where Dave was introduced to Bethany, the hairdresser. After the introduction Dave asked Jeff to stay while he went through the same offer that he had made to the other creditors he had spoken too. Bethany looked as if she was about to cry when she accepted the offer, and just couldn’t seem to thank Dave enough.

The amount wasn’t all that much really, especially compared to the other accounts that he’d purchased, but it seemed that at the time Heather McKenzie had run up her bill Bethany and her husband had been doing it tough, and had really needed the money. Thanking Jeff for his time and saying goodbye to them both, as Jeff was going to stay and wait for Beth’s husband to come home, Dave returned to the hotel to meet Tony and Trev in the dining room.

“Dai, you made a number of people here very happy today, but you’ve also outlaid quite a bit of cash doing it. Can I ask you what your next step is going to be?” Trev asked when the three men were seated at the dining table attacking their meals with pleasure.

“Sure. Next week I’m going into town to pay the arrears of the rates on the farm, plus those for the current year, then move in to the house and take possession. If McKenzie suddenly turns up at some time in the future, which at this point seems rather unlikely, I might have to take out a lien against the property, and I think I’ll probably need some formal legal assistance if that becomes necessary. If it does you’ll undoubtedly find me hammering on your door.”

“Are all ship’s captains endowed with such natural cunning and craftiness, Dai?” Trev asked with a smile. “You know, I believe that if you had chosen law as a profession you’d make your way to the top of the legal ladder in record time.”

Dave grinned. “Not likely. Even the thought of being cooped up in a building all day is too much for me. The two years I spent working for the hardware store in the city was enough. I much prefer to be out in the open air. Which reminds me, earlier today I checked out the pointing on the roof tiles, and it all seems to be good. What I did find when I was up there though, were cables going to a lattice mast carrying antennae suited to a long range radio transceiver, as well as more local CB radios. Are either of you guys into Ham Radio?”

The pause before Tony answered was only very slight, though Dave picked up on it immediately, and while he didn’t see any look that the other two may have given each other, he felt one was there anyway.

“Yes. We actually do have a ham radio rig, and it’s a very good one. Trev’s the licensed operator, but I get on it from time to time. We also have a CB Base Station that we monitor, and we can listen in on marine channels too. Of course we aren’t supposed to transmit on the marine frequencies as we’re not actually on a boat, but anyone listening in on us wouldn’t know that.”

“Well, you having the CB base station is good to know: I suppose I could get in touch with you from my truck if I had to?”

“You could,” Trev answered, “If you first warned us that we might need to monitor you before going someplace where that was necessary.”

The topic changed to that of what Dave was intending to do with the farm and he spent some time explaining his various plans, which were in fact much more extensive that Tony and Trev had thought they would be. He also put out some ideas he had regarding Fish Hook Bay, and after listening carefully to them both men agreed that the local community would be only too happy to see them put into effect, even if someone on the local council wouldn’t be quite as enthused. But that would all have to be done further down the track said Dave, as his first priority would be to get the farm up and running, although in what capacity he was unsure of at this time.

When they had finished dinner Tony excused himself, telling Dave that he hadn’t yet called Brian Osterley, and he should do it now before it got too late in the evening. As he walked towards the office, he was glad that he hadn’t called Brian earlier, before Dave revealed that he had found the antennae and had made a good guess as to what it was for. He knew Brian would not be at all perturbed by this, and in fact might even find it interesting, but he felt it was his duty to report it, regardless.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

“Brian, can you get that please?” yelled Kate Osterley to her husband when, just as she was stepping into the ensuite shower, she heard the extension ’phone in the main bedroom ring.

“I’ve got it!” Brian called back as he had heard the ’phone too and was already on his way to the study when she yelled. “Brian Osterley,” he said into the mouthpiece when he picked up the handset. No telephone number, “Good evening”, or any other form of greeting was said; just his name, which was the way he answered any call, whether at home or at work. He wasn’t being abrupt or rude in any way: It was just the way he was, and those that knew him would not have expected anything else.

“Good evening Brian, it’s Tony. How are you?”

“Tony! Nice to hear from you. I’m good, and so is Kate. So, what’s been happening down there with you and Trev lately? All is well, I hope.”

“Everything’s fine down here. I’m just calling with a bit of good news for you actually. Well, mostly for Kate I suppose, but you’ll both be happy to know that Kate’s lost earring has turned up.”

“Really?! We thought it’d been lost forever! Who found it, and how did it get back to you?”

From there Tony explained how Dave had found it when he was cleaning out a blocked drain of the shower in the ensuite of the room where he and Kate had stayed on their last visit, and had handed it in. He then went on to tell Brian that Dave was undertaking the repainting and minor repairs that needed to be done, and during this had discovered the antenna array. And as it appeared that he was sufficiently knowledgeable about such equipment to realise that it was quite likely used for a ham radio installation, when he had asked about it he and Trevor had simply told him that ham radio was a bit of a hobby with them both.

“Fair enough. Is he likely to be staying around for a while, do you know?” Brian asked. “If he is, I think Kate and I should come down and thank him personally for handing the earring to you. I take it that you think he’s a trustworthy person?”

“As honest as the day is long. Trevor thinks so too. As for him staying around for a while, I can tell you now that it will probably be for quite a while. And if I’m any judge of people, I think that young Bronwyn will also be staying.”

“Like that is it? He must have made quite an impression on her.”

“And she on him, although neither of them are at the stage of openly admitting it to each other yet. But I digress... ”

Tony then gave a brief outline of what Dave had been up too so far, and some of the ideas he had for resurrecting Fish Hook Bay as a diving destination. Good ideas that would have a great impact on the village in the future, if they could be carried out. And to that end, he and Trev had decided to give Dave their full support, though they had not as yet said anything to Dave about that decision.

Whilst talking to Tony, Brian had been flicking through his diary and found that he was booked solid for the next five weeks or so but would have a weekend free at the end of November, when he and Kate would be able to go down and stay at the hotel for a couple of nights. Kate would not be told that her earring had been found, and Dave would be asked to surprise her with its return, in person. In the meantime Brian would think of some way or something with which to reward him.

After deciding on the actual dates of the proposed stay at the hotel they quietly discussed several items of a confidential nature before concluding their conversation and saying goodnight. After hanging up his ’phone and retiring to their bedroom for the night Brian told Kate of the impending trip to Brocklesbury, while at the other end Tony, finding that Dave had retired for the night, was telling Trev about the information he’d received from Brian.

Trev nodded his head in approval of what had transpired and then suggested that if Dave turned out to be the type of person they thought he was, it might be a good thing to include him in their tight circle of like-minded friends. They could certainly use people with his obvious talents, although as always it was necessary to be completely sure of a person before an invitation could be offered, and it would probably be some time before Dave, and Bronwyn if she stayed with him, would be told anything about that circle.

* * *
​

Bron ’phoned Dave that evening to tell him that she’d been able to get the coming Friday off, and would also be finishing early on the Thursday if he wanted to get an early start. He in turn then called Allan and Lynne, his friends in the city whose backyard bungalow he rented, to advise them that he’d be coming back for a couple of days as he had a few things he needed to organise. He also told them then that he’d be moving up the coast to live in Brocklesbury, a place that neither Allan nor Lynne had heard of, and so would not be needing to rent their bungalow in future. He’d need it for perhaps another three or four weeks while he went back and forth between the village and the city moving his stuff, and he would pay the rent up to the end of the next month.

“Good lord Dave, don’t tell me you’ve found yourself a girlfriend - at last,” said Allan when Dave told him that he would be bringing Bron with him. “Does the poor girl know what she’s letting herself in for?”

“I don’t know that I’d describe her as a girlfriend, mate. At least, not just yet. I’d have to admit that she is the type of girl I’d be interested in forming a relationship with though, but it’s still early days and only time will tell. By the way, just what do you think the poor girl would be letting herself in for? I’m sure she could do a lot worse... Like finding someone like you, for example. You know, I never could figure out what a lovely and intelligent woman like Lynne sees in you.”

When they had finished the light hearted banter and hung up, Dave called Bron back and told her that leaving on the Thursday afternoon was a good idea, and that he’d pick her up at two p.m. They should be in the city around six p.m. and were being expected for dinner at his friend’s house. They’d both be staying in the bungalow he rented from them, where she would have the bedroom and he would use the sofa-bed, and he added that she should take something nice to wear as they would probably all be going out to dinner and a stage show on the Saturday night. Apparently Lynne was quite excited about Dave bringing a girl back to the city with him, and said that she was going to arrange ‘something special’ for them both.

Following three long days of practically non-stop painting Dave had spent Thursday morning doing a little bit of touching up before getting ready for the trip south, then driven in to town to pick Bron up. He was surprised to find that she was only taking the bag she usually used when staying at the hotel in Brocklesbury, having imagined that being a woman she would probably have a large suitcase packed full.

Bron quickly brought him into line in that regard: He obviously had a stereotyped view of woman that was way off the mark as far as she was concerned, she had said. They’d only be gone for three days, not three weeks, and even then she would probably only need the same bag that she now had with her. After all, she added, the only real difference between three days and three weeks was that in the latter case you needed was access to a laundry, or water and laundry powder. Dave suddenly realised that the same principle could easily apply to the three-day BOB-and-Cache system that he was planning to set up between Brocklesbury and his parent’s farm up North, and he mentally filed the idea for future reference.

With Bron to chat to, it was a pleasant drive down to Alan and Lynne’s, and Dave found to his surprise that he didn’t so much feel as if he was returning home but was actually taking a trip away from home. During the drive he outlined some of the future plans he had in mind for the farm, explaining that his ultimate aim was to make the property, and thus himself, as close to being as self-sufficient as possible. Of course, it would take quite lot of time and hard work at first he admitted, but once everything was in place and working it would only need a minimum of physical input to keep the operation going. And even that could be taken care of by turning it into an education centre of sorts, where people who were interested in growing produce organically could stay for brief periods and learn the ins and outs of doing that.

Most of his plans were based on Permaculture, the principles of which were first formulated by Bill Mollison and David Holmgren at the University of Tasmania in the early seventies, and were now being accepted world-wide. He had come across a book, Permaculture One, a couple of years ago and had since then spent a bit of time studying the subject, though hadn’t been able to find much more in the way of text books yet. He felt that he needed to study a lot more however, so among the things he wanted to bring back on this trip were the few books he had on the subject, plus also those he had that pertained to water, soil, farming and self-sufficiency. He had built up quite a library of books on a myriad of other topics as well, so some decent bookshelves were going to be a high priority on his shopping list in the weeks to come. He laughed when Bron told him that he had better have a good lantern too, as without power to the farmhouse he wouldn’t have light to read by, and without a TV set, reading would probably be his only entertainment.

Despite having left the town in the early afternoon Dave still had to negotiate his way through some heavy peak-hour traffic when they got to the city, although the size of his truck seemed to make things a bit easier: People in small cars just didn’t seem to be in quite a hurry to overtake and cut him off by barging their way into the lane ahead of him, and were also inclined to give way when he wanted to overtake or merge. Even so, they arrived about twenty minutes later than he’d hoped and, not that he really needed to, added traffic to his many reasons for avoiding cities as much as possible.

The thing that turned Bron off most was seeing how pollution in the air had turned what should have been a clear sky and a beautiful sunset into a dull red-brown haze that stretched right across the skyline. They both noted the large number of high-rise building construction cranes that were silhouetted against the haze and concluded that cities were only going to become even worse places to live in, especially for people like them.

When they finally did arrive all such thoughts were put aside as Allan and Lynne rolled out the welcome mat, greeting Dave with enthusiasm and extending that to include Bron. It was obvious that they believed anyone who Dave decided to bring would hardly be in need of character references. Before their arrival Lynne had spent time preparing Boeuf Bourguignon, a dish that she knew Dave liked, and although it was ready to be served Allan insisted that a pre-dinner drink was in order.

He came into the lounge where they were seated, holding a tray bearing a chilled bottle of Yellowglen Brüt de Brüt, and four crystal champagne flutes which he proceeded to fill. Bron was unaware when she took the drink offered to her that a sugar cube with a dash of Angostura bitters and 1/3 oz of Cognac had first been placed in the glass, but with her first sip of the Champagne cocktail knew that she had better not have more than one glass! Well, not before dinner at least.

During the meal Dave told his friends about his trip thus far: How he had met Bron; about the village of Brocklesbury and Fish Hook Bay; plus discovering the farm and how he was planning to establish himself as its new caretaker. Bron was amazed at just how much he was thinking of doing not only with the farm but also with Fish Hook Bay; however despite having known him only a short time she believed that he would be able to do it all.

It also appeared that both his friends thought so too, though of course they had known him for a very long time, since High School days in fact, and believed that he was more than capable of, as Allan put it, “pulling it off.” Lynne said that she wouldn’t put it quite that way as it made it sound like Dave was committing a crime of some sort, but she was equally convinced that he could and would make it all work.

After dinner, for which Lynne rightfully received the compliments due, it was left to the two men to undertake the task of cleaning up the kitchen and doing the dishes, which was something that Allan always did when Lynne had done the cooking. Admittedly it had been a lot less frequently before he had purchased the new dishwashing machine, he told Dave with a laugh, but he’d keep doing it - at least until one of their children was old enough to operate it. He set up the coffee percolator and left it happily bubbling away while they shared the last of the Champagne that was in the second bottle he’d opened during dinner.

The aroma of coffee soon drifted through to the lounge where the two girls were getting along like a house on fire, and Lynne suddenly appeared in the kitchen, coming in to get the cups and saucers, plus plates for ice-cream and the apple pie that she’d made for dessert. As Allan carried a tray into the lounge Lynne grabbed Dave’s arm and leaning close to his ear whispered quietly, “Dai, she’s gorgeous! If you let her go I’ll take back every nice thing I’ve ever said about you and call you an idiot!”

Dave was a bit taken aback by this, and didn’t really have time to respond before she let go of his arm and returned to the lounge. Although he had the feeling that Lynne was correct in her assessment of Bron, he was in unchartered waters here and thought it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to just go full steam ahead. On the other hand.... Hmm. No: He may be considered a bold or adventurous person by some, but never a reckless one, so at present he would proceed at “Slow Ahead”.... And watch out for reefs!

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

Bron was still sleeping soundly in the bungalow’s bed next morning when at six a.m. Dave’s internal alarm clock woke him, and he lay on his air mattress for only a moment before clambering from his sleeping bag and heading for the shower. His first task for the day was going to be to hand in his notice at the hardware store, and as there was no real point in taking Bron with him, he let her sleep. He could have eaten before going out, however not wanting to wake her by clattering around the small kitchen he showered, shaved and dressed, then headed directly to a café well known for its good breakfast menu.

As he sat at one of the café’s tables having his bacon and eggs, and sausages, tomatoes, mushrooms, toast and tea he took his time reading one of the morning papers, and decided that if the excitement of living in a city had to go hand in hand with the amount of crime as reported, he would much prefer to be back in Brocklesbury. With breakfast finished he handing the paper to another diner who was looking for one, paid his bill and then drove to the hardware store, arriving well before it was due to open and in time to catch the manager, who had also just arrived.

“Dai! Didn’t expect to see you for another three weeks! Just can’t keep away from the job, aye?”

“Morning John. On the contrary, I’m afraid.”

The manager looked at him, saw through his smile, and gave a sigh. “Well Dai, I don’t think I have to guess too hard as to why you’re here. Can’t say I’m completely surprised though, but I’ll be genuinely sorry to see you go.”

“Sorry John. I enjoyed my time working here, but I’m not really cut out for working in a store. I’ve found a place up North a bit and I’m going to try my hand at farming.”

“Farming?! Are you serious, or are you having me on? If anything, I thought you’d probably go back to sea.”

“Yeah, well I have to admit that occasionally I do miss the heave of a deck under my feet, but I think my new venture will keep my mind off that for a while. I’ve written out a letter of resignation but I reckoned it would be better to hand it to you personally rather than post it.”

“From you Dai, I wouldn’t have expected anything less. Not like the way too many young people are these days. Now I’ll have to find myself a new floor manager.”

“That shouldn’t be too difficult, should it? How’s Roger doing in the position while I’ve been gone?”

“Well, pretty good, I must admit. You’ve trained him well.”

“I’ve trained him some, yes, but he’s quite a capable bloke, and he’s keen too. Why not leave off looking for a new person for a month or two and see if you think he could handle the position permanently. My bet is that he’d do really well.”

“You’re probably right, Dai. OK, I’ll do that. He’s going to owe you one.”

Dave laughed. “Nah, he’s worked hard and deserves it.”

“So, are you headed back up North right now, or will you be staying around for a bit? If you are I’d like to see you at the end of the day and we could have a pint together.”

“That sounds good. I’ll be going back on Sunday. There are a few things I have to get while I’m down here, so I’ll be doing a bit of shopping.”

“I see you've given me a full month’s notice and your resignation isn’t effective yet, so keep in mind that if you need any hardware your staff discount still applies.”

“Thanks John. Actually, I’m looking to get a generator, but a bit larger than those sold here unfortunately.”

“Come inside. I think I might be able to help you there. What size jenny do you have in mind?”

“Something around 8KVa, preferably diesel.”

Once inside the store the manager made a phone call and when he’d finished gave Dave the address of an industrial supplies company that would be able to provide what he wanted. Whatever jenny Dave wanted was to be billed to the hardware store, which would enable him to get an even better than trade price, and Dave could simply pay that amount to the store. They chatted for a bit and after Dave had thanked John and handed over his letter of resignation he left, promising to come back at the end of the working day.

After arriving at the industrial supplies company he had a look at what was on offer and had almost decided to get a new 8KVa unit when he spotted a second-hand trailer-mounted model. It was an 11KVa unit with a larger but silenced diesel engine that had seen little use, and it had been traded in on an even bigger unit more suited to the purchaser’s needs. He had the staff start it up and was pleased to hear that the diesel was much quieter than he’d expected. It was also a bit cheaper than the new one he’d been looking at, and being mounted on a trailer made it even more attractive. He’d still need his Coleman lantern though, he grinned to himself as he drove away with the trailer in tow: Damned if he was going to run an 11KVa genset just to read a book! And as for getting a television set: Forget it!

His next stop was the bank, where he first withdrew an amount of cash to cover the cost of the generator, plus a few other expenses, and then arranged for the transfer of his account to the branch of the bank nearest Brocklesbury, as the village itself did not have a bank. Then it was back to the bungalow where after unhitching the trailer he found that Bron had risen, had had breakfast and was now over at the house chatting with Lynne. Her Diving Medical appointment was not until the early evening and as it was almost lunch time he asked her if she would be interested in going to Chinatown for Yum-Cha. She’d never had that, she said, but would love to go and try it.

Having lunch and looking around Chinatown took a little longer than either of them realised, and when Dave checked his watch found that it was later than he thought. They had to run to the carpark and drive quickly back across the harbour bridge and on to Mosman, where the Diving Medical Centre was located, and made it with only five minutes to spare. When she was finished Bron was relieved to have passed the medical and have the appropriate section of her Dive Course Application signed off. Not that she’d been at all worried about passing of course, she told Dave. Later she admitted that her lung function test hadn’t really been all that good, and it was only when she told Dr Carl Edmonds who her instructor was going to be that she was given the all clear.

“Do you know what he said? No, of course not: You weren’t there so of course you wouldn’t. Apparently my trachea is narrower than average, and I wouldn’t be able to expel air fast enough for an emergency ascent. He said that there were only two instructors he knew that he thought would be able to teach me to dive without him having to worry about me having an embolism in the future, and you were one of them.”

“No, I didn’t know he said that, but he did have a quiet word to me before we left, so I was aware of the restricted trachea you have. Carl and I have known each other for quite some time and despite some people saying that he’s way over cautious I know for a fact that he always acts in the best interests of both the diver as an individual, and the sports diving community as a whole. He was Officer in Charge of the Royal Australian Navy School of Underwater Medicine from 1967 to 1975, and is still a consultant there. He’s also written a number of books, and I have a couple of them in my Dive Bag.”

With Bron’s Medical out of the way they drove to the hardware store where Dave paid John for the generator he’d picked up that morning, and for several power tools that he was going to need for the renovation work he was planning for the farm-house. He opted to buy mostly Makita tools, and by the time he’d finished choosing them his wallet was quite a bit slimmer, although not by as much as if he had been paying the full retail price, because John sold them to him at cost.

Their timing was also pretty good because the store was closing at the same time as Dave was paying, and when the doors were finally shut not only did John, Dave and Bron head for the Brookvale hotel, but most of the staff did too. John had worded everybody up that Dave was leaving, and it seemed that they all wanted to go along for a couple of farewell drinks. And of course they also wanted to have a close look at the beautiful sheila with him!

It had been a long day for them both and neither wanted to stay out too late, so after a reasonable time chatting with John and members of the staff, and thanking them all for the send-off, Dave drove Bron to a Chinese restaurant where they ordered several take-away dishes. While Bron waited for them Dave went over the road to a bottle shop and picked up a bottle of Kaiser Stühl Rosé, returning to find that their dishes were ready. He reached for his wallet but Bron placed her hand on his arm and shook her head: She had already paid for them, and he wasn’t to object.

Back in the truck he placed the containers in the esky that was sitting on the back seat and when they arrived back at the bungalow a short time later, the food was still hot enough not to need reheating. Bron said that she had never thought of using a chilly bin to keep things hot, but as it was after all simply an insulated container, it was a good idea. With the meal and bottle of wine finished they both headed for their beds for a good night’s sleep as Dave had yet another full day planned for the morrow.

Despite that this October had been unseasonably wet in the city, a beautiful early morning found them sat at an outside table at The Bower Restaurant, enjoying breakfast while overlooking Manly’s Cabbage Tree Bay. A number of scuba diving students were assembled on the rocks adjacent to the tiny slice of beach known as Fairy Bower, and were assembling their equipment under the watchful eye of their instructor. Bron and Dave also watched them closely, Bron with the wide-eyed interest of someone who would also be taking a course soon, and Dave with the more professional eye of the instructor that he was. It was low tide, and the sea was not exactly calm, with two foot high waves curling over to drop on the beach with some force.

“This should be interesting. Let’s get a closer look,” said Dave, and telling the waitress that they hadn’t finished yet, left their table for a couple of minutes and together walked over to the sea wall that separated the path from the beach. The diving students were now down close to the water’s edge, getting ready to enter, and Dave shook his head slightly as most of them dropped their fins on the sand and pushed their feet into them. The instructor then asked them to wait while he and his divemaster first demonstrated how they should enter the water when it was a bit rough, as it was today.
Together the instructor and divemaster faced each other, side on to the water, with their arms extended so that each could monkey-grip the other’s forearms, and then performed a sideways shuffle into the water. This crab-like entry, their instructor had told them, enabled each to support his or her buddy during the entry and prevent their falling over.

Now it was the turn of the students to enter, and five buddy pairs attempted to follow the instructions they had been given, although only two of the pairs were successful. The other three pairs all seemed to have the same difficulty: An incoming wave would upset one of the pair and having gripped their arms as had been shown the buddy was dragged down into shallow water where successive waves knocked them both around a bit more. Two buddy pairs did manage to struggle out into deeper water however the last pair had to crawl back out onto the beach, both divers dropping their regulator mouthpieces which promptly filled with sand.

The divemaster returned to the beach, cleared their regulators and then took them one at a time back into the water. Dave gave a laugh when he looked at Bron and saw the worried frown and pursed lips she sported after watching the proceedings on the beach below.

“Don’t worry,” he said as they walked back to their table. “I won’t be teaching you the same way that Steve instructs his students.”

“You know him?”

“Steve Lee,” Dave said, nodding his head. “He’s an independent instructor and works from the same store that I used to work from. I’ve had a few quiet conversations with him in the past about some of the techniques that I use when instructing, and tried to give him a few tips on how to make things easier for his students, and for himself as well. Unfortunately he’s a strictly by-the-book type of guy and seems to believe that any diving technique that’s not shown in a PADI manual is wrong. Could never convince him that while there’s always the wrong way to do something, there isn’t always only one way of doing it right.”

They finished their coffees and at Dave’s suggestion walked along the path to Shelly Beach at the end of the bay, and as they did so she was suddenly struck by the similarities of where they were now and Fish Hook Bay. She was now also better able to understand his enthusiasm for turning the bay up north into a diving destination, and realised why Tony and Trev had been so keen on other ideas he had told them about.

They reached the beach and then retracing their steps arrived back to the bower just as the dive students were making their exits from the water. Dave told her to watch carefully as they did so, and try to remember all that she saw. He had correctly predicted, to himself at least, that the students’ egress would be no less trouble for them than their entries had been, and he would be able to use the unintended demonstration to reinforce the advantages of using the techniques that he would teach Bron. He wasn’t about to begin explaining any of that just yet though; it could wait until she was actually doing the course, when it would be easier to understand.

They continued their walk along Marine Parade back to the main beach of Manly, then through The Corso to the wharf, where they caught a ferry to Circular Quay. From one of the shops at the quay they ordered a take-away meal of fish and chips, which they ate aboard the ferry as it took them back to Manly. It was a trip that Bron had never taken before and she delighted in the views of the harbour from the upper deck as Dave pointed out many of the harbour's features.

When the ferry docked at Manly they got off and walked along the foreshore path of West Esplanade, and then followed it as far as Fairlight, which was another spot that Dave had often used for his scuba classes. Finally they got back to the truck, which Dave had parked on a hill several streets away from the town’s centre due to the parking restrictions there. Bron claimed that she hadn’t walked so much in a long, long time, and her legs and feet were aching “like, like... Oh I don’t know, but they ache! ”

Back at the bungalow they both had a shower and got ready to go out with Allan and Lynne, who had organised a babysitter to look after the children while the adults went to the Spanish Club, where there was live entertainment and excellent food on offer. There was also dancing, though Bron said that her legs and feet just weren’t up to it and she was happy enough to just sit and enjoy the night from the comfort of her chair, and Dave was quite happy to go along with that. The night might have dragged on a bit longer however Lynne said that they had to consider the baby sitter, and so well before midnight they were all back at the house.

The girls were soon in bed, but the men sat up for a while talking about some of the ideas that Dave was considering for the farm. Allan very kindly suggested that Dave didn’t need to pay rent for the bungalow from now, and as he wasn’t planning to rent it out for some time it would be available for him to move back into if things didn’t work out as he planned.

“Not that I think that things won’t work out for you,” he said, adding “But it’s always good to have something to fall back on if not everything goes to plan.”

“Thanks Al. I really appreciate that. I think I’ll pack up all the stuff I have in here and take it with me anyway because I’m fairly confident that things will work out. But if it doesn’t, my ‘Plan B’ at the moment is to use all that camping gear you guys sold me and slowly work my way back up to Mum and Dad’s farm. Speaking of which, I’ll be going up to visit them as soon as I’ve got the farm sorted out.”

“Will you be taking Bron with you?”

“To tell the truth I hadn’t even thought about it. I don’t know what she’d read into it if I suggested she could come with me. I mean, we’ve only known each other for three weeks, and visiting my parents and all...”

“Oh for heaven’s sake Dai, you’re not bloody-well proposing to her!” Allan interjected. “Just tell her where you’re going and ask her if she wants to go along for the ride. She’ll either say ‘yes’ or she’ll say ‘no’. It’s as simple as that.”

“Umm... Yeah... Well... I’ll think about it. Maybe ask her on the way back home. But for now, I’m off to bed, and I’ll see you in the morning, Good night.” And he beat a hasty retreat to the bungalow.

“Goodnight Mate,” replied Allen, grinning inwardly: Dave may not be willing to admit it, even to himself, but it was obvious to him, and to Lynne too she admitted later, that Dai had fallen in love. And despite the short time in which he’d had to make an opinion her, from what Allen had seen so far he thought that Dave would have been hard pressed to find a better girl.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

In the morning Bron helped pack the rest of Dave’s few belongings into the rear of the truck’s cab before they said goodbye to Allan and Lynne and, after hitching the generator trailer to the truck drove to the security- patrolled self-storage unit that he was renting. He checked in at the office then proceeded to his unit where he opened the two padlocks on the roller door, and raised it to reveal the large amount of goods he had stacked inside. Bron could see that it would take quite a few trips with his truck to move everything to Brocklesbury, and it was also obvious that he would need some help in doing it. And funnily enough, she just happened to know someone who’d be willing to help!

One item that she knew she wouldn’t be able to help with was what appeared to be a very heavy safe, and Dave explained that indeed it was a safe, and that it had once belonged to a bank in the U.S. He’d purchased it cheaply and brought it back to Australia on the ship he was skippering. He would get some professional help in moving that when the time came as it would require a forklift to move it safely.

On this trip though, Dave was more interested in retrieving the materials and equipment he’d need to teach Bron to dive, and that was easily achieved as everything in the unit was stacked in a way that allowed him to find anything he needed without having to go hunting for it. He selected a large tote that was fairly heavy as it was loaded with text-books, manuals, a cassette tape player, a slide projector and several boxes of slides, and then a large portable screen onto which the slides could be projected.

There were several racks on which were hung wet-suits and buoyancy compensators, and these items were taken off and laid in piles so that the racks could be disassembled and placed on the truck. Next came ten totes containing enough masks, fins, snorkels, regulators with gauges, and other items that would be needed to teach classes of up to ten students. These were placed on the back of the truck with the wetsuits, BC’s and a large rectangle of high density foam laid out on top, and were secured by a cargo net placed over them. Allan and Lynne had used the foam as a topping on the Queen-sized air mattress that they used for camping, and it went with the equipment that Dave had bought from them.

Five milk crates had been placed well forward on the tray and Bron passed up weight belts one by one until the crates were full. Two custom-made wooden frames were placed flat on the rear of the tray and twelve scuba tanks were placed on them, with another twelve tanks left to be picked up later. The last item loaded was a surfboard which Dave secured to the rack on top of the truck’s cab.

The surfboard was of a type that Bron had never seen before as rather than fibreglass it was made of the same foam used for boogie boards, and was thus able to be legally used in areas normally reserved for swimmers only. He had fitted it up with grab handles on each side and had printed RESCUE on its deck, as it was to be used mainly for the Rescue Diver Courses that he would conduct when his Dive School was up and running.

“That’s it, for this trip,” said Dave as they drove out. “I forgot to ask the guys before we left home if I could use their enclosed carport to store this equipment for a couple of weeks, but if that’s going to be inconvenient for them I’ll take everything straight to the farm.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that if I was you, Dai: The space isn’t used for anything at the moment, and they already feel they owe you way and above what they agreed to pay for the work you’ve done so far. And they’re also quite surprised that you haven’t taken advantage of being able to have a few drinks at the bar at no expense to yourself.”

He first drove to the dive shop that he had worked from and had all the scuba tanks filled, then to a service station where he topped up the truck’s fuel tank, and finally onto the highway going north. They weren’t in any hurry but with most of the traffic headed into the city the road out was pretty much clear, and they arrived back in Brocklesbury in the late afternoon. Tony had no problem with Dave using the enclosed carport to store the diving equipment, and before long it had all been unloaded from the truck and secured, though not before Bron had insisted on trying out a wet-suit for size.

She felt that a size ten was just a tad restrictive and so chose a twelve, and to this was added a pair of boots that were “just right”, a pair of fins, a mask, snorkel and a medium sized BC. All these, along with a regulator and tri-combo gauge were placed in an empty tote ready for loading when she commenced her dive course.

He opened a large tote containing teaching materials and withdrew a PADI Open Water Diver’s Manual and a work-book that contained the same questions that were asked at the end of each module in the text book. He handed these to Bron, telling her that although he would be instructing her in all the practical aspects of diving, she could study the theory at her own pace, filling in the work-book as she did so. He would then review her answers to the questions and clarify anything that she wasn't sure of, and then expand on what was written in the manual. She was happy enough with that, though not so happy that she’d have to wait until he’d finalised his takeover of the farm before he’d begin instructing her. But then again, by waiting for a few more weeks at least the weather, and the water, would be a lot warmer!

The last task for the day was to tow the trailer to the farm where he reversed it under the carport on the side of the garage, unhitched it and then ran a heavy chain through the wheels before putting on a padlock to prevent it wandering off through the night.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

“Before I came to play “Cobb & Co.” how did you manage this trip?” Dave asked as he drove Bron back to town in the morning. “Don’t get me wrong: I’m not complaining. Just wondering is all.”

“Well, over the past three months Tony would pick me up on the Friday after I finished work and bring take me back on the Monday morning. I do have a Toyota Corolla but unfortunately it’s now sitting at the back of one of the garages in town, waiting until I’ve saved enough to have it fixed.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“A radiator hose blew and the engine overheated and stopped. Mechanic said that it’d seized and would need to be completely rebuilt or replaced, either of which will cost quite a bit. I’ve saved almost enough, and I figure it’ll only take another month before I have the full amount. I’ll be glad when it’s fixed because it’s a lovely little car.”

“I’m surprised that it would have suffered that much damage from being overheated, unless you were running it dry for some time. Did you try to get a second opinion?”

“No. I didn’t try to start it again after the engine stopped because the temperature gauge was in the red. I don’t know enough about engines to try and fix it myself, so I just left it with him. He did offer to buy it, but he wasn’t offering much, and besides, I’d then have to go and buy another car anyway.”

“Hmm. Do you mind if I have a look at it? I’m not a mechanic, but I have tinkered with a few cars over the years. Your mechanic might even drop his price a bit if he thinks someone else might be trying to get the job.”

“You think so? Well, it sure wouldn’t do any harm. When do you want to look at it?”

“How about we go there when you finish work today?”

That agreed to, Dave dropped her off at her lodgings and then went in search of the Salvation Army’s and St Vincent de Paul’s outlets that sold second-hand clothing and furnishings. He found both, plus another shop that sold, as its sign proclaimed, “Pre-loved Furniture”, and returned to the village about three hours later with a very large country-style table with turned legs, and eight matching chairs.

The table was nearly three feet longer than the tray of the truck so the tailgate had to be left down to accommodate it. After the table had been slid top down onto the tray, with its working surface protected by two old blankets lent to him by the shop, he tied it down and a red piece of cloth was hung on the protruding end. A large sideboard and four bar stools that matched the ensemble were paid for, but would be picked up later that afternoon as there had been insufficient space on the back of the truck to carry everything in one trip.

As he was about to leave he noticed an old-style wall-mounted telephone that would look perfect in the farmhouse and as it had been in the shop for quite some time he was able to get it for next to nothing, and although he was warned by the staff that they hadn’t checked to see if it worked he thought it would make a nice decoration anyway.

“I think I might need a bigger truck” he thought to himself as he drove to the farmhouse and offloaded the table and chairs. Thankfully the blankets made it fairly easy to slide the table onto the back veranda but it was still a bit of a struggle to manoeuvre it by himself through the door and into the dining area. That done, and having already told Trevor that he would continue the painting next day as he had a few things he needed to attend to, he went back into town and with the help of the shop’s staff got the sideboard and bar stools loaded. Cooking and kitchen utensils, crockery, cutlery and many other items would also be needed of course; however he thought it might be a good idea to ask Bron for her assistance in that area.

Picking up Bron after she had finished work and gone home to change into a pair of jeans they drove to the garage where her car was being held. The mechanic who was supposedly looking after her car was not there as he had been asked to help out at a garage in a small town some distance to the West, where the mechanic there had broken a leg and was unable to work. The young apprentice, Michael, who was looking after the garage in his absence was keen to help her though, and after being introduced to Dave led them both down to the storage compound at the rear.

Her car was under a tarp that she herself had provided, and when it was removed Dave opened up the bonnet and had a quick look at the engine, noting as he did the ruptured radiator hose. Nothing had been done to the car as yet and when Dave asked the apprentice what he thought was the problem, he admitted that although he didn’t know for certain, it was probably not nearly as bad as the mechanic made it out to be.

“To tell the truth, I think if there is actually anything wrong with it, which I doubt, it could probably be fixed very easily. The radiator hose could be replaced but Paul won’t let me go anywhere near it though, and I think he’s just looking to make some easy money.”

“Really? You don’t mind if I try to turn the engine over then?”

“Go for it. The battery’s probably flat so I’ll bring the starter trolley down and hook it up for you. And I guess I should also get the keys too,” he added with a grin.

With the larger battery on the starter trolley hooked up to the car Dave inserted the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine turned over a couple of times then it caught, and he let it run for a few seconds before turning it off again.

“Well, it’s obvious that it hasn’t seized. Do you have radiator hoses that will fit this car, Mike? If you do, I’ll buy one and fit it now. Can I borrow a screwdriver and small shifter?”

“Oh sure, no problem. I’ll go get the hose and tools now,” he said as he headed for the workshop.

He returned a couple of minutes later with the new part, tools and a twenty litre container of water, then helped Dave replace the hose that was broken before putting the water into the radiator. While they were working on the repair, and Bron was out of ear-shot, Mike told Dave that Paul, the mechanic, was not only a rip-off merchant but that he’d made some pretty disgusting remarks about what he’d like to do with Bron if he ever got the chance. When Dave listened to and then looked at him he could see that the young lad obviously had strong feelings towards Bron, despite that she was at least seven or eight or nine years older than him. Dave wasn’t going to say anything about that to Bron of course, but he did tell Mike that if it was any consolation, Paul would never be able to take advantage of her, and that Dave would make sure of that!

When the engine was restarted he let it run for several minutes with the radiator cap off, topped up the water when the level dropped as it circulated around the engine, then replaced the cap. He drove the car up to the petrol bowsers and turned off the motor before refilling the car’s tank, and then checked the oil level. It was down quite a lot and what was on the dipstick looked to be a bit burnt, however he put a couple of litres of oil in figuring that it should be OK for Bron to drive the car to the farm, where he would be able to check it over more thoroughly before she could drive it regularly.

After Bron had thanked Mike for his help, and given him a hug and a kiss on the cheek that brought an instant and bright red flush to his face, she drove slowly out onto the main road and with Dave following her headed sedately towards Brocklesbury. As he followed her he noticed that there was a bit of blue smoke issuing from her car’s exhaust and guessed that the cylinders might need to be honed and the piston rings replaced. Before leaving, Dave had paid Mike for the hose, fuel and oil, and asked him to inform his boss that Bron had driven the car away with no problem at all. Mike would be only too happy to do that, he said, and thanked Dave for the chance to be able to, as he put it, “Stick it to the boss... Big time.”

They arrived at the farm and after Dave had unlocked the gate had Bron park her car inside the garage, though not before he had moved a number of things that otherwise would have been in the way. He then drove his truck around to the rear of the house and carefully reversed it up to the veranda before getting Bron to help him unload and move the sideboard and bar stools inside. She was amazed at the difference the addition of furniture, plus of course the cleaning he’d done had already made to the kitchen and dining areas, and when he asked her if she wouldn’t mind helping him shop for all the other things needed to make it actually useable she was quick to say yes.

In fact, she was so excited about the idea that she immediately began rattling off a list of things that she thought would be needed, until he was finally forced to say that he’d simply leave the shopping to her and would just go along to carry everything. She held her hands together in a monkey grip, raised her shoulders, gave a lips-parted smile, and cocking her head to one side and shaking her upper body, loudly cried “Oh yes!”

He would be working full time for the next three days as he needed to be in town for most of the day on Friday, so the shopping would have to wait until Saturday at the earliest. Of course, that would give her plenty of time to look through the large stack of House & Garden and similar magazines that her landlady had, and which might hopefully give her a few good ideas on designs and colours that might suit the place. But for now, it was time for dinner, which they had in the hotel’s dining room, and then a ride back to town.

Over the following three days Dave worked like a beaver, putting all his effort into finishing the painting of all twelve guest rooms plus the corridor on the upper floor of the accommodation block. There were another twelve rooms to be done on the ground floor and he expected to have them, and the guests’ dining room and lounge completed before the summer season began. He had also managed to do the brickwork on the front fence, and because that work was going to be claimed on their insurance, Tony had asked him to submit an invoice for an amount that would normally be charged by a tradesman.

In fact, Tony had added, he should submit invoices for the painting too, as he could also claim that on tax too. That wouldn’t be problem, Dave told him, if he didn’t mind one that was going to be presented by a business that only existed on paper, and which the ATO wouldn’t be able to connect to him, and Tony told him with a smile that he had no problems with that.

* * *​

 

[Mr Bill]

Hope you have a finish for this one. It is a great story.

 

[wvstuck]

Amazing so far!

 

[sssarawolf]

I had to look up what a vanilla slice was

 

[Lake Lili]

MOAR... I need MOAR... I came to the end and the cupboard is bare... please Sir might we have some MOAR...
Great story Bida!

Lili

 

[Bidadisndat]

“Just a short back and sides please Beth, though not so short that it looks like I’ve just had it cut, if you know what I mean,” he had said to the hairdresser in Williams Street where he went to have his hair cut on the Friday morning. The job that Beth did was “just right,” he had told her, and despite her trying to insist that this one was “on the house,” thanked her and paid the going rate as displayed on a sign hanging in the salon.

Back at the hotel he showered, shaved carefully and then put on a clean, freshly ironed shirt and one of the three suits that he owned. The tie that he put on next matched the shirt and suit perfectly, however this was not due to any dress sense that Dave had but was simply due to the fact that he had seen the complete outfit on a mannequin in the window of a menswear store, and had purchased an identical outfit when he went inside. In fact his other two suits had been purchased in the same manner, and he had always felt thankful towards those professionals who were able to match items of clothing so well.

He added his briefcase to the outfit, and fortunately its brown leather was a match for the belt and polished shoes that he was wearing. The briefcase had been purchased from a courier who had specialised in transporting sensitive documents, and sometimes gems, and it had been constructed not only of leather but also Kevlar, plus it had an x-ray proof lining. He didn’t really need those features, however despite its weight it was a good piece of equipment to have, and he’d got it at a very good price!

“Dave, a man of your supposed disposition wouldn’t be arriving at the council chambers in a truck such as yours, surely?” called Tony as he saw Dave walking towards the truck. “Here, take my car: It’s much more suited to the purpose,” he added as he handed Dave the keys.

“You want me to take the Crown?” Dave asked a surprised Dave.

“Yes. It isn’t often seen around town, so I doubt anyone would recognise it as being mine. And if it was to be parked outside the council chambers you could probably leave it there all day without attracting a parking ticket.”

With the unspoken understanding that he would take good care of the car, and of course pay for any parking penalties that he incurred, Dave took the offered keys and drove into town. He found it to be an extremely comfortable vehicle to drive and was quite conscious of the unexpected luxury that now surrounded him, especially after having driven his old truck for so long. By the time he arrived in town he had convinced himself that obtaining a Crown of his own was going to be a priority.

It was only just after eleven a.m. when he arrived at the council chambers, however his first stop was going to be the bank to which he had transferred his cheque and savings accounts. Once there he withdrew a sum of cash which he placed in his wallet, and purchased a Bank Cheque for the total amount of the arrears on the farm and slipped it into his briefcase.

Cynthia Blount wasn’t due to go to lunch until midday, and as that was still half an hour away he decided to go to the second-hand bookshop that was two blocks down from the council chambers. Once there he sought out the shelves that held books on Automobiles and after a couple of minutes searching was rewarded by the discovery of a maintenance manual for Toyota Corollas, fortunately for the years that covered the model that Bron owned. On an impulse, and not that he needed it, at least just now anyway, he looked further and found another for Toyota Crown Saloons. He purchased both and returned to the car where he placed them on the parcel shelf under the dashboard, then with brief-case in hand walked into the council chambers.

Although Debbie had been expecting him she failed to recognise the well-dressed man who had approached the front counter until she herself had walked up and asked him if she could be of assistance.

“Dave! Good Lord, is that really you?!” she exclaimed, but quietly enough that a co-worker sitting at an adjacent desk couldn’t hear what she was saying, though it sure appeared that he was trying hard to listen, thought Dave. “You sure look a lot different in a suit… and you’ve had a haircut too.”

“Hullo Debbie,” he said in the same low voice, but with the friendly smile of somebody who was visiting the chambers on business. “I’m just wondering if your accountant friend is available.”

“She certainly is. Dave, I hope you don’t mind, but I had a quiet word with her earlier this week and she’s expecting you. I’ll give her a buzz now.”

Debbie went back to her desk, picked up her ‘phone and spoke into it briefly before returning to the counter to tell Dave that the accountant would be down in a moment. She had no time to talk to him further as a woman had entered the building and was standing at the counter waiting for attention. Debbie spoke to her for a few minutes before going back to her desk and retrieving a receipt book as the woman wanted to make a payment of some type. While Debbie was engaged an attractive woman in a business suit and clutching a notebook had come down the stairs and now approached Dave.

“Mr Morgan? I’m Laura Bates, the accountant. You wanted to speak to me, I understand. Would you like to come up to my office?”

“Here would be fine, thank you Ms Bates. I simply wanted to pay an account, however as it’s for overdue rates and the final date for payment is today, I wanted to make sure that it’ll be processed quickly.”

“And quietly too, if I understood Debbie correctly,” she said quietly with a mischievous smile. “That won’t be a problem at all Mr. Morgan. And as Debbie is using the receipt book down here right now, it’s a good thing that I just happen to have my own receipt book with me,” she said, and the look she gave him left Dave in no doubt that that was not just a coincidence.

Dave presented her with the Rates Notice that Tony had given him, and showed her a letter that supposedly authorised him to take over management of McKenzie’s property. The cunningly worded document was pure humbug of course, having been composed by Dave and Allen when he was in the city, although it would appear to be genuine to anybody who didn’t spend too much time reading it carefully. Had they done so they would have discovered that not only did it not bear Ian McKenzie's signature, which would have made it a forgery, it also did not authorise anything but merely stated that Dave would be taking over management of the property.

As he expected, Laura only took a brief look at the letter before writing out a receipt stating that payment for the rates had been received from Mr David Morgan of Lot 542 Brocklesbury Rd, Brocklesbury. Council, she informed him with another smile, did not really care who paid the rates, just so long as they were paid. He then arranged for all future rates notices, the next one of which was due to be issued in December, to be addressed to him personally at the same address.

If it was at all possible he would like to get the next notice well before it was due, and was very pleased when Laura said that she could have it generated right now, if he didn’t mind waiting for ten minutes. He didn’t mind at all, especially as Cynthia Blount wasn’t due to return for another twenty, and he left the council chambers fifteen minutes later with the new rates notice, issued in his name, and a signed receipt for its payment.

They had only chatted for perhaps twenty minutes at the most yet by the time Dave left, giving Debbie a wave and a wink as he did so, he and Laura were on first-name terms.

“Mmm... Rather good looking,” said Laura to Debbie as she watched Dave walk out. “I gather you know him fairly well?”
“Only met him recently,” Debbie replied. “Though I think it won’t be long before he becomes part of our group. In fact, he’ll be at the pub with us tonight. Want to come along?”

“I’d like to, but I couldn’t leave Brian at home by himself.”

“Laura, you know darned well that Mrs. Kelly would be only too happy to take care of him while you go out and have a bit of fun for a change. Isn’t she always offering to do that? C’mon, a fun night out will do you good.”

“Well, I suppose I could... Alright then, I’ll go home first and if it’s OK for Brian to stay with Mrs. K, I’ll go.”

“Good for you. Oh yes, and a word of warning regarding Dave Morgan.”

“Oh?” Laura cocked her head slightly and raised her eyebrows, waiting for Debbie to continue.

“Bronwyn.... As in Phillips.”

“Damn!”

And they both laughed.

After Laura had gone back upstairs Debbie’s co-worker asked her who the guy in the suit was and what did he want, but Debbie simply told him that it was a Mr Morgan, and that she didn’t know what he wanted apart from needing to talk to the accountant. She thought it may have been in regard to a Property Development Application she added, before changing the subject. Hopefully the nosy Michael would have forgotten about Dave’s visit before he returned from his lunch break, and wouldn’t mention anything to Cynthia Blount.

Dave next went to the local branch of the Motor Registry Office and using the latest rates notice and the receipt for its payment to confirm his new address, updated the details on his Driving License, then to the Police station to do the same for his Firearms License. With nothing more to do in town at present and knowing that Bron would have finished work, he drove to her lodgings. She was pleased to see him, but very surprised to see that he was driving Tony’s Crown Saloon, as Tony would not normally let anyone but himself drive it. Dave was going to his take the car back to Brocklesbury and get his truck, as they’d be going to the pub that night, and he wanted to know if Bron would like to go with him.

“Actually, I would, and it’s very good that you came here now,” she said.

“I’ve got a load of parcels that need to be taken over. Wait there a sec and I’ll bring them out.”

She certainly meant it when she said she had a load, and Dave had to make several trips helping her carry them out to the car. Some fifteen minutes later the boot was full and the back seat was also piled with boxes, and after saying hullo and then goodbye to Bron’s landlady Rebecca, they set off for the village.

As they drove Dave extolled the virtues of the Crown and told her that he intended getting one for himself as soon as he could find one for sale. She had to admit that not only was it a really lovely car, she had also found it very easy to drive, as Tony had once let her take the wheel when returning her to town after a shift. When they arrived in the village Bron asked him not to ask any questions but would he please drive through to the farm before going to the hotel.

Dave did as he was asked, and though he didn’t ask any questions he figured that the reason may just have had something to do with all the parcels and boxes they were carrying. Not that he’d need to be a Sherlock Holmes to work that out of course. He was correct, as once at the farm they were all unloaded and placed on the front porch. Very obediently, Dave did as he was told when she said to go back to the hotel, change out of his suit, and come back in the truck, after which all would be revealed. Before going to the hotel he pulled in to Jeff Mullin’s garage and filled the petrol tank, telling Jeff while he was there that he had now officially taken over the management of McKenzie’s farm. He also suggested that as Shady Read was unlikely to have been made aware of the fact beforehand, next Tuesday’s council meeting might well be worth attending.

In the forty five minutes that he was gone Bron moved everything inside and quickly began unwrapping the parcels and packages, putting all the rubbish out onto the back veranda and the items she had purchased into the places where she thought they should be. By the time Dave returned the kitchen and dining area had been totally transformed: The dining table now sported a table cloth and place mats, cushions had been placed not only on the chairs, but on the bar stools as well, and curtains had been hung over the kitchen window.

She had put most of the crockery into one of the cupboards, but four settings had been laid out on the table for display, along with several matching accessories such as salt and pepper shakers, a sugar bowl, a milk jug and a covered butter dish. Cutlery for the setting had also been laid out, with more in one of the kitchen drawers, and another drawer now held a large number of cooking utensils.

There would be more to come as she hadn’t had time to get all of the things she thought Dave would need, but as he had planned to get everything next day felt that she was well ahead of the game. Despite Dave having told her that he would leave the shopping to her, she was a little concerned that he might not be keen on the designs or colours of the items that she had chosen, and if he wasn’t it would mean taking everything back to be exchanged.

She needn’t have worried: Dave was totally floored by the sight of the room when he walked in, and after a minute of looking at how she had arranged everything suddenly sat down at the place setting at the head of the table and holding a knife and fork upright in his hands called out, “All right woman... Where’s my dinner?!”

She laughed and threw a balled-up tea-towel at his head then had to run as he got up and chased her around the table a few times. Quick as he was he couldn’t catch her, and resorted to threatening to make her walk back to the hotel, which of course was something they both knew wasn’t going to happen. Together they cleared the table of the crockery, cutlery and accessories and put them away then sat and went through the list of items that she had thought were needed. It was a surprisingly long list but when Dave thought about it he had to agree that everything he saw on it would be needed, if not right now then at some point in the future. About half of the items on the list had been crossed off as she purchased them; however that still left quite a lot to be bought.

“I kept all the receipts in case something had to be returned,” she said. “They’re in a folder on the sideboard. It’d probably be a good idea if you keep all receipts regarding anything you buy for the house in the same place, and the same goes for any materials you get for repairs or for work you have done by tradesmen. My mum uses a system like that and you’d be surprised how much trouble it can save when things go wrong. The same goes for warranties and instruction booklets for appliances and machinery: They all get filed away. Unfortunately my dad is hopeless when it comes to doing the same thing and mum always has to ask him for any receipts he gets when he goes shopping.”

“Ahh, OK. That sounds like a good idea. I’ll also need the receipts for the things you’ve got so far so’s I can pay you back too. From the look of the list of things I still need to get it’s lucky I withdrew a decent amount of cash from the bank.”

“Well, the things I bought are a house-warming gift, so you don’t need to repay me for them. Mind you, the other things on the list will probably take up a sizeable chunk of your cash, and that’s only for the kitchen and dining room. Furnishing the whole house could cost you a lot more.”

“I don’t intend to buy a lot of new stuff. In fact, I’m thinking of buying most of what I need at second-hand shops. How do you think the place would look if it was furnished and decorated in the style of the fifties, when it was first built?”

“You’re normally pretty observant, so I’m going to believe that you probably just don’t know much about decorating, because if you did you’d have seen that a lot of the stuff I bought, from the Op-shop by the way, is from the fifties, or early sixties. The cushions and curtains are new but I got them in colours and patterns that suited the period. Anyway, do you think it suits the décor you have in mind, or should I take it all back?”

“Take it back? No way! I’d never be able to choose which goes with what and achieve the result you have. I’m really impressed.”

“Really? Thank heavens for that! O.K, now that that’s all done I guess we’d better high-tail it into town ’coz we’re supposed to be meeting the tradies at six, and it’s already gone five.”

* * * ​

 

[Texican]

B,

Good read. I have read your story before. Well worth the time.

Texican....

 

[Bidadisndat]

They arrived at the pub at about quarter to six to find that the tradies were already there, and as Laura Bates had also joined the group the girls decided that tonight, instead of staying for the karaoke session they’d all go to The Brumby for dinner. Dave was pleased with the decision as he’d intended checking the venue out sometime soon anyway, and with the upbeat mood he was in, tonight was a good time to do that.

The steakhouse turned out to be only slightly different in layout and décor to San Diego’s Palomino, however the ambience was pretty much the same, with most of the wanna-be-cowboy patrons dressed as such. Dave was amused to see that the three security men in evidence wore outfits that looked a lot like those in the old TV show Tales of the Texas Rangers, and that the metal badges they wore were also very similar in design. Nothing was done by the venue’s management to correct the wrongly held belief held by many that the men were actually off-duty coppers who were moonlighting there as a second job, as consequently there was very little if any trouble there.

“I swear to God, half the guys here would be toting six-guns if they could get away with it,” observed Chip’s wife, Karen, as they sat at one of the long wooden tables.

“And the other half probably already carry rifles in their trucks,” put in Pipes, giving everybody a good laugh, mostly because each of the men and two of the wives in their group did just that. Dave was to find out later that he wasn’t the only one to have a gun-safe in his truck!

The band was as good as Dave had hoped it would be and it wasn’t long before he hit the dance floor, with Bron in tow, and they were both immediately recognised by a couple who had met them at the B & S dance. A bit later the couple came over to the table where Dave and Bron were seated and asked them if they wouldn’t mind showing a couple of their friends the same steps they had learned.

The tradies, reluctant at first but at the urging of their wives and with the application of several lubricating beers were also persuaded to join in. However once they had picked up the basic steps and a few simple twists and turns there seemed to be no stopping them, and by the end of the night they were so enthused with the place that Dave was convinced that it would become a regular haunt.

Laura, being the attractive woman she was, had been asked to dance by quite a few men, several of whom while dancing asked her for a date in the future, and although she turned them all down she did have a really good time. She was invited to come along to the fishing trip and barbeque that the group would be having on Sunday, and was told that she should bring her son Brian along too. Debbie and Bear would provide transport and some fishing gear, and told her not to bother preparing anything, assuring her that they had more than enough extra food to cater for them both. Despite that neither she nor Brian had ever been fishing before, she felt that it would be a really good outing for them both and happily accepted the invitation.

* * *
​

Bron was going to be working the late shift at the hotel that night so early Saturday morning found them both at the second-hand furniture shop, looking for more items on the shopping list that Bron held. This time she was looking for, among other things, cook-ware such as saucepans, fry-pans, baking trays, casserole dishes and such-like, a set of good kitchen knives, a cutting board and a dish draining rack.

Dave found two cast iron skillets with wooden handles and a large Dutch oven that he insisted they buy, so she decided that the saucepans should also be of same material, however as those pieces weren't to be had at that particular store they would have to be purchased elsewhere. They were a bit heavier than the cookware Bron had originally thought of buying so told him that because he had chosen them it was his job to carry them out to the truck, and then from the truck into the farmhouse when they got back.

They actually had very a good time deciding what to buy, and there were a few spur-of-the-moment purchases that they felt would be needed, despite not being on Bron’s list. One of these was a battery operated wall-clock that featured a floral design in keeping with the décor of the kitchen, and another was a large spice-rack that held containers for just about every herb and spice that a good cook would need, and then some.

They stopped for a coffee break at one of the town’s cafes and while seated there Bron suddenly thought of white-goods. Unless he wanted to fill his esky with fresh ice every other day, and use the laundry at the hotel, Dave would need to think about getting a refrigerator and a washing machine.

The combustion stove in the house would be good to use in winter, but in the summer the kitchen would become far too hot for comfort, so either an electric or a gas range and oven would be needed. Dave held up his hand to forestall any further concerns she might express.

“Don’t worry; I’ve thought of all that, and though it may take some time, I do have plans to take care of it all. I’ll need to get a water tank quickly, but I’m thinking that a small one will do for the time being. I can use my three burner camping stove for cooking during the summer, and a small kerosene or gas ’fridge should be adequate for the small amount of food that I need to keep cold. Later I’ll show you the ideas and plans that I’ve drawn up, but for now I think we’d better just continue getting the rest of the things on your list.”

“Sounds like you’re going to be working flat out for some time to get everything done. How long do you think it’ll take to have the farm up and running?”

“I figure it’ll probably take two, maybe three months, but to tell the truth, I haven’t worked out exactly what I’m going to do with the place yet, though I do have a few ideas. I also have to allow for the time I’ll need to teach you to dive, and see to your car, which, by the way, I’ll probably leave until last so that you can’t just drive away when I need your help.”

“You’re lucky that I really like the town and the village and don’t mind sticking around, because if I wanted to leave there’s no way anyone would be able to stop me. With or without the car; I’d be gone. Anyway, this isn’t getting the shopping done so let’s get a move on.”

With the shopping completed, taken back to the farm and unloaded, Bron began putting everything away while Dave set up his camping stove on top of the combustion range which, figuring that with summer coming on, he wouldn’t need to fire up. With his large esky doing stand-in duty for the refrigerator he didn’t yet have, the kitchen and dining area was now ready for use, and Bron prepared lunch for them both. During the morning’s shopping she’d had the foresight to have filled his large esky with salad vegetables, cold roast chicken, milk, cheese and butter, and had filled a basket with sauces and condiments, plus a loaf of bread. It was a beautiful day, and although they might have had lunch on the back veranda they were happy to be able to sit at the table inside and admire their handiwork as they ate.

All too soon it was time for Bron to get ready for her shift so Dave drove her back to the hotel before continuing down to the garage to pick up a couple of bags of ice and a few packets of bait for the next day’s fishing with the tradies. As the garage was closed on Sundays and Jeff wouldn’t be working, Dave asked him if he’d like to join the group, and was pleased when Jeff said he’d nothing else planned and would love to come along. Back at the hotel again he moved the ice and bait-filled esky into the kitchen’s walk-in freezer for the night, then went to the bar and ordered a pint of draught ale before proceeding with it to the beer garden. He also took the notebook in which he had roughed out some of the plans he was considering for the farm and, seated at a table under the shade of the big old oak tree there, spent some time refining them.

He’d been there less than an hour when Jeff turned up in the company of his friend Darren, the hairdresser’s husband who he hadn’t met before. After introductions were made Darren was very effusive in his thanks to Dave for taking on the account that McKenzie’s wife had run up with his wife, and asked Dave if there was anything he could do for him. He had a 15-ton Tipper, a Bobcat and a fairly large excavator, so if there was some earthmoving work Dave needed done on the farm then just tell him and he’d do it free of charge.

As it turned out, Dave actually did want some excavation work done: He needed a cut-and-fill done on the slope above the farmhouse so that he could position a large rainwater tank there, but there was no way that he would accept Darren’s FOC offer, though he was quite OK with paying mates rates for the job, and he would pay in cash. And if Darren was free tomorrow, would he like to have a look at the site... After bringing his wife along for the fishing and BBQ that Jeff would also be going to?

It was an invitation that Darren was quick to accept and he headed towards the public telephone in the bar to call Beth and tell her that the family would be going the beach next day. He came back several minutes later with three schooners of beer and the men sat together and talked for a couple of hours, with Jeff and Dave both also shouting a round of drinks. The four beers he’d had, plus the heat of the day had taken its toll on Dave and when they had finished their drinks and the two men had left he was happy to make his way to the dining room, the bar to say goodnight to Bron, a shower and finally to bed.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

Sunday morning dawned bright and clear and the tradies had all arrived at Hook’s Eye within half an hour of each other, with Darren, Beth, their young son and baby arriving only a little later. Jeff had arrived at the same time as the tradies and after being introduced to everyone took it upon himself to teach both Laura and her son Brian how to bait a hook and cast a line into the sea when they all began fishing.

Brian had had many learning difficulties at school, to the point of being labelled a retard by some of the bullies there, and was usually very reserved when it came to mixing with people; however he seemed to be completely at ease with Jeff. Laura was very impressed by the way he was able to draw her son out and make it a real fun day for him. She was especially grateful when Jeff later expressed the opinion that Brian was actually a very intelligent lad who only needed a little compassion and some guidance from teachers who were familiar with dyslexia, which was what he thought Brian had.

Laura had paled slightly when Jeff had mentioned the word, however he was quick to reassure her that dyslexia was not a disease, and thus there was no 'cure' for it, but that it could be lived with. As proof of that, he told her, he himself was dyslexic, admitting that he had also had a hard time at school and could understand what Brian was going through.

The fishing trip produced a reasonable haul of fish for all, and Laura and Brian proudly showed each other the two fish each they had caught, thanks to the tuition given them by Jeff. After being shown how to gut and clean their catch they were keen to have it cooked on the barbeque that followed, and once again it was Jeff who showed them the best way to do that.

With the BBQ finished, everything packed away and the area checked to make sure no rubbish was left behind, the convoy of vehicles made its way to the farm so that everyone could have a look at what Dave was up to. Not that they said so, but the girls actually thought that it should be what Dave and Bron were up to, the consensus among them being that the two were, if not already, going to become an item in the very near future.

Unlocking the door and letting everyone inside, Dave took them on a Cook’s Tour of the house, explaining what he intended doing in the way of renovating the place, and asking the guys if they knew of any tradesmen who thought they might be capable of doing the work. Of course that question elicited the opinion that no tradesman worth his reputation would even consider working on such a ramshackle building, unless it would be to tear it down and rebuild it from the ground up. However, after much discussion it was finally agreed that the tradies would be able to do some of the work and that, without adding anything to the bill for the privilege they were offering even stoop so low as to allow Dave to help out occasionally. Mostly by making tea, coffee and sandwiches for them, Sparks had said as he went to check out the meter box.

After looking at the box Sparks confirmed that power would indeed have been supplied by the cables that came up in a conduit from the ground, however rather than being just being turned off at the meter box it appeared that the supply had been completely disconnected, probably at the power pole by the front gate. When shown the generator he offered to wire it up to the meter box right then, however Dave asked him if he would be able to inspect then repair or replace any of the wiring in the house that was a bit suspect, not as a favour but as a contract job.

After listening to Dave explain how he wanted to set the farm to be completely off-grid he suggested that it would probably be better and easier if a new distribution board was made up, and that that should be done at the same time as the wind turbine and battery system was installed. He also suggested that it would be a good idea to install ceiling fans in the bedrooms, lounge and dining area, and explained how easy it would be to run the extra wiring for them. In the meantime it would be a simple job to run a lead from the generator straight to the meter box and it would only take him about ten minutes to set up, and he went about doing this as the other tradies checked out the rest of the house.

Speedy, the painter and plasterer, had a good look at the exterior of the house and told them that the dilapidated look of the building was due mostly to the fact that its white paint had been applied over a mid-grey gloss paint that had not even been cleaned first, let alone sanded. The new coat had thus not adhered properly and with constant sun, wind and rain had simply started to peel off. The best thing to do, he said, was to use a high pressure water blaster to remove the peeling paint, sand down the surfaces, and then prime and paint them with good quality oil-based paints.

Inside it would be OK to use water-based paints for the walls and ceilings, but for the best finish all the skirting boards, window and door frames, and the doors should be done in oil-based gloss paints. Of course a good finish would only be achieved if the surfaces to be painted were prepared properly, which meant Dave had a lot of scraping and sanding to do, so he was thankful that among the power tools he had purchased when in Sydney there was a belt sander and a one-third sheet orbital sander.

Having been shown the spot where the cut-and-fill was needed for the two large water tanks that Dave planned to get, Darren suggested that rather than a cut and fill, the cut should be taken back to the point where solid ground would support the tanks. The removed soil should be used elsewhere because if it was used as fill under the front half of the tanks it would slump over time, and that might eventually put a strain on their structural integrity.

While the tradies were engaged in their inspection and working out what materials would be required, and how much in total the renovations would cost, the girls used Dave’s camping stove to boil water in the Vacola water bath for tea, then sat in the dining area and chatted. They were very impressed with Bron’s decorating skills, and despite her claim that she had gained most of her inspiration from the many magazines that her landlady left lying around the house, insisted that it still took a lot of skill to make it all work.

“This table’s really long, isn’t it?” said Fiona. “You could easily fit another chair on each side.”

“Easily,” agreed Annette. “And it’s quite wide too. You know, the room is large enough so I think it’d look really good if the chairs at each end now were moved to the sides and carvers were put in their place. ”

“Hmm. Now that you mention it, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was how it was originally set up,” said Bron. “I’ll drop in to the shop where Dave bought it and see if they have any extra chairs that will match. Mind you, he’ll have to have to do quite a lot of entertaining to make it worth-while seating ten people.”

“Are you kidding?” Debbie said. “If Dave wanted to entertain even half the friends he’s made around here so far he’d need to get another two tables!”

Having connected the generator and started it up, Sparks walked into the room and with a loud “Ta-dah!” flicked on the light switch by the door. The girls looked a little bemused by the action and Sparks was both disappointed and not a little red-faced when nothing happened. Looking up he saw that there was no globe in the ceiling’s light fitting, and after checking to find there were no globes fitted anywhere in the house ducked out to his truck to get one. After fitting a globe, which he did by standing on Dave’s new table, much to Bron's horror until she saw that he had taken his boots off and was standing in his socks on an old newspaper, he again tried the switch and the light came on.

The rest of the men trooped in and joined the girls however after Bron said that she would soon have to get ready for her shift at the hotel the group broke up and began making their separate ways home. All assured Dave that they would be at the council meeting on Tuesday night, although Laura and Debbie as council staff were more than less expected to attend the meeting anyway, as everyone wanted to see how Shady Read would react to the news that McKenzie’s farm was now out of his reach.

Sparks was the last tradie to leave after assuring Dave that the wiring in the house was OK and showing him how he had set up the power to the meter box. He hadn’t bothered applying power to the water heater as it was on a separate circuit and had probably been set up for off-peak supply, and he had also removed the fuse for the pressure pump’s circuit, just to be on the safe side as there was no water supply at present. The generator was shut down and the fuel cock turned off before they all left, but not before Dave had done a quick count of the light fittings for which he would have to buy globes. Bron said that that was a waste of time as Dave being Dave he would probably buy three times what was needed anyway.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

Dave had been going at it hammer and tongs from the start, and now Tony and Trev were beginning to wonder if there was enough work to keep Dave occupied to the end of this month, let alone the two more that they had expected him to take to get the work done. He also had no intention of letting up either, he told the two men, and was determined to finish the job as planned: In time for the hotel to take bookings for the coming summer. Then he would be free to throw himself into the restoration of the farmhouse, and they knew he’d tackle that task with the same single-minded concentration that he was applying to their hotel.

On Tuesday afternoon he finished up just shy of four p.m. and then showered, shaved and put on the same suit, but a different shirt and tie that he had worn when paying the rates. Now ready to attend the council meeting that was to begin at six thirty he joined Tony and Trev for the drive into town, where they found a convenient parking space in the council car-park. When they entered the council building it seemed that there were a very large number of residents and ratepayers in attendance for this meeting, and this had not gone unnoticed by several councillors who had arrived early.

Shady Read was not among them however, as he was generally inclined to make his entrance just before a meeting was called to order. As it was, he didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary when he finally did take his seat, and when the meeting was opened it went about its mostly boring routine of discussing council matters as it normally did. There was the usual raft of Development and Building Applications, all of which had been decided upon before the public meeting, along with approvals or denials for the same, and a few statements regarding council’s plans for the future. There were also some comments made about council’s achievements over the past month, however they were very few as it hadn’t really achieved much during that period.

Finally the meeting was thrown open to questions from the public, and whilst it may have been a coincidence, it was about this time that a certain group of the attendees present seemed to become a bit more alert to the proceedings. After two or three questions from other residents, Bear finally stood, stated his name and asked the question that Dave had primed him with.

“Mr. Mayor. Brian Courtney. Can the council tell us if it’s true that it’s planning to confiscate and sell property for which rates are overdue?”

“It’s the first I’ve heard of that, Mr. Courtney,” the mayor answered before turning to the councillors behind him and asking them if they knew anything about such a proposal. There was some muttering after which the Mayor turned back to the assembly and told them that he would have to check with the General Manager, however the group of people with Dave noticed that Councillor Read had for some unaccountable reason suddenly looked more than just a little uncomfortable upon hearing the question.

“Mr. Mayor. David Morgan, from Brocklesbury. I too have heard that said, however if the previous question relates in any way to Lot 542 Brocklesbury Rd, referred to locally as McKenzie’s Farm, I have here with me a signed council receipt for the payment of the overdue rates, as well as one for the next financial year.”

“What?” Roared a stunned Councillor Read, forgetting that he was sitting in front of a large audience. “Show me that receipt!”

“No need for that, councillor,” replied Dave calmly. “Council has a copy in one of its receipt books.”

Swinging around to the staff members seated behind the councillors he hissed at Cynthia Blount. “You didn’t tell me about this!”

“But I didn’t know anything about it!” Cynthia protested.

“That’s true councillor,” put in Laura. “Ms Blount was at lunch when Mr Morgan came in on Friday to make the rates payments, and as Mrs Courtney was using the counter receipt book for another customer, I used mine.”

“I’ll talk to you about this later,” Shady snarled.

‘Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound I guess,’ thought Laura to herself before replying. “Certainly councillor. Provided that you want to talk in public, and not just at that little French restaurant you’re often inviting me to.”

“That’s a lie!” wailed Cynthia.

Laura turned to face her. ”I’m sorry Cynthia, but it’s not a lie. Councillor Reed has been trying to put the hard word on me ever since I’ve been here, but I never said anything about it before because I knew you and he had a thing going between you. Not that I’d have ever considered going out with him anyway.”

Cynthia buried her face in her hands. “No!” she sobbed and then looked towards Shady in the hope that he would refute the allegation, however he now appeared to be carefully studying the top of the table at which he was seated and would not look at her. “Oh God, I’ve been such a fool,” she cried before rising from her seat and hurrying quickly for the door.

“Wait!” called a woman who suddenly rose from her seat in the gallery to follow her, and several of those present recognised the woman as being Shady’s wife.

“Ooo-ah. Who’s been a naughty boy then?” yelled a voice from the gallery. Another voice called “Aha! The jig’s up, Shady,” and to the amusement of people listening yet another mangled the words of a recent hit by singing “Well I guess she doesn’t love him anymore.”

Shady sat where he was for almost half a minute before he too rose from his seat and hurried after the women, but no sooner had the door shut behind him than a loud voice was heard crying “Don’t touch me! You bastard! Don’t you dare touch me!” And the voice was not that of Cynthia Blount.

Dave was still standing whilst pandemonium reigned, and the mayor had to bang his gavel quite a few times before order was restored.

“Mr. Mayor, I gather that you had no idea of the shenanigans going on?” he asked.

“No, none at all, Mr... Mr?”

“Morgan, sir. David Morgan. I’ve come up from Sydney and have taken over management of McKenzie’s farm in Brocklesbury.”

“I see. Well, Mr. Morgan, you can rest assured I will find out what’s been going on, and if I find that any council or staff members have been behaving inappropriately, in any way, they will be dealt with, and most severely.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor. I’ve only been in the area for a short time and have only met a few of the residents in the village, and I’m a stranger to those in town. Do you mind if I address the people here, regarding my position?”

“No, not at all Mr. Morgan. Would you like to come up here where everyone can see you?”

“Thank you, sir, I would.” Dave strode to the front and turned to face the assembly. “Some of you here may have overheard me when I spoke before,” he said with an engaging smile. “But for those that didn’t, my name is David Morgan, and I’ve recently taken over management of McKenzie’s Farm in Brocklesbury. Now, I don’t know how many of you personally knew Mr Ian McKenzie; though I suppose many knew about him through hearsay, so I’d just like to tell you a bit of his story.”

He then went on to tell them precisely what Tony had told him two weeks before, but added that Ian McKenzie was not actually the bad person that many thought him to be, but that he was more an unfortunate victim of circumstances. It also appeared that he had developed a mental disorder that had worsened his predicament and precluded his return for the time being, but now a hand had reached out to help him. And if, God willing, he should be able to return some time in the future, it would be hoped that those that knew him before would treat him with some kindness and understanding.

There was a small round of applause as he resumed his seat after the address, and shortly after that the meeting was closed. Immediately after, the mayor, Greg Peterson, approached and introduced himself and asked Dave if it would be possible for him to remain for a few minutes to talk. Dave responded by suggesting that it might be better if they met a couple of days later, when they could have a coffee together and perhaps discuss a few things that he’d been made aware of back in Brocklesbury. The mayor agreed that that probably was a better idea and they shook hands before the mayor departed.

He was then accosted by a young lady reporter who represented the local paper and wanted to ask him a few questions regarding the commotion she had witnessed during the council meeting. Dave very tactfully suggested that regarding the incident between the councillors it would be better for all concerned if she could wait until the problems had been resolved before writing anything that pointed the finger or made accusations against individuals. She was pretty much on the ball and agreed, although she also asked if he wouldn’t mind if she reported that he had taken over management of the farm, and perhaps give people some idea of his background.

Dave had to think quickly on this one, as who knew how far the local paper was distributed, and who might read it. Telling her that he was about to return to the village with friends and didn’t want to keep them waiting he suggested that perhaps he could answer her questions a bit later, if she didn’t mind travelling over to Brocklesbury to meet him there, that is. She thought that that was actually a good idea and asked him if the next day would be alright, say sometime between ten and eleven a.m., and when he said that would be fine with him she departed.

The tradies and Brocklesbury village people were gathered together outside the council chambers when Dave emerged, and he learned that a celebratory dinner was being organised for next Friday night. Laura was with the group and Jeff Mullins had asked her about her son Brian.

“Honestly Jeff, he just can’t stop talking about Sunday’s fishing trip. He wants me to buy him a fishing rod and ask you if you’d like to go fishing with him again. I told him that you’re a very busy man and you don’t have a lot of time, but that I’ll take him to the same place again if I can. I really can’t thank you enough for what you did for him.”

“Good Lord, Laura. I didn’t do more than show him how to bait a hook and throw a line in the water, but I’m glad to know that he enjoyed himself. I hope you’re going to bring him to this dinner we’re all having on Friday night. In fact, wherever it is, I’m going to make sure there’s a seat there for him, and he can sit between us. That OK with you?”

“Oh yes, Jeff! I know he’d love that.”

Fifteen minutes later the street was deserted as everyone said their goodbyes and returned to their homes. Dave noted that with car pooling to cut down on transport costs being the norm for the villagers here, only four vehicles were needed. Fewer cars not only saved people money, it also meant less wear and tear on the roads, which in Brocklesbury and its surrounds weren’t all that good to begin with anyway. And that was another point he would have to bring to the mayor’s attention when they next met.

“You had me feeling quite sorry for McKenzie back there,” said Tony with a laugh during the drive back. “I had no idea that you were so familiar with the man and his problems.”

“Well, I don’t think I told anyone anything they didn’t already know, but putting it forward like that in a public way would make it easier for people to believe that I’m taking over the management of the farm at McKenzie’s behest. It’s the same with the paper I showed Laura when I paid the rates: She was paying more attention to what I was saying than what she was reading. And as I told you before, if he comes back and wants his farm, he can have it.”

“As soon as he pays you back for the rates and debts you’ve assumed on his behalf, of course.”

“Oh yes, of course. May have to add interest though... Can I do that?”

Before turning in that night he sat at the small desk in his room and wrote a long letter to his parents, letting them know that his visit to the family home would be a little later than originally planned. Writing such letters had been the most practical way of keeping them informed about what he had been up to when he was serving aboard ship, and despite the fact that he had been ashore for two years his letters still read much like entries in a ship’s log. A ‘phone call would have been easier, and he occasionally did call them, though he hadn’t ceased the practice of writing as he knew that his mother kept and treasured each and every letter, post-card and photo that she received from him.

* * *​

When his mother received and read the letter that he had written she handed it to her husband with the comment that she was glad that Dai had finally found a woman that would keep him confined to land. Not that she minded him going to sea of course, but she was hopeful of being able to play with grandchildren in the not too distant future. Upon reading the letter for himself he said that he was blowed if he could find anything that might imply that Dave had found a steady girlfriend, let alone a woman that he might settle down with.

“Oh for heaven’s sake Gareth. He writes six pages and mentions her in only five of them? ” Gwen said. “Surely you’re able to read between the lines. Well, maybe not as well as a mother can perhaps, but I’m telling you now that he’s really fallen for this girl he’s writing about. Of course, he’s a lot like his father in that regard and probably doesn’t even realise he’s been hooked yet, but he’ll find out soon enough I’m sure. It’s a pity he wasn’t able to send a photo of her: From what I can read it seems like she’s quite attractive.

“I dare say she would be, but it’d take more than just a pretty face to capture Dave. Still, we’ll find out soon enough I guess. Actually, I’m more concerned about this farm that he’s written about: He might be taking a bit of a risk. Do you think we should go down and have a look at it?”

“Of course we should... After they invite us.”

* * *
​

 

[Bidadisndat]

Already Wednesday morning, and he’d barely put his brush into the tin of paint he’d opened when Trev came into the room he was just about to begin painting.

“Dave, Tony and I have been looking at your work, and I have to say that we’re both more than pleased with the top-notch job you’re doing. We’re also aware of the time that you’re putting into it, and appreciate that you’ve put our job ahead of the work we know you want to do on the farm. So I’m here to tell you that as of today you may only work here in the mornings, and that you’re to spend the afternoons doing whatever you need to do for yourself... As we originally agreed, if you remember. And that’s not an offer by the way: It’s an order! O.K?”

“O.K. You’re the boss. Or one of them anyway.” Dave replied, then looked at him and with a grin added “Well, now that you’ve disrupted my busy schedule, you’d better get out of the way and let me get some work done, hadn’t you? Otherwise I’ll be way behind, and your rooms won’t be ready for the summer.”

“I haven’t finished yet. We’re also aware that apart from a bottle of wine that you shared with Bron on a couple of occasions when the two of you had an evening meal together, you haven’t taken advantage of the bar-tab offer either. Now, knowing that you aren’t going to drink on the job, and having seen you use the beer taps on the night we first met you, we’d like to know if you’d be interested in working some shifts at the bar during the summer. The job you’re doing for us now won’t last forever, and a few bar shifts now and then would at least earn you some pocket money.”

“That’s really decent of you Trev. That wouldn’t affect Bron’s shifts though, would it?”

“Not at all. It can get quite busy here in summer, so there’ll be shifts enough for both of you. Have to warn you though: If it came to a choice, Bron is far more attractive than you. In fact, I think that’s probably why the young blokes around here don’t bother driving in to one of the pubs in town. We know that she’s only over here on a working holiday and will probably push on up north at some point, but it’ll be a really sad day for all when she decides to go.”

As Trev had hoped it would, his last sentence brought Dave down to earth with a thud: He hadn’t stopped to consider the possibility of Bron leaving, and the realisation came to him that it was probably she more than the farm that had attracted him to the area, and when Trev left him to his painting he found that he wasn’t able to concentrate quite as much on the job as he had before. It was obvious to him that somehow Bron should be encouraged to stay, especially as his feelings towards her were growing stronger every day, but how did she feel about him? He was going to have to find out soon, wasn’t he? Well, yes, but in the meantime he really had to get this room done, didn’t he? However although he began to apply a bit more effort to the task, and paint to the walls, he remained somewhat distracted.

It didn’t help a lot when the reporter arrived about an hour later, note-pad and pen in hand. She introduced herself as Tracy Lyons, and stayed for about half an hour, during which time Dave was able to either answer or deflect her questions according to how he thought she might write up her article. She admitted it would only be a very small one as she was still a cadet, and had been given the assignment more to help her develop her skills rather than be expected to uncover something really newsworthy. Somewhat relieved, Dave presented her with a very simple outline of his background and how he came to be in Brocklesbury, not realising that she wouldn’t simply return to the office with a few notes and write up her article, but would actually do a little research of her own.

He also suggested that she should contact the mayor to see if he would be willing to give her an exclusive interview after he had everything at council sorted out properly. The mayor, he added, would probably be very forthcoming with her if he believed that she was “on-side”, so to speak, and it might be a good chance to position herself to gain inside information in the future.

After she had departed Dave quickly put a ’phone call through to Greg and gave him a heads-up on what he had advised Tracy to do, and made a couple of suggestions that should help him make her, and thus the newspaper, an ally of the council. And it wouldn’t do Greg’s position any harm either, he added, especially if Greg intended to run for mayor again next term. Greg was thankful that Dave had called him when shortly after he had hung up the ’phone he wasn’t caught completely off-guard when he received a call from the reporter. He made arrangements to meet her later that day, and from what he told Dave later, the meeting seemed to go extremely well, although it would only be when the paper came out that he could be sure.

Just after one o’clock he firmly tapped down the lid on the tin of paint he’d been using, cleaned the brushes, roller and paint tray then headed for the bar to get a counter lunch. He had a middy of light beer with his meal and both drank and ate slowly while he considered what tasks he should do during the afternoon. They mostly involved jobs at the farm but before driving there he first went down to the community centre and checked the large notice board that was attached under a sheltered cover on one side wall.

As he had hoped, quite a few tradesmen had pinned their business cards to it and he copied down the ’phone numbers of several roofing and fencing contractors. He stopped at the hardware store where he purchased a large wheelbarrow, a garden hose, two spray-cans of line-marking paint and three large rolls of weed matting before driving to the farm. Once there he marked out on the slope above the house precisely where he wanted the level pad for the water tanks, and an area where the soil taken from the slope could be spread.

He had a look inside the old water tank at the side of the house and finding that it actually held about two feet of water, attached the garden hose to the tap on its side, led it over to the citrus trees between the house and the vegetable garden and began draining the water out. Moving the hose from tree to tree, he managed to give them all a good drink before the tank was empty, but once it was he used a large pipe wrench from his tool box to disconnect the tank from the pipe leading to the house.

In fact he found that the pipe didn’t go directly into the house but went to an automatic pressure pump set up under the back of the tank stand, and he hadn’t spotted it before because it was enclosed by a plywood box that was itself hidden behind the firewood. A 'T' fitting had been placed at the discharge side of the pump and this fed two pipes; one going directly into the house and the other going up the exterior wall to the eaves, adjacent to where the hot water system was located. All he really needed to do to have pressurised hot and cold water for the kitchen and the bathroom was install the new tank, fill it with water, and supply power.

Unfortunately, though power to the pump would not be a problem, heating water with electricity would be a big drain on the generator, and as he had no intention of connecting to the grid he would have to consider another method. Perhaps the tank that was part of the combustion stove or a wood-chip heater. He would talk to Ian Reece about it later. Anyway, the old water tank, even if it wasn’t too heavy, was going to be a bit awkward to shift by himself at present, so he moved to the next item on his to-do list.

This necessitated a drive into town where forty five minutes later he was at the premises of a local business that supplied irrigation equipment and water tanks. His ultimate plan was to use a tank at beside the house as a collector, and when it was almost full the water in it would be pumped to the tanks on the slope above the house. A windmill would do the job effectively as there always seemed to be a breeze blowing over the property, although he would also invest in a diesel powered four-inch flood-and-fire pump. The tanks would supply the house with sufficient water pressure without having to use the pump that was already attached to the house although it would be retained as a backup.

The shop’s staff was very helpful and after listening to Dave explain what he wanted to do advised him how he could do it most effectively, and without it costing him a fortune. Not that what he wanted to do was going to be dirt cheap anyway, but they did offer him a very good deal. And as for hot water, they suggested that he have a look at the brochures for the solar hot water systems that they could supply. When he left it was after having paid for and organised delivery of a two thousand gallon polypropylene tank to replace the metal one that he was going to remove from the stand at the side of the house.

Returning to the hotel he made several ’phone calls during which he was able to arrange for Frank Miles, the fencer, and Richard Barton, the roofing contractor, to meet him at the farm late the following day. His next call was to Darren, who luckily was at home and was willing to go to the farm right now and have a look at where Dave had marked out the area that needed to be excavated. When Darren told him that he had better be quick, because he already had his keys in hand and was leaving for the farm, Dave told him not to rush because if he got there first he’d only have to wait until the gate was unlocked.

At the farm Dave showed Darren one of the brochures he’d picked up at the irrigation place and pointed out the type of tank that he would be getting two of, and then showed him the area that he had marked out earlier. The size of the area needed to be increased a bit after Darren told him that a drain should be carved at the rear of the pad so that water coming down the slope would not undermine the tanks. There was no need to go to the great expense of putting in a concrete pad for the tanks, however at least six inches of road-base should be laid down to support them.

Dave was ahead of him on that one and said that he’d planned to use road-base, but also to stop soil working its way up he was going to put down a layer of weed mat first, then as the road-base was spread out he would add some dry cement to it and water it in. He already had the rolls of weed-mat but still needed to get the cement.

Darren had a job on that should be finished by next Monday or Tuesday, after which he could do Dave’s job, if that was O.K. Because it was sooner than Dave had expected he told Darren that that was fine, but if in the meantime he was offered another job he should take it, because there was no point in knocking back work that was to be had, especially as Dave wasn’t in a great rush to have the job done.

* * *
​

With daylight saving in effect Dave began the next day’s painting a bit earlier and despite Trev’s instructions worked through until one p.m., did a little shopping and took his purchases to the farm, where he made himself a couple of ham and salad sandwiches and a pot of tea.

The contractors weren’t expected until later in the afternoon so he took a claw hammer and a pinch barn from his tool-box and began to carefully remove the skirting boards and architraves, which he would re-install later, in the main bedroom. There was no cornice where the walls met the ceiling, the builders having opted for simple quad moulding, but there were timber strips covering the joins between the Masonite panels, and all of these were removed too. They came away without too much difficulty, and with negligible damage, though the job did stir up a bit of dust. He donned a paper mask to cover his mouth and nose for the next step, which was to remove the Masonite panelling.

Not having to worry about damaging them as they were to be burned, he began ripping the sheets off, and in the process raised quite a bit more dust than he’d expected. He was going to need a vacuum cleaner for sure, and if the local hardware store didn’t have the work-shop model he was thinking of, which would most likely be the case, he’d get them to order one in. There was still one more wall and the ceiling left to do when Richard and Frank arrived, but he was quite happy to stop and breathe some fresh air without the hindrance of the mask when they did.

Richard was the first on the scene, and had already climbed onto the roof when Frank turned up. It didn’t take him long to inspect the roof and when he came down was able to tell Dave that the corrugated roofing iron was actually quite sound and the rust that could be seen from the ground was little more than staining. This was a result of the ridge capping being badly rusted, and as the roof had obviously had sheets of iron replaced in the not too distant past, he couldn’t understand why the capping hadn’t been replaced at the same time. It would have to be replaced now though, as would the guttering, and Richard had run his tape measure over the lengths of rusted material so that he could cost the work. He finally quoted Dave a figure the seemed to be quite reasonable and was given the go-ahead to undertake the job, which Richard assured him would be completed before the end of next week.

Next it was Frank’s turn, and together he and Dave walked the perimeter, ducking under the electric fence as they went down the slope. Fortunately it turned out that all the fence posts were sound and only some wires needed tightening or replacing. Dave decided that for the time being he would leave the gate between the farm and Martin’s place as it was, but an idea had come to him and he asked Frank to give him a quote on installing proper hinge and slamming posts, with braces. A new fence across the property, somewhere above where Martin had put his hot wire, might also be needed in the future. When they returned to the house Frank was shown the fence around the chook run and vegetable garden and asked to give a quote on doing that job too.

“Dave, doing it the way you’d like it done would work out to be expensive, but I’ve got an idea that could save you a few dollars: On the other side of town there’s a big old house that’s about to be torn down to make way for an aged care facility. There’s a tennis court on the grounds, enclosed with a high chain-link fence that will have to be removed. Maybe you could suggest to the developers that you could save them the trouble and expense of doing that themselves by agreeing to remove it in exchange for keeping the posts and chain-link, and I can help you with that if you want.”

Not surprisingly, Dave thought that to be a brilliant idea, and after a short discussion with Frank regarding the how-to’s of removing the fence said that he would contact the developers next morning. Frank said he already had four large coils of heavy duty fencing wire and a spinner on the back of his truck, and if Dave wanted him to he could start on the perimeter fence next morning. Despite it being in very poor condition Dave had decided to leave the front fence as it was for the time being, as he was thinking of replacing it with a hedge, but after further discussion he accepted Frank’s advice that it would be better to have a fence as well.

By the time he returned to the hotel, ready for a hot shower and a good meal, the sun was low on the horizon and he felt that he had accomplished a good day’s work. He placed a call to Bron before going to the dining room and learned that she had made reservations for the celebratory dinner at The Milano, a restaurant that was yet another place in town that he hadn’t heard of. Everybody was supposed to be there no later than six-thirty p.m. and he had better be among them, she warned. Dave assured her that he would, even though The Brumby had called and pleaded with him to come and teach Texas Two-Step to more patrons. “Ha! In your dreams,” she had replied with a laugh before hanging up.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

Friday morning’s routine was no different to the previous day’s, and by lunch-time the walls of yet another room had been completely painted. Dave had always liked paint rollers, but now he was using a flat pad that was actually easier to use, did an equally good job, didn’t splatter paint droplets everywhere, and cleaning it was also a lot less trouble. Surprisingly it also seemed to use a lot less paint than a roller did.

The job finished for the day, and with lunch under his belt, he contacted the council to find out which company was building the retirement village. He was given the number but before hanging up and calling them, he asked to be put through to the mayor. When Greg Peterson came on the line said that he was glad that Dave had called as there had been several developments since the council meeting on Tuesday night, and he might be interested in hearing about them. They arranged to meet at a café near the chambers later that afternoon after the council offices were closed, after which Dave hung up the ’phone then dialled the company he had the number for.

The girl who answered the ’phone there was unable to help him much as the boss had left for the day, but she said that he would be in at eight on Monday morning, if Dave would like to call back then. Not having any luck there at the moment he went down to the hardware store which, as he had expected, did not have in stock the workshop vacuum cleaner that he wanted, though the main store in town did.

Rather than have to wait for a delivery he ordered and paid for one right there and then, and later took the receipt into town where he was able to pick the item up. When asked by the manager why didn’t he just go into town and buy it he replied that having the sale go through the books here helped keep the store a viable operation, and a couple of local people employed.

He had to put on a bit of speed but he did manage to have a shower and a shave, dress in casual slacks and a nice shirt, drive into town and pick up his vacuum cleaner and still be in time for his meeting with Greg Peterson. The meeting was relaxed and informal, although Greg did ask that anything they discussed be kept confidential, at least for the time being as things had a way of getting out, regardless. Dave didn’t ask “regardless of what?” but he knew what Greg meant.

Apparently there was no need to worry too much about Councillor Read any more: He had voluntarily stepped down from his position, barely ahead of being forced to, but was now under investigation for certain dealings he was reported to have with various parties. Greg was not at liberty to say much about that, however he did say that it was very interesting that two other councillors had also suddenly tendered their resignations, for “health reasons” and “family matters.”

The council’s General Manager and one of its Building Inspectors were also quietly being investigated as several staff members had intimated that they were closely involved with Shady’s dealings. Greg had also been reliably informed that Mrs Read had engaged a solicitor, and it would seem that Shady was now headed for the Divorce Court. Cynthia Blount was an emotional wreck at the moment, but the other ladies at council were being very supportive of her, and he hoped she would be O.K. as she was a good worker. Greg finally got around to asking Dave about the concerns he had with things Brocklesbury.

“Well, one of my main concerns seems to have evaporated now that Shady Read is out of the picture, but I still have some, particularly about the situation as it stands with Fish Hook Bay. There’s a feeling that Shady had a lot to do with the bay being virtually closed to the public, and that’s probably something that should be looked into. Tell me, how long has it been since you last visited Brocklesbury?”

“Hmm. I haven’t been there for a long time I’m afraid. More than a year actually, and I wasn’t Mayor then, so it’s probably closer to two.”

“Greg, I think it might be to your advantage if you were to pay the village a visit. If you can arrange a day, I and a couple of residents could meet you there and we could go over some of the things that concern us. If council is about to undertake some spring cleaning of its elected members and staff, it’s important for you to be seen as being at the forefront of putting things right, and this would be a good way to begin.”

Greg saw the wisdom in that and after having a quick look at his diary asked if the following Wednesday morning would be convenient. Dave would’ve been happy if Greg had been able to be there the next day, but Wednesday would do and he quickly agreed, asking Greg to come early enough to be able to have lunch with him after discussing what he and the others had on their minds. Their meeting broke up in time for Dave to drive to Bron’s place, pick her and Rebecca up and get them all to The Milano... In plenty of time to avoid whatever Bron would do to him if he was late.

Upon entering, Dave was surprised to find that what he thought was merely a take-away pizza shop was actually the front part of a popular Italian restaurant, and its spacious interior was now half filled by most of the diners for whom Bron had booked tables. Although there were still several yet to arrive they would have no problem finding a seat as Bron had placed name-tags for each person on four of the restaurant’s eight long wooden tables, each of which could seat comfortably five on each side, and another at each end if required. The floor was laid with terra-cotta tiles, rough plastered walls were adorned with large posters featuring scenes of Italy, and exposed beams supporting the ceiling above were hung with dozens of empty Chianti bottles in woven straw holders.

The background music being played at the moment was below a level that would prevent any conversation, but only just, and with everybody talking at once, the place was quite noisy. Two waiters and two waitresses were kept busy taking orders, mostly for pre-dinner drinks at this time as people were still going over the menu and trying to decide what they wanted to eat. Many of them had been to the restaurant several times before, and all seemed to have favourite dishes that they were recommending to their friends who hadn’t.

“Aarr, me hearties,” Bear roared in what he believed to be a piratical voice as he stood and threw Dave a mock salute when he and Bron entered the room. “It be the Cap’n. Make way ye swabs!”

There were more calls in a similar vein, inviting him “and his wench” to take a seat, asking him where was his parrot, and on which island he had buried his loot. Although Bron was grinning in amusement and knew what it was all about Dave was mystified until a copy of the week’s local newspaper published the day before was placed in front of him, opened at the page where Tracy had written her article. There wasn’t too much written about the goings on at the council meeting, other than to say that council had not deemed it necessary to seize property in lieu of overdue rates payments as had been rumoured.

However there was a paragraph in respect of Dave having taken over management of “a property in Brocklesbury”, and he was described as being the recently retired captain of the Aitutaki, a well-known cargo-passenger liner that plied its trade between New Zealand and islands of the South Pacific. Brief mention was made that he had also spent a short time as a manager for a large hardware store; however as a man of the open air he had found that being confined to a building was not the life he wanted and had resulted in him taking up his current position.

He was relieved to see that no mention was made that McKenzie’s farm was the property that he had taken control of, and grinned when he read the description upgrading the small cargo vessel, which occasionally carried a few passengers and was well-known only around the islands it served, to that of a liner. Tracy had taken note of the name of the ship that he’d skippered, but it would appear that any research she had done on it had not uncovered a photograph of the vessel, otherwise her description would have been far less flattering.

He found out later that she had found a photograph, but it was of the G.M.V. Moana Roa, taken when that ship was anchored off the island of Aitutaki sometime in the early seventies. The angle at which the photo had been taken made even the ship appear larger than it actually was and although the name of the vessel wasn’t discernible someone had written “Off Aitutaki” on the photo. The word “Off” was hardly legible however, and she had simply assumed that Aitutaki was the name of the ship.

Jeff, Laura and Brian arrived minutes after the manager of the hardware store and the owner of the Veterinary clinic, and took seats at a table where Darren, Bethany and the Tan family plus their children were seated.

Keeping an eye out for late arrivals Bron happened to glance towards the arched portico that separated the dining area from the pizza take-away counter at the front and saw a familiar face at one side peering at their happy crowd, and she gave Dave a nudge to direct his attention there. When he also recognising the face Dave quickly rose from his seat and approached the lad.

“Hullo Troy. Pizzas for your family tonight is it?”

“Yeah. It’s mum’s birthday and dad said she didn’t have to cook tonight because we were going to have a barbeque, but he had to work late so we came down here to get a pizza instead. Mum and dad are taking forever to decide what type they want though, so we’ll probably end up having it for breakfast.”

“You think so?” asked Dave with a laugh, and after beckoning Bron to follow went out to the front to say hello to Charlie.

Having excused herself from the table she was sitting at Bron came to the front just as Charlie was introducing Dave to his wife, Cheryl. By any standards Cheryl was a very attractive woman, and despite being the mother of two teenage boys didn’t look to be far out of her teens herself. The smile she gave Dave as they shook hands when they were introduced was almost shy, but it became broad when Dave told Charlie that he couldn’t for the life of him understand why a bloke as ugly as he was could find a girl as lovely as Cheryl, let alone get her to marry him.

Charlie actually agreed with him, then added that whatever the attraction was, Dave must have it in him too, otherwise Bron would have left town as soon as she had laid eyes on him. Either that or both girls needed to visit an optor,... optrer,... optri,... an eye doctor, he laughed.

Bron asked them if they had decided what type of pizza they were having and when their eyes automatically went to the menu above the counter she made gestures to Dave that he immediately understood, and then beckoned Troy and Adam to follow her into the dining area.

“Well, I don’t think you should bother choosing anything from that menu,” Dave told them. “Come and have a look at the one inside,” and not giving them any opportunity to protest he quickly guided them to the table at which he, Bron, Rebecca, Tony and Trev were seated, made room for them and handed both a menu.

Bron had originally seated Adam and Troy at the same table but they soon abandoned the adults and made their way to where they saw their friends Peter and Richard Tran sitting. Julia Tran was also sitting there along with her brothers, and although the four boys might normally have been more interested in talking to each other about football, cricket and other manly pursuits, rather than with a girl, she couldn’t be ignored.

This was possibly due to the fact that not only was she able to out-climb, out-swim and out-run all four of them, she had also offered to demonstrate that she could also out-box and flatten them if they tried!

Although outwardly the boys claimed that it just wouldn’t be right to hit a girl, or spoil what little looks she had, it was not inconceivable that they were more worried about the possibility that she could probably do just that!

The arrival of Charlie and his family led to some rearrangement of Bron’s seating plan, but it wasn’t long before everyone was comfortably positioned, and Dave rose and called for their attention. When the talking died away he announced that their victory party, if that’s what it was supposed to be, had now also become a birthday party for Cheryl Barley, and asked them all to raise their glasses in a toast to her. They all did so, and virtually as one called out “Happy Birthday Cheryl!”

 

[Bidadisndat]

During the course of the evening Dave asked Speedy if he could visit the farm and give him a quote for installing Gyprock in the main bedroom. He had already measured the room and written the dimensions into his notebook and after being given the measurements Speedy said that it wouldn’t be necessary for him to visit the farm, and he could give Dave a quote now. He made a few scribbles under the figures and then quoted a price that to Dave seemed surprisingly low.

“No problem,” Speedy said when Dave asked if it would be O.K. for him to help with the work. “My quote’s based on that anyway. I have to warn you though; it’ll probably get very dusty when we start removing the old Masonite.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry too much about that ’coz I’ve already removed most of it. Only have one wall and the ceiling to do, and I’ll be doing that tomorrow. I’m thinking that the ceiling will probably be the worst as I discovered it’s Caneite, not Masonite. Anyway, I’ve got a good work-shop vacuum cleaner now, so there won’t be much if any dust around when I’ve finished. I’m also picking up a load of insulation bats tomorrow morning and I’ll install those after I finish pulling the rest of the Masonite off.”

“Blimey. Are you sure you need me, Dave? It sounds to me like you could probably do the lot by yourself.”

“Maybe, but I’ve never handled Gyprock before and I don’t want the finished job looking like a raw amateur had done it.”
“Aha! You sneaky sod: You just want me to teach you how to do it so you can do the rest of the house yourself.”

“Yeah, there’s that too, I guess,” Dave admitted with a grin as he moved on to talk to Pipes.

When asked, Pipes said while he’d be happy to give a quote on the plumbing that would need doing he wouldn’t be able get to over to the farm until the next Friday as he had a large job on at the moment. Dave had no problem with that and it was arranged that would meet at the Cock & Bull around lunch time on the day.

He also had a few words with Darren, and learned that not only had he already prepared the flat area where the water tanks were going to be placed, he had used his backhoe to form a drain at the rear of the pad as they had discussed, and had dug the trench for the pipe down to the house.

When told that the weed-mat that was to go under the road-base had also been laid out and pegged down Darren grinned and said that he had enlisted the help of Frank, the fencing contractor, and that the job had taken them less than half an hour to do. He could get ag-pipe at a much cheaper price than Dave could, and said that it’d probably be a good idea to wrap some of that in weed-mat and lay it along the drain that he’d cut at the back of the pad. Dave thought that was a good idea and told Darren to get what he thought was needed and put it on the bill.

Frank had asked him to tell Dave that the side and back fences had been fixed, and that after they’d both chased all the cows back through the gate onto Martin’s property Frank had chained and padlocked it. As Darren handed him the key to the padlock he said that the truck from the hardware store had also turned up while he was there and he’d helped the driver and his offsider unload the insulation bats which they stacked on the back veranda.

Everything was moving at a pace that Dave hadn’t expected but was grateful for, as his aim was to be able to move into the farmhouse as soon as he was able to complete the painting at the hotel. True, he could move into the farmhouse now, but he would much prefer to have running water and be able to have a hot shower there when he did so. And that thought reminded him that sometime over the weekend he would have to top up the drums now sitting on the veranda.

Returning to the table which their group shared he thanked the owner of the hardware store for the unexpected deliver of the insulation bats, and was told in return that he was welcome: It was only a small trip and not really out of the way, and they were glad to be of service.

Bron had gone to have a word with the manager of the restaurant, and came back shortly with a broad smile on her face. “You’ll see,” she had said to Dave when he asked what she had been up to. As the evening drew to a close one of the waiters appeared bearing a large cake, on the top of which Bron had spent a few minutes in the restaurant’s kitchen piping Happy Birthday Cheryl. He placed it on the table in front of Cheryl and lit several sparklers that had been stuck into the icing.

Cheryl stared at the cake in disbelief and then, just as everybody began singing Happy Birthday suddenly burst into tears. Her two boys were a bit confused by this: A surprise party, a cake with sparklers, everybody singing, and mum was crying? Of course they were happy tears, and everyone who looked at Charlie politely ignored the fact that he too had a tear or two in his eye. It certainly was a night the family was going to remember!

“How did you organise that cake so quickly?” asked Dave as they drove back to the village at the end of the night.

“The restaurant always keeps a cake or two in their ’fridge for such occasions and I knew that because they get them from the bakery where I work. They usually decorate the cakes with the person’s name themselves but were quite happy to let me do it for them. It doesn’t go on the bill either, as the manager believes that taking care of customers in that way is good for business. Charlie was pretty choked up too, wasn’t he?”

“He sure was,” Dave said, not mentioning to her that when Charlie had tried to pay his family’s share of the bill Dave had told him to put it towards something nice for Cheryl, and that that had gotten Charlie even more choked up. “Cheryl’s very attractive, isn’t she? I wonder where she comes from.”

“Her background you mean? She’s from up north, somewhere near Broome I think. Her mother was half Koori, half Japanese. The Japanese half was a pearl diver apparently. Her father was a Pommy bastard who took off when he found that his extremely attractive but not pure white girlfriend was pregnant. Cheryl’s mum and grandma raised her and obviously did a got job of it because she actually went on to put herself through University and got a degree in Business Administration.

She thought that would enable her to get a good job but it appeared that most men in management were more interested in her body than her brain, so when she found a man that was appreciative of both she let him chase her until she caught him. We get on well together because our backgrounds are a bit similar I guess.”

“Really? How so?”

“My grandmother is half Vietnamese, half French and grandfather was a half Spanish, half Negro who had fled to the U.S. from Cuba. He was in Korea fighting with the U.S. army; she was working for them as an interpreter in Japan, and they met when he was on R & R leave there. They got married and my mother was conceived shortly after, but then he was killed during some big battle. Nan wanted to emigrate to the U.S. but the authorities said she wasn’t eligible because her husband had married her without the permission of his C.O., and their marriage wasn’t recognised.

It actually had more to do with the fact that a certain colonel who had the ear of people in Washington had had the hots for her and was enraged that she should choose not only an enlisted man, but a coloured one at that. She went back to Vietnam and my mum was born there, but they left when the North invaded the South. New Zealand was the only country that would accept them at the time and they were living there when my mum met my dad. My dad was born in Wales. He was a signalman on a visiting British Naval cruiser and when his ship returned to England he got out of the navy and came back to New Zealand to be with my mum. He also takes good care of my Nan, and they’re all very happy there.”

“So your dad’s a Welshman then? How about that? Seems like it’s just a couple of Taffies we are then,” Dave said in his best Welsh accent.

Bron laughed. “You sound just like my dad when you talk like that.”

“My dad’s half Aussie, half Welsh, though mum’s all Welsh. They met when she was backpacking around Australia. He had to go to Wales and meet her parents before she would agree to come and live Down Under, but she says she’s never regretted the move. They have a farm up near the Queensland border, and I have to go up and visit them soon. By the way, it just occurred to me: I don’t know your surname!”

“It’s Phillips. Dad said that it’s a pretty common name in Wales.”

“So it is, though I understand that its origins are actually Greek. How it got to be so common in Wales I have no idea. Anyway, as I was saying, I’ll have to go up to the folk’s property soon. It’s a bit of a drive but it’s a lovely part of the country, and if you’d like to see it you’re welcome to come along.”

Bron didn’t read into the offer anything more than what she thought Dave had intended: It was simply a chance to see some more of the country, though as she thought more about it she was suddenly worried about his parent’s reaction to her being with their son. But then, why should that matter: It wasn’t as if there was anything going on between them. And of course that set in motion another train of thought: Why wasn’t there anything between them? Or was there something there, but she hadn’t yet seen it? Bron’s mind was in turmoil: She’d known Dave for a month but was now thinking that maybe she wanted to be with for him much longer. Like forever perhaps? But then again, she thought, it was probably just all the wine she had been drinking tonight. Yeah, all three glasses of the stuff.

Dave didn’t notice the extended silence that had descended upon them as his own mind was fully occupied, unfortunately not with the same problems as had it been so he might have been able to put her mind at ease, one way or the other. As it was, at the moment his brain was filled with thoughts of the work that he wanted to do over the weekend, though of course he also hoped he’d be able to spend some time with her. His thoughts were interrupted when Bron suddenly asked him if he had any specific time in mind as to when he would go to his parent’s place.

“I was thinking probably the week after next, though it depends a lot on how much I can get done at the hotel. I’m hoping to have all the painting finished by then. Of course, it also depends on what days you can get off if you want to come with me.”

“I’d like to come. Do you think your parents will mind?”

“I don’t see why they should. Probably be glad to have someone new to talk to. Knowing my mother, she’d also be likely to drag out the family photo albums and show you pictures of me when I was a kid. Just keep in mind that if she doesn’t, it would mean that she doesn’t approve of you,” then as a sudden look of consternation crossed her face quickly added “I’m only joking of course.”

“Jokes like that will make me think twice about going with you,” she said, and for good measure added “And I’m not joking.” For this last part she was rewarded with the satisfaction of seeing a worried look appear on his face, and she didn’t feel at all guilty about that.

By the time they arrived at the hotel it was late, but not too late for Dave to make himself a cup of coffee and help himself to a large slice of fruit-cake to which he added a big scoop of ice-cream from the kitchen freezer. Bron said that she’d had enough for the night so headed off to her room, but not before she had ruffled Dave’s hair, said good night and given him a kiss on the cheek. She had barely left the room when Tony and Trev walked in, the latter holding a bottle of Drambuie that he had taken from the bar.

“Care for a wee dram?” he asked, and without waiting for an answer handed Dave a port glass about three quarters full of the sweet amber liqueur.

Dave sipped the liqueur slowly and appreciatively, remarking that the last time he’d had it was aboard his last ship, when he’d sampled some before purchasing a full case of it. Although he didn’t reveal the fact to the two men, that case, and quite a few others of different liqueurs and spirits that he had managed to bring ashore undeclared to customs was safely stored at his parent’s farm.

There were also a number of other items stored there that might be of interest to Government Departments other than Customs and Excise. He wasn’t averse to paying his fair share of taxes, and the items weren’t illegal to possess, at least at present, but he had no wish to be known to have them in his possession. The three men talked until Dave felt the combination of coffee, fruit-cake, ice-cream and Drambuie taking effect and after bidding the other two goodnight made his way to bed.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

Another blue drum had been loaded on the truck and filled before Dave drove to the farm, set up the hose to begin siphoning water from the drums on the truck into the drums on the veranda, then continued with removing the lining from the main bedroom. Anticipating a lot of dust from the Caneite ceiling he was now dressed in 3M coveralls with a hood, and was wearing a respirator with changeable filters rather than a paper mask. It was just as well too: A paper mask would have been completely ineffective for the amount of dust that did come down when the ceiling was removed. When he’d finished removing all the lining, and thrown the pieces out of the window to create a pile on the ground below, he started the generator and using the new vacuum cleaner spent a good hour making sure that he extracted all the dirt and dust from between the wall studs.

The next task involved putting in new electrical wiring for the light, the ceiling fan and the switches that would be mounted on the wall beside the door, and power outlets he wanted on the skirting board at either side of where a double bed would be positioned. This wasn’t difficult to do but for the power outlet wiring it meant that he had to crawl under the house to install it, even if he was leaving the final connection to the power supply to Sparks.

Now it was time to install the insulation bats, and he found that this was very easy to do as they fitted snugly between the wall studs and only needed a little trimming for length. The insulation for the ceiling would be laid on top of the Gyprock after that was installed, but for now he had a clear view of the roof above! He was admiring his handiwork when there was a loud knocking on the front door and when he opened it he was surprised to see a grinning Bron standing there holding on to a bicycle, the bell of which she now rang a couple of times.

“Good Lord! Where did you get that?” he asked.

“Borrowed it from Julia Tan. She’s gone to play netball in town and said I could have it for the day. Just thought I’d bring you some lunch as knowing you, you’d probably forget to eat once you started working. Plus of course I wanted to see what you were up to.”

She propped the bike on its stand and pulled a small basket from the larger one attached to its front, and removed her small esky which she had secured to the rear carrier seat with bungee cords.

“I was going to make some sandwiches back at the hotel but then I thought it’d be better to make them here. Fancy a cup of tea?”

“Love one. But before you put the kettle on, come and have a look at what I’ve done so far.”

“Just what have you done, exactly?” she said after taking the basket and esky to the kitchen and returning to the bedroom.

“Are you blind, girl? Can’t you see? I vacuumed the floor!”

“Oh yeah, so you did. Wow, I’m really impressed! Now go and wash your hands while I make us some lunch.”

Actually she had been really impressed, and wanted to know if he was planning to do the same with the other rooms. He probably would, he told her, but it would be over a period of time. He wanted to make sure that the total cost of any improvements he made to the house, apart from things that he could take away if McKenzie came back, didn’t exceed what would have been a reasonable rent for any period he was there. Some repair costs, such as those for the guttering and the roof capping for example, he might be able to add to any amount McKenzie would already owe him as they were necessary to maintain the structural integrity of the house.

After a leisurely lunch they walked up the slope to inspect the work that Darren had done so far in preparing the pad for the water tanks, then back down to the house where Dave used the wheelbarrow to move the pieces of Masonite and Caneite he’d thrown out the window around to the rear where he was building a burn-pile. It was while he was at the back of the house when Bron called to him from the veranda, telling him he had a visitor at the front door.

When he returned to the house Bron whispered that the visitor was Rick Martin, his next door neighbour, and that he looked pretty glum. Dave gave her a wink and told her that she should act friendly towards him and invite him to come on through to the back. He would see what Mr. Martin had to say before deciding what to do about the situation regarding the fence and the cattle.

“Dave, this is Rick Martin, your next door neighbour,” Bron said as she led Rick onto the back veranda. “Rick, I’d like you to meet Dave Morgan, your new neighbour.”

Dave extended his hand and as Rick took it said “Pleased to meet you Rick. Sorry I haven’t been able to drop in and meet you before, but I’ve had quite a bit on my plate since I arrived. It’s darned hot, isn’t it? Would you like a beer?”

Rick hadn’t really known what to expect when he arrived but it certainly wasn’t the friendly welcome that Dave was extending, and he seemed a bit stuck for words, especially when Bron handed him a cold stubby from Dave’s esky, which fortunately still had some ice in it. Dave also took the stubby that Bron handed him and waited for Rick to gather his thoughts and say something. A few moments later the sound of a vacuum cleaner came from inside the house as Bron had decided to clean the other rooms, although she found that the door to one bedroom had been locked for some reason so had to skip that one.

“Heard you’ve taken over management of the place. I notice that you’ve done a bit of work to it too,” Rick finally managed to get out.

“You mean the fencing? Yes, I had Frank Bartlet repair it. Seems like your cattle were coming through and helping themselves to the grass.

“Well, I have to admit that’s partly my fault: Duncan Read bought McKenzie’s cows and told me that he’d arranged for them to stay on the property. He asked me to look after them for him and suggested that putting in a gate would allow both his cows and mine to range over both properties. I heard about what happened at the last council meeting and now I know that Shady didn’t make any arrangements with McKenzie. He came by my place this morning and asked me if I wanted to buy the cows from him ’cause he’s got nowhere to put them, but I’ve barely got enough grass for my own cows let alone his, and I don’t know where I’d put them if I did.”

“How much is he asking for them?”

“Told me I could have them for what he’d paid for them, but I know for a fact that he paid quite a bit less than what he’s asking. I could probably get the price down a bit but the truth is I just don’t have the money.”

“I’d buy them myself, but somehow I don’t think Shady would be too happy dealing with me,” said Dave with a laugh when he heard the amount that Shady was asking. “I do have an idea though. How would you feel about buying them on my behalf, without mentioning that fact to Shady? You make him a low counter offer and if he accepts it, I put up the cash and the cows become mine, then you and I have an arrangement similar to the one you had with him. Would you be interested in doing that?”

“Yes, I think I would,” said Rick after a minute’s thought. “You said a similar arrangement. What would be different to the one I had with Shady?”

“Apart from the fact that you’d be able to graze your cows in the same way without trespassing, not much. It’ll mostly be about rotating the stock through a specific strip grazing routine that would allow me to establish a food forest later on. That might sound a bit strange to you just now but we could sit down later and I’ll go through what I’m planning to do with the property. Apart from that, I wouldn’t mind a few litres of raw milk each week. I was brought up on the stuff when I was a kid. Oh, that reminds me: What happened to Heather’s pet Jersey, Bessie?”

“She’s still with the herd. Heather refused to sell her to Shady and she asked my wife if she wouldn’t mind looking after her. Of course that meant yours truly would be the one actually doing the looking after, but I had no problem with that.”

“That’s good. I guess she can stay where she is because I’m not about to start milking a house-cow every day. So, what do you say?”

“I suppose it really depends on what Shady wants to do with the cows, but I’m quite happy to go along with the idea. How much do you want to offer him?”

“Let’s start with half of what he’s asking and see what happens. I can afford to let him work the price up a little, but I’d like to keep it low enough to make him squirm. If he’s in a hurry to sell them we’d better act quickly though, or someone else might buy them.”

“You don’t have the ’phone on here yet, do you? I’ll give him a call when I get home. If he says yes I can come straight back and let you know.”

“We won’t be here Rick,” put in Bron as she came out the back door. “My shift starts soon and Dave will have to drive me back to the hotel. You could call him down there though.”

“Yeah, that’d be O.K. Well, thanks Dave. Nice to have met you, and thanks for the beer too,” he said as he shook Dave’s hand before leaving.

“Sorry about the interruption,” said Bron. “I wasn’t watching the time and now it’s a bit late for me to ride the bike back in time for work. Can we put it on the back of the truck?”

Dave shut down the generator and then having secured the house put the bike on the truck and they headed back to the hotel. When Dave said that he was surprised that Rick wasn’t able to afford to buy Shady’s cows, even at a low price, Bron told him that most of Rick’s earnings went on hospital treatment and medication for his wife, who was seriously ill with cancer. Dave suddenly felt for the man as he himself had lost two grandparents to the disease, and could understand to a large degree what Rick must be going through.

It was a lovely late afternoon and Dave decided that as he’d done enough for the day and deserved to relax a bit, the beer garden was the ideal place to do that. Not that his mind would be allowed to idle though, and from his room he retrieved one of his books on self sufficiency, a scribble pad, pencil and a four-colour Bic pen with which to make notes and draw diagrams.

And naturally if one was to be relaxing in a beer garden it went without saying that a tall glass of cold beer would be required. When he went to the bar it was Bron who pulled a schooner for him, and she placed it on a small tray that also bore two dishes, one holding cubes of cheese and the other a pile of Jatz crackers. He had barely made himself comfortable at his favourite small table under the oak tree when he was surprised to see Rick Martin approaching him.

“Bron told me you were out here,” he said. “Just thought I’d better come down and let you know what happened when I called Shady Read on the ’phone a short while ago.”

“He wasn’t happy with the offer?”

“I never got to make it. He wasn’t at home and I spoke to his wife. When I told her I was calling about the cows she said she had no idea what I was talking about because Shady didn’t own any cows. When I told her that he’d bought them off McKenzie over two years ago and they were still on the property she blew her stack. She was at the council meeting last Tuesday and knows you’ve taken over the management of the farm so she wants you to call her ASAP and tell her what the hell’s going on. I thought it might be a good idea if you did ‘cause from the sound of her voice she was in a mood to strangle him.”

Dave grinned. “Sounds like you’ve let the cat out of the bag, or in this case, the cattle out of the paddock. If you’ve got the number I’ll give her a call right now. Will you stay for a beer, now that you’re here?”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Rick said as he handed Dave a piece of paper with a ‘phone number on it and headed to the bar. “I’ll go and get a glass while you call her. Do you want another one or are you right?” he called over his shoulder.

“I’ve only just got one so I’m OK.” Using the pay phone in Reception Dave dialled the number that Rick had given him and after several rings the ‘phone at the other end of the line was picked up by Mrs. Read. After identifying himself he spent a few minutes confirming that her husband had not only purchased Ian McKenzie’s cows but had convinced Rick Martin that he had been given permission to keep them on the property.

He spent several more minutes talking to her before she told him that she would discuss the situation with her husband when he came by, and would call Dave back later. He gave her the hotel’s number then hung up the ‘phone and returned to the beer garden where he took the time to get to know his neighbour a little better.

“I’d love to be a fly on the wall when that conversation takes place,” said Dave when he told Rick about what had transpired. “I noted that she said she’d talk to Shady “When he came by” so I presume he’s no longer living in the marital home.”

“You could be right: He gave me a number to call when I made up my mind about whether to buy the cows or not, but I misplaced it. The number I gave you was the one I had for him in my personal notebook. I’m beginning to think that the way things are going, you might have to buy the cows from his wife!”

After Rick had gone he moved to the lounge and went back to his book and notepad, reading and making notes until Bron finished her shift and they were able to have a late dinner together.

“I thought I might have a bit of a break from working on the farm tomorrow, and spend a bit of time at the beach,” Dave said during the meal, and then asked “Do you want to go with me?”
“I’d love to, especially as the forecast is for a hot day. Do you want me to make up a picnic basket?”
“That’d be good, because we might be feeling pretty hungry by lunch time. Though that will depend on whether or not you’ve been studying the PADI text-book and filling in the work-book I gave you.”
Bron’s eyes lit up and a broad smile appeared on her face. “Are you going to start teaching me to dive?” she asked excitedly. “I’ve studied the text-book cover to cover, several times, and answered all the work-book questions too. Can I do the quizzes tonight?”
“No, you can’t, because I need to get some sleep, even if you don’t,” Dave answered with a laugh. “And I suggest you get plenty of sleep too. How about we meet here for breakfast at seven thirty?”
“But the day will be half gone by the time we get to the beach!” she protested.

“Seven thirty! And don’t stay up all night studying either.”

She pouted a bit, but then smiled and coming to his side of the table gave him a hug and a kiss before saying “Goodnight” and heading for her room where, despite him telling her not to, he had no doubt that she would spend a lot of time studying. Most likely her work-book, he thought, so that she’d feel more confident in answering the questions in the quizzes he’d be giving her before taking her into the water.

Unfortunately Shady’s wife hadn’t called before he went to bed, and while he hoped that she’d call next day - and that if she did it wouldn’t be when he was at the beach - he wasn’t going to worry about it. It would be good to have a herd of cows though, even if it was only a very small herd.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

Well before breakfast Dave had loaded the truck with all the diving gear that they’d need, plus a spare tank and regulator, and a float for the dive flag that had to be displayed when they were in the water. He actually used two flags: In Australia divers use the internationally recognised blue and white swallow-tailed “Alpha” flag, which was often difficult to see in choppy water, so he also flew the far more practical red flag with a white diagonal stripe that was used by divers in the U.S.

He had decided to use sixty-three cu.ft tanks for them both, rather than the bigger eighty-eights that would normally be used by a dive school, not simply because they were lighter but also because he didn’t anticipate that either of them would use a lot of air during the training sessions. It wasn’t unusual for beginners to use a lot, however Dave had found that if the diver was warm, comfortable and unstressed, and swam at a steady but relaxed pace while maintaining neutral buoyancy, he or she used much less.

A fellow instructor down in Sydney, whose advice and techniques he emulated, used eighty-eights for guys and sixty-threes for girls on their first dive of the day, then switched to sixty-threes and fifties respectively for their second dive, and he himself had found that to be very practical.

This was especially so when it came to refilling the tanks, as it saved both time and money. He also provided each student with a three-piece wetsuit consisting of Long-Johns, a Jacket and a short-sleeved Hooded Vest. Most of the dive schools used full-foot fins that were worn on bare feet with the result that many a student got cut when walking over shell covered rocks to the water’s edge, however he had opted for open heeled fins with straps, and wet-suit boots which were much more comfortable and prevented cuts and chaffing.

The school’s wet-suit Jackets and Long Johns featured cuffs that were coloured according to the size of the suit, as were boots and B.C.’s, and even the weight belts were coloured according to the amount of lead that each carried. Only the hooded vests looked the same, each having a broad fluorescent orange stripe on the headpiece that made it easier to spot a diver on the surface, and in this case a small tag of the appropriate colour for the size was sewn to the bottom hem of each vest. The colour coding made it very easy for the instructor to get all of the equipment for a class ready in a very short time and after looking his operation over and assisting him with several classes, Dave had decided to adopt the same system for his own school. The suits he was using now had been ordered together with suits that the other instructor had recently ordered and they were both able to take advantage of a bulk-buy price.

When Bron met him for breakfast, fifteen minutes earlier than he’d asked her to, he suggested that as the day’s weather was forecast to be really hot it would probably be better to review the first two modules in the work-book and do the quizzes in the comfort of the hotel lounge before they left for the beach.

“I’m busting to get into the water and start my lessons, but that sounds reasonable,” she replied.

“Plus it would save us wasting a trip if you failed the quizzes.”

It was totally the wrong thing to say, he realised, when Bron glared at him and advanced in what might have been described as a threatening manner, and he hurriedly added “Not that you would fail, of course. Why don’t we get started now?” he asked quickly, holding up the paperwork in front of him in an effort to divert her away from beating him up. The ploy worked, sort of, and she snatched the papers from him, went into the lounge and spread them out on a coffee table.

The review of her work-book took about fifteen minutes and her replies to supplementary questions that Dave tossed at her showed that not only had she indeed done a lot of study but was able to think quickly. With the reviews completed she picked up the first quiz and held out a hand without looking at him, and when he obligingly placed a pen into it she began filling in the answer sheet. When she had finished the second quiz she handed him both sets with a triumphant look and told him that he could check her answers, all of which she assured him he would find to be correct, then meet her at the truck.

“You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?” he said with a grin as he got into the cab, not at all surprised to find that she had scored one hundred percent on each of the quizzes.

“Yes. But only because I am,” she replied. “Certainly smart enough to remember to bring the picnic esky from the kitchen for you to load.

Feeling if not looking slightly sheepish Dave got out, picked up the esky from the ground at the back of the truck and placed it on the tray. When he climbed back in Bron was humming a tune and although she was looking out of the window on her side he just knew that she was silently laughing at him.

By the time they arrived at the boat ramp at Fish Hook Bay Bron was finding it hard to control her excitement, though Dave thought that her rapid chatter also hid a touch of nervousness. To his mind, that was usually a good thing as it indicated that the student was inclined to listen and watch carefully when something was demonstrated. He found that the hardest people to teach were those that already knew it all, simply because they’d either read a book on the subject, or a friend had told them about it.

Bron certainly paid attention though, and after he had demonstrated how to assemble the scuba and check both primary and backup second stages, and the pressure gauge, she had no problem doing the same. He was pleased to note that after everything had been checked she had not only turned off the tank valve but watched the needle of the pressure gauge return to zero as she purged the system. He had never seen a student do that before their first dive without having been told to, and in fact he realised that he’d been quite remiss in not having told her, and now was wondering how she knew that that should be done.

“Oh, I thought that checking the gauge to make sure it was working would be the normal thing to do,” she replied nonchalantly when Dave asked her, and there was no way that she was going to tell him that it was simply because she’d watched him do it first!

Once they were suited up he demonstrated a couple of ways in which the scuba could be put on, and then how buddies should assist each other with doing that in a much easier and safer way. Their weight-belts would normally be put on last, to ensure that they would be free to fall away if they needed to be ditched in an emergency, however as they were wearing modern jacket type BC’s that did not have crotch straps, it was quite OK to put them on before their scuba. Well, actually that was his own personal stance, and it wouldn’t have been taught in other dive schools he said, however Bron thought that his reasoning was sound.

Finally ready to enter the water and holding their masks and fins they walked carefully down the boat ramp until they were almost waist deep in the perfectly calm water. At this point they rinsed their masks, spat into them and rubbed the saliva over the glass to prevent fogging, rinsed them again and put them on.

Moving into slightly deeper water Dave floated on his back and put on his fins then, cradling Bron’s tank between his legs and holding the shoulders of her BC, had her do the same. It was a simple manouvre and a much easier entry than she had seen the students of the dive school down in Sydney do.

Dave gave her the OK signal and then the thumbs down indicating that they were to descend and venting air from their BC’s they sank slowly to the bottom. After checking each other’s valve, regulator and gauges to confirm that there were no air leaks they moved out into deeper water and began going through the exercises of the first Confined Water Training Session. Bron had no problems with any of the skills she was required to demonstrate and after returning to the ramp for a few minutes of debriefing began her first Open Water Dive.

They were underwater for almost an hour during which time Bron not only enjoyed the experience immensely but also showed she had the makings of very competent diver, and when they finally exited both were wearing wide smiles.

“You had enough for the day?” asked Dave, knowing full well what the answer to that stupid question would be.

“Are you kidding!? Oh, I get it: You’re too tired to go in again! And here’s me thinking you’d be the tireless instructor who could dive all day and half the night-time too without any problem at all. How silly of me!”

She had many questions to ask him about the dive they had just completed, however they all concerned things that she had seen rather than anything about techniques, equipment or problems, and he was surprised at how observant she was regarding marine life.

They returned to the truck where after taking off their scuba and wet-suit jackets Dave first had her disassemble her unit and then reassemble it, replacing her almost empty tank with a full one. They opted for a light snack rather than have the lunch that she had prepared and as they sat in the shade of trees adjacent to the car-parking area, he handed her a log-book in which to record the details of her first confined and open-water training dives.

The log-book he gave her had been designed and produced by his instructor friend down in Sydney, and after finding that the layout of the pages was better than any others he’d seen had decided to use them. Dave told her that after one of that instructor’s former students had done several dives in Okinawa the PADI Divemaster of the group she was with had refused to sign her log-book for her.

“It’s not a real Log-Book,” he had told her, because it hadn’t been produced by PADI, NAUI, BSAC, or any other recognised teaching organisation. She had lodged a formal complaint with PADI Japan and apparently “somebody” was spoken to because she received a letter of apology from the shop that had organised the tour, and was asked if she could forward her log-book to them and they would ensure that it was signed.

“Was the Divemaster trained by Steve Lee?” she asked, and as Dave laughed he marvelled that she had remembered the name of the pedantic instructor that he had told her about after they had watched him instruct a group of students at Fairy Bower.

The second Confined Water training session and subsequent Open Water Dive went as well as if not better than the first and all too soon they were again back at the truck getting out of their gear and putting everything into two totes on the back. Dave topped them up with water from the blue drum that he’d filled earlier that morning, and put their lids on so that the equipment would not dry out before it could be washed properly. He told Bron that once on a five-day diving tour to La Bufadora in Baja California he and his friends hadn’t once washed their diving gear out until they’d returned to San Diego, but because everything had always been kept soaking wet no damaging salt crystals had formed.

“It’ll be good when the road through to the beach is cleared,” said Bron as they had their lunch. “I think it’d be really nice to dive from there.”

“Yes, it would. Be good to have picnics under the trees there too. I’m hoping that when Greg Peterson comes on Wednesday we can persuade him that if it’s at all possible it would be in everyone’s best interests to have the road cleared quickly, preferably before summer begins.”

“So who’s going to be at the meeting?”

“I asked Tony to put the word out so I think many of the business owners in the village will turn up. I also asked him to tell everyone that it’s not a meeting where people can just get up and complain but where if they think village has any problems they should be able to offer some suggestions as to how the problems could be fixed.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” she said as she looked at her watch. “Wow, look at the time! We’d better get a move on if you want me to wash my gear before my shift starts.”

Fifteen minutes later they were back at the hotel where all the equipment they’d used was washed and hung in the secure area to dry before they themselves headed for their rooms to shower and change.

When Bron began her shift Dave sat in his favourite spot in the beer garden with a tall glass of Pilsner and smiled to himself as he thought of Bron: She was quite chipper now, but he knew that after a couple of hours standing behind the bar the day’s diving would begin to make itself felt, and by shift’s end she would be dead beat. In future they would have to make sure that diving would only be done when she didn’t have to work afterwards.

With his beer finished he moved to a chaise lounge, lowered its back as far as it would go and lying back on it slowly drifted off to sleep. When he awoke it was already very dark o’clock and he was surprised to find that a light open-weave cotton blanket had been draped over him while he slept, and that a mosquito coil had been lit and placed on the ground between his lounge and the one beside him. As he stirred a figure on the other lounge spoke from the darkness.

“Are you awake love?” came a whispered voice.

“Yeah, sort of. What time is it?” he asked as he struggled to a sit up.

“Pretty late. Or pretty early, depending on which way you’re going. You were out like a light when I came through and it’s such a mild night I thought it’d be OK to let you sleep rather than wake you up.”

“I’m surprised that you’re awake. Have you had any sleep at all?”

“A few hours. Probably would’ve had a lot more if someone hadn’t been snoring so loudly.”

“What!? I don’t snore! Well, not much anyway, and certainly not loudly enough to keep anyone awake.”

“Ooh, touchy aren’t we? Relax sweetheart, I was only joking. Are you going back to your room now, or are you going to stay here?”

Dave checked his watch and finding that it was already after four a.m. decided that he might as well stay where he was. Bron threw him one of the two pillows that along with two blankets she had brought from her room and made herself comfortable in the chaise lounge she was in, saying that she might as well stay there too. As sleep began to overtake him for the second time he had a vague recollection that at some point after he had woken Bron had called him “love” and “sweetheart”, and without really being aware of it he smiled into the night as he drifted off.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

The raucous sound of bird calls in the trees woke them only a couple of hours later, both feeling surprisingly well rested considering they had slept on the lounges rather than in more comfortable beds. After both had had quick showers, and in Dave’s case a shave, they had a good breakfast before driving into town where Bron was dropped off at her lodgings, and Dave went in search of the company that wanted to turn the old mansion and its grounds into a retirement village.

He'd intended ’phoning first, however as he was in town anyway he thought a call in person might be better: He knew that in many cases it was easier to fob someone off when they were making a request over the ’phone than it was if the request was being made in person. However he didn’t anticipate the reception he got from the developer when he finally managed to track him down and introduce himself.

“Grant Newman. Very pleased to meet you, Dave. Please, come on through to the office,” he said while shaking Dave’s hand firmly. “Doreen! Can you please bring us a couple of coffees?” he called to his secretary as they went through the reception area, pausing to ask Dave if he did actually drink coffee.

“White and two, please,” Dave said, nodding and smiling at the girl, and receiving a smile in return as he went past.

“I recognised you from the council meeting. You certainly set the cat among the pigeons there! And I have to tell you Dave, it was one of the best things that could have happened for this town, and for my and several other companies too, I might add.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Well, for starters that mongrel Shady Read had been putting the screws on just about every developer that wants to get anything good done around this town. Unless it was to his advantage in some way, of course. In our case he was putting up all types of resistance to the plans for the retirement village and we were going nowhere fast with it. With him out of the way, and a couple of his cronies I’m led to believe, we now expect our development applications to be approved quite quickly. The uproar you caused that night was quite entertaining too, and although I felt really sorry for his wife at first, in the long run she’s going to be a lot better off without that mongrel husband of hers around. Now, what can I do for you?”

Dave asked him what he planned to do with the tennis court on the grounds and was pleased to hear that along with just about everything else it was going to be got rid of. When he made the offer to remove the court in exchange for keeping the mesh and posts Grant told him that not only could he have them, but when it came time to do the job he would get his own demolition crew to do it. Dave was then invited to go and have a look around the buildings to see if there was anything else he’d like to salvage, apart from some clearly marked items that the company had decided it wanted to keep for its own use. That was quite unexpected but Dave was very quick on the uptake and said that he’d have a quick squiz around the place before he left. They talked for a little while longer before Dave excused himself, saying that he’d better get back to his painting at the hotel and let Grant get on with his day.

His “quick squiz” when he got to the address Grant had given him took nearly an hour as he walked through the empty rooms of the very large vacant building, making a list of items he thought he might be able to salvage and use. There was in fact quite a lot more than he would be able to use immediately, however if he could get what he wanted he saw no harm in stockpiling some for future use. It also crossed his mind that in the future the farm may well need a truck that was bigger than what he was driving now.

Before returning to the village he spent some time at the local Telecom shop organising the reconnection of the telephone at the farm. Fortunately Colin McKenzie had paid his account in full prior to having the ’phone disconnected and after Dave had produced the rates notice and its receipt in his name, and his driver’s license showing that he resided at that address, it was arranged that a technician would be sent as soon as possible. As they couldn’t give him a precise date for the job to be done because their technicians already had quite a backlog of work to catch up with, Dave gave them the ’phone number of the hotel where he could be contacted when they were able to send someone. Driving back to the motel he thought to himself that from what he’d heard about Telecom workers he’d be lucky to get the ’phone on before new year, though that wasn’t really a problem as he could usually be contacted at the hotel.

It was almost noon when he arrived back at the Cock & Bull and he immediately changed into his work clothes and got stuck into the painting, determined to have all the rooms finished by the end of the week. He was well ahead of his planned schedule, which was a good thing because he had to meet with the Mayor on the Wednesday, plus arrange with Darren to finish off the pad for the water tanks at the farm. He worked until nine p.m., taking a short break for dinner and to call Darren, and also to call Frank and tell him about the tennis court fencing, and of the conversation he’d had with Rick Martin that would necessitate the building of another fence across the property. Frank was only too happy to take on the job straight away and as he could begin as soon as he was shown where the fence was to be erected, they arranged to meet at the farm early the next day.

Early the next day found Dave and Frank at the farm, along with Rick Martin, who Dave had dropped in on and invited over. The new fence-line that Dave had decided upon was a bit further up the slope than where Rick had previously run his hot wire and it added several acres to the area where the cattle could graze. A gate large enough to allow an excavator to pass through would be installed somewhere on its length so that swales could be constructed at a later date, and the temporary gate between the two properties would be replaced with a permanent one. Rick was going to go home and come back with his tractor, after he had fitted his post-hole auger to its three-point linkage, and dig the holes where Frank indicated, while Dave went back to the hotel to continue painting.

When he arrived there he was intercepted by Tony, who told him that “Somebody named Pete Jacobs called and said to tell you that he’d be going over to the farm about three-thirty this afternoon to deliver some sheets of Gyprock.” Tony then reminded him that he was supposed to work only in the mornings, and even if he did start a bit late he shouldn’t be working until ten o’clock at night, as he had done the day before. Of course Dave merely grinned and said “Yes-sir Boss-man” and Tony walked away shaking his head and muttering “like talking to a brick wall,” but also grinning because Dave’s response was typical of the man.

Dave worked until two o’clock, cleaned up and then drove to the farm where he found that Rick and Frank had gotten all the post-holes dug and about a quarter of the posts had been tamped tightly into position. They had also put in the hinge and slamming posts, and the braces, for the two gates that Frank would bring with him the next morning.

Speedy arrived shortly after three-thirty and together he and Dave carried sheets of Gyprock, long lengths of cornice, pails of adhesive and rolls of joining tape into the house. He wouldn’t be able to do anything with the materials until the following week as he had another job on, but at least they were on site, ready to be used. When Speedy had gone Dave helped Frank and Rick with tamping more of the fence-posts in place and by the time they had finished for the day they were more than half way across the property, and as Frank left he said that the fence would be completed, and the gates hung, by the end of the next day.

“Rick, I’d like to set up hot wires so that we can start the cows strip grazing as soon as possible. We don’t need to wait until the fence up here is finished because the bottom and side fences are all good so we can run the wire across the bottom section. How much area do you think we should use for each strip?”

“Well, there’s thirty-odd acres to play with here, and the same on my block, but the grass is pretty sparse at the moment, and with nearly thirty head to provide grazing for we can’t really make small strips. I think that dividing the land into four paddocks would be best for now. We can always change it later. You told me before a bit about the way the Cubans set up some of their dairy farms when they had to abandon feed lots and it sounded quite interesting. Do you think the same system would work here?”

“No reason why it shouldn’t. Actually, I think we might even be able to improve on it. If you have time tonight I’d be happy to go over my plans with you and see what you think.”

“Tonight is out, I’m afraid: The Mrs. is pretty crook and I don’t want to leave her by herself. Would tomorrow after we’ve finished putting up the fence be OK?”

“Sure, that’d be fine. We've still got a bit of daylight left and tomorrow I won’t be here until very late, if at all, so do you have time for us to run the hot-wire across the paddock now?”

“Sure. It’ll only take fifteen minutes or so. I’ll go and get the stuff now.”

As the gateway between the two blocks had been positioned halfway down the fence-line they ran the hot-wire across at that point, making it easy to direct the cows to where they were supposed to graze, and Rick would herd them into that section in the morning. Dave had decided that, until he had a firm plan for the swales, forage and food forest plants he had in mind, once the fences were finished he wouldn’t interfere with the way Rick organised how the sections should be grazed. And when he finally did have a plan he would discuss it with Rick to ensure that they could work on it together before making any changes

Back at the hotel he met up with Tony and Trev as they were going to the dining room and it suddenly occurred to him that as owners and managers of the establishment their own private apartment would have its own kitchen. When he asked them about it they told him that it was not only more practical to have the hotel’s cook prepare meals for them, they didn’t have to wash the dishes. Plus it worked out to be a lot cheaper than having to buy foodstuff and prepare it themselves, or rather for Tony to prepare it as, according to him at least, Trevor was a bloody awful cook.

Dave was invited to join them and the three men spent a relaxing two hours over dinner discussing some of the things that they thought should be brought to the attention of the Mayor, Greg Peterson, when he came to visit the village next day. They decided that it was probably the condition of the roads through and around the village, and the clearing of the road to the beach at Fish Hook Bay that were the most important items that needed to be looked at. And naturally they also believed that the council should scrap the fees being asked of Dive Schools wanting to use the bay, as that had not only resulted in the demise of one business in the town, it had also affected several other businesses in the village.

To push that point, Tony said that he had extended an invitation to the owners of those businesses to attend the meeting, and that they had all agreed to be there. He added that it should also be pointed out to the mayor that the harassment by council rangers of sports divers not connected with any school had given the bay a bad reputation, and in fact it had gotten so bad that there were now no divers coming to the bay for the rangers to harass!

“Greg said he’d be coming over some time around nine-thirty and will stay as long as we need him too. He told me that he hasn’t been to the village since before he became mayor so I thought that it’d be a good idea to take him down to the bay and show him firsthand what the problem is regarding access. I should also ask him if the council’s in any position to have the wharf repaired.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for something to be done about that, Dave. I don’t know all the details but I understand there are a few legal problems to be sorted out due to the Co-Op that owns the building going into receivership. There’d also likely to be problems regarding liability if somebody got injured while accessing the wharf, even if they were trespassing.”

“Oh. I wasn’t aware of that. O.K: I guess that’s just another question that needs to be asked. Anything else you can think of?”

“Drive around the village and hit every pot-hole you can find, Dave. Might help convince him that the roads here need a bit more than just a bit of patching,” Trevor joked.

“Oh sure Trev: Like I’m going to destroy my truck doing that. How about lending me your car to drive him around in?” Dave shot back. “Oh, by the way, completely off track, but did I mention that I’ll be heading up north to visit my parents sometime soon? Can’t remember whether I did or not.”

“You did mention a week or so ago that you might do that. Will you be gone long?” Tony asked.

“No. Probably go up on a Monday and come back the following Friday. There wouldn't be much for me to do work-wise up there as my father has his farm pretty well organised, plus he has a couple of hired hands to do the heavier work. Bron said she’d like to go too, and she was going to ask her boss if it was possible for her to have some time off to make the trip. I’m OK to go any time, so when we go basically depends on her what she can arrange.”

“That’s good. Just between you and me, Trev and I have noticed that Bron seems to be a bit distracted lately, and we were worried that she might be thinking of moving on soon. Summer’s almost on us and if it starts to get busy we’d like to have you both here, so a bit of a break might do her good. By the way, how are things going with the work you’re doing at the farm?”

“Surprisingly fast, actually. The fencing will be finished by tomorrow afternoon and the water tank at the side of the house should be replaced before the end of next week. I’ve arranged for Ian Reece to connect all the plumbing and get some water delivered for the tank. I’m also hoping that the first of the two big water tanks I’m having put on the slope above the house will be in place by the end of the month. Darren has already put in a trench for the pipe-work for them. Pete Jacobs and I will put be putting up some Gyprock when I get back and when that’s done and painted I should be able to move in. There’s a lot still to do of course, but I’ll make sure the painting here is done first.”

“That shouldn’t take too long, judging from the work you’ve done so far. How much longer do you think it will take?”

“I think another two or three days should see it all finished, unless you’ve got more planned for me to do.”

“Nothing planned yet. And there’d be nothing planned that couldn’t wait until after the summer anyway.”

“What about getting power connected?” asked Trevor.

“I’ve got the all equipment required and I intend to set the place up to be completely off grid, but in the meantime I can use the generator if I really need power, and I’ll be happy enough using my Coleman and LPG gas lanterns for the time being. Why don’t you both come with Greg and me tomorrow when we go to the bay? I can take you to the farm on the way back and you can have look at how things are going.”

“Good idea, Dave. OK, It’s getting a bit late so I’m going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“It’s been a long day for me too guys, so I’m also going to turn in. Goodnight, and I’ll see you at breakfast.”

As Dave lay on his bed that night he thought about Bron thinking of moving on. Living in the village wouldn’t hold quite the appeal that it did of what Tony had said about Bron seeming to be a bit distracted and might be just now, he realised, and he also knew that something had be done about that. Damn! Life had always been uncomplicated for the most part, so why should it be any different now? Damn! After tossing and turning for some time he finally fell asleep, however it was anything but restful.

* * *​

 

[Lake Lili]

Really enjoying this story! Thanks!

Lili

 

[Bidadisndat]

Dave was waiting for Greg Peterson to arrive when Trevor called out that somebody wanted to speak to him on the ‘phone in the office. Hoping that it wasn’t Greg calling to say that the meeting was off he was quite surprised when he picked up the ‘phone to hear Eleanor Read on the line. She had confronted her husband about the cows he hadn’t told her about and during the flaming row that ensued she had demanded that they be returned to McKenzie, and if he couldn’t get back what he’d paid for them then that was just too bloody bad.

Not that he’d paid much to begin with, she’d found out, and learning that he had taken a really unfair advantage of Ian McKenzie’s desperate situation only served to infuriate her to the point that she didn’t care if he had to give them back. And if he didn’t do it, she would! She added quite a bit more and he’d rarely heard women using the language that Eleanor was now using, so he was left in no doubt that she’d be sure to follow through with the threat if her husband didn’t comply.

When he came out of the office he found that Greg had turned up while he was on the ’phone, and was now in conversation with Tony and Trev. He joined the three men and as it had been decided that after a drive around the village to show Greg the condition of the street surfaces they would drive down to the bay, they got into Tony’s car. As Tony drove he directed Greg’s attention to various bad spots that urgently needed work done on them, however when they left the last side street and drove along Brocklesbury Road to the bay there was no need for that as it was obvious that the whole road needed to be resurfaced.

After the car had been parked at the boat-ramp car-park all four men alighted and proceeded on foot, past the wharf and its building then along the road to the beach at the end of the bay. When they came to the rock-fall blocking the road and followed the narrow path that had been worn over it, Dave told them that probably the best thing to do here was to use an excavator to move the fallen material to the beach end of the road and use it to increase the size of the small carpark there. Doing that would not only allow a few more cars to park at the beach, it would be far easier and far cheaper than finding a dump site and transporting the material to it.

During a tramp around the landward side of the beach he pointed out where people had used rocks to build small fireplaces for barbecues, and suggested that perhaps a few shelters with tables and seating could be built around the park. In fact, he went on, it might even be considered sometime in the future to have toilet facilities and perhaps a small kiosk constructed down there. Trevor weighed in by suggesting that much of what Dave had suggested in that regard could be undertaken by the village as a volunteer community project, and if Greg thought that that was a viable option it could be put to the residents at a later date.

They were pleased to hear that Greg was very enthused by the ideas and even more so when he said that he would start the ball rolling as soon as he got back to the Council Chambers. There might be some delay in getting an excavator in to clear the roadway though, as he knew that what machinery the council had was currently being used for other works. Dave countered this by suggesting that if Greg could get a costing on the work, they might be able to organise a local excavator and get the work done cheaper themselves, thus saving the council, and ratepayers, quite a bit of money.

On the return walk they inspected the wharf, the building on it, and the boat ramp, each of which in Greg’s opinion could be easily restored, although it would require the infusion of some finance. He would have the council’s new general manager come down for a look and assess the viability of having the work done, as it wasn’t just a matter of restoring the structures but also of what benefit doing so would be to the community as a whole. They all knew that there was no doubt that the project would be of benefit, but it still required the approval of council so there were unavoidable hoops that had to be jumped through.

Being well satisfied with the mayors reaction to the proposals Dave had put forward they returned to the car and drove up to the farm, where he was able to show them the work in progress and outline a couple of the tentative plans he had for the place. Greg was no less impressed with Dave’s plans for the farm than he was with those he’d suggested for the bay, especially when Dave described how he intended to make the farm as self-sufficient as possible.

Looking at the scar that had been made in the slope where the pad for the water tanks had been cut, he suggested that there would be no problem gaining council approval for any D.A. that Dave submitted. Not that he expected Dave would bother submitting one anyway he added, with a knowing smile that negated an attempt by Dave to look a bit offended that the mayor might think he wouldn’t submit an application.

Dave was pleased to note that Frank and Rick were busy installing the last part of the fence they were working on, and that Rick had herded the cows into the bottom paddock. He spent a couple of minutes talking to them and was told by Frank that Shady Read had called by looking for him, and that he had been told that Dave was down at the hotel. From the farm they drove back to the village, where Greg was to meet the local business people and, during a lunch that was being laid on at the Chinese restaurant, discuss with them any problems with council that they had.

At the commencement of the meeting the residents present were surprised to hear Tony introduce them to the mayor as members of the Brocklesbury Progress Association, which until then they didn’t know even existed, let alone that they were members. It was a very smart move however, as it gave the mayor the impression that the association plus the villagers backing it was likely a force to be reckoned with, and one that would be worth having on-side come election time. As it turned out the co-opted members were very happy with their newfound position and later decided that it would be a good idea to form such an association anyway.

With introductions done with the meeting, if it could be called that as most were as intent on eating as they were on discussion, got under way. The condition of road surfaces, the need for more parking spaces adjacent to the shopping centre and community hall, and that better street lighting was required for those areas was the first item to be addressed, and Greg dutifully noted these down on the note pad in front of him. The need for access to the beach at Fish Hook Bay was considered to be an important issue and not surprisingly the subject of fees being placed on diving schools and the harassment of divers by the council’s rangers that had made the bay so unpopular was also mentioned.

Dave also brought up the subject of the tennis courts being in need of repair however in the same breath said, with apologies to any tennis players who may present, that that probably wasn’t really a priority at this point, though it would certainly be an added attraction once there was a steady stream of visitors coming to the village. This was something that the residents hadn’t given much thought to up until now but they all agreed that it was an excellent idea, and Greg added it to the notes that he had been taking.

Dave’s final request also came as a surprise when he asked if the mayor could contact the local Member of Parliament in regards to having the pharmacist’s wife being recognised, and paid, for the work she was currently doing FOC as a community nurse. Being unaware until then that Dave had known anything about that particular situation his approval rating went up a notch or three with the locals, many of whom had practically given up hope of seeing anything done in that regard.

The meeting was a good opportunity for those present to get to know the mayor, and he left shortly after lunch having developed quite a good rapport with them. Although it was going to be a case of “wait and see” of course, they were all keen to accept his invitation to attend next month’s council meeting, where he expected to be able to deliver some good news regarding their submissions.

Dave had intended getting on with his painting at the hotel but was interrupted by the half expected arrival of Shady Read, who had come to discuss the sale of some cows. He had in fact arrived much earlier, but made himself scarce when he recognised the mayor’s car parked at the hotel, and had returned only when he had seen the mayor drive away. As it was, he still felt quite uncomfortable when he approached Dave, and his discomfort wasn’t eased when Dave informed him that he had been expected because Eleanor had called earlier that day. He was already on the back foot when Dave told him that there was no way he would be paying market price for the cows that Shady had obtained cheaply from his poor friend Ian McKenzie, and when he offered them to Dave for the same price he had paid for them he received a baleful stare. After careful consideration, which lasted almost thirty seconds, Shady dropped the price to half that which he had paid.

“That’s more like it,” said Dave before continuing. “Mr. Read, as you know, Rick Martin can’t afford to buy the cows, and he doesn’t have enough grass on his own property to feed them anyway. And this actually brings up another problem for you: You’ve been keeping the cows on McKenzie’s property without his express permission, so you’ve either been trespassing, or you owe him for agistment. Now for agistment, calculated at a reasonable rate mind you, you would probably owe a bit more than what you’re now asking for the cows. And for trespass, we’d be looking to recover about the same amount for the removal of pasture grass, plus you would also have to pay for legal fees and court costs I suppose. Now, I’m not an unreasonable man, so I’m open to suggestions as to how you’d like to deal with the situation.”

Shady stared at him somewhat in shock. “You expect me to just give you the cows?” he finally asked, his voice rising with every word.

“Oh no. I’m not expecting anything. I can understand how you must be feeling though. At least I think I can. Tell you what: How about I go back to the farm now, round up the cows and herd them up to the road, and while I’m doing that you can arrange to have them picked up and taken elsewhere.”

There was no way that Shady could organise that in a hurry, and together with having to face the fury of his wife if he didn’t get rid of the cows he realised that he was well and truly beaten. “You can damned-well keep the bloody things then!” he yelled.

“That seems to be quite a reasonable offer,” Dave replied quietly and without expression. “I’ll have to get you to sign a bill of sale though.”

Pulling his notebook from the top pocket of his shirt he made pretence of writing out a bill of sale, supposedly on-the-spot although he had in fact written out several versions much earlier in anticipation of various outcome of Shady’s visit. Shady was so agitated that he failed to realise that the document had far more written on it than Dave could possibly have put down in the short time he saw him write it out. Having signed the document Shady got into his car and accelerated quickly away leaving a road-dust and gravel covered Dave the proud and happy owner of a small herd of twelve cows. Thirteen, if Bessie was included.

Dave went into the office and told Trevor what had just transpired, and then drove up to the farm to tell Rick and Frank, taking with him a slab of cold beer to give them. It was good timing as they’d just placed gripples on the last of the fence wires and were in the process of tightening everything up. Fifteen minutes later the fence had been completed and they sat on the back veranda with beers in hand while they laughed as Dave described in humorous and exaggerated detail how Shady had been persuaded to surrender the cows.

He also used the time to explain how grazing strips on dairy farms in Cuba had been set up, and how he wanted to do the same on this property but also incorporate water-catching swales. Although that idea also needed a bit of explanation Rick was very quick to understand and appreciate the concept, and suggested that instead of just putting the swales across Dave’s block it might be a good idea to continue them across his block too.

“Do you think that system would increase the carrying capacity of the land?” Rick asked.

“It would, and we could probably add a few more head, but while I know that many farmers would be tempted to increase their herds to the maximum, I wouldn’t: To my mind it’d be much better to have a smaller herd of well-fed, healthy contented cows that produce good quality milk.”

“You and my Mrs. would get on well together,” Rick said with a smile. “When she’s a bit better I think you should come over and meet her.”

Dave sure was glad not to be in Shady’s shoes, he told Bron when she phoned that evening to tell him that her boss had said she could have next week off, and laughed when she said that if he ever tried anything like that with her he would be.

She was quite excited by the development though, and had she been there now would probably have demanded that he drive her to the farm so that she could watch the cows grazing. He was tempted to tease her a bit by telling her that the Vacola preserving kit at the farm was only to be used for bottling fruit and vegetables, and suggest that she wait until he got his American Pressure Canner so she could safely process meat like chicken, pork and beef.

Then again, even though Bron would know they were dairy cows it would most definitely be a lot safer not to make such a joke, so he elected to keep the thought to himself. What he did suggest was that she keep studying her PADI manual and complete the work-book so that if the weather held she could complete her dive course over the weekend. She didn’t bother to tell him that she had not only studied that manual until she darned near knew it off by heart, but that she had managed to borrow an Advanced Diver Manual and had studied half of that too.

He would be working hard and fast over the next two days in order to get the painting at the hotel finished but not so late on Friday that they couldn't go to The Brumby that night. That idea also appealed to her and she asked if it would be OK to ask the tradies if they’d like to go too. After telling her that that was going to be his next suggestion they exchanged “Good Nights” before he hung up the ’phone.

As Bron was able to get the time off and would be able to go with him he thought it might be a good idea to ‘phone his parents right now and tell them he’d be bringing a friend. He had no problem dialling their number however when his mother picked up the phone he suddenly found himself a bit tongue-tied when telling her that the friend he would be bringing was Bronwyn, the girl he had written about in his last letter to them.

“Oh yes, I do seem to remember you writing something about a girl,” she said offhandedly, though sensing and being delighted by her son’s apparent discomfort in broaching the subject. “I suppose with your sister in London we could put your friend up in her room, though it might be a bit cramped with all the things ’Trish stored there. Or she could sleep in your room,” - Oh this was fun - “While you sleep in ’Trish’s. Or we could wait until you’re here and then decide. Hmm. Yes, I think that’s probably the best way to do it. Now, do I need to know if she’s allergic to any particular type of food? She’s from New Zealand isn’t she? At least I think that’s what you wrote. Should I ask your father to butcher a sheep perhaps?”

Had the conversation been centred on any other of Dave’s friends who came from New Zealand he would have found it very amusing and would have responded in similar fashion, however this was about Bron. His Bron, and for some reason he failed to see either the humour in it or that his mother was enjoying herself immensely at his expense. She did not relent in her teasing and when he finally hung up the phone he was completely nonplussed despite her saying that she and his father would be looking forward to meeting his friend.

“No point in worrying about it now,” he thought to himself as he headed for the dining room. Predictably Tony and Trev were there and although Trev knew that he had gotten the cows from Shady, for Tony’s benefit he had to repeat the story that he’d told the men at the farm.

“So, how are you getting along with Rick Martin?” Tony asked.

“Very well, Tony. I’ve tossed a few ideas at him regarding the farm and he’s been pretty receptive to the concept I’m proposing, even to the point of considering incorporating some of them into his own property. And just so you know, the rumour that he’d made a low-ball offer for McKenzie’s farm was just that: A rumour. It was actually Shady who’d made the offer, and Rick is still in the dark as to why he was after the land. My guess is it had something to do with Fish Hook Bay, but I don’t think we’ll ever learn what it was really about now that he’s out of the picture.

Now, tomorrow and Friday: I’ll be working flat out on the painting, and I hope to have it all completed by lunch-time. If there’s any touching up to do after that, it will have to be done when I come back from my trip. That OK with you guys?”

“It certainly is. You’re a long way ahead of when we thought you’d be finished, Dave. Mind you, as we said, there’ll still be plenty of work here for you through the summer though.”

“That is of course, if you’re not too busy milking cows,” put in Trev.

* * *​

 

[Bidadisndat]

As Bron was able to get the time off and would be able to go with him he thought it might be a good idea to ‘phone his parents right now and tell them he’d be bringing a friend. He had no problem dialling their number however when his mother picked up the phone he suddenly found himself a bit tongue-tied when telling her that the friend he would be bringing was Bronwyn, the girl he had written about in his last letter to them.

“Oh yes, I do seem to remember you writing something about a girl,” she said offhandedly, though sensing and being delighted by her son’s apparent discomfort in broaching the subject. “I suppose with your sister in London we could put your friend up in her room, though it might be a bit cramped with all the things ’Trish stored there. Or she could sleep in your room,” - Oh this was fun - “While you sleep in ’Trish’s. Or we could wait until you’re here and then decide. Hmm. Yes, I think that’s probably the best way to do it. Now, do I need to know if she’s allergic to any particular type of food? She’s from New Zealand isn’t she? At least I think that’s what you wrote. Should I ask your father to butcher a sheep perhaps?”

Had the conversation been centred on any other of Dave’s friends who came from New Zealand he would have found it very amusing and would have responded in similar fashion, however this was about Bron. His Bron, and for some reason he failed to see either the humour in it or that his mother was enjoying herself immensely at his expense. She did not relent in her teasing and when he finally hung up the phone he was completely nonplussed despite her saying that she and his father would be looking forward to meeting his friend.

“No point in worrying about it now,” he thought to himself as he headed for the dining room. Predictably Tony and Trev were there and although Trev knew that he had gotten the cows from Shady, for Tony’s benefit he had to repeat the story that he’d told the men at the farm.

“So, how are you getting along with Rick Martin?” Tony asked.

“Very well, Tony. I’ve tossed a few ideas at him regarding the farm and he’s been pretty receptive to the concept I’m proposing, even to the point of considering incorporating some of them into his own property. And just so you know, the rumour that he’d made a low-ball offer for McKenzie’s farm was just that: A rumour. It was actually Shady who’d made the offer, and Rick is still in the dark as to why he was after the land. My guess is it had something to do with Fish Hook Bay, but I don’t think we’ll ever learn what it was really about now that he’s out of the picture.

Now, tomorrow and Friday: I’ll be working flat out on the painting, and I hope to have it all completed by lunch-time. If there’s any touching up to do after that, it will have to be done when I come back from my trip. That OK with you guys?”

“It certainly is. You’re a long way ahead of when we thought you’d be finished, Dave. Mind you, as we said, there’ll still be plenty of work here for you through the summer though.”

“That is of course, if you’re not too busy milking cows,” put in Trev.

* * *
​

At one point during the evening somebody recognised Dave as being the man who had sung a couple of Marty Robbins ballads at karaoke, and a short time later he was approached and asked if he would sing something tonight. The tradies also quickly demanded that he do so and began to applaud loudly, giving him no opportunity to make any excuses as to why he shouldn’t sing. Stepping up onto the band’s low stage he had a few words with the leader of the group and after a short discussion with the other members of the band he handed Dave a guitar and announced that Dave had an old jazz number that he’d like to sing. It was an old number, and not what they had been expecting, but it sure held their attention when, facing Bron, he began singing a song recorded by Perry Como and many others so long ago: I’m confessin’ (that I love you.)

I’m confessin’ that I love you . . .
Tell me, do you love me too?
I’m confessin’ that I need you,
Honest I do, need you every moment..
In your eyes I read such strange things,
But your lips deny they’re true . . .
Will your answer really change things,
Making me blue?

Although he had begun the song facing her he had turned his head, as would be expected of someone singing to an audience of more than one table, but not before seeing the broad smile on her face change to a look of... what? Slight bewilderment perhaps? What he didn’t know was that Bron knew the song well: It was one of her father’s favourites, and he had often played it on the family’s stereo as he sang the words to her mother. And she herself had learned the words and sometimes sang with him. But now Dave was facing towards her again as he sang the second verse, and if it wasn’t obvious to Bron, it was to everyone else listening and watching that he was singing the song for her.

I’m afraid someday you’ll leave me,
Say’n can’t we still be friends?
If you go you know that you will grieve me,
All in life on you depends . .
Am I guessin’ that you love me?
Dreamin’ dreams of you in vain,
I’m confessin’ that I love you,
Over again.

He seemed to struggle to get the last words of the verse out and now Bron had one hand across her mouth and her eyes seemed to brim. Had she had that much to drink? No, of course not, though many people might have thought so by the way they were all looking and smiling at her. Not that she noticed that, as her eyes were fixed solidly on Dave. As he played the short interlude between verses she got up and quickly crossed the floor, stepped up onto the stage and taking a second microphone from its stand began singing just as he was about to repeat the last verse.

I’m afraid someday you’ll leave me,
Say’n can’t we still be friends?
If you go, you know that you will grieve me,
All in life on you depends . . .
Am I guessin’ that you love me?
Dreamin’ dreams of you in vain,
I’m confessin’ that I love you,
Over again....

And together they repeated the last two lines:

I’m confessin’ that I love you,
Over again.

Oblivious to the loud applause, whistles and cheers Bron replaced the microphone on its stand as Dave quickly eased the guitar strap over his head and handed the instrument back to the band’s leader. Her lower lip was trembling visibly now and as her eyes overflowed he held his arms out to her. Falling into them she lifted her own arms, placed them around his neck and holding him tight whispered “Oh Dai. I love you. I love you so much.”

“And I love you too, Princess,” he whispered back, then with her almost blinded by tears and leaning against him he guided her back to the table where the general consensus of opinion was “About bloody time too.”

Nobody was really surprised it seemed: It was only Dave and Bron who hadn’t faced up to the fact that they were in love. Debbie offered her a tissue and as Bron wiped away her tears the girls got stuck into Dave, accusing him of being quite heartless in making their friend wait for so long before revealing his feelings towards her. It was so typical of men, they told him: No consideration for a woman’s feelings at all.

He didn’t bother refuting the ridiculous charges made by the girls but sat happily holding his beer in one hand and the other covering that of Bron’s, which was resting on his thigh in a somewhat possessive way. The men hadn’t been much help either, and had laughed when Chips quietly murmured “Welcome to the wonderful world of wives, Dave.”

Unfortunately for him he was not quiet enough, as Karen overheard the remark and corrected him by stating that it would have been more correct to have said “Welcome to the world of wonderful wives.”

When Bron was asked when it was that she actually fell for Dave she replied that it was probably just after he’d arrived in town, when he came into the bakery and ordered a couple of meat pies and two vanilla slices.

When Dave was asked the same question he replied that it was probably just after he’d arrived in town, when he went into the bakery and ordered a couple of meat pies and two vanilla slices.

“At least you were both on the same page,” Bear said during the laughter that followed.

As was typical with most such gatherings in Australia the latter part of the night found the men gathered at one table where they discussed “manly pursuits” and the women at another where they conducted “secret women’s’ business.”

After Dave had asked Sugarfoot if he wanted to sit with them the young lad, figuring that he was old enough not to have to sit with the women-folk had seated himself alongside Jeff, who did his best to ensure that he was included in the conversation. Probably due to Jeff’s influence he seemed to be quite at home in the company of the older men, and he demonstrated a surprisingly quick wit when it came to joining in the repartee that went on. However despite his attempt to stay wide awake he was showing the effects of being up way past his normal bed-time so Laura decided that it was probably time to take him home, and with Jeff in agreement the three said goodnight to everybody and made their way out.

“What do you think?” asked Annette of the other girls after the trio had gone. They all looked at each other then nodded sagely and offered the opinion that it would be a good thing for all concerned.

After Speedy overheard the question and asked “What would be a good thing?” the girls looked at each other again, Bron rolled her eyes, and the listening men were told that they were an insensitive lot who wouldn’t understand so there’d be no point in trying to explain anything to them.

Showing that they could at least be sensible if not sensitive they didn’t try to argue the point but settled for another round or three of drinks and went back to their manly discussions. After all, they agreed, if it was something that concerned them directly they’d find out soon enough so there was no point in worrying about it now, whatever it was, and to their minds that was a very practical attitude for a man to adopt.

It had been noticed by the other girls that Fiona had been sticking to soft-drinks all night, rather than beer or wine, and when Karen asked her if she was on a diet or something she quietly confided to the girls that she might very well be pregnant, but wasn’t going to tell Ian until it was confirmed. Of course, knowing how much Karen wanted a baby they were all delighted to hear it, and hoped for her sake that she was. Annette went so far as to say that if Fiona really was pregnant she hoped the condition was contagious as she also wanted to start a family. It created a storm of laughter among the girls when Fiona told her that if it was contagious and Annette did get pregnant, for her sake she’d better have gotten it from her own husband and not from hers.

“Well this is rather disappointing,” said Dave when at the end of the night they exited the steakhouse to find that the wind had picked up and strong gusts were blowing small rain squalls across the car-park. “With the wind blowing in the direction it is the bay will be copping a pounding so it looks like diving will be off tomorrow.”

Bron wasn’t about to let that minor problem disrupt her very happy mood though: “We can always dive another day. At least you’ll be able to install those deadlocks in the morning, and I’ve got some shopping I want to do in town anyway. Since I’m on the late shift tomorrow would it be OK for you to drop me off at home now and pick me up tomorrow afternoon? It’d save time and petrol money not having to do go back and forwards unnecessarily.”

“Good idea. There are a few other things I need to do as well. Any particular time you want me to pick you up?”

“Around lunch time I guess. After the shops are shut at least, unless of course, you want to come shopping with me.”

“Perish the thought,” Dave said with a laugh.

* * *
​

 

[Bidadisndat]

Early Saturday morning found Dave at the farm, where first he had a look at the finished pad that Darren had installed for the water tanks on the hill, and the trench that he had dug for the pipe-work down to the house. Having seen the approaching rain the day before Darren had also opened up the bags of cement that Dave had brought in for the purpose and spread them over the pad with a hand-rake, and the overnight rain had washed it down into the aggregate. Dave was thankful that Darren was a man who was able to think on his feet!

The rain had cleared now, but it had done the job of helping compact the material and before long, if it hadn’t already, the cement would harden and help lock it all together. He decided to drop by the irrigation company supplying the rainwater tanks when he was in town and see if they might be able to deliver and install the tanks he wanted while he and Bron were away on their trip. It was a pity that the house tank hadn’t been installed yet as the overnight rain would have put quite a few gallons into it now that the rusted guttering had been replaced. As it was, the rainwater had been diverted away from the house by a temporary down-pipe that Richard had thoughtfully put in place to prevent damage to the foundations if it did rain before the new tank was installed.

Next, rather than install the deadlocks that Bron had bought he began to work on her Corolla. After her drive back from town the battery still held enough charge to turn the engine over so he drove the car down to Jeff’s garage in time for its opening, and asked him if he could have a quick look at it. There was nothing badly wrong with it, Jeff said, though the treads on three tyres were down to the minimum legal depth, and it wouldn’t be too long before the fan belt, and perhaps the spark plug leads and the distributor rotor and cap would need replacing too. When asked about the smoke from the exhaust he had a look at it while the engine was running and said that while it could probably do with new piston rings, it would be OK for some time yet. Without putting the car up on the hoist he couldn’t check the brake pads, but he’d noted on the windscreen decal that the expiration date of the car’s registration showed that it was up for renewal before the end of next month, and he recommended that a full service be done before then.

After Jeff had finished Dave thanked him for his time and then drove the car into town, being lucky enough when he arrived at the Bridgestone outlet to find that they could replace the worn-out tyres right away. The one good tyre on the car was moved to the trunk, replacing the old and also worn-out spare tyre that was there, so Bron would be driving around on the four new high-quality tyres that he purchased, and he also paid to have a wheel alignment done.

Without the car he had to walk the four blocks down and across to the irrigation company, luckily open until midday on Saturdays, and spoke to the young man at the counter, who unfortunately wasn’t familiar with the part of the business that installed tanks. He’d been employed mainly to serve customers who wanted to install sprinklers, sprays, drippers and such-like to their flower gardens and veggie beds, though he could pass Dave’s request on to the boss, if that was OK. Dave thanked him and after having a good look around the shop, mostly to fill in time, walked back to the Bridgestone outlet where the car was waiting. He wondered if Bron would see the humour in it if he told her that her car was so old it needed to be re-tired.

Then it was off to the car wash where he had the engine degreased then the car vacuumed, washed, waxed and polished. Not that he did it himself this time: He left the car to be done by the young workers trying to earn a few bob and walked down the street to the local Repco outlet. He purchased the fan belt, spark-plug leads and dizzy rotor and cap that Jeff had told him might need replacing soon, plus a full set of brake pads, a new water pump and a set of jumper leads, a small fire extinguisher and good first-aid kit, all of which he left there until he could return in the car and pick them up. When he returned about half an hour later he decided to add new rubber floor mats, and had the staff fit new front and rear seat covers, and even a leather look steering wheel cover.

Not surprisingly he arrived at Bron’s place a little later than planned but her reaction on seeing her car parked outside the house, and especially after seeing all the work done to it made the risk of him being told off well worth making her wait a bit.

“It still needs a full service before the next rego inspection,” he told her while she was looking at the accessories he’d added. “I can do that myself, but I thought it might be better if we did it together so that you can learn how to take care of it yourself.”

“Actually, my dad taught me how to do all that stuff when I first got my driving license. Apart from checking tyre pressures, and the water, oil and brake fluid levels, he had me jacking the car up and changing the wheels until he was satisfied that I wouldn’t have to ask some stranger to help me. He even got me do that by torch-light one night. Still, it’s a good idea. When do you want us to do it?”

“There’s still another month or so before the rego check’s due so we can do it when we come back from my parent’s place. That reminds me: I should have got you a decent torch when I was in town.”

“Glad you didn’t: I’ve got a good Mag-lite that I normally keep under the front seat, but I took it out when I left the car at the garage. It’s a long one that holds six ‘C’ cell batteries so it fits my grip nicely, and it’d make a very good club if I ever needed to thump somebody. That’s probably something you should keep in mind before you decide to cause me any grief.”

“Thanks for the warning. So, did you get all your shopping done?”

“Yep. I also called in to that pre-loved furniture shop where you bought the table and found two carvers that match the setting. Well, actually they were part of the setting: The salesman who was working the floor the day you bought the suite wasn’t aware that they hadn’t been put out for display due to a lack of space. The manager was most apologetic and said that you could come in and collect them anytime. Now, where are we going and what are we doing from now?”

“Back to the farm to install the deadlocks you bought, though we might drive down to the bay first and see what the water conditions are like after last night’s blow.”

“Great. Did you have lunch yet? Bet you didn’t.”

“Completely forgot, but now that you mention it….”

She laughed, and telling him to wait while she fetched a few things from the house disappeared inside only to reappear a few moments later with her hands full, and when he opened the boot she loaded it with a number of items that she had taken out after the car had broken down. They weren’t large items, but among them was a fairly heavy tool box that seemed to contain quite a lot more than the few pieces that normally came with a new car, and a medium size esky.

She placed her Mag-lite in its usual position under the driver’s seat before making two more trips into the house to bring out a number of big parcels, then asked Dave to help her with the last one. This turned out to be a very large floor rug which Rebecca had told her to give to Dave and which with some effort and rearrangement of parcels they managed to squeeze into the back of the car.

“OK, that’s it for now I guess,” she said. “Do you mind if I drive?”

“What? Drive your own car? Good God, woman: What on earth are you thinking? Next you’ll want to put petrol in the damned thing. Then you’ll drive off into the sunset, never to be seen or heard of again,” he joked. “Of course you can drive it: It is your car after all,” he added, tossing her the keys.

The drive to the farm showed Dave that she was quite a good driver, even if inclined to be a little heavy on the go-pedal occasionally, and was obviously very happy to be back behind the wheel of her own car. They stopped at Jay-Jays on the way and bought a couple of works-burgers and a bucket of chips, placing them in the esky which she got out of the boot. Bron decided that they needn’t bother checking the bay as by now there wouldn’t be enough time to go diving anyway, and it would be better go directly to the farm and have the burgers and chips while they were still hot.

“When did you get the tank?” Bron asked after she had walked around the side of the house to the back veranda.

“What tank?”

“The big plastic one at the side of the house.”

Dave went outside to have a look and found that the rainwater tank he’d ordered to replace the house’s old steel tank had been delivered and was now sitting on the ground beside the tank stand. It had probably been delivered even as he was talking to the young man at the irrigation shop, he thought with a grin. He would have to remove the old tank before putting the new one in place and wondered if he’d be able to get Rick Martin to come over and help.

“You’re not going to use it for anything are you?” Bron stated more than asked. “So it won’t matter if it’s damaged more than it is already. It’s empty and only sitting on the stand, so maybe we could put a rope around it and just pull it off with the truck.”

“Brilliant idea. Let’s try it now,” Dave replied, and shortly after finishing their hamburgers and chips they had a rope, a very long rope, wrapped around the tank near its base and hitched up to the truck. Putting the truck in gear Dave inched it slowly forward to take up the strain however the tank was already half off the stand before he really felt anything and with only a little more pulling it tipped and slid down, coming to a stop when it hit the ground. Apart from a small dent where it had struck it hadn’t been damaged and after untying the rope and tipping the tank completely on its side they rolled it away from the house.

The task of manhandling the new tank onto the stand took a bit of effort despite Dave’s knowledge and experience in seamanship, rigging and the loading of cargo ships, none of which according to Bron seemed to apply in this case. However after a quite lot of pulling and pushing, heaving and hauling, grunting and groaning and a not few words of encouragement from Bron they finally got the tank in position. Now he was able to begin working on the installation of the deadlocks.

While he was engaged in that task Bron made herself busy doing he-knew-not-what, apart from assuming that whatever it was probably had something to do with the rolled up floor rug that he’d helped her carry from her car to the front porch. His assumption was correct as she had dragged it into the house and it was now unrolled and spread out on the floor of the third bedroom, which she had spent some time cleaning. The main bedroom still needed to be lined with Gyprock and the second bedroom, which was now unlocked, held a lot of stuff that he’d taken off the back of his truck.

If Dave hadn’t had the generator running and been using his power drill with the hole-saw attached he might have heard the sound of his double-action air pump being used to inflate the large air mattress that she’d taken from his camping gear and laid on top of the rug. With the air mattress inflated she retrieved the foam pad they’d brought up from the city along with the diving gear and placed it on top, then having flopped down on it to feel how comfortable it was pumped in a little more air as it was a bit on the soft side.

The parcels she had brought inside were unwrapped to reveal that she’d purchased a set of queen-sized bed sheets with matching pillow cases, two new pillows and a very large but light goose-down filled doona, all of which she used to make up the bed. The fitted bottom sheet of the set turned out to be a good choice as it held the foam pad nicely in place on top of the air mattress.

Dave was working on the second dead-lock when she was done and now having her car back there was no need to interrupt his work. Telling him that she was going down to the hotel to shower and get ready for her shift she gave him a kiss and left, calling out as she went that he should come down for dinner when he was finished, and grinned when she received a diver’s single armed OK sign in reply. Half an hour later, with the locks installed, his tools put away and the generator shut down he too headed for the hotel, unaware of what Bron had been up to as he hadn’t thought to look around to find out where she had put the large floor rug.

The hotel’s dining room was open when he arrived however he decided to wait until Bron had finished her shift and eat with her, and asked the kitchen staff if they could put a meal aside for him. Olivia, who always worked the Friday and Saturday nights and had developed a soft spot for Dave assured him that that would be no trouble at all, and as he walked out of the kitchen headed for his room and a long hot shower wished that her daughter could find such a man.

“Heck, I wish I could find such a man,” she said, talking to herself, then added “Don’t be such a fool Olivia,” as she remembered that when she was younger she had found such a man, married him, still had him, and still loved him.

There was still a reasonable amount of daylight left and Dave took advantage of it by relaxing in the beer garden with several of the locals. Despite the fact that he was a newcomer to the village it seemed that he was rapidly becoming an accepted and welcome part of the community, and because of this he was able to quickly learn about who was who and what was what in regards to the village. He was also able to canvas their opinions about having the boat ramp, wharf and co-op building repaired, either by council or by a volunteer group from the village. The consensus here seemed to be that they felt it would be better left in their hands but getting the funds to do the work would be difficult to come by, so it may very well have to be left up to the council. Dave promised them that when he next spoke to the mayor he would see what, if anything could be done about it.

He also suggested that one thing they might be able to do more quickly was to install a dart-board and suitable lighting in the beer garden so that they could have outdoor tournaments during the warm summer nights. That suggestion was of course met with immediate and unanimous approval by those present, and in no time at all they had decided exactly where the board should be set up, provided Tony and Trev were in agreement of course.

Those two gentlemen were bailed up as soon as they were seen exiting the dining room and when the question was put to them both agreed that it was a splendid idea, and a board would be installed as soon as Dave returned from his trip. “Wouldn’t it, Dave?” Trev had asked in a way that implied that that wasn’t really a question and that Dave was now expected to deliver the goods.

Dave affirmed that he would have a board up just as soon as he could obtain one, plus the materials required to make a stand for it, and was immediately offered assistance by a couple of the men there who were themselves keen darts players. Although he did have a few drinks with the natives he didn’t overdo it, not that he ever did really, and the time passed quickly and enjoyably.

 

[Bidadisndat]

Bron on the other hand was not having a good night: She certainly loved Dave, and he had said he loved her, but was she being too forward, perhaps rushing things a bit? Had he found the bed she’d made up? What would he think? Oh why couldn’t she have waited until the work on the farmhouse was finished and he’d moved in? All this and more criss-crossed her mind over and over throughout the shift and by the time she went to meet Dave for dinner she had worked herself into a state bordering on misery. Dave of course picked up on this almost as soon as they sat down to eat, and not knowing what caused her to pick at her food and not talk much at all he was more than a little concerned.

“What’s wrong Sweetheart? You look really unhappy. Did you have a bad night at the bar?”

“No, it’s not that... It’s just... It’s... Dai, do you really love me? I mean, I know you said you do, but are you sure?”

She looked so down that Dave thought for a moment that she was going to burst into tears. He quickly pushed his plate aside and reached across the table to take her hands. “Bron, I do love you, and I’m as sure about that as anything I’ve ever been sure of. It took me a little while I guess, but I’ve come to realise that it wouldn’t be worth staying in the village, or having the farm if I wasn’t able to share it with you. To tell the truth, I’ve been a bit worried that perhaps I’ve been moving a bit too fast: I really should have thought more about what you might want to do. For all I know, you might want to go back to New Zealand and be close to your parents.”

“Oh no, Dai. I’d be quite happy living here if I was with you. But I’ve been worrying that maybe you were thinking I’m the one who’s being very forward. I was so worried about what you’d think when you saw what I’d done back at the farm that I almost made myself sick thinking about it.”

“Back at the farm? I didn’t see anything you did there. I knew you’d taken the rug and parcels inside, and that you were doing something in one of the bedrooms, but I came down here as soon as I’d finished putting in the deadlocks and I didn’t look to see what you’d been up to.”

“Really? Oh. Well, in that case do you mind if we go back there after we’ve finished here, so I can show you?” she said, looking a bit relieved... And quite hungry too, judging by the way she withdrew her hands from his and got stuck into the meal in front of her.

“I don’t mind giving up a little of my beauty sleep if that’s what we need to do,” he said, and smiled as he pulled his plate back in front of him and began eating, thankful to see her back to her normal happy self.

An hour later, with their meal finished and the dishes washed and put away, which would please Olivia, Dave had parked the truck outside the farmhouse and given Bron the key to the front door. She, he said, could have the pleasure of being the first to open it with a key that unlike the previous one didn’t look as if it belonged to the cell of a jail-house. Both holding battery lanterns they entered and proceeded down the hallway to the third bedroom, where Bron told Dave to go ahead of her. He entered and looked slowly around the room before turning to her with a serious look on his face.

“Bron! You brazen hussy! What were you thinking of?” he cried.

Her hand flew to her mouth in an “Oh no, what have I done?” reaction before he continued, rather quickly when he saw the look on her face:

“The bed is OK. In fact, it looks really comfortable. And if you want me to share it with you, I guess that’s OK too. But... You haven’t put up any curtains! The neighbours will be able to look through the windows and see us sleeping together! People will talk! Our reputations will be shot!”

Approaching the bed she bent down, picked up a pillow and swung it hard at his head, catching him completely off guard as it connected.

“David Morgan, if I didn’t love you so much I’d really hate you right now! I honestly would,” she said as she started to laugh.

She swung the pillow again but he was a bit more alert this time and fended it off before grabbing her, holding her close and giving her a kiss.“ And I love you too.”

“Yeah, well, before you get too carried away I’d better warn you now that sleeping together in the same bed is as far as it will go tonight.”

When he looked a little confused by the remark she explained that as much as she loved him she wasn’t about to become sexually active with him as her menstrual period had just begun, though it wasn’t due for a few days and had probably been brought on early by her worrying so much earlier that night.

That really didn’t bother him as becoming “sexually active”, as she put it, was the last thing on his mind. Well, perhaps not the last thing, but tonight at least it was a good ways down the list. His real concern now was for her, as he knew that many women suffered cramps and often had bouts of depression at that time. She was touched by his concern but assured him that she was very fortunate that she didn’t experienced problems of that nature, although she knew that several of her girlfriends did have a really miserable time of it during their periods.

When she laughed at the unintentional pun she inadvertently snorted, making Dave laugh too, and he realised that it was her down-to-earth, matter-of-fact attitude as much as the fact that she was a stunningly beautiful young woman that attracted him. It also crossed his mind that she’d been very direct about her current condition too, and that also pleased him.

She’d brought her overnight bag and thus had a pair of pyjamas to sleep in, however as she had not thought to tell him that they might be staying at the farmhouse that night he slept in boxer shorts and a T-shirt, three extra sets of which he always kept in his BOB. As he took a set out he thought that maybe he should buy himself some P.J.’s as he normally slept naked and didn’t have any. The lack of curtains not withstanding half an hour later found them both peacefully asleep in each other’s arms.

* * *
​

Not surprisingly the curtain-free bedroom was flooded with light at a very early hour of the morning, though not enough to wake Bron who was facing away from the window as she slept. Dave lay on the bed looking at her for some minutes before quietly easing himself out from under the doona and making his way to the kitchen. He quickly located the coffee and the large Pyrex percolator that they’d bought at the St Vincent de Paul Op-Shop in town and within a few minutes had a brew going. Instant might be OK for some, he thought, but there was no way it could match the pleasure of drinking real coffee, or of the wonderful aroma that was now beginning to drift through the house.

He went out onto the back veranda, down the steps and over to the orchard where he relieved himself at one of the lemon trees. Returning to the veranda he washed his hands under the spigot of one of the barrels that sat there then filled a mug with water and began brushing his teeth, thankful that his BOB contained his toiletries bag. He had barely spat the toothpaste out and rinsed his mouth when two arms slid around his waist from behind and a soft body was pressed against his back. Placing the mug on top of the veranda railing he turned within the encircling arms, placed his own around the beautiful vision before him and saying “Good morning sleepy-head” drew her closer.

“G’morning,” Bron replied through a small yawn.

“Sleep well?” he asked as he kissed her lightly on the forehead.

“Very well,” she murmured as with her eyes closed she pressed a cheek against his shoulder.

“Were you warm enough?” brushing his lips lightly over an eyelid.

“Very warm.”

“Comfortable?” as he did the same to the other.

“Very comfortable.”

“Happy?” as with a finger he raised her chin and kissed the tip of her nose.

“Very, very happy,” she replied, placing a hand around the back of his head, pulling his face down towards her own and kissing him full on the lips. “In fact, I can’t remember ever being so happy. Well, except for when my dad first started giving me pocket money perhaps. Or when my mum gave me a wrist watch when I started high school. Or when I won a prize for correctly guessing the number of jelly beans in a big glass bowl at a shopping centre one Christmas. And of course at Christmas and on my birthdays I always feel really happy.”

“You really have a good sense of perspective, don’t you?” he said, beginning to laugh when after a few moments he realised that she was having a bit of fun messing with his head.

“Enough to keep you from becoming big-headed,” she warned with a sleepy smile. “The smell of freshly brewing coffee woke me. Have you been up long enough to make breakfast?”

“No. Just long enough to put the coffee on, water a lemon tree, wash my hands and brush my teeth. I didn’t want to wake you up because you looked so peaceful while you were sleeping, and it’s still pretty early yet. Besides, I don’t think there’s much in the esky in the way of food anyway,” he said as they walked back into the house.

“Wow, not even six-thirty yet,” she said, looking at the floral clock that now hung over the bench between the kitchen and dining area. “So what’s the plan for today, apart from me having to work this evening?”

“I think we’d better go back to the hotel and use the toilet and shower and have breakfast there first. Without the water tank and pressure pump in operation we can’t use the bathroom yet, and I realised when watering one of the lemon trees in the orchard earlier that I’m also going to have to get the septic system checked out really quickly so that the flush toilet can be used.”

“That’d be good. Couldn’t imagine myself going out to water the lemon trees whenever I needed to pee, especially if it was cold and windy, or raining.”

“I could put some dwarf citrus trees in big terra-cotta pots at each end of the veranda. Then we wouldn’t have to walk out to the orchard.”

“Dai?”

“Yes?”

“Get the septic seen to!”

“Oh, alright,” he replied gruffly, trying to look and sound as if putting terra-cotta pots in place as he suggested was something he’d much rather do.

As they both laughed Dave told her that unfortunately Ian was booked solid for the next two weeks and as no plumbing could be done until the week after they got back from their trip they’d have to continue using the facilities at the hotel for a while.

When Bron opened the big esky to get some milk for her coffee she discovered that apart from eight or so cans of beer there was butter, cheese, a dozen eggs, a plastic container of sliced ham and corned beef, and a few salad vegetables that Dave used for making his much loved sandwiches.

“Good God, Dai, when did you last look in this esky? If this is your idea of not much food I’d hate to think what you believe is a lot. Anyway, there’s more than enough here for today’s and tomorrow’s breakfasts, plus enough for me to make a stack of sandwiches to take on the trip. What time will we be leaving?”

“I’d like to head off around six-thirty if that’s not too early for you.”

“That’s fine by me,” she said while checking the bread bin. Finding that it contained nearly a full loaf of unsliced bread she set about making French toast, using one of the cast iron skillets that Dave had purchased. “This bread’s a day or two old and perfect for French toast, but I think I’ll need to buy a fresh loaf for the sandwiches. I’m going into town a bit later to pick up a few clothes and my camera from Rebecca’s, so I can get it then. Do you want to come with me?”

“Yeah, might as well: I can’t think of anything that needs to be done in a hurry around here today. How about we ask Rebecca if she’d like to have lunch with us somewhere?”

“That’d be good. There’s a popular pub down by the river that serves meals and you haven’t been there yet so maybe we could go there.”

Bron finished making the French toast and put it on the table and as they ate she made out a shopping list for a few items that she thought were needed, such as baking paper, cling-wrap, etc., and clothes pegs despite that at present there was no line on which to hang wet laundry. Naturally that would mean there was yet another two projects for Dave to attend to: The first would be to obtain a washing machine, and the second to either repair the old clothes line or, even better, replace it with a new Hill’s Hoist.

With breakfast finished and the dishes washed and put away they headed for town, using Bron’s car for the trip because it was much cheaper to run than Dave’s truck, and stopping only briefly at the hotel to use the toilets as they’d decided to have a shower in the evening.

During the trip they decided that as Bron now had her car back it’d be just as easy for her to drive into town to work at the bakery as it would be to drive from town to the village to work at the pub, and she should move into the farmhouse. And it’d work out cheaper too, as she wouldn’t be paying rent. Well actually, neither of them would be, laughed Bron.

After arriving and parking the car at the town’s shopping centre they first went to Woolworths, where Bron managed to fill a trolley with all the items on her list plus a large number of items that weren’t but, she assured him, would be essential. That was OK by him this time he said, but in future he felt it would be better if they bought as much as they could from Alice Cooper at the Brocklesbury Trading Post. She agreed with him, even to the point of asking if she should just put everything back on the shelves and get them later, but he told her to push the laden trolley to the checkout as the Trading Post wasn’t open on Sundays.

Shopping done, they proceeded to Bron’s current digs where Rebecca was invited to join them for lunch at the Riverview Tavern. She was happy to do so and the three spent a leisurely two hours chatting over large steaks that they’d selected from a cold display cabinet and cooked on the BBQ themselves. The setup was similar to one that Dave knew of in Sydney and he thought it might be an idea to mention it to Tony and Trev as one like it would certainly be a draw-card at the Cock & Bull.

“OK you two, out with it,” said Rebecca halfway through her steak, and when the two looked at her in surprise she continued: “You’ve got something to tell me, if I’m not completely mistaken.”

“How on earth...” Bron began, but stopped when Dave laid a hand on her arm and interrupted with a broad grin.

“It’s a skill you’ll learn as you get older,” he said. “My mother is like that, and I bet yours is too: Ladies reach an age when they are able to read your mind and know what you’re going to say or do before you’ve even thought about saying or doing anything. It’s never been explained to me, but I suspect it might be a side-effect of childbearing. Anyway, Rebecca’s your landlady, so you can tell her.”

“I don’t think you need to tell me, really,” said Rebecca. “You’re going to move to Brocklesbury, shack up with that pirate sitting beside you and forget about the poor old landlady you’re leaving behind. Am I correct?”

“Half correct, Rebecca: Move to Brocklesbury and as you put it, shack up with that pirate, yes. But forget about you? Never! And another thing: You are neither poor nor old, and I’m sure you’re actually quite happy for me. Am I correct?”

Rebecca laughed. “Yes Bron, I am quite happy for you. For both of you in fact. Now, as I’m fairly certain that you’ve already got one foot in the door of that farmhouse you’ve been telling me all about, when do you plan to finish your move?”

“Well, my board’s paid up for another three weeks and we’re going up north to visit Dave’s parents tomorrow. We’ll be gone for five days, so I won’t be packing my bags until we get back. Is three weeks’ notice enough for you to be able to find a new boarder?”

“Good heavens Bron: As you said, I’m not poor, and I don’t have to rely on having a boarder to keep the wolf from the door. Enjoy your trip and don’t worry about your belongings as they’ll be quite safe here until you get back. Do you mind if use your new mannequin while you’re away though?”

“I don’t mind at all, but I didn’t know you did any sewing.”

“I don’t. I’m just going to dress it up, put a wig on top of it and stand it in the lounge so I’ll have someone to talk to while you’re gone.”

Dave almost lost a mouthful of wine when he heard that, and several patrons turned towards their table when the three erupted in loud laughter. It was a good note to finish on and shortly after they returned to Rebecca’s house to drop her off and pick up the camera and clothes that Bron wanted to take on their trip.

After saying farewell to Rebecca they drove on to Brocklesbury, arriving at the hotel with plenty of time for Bron to have a quick shower before beginning her shift while Dave continued to the farm to unload the shopping that filled the back seat of the car. He wasn’t sure where Bron would want some of the items stored so he just stacked those on the table knowing that Bron wouldn’t expect him to know where she would want them put. Or rather, he was hoping she wouldn’t.

​

 

[Bidadisndat]

Now that Bron would be moving into the house there were a number of things that would need to be done fairly quickly and he sat at a clear end of the table with a freshly brewed cup of tea and wrote them down in order of priority. Of course the very first item was to get the plumbing and septic system seen to although, he thought with a grin to himself, he should also get some terra-cotta pots for the veranda, put some citrus trees in them and watch Bron’s reaction.

Next would be a refrigerator as it was already a PITA getting ice for his esky every second day, as well as costing him money. Of course he would still have to buy diesel fuel for the generator to run the ’fridge, but only until he had the wind turbine up and running. Then a gas range and oven, which meant that he’d also have to order gas cylinders. His parents had installed two 45kg. cylinders on their farm up north and he’d probably do the same, though if possible he would try to get the much larger tanks that hardware stores and service stations used to recharge cylinders for BBQs.

Last on the list was a washing machine which for the time being could be placed on the back veranda, and he would ask Sparks when he was doing the wiring to put a weatherproof power outlet on the outside wall close to where the machine would go. He would also have to run hoses for the inlet and outlet though that wouldn’t be much of a problem, unless Bron wanted to use hot water in the machine, but he’d work that out later.

Putting pen and paper aside he put his hands behind his head, leaned back in the chair and stretched his back, noting as he did so that it was only a little after three-thirty. Plenty of daylight left, but what to do? He got up, went out and walked round the house, stopping at the water tank that they’d put up on the stand and had a look at the outlet fitting at its base. When he checked the fitting at the end of the pipe he’d disconnected from the old steel tank it appeared to be of the same size and it took him only a few seconds to ascertain that the two were able to be mated.

Remembering that Pipes had told him that the plumbing seemed to be OK as far as he could see, and that the house had merely been left vacant for two years or so, he decided to connect the pipes up himself. Going to the tool box on his truck he removed a pipe wrench, a shifter and a small spool of Teflon tape and shortly after wrapping the male fitting with a length of the tape had the tank tightly connected to the inlet pipe of the pressure pump.

Water. Water. Where to get water and how to get it into the tank? Maybe Tony or Trev would have the ’phone number of the local water carrier, not that he expected water to be delivered on a Sunday afternoon of course, but at least he could enquire about costs and deliveries.

Taking the Corolla he drove down to the hotel and hunted out Trev, explained the situation and asked if he had the water carrier’s ’phone number. He didn’t, but he did have an idea and if Dave would leave it with him for a few minutes he would see what he could organise. In the meantime, Trev suggested, Dave might as well sit in the beer garden and have a pint. About half a pint later Trev emerged from the direction of the public bar in the company of a beefy, red-faced man and headed for where Dave was seated.

“Dave, I’d like you to meet Bob Watson, captain of the village’s Bush Fire Brigade.”

“G’day Dave. Pleased ta meetcha,” said Bob, extending a ham sized fist that engulfed Dave’s as they shook hands. “Trev tells me ya need some water. About how much d’ya reckon?”

“I’ve got a new thousand litre tank that’s dry at the moment Bob, but I really only need enough to check out the plumbing up at the farmhouse.”

“Yeah, Trev told me you’re the bloke who’s gunna be runnin’ the place. OK. Come with me young fella: We’ll soon get your problem sorted out.”

It was obvious that Bob had already had a pint or two, or three, but a wink and a nod from Trev seemed to convey that whatever the jovial Bob was up to was not going to be affected by it. He asked Dave to drive him down to the fire brigade’s headquarters and after parking and locking the car they entered the vehicle compound where he was directed to climb up into the front passenger seat of the brigade’s fire tanker. Bob climbed into the driver’s seat and after locating the correct key among a bunch of what looked like fifty started the truck and drove it out onto the street then turned up Brocklesbury road and proceeded to the farm.

“Bedford J series. The old girl’s a bit long in the tooth but she’s never let us down once,” explained Bob as he drove. “Been driving her since we got her back in the early sixties. If the RFS ever gives us a new truck I’m keeping this one for myself.”

“You mean we’re going to use the brigade’s truck to fill my tank?” asked Dave in surprise. “Where do you get the water from?”

“This lot’s from the village’s main water supply line. OK for drinking, though not as good as pure rainwater in my opinion. Don’t worry mate: The tank on the back holds twelve thousand litres and we’ll only be using a bit of it. The pump on this truck is supposed to push out a thousand litres a minute but I think that must be with using a big hose with no nozzle on the end ‘coz it takes quite a bit of time to empty the tank normally. Still, your little tank should only take a few minutes to fill. Not the first time I’ve filled somebody’s house tank with the truck though I don’t make a habit of it.”

“So how much do you charge for the water?”

“What water?”

“The water you’re delivering to my tank.”

“Now how would I be able to deliver water to your tank, mate? This girl’s a fire truck, not a water cart. Mind you, speaking of Fire Brigades, did you know that the service is provided by volunteers, and that nearly all of the funds come from donations? And if you make a donation at the brigade’s headquarters you’ll get a receipt so you can claim it on tax.”

“Sounds pretty reasonable. I’ll have to remember that if I ever earn enough to pay tax.”

Bob laughed, thinking that he was joking however Dave had some time ago decided to deliberately keep his declared income well below the tax threshold, although he would use legal means to achieve it. Actually, making a donation to the Rural Fire Service and certain other approved charities was one way although there was a limit on how much one could claim for donations.

Arriving at the farm Bob quickly had a hose run into the top of the tank and the fire truck’s pump running. As he had predicted it only took a few minutes to fill the tank to overflowing so it wasn’t long before they were headed back to the village. Thanking Bob profusely after delivering him back to the hotel, and assuring him that he would be paying a visit to the headquarters as soon as he got back from up north, Dave quickly headed back to the farm.

When he’d seen the tank overflowing when it was full he realised that a pipe would be needed to carry any excess water away from the house, and this was done by simply using the down-pipe that Richard had temporarily attached to the diverter. At the same time he cut a small section of the pipe off and used it to lead water from the diverter to the screened inlet of the tank. Both pipes would need to be glued properly in place sometime later but for now the arrangement would suffice.

Going inside the house he opened up all the cold water taps in the kitchen and bathroom and then returned to open the outlet valve of the tank. The level of water in the tank was sufficient for gravity to feed all the outlets except the shower head, and of course the hot water tank in the roof. When the taps were running freely he turned each of them off then went out to start the generator and have a look at the electrical meter box.

Power to the pressure pump was restored simply by replacing the old porcelain fuse block, however power to the water heater was on a separate circuit and as Sparks had disconnected it completely he didn’t want to risk damaging the system by monkeying around with it. The pressure pump looked to be OK and he’d heard it running briefly when the power was first applied when, he assumed, it was simply priming the system.

He wouldn’t know if it worked properly until he opened one of the taps so standing by the bathroom window he opened the cold water tap above the vanity and was pleased to hear the sound of the pump as it started up in response to the drop in pressure. Within seconds the water was coming from the tap at a fairly good rate, certainly a lot faster than if it was gravity fed though with a few burps as some remaining air was driven from the pipes.

He opened the hot water tap and heard a lot of gurgling as the water slowly filled the tank in the roof and finally began to flow into the vanity, then opened the taps for the shower. He also heard water flowing into the cistern of the flush toilet, which was something he’d somehow forgotten about until then. “All systems go! We have lift-off!” he yelled happily as he raced into the kitchen and opened the hot water tap there and waited until it too was flowing freely.

The final test was the flush toilet but before pushing the button on the cistern he took a torch, walked down to where the septic tank was located and hauled open the access hatch, shining the torch down into the tank to find that it appeared to be empty. Returning to the toilet he pushed the flush button then raced back down to the tank and a couple of minutes later was relieved to hear the sound of water flowing into it. “But wait! There’s more!” he again yelled, suddenly remembering that there was also a vanity, shower and flush toilet in the en-suite of the main bedroom that required him to repeat the exercise.

There were no problems with either the taps or the cistern there and he was feeling quite proud of himself when at around a quarter to eight he shut down the generator and drove down to the hotel for a hot shower and a late dinner with Bron. The only downside of the exercise seemed to be that placing citrus-filled terra-cotta pots on the veranda now wouldn’t have quite the same effect on Bron as he had been thinking it would.

Arriving at the hotel he first called Ian Reece to tell him about the new tank that had been delivered, and how he’d plumbed it in, filled and tested it, then asked him if there was anything that needed doing before connecting power to the hot water system. Ian advised him that there would be a pressure relief valve on the side of the hot water tank that needed to be checked first, but as he was going away for a while it would be best not to do anything with it until he returned.
A bit later, after he’d had a shower and shave he decided that it would probably be a good idea to call his parents and let them know how the situation now stood regarding his relationship with Bron, and was glad that it was his father who picked up at the other end when he did: He knew he would have been a bit tongue-tied when trying to explain to his mother that Bron had moved to the farm and that they were now living as a couple.

His father laughed and told Dave that he would have known that his mother would be in bed at this hour and it was unfair and even cowardly to leave the telling to him. Dave’s feeble excuse for that was that he had been working at the farm all afternoon and hadn’t realised it was so late but was quick to say that that she shouldn’t be disturbed when his father offered to go and wake her up.

When Bron finished her shift, which included cleaning up, she found Dave seated with Tony and Trev in the dining room waiting for her. Dave had been telling the two men about the self-cook BBQs at the Riverside Tavern and The Oaks hotel in Sydney’s Neutral Bay that he had been to several times. As she sat down he suggested that perhaps they could all go to the Riverview sometime after he and Bron had returned from their trip and determine if it was worthwhile setting up a similar BBQ at the Cock & Bull.

“Dai, please promise us that you won’t open another hotel in the village,” said Tony, almost seriously. “I don’t think we’d last half a season if we had to compete with you and your ideas if you did.”

“I’ll make a deal with you both: It might be hard for you to accept, but if you two don’t open a Scuba Diving School, I won’t open a pub.”

“Damn, we were really looking forward to spending all our summer days at the beach too. You sure drive a hard bargain, Dai, but I do have to admit you’ve got us over a barrel. Done!”

“Are you really intending to open a Diving School, Dai?” asked Trev.

“Not exactly. At least not a full-time school. I am thinking of offering to teach individuals or small classes on a casual basis though, but that probably won’t be until next season. My priority at the moment is to set up the farm for a self-sufficient lifestyle, and that may take some time.”

“Have you told them yet?” asked Bron.

“No, I thought it’d be best coming from you.”

“Told us what?” asked Tony.

“Well, I know if it will come as a complete surprise if not a shock to you both,” Bron said. “But I’m moving into the farmhouse with Dai. Actually, I moved in last night.”

“Can we take that to mean you’ll be staying around for some time to come then?”

“Provided Dai always treats me with the respect I deserve, obeys my every command and keeps me in the grand manner to which I intend to become accustomed, yes.”

“In which case it might very well be me who’ll not be staying around here for long,” said Dave, which statement Tony and Trev thought was merely bravado and Bron thought was silly enough to earn from her a derisive snort of laughter. “Oh, by the way: Could you hold these for me while we’re away?” he asked Tony as he handed over a spare set of house keys. “One is for the padlock at the front gate, another for the padlock on the garage and the Lockwood key is for the front and back doors. I told the tradies that might need access to the property if they have the time to do a couple of jobs I need done that I’d leave the keys with you.”

“Not a problem Dai,” Tony answered. “It might also be a good idea to leave us the ’phone number of your parent’s place too, just in case some sort of problem turns up.”

Despite that he didn’t really expect any problems Dave agreed that it was a good idea and duly gave Tony the number, and at the same time wrote down Bron’s parent’s address and ’phone number in New Zealand. Finally, with all of their meals come and gone Dave and Bron were wished a safe and pleasant journey and they left, taking with them all of the personal belongings that they had been keeping in the hotel’s staff rooms that they’d been using.

Arriving back at the farm Dave started up the generator to provide lighting and they deposited their belongings in the bedroom before going into what they now referred to as the family room. Bron wasn’t surprised to find that Dave hadn’t been able to work out where the items on the table should be put but thought to herself that it shouldn’t take too long to get him house-trained.

However, after a moment’s thought she had to admit to herself that to be fair she would probably have been as equally lost in his workshop if she had to put tools away for him. Seeing and reading the list of things to do and buy that Dave had left on the table she picked up the pen beside it and wrote “Get Clothes Line (Hills Hoist)” under the notes he had made regarding the washing machine.

Finally the generator was shut down and they used lanterns to light their way as they headed for the bedroom for a good night’s sleep, with Dave deciding to surprise Bron with the operational plumbing and toilet in the morning. It had been a long day for them and it was only a matter of minutes before they were both out like a light.

* * *​