Story The Cache

Bidadisndat

Bidadisndat

Contributing Member
The Cache

A story from the ‘Take it From Here’ series​

“Damn but I’m getting old,” Arthur (Archie) King muttered to himself as he pulled an insulated water bottle from a side pocket on his backpack and leaned back against a large boulder beside the bush trail along which he was hiking in a determined effort to keep his sixty-eight-year-old body in reasonable shape. Not for him the manicured greens of a golf club or the often synthetic turf of a bowls club, neither of which to his way of thinking he could afford membership. Well, perhaps he could have, however with nothing in the way of superannuation and his only income being the fortnightly pension payments he received from the government – which he observed seemed to have no problem at all in funding multi-million dollar projects which seemed to favour big business corporations over providing more for the elderly – he had to be careful with his finances. Winning a lottery would be nice he thought, and to that end had decided to increase the slight chances of his winning by buying a twenty-game ticket each month, though disappointingly the return on that investment had thus far proved to be minimal. They were enough to keep him trying though, and he calculated that after recouping about a hundred and twenty dollars he’d outlaid a little over a hundred over the course of twelve months, which he considered a reasonable price to pay for the somewhat dubious pleasure of checking his numbers against those drawn.

On a more positive note, he’d been a prepper for a long time and whilst not having a cellar jam-packed with enough supplies to last several years, as many sites on the internet claimed to have, he felt quite comfortable with what he did have put away. Along with the vegetable garden and a small chicken run he and his wife Marion had established in the large backyard of the suburban house they’d moved to well before his retirement, a 4000 gallon water tank had been installed, as had a small greenhouse, and gardening had become more than just a hobby for them both when they discovered just how much money could be saved by growing their own vegetables. He tended the garden mostly by himself now as two years prior Marion had been taken by cancer, though his three daughters who took it in turns to make weekend visits were happy to help out. His son also came by with his wife and family regularly, and there were many occasions when the whole family gathered, usually when it was somebody’s birthday but always at Christmas. Marion’s passing had torn him apart back then, and he’d openly admitted to a few close friends it was only the love he had for and received from his children that had enabled him to recover and go on with life. All-in-all, he considered he was actually wealthy in the one thing that really mattered now: A close-knit and loving family whose members would fully support each other no matter what if any challenges needed to be faced.

Movement back along the trail above which he now overlooked attracted his attention and using the binoculars he carried for watching wildlife saw two men working their way up the slope, one carrying what appeared to be a black plastic drum and the other a military-type folding shovel. There was something furtive about their movements that had him moving from the trail quickly and quietly to a position from where he could observe them but wouldn’t likely be seen and crouched down as they passed, oblivious to his presence. Had he been spotted he could hold up the binoculars and tell them he was watching birds. As they passed he was able to observe that the screw-topped drum being carried was the same size and type as several 50litre drums he himself used for holding various preps and knew to be both air and watertight. They might be ‘geocaches’ he thought, though for some reason he didn’t feel they looked much like people who would be into that sort of thing: Rather more like pirates setting off to bury their ill-gotten gains. Still, it was really none of his business and several minutes after they’d passed he returned to the trail and continued the descent towards the picnic area beside which he’d parked his old Ford Courier crew-cab ute.

Arriving at the ute he unlocked the cab, placed his backpack and binoculars on the back seat, removed the thermos of hot coffee and small esky containing the lunch he’d prepared early that morning then wandered to a grassy knoll overlooking the waters of the artificial lake beside which the picnic area lay. As he sat enjoying the generously filled sandwiches he’d put together he observed the two men who’d passed by him earlier emerging from the bush, and noting that they were no longer carrying the drum figured they’d likely buried it somewhere close to but probably not too far off the trail. The last part of his observation was due to his having read a sign, complete with pictures, posted at the trail’s beginning advising hikers to stick to the track and keep an eye out for snakes – along with the warning that the reptiles are protected by law and must not be harmed – and he chuckled to himself at the idea of snakes reading the sign and deciding to keep well into the bush to avoid being trodden on.

After watching the men return to their car and drive away he sat for another half an hour before doing the same and on his way home stopped off at the local butchers to pick up the steak and kidneys he’d ordered for the pudding he was going to try his hand at cooking next day. He’d decided to add mushrooms to the recipe he’d found in one of his wife’s many cook-books, and whilst he’d use healthier vegetable shortening instead of the lard as was traditionally used, never having made suet pastry before this would be something of an experiment for him – as were many other surprisingly successful dishes he’d prepared after her passing. Initially his time in the kitchen had been short and more out of necessity than anything else, however as time went by and his experience grew that time had lengthened to the point where he now felt right at home wielding the utensils, pots, pans and other cookware required to turn out not-quite but close to gourmet meals. According to his of-course unbiased daughters anyway.

With the steak and kidney pudding consigned to tomorrow night’s menu he sat and enjoyed a simple dinner of fettuccini marinara accompanied by a fresh salad and a glass of Chianti – which he refilled when it was empty. As he ate, his thoughts drifted to his sighting of the two men carrying a drum up the trail he’d been hiking along that morning, and though he’d originally decided it was none of his business curiosity seemed to be getting the better of that decision. He had plans in place for tomorrow but perhaps taking another hike along the same trail a day or so after wouldn’t hurt, and if whilst trying to take a photo of, for example, an echidna he’d followed off the trail “just happened” to discover a buried drum… well, it’d be just a chance discovery, wouldn’t it? Not that he’d be likely to tell anyone if he did find such a drum.

Early next morning found him driving across the city to a warehouse where he’d pay for and pick up a drum of pure Canadian Maple Syrup he’d ordered on-line – and a very expensive purchase had it not been for the savings achieved by his buying in bulk – along with several other items he considered would be wise to squirrel away until needed. His family contributed by each member, including his daughter-in-law and himself, putting in $25 a month towards the preps which they collectively decided should be bought, and whilst that didn’t seem to be much it added up to $1800 over twelve months. Some of that money was used to buy scratch mix for the chickens and each member took home a dozen eggs after visiting. And a dozen eggs wasn’t exactly chicken feed these days Archie had said, eliciting the inevitable groans about yet another of the stupid dad jokes he sometimes unwittingly threw out.

The family was well aware Archie contributed much more than the $25 they put in to the kitty each month but knowing he wouldn’t ask any of them to up the ante by so much as a single dollar they were more than happy to give him the occasional bottle of the Greek Metaxas brandy he enjoyed. Being an expensive liquor by his standards he limited himself to having ‘the odd drop’ now and then and was able to make a bottle last for three months. Of Metaxas Brandy, that is: He had under the house a large number of cases of other spirits and liquors, more than enough to stock the bar of a high-class restaurant and the full extent of which even Marion hadn’t known about. In the unlikely event the cases were discovered he would simply claim they must have been there when they bought the house as he didn’t know anything about them.

And how had he come by them? Truth be told, whilst Archie had never committed any sort of crime which might have brought him to the attention of the police, he’d rubbed shoulders with those who had and were known. As a young teen he’d been attracted to a motorcycle gang but had been denied membership of the group, firstly because of his ultra-skinny physique and a noticeable stammer but mostly because he didn’t even know how to ride a bike let alone own one. He was tolerated more than accepted but persisted, more like pestered, until being given a job behind the clubroom’s illegal bar where he was inadvertently able to overhear much of what members were up to, very little of which seemed to be within the law and some of which was so far beyond it that it sometimes actually scared him.

Having got wind of an impending police raid on the clubhouse the president of the club had asked Archie if he had a place where the booze from their illicit bar could be hidden, with the result that thirty-two cartons of spirits and liquors had been dragged and buried beneath the house his parents owned. When he asked why he’d been chosen to hide the booze he was told it was because he was considered by the president to be the most innocuous person among them – not even a member really – and was unlikely to be able to reveal anything to the police if asked… and it was stressed that he’d be named as an accessory if he did. Having heard a few stories from several members who’d served time the thought of being imprisoned terrified him and he willingly took an oath never to open his mouth in the hope it would prevent his incarceration – and the inevitable brutal, often sexual and sometimes fatal assaults dished out to informers.

A carefully planned police raid on the clubhouse conducted eight days later had resulted in a large number of members – the club’s president among them – being arrested for a multitude of firearms and drugs offences and the premises was shut down completely. Archie had never been contacted about the booze which had remained hidden, and never would be as the only other person who knew about its whereabouts, the club’s president, had a shank stuck between his ribs during a prison brawl and had died as a result.

Shortly before the raid he had met Marion. Not at the clubhouse but at an automotive shop where he’d been sent to pick up parts for a bike one of the club members was working on. She didn’t look anything like the centrefold pin-up girls adorning the clubhouse walls, or the girls coming to the club trying to emulate them – despite many looking like they’d been spray-painted with tattoo ink and having what might be described as pieces of scrap metal piercing their noses, eyelids, cheeks, lips, breast nipples, navels and, he’d been told, girly bits further down, a revelation that disgusted more than intrigued him.

Marion was the complete antithesis of those girls; being at the time dressed in light-grey brushed-cotton slacks, a white blouse and a pale-pink cashmere pullover, with little makeup, no sign of any tattoo, and simple earrings which he later learned were of a clip-on type. Her honey-blonde hair was pulled back in a pony-tail, and behind the glasses she wore had the most beautiful blue eyes he could ever remember having seen, and he was instantly and completely smitten. Because she was serving another customer he spent some time circling the aisles of accessories several times whilst trying to keep his eyes on her without being obvious about it. Fat chance of that he realised when an approaching salesman who was going to ask if he needed assistance said quietly “She’s cute, isn’t she?”

“What? Oh yeah, I suppose she is,” Archie replied before breaking into an admissive grin and, finally, going to the counter to collect the parts.

If Marion had noticed his watching her she didn’t say anything but simply took payment for the package and with a heart-melting smile handed it to him.

“Thanks. See you later,” she’d said as he walked away. All salespersons said either that or “Have a good day” he knew, and knowing he’d rarely if ever have an opportunity to visit the store again thought to himself: “Oh God, if only there was a chance…”

God had apparently heard his silent plea as standing outside a takeaway shop beside the town’s cinema five days later he saw her looking up and down the street and constantly checking her watch, apparently waiting for someone. And someone who he thought wasn’t going to show up if a slump of her shoulders was anything to go by. He walked slowly but with a fast-beating heart towards her and trying to appear casual said “Hi. Haven’t I seen you working at the auto parts place? I was there last Tuesday.”

She looked at him in surprise, and possibly a little disappointment when she realised he wasn’t the person she was waiting for. “Yes, I do. I remember you: You came in to collect some parts for a motorbike didn’t you?”

“Yeah," said Archie, shocked that she had remembered him. "Are you going to watch a movie?”

“I was going to, but I think I’ve been stood up… again.”

“Someone stood you up? That’s unbelievable. Is there something wrong with the guy, apart from obviously being a complete idiot?”

“A bloke from work,” she said, recognising in his words what was effectively a compliment. “Second time the so-and-so has done this. Won’t happen again that’s for sure. Are you here for a movie too?”

“Umm… I was thinking of going but I have to admit I don’t like sitting in a theatre by myself. Don’t suppose you’d like to share a large tub of popcorn would you? My treat of course.”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard a pickup line like that, not that I’ve heard many, and I do want to see the movie. I don’t like sitting by myself in a theatre either so OK, I’ll go in with you, though you can forget about the popcorn, or just get a tub for yourself because I don’t like it much. And my name’s Marion by the way.”

“Arthur, though I go by ‘Archie.’ Pleased to meet you Marion,” he said as he extended his hand for a shake that seemed to set his entire body tingling.

She wouldn’t let him pay for her admission and insisted on going Dutch, but somehow they seemed to click and by the time they’d had an after-movie coffee and he sent her home in a taxi, which he insisted on paying for as he handed the cabbie enough cash to cover the fare, they had arranged to have dinner together on the following Saturday night. That dinner had been followed by many more and a few months later both considered themselves to be ‘going steady.’

Archie thought he was about as close to heaven as a bloke could get though Marion was a bit blunter about their relationship: He wasn’t the man of her dreams at present however she did say she could train him for the position if he was interested. If he was interested?! Hell, how could she think he was not?

And train him she did, or perhaps encouraged him would be a better way to describe what she was about. She’d gotten him an apprenticeship in carpentry with one of her uncles, with his dedication and workmanship making it clear he could become a heavyweight in that field if he chose to. And it was clear that he would after the uncle had a fall from a building which left him unable to work as normal and had Archie take over the physical aspects whilst he handled the office work. Even before Archie finished his apprenticeship both he and Marion, who had been shown how to roughly calculate materials needed and give quotes for jobs, had learned enough about the business to take over and when the uncle decided to retire he turned everything over to them, though he’d maintain a presence in the background to help whenever it was needed.

Marion found new employment at a hardware chain-store where she used her position to recommend him to customers who wanted renovations or extensions done to their houses and unobtrusively handed out business cards she’d had printed for him. Word-of-mouth soon had him being offered more jobs than he could possibly handle by himself and he was virtually forced to employ two tradesmen to help with the workload, with Marion insisting he should also take on an apprentice. He’d been a bit hesitant in that regard until Marion pointed out that with the government providing substantial financial support to both apprentices and their employers he’d be a knucklehead not to take advantage of the incentives being offered, and for some reason even she couldn’t explain she’d taken to jokingly use that term for him, though never within ear-shot of anyone but their respective families who took it as a joke.

Both his and Marion’s parents, who’d been introduced to each other during a barbeque arranged by Marion for that particular purpose, watched the growing and deepening relationship between the couple with approval whilst patiently waiting for what they believed would be an inevitably happy outcome.

Away from work they took up bushwalking and camping in locations up and down mostly coastal areas of the Eastern states, initially travelling in the small truck he’d had to purchase for carrying building material and the many tools he needed, and then later in the more comfortable second-hand Subaru Outback she’d bought for a better than reasonable price from a good friend of her parents.

With the hard work and mostly outdoor life he now led his former skinny physique had filled out and now boasted a respectable amount of hard muscle which he, and Marion, were pleased to see looked better all the time, and his nervous stammer had disappeared to be replaced by a confident speech worthy of a Toastmasters gathering.

* * *​
 
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* * *​
“Yes, of course I will,” Marion said, looking at him over the rim of her cup as they were having coffee at her place where they’d returned to after a Valentine’s Day fun-filled night at a popular Mexican restaurant in the city.

“Of course you will what?” asked Archie with a somewhat confused look as he couldn’t recall having asked her to do anything or go anywhere.

“Well, marry you of course. Look knucklehead, this morning I overheard one of the boys suggesting you should ask me to marry you. You’re about to finish and I don’t intend to wait for the twelve months or more you’d probably take to think about it. Today’s Valentine’s Day and supposedly girls can propose to guys, but in this case I think we could consider it a joint proposal. If you agree of course; though it’d be really stupid of you not to.”

“Hmm… You know, I’d hate to be thought of as being really stupid,” said a suddenly broad-grinning Archie. “Where does the knucklehead sign?”

They were married six weeks later at a private ceremony where the couple, their parents and eight invited guests suddenly found themselves outnumbered by almost twice as many well-wishers who arrived with flowers, bottles of wine, platters of food for an impromptu wedding feast and, of course, mobile phones with cameras to record the happy event. It had been one of Marion’s workmates, herself a good friend and an invited guest, who had slyly arranged the gate-crashing and organised the bring-a-plate menu which resulted in a memorable day that brought tears to the bride’s eyes.

A week before the wedding they’d been able to locate a basic two-bedroom rental apartment over the thresh-hold of which Archie carried his giggling bride when the celebrations were over and all the guests had departed. What followed was eighteen months of scrimping and saving to build up their combined bank account which enabled them, with not just a little help from both their parents, to put a deposit on a dilapidated three bedroom fixer-upper most of his mates reckoned by rights should be torn down and completely rebuilt. Of course they didn’t see the potential the couple saw in the aged but solid structure, or the determination they had to undertake the work required to transform it into a home to be proud of. The carpentry skills Archie had acquired during his apprenticeship and was constantly improving on would work in their favour in that regard, and Marion wasn’t above getting her hands dirty when helping him, which she often did, even when two months after moving in to their rental she found she was pregnant.

When she revealed her condition to a delighted Archie his first reaction was to immediately forbid her from undertaking any work where having to stretch or lift anything heavy was required, however he should have known she wouldn’t agree to that until late in her pregnancy. She kept her job at the hardware store until having to be on her feet all day became too tiring she resigned rather than take maternity leave as she intended to become a full-time mum. They’d shared the housekeeping and cooking equally, the latter during which she introduced her man to many delicious recipes he’d never tried before leaving his parent’s house where his mother had done all the cooking… and the housework, and Marion warned him that that wasn’t going to change even if she was home all day. Not that she was going to just sit around and wait for the baby to arrive as Archie discovered when she badgered him into helping her set up a vegetable garden to potter around in whilst she learned when, what and how to plant the extensive range of veggies she intended to grow. Smart woman that she was, before handing in her resignation she made sure to take advantage of the staff discount to purchase several tools Archie wanted plus all the gardening equipment they’d need – and all of which, tools being tools she put on his business account and would later find a way to claim them as a tax deduction.

She used her final pay from the hardware store, which included a substantial amount of untaken holiday pay to purchase a mid-arm sewing machine with a walking foot plus an overlocker, both produced by Janome, and the internet took a hiding as she subscribed to site after site, not just about sewing but also gardening, cooking, and after accidently coming across one particular site and realising its benefits, prepping. Neither she nor Archie had known much about the topic – other than having seen a single episode of Doomsday Preppers on TV – though after visiting several sites on the net it quickly became evident to them both that there were many advantages to be had by adopting such a strategy, not the least of which was saving a lot of money, even if for some items only in the long term.

The birth of a son, George, named after Marion’s father was followed nearly two years later by a daughter, Katherine, after Archie’s mother, with a second daughter, Margaret, fourteen months after that, and when Marion found she was pregnant with their fourth child they sold the fixer-upper – which had increased in value far beyond their expectations – and purchased another: A large five-bedroom Queenslander style house sitting on a gently sloping block of four-acres of what was classified by the local council as outer rural urban fringe land – with rates being levied accordingly.

Told by her father that her newborn baby looked exactly like her when she was born he jokingly suggested naming her Marionette – Little Marion – which to everyone’s surprise she thought was a really pretty name, even if somewhat outdated.

The property was part of a deceased estate sale and its inheritors had been keen to sell quickly as they were in deep financial trouble, with rumour having it they’d made a number of unwise investments and needed an instant input of a substantial amount of cash to fend off bankruptcy.

“Sounds like a panic sale,” Marion had opined. “They would’ve gotten a lot more if they’d taken time to put it up for auction, and I reckon within a month or two they’ll be kicking themselves in the bum for not having done so. Still, their loss is our gain I suppose.”

Well, needs must when the devil drives, and lucky we saw the listing as soon as the agents put it up,” Arthur said. “Mind you: the bank might’ve baulked on our loan application if they hadn’t known we’d already taken a deposit on the sale of this house.”

“Oh, I don’t know: From what the manager was saying when we approached her, the bank seems to hold us in pretty high regard.”

“And so it should: Thanks to our offset home-loan account and extra money we’ve paid in we’re way ahead in payments on this place and no doubt they’ll want to keep us as customers.”

“And because the manager knows how careful we are with our spending, though we’ll have to be even more careful now I’ve resigned from the hardware store. And with that in mind I want to put in a much bigger veggie garden than the one that house has now, and get some birds for the chicken run – which by the way I noted is in need of repair – plus start a small orchard.”

“We’ll have to build a greenhouse too,” Archie added. “And for sure add another water tank: The one on the property now won’t hold enough to supply the house plus the water a big veggie garden and an orchard will need. Hmm… I wonder if we’re biting off more than we can chew.”

“Not really, though we will have to chew harder.”

Big as the house was, Marion needed an extra room – a really large one she said – for her sewing and craftwork, Archie wanted an office – perhaps not quite as large as the sewing/craft room she wanted he said with a grin – with a secure insulated storeroom dedicated to preps considered by both to be essential. Fortunately with it being a high-set Queenslander there was more than enough room beneath the house to accommodate the rooms they wanted, though they’d have to be arranged around a downstairs laundry and what had been described as a utility room, and the building’s steel supports which were solidly concreted in place. It took a lot of planning, with alterations continuously being made until a design they both approved was finally decided upon. The utility room, which had a toilet and washbasin, was redesigned to include a separate kitchenette so there’d be no need to go upstairs whenever they wanted to go to the loo or have a coffee, with Marion’s new sewing/craft room turning out to be really large as it would now include an area where the kids could play under her watchful eye.

The installation of an additional rainwater tank, a potting-shed/greenhouse and twelve raised garden beds took precedence over building additions under the house however Archie usually managed to find three or four evenings each week when he could put in a couple of hours toward getting that done too. There was no way he could afford to take time off from the job to work on the house because the rainwater tank had cost a lot more than they’d anticipated, however they agreed having plenty of water would in the long run be worth it.

During the following years life went on as it did for most families, with the children growing up and attending school – along with having to do chores that, according to them, their school-friends rarely if ever had to do – and all three being taught how to garden, cook, sew and use basic carpentry tools, whilst Archie steadily increased the size and scope of his business. The apprentice he’d taken on was now a fully qualified carpenter and had elected to stay with the company – provided a new apprentice was taken on to give him somebody to kick around for a change he joked… not that he had ever been kicked around. The company was strictly a five-day-week operation, often including overtime, with weekends devoted entirely to home and family, and where contracts might require extra hours to complete jobs on time journeymen, (derived from journée, meaning "whole day" in French,) would be hired on a weekly or daily basis.

An old caravan which had been completely gutted ready for a rebuild that never happened because its owner had lost interest in the project was purchased for next to nothing, and following six months of fitting out was used to take the children to places where what seemed to be many years ago their parents had camped, plus quite a few they’d wanted to but never got to visit. The van could sleep six if the table of the dinette was dropped to make a double bed though more often than not Archie and young George slept on camp stretchers in the original annexe that had apparently never been used, and left the van to the girls.

Archie had also inspected a small cabin cruiser on a trailer, though the idea of buying it had been dropped when Marion told him she could get seasick just by looking at someone with wavy hair, a fact borne out by her throwing up after simply watching seaweed swaying beneath her when they went snorkelling at Hayams Beach during a caravan trip to Jervis Bay. The children loved the water, especially when they could go snorkelling, but were forbidden to enter without either or both their parents being with them, and even then had to wear floaties.

Canoeing was deemed to be OK though, and after their youngest daughter turned four, much to the family’s delight they found Santa had left two 3-man canoes rafted alongside the small deck built beside the duck pond wherein they would often sit and cool off during hot summer days. St Nick was also kind enough to leave Archie a custom cradle which fitted to the roof-rack of his truck on which the canoes would be carried to waters where, unlike their duck pond, they could be paddled further than two metres before either hitting the bank or running aground.

Young George, eight years old going on fourteen assumed command of one of the canoes, claiming each vessel should have one man and two girls aboard – a claim his parents quickly agreed with as they’d already decided that anyway – and was proud when they confirmed him as being its Captain. Marion chuckled when she revealed to Archie that George had accordingly given her the rating of Petty Officer and his three sisters as Leading, Able and Ordinary Seamen, with an automatic promotion to the next level on each of their birthdays.

“If he keeps that up you’ll be a Sub-Lieutenant and he’ll be an Admiral by the time he gets to High School,” laughed Archie.

When George finished Senior High School, having gained his HSC, (Higher School Certificate) he asked, much to Archie’s surprise, if he could be taken on as an apprentice, assuring his father that he really wanted to become a carpenter and wasn’t just trying to please him. “Only if you’re absolutely sure that’s what you really want,” his secretly pleased father had replied. At the end of his apprenticeship George had taken a back-pack and for two years traipsed around Britain and Europe, not merely sight-seeing but also improving on the rudimentary French he’d studied at school, and adding some good doses of Italian and Spanish, the latter being for a hoped for future trip to South America.

His sisters, having read the many letters and postcards he’d sent home along with photos that eventually filled an empty shoebox followed suite, and not to be outdone had also improved on their basic French. And whilst their efforts with Spanish and Italian didn’t quite match those of their brother, their culinary and wine appreciation skills were ahead of his… though not by much George had claimed after they’d all returned to Australia.
 
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Forgetting she still had the textbooks the children had used at school Marion purchased a French phrase book with a set of ten cassette tapes and after some time learning and practicing the vocabulary began inserting appropriate snippets into their conversations whenever the girls began talking to each other in that language – which they often did for practice rather than conceal whatever they were talking about – though it left Archie totally in the dark. “It’s all Greek to me,” he’d claimed at one point, much to everyone’s amusement.

* * *​

A tentative knock on the front door one Friday mid-afternoon was answered by Marion who opened it to find an attractive and vaguely familiar young lady standing before her, looking a little lost, or perhaps uncertain if she was at the return address written on the back of a letter she clutched in her hand.

“Excuse me please,” she said with an accent Marion identified as most likely being Spanish when she asked how she could help her. “Is this the address of Mr George King?”

“My son,” Marion replied with a smile. “He’s working at the moment but will be finished in about an hour and be coming straight home. It’s rather hot out here… Would you like to wait inside for him? Have a cold drink perhaps?”

“Thank you Mrs King. That would be nice. May I leave my baggage here?” she asked, indicating a large backpack and a sizeable leather clutch-bag sitting on the verandah to one side of the door.

“Of course. My name’s Marion, by the way. Is George expecting you?”

“My name is Consuela and I am from Spain. I have been writing to George and he did ask me if I would like to come to Australia, but he is not expecting me. I was going to surprise him. I hope he will not be upset.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that: He won’t be upset at all. He talks a lot about you whenever he receives one of your letters but I think he’ll be really surprised and happy to see you here,” she said as she guided the girl through the house to the back verandah and seated her on one of the big and comfortable woven cane Papa-san chairs overlooking the small acreage. “Just make yourself comfortable whilst I get you a cold drink,” she added as she went back to the kitchen where she’d been planning that night’s dinner then quickly returned with two glasses and a large pitcher tinkling with ice cubes in a refreshing lemonade she’d made earlier from home-grown fruit.

They sat and chatted for some time during which Marion discovered that the intuitive feelings she’d had when reading between the lines of the letters her son had written home when travelling were correct as it was obvious he felt closer to Consuela than he’d let on… and she towards him if she was any judge. She also realised that the girl had appeared to be familiar because she had seen her in many of the photographs George had sent with his letters. (“Learning Spanish for a future trip to South America my foot,” she grinned inwardly.) Hmm... Thinking she might have a bit of fun with this she excused herself and went to the front door where she picked up Consuela’s clutch-bag and heavy backpack, brought them inside and placed both behind the lounge where neither of the men would see them when they came home.

Upon returning she saw that the obviously tired Consuela had made herself comfortable enough to drift off to sleep and rather than disturb her she went back to the kitchen to organise a meal different to the one she had been planning. Easy enough, she decided, having both a well-stocked pantry and a folder full of recipes from, among many others, the ‘Spain on a Fork’ website. A phone call from Archie telling her he and George would be working back for an hour or so was deemed perfect as it would give her more time to prepare the main dish she had decided on, plus make up some tapas as an entrée. A quick check of the back verandah confirmed Consuela was now sleeping peacefully so with no reason to disturb her Marion went full-on with the tapas, realising when she’d finished that there might not be any need of the main course – not that it mattered as the dish could be refrigerated and served on the following day.

That Consuela would not have come all the way to Australia to eat Spanish food was secondary to making sure she would be made to feel welcome in their home, and Marion pulled out all stops by taking two bottles of Spanish wine from Georges stash in the storeroom and placing them in the refrigerator. Red wine at room temperature might be OK in Europe where generally the day-time heat wasn’t as high in as in Australia so 30 minutes being cooled down wasn’t a bad thing, and likewise taking a white wine out of the fridge 30 minutes before serving also improves its flavour. She also added two bottles of Yellowglen Brut Cuvee – Australia’s most appreciated equivalent of Champagne – thinking George would likely turn the meal into one of celebration.

When the men traipsed into the house after work and had had a quick shower George was asked if he wouldn’t mind taking one of the two large trays of tapas she’d prepared out onto the back verandah and put it on the table there. Archie was about to take out the second tray but Marion held his arm and motioned for him to wait for a moment. Luckily George was able to put down the tray he was carrying before realising someone was sleeping in one of the four Papa-san chairs, and even then it took him a minute to recognise who that someone was. To say that he was stunned would have been a gross understatement though to his credit he didn’t make any sound that might wake the sleeping beauty, but whilst managing to retreat quietly to the kitchen – where he found his mother trying to look and act as if it was quite normal to have an overseas visitor drop in and occupy one of the chairs – he seemed lost for words for some time.

When he finally found his voice, and after he and his father had been given an account of Consuela’s arrival, their following conversation carried out at normal levels and some louder laughter filtered out to the verandah and roused her from sleep. Standing up from the chair she moved towards the door but George having seen her move suddenly bolted out to meet her, then holding her tightly to him as she buried her head in his shirt and let held-back tears of relief and happiness flow whispered softly to her in the Spanish he’d been studying assiduously but quietly since returning home.

“You can speak Spanish well now?” She stated more than asked.

“Well, not really well, but there’d be no point in me learning Hebrew if I want to be with you, would there?

Now she was laughing freely, and Marion led Archie – still carrying his tray of tapas – out onto the verandah where he was introduced to her. Marion had made the right choice with the Yellowglen as George did turn the night into a celebration. It was unfortunate that his sisters weren’t there to meet her, he said, as they were in Canberra for the weekend to attend the wedding of one of their friends, but she’d be able to meet them on Sunday afternoon when they returned. There was no question of her returning to the backpacker’s hostel she’d stayed at after arriving in Sydney late the night before and after admitting to his parents that he and Consuela had spent over six months touring Spain, Portugal and Italy together there seemed to be no reason for them not to share George’s room.

“I think I’m going to have to buy a Spanish language textbook and tapes,” said Marion to Archie later that night. “Watching George and Consuela together makes me think she’s going to become a full member of our family before long.”

“It might be best to get a textbook on colloquial Spanish and have Consuela help you with pronunciation and grammar, and then you wouldn’t need tapes.”

“Well, I would if they decide they need a place of their own and move out, which after seeing how happy they are together I think is inevitable. They’ve already spent a lot of time together and George would have given it a lot of thought before asking her to come to Australia so I think he’s pretty serious about her… and her about him. Just wish he’d told us a little more about his relationship with her. I was surprised but I’m not at all unhappy about her suddenly turning up though.”

“Early days perhaps, but I think you’re right about her becoming family. He doesn’t realise it but he does tend to talk a lot about her at times so I’m not overly surprised about her coming, even if George didn’t mention anything about having invited her. He would have if she’d written and told him she’d decided to come though.”
 
Fun Á new story. At my in-laws neighbor has 5 old outhouses. His wife’s potting sheds. I of course call them potty sheds. “Most folks only have one in my area. Two if lots of kids, or grandparents in house. Nut I guess ÎF you need to go it’s handy” type comments. If they talk of plants? “Well kinda yucky but it is good fertilizer. Just wash your hand REALLY WELL.
 
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