During his first year Willy became another member of the Dexter family. Although residing on the school’s campus, he joined them regularly on weekends and leisurely excursions as he settled into making friends with other indigenous students.
This first year for him was a terrifying experience. He looked upon Jennifer as his mentor, even though there was a difference in their age. She had taken it upon herself to introduce him to the few similarities and the many differences between a city school and Miss Gerry’s remote cattle station school. She virtually had to teach him everything, with the help of his new friends, who had suffered the same integration.
He soon realised his new environment was totally different from his life on the cattle station. Miss Gerry did her best in the final weeks before he left for Broome, by showing him videos on the television of city life, but that was no comparison to the real thing. Walking on footpaths and concrete was his worst initial problem after loose sand and scrubland. Then his next nightmare was the traffic. He thought he had faced every danger possible mustering cattle until he faced a moving car or bus. His first experience in a plane had been enough for him to endure.
As time passed he began to get used to these terrors and venture out of school more with his new friends, visit noisy arcades to play with the slot machines and even sit in a cinema for two hours watching a film. He was beginning to adjust to his new way of life, learn to talk the way city folk talked and become interested in the way they dressed. He still wore the same simple clothes the school had helped him with when he’d arrived. It was different to running around half naked. That’s why he enjoyed the beach; at least there he could strip down to his shorts.
By the end of his first year Willy thought he had experienced everything modern society could throw at him; but he soon found out his latest, most terrifying experience was yet to come. Each year’s end was celebrated with a party; the focus decided by the monitors and everyone was expected to attend or beware of the consequence the following year.
In Willy’s first year away from the cattle station, he had little opportunity to mingle with girls of his own age and members of the white community. He found more in common with the Asian students, who called Broome their home as they were descendants of the early pearl divers, than with the Yawuru students, whose tribe was not familiar to him.
Not knowing many girls was not Willy’s major fear; after all, apart from a few guests outside the school environment, he knew everyone else. His problem came with the term ‘A Formal Affair’. It took Jennifer to explain that it was not formal in the adult sense of black tie and dress suit, or the usual sweat top, jeans and sneakers. The party formal was a smart jacket, trousers or jeans, shirt with tie and polished shoes.
Willy had none of these items and it took Jennifer and Kate’s credit card to solve this problem. To Willy, the casual clothes he was used to were sufficient; he had no need for anything else. So it was a shock to his singular belief that you were either naked or clothed to find that you could also be stylish. He never imagined that the modern youths of today dressed to suit the occasion.
It took Jennifer the journey in the car to explain that to be ‘with it’, you had to have different clothes for different occasions. It wasn’t until she’d explained to him that his people had adopted different body designs for each ceremony that he began to understand what was expected of him.
Willy was about to have his first experience of a department store. It was a trying ordeal, as Willy had his own idea of what was good for him. The variety of choices he faced was equal to that of a child in a candy store until Jennifer put her foot down and told him what he had to wear at this formal party.
Two hours later Jennifer had finally managed to fit Willy out with everything he needed, except the jacket. Out of desperation, Jennifer rang Kate; she’d had more experience when buying clothes for Martin.
She had to wait for Kate to stop laughing. “Jennifer, bring Willy home. Your dad has a wardrobe full of suits and jackets; surely there’s something amongst that lot to suit Willy.”
Martin had not arrived home yet and Kate thought it would be an ideal opportunity to get rid of some of his cherished oldies. Jennifer and Willy arrived shortly after and Kate rushed them upstairs to the bedroom.
“What’s the rush, Mum?” Jennifer asked.
“I want Willy to choose a jacket before your dad comes home. You know how he loves the clothes he brought from England. I’ve been trying to get rid of them for ages, but he just won’t let go.”
“Yes, but Mum, this is a special occasion for Willy. He doesn’t want any old thing. He wants to look stylish for the girls.”
“Believe me, Jennifer…you can’t get more stylish than the seventies.”
‘Dad’s oldies’ was an apt description. When Kate opened the wardrobe, their mouths dropped open. Jennifer could not remember seeing her dad in the suits and jackets inside. They were unbelievable. As she ran her fingers across the material she could see Martin never bought anything but the best. Willy was amazed at the variety of shades, ranging from soft greys to subtle blues, but one jacket stood out from the rest as far as he was concerned; it was Martin’s favourite suede jacket.
It was a natural skin, not dyed like some were in that period and when Kate brought it out and placed it against Willy, he looked a million dollars.
“Oh, the kids are going to have fits,” she said. “Come on…slip it on, Willy.”
The sight of it brought memories back of a younger Martin, as Willy’s slim, athletic build slipped into the silk lining perfectly. He felt good in it and Willy’s face lit up when he saw himself in the mirror.
“There you are, Willy,” Kate exclaimed. “You look like a stud.” Jennifer gave her an awkward glance. “Isn’t that what they say?”
“He looks good, Mum. Leave it at that.”
“What do you think, Willy?” Kate asked him.
“I like it,” he said. “It belongs to the boss.”
“Will you stop calling him that…he’s Martin,” Kate snapped.
“Sorry…I only know him as boss-man.”
It was not unusual for Willy to stay over on a weekend, so when Martin and Kate retired to their balcony with a bottle of white wine to watch the sun sink into the Indian Ocean, they were not surprised when Jennifer said they were going to watch a show on television. However, she was planning to get Willy ready for a debut show of his own before the school party.
With the last orange rays leaving the horizon and the sky taking on a warm glow, Jennifer pushed Willy into the bedroom.
“Well, what do you think?” she called out.
As they swivelled round in their chairs, Kate got up and walked into the bedroom, switching on the bedside light as she passed. In the subdued light Willy suddenly looked nervous as Kate slowly examined every detail of his ensemble. Martin realised what was going on and followed.
Stopping in front of Willy with a surprised look on his face, he said nothing at first as he stared at the young man in the stone-washed jeans, striped shirt, patterned tie and what looked like his favourite suede jacket.
Martin recognised the jacket from the days when he had no need to watch his weight. When he had a waistline fit for an Adonis.
“Who’s this fella?” he said, winking at Kate.
“It’s Willy, Dad,” Jennifer said.
Martin stepped closer for a better look. “No. This isn’t Willy,” he said sternly. “This isn’t that stockman from the Sandy Desert.”
Kate caught on and joined in. “Of course it’s Willy. Look at all this mop of hair,” she said, running her fingers through the unruly bush and mussing it up.
Martin looked closer. “Mmm. You might be right,” he said, tapping Willy’s forehead. “Are you in there, Willy?”
Willy was beginning to look uncomfortable and Martin knew when enough was enough. But just as he was about to apologise, Willy interrupted him.
“It’s me, boss.”
“Will yo
u stop calling me boss?”
“I’m in here.”
“Of course you are and you look great. I was only teasing you.” A huge smile broke out on Willy’s face and he grabbed hold of Martin around his shoulders and hugged the life out of him.
“Then we’re still blood brothers?” he said.
“Yes, Willy…we’re still blood brothers.”
When Jennifer and Willy left for the party, Kate and Martin finally had the house to themselves. By the time they returned to the balcony and opened another bottle of wine that Martin had chilling in a bucket nearby, the sun had disappeared into the Indian Ocean without a trace. All that was left to hint that the sun had ever existed was a lingering salmon glow that slowly permeated the darkening sky above the foreshore.
“This is the life,” Martin said, as he lifted his glass.
Kate took hold of his free hand and said; “Willy looked really happy tonight. I think we achieved our objective – the promise you made him.”
“Yes…as selfish as it might seem, that’s what pleases me the most.”
As they sipped their wine and enjoyed the panorama of their balcony view, Kate turned to Martin and paused for a moment. “Martin…what’s this ‘blood brother’ thing?”
Martin laughed, had another sip of his wine and turned to face her curious expression. “It’s a long story. Remind me to tell you about it some time.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
As a child in the London blitz, Charles Beagley distracted himself from the horror of his family’s situation by making up stories or drawing. His eventual training was at Art School, which equipped him for the many years he spent working in advertising and design. He lived in London initially, did two years National Service in the RAF, worked in Ireland and Belgium and then set up a Design Consultancy back in England for twenty years.
He married and had two sons whose futures concerned him as things were grim economically in 1982 England. He jumped at the opportunity to move his family to Australia when he was offered a managerial position in design. During his years in England, his writing developed as he wrote promotional text and an occasional short story.
Since coming to Australia he has honed his skills, writing many fictional stories, mainly mysteries.
Blood Brothers is his first published novel.
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