‘No, in a glass, I had a taste of Reg’s, it was horrible.’
‘Not in yer tea it aint, try some.’ Skeeter tips a splash into my mug, reluctantly I taste it, surprisingly it is nice, and I can feel it warm me as it goes down.
‘There yer go, beaut aint it, here, have a drop more,’ another splash
‘It tastes a bit too strong now.’
‘Then top yer mug up with tea.’
Skeeter drones on about Strainers, one chain apart with five posts in between and, between them, two droppers, five wires and a barb on top makes a bloody good fence,
‘You’ll get the hang of it,’ another splash, I top my mug up with tea again.
‘At Downer Station they ‘ave a posthole borer that fits on the back of the tractor so we shall knock out a fair amount each day, here, ave a drop more.’
‘No sshanks Ssheeter I need to do a wee.’
‘Ave a piss the other side of the Ute, then I think you should get yer ‘ead down and get some shut eye, it’s been a long day fer yer, early start t’morra.’ My legs seem strange, a bit like rubber, as I do a pee I can feel myself swaying.
‘Ssheeter I feel funny, ish I drunk?’
‘Course not, yer can’t get drunk on tea, you’re tired that’s all, here, finish yer tea it’ll help yer sleep.’ My tea tastes strong this time, I just want to sleep so I do as Skeeter says and drink it down. My eye lids are heavy, I can feel myself drifting off, I can see Skeeter, in the glow of the fire, topping up his mug again, and Defor lies down beside me.
My mouth is dry, I can smell a stale smell, there is a buzzing sound, and something is tickling my face. Opening my eyes a blinding light forces me to close them again, my whole body aches, my head is throbbing, and I try to speak but only manage a croak. I move my hand to stop the tickling on my face, the buzzing gets louder. Forcing my eyes open I realize the buzzing is caused by flies, they are all around my head, on the front of my jacket and a patch on the ground beside me where I have been sick.
Jumping up my head feels like it will fall off, steadying myself on the tree I look about me, Skeeter is not under his tree, there is no sign of Defor, looking behind me I see the Ute has gone; I am on my own, Skeeter can’t be far away his boots are still here.
‘Skeeter, where are you?’ comes out as a whisper, I try again,
‘Skeeter, where are you?’ the only answer is a warble from a black and white bird that looks like a crow. Skeeter’s boots are here but mine have gone. Why Skeeter, why would you do that? Perhaps he has put my boots in my bag, if so what is he wearing? His boots are here. Searching around I realize that, not only has he stolen my boots he has taken my bag as well. What am I going to do, could I wear his? Lifting one I can see the sole is hanging off, I couldn’t walk in these but how can I walk without boots? I’ll just have to try; surely it can’t be any worse than walking bare foot on Hastings beach.
I have been walking for maybe two hours, I have no idea of the time, I promise myself that, the first time I get some money, I will buy myself a watch, it is terrible not knowing the time. In the towns it’s never a problem, clocks are everywhere, but out here in the country there is nothing. I’ve seen, in cowboy films, how the Indians look at the sun and know what time it is, I wish I knew how they did that. The sun is so hot on my head, my jacket over my head helps but, with my arms out of the sleeves, my arms are going red. Walking on the gravel is hard, I tried walking on the grass beside the road, but hidden in it are thorns that stick in my feet, both my feet look swollen, the big toe on my right foot is bleeding from where I stubbed it on a rock, every time I stop the flies settle on the dried blood, why are there so many bloody flies?
Just off the road is a big tree, I must get in the shade; I am so dry I need a drink. The shade is good I’ve taken off my socks, already there are holes in them, I’m trying to pick the thorns and bits of gravel out but my fingers are so swollen they look like sausages, they won’t work properly. I can hear a truck rattling along the road going the way I have come from, by the time I decide to stop it the truck has passed, leaving behind a cloud of dust.
I can see, maybe half a mile ahead, the sun, glinting on the roof of a building, I will ask if they will give me a drink and let me wash my face and feet, my feet are so sore. When I get to the house I don’t care if they call the cops, in fact I may ask them to, even Brother Luke can’t be worse than this. I’ll walk across the field to the house; it has to be shorter,
Two hundred and twenty one, two hundred and twelve, ten and two hundred; that’s not right, someone has stolen some of my steps, it must be Michael he hates me counting, can he do that from Heaven. I expect he can I bet you can do anything there as long as it is good, but to steal is not good, hell now he’s has stolen the house. If he is stealing like that he must be in the other place.
My legs feel heavy as I climb this hill; the house has come back, Michael must be in Heaven God has made him give it back, I wonder where it went did he put it in that cardboard box with those chickens, or did he put it under his hat? I can see the house clearly now, it has a swimming pool, if I don’t hurry I will miss the race. Why can’t I get on my block I don’t remember them being so high? Thank God I manage to get up just as they call set. The water feels great, why I do have my mouth open under water, I’ll drown. I try to close it but can’t, why is someone holding my legs, why won’t they let me swim, never mind I will just use my arms?
‘For Gods sake Jack hold his arms, don’t drop him, we must get him into the car. Hold his head back while I get some of this water into him; come on son, drink some we are trying to help.’
Opening my eyes I find I’m in a car, there is a man rubbing my face with a wet cloth.
‘He’s just come around Jack, thank God, I thought we’d lost him, put your foot down, we must get a hose on him.’ What’s Jack doing here; he’s supposed to be in England? The water is wet, oh so wet, of course it is, I’ve never seen dry water.
‘Don’t talk son, just suck this cloth, and get some fluid into you.’ The water trickles down the back of my throat, it is heaven.
Chapter Twenty Three
I’m in a bed, in a strange room, on the other side of this room is a red haired woman; with her back to me she is putting something in a drawer. She gently closes the drawer, turning around,
‘Hello, are you feeling better, my name is Gloria, what’s yours?’
‘Phillip; where am I, how did I get here?’
‘Gadoona Homestead, you are a very lucky young man Phillip, my husband and son found you, collapsed beside the road, yesterday, another hour un-noticed, you could have been dead’
‘Dead, why, what happened to me was I run over?’
‘Fortunately not, no, you had collapsed from heat exhaustion, but that is enough talk for now I’ll get you something to help you sleep, then in the morning you can tell us all about yourself.’ Gloria returns with a man, about eighteen years old, he also has bright red hair.
‘Hello Phillip, I’m Jack; Dad and I found you yesterday.’
‘Phillip, swallow one of these tablets, Jack will help you walk to the toilet if you need to go, your feet are still quite swollen.’
‘I don’t think I need to go.’
‘Okay, but I don’t want you attempting to go on your own you could fall, so I will bring a chamber pot for you to use in the night if need be. Now, let me make you comfy, try to keep your feet up on this pillow it will help the swelling to go down.’ Jack and Gloria say goodnight, put out the light, and close the door. I try to remember how I got here, my thoughts are confused, a web of darkness settles over me, and I drift off.
The sun is streaming through a gap in the curtains. I can hear a warbling sound, where have I heard that before, I know when I woke and found Skeeter gone; it is one of those black and white birds. Pulling back the bed clothes I find I’m wearing striped pyjamas, there is a bandage on my right foot. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and sit trying to gather my thoughts.
‘Hello Mr. Lewis, I believe you saved my life.’
‘Well I wouldn’t go as far as that but you were in pretty poor shape.’
‘Well thank you anyway.’
‘Are you hungry are you ready for a spot of lunch?’
‘Lunch, what about breakfast, why, what time is it?’
‘Ten to one, and if you feel up to it you had better get dressed, and hurry up or you may miss out on lunch as well.’
‘I’m ready to eat, whatever you call it.’
‘Great, your clothes are all washed, over there on the chair, dress, and come down to the kitchen as quick as you like.’
Opening the door I find I have to turn right as the bedroom is at the end of a corridor, I can’t see any stairs, a door to another bedroom is open on my left, the window facing shows me I am on the ground floor, why did he say down. I can hear a radio; a man is reading the news. Opening the door I see Mr. Lewis and Jack, seated at the table a place is set beside Jack through an open door I can see Gloria busy at the sink,.
‘Is cold meat and salad okay for you Phillip?’
‘Yes please Gloria, thank you.’
‘Phillip, when you finish you will have to tell us how you came to be in the predicament Jack and I found you in on Sunday.’
I have decided to tell the truth, I can’t keep on running and these people seem very kind.
‘My name is Phillip Snell; I come from Hastings in England.’
‘Phillip, I must interrupt you there, I haven’t got time to listen to your whole life history, no matter how interesting it may be, just tell how you came to be lying on the road, almost dead, not five miles from here.’
‘Well, what day is it today?’
‘Tuesday, the thirtieth of September.’
‘I’ll go back to Friday, the night I got a lift from Adelaide to Mount Gambia. I was supposed to get a lift to Melbourne but the Police came and I had to run and hide. At three in the morning I started to walk to Melbourne. About midday I remember it was very hot, I met a fencer called Skeeter McKenzie he made friends with me.’
‘Skeeter, I didn’t know he was back in the area; go on, what happened?’
‘He gave me rabbit stew he’d made, and then he kept putting whisky in my tea. When I woke up next morning he had gone, he’d stolen my boots, and my bag with my money and some clothes. I tried to walk to Melbourne without boots, and then you found me.’
‘That explains why you were so dehydrated, it was the whisky that did it; because it wasn’t that hot. Thank God it wasn’t next month or, worse December, you would have definitely died, and you say he just left you?’ I fill in the details about sleeping on the ground, with my bag as a pillow and an old tarpaulin off the Ute as a blanket, only to wake up to find them both taken.
‘The blighter has gone too far this time, I’m calling Constable Connelly, he needs to know about this.’
‘Mr. Lewis, the police are looking for me, I ran away from a children’s home in Perth about two weeks ago.’
‘Did you commit any offence that caused you to run away?’
‘No Mr. Lewis, they were beating Billy and me, they locked us in a shed so we broke out and ran.’
‘Okay that’s enough, save it for Michael Connelly, it is best if he hears from you, your full story.’
‘Cup of tea anyone?’
‘I could murder one Glorr’
Constable Connelly arrived about three hours ago, for the past two and a half hours I have told him my whole story, writing all the events from Fremantle in detail, the Constable interrupting me every so often to make sure he had written it down correctly. Gloria has been supplying cups of tea and home made cakes and, in between, listening to my every word, quite often I hear her gasp at something I said, once I noticed she was wiping her eyes.
‘Gloria I need to use your phone, is it a party line?’
‘Yes Michael, we are the exchange.’
‘Then I had better not, don’t want all those sticky beaks listening in.’
‘I know, it’s terrible, some of them have nothing better to do.’
‘I’ll wait till I get back to Strathdownie; is Phillip alright staying here Gloria?’
‘Of course Michael, he can stay at Gadoona for as long as he wants.’
‘That’s good of you, just until I get some advice on what we should do with this Pommy runaway;’ Constable Connelly ruffles my hair and laughs ‘Only kidding, you’ll be right here, don’t go running off, you couldn’t have chosen a better place, Gloria is the kindest person I know’
‘Michael you’re a charmer, Phillip won’t want to run anywhere when I start to mother him.’ I think she is right I have fallen on my feet, God; I hope I can stay here.
My feet are still a little swollen, I couldn’t put shoes on if I had any, Gloria has loaned me a pair of slippers. I’m sitting on the veranda, looking across a farm yard at a large shed, a small building with two windows and a chimney is to its left. Between the gaps I can see endless fields of yellow grass with sheep grazing. The birds are like nothing I have seen in England, except in cages that is, they are nearly all brightly coloured parrots, there are some sparrows, but then there always are. Two of the warbling black and white birds insist on sitting on the roof opposite, cocking their heads and warbling, Gloria says they are Magpies watching to see that I don’t go near their nest and, if I did they would dive bomb me. I told her I knew what she meant as the seagulls in Hastings did the same.
Mr. Lewis has joined me; he has flopped into the rocking chair and taken off his hat. Slipping off his boots he sighs, ‘Ah that’s better, what do you think of Gadoona Phillip?’
‘What I have seen Mr. Lewis, I like very much.’
‘It’s Owen, call me Owen, Mr. Lewis is far too formal.’
‘Thank you Owen, my boots, the one’s Skeeter stole are like yours.’
‘Were they now, how come you had a pair of RM’s?’
‘Gertie, in Port Augusta, gave them to me; they were her son’s he was killed in the war.’
‘Well, can’t guarantee we can get you RM’s to replace them, RM’s are expensive, and hand made by a saddle maker called R M Williams in Adelaide.’
‘Do you think Skeeter got me drunk so he could steal my boots?’
‘Hard to say what that old reprobate would do with a few whiskies inside him.’ We sit for awhile, all I can hear is a buzzing sound made by the flies.
For the first time I take a good look at Owen, his green eyes are the first thing I notice, they are like pools, kind and inviting, I feel I could tell him any secret I was hiding and it would stay hidden. He is about forty, medium build, his arms are a copper colour, the hair on them fair, his hands look strong and smooth, not gnarled like Skeeter’s. The hair on his head is red, but not like Gloria’s, it is much darker, so that is why Jack has bright red hair and freckles.
Owen appears to have nodded off when, quite suddenly making me jump, he says
‘How old are you Phillip?’
‘Thirteen, I’ll be fourteen next July; why?’
‘Only thinking, trying to get some things straight in my head, that’s all.’
‘Is your farm very big Owen?’
‘Well it depends on what you call big, in Northern Territory it would be a back yard but here, in Victoria, it is quite large. Gadoona Station, when my Great Granddad claimed the land in eighteen forty three, it was twenty eight thousand acres, but over the years bits of it have been sold, it is now only five thousand two hundred acres, about eight square miles. We graze six thousand Merino sheep, about two hundred Hereford beef cattle. We have four dairy cows of mixed breed, four stock horses, three of which are mares, the other is a gelding and two dogs, Taffy is a Border collie, Joker is a Kelpie, and goodness knows how many cats.
‘Wow as big as that and so many sheep’
‘Not by Aussie standards it
s not, Phillip, if you are allowed to would you like to stay here and help me run it?’
‘But I don’t know anything about farming.’
‘That doesn’t matter, you see, I need someone to replace Jack. After Christmas he is going to College for three years, to learn to be a wool classer. Your age could be a problem because you can’t officially leave school until you are fifteen, but I am sure we can get around that, even send you to school in Hamilton for a few of months.’
‘But why me, what do you know about me? I know nothing about farming or sheep; I can’t even ride a horse.’
‘Phillip, I believe you are heaven sent, your timing is perfect and any person, let alone one your age, that can make their way from Perth to here, on their own, without money, has got to have guts and that’s what I need, someone that won’t give in, I think you’re my man.
‘I’ve already talked it over with Gloria, she needs someone to replace Jack, she just has to have someone to mother.’
‘I would love that’
‘Well don’t get too excited about it, Michael Connelly and the authorities may have other ideas, but now that I know you would like to stay I can fight your corner, between us let’s see if we can make it happen.’ Owen holds out his hand we shake with a big grin he gives me a playful punch on my arm.
Dinner is a lot more formal, seated at the table now is another man, about Owens age, he has a big nose with craters in it, like someone I saw once that had been scarred by smallpox. His hair is jet black, his eyes are twinkling, and never still, they are darting all over the place like they are searching for something. ‘Phillip meet Stan, he is our stockman.’ Stan rises from the table and holds out his hand,
‘G’day Phil ow yer going?’ His grip is like Skeeter’s, that’s another three broken fingers,
Barefoot and Lost Page 37
