Barefoot and Lost

by Brian Francis Cox

  ‘To you Phillip, thirty bob.’

  ‘I’ll take them, thank you Mr. Gallagher.’

  I have spent nearly nine pounds, I’ve never had that much money, let alone spending it in two hours; come to think of it I still haven’t got that sort of money, I will have to work for three weeks to earn that much, hope I can learn to milk quickly.

  ‘I have wrapped your things Phillip, there is nothing fancy with the paper but they will be alright for you to put under the tree, all you have to do is write on them.’

  ‘Thank you Mrs. Gallagher, when will I have to pay you?’

  ‘When you can, but you have a month. Don’t worry if you can’t we will sort something out, now you have a nice Christmas.’ The bell on the shop door jangles,

  ‘G’day Gloria; are you ready to go Phil?’

  ‘G’day Jack, yes he’s ready, bought the bloody shop out he has.’

  ‘Has he now; that’s a lot of flaming cows to milk.’

  ‘Come on youngen, lets get you home; Merry Christmas everyone.’

  ‘Same to you Jack, Phillip, Bye.’

  The four cows are waiting at the milking shed, how do they know it is half past six? Owen shows me how to put feed in the byre; he then shows me how to wash the cow’s teats with warm water. ‘When you have done that you can do the udder one, only joking; right, sit on the stool.’ Owen places the bucket under Daisy, ‘Take hold of the two teats on this side of the udder, not on the end, put your hand higher so your thumb and finger are up against the udder, that’s right, now pull down, squeezing as you do.’ A trickle of milk falls into the bucket, ‘Now keep that going in a steady rhythm, don’t be afraid to hurt her, squeeze harder, that’s it keep going.’ I start to get a steady flow, wow I am milking. Just as I think I have mastered it I lose the rhythm and the flow stops, ‘Keep at it, you will soon get the hang of it.’

  Owen goes to milk one of the other cows, I can hear his milk splashing into the bucket, mine just trickles. Owen stands up and lets his cow go; his bucket is almost full, mine has about a pint in the bottom. ‘I’ll finish Daisy or she will be fed up and start misbehaving, you can start Stella.’ My contribution to about six gallons of milk is just two pints, but Owen said I have done well for my first attempt. At the dairy Owen shows me how to assemble the separator and how to turn the handle to stop the bell from ringing, then, like magic, after he had poured two gallons of milk into the bowl on top, cream came out of one spout, skimmed milk out of the other. Forty five minutes later everything is washed up; the cream is in a churn ready to be made into butter. Some milk has been put aside for our use and the skimmed is in another churn to use to feed the calves and the pigs.

  I feel as though I have been working all day but it is only half past eight and only now going in for breakfast. Gloria puts in front of me and Owen a breakfast of two grilled mutton chops, two fried eggs and tomatoes, followed by toast and marmalade. Watching Owen eat his breakfast before today, I wondered how he could eat so much first thing in the morning, now I know why.

  My milking has improved, I can now finish Daisy by the time Owen has milked the other three. My hands do not hurt as much, and in the dairy I now do everything while Owen feeds the calves and pigs. We are now going in for breakfast at eight-o-clock. Owen reckons that, if we keep on improving our time the cows will be milked before we get up.

  It is Christmas Day but nobody has told the cows, they are as usual waiting at the milking shed at half past six. Breakfast this morning is only boiled eggs and toast. Gloria says we must save room for the Christmas lunch, she has been preparing it for days, and there is no way we will be allowed to leave any.

  Gloria’s sister, her husband, and their daughter are coming from Ballarat to stay for three days, also a squatter called Bill Hamball. I have never met him he lives on his own in the forest about nine miles from Gadoona where he grazes about four hundred sheep. It has been traditional to have him here at Christmas, as it was to have his father. Owen says he is quite a character; you could listen to his yarns for ever and never get bored so, including Bill, there will be nine of us for lunch.

  Bill Hamball is a small wiry man with jet black hair showing from underneath his bushman’s hat. His shoulders are broad and his thin legs bowed, I’d say he’d be about sixty five if I hadn’t been told by Gloria that he is eighty three. He is the first to arrive, in a two wheeled carriage drawn by a grey horse; sitting behind him are two border collies. As soon as Bill stops the horse the dogs jump down, tails wagging, and do what all dogs do, sniff the trees and then cock their leg.

  ‘G’day young fella, ow yer going?’

  ‘Good thanks,’ Stan taught me to say that; even if you are dying he reckons nobody wants to know your medical history so you just say, good thanks, and let them work it out for themselves.

  ‘So you’re the fella that walked here from Perth?’

  ‘No sir, I got trains and trucks to Mount Gambier, and then walked from there.’

  ‘Thought as much, couldn’t see yer walking the Nullabor; so where’s about in Pommy land do yer come from?’

  ‘Born in London and lived in Hastings.’

  ‘Don’t mean much to me, I aint never been and don’t have any inclination to go, too many bloody people, no wonder you Poms are coming here looking to find a bit of space, yer must be standing on each others toes over there.’

  ‘No Mr. Hamball, It’s not like that.’

  ‘You won’t convince me, I went to Melbourne once, about thirty years ago, everybody pushing and shoving, I couldn’t handle it, caught the next train home. I was in such a hurry to get out of the place I forgot I’d gone there to join up, don’t expect they missed me though, the war was over the next year anyway.’

  Whilst Bill has been talking he has un-hitched his horse, taken off all the harness and is now leading her to the yard where the cows come for milking. At the gate he unclips the bridal and gives the horse a slap on the rump, she canters around the yard a couple of times then rolls in the dust at the bottom corner.

  ‘Do yer like it here at Gadoona?’

  ‘Its fantastic, Owen and Gloria are so good to me I feel like I have been here all my life.’

  ‘You’re an orphan aint yer?’

  ‘Yes, both my parents were killed in the war.’

  ‘Then here is good for you and Gloria, Adam would have been about your age now.’

  ‘Who’s Adam?’

  ‘Oh shit, me and my big mouth, if they aint told yer then it’s not for me to say.’

  ‘Told me what, what are you talking about?’

  ‘Sorry mate, you’ll have to ask Owen.’ Bill walks away from me up the path to the house, me, and his two dogs watch him go.

  The clatter of a car going over the cattle ramp draws my attention. I turn to see a gleaming blue, American car, with chrome bumpers and white walled tyres, roll to a stop in the yard. Gloria walks up behind me. ‘My sister and entourage, and a new car to boot, we won’t hear the end of that.’ The driver’s door opens; a tall gaunt man slithers out, and runs around to the rear passenger door. With one hand he opens it, the other hand he offers to assist the lady seated in the back seat. An older version of Gloria emerges, her hair is not quite so red, she is shorter and fatter, but without doubt, Gloria’s sister. The other rear door opens, from it a younger version of Gloria’s brother in law steps out, if I hadn’t been told they had a daughter I’d have sworn it was a boy of thirteen.

  ‘Come and meet my family; Phillip, this is Hope, my brother in law Claude Cuthbert and my niece May.’ Hope smiles with her mouth, but not with her eyes. May blushes and smiles at me Claude without any expression at all holds out his hand for me to shake. His grip is not like Skeeter or Stan’s but more like shaking hands with a wet fish.

  Hope in a loud affected voice says, ‘Oh darling, I am so pleased to meet you, I have heard so much about you. I had conjured up an image of what you would be like but, in reality you are quite different, strange isn’t it?’ I’m not sure
what she means; does she mean I’m better than expected or worse? I don’t care because I don’t like her, she is, what Gran would have called, a right toffee nose in fact she could be Bateman’s mother.

  ‘Glorr, do you like our new car? Claude took delivery on Monday; it has been on order for three months. I was so worried we would have to drive here in the old one.’

  ‘Your other Chevy wasn’t exactly old, was it?’

  ‘I know darling, but it wasn’t new when we got it, didn’t set the right impression you know.’

  ‘No, I suppose not, shall we all go inside, Owen is bound to have a bottle of bubbly on ice.’

  The dinner has been fantastic; I have never seen so much food on a table. Owen has carved, also helping Gloria serve and clear away the dishes. Stan is doing the washing up, May and I are drying. Claude is drinking yet another glass of wine. Hope’s contribution is to sit at the table, with one of Jack’s cigarettes in a long holder in one hand, and a glass in the other, passing comments. ‘Darling, the meal was divine, Darling, you are such a clever clogs. Darling, why is it that you are so domesticated and I am not? Darling how you do it just amazes me.’ Jack has left the table, taking his cigarettes with him; I’m pleased to see he is smoking Kensitas. As we finish and everything is put away Hope rises from the table, stubs out her cigarette and says,

  ‘Darling, let me give you a hand; Claude, lift your glass.’ Claude picks up his glass and the wine bottle. Hope removes and folds the table cloth, ‘There you are, finished, surprising how quickly things get done when we all get stuck in.’

  ‘Oh Hope, I was going to leave that on for tea.’

  ‘Darling, I could never do anything right in your eyes; you will just have to put it back on yourself, I am bound to do it wrong.’ We all look at each other; Claude drains the last of the wine into his glass. Owen smiles and says,

  ‘I think I can hear Santa coming, shall we all adjourn to the Christmas tree?’

  Bill is Santa, but he is the strangest Santa I have ever seen, he is not fat, he has a red table cloth over his shoulders and a red woollen hat. It has been agreed that we won’t open our presents until Santa has finished handing them out, but it is taking ages. Santa can’t see the writing and, when he can, he can’t read it, Jack has to keep helping him out. It is so funny, every time he asks Jack to read for him Jack says it is for him, he now has a pile bigger than anyone else.

  So far I have four parcels, one is a round box about a foot in diameter, another is also rounded, I have examined it without opening, and it feels like a bowl. One is definitely a book; the fourth is flat and heavy. Santa has given me two more one sausage shaped, eight inches long, the other the same shape but twice as long. Santa has now finished. Jacks pile is twice the size of anyone else’s. Hope only has two parcels and is not looking very happy about it. Jack starts to open my cigarettes, ‘Thanks Phil very thoughtful.’ Opening another one he says, ‘Oh, this is not for me, it’s yours Auntie Hope, how did this get here?’

  ‘You tease Jack, how many more of mine do you have?’

  ‘Only a few,’ Jack hands them over, everyone laughs. Hope has now lost that look as though she had something on her shoe that she had just stepped in.

  I open my big round parcel from Hope, Claude, and May to find it’s an Akubra bushman hat, it’s a perfect fit.

  ‘Hope, how did you know what size to get?’ Owen answers,

  ‘Quite simple really, the hat of mine you wear is a bit big so we came down a size, then a contraption invented by Alexander Graham Bell came into play, job done.’

  ‘I get it, a telephone.’ The book is from Bill, about Aboriginal folk law, and the heavy present is a pair of fencing pliers in a holster, from Stan to be worn on my belt, just like the pair he carries. Next I open the present from Jack to find a leather stock whip.

  ‘Be careful with that, I will show you how to use it, they can be lethal if you are not careful.’

  ‘Thanks Jack, when will you show me?’

  ‘This arvo, when everyone else has nodded off, unless, of course, you find something better to do. The small sausage from Gloria and Owen is next; I have decided to leave the bowl until last. Inside is a collar and leash, I look up, everyone is looking at me, I do not know what to say, Owen grinning says,

  ‘The other end of that is in the kennels.’ Still lost for words, looking at the chrome disc, on it engraved is, DEFOR, owner, P Snell, and the telephone number for Gadoona.

  ‘Is he really mine, can I go to him now?’

  ‘You still have one parcel to open, but you’ll see it is more for Defor than you so you had better take it to him.’ As I suspected it is a bowl, a dog’s water bowl.

  ‘Phillip, can I come with you?’

  ‘Yes May if you want to’

  ‘Phillip, don’t let Defor loose, keep him on the leash. We don’t know how he will behave around sheep. I’m sure Skeeter would not have given him sheep dog training, also don’t walk him too far, his leg is not one hundred percent yet.’

  ‘Glorr, will they be alright on their own, don’t you think it would be better if one of us went with them?’

  ‘Why Hope; for what reason?’

  ‘You know, a young man entering puberty that sort of thing, you know what I mean.’

  ‘Hope; you exasperate, me I am not even going to answer that; have a nice walk kids.’

  ‘You be very careful May.’

  ‘Yes Mum I always am.’

  ‘Phil, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

  ‘Be quiet Jack, this conversation is embarrassing enough without your twopenny worth’

  If Hope means what I think she means she can’t think much of me; that’s okay with me, I don’t like her either. Passing Stan he has a grin on his face, at first I think he is laughing at me and May, then he says, ‘Thanks mate the gaiters are great.’

  ‘Okay Stan, I’m pleased you like them, thanks for the pliers.’

  Defor is in his kennel with his head resting on his front paws. ‘Defor, come here boy.’ His ears twitch, his eyes open, his tail starts to thump the side of his kennel, as we get closer he comes to me and licks my hand. Defor sits as I remove the collar on his running leash and fit his brand new one, I can tell we are instant friends.

  ‘Sorry about my Mum, she is a frigging embarrassment and so bloody lazy, never does anything to help The way she speaks is embarrassing in itself, she thinks she is a lady, if it wasn’t for Dad’s money she’d be nobody, you are so lucky to have ended up on Auntie Gloria’s doorstep and not ours.’

  ‘Yeah, if I had of done I’d still be running, you wouldn’t believe that two sisters could be so different.’

  ‘My Mum takes after my Grandmother, she was just the same. Auntie Gloria is just like my Granddad, he was lovely they are both dead now.’

  ‘All of my relations are dead, I keep getting fostered to people that say they love me and want to keep me, then something happens and I have to start all over again. I hope this is the last time because I really like it here, Owen and Gloria are the best I’ve had yet.’

  ‘I’m sure it will be, Auntie Gloria thinks you are heavensent to fill the gap left by Adam.’

  ‘Who is Adam, you’re the second person to mention Adam today; who is, or was he?’

  ‘You don’t know; has nobody told you?’

  ‘Told me what?’

  ‘Adam was their youngest son; he was drowned five years ago when he was eight. Jack and he were in a boat, fishing somewhere near here, don’t remember the name of the place but the boat tipped over, Jack came to the surface but couldn’t find Adam, the water was too dark apparently. Jack kept diving but couldn’t find him, some men in another boat came and helped but without success. They had to stop Jack because he was exhausted; they were worried he would drown as well. The police found Adam an hour later, he was trapped in reeds.’

  ‘Oh hell, and Gloria thinks I’m Adam’s replacement, I was eight five years ago, she thinks I’m Adam come back.’


  ‘No she doesn’t, I heard her on the phone to Mum. She said, with Jack going away to college she would be at a loose end but, with you turning up it would be like having her son back; oh hell Phillip, I’m not explaining myself very well, please talk it over with Auntie Gloria.’

  ‘I will; I want them to want me for being me, not a replacement for a dead son.’

  Defor is walking on the leash, not pulling like Jet always did, and has shown no interest in the sheep we have passed. ‘May, do you mind if we go back, I have to talk to Gloria, I can’t get it out of my mind about Adam?’

  ‘Okay, Uncle Owen said don’t walk Defor too far. Phillip, I think it would be best if you asked them about Adam when they are on their own, not in front of my mum, she will have to say something and it will probably be something stupid.’

  ‘You don’t think a lot of your mum, do you?’

  ‘No, not a lot, I know how you think about wanting people to like you for being you but, you see my mum refuses to accept me for being me, she wants, and tries so hard, to make me a girl.’

  ‘Well you are, aren’t you?’

  ‘I don’t mean that, I mean girly, pretty dresses, fancy hair do’s and make up, I don’t want to be like that, I’d sooner climb trees, play footy. Most girls want to grow up and become nurses or models, I don’t, I’d like to be an engineer or a fireman; you know not a fire’ ‘man, a fire fighter, but my mum won’t accept it. She even bought me bloody make up for Christmas, I’d sooner have had your stock whip.’

  ‘What about your dad, he doesn’t say a lot?’

  ‘Dad has no opinion, at home he prefers to let mum rattle on and do his own thing. At work he is different, I’m told he is a hard boss; he is also a member of the city council. For him, mum fills a role she is good at entertaining and that sort of thing.’