The Spark (White Gates Adventures Book 4)

by Trevor Stubbs

  Shaun stayed sitting under his tree. Alongside its pods, it had narrow shiny dark green leaves longer than the pods. Shaun watched the breeze rustle through it. The boy returned. Shaun wondered if he could get him into conversation.

  “Hello,” he said. “I don’t know… can you tell me what sort of tree this is?”

  The boy turned and studied Shaun carefully. It was a strange question – unless this man was a foreigner. “You don’t know?”

  “No. I’m afraid I don’t. I haven’t been here before.”

  “You’re not Australian?”

  “No.”

  “This is wattle. It’s our national flower. It has bright yellow flowers in the spring – where those pods are.”

  “Oh. Right. Sounds pretty.”

  “It is. Look, check it out on my phone.” The boy tapped something into his phone and showed it to Shaun.

  “Wow. That’s pretty… So now it’s summer?”

  “Coming on autumn. It’s different from your part of the world?”

  “Yeah,” answered Shaun. “I’m just backpacking around. You?”

  “Same.”

  “So where are you from?”

  “Rocky… It’s up north.”

  “You’re young to be on your own.”

  “I’m nineteen,” said the boy, too defensively. “What about you?”

  “Twenty,” answered Shaun. “What do you do when you’re not backpacking?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “No reason. Just talking. It doesn’t matter.” Shaun’s suspicions were aroused. This lad was hiding something. “I’m just about to finish college doing a course on youth and community work. But I’ve got behind because I broke my leg.”

  “You broke your leg? You can walk on it now?”

  “Yeah. It’s almost better. But I’m going to have to give up football.”

  “Footie. You play footie?”

  “Did.”

  “What position?”

  “Midfield. Centre half.”

  “Oh. You mean soccer.”

  “Do I?”

  “Yeah. Around here it’s rugby league. That’s what we call footie. I support the Diehards.”

  “They from where you’re from – Rocky?”

  “Nah. You don’t know nothing. The Diehards are from Fortitude Valley… in Brisbane.”

  “Do you play?”

  “Yes… No. I mean I did but not now.”

  “You played for a team in Rocky?”

  “No. At school.”

  “Sounds OK. You shouldn’t give up. Sport is good for you.”

  “I might get back to it.”

  “What’s Rocky like?”

  “Rockhampton? It’s by the sea.”

  “Oh. A big place?”

  “Kind of.”

  “My city is by the sea. It’s called Joh City.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Joh.”

  “Suppose that makes sense.”

  “I’ll miss it, being here.”

  “The sea?”

  “I was thinking of my family… and my… friend.”

  “A girl?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Girlfriend?”

  “No… Well, kind of.”

  “How do you mean – ‘kind of’?”

  “Well, she’s a good friend but we don’t kiss and cuddle. We’re not ‘together’ like that.”

  “But you’re special friends, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How long have you known her?”

  “Years – since school.”

  “You fight?”

  “Fight?”

  “Yeah. Argue, like.”

  “Oh. No. We don’t fight. Wennai is not the sort to fight.”

  “Wennai. That’s a strange name.”

  “Not in Joh City. My sister’s called Kakko. That is strange for Joh… My parents aren’t from Joh.”

  “So what’s your name?”

  “Shaun.”

  “That’s Irish, isn’t it?”

  “It was my grandfather’s name. What do you go by?”

  “Dan.”

  “That English?”

  “Er. Yeah.”

  “Your family English?”

  “Nah. Don’t know why they called me that…. You like him – your grandfather?”

  “Don’t know. I don’t think so. He died before I was born. My nan says he took to drink – it killed him.”

  “That’s like my dad.”

  “What’s like your dad?”

  “Drink.”

  “I’m sorry. That’s pretty awful. Does it make him ill?”

  “He’s just angry all the time. He never gets really drunk. It’s just a glass with every meal – wine, not beer.”

  “Do lots of people drink wine in these parts?”

  “No. It’s mostly beer… It’d be better if he was a beer drinker. But my dad was always a bit beaut.”

  “Bit beaut?”

  “Yeah. Stuck up. Too bloody proud of being middle class.”

  “Sounds as if you don’t get on.”

  “We don’t… Look, I don’t want to talk about him. I want to forget about him.”

  “That’s sad. But sure, we’ll change the subject… You going to the rodeo?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How long’s your holiday?”

  “Long enough.”

  “Great… What’re you doing for the rest of today?”

  “Nothing. I think I’ll just chill out here.”

  “Right. I think I’ll go exploring. Which way is the town?”

  “Turn right at the entrance. It’s a fair walk. Pass a few streets and then turn right again… It’s all in square blocks. You can’t miss the centre. It’s called Palmerin Street… Not much of it.”

  “Thanks. I’ll find it.”

  “Want some tea before you go?”

  “Yeah. Why not?”

  26

  Shaun didn’t know why the white gate had opened up in Warwick. He needed to explore but he wanted some exercise anyway. A few streets didn’t seem like far. But the streets were wide and the distance between them a lot – space didn’t seem to matter in these parts. There were few paved walkways; the verges to walk on were coarse mown grass and it was tiring to keep lifting his leg. Finally he spotted a statue some blocks away to the right. Statues generally stood in the middle of towns, so he headed towards it. By the time he found the town centre, the sun was past its zenith and sweat was dripping down his face, as well as his back and chest under his shirt. He was glad of the hat – and the shorts.

  The statue stood at the junction of Grafton Street and Palmerin Street. Shaun looked up and down and spotted a set of blue umbrellas a hundred metres to his left, beneath which were tables and chairs. Shaun didn’t need a second invitation.

  Nan would quite like this place, thought Shaun, as he sipped a mug of tea with milk. At the next table were four teenage girls. They were dressed in tank tops and shorts; their long hair hung loose about their shoulders. Shaun couldn’t help noticing they had bare feet. But then he saw what Abby called flip-flops scattered under the table. His brain tried to make out to which foot each belonged. The girls began to giggle. One blew more bubbles into her frothy milkshake through her straw, making a loud noise that sent the other girls into a paroxysm of laughter. Shaun tried to ignore them but it was difficult; the nearest was barely two metres away from him. He became conscious that the cause of all this behaviour was himself. They were kids but that didn’t stop them enjoying the sight of an attractive lone young man so close to them. The town was not big enough for a stranger to hide in and strangers of Shaun’s type were a fascinating novelty.

  Shaun thought about moving on. But he was hot and needed to sit for a while. He sat it out.

  After a while the game grew less interesting and the girls began to discuss their week at the local school. Shaun guessed it must be the weekend. If this was the weekend, then maybe they would
do some worshipping the following day. He had passed a place of worship near the statue. That could be something to explore next.

  After a while the girls got up and started to look for their shoes.

  “You seen my thong?” one of them giggled, kicking one of the flip-flops under Shaun’s table.

  Shaun noticed it and slid it out with his foot for her to pick up.

  “Thanks.” Another paroxysm of laughter.

  At last the girls walked off down the street. As they did so, they looked back at him and began to giggle again. He wondered if there was something about him that was funny. Then he noticed that one of the girls had left a bag on the chair. Oh no. He guessed that was deliberate. This was getting stupid, so he got up and went inside to pay his bill as a girl returned and stared after him into the shop. He turned his back. The shop was not just a café – it also sold trinkets, so Shaun hesitated to study them. He made sure the girl had quite gone before he walked back out into the street.

  Then he retraced his steps in the direction of the statue, reflecting how much easier it was in strange places with Kakko or Wennai by his side. Kakko had no idea how uncomfortable it could be to be a single young man sometimes; girls behaved differently when she was around. At the junction to his left Shaun saw a large church with a tower made from yellow stone. He made his way towards it and saw that the driveway was crowded with well-dressed people pointing cameras at each other – a bride and groom had emerged onto the steps. The bride wore a fine white full-length dress, low cut with little puffy sleeves. Wennai would have been able to describe it in more technical terms and delight in this and that and, despite trying his best, Shaun would have had difficulty appreciating. The groom was dressed in a dark suit and necktie and looked decidedly hot and uncomfortable. It’s definitely easier to be a bride than a groom in this town, reflected Shaun. Weddings are made for brides.

  It got him thinking again of Wennai. He knew that nearly every male friend thought he was really lucky having the devotion of such a woman. But the thing that mattered to Shaun more than anything was that they understood each other – sometimes better than they understood themselves. At first, Wennai hadn’t believed it was possible for anyone to understand her – no-one else she knew had lost a mother at the age of thirteen. But then she had discovered that the person who had been attacked in a park that Shaun had referred to was none other than his own mother, Jalli, and, from then on, Wennai began to regard the Smith family differently. But one thing Shaun was absolutely sure of: any commitment he made to Wennai inevitably had to be for life. And he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

  Shaun watched the happy couple and the family and friends fussing around them. It didn’t appeal to him – he couldn’t see himself standing where that young man was standing. But then it occurred to him: for him and Wennai it wouldn’t be like that. Wennai had no mother to fuss over her, and Jalli wasn’t the kind to act like that mother was doing either. Perhaps… maybe… Have you brought me here to see this? questioned Shaun of his Creator. But God didn’t seem to want to answer that. All he could get was, “Whatever” and that wasn’t the kind of reply you got from God… or was it? Perhaps… All I am sure of, is that I need to be as open as I can be with Wennai, he vowed. And to ignore my sister’s impatience…

  Shaun studied the noticeboard. It was headed Anglican Church of Australia. Wasn’t Abby’s Church of England Anglican? He made a note of the times of the services. If today was Saturday, tomorrow would be Sunday. He spotted an older lady walking to a parked car who didn’t appear to be part of the wedding party.

  “Are these the times for tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she replied. “You coming?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll look out for you if you come to the ten o’clock. I’m on duty at the door… You new here?”

  “Just passing through,” said Shaun.

  “You would be most welcome,” smiled the woman. “On your own?”

  “Yeah.” Shaun smiled back.

  “Come to the ten o’clock. I’ll show you around.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “Oasis something,” said Shaun, embarrassed that that was all he could remember.

  “Oasis Caravan Park?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Going back there now?”

  “Yeah, I’d better,” said Shaun. “It took me ages to walk and I don’t want to lose myself in the dark.”

  “I watched you. You walk with a limp.”

  “Oh. You noticed. I broke my leg a bit ago. It’s getting better but I’m tired now.”

  “Get in… if you trust an old woman not to run off with you. I’ll take you back. You won’t get there before nightfall, walking.”

  “Well…” Shaun thought about it. He wasn’t sure if he could find the place in the dark and his leg was already hurting. The lady looked kind and was about two-thirds his height and half his weight. “OK. Thanks.”

  She drove in what Shaun thought was the wrong direction at first but she turned right at the junction of a major road. Then right again and Shaun knew he was on course for home.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Saturday night can be a bit wild, I’m afraid. Best not to be out alone.”

  “What, in this small town? Everyone seems to know one another.”

  “We do. And we know we have some problem families among us… Country places are not immune from the evils of society. Drugs are a menace.”

  “Drugs?” Shaun was aware of the problem on Earth. “My brother lives in a place in England. He says they have drugs in his college. England, that is on this planet, isn’t it?”

  The woman laughed. “You’re right. Sometimes you wouldn’t think so. They can do some of the strangest things over there… but, sadly, we Aussies can be as bad… You might wonder how I know I can trust you?”

  “I hadn’t realised how many people you can’t here.”

  “It’s not really that bad… No. It was the way you were watching the wedding. I’ve seen that look in a young man before. You were trying to notice the details to tell your girlfriend when you get home. She’ll want to know about colours and flowers and styles, and you don’t want to sound an idiot.”

  “How’d you know all that?”

  “I have sons. Am I right?”

  “Yeah,” laughed Shaun. “Something like that.”

  They turned left and the woman drove a couple more blocks to the park entrance.

  “Thanks,” said Shaun as he got out of the car.

  “Maybe see you tomorrow, then. The name’s Daisy.”

  “Shaun.”

  She reached out her hand and he shook it. He waved as she swung right, back into the town. Shaun was grateful for his lift. He would have really struggled to get back on foot.

  27

  As Shaun limped across the field, the family man was getting ready to go out; Dan was lying down in front of his tent.

  The family man called over to Shaun.

  “Had a good day?”

  “Yeah. It was interesting.”

  “I’m going out to get something to eat… Do you want me to bring you something?”

  Shaun was quite hungry. “Well… if it’s not too much trouble? I’ve got some tins—”

  “I’ll bring you some chips. What do you want? Pie or fish?”

  “Either,” said Shaun. “Whatever they have. How much do you want?” He went to his pocket.

  “Ten should do.” Shaun fumbled with his wallet. I really should learn my numbers in this script, he told himself. Mathematics is supposed to be the common language of the universe – but the symbols we use aren’t.

  “What about you, lad?” called the man to the prone figure.

  “You talking to me?”

  “No. The man in the moon. We’re getting some chips. Interested?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “Pie or fish?”

  “Just chip
s. Thanks.”

  “That all for a strapping lad like you?”

  “Yeah. Fine… Here’s five.”

  “Thanks. You’ll get some change, I expect.”

  Dan waved a note towards Shaun. Shaun took it from him and added two more of the same. Two fives – that makes ten. He memorised the symbol for five. The man got in his car and drove off in a cloud of diesel fumes.

  “Should get that fixed,” said Dan.

  “You know about cars?”

  “My dad…” The boy stopped.

  “Your dad?”

  “He knows a bit about cars. I don’t… Anyway, it’ll need a computer to fix that. It’s the timing.”

  “Oh. Right. Your dad seems to be quite handy—”

  “I don’t want to talk about him,” said Dan strongly.

  “Right… Look, you know I don’t come from Australia. Can you tell me how this money works?”

  “Sure.”

  Shaun pulled out some of the notes. “This is a five. Right?”

  “Yeah. The purple and yellow fellow with the Queen on it. The blue one’s a ten. See it says ‘ten’ on it.”

  “I see. It’s the numbers I don’t recognise… So ‘one’ and ‘zero’… We’re working in base ten?”

  “Base ten? What’s that?”

  “It means decimal.”

  “Oh.”

  “So eleven will be this.” Shaun scratched two ones in the dust.

  “Right. You really are foreign, ain’t you?”

  “I’m afraid so. So that would make this yellow one with a ‘five’ and a ‘zero’ five times ten.”

  “Yeah. Fifty.”

  “And this green one, ten times ten.”

  “A hundred. You learn fast.”

  “So now fill me in. How do you write ‘two’?”

  Within a few minutes, Shaun had learned his symbols. There were only ten of them. Working in base ten wasn’t natural for him. On Joh they used base twelve, so he kept having to do mental arithmetic. Joh had twelve symbols, and a Johian one followed by two Johian zeros added up to 144 in Australian.

  “Is it the same in England? These numbers?”

  “Yeah. The British colonised Australia over 200 years ago. That’s why we speak English and use British names.”