Airship Over Atherton

by Christopher Cummings

  Then the media people arrived. Rude, ignorant vultures! The TV cameraman annoyed him in particular, with his assistant who looked like a reject from the Employment Service. Willy’s father asked them to leave, but they persisted. The cameraman walked across the lawn and focused on Aunty Isabel’s tear-stained face from only a metre away and the reporter shoved a microphone under her nose.

  “Go away please,” she whispered, her mouth set firm. The man persisted in asking her questions.

  Willy didn’t remember getting up but he found the microphone in his hand and he pulled. The man made a grab at him. Willy lost his temper and yanked it from his grasp and ran sideways. “Leave Aunty Isabel alone, you bad mannered pigs!” he shouted.

  The cameraman turned quickly to keep Willy in the frame. As he did the cords leading from the microphone to the assistant went around his legs. Without conscious thought Willy changed direction and ran around behind the assistant and back towards the reporter. The microphone cord pulled taut but Willy was ready for it and kept a tight grip.

  In a moment the cameraman and his assistant were rolling on the lawn tangled in the cord. Willy found he had the microphone in his hands with the cord broken. He turned and tossed it to the reporter, then bent and picked up the hose.

  “Turn it on Steve and I’ll give these bad-mannered parasites what they deserve,” he called. Stephen did so. Water squirted over the men. At that point his father and a policeman intervened. The angry TV crew were hustled away and Willy’s mother called to him to drop the hose- but she smiled when she said it.

  So did his father when he came back. “Well done Willy. Mind you, you will have to pay for the damage. I’ll dock it from your allowance.”

  Willy nodded and dropped the hose, only to be embraced by Marjorie who gave him a big kiss on his cheek. She tried to kiss him on the mouth but he avoided that. What an embarrassing nuisance she could be! He blushed and wriggled free. ‘I don’t need any more stress at the moment!’ his mind cried. He returned to his seat on the veranda.

  Marjorie couldn’t seem to take a hint. She followed him and sat beside him. Willy felt self-conscious but did notice that none of the adults seemed to take any notice. They were busy talking again. He sat in silent misery and let it wash over him. As he did his mind raced. Why had Uncle Ted been murdered? What had he seen or stumbled on? Was it drugs? Smuggled wildlife? (There is a big market in Europe for White Cockatoos, and in North America for Galahs one farmer explained). Or was it orchids or rare plants or reptiles? ‘Surely no-one would kill just for plants!’ Willy thought.

  Willy was also dimly aware, from half-overheard snatches of adult conversation, of another level of pain. The police had to investigate whether Uncle Ted was involved in some illegal activity; that he may have gone to meet the men by prior arrangement. Uncle Ted a criminal! To Willy it was an unthinkable insult. It hurt all the more because these hard men in suits did think it.

  ‘Was he murdered because he knew too much? Or in some gangland payback?’ it was suggested. Willy tried to block the snippets of conversation from his mind but they slithered in like insidious reptiles. He thought of all the times he had met Uncle Ted:- generous and loving at Christmas; gentle and courteous at social gatherings; hard working and reliable on the farm; red-faced and laughing at the Mareeba Rodeo; smiling when he gave the children pony rides; the present of a tool kit he had given Willy for his 12th birthday.

  Willy found he was crying again and became aware that Marjorie had her arm around him and that his mother was wiping his face and making him drink something.

  It must have been some sort of sedative as he slipped into a deep sleep and stayed that way for several hours. The trip back to Cairns in the afternoon was only a blur. At home he ate little and went to bed early, collapsing in his own familiar bed in exhausted misery.

  The nightmare woke him twice. His parents came and calmed him but even with the light on the image of Uncle Ted’s mangled corpse remained.

  Willy did not go to school on Monday; nor on Tuesday. Instead he lay on his bed feeling wrung out and stunned by the stark reality of it all. Uncle Ted was gone! Gone for ever! It couldn’t be true! But it was. Willy went exploring in the dark pathways of the soul.

  On Tuesday evening Willy found his father sitting alone on the back patio with an empty whisky glass beside him- a rare thing for a man who almost never drank. Willy was struck by the sharp lines on his father’s face and realized how selfish he was being. His father had lost more. He had lost his only brother; and had been a witness at the shocking discovery of the body.

  Willy sat down in another chair and stared out into the darkness. ‘How can I help dad?’ he wondered.

  “Dad, is there anything I can do?” he asked.

  His father sighed and turned his tired face to him. “Yes. Grow up to be a good man, just like Uncle Ted.”

  “Yes Dad. I will. But I meant...”

  “I know what you meant son. No. Life must go on. What have you got to keep you busy?”

  “Well, there’s school and homework,” Willy answered.

  “That is no problem to you is it? You were top of your class in Maths A, and in Physics last semester weren’t you? And second in Biology and Chemistry?”

  “Yes Dad.”

  “Have you got any projects that will fully occupy your time and mental effort?” his father asked.

  “Not school ones. There’s only my Airship.”

  “Ah! Yes. Your airship. Hmmm. You were building a model Zeppelin weren’t you? How is that going?”

  “It’s nearly finished. I got sidetracked,” Willy admitted.

  “Then finish it. If you can make a model airship which flies then I will consider helping you design and build an Airship like the one you showed me in the ‘Aircraft’ Magazine.”

  Willy sat up. His heart went out to his dad. He could see what his father was trying to do- keep him busy; give him something to take his mind off Uncle Ted’s murder; let time and nature put a few protective layers on the raw grief.

  His father stood up. “Can I see the model now?”

  “Sure Dad. It’s in the workshop. Come on.”

  CHAPTER 5

  BACK TO SCHOOL

  On Wednesday morning Willy did not go to school. He mowed the back lawn then helped his mother peg out the washing. For an hour he worked on his model zeppelin- trying to push out of his mind the distress he knew was coming:- Uncle Ted’s funeral.

  After an early lunch, at which Willy only nibbled, the family dressed in their best clothes and drove up to the farm. Willy’s mother then drove Aunty Isabel to Mareeba in her car. Willy, and his elder brother Lloyd, went with their father. With every kilometre travelled Willy felt a mounting dread. For days now his mind had dwelt on death and he did not think he could face the ceremony.

  But he did somehow. It hurt, with a terrible deep sorrow, as though something deep inside was being torn adrift. During the service he cried and found his mind crowded with tormented and morbid thoughts. His eyes kept wandering to the coffin and his mind kept throwing up the ghastly image of the severed leg and mangled intestines.

  The post-mortem had found that Uncle Ted had received a severe blow to the back of the head- not consistent with his position under the tree trunk. As a child of two doctors Willy knew a good deal about post-mortems and his mind recoiled in disgust and horror from the image of other doctors laying open Uncle Ted’s scalp.

  He marvelled at how Aunty Isabel stood up to the ordeal. Only when the pall bearers: Willy’s father and some of Uncle Ted’s mates; began lowering the coffin into the grave at the cemetery did she flinch and openly sob. Willy cried unashamedly.

  At dusk they drove back to the farm and the family had a miserable supper. Later their father drove the two boys back to Cairns. Their mother stayed on at the farm with Aunty Isabel to help her for a few days.

  Next morning Willy reluctantly dressed for school. He did not want to be the object of morbid curiosity. Nor did he care ab
out learning things. It all seemed irrelevant. ‘If you can just be killed just like that,’ he thought. All that knowledge, memories and personality gone in an instant!

  On arrival at school Willy received another of life’s cruel little lessons. Nobody much knew- or appeared to care. The murder was old news and, so it seemed, Willy’s absence had hardly been noticed.

  Feeling very small and dispirited, Willy walked through the unfeeling throng until he saw Stick. Stick was sympathetic and tactfully silent.

  Not so his mate ‘Noddy’ Parker.

  “Was it real gruesome Willy?” Noddy asked.

  Willy went cold with shock. He balled his fists. “Shut up Noddy!” he snarled.

  “I only asked!”

  “Don’t!” Willy found a seat and slumped down. He noticed several people giving him looks of morbid curiosity but he ignored them. He just sat and half listened to the others till the bell for morning assembly went.

  As he made his way to where his form class lined up Willy caught a glimpse of red hair shimmering like burnished copper in the sunlight.

  Barbara Brassington!

  His heart thudded. She looked so beautiful. And so ‘cool’. She was....

  Marjorie pushed in front of him. “Hello Willy. How are you?”

  Willy scowled. Blast Marjorie! “OK,” he mumbled.

  Marjorie seemed not to notice his abrupt response. She put her hand on his arm. “I’ll see you later. I’d better run or Miss Hackenmeyer will have a fit.”

  Willy realized he had stopped breathing. Barbara had been looking the other way- thank God! He didn’t want her to think he and Marjorie had anything going.

  During the whole of assembly Willy sat and planned how he could ask Barbara for a date. ‘I will take her to the movies,’ he decided. He went through this event in his mind. He was going to be very old-fashioned and would try to impress her. ‘I will turn up in a suit and give her a bunch of roses. At intermission I will buy her a box of chocolates. Then, after the movie we might stroll in the moonlight and perhaps, just maybe, she will let me hold her hand,’ he fantasized. But he didn’t ask Barbara that day though. ‘Conditions must be just right,’ he told himself. Besides, he did not feel very well and could not pluck up the courage. Instead he allowed himself to be drawn back into the humdrum of school routine.

  When they went into class Willy sat in his usual place next to Stick. Barbara sat two rows in front and over to the left hand side. This gave Willy a tantalizing half profile. Her right leg was always tucked under the chair so he could admire her ankles. When she leaned forward or stretched he could see the bulge of her right breast firmly outlined in her blouse.

  ‘Not as big as Marjorie’s,’ he observed. Instantly he regretted the thought and chided himself. ‘Anyway, Barbara’s look firmer and stick out more. Marjorie’s are...’ he groped for an appropriate word and settled on ‘saggier’. ‘Besides, Marjorie is only a Year 8.’ But that led him to the realization that she was also 13, while Barbara was (he thought) 14.

  He went back to his adoring survey. Barbara was, he decided, very trim. Her red hair was bobbed just short of the collar and always looked well brushed and had a lustre to it which made it look like copper fire when the light reflected off it. Her throat curved nicely up to a firm chin.

  ‘How can I ask her out?’ he worried.

  She never seemed to notice him. When she did look around the room, which was often, her gaze seemed to pass through him as though he was invisible. Willy pondered what he could do or say to make her aware of his existence.

  ‘And she is at it again! Throwing paper planes with notes written on them across the room every time the teacher’s back is turned. I wish she wouldn’t.’

  Barbara was often in trouble and it pained Willy. He blamed it on that black-haired bitch Karen Hart. Karen was the girl Barbara usually sat next to.

  ‘I will ask her at morning break,’ Willy told himself. He began to summon up what reserves of courage he could muster.

  But during morning break Barbara vanished before he could think of an approach. He wandered around morosely and ended up sitting with Stick and Noddy. Stephen said ‘hello’ in passing but went off to join his group of mates: Kirk, Bronsky and Dunning. They were a group of army cadets who had a reputation around the school for getting into scrapes and adventures.

  Then Marjorie appeared.

  Willy swore under his breath but gave her a weak smile. He tried to avoid getting into a conversation with her and answered her questions with grunts and monosyllables. At the first opportunity he moved away and sat down. To his annoyance she sat next to him and her arm kept brushing lightly against his. This he found particularly disturbing because he enjoyed it and began to get aroused. He kept looking nervously around to see if Barbara or any of her friends were nearby. It was a relief when the bell rang to go into class again.

  The period before lunch was Chemistry. Willy took the opportunity to ask the teacher, Mr Feldt (‘Mad Max’ to the students because of his shock of white hair which made him look like a mad professor) about obtaining Hydrogen for his model zeppelin. The model was nearly finished and he did not want to make a mistake.

  ‘If I can make a model which flies then dad will help me build a real airship,’ Willy reminded himself.

  Willy very much wanted to fly an airship, but was aware that, since it was more than seven decades since the last rigid airship flew that it was only going to be, if anything, a small non-rigid.

  After lunch there was a more pleasant interruption to classes. Each year the school held a service to commemorate Anzac Day, Australia’s national day of remembrance for its war dead. This was always before the day itself and it was usual for the cadets from the three armed services to take part in the ceremony in their uniforms. The school was one of the very few in North Queensland to have an army cadet unit based at it and there were also a few navy cadets and air force cadets.

  Willy was an air cadet and was intensely proud of being one. The previous year he had joined as soon as he had been able to. He was now just into his second year and had completed his ‘Recruit’ training and was ranked as a ‘Cadet’. He knew he had been lucky to get in when he did as many more kids wanted to join than the Air Force Cadets had vacancies for. Because of government financial reasons there was a restriction on numbers so the Officers of Cadets could afford to be very choosy. As it was Willy had spent 3 months on the waiting list in a ‘Ghost’ Flight, attending parades in ‘civvies’ until another boy had been discharged for bad behaviour. Being an air cadet fitted in with Willy’s great ambition of becoming a pilot in the Air Force.

  So Willy, still in his school uniform as were the other cadets, went to the school assembly hall for a rehearsal. This was conducted by Mr Conkey, Willy’s History and Geography teacher, who was also a captain in the army cadets and OC of the school unit.

  For the next hour Capt Conkey organized the ceremony and talked the cadets and school captains through their roles. For Willy it was easy. As one of the low ranking cadets he had no task other than to stand in line with seven other air cadets. The cadets were grouped into four groups. There was a tri-service ‘cenotaph guard’ of five, a flag raising party of two navy cadets, and a wreath laying party of three, one from each service. The fourth group were all the other cadets. The cenotaph guard was made up of one female navy cadet, one air cadet sergeant (Sgt Wellington), and two army cadet sergeants with an army Cadet Under-Officer (CUO Masters) as the commander.

  Flight Sgt Bristow, a Year 11 student, was chosen for the wreath laying as he was the highest ranking air cadet at the school. The remaining cadets were formed up in line along the side of the hall in three groups. By custom the navy cadets stood on the right flank. There were only five of them. There was then a group of about fifty army cadets in the centre and the seven air cadets stood in a group on the left with Cpl Townley in front.

  To his delight Willy found himself as the ‘right marker’ for the air cadet group. On his
left were both Stick and Noddy and also Flora Finlay, a Year 9 girl he thought was a real ‘Miss Goody-two-shoes’.

  Willy glanced to his right and noted that the right marker of the army cadets was Graham Kirk and next to him stood Stephen Bell, Peter Bronsky and Roger Dunning from his own class. For a moment Willy studied the navy cadets and noted that their right marker was Andrew Collins from Year 10 and next to him was a chubby but very busty female cadet.

  Capt Conkey did the organizing and led them through a full rehearsal. This included the school captains and band and choir. Willy enjoyed it all as a welcome break from the misery of the last few days. The only anxiety was about wearing his uniform the next day. Willy had never worn his uniform to school and he was a little bit worried about how other students might treat him as a result. ‘Particularly Barbara,’ he worried. Willy felt sure that he was a strong enough character to be able to shrug of the taunts and jibes that he had frequently seen cast at the army cadets by students who were anti-military or anti-authority. He was sure they would still hurt and annoy but he hoped they would be water off a duck’s back.

  But in spite of trying to tell himself he did not care he knew he did. In particular he worried about what effect it might have on Barbara’s opinion of him. So he fretted the whole evening and far into the night. To help take his mind off things Willy made a point of catching up all of his homework and assignments. Then he worked for two hours on his model zeppelin.

  Despite all his efforts when he stood in front of the mirror on Friday morning wearing his cadet uniform Willy found he was almost trembling with nervousness. For long minutes he studied his reflection, proud and pleased with what he saw but anxious. The dark blue trousers were ironed with a good crease both front and back and he had managed to tuck in his light blue shirt with almost no creases or wrinkles and those gathered to the sides. For a while he gazed wistfully at the almost bare shirt, wishing he had more badges and embellishments to add. In his mind’s eye he saw himself in the future with medal ribbons and pilots wings pinned on and officer’s rank slides on his shoulders.