La Strada Da Seguire: The Road to Follow

by Susan Toscan

  “What did you say?” Agnes thought that she had heard him incorrectly. She felt the anger of yesterday return, but seeing that she was about to get worked up, the constable tried to calm her.

  “Look, he got into a fight at the pub last night. But apart from being a bit sore and sorry, no-one was badly hurt.”

  Now Agnes was alarmed; this was not like Michael. “What on earth could have happened to land him in gaol?” she questioned the constable.

  “I believe that your husband tried to break up the fight,” replied the policeman, “but he somehow managed to come off second best. Don’t worry, ma’am; he won’t be charged. He was in no fit state to send home last night, and he needed to sleep off the worst of it. I’ll send him home later in the afternoon.”

  Agnes took a deep breath and thanked the constable as she walked him to his vehicle.

  She kept busy as she waited for Michael. She needed more details about how he had got himself into such a mess. It was a long wait, but Michael eventually arrived home, feeling very sorry for himself and very ashamed of what had happened.

  Agnes knew better than to vent her anger immed­iately, so she prepared dinner and let him sleep off his hangover. The next morning, she had her say.

  “We had this discussion so recently that I cannot believe you have just ignored all of the things I said to you. Didn’t you stop to think about how worried I would be? I am so angry with your selfish, stupid behaviour. How dare you put me through such an awful night of worry!”

  Michael hung his head. “Agnes, everything you’ve said to me I deserve, and I’m really sorry. I cannot tell you how sorry I am.”

  Agnes turned her back to her husband, struggling to control herself. She didn’t want to cry; she wanted to hit him, she wanted to punish him for making her think that he might be dead when in fact he was drunk.

  “Agnes, darling, I swear that I just stopped at the pub to have a beer with Tom and some other shearing mates. But a group of shearers from another shed started to pick on the blokes I was with, and then they challenged them to a fight. We tried to ignore them, but the drunker the other group of shearers got, the worse the taunting got. One of the other blokes hit Tom from behind and knocked him to the floor. Then they started to kick him, and I had no choice, Agnes, I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing!” Michael held his head in his hands. “Anyway, it was about then that the police arrived and carted us all off to the slammer. God, I feel so bad that you were so worried, but I couldn’t get a message to you. I am really sorry.”

  Michael looked awful—and as the constable had given her the same summary of what had happened, Agnes did believe him—but her heart was still pounding with all the pent-up anger and worry, and she was not about to let him off lightly. “You were an idiot to get involved in a fight. And even though I understand why you did it, you really should not have been there in the first place.”

  Michael watched his wife cautiously, trying to judge her state of mind. She certainly had a right to be angry with him, and he deeply regretted that he had upset her.

  He promised her again that he would not go looking for trouble, but he knew that these situations were commonplace, and even though he did not like getting involved in confrontations, he would not walk away from a friend in need. Michael had seen men getting picked on in the sheds all too often. He had been involved in a few fights, and thanks to Tom, he had learned how to defend himself when he had to. He knew that he generally did better in a fight when alcohol was not involved, but he did not say that to Agnes.

  “Agnes, we have to get past this. It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow. Let’s not spoil our Christmas celebrations over this. I love you so much. I know that I’ve been a dill.” Michael tried to put his arms around his wife, but she was not ready to forgive him yet.

  Christmas Eve proved to be a busy day. Agnes was still exhausted from not having slept well over the last two nights, but she really wanted their first Christmas in their own home to be a happy one. Joe, Elsie and Betty were going to be there early the next day, and the Italian family was also joining them for Christmas lunch. Michael’s uncle, Colin and his friend Tom were expected, too. Everyone was bringing something to eat, and Agnes was looking forward to a happy day.

  Christmas day turned out to be hot as was usual. Michael and Agnes had set up tables out the back under the shady gum trees, and the challenge was to eat the food before the flies got to it. Nobody seemed to mind. The flies were part of living in rural Australia.

  The food was plentiful. There was a mixture of traditional Italian dishes and, of course, turkey and ham. Maria had made her famous lasagne, which was served as the entree. Agnes had cooked the turkey the day before, and it was served cold with lots of salads and freshly baked bread. Elsie had brought the ham, which was also served cold. Everyone ate far too much, so they all agreed that dessert—which consisted of an Australian trifle and an Italian tiramisu—could wait until after the cricket match.

  The cricket match had been discussed for weeks beforehand. The Australian family had assured the Italian family that it was not an Australian Christmas without an after-lunch game of cricket. “Now I understand why you play cricket after lunch; you need to run off all that food!” Frank observed, rubbing his very full tummy. The idea amused the Messera family. “Our Christmases in northern Italy were very different. There certainly was no outdoor eating or games. It was always cold and snowy, and we stayed indoors. We love having a fine hot day to celebrate with family and friends, and a game of cricket is a great idea. We don’t know much about this sport, but we’re fast learners, so look out, Aussies!” laughed Frank as he tried to jump to his feet.

  The teams were selected with Michael, Colin, Joe, Frank, Agnes and Betty on one side and Tom, Flavio, Steven, Lucia, Renata and (reluctantly) Elsie on the other. Two 44-gallon drums were rolled over from the shed and used as wickets, and then a coin was flipped to decide which team would bat first. The men were taking it all very seriously while the young women just rolled their eyes at each other.

  “Come on, you guys, it’s hot standing out here; let’s just get on with it!” Steven called out impatiently. Michael’s team won the coin toss, and the game started in earnest. Fielding was not much fun, especially when the ball went up onto the roof of the shed and had to be retrieved before the game could continue. Many rules were broken, but no-one seemed to care. While her team was fielding, Elsie snuck off to join Maria, who was relaxing in the shade. Eventually, Michael’s team won, but the final score was very close. Frank really enjoyed himself. He loudly told everyone that soccer was still the best game—but that cricket was good fun.

  After the match, as they were cooling down and enjoying a cold beer before dessert, gifts were exchanged. These were usually handmade items as no-one could afford luxuries; there was really nowhere in their small country town to purchase gifts anyway. Frank had carved a wooden toy train that Frances could pull around when she was able to walk. At the time, however, she was intent on putting it into her mouth and biting on it with her only two teeth.

  Even though she tried to have a good day with the family, Agnes was still very disappointed in Michael, and he knew it. In the moments that they were alone together, they were both very cool towards each other. Elsie, Joe and Betty seemed unaware of the tension between them. Agnes knew her mother rarely missed anything, so she made a big effort not to arouse her suspicions. Fortunately, Elsie seemed preoccupied with the events of the day, and when the time came for swapping gifts, she was excited to show Agnes the pretty curtains and matching tablecloth that she had sewn for her. Agnes was very touched by the effort that her mother had gone to. Although she was starting to relax and the tension of yesterday seemed to be lifting, she continued to feel hurt by Michael’s behaviour. She needed time to forgive him completely.

  Elsie had enlisted Betty’s help to start clearing the table as Agnes was caught up trying to settle Frances after such a big and exciting day. Elsie was aware that Betty had bee
n trying to talk to her all afternoon, but it had been so busy that there had not been time. She was concerned that Betty might be unhappy in her reasonably new relationship with a very nice fellow named Sam, who just happened to be Brad’s younger brother.

  “Betty, is there something on your mind, darling?” Elsie asked when they had moved away from the table.

  “Mum, I think it’s time I tell Agnes that Sam is Brad’s brother. I’m not sure what she’ll think. She always had such a strange relationship with Brad; I never quite worked it out. Look, we both know that Agnes made the right choice in marrying Michael,” Betty said, “but I’ve often wondered if she has completely dealt with her feelings for Brad. It’s a subject I’m very hesitant to bring up with her.”

  Elsie took Betty by the hand and led her into the kitchen. “You have a right to be happy with Sam, dear. You shouldn’t have to worry about this. He’s very different from his brother. Trust me, I don’t think this would be an appropriate discussion to have today. You can talk to Agnes when we visit tomorrow. She’s asked us out for lunch to finish off all the leftovers from today. No point in mentioning it during the Christmas celebrations. Is that okay with you?”

  Betty looked a little sceptical, but she agreed with her mother. “Yes, that’s fine. But I would still like to be the one to tell her,” she replied.

  The two women returned to the garden to join the others.

  Boxing Day was usually spent quietly recovering from having eaten too much food at Christmas. Joe, Elsie and Betty arrived at Agnes and Michael’s house in the late morning. Agnes had made a salad, and everyone was happy to sit and talk while they waited for it to be served. While her mother and sister prepared the table for lunch, Betty took Frances out to the swing to play. On her way to the garden, Betty touched Agnes gently on the shoulder. “Can we have a chat before lunch?”

  “Give me a minute, and I’ll join you and Frances outside,” Agnes replied.

  Overhearing, Elsie sent Agnes to follow Betty straight away. “Off you go and spend some time with your sister. I’ll finish setting up for lunch.”

  “Thanks, Mum—won’t be long.”

  “What’s on your mind, Sis?” Agnes asked as she approached Betty and Frances, who was squealing with delight at being pushed on the swing.

  Betty continued to push the swing as she looked at her sister. “Agnes, you know that I’ve been seeing Sam for a while now.”

  “I do! So when are we all going to meet him?”

  Betty raised her eyebrows and looked intently at Agnes. “Well, before I introduce you to him, I need to tell you that Sam is Brad’s brother.” Betty watched her sister, trying to read her reaction.

  “Really? I didn’t even know that Brad had a brother… Well, what a small world!”

  “I wanted to reassure you that Sam is nothing like Brad,” Betty added hastily. “He is sweet and a very good person.”

  “Betty, I’m sure that if you are fond of him, he must be a good person. I really never got to know Brad well enough to discuss his family, and the fact that he is so distant with me is just how it is between us. He seems to be happily married now, and I’m pleased for him and his wife. I only want you to be happy now, Sis—it’s your turn.” Agnes gave her little sister a reassuring hug and then scooped Frances up from the swing. “Let’s go and eat more food!”

  “Thanks, Agnes,” Betty said, looking relieved. “Mum’s suggested a meal at her house next week so that you can all meet Sam.”

  “That would be great. We look forward to meeting him,” Agnes said as they walked inside. She had done a good job at hiding her reaction from Betty, but Agnes was a little unsettled. Could the two brothers be so different? She would be pleased to get to know the man her sister was obviously in love with. She felt a little guilty that she had been so preoccupied with her own life that she had not known earlier that Betty was in a serious relationship. Betty was a very private person, and Agnes respected that.

  New responsibilities

  Michael, Agnes and Frances saw in the new year—1936—quietly. Michael had to go out to the sheep station to set up a new shearing contract the next day, and he wanted to spend some time at home before that. He knew his next job would keep him out of town for a couple of weeks. The new contracting boss had put Michael in charge of an old truck and made him responsible for making sure all of the supplies had been delivered to the shed by the time the men arrived to start work.

  Michael had learned to drive some years before, and he really enjoyed travelling about in the truck, even if the vehicle was old and rusty. He had basic mechanic skills, which came in handy if the truck broke down, as it was prone to do.

  The roads around the town of Griffith and its outlying areas were being improved all the time, and even though they were mostly dirt roads, the hot, dry climate helped to harden their surfaces quickly. Michael enjoyed the driving experience. He found it was peaceful; he liked to have the time to himself.

  On the 2 January, Michael set off early to avoid the worst heat of the day, hoping to arrive at the new shed in the late morning. He was only about an hour out of Griffith when he felt the truck start to shudder. Not impressed, he slowed to the side of the road to check the motor. Michael soon found that a hose had worked loose because of the vibrations caused by the rough dirt road, but he was able to fix that problem quickly. He looked over the truck for any other signs of potential trouble but felt it was safe to proceed.

  While he waited for the motor to cool down, he sat in the shade of a roadside gum tree. He loved the land; he had grown up as a town kid in Griffith, but he would seek out every opportunity to travel into the bush. He didn’t have many good memories of the time that he spent with his father, but he did recall a fishing trip when he was about 12 years old.

  His uncle Colin had been the one to suggest the boys’ weekend, and to Michael’s surprise, his father had agreed to go along. They had taken Uncle Colin’s old truck, which was very much like the one he had now. They had arrived at the river in the late morning and set up the camp. Michael smiled to himself when he remembered his uncle pushing his dad into the water when they went to put the fishing lines in. He treasured the memory of his dad’s laugh—he had not heard it very much throughout his childhood. Michael felt the tears in his eyes and shook his head to bring himself back to the present. As he got back into the truck, he said out loud to himself, “Oh, Dad. Why did you waste your life?”

  This was a question that Michael never found the answer to.

  The truck did not let him down again, and three hours later, he arrived at the gate of the sheep station. He proceeded up the dusty track that led through the property, driving slowly past the homestead to try to minimise the dust raised by the tyres of the truck. Michael followed the track for another kilometre, and then he saw the large, imposing shape of the shearing shed glimmering in the early afternoon sunshine. It was surrounded by scrubby gum trees, which did not provide much in the way of shade.

  The yards behind the shed were ready to receive mobs of sheep waiting to be shorn. Michael enjoyed the drive up to the shed; he liked the anticipation of setting up for the shearing season and knew that this was a particularly good shed to work. He liked the smell of the lanolin that lingered there. He was not too keen on the other odours that lingered in the shed, but it was all part of a job he loved. He could see that the sheep had been brought up to the nearest paddock. This was a good sign that he would be working with men who knew their jobs and were well organised. He could see that several men had already arrived and all of them were busy getting set up for the shearing to start the next day. Michael was pleased to see his mate Tom and a few of the other men he had worked with previously.

  “How are you doing, Tom? I hope you’ve managed to stay out of trouble since that episode just before Christmas.”

  “I’m fine. I might be 10 years older than you, mate, but I’m tough. It would take more that those losers to do any real damage to me.” Tom punched Michael on the
arm as he walked past. “Has your missus forgiven you yet? I’d rather face a bunch of drunk shearers than your wife any day!”

  Michael nodded. “Spent a few nights sleeping on the verandah, but we’re all good again, I think.”

  The shearers were pleased to see Michael, especially as he was bringing most of the food for the week, not to mention the beer. There were cries of joy when they saw the beer supply. “You little beauty! Let’s get the beer in the creek to keep it cold. We’ll be into that as soon as we knock off this arvo.”

  The men set about sharpening the shears so that they could start very early the next day. The temper­ature out on the property could reach above 100 degrees Fahrenheit by mid-morning, so they started with the first light and tried to get the quota of sheep shorn by lunchtime. The afternoon was usually spent classing the wool from the morning’s shear and cleaning up to get ready for the next day. The days were exhausting and monotonous, and after the first week, the men usually started to get edgy and cranky.

  To help prevent any aggressive behaviour, it was part of Michael’s job to arrange activities to give the men an outlet and something else to think about. Cricket was a favourite but usually could only be played in the cool of the early evening. Football was good fun too, but again, it was much too hot in the middle of the afternoon. Supervised boxing matches were often arranged as boxing was something most of the shearers were very good at. It was difficult to keep the fights clean and ensure no-one got hurt, however, as these large, strong men often got carried away with the competition. As a result, Michael enlisted Tom’s help to referee the matches as the older man would not take any nonsense from the competitors. They had a tin mug as a trophy, which was passed from one winner to the next, and this became a real incentive for the men to win. Michael had held the trophy a few times, but he really did not like to fight; he only joined in to be part of the group.