La Strada Da Seguire: The Road to Follow

by Susan Toscan

  After he had arrived in Darwin, Steven contacted the shipping office and found a record confirming that Michael and the nurse had arrived in Darwin in 1942. However, he had no further information with which to track Michael’s whereabouts and was very frustrated. Then one night, as he was sitting in a pub, Steven overheard a conversation about workers being needed on a mango farm just outside of town. Steven remembered a fellow he and Michael had met in Tobruk whose parents had a mango farm in the area. He strolled over and asked about the location of the farm as he might be interested in a few weeks work.

  Steven was feeling relieved about getting this break, and as he drove towards Humpty Doo the next day, he was hopeful that he would finally be able to find his friend. When he reached the farm, he drove up the long driveway that snaked between the rows of lush green mango trees. He saw some workers and asked to speak to the owners of the plantation. He was told to go up to the big house on the hill.

  Steven approached the house and rang the doorbell. An ageing gentleman opened the door. Steven introduced himself and explained how he had lost touch with a friend with whom he had fought in Tobruk. “I heard that he came up this way after he was released from the army. He would have been hard to miss because he’d lost a leg as a result of gunshot wounds.”

  The man looked at Steven closely before he finally spoke. He put out his hand to shake Steven’s hand. “Bernie’s the name,” he said. “There was a bloke with an artificial leg here for about six months—bloody good worker he was too. Seems him and my son were in Tobruk at the same time. Had a real problem with the bottle and God knows what else. He really went on some benders.” The old man shook his head. “A nice bloke, well-liked, but he had some demons to deal with. Had to let him go eventually. His bad habits meant that we couldn’t rely on him. Real pity—good blokes like that are hard to find.”

  Steven tried to contain his excitement. “Do you remember his name by any chance?”

  Bernie rubbed his chin in thought. “Pretty sure it was Mick. Don’t remember his last name though.”

  Steven asked if Bernie knew where Mick had gone once he had left the farm.

  “My son saw him around Darwin for a bit, and then he just disappeared. Some of the other workers told us that he talked about finding work in the sheep country down south.”

  Steven’s heart was pounding. “You’ve been a great help, Bernie; thanks for your time. By the way, I was also in Tobruk with your son. We were pulling out when he arrived, as far as I can recollect. I’d like to pay my respects to him as a fellow soldier if that’s okay? And I also hope that he may be able to tell me where Mick was staying in Darwin.”

  “No worries. Bob will be in that big shed, first turn right. Just go in and ask for him,” Bernie replied, pointing in the direction of the building.

  Steven got back into his car and drove to the shed. He felt sick thinking of the state of mind that Michael must have been in while he was living and working at the mango farm. He must have been so alone without his family in this unfamiliar place. God help him. The poor desperate bastard must have finally lost his mind. Steven was talking to himself and praying at the same time. He thumped the steering wheel in frustration at the waste of a life and at the grief that Michael had caused the people who loved him so much. Steven was sure that even if Michael were to turn up at this late stage, everyone would forgive him—especially Agnes, despite Brad.

  That prick who had married Agnes did not deserve that family. Steven did not like Brad, and he knew that Michael would feel the same.

  He knew that if he found Michael, he would do whatever it took to convince him to go home for the sake of Agnes and the children. Steven was also aware that he’d need to tell Michael that his friend wasn’t even married to Agnes anymore and this would be a great shock to him.

  He just had to find him.

  Steven shook Bob’s hand and introduced himself. He explained that they had met briefly in Tobruk. “Look, mate, I’m desperate to find a friend of mine. He went missing after Tobruk, and I know from army records that he came to Darwin. He went by the name of Mick.” Steven told Bob what he had already learned from Bob’s father.

  Bob nodded thoughtfully. “That’s about it, mate. I didn’t recognise him from Tobruk when he turned up here a few years ago. I had a bad injury to my head, you see, but it felt good to try to help a fellow soldier. He certainly needed help. He was a mess. The leg sure gave him some grief. I think that’s why he hit the bottle so hard.”

  Steven dropped his head into his hands. He felt that he was close to tears. Maybe it would have been best for everyone if Michael had died that night all those years ago. “Did he ever talk about his home and family?” Steven asked.

  “Told us nothing. Wouldn’t talk about anything except work and where the nearest pub was. He was a loner—didn’t mix with the other workers much. Though he did get in with a lot of druggies who worked here for a season. They were harmless enough. They did the work and then blew their dough on powdered stuff that they sniffed. Never could understand that lot!”

  “Bob, your father said that you saw Mick in Darwin after he left the farm. Can you remember where you saw him? Do you recall where he might have been staying?”

  Bob shook his head. “Came across him a few times at different pubs, and he looked like he’d been sleeping rough. He was just a bag of bones last time I saw him. He had those druggie staring eyes—you know, that ‘no-one’s home’ type of look. Too bad, hey? He was a good bloke. Liked him a lot, but he was beyond helping. I can tell you we tried. He just didn’t want to know.” Bob paused to think, a concerned look on his face. Steven knew that he really wanted to help if he could. “Come to think of it, there might be someone who can help you. Don’t know his name, but he hangs around the pubs. I think he might be the one who sells the powder to the druggies. They call the stuff ‘snow’, would you believe? Just ask around in Darwin, and someone will point him out to you.”

  “Bob, that’s great—thank you so much. I’ll start looking for this guy tonight.”

  “By the way, Steven, did Mick really have a family? I always wondered.”

  “He sure did, Bob—the best family you could wish for. A beautiful wife and three great kids who have never understood what happened to him. It’s a real tragedy.”

  “So many lives ruined by that bloody war. Even people who weren’t there have been left to suffer. I’ve done it tough too, mate, but I reckon not as bad as that poor family, God help them.” Bob shook Steven’s hand with tears in his eyes. “Good luck, buddy. I hope that you find him. If you do, give him my regards.”

  Steven drove back to Darwin.

  That night Steven went out onto the streets of Darwin. He was well out of his comfort zone, but he decided to play the part of someone looking to buy drugs. He tried to stay casual. Bob had told him what to ask for to get attention from the right people. His initial enquiries were met with suspicious looks, so he moved onto the next pub along the street. He walked into the bar and ordered a beer. After a few moments, he noticed a shifty-looking character standing next to him at the bar. Finally, the man spoke in a mumbled tone. “Heard that you were looking to score.”

  “You talking to me, mate?”

  “Yep—the word is that you’re looking to buy some snow, that right?”

  “That’s right,” Steven replied. He was trying to remain calm, even though he was nervous and strongly disliked talking to someone who sold drugs. “Do you know who I have to talk to?”

  “Just happen to have some—for the right price, mate,” the man replied. Steven considered the dealer, and something about him made the young farmer think it was all right to ask about his friend. On top of that, he was uncomfortable with deception.

  “Look, mate, I just want to find my friend. I’ll be honest with you—I’m not really interested in the drugs, but I am desperate to find Michael. He was using the name of Mick when he was here last. I think he left the area about two years ago. His health is sh
ot, and his family and friends are all very worried about him. Please help me if you can.”

  At first, the man was defensive. He looked at Steven with suspicion for a few seconds and turned to walk away.

  Steven knew this was his last chance to find Michael, and his desperation was clear in his voice as he shouted, once again, “Please, mate!”

  The dealer turned back and faced Steven again. He seemed to be having second thoughts. He asked Steven where he was staying. “I don’t remember the guy you’re talking about; I haven’t been in the area for long. But I know someone who might. I’ll try to get this fellow to come and see you.”

  Later that night, Steven was leaving his hotel room to get some dinner when a very respectable-looking, smartly-dressed man approached him. “Can I help you?” Steven asked.

  The stranger extended his arm to shake Steven’s hand and said, “Detective McCloud. I think that I might be able to help you. I hear you’ve been asking about a guy called Mick who was here a couple of years ago?”

  “I most certainly have. I’ve been looking for anyone who would remember Mick. I’m trying to trace his whereabouts.”

  Detective McCloud told Steven that Mick had been gaoled a couple of times for his bad behaviour while under the influence of alcohol and drugs. “He never hurt anyone, but he certainly knocked himself around. Last time he was arrested, he told us that he was leaving to head south. A mate of his had found him work at Arkaba Station, a sheep station in South Australia. He had to leave a forwarding address for the courts, but that was two years ago.” The detective took a folded piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Steven. “Here’s the address. I hope you find him—he sure needed help. I just hope that you’re not too late.”

  Steven thanked Detective McCloud. He could hardly contain his excitement despite the fact that every new piece of information he received about Michael made him more and more concerned about his friend’s wellbeing and state of mind.

  It meant a lot more travelling and time, but Steven was determined to find his friend—or at least find out absolutely everything he could about what had happened to him.

  He made arrangements to get to Arkaba Station, which was situated approximately four hours from Adelaide. It was near the Flinders Ranges National Park and would not be easy to get to. He had found out that it was a 40-stand shed and was still operating at full capacity. Apparently it had been hard for the owners to find staff during the war years, and Steven hoped that Michael had stayed there.

  Before he set out, he went to the post office to send Renata a telegram. It simply read:

  Will be away another couple of weeks stop Have good lead and will head to SA stop Will contact you when I arrive stop Love Steven

  There is no past tense here

  Steven hitched a ride with a truck driver as far as Alice Springs and then boarded The Ghan, which would take him to the train station nearest to the Arkaba property. He would then get another truckie to take him to his destination. All of this took five days of weary travelling, but Steven finally arrived at the property and went straight to the shearing shed. It was a huge sheep station, and there seemed to be lots of men around the shed. Steven asked the first group of men that he reached if they knew Michael—or Mick. They told Steven that Mick still worked there and pointed him in the direction of the living quarters.

  Steven was in disbelief that he was finally going to see Michael. He knocked on the door and waited. He could hear shuffling and the sound of someone walking with a heavy limp. The door opened and there, standing before him, was a shadow of the man Steven had once known. Michael looked like a stooped old man. The small amount of hair he had left was almost white, and his skin was the colour of ash. His eyes were sunken, but when Steven looked into those eyes, he saw his friend. Steven noted with shock that Michael was the same age as him—only 34 years old. Michael looked confused, and it took him a minute or so to realise who was standing in the doorway. “How did you find me, mate?” He laughed but without humour. “I knew that you would, eventually.”

  Steven found it hard to speak. “How about I come in and you get me a beer? I suddenly really need a drink.”

  These two men who had known each other so well now felt like strangers. They stood there awkwardly, staring at one another. They had not even shaken hands. “I can’t tell you how worried we have all been, Michael. Why in the bloody hell did you disappear? I am so pleased to see you, mate, but so angry that you didn’t let us help you when you obviously badly needed it.” Steven let some of the emotion that he was feeling flow.

  Michael led Steven into his room. It was neat but bare—almost sterile. A table and some chairs sat near the small kitchen, and there was a couch on the other side of the room. There was also a very well-worn rocking chair by the window. A bedroom led off the main room. Steven noticed one very old and faded photo in a frame. When he looked closely, he saw that it was of Michael, Agnes and the children, most likely taken just before Michael had left for Tobruk.

  Michael looked at his friend intently and shook his head. “I’ve missed you all more than you will ever know, mate. I’ve regretted my decision so many times. I don’t know where to start, Steven. I’ve made some bad choices, and I know that I’ve hurt the people who loved me.”

  Steven felt his anger surge again. “Loved you? There is no past tense here, mate. Those people—like your wife and children in particular—still love you. You idiot, they’ve waited every day for you to return. They’ve been shattered by what you’ve done.”

  Michael held up his hand for Steven to stop. “Please, Steven, don’t… I just can’t hear about them. Just tell me that they are all well and no more.”

  Steven saw red. “How dare you not want to hear about your family after you’ve caused them so much pain? You stupid bastard, your family was the best part of you—and you threw them away. Do not tell me that you don’t want to hear about them. No thanks to you, they are all okay. The kids are great, but Agnes will never recover from losing you. She married again, but she is not happy. Her husband is a prick. No-one likes him. The kids put up with him, but they’re not happy either. How could you have left them the way that you did?”

  Steven was pacing around as he yelled at Michael. He looked up and saw that Michael had tears running down his haggard face. God, he looked awful! Steven put his arm around his friend’s shoulders and just let him cry. He pushed some photos into Michael’s hand and left his friend to look at the faces of the family now lost to him. The man was obviously very ill, and Steven was not happy to see him so upset, but he thought that Michael should at least see photos of Agnes and the children for his own sake.

  Michael put the photos into his top pocket and sat down. He indicated for Steven to do the same. “I have some things to explain to you, my old mate,” he said.

  Steven listened to Michael talk for almost an hour. When Michael finished talking, Steven could only look at this man whose life had been so promising and see the shattered shell of what his friend had once been.

  “I’m dying. My liver’s shot. The cancer was diagnosed a year ago, and I’m running out of time. I guess that I’ve been trying to kill myself from the day that I got shot. I know that you’ll never understand my actions. Nor will Agnes. I do not expect understanding or forgiveness.”

  Michael leaned forward in his chair. “Did I ever tell you, Steven, that my old man was an alcoholic too? He was very violent, and he treated my mother very badly. He ruined her life. I did not want to inflict that kind of suffering on my family. Then to be a cripple on top of that was more than I could bear. I know that I lost my mind back in Tobruk, and there’s been nothing rational about the decisions I’ve made since then. I’ve battled the pain for so long that I don’t have the will to keep fighting. Now the choice has been taken from me.”

  “But, mate, you could have come home; your family would have helped you…” Steven started to say.

  “No! Stop now, Steven. I can’t go back.
I have to live with the hurt that I’ve caused, and between it and the bloody cancer, I’m doomed.” Michael left Steven in no doubt that he could never be convinced to go home.

  Steven stayed with Michael for two days. He was able to observe how very sick his friend was and that his dependence on drugs and alcohol was extreme. His friend did not need to hide it anymore. The other men who worked with Michael actually obtained his drugs for him since he was no longer well enough to get them himself. They told Steven that they knew Mick was dying and that they wanted to help him the best way they could.

  Michael was liked and respected; even the property owners were looking out for him. Steven heard people refer to Michael as ‘a good bloke’, and he knew that somehow his friend had made his mark in the world. Michael’s life had not been totally wasted since he’d returned from Tobruk.

  During their time together, Michael asked Steven to explain what he meant about Agnes’s husband not being liked by her family and friends. “I don’t know what to tell you except that Brad is an unusual character. He’s an extremely jealous man. He makes Agnes’s life very difficult. He is even jealous of her relationship with the kids. Agnes protects the children, but she’s been seen quite often with bruises on her face. She’s certainly not the same happy, free-spirited woman you married. Her spirit has been broken, Michael, firstly by the grief of you not returning and then by the realisation that she’s made a bad choice in getting married again.”

  Steven paused to give Michael time to take in what he had said. He could see the distress on his friend’s face and the tears in his eyes. “Let me assure you, mate, that Renata and I—as well as Elsie and Joe, of course—try to look after her and protect her, but she’s too proud to let us intervene. Maria and Frank are always there for Agnes, and I know that Agnes takes the kids out to the farm quite often. Having friends and family around has helped them all cope over the years.”