by Mandy Magro
It had been seven years, eleven months and two weeks, 2905 days to be exact, since he’d lived life on the other side of these walls, since he’d felt what it was like to go to the toilet in private, brush his teeth when he wanted to, hug a loved one for longer than five seconds, and eat his favourite thing in the world – a juicy steak dripping with creamy mushroom sauce, served with tender steamed veggies and crunchy beer-battered chips. There was so much living for him to look forward to, and so much life to catch up on.
Ronny regarded the letter lying open on the table, and contemplated what lay ahead for him. He knew it word for word, but still, reading it made him feel close to her. He found it hard to believe Lottie had left her property to him – nobody had ever handed him something on a silver platter – and with very fair requests on her behalf. He just hoped he could do her memory proud and make a good go of the place – Sundown Farm was Lottie’s everything. Even though she had left him her life savings it didn’t mean he’d have a tonne of money behind him, although much like Lottie, he shouldn’t need much: he wasn’t a material person and was quite capable of surviving mostly off the land, along with earnings from a job, just as Lottie had used her pension and the money she made from dressmaking. His new life was going to come with its challenges, of course, but the kind he welcomed with open arms. He had faith that he could do it.
He drew in a deep breath then exhaled slowly, readying himself for his walk to freedom. He’d survived life on the inside, now he had to see if he was going to survive on the outside. His heart galloped like a captive horse finally breaking free of its restraints. He’d always been able to cover his inner turmoils and fears well, though, so to any onlooker he’d be the picture of complete calm and composure – a skill he’d mastered from a very young age to avoid another lesson being taught to him by his alcoholic and extremely hot-tempered father. Boys weren’t meant to cry, weren’t meant to show any kind of emotion other than strength, not ever. Looking back on what he and his mother had gone through at the hands of his father, Ronny thought it was no wonder he’d been a rebellious teenager with a massive chip on his shoulder (how his poor grandma, bless her soul, had coped with him, he’d never know). He could also see where his pure hatred of any man who laid a finger on a woman, or took advantage of her, came from. After his years in prison, the chip on his shoulder was long gone, but his instinct to protect a woman? Never.
He stretched out his aching neck and noticed the clock up on the guard tower read 11.15 am. It was time. As if on cue, the loudspeaker crackled to life.
‘Prisoner number 1456 to the rear gates of the prison.’
The yard became still, no man saying a word as all eyes fell upon him. Grabbing his bag of belongings, Ronny stood, the world seeming like it was moving in slow motion as he approached the place he was usually forbidden to set foot in – any other day, the guard on watch would have aimed his rifle at him and shot him if he’d dared taken a step further. But it was his official day of release. Some inmates congratulated him along the way while others eyed him with barely disguised envy. He felt bad leaving some of them behind, but many he couldn’t wait to see the back of.
A guard stepped out to meet him near the gates, and escorted him inside one of the penitentiary buildings to finalise paperwork. This was it. He was going to be a free man. Life would be limitless outside of these walls – he would make damn sure of it.
***
Thirty minutes later, dressed in the jeans and T-shirt his sister had brought last week, Ronny walked through the gates, the sunshine somehow warmer, more embracing, on this side of the prison walls. No more handcuffs, no gun tower, no more numbers on his chest, just the hum of everyday life, and a certain kind of beautiful noise – the pulse of a normal, free, human existence.
The navy blue Commodore that caught his attention was much older than he recalled but the familiarity of it made him smile. He’d had many expeditions in it, including the one to Parramatta that had landed him here in the first place. The driver’s door flew open and the only person still alive who truly cared for him unconditionally ran towards him, her long golden hair flowing out behind her as she threw her arms wide to envelop him. She reminded him so much of their mother. Ronny dropped his bag and embraced her, enjoying the scent of the musk oil perfume she’d worn for as long as he could remember.
‘Hey, sis, it’s so bloody good to see you.’ He pointed to the car. ‘And I see you still have Old Grunter.’
‘Old Grunter has been damn good to me … you’re going to have to fight me to get him back.’ Faith chuckled as she squeezed him tighter, giving him a few hearty slaps on the back, and then let him go, her hands flying to his cheeks as she blinked back tears. ‘It’s bloody good to see you, too, bro.’ She glanced at the prison walls with her intense amber-coloured eyes, eyes that mirrored Ronny’s. ‘And on the other side of them ghastly things. It’s about fricken time. You should’ve never ended up in that shithole in the first place.’ She shook her head. ‘You and your damn hero complex … you don’t need to go saving every damsel in distress, you know.’
Ronny grinned. ‘I know, but I just can’t help myself. Anyway, them’s the breaks. You do the crime you gotta do the time, as they say.’ He grabbed his bag from the ground and tossed it over his shoulder. ‘So what have I missed the past eight or so years … you haven’t secretly married and had seven kids or something, have you?’
Faith gave him a loving slap. ‘Always the joker, aren’t you? I’ve really missed you.’ She entwined her arm in his, giving his bicep a bit of a squeeze as she did so. ‘Far out, did you do anything other than lift weights in there? Your arm feels like a brick.’
Ronny shook his head, grinning. ‘You can just call me Arnie.’ He deepened his already deep voice. ‘I’ll be back.’ He tried to keep a straight face, failing miserably as he buckled over with laughter. It felt so damn good to laugh.
Faith laughed with him, rolling her eyes. ‘You’re a far cry from Arnold Schwarzenegger, Ronny, but in a good way – that man is way too bloated looking, kinda like a puffer fish when you poke it, whereas you, on the other hand, are just right. Boy oh boy, the girls of Bluegrass Bend are gonna love you, and maybe even some of the boys!’ She wriggled her eyebrows cheekily, avoiding his playful slap before tugging him towards his old car. ‘Come on, let’s get you home, Thor – we’ve got so much catching up to do. I’ve just gotta call into the butcher’s on the way so I can grab you that T-bone steak you’ve been craving, and I’m going to wow you with a whiskey cream sauce I’ve perfected too.’
Ronny’s mouth watered. Real food made in a real, love-filled kitchen. Dinner was going to be heaven. Actually, anything not out of a packet or a can – or resembling something that had been scraped off the floor – would be heaven.
‘Whatever you cook wows me, sis, you’re the best cook I’ve ever met.’
Faith smiled and reached up on her tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. ‘I’m honoured you remember my cooking after all these years. You’d hope I was good at it, seeing as that’s what I do for a living now.’
***
Walking through the door of his sister’s Randwick apartment, Ronny breathed a sigh of relief. The world had changed a fair bit in the years he’d been behind bars and as much as he felt blessed to be free, it was a bit overwhelming. He wasn’t used to the whirr and buzz of city life at the best of times, but after years in jail, it was magnified, the distractions coming at him from every direction making his head spin: the smell of takeaway foods wafting from shops; the cars whizzing in every direction; horns and sirens and music blaring; people scurrying down the footpaths and across the roads like they were on fast forward; even Faith’s mobile phone ringing from the dashboard had made him almost hit the roof of her car (which wasn’t hard when he was so close to it). He’d tried to prepare for this moment through meditation and mindfulness, knowing full well it wasn’t something he was going to conquer in a day, but actually doing it in real life was a whole ot
her ball game. It was going to take him a little while to ease back into society, but he wasn’t in a rush to achieve anything, so all in good time.
Standing in the cosy lounge room, he turned around slowly, admiring the bohemian feel of the place. It smelt of incense sticks and scented candles, which suited his laid-back hippy sister down to the ground, and had an awesome view of the park across the road. He was very impressed by the apartment – all the hard work and endless hours Faith put into her trendy tapas-style restaurant at Coogee Beach had clearly paid off. And to top it all, she’d achieved everything on her own, without the help of a man. A lover of her own company and fiercely independent, he doubted she’d ever get married and have children – Faith had always made it quite clear she didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. He, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to have kids.
‘Nice pad, sis.’
‘Thanks, I like it. I’m proud to be able to call it my own – even though the bank owns most of it.’ Faith dropped the grocery bag she was carrying on the kitchen bench along with her handbag and car keys and then pointed down the hall. ‘The spare room is just on your right, you can go and chuck your bag in there if you like while I make us a cuppa.’ She busied herself unpacking the groceries. ‘And I’ll make you something for lunch … you have a choice of a ham and cheese toasted sandwich or some leftover lasagne from last night.’
‘I’ll take a massive portion of your famous lasagne, thanks,’ Ronny said, already heading down the short hall, his six-foot-four frame meaning he had to duck to get through the doorway of the spare bedroom. His heart squeezed tight. Sitting in a stand beside the bed was the Maton acoustic guitar his mother had worked three jobs to save for, the guitar she had given him for his tenth birthday, the one material thing in the world that meant everything to him, and more. He’d known his sister had it, but he wasn’t prepared for the emotion the sight of it evoked.
He picked the guitar up and ran his fingers along the mahogany timber, memories flooding his mind of him and his mum sitting on the lounge together, singing the tunes of Slim Dusty and John Williamson as he strummed away. His mum had always been so loving and so caring. If only he knew then that he wouldn’t have her around for long, he would have hugged her tightly and never let go, and he would have made sure to tell her every single day how much he loved and adored her.
Gently putting the guitar back in its place – he would spend time later tuning it – he placed his bag on the queen-sized, plushly made bed and grinned. He was going to get himself lost in a bed this big, not that he was complaining. To be able to wake up when he felt like it to a day full of endless possibilities equalled pure bliss. Sitting on the bed, he bounced up and down, relishing the fact the bed had give in it, and didn’t creak like it needed an entire can of WD-40. A ceiling fan circled above him, the cool breeze something he was unaccustomed to, and something he welcomed after years of sweating through summers in his jail cell. Through the bedroom window he could see children frolicking in the lush green park, their sweet laughter uplifting. It had been a very long time since he’d seen children playing and it made him think, once again, about how much he wanted his own. It was amazing how many things you took for granted in life until they were taken away from you. He certainly would never take anything for granted ever again.
Lacing his hands behind his head, he lay back and looked around the room, appreciation filling him when he spotted the men’s toiletries neatly arranged on the timber dresser. Faith was always so thoughtful, just like their mum had been. Emotions threatened to overcome him but he allowed the memories of his beautiful mother to float away before the heartache took hold of him, because all he wanted to feel right now was the joy of finally being a free man.
CHAPTER
3
Ronny felt a weight in his chest as he waved goodbye to Faith. She smiled sadly back at him, blowing kisses as the bus pulled away from the kerb. He took one last look at her on the footpath, her resemblance to their mother stirring deep emotions within him. Faith was now the same age as his mum when they lost her. He wished he could reach out and wipe the tears from Faith’s cheeks, and take the ache from her heart. He hated being the cause of her sorrow, but there was no other way. Faith couldn’t live in the country and he couldn’t live in the city. They were only going to be a couple of hours away from each other, but her busy work schedule was going to make it hard for her to visit him, and with him wanting to get a job as soon as possible, it was going to be equally hard for him to make the trip here. Faith had wanted him to take Old Grunter, but he’d told her to keep the Commodore – it was hers now and she needed a car. What kind of brother would he be, taking her only mode of transport when he had a reliable enough car at Sundown? And he had to renew his licence anyway – his previous one had expired while he was in prison. He would give driving a shot once he was home at Sundown Farm, where he didn’t need to worry about running into another car – there was no traffic in the paddocks. He was so grateful Lottie had left him her 1970 model HT Holden Kingswood, a faithful banger. He gathered it would need some work, but at least it would get him from A to B for now, as it had done for Lottie for over forty years. He loved classic cars, and the Kingswood was unquestionably an Australian classic – more like an icon. One day he’d bring it back to all its glory by restoring it. Being a passenger to his destination was a safer choice, and a much more relaxing one too. This way he got to gaze out the window.
Making sure his guitar case was still positioned safely on the empty seat beside him along with the wide-brimmed black hat his sister had given him yesterday – he’d have to rough it up a bit, brand new hats were the worst – Ronny fidgeted in his seat, thankful he had no-one sitting beside him so he could stretch out a little. He’d been like a kid in a lolly shop at Roundyard Western Wear, wishing he could take everything home with him, but having to be careful with money, he’d just gotten the necessities: a pair of boots, a belt with a pouch for his trusty old pocket knife, a few pairs of jeans, and a couple of going-to-town shirts and some blue King Gee ones for work. He looked down at his new RM Williams boots, making a mental note to roughen them up a bit too. Real cowboys weren’t meant to look all shiny and new. He and Faith had also popped into Kmart where he’d grabbed some essentials and a pre-paid sim for the second-hand iPhone she had given him, which, other than understanding how to play music on the damn thing, he had no idea how to use properly but would eventually figure out. In his bag beneath the bus were some of his old clothes from before he’d gone to jail, the ones that still fit him, seeing he wasn’t a scrawny teenager anymore. Faith had kept his stuff in boxes for this very day, all of it now freshly washed and folded. Life was looking up and, man, it felt good to be back in the threads that made him the real country-born-and-bred man he was.
Plugging his earphones into the iPhone, Ronny selected the playlist Faith had made up for him with Slim Dusty, Adam Brand, Troy Cassar-Daley, Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Clancy, Merle Haggard, Hank Williams, George Jones, Alan Jackson, Garth Brooks and Brad Paisley, and hit shuffle. What a line-up of legends! ‘A Walk in the Rain’ was the first song up – the poignancy of the love song giving him goose bumps as he softly hummed away to it. If only he had a woman to sing such beautiful lyrics to. Listening to his country music heroes always inspired him to pick up his guitar – he was looking forward to getting back into his music. He breathed in deeply as he smiled to himself and settled in for the trip. He couldn’t wait to start the next chapter of his life – a chapter of freedom and limitless possibilities in the heart of the iconic Blue Mountains. It was what his dreams were made of, and in less than two hours, it was going to be his reality.
With Sundown Farm needing daily looking after it was a blessing Larry had decided to take Lottie up on her offer and remain there because Ronny was going to need all the help he could get. And thank God for Larry being there for Lottie throughout her battle with brain cancer – it eased Ronny’s guilt at not being able to help her in her greates
t time of need knowing she had someone she was close to by her side. When it came to the farm, Larry was the only one, other than Ronny of course, that Lottie would allow assistance from. Lottie had always been fiercely independent and had hated asking for help, only begrudgingly accepting Ronny’s when he’d turned up on her doorstep with his grandma one Saturday afternoon when he was thirteen years old. That had become a routine every month thereafter until Ronny had gone to jail. The bond he’d formed with Lottie was similar to that he’d had with his mum – the woman who’d never been able to have children of her own gave him unconditional love. It was going to feel strange being at Sundown Farm without her around to keep him on his toes, but he was sure Lottie would still be there in spirit, just as she had promised in her letter. If there was an afterlife, which Ronny believed there was, Lottie wouldn’t be able to keep herself away from the place.
As well as tending to the few farm creatures – two horses, Merle and Hank; three cows that Lottie had bought for killers but then had never been able to bring herself to eat, which she’d named Daisy, Dolly and Daffodil; a half-blind, half-deaf rooster called Nugget; chooks, he’d discover their names later; two ducks, Plucka and Donald; a grumpy old goat called Ned; a Shetland pony inherited from the next-door neighbours; and a retired farm dog, Jessie – and making sure the place was maintained and essentially kept safe until his arrival, Larry had also filled Ronny in on the day-to-day running of the farm and had kept him up to date with photos of the place during his time in prison. Being semi-retired, Ronny didn’t expect much more from Larry, but Larry being Larry, he’d gone above and beyond what was expected of him and had done a lot of work to the gardens. With the help of a few of the CWA women, he’d also tidied up Lottie’s place in readiness for Ronny’s arrival. Ronny felt lucky to have made a mate in Larry many years ago – knowing full well it was a hard thing in life to come across people you could trust. He was looking forward to having a good old yarn and enjoying a few beers with his mate.
