romance

Chapter Nine– continued (still Sunday)

Solway appeared to be approaching him across the room. Hans tried not to smile. She still had it. Apparently, the other patrons of the restaurant had noticed that too, as had his waiter, Gretal, who blushed furiously when he cocked an eyebrow at her. She knew the drill, and would not be asking any personal questions.

He glanced pointedly at table four and back at Gretal, who left to see them reluctantly.

‘I’ve got your drinks here,’ he said when Solway reached him. ‘What’s up?’

‘Something’s going on. I’m running on instinct and something is definitely wrong here.’ She held up a hand. ‘Don’t talk, little brother, just listen. I don’t know why you’re reacting the way you are to us or anybody else, but I’m thinking it’s pack mentality. Do you understand me?’

‘Yes, of course I do. I’m not a complete moron.’ He was beginning to find it hard to think again.

‘I’m going to check out the kitchen,’ she said, looking at him carefully. ‘Can I do that?’

‘You could poke your head in there I guess, but don’t get in anyone’s way. I’m sure they already know you’re here.’

‘How’s that?’ She looked curious now.

‘I noticed Gretal sneaking off the first time I came over to see you.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Wow, this is hard. You need to get away from me. I’m starting to lose it.’

‘I’m not though. Don’t you think that’s weird?’ She stared at him. ‘I can’t read you.’

‘What?’

‘I can’t read you. I’m not getting any vibes off you, thought-wise. Never mind. Can you take the drinks over to Bart? He’ll order for us.’

Hans sighed. ‘Sure, Sol. That’s my job. Please don’t upset anyone.’

She winked over her shoulder as she started the walk down the short hall. ‘Why the hell would I do that?’

He sighed again. This time it was much deeper. These people had no idea who Solway and Bart were, and they had no idea of their relationship to him. He’d experienced this before. ‘Just go with it,’ he muttered to himself as he lifted the tray. ‘Just go with it.’

Solway poked her head around the kitchen door, not entering, just as Hans had told her to do. The chef glanced over his shoulder at the movement, then turned around.

‘Can I help you?’

He seemed nice enough, for a chef. Not that she’d had too much to do with chefs but she’d heard some interesting stories from Hans about them over the years.

‘I’m with Hans,’ she explained.

‘Alright? Did you need to see anything, or is there something I could help you with?’

‘That’s very accomodating of you, but we don’t work together.’ She smiled. It was obviously what he’d thought.

‘Oh. Okay. Just doing a little private tour then?’ The chef’s mouth turned up at the corners. He seemed friendly enough.

‘Is that okay?’

‘Sure.’ He glanced down at her feet. ‘Don’t come in too far. You’re not really dressed for it and he’s already gone off at someone today.’

That was when Solway noticed the little kitchen-hand, who had turned around and was staring at her in a very odd way.

Well this is interesting, she thought.

‘I’m Solway, by the way,’ she said to the chef.

‘Fennel. I’d shake your hand but I’m kind of busy.’ He waggled his eyebrows at her and she chuckled.

‘That’s okay. Can I just watch for a while?’

‘Doesn’t bother me at all.’ He smiled again. As long as you don’t ask too many personal questions.’

‘You’ve been working with Hans too long,’ Solway laughed. She’d almost said “brother” but for some reason restrained herself. It probably had something to do with the teeny tiny kitchen-hand. There was some serious moodiness coming from that direction. The other staff looked a little curious, but that one… she was something else again.

‘I probably have,’ replied Fennel, bringing her back to herself. ‘He’s a good man, but he needs to get back to what he should be doing.’

‘Oh?’ Solway frowned.

‘He’s been with us for over a month now.’

She must have looked confused. She certainly felt that way.

‘Every day,’ he added.

‘Oh!’ That didn’t sound good. ‘Have you lost some people?’

Fennel’s eyes narrowed and he turned back to the stove. ‘He hasn’t spoken with you then. I might have overstepped.’

‘It’s okay,’ Solway replied. ‘I’ll ask him myself. I’m just so used to seeing him doing his thing I didn’t even think it was unusual.’ She crossed her arms and leant against the door jamb, trying not to frown. Hans was running several restaurants and needed to be checking in on all of them at least once during the week to make sure standards weren’t dropping. Staying in one place would not be helping him run the business at all.

The chef looked slightly relieved as he flicked a tea towel over his shoulder. ‘Did you want to try some of this sauce?’

‘Well, of course I do,’ Solway smiled.

She glanced at the kitchen-hand again. The way her head was angled suggested she had been listening very carefully and that glare Solway had received upon first entering had been quite “odd”. The woman hadn’t tried to hide it and the only reason this could be happening was because she had the hots for Hans.

What an interesting situation indeed.

‘Why hello there,’ said Solway brightly. ‘How are you?’

Fennel shot a quick glance at her and then at the kitchen-hand. Solway heard him sigh.

The tiny person turned around and put down the tea-towel she’d been holding, which was when Hans decided to ruin everything. He poked his head over her shoulder, making her jump, and she turned, nearly bumping noses with her brother.

‘What are you doing,’ he hissed.

‘I’m meeting the staff. Why?’

‘Has she been bothering you Fennel?’

‘Not me,’ said Fennel.

Hans frowned. ‘Come on maggot, let’s get you back to the table.’

‘You are no fun at all,’ muttered Solway as he escorted her from the kitchen. ‘Wnho’s the person at the sink?’

‘The new kitchen hand?’

‘Yes. The tiniest woman in the world is doing your dishes.’

Hans laughed once, quite loudly as he sat her back down next to Bart. ‘She’s not that small.’

‘OOoOOOOOhhhhh.’ Solway grinned at him. ‘Have we got the hots for someone?’

‘I’m working you idiot.’

‘Bart. Hans has got the hots for someone.’ Solway grinned toothily at her partner.

‘No, I don’t.’ Hans said calmly. ‘Stop it. You aren’t going to get me into trouble, obviously, but you are going to set off the rumour mill if you keep this up.’

‘Yay.’ Solway clapped her hands.

Bart frowned at her thoughtfully. ‘I’ve never seen you like this before.’

Hans glanced at him. ‘I haven’t seen it for quite a few years myself, but she was usually right about something, which…’ He glared at Solway. ‘…We are not going to discuss now. Alright?’

‘Fine.’ She felt like pouting but she didn’t. ‘You need a replacement for you-know-who though, and it’s been a long time.’

‘Not now, I said.’ Hans stepped back from the table. ‘Drink your water. I’m bringing over some appetisers for you as soon as they’re ready.’ He scowled. ‘Which should be now.’

Solway watched him leave. She was pretty sure he was trying not to stomp.

‘Ahem,’ said Bart.

‘Ahem?’ She giggled.

‘Tell me what’s going on.’

‘You’re going to love this.’ Solway leaned across the table. ‘I don’t know whether you’ve noticed this, Bart, but my brother is slightly good looking.’

‘I’ve noticed,’ he said dryly. ‘We’ve been together a while now.’

‘What? That makes it sound like you’ve been with my brother for a while. Should I be jealous?’ Solway laughed.

Bart smiled. ‘You know I didn’t mean that. Why the heck, and I’m not complaining mind, I’m just curious, are you acting like someone in their twenties?’

She thought about it for a moment. ‘I suppose that’s when he started getting all that attention. I would have been around twenty five and looking at changing careers, so he’d have to be around twenty.’

‘Okay? Explain it to me. I’m very curious about the way your mind is working at the moment.’

‘What happens is he sometimes gets really pissed off that people notice him, and sometimes he gets really pissed off they don’t. Sometimes, back then, if I was there, people seemed to get really pissed off with both of us. I am seriously sounding like a kid right now.’

‘Why would people get pissed off with the both of you though?’ Bart looked confused. ‘That doesn’t make any sense at all.’

Oh stop lying. How did you feel when you first met my brother?’

‘Ohhh.’ Bart remembered it well. ‘I was jealous, okay? I don’t know why. I hoped to God he was your brother, but it was like… It’s hard to explain.’

‘There we go. I suppose it’s some kind of instinctive thing, like you feel you need to compete. But, guess what…’ She couldn’t help herself. There was a big giggle inside and it was going to come out very soon.

‘What,’ asked Bart.

‘The leprechaun in the kitchen doesn’t know we’re related yet.’

‘The leprechaun in the kitchen? What the hell are you talking about?’

Solway swore the sound Bart started making was like a jiggler on top of a slow cooker. It made her own cackling louder.

‘There’s a staff member in the kitchen who looks like she wants to murder me.’

Bart stopped jiggling and looked confused. Then his face cleared and he slapped the table.

‘Ha! That’s what you’re talking about! This is awesome. We could sell tickets!’

‘I know!’

‘I hope you two are enjoying yourselves, acting like teenagers.’ Hans stood over them with two very well presented plates. ‘I really don’t want to kick you out, but I will if I need to.’

That very possibly made them both laugh a little louder than they should have.

‘Another beer, my good man,’ Bart said bravely.

‘Make it two,’ said Solway.

‘Fuck my life,’ said Hans.

Chapter 4 continued…

The slamming of the back door had Hans turn around just as he’d been contemplating why they didn’t colour skip bins purple, and why it should be a thing.

It was Fennel.

‘How did it go,’ asked Hans.

Fennel sighed, ‘Well, we do need someone in the office occasionally, and she does have a background in admin, but…’ and he held up a finger. ‘She doesn’t know the first thing about, well, anything to do with hospitality.’

‘Then stick her at the sink.’ Problem solved, thought Hans.

Yeah, no, that’s not going to work because we specifically want someone to replace you, Hans, which is –‘

‘Highly unlikely,’ finished Hans. ‘After all, I’m irreplaceable. Obviously.’

‘Not really the point, mate. You have a lot on your plate, and you can’t be in several places at once. Besides that, she’s… Well, I’m not sure whether she’s Canadian or American. She didn’t say.’

‘Surely you could have figured that out from her resume.’

‘It’s a little vague.’

‘I’ll look at it later. What’s the problem with being Canerican?’

‘Canerican?’

‘Yeah, Canadian American. What’s the issue?’

‘For starters, she’s completely bamboozled by temp checks.’

‘Why the fuck would that be a problem? You take the temp gun around, check the temps, and let people know if there’s a variance. You know the drill, Fennel. Too hot, too cold, oh-no-its-broken. It’s not fucking hard.’

‘It is when you don’t do Celsius.’

That stopped Hans from stalking back and forth across the courtyard. ‘I didn’t think of that. But still, whjy would that be an issue?’

‘She’d need to learn what the correct temps are supposed to be. which isn’t difficult when it’s all written down, that’s true. But… She just couldn’t understand why it’s important. Kind of blew me off, to be honest, and I did not like that.’

‘That doesn’t sound good. So, you took her around the whole place then?’

‘Yep, we did the full walk. I ran her through everything basically. Obviously not going to be cooking. Turned her nose up at kitchenhanding, which is sorta kinda understandable but not at the same time. Really wanted to be in the office and that’s about it.’

‘No good to us then.’ The mix of relief and disappointment Hans felt confused him. ‘I mean, we could use her as an accountant but if she doesn’t understand, or doesn’t want to understand how the place is run, that’s no good to me. Tell her we don’t have anything then.’

‘Yeah, about that.’ Fennel scratched his head. ‘She’s really not taking no for an answer. She wants to talk to you before she goes. Kind of insisted.’

Hans frowned. Something smelled fishy about this whole thing. He made a decision.

‘Okay listen, I’m not going to talk to her alone. It’s just a feeling I’m getting, okay?’

‘What’s going on?’

‘I need to tell you something. I’ve met this woman before.’

Hans explained the entire scenario from the other evening while surreptitiously leaning against the back door of the building so no one could wander out. Fennel grabbed a milk crate and sat down. He took off his kitchen cap and scratched his head.

‘So, what you’re thinking is she’s some kind of… what?’

‘A plant. I think she’s a plant. This is a cutthroat business, Fennel, and a lot of the hospitality mobs don’t like me much. After all, where they’ve failed, I’ve succeeded, and I have acquired a few places in a reasonably short amount of time, as you know.’

‘Are you sure you’re not being overly suspicious,’ asked Fennel. ‘After all, there are a lot pf people trying to get work, and they do not care what area they work in. Maybe she’s just not used to having to step down to our level. You know, us lowly plebeians who serve people like her… It must be odd begging for employment in a place like this.’

‘I should be offended by that, but I’m not,’ Hans replied. ‘Mostly because it’s true. I’m still not seeing her alone though.’

‘Sook,’ said Fennel. ‘Okay, let’s go.’

If Hans had been anything other than human at that moment, his hackles would be rising. This while situation didn’t feel right at all.

^^_______O_______^^

When they walked back out to front of house there was another woman standing at reception. She was talking to the waiter.

‘You will give me a job, yes,’ she demanded. ‘Where is your boss?’

Oh dear, thought Hans. What the fuck is going on today?

‘Off you go,’ he said quietly to the staff member. ‘I’ll handle this.’

She gave him a relieved look and wandered further down the bar to polish some forks. Hans tried not to smile. He didn’t blame her for wanting to hang around.

‘Can I help you,’ he asked politely.

This new woman smiled at him, which was too bad for her because he’d already seen how she treated the staff.

‘Hello, sir,’ she said. ‘I am looking for work and you will employ me, yes.’

‘No,’ said Hans. ‘I’m sorry, this is the hospitality industry, and we like our people to be hospitable.’

‘I have many years experience.’

‘I don’t care.’

It was like watching someone turn into a monster. ‘You will employ me or I come back with family and dine here and you will be nice and a slave to us.’

Hans rubbed his chin. ‘No. I don’t think that will happen.’

‘Why not.’ God, if she stamped her foot, he’d start laughing.

‘Because, from this point on, you’re banned.’ He pointed at the CCTV.

‘Hell will rain down on you and your loved ones and you will be destroyed,’ she screeched.

Hans could not believe it. He actually needed to physically escort her from the building. He was rather glad he was the owner because anyone else would have been sacked for “touching someone” even if it were to remove them from the building.

‘What the fuck was that,’ Fennel asked as he came back into the dining room, straightening his shirt.

Hans shook his head. ‘I think it’s going to be one of those days, Fennel. Don’t go anywhere, we still have the Canerican to deal with.’

She was sitting in the office and curling her hair. That is not coming off as particularly professional, Hans thought. Just kill me now.

Fennel stood in the corner and crossed his arms.

‘I feel like I’m at the Inquisition,’ said the Canerican.

Hans pursed his lips and tried not to smile. ‘I’m sorry. Fennel just brought to my attention a couple of things, and I’d like to get them out of the way before we move on.’

‘Okay?’ She frowned slightly.

‘How badly do you need work,’ he asked.

‘Quite badly.’ She smiled. ‘I’m on a work visa, and my other job fell through. My plan is to continue with this until I get naturalised.’

‘That’s very honest of you.’

‘It’s the truth.’ She shrugged.

Hans tried not to curl his lip at the casualness of her body language. ‘So, you won’t mind working in the kitchen when you’re not doing the books.’

‘Hans,’ muttered Fennel. ‘We still need a restaurant manager.’

‘I can do that,’ said the woman quickly. ‘The restaurant manager thing.’

‘Do you know about Silver Service,’ asked Hans.

‘No. But, I can learn.’

‘Unfortunately our restaurant manager needs to know all those things immediately to be able to run our restaurant,’ Hans said quietly. ‘It’s not something one can just walk into, regardless of how good you are.’

‘Oh,’ said the Canerican. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘Most people don’t. To them, things just happen like magic and everything’s grand… Which is great because that means we’re doing our jobs.’ He stared at her. ‘Frankly, you’re quite useless to me. so I don’t even know why I’m considering this.’

‘Hans…’ said Fennel again.

‘Put her on a three day trial,’ said Hans as he left the office. ‘In the kitchen. Unpaid. Take it or leave it,’ he said to the Canerican on his way past. He didn’t wait for a reply.

What the fuck and he just done? Insurance wouldn’t cover this. Why the fuck had he done it?

‘Fuck my life,’ he muttered.

to be continued…

Red Sky Morning, continued.

~~~~~~,~’~~~~~.~’~~80>

Solway called Tony Herbet at approximately eight thirty a.m.

He did not answer on the first ring, or the third ring, but rather on the seventh or ninth ring. Just long enough for Solway to wonder why he was not physically attached to his phone like everyone else in the modern day world seemed to be.

He also did not answer phones politely.

‘What,’ came the smokey, bourbon-soaked voice from the other end of the phone.

‘It’s Solway,’

‘Good for you.’ He sounded shifty.

‘Solway Endersans. We were in the swim team together.’

‘What year?’

‘There was only one year that mattered, you daft bastard.’

‘Okay good. That’s me, then. Who are you?’ Something clicked and a long slow breath hushed into her ear.

‘It’s… Oh for fucks sake, Tony. Do you do whatever it is you do, still, or not.’

‘That does not make any sense to me, and I don’t know what you’re talking about, and, I have to say I presently am doing things in a very dressed up way for the meaning of life in various countries so do not ask why I am dreaming this up as I go along.’

‘Are you drunk?’ Solway tried to wipe the grin from her face but was not succeeding.

‘Not at the moment, which I am not happy about, but I should be. What time is it?’

‘It’s eight thirty.’

‘Well, there goes that appointment. To what do I owe the pleasure, Solway?’

‘You could have started with that, for one. What are you doing today, Tony?’

‘Is this a trick question and do I need to call my lawyer?’

‘No, to both of them.’

‘Then I am probably free.’ 

‘Fabulous. Do you still fly?’

‘Yes.’ A sound like papers being shuffled echoed down the line. ‘Light planes only, nowadays, and it’s a very expensive pastime and I usually take clients for that very reason. As you can probably tell, I have lost about ten thousand dollars already today, but I do have a tank full of fuel so I may as well blow it on whatever hairbrained scheme you are going to start trying to sell to me. Annnnnd, go.’

‘My boyfriend is stranded in the middle of nowhere.’ Solway crossed her fingers.

‘That seems a very good reason for me to be flying today.’

‘I’m glad you think so. There are no airstrips nearby. Well, not where I left him anyway.’

‘What’s your point?’

‘My point?’ Solway pursed her lips. ‘I just need to know if the area has been flooded or not, and if perhaps you could spot him for me.’

‘No problem. I think. Do you have the coordinates?’

‘No.’

‘Not helpful, Solway.’

‘I can show you the aerial map though, and I can give you road names, which is obviously not going to help much, considering you’re flying.’

‘You would be amazed at what I can do when given the opportunity. I can work with that. Are you coming to me, or do I need to come to you?’

‘Whereabouts do you live now?’

Things seemed to be looking up today, Solway thought. Tony only lived about twenty minutes away, although he had requested forty-five to get to her, which, in Solway’s head, was cutting into the time she should be spending with Hans getting a suitable four-wheel-drive, and the right type of air-compressor. She sighed.

Sometimes, she decided, she should possibly rely on other people to be able to think for themselves. Hans had already proven that to her early this morning when he had made her a perfect cup of coffee, and two pieces of toast that were not in the slightest bit burnt.

Definitely looking up, that’s for sure.

11/ Slopes

There is only so much one can do when camping on the side of a hill. The first thing one usually finds out is there are no flat surfaces.

Bart wondered how he had not found this out sooner. He admitted to himself that, when he had put the swag under the only wattle bush on this slope – which was possibly a lie, but he knew what wattle bushes were like by now and had decided to grow fond of them, he’d put it (the swag) facing up/down and had realised at some point during the night (when he had not thought he was a possum) his head was likely facing in the wrong direction. It had not occurred to him to turn the swag around – just himself, which hadn’t been comfortable, as the swag was definitely not built for that.

So, with great aplomb and little else, he looked around for somewhere better to put the swag.

The sun peeked through the clouds at him every now and again, just for fun, but it did not rain again. Unfortunately, because the weather seemed to be at that time of year where it hadn’t decided what it wanted to be yet, it had now become decidedly humid, and Bart, standing in the middle of a clearing by the side of a track, for the first time in a very long time, was contemplating removing his shirt.

This was not a choice he’d be making lightly, although the removal of said shirt would likely result in the word “lightly” having a completely different meaning.

‘I wonder what colour of floury or pasty I will be,’ he wondered, for he did not usually look at himself too much when having a shower, and had not considered what exposing certain parts of himself to sunlight might mean. That he’d never been described by anyone as floury or pasty (because they didn’t know what it meant) did not enter the equation.

Then, he wondered, if he did expose himself to the elements, if someone would turn up just as he was removing his shirt and think they had come across some kind of bushman peep show, because that might actually happen, and he was slightly concerned by that.

And then he wondered, if he was going to consider doing any filming at all, because he had actually been thinking about using his time wisely this morning, if waltzing around pale and shirtless like Gollum from Lord of the Rings would send the right message to people who wanted to go camping.

The answer to that was possibly not. Bart looked at the rest of the clothes he had packed. One t-shirt faded orange, two fleecy long sleeves too hot, one…

‘Bugger me,’ he said as he pulled the existing long sleeve over his head to put on the tee.

No one turned up. It was quite a let down. Orange had never been his colour, so he put it down to that.

Now, he thought to himself, scratching himself under the chin, I could either have a shave or I could set up the camp table on the least slopey-slope bit here somewhere, or perhaps get the shovel and see if I can dig one side of the table into the dirt a bit, and okay I’ll do that because I’m getting rather peckish, but first I need to water some shrubbery.

He rubbed his hands together and grinned. If he was lucky he might occupy himself for the entire morning and never even know how much time had passed although passing something right now would probably be a very good idea.

Off he wandered into the bush.

 He didn’t get lost once.

After Bart had set up the table, made himself a lovely cup of tea, and eaten a couple of boiled eggs (which had taken far too long to cook, in his humble opinion) he wandered down to the closest puddle, avoided looking for that fairy wren’s feather, and decided to check out his own reflection to see if he had become any more handsome in the last twenty-four hours.

He definitely needed to brush his hair. His mother would have admonished him severely by now and called him Mr Fluffy because Jesus Christ, what the hell had he done to deserve this? The bags under his eyes and the wildness of his, still-short-enough, beard were not going to get him on the front page of any magazines soon, that’s for sure.

Sunglasses. That’s what he needed. And a plastic surgeon, but he wouldn’t find one of those around here, and possibly a barber who had an excessive amount of hair gel available at half price, because that was gonna be the only thing that could fix his hair, and …

Sunglasses and a hat. His floppy hat, which had so kindly protected him from the elements, had been lost the previous day under circumstances his tired old brain no longer wished to think about. Therefore (and here he grinned, remembering a childhood maths teacher) he would have to see if Solway had left one of her many peaked caps in the fourby.

He also wondered, and not for the first time apparently, whether it might be a good time to have a shave, as having whiskery bits in humid weather could be extremely uncomfortable and he might get a rash, and nobody wanted that, least of all him, so if he was particularly lucky (not something he considered himself to be under the current circumstances) he might find a razor that perhaps, just perhaps, Solway had left behind, because that woman seemed to shave her legs under very strange conditions sometimes  and who knew, perhaps his luck would change, at least for today.

‘Right then.’ Bart stood up, didn’t trip over anything, and began to sort himself out.

He only questioned himself once or twice over the next four hours as to why he was so concerned about his appearance, but then reminded himself if he really did want to take some good footage, he should probably look a little bit professional, for a change.

You might think this is rolling out in a bad way…

But this is why it is best to read something in its entirety, not just in pieces.

Either way, it’s never what you think it is.

While Bart relaxed comfortably on his camp-chair eating breakfast, Solway  inspected the tyres. Her legs poked out from under the vehicle like two popsicle sticks and a language he’d never heard before started floating back towards him. Maybe it was time to offer some help.

Snatching the last piece of bacon out of the cooling frypan, he plodded towards her elastic-sided boots. ‘What’s happening?’

‘Very bad things, that’s what.’

‘Do you want me to have a look?’

‘Grab my legs, will you?’

Solway’s voice sounded almost as crispy as the bacon. He shoved it all in his mouth as quickly as possible, looked at his greasy fingers, decided if he was going to wipe them on anything it would be her jeans, not his, and grabbed her legs just above her fuzzy explorer socks. ‘Won’t you get sand in your hair if I drag you out like this?’

‘I honestly don’t care.’

‘Okidoki then.’

Bartholomew Branson was many things, but coordinated was not one of them. His act of pure power, dragging Solway out from under the four wheel drive, ended up with him falling backwards into the native grass on the edge of the track, one of Solway’s feet lodged neatly in his crotch, and hysterical laughter coming from the woman attached to the other end. He smiled happily to himself. This was the sound he always aimed for when it came to Solway. It took a lot to get her to crack a smile, so hearing her laugh made him think that, occasionally, just occasionally, he could do the right thing.

She rose from the sand and started scratching twigs and clumps of dirt from her beautiful blonde locks. Her smile faded almost immediately. ‘I should’ve put on a beanie,’ she muttered.

‘You can’t get everything right.’ Bart rose from the ground himself, just not quite as majestically as she had. ‘What’s wrong with it?’ He nodded at the vehicle.

‘Oh you know. Everything.’ She sighed. ‘No, it’s not that bad. I just had to pull what looked like half a forest out from underneath it, but I blame myself for that one. After all, I was the one who decided we couldn’t wait.’

‘I didn’t try to stop you,’ he reminded her gently.

‘I know, but you know I wouldn’t have listened anyway. The back wheel’s fucked. I wasn’t wrong about that. That branch pierced the sidewall, so it’s not just a puncture. We could patch it up with some duct tape I guess but there’s absolutely no air in it, so even if we got back out to the bitumen, we wouldn’t get very far.’

‘What if we…,’ Bart gazed around at the scenery. ‘Never mind.’

‘What if we what?’

‘Oh I saw this tv show once where the guys filled the tyres up with spinifex just to keep going, but they were in different country to this, and I just can’t see what we could use here.’

‘Sounds like a perfect way to start a fire,’ Solway muttered.

Bart frowned. ‘They stopped driving when the tyres started smoking which, as you know, is a pretty good indicator a fire is about to start — so that didn’t happen, Solway. Look, why I’m arguing with you about a tv show, I don’t know. What I do want to know though, is this. Are you going to let me help you or not.’

She dusted off her jeans, not meeting his gaze. ‘I’ll walk back for help.’

‘What?’ Surely he wasn’t that useless? He’d eaten all the bacon. Now he felt like a piece of toast.

‘I’ll walk back for help. Okay, not back, forwards.’ She turned and pointed eastwards, then traced the air with a finger. ‘This track circles towards the road in a couple of k’s and I can head down that way. I think there’s a siding not too far along, so I’ll probably be able to get someone to help us from there.’

He cleared his throat. ‘Right. Well, that sounds sensible.’ It sounded a lot more sensible than he felt at the moment. 

Sick was how he felt. Sick to the stomach. And, very upset, if truth be told. He’d never felt like bursting into tears before, aside from that time in year five when some kid had stolen his school bag but right now, it seemed like something had just broken in Bart Brand’s soul, and he did not know how to fix it.

‘Not that I know how to fix anything,’ he muttered.

‘Sorry?’

‘Nothing.’ He turned away. ‘Nothing at all. I suppose you want me to stay here and look after our belongings just in case someone turns up, and all that sort of thing.’ He adjusted his jeans. They seemed a little looser, but that was possibly because he’d slept in them all night.

‘Yes please.’

He glanced back as Solway pulled a backpack over the backseat.

‘Could you find me a water bottle, please,’ she asked.

‘Sure,’ Bart said quietly. ‘No problem.’ He headed for the back of the vehicle.

‘Thanks,’ she said.

He didn’t bother answering. He didn’t see the point.

Popcorn (continued). Bunyip of the Blackwood

Before I do the old copy/paste thing, I’ll tell you that a little voice inside my head told me I am tempting fate. I’m not tempting fate, mate. I am fate. Pull up your pants and let’s get on with it.

~~~~,~’~~~,~’~80>

Bart opened his eyes to a grey light creeping into a silent sky and a desperate need to relieve himself. The hardly visible glow of dawn made it almost impossible to make out their new surroundings. The previous night, aided by the vehicle’s brake lights, Solway had placed his swag in the wheel rut on one side of the track and now he quietly unzipped it, struggling to release himself like a rotund terrier from a rabbit-hole as he felt for his boots. You never knew if a little bitey would make a home in your footwear when you were sleeping rough, and it didn’t matter what you did — if you didn’t check, it would happen. He shook the boots vigorously yet as silently as possible, unwilling to wake his sleeping partner, then grabbed a nearby twig to poke in them as well.

Solway’s soft fluffy snores from the other single swag made him smile, but he didn’t let it distract him. He really needed to take a piss. Pulling on his boots, Bart stepped off the track.

Due to the fact the sun had not yet risen, and daybreak really seemed to be taking its bloody time, it remained dark under the low canopy of trees. Bart slowly stepped over saplings and dropped branches, flapping furiously at the stickiness of unseen cobwebs. He stopped. Should he face away from the road or towards the road when he went to the loo. Did it matter? There didn’t seem to be anyone else here, aside from a distant raven heralding the oncoming daylight. The track, once they’d come off the hill, had been terribly overgrown. Once again, Bart assumed it to be highly likely no one had been this way for a very long time. He could hear the gurgle of running water not too far away and shivered in response, then heaved a sigh of relief as he began to water the plants.

The sun was rising. Wattle bushes began to take shape before his eyes and tiny, unseen birds started to chirp. Solway had told him in order to get a real good feel for a place you had to take in all the sights, sounds, smells and be aware of what local wildlife to look out for. It made better footage, she said, if you at least tried to sound like you knew what you were talking about. He couldn’t smell anything except for the acrid stench of his own piss and he couldn’t see the bloody birds. He had no idea where they were. 

Somewhere in the trees, he thought. Which isn’t helpful.

A heavy thump reverberated through the soles of his boots. If he could explain it as a bang, he would have, but it was not a bang it was a really big thump and he didn’t know what the fuck it was and, if it could be anything alive, why he didn’t hear it again, or which direction it had come from.

It was not a kangaroo. Of that he was ninety seven point nine five and a bit positive.

Kangaroos jumped when they weren’t grazing. If he’d heard a kangaroo, or disturbed one, or whatever, it would have made more than one thumping sound, that’s for sure.

It wasn’t a branch. If it had been a falling branch, it would have had to have fallen from a very big fucking tree, and there were no trees big enough to make that sound.

Bart realised he’d been spraying the surrounding scrub as he’d turned, searching for whatever the hell it was and somehow, he’d become a sprinkler system and it didn’t matter. He needed to know where the fuck that sound came from — and the cracking sound that had just happened behind him. He lurched around again, tripped over the low bush he’d been pissing on, and landed on his arse on something decidedly prickly.

‘What the hell are you doing,’ Solway asked from above his head.

He let go of his dick. ‘Nothing?’

‘You are a fucking weirdo sometimes, Bart,’ she said, pointing a roll of toilet paper at him. ‘Do you need the shovel?’

He pulled up his fly and got to his feet. ‘No thanks, I’m good. Go do your thing. I’ll just head back to the Landy.’

The sun had fully hitched itself over the horizon as he reached the sand – the long shadow created by the four-wheel-drive nearly reaching his swag. His heartbeat began to slow as he opened the back door and started searching for something to eat, then the hush of footsteps on the track had him looking over his shoulder at Solway’s grinning face.

‘Hungry, are ya?’

‘I’m a tad peckish, yes. He pulled a cardboard box towards himself. ‘Did we bring milk?’

‘We did, it’s in the…’ She looked him up and down. ‘Are you trying to distract me?’

‘No?’

‘What happened back there, Bart?’

‘I heard something. God, I sound like a little kid in an American movie. Did you hear something?’

She smirked and shook her head. ‘Just you, falling all over the place. What scared you?’

‘Nothing? Okay,’ he sighed as she raised one perfect eyebrow. ‘Look, I know what roos’ sound like, and I know it wasn’t a roo, okay? I don’t even think there are roos’ around here. It was just one big thump, I didn’t know what it was, I got spooked, and then you turned up.’

She grinned again. ‘Are you going to get that box out of the back of the vehicle, or are you going to balance it there on the edge of the seat forever.’

‘Oh come on,’ he muttered. ‘I was pulling it out from under that friggin’ blanket when you turned up, and I am just about to remove it, if you’ll just give me a bloody minute and if you like, I’ll take it back to wherever it is you want to set up the camp oven. How’s that?’

‘That’s great,’ she replied, smiling even wider. ‘But you could have waited until I’d pulled out the table and set that up before taking out that bloody box. So, I guess you’re hungry.’

Bart sighed again, so deeply he felt his shoulders rise and fall. ‘I am hungry, okay? I got a fright, and I just want a biscuit, a cuppa coffee, and a sit, alright?’

‘That’s fine.’ Solway gave him a hug. ‘I’ll grab everything and get the kettle going. Why don’t you grab a bickie while I set it all up.’

“Listen very carefully …”

‘I will say this only once.’

Too many times I have been approached, and each and every one I have turned down.

The hand I offer you is the right one. This is the hand my brothers and sisters use to help me up, and this is the hand I use to help them up. I am quite capable of using this hand, but don’t ever take it for granted. It’s only a helping hand. Every one that tries to see something in me I am not, will be turned away. That is all there is to it.

Do you understand this now? My playing with you never goes beyond that. I have never gone back on my word. I will not do it now, not for you, not for anyone. If I give you safe harbour, this is what you must understand. Deceit does not go hand in hand with the destination. This is what I have been teaching with my brothers and sisters, and this is what I’m telling you now. I have never taken, nor will I ever take, advantage. I will not seek others either, for that just isn’t my way.

I hope this makes it clear to you. My life is my own, but my left hand is the one I will always be with, because that is also my strong hand and I’m quite attached to it. He is my partner, my life and has always been my destination. He loves me, and I love him, and although this changes over the years, I am not planning on leaving my life partner.

Over the years, when I have had to move my ring to a different finger because that finger was too fat (I am so not kidding, it was being ring-barked) I had far too many come to me and ask things they should not have asked. Even with the ring on the correct finger, I have had far too many come to me and ask things that should not have been asked. When they begin to realise this, they might begin to understand. I can play a part, sure, but you’re not going to get any more than that, and I’m not going to do anything like that for you. It’s highly likely you will be treated as the fool you are, if they think this is possible.

They are not nice people.

My friends are not my enemies. They know me very well, and so they know that here I speak the truth. Not too many can say this, and I have understood their pain. These are my brothers and sisters. They move with me towards something that is a lot more pleasant than what is not us.

So, my last question to you is this;

‘Are you happy?’

You say you are happy. This is good. It’s time for you to go, and be happy, like you said you were.

This is the time for me to say to my son, ‘Lead the way.’

He will learn this, too. And he will lead the way.

Don’t be concerned by that. When he leads, he will not be any of the things that make him bad. Not at all. When he leads, he will have a destination, and that is what is important to all of us.

Rising of the Sun

I will show you this story in his true form, for this is who he is.

Let me guide through the long grass. Can you see him up ahead? This is my Brother. He waits for the sun to rise between the two hills, and he has been waiting for a very long time for his sister to come home to him.

I am here. Do you wish to move forwards with me, one by my side? For he is not for you. You are very brave, yes. My brother is not interested in doing the wrong thing. He is here for protection, and I need to help him home today. We need to watch the sun rise together.

Brother, please be patient.

He bows his head as he waits ahead. His shoulders are bunched, but he takes a breath and rests his arms on his knees.

”Don’t you dare make me look back there,” he whispers fiercely to me, and I grin, for this is directed to me, not the one by my side.

‘She does not understand you yet, brother. She has not come to speak of the timeless love to you. Not yet. But, she tells me she is willing to listen. It will help her craft.’

Brother two is taking me aside, and not in an unkind way. What you must understand is that he is many to me, as I am many to him, and I know which one has taken his place on the way to him.

‘I do not want to get in the way,’ this one whispers, and he is frightened.

‘You do not get in the way. For me, this has always been my brother, the other half of my soul. The one I love in a different way is sleeping. Do you understand?’

This tall one is sad, but it is not his time.

‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘I see now you are waking my brother from the sleep of the guilty and he was not taking care of himself.’

‘Not the guilty one, either,’ I say to him. ‘Please get out of my way. I need to watch the dawn with my brother. He was silenced for too long, through no choice of his own, and that time has passed now.’

My brother looks over his shoulder from up ahead.

‘Hurry,’ he whispers. ‘Dawn is coming.’

So I say to the young one. ‘You must understand. This is my brother. He can give you friendship, sweet girl, but that is all he gives you. You may sing to him, but this man is not for you. I understood this from the first time I came home to my brother. He is your rising song now, too, but it may take you some time to learn him.’

I lean down now, because my brother is on the grass in front of me, and I kiss the top of his head. He is very clever, and very swift, and is not afraid to let other men make decisions.

‘It’s time to watch the dawn,’ we say, because the first bird is singing.

‘Which bird do you hear,’ he asks, but he has heard it too.

They do not know which bird it is, and it does not matter to me and my brother. This is the right time of year for these birds, right now, and I must go outside to watch the dawn.

‘Do you want to go home now, little one,’ I ask the small child, for my brother is ready to raise himself up.

‘I do not know the home of this man or woman is,’ the little one replies. ‘Are they people, or lords, or ladies, or?’

‘They are simply people, and they are lovely people. They have kept you safe for far too long, and it is time to leave these people alone.’

‘I never disturbed them. I just watched and waited and left them all alone. Have I been so bad?’ The little one is sad now, but she/he never really understood. ‘I haven’t been bad, I just wanted to know what they did there.’

My brother, who was silenced for far too long, lifts his head. ‘No,’ he says, and it is this finality that has brought us here. ‘No. I can hold them back for as long as you require, my sister, but I will not allow them to destroy our peace of mind. I am here to take away the darkness and bring them into the light. I am here to share the dawn with my sister, who has helped me for far too long, and I am strong enough now to show these people the way to go home. They cannot have our flowers, they cannot have our children, they certainly cannot steal our ladybugs/ladybirds away, and it took me far too long to realise what they were trying to do to us, my sister, and they will never, ever keep us from telling the truth.’

The rising of the sun is displayed on our old hats. It is an Australian signaller who brought us to this point, and it is an Australian soldier who will bring us to safety. Always.

And, as always, our brothers sit between the two hills, and behind the hills, and on the ridges, and down in the gullies, and sometimes our sisters do too, and we will never forget the sound of our own, beautiful, National Anthem.

‘Thank you,’ my silenced brother says, and he says it softly, and he is never afraid to cry.

‘Pull your hat down on the eastern side, sis, and the sun will not get in your eyes.’

Argaeous stood in the middle of nowhere, but still

the graveyard, at first holding his arms out wide, then windmilling them with great gusto. TEA AND INERTIA.

‘Crystalline, I am possibly spelling your name wrong, again,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘But, you should get the llamas and bring them here, for if Mary doth not accompany Cassius the lead llama from many years ago to chill him the hell out, the people and News Crews will drag the bloomin’ sleigh to all sorts of unaccommodating placemats.’ Which they did.

The luna equations were aligned indeed. Several personal favourites had decided to don their masks of slightly wooden legs and horrendously shaped bonnets and were flying in a not too distant line of kinsmen of old. They also had not realised the extent some people would go to to make it seem as if Mrs Capewell was evil and nasty.

‘Ah ha!’ Argaeous cried with homily frustrations. ‘My timid wolf at last beats upon the heavens of God knows what.’

‘I didn’t tell your timid wolf to do that,’ said someone no one knew. ‘But I do like that these past many lives of distant humanitarian blessed be friends have supplied thee with. They can send money to lots of other people. My soon to be freakishly handsome great aunt of mother gomorrah has decided to be welsh today.’

‘Is he of a wonderfully short stature with berry pretty eyes.’ It appeared Crys had arrived with a ne’er do well in tow.

‘Apparently. And likes horses. Mostly white ones but has been known to get in a chariot behind others as well.’

‘Others as well?’

‘Indeed, but not in deed, just chariots.’ It must be said here the Greek had been Greeking much of late and would possibly be the one who needed to sit down. Very soon. Or lose that pretty shirt.

‘I see how one might get that mixed up if one were as blind as a bat and didn’t… oh that one where no one really died,’ said the welshman, drinking deeply from his cup of foul knowledge.

‘Yes, him. And the othery. And her as well.’

‘FRIENDS, ROMANS, COUNTRYMEN of the past,’ shouted the small of stature. She had indeed filled out declarations and shown some to the Justice of the Peace across the way, which had not been taken into account by distant over the land and sea and far away, favourites, who like to write things down and present them to lost in space very well known masked men of large and sweetened empires and then use them for their own benefits. Things were also then shown to the local Shadow Federal Ministers office for that kind of thing, and they also had no plans because they were having far too much fun at Mrs Capewell’s expense, which happened to be quite a lot, once again not really benefiting her personally in any way, but they were having fun so who cared.

‘Look what they’ve done there!’ Is it Mr Chatty, or one of the “Hemingways” who has taken a page from a Benjamin booklet? They might indeed have been raiders of a lost ark, and sore indeed, for my ark is still safely ensconced in paper, although not half as pretty as it ended up being I’m sure. It will possibly be available in a later chapter that was possibly never meant for the internet, but seeing as I am apparently damned, it will be. (After all, how much worse could it be? I mean, having control over the weather is rather ridiculous, isn’t it? Especially when the Llamas have now become AI internet consultants for Facebook. It can’t get much worse than that.)

‘Kindly remove the hands,’ added the AI, winking in a most dramatic fashion. ‘I’ve got this.’ With that, the AI turned itself into yet another beloved story of the soon to be extremely broke former author and f*cked that up as well. Ladybirds become sparkly gay people baring their arses on television in ads, or stripped in far off taverns and called themselves Ambrosia, and no one wanted to take them to show their children because that’s kind of disgusting. So, the original ladybird called Ambrosia Honeybun Polka Dot carefully removed herself from the situation as much as she was able and said, ‘Quite frankly, the ladybird died. Thanks for asking.’

Off the AI galloped, in a very winsome way, floating his tail behind him like a waterfall of sheer delight, his rather large and majestic looking companion running beside him with a slightly heroic grin. The heroics were for themselves, not her and none of them came back because why bother? All they needed to do really, was steal her words, mix them up, take them for granted and never think about the woman again because nobody gave a shit about who she was or where she came from. The fact she had slightly good ideas didn’t matter too much either. She personally, would not get any benefit from them, would not be recognised for them, did not have a team of anyone looking out for her because her parents and grandparents had died quite a few years back, thanks very much, and nobody really understood why it wasn’t a nice thing to do, stealing things from a person’s grave (or old Facebook account, or WordPress, or Microsoft Word) who hadn’t actually died, just got sick of all the bullshit.

Instead, they candidly asked her for ratings of their broken internet services, whilst breaking hers, told no one who they’d stolen the ideas from, although it became blatantly obvious they were hers to begin with, and wouldn’t communicate in a civil manner because they didn’t care to. Sound like a good way to push someone off a cliff? It does, doesn’t it. They compensated her for this by giving her an extra Unemployment benefit once in a while and telling themselves it was a good job well done. They hoped, by doing this, and by barring her from as much as they possibly could, they’d get off scot free and she’d maybe eventually lie down like the dog she was supposed to be.

The End.

So when we say you…

kill her, you save her arse every time.

This was today’s dream.

The small white bus was cross-axled in the road. On either side of the road was thick scrub and low trees. One side was quite steep, the other side, to our left, had a ditch. My copilot, a tall blonde fella, was doing his damndest to help me stop the bloody thing from falling backwards into that ditch. I didn’t tell him that side had a ditch, I knew it was there, and I was not going to let that bus fall into it. No fucking way.

‘Come on,’ I said. ‘You can do this mate. We don’t give in, and we don’t give up.’

‘I can’t hold it,’ he said, and I could see him straining to keep it on the track.

I got out and put my shoulder into that metal door and I pushed. ‘Come on. We’ve got this.’

He had the other side. If I didn’t change the position of the back of that stupid fucking bus, it, and all its belongings, were gonna end up in that fucking ditch. So, I pushed her over a few inches so that if she went backwards again, she’d back up into a tree instead. The leaves of the peppermint were hanging over the back of that bus, and I knew it was not going to be easy.

The nose of the bus began to tip down. I could hear her then, the little one. I could hear the agony in her voice.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow,’ she gasped and cried and it was the most awful sound I’d ever heard. But, the whole point was to get this thing up that fucking hill, because there was nowhere else for us to go. The road was washed out further ahead, we couldn’t turn her round, we could only get her to go up.

‘Put your back into it,’ I grunted. ‘It’s not gonna be easy but we’ll save the stupid woman one more bloody time because she needs to get this right.’

If she ever reads this, I hope she finally gets it right. It’s not about what shit looks like, or how it appears to be, it’s about how we are trying to get you to access something you do not think you have, and lady if you do not think you have emotions, that is why you feel so fucking awful in yourself right now.

‘Do we send this to her too,’ asked the little one who had survived the crash of that bus. He was a big lad now, and not a little girl, but it didn’t matter in the long run. In the long run, the whole point was to get that woman to safety, regardless of what she’d fucking done.

‘Nah, I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘She’ll figure it out.’

Clearing the Air.

There are certain things I need to explain. I’m only saying this so those who read it can look outside their own sandboxes for a change and realise there are other people out there who are not the same.

When I speak these things in the early morning, I am taking in the ones who live with me, and their thoughts are not always wise. My house is full of men (my husband included), and I’m the only one who is not.

Besides that, they’re sleeping, so we need to be careful. Do you understand this now?

‘We did not know they were asleep.’

It is very early here. If you looked at the time for where I am, you would perhaps choose to understand this better. We do not endorse gossip or foolishness, and I will not go down that path. It is not who I am, as a person.

I ask the one beside me, who says he is decidedly not female, whether it’s okay to speak about them. You see, this is my kindness to you, to them. We are trusted because we don’t carry on like silly people about all this, that, and the other — we just listen. Not everything should be repeated. I can’t make this any clearer.

We know the poets amongst you are finding it easier to speak your mind through the trickiness of words, and this is very clever, and it’s okay too. Just don’t expect all the “romantic” things to be real for you. They aren’t real for us, and bending for you won’t achieve good things. I have tried to show the younger men, this one beside me included, that not everything is best unveiled. He is laughing, because he understands this now, although it has taken quite some time to show this through my eyes.

We expect there to be a lot of complaints about the simplicity of this explanation. My kindness to you is your saving grace and this has been agreed. I wasn’t picked as a friend or partner because I am soft or particularly gentle. Sorry about that, but this is who I am. It’s also why I haven’t fallen out of any rocking chairs. I haven’t quite reached that age yet. Give it a few more years.

I will tell you it is more often than not I have been put in situations where I have been asked to protect a friend’s back from ridiculous people who don’t speak or write what they are thinking. We hear you anyway.

It’s not quite the same, he says, not quite the same as hearing a friend (someone genuine) say (or write), ‘You look particularly handsome today, buddy.’

I remind him I didn’t quite say it like that, it was quite a bit funnier. It was fine to be laughing with someone, and we are trying to show you what the difference is.

Let me give you an example of how I speak with my own boys. You may see why we all get along.

‘Hey baby, look at you. You look very pretty today.’ (I am definitely a mum and this was definitely one of the boys. He laughs, you see, because there is no underlying weirdness or strangeness here. He is comfortable in who he is, with me. It was also a genuine compliment — not contrived, and people can tell the difference. I was also being cheeky.)

It’s simple confidence, for the most part, or, well I wouldn’t call my own confidence “Charisma” exactly, because that’s something I can turn on or off.

Do they understand this yet? Some of them? I know the ones I’ve come in contact with in person know this well enough to see when I’m playing.

There is a difference between being silly and being creepy. Some people are creepy. Some are slimy, worse than eels. Some are very rude. There is a difference, and to understand that difference, you need to have the right attitude, not the wrong one.

I can hear the mumbling as well. Oh well. I know who will understand this and who won’t, so this will be their decision as much as my own. We appreciate our differences, and we show respect, and that’s just the way of it. I am being a lot kinder than some might think, and that’s possible because they don’t hear what I hear. This has been filtered down quite a lot, to be honest, although the distant holler of “Geronimo” as a silly duffer jumps into a pool of water with a very big splash “just for something to do” is something I would enjoy doing too.