Barefoot and Lost (54 page)

     ‘But why me, what do you know about me? I know nothing about farming or sheep; I can’t even ride a horse.’

     ‘Phillip, I believe you are heaven sent, your timing is perfect and any person, let alone one your age, that can make their way from Perth to here, on their own, without money, has got to have guts and that’s what I need, someone that won’t give in, I think you’re my man.

    ‘I’ve already talked it over with
Gloria
, she needs someone to replace
Jack
, she just has to have someone to mother.’

     ‘I would love that’

     ‘Well don’t get too excited about it, Michael Connelly and the authorities may have other ideas, but now that I know you would like to stay I can fight your corner, between us let’s see if we can make it happen.’
Owen
holds out his hand we shake with a big grin he gives me a playful punch on my arm.

      Dinner is a lot more formal, seated at the table now is another man, about
Owens
age, he has a big nose with craters in it, like someone I saw once that had been scarred by smallpox
.
His hair is jet black, his eyes are twinkling, and never still, they are darting all over the place like they are searching for something. ‘
Phillip
meet
Stan
, he is our stockman.’
Stan
rises from the table and holds out his hand,

     ‘
G’day
Phil
ow yer going?’ His grip is like Skeeter’s, that’s another three broken fingers,

     ‘Hello
Stan
, I’m very well thank you.’

     ‘
Owen
, yer never told me he was a Pom.’

     ‘Didn’t think it mattered.’

     ‘It doesn’t, my
Grand
folks were from the old country,
Salisbury
I think, do yer know it Phil?’

     ‘No sorry, I don’t think I have ever been there.’ With five of us, now, all seated around the table,
Owen
says grace.

     A good night’s sleep has made me restless, I want to be doing something but Gloria has said that my feet need to be rested, so once again I am sitting on the veranda watching the birds.
A large tree that looks like
it is dead, with
no leaves on it at all
, has suddenly come into bloom looking like the magnolia tree in Alexandra Park, as I stare at it not believing what I see I realize the flowers are in fact birds, pure white as large as a pigeon, with a yellow crest on their head.
Gloria has come up behind and startles me ‘Fancy a cup of tea Phillip, or a cold drink’

     ‘Thanks Gloria a cold drink would be nice; what are those birds on that tree’

     ‘Gold crested cockatoos, beautiful but are a menace when we plant seed of any kind
,
they eat it as fast as we sow
, we don’t plant a lot most of our land is grazing but up north in the Wimmera where they grow wheat the cocky is public enemy number one’

     ‘Do the farmers shoot them?’

     ‘No they are protected, so they scare them, they even have special patrols to do it; orange or lemon’

     ‘Sorry
: oh orange please’ A truck rattles along the highway, squawking loudly the cockatoos take off; there must be two hundred of them. Gloria returns with a large glass of orange with ice cubes floating on top. ‘

    
‘
Tomorrow
Phillip depending on what we
have
heard from Constable Connelly, we
may go
to Coleraine to buy
you
shoes,
’

     ‘Will I have to walk along the street in these slippers?’

     ‘Only if you
want to, but I expect we will pu
ll right outside the shoe shop door’

     ‘I hope so I wouldn’t want anyone to laugh at me’

     ‘
I wouldn’t worry about that, who knows y
ou may start a new trend and everyone will be buying slippers for street wear’

    
We have just sat down to eat lunch, the telephone outside in the exchange on the veranda, starts to ring, Gloria breathes
a deep sigh as she gets up to answer it, ‘Why don’t people observe lunch times anymore?’ Owen is waiting for her to return before he says grace.

     ‘
Owen
, its
Michael
Connelly
, he wants a word with you.’

     ‘What now?’
Gloria
nods, ‘Very well; for what we are about to receive may the Lord make us truly thankful; please start your meal.’
Owen
, out of character, slams the fly screen door behind him.
Gloria
is looking shocked or stern, I’m not sure which, but it doesn’t look like good news.
Owen
returns from his phone call, I can’t judge his expression either; he sits down puts his napkin on his lap,

     ‘I have some good news and some bad, the bad can wait until after our lunch.’ We are all looking at him, ‘The good news is that there is no report held by the police in Victoria or South Australia of a runaway juvenile, there is however, a missing persons report by the Salvation Army for a Philip Barton, apparently that is Philip
spelt with one L aged fifteen.
Michael has also checked with the Police in Perth, there is no report of a Phillip Snell missing from there, so young man, you have either been telling us a pack of lies or-----’

     ‘I haven’t been lying I-----’

     ‘Hang on, don’t get on your high horse, let me finish; or the Brothers want you out of their hair in case you make a fuss, if it became national news it wouldn’t show them up in a good light would it?’

     ‘No I suppose not.’

     ‘So what
do we do
now
,
Owen?’

     ‘That depends on Phillip, if he wants to stay with us then I will give Jack Cunningham a call; he’s our solicitor in Hamilton Phillip, to see how we go about getting you legally into Australia, at present you have no Identity.’

     ‘That is great
Owen
; what do you say
Phillip
?’

     ‘Yes please
Gloria
, I really want to stay.’

     ‘Have we all finished? We all look expectantly at
Owen
, ‘I’m afraid Skeeter McKenzie has been involved in an accident, he was killed.’

     ‘
Owen
, how, when?’

     ‘He was found at the bottom of Quinn’s Gully early this morning, apparently he ran off the road in his Ute, they found it, and him, upside down at the bottom of the gully, he’d been dead for a few days.’
Gloria puts her hands to her face

      ‘Oh my God
, Owen, that
poor man
on his own
’

     ‘Michael said that Bill Halloran up at Mundi, had heard this dog howling all night, he didn’t think too much about it, but when it went on for the second night he went to investigate at sun up this morning. It was his dog that found them, Skeeter’s Border Collie was still chained to the Ute, it wouldn’t let Bill get near Skeeter, he said he could do nothing for Skeeter so he went up to Frazer’s place and called the police.

     ‘H
ow terrible
, what about the dog
’

     ‘The dog had a piece of
Michael
’s mate; they had to wait for a vet to arrive before they could get close to Skeeter’.

     ‘Oh no; he didn’t have to kill Defor did he?’

     ‘No,
Phillip
she sedated him, the dog has a broken leg, and his mouth is in a poor condition where he tried to chew through the chain, even so he faired a lot better than poor old Skeeter’

     ‘He must have been in a poor state after what, three or four days?’

     ‘Could be five days
Stan
, if he crashed the Ute when he abandoned
Phillip
.’

     ‘Don’t bear thinking about, glad it wasn’t me that found him.’

     ‘Not really the thing to reflect upon at the dining table
,
anyway Jack, Stan, we have work to do.’ Gloria and I are left on our own; she gives me a hug,

     ‘I’m so sorry
Phillip
; nobody deserves to go like that; are you okay about it?’

     ‘Yes, as much as I dislike him for doing what he did, I wouldn’t want him dead.’

     ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t, would you like to give me a hand with the washing up?’

     ‘Only if you let me dry,
Gloria
, I was just thinking, if I had died that would have been two deaths for a pair of boots, don’t make sense, does it?’

     “I don’t think it has anything to do with your boots, it’s the demon drink that is to blame.’

     ‘I’m never ever going to get drunk, it’s stupid.’

     ‘Never say never, drink like anything else, is okay in moderation.’

     While we are sitting in the living room after dinner, the phone rings, Gloria, as usual, goes to the exchange to answer it, she returns with a grin on her face, Phillip, that was Constable Connelly, they have retrieved your bag and boots from Skeeter, he wanted to know if you wanted them, I told him yes. He’s coming tomorrow around eleven to return them.

     ‘Does that mean we won’t be going to Coleraine tomorrow?’

     ‘No, with your own boots back there is no urgency; let’s talk to
Constable
Connelly
and then make up our minds about your future here, okay.’

     ‘Okay’

      My feet feel normal this morning so I have ventured down to the gate that has a grid made of logs beside it; a gravel drive leads to a main road. I watch a large truck, like the one that passed me the other day, rattle along, a cloud of red dust following it, the trailer from this distance, appears to have sheep in it. Through the dust from the other direction I can see the police car, at last I will get my boots, I can’t wait to stop wearing
Gloria
’s pink slippers.

    The police car clatters over the grid the driver gives me a wave. ‘
G’day
Phillip
, like your footwear, I’m told they are the latest thing in fashion’ he says with grin.

     ‘Yes, I don’t think I’ll bother about my boots, think I will stick with these.’

     ‘Not sure how you will feel about wearing your boots again, Skeeter was wearing them when we found him.’

     ‘Oh, I hadn’t thought of that, are they okay?’

     ‘Good as new, the Coroner removed them; he thinks they could have caused Skeeter to crash his Ute.’

     ‘Why, how could they?’

     ‘Skeeter’s Ute had no rubbers on the brake pedal and the soles of the boots are very shiny, so when he braked going down the hill towards Quinn’s Gully, his foot probably slipped off the pedal causing him to lose control, also, being drunk didn’t help.’

     ‘He got me to do that while he was getting me drunk, he had me rubbing mutton fat into them, to preserve them he said.’

     ‘Well that was his demise, strange isn’t it, for some one that had spent all his life dirty and scruffy, it was cleanliness that probably killed him?’

     ‘
Constable
Connelly
, what has become of Defor?’

     ‘Skeeter’s dog; when he recovers the vet will be looking for someone to give him a good home.’

     ‘Do you think
Owen
would let me keep him?’

     ‘You will have to ask him, but I expect it depends on what you are doing.’ 

     We walk into the house, I’m carrying my bag, glancing inside the boots look good to me,
I have worn dead mans boots before; Gertie’s son is dead, Michael is dead and the shoes Gran got from the Red Cross probably came from a dead person. I’ll wear them, if they don’t mind, why should I?

     The Constable slips off his boots before entering the house. I take off the slippers and place my boots beside his.

     ‘
G’day
Michael
, fancy a brew?’

     ‘Love one, thanks
Gloria
’