CHAPTER FOUR
Robert was the first to wake. Allan was still asleep, the odd snore attesting the fact. They had found loads of clothes and some blankets. This was obviously where the church put it's collections for the needy. He slipped on his shoes, and opening the door, went outside, took a quick look around, and relieved himself next to an oleander bush. Back inside, Allan was sitting up.
"Thought you were bringing breakfast," said Allan.
"Looking for a tree," replied Robert, who was glancing out the window. "But I don't think you will have time."
Allan stood up and joined him at the window. An elderly man was approaching, holding a large garden rake with both hands. "Who's there? I know you're in there. I have a weapon." The voice had a slight waiver to it, and came from an elderly person.
Robert and Allan, who had now finished dressing, picked up their day packs, and stepped outside. The man stopped in his tracks, but held the rake at waist height.
"Sorry sir," said Robert, “we’re not stealing anything. We did stay the night in your shed. We needed a place."
"Why didn't you say? The church is a refuge to all. Mind you, your the first in twenty years." He relaxed his stance, and had guessed that these two weren't a potential problem. "Reverend Harry Woodstock." Before Robert and Allan could respond, he turned about and started walking back to the house, next door to the church. "Make you a cuppa. Wife will fix some eggs and toast," he said over his shoulder. "Then she will have a piece of me," and chuckled.
They followed him through a side gate, and into the rear door of the house. A small woman was washing some dishes up.
"Friends, Ethel. Thought we could practice some of the Lord's sayings, and cook some toast with eggs. This is.." He looked at the two visitors, realising he didn't know their names even.
"Robert Forsyth, and this is Allan Bygraves,” and both stuck out their hands. The grip was firm, but it was an arthritic hand they felt. "Sorry Reverend for using your shed. We're from...somewhere different."
"Call me Harry. The reverend is for the locals, and people who think they need to call me that. You fellows seem to know where you're heading. That's in a philosophical sense. In a more material one, I would think you may not know."
"Could be true...Harry," said Allan. Turning to the woman, he smiled, and said, "Could I get the cups out? Kettle's boiling."
Robert hadn't even noticed it was on.
They sat in silence, drinking tea and eating the toast she made.
"Where you lads from?" It was Ethel. "Actually Harry, where did these fellows enter your life?" Despite the smile, there was a sarcasm to her voice, and they knew, he would cop an earfull later.
"I'm sorry for the intruding, Mrs. Woodstock," said Robert, "We had no place to stay last night, and we took the liberty of using the shed behind the church. We'd be happy to pay a little money, or prefer to do something to help out. Cleaning or gardening. Saw some washing in a basket by the back door. Be happy to hang it out."
"There's private things in the washing. Not proper for a man to be handling them. You can wash up though, unless Harry has something."
She was making it difficult. Something was there, and it caught Allan's eye. "I'll wash and dry, but I might give the Royal Windsor to you. My mother has a full set, the apple blossoms pattern, with the maker's number. You have good taste in bone china." He saw her blush, just a little.
"Thank you, young man. I could think you are sizing up the china and silver, but I've been too long in the church, not to give you the benefit of the doubt."
Allan and Robert smiled at each other.
"Say, do you fellows know anything about cars? The old trusty just won't start. Tried yesterday, and clean forgot to ask at the service last night."
It was Robert who spoke first. "Have a look. Can't promise. It's been a very long time since I pulled a car apart. When I was a teenager, that's all we did, but as you grow older, other things in life take their place."
"Where are you heading for, when you leave here?", Harry enquired.
"We haven't talked about it yet. Both of us had a tremendous, what would you call it, upheaval, in our lives. We're looking for answers. Right now, nothing is making sense..." Robert could find nothing to finish his sentence.
"You're doing a John Bunyan. Wonderful.", said Harry.
"A what?", said Allan.
"Pilgrim's Progress," said Robert, " a journey through life. Looking for Nirvana. In our case, home would do."
"Some Christians might frown at the word Nirvana," chipped in Harry, "and perhaps I should, but if that's your goal, I wish you all the success you can have. Anything I can do?"
"Unless you have the wisdom of Einstein, Spock and Hawking, probably not. But we appreciate your support."
"Well Allan, if I had Einstein's brains, I wouldn't need a car. The other two are new to me, but if you know them, they must have brains also." There was a pleasant smile about the minister's face. "Now, Allan, you do battle with the dishes, and we will try to breath some life into the demon in the garage."
The demon proved to be a 1936 two door Chevrolet, it's fading black paint, not so noticeable in the darkened garage. Robert gulped.
'I hope it's something simple,' he thought, ‘or bang goes our brownie points.'
There was a slight downwards slope from the garage, so asking Harry to sit inside to work the foot brake, he pushed from the front. It didn't move. He had reckoned it would weigh a tonne, the old cars were built that way. He tried harder. Nothing. It would be unfair to ask Harry, because of his age, and the need to stop, once outside. A hernia was not what Robert wanted, right now. He walked around, and opened the driver's door. Harry looked at him. Harry also had the hand brake on.
He reached over, without saying anything, and released it. Then went and tried again. It started to move. When it was outside, he yelled, and the car stopped with a jolt, Robert hitting his nose on the grille. He place a house brick, lying in the grass, behind the back wheel, and opened her up.
A long donk in the centre, lots of oil and grease everywhere, and little else. 'Space galore, enough to stand inside,' thought Robert. 'Not like the Toyota.' He remembered the day he dropped the oil cap, into the engine, and it took him 15 minutes to find and then remove it.
He checked the distributor and all the high tension leads. Seemed OK. He didn't know much about carbys, so it got a cursory glance. The battery lead, turned on the terminal, when he touched it. Picking up a piece of timber, from the driveway, he gave it a belt, then went around and asked Harry to give it a try. It roared into life after the second try. The reverend was pleased as punch. Robert was astounded by his good fortune, but kept it to himself.
Shortly, Allan and Mrs. Woodstock appeared, and it was time to depart. "Excuse me for saying this," said Harry, "and it's none of my business, especially after getting the vehicle on the road, but.."
"Spit it out sir," said Robert.
"I know I shouldn't mention this in front of a lady, but I have never seen flies using metal before. Couldn't help noticing. And no, I'm not queer, just curious."
"Harry," said Ethel, "Don't be so rude."
"It's OK," said Robert. Allan took some seconds, before he tumbled to what Harry was talking about.
"If Mrs .Woodstock, looks the other way for a second," and quickly moved the zip down a little and up again, for Harry. "It's called a zipper. It's better than buttons, and, um, it's from America."
Allan could not control himself. He burst out into loud laughing. When Robert went red in the face, Harry said, " Sorry. I shouldn't have asked.
Ethel said she needed to go inside, and giving her best wishes for their search, left them.
"May I suggest," said Harry, "that if you would feel more, say less noticeable, you avail yourself of something from our shed."
Robert and Allan, looked at each other, then walked back to the shed. It didn't take long for each to find a pair of trousers that fitted, and changing, put their own into the day packs. Allan also showed Robert the brown paper bag he had brought out of the house. It contained half a dozen cakes.
"I hope the bone china is in tact," said Robert.
"All on the shelf." They returned to Harry, and said goodbye.
"Send me a postcard," he shouted, as they walked down the drive and turned into the street. They walked in silence, until a bus seat appeared, then sat down.
Allan spoke. “I’m still sus about him. I mean, who goes about looking at bloke's zippers, in their duds?"
Robert was sitting on Allan's right. "Well I don't, for one, but looking at your pants, it sticks out a mile."
Allan looked down. "What?"
"Your zipper, meathead, not what's underneath. That's assuming their is something. Seriously, the pull tab does show, and this is 1950. I'm not sure, but it could still be only buttons. The less attention we draw, the better."
"OK, I forgive Harry. Now what do we do? I think there is only one thing. We get a tent, and some food, and we go back to Two Logs Creek, no, we camp right on top of Perkins, and we wait. Whatever took us away, that's the obvious place to be, when it comes back."
The problem," said Robert, "is that it could come back anywhere, and at anytime, or never come back. But your right. It happened at the Peak."
Silence. A petrol tanker rumbled past. Robert continued. “Whilst we're here, we should make the most of it. Today we do our thing. Tomorrow we look for work, or try anyway. No birth certificate might be a problem."
"But we could get one. We were born in 1940, whatever. Bad call. Just realised, that makes us 10 years old. Might be hard to explain. What about 'we're from America and can't get one?' "
"Allan, show me your passport, or entry thingo."
A bus appeared further up the street, so they stood up and started walking towards the station they had come from, yesterday.
"What's your thing for today, Robert?"
"I'd like to see my family."
Allan didn't say anything for a minute or two, just thought about it. Then he had a question. "You could be there, you know. Ten years old, in case you've forgotten. That might be hard to explain. And your parents. Either call the police about this looney, or realise it could be you and freak out. Bad move I think. This has never been done before, Robert."
"Wrong." Allan just looked at him.
"No. I'm not psycho. Remember the Philadelphia Experiment?"
An exasperated look was creeping into Allan's face. "This is not the movies. There must be ten thousand books and films on time travel. Going back. Going forward. Up. Down. But the real people, sit outside. It's only stories. Imagination. This is real. You and me."
A woman pushing a pram, with a larger child, walking beside her, looked up, as she passed, alarmed at the sound of Allan's voice. She shepherded her child to the other side of her, and quickly moved on.
"I was being a bit frivolous, but think about the film. The parents did accept him, after a while."
Allan pushed his point. "Exactly. Because the writer wanted it to happen that way, for the story to be nice. No writer here. Just you and me."
"Point taken," said Robert, "what I will do, is still see them. But," seeing the alarm in Allan's face, "no contact. Just a passer by."
"When?", said Allan.
"Today. Monday, assuming it is, Monday, is Quest Day. Any idea what your 'quest' is?", asked Robert.
Allan was thinking. "Don't know. My oldies were in Melbourne in 1950. Like you, I could scare the shit out of a couple of friends, like you, but won't."
They had reached the shopping area, although the main street, was a little further on. The underground entrance to the railway, was coming up. A truck, an old Dodge, screeched to a halt, as they crossed the road, neither concentrating on anything particular, except the future. The driver put his head out the window and yelled some words, all unintelligible, and more, when Allan blew him a kiss.
They laughed, then Robert made a point. "We should aim to stay alive. There's a lot to see and do, if we're stuck here. We could be on the scene, when things happen, because we know they will."
"And something more important," said Allan, "If we get deceased here, we wouldn't make 1998, so how the hell would we get back there? This is getting more complicated by the minute. I know. We can't die, because we made it, to 1998. Want to explore that?"
"No thanks. Just let it be simple. I think we would bleed just as bad where ever we are."
A stern voice, made them stop their reverie, and their stride. "Just a moment. A word to you both."
They turned to face a large man in a black uniform, and peaked cap. Their immediate reaction, was the Salvation Army. Robert smiled. "Nice day, but we need to catch..." Then he focused on the police insignia, on the tunic. Silence.
"I observed you 'J' walking, just now, with near disastrous outcome. Gents of your age, should not have to be told the law." The voice continued to be firm, and his eyes appraised them both.
"Sorry officer," said Robert, "we didn't...."
"I am a constable. Where are you going?", he interjected.
"To see my parents," said Robert. "They live in Eastwood, and my..."
Again the policeman interrupted him. "I don't have time to hear a life history. Take this as a warning. Accidents are caused by disregarding the rules, sir. I would take more care, if I were you. Gooday to you." He then strode past them, and away.
They looked at each other, with looks of disbelief. "If I was a kid, I might expect it, but not at our age," said Allan.
"Don't be so sure. Boss at work got ticked off for crossing against the red, last year. Just unlucky." Then Robert remembered his first reaction. "Thought he was going to ask for a donation, at first."
"Lucky. Probably would have run us in for making a bribe." Allan's comment made them both smile. They reached the ticket box.
"Want to come with me?" said Robert.
"No. Think I would like to visit the Australian Museum. Sort of compare it to now."
I'll buy the tickets and give you half," said Robert, "and we should meet, say back here around one o'clock. If one is not here, we check the pub over there. Then we have to think of a place to stay, and some money."
"Perhaps I could sell my body."
"Perhaps you will not," replied Robert. Allan feigned disappointment, then smiled.
"Still," said Robert, "If some women, like these two passing us, came into our lives, we could reassess the rules."
"Do you mean women, or do you mean plain sex?"
"There's no such thing as plain sex. On the other hand, after the last couple of years, I wouldn't quibble. And that's between you and me, not for the others, assuming we get back." Robert's face was tinged with red, as he spoke, and he strode over to buy tickets.
When he returned, they used the conveniences, and Allan stuffed some extra paper in his pack, just in case. They sauntered to the indicator board, still finding it intriguing to look at the people, and their dress. The news stand, nearly cost Robert his train. The magazines were like going back to a museum. The prices meant little, but were probably in line with wages. He heard Allan yell that a train was coming into No.6, and he had better run. A quick handshake, and a moment of frozen understanding, as their eyes met. There was no guarantee, that they would see each other again. Robert dashed up the ramp, and was lost to Allan's sight.