BIG PINE
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He sat on the headland, high up, gazing out at the white caps on the water whipped up by the south easterly breeze. Two lone sea birds battled against the wind then disappeared below the rocks. He pulled the jacket closer around him.
Bernard had come to sit up here most days. It gave him an hour or so away from the house. Time moved slowly and it was now just over four months since Melony had gone yet it seemed only like yesterday. Often he wondered if he would ever accept it. They ran the small dairy farm together. Long hours and limited return but it was something for both of them to work at. When they moved to the farming community of Meroo, more years ago than he cared to remember, it was a daunting challenge, but he grew up with dairy cows and he intended to follow in his father's footsteps.
They called it an inoperable 'something' tumour, and before they knew it, she was gone. Still difficult to face, he lost interest in the dairy business and sold out a few months later. Their daughter tried hard to get him to live with her and the grand children in Newcastle but big cities weren't for him. He had always lived on the south coast and the thought of being far away from Mel, who now rested just outside Meroo, made moving north impossible.
One of his close mates, Terry, had offered him the use of a holiday house at Bendalong on the coast, and after a few weeks he decided he would stay. A newish brick residence on a large bushy block came up for sale, and whilst walking on the beach one day, it came into his mind. It had appeal. He drove past. Yes it got better as he looked at it. By the time the outside was checked out he already had ideas in his mind of one or two changes, but most importantly the big rock at the back would be the centre piece of a small memorial garden. There would be roses of all types. Mel loved roses.
When he did get to see inside he knew this was it. His offer was immediately accepted and then it was only the waiting. Finally the agent gave him the keys and he felt a change inside him, a new venture was about to be embarked on. His daughter insisted she come down and give it the woman's touch. "Mum's not around now and you are hopeless.
Probably buy curtains with black and white cows on them." Then she added in a quieter tone that while he and she would never forget, it was time to look to the years ahead.
The time with the two grand children was precious. Walks along the beach and around the small sheltered harbour, picking up all sorts of things that young ones find interesting. Even his daughter came fishing one day and the children were fascinated with the large rocks and trees when they had a picnic up at nearby Boyd Lookout. The housewarming party was a bright event. Terry did honours at the Maori style feast in the back yard. When it was all over and everyone had gone their way, it became very quiet. Bernard expected this and became enthused in making his new acquisition more comfortable. Nor was his social life neglected. Once a week he drove to Nowra and tried to improve his lawn bowls expertise.
It was in his effort to make the memorial rockery take shape, that something happened that was to change his life. Despite his best intentions, he could not shake his wife's passing. More time was spent just sitting, either gazing out to sea or by the fledgling rock garden. It was on one of these reflection days out the back, that he decided more rocks were needed to complement it. His place was near the edge of the small town and bordered bushland. It had never been looked at by him, probably as there was no interest in doing this. His life had always been cows and pastures and of late the beach. So it was more of necessity than interest that he decided to take a stroll. If he found what he wanted, he would ask the estate agent who owned it and then approach them.
The ground was uneven and the tea tree scrub and small banksia bushes so close that he has having difficulty in finding a way. Just when he decided to give it a miss and try other areas, he heard the sound of a bell, the sort tied around animal's necks and the chopping of wood. Then he was on a small path so like a magnet drawing him, he soon found it opening out into a large clearing. There was indeed a milking cow tethered on a long rope and a small timber stack, but no sign of any one. The dominating feature was of course the timber house, not new but in good condition.
As he moved around the side towards the back door, a woman came out carrying a basket. Bernard gave a yell more to reassure her than anything else. She turned and stood there. Then a man appeared from around the side of the house.
"Can I help you mate," he said in a loud and firm voice.
Bernard smiled and gave a half wave. "Sorry to come in this way, but I live across next door," pointing his arm behind him. "Bernard Mewett. Bought the Porter's house recently."
Neither said anything but maybe it was Bernard's smiling face or the openness about him, for the man came over and shook his hand. "Don't get many visitors, especially out of the bush. Ted Wilson. Didn't know we had neighbours that close. These days houses are going up quicker than you can blink. You working the place?"
"Hardly," replied Bernard, "only a small block. Had 300 Friesians up at Meroo but lost my wife earlier this year and couldn't bring myself to stay. Bendalong is a nice sort of place and I tinker with gem stones and fish a little."
The woman hadn't come over, but was hanging out the washing on a long wire rope stretched between two trees.
"Must be off," said Ted, "some things to do in town." With a wave he turned and was off. Then the sound of a vehicle starting up. From the other side of the house there appeared an old Dodge truck, a toot on the horn and it bumped it's way up the track and disappeared into the scrub. Bernard was amused. His father used to drive one, way, way back. About a 1950's model. He turned as he heard a sound next to him.
"Gloria's the name." She stood there and looked him in the eye. A sort of proud look. There was a firmness about her, not so much in stature but more in personality. He knew she was a survivor, no matter what the situation. She would be the type to dust off and start again.
"Bernard. Bernard Mewett. I live next door. Sorry about coming through the bush but I was looking about. Didn't know there was a property here."
"'Been here a while. Suppose since we was married. My family was in dairying out at Cambewarra. Ted's a contractor. Likes it here."
"And you?" Bernard bit his tongue for speaking so open but once said, was said.
"One day when we get enough together, he's promised me a nice place closer to town." There was an slight pause. "Fancy a cuppa?"
"If it's no trouble." She pointed to a bench at the back door, then went inside. Bernard had a quick glimpse through the door as he sat down. Quite old fashioned he thought. He sat down and found the seat also had a view of the coast to the south. Then he thought of her. Tucked away. Although Bendalong was close to Nowra and Milton, without a car she would have to rely on other people.
She came out with a tray containing the tea makings. The cups were a nice Royal Windsor. This was an opportunity to use them perhaps. Maybe a need. They chattered about the dairy business and life in general, but Bernard found her a little vague when it came to the world in general. He thought of how much she was like the women who lived on outback stations and who's word was law but would be like children if they went to Sydney, bewildered and amazed.
Suddenly she went inside and returned with a small metal tea caddy. Opening the lid she unwrapped some grease proof paper and opened a gold locket. It contained a small photograph of a woman. The eyes were the same as Gloria's. "My mother," she said. "Would you help me to place it near that small pine tree. Ted said it's silly but I would feel comfortable with it there."
He nodded and grabbing a spade he saw, walked across to the young bunya pine. He dug a hole about a metre out from the base and she carefully placed the tin and covered back the earth. There were tears in her eyes.
"I must go," but before he could say more, a toot caught their attention and they turned to see a black Holden sedan approaching through the trees towards the house.
"My sister, Josie. Say hello before you go."
They walked to the car and he was introduced. As sisters the similarity was apparent, particularly the eyes, but in personality they were like chalk and cheese. He had summed up Gloria, but got a shock with her sister. Very outgoing and flamboyant.
"Nice of you to drop in. Gloria needs to meet more people. Not my cup of tea out here. My daughter is at high school and Nowra suits us."
"Nice looking car," said Bernard, eyeing the FJ.
"It'll do. Need something reliable to get around, and it hasn't let me down in years.
Bernard stuck out his hand. "Must be off."
"Need a lift?"
"No. I'll go back through the bush to my place." With a wave he left and soon the tea tree and banksias swallowed him up.
As he sat eating lunch, his thoughts went back to the morning. Certainly different people to the holiday makers and retired people he had met out here. There was a necessity for some milk so Bernard drove down to the shop. He had partaken of all the exercise he wanted to. Besides his knee was giving him curry again.
On the spur of the moment he decided to drop in on the agent, when he saw the door of the small shop open.
"Well," said the middle aged fellow who was stacking signs, "not selling so soon?"
Bernard smiled. "No. Was more curious about who owned the large property next door to me, to the west."
"Some investment company in Sydney from memory. Probably waiting for rezoning."
A frown appeared on Bernard's face. "There's a couple living in the house, um...Ted and his wife Gloria."
Now it was the agent's turn to frown. "Next to you? No house there, unless you count some old foundations." There was a pause. "I'm off to collect a sign up the road. Jump in and I'll show you."
Bernard didn't speak as they drove towards the highway and took the first track past his house. Very overgrown and once he had to move a small log. Then came the opening. It was as he saw it only a couple of hours back. The same view, only no house just some brick foundations. The concrete where he had drunk tea was there, only covered with debris. He shook his head. He started to think this was the start of something connected with Mel's death. The tree. He turned swiftly and looked where Gloria and he had been. It was there, however some forty feet tall.
"You've mixed up some one else's place." The agent smiled and started up the car. "Happens to me a lot, especially in my business."
Bernard smiled weakly and they drove back to the road. "Thanks for the trip. I can walk back," and gave a half wave as the car disappeared at speed around a bend. Almost immediately a car pulled up and a middle aged woman stuck her head out the window.
"Far to Bendalong? Want a lift?"
"No. Yes. I mean...."
"Whatever it is, you'd better get in. I don't want to read about you in the paper tomorrow. Local?"
He nodded. "Well sort of." Before he realised it he was in the back. A young man in his early twenties was on the other side.
"My son," said the woman," we took an on site van in Bendalong by mail. Thought we'd never get here. You are confusing, if I may say so."
"Actually I'm Bernard Mewett. Just moved here. Live not far down the road."
"Debbie. And that big lump next to you is Carson. We're having a short break from work. Used to have relatives out here."
"Stop here," said Bernard, "my house. Thanks for the lift." He got out of the car.
The woman wound down the window. "Who should I ask to find out where my aunty and uncle lived?"
"Probably the estate agent, although depends how long ago. What was their name?". He had one hand resting on the roof of the car.
"Wilson. Ted and Gloria."
Bernard froze. Then he knew what was in his mind that he couldn't quite grasp. The eyes.
"You OK? Look a bit pale."
He recovered himself a little. "Fine. We can be there in three minutes," and before she could reply, he was around the other side and opening the door . "Turn around and go back to where you picked me up."
She looked at her son who shrugged his shoulders. "You are an enigma," she said as they turned and went back up the road.
"Down here," said Bernard, and then they were there. He half expected the house to appear, but saw only the foundations, just the same as a few minutes back.
"Nice view," said Debbie, "vaguely like I remember it. Came out with mum a couple of times. Think there are some photos somewhere of it and my aunty. She used to talk about her mother a lot."
"Was your mother's name Josie?," asked Bernard, his heart thumping.
She turned and looked at him. "How did you know?"
"Just know. You look like her, I mean you probably do." Time to say nothing more, flashed into his mind.
The son had wandered away and was pitching stones at an old drum.
"I guess I do," she said. "I wonder if she ever got her looks from her mum. Never saw my grandmother or any photos." She was gazing at the distant ocean.
Bernard was galvanised into action. "This may be a day you will remember. Come over to the big pine tree," and not checking to see if she had followed him, bounded across and looked for a stout stick. When she arrived, with Carson in tow, he had started to dig. Just where would be the exact spot, he did not know, but taking a guess, he started. Fate seemed to guide his hand, and he brought out the tin, old and rusty. With trembling hands, he gave it to Carson.
"Want to open it?", and gave him the stick. The boy looked at his mother, who nodded, and then with a little effort, he broke the rust seal and removed the lid. The tin was rusty also inside, but the grease proof paper was intact. She took the small parcel and unwound it's many layers. The locket appeared undamaged, and giving a quick glance at Bernard, she opened it.
Bernard never explained how he knew about it's whereabouts nor did she ask. No more rocks were added to Mel's memorial, only the flowers tendered when needed. He knew she was somehow involved and in a way, saying it was time to start a new life.
Jimmy Brook