Copy write ©
By Jimmy Brook. A work of fiction.
A PIECE OF SHALE
Chapter One
The day was warm for May, and people were about early. The main street in this western Sydney suburb was already busy with shoppers and families, anxious to get the mundane part of their life, out of the way and then head to places where they could relax or just have fun. This area was the last bastion of encroachment by the sprawling city to the east. Slowly the agricultural lands there were being swallowed by houses and more houses. Soon it would reach their door and no more would they be a separate entity. A few years and it would be just suburbia. But for now it was a place that identified with being a town in its own right.
To the west were the mountains. These ramparts would slow the spread but civilization would eventually find a way. That was the concern for the future, not today, which was for now. The main street had lots of heritage and original buildings, and some new ones. One of the older constructions was already open for business. It sold antiques of all sorts, some furniture and some small bric a brac. In fact, anything that was considered old and able to be sold to a discerning buyer. It looked cluttered inside but was not really. Gerald and Kathy Turner risked all they had some five years back to get up and running , and so far it was now starting to pay off. Even moving on line had kept them ahead of others.
The couple met about ten years back at an antique furniture exhibition in the city. They were admiring older items and both found an attraction for not only a four poster bed of the Victorian period, but for each other. Eight months later they married and both had dreams of setting up businesses somewhere that would be their passion. Soon it was obvious it would be one business for the costs of two were just beyond them. They had moved twice , trying to keep near their living residences, and then the decision to come out west a bit, when an offer came up for freehold. They took a gamble but so far it was working.
“Gerry, there’s an ad in the local paper for an old table for sale. Says it is over 100 years old. Interested?”
Gerald looked up from his rearranging of some vases, in his wife’s direction. “Only if it has a negotiable price. Don’t want to be left with another one which, I might add, still resides out the back.”
Kathy took a moment then yelled “$500. Genuine colonial.”
He came in from the rear of the shop and looked at the paper. “Need to see it and see how genuine colonial it is. Anyway it is in Katoomba so maybe on Friday. Mind ringing and see what else you can find out about it.”
Then a couple wandered in and they moved into ‘customer mode’. Later that day a call from a good friend, Tom, about hanging up the apron for a week and going to the Gold Coast for a break with him and Pauline. Sounded tempting and good friends should never be dismissed. It was a quiet period so they decided to close up next week for a few days and just do it. Might make it pay with a visit to that junk shop somewhere on the way to Beaudesert. They could have an item or two worth obtaining.
Friday came and he drove to Katoomba to meet the lady who his wife had spoken to. He decided the table was not worth the asking price and failing in a compromise, was just about to leave when he asked her where she had obtained it.
“My Granny, it was. She used to live out at Newnes when it was fully working. Do you know where that is?”
Gerald knew exactly where it was. He had spent some time over the years investigating rock pagoda stacks and that of course included the old shale oil town. He liked the place as it had character and history, despite almost nothing was now left. He told her he did and they talked a bit more, then it was time to go home.
He wasn’t disappointed about the table, it happened a lot, but it got him to thinking about Newnes and the old town with its dilapidated one story hotel and the old mine workings. Then there were the rock pagodas in the area. It was time to go see them and get some more photos, and to go back to the valley. Not just yet, as the few days on the Gold Coast would be a pleasant distraction from old varnish and timber.
They flew up as it was so much quicker and Tom had arranged a hire car, so it was straight into it. Rooms with a view to die for, and drinks by the pool. Gerald angled for a drive in the hinterland, and Kathy knew why, but said nothing. Naturally it included the town he had in mind and so a stop was made.
“Just can’t help yourself, can you Gerry,’ said Pauline. “We are having coffee and scones and you can poke your nose in over at that place, whilst we do.”
They all laughed and he came back fifteen minutes later with a small lacquered box. “They had a pair of chairs, but couldn’t think how I would get them back. This will do and it was a steal.”
The days left went quickly and then it was back to the airport and home. A good break and a recharge of their batteries, so to speak. Tom and Pauline would come up in a couple of weeks for a night and they could sample a red or two.
The next week was quiet for business and as Kathy had her sister dropping into the shop, he decided that they would have an early lunch as soon as she came, and then he would nip away for three hours and take some photos of rocks that were accessible near Bell, up the main road. Agreeing to be back for dinner, he left.
The drive up was quick and finding an old fire trail that seemed to be in his memory, he bumped along it for ages until he saw his first stack. It brought back memories and he climbed to the top, despite the fragile strength of the sandstone. The view was terrific and the feeling of achieving something was exhilarating. Starting his descent, a large piece broke off and losing his grip, he started to slip then fell heavily. He remembered nothing of the landing or how long he was there. He groggily woke himself up and looked around. He knew he was on some rock pagoda when he fell, but that was not where he was now. He was on an old iron frame bed in some sort of farm house. His shirt and trousers were definitely not his. They were old and coarse. He just lay there thinking it was a dream of sorts, and then a noise from the doorway.
“You awake mister?” It was a woman’s voice and indeed a woman was standing there with an apron on over an old frock. She had no makeup and the hair was in a sort of bun. “Nasty bump by the looks. Want some tea?”
Gerald could not think properly. It was all some dream and he lay there a minute until the voice repeated her question. He rose up on his elbow and nodded his head. She left the door open when she left so he got up and tried to put on the shoes under the old bed. They were a size too big but they were shoes. He walked out to find himself in a dining come kitchen area of a cottage that was really old. As he sat down at the table where a mug of tea had been placed, two things happened. One was catching a glimpse of the table. It was the table. Then the other was a door opening and a girl appearing. She was dressed neatly but in old style clothing like the woman. Farming or factory clothes. She was near his age by her looks.
“Hello Coral,” said the older woman, “want a cuppa?”
“Sorry Mrs. Hicks, I didn’t know you had company. But I will if you don’t mind. Just walked from the shop with some tins and biscuits, and I am worn out.” She looked at Gerald and said “I’m Coral. Coral Brown. I live a few cottages down the river.”
He felt he should say something but was still confused. Then he shook his head a little and stood up. “Gerald Turner. Gerry if you like.” Gerry was what his friends used to call him and he didn’t even know her. But she seemed as if she was a friend. “Just sort of arrived. Had a fall and hit my head. To be honest I haven’t a clue where I am or how I got here. Maybe”, he looked at the older woman, “you could fill me in, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. My man found you down by the river bank when he came back for his lunch. Harry picked you up and brought you here to our cottage. He had to go back to the workings. He is firing the retorts this week. Should be home before dark. Looked like you had some fall but not too bad. Maybe someone hit you?”
Gerald shook his head. “No, I was climbing and fell, but not here. Up on the pagodas. Where am I exactly?”
Mrs. Hicks looked puzzled. Coral chipped in. “Harry and Ida Hicks’s place, across the river from the workings. Well they are a bit downstream. You do know this is Newnes?”
It stung him. He knew where Newnes was, in fact had been there two or three times. All that was left was the hotel and some derelict shops and of course the shale refinery. Also in ruins. “This bang on the head has confused me. Can I ask what year it is?” He felt he wasn’t going to like the answer.
Coral answered for her. “Why its 1929, of course. March the 4th.”
“I’ve got to get back,” he said weakly. He then stood up but the room started to sway and holding the table, that table, he excused himself and headed into the bed room he was in previously, to collapse on the bed and pass out.
CHAPTER TWO
That night he awoke to a mans voice and came out. A big fellow was at the table and stopped talking when he appeared. “Name’s Harry. Wife said you had a fall. Gerry is it?” Without time to give a reply, continued “sit down and eat. Isn’t much but we does alright. The economy is going down hill. I can feel it.”
Gerald sat and started eating the meat stew before him. He was hungry and it tasted reasonable. “Thank you.”
After the meal which also included a raisin bun, he asked how difficult would it be to go back to Lithgow. He thought he might get something, maybe a train, to take him down to Penrith or Sydney. The thought of ringing Kathy gave him strength and that immediately evaporated. If it was 1929, no phone probably and more likely, no Kathy. What was happening?
“Well, the weekly oil train goes in two days up to the junction on the main line. There is also the rail motor but don’t rightly know when it is doing its next trip up top.” Ida gave him a hot cuppa. Harry continued talking, “There might be a wagon soon. Jarvis Baker heads up to Lidsdale every so often for bits and pieces. Could ask him.”
Even as he said it, Gerald realised a problem. Money. “I might give the train a go. I have no money but could do some jobs or something to help with the fare and your hospitality.”
“No need to worry about us. People have helped us in the past. I’ll talk to the engine crew tomorrow. Think I can get you in the van OK.”
Ida put the mugs in the washing up dish. “Our two boys are away at the moment. Sent them to my sister’s place at Katoomba for a short holiday. They love riding on the train. New schoolteacher will be here next week so no holidays for a while then. You have children?”
Gerald shook his head. “No, planning to, but getting some money together first.”
Gerald thanked them and stood up. He needed to find the toilet. Ida sensed his problem “Out the back. Take a lamp from the table near the door. Don’t want you falling in.”
He thanked them again and said he would see them later.
Next morning was sunny and lots of birds were singing. The thump of machinery was just heard and an oily smell was in the air. No sign of his hosts but some bread and cold beef was on the table and the kettle was simmering on the fire. He ate, washed his mug and plate in the bowl, and borrowing a coat from behind the door, took a look outside.
It was pleasant and the weather fine. The cliff tops were evident across the river and land beyond. The house was situated just off a gravel road and there were others either side. A couple of children were playing on the road about 50 metres along, and a vehicle was approaching. It honked a horn and they ran to the side and waved. Then it was passing Gerald and the driver gave a short wave. Without thinking, Gerald did the same. Then it was disappearing slowly amongst the wattle trees near a bend. He hoped it might be a Falcon or Holden, but it was not. The name on the bonnet was one he knew from a car show. An Essex with a soft top to match and a loud chugging sound.
Just then he felt as if he would never get back home. To Kathy. Then a female voice came to his ears and he had a micro second of hope, which sort of faded when he focussed on Coral coming along the road towards him. He liked her for her youthfulness and smile but she wasn’t Kathy.
“Out for a walk? I live just down there”, with a vague wave over her shoulder. “Can show you around if you like?”
He smiled and then said it would be lovely to have some company. They walked along to where a big felled log lay on the road side, overlooking the river. He needed to sit for a minute and she did the same. Just looking at the cliffs away up on the other side, he asked had she lived here long and was she on her own.
“A lot of questions. It is alright though. Not so many people to talk to during the week. All at the refinery or in the hotel. Yes, a few years and, no, I live with my aunty. Came here about ten years ago with mum and dad from Parramatta. Two winters and mum got pneumonia and passed away. Dad never got over it, and then about three years later he was killed in a tunnel cave in. I was lost. Would have left but mum’s sister, Elsa, was also here, and she took me in. Her husband worked on the railway line and was hit by a falling rock, years back. What about you?”
Gerald felt a bout of sadness at this story, but it was tempered by his own turmoil. “I had a life but it is all a blur at the moment. I’m married to a wonderful girl, Kathy.” At that moment he instinctively looked at his ring finger and noticed then that his wedding band was gone. He was sure he had it on when he left for his photo trip. He often took it off when stacking furniture in the shop, as it sometimes got caught. He noticed she was looking at his hand. “Must be at home. Didn’t want to lose it in the bush.” He wondered why he was justifying himself. “All I can tell you about why I’m here is, well zilch.”
She screwed up her nose. “Sorry”, he said. “Just an expression. It means I don’t know nothing. Oh, that was bad English. I mean anything. I went climbing up on some pagodas, rock stacks, near Bell, and took a tumble. Next thing was waking up in the Hicks’s bed room. Not even in my own clothes.” He felt tears running down his cheeks and brushed them away, fixing his gaze on the murmuring river. “Tell me about the town and the shale workings.” He needed to change the subject.
They walked and she pointed to some bigger buildings ahead. “Hotel and general store. Repair workshop just beyond. Hotel is OK during the week but a bit rough on Friday and Saturday nights.”
“What do you do to fill in your time?”
“Help out Mr. Biggs in the shop on Saturdays, otherwise paint with watercolours. I like the mountains and I suspect you do to. Read, sew and help out Aunty Elsa. And yes, before you ask, unless your too much of a gentleman, I do have a boyfriend. Thomas Walton. He works in the retorts with Harry. He is coming for tea tomorrow night, so if you are still here, you can meet him.”
Gerald smiled. She had that spontaneity that Kathy had. “Like to if I’m still here. Harry is trying to get me a ride on the train to the top. He said two days?”
“Not sure when it goes. I know every two or three days. Whatever falls into place. Before you go, I can make some sultana buns for your trip. You do eat sultana buns?”
“If you make them, I will eat them.” Then he chided himself inwardly for such a lame comment. “Sorry for that comment if it appeared bold.”
“Don’t be. After some of the comments the younger men around here have made to me over the years, that is most gentlemanly. Come on, there is a foot bridge up ahead. We can get down near the workings but no women are allowed in, so I will wait outside.”
They walked for a while in silence and apart from the water flowing and bird song, it was quiet. Only occasionally being punctured by the sounds from a steam whistle or machinery up ahead. Then it came into sight. Buildings and chimneys and slag heaps and skips. Men seemed to appear at random, doing whatever they needed to do. When Coral stopped, he told her he was close enough to take it all in, so they turned around. He heard the steam whistle of a locomotive, before he saw the exhaust of smoke and steam spiralling into the sky.
“Can we see the engine?” he asked the girl.
“Should do. Back along here is a track up to the storage and loading area. I can’t get too close but there would be a Shay getting ready for another trip up.”
Gerald didn’t need to ask what a Shay was. He had seen photos of this unusual locomotive design in books and wished he was living 80 years back so he could see and hear one. Now he was living 80 years back and he shook his head in confused emotion. What was happening? They turned up a small incline and there were the rail tracks. Nearby was the rear end of a loco and some wagons that were oil tankers. When Coral held back he remembered she shouldn’t get too close so, he thought better of it, and turned back. He would come up here tomorrow by himself.
They met Elsa on the road near her cottage and he was introduced. She was weathered and sort of worn, but he could tell she was once a beautiful woman. Maybe still was, but covered by a hard life. He said good bye to the ladies, and headed back towards the Hicks’s place. It was still early so he continued walking and soon saw the outline of buildings, one of which was the hotel.
Single storey and with a long front veranda at road level, brought back a memory of younger days when he first came here. Then it was dilapidated and run down, but being still in use, seemed to have a hidden life. Always a crowd on weekends in their 4x4 or on noisy bikes. He remembered himself and his mate Danny, going in for a look and a beer. Long beer tap pulls stuck up like cricket stumps. He opened the door and it was empty except for a bloke behind the counter. The beer pulls were there.
“G’day. Help you?”
Gerald would have liked a beer, for no special reason other than having one, but then he also had no money. “Just having a quick look. Staying down the road with Harry and Ida. With the workings, I bet you are kept on your toes?”
The owner wiped the counter before answering. “Sure do. Not in day time but the nights and weekends keep me going. Come back Saturday and a few of us are fixing up the back storeroom. Free beer when it’s over. The last banker the river ran, came right up to the building and did some damage. One day it will come right up and wash us away, but hopefully not for 50 or 100 years.”
“Would love to help but should be on my way back to Sydney then. Anyway, nice to meet you.” Gerald waved and went back on to the veranda, took a look around and then headed back to the cottage. Lunch would be soon ready, he hoped. He felt awkward not paying for the food but he had nothing.
The day passed quickly and he found the woodpile at the rear and chopped a few pieces up for the stove. A long time since he had used an axe. He found an old newspaper on the wood pile near the stove and started reading. It was like going back in history. Ida came in with a small bag of groceries, and they chattered but it was difficult for Gerald, to know what to say. They were worlds apart in life generally. Then Harry came in.
“Ah, I have some good news for you. There is a special run of the oil tankers tomorrow at seven in the morning. Bill said you can ride in the van, as long as you don’t mind the two goats he is supposed to take up to the Junction.”
Gerald was suddenly elated. “Of course. Tell me where to go and I’ll be there.”
“I will take you.” He looked at the only clock in the cottage. “best leave at half six. Take that coat you have on and just give it to the bloke in the van when you get there.”
The night went quicker. Was it because he was going home? Was there a home to go to? 1929 could be quite foreign to him if he was stuck in this unknown vortex or whatever it was.
He was up and ready at the appointed time, even downing a warm cuppa that Ida had made. He thanked he with an embarrassed hug and followed Harry out into the cool morning.
The walk was brisk but enjoyable, and soon the train came into view. It was just pulling into a small brick platform that had a wooden building in the middle. Harry introduced him to the van man, and disappeared after saying goodbye. Gerald stood at the open window and soon there was movement. The train ran along the riverbank for a short while then started to climb, winding its way around sharp curves. Behind were five oil tankers. Gerald didn’t know if they contained kerosene or petrol or what. The guard said it was the oil for Sydney. Whatever that meant.
The clanking of the engine jolted Gerald’s mind back to that interest he had of this place, and with the tight curves, he got a good look at the engine. Yes, the pistons were vertical, allowing a shorter frame and so making it easier to negotiate the corners. That was as far as his engineering knowledge went.
The view was astounding. As the sun came up over the mountain behind them it lit the valley and the far cliffs with a magic light. It was beautiful. Sometime later, which included lots of smoke in the van, they turned into the cliffs. “Bells Grotto and the first tunnel,” said the guard. “Best put a hanker chief over your nose in there. Lots of smoke.”
Then the small gully filled with big tree ferns sped by, then darkness as they entered the tunnel. Gerald had walked this tunnel once. It was full of glow worms. But that would be years in the future. Today it was soot coated rock walls. At the far end, daylight changed the scene again and they crawled out into a small area where the train started to stop. Gerald went to poke his head out the window, but in the darkness and his eagerness to see outside, he hit the frame instead. He saw stars for a second, then pain as he started to lose his balance. He grabbed something but it was a bush. Can’t be a bush, he thought. He looked around and there was no guard’s van to be seen. In fact, no train. It was so quiet. He steadied himself on some rocks and the realisation that this was the stack that he was climbing, when he fell.
Now it was unsettling. The clothes he had on were his original ones, not the coarser ones he wore back at the cottage. On his finger was his wedding ring and nearby was his day pack. He rushed over and opened it to find his camera and car keys. His head was throbbing and he felt the bump where he hit the window frame. Now was the time to get away from here and home.
The car was where he had left it and the date on its console was the same day he had come up to photograph. His mobile phone was under the seat but there was no signal. He took a swig of water then drove back to the main road. This time there were Falcons and Toyotas and Holdens. At the first opportunity, he stopped and finding a signal, rang Kathy.
“You are taking your time,” she said, “Supposed to be back an hour ago. My sister had to go.”
He explained he had a small fall but he was alright, and would be home in about an hour or so. The sharp edge of her voice mellowed a little, and after assuring her that he was OK to drive, headed home. Kathy was waiting at the front gate when he pulled into the drive. He had pulled over and sent a message when close to their house to reassure her he was still doing OK.
A close hug and inside was a strong coffee. He related the details and in a supreme effort of indecision, decided to come out and tell her exactly what he had experienced. She listened and whilst offering a comment that it was a very realistic dream, didn’t push the case when Gerald just was resigned to it being so real. Despite his objections, she took him to the local hospital for a check. The ER doctor was a fairly happy that there was no damage or concussion, but noted the knock on the back of his head looked a little earlier. Gerald tried to keep his story simple but nearly blurted out about hitting the window frame. He remembered in time, otherwise the doctor might have kept him overnight. As it was, he was a little concerned when he found out Gerald had driven himself all that way home. He was cautioned about not doing that in future.
It was an early night and a clear directive from Kathy, that he never go walking alone again. She thought about his incident and his story and didn’t realise that he had such an imagination. He must be working too hard and needed more time away from the business. At breakfast, he asked her if they could go to Katoomba in the near future and have another look at the table. Now he had a reason to do it. She agreed, with a shrug of the shoulders. Maybe it was what was needed to finish the matter. A different table to what he said he saw in his mind. She hoped it was.
They drove to the shop and started to pack a couple of orders. He still looked peaky, so she suggested a coffee break. Nearby was a nice café that sold delicious lattes, so they walked down the street to it.
“You sit at the table here on the street, and I will go get them.”
He agreed. He hated standing around in shops. He stared at the traffic that was passing and vaguely heard a young child back chatting his mother somewhere nearby. The recent events still seemed to be so real, and he couldn’t shake them from his memory. Kathy came out shortly with two steaming coffees and put them down on the table where he was sitting.
“Here we are. Who was that woman standing next to you when I looked out the window?”
Gerald looked confused. “What woman? I’m sure no one was standing near me, just a child I heard giving cheek to its mother nearby.” They looked about but the street was quiet, devoid of single women anyway. “Now you are seeing things.”
“Certain there was person, a woman. Can’t describe her but she was holding a paper bag, I think. When I looked a few seconds later, she was gone. Anyway, don’t let this brew go cold.”
Kathy went to sit down and exclaimed “What is this? Not yours?” It was a small brown paper bag. The seats were certainly empty when he first sat down.
Gerald wasn’t that interested in it, but said it might be a purse or phone. Kathy had moved it to the table to sit, and said quickly “Only way to be sure is to look.” She put down her cup and opened the bag. “Oh, no purse my lovely, just food. Want to eat something?”
“Not really. The lady may come back looking for it.”
He took another mouthful and then opened the bag up to look at the contents, probably a sandwich or something. He just sat there with his hand on the bag and didn’t move. There were two buns with sultanas on the top.
The End
(Or is it just the beginning?)
Jimmy Brook