by Ryn Shell
Star Struck
The Stolen Years Series
Ryn Shell
Photography by
David Nightingale
Copyright © 2018 by Ryn Shell
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Preface
"My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees.
…
So don't talk of our separation again..."
~ Quote from Emily Brontë's novel Wuthering Heights.
1
Linton bent and picked up a stone, hurling it far into the distance. He calculated the chance of smashing Rose’s parents’ window was about the same as being hit by a piece of space junk—one in several trillion. It was too far away to tell for certain. Linton had an uncomfortable feeling that the stone had struck its target—he’d destroyed something else aside from Rose.
He ran. He wasn’t going to allow anyone to witness his tears.
The odds were not in his or Rose’s favour. She’d been struck first. Moonstruck at exactly 12.56 pm on July 21st, 1969, Australian Eastern Standard Time, as Linton lay over her on the worn leather sofa, in front of a black and white television set. In the background, the sound of Neil Armstrong’s voice came through the television speakers. “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.” Linton and Rose thought their moment was monumental too.
Both sets of parents usually cottoned on to things pretty quick. But, it was the sixties, and the teenagers were exposed more to new ideas than their parents’ generation was at the same age. The parents didn’t have a clue what was going on behind their backs with their kids.
Rose’s parents, Bess and Ray, assumed that Linton’s parents, Jean and Brian, and older brother, Trevor, along with six-hundred-million people worldwide, would be watching Neil Armstrong walk on the moon on the television in their lounge rooms. But, Linton and Rose were unsupervised.
It wasn’t the first time they were alone—together. Trevor put them up to lots of stuff; they were his perfect alibi. They protected him so that his parents would not find out he had a boyfriend. You didn’t easily come out and tell conservative parents and wider community you were gay, in the sixties, unless you had a death wish.
Trevor took Linton and Rose for country drives. He’d pick up his mate, Alvin, once away from their small home town. Then the couples would part, go for separate hikes together, then stop at fast food venues on the way home to dine in different corners.
As it happened, on the moon landing night, Linton’s mother was visiting a relative out of town, and his father and brother were in a truck carrying a load on a highway heading north. Meanwhile, hostage to teenage hormones, and in love, Rose and Linton got carried away—heading south—heading for trouble.
Parents have ways of finding out about these things. Rose’s pacing back and forth in the garden gave Bess an inkling that something was up.
Jean took to sniffing sofa cushions—not her scent. Then she smelt Linton’s clothes—Lux laundry flakes. She knew that something was very wrong when her teenage boy washed his clothes and a towel without being asked. Jean spoke to Brian the moment he returned home.
Linton and Rose were both grounded—parents’ orders. Linton had no idea what was going on or why he was in trouble for doing his own washing. He curled up on the leather sofa, remembering Rose and reading the newspaper about Skylab, the replacement program for the moon mission. Skylab would not be a single structure, but a cluster of four units, three of them designed for human occupation.
The dimensions and future astronaut intake interested Linton. He wished he could hitch a lift, out of there, to the moon and stars. What a great way that would be to forget about weird parents. Spacemen were real men. Linton allowed his mind to fantasise about occupying the house-size Skylab. He fancied that he would spend his days working—real man’s work—in the cylindrical orbital workshop. NASA would build this from the shell of the propellant tank from the Saturn V rocket’s third stage. The upper part would contain food lockers, refrigerators, water tanks, and spacesuit lockers; enough equipment for a party, even a wedding reception.
Linton closed his eyes—in his mind’s eye he led Rose to the end of Skylab, to where the Apollo telescope was mounted to create a solar observatory. The other astronauts could look out for the docking ports and spacecraft controls. Linton thought he would love to head all the scientific experiments. He enjoyed science class as much as he loved tinkering with trucks—he would be a great astronaut.
Linton envisioned watching Earth from above with Rose and telling her how he would provide for them and protect her—if she waited for him.
The deep voice of his truck driver father jolted him back to reality. “Hoy! You—brat!”
“Huh!” Linton looked up from the paper. “What are you talking about?”
“Get your kit together. You’re taking your brother’s place out on the road with me, where I can keep my eye on you.” Brian boxed Linton’s ears. “She’s jailbait, you stupid little fool.”
“Don’t come back home.” Jean handed Linton a packed duffel bag and hugged him tight.
“But, Mum.”
“Just do as your dad said and stay away.”
Linton stayed away, although he thought of Rose, and saved his money for when they’d be old enough to tell their families that they planned to marry. His dad took interstate jobs, and Linton, travelling with him, kept busy learning the ropes of loading and unloading cargo, checking the time and stock sheets, and learning the everyday maintenance and management involved in a long haul trucking business.
2
28th September 1969
c/o Annexe PO
Dampier
Western Australia
6717
Hi Rose,
How are you going these days? It’s almost a month since I’ve seen you but you are always with me in my mind.
Coming on for October, I should imagine it is getting quite warm in Victoria. It is absolutely beautiful weather over here in Western Australia. Dampier is 1,080 miles north of Perth. I have been over here for two weeks and go for a swim every weekend. It has been that warm. They haven’t had any rain here for months, so the ground is just dust, and a few desert type low bush and grasses.
Dad has picked himself up a leading hand’s job, which is just supervising, so he doesn’t have to work as hard as he does when trucking, a
nd better pay. He gets one hundred and forty pounds a week. That’s three times what he could earn back home. He’s letting me drive his truck without a licensed driver with me and says I can eventually take over his trucking business. No one seems to care that I’m under age and don’t have my endorsed licence.
They are so busy here they don’t check your qualifications. As long as a man can do a decent weld he can get work. Later, once the initial set up is done, they’ll start insisting on qualified workers, but I’ll be on my way home to you by then. For now, they just need lots of men who can get the work done, and I’m a good worker and Dad told them I was twenty-one. Dad puts down twenty-one as the age of all the teenagers in his work gang, so that they get an adult wage. None have guessed that I’m only sixteen. Besides, I work as hard as a grown man. I’m working hard for both of us and our future.
The living conditions are a little crowded as there are four men to a ten-foot by ten-foot room, two lots of double-decker bunks. But that’s better than sleeping in the truck in this climate, and they give me a good feed in the mess room.
What are you doing with yourself, Rose?
Well, Rose, I hope you and all your family are all fit and well. If you get a chance, drop me a line sometime and let me know how you are getting on.
With all my love,
Linton.
6th October 1969
c/o Annexe PO
Dampier
Western Australia
6713
Dearest Rose,
Happy birthday, Rose. I hope you like the Tea Rose perfume gift. How could I resist when it was named for a rose?
I dreamed that I got a letter from you, and I held it close, with my eyes closed, and tried hard to make you real and here with me now.
I’m thinking of you all day, and you filter into my dreams at night. You’re with me always; you always were and always will be. I’m revisiting all those places in the hills we played as childhood friends. Remember the lyrebird trail? I awake from dreams feeling you with me. Do you often think of me?
I seem to be liked by all the boys working around me. Of course, Dad has to be a little bit strict with me in front of them. He treats me like the other men he’s in charge of. Otherwise, they might get on top of him. But he’s been great and is letting me save all the money earned from the trucking work. I’m saving everything for our start together, Rose.
I hope to be finished up here before the wet season and pick up a truck transport load to take to Darwin. Then I’ll bring a load down to Alice Springs, so there will be quite a lot of unsealed roads to cover. I usually carry spare petrol, water and food with me in case of emergencies. On our way up here, Dad and I were held up for twenty-four hours by flooded roads.
Rose, I live right alongside the ocean. There is a safe spot for swimming near the camp, but other than that you have to keep a close lookout for sharks as there are quite a few large ones around here.
The plant Dad is working on makes iron ore into small pellets. They are shipped direct from here to Japan to be made into steel.
Entertainment is laughable up here as there is very little at all. There are about 3,500 men and only about six girls who aren’t married. So you can see that there is no temptation in that way. Not that I would look given that I have you, my girl, back home. Also, I am that shy, if there were loads of girls, and I did not have you waiting for me, I couldn’t do any good for myself. Not that I’d even try.
There are picture shows on twice a week, other than that there is the pub and a couple of girls from down south who visit there for anyone interested in that line of thinking. Those girls sure draw a long queue of men. Hope you don’t mind my telling you what goes on here. It’s just we always talked about everything; I can’t imagine ever not telling you something because it, well, it mightn’t be a proper thing to say to a girl. I think of us as close buddies, and there isn’t anything you can’t say to someone you love as much as I love you.
I think I had better finish here, Rose, or else, in my loneliness, I might scribble words to you that I really should not say, just in case your mum reads this letter.
Sealed with a loving kiss, and you know the rest of my thoughts.
Linton.
19th October 1969
c/o Annexe PO
Dampier
Western Australia
6713
Dearest Rose,
I’ve been going out so often, hoping for a letter from you, that the men here think I’m trying to chat up the young lady at the post office. But you are my only one, Rose. The single girls up here are the nurses that are at the hospital and one or two who work at the post office and store.
There are quite a few permanent residents moving into Dampier now as the iron palletising plant should be in operation by Christmas.
The iron is mined in mountainous country just inland from the Pilbara coast. Mount Tom Price, near here, is one entire mountain of the stuff. I’ve been asked to go there on a job when I finish transporting goods around the Dampier Port. But I’m homesick for you. I need to see you again. I want to come home to you.
It’s certainly been hot here the last week. Monday was 105°F before midday. I’m making the most of it, having half an hour swim at lunchtime and about an hour swim after work every day.
The place I’m swimming is a section that has been more or less fenced in with rocks when they put in the desalination plant. (Seawater to fresh.) It varies from about twenty-two feet deep to ten feet deep, depending on the tide. It is about one hundred yards long and only about twenty yards wide. Just the spot to have a good time and a little exercise.
Linton.
1st November 1969
c/o Annexe PO
Dampier
Western Australia
6713
Dear Rose,
I hope this letter finds you in the best of health. I have been to the post office every day for a week looking for a letter from you. I long for the pleasure of sitting down with your letter in my hands. I got to wondering whether you received my last letter, so I took the opportunity to write again in case.
You know, I haven’t had much of an opportunity to do anything at all last week. Dad is pushing me to complete a driving contract sooner than seems reasonable. He is working fourteen hours a day seven days a week to finish off one section of the job to meet a deadline of the fourth of next month when he says we will be returning home.
Home, Rose. Back to see you. My love. I don’t mind the long work hours if it gets me to you faster.
I think we will make the deadline Dad set, then maybe he will tell me what the urgent date we have to be home for is. Maybe you will write to me and tell me. I’ve still not had a letter from you.
It is just on midnight, and none of the other boys are back from the pub yet. It’s payday over here, and that’s always a good reason for the boys to have a party. I should imagine they will start rolling in very soon. It just seems too quiet here to be true.
I have given the swimming up so I can complete my work contract sooner, and then get back to my girl.
Lots of love,
Linton.

6th November 1969
c/o Annexe PO
Dampier
Western Australia
6713
Rose, Rose, Rose, my love,
The job is finished and I’m on my way home to you.
Dad tells me that my brother Trevor is getting out of the trucking business and will be working on your parents’ farm. Dad made it sound as if it would be his farm. I don’t understand that. They promised it to you. I know how you look forward to running your own farm when we marry. How did Trevor get involved?
I hope you don’t mind I will keep sending you letters on the trip home.
All my love Linton.

10th November 1969
c/o Annexe PO
Dampier
Western Australia
6713
&n
bsp; My dearest Rose,
Just a few lines on how things are going up here as I have a few hours to fill in. You see, Rose, all the boilermakers here at the site are out on strike this morning because Dad sacked one of the boys yesterday and they were not going to give him his bonus which is ten dollars a week, and he has been here just over five months. He would have been retrenched next week as the welders, which he is one, will all be retrenched then. It will only leave the full boilermakers employed here.
The men are talking about going on strike again to get softer toilet paper. Gee, Rose, I need to get out of here least I go mad too from not seeing my girl for so long, too.
I’m suffering from self-inflicted wounds this morning as I have a very bad hangover. I had a going away party last night; rather got quite merry. I suppose I should be catching up on some sleep now instead of writing this letter as I only had two and a half hours in bed last night.
I got up at 6 o’clock to have my breakfast and took the truck to the water main coming from Tom Price to wash it. You’re not meant to wash vehicles here, water is considered too precious, so I couldn’t do it near the camp, and it sure needed a clean before it was fit to drive home in. Before I cleaned it you couldn’t pick it out from the road surface, it was that coated in dust.