Barefoot and Lost

by Brian Francis Cox

  ‘No, not really, but I’m willing to learn.’ Sid then goes on to tell me his load is thirty two tons, the trailer is forty two feet long, and with the prime mover, the overall length is sixty one feet. He has been rambling on for what seems like hours, about trucks that he has driven and trucks he would like to drive. I can feel myself drifting off no matter how hard I try to concentrate his voice just drifts over me and disappears in the sound of the trucks engine.

  ‘G’day, I see yer back with us then?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep, have I been asleep for long?”

  ‘No not for long mate only about an hour.’

  ‘As long as that, I’m sorry I’ve not been very good company have I?’

  ‘Never mind, in about half an hour we’ll stop for a bite at Salt Creek there’s a truck stop there, and while we have some tucker, you can tell me all about Pommy land.’

  Sid has bought me my meal of ham and eggs, I offered to buy my own but he wouldn’t hear of it, that’s great because, at this rate my ten bob could last me until I’m really fifteen. Sid pushes back his chair; ‘Do we have to go now’

  ‘No, can’t move the truck for another half hour, the law says I must have a regulation break of forty five minutes, so tell me all about yourself while I smoke a couple of makins’

  ‘Sid do you always roll your own cigarettes’

  ‘Yer can’t be doing with them tailor mades, if I did I’d smoke too many, yer see I can’t roll em and drive at the same time, so I don’t smoke unless I’m stopped, gotta be good for me lungs’

  ‘It would be better if you didn’t smoke at all’

  ‘Now don’t you start, its bad enough with the missus going on at me without you starting’

  ‘Sorry Sid I didn’t mean anything’

  ‘I know, no offence taken, are you going to tell me about Pommy land, then’

  ‘Where shall I start?’

  ‘Where you want, what about from when your mum was killed, that is if you feel you want to talk about it’

  ‘Okay, well at the end of September nineteen forty four our house was blown up by a flying bomb, my Gran and I were in the shelter my Mum had gone back to the house to get a flask of tea that she had forgotten. Mum was killed, Gran got a cut head but I wasn’t hurt at all, only a bit of shock; we were both in hospital for a couple days’

  ‘That must have been terrible’

  ‘It was, I cried for days, sometimes even now when I think about it, and I still have a nightmare about it every so often’

  ‘You don’t have to go on if it upsets you’

  ‘No it is best to talk, Gran and I then went to live in Hastings, it’s a seaside town on the south coast of England’

  ‘Is that the place where they had that battle and King Harold got an arrow in the eye?’

  ‘That’s the place, Sid you know more English history than I know about Australian’

  ‘That’s because we aint got much to know’

  ‘No I suppose not, anyway we went to live in a guest house owned by Reg and June Milligan, they gave Gran a job, she cooked for all the guests most were soldiers, sailors, and airmen, but some worked for the ministry of defence, it was great it was a happy house. School was terrible and I was bullied a lot, so I learnt to box and ended up beating the bully in a boxing match’

  ‘Better watch myself then Phil, and not get on your wrong side’

  ‘I think you are safe from me, you’re twice my size’

  ‘Yeah, must admit you are a bit on the skinny side for fifteen’

  ‘Anyway it was great I met Michael he was Jewish and we became best friends, then on VE day he got ill, I had given him chocolate but he was allergic, I didn’t know I thought it was me that made him ill, but it wasn’t it was polio. After a long time in hospital he got pneumonia and died. I became a good friend of his foster dad; I call him Pop, he is a lovely man, he taught me to swim, he must have done a good job because I went onto become the under twelve fifty metre breast stroke champion’

  ‘When was that then?’

  ‘Last err, can’t remember exactly, I think a couple of years ago’

  ‘I see’ Sid is looking at me with a puzzled expression, should I tell him the truth, no better not.

  Well anyway my Gran died and I was sent to a children’s home, but it was closed down because some of the house mothers and fathers were molesting the kids’

  ‘Bloody hell Phil did they have a go at you?’

  ‘Yes but I wrote to Pop and he told the police, that’s when they closed it, then Reg and June tried to foster me, but it all went wrong, I got sent to another home, from there I was sent to Australia and here I am’

  ‘Jesus Phil that is some story, wish I had more time to hear some more, but better be on our way’

  ‘There is not much more really, Sid what will happen when we get to your depot?’

  ‘ We won’t be there until about three, first thing I will do after I unhook the trailer is try to get you a lift to Melbourne, shouldn’t be too difficult, then I will park up and go to bed. After a kip, I will hook up to another trailer and drive it back to Adelaide; I should get home around three in the afternoon. Then I’ll say G’day to the wife and kids, slip down to the pub for a couple of beers, maybe take Andy fishing, get a good nights kip in a proper bed and do this all over again the next day.

  ‘How often do you do that?’

  ‘For the past two months and for the foreseeable future three times a week’

  ‘Don’t you get fed up, going up and down the same bit of road all the time?’

  ‘Not at all, it keeps food on the table, my baby is a dream to drive, what more could I want, anyway I’d sooner be doing this than what you are doing Phil’

  ‘Yeah I think I would as well’

  ‘That tucker my missus gave you save it until you leave me because there is nothing to buy there at the depot, come on lets get this show on the road.’

  The engine roars into life and we glide out of the truck park. I don’t want to have to tell anymore lies, so I have bundled my shopping bag into a pillow and with my head resting against the side of the cab, I pretend to sleep to stop Sid asking anymore questions. I must have dropped off because I am woken by Sid talking to the gateman at the depot. After un-hooking the trailer Sid walks to the office to hand in his paperwork.

  As he climbs back into the cab, ‘Right Mate yer see that big Mack over there,’ I follow the direction of his finger, there is a large brown truck, with a flat front, parked against a fence. ‘He’s going to Port Melbourne; he said he will give you a lift so, when you see him start up his truck to go and collect his trailer, get over there, quick as a flash. He’s a bonzer bloke, name of Tex; I’ve told him all I know about you and that is frig’ all, and he won’t ask questions so you’re safe with him.’ Now I’m going to get some shut eye in my bunk, you can wait in here; don’t make a noise when you leave.’

  ‘How long do you think it will be before Tex goes?’

  ‘Shouldn’t be longer than an hour, but keep your eyes peeled in case he gets a flyer. Now I’m getting my head down, hooroo Phil, nice to meet you and good luck in whatever you’re trying do.’

  ‘Good night Sid, thank you for everything.’

  The Mack; looks bigger than Sid’s, Tex is not in his truck, so I do what everybody seems to do, well men anyway, I pee over the fence. Back at the White I can hear Sid snoring, I haven’t the heart to disturb him so I reach in to collect my shopping bag, closing the door gently behind me, finding a log where I can see the Mack, I sit to eat my tucker and watch for Tex coming back.

  Tex is walking towards his truck; well I assume it is Tex because he is wearing a cowboy hat. A car with a spotlight on its roof is slowly cruising around the truck park, lighting up each truck up as it passes, it stops beside Sid’s, White. The interior light comes on when the passenger opens the door, I freeze when I realize he is a policeman. He bangs on the door of the White and climbs up. Sid shout
s ‘What the hell’

  ‘Open up Police’ Sid pokes his head out of the window.

  ‘What’s up mate’ I can’t hear what they are saying but Sid is pointing towards the Mack. They must be looking for me, how did they know to look here? Sneaking around the back of a tree, I watch frightened to breathe as the policeman jumps down, reaches inside the car and swivels the spotlight around the park. The light goes out and he walks towards the Mack, I must get away. In my haste I feel the shoulder of my jacket snag on a wire, ripping it as I climb through the fence. Running blindly across the field I very nearly lose my balance as I skid in something soft and slippery. It is only when I stumble over a black and white cow laying down do I realize what I may have trodden in.

  Crouching beside the fence, I watch the police car turn left as it leaves the park heading the way I want to go towards Melbourne. I am tempted to go back to the yard and see if I can get a lift now the police have gone, but think better of it, Sid or Tex would have to hand me over. I can’t make up my mind what to do, but the decision is made for me when I feel a stinging on my hand, looking down I see the sleeve of my jacket is covered with ants, I have never seen ants so big they must be an inch long. I frantically brush them off as I run, hopefully in the direction of Melbourne.

  The lights of a vehicle coming up behind me stops my running and I hide behind a big white tree, the bark is peeling off and lying on the ground looking like rolled up pieces of brown paper. The tree smells like the ointment Gran used to rub on my chest. I watch Tex and his Mack go by thank God I’m going the right way. I’m about to start walking when the Mack screeches to a halt, has he seen me and is stopping to pick me up. I hesitate it could be a trap, but then I realize he has been stopped by the police. I can hear them talking but can’t hear what they are saying. A couple of minutes pass then both vehicles move off, Tex on his way and the police back towards Adelaide.

  I’m counting my steps, why do I do that, it used to really annoy Michael; six hundred and one, two, three; I’ve been walking for a long time I have lost count how many steps, and does it really matter. The sun is just peeping, over the hill in front of me; I know for sure, I’m heading in the right direction for Melbourne. Every time a vehicle approaches I hide in the shadows, where will I hide now it is daylight, or should I try to get a lift.

  A sign beside the road reads, You are about to leave the state of South Australia, to combat fruit fly, all fruit must be declared at the Victoria Ministry of Agriculture; it goes on about fines for those that carry unregulated fruit over the border; what does that mean?

  I can see a building that looks like an office, beside a high wire fence, how can I walk past there without being noticed? The fence cannot go on forever so I have decided to follow it to see if I can cross somewhere else. After about half a mile the high wire fence becomes an ordinary wire fence, scrambling through I wonder, do the fruit flies do the same thing, or do they read the notice on the main road and turn back?

  It is getting hot now; even with my jacket off I’m sweating. The smell in the air that reminds me of the stuff Gran rubbed on my chest when I had a bad cough is so strong. Three hundred and twenty seven steps ago, I crossed over a small brook the sign said it was Reynolds Creek, I was very tempted to drink from it, but it didn’t look too good so I just splashed some over my head and then soaked Billy’s shirt in it, wearing the shirt like a hat, it has cooled me. Through the trees I can see a main road, I’m not sure if it is the road to Melbourne but it does seem to be going in the right direction.

  In a clearing there is a pickup truck or is it a Ute, loaded with coils of wire, fence posts, and shovels. Underneath the Ute, in the shade is a large black and white dog, the Ute looks like it has come from the Keystone Cops, I have never seen a car so old before except in the films. The dog growls, the scruffy old man crouching over a fire, stands up and swings around, spilling some of the steaming contents of the can he is holding onto the ground.

  ‘G’day mate, ow yer going?’

  ‘Hello, sorry I made you jump.’

  ‘Geeze, a bloody Pom, yer a flaming long way from ‘ome aint yer; fancy a brew?’

  ‘A cup of tea would be very nice, thank you.’

  ‘Sorry to say we aint got no fine bone china cups, but if you’re prepared to drink out of a tin mug then be my guest, drag up a log and park yer arse, what’s your handle?’

  I look around but can’t see any logs and what does he mean by my handle; standing, looking confused.

  ‘Well, don’t just stand there with your mouth wide open, you’ll catch friggin flies, sit your arse down here’ he says, as he pats the ground. ‘What’ll I call yer it’s only right we should know each others names, if we is gunna dine together?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t understand you.’

  ‘Jesus Mate, not understand me, you’re the bastard with the friggin accent not me.’

  ‘My name is Phi---Mel Barton.’

  ‘Pleased t’ meet cha Mel, I’m Skeeter McKenzie,’ pointing at the dog, ‘He’s Defor.’

  The man standing in front of me with his gnarled hand held out, is shorter than me, with a craggy sun burnt face, his stringy grey hair is poking out from under a greasy battered hat and, almost reaches to his broad shoulders, a dirty khaki shirt, undone to his belly button hangs over a torn pair of shorts. On his feet he has a pair of very worn boots; I can see the toes of his right foot poking through the toe cap. Shaking his hand makes me wince, leaving me with what feels like three broken fingers.

  The tea is hot black and sweet with a smoky taste, I think it is the best tea I have ever tasted.

  ‘So Mel, where yer heading and where ‘ave yer come from?’

  ‘I’m going to Melbourne to meet up with my adopted mum and dad.’

  ‘Are yer now, how old are yer, where did yer start out from?’

  ‘I’ll be fifteen after Christmas, and I started from Perth a week ago.’

  ‘Geeze how’d yer manage that then? Christ, Perth, that’s two thousand miles away.’

  Thinking I will tell Skeeter the truth, well nearly the truth, anyway, I tell him that I was supposed to go with a group on the train but got separated at Kalgoorlie, then I told him what really happened, leaving out the bits about the Salvation Army and the Police. I can tell by the look on his face he doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t ask questions so I have left it at that.

  Sitting in the fire is a cooking pot; Skeeter every so often, lifts the lid, and peers inside.

  ‘What are you cooking, it smells nice?’

  ‘It’s underground mutton stew.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Rabbit, a few spuds, couple of carrots, some flour to thicken it, a couple of gum leaves to flavour it and Bob’s yer uncle, underground mutton stew’

  ‘Did you catch the rabbit?’

  ‘Nar it jumped into the pot on its friggin own,’ the look on my face makes him laugh ‘Only kidding course I bloody caught it, set three traps last night and got one bunny, that’s enough, anymore it’s a waste as I can’t keep em, they go off very quick this time of the year.’

  Skeeter has told me he is a fencer, going all over the State putting up fences, telling me that, on his own, he could put up more and better fences than anyone else in the State. He told me he has a technique that no one else has fathomed out and this made him the best.

  The sun is dropping behind the trees; we have been talking for ages. When Skeeter is not talking fences he can be very interesting, telling me stories about Aboriginal folklore, I have no idea if it is true but it is fantastic to listen to.

  The stew is delicious, Defor has come to sit beside me, and I’m not sure whether it is me or the stew that has attracted him. ‘Skeeter, Defor is a strange name for a dog, is it an Aboriginal name or something?’ He starts to laugh I can’t see what I have said that is funny.

  ‘Nar Mel its Dee for Dog simple aint it?’

  ‘No it’s me that is simple, I should have realized that.’
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br />   ‘Mel, do you have a deadline on meeting your folks, only I was thinking I could do with an ‘and on me next job up at Edenhope, you could work for me, I’d pay yer the going rate for a weeks work, about six quid it is, it would give you something to help you on your way, could even pay for a train from Hamilton to Melbourne, what do yer say?’

  ‘That would be fantastic, but I don’t know anything about fencing.’

  ‘No worries mate I’d learn yer, so it’s a deal then?’

  ‘A deal, thank you Skeeter.’

  ‘Them’s fancy boots you got there young Mel, yer know they aint gunna last yer ten minutes with all that cow shit on them, boots like them should be looked after, get em off and I’ll show how to clean em.’ I wonder what Skeeter knows about cleaning boots his are a disgrace. After washing the cow dung off he has set me to rubbing mutton fat into the leather in a circular motion, they are starting to gleam. ‘When you’re finished that, leave em overnight to let the fat work into the leather, do that every week and they’ll last yer fer years, now how about a brew and let us have a boss to worker discussion?’

  ‘We got a bit of a problem with sleeping arrangements; I don’t often have guests and certainly none that hasn’t got their own swag. You’ll just ‘ave to sleep on the ground, use yer bag as a pilla. There’s a tarp in the back of the Ute, you can throw that over yer, and tomorrow yer can buy a blanket. To be going on wiv to stop yer getting cold put some of this in yer tea’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Whisky, Corrio five stars, bloody good stuff.’

  ‘I tried whisky once before and didn’t like it’

  ‘What, in yer tea?’