Eleven Hundred Sand Dunes

by Helena Phillips

  “Wow. No wonder he was shocked. He’s a lovely man.”

  “I’ve known that forever. But, I haven’t been able to acknowledge it with him. Mum’s been watching us for years hoping I’d let him know. I just couldn’t.”

  I go around to his side of the table and sit on his knee and then we decide it’s time to christen the new bed. Apart from his usual awkwardness negotiating the stairs, the rest goes well.

  Three weeks pass, and Sandro begins to drive again. He straps his lower leg as the physio has shown him and keeps doing his exercises but, although the muscles work and the leg’s healing, he’s still in considerable pain. There’s no way this desert trip’s happening if Sandro can’t drive, and he’s determined. He begins with short trips around town. At first he reports anxiety about his reaction time, but after a couple of days that improves and it’s just the constant pressure on the accelerator which throws him. But he’s improving. He tries to be level tempered, and this works most of the time. Josh takes a few too many jibes from him though.

  ***

  The hearing for the ‘driving without a license’ and other charges took place on a Monday, late afternoon. This meant the three of them were put out having to make themselves available all day. Sandro was not happy, and Josh responded by becoming belligerent.

  “Go home then, Sandro,” he said at one point. “You don’t have to be here. It’s not like this is new for me.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous” was Sandro’s response. “Of course, I have to be here!”

  When the case was finally heard, Jarrod called Sandro to the stand. Josh, with no inkling of this coming up, listened as Sandro described him to the magistrate, who had been seriously considering hours of community service given what he described to the court as Josh’s tendency towards becoming a public nuisance.

  “This young man is the finest young man I have ever met.” Josh squirmed thinking this was cutting it a bit rich. “He would be wasted doing community service of the type normally suggested for people of his age.” The magistrate cocked an eyebrow at Sandro who didn’t miss a beat. “He spends the greater part of his leisure time already, looking after the sick and unwell of the homeless on Melbourne’s streets; not as part of a program, or a homeless Centre, but as one of them, because he has often been homeless himself.” Sandro then went on to describe his first experience of Josh with the bread and the soup and how he had decided then to sponsor him to do the course. He described Josh’s dedication to his TAFE work, his wasted intelligence, and his constant supportive behaviours since Sandro had been ill. Josh slipped further and further down the seat.

  The magistrate was not one of your kind and caring types, and Jarrod had expected him to be skeptical. But instead of going down this track he made an unusual pronouncement. Josh stood to receive it. “You have been before the courts one too many times, Mr. Kettering. “You seem to think you are above the law. You have been a nuisance to many who have attempted to help you. Now, Mr. Minke and my learned colleague here have been drawn into to setting you on a straight path. Do not mess this up. I am going to give you a suspended sentence. If you appear before the courts again within twelve months, you will receive your first three months in a juvenile detention Centre. Is this quite clear?”

  Josh’s wooden expression was not lost on the magistrate, and Jarrod caught his eye and frowned at him. Josh lifted his chin and said, “Yes, sir. Thank you sir.”

  “In addition to this, you will write up your work in the community. Once a week, I expect Mr. Minke here to sign off on a piece of writing related to your caring activities. Is this acceptable to you?”

  Josh nodded, and the magistrate eyed him with disapproval. “Yes sir.” Josh said, hastily. “Can I ask a question, please?”

  The magistrate agreed, and Josh began to speak. “We, Sandro, Mr. Minke and me, are going to the Simpson Desert for a few weeks during the three months.” The magistrate was impressed with his coherence and waited. “I won’t be able to see my friends, I mean the guys around the streets, while I’m away, sir. What can I do about that?”

  “How many weeks will you be away? What’s happening with your course during that time?”

  “Five weeks, sir. I do units, and Sandro corrects them and teaches me.”

  The magistrate called Jarrod to the bench and asked him to explain all this and verify the facts. Jarrod’s efforts were so effective that the magistrate suggested Josh write up the trip and include any interesting people he met along the way, and how he thought they may be helped by the system.

  His parting words were: “Don’t waste your life and your talent young man.”

  The small party left the court room, stunned. By now it was five thirty and they decided to go for pub meal for Jarrod’s sake because he had work to catch up on for the next day and had to remain in the city. Josh was quiet. He ordered when the time came and accepted a coke, but his silence lengthened as he listened to his companion’s talk of other matters. Impulsively, about halfway through the meal, he interjected. “Thanks Jarrod. That was a lot of time.” Jarrod smiled at him. “These things take time. You’re worth it.”

  Josh turned to Sandro, “All those things you said about me. They’re not true. It made me sound like a saint. I just do it because I want to, and I like to live on the streets (some of the time), and they’re all my friends anyway. You do things for your friends.”

  The two men could find nothing to say to this. An uncomfortable silence spread itself over their dinner until Sandro asked him, “Are you accusing me of perjury, Josh?”

  “What’s perjury again?”

  “Lying to the court,” Jarrod offered.

  He flushed. “No, of course not.”

  “Well, what then?’

  “You just told it like it was something different. That’s not lying, is it?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid it is.” Jarrod was cool and solicitor like, and Josh’s flush deepened.

  “Well, I don’t mean that then.”

  “What exactly do you mean?” Sandro kept his voice level and managed to make the words an accusation. The boy began to shove his seat aside, and Jarrod grabbed him before he could take off. “I know you think about it differently to us, Josh. We’re not lying. And you’re certainly not lying. That’s how you see it. That’s how it is for you. You just do it. You don’t make a song and dance about it. But that doesn’t make it ordinary. What you can’t see is that the ordinary for you is extraordinary to the rest of us who are way more protective of ourselves and way more selfish.”

  Josh teared up then. “No. How can you say that? You guys are not at all selfish.”

  “I am,” said Sandro definitely. “I am extremely selfish.”

  Things had gotten a little out of hand, and Josh was uncomfortably out of his depth. “Can we go now? I’ve got things to do.”

  Sandro said, “Well, now you’re being selfish. I haven’t finished my meal.”

  “Sorry. I just need to get out of here. Now.”

  “Big day, Josh,” Jarrod said. “Where are you staying tonight?”

  He flushed again. He knew neither would be happy with him sleeping on the streets. He turned to Sandro who was sitting beside him, “Would you mind if I slept at Bridey’s?”

  “Text her. See what she thinks. I don’t mind. Why would I?”

  Josh picked up his phone and sent a quick message, on his feet eager to make his exit.

  “Can you come by in the morning? I need your help.”

  “What for?” said Josh, not keen.

  “I want to take the Ferrari for a spin out to Daylesford, or Bendigo, or somewhere. Need to get the k’s up on my foot. But, in case I can’t get home again, I might need you to drive.”

  The boy’s face lit up, only to fall again. “Okay. What time?”

  “Ten?”

  “Alright.” Without another word he was off. The two men looked at each other.

  “Did we mess that up, Dad?”

  Jarrod paused to savou
r the unusual address. “He needs time to take it all in. Time on his own tonight. Then keep him busy. And get started on the written work. The magistrate will definitely follow up on this one.” He rose to leave. As he passed Sandro’s chair, he squeezed his shoulder. “Thanks for the meal.”

  ***

  Out in the cold night air, Josh headed off towards Flinders Street thinking to catch a train to Clifton Hill. Along the way, his mood became increasingly agitated. He began to picture a solution. In an instant, Flagran was at his side. “What can I do for you, mate?” Josh choked, the surprise overwhelming him and sudden fear making him stop in his tracks. Flagran grasped his right elbow. “Where are we headed?”

  “How come you’re here?”

  “I asked first. Where are we headed?”

  “Bridey’s.”

  “Okay. Let’s talk there.” The hand tightened and Josh had the sensation off falling through a lift well for an instant, then they were walking across the backyard towards the wooden steps leading to a small verandah. “Where’s the key?”

  Josh’s trepidation was rising. Once inside the house, he switched on the light and Flagran turned up his heat to warm them both while the house heating began its inadequate journey through the freezing, uninhabited rooms. Flagran sat on a beanbag and patted another one, both set up in front of the new heater.

  Rather than joining him, Josh paced the floor like a prisoner in his cell while Flagran watched. “Do you know what’s been happening?” The question fell out typical Josh style, especially developed for times when he was anticipating trouble. Flagran waited. “Well. I’ve been in trouble with the police.”

  “Again?”

  “Yes.”

  Flagran drew in a deep breath. When he threw it out, the temperature of the air had risen and the heat knocked Josh backwards a step or two. This’s better, he said to himself. Flagran knows what should be done. “Well?”

  Josh was stumped. He wasn’t sure which part of the trouble was the important bit. “You know what I’m like,” he said with a grimace.

  Flagran chose his words carefully. “You want me to tear strips off you?”

  “Yes.” The simple word hung there while the two considered this.

  “How might I go about that?”

  Josh shook his head. “For goodness sake Flagran, that’s your job to work out.” He thought about it, and then he said. “Do whatever you did to Sandro that day he was screaming. Do something!”

  Flagran sat in silence watching him pace. “Why isn’t Sandro dealing with the car stuff?”

  Josh stared at him. “You know?”

  “As far as I know, you’ve been to court today. The magistrate has dealt with it fairly, and Sandro has given you a good telling off. What’s my part in this?”

  Josh sank to the beanbag in despair. He was scared. He had no idea what might be in store, or how to make it happen.

  “I’m not going to beat you, Josh. No matter how much you feel you need it.”

  “What about if I tell you I’ve been thinking the accident was my fault?”

  Flagran sprang at him and sat on him squashing him into an awkward position. “You want to torture yourself, Josh, you go right ahead and do it. I’m not helping.” Then he threw himself forward, gave Josh a quick hug squeezing the breath out of him and disappeared.

  Josh lay, tears leaking from his eyes, bereft at the sudden departure. He was on his own again. There was too much to handle. He lay there for an hour, and then crawled into the spare room and under the blankets pulling them over his head. After fifteen minutes, he crawled out again and turned off the heater; and he texted Ruby, but she was still not replying. Then he texted Flagran with nowhere to send it and said, “I’m lonely.”

  The heat in the house rose immediately, and he held his breath as Flagran crawled into the bed behind him, putting his arms around Josh’s chest and holding him close until the boy was fast asleep. When Josh woke in the morning, the Caretaker was gone.

  Conversation was thin when the pair set off for Bendigo.

  Sandro had his mind on the leg and didn’t seem to be aware of his co-driver’s reticence. Unable to bear it any longer as the kilometers grew, Josh decided Sandro was angry with him. “Are you mad because I said you were lying?”

  “What?” Sandro dragged his mind away from his own fears. “What are you talking about? Of course, I’m not mad. It’s hard to accept good things other people say about us. But there’s no way I was coming on strong for the judge. Everything I said was true as far as I see it.”

  There was nowhere to go with this. Loud music would have been helpful but for some reason Sandro had left it off. Probably needing to concentrate. Then, just as Josh had decided he couldn’t do this any longer, Sandro spoke again. “I’ve been thinking, mate, about how we see each other’s work. People, I mean. For me, I couldn’t think of anything worse than doing what you do. Being up close and personal with strangers, especially ones who stink and haven’t got any teeth and are sick, is my idea of a nightmare. That’s why I admire it so much. But, I get that you don’t think about it like that. For you, it’s what you do. Now with me, who could possibly admire what I do? I just make money. For me.” He had started strong and ended on a morose note thinking he had nothing much worth copying to offer this boy. He thought of Jarrod and all he did to help people.

  “I would like to be like you, Sandro,” Josh began. “I wish I was someone people would admire. Instead, I’m a dud. I live off other people, and whenever someone tries to help me, I kick them. Like stealing your car!”

  “What rubbish! You didn’t steal it. You just took it for a bit of an airing.” Reflecting on this, Sandro thought it might not be good teaching. “Of course, if you ever do it again…”

  “What would you do?”

  “What do you think you deserve?”

  Josh thought this was a good question, but he found it impossible to verbalise what he’d been thinking the night before. So, he told him about Flagran.

  “I get that. I’ve been like that many times myself, just wishing someone would give me a hiding and get it over and done with; anything’s better than the guilt. It twists at your guts and people are nice when they should just…I don’t know. I think if anyone had beaten me, I would have hated them.”

  “What did Flagran do to you at Mallacoota?”

  Sandro took a deep breath and shared one of his most shame filled moments. “Do you know, Josh. Not much. He sat on me and pinned me and told me off for calling myself a cripple and feeling sorry for myself. He gave me the chance to take it back. When I didn’t, he insisted until I broke. It was the shame of being seen as a sook, by Flagran. That was the killer.” He shuddered, amazed at himself for being so open. “I like to think of myself as a tough guy, Josh. It’s not real. There’s not much to me really.”

  “But we heard you screaming.”

  “I know. Sorry about that.”

  “What made you do that? It’s alright if you don’t want to say, but it doesn’t make sense. You wouldn’t scream because Flagran told you off you a couple of times. I don’t get it.”

  “Yeah, well I don’t get it much. Sometimes I’m so loaded up with frustration and anger at myself. I can’t really remember what he said, but something set me off. You know how Flagran can get under your skin and push until you’re ready to crack. I think it was something like.”

  Josh didn’t know where to go with it after that. Sandro began to tire before they reached Bendigo, and the learner driver took the wheel. They turned around at the next ramp. He did well, and Sandro was impressed with the way he handled the Ferrari. No showing off. No speeding. Focused concentration. Once they hit the outskirts of Melbourne, Sandro took over again much to Josh’s disgust.

  After that trip, they spent as many hours as possible in the four wheel drive. It needed careful setting up for the desert. Sandro installed small boxes, some with drawers for easy access behind the four seats, for the food and had a special water tank mad
e and fitted under the body of the car. It was shallow but held hundreds of litres. In addition to this, he bought several large containers for water and strapped them in ready to be filled through a window before their departure. There was extra fuel and spare tyres, bits and pieces of equipment which could be used in case of breakdown and bogs. He well knew the dangers of being stuck in the middle of the desert. The fridge pulled out on rails and came with freezer. Tyres, tents, chairs and a table all had their place on the roof of the car. Access to food and a preparation pull out table for stops during the day filled Josh with the greatest admiration for Sandro’s ideas, even though he’d had much of it made for him and installed. He was good with tools but couldn’t get sustained use out of his left arm, and this slowed him down. His medical team constantly reassured him his arm and leg would heal and his head would clear because he was making steady progress. Nevertheless, for Sandro, his physical restrictions were a constant nightmare.

  Josh became adept at driving around the city in the four wheel drive. Occasionally, Bridey was persuaded to take a turn on the open roads, but she usually lacked time to drive around with them. She had moved back home before they left for the trip to reorient herself and also to spend time working on her project. The boys began to make a habit of taking her to work and picking her up, always in the truck as they called it, so she could get some practice outside of her driving lessons.

  Sandro continued to transcribe and translate the interviews. Everything about this reminded him of his father and their possible meeting. He desperately wanted to be well for that moment.

  ***

  Bridey

  Torrenclar and I have not had not had one moment alone together since our altercation in Mallacoota. This is hard for me. I’m frantically busy, but every time I’m alone at the house I can feel him in the atmosphere, see him sitting at my table, hear him laughing in the garden. It’s a totally different longing than the one I have for Sandro. With him I want to make food, go down the street for coffee, share wine on his balcony. With Torrenclar, I want to talk about deep things. I want to be in his presence. It’s something like wanting the Source to be with me, but with Torrenclar it’s like we’re soul mates and we just get each other. He came once to Sandro’s and sat with us on the balcony, and when he left, I felt lost. Another time, he came and joined us in a café. He was more interested in Sandro’s leg and Sandro’s driving and Sandro’s everything. I felt myself withdrawing and starting to sulk. Then he suggested he take him to the beach. I stared at him, angry. I know he knew it, but he ignored me. Sandro said, “I’m not really up for it mate. Take Bridey for a walk on the beach. She’s been working non-stop.”