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I was still having trouble believing I owned my own boatyard. Jack helped me advertise for repair work in the yachting magazines, and I guess the word spread, especially among Sydney boat owners, that I was good and cheap. Within a few months I was getting enough jobs to pay the mortgage, and dad got his accountant to help me set up the books and deal with the tax office. He also helped me with insurance, superannuation, the electricity account, the phone account, and all the other things I didn’t know anything about. At first I lived at home, but it seemed a waste of time going up the river every morning when there was a perfectly good cottage at the boatyard, so, as dad put it, I left the nest, and moved into my own home. I raised a personal loan to buy my own runabout, plus a few bits of furniture and some pots and pans. Dad ran the furniture over in Annabelle for me, plus my grandfather clock, carefully wrapped in bubble wrap. Mum came over for a couple of days to help me fix the place up; she loved doing that! I still went home every Sunday for family dinner, and mum always had pre-cooked meals ready to take back to my place, just to make sure I didn’t die of starvation! I went over to town once or twice a week to do a bit of shopping, and to see my girl Rosie. She was very proud of me, buying my own boatyard. Once I took her over there for a picnic lunch. As usual Jack teased me about this and made some very vulgar remarks, but I ignored him.
I'll always love the peace and quiet of the boatyard. It sits on the bank of the river on a flat rocky area between the water and the rise of the cliff behind. Coming in by boat the slipway is on the left, often with a customer’s yacht winched up on it. At the top of the slipway there’s the workshop made of corrugated iron. It’s a bit rusty but it’ll do. I’ve got a workbench in there for carpentry and mechanical repairs, a drill press, and shelves to store paint. On the right of the slipway is a jetty, usually with my tinny tied up there, and behind that is the cottage. It’s a one-bedroom place with fibro walls and a tin roof. It’s not very new but it’s very cozy, with a lounge and the bedroom at the front, and a big kitchen and a bathroom at the back. It’s twisted round almost sideways on to the river so the front faces across the yard to the slipway and the kitchen gets the morning sun in the back windows. I think it’s pretty near perfect. My grandfather clock slowly tick-tocks away and gently chimes the quarters. In the winter there’s a wood stove in the kitchen to keep the house warm and cosy, and you can smell the wood smoke.
I was happy to let things go on like they were for a while, while I built up my business, but one day Rosie put her arms round me and said, “Tim, I think it’s time I moved in with you”, and that was that. I didn’t have a chance to say yes or no. She packed in her job at the supermarket, but I had a fairly steady income by then, and two can live almost as cheaply as one. I only had a single bed, but Rosie said she didn’t mind squeezing in with me for the time being. She said she’d buy us a double bed, but she didn’t seem in too much of a hurry to get it. When Jack found out about that I had to tell him to shut up and mind his own business. Rosie certainly made some changes to our house, new curtains, bright red geraniums out the front, a repainted kitchen, and all sorts of electrical gadgets. I taught her how to handle our tinny so any time she wants to she can go over to town to do some shopping or see her mum. She says the girls in the supermarket are always full of questions about how we’re getting on, and what we’re doing. She laughs and says they’re green with envy, and then she gives me a big hug.
Years ago when I was a kid we had a puppy called Charlie, a cocker spaniel with long ears. He was a wonderful dog and him and me and Jack grew up together. He loved riding in dad’s truck with his head out the side window and his long ears flying back. We used to go for walks together along the riverbank, and Charlie would go running and exploring and sniffing new smells. Charlie’s got old now and only goes for slow walks. Still he’s company for mum when she’s home on her own, which is most days. Then one day Rosie came home with a new puppy for us, a crossbreed short-nosed collie as far as I can tell. We call him ‘Ruff’. He’s black and white with short hair, and he has the run of the house and the boatyard and often comes out on the river with us. He’s just as much fun as Charlie used to be. Another time Rosie found a white cockatoo with a broken wing that couldn’t fly so she brought him home too. He squawks very loudly and he has the run of the place as well. He can say, “What’s the matter" and “Time for bed.” When he gets bored he beats up the puppy, so we call him ‘Agro’. We all have a very happy time together.
Mum didn’t really approve of me and Rosie living together without being married, and it didn’t help when Jack told her she was just being old fashioned and how everybody was doing it these days. Still, one weekend we invited mum and dad and Jack over to the boatyard for Sunday dinner . Me and dad and Jack had a beer while Rosie finished cooking a real old-fashioned country meal, roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, roast parsnips, sugar peas and beans, followed by steamed suet pudding with brandy sauce. Dad was delighted. Mum decided that perhaps she might approve of Rosie after all. They washed up the dishes together and I heard them chatting away in the kitchen like old friends. Jack was very quiet, except to say he could see why I was putting on weight, and that every time he looked at Rosie all he could see was a younger version of mum. Perhaps that’s why I love Rosie so much. Dad told me the house seemed a bit empty without me, but at least it was less work for mum, and he wished Jack would move out into his own place as well. Jack said he might move out, when he could find a girl willing to do his housework. He’s organized a woman cleaner to help clean Annabelle, including the marine toilet down in the heads! It’s funny, but since I left home, mum and dad seem older and a bit slower somehow, and Annabelle and her diesel engine seem older and slower too. I guess I’m seeing them from further away now. Jack doesn’t seem to worry at all about his future, he just drifts along, crewing on Annabelle and hoping for the best. Now I sleep every night in my own cottage in my own boatyard with Rosie in my arms. I have everything I could ever hope for in life, except Rosie keeps dropping hints about babies.
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If you have enjoyed this book please recommend it to all your friends and acquaintances. If you wish to send me any comments you can email me at [email protected]
Laughs, Corpses... and a Little Romance Page 41