Wyatt Earp: and the Boomerang Refugium

by Jack Sunn

  “I’m sorry for your husband’s passing Bev. Social change has been all too fast, and lost sight of people’s needs, traditions, and emotional needs. Let me say how nice it is to have tea here with you. To sup or eat with people you have only recently met is part of life’s time honoured traditions of turning acquaintances into good friends.” I took out my notebook.

  “Bev. What do you need done in your cabin, that is if you wish to remain in it, or indeed the park, and what do you recommend by way of amenities and yard work? Her list was extensive, and she invited us to look inside. With an amazing collection of cooking books and craft work, it looked a little cramped to me.

  I asked, “Bev. Do you still like to cook and do needlework? I assume that you made these.” I was pointing to her extensive collection of, well, I did not know what to call them. She said yes, and we returned outside and finished our tea. My thoughts were shifting and being moulded by a belief in family and community.

  “What say we go for a stroll?” she said. “I would like to show you something.” We walked around the site and she elaborated on what it used to be like. We came up to the manager’s cabin and stopped. Ray opened the door and we entered. I did not need to say much, as Bev saw right away the spaciousness of the place, and being a spritely woman sized it up quickly, but knew in her heart it was not for her. I took her to the office-shop area, which had the potential to be opened out, much like a double garage could.

  “You know Bev, if we put in extra glass doors and attached an all-weather awning along this western side, had roll-down heavy duty plastic drapes here with a hedge behind, this could be the life of the party. It seems that one of the saddest aspects of the society we live in is the need for nursing homes and retirement homes, where residents invariably decline rapidly as if becoming mere inmates awaiting sentence. I’m thinking also, there is a possibility to mix ages in cabin and van parks.” Pointing back to the office area, “We could easily install gas stove tops here, as well as an oven. Easily done these days with all the barbecue equipment and outdoor kitchens available. And then over here we could have tables and chairs, sometimes for eating, sometimes for other activities.” I could see Bev was thinking, but not quite sure of it all.

  “Bev. Could I take you to lunch tomorrow so we can talk further?”

  “I do not eat a lot for lunch these days Jack, but that would be rather nice, thank-you.”

  “Is 11.45 alright with you?” and she said yes. I escorted her back to her cabin and bid her farewell till tomorrow.

  Together with Ray I had another look at the manager’s place and stepped out some dimensions. To roughly price out the modifications and additions was simple enough. Now all we needed was to make it happen.

  Early the next day I caught up with my friend Tom, who had done most of the building work needed at Sunnybank. Now semi-retired, Tom had been a builder for about fifteen years, established a substantial retirement income, but still enjoyed the creative process of building. He still used the tools, but less so as he moved into his forties. I had come to admire his planning and project management capabilities, and we seemed to easily swap and share ideas. I gave him a site map and a few photos, and talked about Bev and where she might fit in. I asked what he thought about what he might do with the manager’s residence first.

  “Do you have a spare key Jack?”

  “Only one key at the moment.”

  “Pass it over then. Come on.”

  I did so and he quickly looked at it.

  “Pretty standard Stanley key. I have blanks for this. Be back in a jiffy Jack.”

  True to his word, he was back in about a minute or two, and said he would return the original when he was satisfied the copy worked alright. A prepared man. Handles things once and quickly. He also put tags and key rings on each of the keys. I felt confident in my choice of Tom, as I had in the past. I thanked him and returned home, changed, and did a quick search for restaurants and cafes in Redland Bay and nearby. I knew exactly what I did not want – the coffee infused focused footpath-sidewalk café. What was needed was something a little slower but with excellent food. Something that an older lady would feel comfortable with, and that had a restroom. To be sure an on-ground inspection was needed. I told Ray my plans and headed off in search of food. A few places seemed to meet my criteria, but the best I found was the Sunflower Restaurant. It was a family run business, with the front run by a capable and robust Malaysian Chinese lady, helped by her late-teenage daughter. Of course, it was not just my liking of Asian food that swayed me to choose this one. Bev’s cookbook selection which I had only glimpsed yesterday was replete with book spines luring us into the cuisines of Asia. I reserved a table near the back of the restaurant, and drove off back to the park. Not missing a beat, Tom was already there with his work truck and trailer.

  I was greeted with, “Jack. Long-time no see. I like this place as you can see. He was pointing at the trailer which already had an assortment of demolished cabin parts. A sink, two basins, bits of cabinets. I smiled.

  “Mate. These needed to go,” he said.

  “Tom. You are a champion.” When doing renovation and construction for me at Sunnybank, we quickly established a rapport where I let him do what was needed. He did an excellent job, and had all the necessary contacts for specialist fittings and services. The price was always agreeable, and his aesthetic taste was fine with me. I drove to Bev’s cabin. It was 11.45 and she stepped out as I pulled up.

  We exchanged pleasantries, and she asked, “Jack. What’s all the noise I hear?”

  “That would be Tom, a friend of mine. I think I have engaged his services. The noise should taper off soon. Let me introduce you to him on the way out.” Which we did, then headed off to lunch.

  Being a Wednesday parking was light around mid-day, and I was able to park three spaces away from the Sunflower. We waked to the door, I opened it and Bev walked in in front of me. The lady of the house was ready for us and showed us to our table. I had earlier asked for jasmine tea when we arrived, and shortly a pot and two tea cups were delivered.

  “I hope you find something to your fancy here Bev. I noticed your book collection. If not, we can finish our tea and search elsewhere.”

  “Jack. This is lovely, and most kind of you. When I was younger I enjoyed holidaying in Singapore and Malaysia. They had such exciting food, both to look at and taste. When Kevin became ill we stopped going out, and…I’ve lost touch. Thank-you again.”

  After more tea, and with time to peruse the menu, Bev asked, “What do you think you will order Jack?”

  “I think Ma-po tofu, the vegetarian option. And you?”

  “It has been a long time, but I think the char kway teow looks enticing. It was always one of my favourites. And what I don’t finish I can pack up for dinner.”

  The meal exceeded our expectations for a restaurant neither of us had been to before. The flavour was right, the ingredients fresh and generous, and the friendliness of the restaurant staff was welcoming.

  “I think we will have to come back Bev. I have really enjoyed the whole experience and lack of rush.” I paid the bill and Bev joined me at the door. I opened it and she exited it and she started to turn to the right.

  I said to Bev, “You know there might me one more thing before we head back, and it’s in the other direction. Around the corner is “La Coconut, Asian Grocer.” She was up for a short walk and look. We entered the store and took a trolley and I think she thought I was shopping for my dinner that night. I’d sort that out later. It seemed that they had just got fresh greens delivered that morning. Luscious fresh ginger from Buderim or Yandina, bunches of bok choy, spring onions, coriander, chillies and fresh rice noodles. I started filling bags and cruised the aisles.

  “Look Bev,” I said. Here are all my favourite ingredients and essentials. Basmati rice in 5kg bags. The spices I often use, turmeric and garlic, as well as oyster, hoisin and fish sauces. Next aisle had curry pastes and coconut cream and milk.
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br />   “About done.” The next aisle had fish balls and freshly supplied chicken thigh fillets.

  We walked back to the car and I sat Bev in the front seat, and then loaded the groceries into cooler bags in the boot. We said very little on the way back, drove through the gate and stopped at Bev’s cabin.

  “Thanks for having lunch with me Bev. It brings back fond memories for me as well. I have to visit the Northern Rivers for a few days, so won’t be back for a while. Here are the numbers for Ray and Tom should you need anything.” We got out and I showed Bev to her door.

  “Bev. Could you hold for a moment please?” She unlocked the door but stayed outside. From the car, I retrieved the cooler bags and walked up to her.

  “How silly of me. What was I thinking? I have to go away. Would be a shame to waste it.” I had also thrown in flour and dried dates. She would find them later. I took them inside and made to leave.

  “See you soon.” I said, and she gave me a hug like I was a long-lost nephew, and in a low voice said, “Thank-you Jack.”

  I left and drove up to see Tom. I filled Tom in with what I had in mind, which understandably he agreed upon, even suggesting that he had suspicions of what I was thinking after meeting Bev. I gave him Ray’s number.

  “I expect you might get a visitor tomorrow, and Ray will probably drop by as well.”

  “Jack. I’ve got it covered.”

  ----------

  I visited Clunes the following day. It was a pleasure to see the familiar surrounds, as well as the people there. The last few days had been unexpectedly hectic, but indeed satisfying. I had wanted to take a gift for Alf, but knew he would pass it on to someone in perceived greater need than he as soon as he could. So instead, from Honolulu I had sourced some philosophy books for the library that he would find interesting, as well as some green tea, and a new variety of worker’s gloves. Everything seemed to be humming along as though I had never left.

  My visits over the years had developed into a routine I was reluctant to change now. First port of call was Jill, but she said she had pressing work that would take another half hour to finish before we could have uninterrupted time together. That being so I asked Jill, “Where might I find FJ?”

  “Jack. You should know the answer to that. FJ and the garden are synonymous. FJ is garden. Garden is FJ. Sunup till dusk, each and every day, barring cyclonic conditions.”

  “Thanks. Thought so.”

  I clearly remember my first meeting with gardener extraordinaire FJ. He was in the garden surrounding the Clunes complex of the TaSMAN Group.

  “Good morning. You must be FJ. My name is Jack Sunn, spelt S U N N.”

  “It is indeed. And my real name is Ernest McIntyre.”

  “Then I shall call you Ernest if that is alright with you. But FJ?”

  “FJ is what others originally called me as an abbreviation for Farmer Joe. Then they associated me with what I used to drive, a now old FJ Holden, the General Motors 1950’s introduction to car manufacturing in Australia. Then they would ask how I was going, and was I holdin (Holden) on ok. Well I guess FJ just stuck after that. Quite frankly what people call me is their business and it scarcely bothers me anymore.”

  I went off into the garden and it was not long before I saw Farmer Joe Ernest McIntyre taking a break, seated in the shade of a large bamboo clump about 150 m from the main office area. I walked up to him and was greeted with a smile and extended hand.

  “Heard you had a spot of trouble Jack. You look fine so I trust you are recovered and well. Here. Take a load off and bring me up-to-date. Then we can tour the garden and I’ll show you what is new.”

  Our half hour together was both pleasantly restorative and fruitful. Without hesitation, he agreed to lend me something I thought would come in handy at the opening of the Redlands Park.

  ----------

  When talking with Jill I filled her in with my Redlands adventures which excited her, but also left her aghast.

  “Remember Jack, you are still in a stage of recuperation. And it is you who often says that time is nature’s way of making sure not everything happens at once.”

  Jill and I continued talking for an hour and then I met with the Alexander’s. I talked briefly of my plans at Redlands, which had been developing in my mind to provide a facility in part for veterans and Legacy recipients. My discussions with them left me in no doubt that I had to get things sorted as soon as possible at the park. Gordon Alexander was due to retire within the week, and I thought it would be rewarding to have him to help officiate at the park’s launch. The only thing troubling me was his declining health. It was troubling him as well, so time was truly of the essence.

  I had been at Clunes for just three days when I returned to Sunnybank. The intensity of the previous summer was waning. Both temperature and humidity were lower than a few weeks previous. Next morning it was off to the park. Being anxious, I got up early and avoided peak hour traffic at Upper Mt Gravatt and arrived at the park just before 7am. Ray was on site, and maybe not surprisingly Tom was already at work. But more surprising was the transformation during the time I was away. The manager’s cottage was complete, including the extension and added garden plantings. Ray had replaced the tired half dead garden with something resembling a prize garden from Penang or Sanur. The building now looked like a shop-house with timber framed bay windows. The extension had the appearance of a sheltered café with a spacious seating area blending into the adjacent golden cane palms, potted black bamboo, and brilliantly coloured cordylines. The entrance was flanked by two large above ground potted waterlilies flanked by a dense scattering of red and green bromeliads. Ray had done all the garden work, and with the cottage, what had not been replaced was freshly painted or stained. With that finished, Tom and Ray with a few extra helpers were in the thick of nearly finishing two adjoining cabins. We still had a long way to go, but I was seriously impressed. Ray said that Tom had been going non-stop, about ten or more hours a day continually, but had been greeted by Bev with snacks both morning and afternoon. Tom told me he had bitumen driveway and concrete gutter people lined up when the major refurbishments of the first line of cabins was complete. I wanted to check in on Bev, but not before I did some grocery shopping for her.

  As I drove out of the park on the way to the shops something niggled at me as rather odd. It was just after 8 am and I continued driving when it struck me. There had been a woman on the footpath. Neatly dressed for sure. But what was she doing? She was walking towards the park, not away from it and away from nearby houses. Something odd. Never mind, let it go. At the Asian grocer, I started as usual with the fresh greens, was about to collect up eggs, when I noticed the footpath woman from near the park standing outside the shop. This was more than coincidence. Ok Jack, I said to myself, time to work quickly. I pretended to make a phone call, stepped out of the shop for a moment, and while changing directions I turned and snapped a full-frontal photo of her without her noticing. With that done, it was time to put myself and her in slow motion, whilst finding out who she was. A sign up ahead advertised breakfast and coffee so I went in, ordered and sat down. I immediately sent the photo to Trevor asking for help again, together with an offered opinion.

  Trevor is like a machine when it comes to detective work, no matter what time of the day. My breakfast came and at a leisurely pace I enjoyed myself, which gave me time to think out how to play out the next scene. I was inside the café, and she sat outside not far away. All of fourteen minutes passed when I had a name from Trevor. Excellent work as always. I was not sure whether to confront or appease. I chose the latter. After all she was well groomed and decidedly attractive. Not that that should influence me, but it did. I walked out and stepped right past her. A few steps further I turned and went straight to her table.

  I said, “Hello Susan. My name is Jack Sunn.” She looked at me, clearly a little embarrassed and certainly startled. Before she could say anything, I followed with, “I am returning to the park now. Would you car
e to meet me at the entrance shortly? See you soon.”

  Without waiting for a reply, I left and walked briskly to my car and drove away. I parked near the park entrance and sure enough, Susan followed in a few minutes.

  “Come this way. We can sit down and have a chat.”

  We entered the café seating area of the manager’s residence, and before I could invite her to sit down, she said, “Mr Sunn. I am so sorry and would like to explain.” I gestured for her to sit. “But first. How do you know who I am?”

  “It is my business to know a great many things. You work for the AFP (Australian Federal Police) and were or are on Governor-General Duty. I used to be a policeman which I presume you already know.”

  “That’s true. But I am currently on leave. I have known the Alexander’s for some years now and have visited them at Grafton a few times. Mr Alexander is not looking so good, but he seemed excited when I rang him recently. He told me about what you had in mind and of his probable involvement. I became intrigued, and without telling him, I wanted to do a little research of my own. I am not a spy, and not trained like the ones you see on TV, so I guess you easily spotted me. I guess I just wanted to look out for both of them. Not sure I have done such a good job. Would you care to tell me how things are going with your venture?”