Grace Beside Me

by Sue McPherson

  ‘Hello, Missy, and how was school today?’ Pop stands up and kisses my cheek.

  ‘It was all right, Pop, but I’m really looking forward to the weekend.’

  Mr Ridgeway stands and leans over to kiss my cheek. He smells like Old Spice. Normally we wouldn’t be as affectionate but I haven’t seen him since December last year. Now that I am older I guess this adult gesture is expected of me.

  ‘Hello, Fuzzy, you just keep on growing, don’t you, quite the young woman now. Won’t be long and you will be as tall as Pop here.’ He says before sitting down again.

  ‘Hi, Mr Ridgeway.’

  I reach over and kiss Nan on her forehead. ‘Hi, Nan.’ After changing out of my uniform I go into the kitchen to make a cup of Milo and grab a piece of cake. Nan is busy placing biscuits on a plate at the sink. Mr Ridgeway sits at the kitchen table across from Pop. The teapot with Nan’s hand-knitted yellow cosy sits in the middle of the two men. Two cups and saucers are placed to the right side ready to be filled. The milk jug, the cake, the sugar container, strainer and cutlery are all placed next to the cups.

  A spoon falls to the floor and Pop turns to pick it up. At that moment I notice Mr Ridgeway looking at me … differently. The hairs on my arm tingle to a standing position. I rub my hand over their liveliness, calming the feeling of insecurity that has so quickly invaded. He looks away. Pop has recovered the spoon and Nan has turned around. She is standing before her special banana cake, set out in abundance on a chipped plate on the table next to the milk.

  I move closer to Pop and fumble as I try to pick up a square of cake.

  ‘Are you enjoying school, Fuzzy?’ Mr Ridgeway asks before spooning sugar into his teacup.

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘How are you going in maths?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I got a good mark on my last maths test so I guess I’m doing well … I don’t really like numbers.’

  ‘You will find numbers are a necessary part of life,’ he says while stirring his tea. ‘It is good news hearing your last exam was a success, well done, Fuzzy. Maybe you should think about becoming an accountant, you could come and work for me. What do you think?’

  ‘Nah, I … I don’t think so, Mr Ridgeway. I reckon I should leave that to someone who actually enjoys maths.’

  Pop nods towards me. ‘Here, here,’ he agrees, laughing.

  I don’t look at Nan but I wouldn’t be surprised if she sensed discomfort in the room. I recover, by smiling and standing my full height. Strength restored, I face Mr Ridgeway, ‘Thanks for the offer, Mr Ridgeway.’

  Normally I would stick around for a bit of a natter but today there is a change. I feel it and I don’t know if it feels right. I need a bit of time out so I sit with Puss, eat Nan’s cake and read my book in the cosy sunroom. I’ll go and grab a Milo when he leaves.

  In his day, I guess Mr Ridgeway would have been quite the ladies’ man. He has eyes that are happy and warm. He has a head of salt-and-pepper hair, a strong jaw and straight shoulders. Nan says he’s about sixty-seven. RM Williams riding boots, moleskins and shirt are his preferred attire. Nan particularly likes his immaculately ironed shirts. ‘Obviously Mrs Ridgeway keeps a tight ship at home,’ Nan says. For some reason known only to Nan, if you have clean and well-ironed clothes you must be good at keeping house. Mr and Mrs Ridgeway have three children. The two eldest are overseas working and studying and the youngest, a really shy girl called Christine, is boarding at the Presbyterian Ladies College in Sydney. I only get to see her about once a year when she comes home for holidays. We get on well, even if we are from different sides of the track.

  The funny thing about Nan and Mr Ridgeway is, even though she appreciates his ability to look neat and tidy, she doesn’t seem to enjoy his company. Nan makes him welcome and she fusses over a cuppa and cakes when he visits but, as for sitting around the kitchen table and yarnin’ on, well, that doesn’t happen. As soon as Pop and Mr Ridgeway start talking, Nan makes herself useful somewhere else. After putting water in the teapot she leaves the pouring to Pop and heads to the sleep-out where she continues knitting another beanie for the lads in lock-up.

  I reckon Mr Ridgeway is a good bloke. He always has kind words of advice and encouragement. He has done well in Council, fighting for cleaning up the streets, supporting environmental causes and building a new community centre.

  Nan, Pop and Mr Ridgeway have known each other for a long time, long before I came along. Apparently, years ago, Mr Ridgeway came from a big property not far from Mittagong. His eldest brother got the farm when his dad died and, because he wasn’t needed on the property anymore, Mr Ridgeway stayed on in Sydney after school and studied accounting. His relationship with his brother fell apart after a fight over some sweet girl. As the story goes, he hasn’t set foot on the family property since. He married Mrs Ridgeway when Dad was still in primary school. Meryl is her name and we see her at church when we go. Compared to her husband Mrs Ridgeway doesn’t really enjoy being around people. Mr Ridgeway is the owner of Ridgeway Accounting Service here in town. He also has three other offices, in Narrandera, Wagga Wagga and Albury. Totally loaded he is. He loves politics. There are no secrets regarding Mr Ridgeway’s intentions of running for state parliament.

  ‘The only way we’re going to get any growth out here in the bush is if I get elected at state level. Those bastards in Sydney won’t know what hit them.’ I have heard this every visit for the last three years. No doubt the future will bring Mr Ridgeway his wish.

  Higher Ground

  It’s common knowledge around town that Nan and Father John have a love–hate type of a relationship. It’s not that Nan doesn’t like Father John, it’s just that she reckons there are better things to do on a Sunday than listen to him, like washing the floor or cleaning out the fridge.

  It’s also common knowledge that Nan does her shopping with eyes in the back of her head, making sure Father John doesn’t track her down.

  Last week, as Pop and I were stepping out of the newsagents, we bumped into Father John running past. He stopped running and said, ‘Pop and Fuzzy, is it?

  I’m very busy at the moment but will look forward to having a chat with Nan Tilly and you both after church on Sunday.’

  Pop just put out his big hand to slow Father John down and asked why he was always so busy. Father John said, ‘It’s all very unfortunate, young man, but old Mrs Robyns is waiting. She has been waiting since last Monday, poor old dear. As you know all this week the temperature has been close to forty degrees, yes, very warm. The fridges have had some technical trouble, which is not good for poor old Mrs Robyns. The old dear simply needs to be where the Dear Lord intended her to be, yes, all very unfortunate. I must move along now and get her to the cemetery and underground before the day’s heat brings me more despair.’ And then he was off again, his little legs shuffling along real fast. He always reminds Pop and me of Freddy Flintstone. Pop reckons old Mrs Robyns would not have been happy with this situation, since the old girl had very strong views on body odour.

  By Sunday, guilt had made its way into our little house, so off we all went to church. Nan wore her Sunday hat, you know, the red one. She also has this old black handbag with a sprinkling of little shiny black beads all over it and she carried that. Pop had bought it for Nan from a second hand shop when Nan was only fourteen. Nan reckons Pop did well, being a big man and walking into a shop to buy a handbag. Pop reckons it didn’t matter because on a good day Nan has always made his insides tickle and his outsides ready for lovin’. No wonder that handbag is so special.

  When Nan runs into Father John, Pop and I always have a bit of a laugh. Just two little people, Nan with a gammy leg and a tongue that would make Chopper Read smile with pride and Father John short and tubby, always running off quickly to bury someone before the heat gets to them.

  Father John must have done a lot of shopping this week because there was a full house at the church, even Mrs Long my English teach
er and Lefty from down the street were there. You know Lefty, the guy with the dog that could chew your head off.

  So, like always, Father John has heaps to say. Today is all about forgiveness. It must have been a good subject to talk about because I hear and understand every word. Forgiveness is a hard thing to put into practice. There are heaps of interesting and challenging stories around about things that would be difficult for people to forgive. One particular event has me thinking. I ask Nan while we are all walking out of the church.

  ‘Nan …’

  ‘Yeah, Fuzzy.’

  ‘I know it’s a good thing being able to forgive, but I want to know … what would you say if you were in a closed room with Osama Bin Laden?’

  ‘Mmm … well first … I’d give ’im a good kick. I’d hit ’im over the head a few times then probably … we’d sit down on the floor and I’d tell ’im a few home truths.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Mr Bin Laden, pull your bloody head in, mate. Life is a gift. It’s here for all of us regardless of where we come from, what colour skin we have or what religion we follow. And just because you’ve been real angry about the world doesn’t mean you have to stay that way. Today could be the day for change. You could turn it all around, breathe, live and work for the good of mankind.’

  ‘Wow, Nan.’

  ‘Then before I walked out the door I’d turn around and give ’im another good kick, just in case he thought I was full of it. And finally I’d tell him to stop killin’ ’cause we all reckon he’s nothin’ but a heartless prick.’

  ‘Nan, Father John,’ I whisper as Father glances over with a saintly smile.

  ‘Sorry, I meant to say, Mr Bin Laden stop bein’ a naughty boy.’ Then we both break out laughing. Father John smiles, none the wiser.

  We all dawdle out to the hall next to the church and we drink lots of tea, eat Nan’s pumpkin scones with jam and proper cream, and catch up with friends we haven’t seen in a while. Mrs Long stays only twenty minutes, she looks sad, like when your pet dog dies or something. Maybe that’s what happened and that’s why she came to church. I hope she comes good before she marks my essay on ‘Who is a hero?’ I need all the help I can get.

  Lefty from down the corner is mad as ever – always finding something funny. Him, Pop and Nan have heaps of laughs. He looks older than what he is, I think Nan said he turns forty the week after next. He’s a funny one, that Lefty. He doesn’t have any family really so I guess we are it, mind you, we are not related. Nan and his nan went into the mission homes together years ago. Along the line all of his family have died. Some went from old age and broken hearts and others from the usual – cancer, alcohol poisoning, heart attack, car and work accident and the odd murder. We all love Lefty. He has a heart of gold – he’d give you his own pillow if you didn’t have one.

  Many years ago when I could still fit into my pink dress with the chubby fairy on it, Lefty was going through a bit of a hard time. Nan said it was called depression. She also said that when you live a life full of challenges, things may get on top of you so the best thing you can do is to stop the head noise and keep moving forward. So, to make things better, Lefty had to stay a couple of days down at our place where Pop and Nan taught him some things about his Koorie culture and the need for ‘sit a while’.

  Lefty had a hard upbringing but he learnt the value of treating people kindly and with respect. He also worked hard as a labourer at the local timber mill. By the age of twenty, Lefty had spent his second holiday in a low security prison camp not far from here. This time he was grabbed for growing ‘yandi’, or marijuana, as the papers call it. Pop and Nan always stood by Lefty but were pissed off major when he was once again charged and sent away, this time for a year.

  Every second Sunday after brekkie Nan baked up a storm, then we’d go and spend time with Lefty. We walked through some large gates where we were searched and the wardens went through Nan’s food, eventually sending it through a metal detector. Finally we were allowed out into the prisoner greeting area where we waited for Lefty. We were the only ones, apart from Dad when he was home, who bothered to go. The first ten minutes were spent reminding Lefty what he had done wrong. Lefty, always happy to see us, took the advice while looking down at his feet with shame on his face. I remember his ears going red when he got into trouble from Nan and Pop. When Nan thought Lefty was feeling guilty enough she brought out the food. All guilt was put on hold while we shared a laugh and ate the food Nan had so lovingly prepared. Even the other prisoners were keen on Nan’s cooking. Most of the time Nan baked extra for Barry and Tony Williams, Johnny Smith and Reggie Mullins and his brothers. She became Nan to all of those boys. Even though they had plenty of family they didn’t have visitors. Thinking back I wonder, does that lack of support somehow make these blokes reoffend? Each time the Mullins boys were locked up their dealings with the law got more serious.

  Nan and Pop got up Lefty so much that at the end of his time he didn’t bother to grow or smoke dope again. This was a great win for both Pop and Nan and now they are part of the Prison Visitor Group. Generally they go into the prison once a month and support those who need it.

  When they go through the big gates both Nan and Pop make certain time is spent with the first offenders. When one first offender by the name of Tyrone Banks was released, he was back in again after five months, for the same offence. Pop took him aside one day while he was visiting and asked him why he did it. Tyrone simply said he had nowhere else to go and his family didn’t want to know him when he got out. He felt safe inside with his family of mates who understood his pain. I don’t know what you’re thinking but this news didn’t sit too well with me. I’m still trying to understand it. If Tyrone’s family had given a bit of support then maybe Pop and Nan wouldn’t of seen him back inside.

  After his last stint in prison, Lefty returned to the outside with no biological family left – they had all died. The last one to go was an invalid aunt who overdosed in a Melbourne old people’s home. This aunt had been a great support to Lefty when she was still thinking straight, but after she totally lost it, she didn’t even know who he was. He took it very hard, poor thing. Luckily she made a will long before her mind got scattered. Lefty was looked after: a house in Melbourne, its furniture, a box full of old stamps, shares in three different companies and some World War One Army medals were all now proudly owned by Lefty.

  The money didn’t change him. He eventually sold up the house in Melbourne and bought the house on the corner down the road from us.

  Not long after moving in Lefty met a girl called Hilary, who was a bitch, even Pop thought so. She didn’t like any of us because we were ‘tarred’, so she said. The funny thing is she didn’t realise that she was sleeping with a ‘tarred’ one. Anyway, it didn’t bother us too much, Lefty still came for Sunday roast and still helped Pop bring in the firewood. After a while Hilary insisted on moving in with Lefty. She was headstrong and opinionated, a right pain. Hilary was constantly telling Lefty to buy her a pup so of course he did and the pup was named Dunlop. Right from the very beginning Dunlop was not happy. Nan reckons the dog took after the owner because Hilary always walked around the place with an unhappy look on her face. You know when you just sit and read or watch telly and your face just sits there, not smiling, not unhappy, just sitting looking relaxed and normal. Well, when Hilary sat down looking normal, her face looked hard and angry, which made her look ugly. After a couple of months Hilary worked out that Lefty wasn’t that eager to part with his money.

  She found a better life with a dropkick called Benny Majoronni, a druggo who lives out near the reservoir. Lefty was shattered of course. Hilary moved out of the house leaving her dog Dunlop and Lefty to pick up the pieces. Dunlop continued his relationship with the devil, ready to pounce and eat anybody who dared to cross him, including Lefty. And poor old Lefty made a new relationship with Johnny Walker.

  That was the story up until a year ago. By then Pop and Nan had had enough. The
y got real angry seeing Lefty always staggering up the road, mangy drunk and slobbering all over the place day and night. Nan told me to stay in the house and wait for them to come home. She went to the kitchen cupboard and found her big old heavy fry pan and walked out of the door with Pop. Nan stood tall and confident – she was out to make a change. They went down to Lefty’s place, somehow getting past Dunlop, and then brought Lefty home where he stayed for about four months. Don’t worry, Lefty still fed Dunlop every day. He’s doing all right now, Lefty. Nan reckons his introduction to the church was just what he needed.

  I reckon Lefty’s needs are closer to home. Having family and friends can strengthen a person’s spirit, it helps you believe in yourself and love who you are. If you ask me, that’s what Lefty needed.

  Mullins Mob

  The Mullins boys, on the other hand, continued to bugger up. Eventually all four brothers were placed back into the system, this time high security. The Mullins boys’ story is quite sad, especially if you are a normal type of person. I’ll tell you a bit about their mum and their sister Mary, it will give you an idea of what living in the family was like.

  Mary is a half-sister to the Mullins brothers. You always know when Mary is around because she loves wearing a perfume that smells like musk. My dad says, ‘Mm-mmm, that girl is sweet to look at, sweet to listen to and sweet smellin’. She drives me crazy she does.’

  Nan reckons that Mary has ‘the power’. She is one of those girls who can make a man do things they wouldn’t normally do, like open the door for you or pull out your chair when you would like to sit down. Nan says that in this day and age these things are just not done any more. As you have probably guessed, Mary is beautiful. Even Father John goes all gooey around her. She has dark features a little lighter than me, dark chocolate eyes and long, light brown curly hair. Mary has long lashes, full lips and Hollywood teeth, straight and white. She also has legs that just keep on going. My dad says you always get your dollar’s worth when Mary wears a short skirt. Nan says Dad needs a good kick when he says things like that. I reckon she’s right.