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# Peter Richards

## Directives of a Silent Force

For Arthur

with special thanks to my beautiful

– and very patient – wife

Sue

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## 1.

The Davis house in Brandt Street was a modest high-set Brisbane weatherboard cottage built in the late twenties on a smaller block in the near north suburb of Wooloowin. Any architectural merit it may have displayed from the street was dashed by enclosure of the front veranda with fibro at the base and dappled glass louvre windows above. Apart from keeping the house hot in the summer months, the enclosure provided a long narrow room that had no real use except to house a small table and chairs as well as a sofa and a few perpetually dry pot plants. The dining room and living room were mainly enclosed in the centre of the house with small casement windows on the western side. The centre rooms were dark, stuffy and rarely used. Two modest size bedrooms faced east as did the small bathroom.

The remainder of the house comprised a kitchen and breakfast room affair that had clearly been worked-on by an array of amateur tradesmen over the decades. Despite all that, it was a comfortable area – with a large pine table that really could seat eight people. The kitchen and breakfast room area was always referred to as 'the main room'.

The concrete slab laundry, equipped with a time-honoured cylindrical Lightburn washing machine and a trio of cement tubs, was simply a part of under-the-house.

Jim and Lee Davis bought the house, furnished, in 1972 about eight months after leaving Darwin. It took all their savings and a substantial building society loan.

Though the house was built close to the street on the narrow longish allotment, its back steps were no more than thirty metres from the main northern rail corridor; and diesels rumbled past, at all hours of the day and night, towing cargo and commuters to and from the city. Mercifully, the house was midway between two suburban stations and, by the time the trains reached it, the worst of the engine roaring needed for acceleration had abated.

Jim always referred to himself as a transport man; a driver of trucks, buses, delivery vans - anything really. Though not a tall man, he was wiry and strong. He liked to wear heavy cotton khaki shirts with long sleeves - for Brisbane's cooler weather - heavy cotton black or navy shorts and brown elastic-sided work boots over khaki woollen socks. His unruly brown hair and beard failed to disguise his well-chiselled, handsome facial features and bright eyes; but the beard also failed to disguise his contact with the tropical sun since childhood. He looked like he was born with crows-feet wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and a dry complexion.

Jim arrived in Brisbane a surprisingly old-looking young man of just twenty-four years.

At the time of the move Lee was nearly twenty. Even though she carried an excess kilogram or two, she was an extremely good-looking girl with a flawless complexion, shiny straight black hair and lovely dark eyes. She was Jim's height exactly.

Lee's real given name was Maree, but that was never used. Mischievous kids christened her Lee in early primary school years because of her appearance; and, from that time, the name stuck. Her maternal grandmother was of Malayan Chinese origin and, despite the absence of any other eastern family influences, she came into the world looking quite Eurasian. Interestingly, her brother Tony looked one hundred percent southern European.

Like Jim, Lee left school at about fifteen. She worked wherever she could find work as a shop assistant, factory hand or sometimes as a cleaner. She was an avid reader of novels and newspapers. Few important current affairs items escaped her attention and analysis; and all information of worth was dutifully relayed to Jim in the main room at the finish of each day's work.

They were both hard workers and both quickly earned employer respect wherever they were signed-on.

In the early Brisbane years, Jim and Lee lived an uncomplicated and happy existence. They only ever argued about momentous issues like which television station to watch and which vegetables should be prepared for dinner; and, just occasionally, about whether or when they should wed. These more serious matrimony tussles could last five minutes but were inevitably terminated by Jim declaring he 'could easily get a better offer'. And that was the trigger for laughter, truce and reconciliation.

When the Davis couple first moved south, Jim took the decision that he should do a little gardening for a few extra dollars and proceeded to place a classified advertisement in the local paper offering his services. After five days there had been no response to the ad and Jim lost enthusiasm for the project; he'd almost forgotten about it, in fact.

But on the sixth day, at about dinnertime, he got a phone call from a Jean Carter enquiring about gardening help for her place in Dover Terrace, Clayfield. After some propping, he half-heartedly agreed to go to have a look at the job the following Saturday – mainly as a way of stopping Mrs Carter's persistent chatter on the phone while dinner was being ruined on the stove.

On the Saturday, he looked-up the address in the street directory and decided to walk there to have a closer look at the somewhat more genteel Clayfield area to the south-east of their Brandt Street house. The Carter house was not much more than a kilometre away.

After a full half hour of chatter from Mrs Carter, Jim agreed to take on the job fortnightly on Saturdays. He did so on the basis that the money would come in handy; and that even she couldn't talk over the noise of a motor mower.

As he was walking down the driveway from Mrs Carter's front porch, he became aware of someone behind shrubs in the house next-door. As he walked, the person on the other side walked along beside him at about the same speed. A bit unnerved by this, he stopped at the first clearance in the shrubs to get a fix on who was pacing along with him. To his surprise it was an apparently disabled lad who seemed to be in his early teens. The boy said something that he didn't understand so he knelt down at the cyclone wire fence to sort the matter out.

"G'day there, tiger. What's your name then?"

The boy answered with a lengthy sentence, not one word of which Jim understood.

"Are you having a good day, son?"

Again there was a difficult response.

Jim stood up and patted the lad on the top of the head.

"I've got to be off now! I've got some other fish to fry, you know!" he said.

While giving him a friendly farewell ruffle of the hair, a gentle voice from further into the next-door yard caught his attention.

"I see you've made friends with my boy David."

"Well I hope so." Jim responded.

In a trice, David's Mum came into view. She was a middle-aged woman with a kind face and a warm smile. She had fairly short thick dark hair with an attractive streak of grey right across the front. She was wearing neat casual cotton slacks, a light neutral coloured cotton shirt and leather sandals.

"I'm Sylvia Bentley. You must be the man who's coming to look after Jean's garden."

"Yeah, I'm Jim Davis. I think I'll be here about once a fortnight to give it a bit of a mow and tidy-up."

"Jim, I don't know how your timetable is, but would you be interested in giving our place the once-over every now and again? I've got a whole tribe of people here but they're not too interested in gardening. Grandma, the two girls and David are out of the game and Frank's always seems too busy with work and things. So that leaves my Jon; and he seems to get just about every other job around the place."

Jim thought about this for a moment. Something told him not to just say yes; but he had no real reason to say no.

"Well, I could give it a bit of a go for a while Mrs Bentley; but if I get busy with my main work you might need to get someone else. I'm on casual at the moment but you know it could go permanent any time."

"Firstly, I'd be much happier if you called me Sylvia – Mrs Bentley's a bit much; and secondly, we could really use a hand even if it's only for a while."

They talked for a brief time about the job and the pay and then parted – after David was given another substantial hair ruffle by his new mate.

On returning home, Jim reported his dubious double success to Lee.

"The old girl talks like buggery but the people in the Bentley house next door might be all right. There's a poor bloody kid there with something really wrong; he can't talk properly or anything and he just seems to hang about with his mum. Oh, and she had nice leather sandals that you'd like. I might find out where she got them when I go 'round there next time."

They celebrated Jim's occupational success by catching the train to town for Saturday afternoon at the pictures.

The Bentley house was on a standard size block and looked like it was built in the early twenties. Although there was no veranda, there was an abundance of windows all around – lead-lights in the front. It faced north onto the street and was sufficiently elevated to catch most breezes from the north and east. When Jim first made contact, the Bentley's place was painted white with dark green trim. Unlike most places in the area, it had a terracotta tile roof. As Sylvia was overly partial to trees and shrubs, there was too much greenery in both the back and front yards. They weren't going to be easy to keep tidy.

Although a very nice house, space was at a premium with the three adults - including Grandma, Sylvia's mum - and four offspring.

Sylvia's husband Frank was the only son of an unusual couple who lived mostly in Sydney's eastern suburbs. His father was an outgoing, fun-loving, hard-drinking newspaper journalist; and his mother, remarkably, was a quiet, severe, authoritarian woman of German birth. Frank shared his early years with no less than six sisters whose individual personalities covered the entire enormous range marked at either extreme by his parents.

Frank escaped this environment at the age of nineteen and somehow drifted to Brisbane, which must have seemed a safe distance at the time. He got a job in a small factory - Harry Winslow & Co, Cabinet Makers and Shop Fitters - in the industrial area near the old Brisbane airport.

Frank did well at Winslow's from the outset and was made shop supervisor after two years. He was a clear thinker, a hard worker and, most importantly, had the capacity to deliver unequivocal firm direction. His product was always good quality and always delivered on time.

Four years after starting at the factory, he met Harry Winslow's youngest and prettiest daughter Sylvia. They were a natural team and married within six months of first meeting, despite some resistance by Harry's wife Lorna - or Grandma. The old man was openly enthusiastic about this partnership. He very much liked and trusted Frank; and, being a pragmatist, probably saw Sylvia's walk down the aisle as steps towards his financial freedom.

After renting and saving for a while, Frank and Sylvia bought their Dover Terrace house in 1952. Their daughters Marg and Eunice were born in 1953 and 1954 respectively. Their first boy Jon was born in 1957 and their second boy David arrived in 1958.

Grandma joined the Dover Terrace household in 1966 after Winslow's was gobbled-up by a southern based conglomerate called Weston & Knight and Harry's subsequent death.

Frank stayed on with Weston & Knight eventually becoming their Queensland Manager.

After initial visits to the Bentley place in the very hot November and December of 1972, Jim had been involved in brief chats with Sylvia who poured him cold Schweppes lime drinks periodically; and immensely long chats with young David who delivered the drinks with great pride. David quickly took a shine to the gardening man and very soon became his self-appointed deputy.

Jim quickly worked out that he could keep the lad entertained by communicating in mature speak; and, to achieve that, he simply imagined that he was talking to Lee. Jim was well satisfied with this arrangement as it helped pass the time quickly and seemed to make David feel very important. And anyway, who could tell, something by way of useful information just may have been filtering through.

By the end of his third visit to the Bentley's place, Jim knew a bit about Sylvia and David; he'd spoken briefly once with the eldest daughter Marg; and had been involved in two very short conversations about the weather with Grandma. The other occupants of the house remained a complete mystery.

But all that was to change.

A little over a fortnight before Christmas, Jim received an unexpected note in the post from Sylvia inviting him, as well as his 'wife or friend', to a Saturday night barbecue around at Dover Terrace. In the note Sylvia explained that she and Frank always had 'a get-together at Christmas time for a small group from Weston & Knight and neighbourhood friends'.

The decision to attend took no time at all and Lee was given the job of telephoning to accept. She was relieved to get Sylvia first up on the phone and more relieved to be involved in a friendly little conversation about everything and nothing. She, of course, referred to herself as 'Jim's wife Lee' even though technically that wasn't quite resolved.

Jim must have believed the barbecue to be a very special occasion as he actually wore his yellow shirt, navy slacks and black shoes. Lee wore her best bright check blouse, putty coloured slacks and new sandals, believed to be like Sylvia's. Jim looked most appropriately dressed and spruce; Lee looked absolutely beautiful.

They were met by Sylvia and young David at the front door then taken through the house and down the back steps to the barbecue area where they were introduced to the small group. Present were Grandma, who gave the distinct impression that she'd taken a few drinks on board before setting sail for the party; Alex and Ruth, the Sales Manager from Weston & Knight and his wife; Bruce, the fellow who'd painted the house in March; Christine and Carol, from the office area at Weston & Knight; and another Bruce, the neighbour from over the back fence. And then there were the other family members Marg and Eunice, head of the house Frank and, finally, Jon.

During the time-consuming introductions, David did not leave Jim's side, holding his left hand and patiently waiting for his chance to have one of their legendary chats.

It was a great night with easy conversation, plenty of cold drinks and really good quality steak and sausages. There was an assortment of crisp green salads and an enormous bowl of potato salad - which was just as well as Jim had an insatiable appetite for potato salad. He loved the stuff!

Jim got on well with Frank who was just as he'd expected – robust and well presented in a very masculine way; just what a real a manager should be like! Jim also got on well with Bruce the painter who seemed to have an endless supply of quality jokes ranging from extremely unclean to disgusting.

Lee had good long conversations with Sylvia and the eldest daughter Marg; who was, of course, about her age. But she had trouble with Eunice who seemed terribly shy.

Although Sylvia and Eunice prepared the food on the table, and Frank and Jim did the cooking, the muscle power behind the evening seemed to be fifteen-year-old Jon. He carried all the crockery and cutlery back and forth, poured drinks, passed food about, scraped the plates and did all manner of peripheral chores to ensure everyone's comfort. Lee was surprised that a young bloke would do these things, apparently without prompting, and determined that she should find out just what made him tick. He'd been fairly quiet for most of the evening.

At about ten-thirty she decided to join him for cold soft drink.

She re-introduced herself as Lee and thanked him for all his work.

"Well, there wasn't really very much to it Mrs Davis!" he replied, modestly and quietly.

She was a bit stunned by the 'Mrs Davis' but wasn't exactly sure about correcting him. She sensed that he could be embarrassed if the issue was pursued there and then; so she left it alone.

Despite a jerky start, they proceeded to talk for a long time about his taking-up rowing; his special subject, history; the climate in Darwin; train versus bus transportation in cities; Jim's job; a recent murder case in Adelaide; the demise of Bill McMahon; and the rise of Gough Whitlam and Lance Barnard. Jon even did a few Gough Whitlam imitations and called her 'comrade' which she found most amusing.

At fifteen, he was a clumsy looking boy with long arms and legs and big hands and feet. His nose seemed just a bit large. But he had big brown eyes and his father's wavy brown hair that naturally bleached and streaked with exposure to sun. In mid-summer in Brisbane, the middle-parted hair looked as if it had been prepared professionally for the stage. But it had not! These were just Jon's locks!

In a joking fashion, Lee asked him if he was on the payroll for work at the party or just helping his Mum – implying that David may have been a bit of a burden sometimes.

"David gets on with things fairly well." he responded firmly, "He's doing okay lately!"

She made a mental note to take care with that subject in the future.

Although Lee couldn't figure out exactly why, she was a bit taken with Jon. During her unhappy Darwin childhood, and subsequently, she had not met a youngster like this. She developed a feeling that he was special in some way.

There is a curious aspect of life whereby infants, usually fluid in their thought patterns, intuitively make rigid demarcation judgments about age. To a six year old, an eight year old is one of the big kids; and a ten year old is somehow in a completely different society. Some lose this demarcation rigidity as they say farewell to puberty; some take another five, ten or even twenty years for it to abate; and some get comfort in their entire march through life by affixing an age numeric just about every time to just about everyone. Some chop and change during the march and apply age labels selectively to suit particular persons and circumstances.

And, oddly, there seem to be no set factors that determine who's who with this human numbers game.

Come what may, in December 1972, Lee came to believe that Jon was a very good style of lad; and, on the other side of the coin, Jon came to believe that she was a beautiful, exotic and worldly woman.

A casual observer distanced from any fascination with human age numerics would, of course, have recognised them as belonging to the same generation.

On their slow walk home from the party, Jim and Lee chatted a lot about their new friends and contacts. They were very pleased with how it all went. They were both relieved to find the Bentleys and their friends down-to-earth and congenial company. It was yet another good omen for future success and happiness in their adopted neighbourhood and city.

But it got even better!

In early February 1973, Jim received a call from Frank about the possibility of a permanent driving job with a new parcel delivery company called Spirit. Apparently they were going to be located down near the airport about five or six doors from Frank's office and factory. This really sounded good; new storage facility, new radio equipment, new leased vans – the lot. Frank gave Jim the name, address and telephone number of the man to contact, and he hopped into the task of applying for a job straight away.

Beryl, the next door neighbour, typed-up the letter Jim and Lee had written, and it was posted off the following day. After a few more days he was called-in to complete a formal application form and to have a chat with recently appointed Spirit supervisor Colin Wills.

Jim filled the formal application very neatly and presented it as requested. It was fine! Jim also did well with the chat part of proceedings with his open honest and friendly style.

He started with Spirit in early April.

By this stage Lee had also found permanent employment with one of the major Brisbane taxi operators. It was distinctly unglamorous work, but kept the dollars coming in. She did mail collection and despatch, some messenger work, some cleaning jobs and mundane clerical and records storage jobs. Lesser employees would have made a welter of this hotch-potch of disconnected unsupervised functions, but Lee put effort into it all because that's the way she was.

From the outset, Jim and Lee had big plans for their house. Periodically they would sit down in the main room and discuss plans for opening up the veranda, fixing the laundry, re-doing the north-east corner of the house to give them a toilet separate from the bathroom, building a back deck – and many other things. The income stability achieved by mid-1973 gave them heart that some of these things may really be possible despite odd things that were happening to interest rates and the repayment requirements for their home loan. In a very brief time the building society ask had increased dramatically.

In the spring of 1973, the need to discuss home renovations was terminated for an indefinite period by a gremlin who preys on young couples determined to achieve financial stability. Despite some very deft contraception work, Lee learned she was expecting her first child.

This all had a very strange effect on Jim. The night after hearing the happy news, he came home early with a big bunch of yellow and blue flowers and proposed. This, of course, was more of a surprise than the pregnancy for Lee \- who none the less accepted immediately and unequivocally.

The following night, Jim again came home early with a big bunch of yellow and blue flowers.

"I'm sorry mate, I meant to bring you some flowers last night." he blustered.

Lee had a good sense of humour and the quality of this silly performance wasn't lost on her.

The wedding was attended-to about ten days later as a matter of the utmost secrecy. This was a shame as they had a number of friends who would have liked to be involved. Not one of their friends was involved; indeed, very few of ever found out that the wedding took place at that time.

After a discreet period of time, news of the baby was distributed to workmates, friends and neighbours - including, of course, the gardening connection in Dover Terrace. Although Frank and Sylvia took this in their stride as a fairly normal progression, Jean Carter made special provision for the unborn child. Every fortnight she presented Jim with a gift of toys or knitted articles or food. Jim was particularly grateful for the food. Mrs Carter just happened to be an extremely capable cook who just happened to make a specialty of pastry; and the meat pies transported to Brandt Street were pretty well the best going.

The passage of months brought home to Jim and Lee the need for a bit more thrift and the need for some adjustment of income arrangements. To partly fill the gap that would be left with Lee's inevitable resignation, they decided to trade their Volkswagen beetle for a small Bedford van so that Jim could do a bit of private work outside Spirit standard hours.

The sultry late summer months were difficult for Lee and she resigned from her taxi company job a bit earlier than originally expected. There were, however, no problems with the pregnancy.

In mid-May 1974, she gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby boy at the enormous inner-suburban public hospital complex known as the General. It mattered not that there were a number of individually titled hospitals on the Herston site; to Brisbaners, with their peculiar penchant for the mangling or rearrangement of place names, it was all just the General.

Jim and Lee had earlier taken the decision that a baby girl was to be Cheryl and a baby boy was to be Frank – the latter because they liked Frank, not Francis, as a name and it just happened to pay appropriate regard to friend and mentor Frank Bentley. There was no change of heart after the birth. Despite this resolute approach to naming, the little bloke looked so tiny and defenceless in his first few days that everyone intuitively called him Frankie. And, from those first few days, he was never called anything else.

Frankie was a good baby from the outset. He had a hearty appetite and quickly developed sensible sleeping patterns. For the most part he was a cheerful and gregarious.

By the time Frankie was lined up for christening, Lee was expecting her second baby – due in July 1975.

By early 1975, life for the Davis family was becoming just a bit hectic. Jim was doing a forty-hour week with Spirit, about eight extra hours a week in the Bedford and the gardening jobs on most weekends. Despite all that, they were anything but wealthy and sometimes had worries when the big bills came in.

By early 1975, life was also changing for the Dover Terrace connection. Frank was having some problems maintaining profitability at Weston & Knight and was working dreadful hours. On the positive side, however, Marg had become engaged to a nice young man from a property near Armidale and Eunice was about to embark on a teaching career. Jon was approaching his final school year without having had any real academic difficulties and with a near certainty of stroking the first eight. There was some talk that David had made sound progress in a new learning environment, but that wasn't exactly obvious to outsiders.

Sylvia was managing, as she always did.

Jim and Lee's second baby – a girl – arrived a little early in June but with minimum difficulty and fuss. She was called Cheryl for her first twenty-four hours at The General; but, for no particular reason, that changed to Ann. She must have looked more like an Ann than a Cheryl. By the time she departed for home, she was Annie.

Jim and Lee survived at Brandt Street despite interest rate peculiarities of the early seventies. They got a deck built at the back of the house; did a major scraping, sanding and painting job on the entire place with help from Bruce the painter; and they managed to build a toilet separate from the little bathroom.

And as for Frankie and Annie – by mid-1978, they were just beautiful and progressing very well.

Frankie had become a fine, freckled fellow with unusual ginger brown hair and a face pretty much like Jim's. He had become most interested in all things to do with transport – particularly trains. He was a great talker and a happy affectionate child.

Annie was different. At one instant, she looked like both Jim and Lee; then, at another instant, she looked like neither. She had Lee's darker complexion and hair but she certainly was not a replica of her mum. Though good-natured, she showed early signs of being fairly single minded.

For Jim, the driving for Spirit, private driving jobs and gardening continued.

Around at Dover Terrace, things had changed a fair bit. Frank had slipped from his senior position at Weston & Knight and was now the Queensland second-in-charge reporting to a star from the south – some twelve years his junior. Sylvia was largely housebound with David, whose health had deteriorated markedly since early in the year. And, following a stroke, Grandma was ensconced in a nursing home about half way between their house and the Davis house.

Daughter Marg had married her man from the New England area and was expecting her first baby; and the quiet Eunice, somewhat surprisingly, was successfully teaching at Aspley State School.

As many expected, Jon had done well at secondary school and by mid-1978 was close to completion of his basic Commerce degree at the university at St Lucia. He had continued with his rowing at university till a nagging injury forced him to quit in the final year.

Though not overly tall, Jon gave the impression of being a big man. Years of exercise and training had left an unmistakable legacy. He had also matured to become ruggedly good looking – much like his father. For no sound reason, he was considered to be something of a ladies man.

In truth, Jon had not secured a soul mate amongst his university friends of the opposite sex as he found most of them a bit self-indulgent. And he did very little girl hunting outside that precinct.

He did, however, go out for about eight months with a very nice girl who worked at a floor-covering outlet at Toowong, a girl he met while looking for car mats at the right price. But the little relationship petered-out, leaving Jon alone with a dented ego.

He also had a shorter – and more unusual - relationship with one of Sylvia's friends, who occasionally needed someone young and strong to help around her Ascot house. Jon reversed out of this steamy affair with great tact and skill, before the household help became a regular requirement. Although he never spoke at home about this latter affair, he had the feeling that Frank and Sylvia may have been aware of his sensible handling of a tricky situation.

The girls came and went, but no one really grabbed his interest.

Though not close friends, the Davis and Bentley families were more than mere neighbours. Jim would sometimes ask Jon to look after the lawns in Dover Terrace if he had too much work on his plate. And Jim, in return, would keep the Bentley's old Holden in running order so that Jon could get to St Lucia and back most days of the week. Lee and Sylvia would see each other often at the shops. And, of course, there were the annual Christmas parties put on at the Bentley place and occasional other social meetings.

Despite the frequent contact, Jim and Lee had practically no warning of young David Bentley's worsening illness and fast decline in late July 1978. Despite the best of medical attention, he died in early August after hospitalisation of only four days.

Although there was neighbourhood muttering about freedom and relief and the end of a difficult time for the remainder of the Bentleys, David's death was an awful tragedy and his funeral at St Mark's was an awful affair. The Bentleys had lost the youngest and most precious of their tribe and, for that, there was no compensation - just fretting and grief. That the young man was severely disabled may even have accentuated the distress.

But of course, there is no logic to human bonding, which can flourish in the most difficult and unlikely circumstances - irrespective of age or capacity. It's a process that just follows the directives of a silent force within.

Jim was very distressed by David's death, as the two of them had become a formidable partnership.

He visited to do the lawns at Dover Terrace the Saturday after the funeral. Though Sylvia didn't make an appearance, Frank came downstairs with a few cold beers when the job was nearly finished. For the first time, they found that they had very little to talk about, and this distressed Jim even more. It was all very awkward and he vowed that he would be better prepared for conversation when he called again in two weeks.

The Thursday before Jim was next due to visit the Dover Terrace precinct wasn't greatly unusual, except for heavy rainfall on-and-off during the day. Cool, dry and windy was the norm at that time of the year. Locals always spoke of cold westerlies around RNA Show - or Exhibition, or Ekka - time. Jim had come home at about quarter-to-five in the Bedford, then set out again with his little helper Frankie to deliver parcels to a factory in Virginia, then pick-up a few things at the shop for Lee.

They had been gone a while, but Lee was not concerned as they were both easily distracted when shopping.

At a little after six there was a loud knock at the front door. Lee picked-up Annie then went to see who was visiting. She expected a salesman or a neighbour.

When she opened the door, she clearly saw two uniformed policemen at the top step; but for a crazy moment was relieved that it was not another damned hawker.

"Mrs Davis, is it?" said the senior officer.

"Yes. I'm Lee Davis!" she answered, as the crazy moment evaporated.

"I'm Keith Stone and this is Constable Trevor Williams. I need to confirm that your husband James has been out with your little bloke in a Bedford van."

Lee didn't care for the question one bit. Concern was quickly converting to fear.

"Yes. The boys have been out to do a few parcels and some shopping."

"Mrs Davis, we're aware that there's been a traffic incident involving your husband and the little boy up Sandgate Road past Nundah. We believe that there have been injuries and that the ambulance is taking them both to the emergency up at the General."

Lee knew this was no time for questions and answers. She just knew that she had to move quickly and get to the hospital.

She bolted down the steps with little Annie under her left arm. In no time she was up the steps of the house next door. On the way, she had shouted 'Beryl' twice; the second time very loud. Beryl opened the door without Lee needing to knock. She heard the call; something had gone wrong. She knew! Annie was crying.

Lee blurted out something about the boys in an accident; something about giving Annie some toast and tinned fruit; and something about phoning Sylvia Bentley if she needed a help with Annie.

Half way back to her front gate, she remembered about David.

"Beryl. Beryl, don't ring Sylvia; don't worry about that! I'll phone you as soon as I find out what's going on and let you know. Okay!"

Lee turned her attention to the police officers.

"I haven't got a car. Can you blokes get me up to the hospital?"

She didn't wait for an answer.

"I'll just change my shoes and get my purse. Won't be a sec!"

The drive to the hospital seemed to take a long time. There was not much talking in the car but there was a constant stream of crackly messages over the police radio.

When they were about a kilometre from the hospital, the traffic conditions worsened.

"Let's have some lights and noise, Trev. We'll see if we can't push through this bloody mess up ahead."

The wailing siren and flashing lights gave the matter a new sense of urgency; and Lee didn't care for that either. To that point, the adrenalin had worked and she had functioned by instinct. But slowly now, as they approached the hospital complex, focused thoughts about injury started to filter through.

The police officers escorted Lee to Emergency and made sure that she had found a staff member who could process her initial enquiries. She thanked them, and they walked out slowly; the senior chap looking back a few times as if to make sure she was all right.

She wasn't!

In a room with a group of about twenty-five people, she was strangely alone and worried sick.

After about fifteen minutes, Lee decided to seek out the nurse who she saw earlier just to see if there was any news. While waiting at the counter, she heard a familiar voice from behind.

"Well, it looks like I've found the right place and the right person."

She turned around to see who'd delivered the sentence. How could she have failed to immediately recognise that voice; it was Frank Bentley.

"Oh Christ, Frank! I didn't mean for you to get involved with this; you've had so many troubles of your own. Did Beryl phone you?"

"Don't worry about any of that now. I just came along to find out if you needed a bit of company for a while." he said.

He put his arm around her as they waited to see the nurse at the counter. Lee was very relieved to have him there and she began to feel much more comfortable and in control.

The nurse at the counter had no news so they found a couple of spare seats and sat down with a view to chatting.

They'd not been seated for more than five minutes when a young man sought them out.

"Mrs Davis, I'm Dr Natoli. How are you faring?"

Lee didn't respond to that; but did introduce Frank.

"We need to talk, so would you both like to come with me to one of the offices over there." he said, pointing to an area behind the counter.

They followed his lead to a small interview room that was painted a ghastly green colour. Dr Natoli sat at the same side of the desk as Lee and Frank.

In a soft voice, the Doctor delivered his six or seven sentence message about Jim.

Lee caught the first sentence or two, but then had difficulty concentrating. She saw his dark eyes and his thick eyebrows that nearly met above the bridge of his nose. She saw his very white teeth as his lips moved; she knew he was speaking but she was catching only occasional pieces.

The sad tired face, the resolve in delivering the sentences, the key words that she caught - they told all.

Jim had died!

Absurdly, Lee turned to Frank and carefully explained that the Doctor had told her that Jim had died. And Frank nodded in distressed understanding before gathering his wits and setting about his chores.

He took control with apparent ease. He made sensitive initial enquiries about 'the little fella', sought comfortable surroundings with a telephone nearby and somehow managed to whistle-up tea and a few sandwiches. And he did his difficult work with gentle authority, never once taking his eye off his special charge.

When he had things in place and settling, he asked Lee if she wanted him to phone Beryl. He was a bit surprised when she said that she'd make the call herself.

"Don't worry too much if Annie's not there with her." Frank assured her, "Sylvia said something about sending Jon around there to take Annie home to sleep in her own bed in familiar surroundings. My guess is that Beryl's on stand-by."

Lee wiped away the tears, took a few deep breaths and set about doing her job. She phoned Beryl and told her story in a relatively composed manner.

After a short time, Lee and Frank were taken to another part of the hospital complex, where little Frankie was being looked after.

This time they met with a Doctor Jensen - a kindly fellow of about Frank's age. He had a wonderful manner, calm and calming.

The doctor explained that Frankie had internal injuries that would require further examination for definitive diagnosis.

"We've got no reason to believe that there's been any head injury – and that's a real plus! So, overall, things could be worse! But we've got a fair bit of work to do to get a clearer picture of the troubles so that we can work out the best way to go forward. The little fella and the people here have a way to go yet. He's a strong little one though, isn't he Lee?"

"He's always seemed pretty tough to me!" she replied, "Can we go and see him?"

"Of course you can! Do you want to pop in now?"

They went down a long corridor and turned right to the intensive care area. Lee was trying to memorise the directions for next visit. It was such a big confusing place.

They were greeted by a softly spoken, senior nurse who introduced herself as Betty. She explained that she would be looking after Frankie for the night.

Frankie was lying there, quite still, with a crisp white sheet pulled-up to chest height. He was breathing easily enough and wasn't such a bad colour. Had it not been for the tubes and equipment, he may have been a little boy just having a sleep.

Lee held his hand and talked to him, on and off, for ten minutes or so.

While sitting there next to the bed, she noticed Doctor Jensen and Betty speaking quietly to each other. Although she couldn't hear what they were saying – and although it was clearly not light conversation – their facial expressions gave no impression of great concern or distress. They just seemed like competent professionals routinely going about their work. And this gave Lee an enhanced sense of hope, bordering on confidence.

When they left intensive care, Lee suggested to Doctor Jensen that she might stay with Frankie for the night.

"Well yes, that's an option; but it mightn't be the very best thing to do. Have you got any other little ones at home?"

"Oh yes; there's Annie!" she responded.

"What do you reckon, Frank?" he asked, frowning ever so slightly as he posed the question.

Frank took the cue and turned to Lee with his verdict.

"I think home would be the best! The medicos can take care of the little bloke - they know what they're doing - and you can have a bit of proper rest. And there's Annie to take care of you know!"

"Well okay!" she said "Can you drop me home, Frank?"

Frank put on a somewhat stern face to answer.

"What a stupid bloody question!"

It worked; she smiled. And Doctor Jensen smiled broadly too, surreptitiously nodding his thanks to Frank.

The sky had cleared and it was cold outside. Frank considered suggesting to Lee that she go back inside the hospital to stay warm while he collected the car; but he quickly thought better of that idea. Nothing would be colder for her than being alone. They walked to the car slowly, his arm around her the whole time.

While driving in the car, Lee started to lose some composure. Frank, however, maintained his confident approach assuring her that the Bentleys weren't about to desert. And, as he chatted on about warmth and support, she seemed to settle a bit.

On arrival home, they went directly to the childrens' room to make sure that Annie was actually there and asleep in her little bed.

She was there all right, in her bed, warm and sleeping peacefully under her favourite pink and white blanket. And on the polished wooden floor next to the bed – also sleeping peacefully – was one Jon Bentley; in T-shirt and shorts, without any pillow and without any blanket above or beneath.

"Have a look at what your daughter's dragged into the bedroom. That's a really strange pair if you ask me!" said Frank.

"God, how can he be asleep there? He must be freezing." Lee replied.

"Come on out here and I'll make a cup of tea and tell you about it."

For Frank, this was a welcome distraction. He didn't really know how to handle the situation when they returned to Brandt Street. At the best of times he was not too flash with conversation for conversation's sake; and, right at that time, he was emotionally and physically exhausted.

Lee sat down at the table in the main room and Frank tinkered around with the kettle and cups and began to explain.

"Jon's a strange one you know. Since he was a baby he's had strange sleeping habits; he nods off at any old time without any warning at all. It's really odd! And he's either a hundred percent asleep or a hundred percent awake; there's no halfway house with him."

"There's nothing wrong with him. Years ago we took him to a specialist on the Terrace for tests, but all that they could tell us was that he's a strange sleeper."

Frank paused for a moment to check on his audience and deliver a smile.

"He knows that when he's asleep he's really out to it, so what he's done tonight is plonk himself on the floor there so he'd wake up if Annie cried or tried to get up."

"But why didn't he get a blanket or something?" Lee asked.

"It's not that simple; if he's going to sleep, he's going to sleep. He just does it! It only seems to take seconds. He has improved a bit over the years, but even recently I've seen him fall asleep during a meal at home."

Frank had another attempt at a cheerful smile before continuing.

"I'd better give Sylvia a call, if that's okay. Why don't you go and try to wake him up. And watch, as soon he does wake-up, he'll be totally awake; I'll bet you."

Lee went off to the bedroom and Frank made his phone call.

Sylvia answered in an instant. Yes, Beryl had kept her informed of what was going on! Yes, Jon knew! Yes, she had put some blankets and pillows in the car! As always, she had it under control.

As Frank hung-up, Jon came out with Lee. He was holding her hand.

"Been doing a bit of guard duty have you son? I was just telling Lee about you going to sleep anywhere and anytime. Why don't you tell Lee about the time Mum nearly had a fit when you went to sleep in the tree house out in the back yard - while I pay a quick visit to the loo."

Jon picked-up the story and moved forward nicely with it - even though there was little sense in the tale or in its telling.

But nothing spoken makes sense in those circumstances. It's all just a desperate attempt to fend off the fretting; it's all just a desperate attempt to replace the missing voice and stave off death's silence.

Before many minutes had passed Sylvia pulled-up outside and unloaded her cargo from the boot. Frank took it all upstairs and put it on the veranda. He then went inside for the final time that evening.

"I'm going now for a while but, after we've swapped car keys, Sylvia's going to stay for a bit just to make sure you're okay." he said to Lee.

Lee thanked him, Jon continued with some story or other and Frank went down the front steps to swap keys and hand-over to the interchange senior minder. And on the path just near the front gate he was taken into the arms of Harry Winslow's youngest and prettiest daughter.

"Are you allright, sweetheart?" she asked.

"It's been a prick of a month, Sylv."

She agreed with the sentiment and put her hands up to turn his face towards the streetlight to see how tired he looked. She felt the tears and turned his face in the opposite direction to the dark and to any softness her cheek and shoulder could offer.

"Are you up to this, Sylv?" he asked her, after a short time.

"Yeah. I'm okay! And Jon's here, he's good! I've left some nice things in the fridge on the top shelf for a snack; and there are six cold Fourex if you need a bit of anaesthetic. Don't drink too many of them or you won't enjoy going to work tomorrow morning."

He thought about the final sentence for a few seconds.

"They can do without me tomorrow; in fact, they can go to buggery. This girl is going to need a bit of help for a few days."

Frank's capacity for positive prioritisation had not dulled with the passage of years.

There then followed a silly parting ritual that had endured virtually since Frank and Sylvia first met and he started visiting the Winslow's on occasional Saturday evenings to play cards – mainly poker – with his special girl and whoever else was at home at the time.

"Love ya, Sylv."

"I'll double that." she responded.

"I'll see ya." Frank concluded.

Though the youthful excitement once sparked by the parting ritual had long since disappeared, the three lines had lived on to become a symbol of enduring affection and solidarity.

Sylvia went upstairs and Frank drove off in the old Holden.

He didn't particularly like the idea of her becoming involved in this grizzly business but took comfort from the fact that Lee was now in most capable hands. He determined that he'd be back before too many hours had passed.

Sylvia stayed by Lee's side through the entire dreadful night, trying to give her comfort and coaxing her to rest.

At about half-past-five in the morning, Sylvia initially took the hospital phone call about little Frankie. She reluctantly handed the phone to Lee for the news.

The nightmare was now complete; Frankie had died about ten minutes earlier!

The ensuing days were little more than a confusing blur for Lee, Sylvia, Frank and, to a lesser degree, Jon and Beryl.

Frank did most of the gritty administrative work, Sylvia did most of the care work, and Jon and Beryl filled in the gaps.

Frank's most difficult job was coming to grips with his Brandt Street neighbours' background in his effort to help with notifying family and friends.

Jim, he discovered, had no family connections at all; simply nobody! He was what they used to call a home boy, brought-up in church and government institutions. He never knew a mum or a dad; a brother or a sister. He left school young; did manual work young; and joined the army young. And it was in the army that he learned to drive.

Lee's background was not much better. She knew nothing of her father and remembered only a little of her mother. She, and her brother Tony, were brought-up by an aunt called Bev – who she adored. Tony, in his late teens, had gone to work on trawlers in the Gulf and Lee had just started doing checkout work in a small grubby Darwin supermarket when Bev died of cancer in 1968. It was in late 1968, and in the shop, that she first met Jim.

Frank, despite his experience with some hard aspects of life, could not get his mind around the strength of this young couple. And he had terrible difficulty dealing with the concept that fate had just cut this most important of families in half. He just couldn't grasp how they could be singled-out for the special horror.

The double funeral at St Mark's was attended by many, many more than anyone expected. There were Spirit drivers, drivers from other companies, management types, neighbours, people from the taxi company, people from the offices and factories where Jim delivered, people from shops where he bought groceries – they seemed to come from everywhere.

On the way out of the church, through the tears, Lee saw the large numbers, particularly the Spirit people. She also caught a glimpse of the senior police officer who drove her to the General. He was sitting close to the aisle at the back of the church. The officer's uniform was immaculate and he wore his military ribbons. She thought his presence very important and she clasped his hand in gratitude during the slow walk out towards the bright sunshine.

Sylvia and Beryl took care of Annie as required. She was very uneasy and cried from time to time during the funeral and its aftermath.

Lee's brother Tony came from Darwin for the funeral at Frank's suggestion and expense. But he was sorry that he had gone to such trouble finding him and paying his way. The poor devil was clearly in an advanced state of drug dependence and knew little of what was going on. Frank was concerned, in fact, that his presence did more harm than good.

With the passage of weeks, life settled a little for Lee. She came to accept, and actually draw strength from, her sole responsibility for little Annie. And, with Frank's help, she got a clearer picture of her financial position after payment of insurances.

Though things could have been worse, she seemed to fall into that unlucky category where there was too much money to allow her to draw meaningful support; and too little money to give her any real comfort about the future. It seemed she was destined to continue life as a hard worker – balancing home and occupational requirements as best she could.

About six weeks after the funeral, Lee made contact with her last employer to see if there was a chance of taxi company work that could dovetail in with her home responsibilities.

On offer was another unusual mix of duties that came to about fourteen hours a week – on one short day and one long day. On the short day she'd be required to help the pay section people with wages for casual company drivers; and on the long day she would need to process pieces of paper referred to in the company as pakas - which were, in fact, taxi fare vouchers used by account customers. The name of the vouchers, it seems, derived from pakapoo chinese lottery tickets which were, at best, difficult to read.

Lee spoke with Beryl, Sylvia and a small local baby-sitting agency about getting appropriate care for Annie and, having done so, decided to take the job.

Beryl was happy to look after Annie for two half days a week, provided someone else could give her a break every six weeks or so. The Bentley family members were happy to do a half day each week, and a bit extra when Beryl needed a break. And the agency seemed to have a few good people on their books if all else failed.

Although the neighbours all agreed to some remuneration for baby-sitting services, they clearly intended leakage of money back to Lee from the outset. As time progressed, this took the form of occasional meals left in Lee's fridge, new pyjamas for Annie, a replacement saucepan – things that were meaningful but not large enough to cause embarrassment.

On Lee's long days, Thursdays, she worked about nine hours between midday and ten at night. As this was a quiet day for Jon, he became the main Bentley baby-sitter on the late shift. Though he was more than happy to lend a hand, Eunice's avoidance of any meaningful involvement irritated him. And, to confuse the issue, Annie didn't take kindly to him for quite a long time. Jon's reasonably regular attention to this job was a big ask. He had a busy existence with study and sport and a wide range of friends.

For a time, Lee struggled with the long days. The pakas were inevitably a dreadful mess and, to cap that, there were bookkeeping chores that she simply didn't grasp. The processing contradicted what she saw on the bank statements; the credits were debits and the debits were credits. It all seemed back to front.

Jon helped with all this as best he could. He bought her a few sensible and practical paperbacks on bookkeeping and sat with her for many hours trying to assist with the job.

Eventually they prevailed and, by Christmas 1978, Lee was working confidently and efficiently with all office functions.

After a time he also made friends with Annie by much the same means that Jim had earlier befriended his brother David – that is, by adopting a more mature stance. The turning point came when he said to her, in exasperation, that they should sit down and have a beer and work some problems out. For reasons nobody understood, it seemed to hold some appeal for her.

He discovered, in fact, that a plastic medicine measure of beer and some sterner grown up chit-chat would fix just about anything. The beer could be beer, ginger ale or ginger beer. Lemonade or red or green drink wasn't satisfactory.

Having found the key to baby-sitting success, Jon's visits to Brandt Street ceased to be such a menace. Indeed, he developed new pride in his work when he learned from Lee that he'd been elevated to favourite minder.

Jon did very well in his final exams at the university and, soon after publication of results, started with Kingston's, Chartered Accountants in Margaret Street. Though he may well have earned a quick placement based on results and presentation, Frank's friendship with partner Gerard Kelly certainly helped him on his way. Kingston's were pleased to catch a graduate of this standard and Jon was pleased to be there. It was a sort of branch location of a southern-based firm and, as such, offered potential for job diversity; and a friendly, cooperative atmosphere. They also seemed to be forward-looking with computer technology and that had particular appeal.

Like most graduates, he found some of the work a bit mundane; but he enjoyed just being finished with university for a while. He liked being paid for his efforts and certainly liked having a beer on Friday evenings with people from Kingston's and some of his pals who had similar jobs elsewhere in the city. He had a new sense of freedom and the dignity that goes with a few dollars in the pocket. In early 1979, Jon's only real concern was wearing a tie and jacket to work in Brisbane's humid climate. University garb had much going for it.

On the Brandt Street front nothing changed. He continued with baby-sitting duties for Lee on most Thursday nights.

By the time Jon started work, Lee had regained her equilibrium and was apparently coping pretty well. Without the need to worry about study, he would stay and talk with her - often till quite late – after she came home from work. She was well-read, intelligent, practical. Apart from that, she had that interesting part Asian appearance which set her apart from the pack. It intrigued him; it had always intrigued him!

Jon had been with Kingston's only five months when a formal announcement was made that the office may be down-sized or closed because of 'an inability to make inroads into a substantial corporate client base'. Although he was disappointed by this, it was not a matter of great concern. He was not an orphan and there were doubtless other jobs out there if he had to go elsewhere.

A short time after the announcement was made, Gerard Kelly called Jon in to talk about Kingston's future. He was particularly frank about the firm's position after the loss of three major clients and was equally frank about 'bloody parochial Brisbane businesspeople'. He told Jon that the local operation was certain to close and that he intended to relocate to the firm's Sydney office.

More important than all of that was Kelly's mentioning that there may be opportunities in Melbourne for 'one or two of the younger people'.

"Would you be interested in going down south to work there for a while?", he asked.

"I've had a talk with the blokes down there and they would probably be happy to take you on board. It looks like they'll pay an airfare down and back for an interview. And, if you're what they want, they will fly you down, move all your belongings, put you up in an apartment of some sort for a month and buy you a return trip to Brisbane if you last eighteen months. The money would be a bit better down there too! But just keep all this to yourself; don't talk about it around the office."

Jon replied that he'd like to talk about it with his family – and added, in his friendly style, that the movement of his belongings wouldn't cost too much.

"That's probably why the bastards are looking at taking you on!", Kelly replied, with a cynical smile.

After dinner that evening, Jon talked about the concept with Frank and Sylvia. They agreed that no harm could come of taking a flight to Melbourne and back to at least find out more about what was on offer. If the Brisbane office of Kingston's was to close, there could hardly be recriminations if he had wasted their money on the fare.

So the following week, he travelled to the big southern city for the first time.

After a bumpy flight down, he endured a hair-raising trip from Tullamarine to the city in an old taxi driven by a middle-aged chap apparently of Greek origin. This was no sightseeing tour; it was more an endurance test. When they pulled-up near the Kingston's building at the southern end of Queen Street, Jon was amazed at the cost of the fare. In the thirty-five minutes or so, they must have covered an enormous distance.

As planned, Jon met with a senior chap called Eric Miller – who was middle-aged but very sprightly and enthusiastic. After conversational pleasantries he summoned a younger chap called Doug and they set off for a midday lunch at a steak restaurant in a downstairs location virtually next door to the office. Though the locals treated this as a run-of-the-mill experience, Jon thought the service and food outstanding.

The locals talked about Kingston's, its place in the Melbourne environment and its aspirations for the future. And they did so with ease and enthusiasm. Jon was impressed with that. He was also impressed by the absence of barriers between Eric and his offsider. He noticed that the senior man had no difficulty whatever seeking his subordinate's advice on the latest trends, regulations, methods and all. They seemed like a team rather than a pair of players.

On return to the office, their exchanges with the girls at the reception desk exhibited the same ethos. The girls were important too! Again, Jon was impressed.

Doug took him around the office, showed him some of their recently purchased gadgetry, introduced him to some of the younger staff and shouted him a percolated coffee in the board room.

This all looked good!

At the nominated final chat time, Eric asked Jon to give him a call during the next four or five days and directed Doug to put 'our Brisbane man' into a taxi outside The Australia Hotel.

"If you need to go to the bar to settle his nerves a bit, I'll understand." he added in a very friendly fashion.

They did go and have a quick beer in a bar decorated with cricket memorabilia; and Jon enjoyed that too. His Dad was keen on cricket, and he wondered at the time whether he had been there and seen all the bits-and-pieces on display. It seemed a wonderful place with this unusual bar and yesteryear's news stand at the top of the marble stairs.

The drive to Tullamarine was less eventful than the trip to town. This time he got an Australian-born driver who in general conversation mentioned that this could be his second last fare of the day.

"A nice fat fare to the eastern suburbs and I'll be off home to the palace at Beaconsfield Upper!" he said.

"Beaconsfield Upper?" Jon replied, "That's a bloody sinister name for a suburb! It doesn't sound right at all."

"Could be worse, mate. I could be going home to Mount Martha."

The driver slapped Jon on the right shoulder and went into fits of wheezy laughter at his own hasty improvisation with one of Melbourne's oldest pieces of corn.

On the flight home – for the first time in his life – Jon turned his mind to what a career might really be able to provide. Work and Melbourne had him interested.

Frank met him at the airport and they discussed his little trip on the way home in the car. Frank detected his son's interest from the outset but suggested that he give the whole matter a few days thought. Frank didn't want him to leave but knew that he mustn't try to influence him one way or the other. It had to be Jon's choice!

The following day, Jon phoned Eric Miller just to confirm the specifics of the engagement and transfer. He talked with Frank and Sylvia about his possible move and he sought Gerard Kelly's advice.

After three days, he'd made his decision. He was going to Melbourne.

The transfer date was set at 8 August; and travel and accommodation arrangements were put in place by Eric Miller's secretary.

Frank and Sylvia put their heads together and decided that this occasion, and his twenty-second birthday a few days prior to departure, deserved a substantial party with kegs, champagne, caterers – the lot. So, together with Jon, they worked out a list of guests to launch him in appropriate style.

They ended up with nearly fifty friends and neighbours on the list and Sylvia wrote out invitations for each.

In no time at all, party night arrived and the guests piled into the Dover Terrace house and barbeque area. There was music, talking, jokes and laughter aplenty at the house for the first time in twelve months. It was a wonderful occasion that brought out the best and happiest emotions. It was all somehow symbolic of a retreat from darkness and the beginnings of a brighter future.

Lee and Annie were there, of course. They mingled with family till about eight o'clock, at which time the little one was put down for a sleep in the back sunroom. Lee continued to party-on with guests after Annie's departure to bed.

She didn't want to stay very late, however, and managed to arrange for a lift home with one of Sylvia's friends at about eleven o'clock.

At about ten-to-eleven she cornered Jon to say her farewells.

"Now clever young accountants might be able to stay here drinking all night but responsible young mothers have to take kids home to bed." she said to him, "And I really have to go."

She paused momentarily and smiled at him.

"Jon, thanks for everything you've done for us recently; you've been really terrific. I can't explain how important it's been."

"Geez, baby-sitting's not that difficult! And anyway, it's been character building you know!" he responded with a foolish smile.

"Don't be silly now. It's not just the baby-sitting." Lee responded in a softer voice, "The friendship, the books, the teaching and everything; you don't know how much that's all meant."

She took his hand.

"I've bought other accounting books you know and I think I might just be able to do this type of work pretty well. And, you know what else, it's the first clean work I have ever done. What's happened is really important, Jon. In fact, I reckon you might be the bloke who saved my bacon just when I was really buggered."

Despite their relative secluded position in the barbeque area, Lee attracted amused male calls like 'Leave her alone mate!' and 'Give it a rest, Jon!' by taking him into her arms for a hug.

Though it was not really a passionate minute, she certainly gave him a good once-over. He heard the breathing and felt the closeness of her body and her lips. And he was totally stunned – and overwhelmed that this beautiful friend really seemed to be saying that he was important.

To more amused calls from the male guests, they went upstairs hand-in-hand to get Annie and prepare for the drive home.

Lee woke her up; and she went to Jon.

When they got to the car, he relinquished Annie to Lee's right arm and hip. Lee kissed him goodbye again and Annie patted him on the cheek.

"Take really good care of yourself, Jon. Thanks again sweetheart. You've been wonderful to us!" Lee concluded.

The car departed and he was left standing at the gate – still stunned. He stayed there for a few minutes to try to regain his equilibrium, then went back to the other guests.

Something had happened on the occasion of his twenty-second birthday that may more appropriately have happened on his twenty-first. From an unexpected donor, he was handed a gift of enhanced self-image - a year later than the traditional average arrival date for gifts like that.

But such is the nature of human progress and human numerics. As with all other creatures, there is no average human development process - just a multiplicity of exceptions. Jon may have taken delivery of an important self-image snapshot at seventeen years; or it may have arrived at twenty-seven years. There's no rule with this; no set procedure.

On the Monday, Sylvia drove Jon to the TAA terminal at the airport for his mid-morning flight. She had trouble finding a park, which was normal. At the old airport, everyone always had trouble finding a park; it was part of the Brisbane routine. The terminal itself was an odd affair, unnecessarily cavernous with ground-level rows of plastic seats behind giant windows that afforded views of just about nothing.

Jon checked-in and took a seat reasonably near the doorway marked 'Gate 6' while Sylvia went to buy a bottle of mineral water. She returned and sat down next to him.

"I've got three good pieces of news and one piece of bad news. Are you ready for them?" she asked.

"I guess so, Mum!"

She delivered the news in her normal well-measured style.

"Well! Dad's put some money in your account to buy some warm clothes and help a bit if you need a bond for a flat. Get a nice suit at Myers or Buckleys; but don't get casual clothes there. Pop up to the Vic Markets and see what they've got there in the way of jumpers and jeans and things. Okay! I've only been there once, but they had a lot of good stuff really cheap."

"As well as that, towards the end of the week, we're going to put the old Holden on one of those trucks that carry cars and send it down to you. We'll give you a call on Wednesday or Thursday at work to tell you where to collect it. Now don't argue about this Jon, I really hate that car and if we send it to you something better might just turn up. Allright!"

"And I've bought you 'The Bulletin' to read on the plane. So don't say we don't look after you!"

Jon was amazed with the good news, but sought the bad news before responding.

"Well it's not really bad news," Sylvia explained, "but sometimes things don't work out just as you'd like. So if Melbourne doesn't work out for you, put it down to experience and walk away. No one will laugh at you; and you're welcome at home with us any time."

By the time Sylvia had finished delivering her news, the electronic bell had sounded and, what was presumed to be a female human voice, was reverberating through the peculiar glass enclosure. The big black board with flap down destinations and flight details - and the green flashing lights - said it all. The Melbourne flight had been called.

Jon thanked his Mum for the good and bad news delivered, gave her a goodbye hug that robbed her of breath for an alarming few seconds, then departed through Gate 6. Although he couldn't see her inside, he turned around and waved a few times on his way to the plane.

* * *

### 2.

Jon's initial accommodation in Melbourne turned out to be a small two bedroom flat in the suburb of Glen Huntly. It was owned by a client of Kingston's and just happened to be vacant at the right time. It was clean and well maintained with comfortable beds and full-size fridge and stove. The flat also had a gas heater mounted in an artificial fireplace which Jon thought a great novelty. Best of all, it was close to the train.

After unpacking a few things, he went out to explore the locality and buy some groceries.

He went to check the Glen Huntly station just as two trains were passing through. There was a remarkably old looking dark red model heading towards the city and a newer blue model heading outbound. He had difficulty believing that the red one was actually an electric train because, in Brisbane, electrification of the suburban network was just starting. He also had difficulty with the proportions of the trains and the width of the tracks. Everything seemed double size. The trains clunked slowly across the level crossing in Glen Huntly Road with bells ringing, red lights flashing and bright blue electric flashes from the pantographs where the tram overheads crossed the rail overheads.

He walked along Glen Huntly Road to have a look at the shops. There was a Turkish restaurant with a happy family group sitting inside drinking coffee out of very small cups; a newsagency that had much advertising for something called Tattersall's - which, in Brisbane, was a club in the city that his father went to sometimes; a small theatre restaurant; a hardware store; two small supermarkets; a few butcher shops; and much more. Just about everything a man could need!

Jon had some coins in his pocket so he called Sylvia from a phone box to tell her that he'd arrived safely and to tell her about the flat. It was a pretty quick call as the coins rolled through in no time. And he missed a few of Sylvia's sentences as a tram rumbled past. But he'd checked-in, that was the main thing!

On popping into the supermarket to buy the basics, he made the most amazing discovery – that supermarkets in Melbourne sold grog. Was there no end to sophistication in the big southern city? He bought his bundle of groceries and six cans of beer. There was no Fourex so he went for the green cans, which turned out to be a local staple called Victoria Bitter or VB.

On leaving the supermarket he made yet another discovery, this time about the weather. The sky had become darker, there was a fairly strong wind blowing, and fine rain – if you could call it that – had started. Out in the open, it was now very cold!

He went back to the flat as quickly as he could, unpacked the groceries, unpacked the remaining bits and pieces he'd brought from Brisbane, got the heater working, fiddled with the radio till he finally settled on 3DB - then enjoyed a nice can of beer. A little later, after the grey outside had formally turned to darkness, he had tomatoes and bacon on toast for dinner and a medium size can of peaches for dessert. He turned-in at about half-past-nine.

Jon awoke far too early the next morning but put the spare time to good use studying the Melbourne tourist map that he had brought from Brisbane. After a shower and breakfast, he set off for the new job – at maybe quarter-to-eight.

Having bought a very odd looking train ticket from a very odd looking clerk at the Glen Huntly station, he lined-up for an old red train which was to go express Caulfield to Richmond, then to the city. Jon, of course, let all the other commuters board first; that's the way he did things. Having boarded, and having secured something to hold onto for the stand-up trip, he became aware of hostility around him. And this he couldn't fathom.

After about a minute, an angry looking man got up from his seat walked the few steps to the door through which Jon had entered and slammed it closed very hard. Still fuming the passenger returned to his seat.

Yes, the innocent from the sub-tropics had committed one of Melbourne's major offences. He was the last onto the train and didn't close the door.

In subsequent train trips, Jon never again committed this dreadful crime.

The train went slowly to Caulfield, where a few alighted and many more boarded, and then continued down a seemingly straight corridor of line. By the time it reached the next station, Jon thought it to be going fairly fast. After another minute or so, he assessed that the train was travelling at dangerous speed. He wondered if the driver had died with the power control set at maximum; he wondered if the train was about to derail or maybe just self-destruct. And he marvelled at the innocence of the people around him calmly reading newspapers and books probably only moments before one of Australia's greatest rail disasters.

Eventually, the train slowed then passed around a sharp bend to a station called South Yarra. As it went around the bend, Jon noticed menacing intermittent grinding metallic noises. He also became aware of a burning smell. It now seemed that the initial derailment calamity had been averted but that burning brake pads would set fire to the old wooden carriages. Everyone on board would probably die anyway!

Mercifully, the train pulled in at Richmond in one piece and fire had not taken hold. More passengers got on and off.

For a newcomer to Melbourne, the next part of the journey was even more peculiar.

The train moved slowly away from the Richmond station into a maze of overhead lines and tracks – and stopped. After a minute, it moved ahead maybe ten metres – and stopped. Then there was some dead slow forward movement - then another stop. After a minute, there was a confident twenty-five metres travel - then another stop.

The passengers, having been silent and still for the first part of the trip, started to become animated. They folded newspapers and smacked them on top of briefcases, took-off spectacles and put them in cases; and they wriggled in their seats and started to exchange short sentences like, 'Shit, I've got a meeting this morning!' and 'Something's got to be done about this!' and 'Oh, for Christ's sake; not again!'

The chap standing next to Jon turned around to him and delivered a sentence of six deliberately well-spaced words, 'They couldn't run a bloody raffle!'

After ten or fifteen minutes in the rail yards, the majority reached their destination.

Having been allies against the common Victorian Railways foe for a time, the commuters got off at Flinders Street and all proceeded to try to kill each other exiting the station - so that they could get outside and try to kill each other on the inner-city footpaths trying to get to their offices.

Jon thought the whole exercise was utterly amazing.

After two days, he discovered that there was better value to be had by catching trains that stopped at all stations. Apart from getting a seat, he could look at the scenery – such as it was. Near Hawkesburn station, in the middle part of the journey, he was particularly entertained by a huge run of graffiti that read 'Remember Remember 11 November – Vice-Regal Treason and Plot'. Whenever he saw it he thought of his secondary school days and occasionally of his friend Lee and their first conversation at the Christmas party all those years before.

His first week at work was strange and somehow tiring. The pace in Melbourne was faster than in Brisbane and the work output expectations higher. He had been put in the audit area for a while to help out with their busy workload and he was struggling a bit.

When Friday afternoon eventually arrived, a workmate, Simon Dennis, asked him if he would like to have a beer after work; then, maybe go to Chinatown for a meal. Jon agreed to this without any hesitation.

They had quite a number of beers with a cluster of rowdies in a packed bar on the corner of Flinders Street and Queen Street; then made their way to a small Malaysian restaurant in Little Bourke Street with three others. It was a cheerful noisy BYO that served satays, curries, rice and noodles mainly to younger people. Jon loved it. He'd not had much to do with good Malaysian food before and he'd not been in this type of atmosphere before. He thought the satays and Singapore noodles were excellent.

In conversation, Simon enquired where he was living. Jon told him all about the flat and Simon listened with unexpected interest. It turned out that Simon was living with his parents at a location described as 'way out past Ferntree Gully' and was looking to move in closer to town. They talked about the possibility of sharing – if the Glen Huntly place was available longer term.

As it turned out the flat was available and, about a fortnight later, arrangements were made to sign up a lease and get Simon moved using the old Holden; which was sent down, as promised, by Frank and Sylvia.

Before many weeks had passed, Jon bought his new natty three-piece suit at Fletcher Jones, which was just a few doors from Kingston's. He also went to the Vic Markets and bought a few long sleeved casual shirts, some T-shirts, a pair of casual slacks and a very heavy jumper. As all this came to less than the amount put in his bank account by Frank, he had the telephone connected at the flat. He felt a need to make brief contact with home once or twice a week, just to keep in touch.

By October, work was settling down and he was feeling more at home with the Melbourne culture. He had got to know Simon better and was happy, for the most part, that he'd moved in.

Simon, who was about two years Jon's senior, was a shortish, fair-haired young man with piercing dark eyes and pointed nose. When he smiled, which was often, he had a cheeky appearance. He was easy to get along with, intelligent and entertaining but had managed to develop a somewhat disconcerting excess involving the opposite sex – members of which he attracted in phenomenal numbers. And they were all different colours, sizes, shapes and ages too! An astounding range!

At two or three week intervals – when the urge arose, and invariably without warning - Simon would bring someone back to the flat for a coffee or a drink and mattress exercises. Though Jon was no prude, he tired a bit of feeling obliged to go to his bedroom or go out for a while to give Simon rule of the roost - so to speak. And he tired a lot of re-entering the flat's living area after a discreet wait only to find Simon's current exercise partner re-entering the flat's living area from the second bedroom at precisely the same time.

It was uncanny! It didn't seem to matter whether Jon absented himself for twenty minutes or a hundred-and-twenty minutes, he always seemed to run slap-bang into a somewhat flushed female in the final throws of tidying a hair-do and realigning askew flesh or clothing - or both.

Though these encounters seldom ranked as embarrassing, they were always awkward. The circumstances were hardly conducive to reasonable conversation; in fact, on these occasions, Jon became so obsessed with the avoidance of saying what he was thinking, he usually reverted to silence after a bashful 'Hi' or 'Hello'. And Simon's visible post-coital contentment did little to help things along.

It was all a bit much!

On the other side of the coin, Simon put up with Jon's worsening sleeping habits. Quite often, he would fall asleep on arriving home then get-up and prepare an evening meal at nine or ten o'clock, following which, he would read for hours preparing occasional cups of tea as he went along. Simon cared not; or didn't say anything about it anyway!

Simon couldn't have found his flat mate too offensive. In the early days he took him to the football, the gallery, the Prahran markets and the museum. And when Christmas came around he took Jon on-board for family festivities at his parents' place in the far eastern suburbs. It was a great day, a perfect substitute for Christmas at home.

Jon spent about seven months in the audit area helping out before being moved to the business services area, which suited him better. The work was more interesting and client contact was less stressful.

By October 1980, Jon was putting some thought into the inevitable requirement to gain acceptance into a professional accounting association and was also toying with the idea of doing some part-time study of computer science or usage or whatever. He had made good friends with an office Hewlett-Packard mini-computer - for want of a better description - and taught himself to operate it very effectively. It really interested him! He was not on such good terms with the firm's two EDP systems analysts who worked to develop applications for Kingston's bigger computer gear. They surrounded themselves with technical mystique and seemed to possess an infinite capacity to give unsolicited advice to experienced accounting professionals on just how the business should work.

They irked him, but gave him a strong incentive to improve his knowledge to decipher their code. He liked puzzles; that's the way he was!

Although Jon hadn't much political skill, and although he wasn't particularly gifted, he had inherited his parents' strength of character. He had an inbuilt capacity for work and wasn't partial to living in anyone's shadow. There was no cunning and no genius, just determination.

His initial enquiries about courses and their relevance to work led him to a personnel area colleague; and the interview with that chap eventually led him to his initial Melbourne contact, Eric Miller who was a senior man in the firm's consulting area. Ironically, after fourteen months Melbourne service, he was back in Eric's office speaking about the future.

To his amazement, Eric knew where he'd been working and just how he'd been progressing.

"So you've come here to see about a permanent job in audit, Jon?" Eric enquired, "Or should we leave that to sinister Simon of the green biro Gestapo?"

The introductory piece of silliness worked and Jon felt comfortable freely chatting about what he had in mind.

After Jon had finished his somewhat abstract piece, Eric explained that Kingston's supported further education – but only on the basis of a formal submission. He then gave Jon the name, address and phone number of a Monash University contact who could give sound advice on courses.

In conclusion, he positively encouraged Jon to get to work on this idea and to lodge a further education submission as soon as possible if he wanted to start the following year.

"If you don't want to move ahead with a course, that's okay!" Eric explained, "But if you do, you'd better shake the proverbial leg and get some paperwork back to me, eh."

Jon got the messages. The first was about applying for study assistance; but the second, and more important, was about his ability to firm up on where to point for the future – with some conviction. It took a bit of thinking out.

Within a few weeks Jon had done his research and lodged a convincing application for support in undertaking a post-graduate applied science diploma on a part-time basis. His application was approved within a week and he was sent a cheque payable to the university so that he could enrol for the following year. He concluded that he must have done something right.

During his time in Melbourne, Jon had kept in contact with the family by phone and had written to a few close friends, including Lee, roughly in accordance with a timetable. But as the months progressed, he became a bit tardy with the timetable and responses to his correspondence started to thin out. Slowly but surely, he was becoming a Melburnian.

Frank and Sylvia visited Melbourne for a week at Christmas time in 1980. They stayed at a nice motel in Elsternwick and were able to catch a tram up to Jon's place with ease. Jon was very pleased to see them and spent a lot of time planning outings and entertainment. He also put on a fine Christmas lunch of lobster and salads.

In conversation a few times during the visit, Jon gleaned that his father was not happy at work and considering retirement from Weston and Knight. He was, after all, in his mid-fifties. He and Sylvia were also toying with the idea of moving to Port Macquarie to be within driving distance of Marg and a bit closer to Sylvia's sisters – one of whom lived near Gosford and the other at Katoomba. In addition, Frank was still on speaking terms with three of his four sisters in Sydney and didn't mind the idea of seeing them a bit more often. And there didn't seem to be any great problem moving Grandma to nursing home care down south.

Eunice, who was flatting with a school teacher friend in Brisbane, didn't seem to carry much weight in the Port Macquarie deliberations. She was described by Frank as having gone 'a bit batty'. That she was into rustic clothing, peculiar hats, incense, yoga, hairy armpits and alternative everything didn't upset him; but he did get cross with her on-going gratuitous carping about diet and the need to use earth-friendly washing and personal care products.

The Christmas visit came and went very quickly and Jon was sad to see his Frank and Sylvia off at Tullamarine a few days before the start of 1981. There was, however, a Brisbane trip to look forward to – a free trip at that.

Late on a Sunday night in mid-February, Sylvia phoned Jon to tell him about Grandma's deteriorating health. She had fallen and broken her hip and was described as 'very low'. She passed-away the following Tuesday morning!

Jon flew home for the Thursday afternoon funeral but didn't stay overnight as he had a very important meeting the following day. His trip was deemed an estate expense at Sylvia's insistence.

In April that year, Frank and Sylvia started put their change of lifestyle plan into place and by July were ensconced in a comfortable three-bedroom Port Macquarie unit with beautiful views of the ocean. Eventually – despite her battiness - Eunice followed initially landing a posting in the New South Wales school system at Kempsey.

Not long after arriving at Port Macquarie, Frank visited a cabinet maker's factory in the area to discuss a kitchen re-fit for the unit. He got a renovated kitchen and a new measure-and-quote type job in just under a fortnight. Seems he hadn't retired at all!

Jon never got his free trip back to Brisbane but took instead a heavily subsidised late 1981 trip to Port Macquarie. He was ready for, and enjoyed, his stay at the beach. He also enjoyed the Melbourne/Sydney/Melbourne rail sectors on the beautiful old 'Southern Aurora'.

At this time he was seeing a very attractive tall brunette girl called Jenny Willis – who he'd met at the university. She was twenty-one years old and a full-time student. Though they were a good team, in Jon's absence at Port Macquarie, she made up her mind that she would travel to Adelaide with her parents to live. Jon was saddened by this development; he was very keen on her.

Although it was no real consolation for Jenny's departure, his academic year had been successful enough and he was able to line up for more units in 1982.

In that year work became harder and, as a result, study became more demanding. In addition, towards the end of that year his home life took a terrible blow. Flat mate Simon, after an extended period of research on the subject, had found the girl of his dreams – Carmel. She was a teacher about two years his junior and, incredibly, very plain, very quiet and very catholic. Simon moved out of the Glen Huntly flat in November and left Jon a surprisingly large comradeship void.

Jon scraped through his units at university in 1982 and was able to saddle-up again for the following year. Unfortunately, he did not have the same success with securing a suitable flat mate. Over about twelve months, people came and went; but none could stay. They either drove him mad with junk food or music or card games or visitors; or he drove them mad with the constant need to study or his very peculiar sleeping habits. It just didn't work, so he decided to live alone.

He had no real money worries at this stage. The rent for the flat had not risen much and he had progressed at work to a better salary package. Despite having bought a late model second-hand Falcon to replace the old Holden, Jon actually had a bit of spare cash to invest in the share market.

Though in some ways he was regretting his earlier enthusiasm for further study, he was really enjoying work. The seniors in the business services area held him in high regard as he possessed that most-prized quality, dependability. Work given to Jon would be done properly - even if he occasionally went to sleep doing it; and his open, honest and friendly manner with clients impressed as much as his work quality.

The study years were punctuated with bits and pieces of holidays at Frank and Sylvia's place at Port Macquarie or at Marg's place near Armidale or in north-east Victoria, an area Jon had learned to like very much. They were also punctuated with correspondence to and from Lee – the only person still on the Brisbane mailing list. He liked receiving Lee's letters. They were warm, newsy and well-constructed. There were always nice pieces about friends and neighbours, changes in the neighbourhood, Annie's successes at school, face painting at the shopping centre – little things that sounded like home. He hoped that his letters back were as readable.

A late 1983 letter from Lee contained the very good news that she had managed to get a Monday to Friday bookkeeping job with a sizeable butcher and bulk meat distributor. Though it didn't amount to forty hours a week, it dovetailed in perfectly with Annie's needs. The letter also outlined her plans for selling the Brandt Street house and moving to a unit in the area. This made good sense.

In early 1984, Jon decided to take up tennis as he was getting precious little exercise apart from occasional walks. He enrolled at a place in the southern suburb of Cheltenham for lessons. He chose the more expensive 'small group' lessons and joined for tuition with real estate seller Sandra McTaggart, solicitor Murray Green and Murray's wife Denise, who worked part-time as a librarian. It was a perfect starter squad; they were all completely hopeless!

At the outset, Jon found Murray rather abrasive and over-confident but persevered with him in the interests of the sport and sportsmanship. With the passage of time, his view softened and he came to respect Murray's single-mindedness, intelligence and wonderful sense of the ridiculous. He could be immensely entertaining!

The four became quite good friends and played together regularly.

Before too long, Jon and Sandra started playing much more than tennis, but that came to an abrupt end after a few months when she found a dentist with a very successful practice and a house in Brighton. Another small flame was doused!

In 1986, at age twenty-eight, Jon finally acknowledged that renting had no future, so he quit the flat and bought a small two-bedroom unit at McKinnon – a few train stops south of Glen Huntly. And having done so, he wondered why he had stayed at the flat for so long.

In the winter of that year, he was admitted as a chartered accountant and was only eighteen months from completion of his degree in applied science. He had earlier moved his sights from a diploma to a bachelor degree because of the additional status that seemed to carry.

Most importantly, he was that year transferred to Eric Miller's consulting area, which had been his target for quite a time. With the move came more money, status and freedom to dance more his own drum rather than the drum of client demands and financial year routines. Jon really liked this extra elbow room. And he liked the feel of the consulting area; it satisfied a need in him to research, analyse and design.

On his first outing - under senior guidance - he did some very effective work at an ailing manufacturing business in Clayton. In doing so, he earned the respect of the company's management team, which included a young personnel and services guru named Tony Gava. Tony had a business degree and was pursuing further qualification in psychology. Teamed with Jon they were formidable, the sum of their talents being greater than the individual components. And they got on well! Their contact there at Clayton was the start of an enduring friendship.

On his second outing – again under senior guidance – he did good work breathing life into a relatively small semi-government agency located in the North Melbourne precinct. In pursuit of corporate goals here, he was required to team up with the contracted personnel special duties manager named Helen Bliss. Though Jon was not initially taken with her style, he eventually came to see that she was talented - albeit in terms of rigid public sector disciplines. She was certainly pretty in a chubby blonde bespectacled way; and she was well presented and well educated.

The job finished after about three months but Helen stayed. She and Jon drifted into a relationship that lasted, in one form or another, for the better part of three years.

Jon, with his unlucky history of relationships, allowed himself to absorb the idea that, maybe, men and women really just do drift together and that the passions in the minds of young males were just the stuff of dreams. In his enthusiasm for work, in his enthusiasm to complete his studies and in his loneliness, he capitulated to mediocrity in what should have been his life's most enriching sector.

Jon and Helen went to movies, shows and restaurants; they went to office parties and, once or twice, spent long weekends together. And there was not much wrong with any of that. But after a while, Helen's expensive Camberwell accommodation share arrangement - with her friend Barb - fell to bits and she drifted into Jon's place at McKinnon. And there was not much wrong with that either – at the start, anyway.

But inevitably, the place seemed too small and she floated the idea that something a little bigger might be a good idea. This flea in the ear was given increased status over a six-month period and, by late 1987, Jon and Helen were out and about on weekends looking at houses for sale. He didn't resent this as, somehow or other, a move had become part of his plan for the future.

At the close of 1987 Jon received a prize that he richly deserved. He eventually limped over the line with the one last unit needed for his second degree. On the Friday that he found out about this, his tennis friend Murray was on the loose so they went to the Windsor Hotel for dinner - and many too many drinks. It was a wonderful occasion.

In early 1988, Jon sold the McKinnon property and bought a modest three-bedroom house in Castle Avenue, Cheltenham. Both he and Helen liked the place, which was in a quiet back street but close enough to the Cheltenham station and the local shopping strip. It was a well-designed place and had potential to become a very comfortable home.

The area may not have been up-market, but Jon liked it. Murray and Denise Green lived nearby at Beaumaris and Tony Gava and his wife Maria lived not too far away at Gardenvale. A few friends from Kingston's also lived in the suburbs a bit further to the south.

With experience on board, Jon had become something of a hot property at work – particularly in the computerisation project field – and he was required to spend a good deal more time travelling. Sometimes the trips were mere whistlestops but more often they were seven or ten days, here or there, to conduct courses. At that time, there was also a fair amount of project work in Sydney and it became standard practice for Kingston's Sydney office to 'borrow' Jon for early design work, at least. Sometimes he'd cop the lot and take a Sydney installation from start to finish.

Helen resented all this, for reasons he could not comprehend. They were not married, there were no children to take care of; and this, after all, was his job! He needed to travel and he enjoyed doing so. But every announcement about another trip triggered-off a tiresome outburst commencing with, 'Oh, not again!'

And then there was his sleeping behaviour. Would she ever let-up about his erratic departures to the world of nod and his equally erratic returns to consciousness? It seemed not!

Mid-1989 dealt Jon a whistlestop type sales trip to Brisbane, despite Helen's protestations about his departure for a whole two nights. It was his first trip back home in many years.

For the first night away he lined up some of his old friends from school and university and for the second night he made arrangements to see Lee.

The first function wasn't a great success. Though most of the old mates turned up for the arranged drinks and dinner - and though they all talked and joked and made merry - somehow Jon felt detached from the proceedings. He found himself answering remarkably similar questions posed by his old friends; and listening to remarkably similar stories related by them.

They all seemed to end up marrying good old what's-her-name, and having two children named what-ever and what-else; and the children, of course, were booked in at goodness knows which school because it was the best. And on and on it went!

Had he really drifted into such a different world? Or had the gap in the conversations simply been too long? He knew he was in home territory; but he was certainly not at home!

The second function, a barbeque at Lee's place, was the exact opposite. It was warm and happy and fulfilling. This time he was home!

Yes, they had written to each other many, many times over the years; and, yes, they had spoken on the phone a bit. But that wasn't the difference! There was a uniting force here that had not diminished in any way. They still knew each other perfectly well.

On arrival, he got a welcome worthy of a returning hero. There was much hugging and hand holding and gasping with delight. And, amusingly for Jon, there was a double dose of the visual adoration that starts with the instruction, 'Now stand back and let me have a good look at you.'

It all made him feel very important and happy.

"Now, what can I get you; a nun's wee, bubbly, a cold beer, tea or coffee?" Lee enquired, even though she knew his choice.

"A beer sounds good to me." he replied.

"The only problem we have tonight is that Annie's away on that silly damned school excursion up north. I told you about, that didn't I?"

She poured him a cold beer.

"Sure did! But there was no way I could change the date; it just couldn't be done!"

"It's such a shame. I know she'd have loved to see the old baby sitter." Lee said as she reached across for the photo albums that had important pages marked with sticky post-it notes.

They went through the albums together and Lee told the stories to go with the snaps.

Having dealt with the Annie subject, they went on to talk about Frank and Sylvia and Port Macquarie as Lee prepared dinner on a tiny barbeque on the small landing. And as they had dinner they talked about Melbourne, Jon's work, where he lived and his new friends.

They talked about Lee's previous jobs and the new assistant accountant job at Northgate. Then there was Bob Hawke's resilience, Paul Keating's arrogance, developments on the Sunshine Coast, the Liberal Party's weakness in Queensland and much more.

As always, Jon found her interesting and intriguing; but he had to leave at about one as he had work to do in preparation for a meeting the following morning. He was sad that the night had gone so fast.

Back at home Helen had started to make noises about redecorating the lounge and dining rooms. Though Jon was more interested in renovation of the bathroom, she seemed to have some good ideas about tarting the place up so he gave it all a fair hearing. As the weeks progressed, she increased the heat with this subject until he finally agreed to changes that she described fairly carefully with the help of photos in a few decorating magazines. It was agreed that the work should be done in early October when he was in Sydney and she could get some time off.

The October trip went according to plan but the redecoration went only partly according to plan. He arrived back from Sydney on a Thursday afternoon to find his lounge and dining rooms decked out with a light pink carpet and the furniture covered in flamboyant floral material that left a lasting impression of purple. The curtains were a darker variation on the carpet colour. It was all just unbelievable and only vaguely like that which was described to him earlier on.

As he and Helen were going out to dinner that evening, Jon took the decision not to discuss the redecoration till the following day. His tennis friends Murray and Denise were to be at the dinner and he didn't wish to spoil their night with obvious signs of a domestic upheaval at home.

But his good intentions to maintain a peaceful gloss failed.

During the course of dinner, Helen went through a routine that she had performed quite a few times over the years - to Jon's great embarrassment and irritation.

Having spotted the cue to relate an amusing five-minute story about the antics of former eccentric neighbours and having delivered his well-constructed story, Jon retreated from the entertaining speaker's role - graciously accepting the laughter that his piece generated. It was a clear invitation for someone else to counter with another amusing anecdote.

But at that point, Helen grabbed the reigns and smilingly announced that the subject matter of Jon's story was incorrect. She then proceeded to relate the same piece, from beginning to end, changing emphasis here and there and adding a few pieces of irrelevant detail.

At the conclusion of her correcting rendition, Jon sat in livid silence - looking downwards at his half-eaten meal. He could hear the high-pitched twittering of one of Helen's not-too-bright friends attempting to refloat conversation from the awkward quiet; and he could hear a chair being scraped against the polished floor as one of the diners started manoeuvring to go elsewhere.

When he looked up, he could see the twitterer doing her thing and Helen sitting a few seats away trying to look interested and interesting. The others were in varying states of mental absenteeism.

Murray turned out to be the chair scraper and was weaving through restaurant patrons to get to the toilets via Jon's side of the table. When beside Jon, he put his hand on his friend's shoulder and shook his head in silent understanding of the awfulness of the situation.

Jon was very busy the following day so he chose Saturday morning to have a talk with Helen. He made no mention of the redecoration job nor did he make mention of the dinner outing. But he did talk about incompatibility and the inevitability that they must part company, sooner rather than later. Though he didn't intend to be terse, he did end up outlining her entitlements at separation – which amounted to nil. She'd put nothing into the house, so why should she get anything out?

Helen went off into a 'you thankless bastard' tirade; and Jon went out to nowhere in particular to be away from the noise and friction. He actually ended up at interior design and furniture outlets in the close-in eastern suburbs – mooching about to see how he may eventually correct his pink and purple living areas.

When he returned home to face another venomous blast at about four in the afternoon, the adorable Helen had departed.

Her clothes and personal effects were all gone; as were the electric kettle, toaster, a few saucepans, some cutlery, a transistor radio, many CDs - and, oddly, some of his shaving gear from the bathroom.

Jon phoned a twenty-four hour locksmith who set about changing strategic locks - a job that was completed by about half-past-five.

He phoned Murray soon after the locksmith left.

"I just thought I'd give you a buzz and let you know that Helen's gone!" he said, after the standard initial exchange of greetings.

"Oh shit, mate, that's devastating news!" Murray responded sarcastically.

"It had to happen Murray; it just couldn't go on!"

"Mate, do you mind if I ask a really serious question about all this?" Murray enquired.

"No; go for your life!"

"Good! How'd you like some takeaway Turkish and a few beers tonight?"

Jon answered in the affirmative, of course.

"Beaut! Den will pick you up at about half-past-six. Dinner's on us."

"That'll be great. Look forward to it." Jon replied.

It was a good dinner with lots of bread and dips, and a few different types of meatballs with green salad and a delicious green bean and tomato dish.

After they'd finished with all that - and after the kids had been despatched to bed - Jon, Murray and Denise talked for a long time about the drift into the Helen era and its abrupt end.

There was no heart-searching or remorse or sadness in Jon's views of the era immediately passed, just earthy descriptions of how he would bend to suit Helen's needs in the hope things would improve.

But things never did!

"Each time I made a concession, she'd straight away be looking for another." Jon related, "It was bloody unbelievable! And nothing ever seemed to make her happy!"

"I'm stuffed if I know how I got into all that; but, thank Christ, I'm out. The sad thing is I just took a bit long to do it."

Murray and Denise were his closest friends at that time, and they let him drift through his story till it was finally told. They figured he needed to do that and had prepared themselves, and the fridge, for his Saturday night out. After they'd sent him home in a taxi at about one o'clock, they talked for a while about how such a clever and pleasant person could find himself in such a vacuum. It was a mystery!

Helen's departure was timely, as things turned out.

Soon after she left, Jon was involved in putting together a Kingston's pitch for a much bigger than normal job in Singapore. Over a period of six weeks, he worked with Eric and a clever young recruit, Dan Madders, to piece together a project outline for a substantial shipping concern that needed improved accounting and information systems as part of an overall restructuring of the business. The preliminary work involved a week in Singapore with Eric and another with Dan.

After a lot of huffing-and-puffing, the job submission was despatched prior to the commencement of 1989, as requested, and all that remained was to wait and see how Kingston's had fared.

The eight-week waiting period allowed Jon to take some leave to visit Frank, Sylvia, Marg and Eunice and also gave him an opportunity to spend some time on the job of redecorating his lounge and dining area at Castle Avenue. This took a fair bit of time, and money enough to necessitate a re-draw on his housing loan from the bank. But he did the job properly with the help of a good design and decoration firm.

To his tastes, it was all worth the effort and dollars. He ended up with a very modern, well-furnished entertaining area with striking black light fittings and trim and some beautiful big bold prints. After many years of deprivation, he also bought himself a top quality television set and a really good Danish sound system. And who cared anyway? If the Singapore job fell into place, it would all be paid-for in no time at all!

During the redecoration period in early 1989, a house just two doors away in Castle Avenue changed hands and a nice couple, Rob and Jane Martin, moved in. They both worked in one of the big banks in town; and, by coincidence, originally hailed from Brisbane. Rob, despite some greying at the temples, turned out to be about Jon's age and turned out to share many of his interests. Jane, who seemed a fair bit younger than Rob, was a gregarious and very beautiful blonde. She had fetching bright blue-grey eyes that threw Jon off-guard a bit in the early days. Though he initially thought she was trying to hypnotise him, he eventually worked out that she was just an honest person who had no difficulty with eye contact.

After two more brief trips to Singapore and final negotiations, Kingston's got the shipping company job and Jon was appointed joint project manager. As from mid-April he and Dan Madders were to be away for ten months with provision for three brief trips back in Melbourne each. For the young men from Kingston's, the terms and conditions of the engagement were excellent; everything was provided.

Jon's only problem was the car – which he didn't particularly want to sell but didn't want to leave idle for months on end.

The answer to this small dilemma was provided by new neighbours, Rob and Jane, who took it on as their second car. They were happy to pay all the running costs and insurance, and Jon was pleased that the car would be given a run two or three times a week.

The Singapore job was big and difficult. It took all Jon's skills and more. On two separate occasions he travelled to London to consult Kingston's associates and software houses to get fixes for unforseen problems. He also arranged transfer of one of Kingston's better Australia-based operatives for a six-week period to clear work that couldn't be delegated locally.

The devil was in the detail; it was always in the detail! And there were truckloads of detail.

Jon took two of his trips back to Australia. One was to Melbourne, which wasn't a break from work at all; the other was to Port Macquarie for Christmas with the family.

By the end of December 1989, Jon had somehow clawed back about six weeks of project slippage and was a mere fortnight behind schedule. It was a miracle!

After a few false starts, his systems were running in tandem with the old systems by the end of February 1990 – about ten days later than scheduled. In computer project terms, this was a wonderful result and left the client with plenty of time for project review, testing, proving and training prior to the formal conversion date.

Jon was greatly flattered when invited back for a fortnight in April to take part in the training process. And he was relieved – so very relieved – to see the smiling faces of happy clients. From their praise he derived enormous satisfaction.

He really only settled back into Melbourne in May 1990 at which time he was given some lighter duties. And for the first time in many, many months, he was able to re-connect with his friends, his tennis and no-strings-attached social activity. This he needed badly. He also needed to consult the medical profession about periodical bad headaches and worsening sleeping problems.

With some more exercise, some relaxation therapy and some prescriptions, Jon's headache problems departed and the sleeping patterns reverted to his idea of normal – which was hardly normal, but good enough. There were, at least, some sort of sleeping patterns.

By mid-1990 Jon had installed a brilliant new bathroom at Castle Avenue and had also had the kitchen tarted-up a bit. And he had the place painted – except for the redecorated lounge and dining areas. As a further interesting distraction, he embarked on a project to grow his own vegetables in the back yard. This he took very seriously.

In mid-winter – to celebrate the conclusion of house renovations - Jon held a special dinner for Rob and Jane, Murray and Denise, Tony and Maria, Eric Miller and his wife Dot, and Dan Madders and his girlfriend Toni. He served a robust beef burgundy with noodles and greens and made the guests extra talkative with some big reds from north-east Victoria. They were all most impressed with his new look home and with his cooking expertise.

Murray, who had started practising as a barrister, got on particularly well with Tony, who had moved from manufacturing in the suburbs to one of the big insurance companies in town. Neighbours Rob and Jane mixed easily with everyone as did the Kingston's group. The star of the show, however, was Dan's girl Toni who had far too much wine and told an array of wonderful jokes. She was a big-breasted, dizzy young blonde who got everyone's name wrong just about every time – including Dan's.

Jon spent most of the second half of 1990 on smaller jobs in Sydney and Melbourne. The following year, however, took him to Adelaide for six months and Newcastle for three months. In the remaining time he did some blackboard work for a few larger corporate clients in Melbourne and got rid of some more accumulated leave.

By the close of 1991, Kingston's worst kept secret – a merger with a similar size firm, ART Harrison – came out into the open.

Though the papers weren't signed, it all seemed a foregone conclusion and merger planning committees and sub-committees were formed to get the amalgamation into place. There were so many Kingston's and ART Harrison people working on committees, Jon wondered how the two firms were generating enough revenue to stay in existence. He figured that it would take amazing post-merger economies of scale to actually pay for the union. Needless to say, Jon was on the consulting committees.

By the end of March 1992 the merger papers were signed and ART Kingston became a reality – in name, if nothing else.

By early May a myriad of staff structure charts, and accompanying brief position descriptions, started to issue from above. Position titles – but no names - were shown in the boxes.

Though Jon had no fundamental arguments with the need for structure, the charts didn't seem attributable to any particular person or group – making a mockery of conscientious committee planning work. And they had the exact appearance of charts that he'd had need to bin in the course of his consulting work. They oozed amateurism and corporate confusion.

They seemed covered in dotted lines – signifying part or informal responsibility connections between operatives. And this irked Jon immeasurably! He had always argued, of course, that part of an employee can't report to part of another employee. He similarly argued that an employee with two managers will work effectively for neither.

The merger staffing papers had been circulating for about a week when Eric called him in for a friendly chat about just who could go into which box in the more senior ranks.

"It's still totally confidential, Jon, but it seems most likely that I'll get the broader consulting role – much the same as we have now." Eric said, "And, after that, there will be one bloke in charge of the general stuff and another in charge of the information technology side. There'll be a formal split of functionality here. It looks quite good really!"

Jon knew him well and didn't like the approach he was taking. He waited for the next instalment.

"Greg Andrews is the obvious choice for the general consulting work and he'll probably get that. And, well, a bloke called Ron Herschell from ART looks like being the IT consulting man. But it's not quite definite yet."

Jon looked him straight in the eye.

"Well, Ronnie Herschell, eh! That'll be interesting."

"Jon these things are committee decisions. I did everything I could to get the right person into the job. But Herschell seemed pretty popular."

Jon knew of Herschell's work. And he was not happy.

"And Ronnie reports direct to you?" he asked, even though he really knew the answer.

"Err, yes. That's right." Eric responded.

By genetic good fortune, Jon had inherited his parents' wonderful ability to be – and appear to be – totally calm when under fire or stressed. He did it intuitively. The little voices in his mind told him to slow down, think and be careful. He didn't behave this way as a political manoeuvre; he just did it because that's the way he did things.

"Eric, are you able to point to one of those boxes on the paper where the name 'Jon Bentley' might appear?" he asked.

"Oh yes – just there!" Eric indicated to a box on the piece of paper, "But my guess is that it wont stay that way for long. I mean, you've done some wonderful work; and my guess is that Ron might, well, find this all a bit much! Personally – very much within these four walls - I can't see the set-up lasting for too long."

Jon smiled at him and said nothing for a little while, as he considered the general framework of his response. When content with his thought processes, he delivered his lines slowly but without any hesitation whatever.

"Eric, you know better than I do that business doesn't work like that – in a nice equitable and sensible way. You know that the workhorses don't stop and down tools because of a management impediment in the organisation. The workhorses have pride and they have grizzly bloody clients to deal with. They know that a failure to perform – for whatever immeasurably sensible reason – can be their undoing."

He paused for a little while.

"You know that those strong ones effectively hide the weak!"

"And you know that masters of any business are most reluctant to demote people that they've appointed to positions of responsibility, because that's an open acknowledgement of their own bad judgement."

"Eric, I don't think stupid bloody Ronnie is going to evaporate – however much you or I may wish that would happen."

Having delivered his serious message, Jon smiled and softened.

"But, maybe that's just as well! If disappearing tricks like that really did happen in business, consultants in accounting firms would only have half the work they've got now."

Having taken delivery of his subordinate's messages, Eric found himself smiling back in the friendliest fashion. And he didn't mean to be doing that at all! He'd failed to smooth things over with Jon; acknowledged his involvement in a committee that had made an unspectacular appointment; and been reminded of some fundamental logic regarding un-doing such an appointment.

Yes, his Brisbane man had come of age – with a vengeance!

"Well, I'd better get back to it." Jon said, "Thanks for letting me in on what's going on, Eric. I'll keep it to myself."

"Thankyou Jon." Eric replied as he extended his hand, seemingly in search of reassurance or loyalty.

Jon shook his hand warmly then returned to his workstation.

The conversation played on Eric's mind for quite a time. Jon was right and he knew it!

For Jon, the middle months of 1992 were taken up with merger matters and small maintenance and check-up jobs for Melbourne clients. There was, however, a bigger job on the horizon in Brisbane.

As weeks passed, the outline of the Brisbane job became clearer. It was for an accumulation of brokers and investment advisers who were using a tired transaction recording system that did not connect brilliantly with the accounting and information systems. The software focal point for these various brokers and advisers was a small Brisbane consulting company called Finsol Pty Limited.

As Finsol hadn't the resources to upgrade and expand general usage of the product within a reasonable time frame, they had sought to engage ART Kingston – and employ a few more local people - to smarten things up.

Although Jon was not overly enthusiastic about the documentation for the current system and even less enthusiastic about the preliminary design for the repaired version - and although he was extremely uncomfortable about ART Kingston's indirect engagement by another consulting firm \- his masters were very determined to go ahead.

His vigorous argument against ART Kingston involvement fell on deaf ears.

So in late July 1992, he set-off for Brisbane – this time by car – for a six-month job in his sunny old former home city. It was to be his swansong project under Eric's stewardship.

* * *

### 3.

Not everyone cares for the Newell Highway that runs mainly across the western plains between Melbourne and Brisbane. It's a bit of a bore for truck drivers and commercial travellers who work it often; and it's an endurance marathon for families who use it to travel to and from holiday destinations. For the non-working driver, the inter-city trip is just a bit long to do in two days and just a bit short for three.

To get to his new job, Jon decided on a two and a bit day trip. He opted for a short first day overnighting in Tocumwal on the Murray, a longer second day overnighting at Coonabarabran and a longer third day terminating at Brisbane.

On the first day, he made a small detour to wineries near Nagambie and bought a mixed case of reds and whites, for his own use and to give away as gifts. He stayed in a comfortable enough motel at Tocumwal and enjoyed an evening meal at one of the local clubs.

On the second day, he liked the look of historic West Wyalong and Forbes, so he stopped at both to stretch his legs a bit and to get the feel of the towns. He then stayed in a very comfortable motel in Coonabarabran and had dinner at the town's large and popular Chinese restaurant.

On the third day, he just moved along to get to his destination - with a few stops for something to eat or drink and a few half-hour sleeps to freshen up.

For Jon, travelling along the Newell to Brisbane was a treat. It afforded him new sights as well as some real peace and thinking time away from work papers and computer monitor.

As he wore down the kilometres, he thought of Frank and Sylvia in their advancing years and about Marg and Eunice and their remarkably different personalities and lifestyles. He thought about his school and university friends in Brisbane and how he might make meaningful contact with them this time during his stay in the north.

And he thought about work and how things really weren't so bad. After all, he'd climbed from ticking-off figures in the audit area to a well-paid and responsible job in which he was respected by his masters. He thought about how long that advance at work had taken and whether the efforts he had expended aligned with the rewards.

Of course they did! His life was rich and full; and the future, for a man in his thirty-fifth year, held nothing but promise – despite the intrusion of Ron Herschell.

Although he daydreamed a few 'what if' scenarios about Sandra and Helen, and even Lee and his neighbour Jane, he didn't dwell too much on what warmth there may be in partnership. And how could he? Partnership warmth was just a void at the time and his prior experience of it was hardly extensive, despite nearly three years with Helen. Though others saw this void – this solitude - as unusual and a matter for curiosity, for Jon, it just manifested itself as an itch that couldn't be scratched. And the only lotion he possessed was an abstract expectation that something might turn-up.

But what else could he do? It was not a matter for simple manufacture!

So, on he drove till he was finally on the frenzied piece of road that connects the Ipswich area with Brisbane. And that piece of road was just as awful as it was when Frank and Sylvia used to drive it on his behalf when he was playing occasional games of schoolboy football in Ipswich and Toowoomba. The only happy thing about this part of his trip was that the afternoon sun was behind him.

Though it was not exactly as he remembered, he spotted and took the turn left to Jindalee and the near-western Brisbane suburbs. The remainder of the trip was a matter of well-learned routine – unfortunately, including a peak-hour traffic abomination known to locals as the Normanby. Even though it was christened Normanby by the city's founding fathers, Brisbaners usually preferred to pop 'the' in front of the name just to tart it up a bit and cause some confusion.

Jon's accommodation in Brisbane was an apartment affair in the Spring Hill area. The bedroom and living areas were very pleasant, but the kitchen was small and the bathroom was tiny. The shower enclosure was about one-eighth the size of his beautiful Cheltenham creation. Still, it was only about four hundred metres from the Finsol office and he wasn't going to be there forever. It was all plenty good enough!

His first full day in Brisbane was a rest day which he used to re-familiarise himself with the city and re-read some of the Finsol file. He also bought some groceries in the near city suburb of Paddington.

On the Wednesday, Jon went to the Finsol office at eight in the morning to meet with Lorraine Jones who was their key operator for the project. He had spoken with her on the phone many times and had thought her a bit abrasive. The personal meeting did nothing to dispel his initial impression.

Lorraine was a woman of medium height and apparently in her early forties. She had a pasty fair complexion, brown eyes, a pointed nose that seemed too small for the rest of her face and unusually thin lips. But most off-putting was her hairstyle. She seemed to have brushed it up to the top of her head and tied it there so that it continued to rise for a bit - then cascaded down again in a dry looking brown frizz. Jon thought it most peculiar.

In initial conversation about the project, she made it known that Jon had been appointed to a job that was rightfully hers and that the onus of responsibility was on him to promptly catch-up to her level of knowledge and expertise so that the whole thing could progress satisfactorily. She made it known also that it was not her idea to call-in 'people from down south' and that she believed the additional imported consulting skills to be 'an extravagance'.

Jon quickly concluded that the imperfect documentation sent to ART Kingston was most likely attributable to this woman; and that he should spend time – maybe a fortnight or three weeks – with brokers and advisers, to get a better feel for their real business needs. He sensed he had to get their story first hand.

On telling Lorraine of his intentions, she gave him a long speech about the diverse nature of the industry, its ruthlessness, its overpowering fascination with sales and its inability to set uniform goals for self-improvement. 'Most of the people out there just don't understand these things!' she said.

In conversation, Jon poked-around a bit to get more substantial information about the nature of the client businesses and finite detail about Finsol, its corporate experience and the qualifications of its staff. It was a fruitless exercise! He got anecdotal trivia about the clients and defensive waffle about Finsol.

It wasn't a good start!

He went back to his apartment at about ten to line up a few appointments for the rest of the week and to go very carefully again through his Finsol file. He also phoned Eric briefly to tell of his less than spectacular start, as well as Lee to tee-up something for the weekend. She suggested dinner at her place on Saturday night and he agreed to that, of course.

On the Thursday and Friday, Jon visited two larger broking firms and two larger investment adviser firms. At all four places, the on-site accountant or senior administrator made him welcome. These people discussed their systems and methods and aspirations honestly; and, despite what he'd been told by Lorraine, they seemed to know what they were talking about. Sure, there was a current lack of procedural uniformity and, sure, there was disparity with minor enhancement requirements; but there seemed to be a common need to get certain fundamentals fixed-up and working properly.

On the Friday afternoon, Jon arranged more broker and adviser meetings for the following week, being careful to avoid the Monday afternoon time slot when he was booked to meet Finsol principals Damien Cutmore and Owen Masters.

On the Saturday, Jon went early to the city botanical gardens for a sit and a think then went back to Spring Hill to start sorting out some of his Finsol dilemmas.

Late afternoon came quickly enough and he showered and changed for his visit to Lee's. He packed a couple of bottles of wine and four cans of beer then walked down to catch a bus to her place – for old time's sake and in anticipation that it may be best to catch a taxi back to town later on.

Jon arrived about ten minutes early, which didn't seem to bother Lee at all. Again she gave him the affectionate welcome suitable for a returning hero. Though he didn't mention it, he noticed she'd lost a few kilograms. She was looking very pretty.

She got him a beer and poured herself a cask wine and they chatted for a short time about his trip.

"Now the good thing this time is that I've leg-roped Annie and she's going to be with us – for a while anyway." Lee told him, "She is the bathroom attending to her ablutions as we speak!"

"Attending to her ablutions?" Jon replied, "Christ, that sounds terrible!"

Lee laughed.

"It does; doesn't it! And I've got no idea where I picked that up either."

They chatted on for a while and eventually the shower noise stopped; then, soon after that, a small female person came out wearing a light dressing gown and a towel over her head.

"Don't go away. I'll be with you soon." Annie declared as she scooted past to her room to get dressed.

"She plays tennis most Saturdays now and she seems to love it." Lee said, "Are you playing any sport Jon? You're not rowing in the masters or the veterans or whatever, are you?"

"No, I haven't rowed for years. I play pretty bad tennis with a group of friends when I'm at home."

After chatting for only minutes, Annie came back out wearing a nicely ironed white long-sleeved shirt with epaulets and two pockets, jeans and clean white runners.

She went straight to the man and extended her right hand in friendship.

"Hello Jon. It's nice to see you!"

He wasn't ready for the speed of her arrival and took a clumsy moment or two to stand up and shake her hand. He wasn't ready for the second verbal delivery which, like the first, was mature and controlled – a good distance from the canary soprano that he half expected. And he certainly wasn't ready for her physical appearance, even though he'd seen a few photos of the grown-up girl. He was momentarily stunned.

"G'day Annie Davis. It's nice to see you too!" was about the best he could muster-up initially.

"My Godfather!" Lee said in surprise, "She's even put lipstick on for you. That usually only happens for royalty."

Not unexpectedly, Annie responded with the word 'Mum' - pronounced in the exasperated long form with a tonal trough in the middle.

"Does she give you a lot of trouble?" Jon asked Annie.

She turned around and looked straight at him.

"No, not really. I keep her pretty well under control."

"Is Jon what you expected him to look like, sweetheart?" Lee asked Annie – and copped another exasperated 'Mum' for her trouble.

"I was expecting an accountant really. A small, thin, bald man with glasses, wearing an old-fashioned suit with a top pocket full of different coloured pens."

She looked at Jon and laughed a bit. Then she raised her eyebrows.

"Maybe I haven't got her under control today, Jon!" she said in a softer voice.

Annie went around behind the servery in the kitchen area to pour herself a soft drink.

"Are you right there Mum? What are you having, nun's wee? Jon, another beer?"

Lee politely suggested that she might try Jon's good wine and Jon accepted the beer.

"Annie." Jon said, "I've got a serious question for you."

"I'm listening." she responded as she went back to the lounge-dining room with the drinks.

"I thought the definition of a female included a piece about mucking around with a hair dryer for half an hour after a shower. So, how come you're out here talking to us now instead of blow-drying? What's your secret?"

"Well, I get a towel and go like this." she said, imitating the hair drying action, "Then I give it a brush. Then I repeat the first step for a few seconds without a towel. Then I shake my head."

"Well, that's mighty interesting!" he said.

"It'll be okay when it dries. It's still pretty wet."

"Is it my turn now?" she went on.

Jon nodded his head.

"Jon, why do you part your hair nearly in the middle?" she asked.

"Because my crown is nearly in the middle and when I used to part it on the side to look like everyone else, there was a tuft at the back that stood-up like a little antenna. And that looked a bit nutty."

"Well, that's mighty interesting too!" she said.

Lee remarked that she was pleased the really lofty intellectual part of the evening's conversation had been attended-to and went to do some food preparation work behind the servery. Annie stayed in the lounge-dining room, leaning on one of the comfortable chairs and involving herself, competently, in the easy conversation that developed.

Jon watched and listened to them both as they talked and couldn't help thinking that they were, in a way, as much like sisters as mother and daughter. It interested him.

They both seemed to have a good general knowledge and a wide range of interests; they both seemed intuitively pleasant and friendly; and they seemed to interact on completely equal terms. He was clearly used to more formal parent and offspring relationships; or, maybe, he had become used to living away from a family environment. Whatever, he thought it was a great atmosphere.

Jon was also fascinated by their appearance. Annie was maybe ten centimetres shorter than Lee and had a slightly longer face and stronger chin. She also had a higher forehead and softer looking hair with a natural wave. Lee had coarse, straight and very black hair.

Annie's flawless complexion was a shade lighter than Lee's – but she was still a long distance from fair. They both had full, well-defined lips and uncrowded white teeth that made their smiles warm and natural – smiles that always tempted friendly reciprocation.

Annie had a small light coloured horseshoe-shaped scar on her right cheek, which Jon thought an interesting enhancement rather than disfigurement. The scar wrinkled just a touch when she smiled.

And having had twenty minutes or so to study the matter carefully, Jon concluded that Annie had by far the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. They were big dark brown eyes that really did seem to sparkle.

Lee had prepared, and frozen, a lamb curry during the week. She heated it to piping hot in the microwave and served it with steaming boiled rice and little dishes of nuts, tomato and cucumber, banana in coconut as well as some pappadams. It was a masterpiece!

As they sat eating and chatting, Jon had the feeling that Annie was looking at him – and she was, but only occasionally. For reasons he didn't completely understand, he didn't look back in her direction too much; he thought it appropriate to avoid lengthy direct eye contact with her. His problem here was a bit like the one he initially had with his Melbourne neighbour Jane and her hypnotic gaze.

And there were abstract thoughts in his mind about over-indulgence in a visual treat and not wishing to appear too attentive to such a young woman. It didn't seem right - not in the circumstances anyway.

As Lee was clearing the main course dishes away, she re-checked with Annie about her going to her friend Julie's place at about eight.

"Well, if you're going to be picked-up soon, we'd better talk seriously about where Jon is going to have his thirty-fifth birthday party and who he is going to invite." Lee said.

"See Jon; she really is a bit out of control tonight!" Annie chimed-in.

"Okay." he said, "I hoped that you'd forgotten. But I give in. It'll be Thai or Malaysian or Vietnamese or something next Friday night; and I'll be inviting all my close Brisbane friends. Both of you!"

A birthday party agreement in principle was reached before Annie was picked-up by her pal Julie.

Jon and Lee stayed at the table talking and enjoying a wine after she left.

Before thirty minutes had passed, Lee took control of the main topic of conversation.

"Now Jon, what did you think of my baby?" she asked.

"Christ, where do you start? She seems very clever for her age – without being too studious and serious. But I don't think she likes my hair much." he replied, not wishing to become too deep and meaningful about the subject.

But he'd picked the wrong tack.

"Now that's a bit of a problem. She can be cheeky and sharp sometimes. She likes to try people out and see how they react."

Jon went back to his theme.

"But she is clever, isn't she? What are her good subjects at school?" he asked.

"Well she's pretty well towards the top lot with everything; that's how we got her into the good school. But her specialties are English, French and, for heaven's sake, Japanese. Somehow or other she's just got something in her brain that makes it easy for her to learn languages."

"And, she's really a strange bird; she's said to me a few times that the language is the gateway to the culture and when you learn more about the culture it gets easier to learn the language. And on and on it goes! She's must have read a dozen big books about Japan you know. It all seems like double work to me, but she doesn't see it like that. She says that she just lets it drag her along and that it's not really work at all."

"Can you understand that, Jon?"

"Oh shit no! I've always been interested in history and I never had any trouble with that. But all the rest was work. The accounting stuff wasn't bad; it's arithmetical and it's got a sort of social logic and reason to it. But I had real trouble getting through the computer degree at uni in Melbourne. I really had to knuckle-down to finish that; but that was probably because I was working pretty hard as well. The last few years of all that were bloody miserable."

Lee offered him another beer, which he accepted.

"She's a good looking kid. I'll bet she breaks the boys' hearts." Jon said by way of a trivial interlude, while Lee was at the fridge.

Lee shook her head as she walked back towards him.

"Break hearts? Look, there are nice sensible boys that come in from time to time and they sit there trying to be pleasant; and she sort of gets impatient with them. I don't know what goes wrong Jon, but they seem to bore her to tears or make her uncomfortable – or both. She's got a word that she uses all the time; ogling. She says that she hates boys ogling at her. But they all have a bit of an ogle because she's so pretty."

"That'll all pass, won't it?" Jon offered, from a basis of no knowledge whatever.

"I suppose so, but it's all a bit strange at the moment. The poor little mite's had the same problem I had at school - getting out of the blocks a bit fast, I mean. God, I was all boobs and bum when I was twelve or thirteen."

"Now, it mightn't sound like a problem to you, but I can assure you that it can be very uncomfortable when you're different from the rest. When you get older it doesn't matter a jot; you're inclined to get ages and appearances a bit mixed up and nobody cares much."

"And, you know, to make herself look ordinary and cut down the ogling, she wears the plainest clothes she can find. And, I can tell you, that doesn't work. The damned plain clothes seem to make her look better. She'd probably look good in a potato sack - that's just the way she is!"

Jon had trouble with the concept that being physically attractive could be a hardship. He couldn't understand it at all. But he said nought about this strange female logic and reluctantly accepted that mother knew best.

They talked on for a while about all manner of things till Jon finally took his leave in a taxi at little after half-past-eleven. He got a bit of a smooch on departure, which did him no harm whatever.

After Jon arrived back at the apartment he didn't feel like going to bed so he made a cup of tea and settled down to read 'The Courier-Mail' he'd picked-up that morning. But, with a few drinks on board, his concentration wasn't perfect and he drifted between reading and daydreaming.

Despite a great evening with Lee and Annie - or maybe because of it - he felt an odd sense of unease, maybe melancholy. And when he thought about Annie, he could remember the voice and the eyes reasonably well, but had difficulty piecing together a clear mental image of her; and he harboured anxiety about whether he'd recognise her if he saw her in the street. It worried him a bit. It was a strange thought pattern that he'd not experienced since his testosterone laden, but confidence free, adolescence. He'd completely forgotten about the pretty girls with difficult-to-remember faces of that much earlier time.

He eventually decided to go to bed, but not before he cleaned his teeth and not before he checked in the mirror to see whether the part in his hair was a bit zany. He retired for the night content that he didn't have major hair problems.

Sunday morning brought with it a need for him to continue with Finsol work, but it did not bring him a clearer picture of Annie nor did it erase his strange emotions of late the previous evening. He still had an odd feeling of loss or something - as if someone close to him had been harmed and he'd been weakened as a result. There were nuisance fragments of sadness there in his mind and he didn't know where they had come from.

On the Monday afternoon, Jon met with Damien Cutmore and Owen Masters as arranged. Lorraine Jones was present as well.

He had spoken with Damien a number of times before the actual trip up to Brisbane and, in person, he was just about as expected. Damien was about fifty and a solid operator, but apparently harassed and overworked. During their meeting, he was the recipient of endless gratuitous advice from Lorraine.

For Jon, Owen was the unknown commodity at the beginning of the meeting – and that status didn't change greatly by its conclusion. Apart from fidgeting and talking about his experiences in the travel industry in New Zealand, his only contributions to the meeting were a few aimless sentences that hinged around the expression 'critical path' - which he must have heard in a conversation about project management at some previous time. He seemed to have nuisance potential and little else; except, maybe, selling skills.

Though the meeting got lost on a few occasions, Jon eventually secured agreement that he and Lorraine should reconfirm basic business requirements during the coming three weeks while Finsol staffers were attending to the three or four pieces of really important system maintenance work that had potential to get in the way of the upgrade project when it gathered momentum. As always, he made notes about the meeting in a red-covered day book.

On the Tuesday, the work started in earnest and he buried himself in it with his normal enthusiasm. He and Lorraine drew-up a plan to spend many hours with the brokers and advisers and many more hours polishing the requirements documentation and the project strategy. And the troops were given orders to hop into the vital maintenance chores.

By the night of his birthday party, work matters seemed to be pointing in the right direction.

At the recommendation of some younger Finsol people, Jon decided to have his party at a Vietnamese restaurant in a northern attachment to the Brisbane central business district known as the Valley. Though the area was really named Fortitude Valley, the locals - in their inimitable style – had reworked it to omit the key identifying word.

As the Valley had seen better days in 1992, Jon decided to pick Lee and Annie up and drive them to the restaurant. He got to their place at about six-thirty and the girls greeted him with a cold drink for then-and-there and a gift-wrapped bottle of red for sometime in the future.

Although Jon had some apprehensions about the birthday party night, it was just as comfortable and pleasant as the previous Saturday night. The meal was good, there were still a thousand things to talk about; and, for him, there was a sense of friendship and warmth. It gave him a good feeling. And he did recognise Annie; he knew her face after all! She was quieter than on the previous Saturday and did more listening than talking.

He watched her a few times as she watched other patrons. Lee was right; she was a very attractive girl, even in her plain charcoal-coloured skirt and light grey jumper.

After dinner, they drove back to Lee's unit and Jon accepted an invitation to have a coffee.

Annie's pride and joy, an Apple Mac computer, was back in action after a repair job so he was taken into her domain to give it a work out.

"I'm not too good on these ones." Jon commented, "We do most of our work on IBM stuff. The Macs seem to have taken a hold in schools and universities and in graphics places; and the IBM machines seems to have caught on in businesses where number crunching is important."

"But these ones are good value;" he went on "and this little fella seems to have plenty of grunt. Nice monitor too!"

Lee asked about other differences between the two types of computer and he delivered five or six carefully considered sentences on the subject.

Annie watched his big hands on the keyboard and the mouse as he tinkered about. His positive actions were lightning fast but they were punctuated with delays that seemed to be thinking time, when he gently rubbed the left hand side of the keyboard with his left hand.

"You can really type – properly, I mean!" Annie observed.

"Yeah, I guess so. I got cranky with myself typing with two fingers after a few years at work, so I bought a typing book and taught myself. But it was bloody hard; it was harder than the actual work for a while." he responded.

"Well, that's mighty interesting!" she observed, just before Lee excused herself for a visit to the bathroom.

Jon looked to his left and was surprised to see Annie smiling at him.

"Well, I don't know that 'mighty interesting' would describe it! It could actually be a bit boring!" Jon said, before going into thinking mode for a few moments.

"You were a bit quiet tonight, Annie. I hope meeting with your Mum and I hasn't all been too dull. The food was okay, wasn't it?"

"That's a great place and the food was beautiful. And don't concern yourself about the company, I'm okay!"

Annie was very forthright about all this but Jon wasn't convinced. And he was still having trouble making lengthy contact with those brown eyes.

The three had their coffee and talked on for a bit; then Jon left for his apartment at Spring Hill.

The meeting rejuvenated Jon's strange sense of melancholy which, at that stage, he thought must have something to do with Lee and Annie's earlier tragic family loss and their subsequent modest existence. It had to be that; surely! It had to be a sense of empathy for their situation.

It was a really strange though! In three and a half decades he'd not collected emotional fragments like this in his mind. He didn't really know how they'd invaded and he had even less idea about how to get rid of them.

The Finsol work went on at a fast pace and Jon focused on that completely. He had a few beers with some old university friends after work one night the following week but there was no contact with the Davis connection for nearly a fortnight after the Vietnamese meal.

Out of the blue on a Wednesday afternoon in mid-August he got a phone call at work from none other than Annie Davis.

"Jon, it's Annie!"

"This is a nice surprise. How's my girl?" he responded.

"Good as gold, Jon. Look, Mum said I should give you a call; we're going to see 'Strictly Ballroom' in town late this afternoon and we wondered if you'd like to come along."

"Sounds a good idea to me! Apparently it's a good movie." Jon replied, after just a few moments thought.

"Where abouts do you want to meet me?"

Annie described a particular spot near the corner of Elizabeth and Albert Streets and specified quarter-to-six as the meeting time.

After he'd hung-up, Jon pondered Annie's confident phone manner. He even had a few silly moments when he wondered whether it was really Annie who he'd been speaking with. It was a nice phone voice; and the delivery was perfect.

Jon packed-up early and went to the appointed place at the appointed time where Lee and Annie were waiting for him. They wandered off slowly to the cinema, bought tickets and a

few nibbles to munch, then went in and sat down. After a bit of chat about who was in the show, the lights dimmed, the advertisements and trailers started; and Jon lapsed into one of his coma-like sleeps.

There was no snoring or grunting or anything else that would worry the Davis duo or other patrons – just slow deep breathing.

"Mum, Jon seems to be out to it \- do you think he's okay? Should I try to wake him up?" Annie asked.

"You can wake him up if you like." Lee answered, "But he's probably tired as anything and needs a rest. I'd leave him be. This one got a medal in the sleeping Olympics, you know. He is very good at it."

Lee woke him as the end credits were rolling past.

"Aw, shit oh dear!" he exclaimed, having returned as bright as a button, "I've done my money again!"

His return from the land of nod was a source of great amusement for Lee and Annie.

After they'd exited the cinema, the smaller of Davis girls suggested that they should go to one of her favourite places for a 'real' burger and fries.

There was no argument about the good sense of that suggestion, but a serious discussion followed about whether fries were really chips, or chips were really fries.

With mock sternness, Jon argued that chips were chips, and that the word fries derived from low American salesmanship embodied in the expression 'French fried potatoes'. And Annie, with mock indignation, seemed to take up the fight for fries – in French. With hands on hips, she gave him a good talking to.

By the end of it, Jon was laughing heartily at the antics of his friend's not-so-tall daughter.

"What on God's earth did you say? You were defending fries, weren't you? Or were you defending the Americans – or the bloody French?" he asked.

"A bit of all the above actually!" she answered, "I also said that you shouldn't go to sleep when Mum and I invite you out to the pictures. Very rude! But I sort of thanked you for not snoring too."

She smiled happily at her audience.

"It sounded okay, didn't it?" Annie asked.

"Oh, it sounded wonderful!" Jon replied.

Lee chipped-in with what Jon thought to be a needlessly harsh comment about surviving happily without Annie showing-off her language skills. It was a comment that just took the edge off the fun and seemed to sting Annie a bit, though she did her best to hide it.

After a matter of seconds, when Lee had stepped ahead to get passed other pedestrians, Jon gave Annie a quick, feather-light backhand slap on the upper right arm.

"And don't do it again." he whispered, in pretend reprimand.

He was rewarded for this minor piece of ego restoration with a warm smile and a reciprocal slap.

The burgers – and the fries or chips - were as good as promised. And the venue was good too! It was alive, bright and full of pleasant young people involved in animated conversation.

After the meal, Jon went with Lee and Annie to their bus stop and waited there till they were safely on board and starting the homeward trip. He then walked slowly back to his Spring Hill apartment wondering just what 'Strictly Ballroom' was all about.

Even though it was relatively early, he was tired. When he got back to the apartment, he changed into his pyjamas, cleaned his teeth and went straight to bed and to sleep.

Jon woke abruptly and completely at about three o'clock the following morning, his thought processes dominated by crystal clear recollections of every conscious moment of that earlier contact with Lee and Annie. It was as if the get together had been specially recorded for his careful review. Again, this was something he'd never before experienced. He could recall the phone conversation with Annie - every word. He could remember them waving to attract his attention in Albert Street, greeting him and then sauntering along with him to the cinema. He could practically hear the traffic and the chatter of the other pedestrians. He could hear Annie's little piece of comedy in French; then see her sadness when Lee was critical of what she'd said. He could recall every aspect of the friendly little café. He could have drawn a plan of its layout. And he could see the girls boarding the bus then smiling and waving as it pulled-away from the kerb.

As he lay there in the dark, with a whiff of northern breeze befriending him through the slightly open window, he worked on his images as well as those strange emotions that Lee and Annie had generated at virtually every meeting. Though it took time, he began to develop an inkling that the feelings were not to do with empathy for their circumstances but unhappiness with his own. Somehow, he figured, they had breached the vessel containing his own accumulated solitude and that it's contents were seeping slowly into consciousness.

He didn't care for the unfolding self-vision; and he didn't care for the idea that stray emotions were intruding into his disciplined thought processes. In his ordered mind, that equated to some form of weakness.

So, in the quiet of his early morning sleeplessness, he determined that he should label these matters as items pending later attention and shove them aside in favour of more important subjects.

It didn't work. The offending thoughts didn't budge.

Another strange aspect of his sleepless mental meandering was the occasional recall of Annie saying his name. It wasn't like the 'Jon' spoken by others, who delivered a blunt sound like 'jolt' or 'job'. Annie's delivery was softer, a touch extended and with a tiny upward inflection at the end - as if she may follow the name with a question.

It sounded wonderful! It wasn't so much like his name; it was more like an expression of friendship.

Before catching a final hour of sleep, he lay there listening to the sounds of the awakening city – the prolonged gliding noise of trains along shiny steel rails, the distant groaning of service vehicles in forward motion and the beeping as they were reversed to park, occasional footsteps and pieces of quiet conversation from the thoroughfare below and occasional pre-dawn whistles from birds in the central parklands.

Brisbane's over-exuberant ABC breakfast announcer woke him at half-past-six, in good time for a shower, a bowl of cereal, a quick cup of tea and more work.

By that week's end, Jon was happy enough with progress made on the Finsol job. He and Lorraine had confirmed all of the basic system enhancement requirements and had teased out a few more important requirements that were either linked to the basics or previously overlooked. Jon, on his own, had reconstructed the first stage documentation to his particularly high standards; documentation that had to be exactly correct as it was the foundation of the whole project.

This was gruelling work as he was, for the first time in his career, restricted to the terms of a standard project agreement reached between Finsol and the system users. There was no ducking and weaving allowed here and little potential for coaxing the users into innovative changes. There were about thirty businesses involved and to move them even in a slightly different direction would take much time and, therefore, money. In a sense, he had one hand tied behind his back.

On the weekend he worked like a demon on the framework for a more streamlined design specification so that the Finsol operatives could process at a better pace. And by late Sunday night, he was very confident about his preparations for his Monday meeting with the Finsol seniors.

But the meeting was a disaster!

Owen, it turned out, had taken some of the firm's manpower off their important maintenance work and deployed them on cosmetic enhancements for a broking firm at which he had special contacts. He had also taken on-board a range of basic design ideas from a completely insignificant broking firm and committed Finsol to their close scrutiny by the project team. All this was done without reference to Jon or Lorraine. And Damien had been told only of 'a few hours work on a couple of concepts'.

Owen didn't seem to understand the problems his involvement had caused and even volunteered a bit of bravado about how 'the man who has the cheque book has the say'.

Damien retrieved him from cuckoo land with, 'Owen, I've had enough crap for today. You don't seem to understand that, if we bugger this project up, none of us will have any money. And we'll get our arses sued off as well!'

After an hour of animated discussion, Jon was able to get agreement that the Finsol operatives would return to their maintenance work and that the late design ideas would receive only brief scrutiny. It was also agreed that he and Lorraine would continue on with the design specification as quickly as possible.

Despite that, damage had been done. The project had slipped another two or three weeks – at best.

After the meeting, Jon documented proceedings in his day book and also phoned Eric in Melbourne to give him an up-date on what was going on. They were in agreement that things could be travelling much better but that there was time enough to retrieve the position.

Jon had been in these positions many times before, and each time had worked his way through the dilemmas. He determined that he'd simply do that again by peddling harder.

On the Thursday night following the meeting, while walking back towards Spring Hill from an adviser's office in the city, he saw a familiar face towards the end of the queue at a crowded Edward Street taxi rank. It was none other than Annie Davis – looking uncharacteristically flustered.

"G'day Miss Annie. How's things?" he said, as he neared the end of the queue.

"Not too bad, Jon. How are you?"

"Pretty good!" he lied, "You're going to be waiting here forever for a cab; where are off to?"

Having delivered the question, he became aware that two other girls seemed partly involved in the conversation.

"You guys are together, are you?" he enquired.

Annie answered in the affirmative, introduced her friends Emma and Danielle then explained they were going to Danielle's place at Ascot.

"Why don't you all come up the hill with me and I'll give you a lift. You'll be there in twenty minutes." Jon suggested.

Annie was coy about all this but the more confident of her friends, Emma, said it sounded like a good idea 'under the circumstances'.

An agreement was reached, so they all set off to the car park under his apartment building, Annie talking with Jon at the front and the girls talking to each other at the rear - a pecking order that stayed in place for the entire journey to Danielle's.

When he'd stopped outside the house, they all hopped-out expressing heartfelt gratitude for his generosity. Annie was slower to get out of the car than the others and failed to properly close the front passenger-side door at first attempt.

She opened it again, stooped down, put one knee on the front seat and leaned across as if she needed tell him something.

"Jon, have you got a second?"

"Yeah, of course!" he answered.

"Jon, really truly thanks for that. We missed the bus you know and we were going to be late as anything if we'd had to wait there for a cab. And Dani's dad's really strange about punctuality. He's a bit of a clock freak."

"Not a worry!" Jon responded.

Annie gave him a happy smile and, for a fleeting moment, held onto his left hand.

"I'd better shoot through now. I'll see you later, eh?" he said quietly.

"Thanks again, Jon. Bye." she replied, before closing the door and giving him a quick wave through the window.

He had taken delivery of that friendly sounding 'Jon' quite few times as well as a nice kindly parting message, and that made him feel soothed after a rotten day at work. But he was not nearly as comfortable about intermittent whispering and giggling involving Emma and Danielle – girlish tittering that reached a crescendo while Annie was saying her final farewells. Though Jon couldn't imagine why, he had the feeling that he may have been one of the subjects of the girls' youthful exchanges.

It didn't occur to him that he might possess attributes that could make young birds chirp.

By the time the next Monday Finsol meeting was held, he had clawed back a bit of lost project time and sensed there was still reasonable hope for the undertaking.

The meeting itself was a resounding success as Lorraine was away with a cold and Owen was out of town. Jon ended up having a long, and very productive, session with Damien - followed by a late dinner at a pleasant city restaurant. Jon confirmed that Damien really was a kindred spirit with the project; and found him good company in the relaxed atmosphere of the restaurant. These were heartening signs!

Buoyed by this success, he promised himself one complete day off the following Sunday. And he decided that he'd ask Lee and Annie to the Art Gallery in the morning, then go for a walk and read a book, or watch some football on the television, in the afternoon.

He phoned Lee on the Wednesday to ask the Davis duo along.

"It's a deal till half-past-eleven, then I'll have to leave you to go to lunch at my friend Gayle's place – if that's okay." she replied, "I don't know about Annie though. Is it all right if she just turns up or just doesn't turn up?"

"Of course; anything goes. I'm on holidays on Sunday and I've got my heart set on just wandering around wasting time. If she wants to do a bit of wandering around and time wasting, she's most welcome."

Work being what it was, the Sunday gallery appointment seemed to turn up in about two minutes. And Lee and Annie were both there to meet him near the main entrance at the arranged time of half-past-nine.

The threesome were near enough to first into the small Impressionist exhibit showing at the time – featuring mostly lesser-known works by Manet and Sisley. After about an hour there, they had a close look at an exhibition of Australian photographs from the period 1945 to 1965.

Lee's two hours passed quickly and she departed for her lunch engagement with friend Gayle at about half-past-eleven leaving Jon and Annie to fend for themselves.

"Looks like you're stuck with me for a while Annie Davis. Is there anything you fancy doing? When do you have to get home?" Jon enquired.

"I've got no plans at all. What do you want to do?"

"I don't mind it down at the Gardens. Would you like to go for a walk down there?" he asked.

Annie agreed to that and they set off on foot, at a relaxed pace, to the central city's south-eastern precinct.

Jon was a bit concerned about his ability to entertain his young friend – or even maintain conversation with her – for a prolonged period. He didn't really have a good knowledge of her interests.

But he needn't have worried!

They started off talking about the Impressionist era, which she seemed to know a bit about. And then, through twists and turns in conversation, they somehow managed to get to the history of the French Revolution, which was a subject Jon had mastered. They were still engrossed with the Revolution when they reached their destination at the end of George Street. There was no academic showing-off here; they were just trying to retrieve information and yapping away about it as it surfaced.

The French theme led them to a happy half-hour on tennis by the end of which Jon suggested they get a sandwich for lunch.

"Provided they press them down properly, and wrap them firmly, I like big salad sandwiches. Will we try to find some of those?" Jon asked.

"Sounds good to me!" said Annie.

They found a take-away place, bought sandwiches and drinks and took them back to the Gardens to have lunch there - and to sit and look at the river. And the chatter went on with the greatest of ease.

Although Lee's earlier observations about Annie's dislike of ogling were not in his conscious thoughts, Jon steered away from looking at her too much. He was aware of her age and was comfortable to project a mature guardian-style affiliation. He was with her only because Lee had gone elsewhere for lunch, of course. He was just a friend of the family. But he did see her and she looked very, very pretty.

After a time, they commenced their walk to Spring Hill so that he could give her a lift home.

About half way along the Edward Street sector of the walk, Annie grabbed his attention by gently holding his left forearm.

"Jon, have you ever been married?" she asked.

He thought about this unexpected question for a second; then delivered a typical wordy Jon Bentley answer.

"No!"

"Do you live with anyone in Melbourne?" she went on.

"No, I don't!"

"Don't you get lonely sometimes – living in Melbourne on your own and travelling all around the place on your own?"

Given the self-analysis Jon had subjected himself to in recent times, it was an awkward question. He took a little while to respond.

"That's a bloody hard question Ann Davis. You see, in truth, it's a bit difficult to see a concept like loneliness from in here." he said, pointing to his temple.

"I don't wake up some mornings and think 'Gee I'm lonely today!' It doesn't work like that! I just sort of figure that I landed where I landed as a result of choices I made along the way. And I've landed here and now on my own. And, seeing as you didn't ask, I don't regret having made any of those choices – and I can't bloody reverse them anyway. They've happened, haven't they?"

"In any case, I've got some close friends who look after me down in Melbourne; and I keep meeting all sorts of interesting people in my job. It's a really good job like that."

"But sometimes I think things could have been different, I suppose; I don't know!" he concluded.

He wasn't at all sure-footed with this subject matter; and, as a consequence, his response was prickly and defensive.

And, having let fly with the response, he was actually a bit angry with himself for having entertained the silly subject matter in the first place.

They walked along in silence for a bit, this time with Annie avoiding a direct gaze.

When she did eventually look around, Jon could see concern written all over her face.

"God, Jon; I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. They were stupid questions. I'm sorry I asked them now."

"Whoa, steady-on there; everything's okay!" he said, trying to make her more comfortable.

"You haven't done anything wrong; and they weren't stupid questions. You must have wanted to know something, so you asked. Truth be told, I'm more worried about my dopey bloody answers that didn't answer anything."

"But you looked so angry and you called me Ann." she said.

"Well, you barrelled me a bit. I wasn't ready for any of that. I don't often have girls asking me those sorts of things, you know. In fact, I don't think it's ever happened before. And I didn't realise I called you Ann; I guess it just popped-out." he said, still trying to cheer her up.

She apologised again for her insensitivity and attempted a smile.

Jon took the lead in restarting the chatting, which got back to normal fairly quickly for the remainder of the walk and the drive home.

Just as they were pulling up in front of the unit, Annie remembered a conversation she'd had with Lee the previous day.

"Jon, did Mum say anything to you about going down the coast the weekend after next."

"No; well I don't think so anyway." he replied.

"Mum's going down for a long weekend and I'm going for Saturday and Sunday. She was going to ask you if you wanted to stay with us for a day or so but she must have forgotten. I'll talk to her about it when she gets home and she'll probably give you a call."

"Thanks for a lovely day, Jon. I hope I didn't muck it up too much for you."

"No, you did not! It was just as you described; it was a lovely day!" he replied with a smile, "Now you take care of yourself and I'll see you soon, eh."

She said her farewells and watched for a short time as he drove off towards the city.

When back at Spring Hill, Jon ditched the idea of reading in favour of watching what remained of the football telecast on channel seven. Something easy was the order of the day.

But ease and Jon Bentley weren't always close companions. And on that particular Sunday afternoon, ease deserted completely.

It was a good game on the television; it was exciting! The commentators prattled away about the glorious kicking, the likely mark of the day, the standard of umpiring and all the other fascinating aspects of play. But Jon saw little and heard practically nothing. The pictures and voices were within.

He wondered why the hell he'd talked for so long about the damned French Revolution. How he wished he hadn't; it must have bored poor Annie witless! And those answers about not being married or living with someone, and about loneliness - heavens above!

But then again, he thought, she shouldn't have been asking really personal questions like that. It was verging on rude!

The answers shouldn't have upset her; she had it coming! She simply shouldn't have been prying into his private affairs.

Then he remembered the worried look on her face. And he thought how wonderful it would have been to hold her a little bit and tell her everything was all right. God, she looked worried!

No - he thought – put that aside and don't think about it. Don't go near there!

He accepted his own advice and, by nightfall, had moved a fair way towards getting the day's activities and Annie Davis into better perspective. And, on the basis of past experience, he became confident that he could snuff out any wayward thoughts that might recur. Determination, focus, stability – these were his hallmarks, after all.

By dinnertime on that Sunday, the earlier drifting seemed to have settled – but not as a result of his steely willpower.

The curious unease or melancholy of past weeks had converted to an ache. The vial that contained his accumulated loneliness and solitude had been shattered and the contents were out in the open. So, instead of wrestling with an infatuation, he was wrestling with a sense of failure and a feeling of emptiness.

At about half-past-seven, Lee phoned about their planned sojourn to the south coast. Jon was pleased to get the call; it was from outside – from the real world.

She outlined her intention to drive down on the Wednesday evening after work and asked whether he'd be able to drive down with Annie on the Friday evening for a two-night stay.

"That sounds beaut to me, Lee." Jon replied.

"Now there's a tennis court at this place apparently, and Annie said to tell you that you have to take your tennis stuff because she's got her heart set on playing you and giving you a good thrashing."

Jon heard Annie's exasperated 'Mum' in the background.

"I'll take my racquet and shoes down there, but you tell her that beating me at tennis isn't really a challenge and that she should pick on someone her own size." he responded.

For some reason this statement particularly appealed to Lee's sense of humour and she went into a period of noisy laughter.

The conversation ended with an agreement that he would pick Annie up on the Friday between half-past-six and seven and that they'd get a meal on the way to the coast so that Lee could have dinner at a reasonable time.

The thought of a break at the beach brightened him up a bit.

The Finsol work continued at a cracking pace and, by the following weekend, Jon was confident he had developed a top quality requirements document and was confident of completing a top quality design document within days. It seemed he had snatched back a reasonable amount of lost time. He had sometimes thought of Annie – and of Lee – during that week but had managed keep the Davis subject on the sidelines by assuring himself that he was suffering from a temporary aberration linked to work stresses.

The final Monday Finsol meeting in September was to have been something of a triumph. The firm was in possession of top quality foundation documents that would allow commencement of the nuts and bolts work on the system. They were still behind schedule, but not dramatically.

The meeting was nothing like a triumph; more a catastrophe! It turned out that the firm's senior analyst had resigned the previous Friday and had actually departed for greener pastures without notice. Two lesser lights had also resigned and were due to finish up in about a fortnight. It was disaster for which the firm had no recovery plan at all.

At the meeting, the players came to the only conclusion that was possible under the circumstances. Jon and Damien would tough it out as best they could with the project work while Owen and Lorraine looked for competent replacement staffers or contractors – or both.

The problems here weighed heavily on Jon, who had never been in a similar predicament before. He ambled back to his Spring Hill apartment trying to work out how he'd be able to rescue the project; but no answers came! After a none-too-appealing microwaved meal from the freezer, he set about writing up his day book and making notes for the following days phone conversation with Eric.

When Jon had finished making his notes, he allowed his mind to drift back to the Davis girls. He figured he was entitled to a pleasant distraction; and he also figured that his thoughts could do no harm. At the time, any tiddly aberrations in his private life seemed miniscule compared with the disaster confronting him at Finsol.

On that Monday night, he took the decision that he would still go to the beach the following weekend because he'd be working ridiculous hours during the remainder of the week and would be due for a rest. It was logical to have a meaningful break. He knew he'd work better given a few days proper rest.

After another four very hard days, Jon downed tools at half-past-six on the Friday evening and drove north to pick up Annie, as arranged. He arrived at a few minutes to seven.

She welcomed him at the door with a bright smile.

"Come on in for a sec Jon and I'll go through my list for turning-off the lights and locking-up and things."

He went in and she started going through her list. When part of the way through this little routine, she looked up and saw Jon staring blankly at a print on the kitchen wall.

"Gee, you look tired! Are you okay? You're not going to go to sleep on me driving down the coast are you?" she asked.

"No. I'll probably just slump over the steering wheel." he replied with a smile and raised eyebrows.

"Now don't be silly!" she scolded him, "I know that wasn't worded too brilliantly, but it was a serious question you know."

"Yes dear." he answered, imitating the defeated attitude of a hen-pecked male.

She liked the little joke and his relaxed manner; they made her happy.

In truth, he made her feel happy – and comfortable and secure - without even trying. She thought he was wonderful.

Annie looked his way to try to catch his attention and acknowledge his humour, but he turned away at exactly that moment.

They left the unit at about five-past-seven and headed off for the coast, just as heavy rain started to fall. And they talked about the inevitability of rain and their histories of wet holidays till they reached the Story Bridge - just near the Valley.

"You really do look tired Jon." Annie volunteered again, "You're not overdoing it at work, are you?"

"Probably; but I'm not too happy with the way this job's headed. It seems to be getting worse by the day. There are just too few capable people to do what has to be done and I'm a bit bloody worried about it."

"That doesn't sound like my Jon!" she said reassuringly.

Even that nice sounding 'Jon' didn't pick him up. He still had Finsol at the front of his thoughts.

"There are some tapes in a box over in the back, Annie. Why don't you have a rummage through them, see what you like and put one on."

She had a look through the selection making use of the glove box light.

"How about James Taylor?" she asked, "Mum likes him! She calls him 'a good ol' boy'!"

"Give it a go."

The adequate, but un-brilliant, sound reproduction took Jon's thoughts to matters technical.

"I read an article a while ago that said they'll be putting CD players in cars as a sort of standard thing before too long - and that won't hurt. These cheap little cassette players in cars are pretty awful. Have you got a CD player at home?"

"No, not yet. We're still thinking about that." Annie replied, "But we've got a Sony cassette player that's not too bad."

Jon rambled on for a while about how CDs were developed overseas and how they work with laser technology. This couldn't have been one of Annie's favourite subjects as, when he finally looked across to gauge her reaction, she was close enough to asleep. He turned James Taylor down a bit and drove on through the rain.

She woke after about thirty minutes and apologised about her lapse into the land of dreams.

"Do you like McDonalds? Would you like to stop and have a Macca for dinner?" Jon asked.

"Well, I don't have Maccas all that often Jon." she replied.

He got the message.

"Maybe we should pick-up some lasagne or something when we get there."

Annie clearly thought that was a much better idea.

They ended up buying take-away pasta from an Italian place at Broadbeach and ate it when they arrived at the unit. Jon had bought far too much so Lee gave them a help eating it, even though she'd had dinner earlier.

After watching television for about an hour, the girls started to make noises about going to bed. They went through their bathroom routines and each departed to a bedroom leaving Jon with blankets and pillows for a night on the convertible lounge just near the big sliding front doors at the entrance to the unit.

From her bed - through the half-open door of her darkened room - Annie watched him take off his shiny black shoes, open his briefcase and transfer a bundle of papers to the floor, lie face down on the lounge and start reading the papers by the light of a small table lamp nearby. He was still in his suit trousers and white business shirt.

She watched him rubbing his forehead and she watched him mouthing words and making notes as he broke from his reading work. He seemed to be studying - just as if he was at university or school.

Annie watched for as long as she could fend off tiredness; then she slept.

The rain outside woke her for a short time at about two o'clock and he was still there working away on his papers. She could only wonder at his stamina.

When the girls woke for the new day at about seven, Jon was asleep on the convertible lounge still in his suit trousers and white shirt. Lee woke him and sent him to her room to get some more sleep in the comfort of a real bed. She and Annie then went for a long walk, despite the overcast and threatening skies.

On their return, Jon was in the bathroom attending to his shaving ritual. Despite the availability of pressure pack preparations – not to mention electric razors – he had continued with brush, shaving cream in a tube and a time-honoured razor. Though only dressed in a pair of shorts and singlet, he had left the bathroom door open as a matter of habit. He hadn't closed a bathroom door for years; there was no need to do so!

Annie spotted him first and, for her, it was an amazing sight. She had never seen a male shaving before – except on television. She'd not seen the strange face contortions nor had she heard the razor sound of very many little crackling noises joined together. And, at close range under the same roof, she'd never seen anything like Jon. He was broader in the shoulders, bigger and much stronger looking than she'd imagined.

"What would you like for breakfast, snoozy?" Lee called to him from the kitchen.

"I'm happy with what everyone else is having – so long as it's not tripe or okra." he responded.

"That's a shame sweetie; we're having tripe." Lee called back in jest, "What's okra, anyway?"

"It's an objectionable green pod type vegetable that contains slimy stuff and ball bearings." he answered, "It's used to make gumbo."

"Well, what the hell is gumbo?" Lee went on.

"It's a thick soup with lots of okra in it; Creole stuff."

He turned to Annie, who had stayed at the bathroom door enjoying the view and the silly conversation.

"If she ever asks me what I want to eat in future," he said quietly, "would you please remind me to say 'anything'. I think that'd be much easier; don't you?"

Annie agreed.

They had scrambled eggs, tomato and bacon for breakfast then went to a large shopping complex to look at clothes and to use up a bit of time in the hope the weather would improve.

At about three in the afternoon, Lee decided to read more of her novel and have a bit of a snooze; and Jon and Annie decided to brave the tennis court.

Annie looked very much the part in her white shorts and light blue long-sleeved club sweatshirt; and Jon looked very untidy in baggy khaki shorts and an old dark green T-shirt.

After a five-minute warm-up, it became obvious to Jon that he was about to lose yet another tennis duel. Annie had much better technique and was very quick on her feet.

By the time they'd played for about ten minutes, Annie was getting pretty confident and moving up closer to the net to take advantage of his lack of agility. Though this tactic was working well, she made an unlucky mistake with one shot that travelled just to Jon's right hand side. And his return was the type of shot he dreamed about often enough but fluked only occasionally.

From his racquet's sweet spot, the ball went zinging back to a momentarily indecisive Annie who took it on the body dead centre near the waistband of her shorts.

For Jon, the incident seemed to happen in slow motion with the ball just drifting along till it thumped into her. And the impact was such that his muscles below waist level involuntarily tightened in sympathy for her predicament. She quickly crumpled forward to a half crouched position and there she stayed.

By the time he reached her, she'd coloured-up with the pain.

"Oh shit, Jon; that really hurt! I caught it right in the belly button."

He stood over her holding her upper arms.

"I'm sorry, little one; I'm really sorry. Annie, I didn't mean to do that."

Without thinking for an instant about what he was doing, Jon bent down and kissed her very gently on the back of the neck.

"I'm really sorry, Annie. Are you okay?"

"I guess so! But I've never had one hurt so much before." she answered.

"Come on over here and have a sit down."

He took her to a small covered area near the court and they sat down on one of the large garden seats located there. He held her left hand firmly while she regained composure – which took a few minutes.

"That wasn't a bad shot, Jon. And I just stood there like a statue and copped it right in the belly button. I suppose you'll claim that as some sort of macho triumph, will you?" she asked.

"Oh no; not me! That'd be bad form. And, quite apart from that, I know a bit about your belly button. It was a very nice one years ago; and it probably still is – unless you've had it reconfigured or something. I wouldn't want to do anything to harm it."

She smiled a bit at the thought that he knew about her navel - and whatever else might be on view to a baby-sitter, for that matter.

But she stopped smiling abruptly and, in a perfectly timed and wonderfully ridiculous display of mock coyness, held her right hand against her upper chest, rolled her eyes skywards, and protested with 'Oh, Mr Bentley!'

It was a marvellous little performance that gave Jon a really good laugh.

"You don't want to do any more of this, do you?" he asked, after he'd settled down a bit.

"No Jon. Let's go down to the beach and see how ugly the blue Pacific can be in rotten weather."

They went to the beach and walked and talked for about forty-five minutes. He asked her about learning languages, and she told him all. She asked him about his work and Melbourne, and he told her all. Together, they were top-notch talkers.

On their way back up what remained of the dunes, Annie asked him to wait for a little while so she could go back to collect a few shells as a memento of the trip. So he squatted on his haunches and waited as she fossicked around near the water's edge.

And he watched her and he couldn't believe how beautiful she was. She wasn't the tall, smug, aloof, feline type promoted in magazine mythology. She was a perfectly proportioned smaller package; a vibrant, warm, happy and very feminine type - a vastly different image.

She came back eventually and presented him a memento shell, which he popped in his pocket.

"How's your tum?" he asked.

"It's okay now; but it's a bit tender to touch. I'll get a good bruise, I think."

After a short period of silence, she moved to another subject.

"Jon. I've got a second shell for you. It's a special reward for not asking about the scar on my cheek. You couldn't imagine how boring it is telling people about it. It drives me nuts!"

"Don't let them get you down; you're very good looking!" he responded, as they started back to the unit.

After twenty or so paces, she stopped walking and held Jon's hand to stop him. She was about to speak but he beat her to the punch.

"There aren't too many people who ever ask whether I'm tired or worried or down a bit and I've been grateful when you've asked about these things a few times. So there!" he nodded decisively, "So I have put you down for a special reward shell some time in the future. I won't get you one now; there didn't seem to be too many down there when we were walking along. I'll do it another day."

He looked directly at her for a second or two, then turned to look at the surf.

She put one hand up to his cheek and turned his face back to her direct gaze.

"You're a funny old one Jon Bentley. You're a thirty-five-year-old half tonne of muscle and brains and experience; but I think you're a bit shy or something. If you can teach yourself to look at me without going all goosy, I'd be much more comfortable."

At that moment, Jon was both elated and concerned. He was elated at having been granted permission to ogle; and concerned that he had allowed – almost encouraged - their relationship to become much too close. Although the communication and contact seemed as natural as breathing, it now seemed very wrong.

They returned to the unit and had tea and biscuits with Lee. The rain started again at about four, so they watched television for a while.

Jon had a shower at about five then slipped out to buy some bits-and-pieces to go with the steak Lee had in the fridge for dinner. He was the designated cook for the night. They ended up with steak, potatoes done in the oven in foil and salad.

"Better than the Creek!" Lee declared, comparing the meal with offerings available at the Breakfast Creek Hotel – a Brisbane property somewhat oddly re-christened by locals to satisfy their passion for mangled location names.

After washing-up, the trio played a lengthy game of Trivial Pursuit, which Jon won by a very small margin. Both Lee and Annie were close behind.

Lee went to bed just after eleven and Annie made tea for herself and Jon. They sat for a while alternately picking Trivial Pursuit cards at random and asking each other entertainment questions. But they both tired of that after about thirty minutes and took the decision it was time for bed.

When they went out to the kitchen to wash and dry their mugs, Annie said his name fairly deliberately – as if she had an important question to ask or an important statement to make. But nothing followed.

"I'm still here!" Jon answered, after he thought the silence had gone on long enough.

"I was just going to tell you that you should really try to have a good sleep tonight because you couldn't have had too much sleep last night." she said, "I've got to have a shower before I go to bed so you'd better have first go at the bathroom. Okay?"

He agreed to that and went to change into his pyjamas and clean his teeth. When he came out, Annie had all but finished setting-up his makeshift bed.

"There you go!" she said, after adding the finishing touches, "Now you hop in and go to sleep this time; and I'll see you in the morning."

He got into bed, wished her happy dreams and turned off his lamp. But he didn't go to sleep, of course. Quick departures for the land of nod were mostly reserved for inopportune times.

Annie finished in the bathroom after about fifteen minutes; then turned off the bathroom light and went into her room with a small bundle of clothes for washing back in Brisbane. After a short time, he heard her soft footsteps on the carpet and, when they stopped, he opened his eyes a little to find out what she was doing back in the living room area. In the very dim light from her distant bedside lamp, he could see her standing about two metres away from the convertible lounge just looking towards where he lay. She must have stayed there for a full minute before padding back to her room and turning her lamp off.

This quiet and caring little visit led him to happy thoughts unencumbered by the realities of the environment in which he and Annie lived. And the happy thoughts led him to a long uninterrupted sleep. Lee woke him at about quarter-past-eight, by which time she had started preparing breakfast.

Jon left for Brisbane about an hour after being woken. With the benefit of a good sleep, he was ready to focus properly on all matters – occupational and personal. During the drive back to Brisbane, he made up his mind that he was going to make this Finsol project work come hell or high water; and he made up his mind that the Annie Davis nonsense would cease. It was that simple!

And, while driving along listening to the jerky reproduction from his car's cassette player, he decided he would get Lee a CD player for home – as a thankyou gift for all the hospitality that had been extended to him since arriving in the northern city. She'd been marvellous.

Though purchase of the CD player was accomplished by the following Wednesday, putting thoughts of Annie aside seemed outside the realms of possibility. Thoughts of her were there with him as often as not and he couldn't shake them loose.

And the Finsol affair – well, it seemed to be going from bad to worse. Lorraine and Owen had recruited two junior staff to come on-stream after a few weeks, but engagement of a senior analyst had not been finalised. This left Jon with a project that was getting further and further out of kilter. Without the key senior analyst he actually faced the prospect of having to slow certain tasks to allow catch-up with others. His plans and charts were starting to lose all relevance.

On the Thursday evening, after a particularly solid day at work, Jon decided he'd drop the CD player off at Lee's place. He tried to phone a few times to make sure a quick visit wouldn't be an inconvenience, but on each occasion the line was engaged. So he decided to just hop in the car and go there. He could always make a quick getaway if he wasn't welcome.

When he arrived at the unit at about eight, Annie greeted him at the door and welcomed him in with enthusiasm.

"You're just the very person I need to see!" she said, "I've got a few problems with my Mac and you might know how to fix them up."

"Well, I'll have a look and see what I can do." he answered, then immediately went on, "Where's Mum? I've got something special for you and her."

Without waiting for her answer about Lee's whereabouts, he held forward the box containing the CD player - with accompaniment from that ubiquitous imaginary orchestra.

"Da, daaaar!"

"Oh, Jon. What have you done?" she said, "You silly thing. Surely you haven't bought that for us?"

"I surely have!" he said proudly, "Where's Mum, anyway?"

"She had to go up to Toowoomba for some sort of conference with her boss's suppliers. She won't be back till tomorrow afternoon."

"That's a shame. Never mind, I'll connect this beast up through your cassette player and she can have her surprise tomorrow. I bought a James Taylor CD for her too!" he said.

Annie poured a cold glass of beer for him and he set about unpacking the CD and connecting it up. After a bit of crawling around the floor, a bit of swearing and a successful search for a double adaptor, the job was done. They tried it out and it worked a treat.

"Next." Jon said in his official voice.

"Another beer?" Annie asked.

"I meant next job. I'd better not have another beer; thanks anyway."

Jon was soon at the keyboard of her computer trying all manner of tricks to control a few renegade functions that seemed to activate without human intervention.

After about twenty minutes of fiddling around, he believed he'd fixed the problems so they swapped places and Annie went through her usage routines to make sure everything was functioning properly.

He'd won again! It was working perfectly.

"You're a genius, Jon. I have no idea what you did, but it looked very clever. And, better still, it worked."

Annie swivelled her chair further left to face Jon, leaned forward, put her hands on her knees and looked straight at him in preparation for delivery of the difficult lines she'd been rehearsing as he worked at the computer.

"Jon, when we were down at the beach, I had a few goes at trying to tell you something important." she started.

"Umm. What's that?"

She didn't beat around the bush at all.

"I needed to tell you that I know you're Mum's friend and everything. But I needed to tell you that I think of you as my friend too, Jon."

She paused, but only for a second.

"I don't really know what's going on here but I think about you a lot as my special friend, sort of! It might sound strange - and I know I'm not supposed to be thinking these things – but, when I'm with you, everything seems easy. It's a strange feeling!"

"I've tried not to think these things Jon. I know it's all wrong; I know that!"

"But this won't go away. And I needed to tell you about it – even though it sounds stupid."

He didn't turn away this time. He sat there in serious silence looking directly at her as his conflicting emotions screamed at each other for ascendency.

After a few moments, reason took control.

He had to put an end to all this. There was no choice.

But he needed a little time to work up to it. It was going to be an awful task.

"I think I get the gist of what you're saying." he answered eventually, applying a sort of blocking and time-wasting tactic that he used occasionally on clients and colleagues.

Annie, whose honesty and openness had not been tainted by occupational manoeuvring and double talk, simply sat there looking hurt and embarrassed. She knew then that he would deliver an avuncular speech about her being a pleasant, but misguided, child.

Jon eventually started with the delivery of his carefully considered response.

"Annie, that's not true. I heard exactly what you said and I understood it all perfectly. The truth is that I think you're a very nice girl."

She waited for the remainder of the speech – but he went no further. At the crucial second he propped to buy more time.

"You don't think I'm crazy?" she asked.

"Not at all. I think you're clever." he replied.

Jon lowered his head in the hope that the screaming emotions would settle. He left it lowered in the hope Annie would read the body language as the gentlest 'no' he could manage.

He succeeded only in looking sad.

With tears in her eyes, Annie went to him, held his face to her chest and ran her fingers through his hair.

"It's all true, Jon. Everything I said is true; I promise!" she said softly.

He could feel the beautiful feminine warmth and smell the beautiful smell of her earlier dab of perfume and her clean clothes. The sensations were exquisite.

And then he stood, and they held each other close – and then closer. And there were warm lips and kind caresses.

The physical pleasure and the excitement of sharing – the sharing that had been brewing their minds virtually since they met - brought down shutters on the impossibility of their predicament. They could see no further ahead than their precious moment. Difficulties and dangers evaporated. Reason fled.

Annie broke the clinch for a moment to turn off the centre light and swivel the desk lamp towards the wall of her room then returned to him and held both hands up to his face. In doing so, she left bare her waist. And Jon covered the bare skin with his warm hands.

In time, with goddess grace, she willed Jon's hands further to help her achieve the freedom of loving nakedness.

And the Annie before him was lustrous, firm perfection. He was lost.

As if his partner for years, she steadied her big man as he undressed; and then they went quietly to her bed.

Their act of love was prolonged and beautiful. There was no grunting, moaning and squealing; and none of the dreadful face chewing popularised in movies. Their act was breathless loving whispers; and caring, unselfish exchanges of physical gifts. And he was gentle – so very gentle – with his wonderful girl.

But she knew that would be so; this was her Jon.

By a miracle of instinct, Annie knew about this realm. Somehow she knew how to hold Jon at bay; then, somehow she knew how to reach down to stroke him and to whisper his name as the special signal. She just knew!

Jon stayed with her as long as possible. He kept her warm and cared for her in every way he could. When the discomfort of being in the tiny bed got the better of him, he covered her with bedclothes and knelt on the floor beside her; and he stroked her forehead and her hair; and he talked to her quietly and reassuringly. He gazed into her dark eyes and studied her face as she used the fingers of her right hand to twirl his hair into little curls.

Jon was intoxicated with a sense of masculine importance and power - a sense that he was guarding and protecting his precious one through her temporary vulnerability.

"I'll get up in a sec, Jon. I won't be long." Annie said, "It's just that my legs have gone a bit funny."

They held hands tightly in an intuitive congratulatory act.

"It's okay. You just stay there." he said quietly.

The space left vacant after reason's departure was quickly filled by a pair of very difficult adversaries – guilt and fear. They were there studying their new quarries and contemplating how their product should be delivered. And it didn't take long for them to work out their plans.

After a time, Jon dressed and left Annie's room to go to the kitchen and get a glass of water for each of them. On his way across the lounge room, he noticed the ironing board. He hadn't spotted it earlier; nor had he noticed the neat school uniform hanging from the architrave above the doorway to Lee's room.

By the time he reached the kitchen he was wondering about Annie's Friday. It would probably be a big day – she'd need to get up earlier to get her own breakfast and cut her lunch before catching the bus to school. But Mum would be home to fix dinner and that would be a bit of a relief. Then one sleep and it would be the weekend!

Before actually pouring the glasses of water, he decided on a quick visit to the toot. After urinating, he went to the basin to wash his hands. And as he was washing, he thought about Annie at school and Lee. That's right, Annie would be at school tomorrow; and Lee would come home from Toowoomba tomorrow!

He had it straight.

He wiped his hands on the little blue towel next to the basin and looked into the big mirror behind the vanity unit. Before him was the image of Jon Bentley – a thirty-five-year-old accountant type from Melbourne.

Nope! No school for Jon Bentley tomorrow!

By the time he'd reached Annie's room with the water, the shutters protecting him from the glare of reality had reopened, he was the captive of the twin adversaries and in some form of shock. It was that quick!

She was out of bed and nearly dressed as he came through the doorway. When she looked up and saw him in the brightness of the room's centre light, she got a start.

"Jon, you look absolutely dreadful. Are you okay; you're not feeling sick are you?" she asked.

"No, I'm okay!" he answered, unconvincingly "Well, I might be feeling a bit off-colour I guess. I could be a bit feverish."

She walked to him and gave him a rub on the lower back.

"We can't have you getting sick!" she said in a soft voice.

Though his thought patterns were mostly muddled, one clear and awesome truth was with him. He had just had sex with the small, seventeen-year-old, schoolgirl daughter of one of his longest standing and most trusting friends.

Jon wanted to run away. He knew Lee wasn't about to walk into the room but he wanted to run away and hide and be by himself. But Annie was there and he knew he had to stay for a time and maintain his care of her – or, at least, give her a helping hand down from where she'd just been. Decency demanded that.

But having convinced himself that looking after Annie was his number one priority, a new thought worsened the mental muddle and rejuvenated his instinct to run away. How could he be caring for her in this special situation, when he was the one responsible for the situation in the first place? If any damage had been inflicted on Annie, he had done it. He wasn't the soothing saviour; he was the villain!

Jon stayed for about twenty minutes maintaining conversation and preserving an appearance of calm and stability - using the extraordinary damage control talents that had genetically transferred to him and been further enhanced during his working life. His sweaty, off-colour appearance hardly detracted from the performance.

But their eventual parting, with warm lips and kind embraces, took him close to tears.

By the time he reached the Spring Hill apartment, he was engulfed by thoughts about Lee's discovery of what had happened and of utter disgrace. And then there were thoughts about the law. And, God forbid, what if there was a pregnancy?

But all that was just fear. It didn't hold a candle to the more insidious guilt.

The thought that he really may have done beautiful young Annie psychological damage, capable of adversely affecting her entire life, was devastating.

Jon didn't attempt to sleep that night. It was never going to happen. He mostly sat at a living room window contemplating where he was in the march through life; and contemplating just where his unforgivable mistake may lead him. Once or twice, the stronger of his adversaries – guilt – actually loomed more important than the march through life itself. He had parted company with some rationality and was suffering severe anguish.

His Friday at work was a blur except for three occasions when he descended into a sense of panic only understood by poor devils who have suffered real anxiety. On the first occasion he tried to get a grasp on the situation by taking a walk outside the Finsol building; but that badly exacerbated his problem. The noise and the crowds frightened him. On the other two occasions, he tried to regain equilibrium in the solitude of an office toilet cubicle – thoughtfully decorated with pencilled penises and vaginas, lewd poetry and cigarette burns on the vinyl floor and above the paper dispenser. The cubicle was a bit better than outside though; at least nobody would find him there.

Jon went back to his apartment at about half-past-six and had a number of cans of beer and a few triangles of foil-wrapped cheese for dinner, his first nourishment in twenty-four hours.

His phone rang at about half-past-seven. Uncharacteristically, he picked up the handpiece with his right hand and answered with just the word 'Hello'.

"Is that my Jon?" Lee enquired.

"Yep; it certainly is!" he responded, recognising her voice immediately.

"You've been very naughty, Jon!" she opened, almost in a singing voice "You shouldn't have done it, you know!"

He took a quick decision to transfer the handpiece to his more comfortable left hand grip – but fumbled in execution of the task.

"Are you there, Jon? Hello."

"Yes; I am!"

Lee started off again.

"I think we've got a bad line here. I was just saying you've been really naughty going out and buying that expensive CD machine. It is the most marvellous thing, Jon. But you shouldn't have spent all that money on us; I mean that is one beautiful present. I didn't expect anything like that!"

Though the cheeriness at the other end of the line was shattering, he managed to respond coherently.

"That's nothing, Lee! Nothing at all! My main problem was finding one that would go close to fitting on your bookshelf. Some of these darn CD things are enormous."

"The one you bought is beaut there on the bookshelf; no troubles at all." she replied.

"Well, there is one problem; now you're going to have to feed CDs to the darned thing - and they aren't cheap."

He had no idea where the words came from; they just materialised.

"We'll find a way! We always do, you know!" she replied.

"I suppose so!"

"I won't keep you now because you're probably busy; but I just had to give you a call to thank you. It's really wonderful!" Lee said.

"It's a pleasure!"

"Now; when are we likely to see you again? Have you got any big plans?" Lee asked him, giving him exactly the opportunity he was hoping for.

"I'm really off my cruet with this bloody job Lee, so I'm going to have to concentrate on that - for a while anyway. What say we arrange something when the dust settles a bit, eh?"

"That'll be fine Jon; but do make sure you keep in touch and let's know how you're going. And take care of yourself too. You get plenty of sleep and try to eat properly. That's really important! And don't let it get you down. Okay."

"I'll do my best!" he answered.

There was a tiny bit more chatter before they said their farewells and hung up.

Jon was able to sleep that night and able to regain some semblance of stability over the weekend. He actually got a bit of work done on the Sunday.

While he was making some small headway with his burdens, Annie – just a few kilometres away – was slipping. Though she had checked and re-checked her interpretation of the rhythm method of contraception, the passage of days was making her nervous. She was also anxious about withholding any sort of information from Lee and concerned about the consequences of Lee ever catching her out in respect of the Jon incident. Theirs was a household completely devoid of secrets and lies. It had to be that way. The total family numbered just two.

The only one of Annie's anxieties capable of any sort of remedy was contraception. Though she clearly couldn't undo the Thursday night, acquisition of the pill - as a just-in-case measure for the future - seemed a reasonable course of action.

So, on the weekend, she made contact with her pal Emma – resident class expert on all manner of subjects outside the straight and narrow. Though she knew Emma was no pillar of virtue in many ways, she believed her to be tight-lipped enough to make an approach for assistance.

Annie's anxieties took a bad turn for the worse on the following Tuesday evening.

At about eight o'clock, while she was studying, Lee took a phone call that seemed to be from someone outside her normal circle of contacts. Annie could sense Lee's marginally more formal approach.

More disturbing, she had the feeling that Lee was speaking in a softer voice than usual in an effort to keep the subject matter confidential. Annie couldn't recall this ever happening before.

The conversation terminated after about five minutes and Lee went back to her comfortable chair to continue watching television.

After about thirty minutes nothing had been said about the call so Annie took the decision to make herself conspicuous by getting a cup of coffee in the kitchen. She figured that making herself available would draw some comment if the phone call was of any relevance to her at all.

"Do you want a cuppa, Mum?" she asked.

"No thanks sweetheart. Not right now." Lee answered.

There was no conversation then till Annie had finished stirring her coffee.

"That was Lorraine Jones – Emma's mum – on the phone before." Lee said in a-matter-of-fact way.

Annie was absolutely mortified.

"What was she after?" she asked, trying to sound calm.

"I don't know what to make of her." Lee said, "And I'm not sure I can really place her to be honest. She's the one I sat behind at the play, the one with the dreadful hair tied-up on top, isn't she?"

Annie answered in the affirmative; and then there was a pause, after which Lee opened up a bit.

"She was telling me that she's got a half-brother who's a GP of sorts and that she thinks Emma's made contact with him from-time-to-time for prescription stuff – God only knows what. Apparently this bloke's a bit of a drunk and apparently he's been in a bit of strife in the past for writing strange prescriptions and a few other things."

There was another pause.

"Just hang on; I'll turn this damned noise off." Lee said, as she got up from her chair to turn off the television.

"Pet, you know about drugs don't you?" Lee asked.

"Yes Mum. I don't do drugs. I know about all that!" she answered.

"Annie, Mrs Jones rang up to tell me that she thinks Emma has made an approach to this bloke in the last few days for the pill. Apparently she heard part of a phone conversation. She quizzed Emma but didn't get much information; so she rang to alert me to the fact that you and Dani and the blonde kid – what's her name, Cath – had all been to her place on the weekend. Okay."

There was another pause.

"She rang me to tell me she is pretty sure that someone is doing a bit of tom-catting and she thought I should know. Sweetie, do you know anything about any of this?"

"No Mum." Annie responded.

Some of the differences between Annie and Jon were startling. She was fast and incisive; she was an attacker at the front of the pack. She knew nothing at all about the defender's role. Jon was slow and analytical; he was most often in the pack and well understood the defender's role. While Annie's young face showed every emotion, Jon's was controllable. He needed, and nurtured, that talent to be a good consultant.

To effectively answer Lee's question about the pill and tom-catting, Annie would have needed all Jon's defensive skills and a well-developed capacity for deceit. She possessed neither of these and the wobbly lie she delivered led towards the truth rather than away from it.

And her interviewer - loving and kind mother that she was – happened also to be astute, tenacious and as tough as goats' knees. If in the mood, she could be extremely intimidating.

"Are you comfortable with that answer Annie? You're sure you don't know anything about all this?" Lee asked, purposefully toughening-up a bit.

Annie couldn't do a repeat performance and just stood in silence. And Lee was becoming agitated about a truth that could be emerging.

"Annie, we've always been straight with each other. Do you know anything about any of this?" Lee asked.

Annie couldn't lie again. She remained silent but tears started.

"Christ Annie! Was it you?"

All Annie could muster-up was the word 'Mum'.

Lee decided to toughen-up a bit more.

"If it was you Annie, when do you plan to start the party; or has it already started?"

Annie remained silent – except for sniffling.

"If it was you, who's on the guest list for the party? It's not that boy from Murwillimbah who I don't like, is it?" she asked.

Unfortunately, Annie found some words. And, in all her innocence, she delivered the unthinkable reply.

"No Mum. It's no one like that!"

Lee went into the kitchen, filled the electric kettle and turned it on. She put some instant coffee and sugar in a mug then stood in silence as she waited for the kettle to boil. Before it had actually boiled and switched-off she returned to Annie, put her right hand firmly on her daughter's left shoulder, looked straight at her and delivered just one word in an angry voice.

"Jon!"

The crying and sniffling intensified.

"Jesus Christ, Annie. Please tell me it's not Jon." Lee pleaded.

"It just happened Mum. I didn't mean ... it really just happened."

"You? And Jon? You've been with Jon?" Lee stammered, incredulously.

Annie just stood there biting her bottom lip and crying.

"Annie. How on God's earth..."

The crying intensified.

There was no point to any of this now; so Lee shut shop in a state of mind far exceeding rage.

"Oh, go to bed you stupid bloody girl."

Neither Lee nor Annie slept well – in fact, they hardly slept at all.

Apart from niggling background concern about the possible physical consequences of her involvement with Jon, Annie was worried about how Lee would take to her the following day and thereafter. She was scared. And she was confused about how her brief exquisite state of womanhood had deteriorated so quickly to humiliated childhood.

But, worst of all, she was tormented with her hopeless ineptitude in dealing with Lee's questions. She knew that her performance had delivered Jon to awful strife and that she'd never see him again.

Lee was consumed with a sense of loss and betrayal - and with anger. And many of her thoughts revolved around how punishment would be dealt to those responsible for the betrayal.

Annie did not have a monopoly on tears shed during the night.

Contact at the Davis household started the following day with subdued morning greetings from Annie – greetings that drew no response at all. Her three or four subsequent attempts to engage Lee in conversation suffered the same fate. Lee didn't talk to her - didn't even look at her - till she was about to leave for the bus stop at about twenty-past-seven.

"Annie," she said, "he won't come here again. You won't see him, or speak to him, again."

And that was that!

As soon as Annie had left for school, Lee telephoned Lorraine Jones at home to thank her for her call of the previous evening and to let her know that the culprit had been identified. She mentioned Jon by name and described him as 'a former friend of the family up here from Melbourne doing some sort of consulting work'. Lee also volunteered that she hoped Jon would be back at a safe distance in Melbourne as soon as possible. Lorraine agreed with the sentiment and tut-tutted about Annie being led astray. The conversation lasted only a few minutes and ended amicably.

Lee then phoned Jon at the apartment but there was no answer, so she tried his direct number at work.

"Jon Bentley speaking."

"Jon, it's Lee here. There are a few things I need to discuss with you urgently. Could you be at your place at Spring Hill at nine please?"

"Yes, of course." Jon replied, knowing from her voice that the very worst had happened.

"Could I have the address please?" she asked.

He gave her the address and, as soon as he'd finished doing so, she hung-up.

There was no point in staying at work, so Jon walked slowly back to the apartment. On arrival, he made himself a cup of coffee and waited for the confrontation that he'd so dreaded.

Lee arrived at nine and got straight to the point without any prior exchange.

"Jon, I had reason to question Annie last night about her possible involvement with a boy and the answers I got didn't please me one little bit." she started.

"Unless I'm mistaken - she hasn't been involved with a boy, she's been involved with you. Is that correct?"

"Yes." he responded, "We've become close."

Lee repeated the 'become close' with furious distain.

"Jon, do you know how old Annie is?"

"Yes, I do."

"Seventeen isn't it?" Lee asked.

Jon nodded in agreement.

"Jon, you said that you and Annie are close. Could you confirm for me just how close? And I don't need to hear all the bullshit because she's already told me about it."

Jon didn't answer, so Lee continued – this time with a more direct question.

"You've been to bed with my girl, haven't you?"

There was nowhere to go and nowhere to hide. All the damages had been done and nothing could be repaired. The situation was absolutely hopeless.

"Lee, I'm responsible for what's happened and I'm not proud of it. I know it might not be of any use to you, but I'm very sorry about what's happened. I certainly wasn't preying on Annie and I certainly didn't intend it to get out of control. I got caught-up, Lee. I'm sorry."

Lee repeated the 'got caught up' angrily.

There was a pause before she went on.

"You pathetic bastard. You, of all people – and I'd have trusted you with my life! And now look what you've done, you bloody menace."

Jon was about to apologise again, but she got the jump on him.

"Here are the ground rules, Jon. Piss-off, and do it properly. Don't go near Annie. Never go near Annie. Do you understand?"

"Yes." he answered.

"And get very clear in your brain, Jon, that if I see you once again as long as I live that'll be once too often. Have you got that in your thick head?"

"Yes." he answered again.

"Don't even think about making contact again, Jon. Just piss-off out of our lives."

By the time he had collected his wits and decided to reaffirm his remorse, Lee had turned around and was leaving. She slammed the door closed as she left.

After Lee's departure, Jon didn't feel sad or ashamed or distressed. He just felt numb. He felt as if he had no substance except for an outside shell - as if he didn't really exist. It wasn't the type of mental departure induced by a kindly potion; it was the stuff of nightmares.

There was nowhere to go and no one to talk to! Despite regular phone calls to Frank and Sylvia, and despite occasional holidays at Port Macquarie, Jon had drifted away from the family. And, in any case, he could hardly parade this grizzly story before them. And he certainly couldn't tell his Melbourne friends about his dreadful mistake.

Despite his fairly normal aspirations and intentions, he had built himself a lifestyle devoid of any safe haven or help reference point. He knew only of texts, work papers, magazines and newspapers, television, computer monitors, computer data and a myriad of offices staffed by a myriad of people who saw him as a transient corporate hero or a transient corporate nuisance – and everything in between. He had progressed to a point where he had become a resource that fixed systems and balance sheets and profit reports. He'd become a consulting gypsy of no fixed address.

By cruel irony, the closest he had been to a safe haven in thirteen years was the place from which he had just been banished.

Jon laboured through the remainder of the week doing what he could with the Finsol project. He was hampered by the continuing lack of appropriate operational staff, badly eroded powers of concentration and the absence of Lorraine Jones – who was said to be working on a special submission with the Finsol principals.

The remainder of Annie's week was no better than Jon's. Lee's silence was broken only when necessary and when an opportunity arose to have a verbal swipe at her disloyal and delinquent daughter. The little Davis household had become a misery and was destined to stay that way for quite a time.

On the Friday evening, just eight days after Jon's final and turbulent visit to Lee's unit, Jon had a snack after work at a small café in Adelaide Street, then walked back to his apartment to watch some television.

At about nine o'clock his phone rang. He, of course, feared the worst - another confrontation with Lee.

As it turned out, it wasn't Lee; it was Eric Miller calling from his office in Melbourne.

"Jon, sorry to bother you so late but I needed to get in touch with you as soon as possible. We've got some real problems with your project up there."

"We sure have!" Jon responded.

"No; it's worse than you think! These Finsol buggers are out to sue us because we haven't kept pace and haven't met our contractual obligations. We got a fax about this from some smart-arse bloody Brisbane solicitor late this afternoon."

"But how can they sue us? They've stuffed everything up themselves." Jon shouted down the phone.

"It's mostly to do with the contract, Jon. It's one of the silliest pieces of crap I've ever had the misfortune of reading. Apparently it was shoved together quickly by the merger administration committee when we were thinking of being the world's most ethical accounting firm. It's just crap; and, if you read it carefully, you'll find that the client can sue us for just about anything because we're so bloody ethical and nice and clean. It's just unbelievable!"

"What do you need me to do, Eric?"

"There's no going back there now, so you'll have to fly back to Melbourne. Can I meet with you in my office at seven-thirty on Monday morning?"

"Yep. Not a problem." Jon responded.

"Have you got your day books, project documentation and personal stuff with you now?" Eric asked.

"Yes. I have."

"What's on the Finsol system; just their project stuff?" Eric asked.

"Yeah; and a few of their letters and bits-and-pieces. None of our stuff though." Jon replied.

"Thank Christ for that! Bring all you've got with you down on the plane and see if you can get your car on a train or on road transport tomorrow or Sunday. We'll square it off with the accommodation place on Monday from here. Okay?"

"Okay. See you on Monday morning."

Jon had a few beers and studied the Yellow Pages with a view to finding a car transportation contractor open for business on weekends.

In finding a seven-day-a-week transport contractor from the directory, tenacity paid off. That he had a house to go to in Melbourne – because the Cheltenham real estate agent had failed to find a short-term tenant for it - was mere good luck.

* * *

### 4.

Eric and Jon arrived at the ART Kingston offices a bit early, so they started their meeting at quarter-past seven. They talked in general terms about the Brisbane project for about thirty minutes then agreed to individually review relevant papers – including the offending contract – and to reconvene at three in the afternoon.

By three o'clock they had taken in all the information they needed to discuss the Finsol affair in detail.

"The two main documents you've given them look pretty good, Jon. You're happy enough with them, aren't you?" Eric asked.

"Yeah! I'm happy enough with them. I don't think they could be construed as being down-market."

"I've had a think about it all over the weekend and I figure now that fundamental to the whole mess is that, as a group, the Finsol people didn't seem to understand what an upgrade project this size is all about. Only poor bloody Damien had any idea about how these things get plotted out into a logical sequence. The other pair seemed to think you issue project instructions on a lucky dip basis. No, that's not fair! Lorraine tried. But that other mad bastard, Owen, just didn't have a clue. He was the real fly in the ointment."

"Well if he wasn't before, he is now; that I can promise you. He's the one leading the fight for the easy dollars. He seems like a complete shit to me, Jon." Eric answered.

"What did you think of the contract?" he then asked.

"It's just as you described – unbelievable!" Jon responded, "Who signed the original anyway?"

"The boss upstairs and poor old Burt."

"What are they into us for?" Jon asked.

"Near enough to two hundred."

"Jesus wept!" Jon stammered in amazement, "We wouldn't want to be paying that, would we?"

"Well I don't know what to recommend just at the moment." Eric said, "I'll want to think about it all for a while yet. And there is another matter that could have a bearing on it all too."

"Jon, the solicitor bloke in Brisbane spoke to the boss on the phone on Friday and – off the record, of course – threw in a bit of dirt about you and alleged extra-curricula activities in the north. Apparently he suggested that you'd been up to a bit of hanky-panky with a young woman."

Jon couldn't believe what he was hearing; but he did his best to remain calm.

"I told the boss that didn't sound a bit like your form." Eric said, then paused for a little while.

"Have you got anything to tell me about this?"

Jon was initially happy with the coherence and confidence he had regained by returning to Melbourne. But all that evaporated in moments.

"I don't know, Eric." Jon replied, "Does my private life have anything to do with the contract and ART Kingston and Finsol?"

Eric sat in silence for a while as he constructed a cautious reply.

"Maybe yes; maybe no! Jon, I've been through a few skirmishes in my time, and I can assure you that the finer points of fair play and the law can easily be overshadowed if there's a good load of brown stuff to be thrown into the fan. A good bit of muck can make a big difference."

There was a pause.

"Did you get involved with someone up in Brisbane, Jon?" Eric asked in a quiet voice.

"Yes I was involved a bit with a girl! But how on God's earth did the solicitor find out about her?"

"Apparently she's a friend of Lorraine Jones' daughter." Eric answered.

"Shit!" was all Jon had to offer in the face of that little revelation.

"So it really did happen, Jon?"

Jon thought about the implications of his line of questioning; and he figured that Eric must have some reasonable knowledge of the whole nasty affair.

He looked downwards at the floor for a while trying to think of an appropriate response.

"Yes, Eric;" he said after looking back up, "there was an involvement in Brisbane! The girl was a family friend – well, the daughter of a family friend anyway! Our family knew these people pretty well when we were living up there!"

Eric nodded and looked at Jon sternly over the top rims of his reading glasses.

"She was a fairly young woman, Jon?"

"Yes! That's right!"

Eric took a deep breath and ummed before continuing.

"I need honest answers to two questions, son."

"Firstly, if there hadn't been staff desertions at Finsol, do you genuinely believe you would have got that project up on time – or near enough to on time anyway?"

"Yes, I do! It had its problems – I think it was always going to have problems – but I' m sure I could have nailed it if the staff had stayed."

"Fair enough!"

"Now the second question's not that easy; and I want you to think very carefully about it. Okay?"

"Okay!"

"It looks like you might have made a mistake with personal matters up north there. Now tell me, do you believe the young woman make a mistake too?"

Jon bolted out of the blocks with his answer.

"Eric, what happened up there with Annie was my fault completely. I'm responsible for what happened; and you can't shift any blame to her. She's done nothing wrong here at all! "

Eric's serious paternal attitude moved towards irritation.

"I didn't bloody well ask you whether you were a chivalrous and noble creature who's willing to take blame. I clearly asked whether she made a judgemental error too."

"And, Jon, implicit in that question is whether the young woman willingly involved herself with you and whether she was intellectually capable of making the choice to be involved with you."

"Do you understand what I'm asking?"

Jon answered 'yes' – but he was rattled. He reverted to floor watching.

"And I don't need to know about happy Brisbane families in the seventies. Okay." Eric added.

"Okay!" Jon replied quietly, before summoning the stamina to answer for his misdeeds.

"Eric, there was no physical or intended mental intimidation whatever! None! None whatever! I believed then – and I believe now – that what happened was to do with affection. I made a bloody awful call, but it wasn't premeditated and there was no aggression or tricky stuff; I can assure you of that."

"As for the other part, I'm not so sure. At the time... at the time... Oh Christ Eric, how could I know? How could anyone know about that sort of thing – ever?"

Jon was now visibly distressed – and struggling badly.

"Jon, I wasn't really after psychoanalysis results. A few indicators would do. In general terms, did she seem intelligent to you; did she seem to have common sense; did she seem a stable type of young person? Or was she a bit flighty – you know, skittish?"

Jon knew how to answer this.

"She's clever; very clever, in fact! And she's not giggly and silly; no way!"

Though the answer may have given Eric just a tad of relief; it did Jon no good at all. He realised straight away that Annie and the present tense no longer matched. She was a person from his past.

Eric took off his reading glasses and rubbed his tired eyes.

"Eric, I'm sorry this is causing embarrassment for you and strife for the firm. It didn't occur to me that the trouble could travel as far as Melbourne. It's all a bit unreal!"

"It's all of that, Jon! It's all of that!"

Eric put his glasses back on.

"Has anything like this ever happened before, son?"

"No! Never!"

"I presume the young woman's parents know all about it now."

"Annie hasn't got a dad; he died quite a while ago. But her mum knows, yes!"

Eric winced involuntarily.

In the brief silence that followed, Jon pondered his predicament then decided to opt for a quick and peaceful solution to his employment dilemma.

"Why don't you give me a few minutes and I'll jot out a resignation letter."

"No, I don't think that would be such a good idea right now." Eric said, "I don't think anyone should rush into anything quickly."

"Well, where do we go from here?" Jon asked.

"I've got a number of responsibilities to think about now. There's the matter of the contract. There's the firm – with a few indignant and righteous partners, and a growing contingent of bloody gossipers. And there's you and your employment."

"And with all these things, I need to be cognisant of the predicament of the young woman and her mum. There's a social responsibility here – to some degree anyway."

"There are some tricky things here, Jon, and I'm not going to be rushing to find a quick fix for them. I'd rather get some good advice and have a quiet think about the whole as well as the various components."

"I'm going to have a talk with legal people tomorrow morning and, after I've done that, I'll get something down on paper by way of recommendations. Maybe we should meet again at four o'clock tomorrow afternoon. Would that be okay with you?"

"Not a problem, Eric."

"Now, why don't you hop out and divert your phone - then have the rest of the day off. And don't worry about coming in till four tomorrow. The latrine gossip has gone a bit further than I wanted it to, so I reckon you'd be more comfortable away from the place. Okay?"

"Yes, sure." Jon replied.

Jon added the new occupational dilemmas to his burgeoning collection and went home, as suggested. He carefully pondered each piece of the mess and found nothing that resembled a solution for any aspect. It was an impossible situation.

Though the split with Annie and Lee weighed most heavily on him, employment matters were running a reasonable second. The mere fact that he was away from the office in home exile was extremely distressing.

But surely this was the end; surely nothing else could go wrong.

Jon went to Eric's office at the arranged time the following day to find out about the likely fate of the Finsol affair and his employment.

Eric seemed in a better frame of mind. He offered Jon a coffee and they sat in the comfortable visitor area rather than at the desk.

After welcoming Jon in and taking delivery of a pot of plunger coffee, he got straight to the point.

"Jon, I'm going to recommend that we pay Finsol full tote odds and walk away from the whole thing. I don't know whether that'll completely stop Owen and company slagging-off about the firm or about you; but, at least, it should get the matter off the books. These things have potential to go on for ages and waste really big money unless someone takes a stand. And I don't think we can avoid a pay out anyway because of that ridiculous damned contract. The best we could hope to achieve by fighting is some sort of reduction in the settlement amount; but to do that, we'd have to fund the lawyers' picnic. And, to me, that scenario doesn't have much appeal."

"But I can tell you, it will grieve me to make the recommendation. If we pay out, Mr bloody Finsol will get your output – the most important stuff – for free; and, on top of that, he'll get enough money to buy the manpower necessary to finish the job. And that really irks me!"

There was a break for a little while as Eric topped-up the coffee cups – then Jon had his say on the subject.

"Eric, I've done my thinking about all this too you know! And I came to the conclusion that, if you should decide to pay Finsol out, I should give you that resignation letter."

"In all fairness, I couldn't stay after a settlement like that. Given what's happened, it wouldn't be right. And it certainly wouldn't be fair on you."

"You're a free agent Jon and you can do what you like regarding a resignation. But, if I were you, I wouldn't do it at this stage."

"For a start, we haven't made a payment to Finsol yet. My recommendations might get rolled; and we might yet end up in court with them. That's a possibility!"

"Apart from that – and far more importantly – that which you did with your personal time in Brisbane is really your own dilemma. If there are grounds for the young woman and her mother to seek a remedy at law here, they may do that. And you, Jon Bentley, would be out there on your own to defend yourself."

"If there are no grounds for seeking a remedy through the courts – or if they choose not to do so – there's no conflict between your personal life and your life as an employee of the firm. Remember, all we're dealing with at the moment is muck throwing by a Brisbane solicitor and bloody office gossip."

"Jon, throw yourself on your sword now and you'll virtually be telling the Brisbane solicitor, Finsol and the chatterers in the building that you were wrong. There's no need to do that. No need at all."

Eric paused for a few seconds to steady his train of thought.

"And what happens if my matter's dealt with by the courts?" Jon asked.

"I'd be inclined to worry about that if it happens. But I imagine the judge with the wig wouldn't be much harder to deal with than the judge you're already facing – in the mirror."

"Do you think the boss and other partners will want me out, Eric?" Jon asked.

"You'll always have some allies; and you'll always have enemies. That's life! But my advisers assure me that, at this stage, there are no grounds whatever for termination of your employment."

"You'd need to be charged before anyone had any justification to even discuss termination. Okay?"

"Fair enough!" Jon responded, before Eric went to his next subject.

"I intend making a second recommendation about all this. I'm going to put forward that you swap over to Greg Andrews' group for a while and polish up your general business management consulting skills. The IT work is pretty stressful and you could probably use a break from it; and, frankly, I'd like to see you out of the limelight for a while till the Finsol thing becomes a bit of boring history."

"But more important than all that, I'm sure you'd be better off away from Ron Herschell for a while. He's surrounded himself with an ART entourage that mightn't care for the likes of you in their midst. I just sense they'd make life difficult for you."

Jon nodded.

"You get on pretty well with Greg, don't you? Why not go for a bit of a change?"

Jon didn't have to work too hard to make a decision here. He had to trust, and be guided by, Eric or look elsewhere for employment.

"That sounds okay, Eric. I'll be in that if you can make it stick." he replied.

"I'll do my best." Eric assured him.

"Now, let's get to the important stuff." Eric continued, "I've had a talk to Kevin downstairs and he tells me you have about six weeks annual leave up your sleeve. And Jon, having told Greg that you won't be available for a while, I'm now politely suggesting that you set about getting rid of all six weeks."

"Why not go up the coast and visit your folks for a while and put your feet up and relax a bit? I don't think it would do you any harm at all. What do you reckon?"

"That doesn't sound too bad." Jon replied.

"I'll keep you informed about what's happening with Finsol and the change of job and everything. And, with any sort of luck, that will be put to bed in a few days. Then you can just relax for a while."

For the first time, in what seemed like a long time, Jon felt some sort of relief. Someone had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him and stopped, or at least slowed, his free-fall into the horrors.

He stayed at home for the next few days waiting for Eric to phone to let him know about the outcome of the Finsol affair. During those days he thought a number of times about resigning but on each occasion reverted to his manager's point of view. To walk away would constitute an acknowledgment of wrongdoing, feed the gossipers and ensure the adherence of stigma. To tough it out at the firm – till the dirty stories ran out of steam – had to be the better option.

Eric phoned late on the Thursday afternoon to advise that his recommendations had been accepted and that, in his view, Finsol was now a closed book. Jon was free to go on holidays then return to the management consulting area after he'd finished his thirty days annual leave.

Although their conversation was businesslike, Eric finished up with an unusual message.

"Jon, there's no way I can help you if your personal problems turn really sour. Like I said, if that happens, you're on your own."

"But don't be afraid to come to me for help if your problems just get a bit heavy to carry. And son, if you think you need a bit of counselling – or some help from your parents – put your bloody hand up and ask. Don't let the problems just weigh you down."

"Hop on your bike now and make sure you have a good rest and a nice holiday; and I'll see you back at the office before too long."

On the Thursday night, neighbours Rob and Jane saw the lights on at Jon's place and decided to pop in to see if he'd come home for a brief stay. Jon asked them in for a few drinks but openly lamented that he couldn't ask them to stay for a meal as there wasn't much in the fridge. After talking for a bit about similar lean pickings at the Martin residence, they decided to eat out and went in Rob's car to a local Chinese restaurant.

During dinner Jane commented on Jon's apparent tiredness and weight loss, which he brushed aside nonchalantly as work related. He told Rob and Jane a bit about the project that went off the rails and how it had taken its toll. But he said nothing of his personal problems.

Jon assured them all would be well as he intended arranging a long holiday at Bright and thence Port Macquarie the very next morning. He told them the rest would cure all ills; and, in a way, he almost believed it.

As it transpired, Jon set off for Bright in Victoria's pleasant north-east region the following Saturday morning.

The decision to spend a week there for rest and tranquillity was not one of Jon's best. At a time when he needed the companionship of friends or family, he opted for quiet solitude. And in doing so, he gave free reign to the destabilising influences of his constant associates, fear and guilt. The Annie problems didn't shrink; they magnified.

In going to the north-east, he also put himself in the way of the area's most popular product – fortified wine. And he used it fairly freely in the afternoons and evenings to try to kill off the nuisance associates that travelled with him. It was quicker than beer!

The results were awful. By mid-week he was back to anxiety, bordering on panic.

After turning-in on the Thursday night, from the depths of sleep he experienced a profoundly distressing haunting.

Surrounded by eerie blackness, he first believed that he'd completely woken; troubled by something terrible that had happened. He couldn't recall exactly what had happened; it was abstract tragedy, but of great magnitude.

He then experienced relief with a re-evaluation of the tragedy. Thank God! It didn't involve him at all; it must have been someone else.

The third part of the haunting was a vivid and terrifying reversal of the second. In this part, he was kneeling beside Annie's empty bed. She had died in infancy and the body had been lost. Jim and Lee and Frankie were sitting at the table in the main room at Brandt Street talking about it; they were very worried and upset. But he knew where to find the body; it had to be downstairs near the cement laundry tubs. He went downstairs and there she was – on the bare padded-down grey earth about a metre from the tubs. He knew she had to be there!

In the final awfulness, he tried to call to them upstairs, but no sound came out. He tried to scream, but again there was no sound. Then he couldn't find his way back upstairs to tell them. He couldn't find the stairs. He tried to scream again, but no sound came out.

He awoke then and really was surrounded by eerie blackness. He was very frightened and very alone.

He got out of bed, turned-on a few lights and – illogically – checked that his cabin doors were locked and that the windows were properly closed and fastened. He then decided to shower and pack for the drive to Port Macquarie. It was just half-past-three on the Friday morning, more than forty-eight hours prior to his planned departure.

Jon had two dominant thoughts at the time. One was that he had been involved in a macabre premonition about Annie's real death; the other was that he had to get to Sylvia and Frank in Port Macquarie as soon as possible. In the latter thought, he had given way completely to instinct. He sensed that he was in strife beyond the help of logic and submitted without resistance to the silent force pointing him to his staunchest allies - particularly his mother.

That Sylvia was in her mid-sixties, and maybe not as sharp as in earlier days, mattered not. Like most mothers and sons, Sylvia and Jon enjoyed a privileged relationship and were seldom plagued with concerns about actual maturity. They maintained flexible notions about their generational difference and settled on concepts of age that made them comfortable.

He departed Bright at about quarter-to-five – having left a cheque for the accommodation costs under the front door of the owner's cabin. He opted to travel north via Wagga, Cowra, Dubbo and Tamworth rather than the more direct route via Gundagai, Goulburn, Sydney and Newcastle. And that may not have been such a brilliant decision either. It was a long drive!

He phoned Sylvia about his changed arrival date from the bustling metropolis of Canowindra, where he slept in a local park for twenty minutes or so. He had a meal in Dubbo and slept a bit again in Gunnedah.

Utterly exhausted, he eventually arrived at Port Macquarie on the Friday night.

Jon's stay in Port Macquarie was infinitely more beneficial than his stay in north-eastern Victoria. He was able to rest up properly and regain much of his stability. Sylvia and Frank involved him in social activities, walking, fishing and even lawn bowls - which he rather liked. After a few weeks, and when the greens weren't busy, the family threesome would play a game called consistency singles. Jon took this new exercise in concentration very seriously and even managed a better score than Sylvia a couple of times.

On the weekends, he spent quite a lot of time with sister Marg and her family near Armidale; and with sister Eunice - and her partner Barry – in Armidale proper. Together they had many enriching hours.

Although this was not a happy period for Jon and although he remained very concerned about every aspect of the Annie saga, his holiday went reasonably well. He eventually left Port Macquarie feeling that he was a much-loved part of an important family. And he was! But even if that had not been the case, Sylvia would have made it seem so. After the first twenty-four hours of his visit she knew he was carrying an injury and that he had to be given the best treatment. That message was quietly sent to the remainder of the family who closed ranks to look after their youngest.

During the holiday, Sylvia asked Jon about his woes; but he didn't mention anything more than the unsuccessful project up north. When she asked questions about seeing Lee and her little girl in Brisbane, he replied with simple short answers that gave no indication of his deeper involvements. He couldn't tell her what really went on; he knew she'd be terribly disappointed with him if the truth ever came out.

Jon's return to work in December 1992 was not particularly eventful. He was aware of some remaining undercurrent of talk about his unusual exploits in Brisbane and got to hear of one or two sub-standard jokes about consultancy work at girls' schools. But none of this bothered him greatly. He'd been allocated part responsibility for a job at an auto component manufacturing plant in Geelong for the first four months of 1993 and he set about to prepare for that challenge.

At Christmas time, Rob and Jane looked after him like a family member. With their help, the festive season actually turned out to be better than some he'd had in the past.

Jon would not have been so content with his lot if he'd known that Christmas at the Davis household in Brisbane was nothing more than a high point in Lee's ongoing persecution of Annie. The cold shoulder treatment – with some bonus belligerence – had gone on unabated since October.

On Christmas eve, while Annie was visiting a friend who lived nearby, Lee packed a few things in the car and went away for five nights. There was no mention that she intended to go, no mention where she went, no Christmas present, no card – just a note saying she'd gone for five nights. Annie was left at home alone with some basic provisions, like bread, breakfast cereal and canned food, and about fifty dollars in her purse.

She avoided contact with friends over the Christmas break as she didn't have enough money to become involved in entertainments. And, in any case, she didn't want to stumble into circumstances where she'd need to explain Lee's absence.

Annie was heartbroken by the treatment being dealt to her by Lee and very nearly as heartbroken by Jon's departure for Melbourne. She'd tried to phone him at Finsol in mid-November to apologise for her perceived failures only to be told that he'd long since returned to Melbourne. Annie didn't blame him for going back; she knew he must have had his fair share of troubles. She just missed him terribly and that was made worse by the certainty that he'd not be back.

Her only consolation was that she had called the calendar correctly and had escaped whatever trouble a pregnancy would have brought.

In January 1993, Jon started his Geelong job with ART Kingston senior consultant Toby Wenslow – who was to provide guidance for the first six weeks of the project. He opted to stay at Geelong on a Monday to Friday basis to avoid many hours of travelling time each week. The arrangement worked well for the better part of four weeks during which he worked confidently and effectively.

On a very hot weeknight in February, however, he again had a harrowing dream about Annie's death in infancy. It was different from the first in that he spoke at length with Jim before going downstairs at Brandt Street to try to find her – and maybe Lee wasn't there. But the theme was the same and the haunting was just as horrible as the one he experienced in Bright. Again, it left him shaken.

Though he was not aware of any deterioration in his work performance, he concluded that Eric's visit to Geelong a few days later couldn't have been coincidence. The visit – which included an overnight stay – was notable because of his manager's unusual commitment to encouragement of the project. He repeatedly talked of 'good progress' and of being pleased to see the project 'under control', as if he was willing Jon towards success.

Jon was again made to feel part of the team and, in occupational terms, he responded well. But he checked-out of his Geelong accommodation, choosing instead to stay at home in close proximity to friends and neighbours – despite the travelling time involved.

On the arranged date, Toby departed the scene and Jon was left to his own devices. And, without further guidance, he completed the Geelong project on time and to everyone's satisfaction. He returned to the ART Kingston office in Melbourne in very early May.

He'd not been back at the office a week when his direct senior, Greg Andrews, told him of a plumb new job with one of the New Zealand banks in Wellington for six months commencing early June. He was to travel to Wellington a few times in May to get the final details in place then move over there on 10 June – given that all the prerequisites were properly bedded down.

Unbeknown to Jon, at about the same he started at Geelong, Lee was diagnosed as having a tumour just under the lower ribs on her left side. It warranted surgery and lengthy follow-up treatment.

The surgery itself went perilously close to a death sentence because of respiratory difficulties that followed anaesthetic procedures. Lee, in fact, lay unconscious in an intensive care unit for almost four days.

At the height of this crisis, Annie – who was looking after the complete range of household chores – opened the first of a series of tough letters about Lee's credit card liabilities. It seems she had gone overboard with some refurbishment of the unit, clothing and a range of extravagant entertainment expenses.

Though the total outstanding wasn't immense, it represented a wild deviation from the usual household thrift. And the debt posed a big challenge for a woman out-of-work indefinitely and her university student daughter.

With mature calm and determination, Annie set about doing a repair job on the financial situation. She contacted Lee's employer, as well as close friend Gayle, to see what avenues were available to keep the wolves away from the door. Within days she had consolidated the debt at one bank – Gayle's – and had signed up as a part-time waitress and washing-up lady for a small catering firm. She also managed to get a Sunday morning job behind the counter at the local newsagency.

As amazing as her achievements may have been in keeping chateau Davis afloat financially for a time, they were nothing compared with her caring attention for Lee. It was a demonstration of absolute loyalty and seemingly infinite love. It was nought to do with penance for past sins; it was just an intuitive reaction in a crisis.

Within a week or ten days of the diagnosis, the mother-daughter relationship stablised. Lee's venom and belligerence crumbled under the weight of affection.

By the end of March, Lee had completed her treatment and seemed to be well on the road to recovery. And by the time Jon finished up at Geelong, she was back at work full-time. Ironically, on the very day Jon departed for windy Wellington, Lee got her second 'so-far-so-good' report from the oncologist.

Jon's job in New Zealand went well from the outset. The Kiwi bankers liked his competent and quiet style, as did his new manager Greg Andrews. Somehow or other, Jon had been able to swat-up on the latest approaches to management consulting and, somehow or other, he'd been he'd been able to put them into place as if he'd invented them. In a very short time, he'd effectively silenced his critics in Melbourne with hard work.

In late July, Jon received a letter from Eric advising that he, and his wife Dot, were travelling to New Zealand for holidays in September and intending to stay in Wellington for three days. The letter asked if he would tee up accommodation somewhere reasonably comfortable and close to town. Jon arranged that and phoned Eric to confirm the booking. In conversation, an additional arrangement was made that the three of them should drive to Rotorua for the weekend following the Wellington stay.

The Miller visit came around in no time at all, and the three spent a few pleasant evenings, and one really good weekend, together. Again, Eric showed an extraordinary level of interest in his work; and again he oozed occupational encouragement.

Within days of the Miller's departure, Jon received an invitation to a bank product launch function from one Debbie Elcott who was second in charge of the client organisation's marketing area. He had met Debbie before at a luncheon and they'd discovered common ground because of her Melbourne background. Jon guessed her to be about thirty - and knew her to be attractive and entertaining, in a whimsical sort of way. Although the product launch had nothing whatever to do with his work, he accepted the invitation.

Debbie maintained company with Jon for a quite a large part of the launch proceedings and he was a bit taken by that attention - as well as her appearance and easy conversation. After the function, they went to a small bar and had a couple of drinks and shared a pizza.

Jon had a nice relaxing night and, after returning to his place, toyed with the idea of asking Debbie out for dinner or maybe to a show of some sort. Quite apart form being a nice girl, he believed she may have some therapeutic value. He had in mind that her maturity may guide him to a purging of the unfortunate Annie incident of almost a year earlier. He had in mind a vague notion that there needed to be a cleansing and a re-establishment of his red-blooded manhood within a more normal social framework.

And he saw value in being perceived as linked to Debbie. He figured that when people noticed him keeping company with an attractive senior marketing type, they'd know he was straight down the line.

In Wellington in September 1993, of course, there was not a single soul who thought otherwise.

Jon asked Debbie out to dinner at a well-known seafood place about a week after the function. He had a good time and she enjoyed herself. She then asked him to a barbeque at a friend's place and, again, all went well.

As the weeks passed, Jon found himself in the company of Debbie and her friends quite a bit.

Now although this round of social engagements started off satisfactorily, by the end of October, he had discovered that each gathering was pretty well the same as the one before. Indeed, the major conversation topic at each gathering was the glamour and success of the one before. And the main punctuation to this cackle was derogatory gossip about absent members of the clique.

By the end of October – when the group members fancied that they knew Jon well – alcohol-assisted conversation would drift to Debbie's potential for amorous behaviour and open speculation about her sexual exploits with her new beau. Jon found this childish and somewhat embarrassing.

In his eventual judgment, Debbie was not a star above this rabble but well and truly part of it. He came to regard her as a damned nuisance.

Jon spent the last month in Wellington avoiding Debbie and the clan, claiming that his project post-implementation review was disastrously behind schedule and would require work at nights and on weekends. Nothing could have been further from the truth. In fact, his project had gone very well, much better than he'd expected.

Despite his intelligence and mental agility, the Debbie affair didn't enlighten Jon about the senseless rationale that tempted him to join forces with her in the first place. And it certainly did nothing to re-establish that red-blooded masculinity.

At the time, it seemed more like just another of his traffic accidents with the opposite sex. Indeed, it was!

Jon returned to Melbourne in early December for a project wrap-up followed by a bit of annual leave. With the pressure off, and another important occupational milestone passed, his thoughts drifted more often to Brisbane matters.

After a year of self-therapy comprising leave, deliberate dedication to hard work and pursuit of sophisticated womanhood, Jon was not far advanced with his personal dilemma. He was conscious of having destroyed his friendship with Lee and conscious of his separation from Annie. In thoughts of her, he would occasionally experience something akin to fretting – especially if he considered the likely scenario about her going out with someone else.

The thought that Annie may be keeping company with a youngster of twenty or twenty-one was capable of making him uncomfortable and irritable.

Although fears about a pregnancy or a court case had abated, the guilt and emptiness stayed. He was despondent and confused - and there was no course, no text and no computer application to help him.

In mid-December, just days before he planned to travel to Port Macquarie for Christmas with the family, Jon was called to duty in Sydney – where an ART Kingston project had come unstuck through lack of formal procedures. The client had apparently sought to take care of this writing job internally to save costs but had failed to get the manpower in place to see it through. Although this was a very junior type role for Jon, he had to take it on to get the firm and the client out of trouble. There weren't too many people around to help at that time of the year and he was an obvious choice for leave cancellation because of his marital status.

He spent five weeks labouring over this work – and disliked every minute of it. It was made worse by the fact that the requirements of logical process documentation uncovered project flaws that he needed to fix as he went along.

Although his Sydney accommodation was comfortable and quiet, Jon suffered insomnia – in its normal form – for just about the first time in his life. He had a long history of being very asleep or very awake, often at inappropriate times; but he hadn't before been troubled by that infuriating half-asleep state. This new night time phenomenon, and accompanying unsteady thought processes and dreaming, put him on edge. And the self-analysis time afforded by this new restlessness fostered the further erosion of his self-image.

By the time he returned to Melbourne in the second last week of January 1994, he was extremely tired, unsettled and unhappy with his lot.

By January 1994, Lee and Annie were living a stable existence together. Their relationship had lost some mother and teenage daughter effervescence; it had altered, in a way, as a result of the previous fifteen months' experiences.

By January 1994, Lee's medical report card was up-graded a notch from 'so-far-so-good' and she was looking, and feeling, very healthy. And Annie had somehow managed to breeze through the first year of her BA/BEd course at the university at St Lucia.

Though all looked reasonably comfortable and affable at the Davis place, there was an unspoken awareness of baggage carried forward from October 1992.

And Lee and Annie knew well that, intentionally or otherwise, conversation must never – but never – drift anywhere near anything vaguely to do with Jon Bentley. The taboo was rigidly fixed as a permanent part of the family ethos.

* * *

### 5.

While on two weeks leave in mid-February, Jon finally tired of his unsettled and dejected state and adopted the idea that he needed to discuss it – and its cause – with someone who could direct him to help. He had the notion that his nagging personal discomfort needed to be put to rest before it really started to wear him down. So he took the decision to make an appointment with his friendly local GP, Ian Simpson, to talk matters over.

When he got to the surgery for the appointment, he was told that Ian was out on an urgent call and that the partner, Dr Wyllie, would see him.

Dr Wyllie turned out to be an abrupt young woman with an over-zealous interest in preventative medicine. Jon told her about his summer cold – which was always going to be used as a conversation icebreaker – but then shied away from discussion about his real ailment. He wasn't comfortable with her. Unfortunately his quietness wasn't contagious and she proceeded with a concentrated ten minutes on the dangers associated with consumption of animal fats, the ravages of colon cancer and the need to eat mountains of bowel purge in the form of fresh fruit and vegetables.

The only benefit Jon got from the visit was a rekindled interest in growing silver beet and a few other favourites in the back yard.

While walking home from the surgery and thinking about the need to catch up with his friends, he stumbled onto the idea that there might be value in his having a yarn with his friend Tony Gava about his problems. Although Tony was closer than he wanted his confidante to be, he'd had some practical experience in the psychology field and he was sensible as well as discreet.

He phoned Tony when he got home and a dinner was arranged for the following Thursday night to have a chat about 'a few important matters'. They decided to go to one of Tony's favourite restaurants – a little Italian place in East Melbourne.

By the time Thursday afternoon arrived, guilt had again intruded and Jon took a last minute decision not to involve his friend in the story about Annie. Instead, he cobbled together a story about his disappointments at work. Tony, after all, was a human resources man rather than a psychologist; and he'd be expecting to talk about occupational matters.

Jon caught a train to Richmond then walked to East Melbourne. He'd been at the restaurant for about ten minutes before Tony's tram stopped outside.

They exchanged greetings, ordered a few beers and talked about Maria and the family for ten minutes or so before Tony moved the conversation towards the 'few important matters'.

Tony | You picked the right night to tempt me out of the house, Jon. Maria's gone to some kind of meeting and her mum's at home looking after the gang. They all get a bit noisy with her there and I'm better off away from the place.

But it means I can't stay out too late, so we'd better get on to the things you want to talk about in case we lose track.

# What is it mate, work or women?

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# Jon | Come off it! You know a bit about my history with women. I reckon I'd need more than a yarn over dinner to help me with them. That would take at least a week.

No, the truth is there have been a few changes at work and I'm not brilliantly happy there at the moment. I've been with the firm since I left uni in Brisbane, you know - and I just think it might be time for a change.

Tony | Thank God for that! I thought you were going to say women; and there's nothing worse than listening to women problems.

And, in any case, the first thing they teach you in psych is never to consult with friends about the opposite sex – especially over dinner and with a few grogs on board.

This light-hearted proposition made Jon laugh, but he was secretly relieved that he'd decided to steer clear of the Annie subject. It hadn't occurred to him that Tony would find it difficult.

Tony | Incidentally, I saw Murray a few weeks ago and we talked a bit about your tennis. From the sounds of things, you might be as good with the girls as you are with tennis, eh?

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Jon | Yeah, that's about right! Half-a-dozen of one six of the other!

Tony | Anyway, what's happened at work Jon? You've got problems, have you?

Jon | Well, they're not really problems. I just figure I might be better off somewhere else.

Since the merger with the ART mob, I've found myself back in the general consulting area and I think I'd really be better off in an IT consulting role.

I did a bloody lot of work to get amongst the IT stuff you know; and I feel a bit cheated being back in the run-of-the-mill work.

Tony | That's fair enough!

But how did you end up where you are now? What happened?

Jon | Mainly a merger thing, I guess.

Tony | So the other mob had some pretty slick operators, did they?

Jon | No, not really. They were pretty ordinary with IT work, in fact.

Tony | Well, why the hell would they shunt you and put you somewhere else?

Jon | Tony, the truth is that I got whisked-out of a project in Brisbane in October the year-before-last because it fell behind; and, after that, my boss put me back in the general area.

Tony | What went wrong?

Jon | Christ, it was a comedy of errors.

It was a shitty little job for a shitty little firm and the whole thing ran off the rails.

I think our place was a bit strapped for dollars at the time and they took this damned thing on without considering the possible consequences.

Tony | So you stuffed it up a bit, eh?

Jon | No way!

This place we were working for ran out of people power at a critical time and the job just ground to a halt.

But, what was worse, our mob had sent me up there to work under a contract that had more warts and wrinkles than aunty Sadie. A lot of it was a load of altruistic crap that made our place responsible for just about anything untidy that could happen. The new merged firm was going to be the most ethical chartered in the world. You know the sort of stuff.

So anyway, when an untidy event happened, the people who engaged us got stuck into us for a bloody lot of money. They found one of the loopholes in the contract and got stuck into us.

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Tony | But you weren't responsible for that, were you? You didn't write the contract, did you?

Jon | No! That's always been a job for the so-called experts!

But I was called back to Melbourne and my boss took the decision to put me in a less conspicuous role in business management consulting area anyway.

Tony | But why?

Jon | Oh Christ, how would I know Tony? I guess he was just one of the people running for cover; and I guess he wanted to make a point.

You know how people are in offices. I think it was nothing more than a seniority thing.

Tony | Geez, I'm not surprised that you're a bit pissed-off. That sounds like pretty ordinary treatment.

Jon | It's not the end of the world, Tony. But I've got a feeling I would be more comfortable somewhere else.

You lose a bit of enthusiasm when you get a kick in the teeth like that.

Tony | Yeah, I can understand that!

A waiter, known to Tony as Mario, came to the table to enquire whether they were ready to order. They sought five or ten minutes to look more closely at the menu and the wine list. Jon took the opportunity to order another beer.

They discussed the menu and decided to go direct to the main course so they'd have plenty of room for dessert and a port or muscat.

Mario brought Jon's beer then returned after about ten minutes. Jon ordered the veal and Tony ordered the braised duck. They chose Margaret River red to accompany the feast.

After a bit of chatter about Western Australian wines, Tony directed the conversation back to Jon's occupational dilemmas.

Tony | Sorry Jon. You asked me out here to talk about some problems and here I am mucking around talking about wine.

I drifted away a bit there.

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# Jon | That's okay!

Tony | So the Brisbane job went a cropper, eh?

Jon | Yeah. It just fizzled out leaving the people at the office embarrassed and in damage control mode.

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Tony | But you couldn't have done more than you did, could you? Basically it was a contract problem, wasn't it?

Jon | Totally! Absolutely!

And, even after all this time, I'm buggered if I know how they could have come up with such crappy documentation. There was a merger committee that agonised for months about documentation, you know; and even then they got it wrong.

Tony | It was all done up by a merger committee, eh. Well, that explains everything!

Mergers are always a problem; they bring all the bloody corporate thespians out of the woodwork to audition for more senior jobs. And while the theatrical stuff is going on, all the important functions get neglected.

It's the way of the world, mate; it's part of the rich tapestry of life.

Jon, are you sure your boss really understood that it was fundamentally a contract problem?

Jon | I'm sure! He got to the bottom of it all with the legal people. But he moved me anyway. I guess he wanted to be perceived as having taken remedial action. And I was the unlucky ducky!

Tony | I've met your boss haven't I? At your place? He's Eric, isn't he?

Jon | That's the one. I don't report direct to him now; but I did then.

Tony | He seemed all right to me at the time – but I s'pose people behave differently when they feel cornered.

He must have felt cornered, eh?

Jon | I think that's right, Tony. I think that's what it boils down to.

Tony | In a nutshell, you need to get back into an IT consulting role. So you must need contacts - people who can get you where you want to be.

Is that the score?

Jon | Exactly!

Tony | Well I can tell you, this will be my easiest job for the week – by miles. It's a doozey! I'll have a look tomorrow at work and see if we can't get you properly placed with someone who understands what you can do.

Jon | That'd be terrific, Tony. If you can help out with this, I'd be really grateful.

Tony | Easiest job this week! As a matter of fact, I've got a name and phone number I can give you now. It's a bloke at Denmeade Resources – a bloke called Ross Kilmore. He's down-to-earth and sensible. You could give him a buzz tomorrow.

Jon | That's great!

Tony wrote the name and number on the back of one of his business cards and gave it to Jon – who had finished his second beer and started his first glass of red.

The conversation drifted to cricket and that kept them engaged till the meals came out.

As they ate, the conversation turned back to work matters.

Tony | We should do this more often, Jon. I see you a bit now and then but never get a chance to talk much. There always seem to be people around making a bloody noise.

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Jon | Ah, don't be like that. Murray would be very upset if he heard that sort of talk.

Tony | Now, after that Brisbane trip you had holidays with your mum and dad, didn't you? And then Geelong?

Jon | Yep, that's right! I was in Geelong for about four months.

Tony | No troubles there?

Jon | No it all went pretty well and it was interesting too. It was at an auto components place; and, boy, did they have some flash new equipment. The problem was that their structure and procedures hadn't kept pace with their production capacity and that's how we got to be involved.

Tony | Sounds like it was a reasonable size job?

Jon | It wasn't a broad ranging job; but it was big enough.

Tony | And you were comfortable enough with it?

Jon | Yeah! But I got a bit of a leg-up in the early weeks. Eric sent one of the other senior blokes down just to help me settle in. He wanted to make certain this one was a winner, I guess.

Eric even came down for a few days at about the half-way point to see that everything was going okay.

Tony | Fair enough.

Jon went to top up the glasses only to find that the red had nearly run out.

Jon | Bloody hell, Tony. This one must have had a hole in it. Will we get another one?

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Tony | I'm about right mate. Why don't I finish the bit that's there and you get a glass or so. They sell good stuff by the glass here.

Jon topped up Tony's glass and beckoned Mario over to order a glass of one of the better reds on offer.

Jon | Hey Tony, this isn't a bad place! The food's good isn't it. And that WA red was just perfect.

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Tony | It's a really reliable place; I've never had bad luck here!

Hey listen, you'd better tell me a bit about your New Zealand trip. Maria and I have never been there and she's always pestering me to go. She reckons it would be cheaper than going to the Gold Coast.

Jon | Well I enjoyed myself over there. And the natives are friendly – even though they don't speak English all that well. I wouldn't mind going back for holidays sometime.

Tony | Where were you again, Auckland or Wellington?

# Jon | Wellington.

# Tony | Wellington, right! What sort of job was that one?

# Jon | It was with a bank – nice clean stuff.

Tony | I got involved with a bank once but the work I had to do was as tedious as buggery.

Jon | Well, I might have been lucky. This one was okay.

Tony | Did you get out of town much when you were over there?

Jon | A bit! I went across on the ferry to the south island one weekend. That was pretty nice. There are a few good wineries over there, you know.

And I spent a weekend at Rotorua with Eric and his wife. That's an interesting place – but it smells bloody dreadful.

Tony | Eric was there on holidays, was he?

Jon | Yeah. He stayed near my place in Wellington for four days. We had a good time. He did an extra day in Wellington and came to work just to check in and make sure we were on top of it.

Tony | No problems?

# Jon | Oh, shit no! It was okay, fine!

# Tony | Fair enough.

At this point, Jon recalled that he needed to ask Tony about a guttering and spouting job he'd had done some months before. Jon's enquiries led to a long dissertation about the benefits of pre-treated, pre-painted roofing materials. Tony, it seemed, had made a specialty of the subject.

By the time he'd finished, Mario had cleared the main course plates and Jon had ordered another glass of red.

The order didn't escape Tony's notice.

Tony | Thirsty tonight, mate?

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Jon | I don't know about that. I suppose I have had a few though.

Tony | Hey listen, we'd better get back to the subject at hand – your job. Let's tidy it all up before we go any further.

Most recent achievements are what interest people, so can we run through the last three or four jobs briefly again so that I've got it all straight in my mind. I won't talk too much about details here, but I need to have the basics clear.

Okay?

Jon | Okay!

Tony took a small spiral bound pad and a biro out of his shirt pocket so that he could make occasional notes.

Tony | Now, what have you been doing since you came back from New Zealand?

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Jon | I had to go to Sydney to do a short documentation job. But I don't think anyone would be too interested in that; it was a bit of a nothing.

Tony | All right. So, about eighteen months ago, you started an IT job in Brisbane and it fell behind because of client manpower shortages. Your engagement contract was sub-standard, so the client got at your firm and you got called back to Melbourne.

Your boss transferred you to a lower profile position in general consulting – and you were a bit pissed-off. That was the start of your disenchantment, right?

Jon | Yep! Spot on!

Tony | When the time comes for interviews, you won't want to be dwelling too long on the Brisbane job too much, will you?

Jon | No. No, I guess not!

Tony | Then there was the auto component one in Geelong that went well. Okay?

Jon | Yeah – that's right!

Tony | How long was that one?

Jon | Let me see, that was the first four months of last year.

Tony | Then there was the Wellington one at a bank.

Jon | That's right. And that one lasted about six months.

Tony | Good.

Tony made a few notes in his little pad.

Tony | And Geelong and Wellington went well; then you did a bit of repair work in Sydney?

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Jon | That's the score.

Tony | Gawd, you must be made of steel! I don't know how you put up with all the travelling around, mate.

They're paying you the right sort of money for this work, aren't they?

Jon | Yep, that's okay. I'm on a reasonable sort of package.

Tony | Fair enough!

There was a break for twenty or thirty seconds while Tony made a few more notes.

Tony | Now, in Geelong and Wellington, you said that you quite enjoyed the projects. Is that right?

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Jon | That's right!

Tony paused again and wrote a few more notes.

Tony | I'm getting a bit confused here, Jon.

From what you say, you're in pretty well paid employment that's giving you reasonable satisfaction – and yet you've called me in to help you find a new job.

Is that right or have I missed something?

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# Jon | Tony, it's more an itchy feet problem than anything else; that's all it is.

Tony | I understand! We all get that sometimes.

But there's something else that seems relevant here. You said that Eric called in to the Geelong job to check up on you after the Brisbane trouble.

Surely the firm wasn't going to get another contract stuffed-up.

Jon | Oh, shit no! He was just checking in, I guess.

Tony | But he seemed to do it again in Wellington, didn't he?

Jon | Yes.

Tony | Didn't you think that was a bit strange?

Jon | Not really. He was just a friend calling in...

Tony | But isn't he the bugger who shunted you sideways at work? Isn't he the reason you're not comfortable in the firm any more?

I can't really understand some of this, mate.

Jon | Tony, it's not such a big deal. I'm after a change, that's all.

Tony | Eric seemed to be popping-in a bit to see how you were going after the Brisbane job. Is that right?

Jon | Yes, I suppose so.

Tony | Do you know why?

Jon | I guess he wasn't used to me getting things wrong. I'd never really buggered anything up before that.

Tony | But you didn't bugger anything up, did you? It was a contract problem, wasn't it?

Tony stayed silent for a while. He sat - motionless and expressionless - staring at his hapless friend.

He asked his next question in a very quiet voice.

Tony | Jon, did something else - something bad - happen in Brisbane?

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The stare continued as Jon took a little while to collect his thoughts.

Jon | I got involved with a girl up there and it didn't work out very well.

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Tony relaxed a bit and turned the stare off.

Tony | Okay. All right then.

Now I've been promising myself a leak for about three-quarters of an hour and I've just got to go. Don't you do a runner on me now; I'll be back in a minute.

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Tony departed and Jon sat there somewhat dazed by what had happened. He didn't feel any particular strong emotion at the time but he was aware of his heart beating. He could hear it - or rather, he could hear a regular distortion of the restaurant's background noise - as it squished along.

After a few minutes, Tony returned to continue with his job. He pursued it with calm detachment.

Tony | So there was a girl up north, eh?

And it fell to bits again?

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Jon | Yes, that's right.

Tony | I'm very sorry to hear that, Jon. That's no good.

You got on well with her at the time, did you?

Jon | Yes I did, I suppose.

Tony | Was she pretty?

Jon | Look, you've stumbled on to something important here. Don't make a joke of it.

Tony | I'm not making a joke of it!

Was she pretty?

Jon | Yes, very much so.

Tony | Clever?

Jon | Yes, I think so - very clever, in fact.

Tony | Pleasant? Easy to talk to?

Jon | Yep.

Tony | How did you get to know her?

Jon | She was a family friend, actually.

Tony | So you knew her before the trip up there?

Jon | Yes, sort of. Not... not well.

Tony | What does she do for a crust?

Jon | She's doing uni I think.

Tony | Yeah, but what does she do for a crust, mate? The wages aren't too good at uni. Or is she part-time?

Jon | I'm not sure about that.

Tony | Well, what was she doing when you were up there?

Through skill, intuition or luck – or a combination of all – Tony had reached the crux of the matter.

And Jon was at a pinnacle of discomfort.

Guilt was willing him to stay silent and in its grasp; but his canny friend seemed to have other plans.

Jon dreaded delivering the truth; but knew he had to do it.

Jon | Tony, she was at school.

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Tony | # Okay!

Jon half expected an outburst of mirth or a demonstration of mature disapproval. But there was neither. Tony remained completely calm. He didn't react in any way to Jon's earth-shattering revelation.

# Jon | She was just finishing up; she was in the final year.

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Tony | So she was a bit younger than the girls you've been seeing in recent times?

Tony waited for a short time, then just nodded in invitation of a response.

Jon | Seventeen.

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Tony | Okay. And you were comfortable in her company?

Jon | There wasn't a problem with her company. That was all easy as pie. But I had confusing thoughts about it. I sort of had dual thoughts. Sometimes I thought it was all pleasant and happy; and sometimes I thought it was loopy.

Tony | Was it loopy, mate?

Jon | Well it was! I mean it doesn't work like that, does it?

Tony | I'm not sure about that! I don't know!

Hey listen, how would you like to join me in a cleansing ale? How about a light beer instead of the wine, eh?

Jon | That sounds good.

Tony caught Mario's eye and ordered the drinks.

Tony | So when you went to Brisbane you rang the girl up just to say hello, I suppose.

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Jon | No, of course not! I made contact with her mum. She was a good friend before I left to live in Melbourne.

Tony | So, she's not your friend now?

Jon | No. She found out what went on and all bloody hell broke loose.

Tony | What about dad?

Jon | There's no dad; and there are no brothers or sisters.

It was a terrible thing, Tony; the dad and the only brother were killed in a prang in 1978, about a year before I came down here. It was a pretty ordinary time.

My brother David died a few weeks before the accident.

It was three in a row. It's crazy isn't it; people often talk about these things happening in threes.

Tony | Yeah. They do say that, don't they!

I've never heard you mention your brother before. I didn't know about him.

Jon | The poor little bugger wasn't stuck together properly; he had an intellectual disability. It was a degenerative thing and eventually it caught up with him.

Tony | It must have been a bad time.

Jon | Yes, it was a crook time.

Tony | What's the girl's name?

Jon | Annie.

Tony | Annie's a nice name. It sounds like a happy, friendly sort of name to me.

Jon | Yeah, I think that too.

Mario delivered the drinks.

Tony | Well, it looks like you've been carting your story around for a while mate.

You've been a bit reluctant to tell anyone much about it. Is that right?

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Jon | Yeah, that's right.

Tony | And it's been worrying you for a while?

Jon | Yep.

Tony | Jon, do you want to tell me more; or do you want me to find someone who's more at arm's length to give you a hearing.

I'm comfortable whichever way it goes. It's up to you really.

Jon | I'm happy talking to you – but only if that's all right with you.

Tony - quite deliberately - moved towards a friendlier stance. And he allowed his charming northern Italian smile through.

Tony | Well, we'll plod on – but only on the basis that you're having a yarn with a close friend.

There'll only be enough psychology stuff to get a feel for whether you need a hand from someone more specialised.

If I get out of my depth here, I'll put up a flag and we'll stop. Okay?

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Jon | Okay.

Tony | And if you get embarrassed or irritated, you put up a your flag.

Is that arrangement all right with you?

Jon | Yeah, that's fine!

Jon was calmed by this. He felt he was with someone capable and understanding.

Tony | Jon, you said before that there was trouble with Annie's mum when she found out 'what went on'.

I have to ask the obvious here. What went on?

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Jon | I got physically involved with her.

Tony | That's pretty quaint.

Are you saying you had sex with her?

Jon | Yes.

Tony | Was it good?

Jon | Shit Tony. It sounds like you're talking about porn or something. I don't know that I have to put up with that.

And what's it got to do with the price of eggs anyway?

Tony | I'm not having a lend of you, mate.

I'm wanting to establish whether you got the job done or whether you had troubles with your firing pin. I'm wanting to know if we are talking about an impotence problem here.

It's a fairly common problem – especially if there's a bit of apprehension or guilt about a relationship - and people get into a real tangle about it.

Now, for goodness sake, did you have a problem getting the machinery to work?

Jon | No. Pretty well the opposite.

Tony | Did you get out of the blocks a bit fast then?

Jon | No. No, we were just about on time – remarkably. When I said 'the opposite', I just meant that everything went okay.

Tony | Well that's good! That's good then!

Jon, could you tell me a bit more about Annie?

Did she look much like a school kid?

Jon | I never saw her in uniform. So, no - I don't think she looked much like a school kid at all. If I'd met her at a function or something, I'd have reckoned she was maybe twenty-one or twenty-two.

Tony | Nice hooters?

Now this did stir Jon up!

Jon | Oh, for Christ's sake...

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Tony | Shhh! Whoa, not so loud mate.

Jon toned down to a furious semi-whisper.

Jon | That's got fucking nothing to do with you; and it couldn't possibly have anything to do with the problems I've got.

Tony, I don't give a bugger if you think I'm mad; and I don't care a lot if you entertain yourself at my expense.

But you leave her out of your stupid bloody games. All right?

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Tony | Fair enough. Okay then.

Tony had a few more sips at his beer and paused for a little while to let things settle down.

Tony | Tell me, what did you and Annie do together for entertainment?

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Jon | There wasn't much opportunity for us to just be together - mostly we were in her mum's company. We went to the gallery in Brisbane one time and to the gardens for lunch. And when we were down at the coast we played a little bit of tennis and went to the beach.

Tony | And what did the two of you talk about?

Jon | Just about anything. Tennis, AFL and rugby, her mum, my family, work, music – just about anything. We even had a session on French history and one on learning Japanese and Japanese culture and stuff. She was right into languages.

Tony | Have you ever had any previous experiences with girls a fair bit younger than you?

Jon | No. Never.

Tony | What's her mum like?

Jon | She's warm and intelligent; she's a terrific woman really.

Tony | What's her name?

Jon | Lee.

Tony | And you said you were good friends with her. Is that right?

Jon | Yep.

Tony | How did you get to be fiends with her?

Jon | The Davis clan were neighbours of ours, and the dad, Jim, used to look after the mowing and tidying-up at our place.

When Jim and the boy were killed, my family got involved to help out and I was just part of the team.

But I ended up hanging around more than the others; I ended up helping her with a bookkeeping job she'd taken on and with other things at home – babysitting, for Christ's sake.

Tony | So it was really a closer-than-average friendship with Lee?

Jon | Yeah, in a way I suppose.

Tony | And she made you welcome when you went up to Brisbane.

Jon | Very much so. I was sort of like part of the family.

Tony | This might sound like a silly question, but it's an important one.

Which member of the family did you feel like when you first went back? Was it something like Lee's husband or her brother or her son? Or is that an impossible question?

Jon | It's an impossible question!

All I know for sure was that the atmosphere there was friendly. I felt like I belonged there; but I didn't feel like a husband or son or anything in particular.

Lee and Annie were both good to me. They both made me feel welcome.

Tony | Okay. That's fine.

I asked a question a minute or so ago that ruffled your feathers and in your reply you said that the question had nothing to do with your problems.

Can you help me here by trying to define your problems? Are you able to sort of get them in a nutshell for me?

What are they exactly?

Jon | Well, bugger me!

I ask you here to help me out with these things and you don't seem to have the slightest clue what I'm talking about. I'm starting to get the feeling you're crazier than me.

Tony | Well, I thought you asked me here to try to help you find a new job.

Jon | Oh shit, give me a break Tony.

Tony | Come on Jon, what are your problems?

Jon | For God's sake man! I've had sex with the child of a close friend. I've made a terrible bloody mistake that's been preying on my mind for ages and you're sitting here asking me what my problems are.

Are you for real?

Tony | Okay, okay!

Look, have there been any repercussions as a result of being with Annie?

Have you heard from them up in Brisbane? Has there been any legal trouble?

Jon | Well, no!

Nothing's happened really! Nothing, just silence!

Tony | Jon, in respect of your physical relationship with Annie, did she at any stage say 'no' or 'I don't think we should do this' or something like that?

Jon | No.

Tony | Was there any form of force or coercion?

Jon | No, none.

Tony | Did Annie tempt you? Did she display herself or somehow try to entice you?

Jon | Of course she didn't. It wasn't her. It was my fault.

Tony | That's pretty chivalrous.

Let me guess – it was your fault because you owned the weaponry. Is that right?

Jon | I don't know about that.

Tony | The word 'fault' and the apportionment of blame seems strange here, Jon.

I mean, from the sounds of things, you and Annie were in this together – fifty-fifty and thick as thieves.

If there was no belly dance or strip-tease on her side and if there was no exercise of physical or intellectual dominance on your side, it must have been a partnership.

From the sound of things, you guys got on with the job because it seemed like the natural thing to do.

Could that be right?

Jon | Well yes, in part! But I'm responsible for what I've done and I can't pretend otherwise.

Tony | Mate, I understand some of the legal and moral concepts here. I've got them.

What I'm trying to understand is the motivation. What I'm trying to understand is what made you guys decide to throw the rule book away.

Now, are you certain there was no titillating girlie stuff or masculine macho nonsense involved here?

Jon | Absolutely certain!

Tony | So it was exactly fifty-fifty mutual consent. You got into a clinch, and that was that.

Jon | Yes. But the onus was on me to act responsibly; and I didn't bloody do that, did I!

Tony | Well, fair enough. Okay then!

Jon, you're not worried about Mr Plod turning up with a notebook or the mother waiting for you at the back door with a hatchet are you?

Jon | No, I don't think so. Not now.

## Tony | Good. I think there's bugger all chance of either of those things happening at this late stage.

Tony rubbed his chin and thought about his next question.

Tony | Jon, you've known Lee for a long time and you've said your relationship with her was a bit special.

You haven't got a confusion of interests here, have you? I mean you haven't been involved with mum too, have you?

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Jon | Shit Tony! Of course not!

From behind the bar, Mario caught Tony's eye and held up two menus.

Tony responded with a frown and a quick, but very positive, shake of the head.

Tony | Have you ever had a bit of a cuddle with her?

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Jon | A couple of times, I suppose. But just like friends; you know!

Tony

 | Sure.

Did you have the occasional thoughtie about her – in the old days or more recently?

Jon | Oh, for Christ's sake Tony. Fair go.

Tony | Well, did you?

Jon | Sort of... a couple of times maybe.

Tony | She's good-looking too, is she?

Jon | Yep.

Tony | Well, we're getting somewhere mate.

It seems like there's nothing wrong with your sex drive.

Jon | Tony, I'm starting to get the feeling that you're either crudely entertained, or bored out of your mind, with what I'm telling you. What's worse, you seem to have your heart set on trivialising my predicament.

And this is all giving me the complete and utter shits.

In the interests of fixing some personal problems, I'm being as honest as I can. I'm doing my best to put all my cards on the table - and you seem intent on muddling them up or tossing them on the floor or handing them back to me.

I mean you're causing more problems than you're fixing.

I'm really disappointed, Tony. I just think you're carrying on like a bloody idiot.

Tony | Why don't you go out and splash a bit of water on your face and freshen up a bit?

Have a break for a few minutes, eh.

Okay?

Jon glared at Tony for a few seconds then departed for the toilets.

He returned to the table after, maybe, five minutes – in quite a different frame of mind.

Jon | You were right about a break, Tony! I needed that!

And I didn't mean to call you an idiot before. I know you're just trying to help.

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Tony | That's all right, mate. No offence taken.

Tony was offended – but not by being called an idiot. He didn't care at all for the 'just trying to help' comment.

Jon | I get the gist of what you're doing here, you know!

By making light of what I'm talking about, you're trying to adjust my concerns down to a more manageable size, aren't you?

That's right, isn't it?

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Tony | No!

Jon | Well, whatever's been happening has had an impact I can assure you.

Just chatting and getting matters out in the open's been worthwhile.

No kidding, I'm starting to feel more at ease with it all.

Tony | All what?

Jon | You know, the Annie thing generally.

Tony | Bloody hell, Jon. I don't know what's chewing away at your brain and I'm bloody sure you don't either.

Jon | Well, I think it's all a bit clearer.

I've made a mistake; I've made a bad call. Now I have to put up with the consequences. Surely that's clear enough.

Tony | So we're done, are we?

You'll go back into your shell now and put up with some more consequences. A bit more anxiety – that should fix things up, eh?

Jon | That's not what I'm saying, Tony. I'm talking about the standard logic of cause and effect. Make a bad call and you pay the price.

Tony cupped his face in his hands and stayed silent for a short time before continuing.

Tony | Jon. God help me, Jon. Please try to listen.

You've told me of your brief partnership with Annie. You have told me that what happened with Annie is preying on your mind.

And you've told me that you regret the bust-up of your long-term friendship with Annie's mum – who you described as 'a wonderful woman' or something like that anyway.

To me, these things sound like fairly difficult personal problems. And you've been hiding from them for more than a year.

Okay?

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Jon | Okay. But I don't think they're that big.

Tony | And now you seem to be presenting me a pile of fallacious nonsense about how your personal dilemmas can somehow be fixed by your continuing with a form of discomfort or anxiety – by your continuing to 'pay the price'.

You seem almost comfortable with the notion that you should suffer a punishment for having been a bad boy.

Alternatively, you're approaching your personal relationships with an accountant's mania for balancing the books. It's like a lot of really good things happened to you in Brisbane in the company of two nice females, so a lot of shitty things have to happen now so that the debits equal the credits.

Jon | I don't think it's like that. It's just that there aren't many bloody options available for me.

Tony | There's got to be something, Jon. There has to be a way forward.

Jon | Well, I'm buggered if I can see it.

Tony | The age thing – Annie's age – seems to be important to you.

Is it okay with you if we wander along for a little while on that subject?

Jon | If you like!

Tony | Okay.

Jon, I haven't got much of an idea where human attraction comes from. I confess I don't really understand it at all.

There are boffins who tell me it's all to do with chemicals and electric impulses in brains – but I don't know about that.

In truth, where it comes from doesn't really matter.

What matters is that sometimes people are attracted to other people. They just are.

Do you have some sort of feel for what I'm saying here?

Jon | Yes, I think so.

Tony | That's good!

Now, within a very large age range – teen age to late middle age, just about – people are sometimes physically attracted to each other.

And that process doesn't seem to know much about actual years.

When people are in that big bracket, attraction and age are two different subjects.

The attraction process makes life rich and fulfilling; it makes the world go 'round. It's fundamental to life. It's pretty normal and healthy.

And age is nothing more than a numeric expression. It's just a measure or a tag. It determines how many bloody candles you get on your cake each birthday. It determines how fast you can run around the block. Things like that. Okay.

Can you get a grasp of what I'm trying to say here?

# Jon | Yes.

# Tony | Good.

Now mate, is it possible that – despite your relative ages – Annie thought you were nice and you thought Annie was nice?

Could that be what happened?

Jon | Yes, but it isn't that simple Tony.

And to complicate the issue, I introduced sex into the equation. I went into a peaceful, happy environment and buggered it all up by getting into bed with my friend's daughter.

Can't you see that I've destabilised everything by having done what I did? I've alienated a good friend; and God knows what I've done to her daughter.

Can't you see the linkage here between relative ages and the disruption?

Tony | There's certainly tons of shock value in what happened; that's for sure. But stranger things have happened; I'm bloody certain of that.

Really kinky haywire things happen sometimes, you know.

Jon stayed quiet for a little while as he stared at his hands, which he'd placed palms down on the restaurant table.

Jon | Haywire! That'd be about right!

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Tony | Do you think Annie thought it was haywire?

Jon | I'm not sure. But, maybe not.

Tony | Do you think Annie was keen on you?

Jon | I think so. That's what she said to me anyhow.

Tony | So out of the blue, she just came out and said it?

Jon | Yes. That's right.

But I shouldn't have taken any notice of that. You see, as soon as I listened to that, I ended up in strife.

Tony | Jon, this may come as an enormous surprise to you, but I promise you that you're not the first bloke to be attracted to a young woman. You're not Robinson Crusoe with this.

Anyway, how old's Annie now – eighteen?

Jon | Yep, eighteen.

Tony | Well, if my research of a year or so ago still holds water, she's an adult.

She can vote, drive a car, leave home, go to war, go to the pub or marry a sixty-year-old retired sailor.

By our community standards, she's an adult.

Jon | Yeah, but that's now!

# Tony | And 'now' is the only place we can be, mate. With that, we've got no alternative whatever. We can't go backwards; and we can only go forwards as fast as the clock lets us.

Jon, Annie is 'now' an adult!

In terms of the law, I believe you can go to Brisbane and whisk her away from her mum's place with complete immunity. I believe that's quite legal.

But you have to indicate and take due care when pulling away from the kerb or you'll be breaking the law. And you're not allowed to put your arm out of the driver's window and raise your middle finger to her mum as you drive away, because that'll be breaking the law too.

Jon sat quietly rubbing his forehead with his right hand. He was listening carefully.

Tony | Am I giving you the shits with this? Do you want to put up your flag and switch me off? Do you want to talk with someone else?

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Jon | No! I'm interested in what you're saying!

Tony | Good. Then let me go a step further with the age subject.

When I first left uni, I was very tied up with the church and wanted a career that benefited people around me, so I went to work for an agency that distributed money and food and other stuff to people who were on their arses. I was employed to assess their needs.

In the eighteen months I did the job, there were at least ten cases where so-called kids were carrying responsibility for down-and-out families.

There was one fifteen-year-old girl in particular that I remember. She'd cook and clean and look after the little brother. She'd dig the no-hoper father out of the pub at night. She did the lot. She was the force behind the family.

She even filled-out the forms that the agency needed.

Do you understand what I'm saying here?

Jon | Yeah. I've got you.

Tony | Now if I'd used age to judge maturity or capacity or responsibility, that girl would have scored near enough to nil; and the stupid bloody parents would have scored ten apiece.

Can you see where I'm heading?

Jon | Yes.

Tony | On average, Jon, it's fair to say that forty-year-olds are more mature and capable and responsible than fifteen-year-olds. That's axiomatic. But only on average.

There's no law or rule here – just an average.

And the girl I've been talking about simply wasn't average. She was fantastic. She was an exception. And there are always exceptions.

Okay?

Jon | Okay.

Tony | Then let's go another step.

Now, in our society, we've got used to the concept that – on average – partnerships are cemented when men are in their late twenties and women are in their mid twenties. And somehow, in our minds, we've come to see those ages as a fairly fixed standard – or an admirable goal anyway.

These partnership ages don't have any status in logic or law; but somehow they have community approval and somehow they have become part of our middle-class values.

And they've become important to the point that people are sometimes perceived as odd – and are made feel odd – because they don't align too well with the standard.

Okay?

Jon | Okay. I'm with you.

Tony | Now this is really bizarre stuff.

Firstly, the so-called standard is completely fluid. It varies from generation to generation in the one society and varies tremendously between societies.

Secondly, the so-called standard is just a pair of average ages.

In other words, Jon, the standard really counts for nothing. It's not worth a pinch of poop.

Tony stopped for a few seconds before breaking into a broad smile.

Tony | Now, I've got a really important question for you.

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Jon | What's that?

Tony | How'd you like a coffee and a slice of the very best Italian nutty, fruity cake?

And, what about a muscat?

Jon | That sounds pretty good to me.

Mario was called across. Tony placed the order.

Tony | Can we get back to your work for a minute or two?

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Jon | Tony, I didn't really need to talk about work. I just dreamed that up when I got a bit nervous about telling you about the other things.

Tony | I know that!

But I'm interested in Eric following you around and clucking over you.

Have you told him about Annie?

Jon | No, I didn't tell him.

He found out from the boss who found out from the shitty little firm I was working for in Brisbane.

No, hang on, that's not quite right. He found out from the firm's solicitors who were threatening the legal action against us.

Tony | Lee didn't dob you in, did she?

Jon | No. Nothing so simple.

Apparently Annie was a pal of the daughter of a woman I was working with at the Brisbane firm. And she found out from her daughter - or something.

I don't know exactly what went on.

Tony | Oh, for God's sake! I don't believe this!

And you didn't know this woman's daughter was Annie's friend?

Jon | Oh, shit no! I didn't have a clue about any of that.

Tony started to laugh a little – and Jon joined-in.

Tony | I don't believe this!

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Jon | And I don't know how you've got me laughing because it wasn't too bloody funny at the time.

You see, the solicitor in Brisbane used Annie and Jon to spice-up the case a bit and I became the firm's resident perv.

Tony | It got around the office?

Jon | Yeah, a bit.

Tony | Shit, you have been in the wars.

I'm really sorry mate. You must have had an awful time.

The brief outbreak of mirth subsided.

Jon | You're not wrong!

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Tony | So Eric put you into the other job and got you out-of-town and out of harm's way to take care of you, eh?

He's been looking after you, hasn't he?

Jon | Yeah.

I don't think he understood what went on – and I don't think he approved of it – but I think he's been trying to take care of me anyway. I'm sure of it, in fact.

You see, I was lined up to report to another prick who was having fun at my expense - and Eric bailed me out of that.

Tony | I see!

So he's really been a good mate, mate?

Tony realised what he had said, shook his head a bit and added the word 'mate' a few more times for good measure. And they both laughed at the curious turn that the conversation had taken.

Tony's mirth abated after maybe ten seconds but Jon continued to chuckle – almost giggle – intermittently for longer.

On three occasions, he tried to start a sentence in response but each time the opening words triggered a resurgence of the laughter.

Tony waited for a re-establishment of calm. He watched carefully as Jon tried to regain a hold on the situation. And, as he watched, he noticed the telltale changes in facial expression – the lips pressed tight together, the crumpled chin and the strained neck muscles. Then the closed eyes and the attempt at deep breathing.

He'd seen it all before and decided to intervene.

Tony | Why don't we go out for a bit of a walk and get some fresh air?

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Jon nodded in response and Tony got up from the table quickly and went to Mario at the restaurant counter to let him know of their intention to take a break.

Tony switched to Italian for confidentiality and speed.

Tony | Mario, my friend and I would like to go out for a walk for twenty minutes or so – but we'd like to come back.

Is that okay? You'll be here for quite a while yet, won't you?

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Mario | Of course, sir. That's okay.

Tony | The name's Tony, mate.

Do you want my Visa or anything?

Mario | No. We know you, Tony. It's okay.

Mario leaned sideways and looked around Tony's shoulder to where Jon was sitting.

Mario | Everything here's all right. You go and take care of your friend.

Go on, quickly. Now.

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By the time Tony turned around, Jon had slipped badly. He was sitting there alone, crying. Tony went to him as quickly as he could.

And Jon, at last, found a few sentences.

Jon | Tony, I've fucked this all up completely. I've fucked everything up.

What in Christ's name am I going to do?

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Tony | Come on, out we go. We'll go for a bit of a walk.

Tony bustled him outside quickly to the privacy of darkness and their dual company.

He held on to Jon with unabashed European fondness. And Jon experienced the unusual, but not unpleasant, feel of his friend's rough stubble against his wet cheek. Although the physical sensations were odd, the closeness - and Tony's comforting words - were warm and welcome.

Help had arrived.

* * *

### 6.

Melbourne's summer weather is legendary. Though on the fringe of an oven hot continent, the city is subject to cold southern ocean influences that roll past Australia's under-belly often - but at varying distances and irregular intervals. In summer, Melbourne can be amazingly hot for days then amazingly cool for days thereafter. It's a crazy cycle that bewilders and irritates all but long-standing residents.

The city's advertised 'pleasant' average summer temperatures provide a world-class example of just how useless averages can really be.

As good fortune would have it, Jon's February 1994 dinner engagement with Tony followed a cool change by about forty-eight hours. When they left the restaurant for a walk, a seventeen-degree starry night, and the quiet dignity of East Melbourne's residential back streets, were there to greet them.

With Tony's help, Jon calmed down after about five minutes.

Having told his confidante the truth about Annie, and having been swept into emotional behaviour that left no room for greater embarrassment, Jon was able to elaborate on his story without inhibition.

As they walked slowly along, he told of his disbelief at being attracted to Annie virtually from the outset; their happy and fulfilling little partnership that de-railed with such awesome consequences just after its most beautiful moments; and Lee's fury. And, of course, there were the difficulties at work, the extraordinary dreams and the worry and the insomnia. Even his strange dalliance with the glamorous marketing guru in Wellington got an airing. It all spilled out.

During their wanderings, Tony listened carefully and took on-board all the fine detail.

They arrived back at the restaurant after about thirty-five minutes. Tony went in first while Jon went through an eye-wiping and nose-blowing ritual twenty paces from the restaurant's front door.

Tony was greeted by Mario at their table; and the two had a brief conversation - again in Italian.

Tony | Well, we've come back Mario.

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Mario | Good. I'll ring the police and tell them to stop looking for you.

Tony | Yes, thanks. That'd be good.

Mario | Your friend's got troubles, eh? Troubles with the old chook?

Tony | No. Young chicken troubles, in fact.

Mario | They're not troubles, Tony. Chickens are good!

Tony | Well, you and I know that; but he doesn't.

He doesn't understand the finer points of life. He's got no Italian blood at all.

Mario | Oh, the poor bugger.

But he doesn't look like a person who'd get upset too easily.

Tony reverted to English.

Tony | The bigger they are, the harder they fall!

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Jon's return to the restaurant was distinctly more dignified than his earlier exit. He walked in confidently and took his seat at their table.

Mario | Where were we?

Two black coffees, two pieces of cake made by Bruno's mum and two ports?

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Tony | Muscats rather than ports, Mario. Thanks.

Mario | Good, sir. I'll be back soon.

Mario departed to attend to the order.

Tony | How are you doing now? Are you all right?

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Jon | Yeah, I'm okay now.

Tony | Now I've got an idea Jon; let's make a list for us to think about. What do you reckon?

Jon | Sure. If you think that's the thing to do.

Tony | Yes, I do. I think it would be a good idea to do a little problem list. I'll do two in fact, one for you and one for me.

It's usually a good idea to write things down. It certainly can't do any harm.

Tony took out his little pad again.

Tony | Now let's start with the dessert, eh – trifle. Okay?

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Jon | What on earth are you talking about?

Tony | Your problems! They're like trifle.

I think there are different ingredients all mixed together here and they're nearly impossible to separate. Your problems are a combination of things, like trifle.

Now if they had come separately in nice little compartments, you'd have been able to take care of them one-by-one. That would have been easy. But they didn't come to you like that; they came all mixed up. Okay.

So I'll write that down 'Trifle' - and I'll put a line under that.

Got it?

Jon | I'm not sure where you're headed here. But, yeah, write it down I suppose.

Tony did so.

Tony | All right.

So let's go a little bit further.

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Jon | Whatever you say.

Tony | I'm going to write down 'Age'. And, on your list, I'm going to add 'Can't Change'. Okay.

You've got a little gnome that keeps telling you about the age difference between you and Annie, and he's bothering you.

It would be nice to put him to rest, wouldn't it?

Jon | That might be easier said than done.

Tony | Maybe yes; maybe no. I don't know.

Jon | Okay.

Tony | Let's keep going.

I've got another one; and it's one you probably haven't thought of before.

I'm going to write down 'Bachelor'.

Tony dutifully wrote it down on both lists in the pad.

Jon | What's that got to do with the price of eggs?

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Tony | Well I'll tell you.

Most of us in adult life have an instinct to find a partner. We just do; that's how we are. It's pretty standard stuff. For the most part, humans are comfortable in partnership.

Okay?

Jon | Okay.

Tony | Now, for one reason or another, we all have different success with this. Some of us team up with the girl down the street fairly early in life; some team up with the boy down the street fairly early in life. Just about everybody's a bit different.

Some people don't make a partnership stick till middle age or even old age.

Some have two or three serious goes at it; and some people never get there at all.

Now, if partnership has appeal to a person and he or she doesn't make it stick for a while, the little failures along the way start to dig in and hold too much sway. They can hold sway to the point where disappointment becomes an expectation or where fear of repeated failure becomes an inhibition. A sort of self-fulfilling prophecy, if you like.

Every little slip makes the soles of your shoes shinier, mate!

And, you know, really crusty old bachelors sometimes make very good friends with the failure gnomes in their brains and actually become afraid of success. To them partnership starts to sound like a burden of responsibility and a threat to their daily routines.

Okay?

Jon | Okay.

But I don't think I've got that type of problem.

Tony | That's no surprise. No one ever does.

Jon, I'm just writing down things that are worth thinking about; and I'm sure 'bachelor' is worth thinking about.

It's a little gnome that mightn't be bothering you; and, then again, it might.

All right?

Jon | I hear what you're saying.

Tony | Fine. That's good.

Ready for another one?

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Jon | I guess so.

Tony | This one's easy. You know about it already. In fact, it's arguable that you've learned too much about it.

I'm going to write down 'Guilt'.

Jon | Yes I know about that one.

How many more have you got?

Tony | Just two more.

Tony wrote 'Guilt' on both lists just as Mario arrived with the coffee, cake and muscat.

Tony | I'm going to write down 'Missing Persons' now.

Maybe this one is causing you the most difficulty. I don't know.

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Jon | Is this another one of Tony's surprise gnomes?

Tony | It might be now; but it won't be a surprise after I've explained it.

Your brother who died, he was a good bloke wasn't he? You got on well with him – even though he wasn't brilliant in a conventional way?

Jon | Yep. It might sound strange to you, but we were extremely close.

Tony | That doesn't surprise me at all, not at all. I can understand that easily.

Now, Annie's dad. He was a good bloke? You liked him, didn't you?

Jon | Yeah.

He was a different one. He was tough and street-wise; and he had character or strength or something. I liked him. He was a very honest bloke.

Tony | And you think about your brother and Annie's dad from time-to-time?

Jon | Yes. Of course. Every now and then.

Tony | And that doesn't upset you, does it?

Jon | Not really. Something triggers off memories and that's it I suppose. They're usually good thoughts anyway.

Tony | That's good.

Now let's go at this one from another direction.

Have you been following that story in the papers and on TV about the girl who went missing down the south-west last year?

Jon | I haven't followed it closely; but I know about it.

Tony | Did you see the poor bloody father on TV a couple of nights ago?

Jon | Yes I did, actually!

Tony | That unlucky bugger's got a dreadful bloody problem that people profess to understand - but usually don't. What's happened to him is that his young daughter has been taken away. She hasn't run off with the next-door neighbour, she hasn't gone to live with a girl at Byron Bay, she hasn't gone to a convent and she hasn't died. To the father, she's just not there – she's missing.

Can you get your mind around that concept a bit, Jon?

Jon | Yeah, sort of.

Tony | Some people would use the expression 'in denial' to describe the dad's behaviour about the daughter; but that's really not what it's about. That's just easy commentary.

You see, he's fretting! And he can't stop it because there's been no formal end to the daughter's story. There's been no death certificate, no funeral - no bloody nothing. Just an awful void.

Have you got some sort of feel for that?

Jon | I guess so.

Tony | Jon, I think you've got a bit of a gnome on board just like that dad's. It's only a pint-sized one in comparison, but I think it's there worrying you.

Your girl up in Brisbane didn't die, she didn't tell you to get lost and you didn't tell her to get lost. She's 'missing' and you're having a bit of a fret.

And you're probably upset about the mum too. You could have done without the fight with her.

Does that make sense?

Jon | Yes, I guess. I'll need to think about it a bit.

Tony | Can you see how odd it is?

You've actually lost your brother and Annie's dad - they both died. And my guess is that twelve or eighteen months after their deaths you were well accustomed to the fact they'd gone. You might have been grieving, but you knew they'd gone and you probably weren't overtly emotional about it. Their stories had finished.

On the other side of the coin, when we got into conversation about Annie and Lee – nearly eighteen months out - you had trouble with it and clearly got upset about it. You see, their stories haven't finished. They're just 'missing'.

Isn't it a strange concept?

Jon | Yeah. I guess so.

Tony | Now, the things we've written down so far aren't really earth-shattering on their own – but combined, they constitute a good old pickle.

And when you think about these things on the list in the next few days, you'll come to see that their total impact is greater than the sum of the parts.

When you've got a few gnomes working together they can be pretty hard to handle.

Are you with me?

Jon | Yeah. I'm with you.

Tony paused for a very brief time, moved back in his chair a bit as he corrected his posture, then smiled broadly.

Tony | I've saved the best till last.

I'm going to write down 'Luck'.

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He started to laugh heartily as he wrote.

Tony | On your copy, I'm going to add one word next to this one - 'Nil'.

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Jon started to laugh too. This time it was his normal deep resonant laughter.

Tony | Mate, you ought to try to find the author of Murphy's law. I'm sure he'd pay good money for this story. It's a perfect case study you know.

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Jon | You'd think there'd be a dollar in it somewhere, wouldn't you.

Tony | You must have wondered what the Christ was going on there for a while.

Jon | Yeah. It was a bit like that.

It still is too, in a way.

The mirth subsided.

Tony | And of all people, these things happened to you.

You - with that crazy over-stimulated brain of yours. God it must have been doing analytical hand stands trying to work out what the bloody hell was going on.

Jon, what you did wasn't real clever – you know that and I know that. It was bloody stupid, in fact. But try not to be too hard on yourself, mate. A lot of what linked into that seems to have been nothing more than bad luck.

Now, do you want another coffee?

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Jon | No, I'll be right. I suppose we'd better get going soon.

Tony | I think I'd better go fairly soon.

Jon | Oh shit! I forgot all about that.

You're supposed to be home early, aren't you?

Isn't Maria out or something?

Tony | It's okay. If we leave in five minutes I'll only be fifteen minutes late. They'll live through that.

Jon | I'm going to the toot.

I'll fix up the bill with the bloke at the counter on the way.

Tony took his credit card out and handed it to Jon along with his little problem list.

Tony | Here's your list and my Visa.

It's half-and-half with the bill, mate. That's fair. Don't argue. Just do it.

I'll ring a cab while you're looking after the leak and the account.

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On their way home, they talked again about cricket – and a bit about Tony's work. Nothing more was mentioned about Jon's predicament till they pulled up outside Tony's place at Gardenvale.

Tony | How are you doing, Jon? Are you still feeling a bit brittle?

Would you like to come in and camp at our place for the night?

One more person wouldn't make much difference.

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Jon | No, I'll be okay. I'll paddle off home.

But thanks for that. Thanks a lot Tony.

And give the girl my love.

Tony | You've still got your list, haven't you?

Jon | Got it in my top pocket.

Tony | I'll speak to you tomorrow.

They parted and Jon continued to Cheltenham in the taxi.

When he arrived home, he found it unusually dark and quiet so he turned on the television for company – having chosen the second half of a documentary called 'Behind the Silver Screen' from the weekly guide.

At the moment he turned it on, a serious syrupy-voiced American commentator was involved in explaining Mia Farrow's child abuse and molestation accusations against Woody Allen following his involvement with her adopted daughter Soon-Yi Previn the previous year.

Jon had no particular inclination to learn about the affair's finer details; indeed, it was the last thing he needed.

He turned the television off, and turned on Melbourne's commercial news radio station 3AW instead.

Jon thought little about his conversation with Tony earlier in the evening. When he was not concentrating on 3AW's talk-back chatter, his mind drifted to concerns about having become emotional at the restaurant in front of his friend and – worse still – in front of the staff and other patrons.

He turned-in at about midnight and slept soundly till five the following morning. When he awoke, the thought that he should be doing something about work was foremost his mind. But a few seconds of consciousness brought the pleasant sense of relief that accompanies the realisation that work would wait for another day. Quite a few days, in fact!

When he went out to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, Tony's note was there on the bench where he'd left it the previous night. He picked it up, looked at it then attached it to the refrigerator door with a magnet.

Oddly, the 'bachelor' notation played on his mind the most as he pottered around the kitchen.

He had thoughts about his old colleague Burt who was very much a bachelor at sixty years of age. He thought about Burt's ridiculously formal politeness towards females of all vintages and how they were inevitably turned-off by this unusual behaviour. Maybe, Jon thought, this was Burt's barrier to protect him against a possible failure with the opposite sex; or maybe it was a barrier to protect him against the opposite sex.

Jon thought about his own quandary and wondered whether he may have made the quantum leap from bachelor class eight to class two in mere months and become reclusive and unsteady like Burt. With that in mind, he thought back over his involvement with the leggy bank marketeer in Wellington - trying to identify a link between his bachelor status and the rapid decline in her appeal.

Eventually, he came to terms with the simple concept that a bloke must lose some sure-footedness after being disappointed by a few females and thrown down the steps by a few others.

By seven o'clock, Jon had showered, shaved, eaten some breakfast and set about doing a few chores at the PC and around the house.

As the day of light duties progressed, his thoughts drifted periodically to the list's 'missing persons' notation and Tony's comments about it. He wasn't immensely comfortable with the concept; but tried to accept it in general terms.

Tony phoned Jon at about four in the afternoon and asked whether he could pop in for a quick beer at about quarter-to-six. Jon agreed to that without hesitation.

Tony left work earlier than expected and actually got to Jon's at about half-past-five. He settled at the dining table with a beer and chatted for a while about road works on the Kingsway before broaching the main subject of the previous night.

Tony | Well, how did you get on with the list Jon? Did we get anything right?

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Jon | Yes. I think we did well.

But there are a few things I'm wrestling with a bit.

I'm not really at ease with 'missing persons'. It makes me uncomfortable.

Tony | Why is that, mate?

Jon | I don't know. It's a forlorn concept. It just gives me the creeps a bit.

Tony | Have you got any idea why that is?

Jon | Well, the case you outlined last night had a certain awful inevitability about it. A lost cause, if you like.

Tony | Do you see parallels between that case and yours?

Jon | Sure. I think there's the same sort of outcome up the pipeline.

I know my case is microscopic compared with the other one; I know that.

Tony | So you think Annie and Lee are missing persons – never to be seen again?

Jon | Tony, I know we've been talking about them as a package – and they are, I suppose. But I'm not as concerned about Lee.

It might sound a bit gooey, but it's Annie I'm worried about.

Tony | Yes, I know that.

Tony stayed quiet for a short time before continuing.

Tony | Jon, you can see the big difference between your case and the other one, can't you?

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Jon | Yeah. The Gippsland girl is most likely not around anymore and Annie most likely is.

But, so what?

Tony | Well, that's a big difference – isn't it?

Jon | I don't know; I'm not so sure!

Tony smiled and put his drink down on the table.

Tony | Jon, you've been around a while. And you've run into a thousand problems that needed sorting out at work.

You know about resolution of conflict; you know about discussing problems to find solutions.

You know about all that don't you?

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Jon | Yes, of course.

Tony | And you know as well as I do that you're either going to have to live with your Brisbane confusion or front up and talk it out with the girl.

You're not a fool, Jon.

You know full well that the only way of making peace with yourself is by extending an olive branch to Annie – even if that turns out to be a final kindly gesture.

You know about problem solving; you know it back-to-front and upside-down.

Jon stayed quiet for a little while and did some nervous forehead rubbing.

Jon | Well I can't. I just can't do that.

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Tony | And why would that be?

Jon | Because I made an undertaking to Lee that I wouldn't get involved with Annie again. It was a clear and unequivocal undertaking.

And I'd probably trigger-off the third world war if she found out I'd made contact.

Tony | Are there any other reasons?

Jon | That's it really. I agreed not to go back; and that's all there is to it.

Tony | If there are other reasons, it's very important you tell me about them now.

It's important, mate.

Jon | I'm not too sure they make a lot of sense.

Tony | It doesn't matter, mate. Tell me. It's important.

Jon | Well, I figure Annie's probably forgotten about Jon Bentley by now. She's probably got some young bloke hanging around up there now.

And... I don't ... I'm not comfortable with that.

Tony | What else?

Jon | Well it's a bit hard to describe, Tony.

Tony | It'll be okay. You can talk about it.

Jon | I'm sort of scared that I'll find out she really was just a kid. I'm worried that I'm going to find out she's a kid now. And I bloody don't want to find that out.

Can you understand that?

Tony | Yes. No trouble at all.

Jon | You don't think this is all crazy stuff do you, Tony?

Tony | Not a bit. Not even a little bit.

Incidentally, what do you have to do to get a second beer around here?

Jon | Oh shit! I'm sorry about that. Just hang-on, I'll get one now.

Jon went and got two more beers.

Jon | Well, where do we go from here?

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Tony | Do nothing for a couple of days. Just have a think about things.

Jon | Before you confirm that I phone Annie, eh?

Tony | Maybe no.

I'm more likely to suggest that you go and see her in Brisbane. But I'd rather not do that till we've both had time to think things out a bit.

Let's just wait and see for a little while.

Tony stayed for a bit longer chatting about Jon's classy stove before heading home.

During the quiet of that Friday evening and on the Saturday, Jon did exactly as recommended – he thought about things. And he did so with great energy, as was his style.

By lunch time on the Sunday, he was prepared – anxious, in fact, - to speak with Tony again.

He telephoned him at about two and suggested that they meet for thirty minutes to follow a few things through. Tony enhanced the suggestion by offering a drive to Gardenvale at about half-past-six and dinner with the Gava family. Jon happily accepted that invitation. Maria was a great cook.

Tony arrived at Jon's place at about ten-past-six and went in for a quick chat. After initial hellos, there was no beating around the bush. They had clearly had enough thinking time.

Jon | You haven't changed your mind about Brisbane, have you?

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Tony | No. I'm inclined to think you should try to meet with Annie.

Jon | I'm not going anywhere near Lee; she'd be after my nuts.

I'll worry about her another time.

Tony | Oh, Christ no! Don't go near her. Keep right away from her.

Jon | What happens if Annie doesn't want to see me?

Tony | Umm – you're stuffed mate!

But at least you'll know the end to the story and you'll be able to close the book and put it back on the shelf.

Jon | The phone's no good at all is it? I'll need to go up there, won't I?

Tony | That's right. Get one of the girls at work – one with a devious mind - to get you through to Annie on the phone; then you get on and make arrangements to meet her. Then get off the phone. Don't chatter.

Face-to-face is the only way, mate!

Now, you might get a kick in the teeth when you get there – it doesn't matter.

At least you'll know the end of the story.

Okay?

Jon | Nearly okay. I haven't decided yet.

Tony | Come on. It's time you had a swarm of Italian looking children all over you – then some food and grog as a reward.

The Gardenvale visit had great appeal for Jon. He enjoyed Maria's company and enjoyed playing with the kids. He was particularly fond of the youngest, Marian – a little one with googly eyes behind rather thick glasses. Whenever he visited, she'd wait shyly at the back of the noisy pack knowing that her special acknowledgment was on its way. And he never let her down. They were the best of pals.

On the Monday, Jon busied himself for most of the day with gardening and getting leaves out of the roof gutters. He finished his work at about five o'clock then had a shower.

At about six, he approached the task he'd been thinking about from time-to-time during the previous few days.

He phoned his mum in Port Macquarie.

Sylvia | Sylvia Bentley speaking.

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Jon | It's me Mum. I just rang to check in. Is everything okay?

Sylvia | Just fine, Jon. How are you?

Jon | Pretty good.

Five minutes of standard chatter about the family, health and weather followed.

Jon | Mum, are you busy at the moment? Have you got a few minutes more to talk?

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Sylvia | It's a good time to talk actually. Dad's at a council meeting at the club. I'm going to meet him there at about seven.

Jon | Mum, I've had a bit of trouble and I need your advice about it.

Sylvia | Not big trouble I hope.

Jon | No. Not really. Unusual trouble – little and big.

Now try not to get upset or angry when I tell you about it. It's a bit tricky.

Mum, when I was up in Brisbane doing that job a while ago, I saw a bit of Lee and her girl Annie and things weren't quite like I told you before.

There was a brief pause.

Sylvia | Umm, how's that Jon? In what way?

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Jon | Mum... this is a bit hard to describe.

I sort of ended up getting involved with Annie when I was up there.

Sylvia | I see!

She'd be fairly young for you Jon, wouldn't she?

I understand she'd be a real young lady now of course, but she couldn't be all that old.

Jon | She's... err... she's eighteen.

Sylvia's arithmetical skills hadn't dulled with the years.

Sylvia | Yes eighteen. That's what I got too.

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Jon | Mum, I didn't really mean it to happen, but we sort of had an affair.

I know it sounds very, very strange – and it's a stupid expression - but you know what I mean, don't you?

Sylvia | Yes. I think I can remember what that means.

Jon | Anyway...

Sylvia | Jon, is she a sensible girl like Lee? Is she clever like her mum?

Jon | They're quite a bit alike. Yeah, she's pretty clever.

Sylvia | And a looker too?

Jon | Yes – all of that.

Sylvia | Right ... so?

Jon | Anyway Mum, somehow or other Lee found out about what happened.

And she really blew her top.

Sylvia | God, I'm not surprised.

And you got a good clip under the ear, no doubt?

Jon | No... it was worse than that by miles, Mum.

Sylvia went quiet for a short time - which unnerved Jon. He had the distinct feeling a good talking to was in the offing.

But that wasn't to be.

Sylvia | Goodness me, Jon.

I wondered how long you'd take to tell me what went on. I knew you had problems of some sort when you came up for holidays. I just knew it.

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Jon | What do you mean?

Sylvia | Jon, I'm just a bit older; I'm not blind and deaf you know. I can tell when you've got something serious on your mind – something troubling you.

Jon | Anyway Mum, I've been as uncomfortable as buggery about this; so last week I had a talk to a friend who knows a bit about these things.

Sylvia | Good. That's the right approach.

Jon | And he's inclined to think I should go to Brisbane to have a bit of a yarn with Annie just to make peace and clear the air.

And I was really wondering whether you thought that sounded like a reasonable idea.

There was another pause.

Sylvia | Do you think you'd really want to do that, Jon? Do you feel close enough to her to take that on?

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Jon | I think so, Mum.

But, you see, the whole thing went wrong so fast and so badly, I've been a bit bamboozled by it. It's hard to get everything clear in my mind.

Does that make sense?

Sylvia | Yes, I can understand that.

You weren't thinking of having a talk to Lee too, were you?

Jon | No. I thought I'd... no!

Sylvia | Umm, I see.

Jon | If I go up there, I don't know what I'd say or anything. I haven't figured that out yet.

I don't even know if I'm on Annie's list any more.

Sylvia | You don't have to be concerned about that too much. She'll tell you.

Jon | And I haven't got any idea where any of this is leading. I haven't got a clue about that.

Sylvia | Don't worry about that either. If you can't work it out, Annie will tell you that too.

Jon | So you reckon I should go up there.

Sylvia | It's really up to you, Jon.

But, maybe yes. A bit of a talk usually helps to get problems sorted out.

Jon | Okay then. That's interesting.

Sylvia | Jon, do you accept unsolicited advice from old women in Port Macquarie.

Jon | Only on Mondays.

Sylvia | If you go up there, be careful not to make a mistake and treat her like a child. I know you wouldn't do it intentionally, but there's a big gap there and you could make a mistake.

You're not the boss here, Jon. Your job is to just be yourself and let her be as young or old as she needs to be.

That's the only way you're going to get a real look at what you've got on your plate here.

Jon | You're not thinking this is all nutty are you Mum?

Sylvia | It might be or it mightn't be - I couldn't possibly know that, darling.

But don't worry too much about it. Either you'll know – or she'll tell you.

Jon | Well, I might just go ahead with this.

Sylvia | As I said darling, it's up to you.

But if you do go up, be careful with the little one. Your reappearance could make things a bit complicated for her. It's a real responsibility, Jon.

And be careful with yourself too. I don't want to see you with your old heart in a sling. Okay.

Jon | Fair enough.

Sylvia | Now I'm not going to say anything to your Dad or the girls about this. Dad's a bit clumsy sometimes with little secrets; and the girls would ring you twice a day for progress reports. They reckon you're a lost cause with the girls, you know.

Jon | And the adventure might be a failure too, mightn't it?

Sylvia | Who could tell? Just wait and see.

Jon | Anyhow Mum, I'll let you know what I decide and whatever happens after that.

There was a bit more chatter about the family connection then they said their goodbyes and hung up.

Jon was more than pleased with the outcome of the conversation but had a feeling that it all happened too quickly. He felt he needed some sort of confirmation of what was said.

He decided to call Sylvia again to make absolutely sure he'd got it all right.

His phone rang just as he was about to pick up the handpiece.

Sylvia | It's Mum again, Jon.

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Jon | That's amazing. I was just about to call you.

Sylvia | Great minds eh?

Jon | Must be.

Sylvia | Jon, I needed to get back to you to let you know that you're still my beautiful boy and that I'll help in any way I can. And I needed to let you know that I think I've got a bit of a feel for what's happening.

When you first went down to Melbourne, you were very young and I was worried from the outset that things like this could trick you up. I was never concerned about work or university or any of that. But I would have liked you to stay at home a bit longer to get a better understanding of other sorts of things.

Jon | I didn't know that.

Sylvia | Well, nobody knew except Dad.

Now Jon, do you need me to come down there for a while; or would you like to come up here for a stay.

Could that help in some way?

Jon | It would be great to see you, but I think I'm pretty right Mum. And I'll be back at work before too long.

Sylvia | My worry is that you're going to think your little problems to death and get the wobbles. You're a bit prone to overdoing things, you know.

And you haven't been very lucky with girls either – I don't know why.

Jon | I suppose that's right.

Sylvia | Now are you pretty sure Annie's a nice kind warm sort of person, Jon? I mean, you're not just chasing a butterfly are you?

Jon | No, she's really nice Mum. That's no problem.

Sylvia | Well you go up to Brissie and see her and have a talk.

But just be yourself – and try not to let that old brain of yours work overtime on what's going on. These things don't need a lot of mental power. I don't know how, but something else works these things out.

All you have to do is go with the flow.

Jon | Fair enough.

Sylvia | And - I don't quite know how to say this – if things go all right, it might be best to forget the Cassanova antics for a while till you're really comfortable that you've got a friend.

Do you understand what I'm saying?

Jon | Yes Mum. That's fair enough.

Sylvia | Now you keep in contact darling and let me know how it's all going. And remember, it doesn't matter what you've done or how things turn out with this – I'm on your side.

Jon | Thanks Mum. Thanks for that.

They said their goodbyes for the second time and hung up.

The conversations brought Jon some peace. His foremost ally was pretty much on side and as supportive as could be.

By week's end, Jon had made his decision about travelling to Brisbane; and he'd planned in some detail just how the manoeuvre would be put in place.

On the Monday morning - from the office - Jon phoned Tony, and then Sylvia, to tell them that he would definitely be snowed-under at the office for at least a fortnight and wouldn't be considering visiting Brisbane for three or four weeks. He waxed lyrical about being 'knee deep in work' and 'under real pressure' to give the story credence.

After making those calls, he went straight to the travel agent on the ground floor of the ART Kingston building and booked a no-penalties-attached economy class return trip to Brisbane – out on the following Friday night and back on the Sunday afternoon. He then chose a three star inner-suburban motel from an office accommodation directory and booked it direct by phone.

Having done those little jobs in under thirty minutes, he summoned loyal and very discreet offsider Kate and asked if she would join him in his office for a sandwich at lunch time for an up-date on what had happened during his absence on leave. She politely acceded to this request – but not before giving him one of those 'what the hell are you up to' looks over the top of her reading glasses.

Kate knew Jon very well; she knew how he ticked. And she was certain that the luncheon engagement - for which there was no precedent - would have nothing to do with a corporate update.

Lunchtime came soon enough and they met in his incredibly small office. Jon outlined the problem and described his need for a third party to make a sneaky phone call to Lee's number. He then outlined how to ascertain who had answered the call, how to connect him if it was Annie and how to bail out if it was Lee.

Kate had done this type of job before and assured Jon of her skilled support.

They decided to give the project a first go at about four that afternoon.

At the appointed time, Kate went into Jon's office, closed the door behind her and walked straight to his desk. With a confidence borne of many years experience in minor corporate deceit, she picked up the telephone handpiece and dialled the Brisbane number.

There was no drama. She got straight through to Annie who identified herself at the outset.

'Miss Davis, would you hold the line for a moment please and I'll connect you with my caller.' she said in her best ART Kingston voice.

In an unexpected act of workmate affection - or maybe sympathy for the insane - Kate leaned over, patted Jon on the head and whispered 'There you go now' as she passed him the handpiece. She then departed as quickly as she'd arrived a minute or two earlier.

Jon | Annie, it's Jon. Jon in Melbourne.

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Annie | Hi Jon.

Jon | How are you going? Are you all right?

Annie | No problems; I'm fine.

How are you?

Jon | Not so bad. Everything's okay I guess.

How's Mum?

Annie | She's pretty good.

Jon | That's good. I'm pleased to hear that.

Annie, why I'm phoning...

He stopped to clear his throat. Despite a confident start, he was getting nervous and needed a few seconds to collect his wits.

Jon | Sorry about that.

I was just phoning to let you know we'd got a bit of work up north and that I'll be passing through Brisbane next weekend.

And I was hoping you might be able to spare half-an-hour just to catch up and have a bit of a talk.

---|---

Annie | Jesus, Jon...

Jon | It wouldn't take that long. Maybe we could have a cup of coffee or something.

Annie | No. No way Jon. We can't possibly do that.

Jon | Do you go into town some weekends? Maybe I could meet you there.

It wouldn't take a lot of time.

Annie | It's too risky, Jon. You know that.

Jon | Sure. But I'd really like to make contact.

Annie was having a lot of trouble getting her mind around the conversation – out of the blue and after so many months.

In the available thinking time, she jumped to the conclusion that he would be wanting to let her know that their relationship had been an aberration. Why else would he be seeking a meeting that 'wouldn't take a lot of time' - a meeting of 'half-an-hour'.

And it would be in his gentlemanly nature to front the situation to formally tell a girl that she was surplus to requirements; and that earlier entanglements had been an unfortunate mistake.

Annie | I don't think so, Jon. I'm not comfortable about this at all.

---|---

Jon | It's really important to me though, Annie.

Her nimble mind raced through the options and possible ramifications.

What real harm could be done by meeting him and listening to the bad news? At least the end of the Jon Bentley story would be totally clear. And if Lee somehow found out about this particular meeting, the subject matter would be more likely to please than distress.

Annie | Look, maybe I could go into town on Saturday morning, but just for a little while.

---|---

Jon was ready for the answer. As always, his planning was thorough.

Jon | There's a ferry stop at the end of Edward Street - you know, down near the old Port Office. Can I see you there at, say, half-past-ten?

Would that be okay?

---|---

Annie | Half-past-ten on Saturday at the jetty at the end of Edward Street.

Jon | That's it.

Annie | What if something goes wrong and I can't get there?

Jon | I'll go back there at half-past-two and then half-past-ten on the Sunday.

Okay?

Annie | All right.

But what if you can't make it?

Jon | That's pretty unlikely. There'd have to be a strike or something.

But I'd find a way to get in touch somehow.

Annie | Mum could come home any time now, Jon. I'd better go. I'll see you then – on Saturday.

But only for a little while.

Jon | Okay. You take care.

Annie | Bye.

The remainder of Jon's working week was a mixed bag. The earlier days were quiet and the Thursday and Friday very busy. And his concentration failed him a bit on the busy days because of the activities planned for the weekend.

Kate, who'd heard no more about Jon's phone call to Brisbane, was still at work as he was preparing to leave for the airport on the Friday at about half-past-five. She noticed the earlier than usual downing of tools – and his blue barrel bag.

Kate | Are you off to tennis or somewhere else?

---|---

Jon | Somewhere else actually.

Kate | Somewhere up north, maybe?

Jon | Maybe.

Kate | Well you be careful somewhere up north now. I don't want to see you here on Monday morning with a blood nose, do I?

Jon | I don't know about that; but I'll be careful anyway.

Kate | Are you sure you know what you're doing, Jon?

Jon replied with mock professional pomp and evasiveness.

Jon | May I respond to your very thoughtful enquiry at a future date – when all the relevant data's been accumulated and properly analysed.

---|---

And Kate responded with a very exaggerated broad nasal Australian accent.

Kate | Righto! Whatever ya say, Jon.

---|---

After routine farewells, she watched as he got into the lift en route to the basement car park. She gave him a smile and a wave and he responded with an attempt at a happy-go-lucky smile and shrug of the shoulders.

The lift doors closed and he was on his way.

* * *

### 7.

Jon's Brisbane motel was located in the curiously named inner suburb of New Farm. In 1994 there was little new about the area and it certainly wasn't a farm. The motel was comfortable enough and had air-conditioning, for which Jon was grateful - initially.

The weather in Brisbane was dreadful. The still, sultry atmosphere seemed to be pressing the city into a dull lethargic state. The whole place seemed slow, beaten.

Having rejected half of his airline meal, he bought a hamburger and a few cans of beer at New Farm just before hotel closing time. The beer wasn't cold enough and the hamburger was about the same standard as the earlier offering on the plane.

Jon slept badly; he was very worried and restless. And the air conditioner rattled, despite a score of attempts to quieten it.

Having mustered all his resolve, he'd made the pilgrimage north - only to be plagued by resurgent self-doubt and a strengthening expectation that contact with Annie would be embarrassing in its irrelevance. His only solace came from the idea that he might kill off a few mental gnomes and fantasies about a girl.

The morning brought blazing heat remarkably early. By eight o'clock the temperature was back up to near thirty degrees.

He caught a bus to the city at about quarter-past-nine and it set him down near Wharf Street almost an hour earlier than necessary - so he mooched around air-conditioned shops for a while to fill in time. He started a slow walk to the river end of Edward Street a little after ten.

When nearing the Margaret Street corner, a soft familiar voice from behind caught his attention.

"Hi Jon."

Annie was about twelve paces back.

"G'day. How are you doing?" he responded, after stopping and turning in her direction.

She was wearing a loose white shirt with sleeves rolled up to mid-arm length, neat jeans, tan leather shoes of a light moccasin style and trendy wrap-around sunglasses. She looked very pretty.

They shook hands.

"Is Brisbane warm enough for you?" she asked.

"It's a bit over the top, isn't it?" he replied.

They walked to the planned meeting point and turned right into the Gardens – talking about the weather in their home cities and then about work and university.

By the time fifteen minutes had elapsed, conversation was getting a bit jerky and repetitive. They weren't travelling well at all. He thought she was being standoffish; and she thought he was doing all in his power to avoid looking her way.

Jon bought two bottles of orange juice at the kiosk towards the southern end of the Gardens and they sat on a nearby bench to drink them.

When Annie had finished hers, she started rummaging through her small leather bag looking for something or other.

"Jon, could you do me a good turn? I've got problems with my eyes and it's time for some more drops. Could you put them in for me? I hate doing them myself."

"Sure. Not a problem." he replied.

Annie found the little eye drop bottle, handed it to him and took off her sunglasses in preparation for the treatment.

"Shit oh dear! What's happened to you?" he asked.

Annie's eyes were badly blood-shot and the areas around them very swollen and puffy – to the extent that the lower lids were folded down exposing angry red crescents behind the lashes.

"I went to the doctor yesterday and he said it's some sort of allergy. He said this type of thing is usually caused by cosmetics; and I'm blaming a wonderful new moisturiser I used for the first time yesterday morning. It cost a fortune too."

"Are they sore?" Jon asked.

"No, not really; just a bit itchy." she answered, "It all looks worse than it feels."

Annie handed him the bottle and gave him a few instructions about how to administer the drops.

For no particular reason, Jon decided to deliver his carefully thought out message to Annie just as he was taking aim with the eye-drops.

"Annie, why I wanted to see you was..."

She stopped proceedings.

"Could you do the drops first; and then tell me what you have to tell me afterwards." she said, gently pushing his right hand away momentarily.

He agreed and went ahead with administration of the medicine.

Annie was finding this all a bit of an ordeal. She had eye-drops and cleansing tears running down her cheeks. And, unbeknown to Jon, there were sad tears too.

He gave her a clean handkerchief to wipe her eyes and face because of his belief that cotton had fewer irritating fibres than tissues. She thanked him, tidied herself up, handed it back and put the sunglasses back on.

Jon started his message a second time.

"Annie, I needed to let you know that I've been really worried about everything after what happened with us; and I needed to say I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do you any harm. I wouldn't hurt you for anything. And I guess I just needed to let you know that and clear the air a bit."

"It was pretty weird for a while at home with Mum." she answered, "But it's settled down now. Everything's okay again, I guess."

Annie was perplexed by Jon's delivery. It wasn't what she'd expected at all. Instead of the 'let's just be friends' speech, she'd received an open-ended apology that didn't seem to lead anywhere at all. She didn't know what to say.

"Are those drops working?" Jon asked.

She nodded in reply.

Jon was aware of her awkwardness – and his own – so he decided to keep going. There seemed no reason to hold back.

"Annie, there's a fair chance I'll be passing through Brisbane from time-to-time for work and I was wondering if I could see you when I'm in town. I know your Mum wouldn't like that much – but I'd like to see you sometimes anyway. I've had plenty of time to think about things and I reckon that I'd prefer to see you now and again rather than not."

"I haven't got the slightest idea where that takes us – I don't know about that. It mightn't take us anywhere. But I'd rather... well, I'd just like to see you sometimes."

"Can you understand what I'm saying?"

Annie took a little time before answering.

"I don't think we can do that, Jon. I'm really sorry, but we just can't do it."

She paused a bit longer.

"The truth is, I'd be frightened to do it. I'm scared that Mum would find out and that I'd have to put up with more trouble. Jon, it can't work. It's all wrong."

"I'm not so sure about that!" he said.

"I think we ought to walk back now." was all she said in response.

They walked slowly towards Edward Street – in silence for the first fifty metres.

It was eventually Annie who broke the silence and the awkward impasse.

"This isn't very nice, is it?" she asked as she reached across to hold his hand.

"No! Not too flash!" Jon answered.

Annie tightened her hold a little bit.

"Jon, I'll be as honest with you as I can be. I've got the feeling you're the special one; I know you are, in fact. I don't know how this happened and in some ways I wish it hadn't happened. But it did. But, God Jon; can't you see it's all wrong."

"I'm in a real bind with this, Jon."

She took a few moments to get her thoughts and next passage in order.

"I'm a second year uni student with no income except for pocket money that I get working four or five hours a week at a newsagency and doing some catering sometimes. Without real money, I'm not free. I can't live where I like and do as I please. So, as things are now, Mum and I are pretty much locked together."

"Now, from where you stand, that might seem like an arrangement that can be changed – but it really can't. And it can't be put at risk because I've got nowhere else to go. She's my Mum Jon; I need her."

"No, it's even more complicated than that; she's my whole family. There's no one else."

"What we need is time. See I'm in this bind until I get through uni. Before that I'm stuck and there's nothing much I can do about it."

"Does that make sense to you?"

"Yes; that makes sense. I think maybe... Annie I can understand that. It's all right!" he answered, after a bit of thought.

Annie was very agitated during the latter part of their exchange. And Jon's understanding compliant response seemed to make the discomfort worse. Instinct told her she should be elsewhere.

"I'd better leave you here. I've got to meet someone." Annie said, as she withdrew her hand from his " God, I feel really awful now. I knew I shouldn't have come here."

Jon took a slip of paper out of his shirt pocket and handed it to her.

"The top number is my work number and the bottom one's my home number. Kate's the girl at work who'll be able to direct you to me if I'm away from the office. You can trust her; she's good value. You give me a call if you need me. Okay?"

"Okay." she mumbled.

"Off you go now; and take care of yourself."

"You too, Jon."

He gave her a kiss on the forehead before she turned and walked briskly away.

When she was out of sight, he walked slowly to the Qantas city office and had his return flight changed. The earliest he could get was at about four that afternoon.

The meeting, which didn't quite make twenty-five minutes, seemed to have been orchestrated by the devil himself.

Annie was devastated. The special one hadn't come to give her marching orders at all; he'd come to ask if he could see her occasionally. But motivated by fear, and in her impulsive style, she'd managed to give him marching orders - for a long while anyway. After having had time to consider the outcome of the engagement, she was tormented with remorse and unhappy as never before.

Jon fared no better. He had applied all his project management and planning skills to the exercise only to walloped by the unexpected – an indication of fondness accompanied by the clear message that he should stay away for some years. It was as if he had been stroked lovingly on the cheek, and kicked in the testicles, at the same time. He was sad, confused and disappointed with his handling of the whole matter.

There wasn't a gnome left slain in the Brisbane Botanic Gardens and there wasn't a traumatic but merciful conclusion to either of their unhappy stories. The meeting served only to heighten their frustrations and complicate their anxieties.

After licking his wounds for the better part of the Sunday, Jon was pretty comfortable about the idea of getting back to work on the Monday. To be on familiar turf – and in control – seemed an attractive proposition.

The tempo of late the previous week had not abated so he was able to get stuck into the job with mind-numbing gusto. This was the therapy he understood.

Jon went at his job with a passion. He'd made up his mind to fill his life with it. He volunteered for slabs of work that would keep him at the office for thirteen or fourteen hours a day; and, yet again, he tuned-up his obsession with occupational perfection.

It was the only way to blank the problem out.

On the Wednesday afternoon eleven days after his return from Brisbane, Jon had set aside a substantial block of time to do some advanced spreadsheet work for one of the firm's rising star private clients, one David Williams. Since the age of twenty-five, David had been amassing serious money from the development of small shopping centres in the outer suburbs. He had an instinct for plonking these centres in just the right place at just the right time.

At about three that afternoon, Jon was involved in a difficult telephone conversation with David when Kate swept into his office with a tormented look on her face. Without any beg pardons whatever, she shoved a large note - written in red marking pen - right in front of his face.

It read, 'Annie public phone – hang up'.

"David, Kate's just come into my office and I think she's trying to say she's got an urgent signing job for me to do." he said, with as much nonchalance as he could muster.

Kate stamped her right foot on the carpet impatiently.

"And when Katrina wants something done, I must obey."

Kate stamped impatiently and angrily. Apart from appearing to dawdle, Jon had committed a cardinal sin; she was Kate, never Katrina.

"Is it all right if I phone you back in about ten minutes?

"Fine I'll be back to you soon."

He hung up and Kate ran back to her desk to put Annie through.

"Jon speaking."

"Jon it's me."

"G'day Me. How are you?" he replied, trying to sound cool and relaxed.

"Rotten!" she responded.

"How did you get on with that allergy? Is it all fixed up now?"

Jon was aware of his heartbeat. It was really thumping along.

"That's all fine now; it's okay." she said softly.

"What's making you feel rotten? Can I help you with anything?" he asked.

"Have you got a minute to talk, Jon?"

"I sure have!"

"I've heard that when you were in Brisbane recently you saw a girl and said you'd like to visit her sometimes. Is that what happened?"

"That's right!" he responded.

"Well I rang to tell you she was a bloody fruit-loop. And I wanted to ask you to come and see me instead of her when you're up north next time. I won't send you away. I promise."

Annie started this rehearsed piece confidently enough but she was getting flummoxed with the final string of words.

Jon twigged to that. He had also immediately assimilated the substance of her message.

"I didn't think she was such a silly girl." he answered in a kindly voice, "You're probably being a bit hard on her."

"I just got it wrong, Jon; I suppose I got confused. You're not mad at me, are you?"

He laughed happily.

"No! Of course not! I don't get angry much – except with myself. Where are you at the moment anyway; where are you phoning from?"

That heart was still thumping.

"A public phone just at uni." she answered.

"Have you finished for the day?" Jon enquired.

"Yes. I'll be going home soon. But I've got a big assignment that's due at the end of next week, so I'll have to work on that."

"Well that's good timing. I just happen to be flying up from Melbourne on Friday or Saturday next week." he fibbed, "Is there any chance you could get away for an hour or so on the Saturday morning?"

"I'll find a way." she assured him.

The deal was done. They made arrangements to meet at Park Road train station on the near south side at ten o'clock on the Saturday morning, after which they'd go for a drive to Victoria Point – or somewhere down that way - in a car Jon would rent at the airport.

Annie didn't let Jon finish without reminding him of his important responsibilities here.

"Jon, we can't get caught; we mustn't get caught. So please be careful." she said.

They exchanged their simple 'take care' farewells and hung up.

After the conversation finished, there were no violins playing at the ART Kingston property in Melbourne or at the phone box at the university in Brisbane. Jon and Annie were realists. Each finished the call sensing a little excitement, a half measure of relief and apprehension about the risk associated with their undertaking.

Annie went to catch her bus home and Jon went to make a cup of coffee before getting back to his client on the phone.

On returning to his office, Jon was aware of the pressures of work and of tiredness. He put his coffee on the desk, sat in his chair then leaned backwards and rubbed his eyes. When he took his hands away from his face and opened his eyes again, he got quite a start to see Kate standing at his desk.

"Is everything all right?" she asked.

"Not so bad, I guess." he answered vaguely.

"Is she really nice? You're not risking your neck here for no good reason, are you?"

He smiled and nodded a bit.

"Seriously Jon, is she nice?"

"She's very nice. You'd like her!" he answered confidently, after the second enquiry.

"Don't forget to ring David now!" she said before putting some papers in his tray and departing for her workstation.

He rang David to finish the work conversation and to encourage him to call Kate 'Kate' - and not 'Katrina' - when making a rare appearance at the ART Kingston office the following day.

Jon left work at about seven that evening. After arriving home, he prepared a dinner feast of avocado and ham on toast. He didn't turn on the television or the radio; he just sat at the dining room table aimlessly turning the pages of a magazine in front of him and pondering what the unusual day had brought forward. He didn't feel any really strong emotions at the time; but he did think a lot about being the 'special one' - and of the honour and esteem that came packaged with the title.

Jon also spent time thinking about Annie's hands. She had perfectly proportioned hands; warm, beautiful to touch and hold. Expressive wonderful hands!

He went to sleep slumped over the table and there he stayed till three in the morning, at which time he had a shower and went to bed.

David Williams called in to the office on the Thursday afternoon as arranged and, in his inimitable style, called Kate 'Katrina' on a number of occasions while chatting in the reception area. When there was no reaction to this provocation, he declared his mischievous hand, complemented her on being patient and tolerant and politely asked whether she would care to invite him to her favourite watering hole after work. Kate clicked an invitation into place with indecent haste – thereby saving Jon an entertaining job at the close of a busy day.

Jon was again indebted to her for services beyond the call of duty. And Kate was over the moon!

On the Friday, Jon booked flights again – this time up to Brisbane very early on the Saturday week and back that night. He also booked a Budget car for the day.

Work went on at a solid pace in the period preceding his trip - during which only out-of-the-ordinary happening was a brief meeting with Tony who wished to discuss a few things that had come to mind.

The meeting took place at Tony's office on the Wednesday after Jon finished work.

Tony didn't have a great deal of time to spare, so he zipped quickly into a substantial number of questions about the Davis connection, most of which he had written down in a little pad. He asked about the early days; the bookkeeping and the baby-sitting; Annie's temperament as an infant; Lee's age; her ability as a single parent; her anger with Jon at their final meeting in Brisbane; Annie's social life; Lee's social life - and more.

Jon was surprised by the number of questions and the detail that seemed to hold Tony's interest. He answered them all as honestly as he could.

At the end of the questions and answers, Tony offered two concepts that had been on his mind for a while.

"When we talked a week or so ago mate, I made mention of people in partnership; the girl down the street and the boy down the street and all that. Do you remember?"

Jon nodded.

"Jon, I might have got a bit confused about that in a funny sort of way. I thought about Maria – the archetypal girl down the street – then I thought about how different that was to your case. I thought about how unusual it all was."

"But I'm not so sure now. Maybe you just went down the street too, in effect."

"When you went back to the Davis place you sort of went back to the heartland, didn't you? In fact, you bloody told me that; but I wasn't listening, I guess."

"In some ways Jon, your going to Davis place wasn't all that different from my going around the corner to Maria's parents' house. And my reaction was exactly the same as yours. They were nice people and I understood them. I was comfortable there; and I was important there."

Tony rocked back and smiled.

"I thought it was best to let you know what I had in my mind with this because there seems to be a logic to it. And I know you love logical things."

"So, what do you reckon?"

Jon nodded and smiled.

"Could be, I suppose!" he said.

"Now I don't know if that gets us anywhere;" Tony continued, "and it's got bugger all to do with psychology stuff, of course. But it does make sense in a way."

Tony smiled, leaned forward slightly and placed his elbows down on the desk in front of him.

"Nice thought isn't it? So, would you like to explore the rest now?"

"Oh, I wouldn't try to stop you when you're on a roll." Jon answered happily.

"Jon, did it ever occur to you – at any stage - that you might have teamed up with Lee? Did that ever enter your unusual and contrarian brain?"

Jon made one of those 'huh' noises and looked somewhat bamboozled.

"Well, did it?" Tony asked.

Jon adopted an odd attitude – a combination of surprise and mild disgust. It was as if Tony had said something silly and smutty.

"I'll put it too you another way." Tony continued, "What perverse bug took possession of your brain in Brisbane and pointed you at Annie instead of the obvious alternative. Why on earth did you walk straight past an attractive, intelligent, caring friend – with whom you clearly had an established affinity – in favour of her teenage daughter?"

"Aw, cut it out Tony!" Jon replied, awkwardly.

"Well, why?"

Jon thought about this novel concept for a moment or two before answering.

"Lee's a bit older than me, you know!"

Belittling an interviewee with an expression of mirth or distain was on Tony's psychology black list. It was not permitted under any circumstance. And somehow – despite the provocation of Jon's absurd statement – the psychologist's discipline was sustained.

But it was a real effort!

"I see!" Tony replied calmly, "Well, let's look at it another way then."

"Jon, you've told me a lot about being made welcome at the Davis place - and the dinner and the pictures and the stay at the beach and everything. Mate, who do you imagine orchestrated all that?"

"Lee, I guess!" Jon replied.

"Pretty good attention for a neighbour who'd made one fleeting visit to Brisbane in something like twelve years, eh? What do you reckon?"

"I suppose so! But we were pretty close in a way." Jon responded.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a little while.

"Mate, is it possible Lee had her own personal ideas about handsome Jon Bentley from Melbourne?"

Jon stayed silent and shook his head just a bit.

"Jon, were you being lined-up by mum? And is it possible she was allowing you – no, worse, encouraging you – to make friends with Annie, because her daughter's sensitivities were the only perceived problem she had with getting her talons into you?"

Jon looked downwards, closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead a bit.

"Do you think that's possible, Tony?" Jon asked eventually, after looking upward again.

"Of course it's possible; but I don't know whether it's likely. You're the only one who could know that!"

Jon reverted to thoughtful silence for a little while.

"Shit a brick!" was all the wisdom he could offer on the subject matter raised.

"Jon, I think this is worth thinking about seriously before you make contact with the girl. I really think you should mull it over for a while. If the theory's right, you've made one hell of a nuisance of yourself up north."

Jon sat quietly in thought again trying to sort the conundrum into order – a conundrum made somewhat more complicated by his silent deceit about Brisbane contact that had already taken place.

"So you really don't think I should go up there?" Jon asked, as he attempted to mask a mild panic attack that had gripped him.

"That's a question I can't possibly answer, mate. You have to be guided by your own judgment and instinct. You're really on your own with this."

"Jon, I'm not bloody cupid, I'm not a magician and I'm not your personal problem solver. All I can do is hold up a mirror in front of you in the hope you'll be able to see yourself a bit better. That's all I could ever do."

"Okay! Fair enough!" Jon replied.

"Having said all that," Tony continued, " if you do make contact – and if the atmosphere is anything less than perfect – I suggest you reverse out of the whole thing and get out of their lives. Just leave them alone; leave them in peace."

"Fair enough; I understand!"

Jon sat quietly for a short time again.

"You must think I'm a bit dumb sometimes, Tony?"

"I try not to let it show though!" Tony replied with a broad smile.

"Aw shit! You really think that's possible with Lee and everything?"

"You go and have a good think about it, mate."

Tony looked at his watch; and Jon took the hint. He left for home after just a few more minutes.

Jon spent much time considering his conversations with Tony - and with Sylvia. And he carefully weighed-up all the pros and cons associated with his proposed trip to Brisbane.

He didn't cancel the bookings.

Jon had a beautiful girl he wanted to visit – and, ultimately, that's all there was to it. The rest was put aside.

* * *

### 8.

The first half of Jon's flight to Brisbane was uncomfortable because of weather conditions. And he hated it when planes lurched about in turbulence; it knotted-up his stomach muscles and put him on edge no matter what he did to relax.

Although the flight arrived late because of the bad weather down south, he had no baggage and cleared the airport quickly – giving him easily enough time for a drive around the back blocks of Eagle Farm to see whether his Dad's old factory was still in place and operational.

It wasn't!

Having done his sentimental journey, and become a bit lost in the riverside industrial area, he got caught up in a traffic snarl on the Story Bridge where a semi-trailer load had come undone.

A bit nervous – and a bit flustered – Jon managed to arrive at Park Road station about ten minutes late.

Annie was waiting there in a shady spot. She looked stunning in a simple skirt and blouse - in contrasting grey tones - with black street shoes and accessories. There were no sunglasses this time.

She smiled and waved as he drove into what appeared to be a standard parking bay.

Jon stopped the car, turned off the engine and opened the door confidently - onto the remnants of a steel post that had been sawn-off at precisely the wrong height. It made a hell of a din.

Annie looked at his somewhat startled face, looked down at the door, then looked back up at his face again and smiled broadly.

"Did that take a lot of practice?" she asked politely.

Always cool under pressure, he answered slowly and without any emotion whatever.

"No. It's a natural skill."

He let the car roll back a metre or so and hopped out to greet her. Though they started off with a conventional handshake, Jon ended up holding her right hand for a while with both his big mitts.

"Well, how's my Jon?" she asked.

"Really good. How are you?"

"Good as gold. No problems."

They got into the car after a few minutes and drove off towards the bayside area to Brisbane's south-east.

From the moment the seat belt buckles were clicked, the chatter started. Annie was first as she needed to explain her far-too-formal attire. It turned out she was supposed to be at a meeting with some French academics and students at the university. Then Jon told her about the bumpy first hour on the plane out of Melbourne and about the traffic jam on the bridge. Then Annie told him about the big assignment she'd got in on time.

The chatter wasn't contrived; it just rolled out.

At a set of traffic lights a fair distance along Old Cleveland Road, Jon remembered his small offering from a shop he'd seen advertised in a Melbourne newspaper.

"Gee, before I forget; there's a catalogue over in the back seat. I picked it up from a new Japanese shop that's just opened in South Yarra."

Annie leaned back and got hold of it.

"It's an amazing place. It's got all sorts of books, prints and ornaments and crockery and everything!" he explained.

Annie started to flick through \- and talk about - what she saw and read.

"This looks like a great place all right. I don't think we've got anything like this in Brisbane."

"If there's something there you'd like, I could pick it up for you. It wouldn't be a problem!" he said.

Annie declined the kind offer on the basis that she wanted most of the items shown; but she undertook to have a closer look at it all later and to let him know. She then slowly read him the catalogues inside back page, which was written in Japanese.

"So we're none the wiser, Jon." she said, after finishing her translation job "The inside back page says exactly the same as the inside front page."

They reached the bayside area and looked at the water. Then they looked at a few shops and then at a bit more water.

At the conclusion of some late-morning water watching from a small secluded park – while Jon was holding the car door open for her – Annie started a sentence with 'Jon, I'm sorry...' before lapsing into silence and biting her bottom lip. Within a second of his leaning forward for the remainder of the message, her lovely strong young arms were around him holding on as if her life depended on it. And Jon closed his eyes, hugged her and stroked her shiny soft hair. All he was capable of thinking was 'Thank Christ'. He may even have said it.

Whatever she was going to say lapsed into insignificance.

At lunchtime, Jon bought some salad sandwiches - which, sadly, turned out to be the explosive type. Though Annie handled them reasonably well, because she was able to hunch over close to a park picnic table affair they had chosen, Jon didn't have nearly as much luck. He ate some of the monstrosities in sandwich form, some off the wrapping paper and some off his lap. A small assortment of noisy birds pecked at the rest.

In the course of their meanderings after lunch, Annie told Jon something of Lee's angry behaviour after his October 1992 departure from Brisbane and something of her illness the following year.

And Jon told her of something of his work – including a contrived piece about his supervising 'a little project in Gladstone' which would necessitate occasional trips northward.

At about three o'clock – after more news swapping - Annie suggested that they head back towards the city so she could be home by the time Lee was expecting her. And, on the drive back, they discussed subsequent meetings that may be possible while Jon was fulfilling his Gladstone work responsibilities.

So, on that Saturday in March 1994 the deal was struck. Annie would contact him on Wednesday or Thursday afternoons from a public phone and they would tee-up arrangements for the next visit or just have a chat - whichever was appropriate.

Discussion about the fine detail of what was to happen lasted till they reached the city where Jon took her to a bus stop for the final leg of the journey home. They said their fairly affectionate goodbyes and he headed for the airport to discuss door repairs with the Budget people and eventually catch his flight.

On the Sunday, Jon reported to Tony by phone. He admitted to having made two trips north, and that the first preceded their conversation at his office. He was a bit surprised when his friend calmly said 'I thought so!' in response to the latter piece of monumental news.

Jon didn't say a great deal about his trips. But he did say that 'everything went okay' and that he'd 'pop up there when the opportunity arises'. No mention was made of the drama associated with the first trip.

On the Monday evening, Jon reported in a similar fashion to Sylvia. They took the decision to keep the matter to themselves and to 'wait and see what happens'.

Jon travelled to Brisbane again later in March, ostensibly en route to his job in Gladstone. Again they met at the Park Road station, but this time he and Annie drove to Beaudesert and Rathdowney – mainly because they knew that's where Lee wouldn't be.

Although the visit progressed happily, in the course of a dozy conversation in Rathdowney's principal eatery, Jon had a nasty lapse.

"I've never been able to figure out how states have been allowed to stay autonomous with time zones. It's crazy you know; it should be a Commonwealth thing! Why the east coast isn't in sync all year 'round is beyond me."

"It doesn't matter that much, does it?" Annie replied.

"It's just a damned nuisance! And it's unnecessary!" Jon announced with a frown.

"There's a show on the ABC tonight I wanted to see; and even though I'll leave at about six, I won't get home till something like ten, I suppose. It'll be over by then. I'll be in a bloody time warp when it's on."

As he was obviously not talking about Gladstone, Annie was most perplexed by the statement. It seemed incongruous that such an intelligent person didn't seem to know whether he was coming or going.

So she asked a few pointed questions.

"Well how long does the Melbourne flight actually take?"

"It's about two hours; something like that anyway!" he replied.

"That's a lot of travelling in one day when you add on the trip from Gladstone." she said, with her head tilted to one side to emphasise an appearance of curiosity.

Jon started to realise fairly quickly that he'd become entangled in his own web.

"Yeah; I suppose so!" he answered, before quickly changing the subject.

"That coffee looks weak as wee. Is it all right?"

Annie wasn't easily distracted. It wasn't in her nature.

"So you came down from Gladstone this morning; not from Melbourne. Is that right?"

Though quite skilled at controlling information flows in corporate life, he was an appalling face-to-face liar. He'd had very little practice at it.

So he sat there in silence just looking dopey.

"Or was it Melbourne? That's what you said first up; wasn't it?" Annie added.

Jon thought about this for a bit, then responded in the only way possible.

"I can't remember now!" he said, before descending into silly laughter.

"Jon Bentley, are you working in Gladstone or not?"

"I can't remember!" he replied, still laughing.

"God Jon, stop being silly and tell me what's going on."

He toned down the mirth and answered as honestly as he could.

"I came up to see you. I like your company."

His humble and simple statement \- which said a hundred nice things – rather stunned its recipient.

"You can't do that Jon." she said, "You can't afford to come all the way up here to see me."

"Yes I can!"

Annie shook her head.

"I won't come if you don't want me to though. I wouldn't want to be a nuisance or anything!" he added seriously.

"Don't be silly, Jon. I love to see you anytime. But you can't... really!"

"Yes I can!"

He said it very clearly; and he meant it.

The remainder of the day passed even more happily than the earlier part as embedded in the truthful exchange about Jon's Gladstone project was a reaffirmation of their powerful instincts – instincts that had survived untarnished for eighteen months.

The remainder of that late March visit went well - as did a visit in April and another two in May. All looked rosy for them both.

Jon – arguably for the first time in his life – was going out with a girl who seemed to be a real friend. And his girl was clever, interesting, good-humoured and pretty as a picture. She was alive; she sparkled.

With her on side, he climbed to a previously unexplored level of self-esteem and confidence. He felt important – maybe even needed. He was able to climb above his strange living-for-work existence. There was a new excitement in his life; and it made him feel good.

He thought she was wonderful.

And Annie – certainly for the first time in her life – was going out with a boy who seemed to be a real friend. And her boy was an intriguing mix of great strength and sensitivity.

With him on side, she was able to transcend a scene in which she was never really comfortable. She was able to climb above the ogling sweaty boys and their stupid jibes; the forced Saturday night party glee; and, most importantly, the student culture of non-confidence – the curious curdling of smart-arse and subservience. It was a beautiful new woman experience; and it made her feel good.

She thought he was wonderful.

The autumn months of 1994 were good for Jon. He was based in Melbourne the whole time and was able to reconnect with his friends, particularly – but not exclusively – Tony and Maria, Rob and Jane and, of course, Murray and Denise. He helped with a bit of renovation work at Rob and Jane's place and went fishing a few times with Murray. He even got back to playing tennis fairly regularly.

That Jon was not at home sometimes on weekends was no surprise to his nearby Melbourne friends. He was always a bit of a wanderer with work and leisure. Only Tony and Maria suspected he was travelling back and forth to Brisbane fairly regularly.

When Jon visited Brisbane in early June, he and Annie took a decision to drive north to the Sunshine Coast – via Redcliffe and using all the old roads. It was something a bit different and had appeal for both of them. They headed out of town on Sandgate Road towards Nundah, Sandgate and beyond.

When they'd just passed the Nundah shopping centre, Jon commented on the local scenery.

"Bloody hell; this all looks exactly the same as it used to. It hasn't changed in fifteen years."

"I don't know. We don't come down here very often." Annie answered.

Jon suddenly remembered where he was. Annie was already aware.

"Dad's accident was down here, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, that's right. Along here a bit further on the right hand side." Jon answered quietly, wishing he'd used Gympie Road instead.

"Do you remember when it happened, Jon?"

"Like yesterday – only a bit clearer." he answered honestly.

"What really happened?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" Jon asked.

"Yes, I think so." she said, "I don't know much about it now and I'd like to in a way. I can't remember Dad or Frankie at all, so you're not going to upset the applecart by telling me."

"Well I only know what my Dad told me; but he found out from a policeman who was involved. Apparently he was a really decent sort of bloke; he ended up going to the funeral."

Jon broke the train for a second.

"Just there outside the shop. Just there." he said, pointing to his right.

"Anyway, there was a bloke driving a truck down the hill this way and he swerved to miss someone and his right hand front wheel went down into some sort of subsidence. So he ended up over the other side where your Dad had just pulled up."

"He wasn't going fast. He didn't do anything wrong. It was just one of those freaky, fluky things that happen. Apparently he was a good driver and everything. It was just an accident."

"The policeman who was the second on the scene was the lucky one given the job of going to tell your Mum. He was the one at the funeral; he was good value."

"What happened then?" Annie asked.

"Well, he took your Mum to the hospital and the lady next door took you in and phoned my Mum to tell her what had happened. Then my Mum got Dad to go to the hospital and she sent me to take care of you when the lady next door needed a break."

"You were upset over there and you were crying a lot; so I took you back to your place and it was okay then. You just needed to be back at home."

"Anyway, neither of them made it the whole way through the night."

Annie leaned her head back on the headrest looking directly forward. And Jon drove on in silence feigning the complete toughness that had deserted him completely.

After a few minutes, Annie broke the silence.

"Why don't we just go to The Glasshouses, or somewhere like that, and have a bit of a walk."

"Yeah. That'd be fine by me!" he answered.

"I've never thought of you as being someone who knew Dad. But I suppose you did, didn't you?"

"Yep. I sure did!" Jon responded.

"Mum's never really told me all that much about him, I don't know why. It's as if she assumes I remember him. She says things like, 'Your Dad wouldn't have stood for that sort of thing, would he!' and I feel like saying 'How would I know?' It's a bit strange. I'm sure she's not hiding anything from me; she just seems to think I know more than I do or something. It's a bit weird!"

"And I've never really spoken to anyone else who knew much about him at all."

"Well, you've found the right person to fill in a few gaps. So if you wanna know, I'll tella you."

"I wanna know!" she answered, imitating Jon's mock Sicilian accent.

So, as they drove along, Jon told all.

"Well he was a good looking bloke, but it was fairly well hidden with a beard. His face was a bit cooked; but then no one did much slip, slop, slapping in those days. He was good looking though. It's strange, you got your Mum's complexion, but you actually look more like Jim. You got the high cheekbones and the strong chin. And you move like him too."

Jon went on to tell of the initial contact, the gardening, fix-up jobs on the old Holden, the Christmas parties – the lot.

"And, Christ, was he strong! He knocked out a fair size tree in the front yard by hand and hardly raised a sweat. Except for the thickest part of the trunk and the roots, the whole thing was on a truck in under two hours. I helped a bit, but I don't think that made much difference."

Annie listened to it all. She was fascinated.

Jon kept the best till last.

"Now you know about my brother David, don't you?"

"Yes. You've told me a bit about him." Annie answered.

"Well in the family everything was okay, but most outsiders were a bit funny about him. They were embarrassed I think. I'd take him to the shops and people would see us and run into the chemist or cross the street or walk past quickly. You see, David liked to talk to everyone and what he said didn't make any sense at all; and it made people uncomfortable."

"We sort of knew what he was on about; but nobody else did."

"Now your Dad was different from the others. He knew exactly how to handle the situation from the word go. Sometimes I think he was better with David than we were. He'd tell him stories and give him jobs to do; he even read bits out of the paper to him when he was having a cold drink after he'd finished work. It was amazing!"

"And David loved him. It was just amazing. Gee he was good with him."

They talked on and on about the Davis and Bentley families as they drove and walked through the Glasshouse Mountains area. Annie was intrigued by it all. She couldn't seem to get enough information.

It turned out to be a beautiful day in every respect. The glaring white blaze of sub-tropical summer had given way to softer golden tones and the gentle northern breeze was just the right temperature. And Jon and Annie chatted away, drawing a new level of fulfilment by exploring their interlinked past.

During the day's wanderings, Annie assimilated happy images of her father and her Jon as handsome, strong young men working in harmonious partnership in leafy suburban Brisbane. And she created images of the Bentley family - images of capable, decent, caring people.

And these mental pictures served to solidify in her mind a romantic notion that Jon had been returned to her by some force that knew everything about their entwined history and understood what was best for their future.

Jon came to the same sort of destiny conclusion but via a different path. He firmed-up on the 'girl down the street' concept. It made sense and really did seem to explain why he was comfortable in Annie's company – even though that aspect required no explanation whatever. For Jon, of course, the analysis was often as important as the fact.

The day was a triumph for human understanding and magnetism. But, like most sublime passages in life, it was the precursor to a bumpy landing.

For Annie, Jon's departure for Melbourne stung badly for the first time; and that sting led her to think seriously about the wobbly nature of their every-now-and-then contact. It also led her to an involuntary review of the constant deceit necessary to get away from home to meet with Jon.

From the outset, she hated telling these lies to Lee; and she was always afraid of being caught out. In parallel thoughts, she also starting to become agitated with the isolation in which she and Jon had to operate. She'd linked up with a wonderful man; but no one could be told about him, let alone meet him.

For Jon, the departure to Melbourne was a fair bit more difficult than previous exits. He was conscious of Annie's reluctance to physically let go of him when they said their farewells; and that unsettled him. The day and the departure also gave definition and bulk to a niggling sense of frustration, which was much to do with the sceptre of Lee hanging over them and isolation.

Although most of his serious anxieties were departed or immobilised, their age difference had never been put to any form of real life test and Jon believed that needed to happen. But it really couldn't till Lee was informed about what was going on.

In thought processes – mentally headed and footed with 'this is bloody ridiculous' – he would try to work out how to involve Lee and simultaneously avoid castration. But each intellectual wrestle with the subject bore no result whatever.

Quite apart from that, his trips to Brisbane were very expensive. He could sustain the costs for a fair while, but he wasn't made of money. It had to end sometime.

In their meetings during the first half of 1994, there was much affection and warmth – but no repeat of their October 1992 intimacy. Initially, they had an unspoken understanding about the fragility of the relationship, each perceiving a need to cement their friendship before advancing further. Their 1992 encounter had, of course, left its mark. It had caused immense trouble.

As Jon's visits continued, the relationship fragility concerns were replaced by an abstract belief that they should maintain abstinence because of the inevitability of having to eventually face-up to Lee. And to do so with a spotless recent track record seemed important.

All that aside, real opportunities did not present. They met during daylight hours and travelled in impossibly small rented cars to populated, or popular, destinations. And to seek out a vacant rest area beside the highway for the purpose of a quick union was not their style. Jon did overnight at his New Farm motel on two occasions, but those stays were early on and the 'friendship cementing' rule was applied.

When Annie phoned Jon on the Wednesday following the Glasshouse Mountains weekend she was very forthright about her frustrations and the need to 'get a better handle on things'. Jon agreed with the sentiments and volunteered to return to Brisbane the following weekend to talk it all over.

He travelled up early on the Saturday morning and they again met at Park Road train station. In the interests of variety, they decided to go across to Stradbroke Island on the vehicular ferry, stay an hour or so, then return.

It was a nice day and a nice outing but, despite long discussions, they couldn't manage to find a real solution to their partnership solitude. They did, however, decide to move one step forward by having dinner out with Annie's close friend Lana and her boyfriend Cam when Jon next visited. Lana – a physio student – seemed completely trustworthy. She also had an inkling that something was going on in Annie's private life and had asked a few pointed questions on two occasions when Annie got her stories about weekend activities a bit muddled.

They arrived back from Stradbroke earlier than expected and decided that it would be nice to spend the available time having a walk in a park. Newstead Park near Breakfast Creek was the choice as it was on a suitable bus route for Annie and on the way to the airport for Jon.

After parking the car, Jon decided to grab the Qantas hand-out magazine from the back seat and take it with him so that he could finish a word puzzle that had him intrigued on the northbound flight – before he went to sleep. He set about his puzzle task, with Annie's help, after they'd dawdled around for ten minutes or so.

It turned out to be an unusual puzzle in that the available letters could be used to create a few unsavoury one-syllable words of Anglo-Saxon origin. And their construction led Jon to a series of little stories about Freudian bloopers he'd seen in correspondence over the years.

One particular story about the perfect misuse of 'rooting' instead of 'routing' had Annie in stitches.

Jon loved to hear her laughter; to him, it was like beautiful music. So nothing was spared in relating his funny tales of silly letters and memos.

They went their separate ways on the Saturday afternoon, on the understanding that Annie would arrange dinner – probably at a Greek restaurant at West End – a fortnight hence. For the purposes of the exercise, Jon was to be her friend Lana's cousin; it was to be a blind date.

The Sunday after Jon's departure was much the same as most other Sundays for the Davis household. Annie did the early three hours at the newsagency then went to visit a friend nearby for an hour or so. She went home for lunch with Lee then did some work on an assignment.

At about half-past-four, Lee called a meeting.

"Annie, you've been at that long enough. Why don't you come and have a sit down and a bit of a break? I'm going to pour myself a Nun's wee. Do you want a black and fearsome – or whatever it's called?"

"Dark and stormy Mum! Yes please." Annie replied, referring to her preference for a little Bundaberg Rum with ginger beer, "I'll be with you in a minute."

"Barbeque chips?" Lee asked.

"Good as gold."

Annie came out of her room within the minute, as promised.

"God you slog away at those books, sweetheart. Do you have to keep at it like this?" Lee asked.

"Well, I'm getting the results; and I suppose that's what it's all about."

"Yes, that's fine. But you don't seem to be getting much leisure time for yourself and I don't think that's right, Annie." Lee said, "And I haven't seen to many boys around the ridges lately. You haven't given boys up, have you?"

Now, fortune favours the brave \- sometimes anyway!

"It's funny you say that; it's exactly what Lana said to me last week. You remember Lana; she's the one doing physio?"

"Oh yes. She's a lovely kid!" Lee responded.

"Well she's going to organise a dinner for us – and Cam and her cousin – in a week or so. And she says the cousin's a really, really nice guy. So, you never know; he might turn out all right."

"That's good sweetheart. See, it's no use being the cleverest hermit in the world. You've got to have balance; you've got to have a nice social life as well good results. They're both important. Now, where are you going to go?"

"Somewhere where you can get a wheelbarrow full of food for twenty dollars, I guess." Annie said, "Cam eats like a horse. Maybe we'll go to the Valley. There's a lot of places there that would suit him."

The conversation just drifted along from that point. They talked about what Lana's father did for a living; how difficult it was to get into physiotherapy; Cam's rugby prowess and his appetite; cheap restaurants; and anything else that seemed interesting at the time.

Thirteen days ticked by and again Jon travelled to Brisbane. This trip was a bit different in that he took a much later outward flight and booked-in at his New Farm motel for the night. By arrangement, he met Annie and Lana outside an inner-suburban cinema at about four on the Saturday afternoon to see 'Forrest Gump'.

The movie turned out to be a bad choice as Jon took a particular dislike to the main character portrayed; and, uncharacteristically, he stayed awake for the entire film.

Afterwards, while standing in the foyer together – as Lana was making a quick visit to the confectionery outlet for a scoop of peppermints – Annie asked Jon what he thought of Forrest.

"Brainless turd!" he scowled.

Annie took hold of his left hand and shook it a little as if to wake him up, then put on her best possible American accent for the best possible response.

"Don't be sore, honey. It was only a movie!"

She knew how to settle a grizzly Jon Bentley, quick smart. There was no training needed for that; she just knew!

The trio went for a drink at a nearby bar before travelling to West End to meet Cam.

Dinner was a great success. Jon got on well with Cam and kept him amused for quite a long time with stories of his football failures. 'Second rate, second row; and no ball sense at all.' was how he described his talents.

And with Lana, Jon had a very long and involved discussion about injuries at the upper end of the spine and a disability he'd had when rowing at university.

The evening was just as Jon and Annie hoped it would be, relaxed and easy.

After they dropped Jon off at New Farm, Cam volunteered the 'really nice bloke' certification Annie had hoped to hear. And Lana described him as 'clever' and 'easy to talk to'.

For Annie, the following Sunday followed a similar pattern to the one a fortnight earlier; except, this time, she met Jon briefly in town instead of visiting a friend locally before lunch. Again, in the afternoon, she did some study; and again Lee called a drinks meeting in the late afternoon.

Lee even pursued a subject first broached a fortnight earlier.

"Now, I want a full report about dinner last night. Where did you end up going?"

"A little Greek place at West End. It was good too!" Annie replied.

"That's good, sweetheart. And what about the mystery man; was he nice?"

"Yes, he seemed pretty nice. But you've got to get lucky sometimes." Annie answered.

Lee paused for a few seconds and leaned forward towards Annie before continuing.

"Isn't it a small world." she said, "Fancy Jon turning out to be Lana's cousin."

Annie had mentally prepared a hundred times for the battle which she imagined would be heralded with a bugle blast or starter's flag or warning shots – or something. But there was none of that, and she was left sitting there dumbfounded and wondering if Lee really had said what she thought she'd said.

"What's that Mum?"

"I said, fancy Jon turning out to be Lana's cousin." Lee repeated, a bit louder.

Annie said nothing for a while. She sat there looking straight back at Lee as she collected her wits. Though she'd forgotten all her rehearsed battle material, the determination to slug it out had remained. There would be no tears, no hiding in the bedroom and no schoolgirl stuff. She wasn't going to fail him this time - no way!

"I went to dinner with Lana, Cam and Jon last night. And Jon isn't Lana's cousin. You know that!"

"Well why did you tell..." Lee started; but Annie cut in.

"And I went to town this morning see him off. He went back to Melbourne today."

"Annie, I don't like this at all. I want to know what's going on here."

Annie raised her eyebrows slightly to indicate that Lee didn't have any God-given right to know more about what was going on at all. But she followed the defiant gesture with something marginally more conciliatory.

"Okay. Well, you ask the questions then."

"Have you been seeing a bit of Jon?"

"Yes, since February."

"Has he come here while I'm out at work?"

"No. Never."

"Have you been seeing him when you go out at night with your friends?"

"Last night was the first time."

"So it's mostly been when you've told me you were at the university or somewhere on Saturdays?"

"Yes. That's right."

Lee shook her head just a bit to indicate disapproval and disappointment.

"Well you mightn't like it Mum, but we had a decision to make about who should and who shouldn't know about us going out; and we decided that practically nobody should know. It wasn't an easy decision and it mightn't have been the right one; but we made it."

"Has Jon got another one of those consulting job up here?" Lee asked.

"No. He's working in Melbourne."

"Well, what's he doing up in Brisbane?"

"He just visits sometimes."

"To see you, I suppose?" Lee enquired.

"That's right. Yes."

Lee had reached the point where enough was enough.

"Oh for God's sake Annie. You don't believe that, do you?" she said angrily.

In months passed, Annie Davis had marched ahead a fair distance. Some of the changes in her life were a natural progression with age and the move to university; some were to do with the maturity of contacts in part-time employment, her tennis club and in her community generally; and some were to do with Jon. She was clever and absorbed information from all available sources; and she studied, and sometimes borrowed, behaviour patterns of people she admired.

To handle Lee's prickly comment, she decided to draw on the skills of the one she studied and admired the most.

She held in check the instincts to cry or shout or carry-on and simply bought a bit of thinking time – just as Jon would have done. It was almost as if he were there guiding her.

Without saying a word, she stood up and went to the kitchen pantry and fossicked for something savoury to nibble on. And as she did, the thought processes cleared – as if by magic.

"Do you want some peanuts, Mum?" she asked.

"Yes. That'd be nice thanks love." Lee responded in a more friendly tone.

Annie continued from the kitchen.

"When you say Jon couldn't be coming up here just to see me, are you saying he must be coming up for some different sort of work – something a bit sleazy maybe?"

"Oh no, I'm not suggesting that for a second."

Annie came back with a bowl of peanuts and sat down again.

"Well are you saying he couldn't be coming back to see a stupid bimbo like me?"

"No, of course not sweetheart. What I'm saying is that I wanted him to go away and I thought he'd gone away. And now I can't understand why he's come back."

"Well that's okay." Annie said, with a pretend element of relief, "I wasn't sure what you meant there."

"Annie, what I'm trying to say is that this isn't right and I don't think it can work. It can't work in fact; and someone's going to get hurt if it goes on. And that's not fair on anyone."

Annie quickly got together a fifteen-minute response but decided to use none of it. She went instead for a one liner.

"Mum, you're making this all sound very serious."

"Well it is serious. You've got a man twice your age flying up from Melbourne to visit you. For goodness sake Annie, he's old enough to be your father."

Annie didn't reply – so Lee continued.

"He must have stood out like prawn's eyes there at dinner with your young friends last night. What did they think of him?"

"They liked him." Annie replied frankly, "He and Lana had a long talk about something called carpal tunnel syndrome and the cervical end of the spine. I didn't even know you could have a cervix up there; but Jon knew all about it."

"But does Lana know how old he is?" Lee asked.

"She knows he's over thirty; but she doesn't seem to care much."

Lee called a truce.

"I've got a few letters that have to go." she said, "I'm going to walk down to the post box. We'll talk more about this later on, eh?"

"Sure." Annie replied.

The remainder of the afternoon and the early evening passed quietly but without anger or upset; and, for Annie, that was a tremendous relief. Though there was no joy in the air, there was no sign of the blind rage that prevailed all those months earlier.

Surprisingly, at about half-past-eight Lee announced that she was going to change into her pyjamas and turn-in to read a book. Annie followed suite about thirty minutes later.

But at about half-past-nine, she decided to bite the bullet and restart their important discussions. And, in the absence of outright aggression, she decided to do so from the heart from the outset. She walked across to Lee's bedroom door and quietly made her presence known.

"Mum."

"Yes." Lee replied.

"Mum, I'm very sorry I told you all that rubbish about going to the uni and the library on the Saturdays. I hated doing that but I was frightened to tell you about what was happening. But I'm really sorry."

Lee put her book on her chest and made herself more comfortable for looking in Annie's direction.

"Where did you see us?" Annie asked.

"Bob and June and I went over to that Lebanese place for dinner. We were just walking back to the car. June spotted you; I was looking the other way."

Annie winced a bit.

"And that boofhead Terry next door saw you in Newstead Park a couple of weeks ago too. He described the bloke you were with; but I couldn't work out who it was."

Lee patted the bed with an extended arm; and Annie sat down where she'd patted.

"Pet I don't understand any of this; I just don't understand. How on earth did it all happen?"

"When? Now or earlier?"

"Whenever." Lee replied.

"Well, at the start, I felt sorry for him. He seemed a bit shy or something."

"You felt sorry for him?"

"Yes, that's right. It sounds strange, doesn't it? But that's how it was."

Annie looked down at Lee and gave her a guilty sort of quarter smile. The returned facial expression was a peculiar mixture of anger and anguish. It was quite out of the ordinary and didn't seem to match the civilised tone of the conversation.

"And he really did go away for a long while?"

"Yes. But then he made contact in February and came up for a visit."

"What happened then?" Lee asked.

"Well he apologised for the trouble that had happened; but he said he'd like to see me when he came up with work sometimes. And I told him I couldn't do that. Basically I told him to get lost."

"But he was persistent, eh?"

"No, not at all! He patted me on the head and said that was okay. Then he went away again."

"Was he persistent after that?" Lee asked.

"No. I phoned him a little while later and told him I'd made a mistake."

Lee put a bookmark into her novel and flapped it closed.

"Annie, there's been enough upset and distress with all this. God... I can't get my mind around it all; it's like a silly dream! Jon's much, much too old for the likes of you - much too old! Can't you see that?"

She shook her head slowly for a second or two then slipped the book down to the floor at the side of the bed.

"So I think the three of us should sit down and talk it all over properly when he comes up next time. I don't want to see any more tears about the Jon saga and I think the way to avoid that is to sit down and resolve the basic issues. I think some openness is the best way. Do you agree with that?"

"I guess so. I'm happy with that I suppose." Annie replied gingerly.

"I really don't know how you came to be involved with him, Annie. I just don't know."

"I don't know either, Mum."

They talked on for a short time fairly amicably, then Annie went off to bed.

On the Monday morning, Annie skipped a lecture and phoned Jon at work to tell him the news. His reaction was predictable enough.

"Shit oh dear! How are you coping? Did you cop the lot?"

"It wasn't too bad really." she answered, "She didn't go ballistic; just sour. I was expecting much worse."

They talked more about Lee's reaction to the discovery, her request for a three-way discussion and the timing of Jon's next visit - which could be no earlier than the Friday week.

That Friday week eventually arrived – though it was a long wait for all of them. By arrangement Jon went direct from the airport to Lee's place for their discussions. He arrived a little after seven in the evening.

Annie had become used to seeing Jon lolling about in casual clothes during past months, so when she opened the door, his appearance was a bit of a surprise. He was in his best grey suit with a light blue shirt and dark blue tie. He looked taller than usual and very businesslike.

"G'day Annie Davis."

"Hi Jon." she replied very quietly.

Jon went quickly and confidently to Lee holding out his right hand in a gesture of friendship.

"Lee, it's nice to see you. It's really good."

Annie was particularly taken with the start to proceedings. She'd not known what to expect and was very nervous. She hadn't figured on Jon's confident bearing; she didn't know he was expert at nerve-wracking, unfriendly meetings and that he'd done hundreds of them before.

Annie poured some drinks and they got to chatting with relative ease in the lounge area.

When he put his mind to it, Jon could be good at stress-free communication. He was able to start conversation, and move it about, without repeatedly asking questions. And, this time, he watched on with great pride as Annie took her turn. She too was adept at the conversation game.

After about fifteen minutes the phone rang. It was one of Lee's friends wanting to firm-up some Sunday leisure arrangements. Lee took the call in her bedroom.

When she left the lounge room, Annie's air of confidence evaporated.

"Jon, have you thought about what you're going to say yet? And what am I going to say?" she asked in a panicky whisper.

"All we can do is wait and see what happens. Don't worry about it too much; just follow your nose." he said quietly, "The trick is that no one's allowed to lose face. And don't look at me when your Mum's talking; look at her. You'll know what to do. It's okay."

After time enough to dispense a bit more soothing advice, Lee returned; and Jon set the rabbit running.

"Well, you needed to talk to us together Lee." he said.

"Yes that's right!"

"Jon, Annie tells me you've been coming up to visit for quite a while now and I'm not happy about that. I thought we had an agreement that you wouldn't do that."

"Yes, we had an agreement and I've breeched that. I don't resile from that."

"Well why did you do it?"

"Initially I wanted to see Annie – if only to tell her I didn't mean to cause so much trouble when I was working up here that time. I hadn't been comfortable about that at all."

"But Jon, surely you could have been uncomfortable in Melbourne. You didn't have to come back here for more trouble."

"I didn't come back to make trouble. It was the opposite actually; I was thinking about fixing trouble. And, anyway, feeling uncomfortable on my own in Melbourne and wherever else – about you and Annie – wasn't a picnic. It was a fairly unpleasant experience in fact."

"Don't tell me you were concerned about me, Jon. For goodness sake."

"Of course I was! I still am!"

"But I still don't understand this. I can't see why you came back."

This time, Jon made it abundantly clear. He had no choice.

"Lee, I came back to see Annie; I wanted to see Annie."

He looked across at Annie after he said it. She assumed that meant it was her turn.

"Mum, Jon's sitting here now; he's back." she said firmly, "He's here talking to us now. It's happened!"

She paused for a second.

"Isn't it a case of where to from here? Isn't it a case of solving whatever problems exist now?"

Jon was more than happy with her direct approach.

"All right then. Jon, I've spoken to Annie about this, but not to you. My problem is about you being thirty-six and Annie being nineteen – and just nineteen at that. I don't think it can work."

Jon took up the challenge calmly.

"Okay. Now, you mightn't believe this, but it's possible Annie and I are more menaced by our age difference than anyone else. It's pretty likely, in fact!"

"But, Jon..." Lee started.

He cut her off.

"We've got more discoveries to make about our ages. We know that!"

"But why you and Annie, Jon? I just don't understand."

He picked this one up quickly.

"That's a nearly impossible question to answer, but I'll give it my best shot."

Jon paused for a moment and rubbed his forehead.

"I can only speak for myself here, so if you want the other version you'll need to ask the lady sitting to my right; but from the outset, I found it easy to talk to Annie, and I found it easy to be her friend and be kind to her. And, when I was kind, it came back to me. It seemed to become a reciprocal thing almost straight away. Somehow or other, we were friends. But I'm darned if I know how that worked."

"Mum, that's how it was. I didn't mean to pick Jon out; I didn't chase after him or anything" Annie chimed in.

Lee ignored her.

"That's fine Jon, and it all sounds nice and pally; but compared to you, Annie's a baby. Can't you see that?"

"I've been conscious of the age difference and I've been very concerned about it. But, I promise you Lee, if I'd ever thought Annie was anything like a baby since I came up early in the year, I would have done a disappearing trick. If I'd ever thought Annie was being harmed in some way by my being here, I'd have stopped coming up."

"But Jon, you wouldn't know if you were doing harm because I don't think you can see what the potential is here. It's all right for you to be blasé about this; you've got nothing to lose. But when the obvious eventually sinks-in, I'm going to be left with a very miserable daughter. And I don't want that. I want to avoid that."

Jon looked in Annie's direction. The 'miserable daughter' subject seemed more in her field.

"Mum, anything can go wrong, we know that! That's the way it is!" she said, "I don't think anyone gets a safety net with these things, do they?"

Lee ignored the question and continued in a slightly different direction.

"You two couldn't possibly understand what's going on." she said, "It's dream world stuff. You meet in secret every two or three weeks or something and you're in your own make believe world. Out in the real world you'd find it very, very different."

"Mum, that's exactly where we want to be; out in the real world." Annie replied, "We've talked about it a lot and we're sick of being cooped-up like a pair of freaks. We hate it."

"You'd be sorry Missy." Lee replied, "You get out among Jon's people and you'll feel like a real fish out of water. And that's when you really would feel like a pair of freaks. Goodness only knows what Jon's friends would think about all this."

Jon spotted the gap.

"Lee, we really have spoken about this quite a bit and we'd like to move in a wider circle. We don't need anyone to sponsor us or barrack for us; but we don't want to be shunned either. We just want to be Annie and Jon in the ordinary world and see how it goes."

He paused for a moment to get the right words before continuing.

"Now that we've been out with Lana and Cam, I actually thought it'd be good for Annie to come to Melbourne next month for my birthday weekend so that she could meet some of my friends. We'll probably go out to dinner and maybe go to the football; something like that."

Jon looked to his right to see whether Annie was still there after this piece of audacity. To his relief, she'd not run away and seemed reasonably composed.

Lee looked absolutely bewildered.

"I'd really like to go down to Melbourne, Mum!" Annie said calmly.

"God Annie; I can't afford that! And, anyway, I don't think it's right." Lee said in a fairly loud voice.

"It would just be a case of Annie travelling south instead of me travelling north." Jon explained, "It wouldn't cost you anything; it'd be my shout!"

The 'my shout' brought something to mind.

"Oh, my shout." Jon said, "I forgot; I brought something for you and it's still in the car. Don't let me forget to bring it upstairs before I go, will you?"

"You can do that now if you like." Lee said curtly.

After fumbling around with the latch on the screen door for a bit, Jon departed for downstairs leaving Lee and Annie alone.

"Annie, I don't like this Melbourne idea; I don't like it at all!"

Annie said nought.

"Where would you stay if you went down there?" Lee asked.

"I don't know Mum. I haven't thought about that, but maybe in town or maybe at Jon's place. I don't know really."

"I don't like this one little bit."

There was an awkward silence for a short time – then Lee tried a few trick questions.

"Where does he stay when he comes up here, anyway?"

"A motel at New Farm." Annie answered.

"What's it like?"

Annie, at last, had been delivered a question that she could answer from her battle armoury. She thought she'd never get a chance to use any of it.

"I don't know Mum. I've never been there. It didn't look all that brilliant from outside when Lana dropped him off the other night; but it was dark and I couldn't see much."

When Jon returned with a bottle of wine and chocolates, some talk about likely weather conditions on the weekend kept silence at bay. Lee didn't contribute much. She seemed detached from what was going on and continued to look perplexed.

After a few minutes of weather trivia, she took her leave for the bathroom.

"You're a game bugger Jon Bentley. When did you dream that stuff up about your birthday in Melbourne?" Annie whispered in near panic.

"I thought about it a bit when I was on the plane." he answered quietly.

"Well we'd better clear that up before the end of the night. I'd really love to know if I can go."

For the first time in their adult lives, Jon was very firm.

"Please don't try to force the issue with that, Annie. I didn't really ask her a question; and I don't really want an answer. What I did there was give you a tug on the arm in my direction and the last thing I want to happen is for your Mum to start tugging on the other arm. I don't want you dismembered; I want you freed-up to do what you want to do."

"Just let it rest till she mentions it again or till we need to mention it again; just let it all sink in. But please don't ask for her permission to go. That's bad medicine. Can you see what I'm saying?"

"Yes, I guess so!" Annie said tentatively.

"Good."

"God Jon, you've got nerves of steel." Annie whispered.

Jon smiled.

"You look nice tonight!" he said.

It was an off-the-cuff compliment that left Annie looking as nonplussed as her mother had a few minutes earlier.

Jon stayed for only ten minutes or so longer after Lee's return to the lounge room.

Just before his departure, he asked Lee whether she wanted to go to the pictures with them the following day – but she declined ungraciously.

Jon picked Annie up the following morning for their movie and lunch engagement. On their way to town they discussed the previous night and agreed that it was as successful as could have been expected.

"But we didn't seem to resolve anything." Annie commented.

"No." he responded, "I didn't expect we would. All we need is for the door to stay open and we'll be all right. Time will take care of things."

When they got to the privacy of a car park in town, Annie administered the hug owing from the previous night; then they set off for a movie that was not very good - but not quite infuriating enough to keep Jon awake for the duration.

They found a quiet café for lunch and, after they'd been there for about fifteen minutes eating toasted sandwiches and yapping about the movie, Jon drifted into a more serious mood.

Annie noticed the change.

"What's the trouble bubble?" she asked.

"I need to tell you some things that are important. Can I tell you about them now?"

"Of course you can!" she said.

"Last night when we were talking, I told Lee that I was uncomfortable after I'd been up here for work that time. Do you remember me saying that?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Well, it was worse than uncomfortable; it was awful. I was very worried about you and your Mum. So, anyway, I eventually had a bit of a yarn to a friend of mine – a guy called Tony - about it all and he said I should come and see you. I didn't pick him out of a hat; he knows a bit about these things."

Annie tried to lighten things up.

"Well, you must have been pretty happy after your first visit back then?"

It worked. He laughed a bit.

"Christ! I didn't know where I was then!"

He laughed again – then continued.

"I would have come up eventually anyway, but Tony gave me a bit of a push. He was good actually. Anyway, I'm pleased I came back, very pleased. So there!"

Annie smilingly took the unusual little statements on board without question, knowing that he would eventually get to the hub of the matter. She'd seen a number of signs of his mental tussles before; it seemed they were part of the package.

"Now." he said confidently, after finishing his serious conversation piece and his last sandwich, "That biro I gave you for your birthday wasn't the real present; it was just a stop-gap thing. I've got the good present here."

He reached down and took a plastic-wrapped object from his pocket and handed it across the table.

"It's a nice small one."

When the plastic came off, the look of joy on her face was a sight to behold. Annie was on-air with her very own mobile phone.

"Oh Jon, that's the most beautiful thing. I don't know what to say."

"You like it then?" he asked.

"It's fantastic!"

"Well this is interesting!" he said, "It looks like you're quite happy with a present I've bought for my own benefit. This is a wondrous thing, Annie Davis. In fact, in corporate gobbledygook, this is known as a 'win-win situation'. Very rare indeed."

After settling-up for lunch and leaving the café, Jon showed Annie a bit about operating the new toy – then he phoned her a few times to make sure it was working properly. She was absolutely delighted.

They opted for a walk in the Southbank precinct with the time remaining before Jon had to start for the airport. During their walk, Annie decided to resurrect the subject of Jon's apparent earlier anxieties and his contact with friend Tony.

"Jon, were you really that worried about Mum and I when you went back after that job up here? And, are you still worried?"

"I'm still concerned about your Mum. I don't know how that's going to pan out." he answered.

"Well I can tell you, I was worried. I thought you'd gone for good." Annie announced quite candidly, "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

He took hold of her hand; and they walked and talked happily for twenty minutes or so before returning to the car.

On their way home, they discussed Jon's next trip north, Annie's possible trip to Melbourne and use of the mobile phone.

"I don't know how you want to handle this, but I thought it might be best to just put the mobile up front straight away with your Mum – and leave it there. When you're at home, leave it in the kitchen and talk to me there as if you were on the ordinary phone. And put your Mum on to say hello too, if you like. What do you reckon?"

"Yeah. I'm with you." Annie replied.

"And lend it to her if she's going out on her own at night too if you like. They're pretty useful things if the car breaks down or something."

Jon dropped Annie off, said a quick goodbye to her and to Lee - then headed back to the airport and Melbourne.

That he'd made his presence felt up north and that he'd had a not-so-bad first meeting with Lee was casually conveyed to Sylvia on the Sunday evening nine days after the event. Her reaction to the news was not as Jon expected.

"Oh wake up, Jon! That's over a week ago." she said, "I have to know what's going on here in case Lee decides to make contact and give me a earful about you and Annie. Do you understand? We haven't been in touch for ages but we do know each other, remember."

"Now if she thought you were catch of the season for her girl, she'd have been on the phone by now. So I can only expect the worst when she eventually calls. Okay?"

"Jon, if you're really keen on the girl, I'll help in any way I can. But you have to tell me what's going on."

Though Jon was left in no doubt about Sylvia's communication requirements, he was not so certain about her reasons for having put on such an unexpected turn. After hanging up, he wondered whether she too had Lee pencilled-in as something more than the standard disgruntled mother.

Jon's next July visit to Brisbane was another Friday night and Saturday model, as he had to officiate at a training induction session in Melbourne at nine o'clock on the Sunday morning.

He took Annie and Lee to a local restaurant on the Friday night - an engagement he later regretted. The meal was quite good; Annie was chirpy and bright; but Lee was out-of-sorts - occasionally to the point of being bad tempered. Although he maintained an appearance of total calm, the evening disturbed him. It was exactly what he didn't want.

On the Saturday, he picked Annie up at about eleven for an early lunch followed by a City Hall concert of some sort, chosen and booked in his absence. When he called-in, Lee was out shopping – which was a relief.

On the drive into town, Jon noticed his wallet wasn't in his hip pocket so he stopped the car to check jacket pockets and the glove box. It wasn't in the car.

"I'm going to have to stop at the motel. I must have left it there I suppose." he said, "I bloody hope it's there; if it's not, I don't know what I've done with it."

Within minutes, he'd stopped in the motel car park.

"I won't be a sec." he said to Annie as he got out.

Jon bolted upstairs to his unit and started to rummage around looking for the wallet. It wasn't in his barrel bag; it wasn't in his other trousers; and it wasn't in the drawer with the Gideon's Bible.

He was standing facing the unit's back wall trying to mentally reconstruct his movements of the previous twelve hours when he heard the soft voice and felt the gentle hands from behind on his upper arms.

"You didn't hide it somewhere, did you?" Annie asked, as she slipped her arms around him and held her face and body close into his back.

Jon thought about this for a brief time.

"Yeah, I remember now. Good on ya! I heard some noises outside last night and I put it under the bed. That's right; good one Annie Davis."

They stayed there in the unusual embrace for a little while and calm – a very pleasant calm – was with them.

"I spy an apple and a banana." Annie said from the unusual position, "If you've got some other goodies, I'll make you lunch here if you like."

"Coming about now!" he said by way of warning that he was about to break the clinch.

He got the wallet from under the bed then went to the refrigerator.

"We've got bread and Vegemite from my breakfast tray – and there's tea and stuff. What more could you want?"

"That sounds good." Annie replied, "That's the sort of lunch I usually have anyway."

"Well, if we're staying here for lunch, I'm going to take these clodhoppers off."

Jon sat on the bed and took his shoes off. When he'd finished the job, Annie went over and faced him - then put her hands firmly on his shoulders.

"Jon Bentley, I've heard a rumour that big guys are the most ticklish. Do you know if that's true?"

"No! That's not right! No!"

The second 'no' was intense enough to confirm the weakness; so she moved her hands to under his arms, lurched forward and commenced the torture.

There was much laughter and jostling around on the bed as they played together like a pair of kittens. Annie had an enormous advantage in this game, as he was frightened of hurting her with any quick movement of arms or legs. And she used the advantage without mercy.

Eventually Jon got a good hold of her wrists.

"No more. Please Annie, don't do it any more." he asked earnestly – as he actually wasn't enjoying the tickling part of the game.

"Do you give up?" she asked.

"All right. I give up." he answered, as he released his grip on her wrists.

Annie was in a peculiarly playful mood. As soon as released, she went straight back to the tickling.

Jon exercised a little of his latent strength this time and quickly put an end to the routine. He manoeuvred her onto her back and knelt astride her waist restraining both her arms with his strong hands. Though their size difference gave this the appearance of an unfair use of force, neither his body weight nor the grip applied would have crumpled tissue paper.

"Please Annie." was all he said.

She settled and relaxed - breathing deeply as a result of the exertion.

"Will you be my boy if I promise not to tickle you?" she said very quietly.

"I'll be your boy whatever happens; but I'd prefer you didn't tickle me."

"I won't any more. You really can let go now." she whispered.

Jon let go and leaned back slightly – looking at her beautiful eyes and lips and watching the exquisite rise and fall of her upper chest left partly bare by the twists and turns of their playful wrestle.

Annie wriggled back towards the bed head, untucked his shirt and undid a few buttons. This time, she firmly stroked his waist and chest.

After a short time, Jon moved from the conqueror's kneeling position and sat on the side of the bed to take off his socks.

"Jon, it's really wonderful you coming up to visit all the time. It makes a girl feel pretty important, you know!"

He turned around and smiled.

"It's a big sacrifice and I'm very grateful. And I love seeing you." she said, as she beckoned him back to close range.

She touched her warm lips against his lips then against his cheek. She then moved his face slightly to one side so she could whisper to him – and only him.

"You're my boy, Jon." was all she said.

Jon held her up in his arms and rocked her gently and lovingly.

When Annie retreated a little to remove some pesky clothing, she noticed him looking towards his bag and belongings and she spotted concern on his handsome face.

"Oh, it's all right! Don't worry; I've sorted that! We can do whatever we like." she said happily.

Their moment had arrived.

For a short time, they basked in the warmth and closeness they'd waited for so long. And they whispered to each other about the miracle that had kept them together.

Then their loving was rich and beautiful.

Annie was as good as her word with lunch. She set about making Vegemite sandwiches and preparing the fruit.

They ate their modest lunch then drove to town for the City Hall concert – entering about twenty minutes late during a short programme break.

And twenty minutes was about how long they stayed. They sat there uncomfortably till the next programme break at which point Jon tempted an exit by catching Annie's eye and tilting his head back towards the main door. Annie got the message and nodded in anxious agreement that it was time to leave.

Just holding hands as they walked to the car park was arousing; and the drive back to New Farm was ten minutes of intoxicating anticipation. The hunger had been set free.

Their second act of love – in which they departed from missionary orthodoxy for the sake of visual involvement - was even more adoring and wonderful than the first. It's powerful concluding spasms left Jon in a state of contented exhaustion and Annie happily debilitated. She lay there panting with involuntary tears in her eyes.

Jon stayed with her, kissed away the happy tears and gently stroked her forehead and her hair. And, as he sat there, he again studied her remarkable beauty.

Oddly, the memories of this sight - that had driven him in all directions for the better part of two years – did not do her justice. The memories were like a crumpled wallet photograph compared with the new reality, which Jon figured had something to do with heaven.

They eventually tore themselves away from the motel room and Jon checked-out. They then drove off towards Lee's.

A lot of men, in similar circumstances, may have taken this driving opportunity to declare their undying love for such a goddess; and others may have stoked their egos and sexual aspirations with romantic palaver about encounters yet to come.

But – as Annie had correctly observed – Jon wasn't like the others. He had his own quite individual view of the world and he commented on the day's activities in his own style.

"That Vegemite seems to work all right!" he said in a matter-of-fact way, as he gave his little friend an affectionate rub on the very upper right leg.

"Mmmm!" she responded, prior to dealing him a corrective slap on the wandering hand and reminding him of the need to concentrate on his driving.

Lee wasn't home when they arrived at the unit; and Jon was happy about that. He was apprehensive about what mothers could see in the sparkling eyes of daughters – and in the eyes of their boyfriends. He wasn't totally certain that even his well-trained poker face could stand searching maternal gazes in such circumstances.

With the fifteen or so minutes available, they talked about Annie's trip to Melbourne to save the trouble of doing so by phone later on.

Without any difficulty or disagreement, they decided that the trip was going to happen. She would depart Brisbane on Friday week for a three-night stay at his place. He would do the bookings and send the air ticket to her in the post.

They also decided that Lee would be told about this a week before departure – if she'd not raised the subject by then. Annie was to be their senior spokesperson about the trip; Jon would play a secondary role, if required.

Any objections raised by Lee would be countered using her own argument that they had been living in a 'make believe world' and that there was a need now to take the big step into the 'real world'. They would argue that the time had arrived to test their social competence in an older group.

When the plan was set – and after farewells were said - Jon left for the airport. He hated leaving and she hated seeing him off.

Since catching Annie and Jon out some weeks earlier, Lee had done a good deal of serious thinking about their relationship. She'd decided that there was a very early mutual infatuation that had been fuelled by their October 1992 indiscretion, and then refuelled by Jon's periodical visits to Brisbane – which she viewed as irresponsible in the extreme.

She'd arrived at a point where she perceived Jon sometimes as cagey opportunist and sometimes as a charming and urbane Melburnian whose personal life had run off the rails. Though these new assessments were clear enough in her mind, she was not nearly so certain why they caused such powerful resentment.

On the other side of the coin, she viewed Annie as attractive and clever, but flighty and inexperienced – to the point of being gullible. Though she knew Annie was advanced for her years in many ways, she saw her fundamentally as a simple Brisbane-style girl of the generation following Jon's.

The only common features she could find with the pair were energy and determination.

With the benefit of a good deal of careful thought, Lee had come to believe Annie and Jon were seeing just enough of each other to sustain their nutty affair; and that more conventional contact would split them apart in no time because of the glaring differences between them.

Lee, therefore, took the decision that she would not stand in the way if Annie chose to go to Melbourne for Jon's birthday weekend. She figured that Annie could well take fright when confronted with his mature friends in a strange environment – and that the reality shock could be the catalyst for a bust-up.

If that did not happen, Lee was content to let the affair run to its inevitable conclusion. Jon, she surmised, would eventually run out of puff with money and would have to curtail his visits to Brisbane. Alternatively, the very worst-case scenario seemed to be that Jon would tire of travelling and spending, and would move to Brisbane – only to find himself off his home patch and keeping company with an incompatible youngster.

Whichever way it went, Lee figured she'd be rid of Jon Bentley before too long.

Though Lee was a very intelligent and astute woman, with this subject there were some bad thought pattern inconsistencies.

Most important of these was that she'd completely overlooked the fundamental principle of magnetism which specifies that opposites attract. The idea that the two may have been compatible because of their differences hadn't dawned on her; indeed, she'd spent no time at all considering why Annie and Jon may need to be with each other. Her focus was entirely on why they shouldn't or couldn't.

In July 1994, Lee really had no means of unravelling the complex reasons why getting rid of Jon Bentley was an imperative. Her gnomes, by then, had thoroughly blurred the picture.

In so far as the Annie and Jon subject was concerned, she suffered intellectual confusion and persistent non-specific emotional discomfort of muddled origin. And, unhappily, she had no friend like Tony Gava to help unravel the dilemma and no mother to phone for advice.

* * *

### 9.

After his training work in Melbourne finished at about half-past-two on the Sunday, Jon packed up his things and started the drive back to Cheltenham. And, on his way back down the highway, he took a spur-of-the-moment decision to call in to see Tony and Maria.

They were at home and seemed to welcome his visit as an opportunity to break from domestic chores and have a coffee.

Though Jon had been in reasonably regular contact with Tony about Brisbane matters, he'd not given a lot away – preferring to spare him a pile of trivia and preferring to keep a low profile in case things went awry.

But now, the time had arrived to tell his special friend – and his special friend's wife - just what was happening.

He told his story in précis form, with enthusiasm and confidence. There was nothing gushy or over-the-top here, just five minutes of Jon Bentley's well-balanced facts. And Tony didn't need his university training to see that Jon was on his feet and pretty much in control.

"But best of all," Jon announced with pride, "I'm pretty sure Annie'll be coming down to Melbourne on Friday week to stay for a long weekend. And I was really hoping you guys could come to dinner with us - and a few others - in town on the Friday night. I was thinking we might go to that good place in East Melbourne again."

After an amount of happy chitchat regarding the visit, Maria got the kitchen diary and blocked-off the Friday night with Italian flamboyance. She seemed very pleased with his news.

Jon stayed at the Gava home for just a short time as he'd broken his own rule about calling-in on people unannounced.

When back home at Cheltenham, he phoned Rob and Jane to see if they would like to join him for an impromptu curry dinner – an invitation they happily accepted.

The Martins were aware of Jon's weekend travels and they certainly knew there was a girl involved. But that's about as far as it went.

So, after they arrived at about half-past-six and as the curry simmered away on the stove, Jon told a bit more of the story. Though Rob didn't seem greatly interested, Jane thought it was a wonderful tale.

"Anyway, the upshot of all this is that Annie's probably coming down on Friday week for a long weekend; and I thought we might go out to dinner on that Friday night with a few others as a special treat. Would you like to be in that?"

"Where abouts; in town somewhere?" Rob asked.

"Yeah. Well nearly in town. I've got a good place at East Melbourne in mind." Jon replied.

"Sounds good to me. I like Friday nights out!" Rob concluded.

It wasn't till later in the evening – while Rob was rummaging through Jon's CDs and out of ear-shot – that Jon mentioned to Jane that Annie might need a bit of special companionship at dinner if she seemed to be 'looking left out of things'. He explained that she was 'a bit younger than the group'.

Even though she knew Annie was at university, Jane didn't pursue the age matter. She assumed that Annie was doing some sort of post-graduate work for career purposes.

On the Monday, Jon phoned the Green household to invite Murray and Denise to the dinner in town on the Friday week. Denise accepted on their behalf.

At that stage, Murray and Denise knew little about the purpose and frequency of Jon's sojourns to Brisbane; and they knew nothing at all about Annie. Jon had deliberately spared Murray any information about his little affair, believing it better to present it as a fait accompli, or a complete failure, at a future time of his choosing. Murray could be inquisitive to the point of irrationality about these things and Jon just didn't want to listen to all the questions.

On the Wednesday afternoon, Annie phoned Jon at work to let him know for certain she would be in Melbourne – as planned. Apparently, Lee had raised the subject in the course of organising of her own social activities and had posed a matter-of-fact question about Annie's proposed travels. It was that uncomplicated!

Jon immediately booked Tony's East Melbourne restaurant then phoned Sylvia to let her know what was happening.

"Is she going to stay at your place?" Sylvia asked.

"Yeah Mum; she'll stay with me."

"You're comfortable with this Jon; you're happy, are you? Are you sure you know where you are and what you're doing?"

"No problems at all. Annie's terrific, Mum; she's really nice."

"I'll have a word with Dad tonight about this, Jon. I'm sure that's the best thing to do now. He's got to be able to handle a call from Lee, if it happens. Okay?"

"No problems, Mum."

The conversation finished within another five minutes - following an exchange of standard news.

After Jon had been home from work for about thirty minutes, father Frank phoned in a state of substantial confusion about the Annie Davis story. Because of a child-like faith in genetic character transfer, his earlier soft spot for Lee had copied across to the next generation. He may have said 'I'll bet she's a nice girl' five times. But he also may have said 'She's not very old' five times to match. He no doubt said 'I'll be buggered' at least ten times. For Jon, it was an odd conversation. Uninterrupted, he managed only two or three short sentences.

Jon reconfirmed the dinner arrangements with all involved on Wednesday the following week. He also tapped into special tickets for an MCG football fixture on the Sunday – courtesy of Eric Miller at work, who'd already planned to go to the game.

For only the third time in her life, Annie boarded a plane on the Friday afternoon – this time bound for the big southern city.

By arrangement, she caught a taxi from Tullamarine to the city and Jon was waiting for her outside his building when it pulled up at about quarter-past-six. He was also waiting for the inevitable Queenslander comment about the fair city of Melbourne.

And Annie didn't disappoint.

"It's bloody freezing down here, Jon!"

"Yeah, it's a bit cold today." he replied, as he paid the driver.

They went up to his office so he could put his papers away and turn off the PC and so that Annie could freshen-up a bit.

"This is serious stuff, Jon Bentley. I'm going to wear war paint tonight."

Jon hadn't taken much notice of her appearance before she disappeared to the war paint room. But he took notice when she came back. She looked glorious in the simplest dark grey skirt and red long-sleeved blouse – with red lipstick to match. And she was wearing new shoes with a bit more heel. For Annie, she looked quite tall.

From the very start, Jon was considerate with his little partner. He had assumed that her Brisbane cold weather gear would either have been inadequate or out of place; so, during the week, he'd bought her a quite stylish parker. And by great good fortune it was grey with black trim.

"Now pop that on and see how it looks." he said proudly.

She tried it on.

"Oh it's perfect, Jon! Just right! I'd give you a proper thanks, but I've got this stuff on my face now."

Young Jon Bentley chuckled happily. Apart from keeping his girl warm, he was delighted she was so far the opposite of vain about her appearance that makeup was little more than a burden that got in the way of a smooch. In the mirror gazing game, she scored nil.

On the way to East Melbourne on the tram, Jon told her a bit about who would be at dinner and what to expect. She tried to concentrate on all this but was distracted by the novelty of the tram trip and some of the characters on board.

After they'd got off the tram and were nearly at the restaurant, he helped her take the parker off and put it between the long handles of her soft carry bag.

"If you'll pardon the expression Mr Bentley, I'm piddle-pants nervous." she said.

"Well, make the most of it; you won't be in ten minutes. They're all nice people." he assured her as they went through the door.

Mario greeted them and took the bag and parker. As he did so, Jon spotted the group and held up a hand to indicate that to whoever may have been watching. As he waved a bit, he clearly heard Rob say 'Get a load of what's happened to Jon' and something not quite so clear – and possibly not so polite – about what he'd 'been doing in Brisbane'. He also heard Jane reprimand him for having said it.

Introductions were attended-to before they took their seats at the table - Annie landing a place between Jon and Jane in defiance of the standard boy-girl-boy-girl seating protocol.

Annie settled in quickly. She easily struck up conversation with Jane and, for a while, they seemed to get lost in subjects of mutual interest. Jane was, of course, younger than the rest of the group; she was somewhere about the halfway point between the majority and Annie.

After the entrees were served and consumed, Murray – who was already tipsy - insisted on what he described as 'inter-course re-arrangement'; a chair changing procedure to enable everyone to talk to a variety of people as the evening progressed. In the first re-arrangement, Annie ended up between Tony and Rob.

Tony engaged her in light conversation for a while before they drifted into a lengthy period of quiet and more serious discussions. Annie enjoyed his company; she was comfortable with him.

After the main course – in the second re-arrangement – she ended up between Murray and Denise.

Annie found Denise great company. As it happened, she had an arts degree and had done a number of subjects similar to the ones she had on her plate at the university up in Brisbane. Initially, Murray - who still seemed to be giving the wine a good caning - was engrossed in conversation with Maria about child welfare and the importance of coherent family life. He was getting noisier and more dogmatic as the night moved along.

After working the family subject over for a good fifteen minutes, Murray seemed to tire of it. He swung around to Annie for a change in tempo.

"Now, how's my friend from the decadent north getting on? Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked in his pompous barrister voice.

"Yes thanks Murray."

"You've been talking to my spouse about university, have you not?" he asked in a louder pompous barrister voice.

"That's right. Denise seems to have done some of the subjects I'm doing – which is a bit of a coincidence."

"What are you actually doing, young lady?"

"An arts-education degree up at UQ. I like languages; or they like me, anyway. I'm sort of specialising in Japanese and French."

"Very noble!" Murray responded.

He then took hold of Annie's hand and started speaking in French, or what he imagined he could remember of French anyway. It was loud, laborious and obviously difficult for Annie to understand. She listened very carefully and worked hard to make sense of each err-filled painful passage before responding quietly in English, at the start; then later in French – at Murray's insistence.

After a short time, this lopsided exchange became embarrassing for Annie who couldn't make herself understood; so she politely asked Murray to revert to English. And Murray, being the volatile chap that he was - and being three quarters drunk to boot – got a bit irritated and zoomed off in another direction.

He started on one of his barrister routines.

Typically, in these routines, he would ask a range of questions cleverly devised to lead him to a good joke or a quirky observation; and, typically, he would have the audience spellbound with his mental agility and wit.

But it didn't always work!

"Now, why is it you're out of step with the rest of the women here tonight? Why are you not wearing symbols of your sex; why are you not wearing jewellery?" he asked Annie.

"I don't have too much jewellery, Murray. And what I've got isn't much good anyway; so I don't wear it often."

"I see; I see!" he replied, as he pursued some sort of strange body language routine pressing the finger tips of both hands together

"I'm particularly interested in your appearance, Annie. I'd like to know how you came by that scar on your cheek. It wasn't Jon, I hope."

"No Murray; it wasn't Jon. It happened when I was very young!" she answered with a smile.

"Now, tell me; what do you do with your life young lady?" Murray asked.

"Like I said; I'm at university at the moment, Murray."

"No. No, I'm asking what you do for a crust."

"I do some work at a newsagency on Sundays; and I pick up a bit of catering work sometimes too!"

"Gawd!" Murray exclaimed, frowning – as if Annie had said something out of place.

Denise interjected here. She'd seen him go a cropper with clever routines before when he'd had too much to drink and didn't want it to happen again. Apart from that, she didn't want him to embarrass Annie.

"Murray, sweetheart, if you don't know where you're going here, give it away. And leave Annie alone, eh." she said, before attempting to restart congenial conversation.

"Aw, shit Den!" he responded loudly, "This is important research!"

Jon, and others, attempted to laugh him away and start afresh with some more interesting talk topics. But he dug in and became even louder and more boisterous.

"Annie. I accept you are at uni and that you sell newspapers and pencils and paper clips. I accept that. But that can't be all; can it?"

"Please darling." Denise interjected again, "Annie's not on trial. And I don't think everyone has to find out everything about her right this minute."

She then offered to change places with Annie - an offer that was politely declined.

Jon looked across anxiously at Annie, pointed to himself and mouthed a few words - which she correctly interpreted as an offer of assistance. She shook her head, pointed to herself and gave him a quick smile. She got an understanding smile back from Jon and a wink from Tony.

Murray started again.

"When I was a student, I didn't have the money to fly interstate. I could only just manage train fares. So you, Annie, must be worth a bob compared with most students."

"I just can't see how a fragile young flower like you could be so substantially in the hoot – as they say."

Denise was visibly angry.

"Murray. Stop it, please." she said.

Annie moved her chair back a little and closer to Murray's. She positioned herself where he couldn't fail to hear her and where Denise could also be involved in their conversation.

"Murray... Murray. Could you spare me one whole minute?" she said quietly.

She got him right in her sights.

"Murray, please don't be too playful – please. I really don't want to be on show; it makes me very uncomfortable. Okay."

He said nought.

"Now I don't know exactly what Jon's got planned for me, but I'm sure we can get together again over the weekend; and, when we do, I'll tell you everything you want to know. I promise. But not tonight! This is a very special night for Jon and I and we really want it to roll-along quietly."

"Have you got any problems with that?" she asked, after allowing a few seconds for the message to sink-in.

"I think that's a good idea, Murray." Denise added, "We could give Annie and Jon a call tomorrow. Would that be all right, sweetheart?"

He nodded in silent agreement and Annie moved her chair back into place to pick-up her earlier conversation with Denise.

Before too long Murray excused himself and departed for the toilet – for about the third time. And Mario came by to see if anyone wanted drinks. There were a few takers - including Annie, who asked for a ginger beer.

When Mario returned to the bar area, Denise had a few quiet well-chosen words with her.

"I'll bet he was roughed-up in court today. He gets very upset sometimes when it doesn't go the right way. I'm sorry he was so abrasive, Annie; he's not normally like that. He's usually an old sook."

Annie shrugged it away with a few understanding words and a friendly smile. In truth, she was more upset by Mario coming back and announcing that he had no ginger beer in stock.

When Murray returned, she gave him a job.

"Murray, I think there's a convenience store down the road a bit. Could you walk me down there me to get some ginger beer? Would that be all right?"

"Excellent." he replied, "And some chocolate bears."

They were back after about ten minutes, Annie with her ginger beer and Murray with an enormous bag of bears. They gave the appearance of a pair of old friends.

The remainder of the time at the restaurant was relaxed and happy. They had their desserts and coffee – and some chocolate bears – before leaving at a little after ten. Annie got approving kisses and warm farewells from Denise and Maria; a long handshake, some bowing and a peck from Tony; and a rather formal hand shake from Murray.

The Cheltenham group, plus one, headed south in Rob's car with Jane at the wheel. And, on the way home, they decided on coffee at Jon's.

As soon as they got inside, Rob took off his shoes and parked himself on a comfortable lounge chair to review the evening out. Annie stayed with him while Jon and Jane went to the kitchen to get coffee ready.

Rob and Jon continued their conversation at a distance – as was their normal practice.

"That was a good place, Jon. I had that lamb thing and it was marvellous."

"I had the grilled fish and it was good." Jon replied.

"What about that stupid bloody Murray? Wasn't he up himself there for a while? And poor old Annie Brisbane here was the unlucky ducky next to him when the fuse blew."

"Yeah. You can't help bad luck."

"I couldn't get a really good handle on what all that work and uni poop was about; but I think it might have been leading up to something about Annie's youthful appearance. Could that be right?"

"Yeah. Could be!"

Rob thought for a little while before continuing – this time direct to Annie.

"Bloody legal eagles; they're all the same. They go 'round and 'round in circles and take forever to get to the point. Clever dick stuff; you know! They're trained to waste time 'cause they charge by the hour."

"Now we bankers are different. We get straight to the point; direct, no buggering around at all."

"That sounds more like my style." Annie answered.

"Would you be very upset if I did the Murray thing my way?"

Annie smiled.

"That's not necessary either." she said, "I'm nineteen!"

Rob raised his left hand in unexcited acknowledgment of the information.

"And a good age too!" he commented.

"How would you know?" Jane called from the kitchen, "You never got there!"

After the coffee was made, the girls sat at the dining table chatting about Brisbane and the nearby beaches; and Jon and Rob sat in the lounge chairs talking football. It was about ten minutes before there was a female to male exchange.

"Jon, I think we're going nuts." Jane said, "Annie couldn't have a clue where she is. I'll show her around, if you like – provided you haven't got any dead bodies, or women, or porn lying about the place."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Jon replied, "Yeah, that'd be great. I don't think there's anything around that'll offend – except for a couple of red-hot possums outside who put on a show for me last night."

With no warning whatever, Jon then turned to Rob with a serious question.

"Tell me Rob, do possums have seasons or do they bonk away all year 'round?"

"All year 'round; definitely, all year 'round." Rob responded. "But they take a little bit of time off to eat my nectarines and crap on the patio. And they do have Christmas Day and Good Friday off too – unless, of course, they're involved in essential services."

"But they'd get a special penalty rape for that, wouldn't they?" Jon asked, still with a very serious expression on his face.

"Oh, shit yeah! It's in the State Possum Award. I think they get double or triple..."

Rob couldn't sustain it any longer and went into peals of laughter. Jon followed – thereby winning the game.

"God, what am I going to do with you two?" Jane said before embarking on the house tour.

When out of earshot, she did confess to Annie that 'the boys' were often very funny together. But she warned that it was best not to start laughing before they did.

"To them, it's a thinking-on-your-feet comedy game; and the first one to crack-up is the loser. Now, if you start laughing first, you'll put them off. I know it's ridiculous, but they enjoy it. And a couple of times, they've had me laughing so much my ribs have hurt the next day."

Annie thought the nonsense was wonderful. But she thought the house tour was even more wonderful.

The house was Jon's. There was no doubt about it at all. It was solid, comfortable and tasteful. The two bedrooms and study were done out in confident blues and greys, the kitchen and living areas were in soft greys as were the bathroom and toilet areas. The bedrooms and living areas were expensively carpeted; and the kitchen, bathroom and toilet tiled. The furniture was modern and uncluttered. A lot of attention had been given to lighting – which was mostly concealed or connected to dimmer devices. And there were big, colourful, bold prints in the bedrooms and living areas.

It was certainly not a large place; but it was impressive in its special way.

The house contained a number of Jon Bentley eccentricities. The stove, for example, was a monstrous stainless affair with four gas jets, two electric plates and one-and-half ovens. And the bathroom – misnamed because there was no bath – was even further over-the-top. It was a beautiful architect designed facility featuring a long walk-through shower area with two shower roses, two soap holders and two drain outlets. Along the opposite wall were two complete built-in vanity units beneath a very long mirror. The room was partially divided lengthways by elaborate glass partitioning which stopped the shower water encroaching onto the 'dry' area. Friends often laughingly referred to the bathroom as 'Jon's Folly'.

After the tour, the girls made arrangements to go to Dimmey's and the factory outlets at Richmond the following morning. And, after that, the Martins departed.

By about midnight, Jon and Annie had showered and turned-in for the night – warm, very much together and very happy.

The Saturday morning was all go. By twenty-past-eight Jon and Annie had eaten their Vita Brits, Murray had phoned to make drinks arrangements for the afternoon and Rob had phoned to say he was going to join the girls for the shopping trip. Jon had firmed up on doing a few hours urgent work at the office while the others were doing their Richmond thing; and he'd given Annie a handful of money along with instructions about buying him some underpants and singlets.

"But they're not going to cost anything like this, Jon." she said.

"I don't really know how much these things cost. Anyhow, if there's a bit left over you might see something you'd like to get. You can fix me up later for whatever it costs. You'll see some good bargains there."

He then quickly invented a lot of talk and activity to swamp any resistance about the money changing hands. He figured a thrifty young woman might enjoy a bit of a splurge at the Richmond shops.

Jon dropped the shoppers off at Richmond at a little after nine and picked them up again at twelve. They then proceeded to the Prahran Market.

As they were driving the short distance to Prahran, an arrangement was struck for dinner at the Martin residence.

At Prahran, they bought all the necessary food. Jon bought dips and bread, Annie bought the salad vegetables and Jane bought some chicken for kebabs. When the serious shopping had been done, Jon and Rob sought out some special delicacies – local mussels and very tasty cheese, respectively.

After a lunchtime fashion parade featuring some of the bargains bought at Richmond, Jon took Annie on a seaside tour from Port Melbourne to Mordialloc before going to see Murray and Denise - and thence Rob and Jane.

Annie enjoyed every minute of the very busy Saturday.

On the Sunday, they spent a lot of time at the Gallery and the gardens precinct before heading off to meet Eric at the MCG.

After arriving and going to their seats, Annie wasn't at all sure about a whole afternoon at the football. There was a game in progress that seemed to be largely ignored by the spectators – most of whom were eating and talking or milling around aimlessly. Occasionally, something on the field would attract a few shouts and a little bit of applause. But it was all pretty subdued.

When Jon went to get food and drinks, she had a good talk with Eric, who she found interesting enough. But six o'clock, and the comfort of Jon's place, seemed a long way away. If this was football at the MCG, it was no surprise that the stands were only half full.

So she concentrated on her lunch and conversation about rules of the game – glancing only occasionally towards playing field to see if anything had improved. At one point, she noticed a change, but little improvement. The early game had finished and was succeeded by a sort of ritualistic mayhem that didn't seem to make much sense. This was going to be a bore.

She continued to concentrate on the footy talk with Jon and Eric – largely oblivious to what was really happening around her.

At precisely the right moment, Jon terminated the talk and presented Annie with a walkman radio from his pocket so she could listen to what was going on.

"I think this is going to be a good game. Have a listen; you'll enjoy it more if you know who's doing what out there." he said, as he nodded towards the field.

She looked towards the field and then around the stands. The scene got her in this time. It had all changed dramatically.

Somehow, the disinterested half crowd had turned into a completely focused big crowd; the umpires were out on the ground; the banners were up; and the team colours were waving right round the immense stadium. And the noise level was starting to crank up.

Then out came the warriors - and the noise became the roar.

For Annie, the boredom spontaneously converted to excitement. There were goose bumps and that inexplicable lump-in-the-throat sensation.

The players seemed to be aware of the need to put on a good show for their visitor from northern parts. They had a good old stoush just after the first bounce; then Jon's preferred side got away to kick a goal after just a few minutes of play. The common-or-garden roar then became the legendary mighty roar – and Annie found herself caught in the hysteria. There she was, standing beside Jon yelling out with delight at having taken first blood.

"This is awesome, Jon. They're so fast. You don't really see that on the television, do you?"

"That's right; you certainly do not!" he answered, as his mind flicked back to the excitement of his very first MCG visit with his auditor pal Simon all those years before.

By the end of the first quarter, Annie was involved in criticising half the umpiring decisions and was confidently yelling out 'ball' at appropriate times. By the end of the second quarter, she'd become involved in footy discussions with a kindred spirit sitting just in front – landing a half-time cup of thermos tea and a biscuit for her efforts.

After a bit of discussion with Jon about correct timing, Annie decided on a trip to the loo just before the end of the third quarter. And, in her absence, Eric made a confession about Jon's 'friend from Brisbane'.

"You know, when you said you wanted to take a friend from up north to the football, I thought I'd be getting a ticket for one of your old rugby cronies with a bull neck and cauliflower ears. And Annie's certainly not that. I can tell you, I got a surprise."

"Yeah, she's pretty well stuck together compared with the rugby players I've known." Jon replied, with a bit of a laugh.

"You're a sly fox sometimes. Fancy having a girl like on tap without saying a word about it."

Jon smiled - and let the subject through to the keeper.

After a little while, Annie returned - against a wave of humanity - carrying bottles of mineral water and other knickknacks she'd bought downstairs.

"I've got some flavoured mineral water and chewy nutty things for afternoon tea. I would have got tea, but there was an enormous queue and I didn't know how I'd manage carrying hot drinks. I hope this will be all right?"

"Perfect." Eric responded, "Just fine with me."

"Fantastic. Just right." Jon added.

The football gloss remained in place till late in the final quarter when it became obvious they had been barracking for the losing team.

Jon and Annie left Eric to his own devices after the game; then caught a tram to town to pick up the car and drive home. And Annie did a match post-mortem for the entire trip. She hardly took a breath.

The poor thing was gone for all money; didn't even have a chance of resisting. The great Australian game and its premier venue had claimed another unwary victim.

When they got home, Annie had a shower while Jon did clever de-bearding and cleaning things with his bag of mussels. Then Jon had a shower while Annie made quick goodbye phone calls to Jane, Denise and Maria. She spent most time talking to Maria, who was the one she saw least of. Annie sought – and promised – more substantial contact with Tony and Maria when she next visited.

When out of the shower, Jon did some culinary tricks with an onion, some big tomatoes, a chilli and salt and pepper.

"Now what are you going to do with those ugly damned black things." Annie asked.

"I'll show you in about five minutes. Are you the bread lady?"

"Yep. I'm the bread lady."

"Well, you've got yourself a job."

He handed her some bread to slice and a basket to put the slices in, then he set the table.

After about five minutes, he asked Annie to finish the cooking.

"All right bread lady, grab the bowl of ugly black things and whack 'em all in there." he said, pointing to the pot containing the bubbling tomato mixture.

"Swish 'em around with the wooden spoon a bit, then put the lid back on. Okay."

Annie did as instructed.

"Are you ready to do the pledge now?" he asked her.

"I guess so!"

"Well raise your right hand and say after me, 'I, Annie Davis solemnly declare...'."

"I, Annie Davis solemnly declare...".

"... that I will never attempt to eat a mussel that hasn't properly opened."

"... that I will never attempt to eat a mussel that hasn't properly opened."

"Good!" he said, "Well done!"

After explaining the mussel pledge, Jon poked around in the pot with a pair of tongs and removed a few rejects before serving the feast in giant white bowls.

"Is this soup, Jon?" Annie asked innocently.

"Buggered if I know what you'd call it. But, with any sort of luck, it'll taste okay."

It did! And the bread Annie thought a bit heavy and stale, turned out to be the perfect dunking accompaniment.

They watched television till about nine o'clock then went to bed. It had been a long day and they were both weary. And apart from that, they wanted to be as close as possible for as long as possible on the last night of their special weekend.

Annie woke at about midnight, for no apparent reason, and intuitively reached across for Jon. But he wasn't there!

She waited for a while but he didn't come back.

Believing that he may have come down with the dreaded mussel fever, she went to look for him.

He was in the back bedroom – the study - reading.

"Are you okay, precious? You're not sick in the tum or anything, are you?" she enquired.

"No; I'm fine! I think I just went to bed too early and woke up again."

Annie sat down on the spare office chair.

"Are you really like Mum says – the craziest sleeper in the world?"

"Well, I suppose I do some strange stuff. But I don't know whether I'm the worst in the world. I haven't got much information about the others."

The absolute Sunday night quiet - their solitude and the certainty that they would be parted in little more than twelve hours – somehow brought forward in Annie's mind a subject that had never been discussed; not to her satisfaction, anyway.

"You're not thinking of going back to bed right now, are you?" she asked.

"No. Why is that?"

"Well we're both awake again; so it's as good a time as any to talk I suppose."

"Why not?"

"Jon, you've never talked about Mum and the trouble you had with her; and – I don't know – I've been a bit uneasy about that."

"Well you'd better tell me about it, eh."

"I'm the reason you got into strife with Mum that time, you know. I was the one who spilled the beans. I mucked it all up; and when she put the pressure on, I fell to bits, Jon. I've never said I'm sorry about it – but I am. I really didn't mean to do what I did."

Jon laughed a bit before replying.

"If I were you, I wouldn't give it another thought. I knew you must have been put in a pretty awkward position. It wouldn't have been easy; I knew that! And I've never really thought about you letting me down. I've always thought it was the other way around."

"Cut it out! I was there too, you know; I remember what happened! I couldn't keep my hands off you!" she said with a cheeky smile.

"Well this is pretty easy. What say we go halves in the blame for the entire range of thoroughly memorable errors? Would that be okay?"

"It's a deal! But Jon I'm really sorry you ended up in trouble with Mum. That's really what I'm trying to say."

"But you had a nice easy time, eh?" Jon asked, as he reached out for her hand.

"No. It was awful for a while, really awful!"

Without prompting, Annie proceeded to tell some stories about what really happened at the Davis household between the time of Jon's departure and the treatment of Lee's illness. Though she was quite composed in the telling of these tales, there was no reason to be so. She'd clearly been subject to a long series of uniformly unpleasant experiences.

And these were not reprimands for being a naughty girl; they were nothing like that. They were obviously deliberate acts designed to intimidate and upset.

The stories were very sobering for Jon who, just six months earlier, believed he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He actually had trouble assimilating some of the information about the black months.

"So it all settled down when she was sick?"

"Yes, but that just replaced one set of problems with another. I didn't think she was going to get through that. And I don't think anyone else did either. She was really bad for a long time. Well it seemed like a long time anyway."

"Shit oh dear. What a mess. What say I make a cuppa? Would you like one?"

It was hardly morning tea time, but Annie agreed to have a cuppa anyway.

They went together to the kitchen and chatted more about Lee's cancer problems as Jon made the tea. Then, for no good reason, they then went back to the study.

"From the sounds of things, Annie Davis, I got off pretty light." Jon commented, after he'd sat down.

"Well, I don't know really. I mean, you haven't even told me what went wrong at work yet."

That surprised him.

"What do you mean?"

"Tony started to talk about your trouble at work on Friday night – till he realised I didn't know anything about it. Then he shot off onto another subject."

"What actually happened, Jon? Why did you leave Brisbane so quickly?"

"It was nothing really. The project just went a bit skew-whiff, that's all." Jon replied, with a shrug of the shoulders.

"Come on Jon; tell Annie. Tony seemed to be saying they knew about us at your office. And I know you wouldn't have told them. So what went on?"

Jon tipped his head forward, rubbed his forehead then scratched his head a bit.

"Okay; all right then! The little company I was working for up there didn't have the staff to sustain the project we were working on. And some of their people deserted and everything fell to pieces. Okay?"

Annie nodded.

"Now, the easy way out for the company was to blame us for the problems and sue us under the engagement contract – which was a complete bloody dog. So they threatened the legal action; and added a bit of menacing pressure with some gossip about an affair involving the on-site ART Kingston consultant – me; and a young woman - you."

"Jesus Jon, how could they have known about us?"

"Well, that's an interesting subject!" he said with a smile.

"You see, the person I was mainly involved with in the Brisbane company was a woman called Lorraine Jones. I think you know her. Middle-aged, lives out your way; she looks like a rat with singed hair."

"Oh, Christ no!"

Annie felt the tears coming. And there was nothing she could do about it.

"It's true! I promise!" he said happily, "She looks like she got caught under the griller when she was checking the cheese toast."

"God, Jon! I don't know what to say."

"Annie, it's all history! And I'll tell you what else, you don't get much of a say with these things anyway. Shit just happens; it's a fact of life! You don't have to search for it in the yellow pages or advertise in the classifieds – it just happens!"

Jon went across to her chair, stood her up, put his big arms around her and gently rocked her in a comforting hug.

"It's all history. We've survived it; and we're okay, aren't we?"

"Good as gold." she answered, smiling and sniffling simultaneously.

After a short time, Annie suggested there was no point staying in the study and suggested they go back to bed.

And they did.

But, they'd not been there long before Jon's remarkable story about matters occupational started to really click into place.

"What a prize bitch! What an absolute bitch!" Annie blurted out, before adding a youthful observation about the workings of business.

"I don't think that was fair, Jon. She had no right to do that."

He held her hand and made the quite reasonable suggestion that she try to concentrate on nice thoughts to encourage sleep. She accepted this proposition, chose a review of the weekend, then spoke softly to him about it as the thoughts unfolded.

"Jane's really nice. And that Rob's a character, isn't he?"

There was a break.

"And the football was terrific. And the mussels; well, what can I say. I've never had them before you know. But, I told you that, didn't I?"

"The house is beautiful, Jon. I don't know why, but I was expecting something much plainer. You must have put a lot of work into it."

There was another break.

"Jon, I don't really want to go home tomorrow. I'd much rather stay here, you know."

This time he answered.

"It's been pretty good, hasn't it?"

Annie rolled over towards him and, in the complete dark, carefully felt for the top of his pillow, then his hair and then the near side of his face. When confident about the location, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Jon. I love you so much, I don't think you'd even believe it."

He found her hand and held it to his lips for a time. The hand settled on his chest as they drifted into sleep.

Annie woke at about seven o'clock only to find that Jon had done a runner again. She padded out to the kitchen from where she could see him out in the back yard studying a small garden bed. She tapped on the window and he waved and came striding down the cement path towards the back door.

"Geez, it's cool out there this morning." he announced.

"What were you doing out there?"

"Talking to my few pathetic vegetables."

"What did they have to say?" she asked.

"They wanted me to throw some chicken poop pellets on them and hose them with freezing water."

"Umm, sounds nice!" she replied.

"I seemed to have a woman in my bed last night and she was saying some pretty nice things. It was dark though, and I couldn't see her clearly. Was it you?"

She smiled and nodded.

"You beauty!" he said happily, "That's exactly who I wanted it to be."

Jon made some tea and toast and they sat down at the dining room table to enjoy their minor meal. They talked more about his removal from Brisbane when the Finsol job went kaput, his startling welcome back to Melbourne and his occupational problems around that time. It wasn't emotion-charged dialogue, more something to occupy the mind while munching through toast with plum jam.

Annie, however, did give 'the bitch' another spirited work-over – just for good measure.

"Annie, I told you a lie before." Jon said, after finishing his toast, "I wasn't really talking to vegetables out there. I was thinking about something a bit more important. I was thinking of maybe moving back to Brisbane before too long. I've got a feeling that might be the sensible thing to do. What do you reckon? Have you ever thought about that?"

Annie wasn't visibly underwhelmed by the launching of this idea, but she was clearly not about to rush to the refrigerator for the celebratory champagne. She seemed to display polite happiness at the prospect.

"Yes I have thought about that." she said, "That'd be great!"

Jon smiled and nodded encouragingly for some more information.

"But there could be a few problems too, you know."

"There are always a few problems. But we'll iron them out." Jon replied.

Jon was hurt by her reaction – or, more correctly - lack of reaction. He'd become used to the idea that their being together was fairly important; and he thought Annie was of like mind. Apart from that, he'd made a reasonable size concession here. He'd volunteered to relinquish his established lifestyle and, probably, an interesting consulting career.

"Jon, I've seen what the weather does to you up in Brisbane. You lose your balance; you go troppo and chase girls. I know it for a fact."

She smiled. And Jon smiled back in response to the light-hearted proposition.

"And, in any case," she said, "you're welded-on down here. You belong here. This is your home and you can't just walk out."

He nodded, and Annie reached over and patted him on the hand.

"Look, what I'm going to say is a bit tricky, Jon." she said, "So please try to be understanding when I talk about it. Will you – please?."

He nodded, but wondered what on earth was going to be so tricky. He had a nasty – and strangely familiar – feeling that he was going to cop something he really didn't want to hear.

"Jon, when you first went up to Brisbane to work – when I wasn't there – you seemed to have an impact on Mum. I didn't take much notice of it at the time, but she talked a bit about you after I got home. 'Jon said this', 'Jon said that' – you know the sort of stuff."

"Then when she heard you were coming back to work for a while, she was very chirpy. And she'd occasionally say things like 'he's very nice' and 'I just know you'll like him' and 'he was always good-looking'. But I didn't take much notice of it; I thought she was just telling me about her friend from Melbourne who used to do some babysitting and help out a bit."

"And when you actually got to Brisbane, she was pretty happy about you coming home for dinner and the prospect of us going out sometimes while you were there. But, as I said, I didn't take too much notice of it. It was just Mum yapping; just routine conversation."

"Now, what I'm going to say is going to sound a bit strange, even a bit off-colour or off-beat or something; but I think it's important."

"After we got caught-out up there, when she went really strange, I often thought about what she'd said; and I got to thinking she might have been a bit keen on you. What I'm trying to say – and it's just a theory, mind you – what I'm trying to say, is that I think Mum might have wanted to pin her star on you. I think she had some friendly little Jon Bentley plans. And I think we might have buggered them all up."

She winced a bit before delivering the summary sentence.

"Jon, I've got the feeling you were supposed to go for the lioness; not the cub."

Jon took time considering his response.

"I fancied the littler lioness!" he said, "I didn't see any cub when I went up there."

"Have you ever thought about what I'm talking about here, Jon?" she asked.

"Yep; but only in retrospect - and then, only with Tony's help. But I didn't think about it at the time. It never entered my mind."

There was certainly relief that the cards were all out on the table. But further conversation about the theory remained guarded – Annie not wishing to signpost competition with her mother for the man she adored and whose bed she was sharing; and Jon not wishing to attract a misplaced pants-man accreditation or accidentally display any tiny inference that he ever had leanings in Lee's direction.

They did well! They manoeuvred their way carefully through the discussions – remarkable discussions that they were, by any measure.

"Now, I don't know what Jon Bentley thoughts she's still carrying around in her head at the moment; I haven't got a clue." Annie said, "But I've got a suspicion there's something there. I think she's only in remission with this."

"And if you turn-up in Brisbane to live, I've got this awful feeling we could have a war on our hands."

Jon thought about this carefully before answering.

"And you'll be the piggy-in-the-middle and the inevitable loser." he commented.

"No! No precious! It's much more complicated than that! If there's real trouble, and choices have to be made, everybody loses. Jon, you and I can't discard Mum; and Mum and I can't discard you. They're not options."

Jon looked upwards for a few moments – maybe hoping for some divine assistance – then took the cups out to the kitchen to make more tea.

"You'll have another cup?" he asked.

"That'd be great."

Jon continued from the kitchen.

"Well I guess all we can do is paddle along for a while longer and just see what happens. It's not much chop, I know; but it's not killing us."

"Jon, I haven't finished yet; there's more to go! Now, you might think it's a bit crazy and you mightn't be interested in it at all. But can I tell you about it?"

"Sure."

"All right then. I did fairly last year at uni; okay! It wasn't really tops; but it wasn't too bad either. I don't know why it is, but I seem to be able to keep well ahead with languages and reading subjects. I remember some things fairly easily – God only knows how."

"Fair enough." he answered, from the kitchen.

"Now if a girl really wanted to get ahead in life with languages and teaching, wouldn't it be sensible for her to want to improve herself by going to a bigger, better, more cosmopolitan university? Wouldn't it be sensible for her to really try to get a top second year result and spread her little wings to go elsewhere for a bigger slice of the cake? Wouldn't it be sensible for her to be thinking about going to a big smoke uni – maybe Melbourne or Monash?"

He came back from the kitchen.

"Christ, Annie! Fair go!"

"Hear me out. Please listen to what I'm saying. At the moment, Mum's paying money for me to be at UQ. It's not a fortune, but it's not easy for her. And, as things are, you're spending ridiculous amounts of money to visit me in Brisbane all the time. Add them together – take off what I earn – and it's a lot. It's a lot of money and, frankly, I'm embarrassed about it. I'm really uncomfortable about it."

"Now, if I went to uni down here – part-time for a few years then full-time again when I could get some good casual work – you'd save money, Mum would save a bit and might have some more time on her hands, and you and I could be together. And I'd stop feeling like a damned charity case."

Jon was a bit stunned and a bit entertained by this. Though he didn't actually laugh; he did a breathy laughing simulation by exhaling rhythmically through near-closed lips.

He'd have been better off cackling openly.

Annie was absolutely furious. She sat opposite – motionless and silent – glaring at him.

He took as much of the glaring punishment as he could before bowing his head in remorse. He felt about two centimetres tall.

"Please don't ever do that sort of thing to me." was all she eventually said.

Jon continued as best he could.

"What I was really thinking was that your Mum's a clever woman. She'd see through that story easily; surely?"

"Hang on, wait a minute. It's not just a story. I've read about Melbourne and Monash, and they're both top notch. It wouldn't be hard to put together a convincing – and truthful – case for changing over. And to be honest, I don't mind the idea of changing at all. I think either of them would have bit more to offer than UQ."

"But she wouldn't hear that argument." Jon replied, "She'd just hear that you're wanting to go to Melbourne with me." he replied.

"I'm not sure, Jon. I think there's a chance she'd hear what she wants to hear. And I think there's a chance she may be interested in hearing that the Jon and Annie saga could go elsewhere."

"I don't think she wishes you or me any harm at the moment," Annie continued, "but I don't know how long the goodwill would last if you keep turning up on the doorstep in Brisbane; or if I keep going home with a stupid smile from-ear-to-ear having 'gone out with Jon'. Maybe out-of-sight and out-of-mind could appeal to her."

"But there's just the two of you." Jon continued, "What would she think about her girl leaving home?"

"I wouldn't really be leaving home. I'd just be going somewhere else to finish my uni course."

Jon scratched his head – and Annie continued.

"Jon, I'm not asking you to be my guardian; I'm asking if I could sort of board here for a while till I finish at uni."

"Sure. Okay." Jon replied, "And I'd love you to stay here. There's nothing on earth I'd like more. But you'd be out on a limb suggesting that you weren't really leaving home. And you'd cop the lot about being too young to leave. I just know it! I can hear it now!"

"But didn't you leave home when you were twenty-one?"

"I was twenty-two – by about five days." Jon responded, with a laugh.

"Gee, that was pretty old! And I can do arithmetic too, Jon. I know Mum couldn't have been much older than me when she and Dad got together."

Jon paused thoughtfully for a little while and scratched underneath his chin.

"She was sixteen actually!"

"She wasn't, was she? Are you sure?" Annie asked.

"Yeah. Dad took your Mum under his wing after Jim died and she told him lots of things. And that was one of them. I don't think I was supposed to know, but I overheard Mum and Dad talking about it in the kitchen one night back at Clayfield."

"Gee, sixteen's pretty young!" Annie replied.

"Oh, yes and no!" Jon replied quietly, "It depends a bit on how fast and how shitty the growing-up journey was."

"Anyway, when it's boiled down to basics, I guess all the legal and moral and social stuff about the exact right age doesn't really amount to much if nobody's watching. And it doesn't amount to anything at all if you've got no family, you're lonely as hell and need a roof over your head."

"I guess not!" Annie replied, before having a bit more tea.

"Jon," she continued, "what do you really think about my coming down here to uni?"

"God, it's a tricky one. I think it would be terrific, but I'm not quite comfortable with the idea at the minute. It worries me a bit. What say we give it a bit more thought for a while?"

"I've got no problems with that. That's fine."

As planned, they went to have a look around town that morning; had lunch at a café there - then set off for Tullamarine.

They checked the bag in and got a boarding pass, before going into the departure area for a quick cool drink before Annie's fourth embarkation.

The time skidded away and, seemingly in seconds, they had said their goodbyes and Annie had joined the queue in front of the air bridge. Being a novice, and having been allocated a seat towards the rear of the plane, she was among the first ten or so passengers to line up. When about two or three from the head of the queue, she turned around for a final wave - only to see Jon looking a bit anxious and beckoning her back. He pointed to his watch and held up one finger, presumably to indicate one minute.

She broke from the queue and went back to him.

"What's the trouble bubble?" she asked.

"I'm very sorry about this morning. I didn't mean to laugh at you. I mucked that up completely and I'm sorry."

"I can't remember it at all." she said happily, "That's far too long ago!"

Then he surprised her – and, no doubt, himself as well.

"And I love you too." he said, as he held his arms out like a fibbing fisherman describing an important piscatorial conquest, "A lot; like crazy, Annie."

It was a wonderful moment for her. Extremely moving. But - as often happens - it was a bit silly too. There he was with an innocent look on his face, indicating in clumsy physical terms that which couldn't be quantified at all.

Annie knew he was a controlled person, not prone to emotional outbursts; so she feared he could get a nasty jolt on discovering he was standing in the middle of a crowded airport departure lounge looking like a dopey angler sans fish. She opted to go out in sympathy, so that the two of them could look ridiculous together.

"That much?" she said, with her arms held out like his.

He nodded boyishly.

"God, that's a lot Jon!"

At that point, there was nowhere for them to go but forward - to repeat the farewell ceremony.

While they were close together, he quietly and quickly said the other things that needed to be said.

"Your idea about a uni down here isn't all that bad. It's got a sound about it that appeals to me in a way. I've had a few jobs where I've needed to find ideas like that – right outside the square. And they've worked too! Let's talk about it on the phone, eh."

"Okay precious. But I'd better go now."

In no time, she was waving goodbye from the door to the air bridge.

The long weekend had given Jon many, many things to think about.

Obviously, at the top of the list was the tantalising but risky business of trying to get Annie to Melbourne the following year.

At the other end of the list – but still very near to his heart - was a problem with the functionality of his bathroom.

When put to the ultimate test, it proved to be about fifty percent useless. In the two only recorded cases of dual occupancy, he and Annie – in the interests of conserving water, of course - decided to use just the one shower rose.

* * *

### 10.

Jon eventually arrived home from the airport at about four o'clock. He parked the car, went into the house and turned on the heating. The place seemed very empty and quiet.

When he went to the bedroom to change, he noticed a neatly gift-wrapped parcel and an envelope on the bedside table next to where Annie had slept.

The envelope contained a birthday card and money left over from the Richmond shopping spree.

The card read –

'Happy Birthday Mr Mussels,

Thank you for everything – it's been wonderful!!

I ran out of rainy day money, so you bought two T-shirts for Mum.

Love you.

Annie'

The parcel contained six nice handkerchiefs tastefully embroidered with the letter 'J', two pairs of king-size dark grey socks and a word puzzle book.

He sat on the bed and admired the presents for an inordinately long period of time. And he read the card again and again.

When he eventually went to the kitchen, he noticed through the window that the weather had taken a turn for the worse. The sky was darkening and very fine rain was falling. But despite the outside weather woes, the quietness and the certainty he'd be at work the following day, Jon had the strange feeling that he was on holidays.

The phone rang at about five. It was Tony checking in to make sure all was okay and that Annie enjoyed the remainder of her Melbourne stay. In the course of conversation, he put on record that he and Maria thought Annie to be 'really nice' and 'very easy company'. Jon was happy to hear these messages.

A second phone call came in at about six. This time it was Sylvia wanting a report on the weekend.

Sylvia's call was not an easy five-minute model like Tony's; she needed to know just about everything. But it wasn't till the very end of the twenty-minute marathon that it got interesting.

"So you're happy about how it all went, Jon?"

"No worries at all, Mum. It was a really good weekend. And if you asked Annie, she'd say it was 'good as gold'; I'll bet you."

"Jon, would you mind if I put that to the test? Would you mind if I phoned Annie just to say hello? I had in the back of my mind that I should speak to her before I made contact with Lee. Would you mind if I did that?"

"No. That'd be good Mum."

"Jon, Annie's been at your place for the weekend and I know you're keen on her. And she must be pretty keen on you. I mean, a weekend down there doesn't sound much like Saturday afternoon at the pictures to me. And I'm really worried now that I haven't heard from Lee about any of this; I think there's bad trouble brewing here. Could that be right?"

"Yeah." he answered, "But I'm buggered if I know how to handle that. It's a bit tricky Mum."

"It's sad you know," Sylvia went on, "communication with Lee seems to have petered-out entirely now. We used to swap letters and cards pretty regularly in the early days. We were quite close in a way. But it's stopped completely in the last few years; and that's sad."

"I guess so." Jon replied.

"Anyhow, you wouldn't mind if I made contact, Jon?" Sylvia asked.

"Not at all; and I'm certain Annie will go along with that."

"Well I'll phone on Wednesday. I'll call Annie on the mobile first; then I'll call Lee later on at her place."

There the matter rested.

Having taken the punt with this, Jon - of course - phoned Annie as early as possible on the Tuesday to get the seal of approval for Sylvia to make contact the following day. Annie was more than pleased with the idea, suggesting that it had potential to 'balance things up a bit'.

On the Thursday, Annie and Sylvia both phoned Jon about the venture; and the consensus seemed to be that the Annie conversation was a resounding success and the Lee conversation was the opposite. Sylvia apparently handled it all discreetly and competently; but Lee seemed distant and cool.

Jon travelled to Brisbane later in August and found Lee to be in the frame of mind described – distant and cool. Though he and Annie attempted to engage her in conversation about matters of mutual interest a few times, it seemed she wanted to be somewhere else. It was very awkward; it was uncomfortable for everyone.

Sylvia made another friendly phone call to Lee in early September only to be given the cool treatment again. And Jon got a similar reaction when he made yet another trip to Brisbane a few days after Sylvia's call.

During this visit, Jon and Annie spent a good deal of time discussing two conflicting subjects. The first was the plan for Annie to move south; and the second was the apparent hardening of Lee's attitude towards their partnership.

With university matters, there had been a fair amount of research done on the structure of courses at Monash and Melbourne; and Jon had been in touch with both institutions by phone. Though Melbourne was favoured because of location, Monash was looking to be the better fit for Annie's requirements. And it was probably going to be easier to get into.

But the choice of university wasn't the real problem. The problem was Lee.

Given her prevailing mood, the idea of even murmuring anything to her about a university in Melbourne was a frightening prospect. And the idea of an old-fashioned open discussion around the dining room table wasn't worth a thought. Jon seemed already to be in Lee's firing line - and was having difficulty attracting civil behaviour without being provocative in any way.

Jon and Annie spoke candidly, and at length, about the potential for Lee to revert to her very worst behaviour – with or without mention of Annie moving south. They also spoke about the potential for the mother-daughter relationship to become unworkable.

The quandary was real enough and the discussion of it was unsettling. It was made more poignant by their intelligence and perception. They knew exactly what was going on here. Neither had ever tried to mask their age and neither had tried to run away from their personal relationship résumés. In their minds, there was no doubt that Jon was thirty-seven and owner of an unhappy history with the opposite sex; and there was no doubt that Annie was nineteen and virtually without any history of relationships prior to Jon's arrival on the scene.

Though they felt close as could be, on paper it wasn't a brilliant arrangement.

Apart form all else; Jon and Annie talked about Sylvia's contact with Lee and the possibility that her phone calls had done some damage. They, of course, had no way of knowing whether Lee perceived the communications as helpful or as part of a plot. They had no way of knowing whether they should continue to accept help from the Port Macquarie connection or battle on alone.

The week commencing Monday 12 September 1994 was extraordinary in very many ways for Jon and Annie, and others in their circle.

On that day, Jon learned that he was to travel to Sydney 'as soon as possible' to take over a large project that was not doing well since the firm's senior man on the job contracted a rare illness that was not responding to treatment. Though there was an occupational baptism of fire involved here, there was some benefit in that he'd be able to travel to Brisbane and back at a much better price. He was to be in Sydney for at least two months.

Because of the project size and altered reporting lines - and the perceived inconvenience associated with the temporary posting - Eric took it upon himself to personally tell Jon about his rapid transfer.

Their late afternoon businesslike conversation took a curious twist after project details had been settled.

"Jon, the girl you took to the football – Annie, wasn't it – she enjoyed herself, didn't she?" Eric asked.

"No worries; she thought it was terrific."

"I've been thinking about that day, Jon; and I've wondered a couple of times about Annie."

"Why's that?" Jon asked.

"I know it's none of my business, but she isn't 'the' girl from Brisbane, is she? You know, the one from a while ago."

"Yep. That's the one, Eric. The very same one." Jon responded nonchalantly.

"I'm buggered if I know why that didn't dawn on me earlier. I must be getting old. Anyway, she seemed top-drawer to me, Jon. Lovely girl!"

Eric paused for a few seconds.

"This job in Sydney is a good one for you. It's not an IT one, but there's a lot of the type of stuff you like in amongst it. Take a big bite; you'll enjoy it. And come direct to me about it. They're really struggling up there in Sydney and they're happy for this to be my baby. No need to clear that with Greg – he knows."

The conversation terminated with a handshake – as well as a good luck message and a pat on the shoulder for Jon. The pat was quite unprecedented.

On that very same Monday, Sylvia – concerned about the coolness of communications with Lee and about Jon's predicament generally – decided to discuss Brisbane matters properly with senior counsel, Frank.

In reconstructing the background, Sylvia was honest and comprehensive in the extreme. She told Frank - for the first time - what she knew of Jon and Annie's early contact and its difficult aftermath. She also unveiled her theory that Lee was probably smarting because she assumed title to Jon's attention when he first returned to Brisbane. In making her point easily understood for senior counsel, she volunteered that 'Lee was probably expecting the tumble' – a quaint expression that raised Frank's eyebrows and caused him a short period of muffled mirth.

Sylvia went on to re-cap on Jon's travels to Brisbane and Annie's visit to Melbourne for the birthday weekend.

Frank listened carefully to all that was said.

"Okay, I've got all that Mum." Frank said at the conclusion of the overview, "So where do we go from here?"

"I don't think I can do anything else, Frank. I can't keep ringing Lee up and making soothing noises; I think it might be making things worse. And yet I feel I should be doing something. Young Annie sounds so nice on the phone; she's so bubbly and anxious to talk. She sounds like a lovely girl."

Frank sat in silence for a while before replying.

"Let's think about it for a while, eh. Let's just take it quietly and see what happens. If I have a brainwave, I'll let you know."

On the Tuesday, Jon phoned Annie just to say hello and to tell her about the Sydney job. After the occupational and day-to-day matters were dealt with, Annie resurrected a subject from Jon's previous visit.

She told him she was happy enough to let Sylvia keep making contact with Lee on the phone.

"I don't know that it does much good; but I don't think it does any harm either." Annie explained, "What do you think?"

"I'm happy to let her do what she wants to do." Jon replied, "She's pretty cluey; she won't overstay her welcome. Mum understands these things."

So, ironically, Annie and Jon had left open a communication channel for Sylvia – who didn't want to pursue the communication any further.

On the Thursday morning, Annie phoned Jon – who was soon to leave for Sydney - to tell him that Lee had come out into the open the previous night with a hostile performance aimed at ridding the Davis household of him once and for all. No ifs or buts, the arrangement was to terminate.

"It was awful, Jon. It was that tone of voice she had before. She was really angry." Annie reported.

"Jesus help us. You reckon it's really turned sour?"

"She was ranting, Jon. And when I tried to get a sentence or two in, she cut me off and said 'I don't care about any of that; just tell him to bugger off. And if you can't, I will.' It was really awful. I don't know what to do."

After they'd discussed the previous night's turmoil in detail, Annie took the lead.

"Jon, do you really think you could put up with me in Melbourne? Would it be okay with you?"

"Yes. Totally." was all he said in reply.

"Jon, I want you. I want to be with you as soon as possible. That's what matters most. I'll make it work somehow. I'll get a job of some sort and do uni part-time; that'd be the best way, I think."

Jon was silent for a few seconds.

"Annie, you've got the reigns in your hands have you? You know what your saying?"

"Yes I do. I've thought about it a lot. I've had the feeling it would come to this? I was hoping – or dreaming – it wouldn't happen; but deep down, I had the feeling it would. I know what I'm saying, Jon; I know what it means."

Jon was again silent for a little while.

"Okay. When you want to make the break – or when you have to – you can stay in Brisbane to finish off the year at uni, if that's what you want to do. I can fix some sort of accommodation. That's not a problem. You wouldn't have to worry about money. It wouldn't cost all that much anyway; it's not that far to the end of the year, when you think about it. All right."

"Okay." she replied.

"Now if you'd prefer to leave Brisbane straight away, you could either come here to Sydney with me for a while; or you could go direct to Melbourne. But I don't know what happens to all your uni work if you leave Brisbane before the end of the year. Maybe you just have to kill a few units and catch them up later. I don't know."

"That wouldn't matter too much. If I change to part-time, it's all going to take a fair while anyway." she replied.

"Annie, I know I've never said this before, but part-time's bloody awful. Ultimately, you can do anything you really want to do – but it's bloody awful. I'd be happier if you went through full-time so that you could be free to do exactly what you want as soon as possible. There'd be nothing worse than slaving away at a crappy job for years while you struggle with the university work. Believe me, part-time is a real misery."

"But precious, I've got to make ends meet somehow."

"I can fix all that. Don't even worry about it now. I can make it all work." Jon said.

"Jon, no! That's not fair on you. That's not your cost; I couldn't do that."

"Wait a sec; wait a sec now. It's nothing flash at all. It's no more than the reward Lee would give you for getting rid of me; and it's no more than I was given when I was a bit younger. It's no great shakes at all."

"God, Jon. Do you know..."

"Annie, I want to be with you too. It's that simple. It will all work out; I'm certain of that. We can worry about the details later. And we can worry about the repair job with your Mum later too."

"I'm scared, Jon!" she admitted.

"I can understand that." he answered in a gentle soft voice, "And if things change and you don't want to move on this, I'll understand. That's a promise. But if you jump – or if you're pushed – I'm ready to catch you. That's a promise too. I'm on your side. Okay?"

"I'm coming with you, Jon."

They said their goodbyes, then Annie went to catch the bus home for another dose of serious domestic trouble and Jon returned to his desk for another dose of serious occupational trouble.

On the Friday morning, Annie phoned to let Jon know that there was no change in Lee's sour behaviour; and that delivery of the news about moving out of home was now just a matter of waiting for the right moment. She said that she was 'not going to muck around with this for too long' and that she'd probably make her move 'on the weekend'.

For Jon, the timing of the crisis could have been better. As he was about to become engulfed in his difficult work assignment, he was sliding inexorably towards a de-facto relationship with serious partnership responsibilities – possibly elevated with pseudo-parental university obligations of his own making.

But, interestingly, he was not conscious of any great pressure. The circumstances had arrived at an age and a life moment when he could command total resolve. Annie came first; family came second; the job came third; and the rest didn't count. He was shining, sharp, rigid metal forged by a force that operated out beyond his awareness. All he could sense was something to do with the need for Annie's companionship and with destiny. He was not going to bend; he was not going to lose.

Early on the Saturday morning, in sunny Port Macquarie, Frank sought to go over a few points about the Annie affair with Sylvia. He started at October 1992.

"The girl was seventeen then, wasn't she?" he asked after the first few minutes on the subject.

"Yes Dear."

"Well, he was a bloody fool."

"Please try not to look just at the worst aspects Frank." she replied, "Try not to be hard on him."

"No Sylv. He was a fool. All he had to do was say 'no'; that's all he had to do. And he bloody didn't."

They chatted on for about fifteen minutes longer – then let the matter rest.

At about half-past-ten, after their morning coffee, Frank announced that he was about to phone Lee.

"Don't you think you should contact Jon first?" Sylvia asked.

"No. That would just muddle things up." he replied, "I don't need a two hour analysis of the subject."

So, phone her he did.

It was a call that may well have taken a few years off Sylvia's life.

"Is that my second favourite girl?" she heard for openers.

"No. It's Frank. Frank Bentley."

There was some laughter.

"Now, why the bloody hell haven't we been in touch for years?"

There was more laughter.

"Maybe we're both a bit mad." she heard, "No. Of course I haven't got an excuse. Have you?"

There was laughter again.

"Now Sylv tells me you've got a strange bloke keeping company with your girl Annie. Is that right?"

Sylvia couldn't listen to any more; her nerves weren't up to it. It was all too much! She went to the laundry to put a load of washing on.

When she went back into the kitchen, Frank was still on the phone leaning on his elbow and listening carefully to what was being said. He seemed absorbed with the conversation, commenting 'yes' and 'fair enough' and 'no' at irregular intervals.

So she went down to the garage to get a screwdriver so she could do a bit of repair work on her sewing box. And when she returned he was still on the phone – this time having his say.

"Oh Christ Lee; don't ask me. At my age, you can't tell how old anyone is anyway."

Sylvia was beside herself at this stage.

"I couldn't care less!" she heard him say.

Frank sat listening for a minute – then continued.

"Hey listen, does she play bowls?"

There was prolonged loud laughter after the answer to that question.

At the end of the animated twenty-minute conversation, Sylvia asked the obvious.

"Well, what happened?"

"That Lee's a good style of girl!" Frank answered, "She's a bit of all right!"

"That's not quite what I meant, Frank." she said in an exasperated voice, "What did you talk about?"

He explained all in his rather blunt style; and eventually concluding -

"She's got shit-on-liver all right, Sylv. She was talking a lot about Annie being too young and not understanding what's going on. But it was all a bit garbled and confused. You're right about all this I think; she's having a good old argument with herself, the poor kid. We'll fix it up somehow though."

When Frank went to bowls, Sylvia opted to do a few chores then have a late afternoon read and rest. At about four, she lay on the bed but didn't read; she dozed for a while with intermittent thoughts about how similar Frank and Jon were in some ways, and how different in others. Just before departure into sleep, she wondered whether, maybe - just maybe - that wonderful old war-horse of hers wasn't again in the process of saving the day; this time for Jon, Annie and all. He'd done this type of trick a hundred times before in seemingly impossible situations, where all others had failed.

She slept for about an hour and was woken up by Frank, who had returned from bowls full of victory joy – and smelling of sunscreen, perspiration and Tooheys New.

"Well who's the clever boy, Mum? Who do you reckon beat Keith Kirby and got into the semi-finals?"

"Let me guess." she said, "My boy Frank."

"You bloody betcha!" he answered, holding his arms aloft, "Come on out to the table and I'll tell you all about it."

Using the salt and pepper shakers and serviette rings to illustrate the position of bowls, Frank described his fantastic second-last end.

"And I came round here with a delicate little forehand," he said, as he moved the critical serviette ring along the table "and – clunk - out came his bowl, and I picked up three. It was a bloody beauty. I knew it was right the moment it left my hand."

"Oh Frank, that's wonderful." she said proudly, "That's a really big win for you."

They savoured the remainder of their happy Saturday.

Sunday 18 September 1994 was not nearly as happy.

In Brisbane, quite early in the morning and before setting off for her newsagency job, Annie went to Lee's room and calmly delivered the news that she'd made up her mind to attend a Melbourne university – and to live with Jon – as from the beginning of the following year.

She got the reaction she expected.

"Well you can forget that for a start."

Annie just shook her head.

"You're not going down there, Annie. Forget it." Lee added.

"I actually don't have to wait till next year either; I can go anytime, Mum. It's quite possible; in fact it's likely."

"Likely, be damned." Lee shouted.

Annie let loose.

"Well why the hell would you imagine I'd want to stay here? For Christ's sake Mum, you're making my life unbearable again. It's awful here!"

"I'm making your life unbearable? I'm doing that to you? You've got this all arse about face you stupid girl." Lee shouted angrily.

"Mum, I've been through this schizo behaviour with you before – for miserable month after month. I'm not going to put up with it again."

"You've got a bloody hide." Lee snarled.

"Listen up, Mum." Annie replied with relative calm, "I'm not prepared to put up with any more of it."

"You precocious little bugger. I'm still your mother and I still have certain..."

Annie closed it down.

"Mum, we're back to where we were before you got sick; and it can't work. You're treating me like dirt. You've got your heart set on punishing me because of Jon. It just can't work. I can't let it go on."

She paused momentarily.

"I've got to leave now. I'm on at half-past-seven."

Annie departed on her walk to the newsagency, disappointed at losing her calm and at having used the word 'schizo'. She regretted having said it the moment after it popped out. It was too close in; it was a stupid blunder.

When a few hundred metres from home, she phoned Jon to let him know what had transpired. They agreed she should stay put at Lee's place till they'd had an opportunity to talk face-to-face the following weekend.

The encounter with Annie left Lee shaken. Initially, though not frantic, she was certainly unstable and having trouble assimilating what was really happening.

By about half-past-eight she had calmed down enough to be thinking logically about how she might start to deal with her new problem.

And by nine o'clock she had taken the decision to phone Frank and enlist his support to call Jon off and keep him away from the Davis family. She knew he'd understand the seriousness of this new dilemma. She knew he'd be supportive when the chips were down.

The phone rang at the senior Bentley's place at a little after nine and Frank answered. Sylvia listened to his initial involvement in the conversation and knew it was trouble this time. The tone was different; and the old manager was back on the job as serious as he'd ever been.

Sylvia heard a variety of snippets.

"And she'd go to Melbourne next year, is that what you're saying?"

"Righto; yes I understand that."

"Yes. You would be too."

"So she might just walk out?"

Then there was a lengthy period during which Frank said the occasional 'yes' or 'no' as he listened to Lee's story.

"No. No I don't think it's a legal issue at all." she heard, before another long listening period ensued.

And then it was Frank's turn.

"Okay. Hold it there for a minute. I've got the gist of it so far. Now, I tell kids to wash their hands before they eat; and I tell the provedore at the club to cater for fifty people; and I tell the bloke at the garage I need the car back by three. I tell people things like that. But what we've got here is a completely different kettle of fish. This is a human relationship matter, and I'm not going to tell anyone to do anything."

"If I went to Jon and told him what you want me to say; he'd tell me to get stuffed. You see, I don't think this is a matter that can be forced one way or the other. You can't instruct people to do what you believe is a sensible thing. It doesn't work like that!"

"Let me put it to you another way. No one has ever been able to introduce workable traffic laws that stipulate that everyone has to act responsibly and stay alert while they're driving. If you could introduce laws like that, there'd be no accidents. But you bloody can't."

"Lee, there are things in life you simply can't instruct into place; and you've got one of those things on your plate right this minute."

There was more listening before Frank got a second say.

"Now we're cooking with gas." he said, "Of course I'll talk with him about it. I'd be delighted. But I'm not prepared to tell him to do anything."

And then there was an unexpected twist.

"Lee before I do talk to Jon, I'd really like to talk properly with you about all this. Would you like to have a proper yarn up there; a sit down over dinner and a real talk?"

There was another brief listening period.

"No I've got a few other things to do up there too. It wouldn't be a trouble at all."

After a few more minutes, the conversation finished – on the basis that Frank would phone back within the hour to nominate a Brisbane meeting place for late Monday or Tuesday afternoon.

Frank told Sylvia all that had transpired; booked a motel in Grafton for that night; then booked the Hilton in Brisbane for Monday night – having successfully argued that he always enjoyed a corporate rate with the Hilton chain. He then phoned Lee and made the meeting arrangements. He asked Lee and Sylvia that the meeting be kept confidential - for a while, anyway.

By mid-day he was off in the car with a view to visiting his old friend Charlie Williams in Grafton for a quick snort or six. And on the Monday morning he set forth for Brisbane.

Lee was waiting in the Hilton foyer at half-past-five on Monday afternoon, as arranged, when Frank strode across from the lifts. Under the circumstances, their reunion was as happy as could be - with a good hug and numerous lies about how nobody looked any older than a decade and a half earlier.

As the bar areas were a bit crowded and noisy, they decided to go up to Frank's room for a drink.

After some lighter conversation about Lee's work and Frank's play, he got down to business with the touch of a real master.

"Well, here we are to talk about the children, eh. Pretty grown-up stuff, isn't it?"

Lee couldn't help laughing at the odd proposition supported by his happy countenance.

"Now why don't we start off by you telling me some more about your girl Annie?" he asked.

"Well, she's the bane of my existence at the moment." Lee answered.

"No, no, no; not that! Why don't you tell me about the real things; university and sport and hobbies - things like that?"

Lee had a slurp of white wine, got herself a bit more comfortable in the small lounge and complied with his request. And Frank nodded and smiled as she told her stories, adding short punctuating words where appropriate.

He responded to her with stories about Marg and Eunice, where they were living and what they were doing, just to balance up the equation.

Having achieved his first and most important goal of getting Lee relaxed, Frank executed a near seamless change of conversation topic. Gently, very gently – and without allowing any slippage of his happy outlook - he moved to Jon. He talked about his success in Melbourne, how hard he'd worked for his second degree, how he'd been sent overseas a few times for the firm; matters of fact, matters of parental pride. Lee listened without showing any signs of upset.

"Now Lee," he continued smilingly as he freshened up the drinks, "so that we don't get ourselves into a tangle later on, I'd like to tell you about what Sylvia and I know about Jon and Annie. If we do it that way, you'll know what's in my poor old brain and we won't have to backtrack to dig the information out. Does that sound all right with you?"

"Yes. That sounds fine with me." she replied.

"I'm not the family diplomat, Lee. That's Sylv! She's better at that stuff. So what you hear tonight mightn't be too polished; but it'll be honest."

"That's fine, Frank. I'm comfortable with that." Lee responded.

Frank moved to a more serious manner and went to work for real.

"In happy circumstances, sons and mothers seem to get on well without a lot of difficulty. I think it comes from the early years when mum provides sustenance and protection and a bit of affection, without too many strings attached or complications. Give him six Vita-Brits for breakfast, a big bag of sandwiches and an apple for lunch, a kiss goodbye – and next she sees of him it's time for homework and dinner. With luck, it's a pretty easy game for the mum. And it's a wonderfully easy game for the boy. He feels independent but safe. No worries."

"I think the arrangements are a bit more difficult with mothers and girls. But that's just my observation."

"Now Jon and Sylvia were like I said; good pals right from the early years. There were never any problems and they've stayed remarkably close to this day. Now I'm pleased that's so, because that link eventually brought Jon back to her to cough up the truth about Annie. He needed to tell; and I think we needed to know."

"Lee, you're probably not aware, but we've got a fairly good outline of what's happened between Jon and Annie; warts and wrinkles included. We know that they got a bit hot and sweaty together a couple of years ago. We know that Jon stayed away for a while. And we know he started seeing Annie again early this year. Okay?"

"Sort of." Lee replied, "But it's a bit of a surprise Frank."

"I don't think there's been any conspiracy here, Lee. No one's sided with anyone in particular; and no one's been keeping secrets."

"I guess Sylv thought it was a cane fire to start with – you know, spectacular today and gone tomorrow. And when it didn't go away, she got wedged between the rock and the proverbial hard place; and she wasn't too sure how to handle it. I don't blame her for that; she's not the only one having trouble with it all."

"That's for sure!" Lee replied.

"Lee, I'll be as honest as I can about the incident a couple of years ago. I can't apologise on Jon's behalf, but I can tell you that I'm very sorry you were subject to the trouble it must have caused. It wasn't fair. Jon made a very serious error with this."

Lee was taken aback with all this - but in a good sense. She saw a glimmer of hope in Frank's firm candid involvement. For the first time in a long time, she was not quite so on her own.

"Frank, I've spoken to Annie about the incident. I've got some sort of idea of what went on and it's hard to believe she was completely blameless - truly. She can be a bit impulsive and feisty."

Frank took on a stormy serious look at that suggestion.

"I might have adopted a pretty strict interpretation of the rules; but I'm not going to budge from that. Jon was wrong!"

He softened a bit then.

"Having said that, I need to tell you he came to Port Macquarie soon after he finished up with the Brisbane job – and he was completely buggered and stressed. I'm not talking stressed like when the takings don't balance for the day or when you lose your car keys. I'm talking really stressed; really worried. Lee, I think now he must have given himself a pretty good thrashing for what he'd done."

"Do you really think that, Frank?" Lee asked.

"Yes I do! Now, I know he was having troubles at work and that would have accounted for some of the stress. But he was open about that; he told us about it. There seemed to be something else chewing him up and we couldn't get at it."

"It's weird you know, he told Sylv that he eventually went to someone for help about this well over a year later."

"I only wish he'd told us what was going on at the time. We'd have got some help for him and you and Annie if we'd only known. But I guess he wasn't game to let on what he'd done."

Frank lightened up a bit.

"Anyway, I suppose he made his peace with Annie early this year and started flying up to see her.

Then he smiled.

"That's what Mum and I know about it all."

"It sounds so strange, Frank; you seem to be talking about Jon as if he's a boy. And he's thirty-seven now." Lee commented.

Frank laughed loudly and heartily for the first time.

"Geriatric privilege. Like I said on the phone, I don't know how old anyone is any more."

But he settled the mirth down for a more serious message.

"And Lee, if Jon's in a bit of trouble; he's my boy! That'll never change either."

Frank stood up then.

"Now what say you take me for a bit of a walk and show me this flash new Queen Street dooverlackie – the maul or mall or whatever you call it. As we go around you can tell me a few things; and then we'll have dinner."

"That sounds lovely, Frank." she answered.

"I'm not going to get belted-up by a jealous beau if we go out there together, am I?

"No; you're safe." she answered, "I haven't got any beaus at the moment."

"Well you're lucky Sylvia hasn't used me as a trade-in. Gee, I'd be after you if I was on the loose. You're just lucky."

They went out into the mall and had a slow walk up to George Street on one side, and back on the other side. As they sauntered along, Lee told of her upset at Annie becoming infatuated with Jon 'probably because of his looks and money'. And she was very forthright about her disappointment with Jon - who 'should have hosed this down at the start'.

"You can see it can't you, Frank? It's all wrong!" she said, "And to think he came back sniffing around again in February; the mind boggles! Why couldn't he have just stayed away and left us alone?"

"Frank, Jon's well educated and experienced. You'd have thought he'd know better than to come back and cause all this trouble with Annie and I. And to sew the seed in her head about going to Melbourne for a change of university, for God's sake! It really makes you wonder. It's as if he's trying to fuel the infatuation that's caused all the trouble."

"And in retrospect, I should have put my foot down about that stupid damned weekend in Melbourne he bought her. I'm sure that made things worse. I was a fool for letting that happen."

Frank acknowledged receipt of the information with 'umm' noises and the occasional 'I see'. He neither agreed, nor disagreed, with anything.

"Does she like the look of Melbourne?" he asked.

"She thinks she does, Frank. But she's not seeing things clearly at the moment. She's all out of kilter. In truth, Annie's more a Brisbane girl you know."

When back at the hotel, they went up to Frank's room so that he could get his jacket.

"I thought we'd have dinner here in the dining room; is that all right with you?" he asked.

"That'd be wonderful, Frank."

"I like hotels." he said, "They're versatile. They've always got plenty of goodies in the fridge and the freezer. If you don't like what's on the menu, they'll do something else for you - if you ask. Restaurants don't seem to like doing that."

On the way down in the lift, Frank related a story about how he once ordered a double serve of fish and chips from the children's menu at the 'old Menzies' in Sydney and how the waiter came back to him and offered some good schnapper instead.

"The fish was excellent! It would have been a really good feed except Sylvia ate half my chips." he concluded.

They went to a small quiet bar before going into the dining room.

"Lee, so that you know what's really in this old scone of mine, would it be okay if I shared some thoughts about Jon with you? Do you reckon you could put up with that?" Frank asked.

"If you'd like; of course, yes." Lee replied.

"Well I'd better do that, otherwise we might have to go backtracking into the old grey matter and that'd be a struggle for both of us."

Lee nodded in an understanding manner.

"Jon's a funny one in some ways. People who don't know him all that well get the impression that he's an affable, slow, country-style bloke – a sort of golden retriever type. It's an easy mistake to make. He's a big friendly one."

"In truth though Lee, there's much more to him than that. He's a complex bloke in many ways; not brilliant or anything, just complex. And independent and strong in his own way."

"Now I've got a theory that this nice, almost innocent, manner has been a real plus in his consulting work but a real minus in his private life - particularly with the girls. Lee, I reckon that over the years he's had a lot of bad luck with the girls because he doesn't look like what he is."

"I think he's attracted quite a few girls who were looking for a loveable boof. And I reckon there's been a line up of mismatches because of that."

"All the little relationships eventually broke down. Either he got sick of the pats on the head and reward biscuits and being on the leash; or they got sick of dealing with a complex bloke who turned out to be not all that subservient and docile."

"Lee, I've got this theory the girls were looking for a soft toy, not a tough man. Do you understand what I'm saying here?"

"Yes I think so, Frank." she answered, "But I've never thought of him as being tough."

"I'm not talking about a bully or a domineering person; Jon's not that! I'm talking about mental toughness. I'm talking about his determination. He's no golden retriever Lee; he's a different breed completely."

"Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"You're his father, Frank." she replied, "You'd know best about these things."

They talked for a little while longer about Jon; then went into the dining room. After they'd sat down and ordered, Frank drifted into nostalgic stories about his teenage years in suburban Sydney.

"You think you've got problems. Christ, did my poor old Mum have trouble with the girls at home. There were six of them you know; I was the only boy. Greta was always up to mischief; and so was Bernie. They were the bad eggs!"

"When she was about eighteen, Greta had a strange relationship with a girl who was about four years older than she was; and, Christ, was there strife about that. Mum banned this girl at one stage, and about a month later, she spotted Greta with her on a tram. Boy-oh-boy was there an uproar."

"But the worst storm we had was when Lois – the quietest one of all – snitched Bernie's boyfriend. And you wouldn't believe the trouble that caused."

Frank started to laugh.

"Bernie came home at about ten one night and there was the boyfriend's car outside; and he and Lo were in the front seat having a good old snog. You should have heard the girls out on the footpath fighting; it was on for young and old."

"The bloke had the right idea though. He pissed-off at great speed and left 'em to it."

"How did your mother deal with these sorts of things?" Lee asked.

"She was very strict with all of us. She made rules and expected them to be followed. She was a tough old bird."

"So she settled these things down?" Lee asked.

"No, not really!" Frank answered in a matter-of-fact way, "Didn't make much difference! Bernie left home soon after the Lois incident; and they didn't talk to each other for years and years. And Greta just changed partners. After a while she moved in with a woman called Enid who used to work for old Packer. They ended up at Paddo in a nice little place. Greta became quite a good musician; and did quite well out of it too."

Frank talked more about the old family until the main meals were served.

Then, out of the blue, he completely changed direction.

"Lee, do you think Annie's keen on Jon?" he asked.

"She thinks she is, Frank. But that's about as far as it goes, I'm sure."

"And you've got other ideas, have you?" he asked.

"I certainly have!"

Frank left that alone. He went elsewhere.

"Lee, that Jon Bentley bloke we were talking about before, has he changed in some way that I don't know about? Has there been some transformation; or is he still much as he was in the early days or when he first went back to Brisbane?"

"He seems much the same, Frank." she answered, "The only real difference is this strange relationship with Annie. I don't know why he's pursuing it. It's the cause of the flare up."

Frank stiffened to serious and alert immediately.

"Flare up. Not Jon; surely! He hasn't been aggressive about this, has he?"

"No, not at all. He's been pretty calm." she answered.

"So young Annie's been putting on a turn, has she?"

"Well, not really. She's been a bit stroppy recently, I suppose. That's all. You might have taken 'flare up' a bit seriously Frank. It was only a figure of speech."

"Oh, fair enough; fair enough then!"

Frank then went to the heart of the subject.

"Lee, what do you want to achieve here with Annie and Jon? What's your aim?" he asked.

"I want them separated; I don't think they're suited."

"Why?" he asked.

"Frank, you know that. They're miles apart. Annie's so young."

"Well, how long would you want to separate them for?"

"I just want them separated, Frank."

"You wouldn't give him a pardon when he's fifty-five then?" Frank asked.

"You know what I'm saying, Frank."

"I know what you're saying, but I don't understand it too well."

Frank drifted into smiling reminiscence mode again.

"I left home when I was nineteen, you know. Got a job at a little furniture place at Belmont. It was a wonderful time; I was the king of the Newcastle beaches back then. I don't think any of that did me any harm. In fact, thinking about it now, it probably did me some good."

He paused for a second or two.

"You remember when you were nineteen, Lee. You were pretty independent."

Figuratively, he was up close and breathing down her neck now.

"Yes; but that was different!" she answered.

"Lee, are you troubled with visions of Annie pushing Jon around in a wheelchair after a few years or something? Is that the problem?" he asked.

"That's part of it."

"You know you can go a bit batty worrying about things like that. If you followed that line of thought to it's conclusion, you'd be looking for a bloke seven years and two hundred and fifteen days – or whatever – younger than Annie in the hope that they'd both have coronaries on the same Sunday afternoon after bowls in August 2060. And Lee, it doesn't work like that. It rests with fate a fair bit. You know that – surely?."

Frank rested for a few moments before continuing.

"Apart from the age business, are there other things preying on your mind with this? Are there other problems that I don't know about?" he asked.

"No. Not really." she answered, "Aren't you concerned about the age difference though, Frank?"

"Not greatly. I've thought a couple of times he might be better off with a girl with five or ten years career experience on board. But I don't suppose it really matters much."

"What worries me," he continued, "is that Jon mightn't have finished punishing himself for making his mistake a couple of years ago. What worries me is that he could be determined to look after Annie to repay her for what he did wrong. I think he's complex enough, and generous enough, to do something like that. And that wouldn't be much of a foundation for a good run in the future, would it?"

"No. That's right." Lee agreed.

Frank scratched his head a bit.

"I could use your opinion here, Lee; you know Jon pretty well. Do you think he's complicated enough – and generous enough – to dream up a scheme to look after Annie because he feels guilty about what he's done?"

She answered honestly, without giving any thought to what she was saying.

"It could be, I suppose. He' quite a sensitive sort of person."

Frank smiled at her and poured her another glass of wine.

"So you haven't really had a flare up with Jon about all this recently, eh?" he asked.

"No. I've been working on Annie."

She quickly realised what she'd said and tried to correct.

"I've been trying to encourage her to think carefully about what's going on – and be realistic about it."

"That's the stuff!" Frank replied.

After some lighter conversation about virtues of Port Macquarie, the waiter brought their first courses. They'd opted for mains and desserts only.

As they progressed with the mains, Frank steered back to the Jon and Annie subject.

"So you're not after a bloke like Jon, eh – for Annie I mean?"

"Someone more her age would suit me, Frank." she replied, "But if he was like Jon, that'd be okay with me."

"Do you think Annie understands him, Lee?"

"I don't think so, Frank; not really."

Frank nodded and chuckled.

"Hey, aren't little kids funny picking who they do like and who they don't like. You take a little bloke into a room with three other kids and he'll give one an ambivalent pat, slobber all over another and then belt the third one in the chops."

He laughed happily.

"How many times have you seen that?"

Lee laughed too.

"Often enough. They are funny, aren't they." she replied.

"You know what's funnier than kids. Bloody cats. They're amazing. Sylvia and I had an old girl called Claire - used to sleep most of the day, but she was a good cat. Well when we had people over sometimes, Claire would often wake up and come into the lounge room to see what was going on."

"Now almost every time – just for her own entertainment – she'd look around for a sleepy minute or two, then go straight to the only person in the room who really loathed cats. Never missed; got it right every time! Amazing!"

Frank chuckled; and Lee smiled politely.

"Frank, they're not very good analogies. I can see where you're going here, but I can't see how babies and cats are relevant to what we're talking about. I came here to bolt down a few matters regarding Annie and Jon. That's what I really want to do." she commented, somewhat abrasively.

He thought about the comment briefly and decided to go his own way.

"Are you suggesting there's no intuition involved in the adult human selection of pals?" he asked quietly.

"No, Frank. I'm not suggesting that at all. Of course intuition comes into it. But there are other things too. People have to think about the repercussions of what they're doing. They have to think Frank; think!"

The old war-horse was a bit annoyed with Lee's lofty, single-minded attitude about intellectual capacity, so he decided on a bit of tougher stuff.

"Well, given that Jon's not on a crusade to rescue a damsel in distress, what's gone wrong with him; his intuition or his mental capacity?"

"How could I know?" she responded.

"What about Annie. Do you think she's caught in a void where her best youthful intuition's departed but her brain hasn't started to function properly yet?"

"No, she's a clever kid!"

"And you've told her point blank that the arrangement with Jon is to finish. Is that right?" Frank asked.

"Yes, that's right!" she answered.

Frank scratched his head and sat quietly wondering about the dilemma.

"So we've got two fairly clever, well-educated people who are keen on each other – or think they are – and they want to get in closer and explore the matter a bit further. Yes?"

"Yes!" Lee replied.

"Lee, is that such a terrible thing?" Frank asked – then continued quickly before she could answer.

"There are a thousand people out there right this minute doing all sorts of dreadful things to each other, you know. There are husbands beating wives, people selling drugs, pimps selling young girls – all sorts of things. Annie and Jon aren't like that, are they?"

"No, they're not like that." she replied.

"And Annie's gone to you and said that she intends going to Melbourne next year and, if you don't care for that idea, she'll bolt any time she likes. Is that really right? Is that really what's happened?"

"That's it all right!" she replied.

"So you've put your foot down and told her what's going to happen; and, in response, Annie's put her foot down and told you what's going to happen. Is that where it stands?"

"Yes, Frank. Just as I told you." she replied.

Frank smiled, put his giant right hand out across the table and held her left hand in a warm clasp.

"Well, Lee Davis; that would put you in the same boat as about a hundred thousand other mums around the country. It's the same type of thing that happened to my Mum with three of my sisters; and the same type of thing that happened to Sylvia with Eunice a while back. It's standard fare. The circumstances vary a bit; but it's pretty bloody standard stuff."

"I'm not too worried about all the others, Frank; I've got a problem with Annie and it needs sorting out."

"Are you and Annie on talking terms at the moment?" he asked.

"Not really."

"Umm. That's no good." he said in stern voice.

"Lee," he continued, "are you sure you want my advice about this?"

"Of course I do, Frank!"

"Well, I'm not a very bright old bugger," he said, still holding her hand, "and I can't really see how this can all be resolved in the future. But what I know for certain is that you can't possibly win your war - or come out of it with any semblance of satisfaction – if you don't open up the communication lines with Annie. Lee, if you two aren't talking, you're dead in the water."

"Irrespective of what you and Sylvia and I may say or do in coming months, I know that if you angrily hand the baton to Jon, he'll just take it and run away with it. I think he could be keen enough on Annie to do that without batting an eyelid. He's a determined one."

"So he'll win at any cost, eh?" Lee asked with more than a touch of irritation in her voice.

Frank smiled a little as he released her hand.

"No, not really! He doesn't seem to think of things in terms of being the winner. I've seen him on the podium a few times and he's awkward with the trophy in his hand. What makes him tick is the wrestle with a challenge and an aversion to being the loser. He's at his best with a problem to solve and defeat nipping at his ankles. It's a more private motivation than the will to win. And it's almost a spiritual thing with Jon."

"So what are you trying to say, Frank? Are you suggesting that I step aside and let Annie drift into an untenable arrangement with Jon?" Lee asked.

"No. I'm seriously suggesting that you take the steam out of the situation. I'm suggesting that you re-connect with Annie – pronto – just to buy some thinking time; just to buy a bit of time to get a better grip on the situation."

"Lee, if Annie's uncomfortable at home, they've got nothing to lose by moving in with each other straight away. It'd be a great adventure for a couple of stargazers – and it would probably be cheaper for Jon. He must have been parting with a lot of money to fly to Brisbane you know."

"Frank, are you saying that I can't make this work? Are you saying that the best I can do is stall the inevitable?" Lee asked.

"No. I'm saying you should cool things down a bit in case you inadvertently tip them together by trying to prise them apart."

"So, if I settle things down at home - and Annie stays for a while - what do we do, Frank? Do we sit there and glare at each other; or do we behave nice as pie and studiously avoid the Jon subject?"

Frank was becoming a bit exasperated, but tried not to let it show.

"She's not the enemy, Lee; she's your daughter!"

"What I think you should do" he continued, "is get back to business as usual and use the time you've bought to try to find out what's making her tick; to find out whether she's really off the planet or just keen on my boy. Lee, is it possible you're apprehensive about all this because you don't know enough about what's going on?"

"No; I don't think that's right, Frank. I know about Annie's impulsiveness; I know the way she works."

"Hang on a minute." Frank replied, "These two have known each other for two years; and for nearly half that time they've been going out together. The contact's been unusual from beginning to end – I know that – but they have been going out."

Frank did a bit of head rubbing before continuing.

"Does that really seem impulsive to you?" he asked.

"Under the circumstances, yes." she replied.

For the second time, the waiter brought menus and enquired about sweets. This time they ordered – and Frank chose a half bottle of dessert wine as a special treat.

They chatted on about Annie and Jon's relationship in general terms till the second course was served and consumed. It was amicable conversation and served to settle Lee down quite a bit. She became increasingly comfortable with Frank - his bearing, honesty and his logic.

Lee's recruitment into the bowls fraternity took a good deal of talking time as they had their coffee.

At the conclusion of dinner, and after the bill was signed to the room, Frank went looking for the wrap-up.

"Well I guess we'd better draft a treaty of some sort before we finish up; what do you reckon?" he asked.

"I hate to think you came all this way without achieving anything, Frank."

Frank launched his suggestion confidently.

"What say we declare a complete truce for the next eight or ten weeks to keep your little household together and to get more information about what's happening with those two. What do you say to that?"

"Well, that mightn't be a bad thing." Lee replied.

"With that sort of time available, I can get Sylv to drill Jon a bit to make sure he's on the level and not on some wacky project to repay Annie for his past sins. Does that sound reasonable?"

Lee nodded.

"With that time available, you can get advice on all this from other mums, or friends, or your GP or anyone who knows about these sorts of problems. There's Sylvia too, of course; she'd be happy to help, if she can."

"And while that's happening, you and Annie might be able to get a bit closer so that you can find out more about what's making her tick."

"Would that be a reasonable way to go?" he asked.

"I guess so, Frank."

"I don't know what else I can suggest here, Lee. I don't know Annie at all really and I don't see all that much of Jon, so I'm hogtied when it comes to long-term ideas. You might well be on the right track with those; you're the Annie expert and you've been seeing more of Jon than I have."

"At least the truce treaty will give you a bit of breathing space and I'm sure that won't go astray."

"I suppose so." Lee responded, with a half smile.

They made their way out of the dining room towards the foyer; and thence to outside where the cabs pulled in. There they stopped to talk about one or two matters that had been missed earlier. And having put those matters to rest, conversation drifted to Lee's job and her career aspirations for the future.

After about ten minutes, Frank decided he'd had enough of the traffic noise outside.

"Lee, what the bloody hell are we doing out here? You don't have to go home yet, do you?"

"Not really." she answered.

"I saw something in the lift about a girl that plays a piano here. Why don't we go and find her and have a listen? And I could have a Crownie and you could have a nun's piddle – or whatever you used to call it."

"Oh Frank. Nun's wee."

"That's far more refined. Come on back in and we'll find the piano lady and I'll buy you a Petaluma nun's wee or something nice. How about that?"

Lee agreed; so back in they went. And there they stayed till quite late, talking about a myriad of topics that seemed to just spring to mind. It turned out to be a very pleasant evening for them both.

When finally they went back outside to hail a taxi, they were talking household pets and the possibility of Frank and Sylvia getting another cat.

"I like old-fashioned moggies, not these bloody boutique Siamese and Burmese things people buy now." Frank announced in a forthright voice, "And it would have to be a girl too."

"You haven't got a cat or a dog have you?" he asked Lee.

"Cut it out, Frank. You ought to see the size on my unit." she answered.

Frank gave her a cheeky smile.

"Well you certainly wouldn't be after a Golden Retriever or something like that, would you?"

He put his strong arm firmly around her waist as he asked the question.

"No, Frank. I don't think so." she replied softly.

After reaching agreement that they'd speak soon on the phone – and after a good long hug – Lee left in a taxi.

Frank went back to the bar for a final gawk at the female pianist and a final drink – a bit worried that he'd gone too far, or not far enough, in his discussions Lee. He was also aware of his age and the rapid passage of time. He was annoyed with himself for having allowed the Davis friendship to drift away over the years. He'd always liked Lee, yet he'd just let the friendship lapse.

And he wondered about Annie. He wondered whether she was up to Lee's standard or just an impetuous, unstable kid with stars in her eyes for his lonely and substantially older son.

On the way home in the taxi, and while preparing for a night's sleep, Lee had a sensation that she'd been temporarily relieved of the need to run. The aggravated concentration and perplexing blurred visions associated with running had settled just a bit – for the first time in ages.

After turning in, she thought mainly of Frank's kind old face, his deep voice and the big hand reaching over to her as if to transfer strength and wisdom. And as she lay there in bed, she dwelt on just two of his sentences - 'She's not the enemy, Lee; she's your daughter!' and 'I know that if you angrily hand the baton to Jon, he'll just take it and run away with it.'

* * *

### 11.

Early on the Tuesday morning, Annie – ever the optimist – again tried to engage Lee in civil conversation. And to her amazement, something vaguely akin to civil conversation actually ensued. The exchange was brief and cool, but it was better than sullen silence.

"Did you have a nice night out, Mum?" she asked.

"Yes, it was nice." Lee responded, "I went to dinner with an old neighbour."

"Who was that?" Annie asked.

"Just a bloke we used to know when we were at Brandt Street. You wouldn't remember him."

Annie chose not to chance her hand with further conversation at that time; but she did get a 'Bye now' when she left to catch the early bus.

The Tuesday evening also brought forward a few civil sentences in the Davis household – again, to Annie's astonishment.

Frank got home to Port Macquarie fairly late on the Tuesday afternoon after a tiring drive. As soon as he'd freshened up a bit, he and Sylvia sat down at the dining table and discussed all that had transpired over a few cold drinks.

"So in a nutshell Sylv," he said in summing up, "I suggested she do what she can to get Annie back on side and to get some advice about how she should handle what's going on here. I don't think there's much more I could have done under the circumstances. It was a bit hard to be more positive because I don't even know Annie. It was a bit difficult really."

"And I said we'd talk to Jon and make sure he's on the planet and not just being over-protective because of Annie's age and everything that's happened."

Sylvia made encouraging comments about his good work and made it known that she believed the best mediator available was now on the case. Frank wasn't as confident about his abilities and again suggested they 'wait and see what happens'.

Late on the Wednesday afternoon – at almost exactly the same time – Annie phoned Jon on the mobile and Lee phoned Frank and Sylvia from home.

Annie and Jon discussed the apparent thawing of Lee's attitude and his proposed secret visit to Brisbane on the Saturday. And Lee confirmed to Frank that she was doing the repair job, as suggested - before making the first tentative steps towards communicating amicably with Sylvia.

On the Saturday, Annie departed home at about half-past-eight in tennis garb supposedly for a game of doubles and a club special general meeting. Jon picked her up around the corner and they went to the motel at New Farm for their precious time together.

It didn't take them long to reach a decision for Annie to stay put at Lee's place for the time being. But, on the other side of the coin, their resolve about being together in Melbourne from early 1995 hardened. They really didn't want to live apart any more.

Jon's visit north was interesting in that it provided Annie with a glimpse of him in full career flight for the first time in two years. Though he tried to stay alert and give her undivided attention, he seemed desperately tired and somewhat preoccupied with work matters.

Their entertainment for the day comprised a slow walk around New Farm and Merthyr Parks and being together at the motel.

On the Sunday, Jon and Annie were able to manage another hour together at the motel after she finished her newsagency work and before he had to catch the flight to Sydney.

When she arrived home after her visit to New Farm, Lee was making sandwiches for lunch.

"Annie, I've done stras and pickles. Is that all right with you?" she asked.

"Yeah. That's fine, Mum."

"You're a bit later than usual, aren't you?" Lee asked.

Annie responded with a nod.

Then out of the blue, Lee asked the question Annie didn't want to hear.

"Is Jon up this weekend?"

She had an awful moment of indecision. The truthful answer seemed as dangerous as the lie.

"Yes." she answered eventually – then waited for the torrent.

The response seemed to take a very long time in coming.

"We'll probably be better off if you let me know what's really going on Annie. That's probably the best way for us both."

"Okay Mum!"

Annie – who, just an hour earlier, had been physically entwined with her Jon – clearly heard the first sound of compromise. And, in the circumstances, its receipt brought forward an unexpected upsurge in emotion.

"I might just have a bit of a wash before lunch if that's all right Mum."

"That's fine. I'll wait for you." Lee replied.

Annie scurried off to the bathroom, closed the door, turned-on the basin cold tap hard and swished water around in an attempt to disguise the sniffling that accompanied the tears. She had a strange few minutes there in front of the mirror trying to regain control.

At that point – understandably enough - she wasn't too sure why she'd lost control in the first place. The power of the moment had escaped her complete comprehension.

"That's better!" Annie exclaimed, on returning to the dining table.

Lee, of course, could read her like a book; she knew exactly why the wash was necessary. And she was moved that her concession had made such an impact.

It was an unusual lunch. They sat there in near silence eating away at stras and pickle sandwiches that didn't seem too interested in the swallowing process. So there was periodic gulping of mineral water by both parties to force the issue.

Despite the occasional irrelevant snippets of conversation, Annie only heard the concession; and Lee only heard Frank's earlier words of wisdom - 'She's not the enemy, Lee; she's your daughter!'

Jon didn't travel to Brisbane again for three weeks. He worked tirelessly on his Sydney project, replanning a reasonable size section of the development in the interests of greater productivity gains for the client. His project work was innovative – bordering on daring. It was watched with great interest by his client and his management.

During the first half of that three-week period, Lee consulted twice with her friend and GP Ruth Foster - first at the surgery then again over a relaxed Saturday lunch. The consultations were nought to do physical ailments and all to do with Annie, Jon and related apprehensions and discomfort.

Ruth – a no-nonsense woman with a personal knowledge of family upheaval and strife – spotted the subtleties of the situation fairly early in the piece. At their second meeting, she weighed in confidently with her unique brand of advice.

"Lee," she said, "they're going to do what they're going to do and there's no way you'll alter that. You can feel cheated till you're blue in the face, but it won't change anything. All you can do is warn Annie of the pitfalls and keep the door open in case she's got it wrong."

"And anyway," she went on, "from the sounds of things the bloke's quite nice. So don't bloody complain. All I've seen with my Meg is a procession of imbeciles. And, Lee, he doesn't sound like one of them."

After a number of conversations during the three-week period, the Bentley seniors and Lee agreed to inform Jon and Annie of Frank's involvement in the affair and the common stance that they had developed about the future. They broke their news on Friday 14 October.

Frank was direct in the extreme. He outlined to Jon what he had spoken with Lee about, particularly the plans for Annie to move to Melbourne.

"Jon, I don't know the girl at all; I don't know what she's like." he said, "But I do know she's not too long in the tooth and that puts a special responsibility on your shoulders. I want you to be certain you know what you're doing with this Melbourne business - absolutely certain. And if your motivation here is to make an honest woman of Annie, give it a miss. That's not a deal!"

"Son, I'll be bloody cross with you if you do these girls any harm. They've had enough trouble already. Do you understand that?"

The message was sobering for Jon. His father, in a serious mood, was still very much a power to be reckoned with. His influence hadn't waned much at all with the passage of years.

Lee's approach with Annie was quite different. Her message was delivered against a backdrop of confusion regarding the possible departure of her only child, indeed her only family; and anxiety about other emotions - which by then were identifiably to do with the relentless march of lonely time and of warmth stolen and lost to the hands of fate.

"Have you got a minute to talk, Annie?" she asked.

"Of course, Mum. What is it?"

"A couple of weeks ago I went out to dinner with an old neighbour. Do you remember?"

"Yes. I remember." Annie replied.

"Well it wasn't just a neighbour; it was Jon's Dad, Frank Bentley. He came up from Port Macquarie to see me and have a talk about you two."

"What happened?" Annie asked, somewhat illogically.

Lee actually broke into a smile.

"Not much. We talked a lot, and Frank bought me a nice meal and some really good wine."

She then extinguished the smile.

"Do you know what you're doing Annie Davis? Do you know where you're headed?"

"I think so!" she answered quietly.

"Well that's not a brilliant answer, is it?"

"I guess not!" Annie replied.

"I want you to make me a promise, Annie. I want you to promise that you'll take off those rose coloured glasses for a while and talk to Jon very seriously about what you're planning to do. I don't want you to drift off on a dream then get involved in some sort of awful bust-up in six months time; so I want you to really concentrate on where you're headed. Okay?"

"Okay Mum."

"Do you promise?" Lee asked.

"Yes. I promise."

"When's he up in Brisbane next?"

"Just for the day tomorrow."

"Well, talk to him tomorrow. Don't let it slip, eh."

The agreement was struck.

On the Saturday, Annie used some of her hard-earned rainy day money to catch a taxi to the airport to be there for Jon's arrival. On disembarking, he looked gaunt and exhausted. And it was certain he'd lost weight.

Together, they drove in a rented car to parkland near the base of Mt Coot-Tha – where, after a time, they had the discussion foisted on them by parental decree.

Though the discussion was comprehensive, honest and searching, it led them back to where they started. They wanted to be together. And the new level of interest and concern shown by Lee, Frank and Sylvia served only to heighten their sense of responsibility to each other. The idea of living together was a source of excitement. It caused no fear or apprehension whatever for either of them.

After they'd been in the parkland for about an hour and a half, Annie left Jon for a to wash some spilled sticky soft drink off her hands at a distant tap. When she got back, he was asleep on his side on the rough ground near where they'd been sitting. She gently brought him back to consciousness by stroking his hair back from his forehead.

"Gawd! I'm even dribbling." were his first words.

"I know. And it's not a pretty sight."

Jon sat up and wiped his lower face with a handkerchief.

"Jon, will you do me a really special favour?" she asked.

"Sure. What's that?"

"Will you ring the place at New Farm and book yourself in for the night; then go there and go to bed? Will you do that for me?"

"I've got a lot on my plate at the moment..." he started.

"For me?" she replied sternly.

"But I haven't got a change of clothes or anything up here."

"Well I'll duck into town and buy you some undies and a T shirt if you think you need some fresh things. Okay?"

He eventually gave in and they drove to his motel where she supervised rearrangement of his travel and car rental bookings - then his midday retirement to bed. Armed with the room key and a bit of money, she set off for town on foot to buy some bargain basement clothes, some food, a toothbrush and toothpaste and a deodorant stick for good measure.

Annie completed her buying chores, quietly delivered the product to New Farm and made her way home by public transport. She was back there at a little after three o'clock.

"Don't tell me he's flown back already?" Lee enquired.

"No Mum. He's out on his feet so I made him book in at his motel and go to bed. He'll go back tomorrow at about lunchtime I think."

"And you made him book the motel and go to bed, did you?" Lee asked incredulously.

Annie smiled and nodded.

"He's really tired, Mum. He needs the rest."

From the report of this incident, Lee derived a first inkling about the realities of the Annie and Jon relationship. Unless she'd missed something in the interpretation, it seemed her supposedly naïve child had just caringly bundled the demigod Melbourne consultant into bed to recuperate from occupational exhaustion – then walked away to let him rest.

It seemed very strange!

But starting a new learning experience can be that way sometimes.

Jon phoned Annie at about half-past-seven that evening and was directed to the sandwiches and small carton of milk in the refrigerator; then told to rest some more. He followed his dinner and sleeping instructions to the letter.

On hanging up, Annie informed Lee that she had spoken with Jon about their plans earlier in the day. When she started to explain the outcome, Lee stopped her.

"Annie, I don't need to know the answer; that's your problem. All I need is for you to be certain about what you're doing."

And that was that!

Late on the Sunday morning, Jon and Annie met for a coffee to commiserate about their lost weekend.

Their next meeting in early November was a vastly different affair. On this occasion – with Lee's unenthusiastic concurrence - Annie travelled to Sydney. Jon had actually phoned Lee to discuss the arrangements, in the interests of being civil and gentlemanly.

Annie travelled south on the Friday afternoon and met Jon in town before catching a train to his digs in North Sydney. Their Friday night was happy and warm. It was better than that, in fact - an appropriate reward for the previous debacle.

And their Saturday was even better still – though in a different sort of way.

At about eight o'clock in the morning, they made their way downstairs and to a trendy nearby café affair for breakfast.

"Do you mind if we sit inside?" Jon asked, "The buses come past here and it can be a bit noisy."

"I'm with you!" Annie answered, "I don't like footpath meals much!"

They went inside and a pleasant young waitress, carrying a table identification number, welcomed them.

"Is it okay if we sit there on the quiet side – somewhere over near that couple maybe?" Jon asked.

The waitress agreed with the suggestion.

Annie led the way and, as she was manoeuvring towards her chosen table, she particularly noticed the female component of 'that couple'. Though the woman was nowhere near young, she had lovely grey-tinted silver hair done in a straight longer style usually worn by women a fair few years her junior. And she was wearing very stylish casual clothes. Most impressive!

When Annie reached the table that suited best, she pulled a chair out to sit down.

"I was rather hoping you'd sit with us!" the silver-haired woman said, in a confident clear voice.

Annie looked at her – somewhat taken aback.

"Annie, we've been so looking forward to seeing you again after all these years. You'd better sit here with us."

The woman stood up walked a few steps towards the utterly perplexed Annie Davis.

"I'm Sylvia; I'm Jon's Mum!" she said, holding out her hands in greeting.

Dumbfounded but now aware of what was going on, Annie intuitively went straight to Sylvia. And she got a hug more befitting an old friend than someone whose only contact had been five or six brief telephone conversations. All she said was 'God above!'

It wasn't till she stood back a bit from Sylvia that Annie took notice of the big bruiser who'd been shaking Jon's hand.

"Got you that time, eh!" Frank said to her, with a grin from-ear-to-ear.

In his way, he was as impressive as Sylvia - maybe more so! He was smartly dressed, powerfully built and ruggedly handsome with a good crop of greying wavy brown hair; his broad smile accentuating the interesting facial furrows that had developed with the passage of years.

When released by Sylvia, Annie turned to Frank who was waiting for a handshake. She reached out to him and had her right hand enclosed in his. Till that moment in her life she'd thought Jon was a big strong critter. She hadn't counted on the likes of his father. Though he was gentle as could be, she surmised that his hands had previously been used to bend railway track. Even at his age, he was clearly tough stuff.

"Hi, Mr Bentley."

"Good to meet you, Annie. Hey listen; my friends call me Frank, you know!" he said happily.

After a small amount of chatter, they sat down for the serious task of selecting from the menu.

The breakfast was a very happy occasion and a pleasant time of discovery for Annie and the Bentley seniors. The meeting was exactly as Jon had expected; there were no disappointments of any kind.

And Annie was fascinated with the family grouping. It explained much that she'd previously only wondered about.

Though Jon looked a bit more like Frank, their make up and manner seemed vastly different. She discovered that Jon, in very many ways, was more like Sylvia – a concept she'd not previously thought about. Without much detailed knowledge on the subject, she'd always assumed sons would automatically be like dads.

And the conversations intrigued her. Jon and Frank spoke in short sentences with lengthy gaps between. Though there was no awkwardness, there just seemed to be exchanges of small amounts of information followed by mental assimilation periods. Jon and Sylvia, on the other hand, waltzed with words. Their communication was lengthy, graceful and animated. At this initial meeting, Annie was particularly taken with Sylvia - who was far more sophisticated and worldly than she'd expected. She had class; she had something special! She was not clumsy and mumsy; she was a cut above.

And Sylvia and Frank were fascinated with Annie.

This was no fawning child. Before them was an attractive and intelligent young woman, in possession of well-developed social skills. But, more important, before them was a totally unpretentious young woman with vitality and natural warmth. Though she was clearly happy in Jon's company – and obviously proud of him – there was no purring or sickly adoration. She was her own woman and she contributed to the group on equal terms.

There was only one stumbling block. Annie had a devil of a lot of trouble accepting the idea that she should call Frank 'Frank'. For some reason, it didn't seem right. She returned to 'Mr Bentley' a few times, but that seemed ridiculous; she tried 'Frank' a few times but could only manage it in a whisper; so she settled on 'Dad'. He acknowledged the first one with a smile and a nod, easily remembering the same name problem from his younger years.

After a pleasant hour-and-a-half, Frank and Sylvia went off to visit two of Frank's sisters; and Jon and Annie went to play on the harbour ferries. By agreement, they would reconvene for dinner at a venue of Frank's choosing.

The evening encounter was even more pleasant than the breakfast meeting. Frank had chosen a small Italian restaurant at North Sydney having ascertained it was 'run by a nice family' and that the Papa had a proper understanding of what was really meant by 'fresh fish'. He'd even met Mama, been given a tour of the kitchen and sampled a soup and a pasta sauce in tiny glass bowls.

They arrived at the restaurant at about seven o'clock and had ordered by half-past. After all the fresh fish research, Sylvia was the only one to order it as a main. Frank and Jon opted for crumbed veal and Annie went for a hearty beef casserole - which she subsequently discovered to be a hearty kid casserole.

It tasted nice anyway!

During the evening, Annie was monopolised by Frank who had a load of interesting stories to tell. Though, to Annie, he lacked Sylvia's polish and presence, he had other endearing qualities that soon became evident. He was straight to the point and honest; and, sometimes very amusing. In one important way, he was like Jon; he was strength and gentleness in one big package.

Just before desserts were served – and with the benefit of some good wine on board – Frank and Annie seemed to get into a very serious private discussion. In pursuing the discussion, however, some fine detail had escaped Frank so he had to ask Sylvia for help.

"Sylv, who was the one who was keen on Aurora; the one who buggered it all up and asked for eternal life instead of eternal youth?"

"Tithonus." Sylvia responded in an instant.

"That's the one!"

The question sent Sylvia off on a literary tangent.

"There was a lovely poem, wasn't there?" she asked rhetorically, "I think it finished up 'the wild team – something, something – shook the darkness from their loosened manes, and beat the twilight into flakes of fire.' I think that's how it went anyway!"

Sylvia had a moment of contentment at having retrieved the name Tithonus and some verse from school days; but that came to an abrupt end when it dawned on her that Frank was probably talking to Annie about the sensitive subject of age. She immediately swung around his way and gave him the stern 'Be careful now, Frank!' look.

He recognised it without difficulty and answered the look as if it were an audible statement.

"I was just talking with my old friend here about how the years pass quickly when you're older!" he explained.

"Well, I hope you don't do anything to upset anyone while you're on that subject, Frank." she said in a soft voice.

The Saturday went to a midnight close leaving the group contented with their discoveries.

The Sunday morning saw the Bentley seniors off on their journey to Port Macquarie and left Jon and Annie to be together on their own.

Annie went back to Brisbane late on the Sunday afternoon and Lee picked her up at the airport at about quarter-to-six. They talked about the trip over a Sunday night snack a bit later on.

For Annie, the return home brought a strange sense of discomfort. During the year, she had been with Jon as a two-person team or with Jon and friends. She had become accustomed to being the focal point of his attention; and had come to see him as completely unencumbered. That he was part of a family – and an interesting family, at that – somehow seemed to detract from their relationship. It raised in her mind a feeling of jealousy about mere joint ownership of Jon. It raised in her mind an impression that she may just be a partner in a bigger business.

Coincidentally, thoughts about her financial inadequacy surfaced again – just to confuse the issue. With total assets of a half-completed university course and a few hundred dollars, she felt inadequate. She felt like the odd one out.

She tried to put all these new thoughts aside, but they wouldn't go away.

Lee - who by then had a slightly better grip on her personal situation thanks to GP friend Ruth Foster and a psychologist associated with her practice – could detect Annie's little early November insecurities but chose to do nought about them. She was thankful that Annie was having a tussle with the Jon affair. She perceived that as being far healthier than the earlier euphoria.

For a number of days, Annie was in a bind with her new dilemmas. She was reluctant to talk through them with Lee, having been so adamant about going to university in Melbourne and being locked-in with Jon. And she couldn't talk to Jon about them, as he'd surely see them as childish.

But on Remembrance Day 1994, help came via the mobile phone from the man of surprises – the old war-horse, Frank.

"I just rang up to see how you're going, Annie. Is everything okay?" he asked.

"Just fine." she answered bluntly, again not knowing what to call him.

"I thought I'd better find out how you pulled-up after the weekend in the big smoke."

"Good as gold, Mr Bentley. Saturday was lovely wasn't it?"

"Oh yes, sure thing!" he assured her, "It was good to meet with you at last; and we always look forward to seeing Jon now and then."

"I suppose so!" she answered.

"But families can be a bit overpowering, Annie – especially if they burst in unexpectedly as a bit of a gag. It was my fault; I dreamed it all up! But it wasn't really fair though, was it?"

"No. That was all right. It was a beaut surprise!" she answered.

"You probably hadn't thought much about Jon coming with a pile of old family baggage. You've only ever had a tiddly family, haven't you?"

"I suppose so!" she answered again.

"Sylv and I are better on our home patch, you know; not nearly so intimidating. We've got our own little jobs and games here. It's all fairly peaceful really."

"Sounds good!" Annie responded.

"Annie, I've had an idea and I thought I'd better pass it by you before I do anything about it. It's about peaceful old Port Macquarie. I've got a friend Leo at the club and he goes to see his family in Adelaide every year for the six weeks before Christmas. He's got a good little unit just a few doors away and it sits there empty every December. We keep an eye on it for him. Okay?"

"Okay!" Annie replied.

"Well I've thought it might be nice for you and your Mum to come and stay at Leo's for a while when he's away this year. I've cleared it with him; he's got no problems! It would be a good break because I know your Mum doesn't get away for more than a few days every now and then with work and everything."

He paused for a second or two.

"Do you think she'd like that, Annie?"

"Well I don't know. I mean, I think she would!"

"Why don't you have a think about this and let me know if you reckon it would be all right. I won't do anything till you've had a chance to get your mind around it. Okay?"

"Okay." Annie replied.

"Have a talk to Jon about it too; see what he thinks. And while you're at it, you can vent your spleen about a couple of old wrinklies intruding on a perfectly good weekend in Sydney."

"You didn't intrude at all. It was great!"

"I don't know." Frank replied, "In hindsight, we might have been better drifting in rather than rushing in. But Sylv and I were both anxious to see you and I suppose we got a bit over enthusiastic."

Annie was nonplussed by his insight, honesty and humility.

"There's no problem, Dad!" she said softly.

"Now if you do come down next month, would you let me take you fishing?" he asked.

"I've never been fishing."

"Well, who knows; next month might be a good time to give it a go!"

Their conversation finished after a few more minutes chat and reiteration of the agreement that she would seriously consider the holiday trip south and phone Frank about the outcome of her deliberations.

Annie phoned Jon soon after termination of the Port Macquarie call to tell all – bad and good. She gave him a clear précis to work on.

"Anyway, I was feeling really on the fringe or something. It was selfish stuff, almost as if I resented your Mum being nice to you. It was like being jealous I suppose. Can you understand what I'm talking about?"

"Sure." he answered, "You were seeing an old team reunion and I guess it looked a bit strange."

"Your Dad seemed to know what I was thinking. When he phoned, I had the feeling he'd been looking inside my brain. It was amazing; he seemed to know exactly what was going on." Annie admitted.

"He's always been like that. He's about as dumb as a fox, you know."

"I think he's wonderful!" Annie declared.

"Oh shit, I wouldn't go that far!" Jon countered.

After getting the family subject bedded down, Annie moved on to her balance sheet problems. She refloated the idea of going to university in Melbourne part-time so that she could make an appropriate contribution to the Jon Bentley household.

Jon successfully sought deferral of discussions on this matter arguing that it would be better approached face-to-face rather than on the phone. He hoped, of course, that the subject would go away completely. He really hated the idea of her slaving away part-time.

On the subject of a Davis duo holiday at Port Macquarie, he was more responsive. He saw a potential benefit in some strengthening of ties between his parents and Lee.

"That sounds like a good idea to me. Am I invited too?"

"I suppose so!" Annie answered awkwardly, "But I don't know. I guess you're always invited, aren't you?"

"Gee, I'm not sure. I might have been forgotten – again!" he answered, before going into a period of laughter.

"Seriously though," he added, "it's a good chance to get a good holiday; and your Mum's job should be a bit slower than usual at that time of the year. Why not give Dad a call and tell him to blast away – if you want to go, that is."

"I think it could be nice, Jon!"

"I'm sure it'd be nice. They'll take care of you too. They always got on well with Lee and they think you're the best thing since sliced bread."

"Did one of them say something?"

"Yeah, Mum! She phoned a few days ago. She said you were 'stunning'."

"Me?"

"Yes, you!" Jon responded.

"I'll be blowed!"

A few seconds passed while Annie absorbed the compliment.

"Anyway, I think I'll do it Jon! I think I'll phone your Dad back and let him loose!" she said with growing confidence.

"Go for it! But spare me a kind thought when you're splashing around in the surf or playing bowls at the club, eh." Jon said, before again lapsing into laughter.

Annie phoned Frank; and Frank phoned Lee; then, after a week, a plan was put in place for the Davis girls to drive to Port Macquarie on Saturday 10 December for a ten-day stay.

In the period between striking the holiday arrangement and 10 December, Lee was buried in her job; Annie was busy with her university work and pre-Christmas catering work; and Jon engrossed with his Sydney project. In that time, he flew to Brisbane just the once towards the end of November.

It was a notable visit in that Annie actually picked him up at the airport on the Friday night in Lee's old Mazda, and because he was invited to lunch at Lee's place on the Saturday. Though that wasn't a joyous occasion, it was an enormous step forward.

As the Sydney job was pointing in the right direction, Jon stayed three nights at the New Farm motel returning to the big city on the Monday morning. The stay gave him plenty of time to be close with Annie and to discuss the future. In the absence of university results, not a great deal was resolved about the future – but it was a lot of fun talking about it.

Better than all that, Jon was able to relate that he'd teed-up some time off in December to join the happy holidaymakers at Port Macquarie.

Everything seemed to be falling into place!

Though the wind-down to the Port Macquarie trips went exactly to plan, the holiday that eventuated bore almost no resemblance to what they all had in mind.

At the last minute, Lee got caught up at work and was forced to abandon the initial departure date, so Annie caught a Friday afternoon coach southbound believing Jon would be travelling northward from Sydney on the Saturday morning. She'd not even reached the New South Wales border when she received a phone call to let her know he'd been caught up at work too.

It was all a bit of a mess!

Despite that, Annie was pleased to have finished her year at university and to be going to the beach for a break. She was only concerned about how she was going to maintain conversation with Frank and Sylvia till the others eventually arrived.

Her coach arrived in Port Macquarie fifteen minutes early at five-to-four on the Saturday morning and - after the noisy business of passenger set-downs and pick-ups and baggage shuffling – it departed again, leaving her alone in total tranquillity. The early morning was cool, the streetlights glowed in halo mist and the wonderful clean smell of salty sea filled the air. Annie felt no loneliness there; in fact, she felt exhilaration with an emerging sense of independence and freedom.

And, for a capable woman of nineteen years, that was a perfectly reasonable emotion.

It was, of course, only a few moments earlier in history that men and women of around that age fought great battles, tilled the soil, staffed offices and factories, built homes and parented children with fervour and skill \- men and women now revered posthumously as heroes and nation builders by a burgeoning middle class that prefers to believe such stalwarts are extinct.

But they are not; they exist and are as vibrant as ever. They just do things a bit differently. And well they may as they confront that middle class cynicism about their worth and a developing culture that would have them beginning a full adult life beyond twenty-five and finishing it in wasteful occupational obsolescence three decades later – in defiance of normal human instincts and obvious human capacities.

Annie was thoroughly entitled to her feeling of exhilaration in the wee hours of that Saturday morning. Only in detail was she different from her heroic predecessors.

Frank and Sylvia turned up in the car at exactly the time the coach was supposed to arrive. They gave her a very warm welcome amongst much tut-tutting about being left on her own in downtown Port Macquarie.

They drove to the Bentley unit, which only took a couple of minutes, and had some tea and toast.

"It was really good of you to come and pick me up so early. I feel a bit awful about that – especially now that Jon's not even coming up today." Annie said, after she'd finished her last piece of toast.

"Not a worry!" Frank replied, "I'm off to get you some fish for dinner pretty soon anyway. And, when you're retired, it doesn't matter when you get up or go to bed. It doesn't matter; you can do what you like."

After a while, Frank went fishing and Sylvia and Annie had a nap in preparation for a busy weekend. As predicted by Jon, it involved aquatic activities and the bowls club.

Annie settled in happily with the Bentleys. They were easy company and didn't make her feel uncomfortable with fussing. On the Saturday afternoon, Sylvia and Annie went for a walk and to the club to see 'Dad' play in a pairs competition; and on Sunday morning they all went to the beach for a swim. Frank took Annie fishing late on the Sunday afternoon.

While she was having her post-fishing shower, the holiday hosts discussed their houseguest.

"She's a lovely style of girl Frank, isn't she?" Sylvia commented quietly.

"Oh, my word yes!" he responded in a serious and reflective manner, "Very sensible girl! And she's good looking as well. Lovely smile, nice figure... good boosies too!"

This grubby lapse attracted a reprimand.

"Oh God; not you too! You boys are all as bad as each other. Now just forget about all that, Frank. Try to think about bowls and bream, eh."

Frank smiled foolishly at his spouse of some forty-five years.

On the Monday, it was established that Jon would arrive the following Friday night and that Lee would arrive the following Saturday afternoon, so Sylvia and Annie decided to head for the hills and visit the remaining Bentley tribe members in Armidale – staying Tuesday night at motel in the town centre.

At a dinner get-together at the motel, Annie met Marg as well as her husband Doug and tribe; and she met the even more country-and-western Eunice and Rod. It was a very pleasant evening and another substantial learning experience for Annie. She particularly liked Marg whose manner much resembled Jon's.

Eunice was not as easy. She seemed to have perfected the staccato conversation style that characterised Jon and Frank's communications.

The only potential problem was Marg's daughter Lucy who, at seventeen, believed herself to be about Annie's age. Though numerically that was correct; in reality, they were worlds apart.

Annie handled the situation beautifully. She spotted Lucy's 'I'm like you' approach straight off and adjusted to it in an instant. Throughout the evening, she effortlessly maintained conversation at two maturity levels gaining friends all around – and Sylvia's elevated respect.

Though Sylvia and Annie didn't subsequently discuss the level of seventeen-year-old Lucy's approach, each seemed to know the other had it in mind. And each seemed to know of the other's linked thoughts about the October 1992 indiscretion in Brisbane and about Lee's very early union with Jim all those years before. They were not troubled by the images; these things were life realities.

Sylvia, in fact, was warmed by the thoughts. She derived from them a heightened admiration for the Davis girls who had grown quickly - and prevailed - in fairly difficult circumstances.

After more fishing, walking, swimming and bowls in Port Macquarie, Friday arrived. Annie had a swim and did the shopping with Sylvia in the morning; then kept Frank company as he did some carpentry work in the second garage in the afternoon. She had the mobile phone with her for her call from Jon.

It eventually came at about half-past-five after the woodworkers had gone back upstairs for a drink.

Following initial greetings, they got into the serious stuff.

"Are you okay up there? They haven't driven you crazy, have they?" Jon asked.

"No; it's as good as gold here! It's been wonderful!"

"That's what I like to hear." Jon replied, "I've just stopped for some petrol and a softie. I should be there at about half-past-seven. Could you let Mum know?"

"Sure will! See you soon Mussels."

"See you soon." he responded.

Annie passed on the arrival message to Sylvia with more than a little enthusiasm; Sylvia mentally adjusted her dinner clock; and Frank rocked back in his chair wondering about his son's new nickname.

Annie heard a car pull up in the visitors' car park at about twenty-past-seven and looked down from the unit front balcony to make sure it was Jon.

"That's him now!" she said as she scurried across the room, out the main door and down the stairwell to greet him.

Sensing the excitement of the occasion, Frank stood up and moved towards the balcony.

"It might be better if you didn't, Frank." Sylvia said, "You've never run out to make welcoming noises or blow him a kiss before. And today mightn't be the best day to start with the new trend. They don't need you gawking at them."

Frank didn't take kindly to this discipline and extracted effective revenge by joining her in the kitchen to help with dinner.

After a time, Annie went back inside carrying a brief case and toiletries kit; and Jon followed with his trusty barrel bag. They were beaming and set the scene for a happy evening at home.

At about half-past-ten, Frank and Sylvia went to bed leaving Jon and Annie to catch up on their Sydney and Brisbane news at the dining room table. And, keeping their voices as soft as possible, they had a good old yarn.

Restless in the warm – with an absence of circulation because of the closed bedroom door – Sylvia returned to complete consciousness at about half-past-twelve. The two outside were still chatting away and laughing occasionally. She threw off her sheet and turned on her side towards Frank who was sleeping on his back - probably.

"Are you awake, sweetheart?" she said in the softest whisper.

"Sort of half-and-half, Sylv." he answered quietly.

"Listen to them out there. Listen to Jon. They're some of the nicest sounds I've ever heard." she whispered.

"I think you've got that about right, Mum. I think that's right." Frank answered, as he reached across and gave her a bottom pat and a little leg rub.

Eventually, the talkers went to bed and to sleep – Annie in 'Jon's room' and Jon on the sofa.

Lee's arrival the following day quietened the two down a bit and resulted in a Davis exodus to Leo's unit. But general goodwill prevailed with Sylvia and Lee catching up on years of stories in the late afternoon at the Bentley place.

And a special dinner was prepared by Frank.

He did old-fashioned seafood cocktail, served on finely cut lettuce in small stainless steel dishes, for starters; then elegantly cleaned and decapitated bream, oven-cooked in foil with a bit of butter and parsley and pepper, for the main event. He served the fish with crusty bread, a mixed salad and a bowl of artichoke hearts – most of which he ate himself. He loved them!

Before serving a fruit platter for dessert, he told a few home truths about the preparation of seafood.

"Now, for the life of me, I don't know why people in the trade cook fish with the heads on. It's disgusting! You can't eat the damned things! And the poor little buggers look up at you with a pearly eye from the plate... God, it's awful! Whenever I cop one, I feel more like phoning an undertaker than having a meal."

This piscatorial sensitivity greatly entertained the guests; but didn't move Sylvia and Jon, who'd heard it all before – many times.

The break at Port Macquarie achieved most of what Frank wanted. Jon, Lee and Annie all had a good time with leisure activities aplenty. And they were all in an environment that allowed the families to get properly reacquainted and achieve some sense of unity in rekindled friendship.

Jon and Lee were seldom together alone, each preferring to hover in a group. However, when fate put them together for a short time at the beach on the Monday morning, Lee took the opportunity to raise a few questions about the future.

"Jon, the Melbourne plans seem to have gone pretty quiet – and that surprises me a bit. Time's moving on, you know!"

"It's to do with the final bits-and-pieces and which uni in Melbourne next year, I guess." he replied.

"That's not quite the way I read it." Lee responded, "But if that's the story, that's the story."

"We're not trying to keep you in the dark or anything." Jon replied self-consciously.

"Jon, if either of you have any doubts about this Melbourne business, don't do it. Please don't do it. But if you're confident about it, come on out in the open so that we can talk about it, eh. I can understand you both being a bit coy with me because it's a very unusual arrangement - very bloody unusual, in fact. But, if Annie's going away, we need to make plans. Okay?"

"Fair enough. We'll fix." Jon said quietly as he watched Frank and Annie return from the water's edge.

"Here's another strange pair!" he added, in the interests of sustaining conversation.

Feeling he should make some better attempt at eye contact – to confirm his status as friend and his confidence about the future - he turned to Lee. In response, he got an unemotional stare that seemed focused twenty-five metres beyond where he was sitting.

"I don't know what it is about that girl. He thinks she's the cat's pyjamas; he can't stop telling me about her!" she said.

Jon flew back to Sydney after lunch on that Monday to tidy up some work before returning for the Christmas break; and, after a few more pleasant days, Lee and Annie started on the drive home to Brisbane early on the Thursday morning.

Lunchtime that day gave Frank and Sylvia an opportunity to review the holiday venture's successes and failures.

"You ought to see Leo's place, Sylv; it's cleaner than when he went away." Frank announced.

"That'd be right." she replied.

"Lee's pretty good, isn't she? Quite a girl!"

"I think so!" Sylvia responded, "And Annie's a treat - well, I think so, anyway!"

Frank reverted to the salt and pepper shakers and a serviette ring to assist in talking about the Davis duo, and his son Jon – just as he would have done to describe the intricacies of a game of bowls.

"The way I see it though," he said as he positioned the pieces on the table, "is that when you stick Jon in there with the girls, the wheels fall off. Just watching them and listening to them, I couldn't help thinking that any one of the three respects the other two."

He moved the pieces around the dining table a bit.

"And any combination of two respects the other one."

Then he clacked the pieces together.

"And the three together lose it; they lose their balance or something."

Sylvia thought about that for a while before answering.

"I think the little one understands that; well, she understands it better than the others anyway. And Dad, I'll bet she's the one behind the Melbourne thing. Listening to her in the car on the way up to Armidale, I could sense she's the one with the plan."

"Impetuous youth?" Frank replied.

"I don't think so. It's not her age; it's her nature. She's the adventurous one!"

"Well, maybe that's right." Frank replied.

"And Frank, I know she's on the level. She adores Jon and seems to understand what's going on in that peculiar brain of his. You know, when we were driving up the range the other day, she said something about being 'sorry for him at the beginning', and something else about him having 'everything but nothing'. They were unusual things to say to me; maybe she forgot who she was talking to. But they sounded just right. No tricks, no glamorous stuff, no girlie giggles – just right!"

"Well, we'll wait and see." Frank responded, having again retreated to careful mode.

Back in Sydney, Jon continued in an over-analytical state about Annie and Lee's Christmas presents; and, by the time the big day was nearly at hand, he'd done nothing about any of his splendid ideas. He was cross with himself about losing track with this and eventually decided on extravagant bunches of flowers for each of them. He arranged these on the Wednesday afternoon at a very up-market florist in North Sydney.

"Now I need them to be delivered on Christmas Eve. Is that okay?" he asked the haughty woman in the store, having made the decision about what was to be sent.

"That shouldn't be a problem, sir. There's a florist in the town, is there?" she asked, as she reached down for the Interflora directory.

"Aw no!" Jon replied, "It's not a country town. It's Clayfield; it's an inner suburb of Brisbane." he explained.

The woman gave him a slow, slightly askew, nod and a prissy forced smile - all of which gave her the appearance of a person who'd just eaten bad meat.

"Can I have a look at the book?" Jon asked, "I know the area pretty well; I'll pick one out for you."

She turned the directory around; and Jon studied the relevant entries.

"That'd be the best one; it's right at the Terminus!" Jon said, with an innocent smile on his face.

"The Terminus? Wasn't it Clayfield you were after?"

"Yeah, the Terminus; it's at Clayfield!" Jon responded.

Now, 'the Terminus' wasn't a terminus at all. True, it was once a tram terminus; but over a quarter of a century had elapsed since a tram pulled out of that Clayfield shopping area bound for far distant Salisbury. But Brisbaners – and expatriate Brisbaners – are very partial to silly place names and the established locals wouldn't have dreamed of parting with this one.

Lee, and Annie, both referred to this small cluster of suburban shops as 'the Terminus' though neither had the slightest idea why they did so. By the time Lee arrived from Darwin all those years earlier, Brisbane trams were a distant memory and the replacement buses lumbered outbound through the locality for turnaround at points further north.

"Do you wish to have messages sent with the gifts, sir?" the florist person enquired.

"Yes please! I've typed them out for you!" Jon replied, as he handed over the messages.

"We won't actually send these, you know. We'll have the florist in Clayfield look after the cards. It would take far too long if we actually posted these up."

Jon was a very patient man; it went with his personality and was reinforced with his job. But he didn't possess infinite patience.

"I bloody know that!" he snapped, "I was trying to be helpful. Now, come on; let's get on with it. I've got to get back to work."

It did no good. She got flustered after that and proceeded to scrunch up numerous vouchers in the establishment's old Bankcard slide validator.

Despite the frustrations associated with the purchase, the flowers arrived on time; and were beautiful and welcome. Indeed, Christmas was beautiful and welcome – for the little Davis troupe in Brisbane and the very much larger Bentley troupe that gathered in Port Macquarie.

Jon and Annie talked on the phone often between Christmas and the year's end. The conversations were much to do with their future plans – especially Annie's departure from her Mum and her home town. They were strange conversations; they were happy and sad at the one time.

Jon wasn't exempt from these dual sensations. By then, he and Annie had grown close to the point where they would often adopt each other's emotions in unintentional empathy. Somehow, they had become specially linked.

Jon flew to Brisbane on Monday 2 January 1995 to discuss the future plans with Annie and Lee; and, despite all his prior experience, he found it a difficult meeting. It took the happy and sad sensations to uncomfortably conflicting levels and laid bare all the hardships that could come with trying to maintain the harmonious triumvirate.

At the meeting's zenith, they discussed Annie's university fees for continuation on a full-time basis, which Lee sought to subsidise at a level equal to the amount she paid in 1994. Though Jon was uncomfortable with this concept, he was reluctant to argue the point knowing what he did about Lee's pride and Annie's awkwardness about financial inadequacy. Lee prevailed.

Luckily, Annie's going-away party was the next subject on the list; so Jon was able to take a conversational rest – albeit in mute discomfort.

When the discussions finally drew to a close, it was nearly time for Jon to go back to the airport for his flight. A mandatory cup of tea took him to the deadline.

"Jon, I'll nip down and get the car out." Annie said, "You won't be able to get in the passenger's side in the garage; we've got all sorts of junk stored there."

She departed quickly leaving Jon and Lee alone near the unit's front door.

"I think we've covered everything, Jon. If anything else springs up you can give me a call, eh." Lee said.

"Yeah; sure!" he answered quietly.

At that moment he had odd thoughts about what could be said in conclusion. 'I'm sorry I'm pinching your daughter' and 'I hope we don't have to do another meeting like this', amongst other one-liners, flashed past. But there was nothing in the clutter of ideas that could be spoken.

"I'd better go now!" he said, eventually.

In the circumstances, a farewell handshake seemed very formal and inappropriate; so he opted to give her a quick peck on the cheek. She must have thought likewise.

He moved forward a bit to her similar approach, and – as sometimes happens – they got the directions muddled. So, the resultant peck was a partial kiss on the lips. Embarrassed at their extreme closeness, he blinked and looked away for a second then remained motionless in the hope Lee would make the correction.

Jon felt the soft hand against his cheek, then the gentle pressure turning his face in the wrong direction. He felt the warm lips against his and the stroking of his cheek.

When the extraordinary moment had passed and they had retreated a little, Jon became aware of her sad face – the very beautiful and unusual face that set her apart from the crowd.

He had no words; there was nothing to be said.

"Bye Jon." she said.

He held her hand warmly for a second then turned about slowly and left in stunned silence.

* * *

### 12.

Thanks to very good end-of-year results – especially in Japanese – Annie was able to enrol for the final two years of arts-teaching at the University of Melbourne. It was not going to be easy; there was some backing and filling and catching-up to do, and the standards were high. But she was in!

Though Annie was relieved to be accepted anywhere, Jon was off his perch with delight that Melbourne Uni was the one. It was rich in tradition, prestigious and interestingly cosmopolitan. It was the best!

Apart from that, it was convenient. Monash, though closer to home, was going to be more difficult to get to. Geographically, it better suited people living in the city's eastern suburban corridor.

And, by way of a bonus, Melbourne Uni was only ten minutes from Jon's office by tram.

Annie's going-away party was held at a nice suburban restaurant on the last Friday night in January – the eve of her departure. Arranged and capably run by Lee, it was a happy affair that included her six closest friends and a smattering of boyfriends.

In a near exact copy of Jon's August 1979 departure, Lee saw her off early in the afternoon of Saturday 28 January.

"It looks like it's time to go down the chute to the big silver bird, Miss Annie." Lee declared.

"I guess so, Mum!"

"Sweetheart, if this all goes ker-plop don't forget I'm here!" Lee said, "Don't be embarrassed about coming home if you need to. We've taken good care of each other in the past; we can do it again in the future – easy. Okay?"

"Okay Mum!" Annie answered.

"You take care of yourself, sweetheart." were Lee's last words on the subject.

After a warm hug, Annie boarded at quarter-past-one.

The welcoming committee was waiting at the top of the air bridge at Tulla - Jon in the middle, Tony on his right and Jane on his left. And Annie dealt with them in that order.

For Jon there was a good long hug and a few whispers; for Tony there was a peck and a few kind words; then, with Jane, all hell broke loose in a lamentable display of female silliness.

"Pinch me; I must be dreaming! I just don't believe it!" Annie said to Jane.

"God, it's unreal! I don't believe it either!" she responded foolishly.

Then there was laughing and crying, and much rapid-fire incoherent girl-speak, before Jane whisked the new arrival away to the baggage carousel.

The two, it turned out, had been maintaining low-level communication for months about the Melbourne move and other matters of mutual female interest.

By the time the group started off towards the southern suburbs in the car, the girls had settled and they were able to have a rational four-way conversation. Tony was given free reign with topics as he was to be dropped off at Gardenvale, having done his important job as a welcoming committee member.

When they stopped at Tony's, Maria and some of the tribe came out to greet them.

"Keep your eye on the youngest one, Marian; she's a lovely little kid." Jon said quietly to Annie after he'd got out of the car.

Sure enough, after the greeting mayhem had subsided, Marian fronted Jon with a rundown on the latest important news.

"Jon, we've got new swings. The old ones were no good any more; so Dad got new ones. Do you want to see them?"

By the time she'd finished the excited delivery, Jon had her perched up on his arm.

"We'd better have a look. Is it all right if my friend Annie comes too? She knows all about these things."

Marian smiled and nodded.

They were gone around the back for just a few minutes and returned beaming at the wonder of the new equipment – Jon holding Annie's hand and Annie holding Marian's in an extraordinary human line-up of decreasing physical proportions.

The Cheltenham group declined a stay at Tony and Maria's as Rob was taking care of afternoon tea preparations at Jon's place.

When they arrived home, Rob was waiting for them – attired in a revolting lime green female apron over a pair of dark shorts and T-shirt. The uniform accentuated his hairy arms and thin hairy legs, which led visually to a pair of floppy battered deck shoes. He had cups, saucers and other trappings of a genteel afternoon tea party neatly on a tray on the dining room table.

"You're looking very handsome, Rob." Annie opened, before giving him a quick hug.

"Thanks Brisbane." he answered.

"And it looks like you've gone to a lot of trouble with afternoon tea." she commented.

"Bit of a waste of time really. I've gone off that idea now. I think we ought to get on the piss and celebrate!"

His latter idea held sway; and the boys had a beer or four, Jane had a white wine or two and Annie slipped into a few shots of Bundaberg rum and ginger beer – which Rob renamed 'kidney trouble'. After they'd been at Jon's for about an hour, Annie phoned Lee 'just to check-in', then put Jane on 'just for a bit of a yap', an exercise that took about thirty minutes in total.

By prior arrangement, they had a barbeque dinner at the Martin residence.

When they eventually went home, Annie got her first good look at the renovated main bedroom. It was quite a large room and Jon had been able to install a number of cupboards and bookshelves on either side of the window at its southern end. He had also bought a quality desk that fitted in neatly just below the windowsill.

A handsome Mac computer had been installed on the desk.

"Do you reckon this will be okay for your study?" he asked coyly.

"Okay? You're kidding! Jon, it's beautiful. But you shouldn't have gone to all this expense; anything would have done. And I could have done my work on your PC when it was free."

When Annie turned around from her furniture and computer inspection, Jon held his arms wide for a proper welcome to Melbourne hug – a physical invitation she gladly accepted.

Despite their long day, and the few drinks, neither slept well. They got up early on the Sunday for a drive to Brighton and a long walk by the bay.

"Now we've talked a bit about how things work down here at my place, haven't we?" Jon asked, as they approached the beachfront buildings at Elwood Park.

"Not really." Annie answered.

"I thought we had." Jon exclaimed absentmindedly.

"No, I don't think so."

"Well there are two rules." Jon started, "The first one is that you've always got to have a good bit of cash in your purse in case you need a cab or something; maybe a hundred in twenties and tens."

He looked around at her and smiled.

"What's the second one?" she asked.

"If you found you've broken rule one, go to an ATM and get some money out. That form I posted up a while ago for you to sign was for a card on my account. It's arrived now; so I'll give it to you when we get home. Now, you make sure you use it when you need to. Promise?"

"I promise!" she answered.

Jon was aware of her sensitivity about matters financial, so he delivered his final important money message with as much nonchalance as he could muster.

"I know we've told some people about you coming to Melbourne for a change of uni and boarding at my place and all; but there's no need to take any of that too seriously now. I mean, that's all sort of right; but it sort of isn't too!"

"Annie, I really don't want you caught out with small change in your purse and scrounging around trying to make ends meet. That'd bugger everything up. Just grab a bit of money when you need it; just do it, eh!"

Annie went off into a long piece about getting a job on the weekends and being self-sufficient before progressing with domestic relationship matters.

"Now Jon, I understand your money rules, but what about the others?" she asked earnestly.

He laughed happily by way of a reply – then changed the subject.

The remainder of their first full day in Melbourne was lazy. Annie put her modest collection of possessions away; and Jon washed the car and did a bit of work in the garden. In Murray's absence in the western district, Denise – accompanied by son Josh - came in for coffee at about three o'clock to say hello and check up on the new Melburnian.

For both Jon and Annie, the first weeks together had a bit to do with the re-jigging of lifestyle. Jon, in domestic terms, was used to practically no routine; and Annie, in domestic terms, was used to very formal routine, bordering on regimentation. In the early days, they really were the odd couple as they tried to work through these differences – sometimes clashing and sometimes going to crazy extremes to give each other elbowroom.

But it settled nicely; and, by the end of March, they'd adjusted to new ways.

Annie liked Melbourne Uni and quickly made interesting friends there. Though there was a sameness about lectures, her adopted alma mater had a more exciting atmosphere and a more liberal sprinkling of personalities. Its close proximity to eateries at Carlton was a plus – even though she deviated from her home-cut lunch only occasionally as a special treat.

And she liked Melbourne generally. It was bigger by a long stretch than Brisbane, but seemed to have some of the pleasant relaxed characteristics of the northern capital. In the interests of eking out quality time together, Jon took her touring on weekends.

On one sunny Sunday, they departed the city proper for Portsea and Sorrento – destinations Jon described as 'the beaches down on the peninsula'.

Now, for Annie – a born and bred Brisbaner – the beaches were a shock. On the Mornington Peninsula tip facing north-east there were boring, still-water, kiddies bathing conditions; and on the side facing south-west there were surfing conditions as wild and treacherous as could be imagined. Though the distance between the two sides could be measures in hundreds of metres, they seemed different worlds – the only common feature being the unpleasantly cold water temperature.

After the initial settling-in period, Annie's home life became balanced and very happy.

Jon, she found, was a peaceful soul - not boring, not overly quiet - but peaceful. He'd read, listen to music, watch television, tinker around with cooking and housekeeping and work at his PC without the need to make announcements about what was happening. It was all very civilised. And the relative quiet provided an ideal atmosphere for study.

With time, Annie's approach to routine softened a bit – particularly in respect of meals. At first, she missed Lee's meat and three veg type meals at pre-determined times; but eventually, Jon's alternative approach caught on. Although he was a capable cook and did prepare standard meals, his inclination was to eat what he felt like when he was hungry. If he felt like baked beans on toast for dinner, that's what he'd have; and if he wanted to eat it at half-past-eight, that's when he'd eat it.

Democratised, this lack of meal formality became a pleasant feature of their existence – each buying interesting bits-and-pieces that they thought the other would like.

To add to the variety, they would often eat out on Friday evenings – with or without friends from the university or work – usually at small inexpensive Asian or Italian restaurants. For Annie, these outings were wonderful treats.

Though there were early fears about obesity or malnutrition, she came to realise that she was eating very well and that there was far less pre-packaged and junk food consumed at Jon's place than at Lee's. Her diet had actually improved.

She joined up at the local tennis centre and started to play fairly regularly with a peer group – having embarrassed Jon, Murray and company at a few social games they had specially arranged.

To the untrained eye, it may have seemed that Annie was getting a free ride at Jon's expense. But that wasn't the case!

Jon, as it turned out, had taken on board a happy, friendly working machine.

Annie hadn't been in the house long when she performed a chore laughingly referred to as 'doing the cupboards'. This involved giving all the crockery, cutlery, glasses and cooking utensils in the house an energetic wash and purging cupboard space with hot suds and much elbow grease.

Having done that, she set about fixing the vegetable garden. She read up on bed preparation and then brought home bags of manure and compost as well as shrink-wrapped rolls of bordering logs, as a prelude to re-jigging and expanding the whole plot for the next planting. It was a marvellous effort.

But there was much more!

For years, Jon had employed a rotund washing, ironing and general household helper called Glenda. She had a key to the house and would come in for a few hours on Wednesdays to do most of her work and then for a short time on Fridays to finish up. Though efficient enough, Glenda was distinguishable by a peculiar smell that led one to believe she was getting woeful advice on cosmetics or suffering a bad build-up of Fabulon.

Annie had a few good whiffs of the woman – and studied her work - before politely suggesting to Jon that she was a bit of a waste of money.

Glenda's services were soon terminated and Annie took over the role of washing and ironing person. She did the jobs incredibly early on Monday and Tuesday mornings so as not to waste valuable weekend time. General household chores she did intuitively as the need arose.

Jon wasn't sure whether Annie took on jobs to pay her way or whether she was simply a busy person. Maybe it was a mixture of both! He was happy enough with what she did but never encouraged her to maintain the pace or adopt new projects. Basically, she did as she wished.

He explained to her a number of times that she wasn't in Melbourne to be his housekeeper – and he meant it. She didn't have to do any chores if she didn't want to. He was just happy for her to be there.

By Jon's observation, Annie – at some stage - must have trained with a telephone and front door rapid response group. A bell, buzzer or knock seemed to be audible from any distance, irrespective of the background noise, and would bring her at a terrific pace to answer. Jon thought this a charming trait – her fast footsteps conjuring up images of those beautiful legs moving gracefully at speed. It was as well that he daydreamed about this from the sidelines. To be in her way when called to duty would have been fairly dangerous.

Phone calls at home were mainly from family or friends; and Annie was always happy to talk to family or friends. With the former group, she seemed to be the person who attracted most interest, so she did most of the conversational work. Indeed, in telephone terms, Jon largely became the forgotten partner.

But he cared not. He knew his Mum and Dad were still fond of him and would ask for him if they wanted to; and he remained uncomfortable about Lee and thought she was best treated with quiet respect rather than contrived outpourings of so-called news.

Frank's regular weekly phone calls were the most entertaining. Invariably Annie would answer; and invariably Frank would open with a hello message followed by something like 'Now, is that big galoot looking after with you properly?' When Jon was nearby and watching, Annie would raise her eyebrows and mouth the word 'Dad' before delivering a standard type answer – which always went something like 'Everything's fine here, Dad! He's behaving himself very well!' Though Jon couldn't quite understand why, these Port Macquarie weekly update conversations always took between twenty and thirty minutes.

At the very end of March, Jon spotted a newspaper advertisement for cheap inter-capital airfares and bought a ticket for Annie to visit Lee in Brisbane for a long weekend. It was all done with dazzling speed to prevent Annie thinking too much about the cost and refusing to travel for the sake of thrift. Jon won this game easily; she was on the plane before she realised what was happening.

The month of April brought some changes to Jon and Annie's way of life.

Firstly, after a lot of looking, Annie got a Sunday job at a small patisserie near – but not in – the Acland Street, St Kilda strip. The shop, called Emile's, was owned and run by an expatriate French couple, Dom and Françoise Boucher. Jon had driven Annie to the shop for the job interview, which was mostly in excited French - and was finished before he had time to make a discreet exit for the sake of their privacy and a walk around the area. Annie was exactly the person they were looking for; and Dom and Françoise were exactly the employers she was looking for. She could practice her French, learn about cooking pastries and cakes and take some money home as well. It was a perfect arrangement!

There was only one condition. She had to buy a black T-shirt, black slacks and black runner style shoes to be worn with the Emile's top – which was something like a judo upper garment but lightweight and in stylish pink, with a shop logo embroidered on the front left hand side.

Secondly, and not surprisingly, one of Annie's ultra thrifty habits briefly introduced tension into their otherwise happy Cheltenham home.

Annie had brought with her from Lee's place a practice whereby bottles of cosmetics, shampoos, cleansers and the like had to be stored upside down in their final days to ensure every last drop was used. So there were always precariously balanced inverted containers in bathroom, kitchen and laundry.

Late on an April Saturday afternoon, in the course of drying himself after a shower, Jon knocked down a few upside-down plastic bathroom bottles that took to the floor with them a nearby glass bottle of white cosmetic fluid.

Annie heard the breakage, the noise of bouncing plastic bottles and Jon's muffled cursing; so sped in to see what was going on. She found him naked in the bathroom, on hands and knees, picking up broken glass.

"Oh God, Jon; look what you've done! You clumsy oaf! That was almost brand new!" she said angrily, before turning and marching off.

Jon continued with his job until the area was ship-shape, but not without nicking his thumb on a renegade piece of glass hidden within the white goo.

He dressed slowly as he thought about the incident; then went to make peace with Annie, who was presumed to be settling her anger by doing some hosing in the back garden. She had her back to him as he walked towards her delivering a conciliatory message.

"The label on the white stuff was painted on so I couldn't read it. If you write the name of it down, I'll nip up to the day-and-night and get you some more. Would that be okay?"

She didn't turn around; she didn't answer.

"I'm sorry about that, Annie. I'll go and get you another bottle."

She turned around to face him. Her lips were pressed tight together and her eyes were filled with tears. She said nothing to him but shook her head a bit.

"What's the trouble little fella?" he asked.

"Oh shit, Jon; it just popped out! I wasn't thinking and I just said it!" she stammered, before a quick descent into distressed sobbing.

"I really didn't mean to say that to you, Jon. I didn't – truly. I'm very sorry." she went on through the crying.

He smiled, gave her a handkerchief, took the hose from her hand and turned it off at the tap – by which time he'd thought out a solution for the impasse.

"Come on inside, and I'll pour you a snort and tell you about the time I told Mum she was the oldest and plainest of all the women at tuck shop. That was a good one; I was very pleased with myself about that." he said.

They went inside and, over a drink, Jon told some stories about having to extract his boot from his mouth after delivering imprudent statements.

He did his job well and the broken bottle incident retreated into perspective fairly quickly when an agreement was reached that it might be best for inverted containers to be put in plastic boxes with heavier items for the sake of stability; and when a supplementary agreement was reached that they would really try to look after each other so that silly little things didn't intrude on the main game.

But the upset didn't disappear completely, and Annie changed direction a bit with talk of an underlying sense of inadequacy in Melbourne and not having things under control.

Like any good consultant – and loyal partner - Jon encouraged the inadequacy discussions till, finally, the problem was uncovered. And, to his relief, it was nought to do with Jon Bentley or their relationship. The problem was one particular university subject - and it's principal lecturer.

An unsettling minor mishap had strangely led to a more grizzly problem, the solution of which provided the third and most important April change to Jon and Annie's way of life.

"I've read the main books; I've taken notes on what he's said. I've done all that, but nothing seems to tie-up. It's not working out!" Annie declared, "It's not like the subject I put my name down for at all!"

"Well tomorrow afternoon we'll have a look at it and I'll see if I can give you a hand." Jon volunteered.

And give her a hand he did.

After discussing the subject at length, Jon proceeded to get on and do it. Though not a particularly fast reader, he ploughed through a few set books in five days; then started haunting bookshops to have a look at recommended publications and others he'd noted from bibliographies.

He found a few good reads and polished them off in no time.

Within a fortnight, he had a reasonable grip of the subject's fundamentals and was able to steer Annie to a quality paperback that would set her on the right path. He also made a few helpful suggestions about an approach that would get her to the heart of the matter at speed.

She followed his guidance; and she prevailed. It took a bit of innovative re-thinking, but she won.

This working together was an interesting exercise that gave each of them a better understanding of sharing - and a much clearer view of the other's vastly different intellectual skills.

In essence, Annie was a knowledge sponge who took in data as if by photographic process. She'd read it, see it or hear it; and remember it! It was a simple fast process in which she mentally filed by date or symbol or cleverly contrived memory trigger. And her capacity for retrieval of information was extraordinary.

She was a clever woman – with a mind that had the nimble operating characteristics of a compact modern piece of computer gadgetry with mountains of memory.

Jon, on the other hand, was a born analyst and problem solver. He was a seeker of truth through logical research and a repairer of all manner of ills through construction of sensible strategies. He was the master of method; the personification of patience.

He was a clever man – with a mind that had the daunting operating characteristics of an ore crusher.

Though their approaches were utterly different, neither was more or less practical than the other. Both were well-focused achievers.

When Annie's university problem was trounced, they talked a bit about the business of studying over a pre-dinner drink.

"Jon, how the hell did you know what to do when I plonked all those papers and books in front of you a while ago? How did you know where to start?" she asked.

He rubbed his forehead for a bit before answering.

"I'm not too sure, to be honest." he started, "I just did it!"

"God, with that sort of instinct, you must have romped through uni." she commented enviously.

"No, not really; I found some of it pretty hard, in fact! This sort of thing got easier after I'd done a bit of consulting work."

"It's strange, you know." he continued, "The relationship between uni and work seems a bit like the relationship between computer application help information and the actual application."

He chuckled a bit.

"It's almost impossible to understand that bloody help stuff till you can work the application. And when you can work it, you hardly ever need to look for help. It's all sort of back-to-front!"

"I'd probably be quite good at uni now that I don't have to go. Silly, isn't it! Not fair either!" he quipped, before exiting to the kitchen.

"Are you ever going to go back and do more uni work, Muss?" Annie called to him from the living room.

"I don't know. I could I suppose." he answered, "But it would be something for fun; not for work."

"Japanese maybe?" Annie enquired.

He popped his head round from the kitchen.

"Cut it out! I'd have a better chance of swimming to Chile than learning Japanese."

And there the matter of further study for Jon Bentley rested – for the time being.

During Jon and Annie's first months in Melbourne together, there was never any mention of the eighteen-year age gap between them. Friends, colleagues and contacts didn't seem too interested in the subject; and, if they were, it didn't show.

Whereas in Brisbane, they may have raised some eyebrows – and in the likes of Gilgandra or Orbost, they may have been recurring front-page news – in Melbourne, they went largely unnoticed.

But such is the nature of human groupings. Paradoxically, the biggest cities have the biggest hearts. The inhabitants of the big cities tend to accept the cultural importance of diversity; and they tend to encourage, rather than ostracise, all manner of mis-sorts in the interests of a richer metropolitan personality.

During May, Jon continued happily at work - entirely in Melbourne; and Annie continued happily as student, housekeeper and patisserie employee - or 'cake shop lady' as Jon would have it.

In June, Jon again encouraged Annie to travel to Brisbane – this time for a longer break. Mercifully, there was little argument about the trip as they had a loose agreement that Lee should be visited about three times a year.

Annie travelled up on a Sunday after finishing at Emile's; and returned the following Saturday afternoon so she could be at Emile's for work on the Sunday. Though Jon could tell from telephone conversations during the six days that Annie was enjoying herself, it wasn't till he was driving her home from the airport that he discovered how much - and why.

"So your Mum's well, is she?" Jon asked.

"She's as good as gold; I've never seen her look better."

"And she seems happy enough, you reckon?" he asked.

"Never better." Annie answered, before a pause as Jon took care of a traffic merging exercise.

"Jon, something's happened up there; something's a bit different!"

"When I arrived at the airport, she was all over me. She hugged me and held me at arms length for a while to look at me. Then she said I looked beautiful. It was all such a surprise. I wasn't expecting anything like that; but it was wonderful."

"Then when we got home, I noticed she had a picture of me in the lounge room."

"That's reasonable enough, I suppose." Jon responded.

"No, Muss; there's more to it than that! There are pictures of Dad too. I knew she had them there in her wardrobe; but she's had some of them framed properly and she's going to hang them up too."

"Pretty soon after I arrived, she showed me one with a lot of guys in blue uniforms; and she said something about it being the spirit photo. It gave me the creeps a bit at first, until she told me that Dad worked at a place called 'Spirit'."

"And she pointed him out. She said 'There's your Dad – just on the right hand side of the supervisor bloke. I think his name was Colin.' Then she said something like 'He was a nice bloke; he was very kind after the accident'."

"I'll be buggered!" Jon commented.

"There's one of Frankie too."

"And she talked about them a bit?" Jon enquired.

"Yes; a few times. No trouble at all. I'm telling you Jon, something's a bit different up there."

"Did she talk about me?" Jon asked.

"Sure did!" she replied, "She asked about your work and tennis and everything. No worries! In fact, she gave me an envelope for you; but she made me promise to sit you down with a beer before you open it."

"That's nice! It's probably full of plastic explosives." he quipped.

"No. It's not that." she replied, "But it'll be a surprise. Mum made me promise not to tell you about it till you're sitting down at home."

"Fair enough!" he said.

Brisbane revelations, and peripheral news from the sub-tropics, continued for the remainder of the drive south.

"Oh, and I went out with Lana and Cam one night." Annie continued, after they were inside the house, "And they sent their love. Well... you know what I mean; Lana sent her love and Cam sent something-or-other like that."

"I know what you mean!" Jon replied.

"Oh; and I forgot to tell you, Muss. I even got included in a night out with Mum's friends; and that's never happened before. It always used to be my friends and her friends. But this time I was included with her friends."

"Did it work out all right?" Jon asked.

"It was good! But I knew Bob and June a bit, so that made it easier at the start. They were all nice people though; it was a good night."

After Jon had put her big bag in the bedroom, Annie invited him to sit at the dining room table - and got him a can of beer. She then took the mysterious envelope from her handbag and placed on the table in front of him.

He opened the envelope, which contained a very brief note in Lee's handwriting and a few photocopies stapled together. The note read, 'Have decided to move ahead a few steps with work. Hope you approve!' then 'Kindest, Lee'.

Jon studied the photocopies.

"Bloody hell!" he blurted out, "What's she doing; an accounting degree?"

"A diploma, actually. She goes to lectures at night somewhere over on the south side."

"When did she start this?"

"At the beginning of the year. But she didn't want to tell anyone. I think she was worried about not making the grade."

"I'll be buggered!" Jon exclaimed as he scratched his head.

Annie did an about turn.

"I think I might put a load of washing on." she announced as she walked off towards the bedroom.

"So it was a good holiday, eh?" Jon called out after her in a slightly louder voice.

"Sure was!" she replied.

After a minute or so Annie returned to the dining room holding a washing basket on her hip.

"You know the best part though?" she asked.

Jon shook his head.

"Right now!" she said with a smile, "Gee it's good to be home, Muss!"

"And, boy, will I be happy to be back in my own bed!" she added, before she turned and walked off briskly towards the laundry.

But she was back in a flash - still carrying the washing basket.

"I can't believe I just said that. What an old tart!" she said, rolling her eyes around - before making another attempt at getting to the laundry.

"I promise I won't tell a soul." Jon assured her, before lapsing into happy laughter.

Jon phoned Lee to thank her for the special little message and to congratulate her on the excellent initial results. It was a pleasant enough conversation in which they discussed the first year subjects, the complexity of her course and a few accounting technicalities. Jon passed the handpiece over to Annie after, maybe, ten minutes – easily a recent record.

After talking with Lee, he was more comfortable with Annie's stories about changes on the Brisbane front. There had been some sort of improvement; it was unmistakable! Something had gone right.

Annie's twentieth birthday later in June was a happy and not-so-happy affair. Jon took home a you-beaut new camera and a big bunch of flowers for her on the birthday eve; but he also delivered the bad news about a likely stint in Sydney during July and August. He also delivered the distasteful news that it was the start of a full-blown IT project for which he would most likely be reporting to his old adversary Ron Herschell.

He was touched – no, he was torn – by Annie's reaction to the Sydney news.

"Jon, we knew this was going to happen; it was always on the cards. In fact, I'm a bit surprised it hasn't happened before this." she said.

"But I don't really like leaving you down here on your own." he replied.

"Don't be silly, Muss! I'm just lucky I've had plenty of time to settle in. And, in any case, Jane and Robbie are just there if I need company." she said, pointing in the general direction of the Martin house.

"I really don't want to go all that much." Jon said earnestly.

"You'll like it when you settle in; you enjoy your work. Anyway, the job will be finished before you know it. And, I'm all right here."

"I'll come home most weekends." Jon assured her.

Annie thought about that for a while before responding.

"You'll use a laundry up there for your undies and shirts and things, won't you?" she asked with a slightly concerned look.

"Yeah, of course!"

"Well, there aren't any problems at all!" she replied happily.

A few days later, Jon was summoned to Eric Miller's office to discuss the project – which turned out to be a face saving exercise for the firm. Apparently, an initial system design had been found wanting; and there was a need to make amends, and a good impression, quick smart.

"The place is called Bell's and it's run by a bloke called Geoff Bell; who's the bloody fool son of the nice old dad." Eric explained, "The old man used to run a successful general removal and storage place – mainly quality furniture – and then the boy came in and decided to expand to other locations and other product."

"Somehow or other, he got a big records and microfilm and disk storage contract at one of the new sites; and now they're waist-deep in shit trying to make it all work. They've got all different systems for storage and retrieval; and nothing that reads into their invoicing system. So they are working from great piles of paper to get invoices out. Everything runs like treacle, Jon. And they've got some pretty unhappy staff and customers."

"That sounds fairly run-of-the-mill." Jon replied.

"I know things have changed at your place, Jon, and I don't like asking you to go up and bail those Sydney buggers out again. But there's not much choice this time." Eric added with a conciliatory smile.

"Do you think Bell's or the firm could fix me up with some weekend fares back, Eric? Things have changed at home and I really don't like leaving Annie down here too much on her own." Jon responded.

"Of course! It's done, not a problem! We're just happy that you're prepared to go up there and give it the treatment."

Eric sat silent for a few moments, then continued quietly from a forward-leaning position.

"Jon, could you do me a good turn while you're up in Sydney? Could you do me a crisp three or four pager on what's going wrong with these things?"

"Sure!" Jon responded cheerfully.

"I could use a hand here. This isn't the first stuff-up – as you well know – and the partners have had enough. Could you give me a hand to fix it all properly?"

"Sure! Not a worry!" he replied cheerfully, again.

Eric directed Jon to Ron Herschell to get some fine detail on the project, such as it was.

Towards the end of the so-called 'fine detail' conversation, Jon mentioned to Ron that, at someone else's cost, he'd be flying Sydney/Melbourne/Sydney fairly regularly to meet commitments at home. With a rather foolish smirk, Ron advised that regular return travel wouldn't be possible because it was 'not included in the project budget'.

"My understanding Ron, is that the first budget's been blown." Jon responded, "And the second one can't have been drawn up yet because I haven't told you what we're going to be doing up there at Bell's. So what I've said about coming back to Melbourne at weekends can't possibly have anything to do with budgets. Okay."

"Well, maybe we'll look at it again when you've filled in your draft Travel and Accommodation Plan." Ron replied.

"I don't do those!" Jon advised, as he stood to leave.

"Oh, we've got to have TAPs Jon; they're an integral part of the overall costings." Ron said, with a somewhat tortured look on his face.

"I don't do them!" Jon reiterated as he walked out.

Jon collected a fair size spiral-bound notebook from the stationery room on the way back to his cubbyhole.

The first entries in his new book were about paper warfare and head office corridor cavaliers gumming-up the potentially simple budgeting processes in the firm's consulting areas. The first notations were made in minutes, which was no surprise. He'd been waiting ages for an opportunity to spell out what was going wrong with the firm's consultancy areas; particularly the IT side.

July came; and Jon went. But he returned to Annie every weekend.

He flew in on Friday nights and out again early on Monday mornings. Annie picked him up at the airport each Friday night in what became a happy routine. They'd have a bowl of noodles at a favourite Chinese place at South Melbourne on the way to Cheltenham; or go home for a steak sandwich, a pre-cooked casserole or something else that was quick and simple.

And, notwithstanding patisserie duties, they got to savour every minute of every weekend in a new style of relationship that crept up on them both.

During the final winter months of 1995, Jon had become aware of significant life changes.

He was making a meal of his job at Bell's and enjoying work on his special in-house project for Eric. These things were falling into place nicely, despite – or maybe because of - the crackly relationship with Ron Herschell. He was strong and confident back in his old IT role.

And, with his Annie – well, things were even better!

When he'd arrive at Tullamarine on the Friday nights, she'd be waiting - looking somehow different and even more beautiful than in earlier days. Maybe it was the bracing Melbourne weather and some new winter clothes; maybe it was the bit of war paint she was putting on for his home coming; maybe it was just the passage of time and its impact on his perception. He didn't know.

But he knew the welcome hugs were stronger and longer. And he well understood the deep sense of relief home again with his girl.

And while he was away in winter 1995, Annie came to realise how very closely linked she and Jon had grown. She became aware of the new richness in her life.

When he was away, she missed him and all the little things that symbolised him. She sorely missed his whistling the Woody Woodpecker song as he came in from work each night, even though she didn't know too much about Woody - who was in a Bel Air retirement village by the time she started watching television. And she missed his regular morning 'I'm cooked!' message that meant he was about to vacate the bathroom and soon join her for breakfast.

And all the funny little things that came to mind triggered-off the big thoughts about her marvellous boy and how lucky she'd been in finding him.

She adored him.

* * *

### 13.

Melbourne's early spring is wondrous. Deciduous shrubs and trees, that reach naked into the cool grey mist for months, take on their floral and fresh green garb as the days stretch out towards summer. And luxuriant grass grows and beautiful flowers bloom in a celebration of rebirth not understood in northern Australia.

Though meteorologists and horticulturalists are able to correctly explain the spring phenomenon, a great many Melburnians seem comfortable with the idea it's to do with nature's preparations for the football grand final.

In 1995, Annie Davis cared little about the reasons for spring. She knew all she had to know! It was fantastic!

And in early spring, Jon came home from Sydney full of beans about his design for Bell's new system and his near-completed report about the firm's consulting strengths and weaknesses. By way of a celebration, he and Annie took the first available Friday off and went to visit wineries in the near north-west, staying overnight in the fine town of Ararat. It was a tiny, but perfect, break.

In mid-September, Eric Miller asked Jon to deliver his paper on consulting matters and then speak with interested partners informally about his findings. He agreed to this, but only on the basis that Ron Herschell would be given an advance copy of the report and an opportunity to join in at the meeting. That was the way Jon operated. Always straight, always fair!

The approach was adopted and the report let loose.

Though it was innocuous enough \- mostly to do with reporting lines, qualifications of consulting staff and non-productive activities in the Melbourne and Sydney offices - it ignited strong passions in the heart of IT consulting guru Ron Herschell, who took immediate umbrage at its contents.

Without thinking of the possible consequences of his actions, Ron sought an urgent command performance with the then Melbourne Managing Partner, Bill Reynolds, to torpedo Jon's work.

As a result of this lofty but ill-considered action, the firm's most senior executive gained access to a well-written, commonsense critique that might otherwise have escaped his attention. And, as if that wasn't enough, Ron went further by introducing personalities into what had been a theoretical overview. With idiot and smarmy confidence, he actually fleshed-out Jon's story to perfection and strengthened its critical elements.

Now nothing may have eventuated from these manoeuvrings had all gone according to plan at Bell's in Sydney; but all didn't go according to plan and Jon was called back north for a few days repair work towards the end of September. In his absence, Ron put on a wonderful propaganda performance about Jon's shortcomings in the unfamiliar world of IT consulting. And again, he foolishly attracted the Managing Partner's attention.

On the day of his return from Sydney, Jon and Eric were actually summoned to Bill Reynolds' office for clarification of problems.

"Come on in fellas. Take a pew." Bill started.

"I've got a problem with the volume on the fourth floor; I can't seem to turn it down. Every time I need to concentrate on something, all I can hear is Ron Herschell and it's giving me the willies."

Eric closed his eyes and nodded knowingly.

"What's the problem up there in Sydney, Jon? Have they got the right fix or have we blown some more money?" Bill asked.

"There's nothing wrong with the system up there; it works fine, Bill." Jon answered confidently.

"Well what's horse's arse on about then?"

"It's pretty straightforward really." Jon replied, "Our procedures writer up there can't write. It's nothing more than that. In the environment at Bell's, we're dealing with people who don't labour over PCs all their lives and they need procedures that can be a bit of help if something out of the ordinary happens. And the stuff they've been given only just covers what to do if everything works perfectly."

"So it's just a writing job?" Bill asked.

"That's the story; that's exactly it!" Jon answered.

"There's nothing wrong with the system then?"

"Not a thing! It all works fine! It's a very standard system, Bill. It's sticky label bar codes and scanners and a couple of PCs. There are hundreds of sites using this. I promise you, we're not at the leading edge of technology here. And it works." Jon replied.

"So, it's like the kids use at Coles for scanning the groceries?"

Jon laughed a bit.

"No, it's not that bloody complicated!" he answered, with a broad smile still on view.

"Okay. Are you comfortable here, Eric?" Bill asked.

Eric nodded in response.

"Well could you have a word with Ron and let him know I want the volume turned down on the fourth."

"Sure." Eric answered.

Bill Reynolds stood to indicate the interview was finished. But, somehow it wasn't that 'get out of here' elevation used so often to shunt nuisances.

"I haven't seen you out walking on Sunday mornings, Jon. Have you given it away?" he asked.

"No, not at all! Annie works at a sort of cake shop place at St Kilda on Sundays, so I'm out on the esplanade on Saturdays and around home a few days during the week – when I'm not in Sydney." Jon replied, with a grin.

Bill Reynolds walked around to the front of his desk and extended his hand to Jon. He smiled at him and quietly delivered a few well-chosen words as they shook hands.

"Thanks for the Sydney work. And thanks for that little report."

Jon and Eric left the boss's office and went their separate ways. Neither thought too much more about the meeting, which was a fairly standard encounter.

About ten days later, Ron Herschell slotted Jon into a very menial job at a plastic garden pot manufacturing plant in the outer eastern suburbs. Apart from being demeaning it was a damned nuisance, as he had to use the car every day and was travelling in the opposite direction to Annie. She was stuck with no alternative to public transport Monday to Friday.

Jon decided to make amends for this deficiency.

On a Saturday morning in late October, having done some very thorough secret research on second hand cars, he nonchalantly departed the house on foot allegedly to 'go to the shops for a minute'. He returned about an hour later in a late model red Toyota Corolla.

Annie saw the car come into the driveway and went to investigate. She was surprised to see Jon at the wheel and decided to confront him about just what was going on.

"Whose car's this, Muss?" she asked.

He rubbed his forehead a bit as he answered slowly.

"I think it must be yours! It's in my name at the moment, but it's yours!"

Annie looked very puzzled.

"Now don't go crook on me, please." Jon added, "I've been through a very traumatic experience. I bloody hate dealing with those car people."

"But Jon, I don't need a car. I get around okay without one, truly!" she explained.

"Oh, you'll probably find some use for it eventually. And it's a good one I think. It's got power steering and air. It's a good little one. It'll move along when you need it to."

Despite his plea about exemption from reprimand, he got a speech about extravagance and the need to keep a close eye on the dollars till they were both in full-time employment.

But it was a hollow passage as Annie was awestruck with the new toy and had trouble maintaining the hard line on thrift. And Jon had trouble listening to such a lacklustre performance.

During the day, Annie concocted a number of reasons to drive somewhere – including Rob and Jane's place about forty metres away; and, on a few other occasions, Jon spotted her outside looking at the boot then the tyres then the dashboard. It was wonderful to watch and he enjoyed every second of it.

Following Annie's arrival on the scene in Melbourne, Jon's sleeping habits improved quite a bit. He had very sound reasons to hop into bed at a sensible hour; and equally sound reasons to stay put – for a good while anyway.

A sort of routine developed whereby he and Annie would turn-in at the same time most nights. About two nights out of ten, however, Jon would follow her to bed; and, maybe, one night out of ten Annie would follow him. There was no particular arrangement here; it was just the way things turned out.

On the first Tuesday night in November, Annie had beaten Jon to bed as he'd decided to have a shower. She could hear him singing away there in what seemed to be the silly finale to a particularly happy evening.

When the singing – and the sound of running water - eventually stopped, Annie distinctly heard him thump his foot on the floor and mutter 'Aw shit!' She couldn't imagine what had gone wrong so suddenly, so made a mental note to ask him about his quick change of heart when he arrived in the bedroom.

As expected, after a few minutes she heard the familiar 'I'm cooked' message; then she heard a cupboard being opened and closed and his footsteps around the living room. After a short time, soft music started.

Eventually, Jon strode confidently into the bedroom dressed only in his football beanie and scarf.

"Care for a dance?" he asked.

Annie got quite a start when she looked up from her book.

"Not on your nelly, Jon Bentley! No way!" she answered, before descending into uncontrollable laughter – which, of course, was exactly the desired result.

When calm was re-established and the music and lights were turned off, Annie was able to establish that Jon's problem in the bathroom - and his subsequent bizarre behaviour – was all about his forgetting to take pyjamas with him when he went to shower.

Such were the hi-jinx at Jon's place at Cheltenham.

But the hilarity of that evening was short lived; a fall followed the fun.

Ironically, on the very next day, Jon had a good dust-up with Ron Herschell and Annie discovered that a big assignment - thought to be due in a fortnight - was actually due in a week. They both went home that evening a bit frazzled.

By about half-past-nine, Jon had managed to settle his irritation with some reading and happy domestic thoughts far removed from flowerpot factory matters.

Annie, on the other hand, was still unsettled as she worked away on her assignment at the study end of the bedroom. In a role reversal of the previous night, Jon went to bed first – with the 'Women's Weekly', of all things.

About fifteen minutes after getting into bed, and quite out of the blue, he asked her an odd sort of question.

"Are you happy here, Annie? Is everything okay?"

She turned around and smiled.

"Of course I'm happy, Muss. Everything's fine – except for this stupid damned assignment."

She then turned back to her work.

"No big problems then?" he asked.

She answered without turning around.

"Everything's good as gold, Jon."

After about a minute's silence, Jon posed another simple little question.

"Annie, have you thought much lately about getting married?"

Now even though this subject had been a matter of their quiet understanding as an appealing post-university possibility, its casual airing at that very moment threw Annie completely. The timing was dreadful.

Her mind darted around through a range of alternative answers before she put one forward.

"Not all that much, Jon. Nobody's ever asked me, anyway."

Given the right circumstances, it could have been a good answer – just humorous enough and encouraging of further discussion. But, at the crucial second, Annie was flummoxed and she didn't turn around for its delivery. The voice was wrong; there was no cheeky, happy smile; there was no eye contact whatever.

And her loving message reached its recipient as prickly and terse. To Jon it sounded like 'Don't bother me now; I'll think about it some other time'.

When Annie did look around for a reaction, Jon was feeling numbed with hurt and looking blankly in her direction – a look she mistook for anger.

In complete silence, Jon went back to his 'Women's Weekly' and Annie went back to her studies. He didn't have the heart for another backhander; and she didn't have the heart to face up to his anger.

An awkward impasse developed during which their relationship and workday activities continued on autopilot as they wrestled with the big subject at hand and with their dented confidence. Though brief, it was an uncomfortable period.

On the Friday night, they both arrived home at about the same time. There was a peck and a hug and the normal greetings. Jon poured drinks and opened a packet of potato chips as he talked to her about the dreary job at the flowerpot factory.

When he'd finished that lament, he asked about her assignment.

In answering his question, Annie spotted a chance to make amends for her error - and in inimitable Annie style, she went for it.

"I think I'm out of the woods with the assignment. I should be able to get something fairly reasonable in on Monday or Tuesday." she said.

"But, boy, I was worried about it earlier in the week Muss. I really was worried then... and maybe that's why I slipped-up with that answer about us – you know – on Wednesday night. I didn't mean to upset you with what I said. I meant it to go the other way in fact."

He didn't lighten up at all. He just kept looking at her before eventually answering.

"I'm not really sure why I decided to dump that question on you anyway. You don't have to worry about any of that. We'll think about it sometime further down the track maybe." he said sternly.

Annie switched to female intuition completely; she decided that the problem would be put to rest there and then.

"Come here to me precious and we can talk very quietly so no one else will hear. Okay?" she said, as she held her arms wide and towards him.

"Now that's much better!" she added, when they were holding onto each other.

"Jon, I think we've got our wires crossed at the moment and I think we'd better fix it. Now the other night you asked whether I'd thought much about getting married. Okay?'

"Yep!" he replied in a soft voice.

"I probably should have said 'yes' and let it run from there. But I didn't; I said 'not much, no one's ever asked me' – or something like that. At the time, I thought it'd be a more interesting answer. Okay?"

"Okay." he answered very quietly.

"Jon, it was meant to be a bit funny and a sort of trick answer. But somehow I buggered it up."

"Now we've talked about getting married a little bit before and I thought we had an understanding it would probably happen when the time was right."

She paused in thought for a second before continuing.

"We've been living together like we were married for a while now and I think it's wonderful. Muss, I love you like mad and I'm very happy living here with you. I don't want it to ever change. Do you understand?"

"Yeah. Okay." he answered quietly.

"Are you happy with everything too?" she asked.

"Everything's fine. And I don't want it to change either."

"Good!" she replied happily, "All right; now let's try it again. Pretend you just asked me Wednesday night's question and I'll do the interesting answer the right way."

"Are you ready?"

"Ready!" he replied.

Annie got up on tiptoes, moved in even closer, gave him a kiss on the cheek and whispered the first part of her new answer.

"Of course I've thought about getting married, you bloody goose."

Then slowly and distinctly, in a louder growling sort of whisper, she delivered the second part.

"But no nobody's ever asked me."

Jon leaned back a fraction so he could see her face and her lovely dark eyes; and then willingly fell into line with the game plan, which he'd finally come to understand.

The response didn't take long at all.

"Well, will you marry me Ann Davis?"

"Of course I will Jonathan Bentley. Nothing would make me happier."

There were no violins, no tears of joy and no fireworks - just a long hug and a lot of relief.

"So how long have you been seriously thinking about all this, Muss?" she asked, as they returned to Friday night drinks and chips.

"Just the last few days." he said, "It's a bit of an impromptu thing, I suppose!"

"You fibber. You've never done an impromptu thing in your life."

"Look, if I told you, you wouldn't believe me anyway." Jon explained, "I can hardly believe it myself."

"You're very sweet sometimes, you know!" Annie admitted with a smile.

"I'm sorry to hear that." he replied, looking serious again, "I'll have to try to be more assertive."

He received a friendly smack on the bottom and an invitation to an Italian restaurant at Beaumaris in response.

They caught a taxi to the restaurant and feasted appropriately. Jon took a bottle of his best white and a good red - and the scoundrels drank most of it with their meals as they made their special plans for the future.

By the time they got home, it had been decided that they would approach a client jewellery artisan at Camberwell for engagement and wedding rings; that they would fly to Brisbane to speak with Lee about their plans as soon as possible after the engagement ring had been bought; and that they would marry in January. No, not the January after Annie finished at university - the January that was mere weeks away. Truth be told, they would have married the following day had there not been concern about family sensitivities.

Out in the open, the wish had become an imperative.

Annie ended-up with the job of making contact with the jeweller who, by marriage, had landed the unlucky name Donna Donoghue – a stuttering mouthful of alliteration that made the proposed rhyming 'Annie Bentley' seem quite reasonable.

Jon and Annie met with Donna late in the afternoon of Tuesday 14 November. Though they'd expected an arty-crafty young type, she turned out to be a rather conservative and precise middle-aged woman. On arrival at her home, Annie introduced Jon as 'Jon Bentley' without any explanatory frills whatever. None seemed necessary under the circumstances.

Annie didn't have a clue about what sort of engagement ring she wanted - not the slightest clue. She'd not thought about it at all. So, after being seated at a small workroom table, they went slowly through Donna's engagement ring photos, which were arranged in a binder more-or-less in ascending dollar value.

Annie, of course, showed a distinct tendency to stick with budget model rings in the front of the binder, while Jon egged her on towards something a bit more glamorous and up market. He was quite forthright about this and about the availability of money. In describing the financial position, however, he was too modest to say something like 'I've got plenty of money for this.' so he switched to the third person.

'He can afford something pretty reasonable.' Jon said on one occasion; and 'You can let your head go here a bit Annie, he won't have any problems with that.' on another.

After making the second comment, Donna blocked him out.

"Right." she said, "Now Annie this is something you have to be comfortable with. It's really very important for you to be happy with the gems and the design."

She moved the binder away from Jon and towards Annie, who again reverted to the budget buys.

Jon was more than a bit peeved with this and dragged the binder back. Again he suggested that Annie have a close look at some of the more up market rings.

And again, Donna put him in his place.

"Right. That's right; but Annie, you've got to be comfortable with this. You're the one who has to wear it."

She then turned to Jon.

"That's right isn't it Mr Bentley. You agree that Annie's the one who has to be comfortable here, don't you?"

Jon sat there bewildered, wondering what strange jewellery or engagement protocol he'd breeched. He went into forehead rubbing mode as Donna moved her chair closer to Annie, presumably to give concentrated non-male advice.

Annie was becoming uncomfortable with all this and looked to Jon for some guidance. All he could do was look skywards for divine intervention. And, thankfully, it was forthcoming before he struck out to put this nuisance woman in her place.

"Donna." he said quietly with an enquiring tone.

"Yes." she responded politely.

"Donna you don't know why I'm here, do you? You don't know exactly where I fit into the family scene; is that right?"

"Well, err, not exactly. But I think I've made a reasonable deduction about..." she answered, before Jon cut in.

"Donna, I'm the fiancé. Annie and I are the ones getting married."

"Right!" the poor woman replied, before moving onto an attempt at the 1995 world record for blushing.

Annie quickly took control.

"I'm so sorry!" she said, putting her arm around the hapless jeweller's shoulder "I'm really sorry! Please try not to be upset. We've got used to the way we look and our friends have too. I didn't think of it at the time but I should have introduced Jon properly so you'd know what was going on."

"And I should have twigged to it sooner too!" Jon chimed in.

"I really feel awful!" Donna admitted, before taking a totally friendly stance and making some coffee for all.

When things settled, Jon had his say - at last.

"Donna, can I tell you about my problem with this woman?" he asked.

"At this stage, you can say absolutely anything you like."

"Well I have to tell you that my Annie can be a bit over-thrifty sometimes and I'm a bit worried that she's capable of talking herself into something that doesn't do the occasion justice. Have you had clients like that before?"

"I certainly have!" she replied.

"We could really use some advice here. Have you got any ideas about a ring that looks a bit different; something that would particularly suit Annie and those nice hands. I think she needs something a bit special but not one that's big and showy."

Annie nodded. He'd said it just right.

Donna went to the middle pages of the binder and looked at photos of a few creations. Then she paused for a moment looking forward at nothing in particular.

"I've got a little trinket in the safe that might interest you. I won't be a minute."

After she'd padded off there were the clunking and squeaking noises of a safe door being opened and closed. And then there was the summons.

"Come on in here you two and have a look at this under the good light."

"I made this for a niece who was getting engaged about six months ago but she didn't want it. Apparently the boy wanted to do his own thing and get one at a retail place. He was a bit of a know-all; I didn't care for him much. Anyhow, the whole thing fell through and she went to England."

"Take a close look at it and tell me what you think."

The remarkably vibrant blue centre stone was flanked by two clear stones, which they presumed to be diamonds. The simple yellow gold band and setting gave the gems opportunity to show off just enough for the likes of Annie.

"Oh Jon, this is beautiful." Annie said excitedly.

"What is it, Donna?" Jon asked.

"Right. Well, the fella in the centre is a Tanzanite; and they're little diamonds next to it. Do you like the look of this one?"

"Looks pretty good to me." Jon replied.

They talked for a short time about the durability of tanzanite and the cost of such a ring – a cost Jon described as 'not so bad'.

"Would you like something like that?" he asked Annie.

Annie nodded enthusiastically. The look on her face said everything.

"Why not have this one?" Donna asked, "If my niece ever gets in the marrying mood again, I'll do her another one. To tell the truth, I don't know why I've held onto this for so long. If you'd like to buy this one, it's all yours. And I'll do you a wedding band to match."

The deal was struck and an arrangement made to meet on the Friday to collect the goods.

When Annie and Jon were walking to the car, and out of earshot, there was the inevitable discussion about the age mix up at Donna's place.

"The poor thing, Jon; I've never seen anyone blush so much. Right?"

"Right! Yes, right!" he answered.

"She was a very 'right' person, wasn't she?"

"Sure was! And the funny thing was, the worse things got the more she said it!" he answered.

On that afternoon, 'right' became embedded as the humorous keyword for recalling the Donna Donoghue age mix up. Though they were unaware of it at the time, the keyword was destined for much wider usage in the future.

The remainder of that week passed in a flash and, on the Saturday morning, they were bound for Brisbane to see Lee.

The plane landed on time at ten-past-ten after a quiet flight, during which Annie preferred to read a magazine and Jon preferred to gaze out the window.

"How's my boy faring? Are you okay?" Annie asked him as they taxied towards the terminal.

He was honest enough with his reply.

"I'm scared shitless!"

"Try not to be; we know what we're going to say and everything. It'll be over soon!" she said as she held onto his clammy hand.

He needn't have been quite so nervous on that day-of-days. By then, it should have been obvious that he and his beautiful girl were in the hands of the special force that somehow knows about individual frailties and how to apportion strength at the most appropriate point to protect the team.

For the lucky chosen teams, there seems always to be at least one point of strength capable of sustaining the grit and carrying the day.

And on Saturday 18 November 1995, it was Annie who'd had the tap on the shoulder; it was Annie who took on the confident stance with the tricky journey to last hurdle. She was needed; and she knew it. In these circumstances, the stalwart analyst was no match for the bold front-runner.

When they were approaching the top of the air bridge and Lee came into view, Annie gave him the pre-match pep talk.

"I'm right here with you. Now, all you've got to do is recite your lines when you spot the gap, okay! And, for goodness sake, try not to worry about it; I'll bail you out if you get stuck."

After greetings and baggage collection, they drove home - with Annie and Lee in the front chatting away happily, and Jon in the back perspiring quietly as he went over his lines.

When finally in the unit, they congregated in the kitchen area and Lee put the electric kettle on for coffee.

"You've been very quiet Jon; you haven't told me anything about anything. How is your work going?" she asked.

"Not so bad, I suppose." he answered quietly.

"Well, what are you doing at the moment?"

"I'm still at the pot plant factory out at Knoxfield!" he answered.

"That sounds pretty exciting. Where's Knoxfield anyway?"

At this stage, Annie went to her bag in the lounge area to fossick for photographs.

"It's way the hell out in the eastern suburbs. It's a dog of a drive every day." Jon responded.

"You're not too happy there, are you?"

"No, not really."

"Well, I guess something better will turn up eventually." Lee surmised.

"I guess so." he replied.

"You're up here to see someone for the office this weekend, are you?"

He took a deep breath.

"No! No, not at all! Annie and I have come to see you. We're here – or I'm here, anyway – to see you about ... well Annie and I have talked about getting married. And we really want to, Lee! We're planning to get married and we wanted you to know about it first. You know, we wanted you to be the first one to know."

Annie wasn't concentrating and only caught the last few wobbly bits of the passage. She waited for the response.

"So Jon, you're here to ask if you and Annie can get married; is that right?" Lee said sternly.

Annie was prepared for anything \- everything, in fact.

"Mum!" she called loudly from the lounge area. It was that long, exasperated 'mum' again with the tonal trough in the middle.

She then set off towards the kitchen to throw her boy a rope. And, she was ready for a good stoush too, if that's what was required.

When she got there, Lee was holding Jon's left upper arm firmly with her right hand. And she was smiling.

"He wasn't too bloody good at that, was he?" she said to Annie, "But I don't suppose he's had much practice."

While they were all together at close quarters, Lee asked a remarkably innocent question.

"Am I really the first? You haven't told anyone else, eh?"

"Of course you're the first, Mum!" Annie answered.

"Well, that's wonderful! That's really wonderful!" Lee exclaimed, "Well congratulations, both of you. Oh, I'm so grateful for you coming up too. That's really wonderful."

While Annie was clearly relieved and happy, Jon remained non compos mentis and apparently still concentrating on his lines.

"And I'm the first!" Lee repeated.

"Well, except for the jeweller." Annie said.

"Oh God, the ring. Annie, show us the ring." Lee blurted out in great excitement.

As the girls departed for the lounge and Annie's purse containing the ring, Lee extended an invitation to Jon that had real appeal.

"Jon, would you like to be the barman? Why don't you get yourself a cold Crownie from the fridge and open a bubbly for us, eh. But take care of the beer first; it looks like you need it."

Jon did as suggested and bowled over a Crown Lager quickly as he got the champagne for the Davis duo. He took the drinks into the glowing girls, the younger now officially his fiancé and wearing the ring to prove it.

"Now Jon, Sylvia and Frank really don't know anything about this?" Lee asked.

"No, they do not!" Jon responded.

"Well, you'd better give them a call, hadn't you?"

Jon declined this invitation and suggested that they draw straws for the privilege. After a bit of excited squabbling, Lee was the lucky one.

Jon sat with Annie at the table and listened to Lee's half of the conversation.

"I've got two travellers from Melbourne with me at the moment, Sylv." she said, after the hellos were dealt with.

"No, I don't think so; they just popped in to say g'day and update me on the news from down south."

"Yes, they're both okay – no problems. Well, that's not quite true. Jon might be a bit off-colour."

"Oh no, nothing serious. I think he's just realised that, if they go ahead with a few little plans they've made, I'm going to be his mother-in-law."

"That's right!"

"That's the story!"

At that point, Lee jolted a bit, held the handpiece against her tummy and turned to Annie and Jon.

"God above! She just screamed out 'Frank' without holding the phone away." she said, grimacing and pulling down the lobe of her left ear.

"Yes, I'm still here!" Lee continued, when the handpiece was back up at the offended ear.

At that point, Annie and Jon took a well-earned breather from the goings on and let the Port Macquarie conversation go where it would.

"Well, what do you reckon, Muss?" Annie said to him with a smile.

He responded with an agonised high-pitched monotone moan.

Over a time, Lee spoke to Frank; Annie spoke to Sylvia; Jon spoke to Frank; Annie spoke to Frank; then, finally, Jon spoke to Sylvia.

And, during the passage of that last family conversation, an interesting slant on the importance of the pending change established itself beyond doubt in both households. The Jon and Sylvia conversation was happy but more private and subdued; and, apparently, broader ranging than the others. Jon was, of course, her shining star and most loyal supporter during the hard earlier years. He was the pride of the fleet. And Sylvia was his life-long guide and wise confidante.

But most mothers and sons do have a privileged relationship; and the marriage launching, for them, has a slightly different nuance. Though subliminal in reason, their emotions are something to do with product of the womb - the very chain of life.

And, from either perspective, age does not lessen the unease associated with relinquishment. Instead, it is heightened; and detachment of the rope from the bollard is just that much more poignant.

A friendly neighbour – Barry, from unit two downstairs - delivered prawns for lunch and the threesome enjoyed a minor feast and a well-earned rest from telephone conversations. When they'd finished lunch, Annie phoned Jane in Melbourne then Lana in Brisbane to break the good news. And, after that, the phone didn't stop all afternoon.

The marriage machine had started to chug along on its merry way.

Thoroughly engaged, Jon and Annie returned to Melbourne early on the Sunday morning so that the 'cake shop lady' could get in a quick five hours at Emile's.

* * *

### 14.

The firm's managing partner, Bill Reynolds, was one of the new breed of executives. In a relatively short time prior to the closing months of 1995, he had managed to halve the size of his office and double his remuneration in a bizarre, but typical, sort of corporate trade-off - the likes of which, one day, will be regarded as unbridled greed. Not unlike his peers, he had also managed to replace all his attractive office furniture with egalitarian Laminex modules; and had attended to installation of an unbelievably overpowered personal computer and a difficult-to-operate telephone, the presence of which no one could fathom.

Jon paid attention to none of these things, but did frown on Bill's installation of vertical blinds – which he believed had been designed by Satan to tempt normal humans to madness. At an earlier stage, Jon had vertical blinds in his tiny office; but he threw them in an industrial bin in the basement one night after their nylon baubles and microscopic fixings got badly entangled in some ring binders on the window sill.

Despite all Bill Reynolds' shortcomings, it was generally agreed he wasn't a bad sort of bloke. He had a good accounting mind and a keen eye; and he knew how to make things work.

"Ron, Ron; you've answered just about everything except the question I asked." Bill said to IT consulting wiz, Ron Herschell, after a half hour of their final morning meeting in November.

"Well, there are special circumstances relating to this situation; and, really, you should have them in mind if we're going to give the Bentley subject a proper airing." he responded.

"Mate, all I'm asking is why you've got the likes of Jon farting around at a little plastic flower pot place at Knoxfield. Why did you put him there?"

There was a moment or two of silence.

"You understood the question, didn't you Eric?" Bill asked his loyal consulting senior.

Eric nodded.

"It's principally a re-training thing, Bill. Jon's just got to get back into the swing of the IT business." Ron mumbled.

Bill ran out of fuse.

"That's crap! Jon's done jobs a hundred times the size and complexity of what you've got him doing now; and he's done them well." he snarled.

"All right; all right! I'll level with you." Ron replied, as he made peaceful gestures with his hands, "Bill, you're probably not aware of it, but there's a bad blemish in Jon's record. A few years ago he got into real strife with a project - and a young girl - up in Brisbane. It was disgraceful!"

"Go on." Bill said.

"Now I didn't want to mention this; I'm not one to dredge up past mistakes. But, Bill, for the firm's sake, I feel I've got to be a bit careful where I send him now. I really don't want any repeat of that sort of trouble. Quite apart from the moral aspects, it cost us a fortune to bail him out of the mire last time. And I don't want anything like that happening again."

"Okay; all right then! We'll let that rest for the minute." Bill replied, looking at his watch, "Let's get onto the overrun we've got at Sunbury."

After about twenty minutes, the meeting came to an end and Ron went back to his office. Eric was invited to stay.

"Eric, I seem to remember something about Jon getting into strife in Brisbane. What was it really about? Was there a girl up there?" Bill enquired.

"All sorts of sorts of strange things happened up there; and, yes, there was a girl all right!"

"Pretty young?" Bill enquired.

Again, Eric nodded.

"Umm; that's a bit strange, isn't it? Or does he fancy the young stuff?" Bill asked.

"No. There's just been the one!"

"Gee, I wonder what his new fiancé would think about all that if she found out." Bill mused, apparently with some genuine concern.

Eric closed his eyes, looked downwards and laughed quietly for a bit before again meeting Bill's gaze to answer.

"Well – if she knew the source of the re-vamped scuttlebutt – I reckon the fiancé might just drive into town and give Ron a very firm kick between the legs."

"Why's that?" Bill asked seriously.

"Bill, the fiancé is the girl from Brisbane."

"So horse's arse doesn't know that, eh? And he's still trying to squeeze the last drop of juice out of the old gossip orange. Is that right?"

"I reckon!" Eric replied.

"Well why don't you and I go up the road for a sandwich at lunchtime and you can tell me all about the Brisbane drama. And let's have a chat about fixing this bloody nonsense up. Okay?"

"I'm happy with that." Eric answered.

"What say I see you in the lobby downstairs at twelve fifteen. Is that all right?"

"Just fine with me!"

They had their sandwich and a light beer as Eric meandered through the sorry Finsol saga and peripheral issues. They then spoke about the health of the IT consulting areas in Melbourne and Sydney – and consulting in the wider context.

They met and discussed consulting issues further a number of times during the following week.

On Wednesday 6 December, Jon was called into Bill's office for an interview he could not possibly have foreshadowed. And after some forty minutes of really searching discussions about the hows, whys and wherefores of the firm's consulting business, the managing partner bit the bullet and got onto the meaty part of proceedings.

"Jon, I've got to tell you that Ron's intimated he's not too happy with things at the moment and that he's looking to go to Sydney to work for a while. And Eric and I would like to know – in the next couple of days, anyway – whether you'd be interested in taking over where Ron leaves off."

Jon showed no shock or surprise and certainly didn't go into a state of euphoria. What he did do, however, was ask a number of pointed questions about reporting lines, authority, the relationship between general and IT consulting areas and, of course, the relationship between Melbourne and Sydney operations. And from the answers, he gleaned that the change in the offing was no more than goodbye Ron and hello Jon.

That wasn't to his liking.

"Bill, under the circumstances you've outlined, I'd really prefer not to get involved in the job. I won't need to think about it overnight or anything!" he announced without hesitation or emotion.

"Can I ask why?" the managing partner enquired.

"Sure! There are unproductive people thriving at the moment within the existing consulting structures. It's as if they were designed to protect them. And I really don't just want to walk into that. I'd spend my life listening to half-truths about half successes and fighting with idiots in Sydney. You know what goes on with that mob; if something works they're sniffing around for a bonus and if something goes wrong it's always blamed on Melbourne interference."

Bill said nought.

"Bill," Jon continued, "if I take on a job like that, I want to be in a position to give it a good wallop; that's what I'm saying. I don't want to go into it hogtied with vague reporting lines and petty rivalries."

"Fair enough then!" Bill replied, also without any hesitation.

He then stood to indicate the meeting was terminating and Jon and Eric departed. Eric said nothing to him in the corridor outside; he just shook his head in bewilderment.

Jon explained all to Annie, in extraordinary detail, over a drink before dinner. He looked very concerned and unhappy as he spelled-out that he'd just passed up an opportunity to free himself of long trips away.

"Anyway, I'm sorry." he said, "But I just couldn't accept what they were offering. I couldn't do it."

Annie looked at him sternly.

"So what you're saying Jon, is that our lives are going to continue being as miserable as they've been so far this year. Is that right?"

He was a bit confused by this approach, but agreed anyway.

"Well, that sounds pretty good to me!" she said with a smile, before administering a quick peck and departing for the kitchen to give a small pot-roast a poke with a carving fork.

"Mum always says 'You've got to do, what you've got to do.' and I agree with that!" she added from afar, in acknowledgment of his right – maybe obligation - to be guided by conscience.

He was not so much relieved by her understanding as humbled by her fidelity and her wonderfully uncomplicated vision of life.

The wedding plans were progressed by Annie and Lee – with the welcome assistance of Sylvia. By the close of the first week in December, it had been decided that a small wedding ceremony in Brisbane should be followed by a not-so-small reception in Melbourne. Though this seemed totally inefficient to Jon, he conceded there was no other way to cater for the needs of the mother of the bride, the bride and all the others.

The organisers - bless them - were all fast on their feet and thoroughly practical souls; so, within another ten days, everything was set for a wedding at St Mark's – just down the street from Lee's - on Friday 26 January and a reception in Melbourne the following day. Where a lot of women may have laboured over a reception venue for months, Annie sorted out the problem in one morning. She gave the nod to operators of a recycled hotel in Melbourne's western city precinct because 'they wanted the job' and 'seemed really nice'.

Jon was given the task of looking after travel arrangements, which he did in a very short time the day after Annie booked the reception venue.

The bride's carers for the big day were to be Jane and Lana and the groom's Rob and Cam. No, the Martins weren't travelling to Brisbane especially for the wedding; they had already planned to go to Coolum for holidays and only needed to change their arrangements by a few days to be in Brisbane for that most important of Fridays.

By breaking-up day for the Christmas season – Friday 22 December – Jon had few concerns about weddings and work.

As always, the firm put on drinks and finger food at about noon on that final working day before Christmas - the same type of function enjoyed in thousands of business houses across the country.

Jon was pleased to be involved in the first hour of these parties but tended to lose interest when the serious drinkers took up their positions and the joke tellers ran out of good new material. So he returned to his tiny office to do some work at about quarter-past-one – taking with him a cold stubby and a few sandwiches on a paper plate.

He'd been there maybe an hour concentrating at his PC when he had that strange feeling he was being watched. He looked up to find Bill Reynolds at the door taking a final glance at papers in a manila folder.

"No rest for the wicked, eh!" Bill opened.

"I was just tidying up a few loose ends - nothing monumental. Annie's doing a few chores in town and she'll pick me up when she's finished; so I'm not going to be the lone ranger here at six o'clock."

"That's good." Bill replied, "You should shout yourself an early one."

"Jon, I've been thinking a bit about our conversation the other day" he went on, "and I've got a bit of a different slant on things from reading some library stuff and talking to Eric. I've got a better feel now for why you wouldn't want to take Ron's job on."

"Fair enough." Jon replied.

"You've never liked this consulting set up, have you?"

"No; not really!" Jon responded quietly.

"Eric certainly hasn't been comfortable with it either; I can assure you of that!" Bill added.

"No. I know that!"

Bill sat down on the one available chair in the office.

"The way I see it is that you two got your wires crossed and somehow got the wobbles just at that crucial post-merger time. You got lost somehow or other. Could that be right, Jon?"

Jon said nothing. He just moistened his lips and stared coldly at his interviewer.

"And I don't know that shuffling you away into hiding was such a brilliant move at the time." Bill went on, "That seemed to leave Eric without too many allies in IT and you out there like a shag on a rock."

Bill smiled for a few seconds.

"Being sidelined mightn't have done your ego much good either!"

"Maybe not!" Jon replied.

Bill smiled even more broadly.

"But, isn't it just wonderful how bloody clever you can be in hindsight!" he said.

After that comment, Jon felt much more at ease. For a few moments, of course, he had thought one or two gnomes were back to haunt him.

"Jon, I'm not going to bugger around trying to guess the perfect job for you. And I don't want to get bogged down in consulting theory; I haven't got time to devote to that. But I do need your help. What I really want is for you to grab this consulting mess by the scruff of the neck and fix it – just as if you were working for a client. Okay!"

Jon nodded.

"I want you to be the firm's consulting services man in Melbourne and Sydney - for a while, anyway. You could call yourself head of consulting or something like that. The way I see it is you should report to Eric; and I want Eric to report to me and to George in Sydney as fifty-fifty partners in crime. Okay?"

"I don't know if George will like that too much!" Jon replied.

"Don't worry about him; he's been sorted!" Bill answered with an even bigger smile - before opening his folder and handing Jon an A4 page job specification.

"Jon I want you to get this show on the road properly by June next year with real results starting to flow in by the end of September. I know these consulting jobs have long noses and long tails, so I'm not expecting everything in an instant. But I want real money coming in from these sections and I want referral business back to the accounting side. At the moment, we're getting bugger all – as you well know."

"Now you'd work exclusively with Eric and he'll have no other ties at all. And you'd have access to any part of the business; any part at all in Melbourne and Sydney. Okay."

"Okay." Jon replied.

"You'll get Mark's old office when he moves downstairs. And you'll get Ron's salary for the nine months with quarterly performance reviews. Okay."

Jon nodded.

"Con's got a fridge, hasn't he?" Bill asked.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Well, I'll get a beer while you have a read of the job definition – then we'll talk about it." Bill said, as he departed for additional Christmas refreshments.

Jon had read the A4 page twice by the time Bill returned with a few beers.

"Well, are you interested in that?" Bill asked.

"Yeah. I think that'd be good!" Jon answered quietly, before asking questions about a few minor points – and one major point.

"Bill, I've got a bit of leave planned in late January and early February; will that still be okay?"

"I'm sure that'll be all right." Bill answered with a silly grin, "When does the balloon go up anyway?"

"The twenty-sixth of next month."

"Good on you! That's really good!" Bill replied happily.

After the managing partner's very boisterous start to proceedings, they settled to talk about the future of the consulting business; and, for the first time, Jon laid bare details of some of his most important ideas. The two talked honestly and comfortably for quite a long time, each learning more about the other as they went along. There were no disappointments this time.

At about three o'clock, there was some movement outside Jon's office.

"Yoo-hoo! Any handsome young men still working here?" a friendly female voice called out from the foyer.

"Sounds like my chauffeur!" Jon quipped.

"God, I'm sorry. I didn't know you had someone with you, Jon. I'll come back a bit later if you like." Annie said in mild embarrassment on finding two people in the office.

Bill took over.

"You come right in; it's only a dull old staff accountant monopolising his time."

He stood and extended his right hand.

"I'm Bill Reynolds. And you've got to be Annie."

"Hi Mr Reynolds." she replied respectfully, having retrieved his name from that tricky brain of hers under the tab 'boss'.

"Bill's fine; don't worry about that Mr Reynolds stuff!" he said as they shook hands.

"How are things going with you; are you all ready for Christmas?" Bill enquired.

"Yep; no problems!"

"And how did you pull up at uni this year; all okay?"

"It'll be all right. There's one little assessment to go before I get the formal results; but it's been a pretty good year."

"That's great! Now, how's Mum coping up there in Brisbane without you?"

"No problems; she's as good as gold."

Bill collected his manila folder off the desk and put it under his arm. He then took a few steps towards the window.

"Doesn't the glare bother you here in the afternoons, Jon?" he asked.

"I don't notice it much, to tell you the truth!"

"Hmmm; we probably should get some of those nice blinds put up if it's going to stay an office." Bill observed, before saying his farewells and departing.

"Are you changing offices, Muss?" Annie asked when certain Bill was out of earshot.

"I'll tell you all about it on the way home." he answered cheerfully, as he set about backing up and shutting down for the long weekend.

It was a wonderful Christmas break with two long walks in unexplored suburban parkland, a few very relaxed games of tennis with a few of Annie's university friends, a Saturday night dinner with Tony and Maria and a turkey-with-the-works lunchtime meal with Rob and Jane on the main day.

For no sound reason whatever, January brought with it a rapid succession of anno Domini incidents, which may have been unnerving had they not been quite so funny.

Very early in the month, Jon took Annie to his dignified old bank branch in Collins Street to arrange authorisation for her to sign on his accounts - and to collect forms to allow conversion to joint accounts after the wedding. And in one of the last bastions of yesteryear's banking opulence, they happened to find a clerk to match – a dear old soul who, by some miracle, had escaped the retrenchment firestorm. He seemed about a quarter of a century older than most of the staff on duty; and he also seemed to be the only one wearing a suit jacket and not wearing a name badge.

Without elaborating, Jon explained to the clerk that he wished 'to arrange for Annie to sign on all the accounts' – a request that set off a well-rehearsed disappearance to the back blocks to 'find the card'. The aged clerk eventually returned to the counter with a card carefully marked in pencil.

"Now we'll require the full name here in block letters; one signature here; one here; and initials here!" he said as he pointed with a thin, pen-callused index finger to the pencil marks.

Annie printed her name then signed and initialled as instructed.

"Wonderful! We've already got identification records, so that's all there is to it!" the clerk said proudly.

"And, may I say Mr Bentley," he went on, unnecessarily, "I think you've done a sensible thing here. Powers of Attorney have their place in life; but an authority to sign doesn't involve any rigmarole at all. If something goes wrong – spare the thought – you've now got someone who can write cheques for you straight away."

He smiled knowingly at Jon for a moment before continuing.

"I've given one of my daughters authority to sign too, you know. One can't be too careful with these things!" he concluded, gesturing with his callused finger upward towards the ornate ceiling and God beyond.

"Right!" Jon answered.

Annie added her 'right' as well before they commenced a rapid exit from the property. They didn't make it on time though; laughter had taken hold well before they reached the heavy rotating front door.

"Shit! I forgot the other forms." Jon declared, a few minutes later when the mirth had abated.

"Do you want to go back and get them now?" Annie asked.

"No; I'll do it some other time. I don't think I'm ready for another dose of that yet."

Having chastised themselves for again not explaining their situation to strangers, they ran into another mix-up the following Saturday in the enormous southern suburbs shopping complex known as Southland.

Annie had ducked into a confectionery store to buy a few bottles of mini-bullseyes – her favourites – while Jon stayed outside looking at two small children trying to murder each other on a coin-in-the-slot gyrating space ship monstrosity.

As no blood had been drawn after a few minutes warfare, Jon lost some interest in the main event and looked to see how Annie was getting on in the shop. By courtesy of some odd telepathy, she looked towards him at exactly the same time.

For just a moment, Jon lapsed into infant-inspired behaviour and poked out his tongue at his beloved fiancé as he waggled his hands at either side of his face. And as he did so, of course, the shop assistant looked around at him too.

"I won't go shopping with mine any more!" she said to Annie, as she handed her the bullseyes and change, "All fathers seem to want to do stupid things like that. It's just soooo embarrassing!"

"Right!" said Annie, before thanking the young lady and turning to leave the store.

Without any hesitation at all she walked quickly out to Jon, took him in a seriously firm embrace and gave him a fulsome kiss.

"What was that all about?" he asked at its conclusion.

"The girl in the shop thinks you're daddy; so I thought I'd make her life a bit more interesting with some daughterly affection."

"Right!" said Jon.

"Now, give bubba a kiss back and wave to the girl in the shop – then we'll go and get those tennis socks we talked about."

Jon did exactly as asked and they walked off, in good humour, in the direction of the sports store.

On the Tuesday after the Southland incident, Jon and Annie received a warm letter ostensibly from Frank and Sylvia - and a wedding present cheque for two thousand five hundred dollars. The letter was in Frank's stylish handwriting and explained that they wanted to make a meaningful contribution towards the Melbourne reception as a gift. It also explained that they'd told Lee of their intentions and virtually instructed that she was not to put her hand in her pocket after the Brisbane formalities were attended to.

Jon was pretty happy about the gift as he had always thought the reception was to be his sole responsibility. And apart from that, of course, in the prior twenty-four months he'd parted with a lot of money for the car and goodness only knew how many airline tickets.

But the letter was worth a million times the money. It was five pages of pure 'Dad', an absolute classic full of laughter and tears. And Frank's adoration of them both – meticulously scribed to avoid any hint of over-indulgence or syrupy sentimentality - glowed through from beginning to end.

The letter immediately became one of their most important possessions.

During most of January, Annie was busy with finishing touches for the wedding and with part-time work at a supermarket putting groceries on shelves. And Jon was very busy with his new job, which he attacked with a vengeance.

It seemed no time at all before they were in a taxi travelling to the airport for the trip to Brisbane and that day-of-days.

Neither of them was particularly nervous or excited; it seemed just another trip. And, in any case, this was going to be one of the smallest weddings in history. Apart from the stars of the show, there would only be Lee, Frank and Sylvia, Rob and Jane, Lana and Cam and a handful of Annie and Lee's closest friends. It had been amicably arranged that Jon's people – including the Armidale family connection – would attend the reception in Melbourne on the Saturday.

The taxi trip was uneventful – and the driver quiet – until they reached a tricky traffic merging strip north of the city, at which point a small bug-eyed vehicle cut across their path at great speed. The taxi driver slammed on the brakes and did a good job avoiding a scrape.

"Christ, you've got to watch 'em up this way." he said angrily, "Pint-sized bloody girls in little Japanese cars."

"Right!" Jon responded, with a sideways glance towards his betrothed.

Annie laughed a bit.

"No, I'm serious!" said the driver, "They're a bloody menace! It used to be Volvos and four-wheel drives and plumbers in those little white ute things. But these are the worst now - by miles. They're all nuts!"

Jon look sideways out the car window in the hope the driver wouldn't see him grinning in his rear vision mirror.

"And if you see one of them with a bloody fish symbol on the rear window or the boot, head for the hills! You haven't got a snowflake's chance in hell!" the driver concluded.

The remainder of the trip to the airport was uneventful, as was the flight to Brisbane. It was a good flight, in fact. It was very smooth, very peaceful.

When they disembarked, however, the whole scene changed. A gaggle of noisy women seemed to take over – to a point where Jon began to feel irrelevant. After being buffeted around for ten minutes or so by a variety of perfumed sopranos, he found himself standing in near silence with Rob, Cam and Cam's father Geoff; while Annie was being wrenched away to somewhere else for reasons he couldn't fathom. Though he knew the marriage machine would be in top gear, he hadn't considered what that meant. He hadn't considered the mechanics of this at all. Somehow he'd been lulled into thinking he was going on holidays with his girl.

Within a fairly short time, the women – including Annie - had departed the scene and he was shuffled off to Geoff's car for the drive to a city watering hole. And he was stinging like mad; he was very hurt.

And Frank and Sylvia, who he badly wanted to see, had apparently been held up and wouldn't arrive till much later; so he was left with just Rob and Cam, the latter's father having gone home after doing his driving job.

At the watering hole, Rob spotted Jon's problem and subtly worked on him as best he could for a while – without much luck. And when his good friend was absent briefly at the bar, he explained to Cam what was going on and what he was trying to do about it.

"He's off his face, of course; hasn't got a clue what's going on. But no one ever does! It's a bit hard to explain but, if he's like I was, I think he's feeling lost. And it's probably worse for him because he's been living with her for a while now. He's really nuts about her too, you know. He's a bad case! You see Cam, I reckon he thinks he's been divorced the day before he was supposed to get married."

Cam nodded to indicate he understood – which, of course, he didn't.

Rob intimated that he'd try some more interesting treatment to snap the hapless groom out of his misery just before Jon returned from the bar juggling three drinks.

"Jon, I don't think you're a box of budgies today. You're not yourself." Rob commented.

"No, no; I'm okay!" Jon answered.

"Are you sure?" Rob enquired caringly.

"Well, I dunno...I err..."

"Well, I'm the designated best man. So why don't you let me try to help?"

"You do what you want to." Jon said glumly.

"Jon this is your wedding coming up, isn't it?" Rob asked.

Jon mumbled a 'yes' and nodded in reply.

"Absolutely!" Rob responded confidently," Absolutely and totally incorrect! Jon, it's got nothing to do with you at all. You're the groom!"

Jon looked a bit nonplussed.

"You're the groom, old son; and you are purposefully being subjected to the brunt of feminine confusion designed to make all subsequent feminine confusion seem trivial. It's nothing more than that; so don't be upset about it. It's normal stuff."

"Don't be silly, Rob!" Jon replied.

"Why bloody not? You've never objected to it before."

That line brought back some happy memories and Jon almost smiled.

"Jon, you must have known something like this was going to happen. It always does; you know that!" Rob continued.

Jon thought about that a bit before responding.

"I thought we'd drop our stuff off and see her mother and go to dinner or something. I don't know... I hadn't thought much about it I s'pose. But, I thought it was all going to be low-key and relaxed anyway."

Jon spent a few more moments in quiet thought before continuing.

"I mean, this is going to be the tiniest wedding of all time! And I can't work out what those women and Annie need to stuff around with."

"It's a complex issue; so let me explain." Rob said, as he manoeuvred into comfortable position in his chair.

"Jon, they'll probably start off by getting Annie sand blasted. They always do that; it's a standard procedure! But it can take quite a while."

If all else had failed Jon Bentley at that time, his love of the ridiculous remained steadfast. He smiled at first – and then, thank God, started to chuckle just a bit.

Now young Cam was no fool; in fact, he was a very quick learner. And having got an initial inkling about Rob's line of attack, he weighed in with his own brand of help.

"Mum had a cousin who got married last year." he said, "She was a lot older than Annie, I admit; but they had to take her off to a panel beater to bog-up all the dints and cracks and things. It took an eternity."

"Exactly!" Rob chimed in, "Exactly!"

"I think they had to deodorise her too." Cam added, before tempting his newfound friend with a delicious question.

"Rob, do they deodorise the younger ones as well?"

"Oh yes, bloody oath; they certainly do! Now, technically, it's not always necessary; but they do it anyway. It's mostly a precautionary thing, I think." Rob answered - instantly, confidently and with the serious air of a man possessing great knowledge.

They had the problem on the run at this stage. Jon was laughing.

"Now, apart from that, there's the fingernail nonsense; the manicure, or whatever you call it." Rob added.

"That's another hour!" Cam chimed in.

"Then they get an old pair of uncomfortable shoes that haven't been bashed about too much and paint them the same colour as the wedding dress."

"There goes another hour!" Cam said, raising one finger so as to clarify the time wastage score.

He then adopted the attitude of a man who'd just discovered a hitherto unrecognised universal truth.

"I've only been to my sisters' weddings and one other, but the brides all wore uncomfortable shoes to those. They must all do it, eh!" he said.

"A very astute observation young Campbell." Rob commented, "Sorry is it Campbell or is it Cameron?"

"Just Cam actually!"

"Aw, don't be so fucking difficult! You and I are supposed to be working together as a team, you know."

Cam couldn't handle any more and joined Jon in laughter. Rob was on his own for a while after that.

"Now, where was I... oh yes! Tomorrow it gets worse! Tomorrow they'll start playing with hair and flowers!"

"They'll all get up early and go and get their hair done at one of those dreadful hair shops with all black vinyl furniture and chrome everywhere; then they'll all go to Annie's Mum's place, look at themselves in a mirror and change everything because they look so bloody stupid. They come out of those places all boofed-up, looking like escapees from the sixties you know!"

"Then they'll start pinning flowers on each other. And, of course, they all end up skewering each other in the tit."

He paused momentarily in deep thought.

"Very painful! Blood everywhere!"

"Then... then they'll try to attach a piece of rag or flowers, or both, to the bride's scone. Now this really is nasty! They start off with elegant little clips that never work; so they move on to the office glue, and it's no good; so then they get out the Araldite, which is better - but it only ever works for about five minutes."

Cam was able to catch his breath enough to wheeze out a question about the solution to the problem.

"Upholstery tacks!" Rob answered confidently, with his eyebrows raised. And there he stopped. Any more at that time would have been superfluous.

The upholstery tacks imagery sent the groom and groomsman into fits of laughter; which allowed Rob to collect the glasses, move to the bar to buy another round of drinks and think up some more material – which he did with remarkably little effort.

"Anyhow," he continued after returning to their table, "about fifteen minutes before they're due to hike off to the church, someone will throw a cup of coffee all over the bride's dress. Again, this is a standard procedure!"

"Then they set about sponging her off and flapping the dress and blowing it with a hair dryer. That's when their hair comes undone, all the flowers fall off and they ladder their stockings and get all dirty and crumpled from crawling around the floor with wet wash cloths and sponges and things."

Rob rocked back in his chair and folded his arms.

"And that, Jon, is why they always – but always – arrive late at the church."

A few gulps of beer went down and Jon and Cam settled, believing the tirade had reached its natural conclusion.

It hadn't!

"Now there are a few rules that you'll need to stick to tomorrow, so I'll just run through them briefly." Rob said.

"Firstly, under no circumstances are you to leer at any of Annie's friends with nice knockers. That's a complete no-no!"

Rob contorted his face for a second.

"As a matter of fact, your case is a bit more complicated than that, isn't it? Jon, don't leer at any of your mother-in-law's friends with nice knockers either. Just forget all about knockers entirely for the day. I think that'd be the safe thing."

Cam stumbled upon a second universal truth here.

"It's a serious temptation isn't it? They're always beautifully presented at weddings. At my sister Lou's wedding, her friend Di arrived looking a million dollars up in the tits department; and whenever I'd seen her before that, she looked like she was wearing ping-pong balls in her shirt. Honestly, she was spilling-out all over the place. It was amazing! Nice too!"

"I wonder how they do it?" he mused.

Rob was able to explain – of course.

"Oh, they've got all manner of appliances; all sorts or trusses and stabilisers and alignment gadgets; and padding and rubber bags with wee little pump doovers to blow them up. I'm telling you, it's a big business these days!"

"I got the union magazine in the mail only last week and it seems the people at the FSU have done a survey on all this. You mightn't believe it, but there are now more people working in the tits industry than there are in the big four banks. That's ridgy-didge!"

That got rid of Cam again. He rejoined Jon in uncontrollable laughter.

And Rob continued.

"Now rule two is a very simple one. Don't kiss anyone or otherwise disturb any makeup for sixty minutes after signing the register. Just pretend. Jon, there is nothing annoys girls more than turning up in photos with lipstick all over the place or with one nice pink cheek and one sallow one. So just don't do it. Okay!"

"What about Annie?" Jon asked, after taking a recuperative deep breath.

"She hardly wears any makeup. And, in any case, she's exempt from the rule. Basically, you can do anything you like to her after she's signed the register."

"Rule three is a simple one as well. It's about deportment and bearing."

"Now fundamentally Jon, weddings are all about sex. No one ever admits that – and it's always understated to billyo – but it's lurking there, believe me. It's like a sort of quiet hum in the background. But sex is why we have weddings, in case you didn't know!"

"Now the groom, old son, must always maintain the bearing of a dignified stallion; that's an imperative. Once again, you can be as boyish and cuddly as you like with Annie, but all the others will be expecting you to ooze masculinity. And it's very important you do that to satisfy a range of inner needs."

"And don't use too much spray under your arms in the morning. It's better if you actually smell a bit equine on the day."

Cam, who had partly recovered at that stage, gave vent to some supportive sentences on the subject of stallion-like behaviour – and correctly so. A younger man, of his physical prowess, had every right to speak on the subject.

"Rule four is about communication. With this, you're obliged to aim for a 'good' standard." Rob continued.

"In every instance tomorrow, it will be within your power to make a 'good' statement; a 'not-so-good' statement; and a 'poor' one. Okay."

"Let me give you an example! Mrs Quigly from next door might come up to you and say, 'Don't all the girls look just beautiful!' Now, a good answer for this would be, 'Oh yes Mrs Quigly, they look very pretty don't they!' A not-so-good answer would be, 'Yeah, they've scrubbed-up fairly well!' And a poor answer would be, 'Bloody oath! If I'd thought this out properly, I'd have made plans to have a crack at all three of them tonight instead of just the one!'"

"Jon, do you see the subtle little differences here?"

"Let's look at another one. This time it's a family friend, Mrs Slobly, who says, 'Isn't it a shame they've forecast rain for today!' Now a good answer would be, 'What's a few drops of rain; it's going to be a beautiful day for me!' A not-so-good one would be, 'Yeah, it'll bugger things up a bit!' And a poor one would be, 'Who'd give a shit? I'd rather be watching the cricket on TV!'"

"Have you got the gist of this?"

"See Jon, I don't want you saying the first thing that comes into your head; that's always going to be disgusting! But equally, I don't want you using intellectual clout on this communication business. Clearly, weddings and serious intellectual activity are totally incompatible."

"I think you should leave your brain in neutral with the engine idling. Don't turn it off; but, for Christ's sake, don't engage it in drive and accelerate. Truly; don't do it!"

After putting the job off for a while, Jon went to the toot – wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes as he sauntered across the room. And Rob was left alone with Cam, who was expecting a continuation of the stellar comedy performance.

But the funny person had gone missing; and Cam was left instead with someone much more like a middle-aged banker.

"You're only buying him the light stuff aren't you?" Rob asked.

"Yeah!"

"That's good! Hey listen, when he comes back and sits down, ask him a bit about his work. And talk about the cricket and the football; he's interested in sport. Let's just keep him talking now. It's a pretty nervous time, you know!"

"We talked about rugby when I met him the first time." Cam recalled, "For a southerner, he seemed to be following it fairly closely. It was a surprise really, considering he didn't do so well at it when he was younger."

Rob smiled knowingly.

"And who told you that?" he asked.

"He did!"

"Well that's bloody rubbish!" Rob asserted confidently, "He got into the firsts at school and he played a couple of good years at uni too."

"And I'll bet he didn't talk to you about rowing." Rob added.

"I don't think so!" Cam replied.

"That was his specialty. He was in the first eight two years at school. And he was bloody good at uni for a couple of years as well - till he got something wrong with his wrists and couldn't keep going."

"I didn't go to his school - and I was a year or so behind him too – but I knew all about him. He was that good! Funny isn't it; I didn't meet him till much later when we bought a place near his in Melbourne."

Jon returned after a few minutes but was temporarily refused readmission to the group.

"Have you got your mobile with you, Jon?" Rob asked.

"Yeah; of course!"

"Well just keep walking to a nice private spot and give her a call, eh. It's probably about time to check in and see how she's faring."

Jon followed his instructions to the letter.

On the phone, they established with certainty that they were missing each other and that pre-wedding routines were fairly noisy affairs. It was a quick call as there wasn't much news to exchange.

Rob, Cam and Jon settled into some sane conversation before moving out into the city streets at about half-past-six to find a suitable dinner spot. Cam held sway here with his local knowledge and they ended up at a modern little BYO that served good quantities of new cuisine food with a leaning towards Asian. The restaurant wasn't crowded, so Rob and Cam turned the meal into a pleasant time wasting exercise. And the hands on the clock kept turning nicely without Jon being conscious of its presence. The boys did their job well!

At a little before eight, Frank made contact with Jon on his mobile. He joined them at the restaurant about fifteen minutes later and unwittingly assisted in the time wasting exercise by ordering a main meal. Frank knew the pre-wedding routine well and, without being too jovial or hearty, played a major part in keeping Jon's mind off that clock.

At about ten o'clock, they left the restaurant and went their separate ways – Frank and Rob to separate inner city hotels, Cam to his parents' place at Coorparoo and Jon to a Clayfield motel just a few hundred metres from the church. This was his choice, as was the idea of being alone the following morning and meeting his best man and groomsman at St Mark's. His fear of fuss and confusion outweighed his need for companionship.

Having had only one or two glasses of wine during preceding hours, Jon shouted himself a nice cold beer from the bar fridge at the motel. He'd not quite finished it when his mobile rang.

"How are you doing, Muss? Are you at the motel yet?" Annie asked.

"Yep. I'm here!"

"Is everything okay?"

"All is calm, all is bright!" he responded rather foolishly – apparently having mixed up Christmas eve with wedding eve.

Annie continued in a whisper.

"It got a bit too rowdy here earlier with a few of Mum's friends, Jon. And I think Mum was a bit embarrassed by it, to be honest."

"But after dinner, your Mum turned up. And Jon, she was just marvellous! She was a presence! Somehow she got the whole thing back on the rails without even looking like she was trying. Everyone started to talk sense again after that."

"And when she talked to me, she was so gentle and understanding. It made me feel very important or something."

"That's good!" Jon replied, "I'm pleased to hear that."

"Everything's just great now, Muss!"

They chatted quietly for five minutes or so before saying their goodbyes – following which Jon shouted himself one more beer to celebrate Sylvia's success.

He slept remarkably well and woke at seven to take delivery of his quarter-past-seven breakfast. After that, he went for a long walk to have a look at the old house in Dover Terrace and some of his old childhood haunts.

Then, at the appropriate time – and without any fuss whatever – he showered, dressed, packed his trusty barrel bag, paid the motel and set off on his slow walk to the church.

And maybe he had got it right; all was calm, all was bright.

When he was within maybe a hundred metres of the St Mark's, he noticed one solitary character mooching around in the shade under the big trees near the church entrance. At a distance he seemed a well-groomed man of something like his own age. He was holding his suit jacket over one shoulder.

When he got closer, the man spotted him and walked out into the sunlight towards him.

"G'day mate. How are you doing?" the fellow called to him.

Jon recognised the voice at about the same time as the face. It was Tony!

"What are you doing here?" Jon asked, when he got a bit closer.

"There's a wedding on; isn't there?"

"But I didn't know you were coming up here!"

"You didn't think you were going to keep me away, did you? Anyhow, I enjoy the occasional genuine Aussie wedding; they're much easier and quicker than the Italian ones!" Tony answered.

"Hey mate, there's not much to this Brisbane place is there? I mucked around at the airport for a while; then I got a cab that I guessed would get me here at about the right time; and I've been here for the better part of half-an-hour. I was here almost before I got in the taxi!"

"Yeah, it's a bit different from Tulla to the southern suburbs. And it's a public holiday too remember." Jon replied.

After they'd talked for about five minutes, Rob and Cam arrived – again with Cam's dad Geoff – and the minister made an appearance at the front door of the church.

The gang of three were then taken to the vestry for the inevitable wait.

To Jon's surprise, it wasn't too excruciating; and, before he knew it, he was out there in the church proper staring at the lead lights as the organist launched into a long – and thoroughly typical - passage of notes that seemed not to constitute a tune. Though Jon had often tried, he'd never been able to understand these introductory church organ noises. They made no sense at all.

And then there was the quiet; and he braced himself for a boisterous rendition of 'Here Comes The Bride' or, worse, a blast of Jeremiah Clarke's 'Trumpet Voluntary' \- which, incongruously, seemed always played on an organ.

But it wasn't to be! Instead, the organist started a simple, sparkling rendition of Cat Stevens' 'Morning Has Broken'. Jon's relief was instant and immense. Someone nice had obviously taken a hand in all this - someone very nice, in fact.

Jon gave way to the temptation to turn around to see if there was any action at the front door. There wasn't! But there was a bit of movement amongst the small congregation. A few women waved to him and a man in the third row gave him a strange sort of salute. He acknowledged them quickly, and turned to Rob.

"Murray's here!" he whispered excitedly, "And the girls are here too; both my sisters, Marg and Eunice, and my niece Lucy from Armidale. They're all here, Rob!"

His best man nodded and smiled.

And Jon took out his handkerchief to, very obviously, wipe away the perspiration on his forehead; and, very surreptitiously, wipe his eyes.

"Hang onto it, old son." Rob said, "You've only got a little way to go now!"

When Jon looked around a second time, there was an astonishingly beautiful young woman in a simple, short sleeved, yellow linen dress at the other end of the aisle. Though she was supposed to be carrying a little bouquet of white flowers with great dignity, the temptation of Jon looking around was a bit much and she waved it at him. And he waved back, of course.

Despite attempts at restraint by the bride giver-awayer, Lee – and the giver-awayer's deputy, Frank – Annie did the aisle in record time; and the show hit the road.

Now if the father-of-the-groom's involvement in giving away the bride was somewhat unorthodox, the father-of-the-groom's behaviour was even stranger. At the conclusion of the bride disposal part, Lee and Frank – holding hands – moved off in different directions. Lee was bound for a seat and Frank for a son. The latter, who prevailed in this strange tug-of-war, went up behind Jon and patted him comfortingly on the shoulder.

"I'm pleased you decided to come!" Frank announced to him, at a volume only marginally lower than his normal speaking growl.

As Lee and Frank retreated to sit down, the minister led the congregation in surprised laughter before leaning down to the groom and offering quietly that 'All's not lost; you can pick your friends!'

It seemed likely someone had put this man of the cloth on a speed incentive for the wedding. Failing that, the poor blighter sensed he was outnumbered by heathens and at risk of some dreadful retribution for having let them in. He fairly ripped through the service; giving copious traffic directions to the unrehearsed group as he went along.

But it all went well; and in the twinkling of an eye, Mr and Mrs Bentley had been processed and were on their way out to the tune of 'All Things Bright and Beautiful'.

It was that easy!

The happy group stayed outside the church talking for about fifteen minutes before moving off to a local restaurant in taxis and the two available cars, one belonging to Lee's friend Pam and the other belonging to Geoff – who'd stayed for the service in case he could help afterwards.

Geoff did his driving job so well, Lee forcibly invited him to lunch. He initially declined, of course; but later reversed away from that negative response when she got threatening - admitting that Mrs Geoff was at work anyway and promising that he wasn't a big eater. He ended up having a great time, as did the others, in a pleasant, relaxed family atmosphere. The drinks were cold, the food was beautiful; it was all perfect!

At something like two o'clock, Jon was completing the downward trek from earlier stress levels and feeling relaxed, bordering on tired. And he was wondering about the wisdom of having had those last few glasses of wine.

At about that time, Annie sought his undivided attention for a bit of a quiet chat.

"I hope you don't mind Muss," she said, "but I've changed our flight arrangements a little bit. I've booked an earlier one for us."

"No; that's all right. Whatever you think's a fair thing."

"Mrs Perkins has put our bags in the office; they're all ready to go. And Jane's going to call us a taxi for the airport in about ten minutes. Okay?"

"That's fine! So we just go home, eh?"

"Not really; no! We're going to the Oxley suite at the hotel as part of the package. It's a beautiful room with a king size bed and a big TV. You'll love it!"

That woke the boy up a bit.

"So we'll go home and pack some things and collect the car, eh?"

"No need!" she answered playfully, "I've done the packing and Murray took the car and everything to the hotel last night. So there!"

"You've been up to all sorts of tricks, haven't you?"

She gave him a girlish grin and pinched his cheek.

"It seemed silly for Mum and your Mum and Dad to stay in town for a night then go to our place." she said, "It's much easier for us to stay in town and they can go straight to Cheltenham! Now you just hang on for a sec and I'll go and change out of these dreadful shoes into my comfortable brown ones - then we'll start saying our goodbyes."

"I'll start with Mum's friends in case you can't remember their names. Okay?

"Sounds good to me!" Jon replied.

The farewells were dealt with and the bride and groom departed in a yellow cab bound, once again, for the airport and the big southern city.

Though their evening was memorable in every way, the only feature that seemed to need subsequent airing with family and friends was the special dinner they had sent up to the Oxley suite. Having over-indulged during the day, they opted for tomato soup with bread and butter – of all things – for their first evening meal as man and wife or woman and husband, or whatever.

Annie planned the reception from beginning to end. She let Jon, Lee and Sylvia know what she was doing; but she was the driver. All had agreed with her meal choices, table and guest placements, entertainment preferences and speech formats. With Jon's strong support, the normal wedding speech protocols – and 'telegram' readings – were thrown out. Annie was the self-appointed MC and only those who had something to say would get their hands on the microphone.

The key players all liked Annie's pragmatic approach. They all agreed that the reception presented a rare opportunity for meaningful communication and that time shouldn't be wasted on adherence to formalities that suited village life rather than a get together of friends and relatives from far distant parts of a big country.

The party – which, by design, included children of all ages - kicked off at half-past-eleven on the Saturday. A big sign in the hotel foyer directed the adults to a partitioning of the ballroom and children to a convention room down a corridor from the ballroom.

When the younger ones arrived at the right floor in the lift, they knew exactly where to go; hotel staffer Adrienne and Dino the Magician were waiting to welcome them - with gifts.

Annie hadn't missed a trick. It was beautifully organised.

The only last minute adjustment made was to seating at the head table. As Cam couldn't make it to Melbourne, a decision was taken to replace him with Tony and Maria who were at a crowded table with other Melburnians. For Annie and Jon, that seemed a very appropriate change.

After the main course – at about half-past-one – the MC took the floor to the sound of a teaspoon being clanked against wine glass.

With microphone in hand, she confidently went about her job.

Somewhat daringly, Annie started off by describing how she and Jon met in 1992; how she was attracted to him; and how she eventually discovered that her 'secret idol' had caught a bug similar to hers. She related that 'things went wrong' between them – as well as with Jon's work - and that he suddenly returned to Melbourne, presumably never to be seen again. She well described her sense of loss following his departure.

It was a cleverly constructed piece in that it catered for the two audiences present – the one that knew of their 1992 entanglement and its aftermath, and the one that didn't. For the former group, the piece seemed to be the start of a story confirming a couple's resolve to succeed in seemingly impossible circumstances; and for the latter group, it seemed like the start of a happy tale about love finding a way despite initial age difference awkwardness.

At no stage did Annie make any mention of just why 'things went wrong'; and at no stage did she give any clue that she was involved in serious warfare at home. These items were carefully erased.

Having taken her tale to the close of 1992, Annie took a sip of water before continuing – with an item that initially appeared quite out of sequence.

"Now those of you who were with us yesterday will know that Tony and Maria Gava weren't up at the front of the church with the minister and everyone. And you might be wondering why they are here with us now."

"Well I'll tell you... mate!" she said, turning to Tony and giving him a special smile.

"After things went wrong, Jon and I stayed thoroughly apart and down in the dumps for quite a long time; wrestling with all sorts of doubts, fears and frustrations and God only knows what. It wasn't good and it seemed to go on forever! We were both very unhappy about what had happened!"

"Now my Jon – being the sensible fellow that he is – eventually got sick of all that and had the nous to look for a bit of advice. And the person he enlisted to talk about his troubles was Tony!"

"And Tony – bless him forever – had the knowledge and skill to help. From what Jon's told me, there was a dinner meeting at which Tony teased out the necessary information, then dispensed some very professional advice that changed the course of our lives."

"I believe he said, 'Jon, having carefully considered all aspects of this matter, I suggest you nip up to Bris and have another squiz... mate.'"

With this gem, Annie achieved laughter and applause.

"Pretty deep stuff, I know!" she added.

There was more laughter.

"Seriously... because of Tony we were able, after a while, to get onto a firm patch of ground and really work out where we wanted to go and what we wanted to do. I think Jon and I always had all the compatibility and love under the sun; we just needed a bit of help to make it work for us. And it was Tony – I suspect with Maria's support - who gave us the key."

"I promise you both that we'll be grateful forever."

Annie paused for a few seconds and smiled at her audience.

"And the rest of the Jon and Annie story – as they say in the classics – is history."

"So, the road to yesterday's ceremony and today's party wasn't all that smooth. But here we are – with eyes wide open about the past and the future; and as happy as can be."

"We made it!"

Annie held the microphone away and smiled broadly at her audience. They responded warmly with prolonged applause. Maria, Jane, Murray and a few others actually stood to acknowledge the sensitive and seamless delivery.

Though Jon had some idea about what Annie intended to say, he'd not taken too much notice of how the speech was prepared. It wasn't till she'd nearly finished her piece that he realised she had no notes whatever. Most of it was learned off by heart.

"Are you ready, Mum?" Annie said, in her breezy style before effecting an introduction.

"May I introduce the most amazing woman and most wonderful mum - my Mum, Lee."

Lee gathered her notes, took the microphone and moved to a position between the main table and her own.

"Thanks sweetheart."

"Most of you will probably have had a look at me and at Annie today then made the inevitable mental note about our appearance. People do that! You'll have noticed that neither of us are exactly blonde and that we look alike in some ways."

She looked up from the notes.

"I know where I stand here; I'm the Chinese-looking one with the bum and the straw hair!"

She attracted some laughter with the unusual, and overly self-critical, observation.

"In fact, Annie takes more after her Dad – my late husband Jim."

Lee paused for a second to let the message in.

"Annie has Jim's finer facial features, his upright posture and she's carried forward many of his physical mannerisms."

"More important than the physical things though, is that Annie has her Dad's character and determination. She has his strength; it's a carbon copy. She's my beautiful girl, of course; but she's Jim's girl by birthright. She's her dad's own daughter! She's a strong one!"

"I suppose you are wondering what dreadful things I'm going to say about this tough little critter I was left with; I suppose you're bracing yourselves for the stories about prolonged headstrong mother-daughter squabbling over the years."

"Well I haven't got any stories like that to tell!"

"The truth is, I was left with an angel. The truth is, I was left with a daughter who – from the very start – knuckled-down to make things work and help me to make ends meet. She put up with all sorts of babysitters and carers, she got shunted into childcare and pre-school early, she was left with neighbours while I was at work – she copped the lot. And she never grizzled about any of it."

"And when she got a bit older, she turned into the housekeeping lady; and, God, she was tiny when she was doing those things. I seldom asked her to do any of the chores at home; she just did them. Annie always seemed to sense I could use a hand."

"But, most amazingly, she was always good company. I can't remember a time when we weren't able to have a sensible conversation about the day's happenings and who's who and what's what. In retrospect, as a little kid, she was fantastic."

"And she bolted through school and ballet classes and tennis lessons and every other damned thing that was put on her plate. She never whinged and never faltered."

"I was left with an angel. You see, the toughness worked for me, not against me. Fate dealt me the kindest of hands and put Annie on my side."

"I'm very proud of my Annie and I always will be. She's my very special girl. She's my angel!"

Lee looked up from her notes and looked across towards Jon.

"Now!" she said sternly, "Let's look at the other side of the equation."

Some chuckled about the switch; others weren't all that sure what was to follow and stayed silent.

"As one or two of you already know, this old bird's had a few spills over the years. Apart from Jim and little Frankie's departure, I've had some health problems and a few others as well. I guess they weren't any worse than most other people's, but they were problems none the less. I've never dwelt on them much until this last year; I didn't really think they were worthy of the time."

"But, for one reason or another, they've have come to the forefront of my mind more often since Annie's been in Melbourne; and, in my quiet thinking time, I've managed to find a common thread that joins most of them up. Now, I'm not sure you'll believe what I'm going to tell you about that common thread, but I'm going to tell you anyway."

Lee put the notes aside.

"In my adult life, whenever I was at risk of dropping my bundle a bit, it was one of the Bentley family who came in to lend a hand. It didn't seem to matter whether I lived around the corner or hundreds of miles away; whenever I slipped, a Bentley was there to help in some way or another."

She stopped and smiled as she looked around the room.

"And that certainly included Jon!"

Lee turned around and pointed to him.

"Yes, that one there!" she said, pointing to the groom.

She reverted to the notes.

"These things might be specks of dust now in the family memory of the Bentleys, but to me they're gigantic. One's inclined to remember black patches and one never forgets the help that comes along in those bad times. Strangely, you know, we weren't immensely close; but when the chips were down, one of the Bentleys usually turned up."

"I won't go through the history here; a few of the stories could be pretty dull and a few of them could be a little bit too colourful. But I can tell you the family was wonderful to me after the boys' accident; and that it was Jon who stayed on for a long time to help me with Annie and with my work. He was – and still is – a very kind and generous man."

Lee put the notes down again.

"I don't do a lot of speaking like this, you know!" she said, "And I'm starting to think these damned notes are more trouble than they're worth. Anyway, if I read all that stuff to you, we'll be here till next Wednesday. I've made my points about Annie as well as Jon and the Bentley gang, and that's really what I wanted to do."

"In finishing up, I'm going to tell you a secret I've never told anyone before. It's about that one there!" she said, pointing to Jon.

There was some laughter - but not from Jon.

"I've got him worried now!" Lee added, to the guests' further amusement.

"Now; back in the breakfast room at the old house, Jim and I would often talk about the kids – and their futures – after they'd been put to bed and we'd had our dinner. It happened pretty often. Well I reckon that on about five or six of those occasions, we came up with the idea that it would be really good if we could launch our Frankie into one of the private schools and then to university 'like Jon Bentley'. And we got to figuring also that it might be a good idea if Frankie did accounting 'like Jon Bentley'. We even talked about sport. Yes, you guessed it; we thought he might turn out to be good at football and rowing 'like Jon Bentley'."

There was a bit of good-natured mocking of Jon by a few guests.

"It's true!" Lee said forcefully, "I promise you, it's true!"

"But fate's a strange boss, you know. Nothing went as we planned it."

She paused for a second; looked at Jon, then Frank – and then back at the guests.

"I didn't get a son sort of like Jon; I ended up with Jon sort of like a son!"

"And, given the circumstances, that's a good result."

"In any case," she continued, "it was something of an inevitability. Annie always adored him; right from when she was a little toddler to the present. I don't think there was ever a chance I'd get rid of him."

"Finally, I'm happy to wish Annie and Jon all the love and luck possible for the future."

Again there was substantial applause; and again Annie took the microphone. But she didn't say anything to start with. She pointed to herself and mouthed the word 'angel' as she looked at Lee.

Lee mouthed the word 'angel' back at her and smiled and nodded.

"Well, I'll be darned!" Annie started.

"Now the next person to say a few words is Jon's Dad, Frank – who happens to be my second favourite man."

"For those of you who weren't at the wedding, I must explain that Frank – who I call Dad - came down the aisle with Mum yesterday to give me away. It was very sweet and I was pleased it happened that way, even if it was a bit unusual."

"It's one for the records, eh?" she asked rhetorically.

Rob - who had given the appearance of being partly asleep - sat bolt upright, looked straight at Annie and answered the question as if it had been posed to him direct.

"Absolutely; unusual, bordering on improper!" he said seriously, "In fact, Jon would have had to marry one of his sisters for that to be reasonable behaviour."

His confident sternness and timing were perfect. He brought the house down.

And the sights and sounds of Jane and Annie reacting to put the lid on his absurd behaviour caused even more laughter.

When the guests quietened a bit, Annie resumed.

"Don't you start that stupid stuff at my wedding reception, Robbie Martin. I won't stand for it!" she said, shaking a finger at him.

She allowed a bit of time for the guests to settle further.

"Anyhow, I'd like to introduce Dad; that is, Jon's dad Frank."

"See, you don't even seem to know who he is!" Rob exclaimed in a fairly loud voice

Annie turned to Rob, raised a finger to her lips and issued a lengthy 'shoosh' before offering the microphone to Frank.

Frank took it, turned it off and put it on the table in front of him. He didn't care for voice amplification and seldom needed it.

"Thanks very much Annie." he started.

"I'm not going to break away from the theme today; I've got a story from the past too. It's a story about when Jon was in second year at the uni in Brisbane."

"I can remember sitting having a cuppa with Sylvia one winter Sunday morning at about eight o'clock; and Jon came in to join us. On this particular morning, he was sullen and quiet - much quieter than normal. He moped around listlessly and, from memory, only ate about six slices of toast. I knew he had troubles! He had a strange hang-dog look about him. He had the appearance of a young bloke who'd been thrown against a wall a few times."

"I didn't ask him about what was wrong; I sensed that it would be better to refer this matter to the manager – that's Sylvia – when the time was right."

"So when Jon finished his breakfast and went out, I did my bit of investigative work. Being a sensitive sort of father, I said to Sylv, 'What's eating him?' And she looked at me and said, 'Girl problems! I think he's been given the old one-two by that girl from Toowong he's been going out with!' "

"'Oh!' said I, 'That's nothing!' And I got one of those looks that maim for having said it. Then Sylv said something that's stayed in my mind over the years. She said, 'He's a wonderful boy, really wonderful. But he's different. I think he's going to need someone special; someone kind who understands how he ticks.'"

He paused for a few moments.

"Well, it took a bit of time and a bit of heart ache, but Sylvia and I reckon the best possible 'someone' came his way. He found Annie! In our view this is a fantastic outcome; and today is a very happy and important day. Our Jon's found a really wonderful girl; the best!"

"Now, there's a bit of action out there with glass filling – which is what needs to happen – so I'll tell you a few other things while that job's being finished."

"Firstly, Annie comes with a bonus as far as we're concerned. We're back with Lee, which is terrific. She's always been a favourite of ours and it's beaut that we're in regular contact again, just like in the old days."

"Secondly, there are still quite a few Melburnians we haven't had a yap with yet. So beware; Lee and Sylv and I will be cruising the room soon so that we can have a good chin-wag with all of Jon and Annie's friends."

He smiled at the guests for a few seconds.

"Maybe even Rob too!"

After a minute or so, Frank proposed the toast and the guests responded warmly. Then Annie gave the signal for sweets to be served.

Thirty minutes elapsed before Jon stood to speak.

Though he had written notes for a speech that included amusing stories amongst the serious messages of thanks to family and friends, he decided to play it completely straight and dispense with the entertainment. A few snippets from Lee's speech – especially the line about her not being able to 'get rid of him' – had stuck in his mind; so he didn't particularly feel like doing comedy right at that time.

Jon's thankyou messages were happy and sincere - but very much to the point.

Annie stood with her arm around his waist for a little while when he'd finished – then took hold of the microphone to deliver her final message.

"In a few minutes, we'll open up the partition over there and you'll find Emma McCarthy and her group from the uni ready there to play some music for us. And anxious parents will find offspring waiting there too. I think they've been properly prepared to party for real with us now."

And so it was! They all partied till late into the afternoon.

As the Oxley suite was theirs for a second night, Jon and Annie stayed at the reception till stumps; finally saying their goodbyes to Lee, Frank and Sylvia at near enough to half-past-six.

The parent group stayed at Cheltenham for six days while the newlyweds explored the Coonawarra area and Victoria's south-west district. And when they returned to retrieve ownership of their home, Lee, Frank and Sylvia had just earlier set off in a rented Falcon to explore north-east Victoria and rural points northward en route to Port Macquarie.

Lee finished her trip to Brisbane in the air-conditioned luxury of the rented car.

For the period till mid-1996, Jon and Annie were extraordinarily busy.

Apart from having a difficult project on his hands, Jon had the novel experience of dealing with in-house 'clients' who he'd have to live with after the job was finished. Though nominally he was a senior consultant; in reality, he was a fairly powerful member of the firm's management team. He was visibly the managing partners' instrument of reform and business regeneration. This was a new ball game entirely and it brought unexpected pressure.

To add to the job dimensions, Eric was forced to take sick leave for the entire month of May because of knee surgery, which should have been undertaken months earlier and couldn't be stalled any longer. So Jon had to take on dual roles.

It was hard, hard work!

At the same time, Annie was being tested in the final year of her university studies. In a parallel situation of sorts, she was being subjected to more real life experiences with both languages and teaching. And, to muddy the water, Emile's beckoned on many Saturdays because of an unreliable casual employee who had involved Dom and Françoise Boucher in an industrial wrangle and a compensation dispute. For the unlucky patisserie proprietors, the girl had become impossible to retain and impossible to dislodge.

The antics were at Annie's expense.

Despite these work trials, Jon and Annie were happy with their lot. It was good being married; and they were more than comfortable with having signed the contract. Though not suitable for everyone, for them it was a natural progression.

During the period, there were no family interstate visits in either direction; but everyone kept in contact by phone and occasional letters.

And Annie took to entertaining. She wasn't living at Jon's place any more; she was at their place. So sometimes she'd invite her friends over; sometimes she'd invite Jon's friends over; and sometimes she'd mix them up a bit – a formula that became easier with the passage of time as the friend ownership demarcation lines disappeared.

Jon enjoyed having people in for dinner and occasional lunchtime barbecues. That's what the house was for; that's what is was all about. He liked Annie's approach to the whole matter and never got in the way of her plans.

But he did remain the supremo with final meal selection and with that marvellous stove. He was, after all, the more relaxed and capable cook.

And, strangely, management of the stove was the only seniority aspect that carried into their married lives.

* * *

### 15.

Morning sickness and food preparation don't go together! That is a fact of life! And when the food preparation involves noise, heat, the sickly smell of preserves and chocolate - and the sight of great globs of butter being kneaded into pastry sheets - there is a potential for real upset.

"Jon, it is Dom calling you. I need to tell you about Annee." the very French voice announced on the phone at about quarter-to-nine on a freezing Sunday morning in early September 1996.

"The little flea will have to go home, Jon. She is very sick with the babee; and the ormones, you know. She says she will stay, but she will not. I will not let her."

"Dom, what say I catch a taxi up there and drive her back? Does that sound okay?" Jon asked.

"I would drive her but I cannot leave the shop. You'll come quickly, won't you?"

"Yep. I'll be there in a cab as soon as I can!"

By the time he arrived at Emile's, Annie had retreated to a small paved area at the back of the shop to escape the smell. With Dom's enormous overcoat on for warmth, she was sitting on a wooden box holding onto her shoulders with crossed arms. Despite the coat she was shivering; and she was an awful colour. The Bouchers were very concerned.

Still clad in the grey woollen overcoat that nearly reached the ground – and carrying a small white bucket for safety's sake – Annie went with him to the car and they drove home to Cheltenham, stopping a few times for retching sessions. In all, the trip took a dismal forty-five minutes.

When home, she went straight to bed in her pink and black Emile's uniform.

She wasn't too fussed about a doctor's visit, so Jon kept a very close eye on her at about fifteen minute intervals, sneaking into the bedroom in socked feet so as not to disturb her rest.

On his reconnaissance check at about midday, he went closer to her side of the bed to study her appearance and breathing as she slept. All seemed okay, but he knelt there for a while to look at her shiny hair and her lovely face, which by then had returned to a normal healthy colour. He just stayed there next to the bed staring at his wonderful, beautiful wife.

She surprised him when she opened her eyes and smiled. He reached out and stroked her forehead and hair.

"How are you doing now?" he asked.

"Much better, Muss." she answered, "I could even use a bit of company now. Have I got any volunteers for a warm-up?"

"You've found just the right fella!"

Jon stood, went to his side of the bed and got in with her under the blanket – holding her back against his chest in their favoured warm-up position. And there they stayed for welcome rest.

By two o'clock, they'd both awoken and Jon was starting to feel peckish.

"Would you be interested in something to eat yet, Abe; just something small maybe?" he asked, using her relatively new home pet-name that derived from AB – her married name initials.

"No not really?"

"There's nothing you fancy – just a little bit?"

Annie developed a sort of guilty look when the second question was posed.

"Muss, I've been thinking about chicken noodle soup; but we haven't got any outside!"

The age of chivalry wasn't dead. She'd no sooner uttered her sentence and he was in action putting on his shoes and mentally working out where the nearest chicken noodle soup retailer would be on a Sunday afternoon.

"No, don't Jon; it's a lot of trouble." Annie protested.

"That's just what I feel like too! I'll nip out and get some!"

This was a terrible lie. He really had his mind on a ham and hot mustard sandwich.

"Well, if you are going out; I'd really prefer the packet soup, Muss. I don't think the tinned stuff's as good; do you?"

"That's a ridiculous question Annie Bentley. Chicken noodle soup can't come from a tin; that's against the laws of nature."

He was back in twenty minutes with five packets of the precious product, one of which he made up on the stove. And that wonderful, beautiful wife eagerly sipped it down. It was just perfect.

Now, this ormone disturbing babee - who caused such trouble on that September 1996 day, and others, was no accident; nor was he or she a result of Annie's impetuous behaviour. In addition, the babee had nothing to do with over-the-top Jon Bentley project planning. There was no thought of how old he may be when junior took to the football field or netball court in earnest; there was no thought of Annie reaching the zenith of a late-start career as his occupational use-by date was starting to show; there was no thought of Annie assuming 'little woman at home' status. And the babee was certainly not the product of those dismal thoughts about having kids early and 'getting 'em out of the way'.

The pregnancy, in fact, seemed to them just another natural path to take - a path that became obvious in afterglow whisperings, frequently about the offspring who could turn up as a consequence of their happy bedroom activities.

On one particular whispering occasion, Jon gave his spouse a good case of the giggles threatening to impregnate her with 'a very tall girl with big hands and feet and a whopping great schnozzle – maybe a female rower.'

A few nights later, Annie reciprocated with a few impromptu, and very ungainly, descents from bed to floor to illustrate how it may be that women 'fell' pregnant.

These nocturnal whisperings and antics - that took all sorts of directions and went on over quite a few weeks – allowed each of them to discover the other's real yearnings; and allowed them to develop confidence about the future with little people.

And at the conclusion of the mental meanderings, they simply let nature take its course. There was no decision to be made really; the instinct and the hunger just took hold.

Yes, for once in his life, Jon Bentley had made a non-decision without any substantial prior analysis at all. And, ironically, it was destined to lead to pretty well the most important happening in his thirty-nine years.

By September's end, Annie had shaken the dreaded morning sickness and was back to full flight with all activities. And Jon had completed his job of attending to the firm's consulting woes.

He had achieved his goals of clarifying reporting lines; getting some city bound slow coaches out into productive work, or just out; separating the Melbourne and Sydney operations; and getting some more respectable revenue and referred business. He had even generated real interest in a merger blue print that had potential to give the firm more clout and economies of scale into the future.

By a genuine quirk of fate, Jon had run into his old compatriot from Singapore days, Daniel Madders, on one of his numerous 1996 visits to Sydney for the upgrade project. And as a result of that chance meeting and subsequent dealings, Dan was sworn-in as the IT consulting senior in Sydney in mid-October – one week after Jon formally took-over the equivalent role in Melbourne.

Ron Herschell resigned from the firm's Sydney operation a few weeks after Dan's appointment.

In late October, after Annie had sneaked-in a quick visit to Brisbane to see Lee, the Bentleys of Cheltenham got two pieces of extraordinary news. Firstly, Jon was to be sent by the firm to a four-week senior management training course at a University in Hawaii, starting mid-November; and, secondly, Rob and Jane had taken the plunge and joined them on the baby trail.

Amazing things were happening – all at once!

Jon's course was a full-on, concentrated affair involving about thirty executives – mostly his senior in corporate life and mostly from the US. The group lived the management business for twenty-five days, virtually without breaks except for quick meals and sleep. It was very tiring.

The course left Jon with the feeling he needed to develop a new decisiveness in his way of handling people and processes. It left him feeling a bit flat-footed. Though he didn't come home with a sense of total inadequacy, he wasn't exactly buoyed by his experiences either.

The employer assessment for his course arrived at Bill Reynolds' office about a week after Jon returned home. Though Jon knew what was in the body of the assessment, he was surprised by the overview – which was close to flattering.

"Get a load of this bit!" Bill Reynolds said, before putting his reading glasses back on and holding up the email message hard copy so he could see it clearly.

"'Jon seems ideally suited to the business environment described in your letter dated July 12. With that even temperament, he will manage quietly and capably using his strong technical/accounting knowledge base and his common sense approach to the workings of business.'"

"So there!" Bill added, "But, after that, you run out of luck. Listen to this."

"'Amanda and I are planning to visit Down Under in late June next year for the PRAU conference which is being held in Sydney. If we make it there (and that is now looking more than just likely) we will take some extra days to travel to Melbourne. We would very much like to tour your city and spend a night out, or two, with you and Esther.'"

"'Even if you choose not to show this note to Jon, I'd appreciate your letting him know that we'll be looking to catch up with him, his bride and his new baby, in June or early July.'"

"'Kindest regards...blah, blah, blah... Alexander T Armstrong'"

Bill put the papers aside and took off his reading glasses.

"That's a pretty good result, Jon. And high praise from that difficult bugger too."

"I suppose so." Jon replied a bit self-consciously.

"It's a pity about that PRAU conference though. Looks like we're both going to get a dose of him – with that loud voice and a bloody camera strung 'round his neck, no doubt."

"Seems that way!"

"There's a bit of good advice in there though, Jon." Bill went on, in a more serious manner, "It wouldn't hurt if you lightened-up a bit, like he says. And don't be afraid to get in a bit closer to the staff. You don't have to slobber all over them; but you do have to know them pretty well. That's the guts of the whole thing."

Jon took it all on board.

By year's end, Annie had her degrees and had made a few strategically placed friends in the education business in the southern and eastern suburbs. She achieved this by involving herself in the end-of-course employment activities – even though she wasn't in a position to sign-up for anything at that point.

And Lee in Brisbane had romped through the second year of her accounting diploma course. She did it in a canter.

With the benefit of a bit more financial stamina, Lee was able to travel to Melbourne for the Christmas – New Year period despite the fact she expected to travel south again when the baby was born.

Annie continued playing tennis at a fairly high standard till well into her pregnancy; and she continued at Emile's till the end of March. She was a ball of energy and had no problems at all carrying the baby, except for that earlier morning sickness.

Young and inexperienced though she may have been, Annie seemed to possess quite enough instinct and knowledge about baby delivery. At about eight o'clock at night on Thursday 17 April 1997 – without any preliminary drama - Annie announced quietly to Jon that it was about time to go to the hospital. As he got the car out, she phoned Jane and nonchalantly advised they were on their way.

As Jon drove up the Nepean Highway en route to St Vincents at Fitzroy, she phoned Lee then Sylvia on her mobile. She was very calm and very much in control.

The trip to St Vincents was neither an emergency dash nor far too early. Male baby Bentley – possibly Stewart - was born at nine o'clock the following night after a relatively short period of concentrated work.

If there was a distinguishing feature of the delivery, it must have been Annie's two calls for reassurance by assistant midwife Jon. She yelled out 'Muss' so loud he surmised the calls would have been heard in South Melbourne. The yells were as unnecessary as they were rowdy. He was there at her side all the time.

Jon stayed till about one o'clock on the Saturday morning to satisfy himself all was going smoothly; then departed for the car park where he phoned Lee, Sylvia and Jane – and Tony. He was in bed at home by two.

By eight that morning, he was back at the hospital bright as a button and cleaned-up to see his brilliant wife and have a proper meeting with his son.

"How's my Annie today?" he asked one of the senior staff who he'd got to know a bit.

"Great! She's doing very well!"

"She's pretty clever, eh!" he commented proudly.

"No doubt about that, Jon!" the nurse said, "But even better, she's young and she's as strong as a Clydesdale!"

With a double dose of pride he went into Annie's room to check things out.

"How are you doing?" he asked from the doorway.

Annie said nought but opened her eyes as wide as possible and puffed out her cheeks.

"I guess so!" Jon answered, having understood full well what she hadn't said, "That's bloody hard work!"

He went to her and gave her a kiss.

"I love you, Muss!" she whispered.

"I love you too; you're wonderful!"

While they were at very close range, Annie thought it would be a good idea to quietly impart a bit of hospital news that she'd acquired about thirty minutes earlier.

"The woman in the next room is having her first baby too, Jon. And – guess what?"

"What?" he replied boyishly.

She pulled him in closer and lowered her voice even more.

"I've heard she's over forty!"

"God forbid!" he exclaimed in his normal speaking voice.

Before they had a chance to unravel this age tangle, baby Bentley – possibly Stewart – was rolled back in for a chat. He was looking every bit as clean and dapper as his dad.

Till that moment, Jon had been a picture of mature control and discipline. Indeed, till that moment 'the baby' had remained an almost abstract being, despite all the miraculous things that had happened with the pregnancy and the birth. But the sight - there and then - of the wee boy with his wisps of fine black hair, his perfectly formed tiny nose, real little ears and puckering lips... it was all too much. Jon's emotional legs were swept from under him. The little fella had black hair like Annie. It was Annie's boy; it was his and Annie's baby boy. He'd be handsome for sure; he was dark like Annie. The connection with all that was good and all that he loved so much was utterly overwhelming.

Jon couldn't speak; there were no words. He just stood there looking at his son.

And there he stayed, transfixed, while the silent force that bonds clicked closed the first of new links that would so enrich his life.

Annie was talking though. He heard her talking.

"Sorry Abe; what was that?" he said, wiping his eyes with shirtsleeves.

"Are you okay, precious?"

"Yeah. Yeah, fine! God, he's a handsome little fella!" he replied.

"I'm not sure about Stewart now, Jon. It sounds a bit high and mighty – and old fashioned!"

"No! No, nor am I! They'll call him Stew and that'd remind me of Grandma's bloody awful cooking."

He smiled for a moment.

"Maybe we should ask him about all this."

"Okay then." Annie replied playfully, "See what he says."

Jon leaned over and posed the question.

"Now, young man; what do you think you should be called?"

He then turned his head to listen for the reply. And Annie laughed at the antics.

"He says 'Rick'. He says it's only got one syllable and that no one can shorten it any more. And it doesn't end with 'ie' or 'ey'. Makes sense, I suppose!"

And so it was, even though neither of them had considered it before. Richard James Bentley – Rick Bentley - was on the scene.

It was only a matter of minutes before the phone rang in Annie's room; and Jon answered. The staff member on the line told him a girl from a florist shop was there with flowers and asked if it was all right for her to take them to the room. Jon thought this was fairly irregular, but gave his consent on the basis that the hospital staff must have known what they were doing.

The florist girl, in fact, was the petite Marian Gava – with googly eyes behind those thick glasses and a smile to melt any heart. She was carrying an enormous prepared arrangement of flowers.

She was welcomed with all the enthusiasm appropriate for such a distinguished first visitor.

"No come on; up you come and I'll show you our boy." Jon said, as he helped her up to stand on a chair, "What do you think of him?"

"Gee Jon, he's very little!" was her well-considered and sensible reply.

Tony went into the room declaring he would stay one minute. He shook Annie's hand then kissed her on the forehead; he shook Jon's hand then hugged him; then he looked at Rick and declared him 'a little beauty'.

On receiving positive responses to 'Does he have a good yell?' and 'Are the Docs happy with him?' he congratulated them both on a job well done. He then explained the contents of an Esky that Maria had packed - before beckoning Marian to prepare for departure.

"Now don't forget, mate; the things in the green plastic bag are Annie's and the rest's yours. It's all packed in those plastic ice blocks, so it'll be fine in there for a while; but get it in the fridge or the freezer by this afternoon, eh!"

He had a final look at Rick; again declared him 'a little beauty'; then departed with the youngest of his sizeable tribe. If he was there longer than the minute, it wasn't by very much.

During the next few days in hospital, well-wishers sent flowers and notes; and some phoned and some visited. It all made Annie feel good. She'd no idea there were so many friends and admirers out there.

Very soon after returning home, Lee came to visit for five nights – which was a mixed blessing. Though she was helpful around the house, Annie found her a bit over-zealous with childcare advice and over-confident with little Rick. She frightened Jon back to work. He rearranged his schedule so he could take his week off after she'd departed.

As with just about everything else in life, Annie thought Jon's approach with Rick was exactly right. He was calm and confident, and happy in outlook without being noisy and boisterous. With absolute ease, he took on the role of patient, doting dad.

Rick wasn't more than ten weeks old when Annie happened into the bedroom while Jon was changing a nappy – a chore he did with amazing dexterity given his general physical size and the size of his hands.

"I think he likes you changing him. Sometimes I think you're a better mum than the mum, Muss!" she said to him in a gesture of thanks and admiration.

But she caught him at exactly the wrong moment - a moment when his mind was elsewhere.

"This is easy stuff!" he responded, "Our David used to crap his pants a fair bit. He'd get distracted sometimes; or maybe he thought he was in line for a bit of a fluff. I don't know! It was a bit ordinary, I can tell you; and it was bloody disastrous if he tried to clean it up himself. Shit everywhere!"

He finished the job in silence before regaining his good humour.

"I suppose the trick is not to embarrass them!" he said cheerfully, as he walked off down the hall with a handful of nasty nappy.

The incident had a strange impact on Annie. Till then she hadn't considered the implications of Jon being his younger brother's second minder during what should have been the carefree years. She hadn't considered what that really meant and how difficult some of his responsibilities must have been.

With these ponderings on board, she developed a better appreciation of her Jon's credentials as a dad as well as thoughts about how she may have snared the ultimate parenting partner. Why, apart from looking after David, he must have been involved with Marg's kids from time to time; and with Murray's and Tony's too.

No, it was even more beguiling than that!

By a charming twist of fate, she'd ended up marrying her own favourite babysitter.

At this special time, when thoughts about Jon's patience and kindness were tipping Annie even further in his direction; the loving sights and sounds of her motherhood were having an equivalent effect on him. And all this created an environment in which they seemed to drift towards a new level of affection in what was already an extremely close relationship.

It's as well Sylvia visited for a week towards the end of July. Her presence may well have been the disruption that saved them from a bit of over-heating.

Her stay was a treat. She made herself useful without getting in the way; and she was wonderful with Rick. There was no doubt about her gentle expertise. But whether or not she had a holiday is another matter. On three separate occasions, she found herself entertaining Rick, as well as Rob and Jane's five-week-old Oscar, on the living room floor – all of which must have been a bit tiring for a girl of her vintage.

By mid-winter 1997, Jon was well in control of his new job. He'd surprised many with the success of his piece of the firm's operations and he'd 'lightened-up' a bit within the office environment, as was suggested by his managing partner. Though he hated corporate glee club activities, he arranged the occasional meal at home, or at a suburban restaurant nearby, for individuals or tiny groups from the office; and they were occasions genuinely enjoyed by the people involved. He and Annie – and Rick, of course – had developed a way of dispensing relaxed hospitality that made people comfortable.

It was at an August get-together with consultant type, Brian Tripp - and his wife Susan – that the subject of hobbies reared its head. Susan, it turned out, was an artist of sorts and was holding forth about the amount of pleasure she derived from her involvement with classes and painting. She wasn't being a pain; she was just enthusiastic about it all.

For the sake of maintaining conversation, she happened to ask Jon about his chosen hobbies - a question that threw him a bit!

He muttered something about playing with Rick, playing tennis and growing vegetables; and only served to embarrass himself by doing so. He played with Rick because he was his father; he played tennis more for exercise than pleasure; and Annie had been taking care of the vegetable garden since she arrived in Melbourne. In reality, his only serious hobbies were thinking in overdrive about all manner of work-related conundrums and being with his family.

The evening with Brian and Susan wasn't the first time he'd confronted the idea that his life balance could be improved. It hadn't escaped his notice that Annie packed every day with interesting things. She read novels, kept in yapping contact with her French and Japanese speakers and teaching pals, went to the gallery for every new exhibition and tinkered about on the Internet in pursuit of knowledge about French gastronomy. Since Rick's birth, she'd even embarked on learning Latin, just for fun and just to get a better feel for the foundation of modern European language.

So, at the dinner table that August night – with a few wines on board and with the perceived need to get out of an uncomfortable ditch – Jon asked Susan about how one would get involved in the drawing or painting business.

And Annie nearly fell off her chair. She couldn't believe what was happening.

She should have! It was only a matter of days before Jon had volunteered to sit in on a few interesting art activities as an observer; and only a matter of weeks before he'd signed-up for what remained of that half-years beginners' classes at Caulfield on Tuesday nights.

But the wonders didn't cease there for Annie Bentley. It was also in August that she took on her first teaching role – to tutor a horrible year eleven boy, Ben, who'd dropped his bundle with French at school. And in September, she somehow landed the job of tour guide for two separate coach loads of Japanese students visiting the old gold areas around Ballarat and Bendigo. As a French tutor, she was very professional; as a tour guide she was very entertaining, but somewhat lacking in local knowledge. At the beginning of her two-day travel industry career, she'd been to Ballarat just the once with Jon but hadn't even driven through Bendigo. She got by on her knowledge of the customers' language and a good understanding of how not to offend.

Annie subsequently dined out on the stories about the coach tours and how, as an ambassador for Victoria, she did a good selling job on the Gold and Sunshine Coasts. And she freely admitted that bassinet-bound Rick was the star for the young, mainly female, tourists.

Fate sent the Bentleys of Cheltenham numerous visitors in the closing two months of 1997. Lee visited in early November; Frank and Sylvia in late November; Cam and Lana – for their second trip – in December; and niece Lucy from Armidale later in December.

Lucy was the turn-up.

In the three years since she and Annie first met, Lucy had bolted ahead. She was half way through her natural resources degree at the University of New England; and was pleasant, attractive and well presented in that distinctive pure-wool, pure-cotton, non-city Australian way. She was a brunette - bright and busty - with an unmistakable touch of rural class.

"I don't know what was going on in my brain when you came up to Armidale that time." she said to Annie one day over a late afternoon drink before Jon arrived home, "Mum had told me you were going to Melbourne to study and that you'd be boarding at Jon's place. And I thought, 'Oh, isn't that nice of him putting Annie up at his place; isn't that kind!'"

Annie laughed.

"It wasn't till you went back to Port Macquarie with Nan that I started to think about it a bit more. And I thought 'God above; surely not!' Then I couldn't get my mind off the idea for such a long while. It got me a bit revved-up I think!"

"You weren't the only one to get a bit of a surprise!" Annie replied, "We got quite a few raised eyebrows."

"Did it worry you?"

"No. We wanted to be together and there wasn't much more to it than that. We didn't want to upset anybody; but we didn't care much about people thinking we were a bit oddball."

"What about your mum, Annie? What did she think?"

Annie held her right hand forward and rocked it from side to side.

"It was a bit patchy early on." she replied, "But everything's pretty much okay now."

The two connected and communicated easily; and they spent pleasant time together at the markets, the gallery and the shops in town and at Richmond. They even went on a Yarra cruise for some new scenery and to give Rick a first taste of life on the water.

Lucy took a real shine to Rick – who, by then, was a bright-eyed, happy, gurgling sort of person pleased enough to be in the arms of anyone with a friendly face and a few kind words.

While having their evening meal a few days before the planned end of her Melbourne holiday, Lucy was singing the city's praises and lamenting that her holiday had gone so quickly.

"It's been six days, Jon; and it just feels like a few minutes." she said, with genuine disappointment.

At the first available distraction, Jon caught Annie's eye and mouthed the word 'stay'. And Annie nodded enthusiastically.

"Luce, why don't you stay down for Christmas?" he asked, "We're only having lunch with Rob and Jane and Oscar. Dad and mum haven't got you lined up for any dipping or crutching or fencing, have they?"

Lucy declined a few times, in terms of some quaint piece of provincial etiquette; then gave-up and accepted the invitation. And everyone was pleased with the outcome.

The extended holiday was a complete success – nearly.

On Christmas day, Rob seemed to be in a peculiar mood. He was without cool! He became a bit more cheerful and chatty than usual after late morning drinks; and, with those few snorts on board, seemed to become a bit mesmerised by the young lady from the country – or by her breasts, anyway. Though he shouldn't have done so, he privately indicated his distraction to Jon a few times by closing his eyes and biting the first joint of his right index finger; sign language easily interpreted – if not entirely appreciated - by his host.

At lunch and after a few more drinks, Rob engaged Lucy in conversation with a series of country and western questions the answers to which he couldn't possibly have understood, having done only twelve months rural bank service in sugar cane territory. But he sat there in a near trance listening to what she had to say, tossing in the occasional 'I see!' and 'I'm with you!' and 'That's interesting!' at appropriate intervals.

Lucy may have been awkward about all this if it hadn't been causing such amusement for the others. And it wasn't as if he was monopolising her time. The questions seemed to pop up, for no reason, at about fifteen or twenty minute intervals.

At plum pudding time, Lucy tried to put an end to the nonsense by giving Rob a quiet heart-to-heart five-minute piece on the latest developments in artificial insemination, which made him feel queasy and somewhat embarrassed.

It wasn't till coffee, port and who'd-dare-to-try-the-chocolates time that Rob really spun-out with another attempt to engage his pal from Armidale in conversation - from a wobbly stance above little Rick's afternoon nap location on the floor.

"Well Lucy," he said, "what do you think about your cousin's little baby? Isn't he a beautiful boy?"

She wasn't at all perplexed by the question.

"Rob, he is my cousin!" she said, pointing to Rick, "Annie's my aunty! Jon's my uncle!"

"Aw fuck! This is a really confusing set-up sometimes!" he said - prior to departing for a few big tumblers of chilled water, a wee and a sit down in the back yard for a quick re-assessment of his life.

The others got on well enough without him and drifted into animated conversation about street personalities in the central business district and the inner suburbs.

Rob's return, after maybe ten minutes, was prefixed by door opening and closing noises in the bathroom-toilet precinct and an amount of deliberate, slow laughter.

"Bloody hell! I've never thought about it before, you know!" he said, wiping his brow with a damp washcloth as he made his re-entrance to the living room.

"What's that, Prince Charming?" Jane asked.

"There's a hectare of 'Vogue Living' bathroom out there; and no bloody bath!"

He laughed again for a bit.

"There's nowhere to bath Rick!"

Jon nodded solemnly, hoping the problem would go away. But he didn't!

"Jon, you might have to renovate it all back to the way it was before you renovated it to the way it is. Do you get my drift?"

Jane took control. It had to be done.

"Annie, would that day bed in Jon's PC room be all right for a supposedly adult person? It's a proper couch sort of thing, isn't it?" she asked.

"Good as gold! It's a fold-away thing but I've had a lie down there a few times; it's fine!"

"Good! Well I wonder if you could rustle up a beach towel or an old blanket or something to put down there, eh?" Jane asked.

"Sure!"

Annie located a big beach towel in the hallway cupboard and spread it on the day bed in Jon's office; and Jane, ever so quietly and lovingly, did the same with her husband.

"The poor old darling!" she said on her return to the living room, "He was really excited about today too! But he's been so busy at work these last few weeks; and it's really in-your-face stuff in that treasury area. He's tired as anything!"

Lucy endeared herself to all by commenting that she thought he 'must be tired or something' but that he was 'really sweet' anyway.

"Well, yes; but he does have his off days!" Jane answered philosophically.

Rob's comment about the bathroom caused little offence but did open up conversation about the possibility of a Bentley move from the Castle Avenue house to something a bit bigger. It was a subject Jon and Annie had been talking about on-and-off for a few months - having developed a touch of envy about people with en-suites, walk-in wardrobes, enough bedrooms for an occasional guest as well as a growing child \- and a bath. Though the Cheltenham house was beautiful, it wasn't big and it was becoming increasingly impractical.

In the very late afternoon, Jon, Annie, Jane and Lucy rolled Rick and Oscar out for a long slow walk in nearby parkland as Rob slept on.

Full of remorse, he rejoined the fray after the others had long finished their walk and as Jon had started to talk about a toasted sandwich and a cup of tea.

With Lucy's departure, the passing of the silly season and the move into 1998, Annie and Jane teamed up to make an assault on the job market.

For Annie it was easy. She reconnected with Dom and Françoise, who had Tuesday - or Tuesday and Wednesday - work available at Emile's on a fairly regular basis; and she re-signed horrible Ben for year-twelve French tuition. By March she had also snared two year-twelve girls for French tuition, thanks to a glowing recommendation from Ben's mum and support from a local teacher.

Though Jane's job took a little longer to find, it fitted-in perfectly. She did hold-the-fort duties on Mondays at a local real estate agency. Occupationally she was a good all-rounder and quickly settled to be a valuable casual at the agency.

The two, of course, did regular baby transfers to facilitate the external work activities.

With the commencement of the new year, Jon – who was sometimes irreverently referred to as Vincent van Bentley by his spouse – signed-up for more art classes and bought the HSC set art books to do a bit of informal study on the subject when time permitted.

And, in Brisbane, Lee signed-up for another year of her accounting diploma course – which she was enjoying and romping through with ease.

At work, in the normal course, Jon met with Bill Reynolds and Eric Miller at half-past-ten on Fridays. It had become a routine. Though the meetings were usually finished within the hour; they sometimes drifted out further, which gave them an opportunity to have a sandwich and a beer together. There was nothing too formal about the meetings; they were all about exchanging information.

The meeting on 20 March wasn't much different to most others; it started right on time and ran to time.

But, towards its expected close, it took an unusual twist.

"Well Jon, if you want to give that Hargraves bugger the flick, just do it!" Bill said, "If you're not comfortable about the business itself or his capacity to front up with the money; tell him to jump! Fair enough?"

"Yep. I'll give him a call this afternoon!"

Jon made a quick note in his diary.

"So, we're done?" he then asked his seniors.

"Not quite!" Bill answered, "The old bloke here needs to have his two-bob's worth!"

Jon looked across to Eric who, for the first time ever at work, had been referred to as 'the old bloke'.

"Jon, I just wanted to let you know that I've decided to take long service leave. I'll be finishing up at the end of the month." Eric announced quietly.

"What a great move; that's terrific!" Jon responded, "Are you going away for a while for a real holiday?"

"Yep; and it's not going to be one of those silly bloody campervan trips to the Alice and Darwin and all that. Dot and I have arranged a house swap with a nice couple in Copenhagen for a month; and then we're planning a month in Italy – probably mainly in Florence."

"Fantastic! That's the stuff!" Jon replied.

And then he thought about the office set-up.

"How long are you taking, Eric? When will you get back?"

"We'll be overseas for about eleven weeks all up, I guess!"

"No; I meant back to work!"

Eric smiled and leaned forward to his closest and, by then, third longest standing colleague.

"I'm not coming back, son; not to the old job anyway! Bill wants me to do some pottering around in the superannuation area with some of the bigger do-it-yourself people and the corporates; and that's got appeal. But I'm deserting the old team; I won't be back in the corner office!"

Jon maintained a happy face and cheerful conversation for his old friend's sake. There was no point served in letting the real reaction show through! And Eric maintained a happy face and cheerful conversation for his man from Brisbane. Why, he was off the leash; a free man at last. It couldn't be an unhappy experience, could it?

The three had a very expensive lunch at a top restaurant, amid much merriment – some spontaneous and genuine and some contrived for the occasion. For Jon it was a strange experience.

When he got home that night, Annie spotted his uneasiness soon after their initial greetings.

"That's not a good Friday night look, Muss! What's on your mind?"

"Eric's retiring. I just found out about it today." he answered.

"Oh, the lucky thing. I'll bet he's pleased about that."

"I guess so!"

"He wasn't pushed, was he?" Annie asked.

"Oh no! He says it's just time to go! He says he's had enough!"

"Well, that's nothing to be sad about. And he'll be around if you want to see him, won't he?"

"Yeah. He's going overseas for a while; but he'll be around after that. It's just that I've got so used to working with him. And he's a good egg too."

Jon prattled off a few nostalgic stories about the good old days and the bad old days with Eric as Annie started to cook some chicken and chop-up bits and pieces of vegetables for a pita bread 'roly-poly' dinner.

"So who's taking his place; have they told you that yet?" Annie asked, after about five minutes of corporate reminiscences.

"I am!" he said absentmindedly.

"Jon, that's marvellous; that's really wonderful! Why didn't you tell me that at the beginning?"

"I just started at the other end of the story, I suppose." he answered vaguely.

"It's going to be a little bit different to Eric's old job. There's a bit more too it, I think. Bill wants me to get involved with our internal systems and hose-down the war between the blokes who look after all that and the IT consulting blokes. They've been at each others throats for years."

"Muss, that's fantastic!"

"They're going to call me a senior associate too, apparently."

"What does that mean?" Annie asked, as she turned back to dinner preparations.

"I don't know really. Maybe I'll get a star on my door and an electric pencil sharpener. I might even get a slave to take out the plastic coffee cups with the fungus growing inside." he answered, before lapsing into a brief period of boyish laughter.

"And will they pay you some more too?" Annie asked innocently.

"Yeah. But there are all sorts of options available with that. I'll have to have a look at it all on the weekend sometime."

Annie looked around to see if her husband was about to go into a chest beating routine about newfound riches and his career elevation. She thought that might be normal.

But no! Not her Jon!

He had, in fact, got hold of a small sharp knife and was doing some skilful surgery along the perforation lines on a few biscuits – so they would break into even halves for a pre-dinner nibble. And, while deep in concentration on that important task, he again started to talk about Eric and what it might be like without him in the office.

On the dais, with the trophy in his hand, he really was strangely coy or incredibly innocent or somehow elsewhere.

In mid-June 1998, after a lot of discussion about when they might put the Cheltenham house on the market and where they might move, Jon happened on an 'open for inspection' sign for a Beaumaris property as he was driving to The Concourse shops late on a Saturday morning. He decided to have a look at the house from the street, just for the hell of it.

It was an interesting modern two-level place in a quiet location – close enough to shops, schools and transport. So he got out for a closer look from the front gate. Then he went inside to check it out a bit more thoroughly.

And he rather liked it!

He asked the agent whether it would be possible for his wife to have a look at the place, explaining that Annie could probably be on site in ten or fifteen minutes. But that wasn't to be! The agent was about to toss his signs in the boot and head off for another open house.

Jon took a business card from the fellow and departed for the shops and thence home.

Late that afternoon he took Annie and Rick – and legal adviser, Murray - to see the house from the outside. All were impressed except Rick, who was in one of those squirmy moods and couldn't be settled.

After a bit of legal and financial talk on the footpath, Murray grabbed the bull by the horns and phoned the agent to ask for a special viewing. This initial request was obviously declined but Murray stuck with it, walking down the street with his mobile for the sake of conversation privacy. No one ever really found out what Murray said that afternoon, but the agent dutifully turned up about fifteen minutes after the call to take them through for a look.

It was a nice place all right, very nice!

On the Monday, Jon took a few hours off and arranged for the family – plus Oscar – to have another look. And the aftermath of that visit set his ambitions in stone.

"Oh Jon, it's beautiful; I really love it!" Annie said to him on the way home in the car, "But we'd have to go right out to Whoop-Whoop to afford something like that; wouldn't we?"

"I'm not sure really!" he said, shrugging his shoulders.

On the Monday night, Rob and Murray were brought in to help devise a plan to buy the beast despite the fact he'd not yet sold the Cheltenham house.

By the Thursday, the plan was in place and a contract signed for the purchase of the new place at Edith Street, Beaumaris. And Jane's agency was signed up to auction the old place.

The deal – which was a bit nerve-racking even for Jon – involved a long contract for Beaumaris, a quick auction and shorter contract for Cheltenham, an increased home loan facility and a last-resort bridging finance facility in case everything fell in a heap.

Though Rob may have been able to speed-up banking matters, there were no favours given here. Jon had a modest current housing loan and good reliable earning capacity. Apart from that, he'd made a few lucky or brilliant investment decisions in the early nineties - decisions driven by a depressing want to be rich in the absence of anything more fulfilling on his horizon. Over a two-year period, he had managed to accumulate a swag of National Australia Bank and ANZ shares, using savings and borrowed money. He got most of the National shares at reasonable prices and most of the ANZ shares at fire sale prices.

In mid-1998 his balance sheet, with supporting superannuation and insurance, was described by his banker friend Rob as 'very bloody strong'.

The nerve-racking deal went too well. At a figure a bit above his reserve, Jon let the Cheltenham place go before auction to a young couple who wanted a very short contract; while the vendors at Beaumaris wanted to sit out their ninety days to get them to their departure date for a move overseas.

The adventure cost Jon a family stay in an apartment; storage fees for furniture and all; and a whopping establishment fee for a bridging loan that was never drawn. It was peculiar good luck.

But the Beaumaris house was a triumph. It was everything they wanted.

On the upper level there was a master bedroom with study, library and en-suite. Then, along a walkway from that mum and dad area, were two smaller bedrooms and a main bathroom. Happily, the en-suite and main bathroom both had bathtubs. Beneath the master bedroom area was a good size lounge-dining room; and beneath the smaller bedrooms were a granny flat affair with toilet and shower and a laundry. A large kitchen, servery and television room were located in the centre area of the lower level. The main garage, which was an integral part of the construction, was accessible via the laundry door.

The place had been built about five years earlier by the vendor who was an engineer - a fastidious engineer with an interest in quality, to boot. It was very solid and well thought out!

All that needed to be done in the house proper was replacement of trendy stainless steel cable with panels around internal balconies and stairways, so that Rick wouldn't fall from the upper to the lower level or remove a limb while manoeuvring into place for such a sky dive. And a bit of new furniture was needed to fill in some gaps and make the whole place as functional as possible.

But, from the outset, Jon – being Jon – showed as much interest in the old brick garage at the side of the house as in the house itself. In his view, it had enormous potential. When they first moved in, he'd go and look at this dusty, cobwebbed storage outpost every second night then go back to Annie bright-eyed and purring about his plans to turn it into a studio or den or snooker parlour or some other damned thing. Though what was to happen out there was a moving target, thoughts about its restoration satisfied some inner need in Jon to do something independently daring by way of design; a replacement for that Cheltenham bathroom, maybe.

But his plans for the old garage, his art studies, his work - and Annie's patisserie duties, coaching and all – were set aside in late September for a big holiday that was in the planning well before they even looked at the house at Beaumaris. They were off to rediscover two resorts, which were a source of happy memories for them both – Caloundra on the Sunshine Coast and, of course, Port Macquarie.

Though the Newell Highway drive north with little Rick on board wasn't pure bliss, Caloundra was! The drive for the tourist dollar, enthusiastic local council face lifts and new building works hadn't managed to ruin its fundamental appeal. It was still nice and slow; it was beautiful. The archetypal grandpa, with his baggy shorts and old leather sandals, was still there on King's Beach being harassed by the kids; and grandma was still there too, in her blue and white loose cotton sundress and floppy straw hat, popping the tops off cold drinks and unwrapping egg and lettuce sandwiches taken from a dilapidated picnic esky. They were all on King's beach - the old ones, middle-aged ones, teens and tiny new ones in their colourful coverall swimwear, bushies and city dwellers together. The family was still there!

They stayed at Caloundra ten nights, which allowed Lee – renamed Lee-Lee by Rick - to drive up and stay for two full weekends. They then stayed three nights in Brisbane to catch up with Lana, Cam and other northern friends.

And the southern part of the holiday was every bit as good as the Queensland part. They stayed in a brand new unit just near Frank and Sylvia's place for six nights then at an Armidale motel for two before making their way back to Melbourne.

This, their first real full size holiday, was a great success. It was very relaxing and provided opportunities to get back closer to Lee and all the Bentley troupe on an easy casual basis without the need to rush things.

Some weeks after their return, the best result of the holiday was confirmed. Annie was expecting a second baby. Given good fortune, the Bentleys of Beaumaris would number four in July 1999.

As exciting as this was, it didn't get in the way of their hard work and routines. And it certainly didn't get in the way of Jon's garage project. By mid-December 1998 - with the help of Murray and some tradesmen - he had jacked-up and re-fastened the old ceiling, replaced the old tilt door with full-length sliding glass doors and insect screens, rendered inside and out, re-roofed and re-painted to match the house, and covered the floor inside with a rusty coloured tough synthetic carpet bought from a client floor covering firm that always had some off-cuts and imperfect stock at the right price.

Having done all that, Jon planted ivy to grow all over one recently rendered and painted wall then planted a row of shrubs a few metres in front of the sliding glass doors. The placement of the ivy and shrubs seemed odd, of course; but so was the whole project, according to everyone except Jon.

The old garage renovation was watched with interest by the pleasant couple next door – Malcolm and Hal. And, as the works progressed, they became quite good friends with Jon, Annie and Rick. They even unlocked the gate between the houses for the first time in the three years they'd been at Beaumaris. Malcolm was a suave retired career public servant; and Hal was a nothing-close-to-suave retired larrikin.

The two doted on Rick, who learned quickly about the rewards for rattling their gate and yelling out 'boys' to attract their attention. They always had a good supply of milk, fresh juice, fruit and Weight Watchers biscuits to fend of his pangs of hunger.

'Boys', of course, derived from Jon and Annie's habit of referring to them as 'the boys next door', which, oddly, they took a shine to. With self-introductions at the Bentley's place, Hal would usually refer to himself as 'one of the boys next door'; and his visits via the gate in the fence would be heralded by 'It's just one of the boys!' or something similar. Malcolm used the expression less frequently; but he used it!

In Rob and Jane's absence, the Bentleys had Christmas lunch with the boys at their home. It was an interesting introduction to Malcolm's exquisite cooking and Hal's unbelievable wine collection - that had its own specially insulated and air-conditioned room.

In early 1999, Annie picked up some more coaching work - this time two secondary school French students, one secondary school Japanese student and one first year university Japanese student who came courtesy of one of her yapping partners. The university girl, Jill, was a top ranking languages student at school and was hell bent on staying number one. Strangely, she turned out to be as challenging for Annie as the three slower ones. She provided an interesting lesson for the teacher.

By March, Jon's old garage project was bedded down. The area had become his studio and Rick's games room. It had also become an escape for the likes of Murray and Rob and Hal who'd visit sometimes for a coldie on Saturday or Sunday afternoons.

The old garage wasn't another 'Jon's folly' bathroom exercise at all, and even his loudest earlier critics had to admit he'd done a sensible thing with the space. Everyone admitted that his shrubs would look beautiful in the afternoon sunlight when they got a bit bigger; everyone admitted it was a great place for Rick to do all those wonderful messy things that boys have to do. Everyone admitted it was a perfect little respite area.

And Jon was painting there; he'd found his hobby and was really involved in it. He was partial to trees and shrubs, particularly Melbourne bay side subjects. For some reason he liked painting those strange wind-bent small trees with the shaggy rough bark - and the foliage that flushes greenish in spring but matures to something bluer and greyer as the growth year progresses and reaches colour and texture perfection against the sombre backdrop of mid-winter.

It's as well he'd found a peaceful hobby for three or four hours a week; he was destined to need the distraction.

In May that year, he was summoned to play a pivotal role in a merger with Craig and Associates – a firm that seemed to fit perfectly with ART Kingston in both Melbourne and Sydney. It was a merger of his basic design, so the powers-that-be decided he should have a major say in guiding it into place. He was given a gruelling workload that was to be his burden for many months.

About eight weeks after the merger job started - on Monday 19 July 1999 - Jon caught a flight to Sydney to meet with tax and audit people from Craig and Associates. At about four that afternoon he got a call from Annie to say she'd retrieved Jane from the real estate agency and was about to relinquish Oscar and Rick so she could go to St Vincents. The baby, who they knew to be a girl - Laura Margaret, in fact – had decided to make her debut about a week early.

Jon got the first available flight and arrived at St Vincents at about eight o'clock that night. And Laura arrived a mere three hours later.

The difference between Rick's birth and Laura's was amazing. With the former, Annie was in control but not in-the-know; with the latter, she had both things going for her. When Jon arrived for the second birth, he found his usually placid wife hissing and growling like an old cat; and looking very determined, almost ferocious. She was going to give birth and she told him in no uncertain terms how she was going to do it.

This electric atmosphere of determination lasted till the actual delivery; which was a short, but indescribable, burst of female energy and sheer muscle power.

And then, the great heights of human effort and pain immediately gave way to even greater heights of human adoration. There were no bright lights, no clanking stainless implements, no tubes, no clever electronic gadgets and no staff this time. Those things were just background blur. And there were no inhibitions at all.

The world was Laura, Annie, Jon – and, in absentia, little Rick. And, for a sensibly long time there at St Vincents, the universe stopped still for them to savour their triumph.

Within an hour of the birth, the triumph and the joy soured. Laura was fine; but Annie was not. For no obvious reason, some fundamentals – particularly blood pressure – started to go awry.

Though there was no sign of alarm, Jon noticed a discernable change of mood amongst the staff. They were quieter, more observant – concerned. After putting Annie 'on a drip', there was muffled staff talk about her being shifted 'over to the ward'.

Annie – who described her condition as 'tired beyond belief' – was an awful colour, sweating profusely and only semi-coherent when awake.

For Jon, it was very worrying. He sat there with her measuring every breath and watching every tiny movement between the frequent nursing staff observation visits. He held Annie's left hand with his left hand and fidgeted with the call buzzer device with his right for just about the entire night.

As dawn started to break, a senior middle-aged female nurse came into the room with a young male doctor. The doctor introduced himself to Jon and chatted about nothing much for a minute as the nurse went through her observation routine.

It wasn't till the doctor read the observation data and went over to Annie's right hand side that Jon felt some relief.

"That's-a-girl! That's more like it!" the doctor said, as he moved her hand a bit to wake her.

Annie attempted a smile.

"I feel so terrible if I try to lift my head off the pillow. It's awful." she said to him, "I'm absolutely buggered!"

"Well, that's about my diagnosis too!" he said quietly, "But we're going to keep a close eye on you for a while anyway - just to make sure everything's okay."

By about eleven o'clock in the morning, Annie was starting to look a bit better and sound a bit brighter. She could sit up for a short time too, without going on a nauseating spin-out.

And by two in the afternoon, she was pretty well back in charge. Jon was still there with her; and Laura – the most beautiful little baby on earth - was there too. All seemed okay again!

Jon finally left her room at about three to make his phone calls.

Only Jane found out exactly what had gone on; and only Jane was encouraged to visit. She went to St Vincents after work, with a beautiful bunch of flowers and some fresh clothes for Jon. She was welcomed like a sister - which was very reasonable. That's about how the relationship was.

Annie went home after a slightly longer than usual stay in the hospital; and Lee flew in from Brisbane the following day for a five day visit. Lee did a wonderful job keeping Rick distracted and entertained; but, again, she was a bit boisterous and noisy for the others.

After Annie had been home from hospital about three weeks, she came down with some sort of flu or virus that kept her in bed for quite a few days - and generally weakened for a few weeks. It was an awful period.

During this difficult time, Jon did his best to take care of the family but had to go to work for at least four or five hours on most days to keep the occupational ship afloat.

Somewhat surprisingly for Annie, meaningful and sensitive help turned up from Murray – of all people - who was, at the time, in a hate phase of his career love-hate relationship.

Without once letting his silly pompous façade slip, he dispensed support in lavish quantities. He introduced Annie to his favourite CDs, his favourite books of short stories and a number of light midday snacks – all of which he immodestly tagged 'no better food at any price'.

And he kept Rick entertained for countless hours at home and on interesting outings.

The exercise served to explain Jon's hitherto not-well-understood loyalty towards Murray; and, at long last, expand Annie's group of really close friends by the inclusion of one odd barrister.

By the close of a very busy 1999, the new combined Chartered firm, Kingston & Craig, was an operating reality in Melbourne and Sydney. Bill Reynolds, who retained the managing partner job in the south, was well pleased with the merger implementation and with the re-vamped Melbourne partner group that succeeded the old teams.

Correctly, in his view, the Kingston & Craig group included some clever and highly educated new young members as well as a respected forty-two-year-old stalwart of many campaigns – Jon Bentley.

Though Jon may not have been the most brilliant of the new group, he was easily the most comfortable in the new role. He figured his specialty was making businesses work properly and that being a partner was not all that much more than an in-house utilisation of the specialty.

While some flapped about with self-promotion and the marketing of their particular business units, Jon was grateful for the opportunity to continue studying the bigger picture and work towards across-the-board efficiency and service quality. It quickly became obvious that he would be an effective partner in addition to being a sound manager of the firm's consulting arms in Melbourne.

In his day-to-day career, Jon continued with a 'lighter' approach - partly because it was suggested he do so by the managing partner and partly because he'd been freed-up from enormous quantities of detailed work. As a senior, most of his detailed work was to do with generic research, which he enjoyed and did thoroughly as a matter of course.

Ironically, with delegation and disciplinary matters he firmed a touch – through necessity and with the unwitting help of his spouse. By nature, Annie didn't suffer fools gladly and - given the right circumstances - would deliver any aspiring adversary a quick poke-in-the-eye just to establish who was boss. That was the way she did business! Though intuitively kind, and completely devoted to family and friends, she could be a real pocket battleship under provocation out on the open seas.

And Jon, being sensible in the extreme, copied her style to great effect.

So, at the close of the millennium, Jon had matters occupational thoroughly under control.

But home was a bit different!

It was fortuitous that Jon Bentley - diligent and respected partner at Kingston and Craig – never harboured thoughts about settling peacefully in dozy suburbia as fate had plotted a different course. It had determined he should become embroiled in some special turmoil to offset the quiet order of his prolonged bachelor days.

In truth, his home-sweet-home developed into something of a madhouse - with videos and music playing, telephones ringing, friends and neighbours dropping-in and chatting and noisy children playing virtually from dawn to dusk.

And Jon loved it all! For him, comfort came packaged with the chaos. He'd found his way!

Holding court at the centre of the domestic mayhem was one Laura Bentley – more often known by then as Raa, a name that Rick seized-on after a series of deliberate two syllable corrections to his lazy 'Lawa' pronunciation.

Though Laura – Raa - didn't directly contribute to the chaos, she was responsible for a lot of background noise by others. She was so quiet and peaceful, people of all ages chatted with her all the time, presumably to remind themselves she was actually still present and awake. And Raa didn't answer back all that often, which was a real plus.

By any measure, Raa – Annie's tiny look-alike – was a beautiful child!

Rick, on the other hand, was a bit grubby, boisterous and noisy.

But, to his parents' great delight, he was an outdoors man; and nothing pleased him more than a ball game or a chasey game in the nearby park.

In these pursuits, he had the good fortune of being his mother's own son; and – admittedly for selfish parental reasons – she would often run him ragged in the late afternoon so that he would appreciate a nice bath, a whopping big meal and a timely departure for bed.

Even though he'd started to show early signs of his father's - and 'uncle' Rob's - inclination towards off-beat humour, he was a lovely boy. And apart from all else, he was very alert and showed early signs of having a kindly nature and an intuitive understanding of his little social network.

And Annie was in her element. Busy as busy could be – but in her element. In 1999 she added share market watching and yoga to her long list of activities; which still included Latin and coaching. By necessity, tennis had been downgraded a bit as it was very time consuming.

Annie's life was rich and full.

By the close of 1999, the Jon and Annie team was stronger than ever. With luck and skill they had welded the type of partnership that most dream of and few achieve. There was love and affection aplenty – as well as tolerance, pride, sharing and honesty at the highest human level.

The powerful magnetism that put them together held them together.

At the close of the millennium, Frank and Sylvia were doing well up at Port Macquarie. Though in generally good health, Frank had developed 'a bit of rust' in the joints of his fingers – an ailment believed to be a touch of arthritis. It was a minor annoyance only, however, and didn't get in the way of a game of bowls and fishing.

And, in Brisbane, Lee was doing very well. She was all but finished her accounting diploma and was ensconced in a new job as deputy financial controller with a fair-size manufacturing outfit at Whinstanes.

After a very long stay, she'd sold the unit at Clayfield and bought a comfortable freestanding town house – with its own little patio and garden area – at The Grange.

No, that's not quite right!

In truth, Lee had bought a comfortable freestanding town house at a suburb called Grange - a place name too simple by half for those meddling Brisbaners, with their penchant for re-christening locations to confuse the unaware.

Lee's relationship with the Bentley seniors continued to flourish and her relationship with Annie was as close as close could be. Blemishes from the past were set aside and forgotten. All was well!

Sadly, this was not quite so with Lee and Jon. For no particular reason, a page of their history book seemed occasionally to flap open and a tiny intermittent relationship flaw persisted.

* * *

### 16.

The trips from the southern suburbs to the airport at Tullamarine varied tremendously. Sometimes they went like clockwork and sometimes they were frenetic and nerve-wracking.

Annie's journey out in the afternoon of Friday 14 July 2000 wasn't one of the good ones.

"Rick; Rick sweetheart. Don't poke at her like that." she said, after again quickly checking the welfare of her offspring in the rear view mirror at about the halfway point of the journey, "You know she always goes to sleep in the car. She's happy just sleeping there. Don't disturb her."

"But what happens if she's asleep when Lee-Lee comes on the plane?"

"Don't worry about it, pet. She'll wake up when she's ready!"

There was a short break in the conversation as the Wiggles CD played away for the thousandth time.

"Mummy..."

"Yesie..."

"Lee-Lee didn't come down for my birthday, did she?"

"No Rick, she didn't! But she can't come down for every birthday. It's a long way, it's very expensive and she has to go to work; you know - like Dad."

Though Rick seemed happy enough with the explanation, Annie wasn't happy with the entertainment.

"Sweetie, I'm going to turn the Wiggles off for a little while now. I'd like to put one of my CDs on, if that's all right."

This wasn't really a question. And, in any case, the Wiggles were off and something more soothing on before Rick had time to collect his wits about the matter.

Not for the first time in this type of circumstance, Annie's thoughts drifted a bit back to Brisbane and the spring of 1992 as she drove towards Melbourne's northern fringe. She didn't invite the thoughts in; they just turned-up.

She'd think of that handsome Jon Bentley making his early appearances at home; she'd think of Lee putting her make-up on ever so carefully when they were to see him; and she'd think of Lee's chatter when a meeting with him was planned. But, most of all, she'd think of the amusing and animated conversations that Jon and Lee had – conversations between kindred spirits; conversations between people who understood each other properly.

And she'd again lament the loss of that sparkle and spontaneity between the two she adored so much.

Then she'd try to force the thoughts aside and get rid of them.

But they never went away quickly or completely.

Though the relationship malignancy between Jon and Lee had long since been removed, scar tissue – occasionally numb and occasionally itchy – seemed to remain. Though they were obviously very close, and though they obviously tried to recreate the atmosphere of the good old days, something had remained askew. And their efforts to be as before seemed always to fall short of the mark – disappointing imitations of the real thing.

This wasn't a matter that disturbed Annie greatly; it was pretty much a peripheral thing. She was more concerned about it disturbing Jon and Lee. She always felt a tiny bit anxious for them.

It was an irritating blemish she wished would just go away - for good.

"Mum, is Lee-Lee coming on a red plane or a blue one?"

"It's a red one this time!"

"Great!"

Annie was certain he favoured Ansett the previous time; but it wasn't a subject worth pursuing. Rick could be a bit verbose on the subjects of aircraft - and birds. Flight fascinated him.

After battling the traffic and glare a while longer, Annie parked at the airport and they went into the terminal. Laura had woken up – sort of – for the occasion.

"Okay. Now on the screen it says Lee-Lee will be here in about ten minutes so we'll sit down over there on a comfortable chair, eh?"

Rick nodded in agreement and they sat down to wait.

"Now mister, I want you to listen carefully to what I'm going to say because it's pretty important. Okay."

Rick nodded again.

"Sweetheart, it's about that Chinese face you do when you see Lee-Lee. Now I know it used to make her laugh a lot, but I don't think you should keep doing it. It was all right when you were very little; but I think you're getting a bit big to do it now. Okay."

"But Mum..."

"No; no Rick. I really don't want you to do it any more. You could upset Lee-Lee – and other people too."

The young man took the message on board with particularly bad grace and reverted to poking at his sleepy sister by way of revenge.

Within a short time, the red plane was parked and passengers started to enter the terminal via the air bridge. And Rick was champing at the bit with excitement.

Then, at last, the very favourite happy boisterous Lee-Lee appeared amongst the crowd – and young Rick bolted towards her.

"Well, well, well! What a treat! My little Chinese man's come out to the airport to meet me!" she called in a fairly loud voice as she simultaneously dropped her handbag and knelt down to greet him.

Rick, of course, immediately put on his well-practiced – and totally ridiculous - Chinese face.

"Aw, shit Mum!" Annie muttered under her breath, as her mother and son mauled each other in a good old clinch.

Over a period of maybe five minutes, the other greetings were attended to before they all set off for the baggage collection area.

"Now Mum," Annie said quietly, "I was trying to get Rick to stop that Chinese face stuff. And then you turn up and encourage him again."

"Oh, don't be silly pet." she answered, "He's just beautiful when he does it!"

Annie got a bit sterner about the subject matter.

"I know it's funny, Mum; but I can't let it go on forever. What happens if he does it when you're standing next to Chinese people? That'd be pretty embarrassing!"

And Lee firmed up in response.

"Annie, really; don't be so silly! I'm sure they'd think he was beautiful! I'm sure Chinese people are basically just the same as us."

It's as well there weren't any adult witnesses to this exchange – particularly Lee's piece of multicultural benevolence. The whole thing represented a major trashing of reasonable perception, given that most senior of this family group would have slotted quite nicely into Little Bourke Street, Melbourne – or Wickham Street, Brisbane or Thomas Street, Sydney for that matter.

By the time they were in the car and driving southward, the standard of conversation had regained some poise.

"Now how is – God, what's her name \- the nice girl from Armidale... your niece."

"Lucy!" Annie inserted helpfully.

"Yes, Lucy. How's she getting on down here? She did end up getting that good job in the public service, didn't she?"

"Yeah, that was a few months ago now." Annie replied, "She's good as gold. We see quite a bit of her; she pops in most weekends. Marg and Doug have been down a few times since she's been here too."

"And what about my friend Jane; is she good? And little Oscar and Robbie – are they okay?"

"No problems! They're all fine!"

Rick tired fairly quickly of the news updates and drifted off to sleep by the time they were driving past the inner northern suburbs. Laura was properly awake by then, but entertaining herself quietly by trying to remove the little red felt tongue from the face of her smaller bear Albert.

Lee looked around for a second to check on them.

"Oh they're lovely kids, Annie; really beautiful!"

Annie turned momentarily to her left and poked a silly face before responding.

"Your Chinese man can be a handful sometimes. But Miss Prim over there; well, I think maybe there is a God. She's such a good-natured little thing!"

Lee went into thinking mode for a minute.

"Are you going to go for the hat trick, sweetheart?" she asked in a quiet voice, "Are you going to try for a fair one?"

Annie didn't need a minute to respond.

"I don't know, Mum. My little brain's been thinking a bit about teaching lately."

"Well, that'd suit too!" Lee answered quickly - trying to scurry away from her somewhat over-personal question.

"I can just see Mrs Bentley up there in front of the French class at one of those posh schools down your way. That'd suit you down to the ground!"

"Give us a break, Mum." Annie replied laughingly.

"Well, it would!"

"I'm not so sure about that at all. In fact, I've been thinking more about the state system. And I've been thinking about the slower kids - the ones who've got problems. I've got a funny inkling I'd be much happier working with the ones who really need a hand."

Lee raised her eyebrows.

"No, truly Mum. I've got a friend, Robyn, who does this sort of work; and she's really devoted to it and she loves it. She's such a nice girl! She says I'd be a shoe-in for a job – you know, with my degrees and having my own kids and everything. I'd have to do a bit more study; but that'd be all right. It wouldn't take too long."

Lee thought about the concept for a while.

"So you want to go back down the tough end of the street again, eh?"

"I don't think it'd be tough." Annie replied, "And I think it could be more interesting. I've coached a few slower ones from schools near our place; and you should see their faces light up when they finally find they can do something. It's really great! It's sort of less teaching and more giving them confidence. It's great!"

Again, there was a lull in conversation for a short time – till Lee took a geographical bearing.

"Ah, trams! I'm in Melbourne all right! I didn't think we were going to see any. You don't see as much from this new road do you?"

"No, but it's much faster now!"

"Anyhow, how is work going, Mum? Has it settled down again?" Annie asked.

"Everything's fine now; really good! Look, for the first time since I-don't-know-when, I can actually leave the office and relax and forget all about it. We put on this new girl a couple of months ago, and she really knows what she's doing. She's terrific with the payroll work; never misses a trick!"

"Arnold was so good when that other one walked out. He just rolled up his sleeves and really pitched-in. And with the recruiting... well, he just knew exactly how to handle it."

Annie needed a bit of clarification.

"Arnold's the new boss who started earlier in the year, isn't he?" she asked.

"That's right, the financial controller. Anyhow, I asked him whether he wanted me to phone the agency or put an ad in the paper for a new girl; and, he said, 'Find out who runs the agency and we'll go and talk to him; we'll go and tell him exactly what we're looking for and lay it on the line.'"

"I told him about the cost of getting someone through the agency; and he said, 'Forget about that. We're going to get the right person to do the job; the money will look after itself when we've done that!'"

"And he was right, you know! The place is really starting to run properly since he got this girl in and made a few other changes."

"That's wonderful, Mum." Annie replied.

"Oh, before I forget." she went on, "Did you get that brochure I sent you about recessed lighting for the lounge room?"

"Yes I did! Thanks for that pet. And I've made the decision; I'm going for the new little lights. They're much easier to install apparently; and they're cheaper to run too."

"Good! We're happy with them!" Annie replied with a smile.

Lee continued with Brisbane domestic matters.

"Incidentally, I got that paved area out the back tidied up last weekend."

"How did you do that? You didn't try to do it on your own, did you?"

"No; no way! Actually, Arnold sent his eldest boy over to give me a hand. Very nice young bloke called Andy – or Anders really, if you want to get technical. Anders Svenssen, for God's sake!"

"Sounds pretty Scandinavian to me!" Annie commented.

"Australian Scandinavian! But you got it! Arnold came out from Stockholm quite a few years ago now; but he was born in Denmark, I think."

Lee chuckled a bit for a few seconds.

"When I told him I was going to fix up the patio, he said, 'I'll lend you my big horse to help, if you like.' I had no idea he was talking about Andy, of course; I didn't have a clue what he was talking about. And he looked so serious when he said it."

"But he's like that; he'll often start off the stupidest conversation with a deadly serious expression. It sounds silly, I know; but it can be very funny."

Conversation about plans for the weekend, Annie's pupils, Jon's work, Jon's painting and Beaumaris domestic matters ensued till they arrived home. And when they did arrive home, Rick woke in a particularly grumpy frame of mind, having been allowed to fall asleep when something interesting may have been happening.

But Lee fixed him up quickly by letting him help her unpack and letting him distribute small gifts that had been carefully transported from far-distant Brisbane – city of mystique and home of jolly grandmother of interesting Eurasian appearance.

Jane and Oscar breezed in for a quick chat at about half-past-five and Jon arrived home from work at about half-past-six. He took over dinner preparations while the girls attended to the needs of small children.

Jon served up at about quarter-past-seven.

"Lee, are you going to break the habit of a lifetime and have a red? I've got a nice one open; I think you'd like it!"

"Why not? Thanks Jon. But don't fill me up too much; I'm watching my weight, you know!"

When Jon had sat down at the table, Annie reiterated an apology made by phone the previous Wednesday.

"Mum, I'm sorry we're going to desert you tomorrow night for a while. We couldn't get anyone to stand-in. Jon's offsider Dennis is away and we said we'd go to this darned thing – so we'd better do it."

"Don't even think about it!" Lee replied, "I'm the one who changed, remember. I wasn't supposed to arrive till Sunday."

"And anyway, I could think of worse things than having a good play with the kids. I'm looking forward to it."

She laughed for a bit.

"I'm going to get Rick to give me the dirt on you two while you're out of earshot. I'll work on him and he'll tell me the truth; you'll see!"

"Mum, we'll make up for it on Sunday when Jane and Rob and the others come over. Oh, Lucy's coming too; I forgot to tell you before. She's looking forward to seeing you again."

"It's going to be big, Lee." Jon explained, "Murray's going to do a Spanish seafood risotto or something – I forget what you call it; and I'm doing one of my famous fruit salads."

"Well, don't go to any special trouble for me because of tomorrow night. I'll be fine! You've got to do what you've got to do; I know that!"

The evening slipped away pleasantly enough and they turned in by about eleven.

On the Saturday morning Lee, Annie and the kids went to Prahran while Jon did the real shopping locally. And in the afternoon, they all went to St Kilda to look at the sights, say hello to Dom and Françoise at Emile's and buy an ice cream – despite the weather.

It wasn't till Jon and Annie were getting ready for their unavoidable Saturday evening office function that they had a bit of time to themselves.

"How much does she reckon she's lost, Abe?"

"Well she's a bit coy about all that. She says 'a few kilograms'."

"It's got to be a bloody lot more than 'a few'." Jon replied, "I can't remember her looking like this before; never! Is she going to a gym or something?"

"I don't think so, precious. She hasn't said anything about it anyway."

"Umm; it's amazing! It's a big change." Jon mused, as he sat on the bed to put his shoes and socks on.

"Jon..." Annie said in a soft voice.

He looked up at her; and she looked down at him with a wide-eyed expression that usually preceded a bit of gossip.

"I think there's a man up there in Brisbane!" she said quietly, but in a singsong sort of style.

"You think so? Why's that?"

"And I'll bet you, here and now, that it's the boss; the financial controller fella, Arnold."

"Did she tell you?" Jon asked seriously.

"No! But I'm getting signals!" Annie replied, holding her partly clenched fists up at her temples and wiggling her index fingers.

"Well, you might be right!" Jon said, as he went back to his shoes and socks job.

"Better than 'might be'; they're pretty strong signals. There's a lot of Arnold in the air! Wife left him in the lurch about seven years ago; dreadful woman; nice house at Wilston; two nice sons; blah, blah, blah. Jon, I think she's snared a Viking!"

"A Viking? Where's he from?"

"Sweden or Denmark – or both or something. I didn't quite get that part."

"Ah, zis coult be a goot sing!" Jon commented foolishly.

And Annie responded in kind.

"Zis coult be, my luff!"

"Anyway, I'm going to find out all about it in the next day or so! I'll get it out of her!" she added, before turning towards the dressing table and looking down at the clock.

"God, look at the time! Barbara's going to be here in a few minutes; and she's never late! Come on Muss; shake a leg."

Annie rushed downstairs where Lee was holding court with her tiny admirers.

"Now Mum, Denise is only a few minutes away if you need her. She's only a few blocks away – literally. And I've left the number right next to the phone. Oh, and I've got my mobile; okay!"

"Yes sweetheart." Lee answered calmly.

"There's bolognaise sauce thawed out in the fridge. Just nuke it for a few minutes and it'll be right. And I've left the spag and a saucepan out next to the stove."

It was instruction time and she was in full flight.

"Jon," she called to upstairs, "don't forget your notes and don't forget your name tag. They're on your bedside table."

"Rick, now I want you to go to bed when Lee-Lee tells you. All right?"

Rick and Lee both smiled amicably at the bedtime pep talk.

"I give up! Mum, say goodnight to Laura fairly early and she'll go to sleep. That way we'll get it half right anyway."

Towards the end of the barrage – which went on for a while - Jon placidly sauntered down from the bedroom, just as Barbara's car pulled up outside.

And off they went!

Laura went to sleep soon after they left and Rick dropped off remarkably early – following a top-up plate of spaghetti bolognaise and thirty minutes of an old movie on one of the cable television channels.

As planned, Jon and Annie returned home a little after half-past-nine. They went upstairs to change into more comfortable clothes and then back down for a cup of tea with Lee. Jon had just started his tea when he heard Laura and went to check on her welfare.

When he'd not returned after about twenty minutes, the reasonable assumption was made that he'd opted for forty winks. But that wasn't a bother; Annie and Lee seemed to have plenty to yarn about.

As always, Rick woke early on the Sunday morning. And, as always, Jon got up to keep him company so that Annie might have an extra hour or so asleep in bed.

For Jon and Rick, that Sunday morning's subject was backyard birds.

"That sort, Dad?" Rick said, pointing to an illustration in the 'What Bird is That?' book.

"I don't think so! That one's too big! Have a look at the ruler again; see, it's much bigger than the ones that come here."

"Do you think they'll come again today?" Rick asked, for the third time.

"I don't know for sure. Let's just wait until it gets a bit lighter outside, eh."

They reverted to studying bird illustrations.

After about five minutes concentrated effort on the book, Jon thought he heard a noise and looked up towards the kitchen area. And Lee was there – just near the servery – fully dressed in her Melbourne casual winter gear. She was just standing there smiling at the sight before her.

"Hi boys." she said in a very quiet voice.

Rick stood up straight away and went towards her with a view to giving her the morning news about backyard birds.

"I hope we didn't wake you up, Lee. I've been trying to keep it quiet!" Jon said.

"No; not at all. I was pretty well awake when you two came downstairs."

"You weren't cold or anything were you? You had enough blankets?"

"Warm as anything. And that's a very comfortable bed too!"

Rick spotted an opportunity to say his piece.

"Lee-Lee, we're waiting for little birds; little fat ones. They come into the trees here!" he said, pointing to some shrubs through the large lounge room windows.

"That's good pet. But you might have to wait a little while yet till it gets lighter. Maybe they're scared of the dark." she replied with a chuckle.

"Like a cuppa?" Jon asked.

"I'll fix it, Jon. I can see you're busy there with important work."

Lee went into the kitchen proper before continuing.

"It's so beautiful here, Jon! Really beautiful!"

"Yeah, it's a nice place." Jon replied as he stood up and started towards the kitchen.

"How would you like a piece of toast and Vegemite? I'm going to do a bit for Rick!" he continued.

The toast question went through to the keeper.

"Not just the house, Jon. I'm talking about everything; the whole thing."

"Yeah; it's all good!" he replied – in the absence of something more sensible materialising.

"It all feels just right. It's a wonderful household you and Annie have built up."

Jon smiled and nodded.

"You must have moments when you're consumed with charity and gratitude towards me." Lee said in a quieter voice as he entered the kitchen, "After all, I'm the one who tried to bugger all this up for you. I did my darnedest, didn't I?"

"I don't think of it like that, Lee."

"Well I do!" she answered quite candidly, "And it's not something I've been all that comfortable about."

Jon went into careful mode. He had nothing really constructive to say; so he said nothing. He busied himself with toasting duties.

"It's all right!" Lee said, "You're not going to breech solidarity rules. I had a good long talk to Annie when you went upstairs to look after Laura last night."

Jon smiled – in relief, mainly. He'd been thrown a line.

"I did that pretty well. I think I woke Laura up properly; and put myself to sleep."

That went straight through to the keeper too.

"It was shabby stuff, Jon! Looking back now, it's almost impossible to believe I could have managed a performance like that."

Rick came into the kitchen carrying 'What Bird is That?'.

"Dad, this one?" he asked, pointing to one of a collection of mainly colourful wrens.

"I don't think so! Have a look on the page before. Our blokes haven't got any blue on them, have they? You go and have a look on the page before that one; I think you'll find what you're looking for there."

Lee stroked his soft hair as he about-faced to return to the bird study position at the coffee table.

"What I did to Annie back then was nothing short of cruelty. And the poor little thing just stood and took it – day in day out for ages. I don't know how she did it."

Though Jon raised his eyebrows just a bit for just a moment, he remained otherwise expressionless.

"I got it wrong, Jon! I got it all wrong!"

"Well you didn't have a monopoly on that." Jon replied quietly after moistening his lips.

"God, I spent years and years concentrating on growing her up fast. I had to do that; well I thought I had to do it, anyway. I pushed her along in the hope she'd be self-reliant if anything happened to me. Maybe I pushed too hard; I don't know."

"And when she grew up fast, I punished her for it."

Rick must have caught something of the growing up subject.

"Dad. I'm three now!" he called from the lounge room.

"Yes, you're three now. It's a good age to be too."

"And Laura's nearly one. Is that right?"

"Yes. That's right!" Jon replied.

"One's little isn't it, Dad?"

"Yep; one's very little!"

"I'm much older than Laura, aren't I?"

"That's right. Quite a lot; about two whole years."

"Dad, how old are you before you're one?"

Jon smiled a bit at Lee and raised his eyes skywards.

"Well – less than one. It's measured in weeks or months. Okay?"

"Yeah!" Rick replied, before reverting to the bird book.

Though thoroughly stunned by Lee's straight-down-the-line outpourings, Rick's interruption had given Jon time to think up a few understanding and caring words.

"Lee, I can't stand aside from..."

She shut him down straight away.

"Jon, the nicest girl from Brisbane met the nicest boy from Melbourne. In hindsight, it wasn't much more complicated than that. All you two needed was a sprinkle of stardust and you were gone for all money."

"Unfortunately, we didn't just get a sprinkle." Jon replied, "We got a truck load of it!"

"And by the looks of things, you didn't squander a grain of it. Seems like it worked a treat too!" Lee answered, before busying herself with tea making.

"The truth is, Jon, I was a bit off my rocker back then in the bad old days. And I made some awful calls."

Jon decided on some conciliatory noises again.

"Well I sure got a bit wobbly there for a while." he said.

Lee swung around to face him.

"Yes I know! And I know who was the major cause of that too! All that was needed was a splash of cold water to settle things down; but, oh no, I went for the scourer and the cleaning fluid. I had to get rid of the tarnish, didn't I?"

"Jon, what I did made no sense at all and hadn't the slightest chance of benefiting anybody. It was crazy!"

"And, in retrospect, it was a load of hypocritical garbage too!"

"You know where I come from. It was way down-market. And I knew my way round there pretty well; I can tell you! This girl was no saint, Jon - far from it! Bloody miles from it!"

Lee turned back to the kitchen bench and went quiet for a short time.

And Jon delivered the only possible lines that could suit in the difficult – and completely unexpected – circumstances.

"Lee, the bad days are gone now; it's history as far as Annie and I are concerned. We don't dwell on it; and we don't think badly of you for what happened. In fact, we never did."

When Lee turned to face Jon again, strain was showing.

"I was living with ghosts, Jon; ghosts and imaginings. I wasn't aware of that, of course; I thought everything was normal. I thought of myself in terms of capacity for beating the odds, of having willpower and strength - tough stuff nonsense. But in reality, I was jammed in the past and keeping company with ghosts."

"Except for Annie, they all died you know - Mum, Jim, Frankie and the others. They all died! They all went! But they all bloody stayed too! See, I didn't have the ability – or the support – to let them go away properly. So I kept them and nurtured them. I couldn't work out the difference between remembering them and keeping them. I was all out of whack!"

"It's strange, you know; in a way Annie looked after the reality while I wallowed around at another level with the others. It was part of the tough stuff; I thought I was being brave!"

The strain seemed to give way then to more normal manifestations of emotion – albeit a strange mix of relief and ongoing sadness.

"Mind you, that's not an excuse, Jon; I don't need to use excuses much anymore. I've changed that. But it might help explain things a bit for you. That's what I'm trying to do."

She paused for a moment.

"And I'm trying to say I'm sorry for what I did to Annie; and I'm sorry for what I did to you."

At first, all Jon could do was shake his head a bit and whisper 'no'. He wasn't sure what else could be done.

But then he remembered he had an ambassador who might just be able to help-out here. Yes, he had an on-site top ambassador expert in life's effervescence and promise for the future.

"Rick." he said in a gentle voice.

There was no response so he tried again.

"Rick. Have you got a minute, son?"

'Son' was a keyword; it meant 'snap-to-it'.

In no time, Rick turned up in the kitchen – bird book in hand.

"Rick, I think Lee-Lee's a little bit upset about something; and I wondered if you'd be able to help her a bit – make her feel better. You know what I mean, like you look after Mum and Laura when they get upset."

Rick dropped his book, walked a few paces towards Lee and held out his little arms to be picked up.

She leaned down and picked him up; and copped a very energetic hug for her efforts.

"God he's beautiful!" Lee said, as Rick held her in an odd sort of headlock and crushed-up her face with over-zealous repair work.

"He's a good man!" Jon answered pointedly - 'good' and 'man', in combination, being the homo sapiens equivalent of a canine reward biscuit for loyalty and services rendered.

With a view to assimilating something what had gone on – and sorting out what was to happen next – Jon went into the lounge room for a few moments solace while the embracing members of the mutual admiration society told each other a few affectionate secrets. He went to the lounge room windows and had a look for birds, then looked at the sky to see if dawn had started to make an appearance.

He then went back to the kitchen to complete his toast and Vegemite job - by which time Lee was wiping her eyes on her grandson while manoeuvring him to a more comfortable side position.

"They said it's going to be fine today." Jon announced, "It's very clear outside; lots of stars!"

He looked at his watch then at Lee and Rick.

"You know, I reckon this'd be a perfect morning to go to the bird hide. We could knock over the tea and toast pretty quickly and just go. What do you think?"

"Yes! Dad, yes!" Rick answered, punching a small fist out in front of him.

Lee wasn't in familiar territory here.

"What the hell's a bloody bird hide?" she asked.

Though it was way too late to do so, she had a second go at the question – in the interests of Rick's proper upbringing and Jon's parental sensitivities.

"What's a bird hide, Jon?"

It was Rick's moment. He took over.

"It's a... it's a little house; it's a house where you can see the birds but they can't see you. There are different sorts too; lots!"

"Just the three of us, you know." Jon said, "We don't want our style cramped by those girls upstairs, do we?"

"Sounds good to me!" Lee said, "But are you sure you want to include me in this select group?"

"Yes I do; very much so!" Jon replied.

"You've got to come! You've got to!" Rick added.

They polished-off the tea and toast quickly then prepared for the departure. For Jon, preparation meant making sure he had his car keys and rummaging through a pile of newspapers on the dining room table.

"Now mister." Jon said to his eldest, when he'd found what he needed from the papers, "I want you to do two things – very, very quietly. I want you to take this magazine upstairs and put it next to Mum's bed. Okay! Then I want you to get your bushies coat that Margie gave you for your birthday and bring it back downstairs."

"Got it?"

"Yes Dad!"

"Very quietly though. I don't want you to wake Mum or Laura. Righto!"

Rick went off to do his chores, leaving Jon alone with his mother-in-law.

He had much swirling around in his mind about his mother-in-law. He had a hundred questions to ask and a hundred explanations to offer. But his instinct, and years of discipline and training, told him to leave all that in place for a while. There'd be time enough in the future to talk things over – properly.

In place of complex issues about the heart and mind, he went for a fairly basic subject.

"I might do scrambled eggs for breakfast when we get back. Would that be okay with you?"

"Fine by me!" she answered.

"The boy loves his scrambled eggs; he'd eat them every meal if we gave him a choice. But he won't let Annie cook them, you know. She did a watery lot once and he never forgave her."

Lee smiled.

"I'll do the scrambled eggs routine when we get back. Watch his face light up when I tell him what's on for breakfast; then watch what happens when I tell him Mum's going to cook it. It's priceless!"

While they were standing face-to-face and reasonably close, Jon did a quick clothing check.

"It's mainly gravel path at this place, Lee. You won't wreck those shoes will you?"

"No! These are just old ones I use at home. They only look all right because I polished them to come down here."

She thought more about the excursion for a few seconds.

"Jon, will I be warm enough like this?" she asked, gesturing to her clothing.

"You should be! Yeah, don't get another jumper or anything; you'll warm up walking. And anyway, I've got a nylon jacket thing in the car you can use to keep the breeze out – if you need it."

"I'll tell you what though, you'll probably need your sunglasses – silly as it sounds." he added.

"What about Annie?" Lee asked, "She won't be worried about us when she wakes up, will she?"

"No; we go missing on adventures a fair bit! She's used to it! I'll be leaving her a note anyway and she'll know where to look for that. I'll take my phone too."

Lee went to get her sunglasses and Jon set about constructing his note for Annie.

In quirky Jon style, he did the note in childish printing – using some upper case inappropriately and a few back-to-front letters for effect.

 | Dear Mum

Have taken Dad and Lee-Lee to the bird hide at Braeside in the white car. I asked Dad to take his phone in case you need to call.

I wouldn't mind scrambled eggs for breakfast. I checked the fridge – not enough! I'll get Dad to hop into the fruit and veg on the way home to get another dozen, as well as some parsley.

We won't be away too long. We'll only stay at the actual hide for about ten or fifteen minutes.

I've got everything under control, Mum. So don't you worry about Dad and Lee-Lee. They'll be fine - I'm certain of it!

Love

Rick

 |

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  

# Peter Richards

Born in Brisbane 18 December 1947 - son of Arthur & Joy. Brother of Bill (b 1941), Jan (b 1945) and, after a few years, Lesley (b 1952).

Educated at Eagle Junction State School and, to a lesser extent, at Brisbane Boys' College.

Commenced service with the National Bank in 1966 and followed a standard banking career path (in Brisbane and Sydney for a short time) till 1974 – when a position in the bank's retail travel area beckoned.

Married workmate Sue (Fitz-Walter) in 1978 then, together, transferred to Melbourne in 1979. Managed design and implementation of the travel area's first computer system in the period 1979-82 then became the travel area's administration/accounting senior till 1987.

With corporate interest in the bank's travel business clearly waning, moved back to the parent organisation to become the National's records manager for Australia in 1987. Stayed in that role till a (welcome) parting of ways in 1995.

Returned to Brisbane with Sue that year and worked as a stockbroker for about twelve months. Have since been involved in bookkeeping for clubs and small businesses – mainly on a part-time basis.

Have an interest in music; some reading, theatre and cinema; cooking; walking; and the comings-and-goings of investment markets. Enjoy travelling.

Remain happily married. No children.

### Peter Richards' Book - "Directives of a Silent Force"

The story is initially about the chance coming together of two Brisbane families in the seventies - the first, and larger, group headed by middle-aged Frank and Sylvia Bentley; the second headed by young Jim and Lee Davis.

In 1978, by a tragic twist of fate, the Davis family is torn apart and Lee – in her darkest time - is unexpectedly dealt generous support by the Bentley seniors and by their son Jon, an accountancy career aspirant. A brief caring friendship develops between Lee and Jon in the period between the start of her trials and his departure interstate for career advancement.

Before too long, the remainder of the Bentleys move away from Brisbane and settle in various areas of northern New South Wales. And the ties between the two family groups fray with passage of years.

In mid-1989, Jon Bentley makes his first brief visit to Brisbane in a decade - a decade significant for him only because of gruelling work and unfortunate stumbles with members of the opposite sex. While in Brisbane, he takes the opportunity to look-up some old pals from school and university and to visit his friend Lee Davis.

Though the school and university friends leave him cold, Lee is as remembered – attractive, warm and interesting. Still close despite the passage of time!

Jon's next visit to Brisbane in mid-1992 is for a six-month work project. Soon after arriving, he navigates his way to his brightest friendship beacon in the north – Lee's place. And there, in his thirty-sixth year, he discovers a type of relationship that had evaded him for virtually his entire adult life.

But fate again takes a hand and Jon's dreams about companionship are soon demolished. He is left in a precarious emotional state – his personal life in utter disarray and his precious career teetering as a result.

The story continues on to describe Jon's handling of his personal and career dilemmas; and the impact his family and friends have on his struggle to prevail, despite remarkable odds.

"Directives..." is, quite unashamedly, a love story.

But it's a very earthy love story with strong undercurrents.

It seeks to explain that even the most intelligent and powerful of men have weakness; and that they are capable of quickly slipping and falling - and hurting very badly. It also seeks to fossick for truth within a range middle class Australian social mores that seem not to suit the full range of social realities.

If "Directives..." is a touch disrespectful about hairy-chested Australian manhood and certain Australian middle class values, it is not so about the importance of partnership, family and friends. With these matters, it seeks to be thoroughly conventional.

"Directives..." is written in chronological sequence, the pace quickening through non-critical periods and slowing to cater for milestones in the life of Jon Bentley.

The story is fictional – or as fictional as can be, anyway!

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