The Bridge: 21 Short Stories from the Stringybark Fiction Awards

By David Vernon

"The men drew up a couple of wooden stools and sat, one on each end of the hearth, hands wrapped around the mugs, the toes of their boots almost in the glowing embers, the mud drying into pale flakes. The smaller of the two, the one who had remained silent, turned his head in the direction of the young man in the corner and half nodded. He was a blackfella, broad across the shoulders. His skin was dark, his nose misshapen and the skin tissue on his brow was scarred." (from 'The Boxer' by Derek Mortimer)

"The thick scent of blood nearly drowns the tingling resin of cut pine. But not quite. They merge, sawdust and blood. I peer through the glass as Mr Blake tears another chop through the screeching band saw. His name hasn’t always been Mr Blake. Once, when he was born into the slush and ancient crumbling of Romania, he was Mr Blauskieu, but he soon discovered that this name didn’t fit beneath the massive, airy awning of the Australian sky." (from 'Stralia Doy' by Peter Court)

"... the coffee table was covered with empty wine bottles, glasses of all sorts and sizes, some kebabs wrapped up in a pair of panties, female and not mine, the dried out leftovers of two dips that had somehow been stirred on a DVD, crackers and a jar of quince paste that miraculously had its lid on." (from "The Morning After the Night Before" by Judy Waddell

Twenty one Australian short stories from the Stringybark Short Story Awards explore what it means to be an Australian. Sometimes funny, often intriguing, these stories from well known writers as well as new writers will leave you wanting more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Vernon
• Release date: Jul 18, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465773050

David Vernon

I am a freelance writer and editor. I am father of two boys. For the last few years I have focussed my writing interest on chronicling women and men’s experience of childbirth and promoting better support for pregnant women and their partners. Recently, for a change of pace, I am writing two Australian history books. In 2014 I was elected Chair of the ACT Writers Centre.In 2010 I established the Stringybark Short Story Awards to promote the short story as a literary form.

Book preview

The Bridge

and Other Stories from the

Stringybark Short Story Awards

Editor’s Choice Edition

Edited by

David Vernon

Published by Stringybark Publishing

PO Box 464, Hall, ACT 2618, Australia

http://www.stringybarkstories.net

Smashwords Edition

Copyright: This revised collection, David Vernon, 2018

Copyright: Individual stories, the authors, various.

These are works of fiction and unless otherwise made clear, those mentioned in these stories are fictional characters and do not relate to anyone living or dead.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Contents

Introduction — David Vernon

A Land of Fair Exchange — Linda Carter

Scragger — Sallie Ramsay

Rush to Learn — Fiona Regan

The 11:32 — Harold Mally

The Boxer — Derek Mortimer

Nurse… Where Are You? — Spencer Ratcliff

Taking Care of Business — Frank Stubbs

The Tarot Card Reader — James Hughes

‘Stralia Doy — Peter Court

A Perfect Look — Zana Trenerry

Plumb Stupid — Jeff Cleary

The Bridge — Frank Stubbs

The Platypus — James Gallaway

Homecoming — Frances Warren

Do Us Part — Susan May

The Workin’ Dog — Robyn Osborne

She Was Born in Autumn — Carlie Daley

The Morning After the Night Before — Judy Waddell

On Highway One — Kate Komoll

The Pier — Marian Penman

Hang on a Tick — Spencer Ratcliff

About the Editor

Introduction

— David Vernon

Welcome to the first Editor’s Choice collection of short stories from the Stringybark Short Story Awards. Over the past year, since I founded the Stringybark Short Story Awards, I have read hundreds and hundreds of short stories. Many of them have sadly disappeared from my memory, a few of the best have been published in our anthologies of award-winning short stories — The Umbrella’s Shade and Between Heaven and Hell — and a few of them have not yet been published but are etched in my memory and deserve to be shared with a wider audience.

This is a collection of some of my favourite short stories submitted to the Stringybark Short Story Awards. One or two haven’t been through the judging process for the awards but were submitted to me later by the authors, who thought that I might enjoy their stories. And I did!

These stories explore the nature of Australia and Australians. Many non-fiction writers have grappled with the question of what it means to be Australian. I believe that these stories can illuminate the answer to this question far more concisely than any academic treatise. Among this anthology are stories that are funny, serious, meaningful and sometimes even bizarre. I am sure you will find many delights within this collection.

The name of this anthology comes from a story written by Frank Stubbs. I was attracted to Frank’s vivid writing and his knowledge of his subject matter. So when he sent to me a story that he had written but had not submitted to one of our competitions I was pleased to read it. I am even more pleased to showcase it to you in this anthology of twenty-one other stories that all deserve the light of day.

Thank you to all those writers presented here for allowing me to publish your story. Once you have finished this little book, please visit www.stringybarkstories.net and see what other tempting literary offerings we have awaiting you.

David Vernon

Editor

Stringybark

July 2011

A Land of Fair Exchange

— Linda Carter

Olivia Gregory had always done the right thing.

As a baby she woke every four hours, crawled and walked on schedule, toddled to crèche without tears and rode a tricycle without mishap. She had no glasses, no braces, and no boyfriends until after graduation.

Never caused us a minute’s worry, was the refrain from grateful parents.

Olivia continued to tick all the boxes for the next forty years. Double degree, stable career, happy marriage, gorgeous children, and a healthy work/life balance. The Gregory’s progressed financially, renovated their suburban home and enjoyed early retirement. Husband Brian produced Excel spreadsheets outlining future plans, feeling sure Olivia would agree (as always) with his sensible ‘next phase in life’ choices:

Happy stay-at-homers leaning over the fence to chat with neighbours

Home-town-tourists exploring Melbourne during weekends

Super-grandparents ever-ready to babysit in school holidays

Annual travellers sharing the family beach house on the Peninsula

For the first time in her life Olivia did not agree. She looked at the projected timetable (not that there was anything wrong with it, as such), fretted, frowned and shredded an otherwise immaculate nail. Her flaxen hairstyle, usually braided and pinned impeccably, was today marred by several escaping strands. Olivia slung a fine woollen coat over her shoulders and clasped her designer bag firmly.

I’m going shopping for a couple of hours, Brian. I’ll walk.

Olivia’s loved ones would have been alarmed if they’d been privy to her thoughts as she stepped off the curb, ignored the Red Man (deliberately) and was nearly swiped by a cornering truck (accidentally). Olivia powered down the street in unseemly fashion, dragging a grey thundercloud and trailing ‘expletives deleted’ (quietly; entrenched manners being hard to break). She stomped through a riot of autumn leaves in Italian leather boots.

Now at this point, the phrase ‘I should be so lucky’ might well be hovering on readers’ lips, along with admonishments of ‘precious middle-aged princess’ or similar. To be fair, Olivia was well aware of her charmed passage through life so far, and unbeknownst to her nearest and dearest was looking forward to making amends, redressing the imbalance, adopting a philanthropic tone or two. But a lifetime of conservative tradition and mutual assumption had short-circuited communication. Brian’s bland spreadsheet steam-rolled her alternative ideas into flat silence, necessitating a temporary escape.

Olivia fumed to the top of the hill and rested on a bench, glowing and slightly puffed. An old lady wearing a thin cotton jacket sat beside her, shuffling shopping bags, chatting amiably. Ten minutes later Olivia stood up to say goodbye, satisfied with their exchange. Her companion beamed, stroking the cosy coat, snuggling into the warm collar. Olivia buttoned the short drab jacket and walked on with a smile. She paused at the salon’s glass doors, inspected her reflection and smoothed her hair thoughtfully.

Are you sure, madam? I mean, this is really going to be quite different and your hair is naturally so lovely anyway and I’m not convinced you’ll like it once I’ve started cutting and by then it’s too late … The third-year apprentice looked anxious, her raised voice causing the manager to scurry over and assist. Both ladies carefully assessed Olivia against the hand-drawn sketch and colour swatch she was holding, and grimaced (simultaneously and ever so slightly).

I think, with due respect, madam, that I might just make a note on the Customer Card and have your signature, if you wouldn’t mind? The manager nodded reassuringly, smile starched. It would be so, ah, difficult, professionally speaking, if anyone, in your family for example, or your friends, madam, thought we had talked you into this … style without considering your mature years, fine bone structure and subtle skin tones, as we are trained to do.

Olivia signed the waiver with a stifled giggle and removed the hidden bobby pins from her silky hair, unplaiting and shaking it loose. Sixty minutes later she emerged triumphant, barely recognisable and totally delighted with her self-designed asymmetrical silhouette (think Audrey Hepburn ‘pixie cut’ meets ‘concave bob’ meets ‘punk’ attitude) complemented and/or exacerbated (depending on your age and/or outlook) by the flaming glints and tints accented in the late afternoon sun. The complete hairdressing team hovered nervously behind glass, watching until this difficult client had safely left their jurisdiction. Olivia stopped for a while (purposely), putting her reading glasses on and peering at the salon staff until they backed away, wielding brooms and clippers, flinging aghast last glances over their shoulders.

Olivia had noted a style mismatch but it was easily rectified by a quick trip to the optometrist. Twenty minutes of squinting in mirrors resulted in a compatible match of prescription, frames, facial features