The Bridge Motel: Novella to accompany Pennie Irvine series

By Marty Langenberg

Whatever Happened to Steve?

If this is a question you asked after finishing Pennie Irvine - Book 1, 'Broken Vows", then this book provides the answers.

The Bridge Motel is a Companion Novella to the Pennie Irvine series.

Steve faces many challenges after he wakes up from his coma in the Dubbo Hospital, not the least of which is the Retrograde Amnesia he wakes up with!

(Retrograde amnesia is a form of amnesia where someone is unable to recall events that occurred before the development of the amnesia, even though they may be able to encode and memorise new things that occur after the onset.) 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marty Langenberg
• Release date: Jan 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386463535

Marty Langenberg

Marty Langenberg is a retired teacher and administrator. His first book was published on Amazon in October 2017. The Pennie Irvine Series currently consists of 3 books, namely: Pennie, The Baby Farm, and The Paris Connection. His latest book Learning, By Degrees, is the first book in the Dan Irvine Series. Several other books are currently in various stages of completion. He has also written a number of poems in the Australian Bush Poetry style.

Book preview

Chapter One

My name is Steve Rogers and I’ve been homeless for as long as I can remember. Saying, ‘as long as I can remember’ is really the same as saying ‘forever’ because my mind is worse than a leaky sieve, especially when it comes to stuff that happened when I was young. I just can’t remember anything about being a kid although, I’m a bit better with recent events.

Charlie and Madge are two of the people I sometimes hang out with at our ‘bridge motel’. Somewhere, sometime, something must have happened to you, Steve, Charlie used to joke. Maybe, you were dropped on your head when you were born, he’d cackle. I’ll bet you were so slippery when you came out, the nurse just couldn’t get a hold of you!

You’re a laugh a minute, Charlie, I’d say. After all, he did repeat that line almost every day. Why do you keep saying that, mate? Every day, it’s the same line.

I thought I had to tell you every day, Steve, he’d say, on account of, you can’t remember anything.

Well, I said to him, One thing I do remember, it gets too cold down here once winter sets in. So, I’ve made up my mind that I’m going to start heading north, again. Tomorrow, I’m gonna see if I can hitch a ride.

Where will you go, Steve? asked Madge.

I’ll see how far I can get. I’ll be aiming for Brisbane and The Gold Coast. It was pretty good there, last year when I went. Pretty easy to survive up there and no damn cold nights, like here. Why don’t you go, too?

Nah, I’m okay down here. Besides, it’s always easier to get a ride when there’s just one of you.

I couldn’t argue with that. I’m also gonna have a good look around Dubbo, this time. I remember passing through there last year, and it felt as if I’d been there before. Might hang around there for a few days, suss the place out, see if it brings back any memories for me.

Good luck with that, Steve, said Charlie. I mean, with remembering what you’re planning to do, tomorrow. I bet you’ll have forgotten by the time you wake up. Then, you’ll just freeze your butt off, down here with Madge and me.

But, for once, Charlie was wrong.

By three o’clock of the following afternoon, I climbed out of the cab of a friendly old truckie who’d driven me as far as the outskirts of Jerilderie. He’d picked me up in Tocumwall, where a young couple had dropped me off after stopping for me outside of Strathmerton. I was happy to get out of the truck to be able to stretch my legs. I suspect the truck was almost as old as its owner; it was draughty and rattled as if it was coming to pieces. We both had to yell when we had anything to say. Still, it meant he didn’t ask too many questions.

Unlike the young couple. They even introduced themselves, Jo and Derek, but Jo did all the talking. I made sure not to tell them too much about myself. That was a habit I seemed to have developed. Still, it was obvious Jo was quite able to carry on a conversation, all by herself! Her friend, Derek, just smiled at me in the rear-view mirror from time to time.

As usual, I had no firm plans, so Jerilderie was as good a place to stop as anywhere else. I’d left Charlie and Madge that morning with just a few dollars in my pocket so I started to look for options for something to eat and somewhere to sleep. I didn’t think sleeping would be an issue. The climate seemed very mild as I made my way towards the township.

The truckie had told me there were less than a thousand people who lived here and, from what I could see, it was no different from many small towns I’d been through. However, being right on the main road north towards Brisbane, it was obviously a popular stopping point for travellers and tourists, for there were quite a few hotels and motels right on the main road.

I’d been dropped off near the Jerilderie Motel which I soon left behind. I pushed on along the highway, right through the township, passing the Royal Mail Hotel and then the Jerilderie Hotel. I was happy to spot a Caravan Park sign ahead of me and I turned into a side street right beside the park. I walked right past it, of course, and just ambled along until I found a suitable spot beside the Billabong Creek. There were so many trees and shrubs that I wondered briefly about snakes but then just shrugged. I wouldn’t annoy them so, hopefully, they’d leave me alone, too. I unrolled my swag and made myself comfortable.

When I awoke it was quite dark beneath the trees but the moon was out and I could see it shimmering on the creek. I pulled a towel out of my backpack and then stood, mentally getting my bearings before quietly making my way towards the caravan park. There were only a few cars parked near the on-site vans, just as I had expected. A few retired couples, maybe, just passing through. No school holidays so no young families. Most of the park was dark but a couple of light-poles shone their weak light towards the ground. One was at the entry to the park, the other was above what was obviously a toilet and shower block. There was no light where I stepped over a low fence.

With my towel slung over my shoulder I made my way towards the shower block. Hopefully, I wouldn’t need a key. Jerilderie was obviously a safe and friendly community because very soon I was enjoying a long, hot shower. All the comforts of home. Some previous bather had left a sliver of soap as well as a shampoo bottle that provided enough sediment for me to wash my hair as well.

No one came in while I washed and then got dressed again. With my towel flung carelessly over my shoulder I made my way towards the unoccupied caravans. The fifth door I tried was unlocked and soon I was sitting inside, on the floor. I counted to six hundred and just listened. Then, I rifled through the cupboards and the small refrigerator. Not quite a goldmine but I’d obviously found a caravan that was used regularly, probably by a weekender. There were opened containers of leftover food in the fridge as well as other groceries in the cupboards. In a drawer beside the bed I found some small change.

I didn’t need anything more and didn’t check out any other vans. When I got back to my swag and my backpack I soon settled down again and went to sleep.

A very noisy duck woke me up when the sun was barely beginning to rise. As the day became brighter around me I confirmed my previous night’s haul. I’d only taken four slices of bread and one packet of cheese slices. Enough for breakfast. There had been a half-finished bottle of bourbon, I remembered, but I knew I could easily do without that. When I counted the cash I found, it came to twelve dollars and eighty cents. Not quite a king’s ransom but it would help as I moved on. Hopefully, the owner would not return to the caravan until Friday at the earliest and even then, he might not be certain that anything was missing. In the next three days, I presumed, I would no longer be anywhere near Jerilderie.

Chapter Two

Imade my way back to the highway and as I walked I thought over my activities of the previous night. I’ve always tried to keep a low profile, and I run away from trouble whenever I can. I’ve never been in any trouble with the police although I have, technically, broken the law quite a few times. I like to pay my own way and I’ve worked at numerous, short term jobs. When I earn money this way I pay for my food and anything else I might need. I never need much. But, if I have no work, and therefore have no money, I steal - but only enough to get by.

Wherever I sleep, I also keep a sharp lookout for what’s happening around me. So, in a bus shelter, I might work out which homes are empty during the day, like homes where young couples obviously both go off to work. I have no qualms about breaking in and taking enough to survive but I never take more. I have no use for jewellery or CD players or toasters. I take food and sometimes clothing and insignificant amounts of money left lying around.

Most of my break-ins seem to go unreported and I always try to move out of the area immediately afterwards. I think it’s only by keeping a low profile this way, I’ve managed to survive for as long as I can remember. I just wish I could remember more!

The sun was shining and I was content to walk for a while. I passed a road sign showing distances to Narrandera, West Wyalong, and Parkes. It also showed I was on Highway A39, exactly where I wanted to be. The bottom line on the sign said Brisbane was over thirteen hundred kilometres. It was Charlie who once told me about Brisbane, how it never got cold there and, apart from some high humidity days, it was like paradise. When I asked him why he left, if it was so good, he admitted he’d never been there. He just heard about it from another drifter. Anyway, I found out last year that Charlie was right. Winter on The Gold Coast is like being in paradise.

I walked along, not really trying to hitch a ride. Like I said, it was a beautiful, calm day. When a pick-up truck pulled up just ahead of me I was quite surprised.

Do you want a ride, mate? the driver called to me as I caught up to him.

Err ... yes. I wouldn’t mind, sir. I always tried to remain as polite as possible. I wasn’t bitter about my lot in life and it certainly wasn’t this man’s fault that I was down on my luck.

Well, get in then. I’m heading home, just this side of Narrandera. What about you?

I don’t have any special place to go. I don’t like being tied down. I’m just heading north for the colder months.

I’m Bert Morgan, by the way. So, are you just walking, making your way north?

I usually manage to hitch a ride, Mr. Morgan. This morning was so nice, I thought I’d walk for a while.

Just call me Bert, mate. You got a name?

Yes, sir. I’m Steve Rogers. Pleased to meet you, Bert.

So, what do you do for a crust? How do you survive, Steve?

I can turn my hand to most things. I usually get enough odd jobs to get by, earn a few bucks, I said.

We drove along in silence for a while. There was plenty of traffic, hardly surprising, considering we were on the state’s main highway north.

How far north are you thinking of going? Bert asked me, eventually.

I’m sort of aiming for the Brisbane area. I spent winter there last year. Not a bad place, weather-wise.

That’s still a damn long way from here. Think you’ll survive okay?

I usually manage, somehow.

Again, we drove silently along. I didn’t have anything to say so I was happy for Bert to take the lead.

Listen, Bert said. I’ve been thinking. Are you fit? Physically, I mean. Can you work okay? Are you interested in a job for a few weeks? Get some money in your pockets before you go much further?

I was surprised by his question. After the caravan last night, I had enough cash to see me through for a day