To the Fore

By J.B. Mantill

Rusty Bruce was not born a good player, he became one.
These words perfectly puts into the picture the man who made sure to
always treat life as a gift, step to the fore, and make a difference. In JB
Mantills, To The Fore, readers can come across Rusty Bruce, a man
of great honour, dignity and compassion.
His life peppered with grief, Rusty Bruce takes up social golf so as he
can get away from life for a few hours a week. Despite his sadness
and with the help of his friends, Rowdy, Bake and Bob, he channels
down his grief into taking his golf to the next level after inadvertently
winning a chance to compete with the professionals in America.
Waiting for a flight at New York he meets ten year old Tim and his
parents, who themselves are going through a tough time, and after
hearing their story he decides to help try and change their lives for
the better.
Heart warming and uplifting, To the Fore is a story of not allowing the
harsh realities and struggles of life get in the way of living and making
a difference.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Sep 12, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462849611

Book preview

Copyright © 2011 by J.B. Mantill.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2011915514

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4628-4610-8

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4628-4609-2

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4628-4961-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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INSPIRATIONS

NATASHA; ELINOR; SHANE; TIMOTHY

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO

THREE BRAVE FIGHTERS

MY DARLING WIFE GAIL

MY GREAT MATE GARY ‘BAKE’ BAKER

AND IN THE MEMORY OF MY DEAR FRIEND

CATE BOIDIN.

Rowdy Lee stood forlorn on the well worn marbled steps of the local church. He was staring up at a gloomy sky that drizzled rain as if hypnotised by the small droplets of new life falling from the heavens to replenish the dryness of the previous month. His eyes welled with tears as a lifetime full of memories were flashing his mind like somebody turning the tuner on a transistor radio.

His best friend Bake walked up behind him and put his hand on his shoulder

He was one of a kind mate and I’m going to miss him badly he said with the sadness that only the death of a loved one would tattoo into your heart.

Rowdy turned to look at Bake with tears trickling down his face

I think anybody whoever knew him will miss him in some way, good or bad he grinned through misty eyes.

Rowdy, the long time local golf club professional, had just sat through the funeral service of his life long friend ‘Rusty’ Bruce. His six foot plus solid frame and greying blonde hair was beginning to show signs of reflecting his seventy five years.

Bake, I say we head on up to the club house and have a drink in memory of our ‘brother’ Rowdy said with the emptiness of grief beginning to punch its way into his mind.

Personally, Rowdy always thought that he would have been the first to go because he didn’t exercise as much as Rusty and Bake and his diet left a lot to be desired but for having said that, he always looked in good shape for a big bloke.

Bake, just under four inches shorter than Rowdy, with a shaven head and a bushy moustache is the sort of man that could cop anything life dished out and still have a ‘stuff you’ attitude, knew his mate was hurting after all the three of them had experienced a lot of life together since their first meeting in infants school all those years ago. Three mates who grew up together in a small coastal town, all of them good men, who learnt at an early age not to cop shit off anybody who didn’t respect their fellow man.

Rowdy, I say we head on up and have more than one drink. I know what Rusty would have said if he was standing here with one of us.

Their minds wandered back in time as they looked one and other in the eye and with the hint of a cheer me up smile they both said in a most formal voice

A man is not a camel

Come on Bake said we’ll get a lift with one of the boys.

Rowdy stepped down onto the cobbled pathway that led to the church gates

No he said sadly I really need to walk. I always remember Rusty telling me that riding in a cart ruins a good round of golf so I don’t want to ruin the memory of my friend by riding to his wake.

Wait up, I’ll walk with you Bake said as he stepped down onto the path to catch up. The golf club was about a fifteen minute stroll from the church along the main road which was flanked by bush and forest on the left hand side leading out of town and off the peninsula and as they trudged both men reflected on their many years together with their mate Rusty.

The rain had stopped momentarily when Bake started to laugh.

What’s so funny smiled Rowdy as he shook the raindrops off his face.

Do you remember when we drove the club president and his wife home from the inter club tournament? Rowdy stopped walking and turned to Bake, his eyes were watering with laughter.

I will never forget the look on that snobby old bitch’s face he chortled. They thought they were getting a police escort into town until the back door of the patrol wagon opened.

Yeah the sight of Rusty in his jocks drinking a can of beer and pissing out the back door and pointing at them with that stupid grin on his face like he knew what they were really up to. Didn’t she go off at the old boy when he started giggling like a bloody schoolgirl Bake laughed.

Charles! You cannot possibly find this funny, the man is uncouth and obviously not of our standing in the community. I want this fellow exiled from our club at once! Rowdy mimicked trying to sound like an old Sheila with a plumb in the mouth.

Exiled indeed Bake said in a toffy sort of voice before adding in a serious tone Those snooty bastards only lasted a month before trying to leave town with the club’s takings.

Exiled indeed said Rowdy in the same toffy voice. "They didn’t like it at all when

Gazza arrested them still in possession of the cashbox!"

Gary ‘Gazza’ Cody was the local police constable at the time. Six foot six and athletic, he was a fair man but never put up with bull shit. He was also very much unaware of what Rusty was doing from the back of the police vehicle at that time.

Rowdy and Bake continued walking and wiping their eyes as a car full of friends drove by tooting and waving. See you at the club they yelled in a disappearing drone. Just at that moment the rain began to slash down and both men were getting saturated when Rowdy stopped walking and just stood there soaking wet with tears in his eyes coming from a good memory back to reality

And it’s only the first day he uttered grievingly.

What are we going to do without him Bake said with the sadness returning and tearing into his heart like an intermittent tooth ache.

Rowdy grabbed Bakes arm and continued walking. Come on my old mate there’s dry clothes for us at the pro shop.

As the two men approached the entrance doors to the club house they heard a stern but friendly voice behind them that they hadn’t heard in quite a while. What were you two blokes doing standing on the side of the road laughing. Are both of you on the drink already? They turned to see their old friend Gary Cody.

Constable Cody! Bake exclaimed as they all embraced.

It’s been a long time boys, I retired a few years ago as Inspector Cody. A lot of water has gone under the bridge but you fellows still look the same, a little older maybe but still, you both look good

Gazza Rowdy said with a hint of comical reflection in his voice you would not believe what we were laughing about back there.

Tell me, would it have anything to do with one of Rusty’s pranks? Gazza enquired with a laugh, already knowing the answer.

Bake was trying hard not to crack up laughing when he looked at Gazza Do you remember when Rowdy and I were driving snooty old Mr and Mrs President back home from that inter club golf tournament?

Gazza momentarily broke out in uncontrollable laughter Hell yeah! If those bastards had not ripped off the club I would have been in deep shit, the commissioner would have had my balls in matching egg cups. Apparently we were not the only club those old codgers knocked off so it was a good pinch for me

The laughter then disappeared from his face

You know what, looking back, if it would have been anybody but Rusty in the back of the wagon that night I would have bounced their arse into the lock-up before you could blink, but that was Rusty, you sometimes had to expect the unexpected from him. He did more good for people so I guess the harmless pranks were an offset to his true personality and I suppose we all knew the reason why he said with an awkward smile attempting to disguise the sadness in his eyes.

The three men entered the club and made their way to the lounge bar where Rowdy announced he would get the first round of drinks. Gazza and Bake sat on a padded club lounge at a table adorned with drink coasters and upcoming events pamphlets.

This place has certainly grown and changed for the better Gazza commented whilst looking around. When he was the towns’ only copper the golf club was not even half the size.

As Rowdy approached the bar he signalled to old Stu the bartender with three fingers pointed to the ceiling.

Three beers thanks mate and you better give me three Sutho chasers as well for a farewell toast to my mate Rusty he said with the sadness hitting him again out of the blue.

When they were young men if ever anybody proposed a toast then Southern Comfort would be the drink of choice because it was Bakes favourite drink and the only spirit Rusty could cop as he was more of a beer man. He often said that if the trace cocaine was not in it then Bake would not drink the stuff which Bake vehemently denied.

What do I owe you mate? he asked digging into his pockets.

Those drinks are courtesy of Rusty said Big Terry the club president as he walked up to Rowdy.

What do you mean courtesy of Rusty? Rowdy asked looking puzzled.

Big Terry, a big compassionate man with a long beard who you would only double cross at your own peril, put his arm around Rowdy’s shoulder and explained in a soft tone while attempting to hold back his emotion

Rusty knew he was going and about a month and a half ago he came into my office to see me he explained.

He told me what was going on and said he couldn’t tell you and Bake because he didn’t want to make whatever time he had left sad for you boys. I’m so sorry Rowdy but I felt I had to honour his wishes as much as it hurt me not telling you.

Rowdy stood in silent reflection as Big Terry continued

He gave me five thousand dollars for you, Bake and the rest of the boys to have a drink and whatever was left over to be donated to the next helping hand golf day.

"That does not surprise me, him buying the drinks from the grave.

You did the right thing mate so don’t feel bad because it was what Rusty wanted" said Rowdy in a sad thankful tone.

He picked up the tray and made his way back to where the boys were seated with Big Terry following.

What kept you so long did you have to pour your own drinks like the old days? Gazza asked with the sarcastic humour of an ex small town police officer who was once on the board of the local golf club.

Rowdy explained what Big Terry had just told him as he handed out the drinks. Bake picked up a shot glass Here’s to Rusty he said with teary eyes a great friend and a great man.

The boys all raised their glasses and quickly swallowed the contents.

Harry Holden, a young cadet journalist with the district newspaper, sat down at the table with the boys.

I’m so sorry about Mr. Bruce he was a man that I respected and looked up to and he always had good advice for me when I needed it which helped me more than he will ever know. He was responsible for the encouragement given to me to become a newspaper journalist because I had only a dream and he advised me to stop dreaming and make it happen. I later found out that he was a friend of my boss and it was Rusty that recommended me for the position. I will miss him.

Everybody will miss him Harry, he was a good mate and he did take the time to listen to a lot of people said Big Terry