Bass Point Boys

By Cate Beresford

When life becomes too hard, the local kids know where to find a home.
In a world of misfits, the youths of Bass Point find family and a sense of belonging.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tablo Publishing
• Release date: Feb 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9781922381569

Cate Beresford

Cate loves all things creative and advocates for a life without boundaries. It was through listening to Wayne Dyer that she learned sit and listen to 'her own thoughts', where she started writing poetry. Alongside her husband, they raised a menagerie where their children taught her to be 'still in the moment'. Semi retired, she now lives on the coast and continues to find peace in the small community.

Book preview

Prelude

Small and secluded, the cave created a haven for those needing a quiet space. Close enough to the roar of the ocean, yet far from its treacherous and relenting attempts to claw you into its depths, it was a space where those who’d been hunted, abused or forgotten were sheltered in its warmth. Roy found the opening by accident and was grateful as the storm raged around.

Many had been there before. Their hands and other marks painted on its ceiling told a story long ago before white man. Now it was Roy’s turn to enjoy this quiet space and he decorated it with shells and rocks he’d found, to remind him of the little comfort he had once known.

It provided more than a shelter - it was home; a place to store the insignificant belongings he had managed to save from the clutches of those who constantly haunted his life-the gang.

Chapter One - Chance Meeting

Roy had been hiding in the cave that morning and ventured out for a short walk to the nearby gravel beach. It was then, that he saw the woman, down where elements of bush, beach and ocean meet.

The waves lapped the edge of fine particles which spewed out from the hundred- year-old blue metal quarry where once it was said that red cedars grew. Swimmers were rare, bar local surfers who regularly hung-five as they lapped up the hollows in the area named The Shallows. Hodads regularly came to watch when the big guns were around, but this morning it was quiet, and the woman walked alone. She stopped for a moment, dipping her toes to test the water’s temperature as her small toy Groodle played with the waves as they washed ashore. It was warm enough to invite her in, and she waded through the gentle whitewash, seemingly unperturbed by the roughness of grit on her bare feet whilst her pooch swam alongside.

That summer had been hotter than usual and whilst fire raged around the South Coast not far away, it had bi-passed the natural reserve where the woman now swam. Bass Point was well known by tourists and locals who visited regularly, trying to learn more about its centuries’ old history and discover the shipwrecks and fish which swam in the sanctuary of the marine reserve.

Roy knew the Bass Point Reserve was now heritage-listed, though after settlement, it had been mined for basalt and cedar. Before this, it was an Aboriginal meeting place, called Wonwin by its original owners and was inhabited by the Wadi Wadi tribe. They remained on the coastal plains during the warmer months; taking advantage of its abundant marine resources and moved in the cool winter months to higher ground and rock shelters closer to the escarpment.(¹) Now though, it was a nature conservation and passive recreation area.

They called it the coastal jewel and Bass Point was located just south of Shellharbour Village, close to where a new marina was being built. Arguments had gone on for years about the marina as locals tried unsuccessfully to delay the developer’s hand. The area was known for its rare and common flora and fauna and some say a rare bird inhabited the nearby swamplands. Now though, it was busy as the new estate grew out of the space where it had been a haven for local birds and environmentalists.

The four kilometre stretch of surrounding waters around Bass Point was a marine sanctuary and some knew the spot well and raped the sea, catching undersized fish to sell or make into fish cakes for restaurants who would be happy to pay for those who gave up their life to be minced. It was a well- known practice, though difficult to police and many locals would take it upon themselves to scorn those who were seen with a rod or a bucket.

Lifesavers were kept busy during the summer months as tourists jostled for their space on the nearby Shellharbour beach. Yet further along the gravelled shoreline, it was quiet, and the woman enjoyed her time alone. A capable swimmer, she seemed to enjoy the refreshing water as Roy stayed further away, hidden by the overgrowth of the hideous lantana weed. The reserve had succumbed to its noxious, incessantness to overtake and Roy likened it to man.

He watched as her body slipped below the surface.The boulders offered smaller temperate fish, the pleasure of being seen to those who are brave enough to snorkel where bull rays and sharks patrol. Still early, Roy stayed, hoping no others would yet venture there and see him.

As she dived again, he took this as a sign and made his move. She’d left her bag on the rock and he’d waited patiently. When she was far enough away, he skulked down, keeping a watchful eye on the dog swimming round, trying to find its owner who’d gone beneath the surface of the waves.

He approached her belongings just as she surfaced and floated for a moment, on the rolling waves, enjoying the sun as its rays broke through the clouds which had drifted over. With his back to the water, Roy bent down to scoop up the bag, wondering whether its contents may include some small change he could use. Busy in ransacking its contents, he was startled when the woman approached, speaking calmly.

‘Hey there. Are you OK?’

‘Uh, yeah, I, um, I,’ Roy stood back. Not knowing whether to run or face the woman, his upbringing made him think better of the first, and instead, he turned to apologise.

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t, I mean I didn’t mean to.’

The woman looked at the bedraggled appearance of the boy who stood before him and immediately understood. She had dealt with kids like this before, runaways who leave home because of an abusive or difficult upbringing and yet going back to their basic instincts to take responsibility where it had been ingrained. It was unusual these days - respect - most families were too busy working or too tired to rare their kids to be polite and left that for the schools to own.

Parents paid top dollars for new private schools popping up all over the area, so they could feel good about giving their kids the best education as the public system appeared to be failing them. Yet it was often these same public schools who graduated the highest achievers. Private education allowed options for those who clung to old fashioned standards and wanted their child to have sound morals and ethics ingrained into all aspects of their life. It seemed though, it was really society who was failing most as work and time became