Frankie

By Karl Gibbons

• Language: English
• Publisher: URLink Print & Media, LLC
• Release date: May 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781647533571

Karl Gibbons

Karl Gibbons was born in 1949 and raised in what would today be described as an underprivileged suburb. He left school at the age of 15 to pursue an apprenticeship as a Panel Beater, before entering the world of Automotive Design where he enjoyed a career spanning some 39 years. The son of a POW, he has long held an emotional interest in the war and post war era and the effects on our veterans. It is no surprise that his first novel would be centred around the war and the families that were left to cope alone with the returned serviceman and women and the struggles they had, as they tried to return to some resemblance of normal life.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

I was ten years old at the end of the second world war. My two best mates were also ten.

We had met at kindergarten and stayed inseparable ever since. We created our own little world and didn’t take much notice of anything else outside of our interests really.

Our world consisted of fishing off the Flinders Pier, exploring the rock pools below the golf course and rabbiting.

From what we saw from the movie tone news at the Saturday afternoon pictures, the war was a long way away and didn’t affect us, that was until Scooter’s Dad was killed on the Kokoda Track in New Guinea.

We didn’t even know where New Guinea was. We had to look it up in our school atlas.

Beensy and me were upset for Scooter and his Mum. We didn’t know his Dad, but his Mum was a really nice lady and we didn’t like seeing her upset.

Scooter told us he couldn’t remember his Dad. He was only five when his Dad joined up. There weren’t any pictures of him around the house because they used to upset his mum, so she took them down.

So poor Scooter was upset and left to mourn someone he couldn’t remember. He told us he sometimes saw his Dad in his dreams, but he wasn’t like he thought he would be. He was certain it was him by his smell, the same smell as his wardrobe.

Beensy and me couldn’t understand what he meant by it all, but we would sit and listen to him and pat him on the back when he started to get upset.

We spoke about our Dad’s, when scooter wasn’t around, you know, where they were, and what they may be doing, because as I said earlier, we had no idea or interest in the war. We were more thinking of our Mums, and how upset they would be if something happened to their husbands.

About a month after peace was declared, Beensy, his big Sister and his Mum, went up to Melbourne to welcome home his Dad.

The troop ship that he was on, docked at Princess Pier, and Beensy told us there must have been millions of people there. Fare dinkum boys, you couldn’t move. You should’ve heard the noise when the soldiers started coming off the boat. It was worse than at the footy when Flinders are playing Sorento.

Beensy was always prone to a little exaggeration, but he was good with words, and always told a good story.

Beensy’s Dad was a nice bloke. He was just a road worker, like my Dad I believe, before he enlisted, but he was lucky enough to be trained as a cook in the army.

Beensy told us not long after his Dad got home, that they would be moving. His Dad had re-enlisted and they would be moving into an Army house in a place called Seymour, he was to be stationed at an Army camp called Puckapunial near-by.

Sitting on the Flinders Pier with our fishing rods in the water we tried to make sense of it all. How could this happen? What about the three Musketeer’s, as Beensy’s sister called us?

We knew it was the end of our world. We had grown so reliant on one another over the past five years we didn’t think we could survive on our own but survive we must, we decided. We took an oath there and then to meet on the Pier every year.

About two weeks after Beensy’s Dad got home, Mum told me we would be going up to Melbourne, to Spencer Street Station, to meet my Dad.

That news had the three of us in utter confusion. How come Beensy’s Dad came home by boat and mine was coming by train? We wondered.

We threw a lot of ideas around. ‘Maybe your Dad has been doing something top secret, Scooter said.

‘Nah, he probably missed the boat’, Beensy said.

‘No Beensy, I think it’s more than that. I think they are going to sneak him back in the dark, so no-one knows he’s home’, Scooter said.

How can that be Scooter, Frankie and his Mum are going up to Melbourne on the morning train. Do you think they would make them wait for hours on the station’? Beensy asked.

And so, it went for several hours there on the Pier, each idea getting more fanciful than the last.

‘Hurry up and finish your breakfast Frankie, and then it’s off to the bath with you young man’, my Mum said.

‘But Mum, I had a bath last night’, I protested.

‘I know you did mate, but this time you can wash your hair and behind your ears. You don’t want your father thinking he has a dirty boy for a son, do you’? Mum inquired.

‘No Mum, I suppose not’, I said almost whining.

So, as soon as I finished breakfast, I was off to the bathroom to lite the chip heater to heat the water for my bath. As long as you kept the fire going it would heat the water, but you didn’t want the fire to go out before your bath was full, especially in the middle of winter.

I sat in the warm water trying to get the day ahead into some kind of perspective. This boat and Train thing still had me bamboozled. I didn’t think Scooter was right with his assumptions about my Dad’s war, but I didn’t have a plausible alternative.

Mum called out from outside the bathroom door, ‘ have you got your good underwear in there with you? I don’t want you wearing any old thing to meet your Dad’.

So, there I was, standing in the middle of the kitchen with my good underwear on, under my itchy suit, my shoes polished to within an inch of their lives and mum slicking down my hair with soap.

When she had finished with my grooming, she walked around me, inspecting me from every angle. ‘Not bad, not bad at all, young man’, she finally conceded.

‘Now all you have to do is stay that way until we are ready to leave’, she said.

We walked down to the station and caught the early train into Spencer Street Station. We were early but we didn’t have a lot of choice, there were only a couple of trains in the morning and a couple in the afternoon, so you had to plan your travel.

Mum took me to a canteen at the station and brought me a pie and a bottle of soft drink all for myself. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so special. Mum just had a large pot of tea. I think she was very nervous because she smoked a lot of cigarettes and hardly touched her tea.

There was an announcement over the loudspeaker, informing us Dad’s train was due in fifteen minutes, on platform 1.

Mum sat there with a strange look on her face for what seemed like such a long time before she said, ‘let’s go Frankie, we have to try and get a good position to meet the train’, she said.

Unfortunately, by the time we got to the platform, it was already too late. There were people everywhere. Beensy’s story about him arriving at the boat to meet his dad came back to me, maybe he wasn’t exaggerating after all.

Being just under four feet tall, all I could see were people’s backs and waving arms. I heard rather than saw the train arrive, the steam and the whistle momentarily drowning out the cheering of the crowd.

How will Dad see us with all these people? I wondered.

Mum held my hand like her life depended on it. I wasn’t sure if she was worried, I would get lost, or she was hanging onto me for reassurance.

The crowd surged forward as the train came to a stop.

Mum tried unsuccessfully to hold her ground, but we were moved closer to the train by the crowd.

As soldiers got off the train and moved to the back of the platform to greet their families, we were left waiting for Dad to get off the train.

The crowd had thinned right out when a tall rather gaunt man appeared at the door of the Train. I knew straight away it must be my dad because Mum gasped at the sight of him.

She squeezed my hand and said, ‘that’s him, that’s your Dad, he’s finally home.’

Just at that moment he recognised Mum and waved. His smile seemed to light up his whole face. I think I liked him as soon as I saw him.

I can’t say I remember any movement, but before I knew what was happening, they were caught up in an embrace. I stood there looking on, not knowing what to do, so I just hugged them both as best as I could.

‘Let’s get away from here love, somewhere we can hear ourselves think’, my Dad said, and he led us out of the station and onto Spencer Street.

‘What’s say we grab a beer at that pub over there and we can have a chat’, He said.

Dad pushed open the door to what I found out later, was the ladies lounge. He found us a table before going to get the drinks.

He came back with two beers for him and Mum, and a raspberry cordial for me. I didn’t know that Mum drank beer, I had never seen her drink beer before, I had never seen her drink anything but tea.

You could tell Mum was happy he was home. Happy but nervous at the same time. Her voice didn’t sound the same. Kind of girly like, high pitched at the wrong places. It must be the beer I thought.

Maybe I should wait until I see the boys to see what their opinion is, before I came to any conclusions, I thought.

This was my first raspberry cordial at a Pub, and I loved it. I hope Dad buys me some more one day I thought.

We caught the early afternoon train back to Flinders. We had a section of the carriage all to ourselves. Mum and Dad sat on one side of the long seats right by the door and I sat on the other side.

Dad had his arm around Mum, and she was kind of cuddling into his side. I thought they looked comfortable, but I didn’t know what to make of it because I hadn’t seen anyone act like this before. Well not married people anyway.

They just sat there not saying a word all the way back to Flinders.

I tried asking Dad some questions, but he didn’t seem interested in talking so I let it go.

Beensy’s Dad met us at the station. I wasn’t even aware the two Dads knew each other, let alone were friends from the past.

Beensy’s Mum and Sister, organised a welcome home party for Dad. A lot of the neighbours were there. There was a lot of drinking and dancing going on.

Beensy and I couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about. There hadn’t been a welcome home party for Beensy’s Dad. Maybe Scooter was right after all, maybe my Dad was a spy or something.

I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I remember was waking up in my own bed in the morning.

I could hear Mum in the kitchen. I’m sure I heard her singing. That’s strange, Mum never sings, I thought. She must have had a good time at the party last night, or maybe she’s just happy to have Dad home.

I got up and had breakfast and was heading for the door to meet the boys when Mum stopped me in my tracks.

‘Where do you think you’re going young man’? She demanded.

‘Down to the Pier to meet the boys Mum’, I answered.

‘Oh no you’re not. You are going to stay here and get to know your father’, she said.

Just as I was about to protest, Dad came into the kitchen. It was then that I realised how big he was. He might have been skinny, but he was tall, and you could see he had lost a lot of weight. This is not how he normally looks, I thought to myself.

‘Good morning you two’, he said.

‘How’s the head after the party last night Frankie’? He asked.

Not sure what he meant I touched my head, thinking I must have hurt myself last night at the party.

Both Mum and Dad burst into laughter. ‘It’s alright Frankie, I was just messing around with you’, Dad said. ‘Come and sit down so we can have a chat mate. I want to hear what you’ve been up to since I’ve been away.’

We chattered away for hours, he sat there, with the warmest of smiles on his face, as I told him about the three musketeer’s and all the adventures we had got up to.

In a strange sort of way, it seemed like he had been there. It never dawned on me that he could have lived a similar childhood. That our adventures had been lived before.

CHAPTER 2

Over the next two years I was to learn about the man I knew as Dad. In that time, he became my hero.

The first few weeks of his home coming is, even today still a bit of a blur.

I’m not sure when I first heard that he had been a prisoner of the Japanese. I know it wasn’t from him because he would never talk about the war to me.

It’s not something you need to know about Frankie, he would say.

He was home for months before he went to work. By that time, he had put on some weight and regained his strength.

His old mates that came to visit, joked with him about coming back to play football next season. I don’t remember him playing football, that’s something else I don’t know about my Dad, I thought.

I talked to the boys about it and Beensy said he would ask his Dad. ‘He would remember if your Dad ever played footy for sure,’ he said.

The next time we met on the Pier to do some fishing, Beensy was so excited to tell me what he had found out.

‘Frankie, your Dad is a legend around these parts. He was an absolute champion. According to Dad, he won a premiership off his own boot. He played on the ball for the whole game and kicked eight goals.’

‘Dad was laughing about the game. He told me the whole town got so drunk after the win, they didn’t go to work for a week’, Beensy told us.

‘Wow that would have been worth seeing. Can you imagine old missus busy body from the lolly shop, so drunk she couldn’t open her shop,’ Scooter said rolling around laughing.

It wasn’t long before Beensy and his family packed up and moved, to their new home in Seymore.

The three musketeers became two. Even though scooter and me still hung around together it wasn’t the same.

I guess when your ten-year old world is changed, in your heart, it is fractured beyond repair.

The biggest shock came about a year later when Scooter told me he was shifting away as well.

You see his Mum worked in the Butchers in Sorento, and she had fallen for the man that delivered the meat. He lived in Essendon, near the footy ground and he wanted Scooter and his Mum to go and live with him.

I suppose Scooter’s Mum got sick of being on her own and decided to make the move.

As an adult you can probably understand the reasons behind that type of decision, but to an eleven-year old it was devastating.

So, three became one. I still loved fishing, but the exploring had lost its appeal.

I spent a lot more time with Dad on weekends after Scooter had left. He taut me how to fix things around the house, grow vegetables in the garden, how to cut the grass with a mower. It was a magical time for Mum and me.

The thing I remember the most, the thing I am proudest of, is going to the Anzac Day march and watching Dad march down St. Kilda Road.

We had travelled up from Flinders the night before and stayed in a hotel in Russell Street. It was close to where the march was to start the next day.

We all got up early and had breakfast down in the dinning room before Mum and I headed off to get a good vantage point on St. Kilda Road just before the Shrine of Remembrance.

It seemed like everyone in Melbourne had gone past us before Dad came along. Then suddenly; there he was, marching with his army friends, so strong and proud with his medals gleaming in the morning sunlight. You couldn’t help but get a lump in your throat.

I suppose it was about two years after Dad came home that I noticed the drinking.

At the start he would just come home drunk and go to sleep. Soon he would come home drunk and try and start an argument with Mum for no reason.

It soon developed into coming home drunk and screaming abuse at Mum for something she never did. Until finally it became physical.

He came home drunk one night, and really belted Mum and me up.

The next morning, he was gone. I thought he had gone to work but he never came back.

I really struggled through that time, what had I done to Dad, my hero, to make him do this to us.

Mum and I lived in fear of him coming back for several months, but he never did come back.

So, we were back to being on our own again, but this time we had no money, and no income. Mum tried to find work in the shops at Sorento but being unskilled, the only job she could get was peeling potatoes for the fish and chip shop.

Thinking about it now I realise what a demeaning job for anyone to do, but she had no choice at the time. We were desperate and she was far too proud to accept charity.

I grew veggie’s in the garden and caught fish off the Pier. If I caught more than we could eat I would sell them to Mum’s boss or swap them with the butcher for mince meat so Mum could make us a stew for a change from the fish.

We survived by cutting every corner possible. We stopped using electricity because we couldn’t pay the bill. We didn’t have the gas connected so that wasn’t a problem.

We had tea early, especially in the winter, and went to bed to keep warm.

In the summer we would read after tea until it got to dark to see, and then sometimes we would go for a walk down by the water to cool off before going to bed.

It sounds quite dramatic, but we got used to it. That was our life for three years before I got a part time job.

The decision to get a job came just before the Christmas of the year I turned fourteen.

Mum had been given an old chicken that had stopped laying, by one of the customers from the fish shop. It was only suitable for boiling but Mum was happy to have it. We would have a good Christmas Lunch she promised me.

Unfortunately, the weather before Christmas that year was unseasonably hot, and we couldn’t afford the ice for our ice chest, so the chicken went off.

Laying in bed listening to Mum crying upset me. Not just because she was crying, but because it sounded like she had finally been beaten. It was a cry of utter devastation.

I decided there and then I had to do more. I had no idea what at the time, but I knew I had to do something before I lost my Mum, she couldn’t take much more.

Heading down to the pier to do some fishing I passed the local milk bar. The owners dedicate one side of their front window to community activities and local job advertisements.

I stopped to have a look as I always did and saw a job advertised for a young man sixteen to eighteen to work part time in the gardens for the retirement home, Chelsea Place. There was a telephone number and the man to talk to about the job.

I didn’t have the change to make the telephone call, so I decided to ride down and talk to the man face to face.

The retirement home is about five miles away, but it didn’t take long to ride there. It’s a really big old house surrounded by a rolling garden. The first thing you notice is all the roses that seem to frame the house.

I went around to the back door of the house, which was actually the kitchen door and saw a lady that was obviously the cook because she was covered in flour. Come in love, she called out, I’m just making scones for morning tea.

‘What can I do for you sweetheart?’ she asked.

‘I’m here about the job that was advertised on the milk bar window in Hastings Mrs,’ I said.

‘Then its Alec you’ll be after. He is the head gardener here. You could walk around and have a look for him if you like, or you could wait here for ten minutes and he will be in for his cup of tea.’

‘I might stay here if you don’t mind. It looks like a big garden and I don’t want to get lost.’

‘Right you are sweetheart. Grab a chair over that side of the table and I’ll get you a cuppa after I put these scones in the oven,’ the lady in the kitchen said.

She made me a cup of tea as she promised, and happily chattered away while she was fiddling with something else. What a nice lady I thought.

I had almost finished my tea when a stocky man came into the kitchen.

‘Hello Rosie, my love, I’d kill for a cuppa’, he said.

‘Sit yourself down Alec and I’ll get you one. You’re a bit early for the scones mate. They will be another few minutes,’ she said.

‘I’m in a bit of a rush Rosie, but I suppose I can wait a couple of minutes for a scone,’ he said laughing.

‘Now that’s a surprise,’ Rosie said.

‘What, that I’m in a hurry or that I will wait for a Scone?’ Alec asked.

‘Both,’ Rosie said laughing.

‘Alec this young man is here to see you about the helper’s job.’

He walked over to me and put out his hand. ‘I’m Alec Sampson the head gardener here.’

Rosie butted in and said, ‘the only gardener here you mean.’

I stood up and shook Alec’s hand. ‘I’m Frankie Cummings sir.’

‘Cummings, are you any relation of Billy Cummings the footballer?’ He asked.

‘Yes sir. He’s my father.’

‘Well I’ll be. You must take after your Mum’s side. You certainly don’t have your father’s build, well not yet anyway.’

‘How is your Dad by the way?’ He asked.

‘I don’t really know Sir, he left for work over two years ago and we haven’t seen him since. It’s just Mum and me now.’

‘How’s Mum?’ He asked in a strange sort of way.

‘She’s doing it pretty tough at the moment Sir, that’s why I’m here looking for a job to help out a bit if I can.’

‘How old are you Frankie?’ Alec asked.

‘I was fourteen last September Sir,’ I replied.

‘You’re a little younger than I had hoped for Frankie. What do you know about gardening?’ He asked.

‘Not a lot to be honest Sir. I grow veggies at home and look after the garden around the house to keep it tidy, but that’s about it.’

‘You grow veggies you say. So, you would know the difference between a plant and a weed then?’ He asked.

‘Yes Sir, I’m sure I do,’ I replied starting to get nervous.

Alec sat there drinking his tea for a few minutes, you could tell he was deep in thought.

‘I tell you what Frankie, after we have finished our cuppa’s and had one of Rosie’s scones, we’ll go out and see what you know and don’t know, how’s that sound?’ He asked.

‘That sounds good Sir. Sir, I might look small but I’m pretty strong,’ I said thinking I would just throw that in for good measure.

I followed Alec out the kitchen door and across the lawn to a large garden bed. It was the kitchen garden, very neatly laid out in rows with veggies of all kinds growing.

‘Righto Frankie, show me what is a weed and what is a plant,’ he said standing at the row of lettuce.

I bobbed down and pointed to a weed and said ‘that’s a weed Sir.’

‘Well pull it out son,’ he said.

‘No sir not now, if you pull that weed out now it will pull the seedling out with it. That type of weed has a root that spreads under the roots of the seedling. It’s best if you leave it for a while for the seedling to get more established.’

Alec stood there for a moment. ‘Frankie the job is only casual. It pays two pound a week for five days. We start early, six o’clock at this time of the year and we finish at three-thirty. We have morning tea in the kitchen with Rosie and she cooks lunch for us as well.’

‘As far as I’m concerned, the job is yours if you want it, but I’ll have to check with your Mum first mate, that’s the law.’

If Mum says it’s alright, when can I start? I asked.

‘Well, if you want to stick around for the rest of the day, I’ll drive you home and talk to your Mum. If she says it’s okay then you started today, how does that sound.’

‘That sounds terrific Sir.’

‘First things first Frankie. It’s Alec not Sir okay. You make me feel like one of those houty touty’s from up at the house calling me Sir.’

‘Come on young fella let me show you around the place and tell you some of the rules.’

We walked around the garden, with Alec pointing out the various things that we had to take special care of.

‘Rule number one Frankie, and probably the most important rule, you never interfere with the guests that live here. If they ask you a question, you have to answer them politely, but you must never ask them any questions or pry into their lives.’

‘Rule number two, you are not allowed to use the machinery. That’s only because of your age Frankie. We don’t want you tearing up the roses or anything,’ Alec said laughing his head off.

‘You’ll soon find out how funny that is Frankie, about tearing up the roses,’ he said laughing again.

We walked around the whole garden, with Alec patiently telling me what my duties would be and what he expected.

‘It’s mainly weeding Frankie, and you may think that’s not an important job, but let me tell you, this place looks outstanding when the weeds are under control, but it can look very run down if they start to take over.’

‘You may only be fourteen Frankie, but I expect you to take the responsibility for keeping the weeds under control. I don’t want to have to tell you some garden bed needs weeding, or the edges need trimming, that’s your responsibility, okay Frankie.’

‘Yes Sir, sorry, Alec. You can count on me,’ I promised.

CHAPTER 3

We only seemed to have covered half the garden when Alec announced it was time for lunch.

I didn’t bring any lunch with me Alec, I told him, maybe I could just have another cup of tea.

‘No mate, have you forgotten what I told you earlier, Rosie cooks us lunch everyday so there is no need to bring lunch with you.’ Alec reminded me.

When I got to the kitchen door I almost fainted. The aroma of the food was something I had never smelt before.

I couldn’t identify what was being served by the smell, but it made my mouth water almost uncontrollably.

Once inside the door I saw what I thought was a banquette laid out on the table. Two large plates full of roast lamb and baked potatoes, with baby peas and smothered in gravy. There was a loaf of fresh bread sitting on a bread board with the bread knife beside it.

A big tub of butter and a gravy boat containing mint sauce completed the display.

I must have been staring or looking a bit strange because Rosie apologised for not asking if I ate lamb.

‘Yes Rosie, I eat anything. Well I haven’t found something I don’t like yet,’ I told her for future reference.

What a meal. I can’t ever remember having a meal as good as this, even when Dad was around.

Alec and I ate mostly in silence, with Rosie fussing around by the sink. I was nervous, thinking someone from the house would come in and catch us eating their food and Rosie would get into trouble.

‘Well young Frankie, what is your story?’ Rosie asked.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

‘What’s a good-looking boy like you, wanting to work in the garden on your Christmas Holidays, instead of off fishing or chasing girls on the beach,’ she said.

‘My Dad left us a while ago and it’s just me and Mum now, and she is finding it hard to manage. You know the rent, the bills, the food, so I thought I should try and give her a hand.’

‘I grow veggies in the back yard, and I have been catching fish for us to eat, and sometimes I swop fish with the butcher for some mince so Mum can make us a casserole, but I’d just like to try and do more.’ I told her.

I hadn’t noticed but Rosie had crossed the kitchen and was standing behind me. She put her hand gently on my shoulder and said, ‘You’re a good boy Frankie Cummings.’

After we had managed to finish our lunch, Alec took me over to a rather large garden bed that was in front of the huge front bay window of the main house.

‘Well mate, time to start paying for your lunch,’ Alec said, putting his arm around my shoulders. ‘I’m throwing you in at the deep end right from the start. Once you get started there will be a hundred faces looking out that window, checking on you,’ he said laughing.

‘Don’t be alarmed. They are only looking at something different. Their day must be pretty boring looking at the same thing all the time. You are a double whammy, a new face doing something they can’t remember seeing anyone do before,’ he said.

There were quite a few weeds in the bed, so I started up against the brick wall of the house. Pulling out the weeds and turning the soil over with the trowel Alec had given me.

It was easy work and I found I really enjoyed it. I never noticed the time go by and before I knew it, Alec came over to tell me it was knock off time.

He stood and looked at my work. ‘Frankie be careful you don’t work yourself out of a job mate,’ he said.

‘Is what I’m doing okay Alec,’ I asked?

‘Very good Frankie, and very neat as well. I like that you clean up as you go along. Looks very professional.’

‘Time to wash up and head home mate. There’s a whole day untouched waiting for us tomorrow,’ he said.

We washed our hands and faces and said goodbye to Rosie. Alec threw my bike in the back of his old truck and we headed home to my place.

Mum was just getting back from her job at the fish shop when we pulled up out the front.

She saw my bike on the back of the truck and panicked. ‘Whatever has happened Frankie, you haven’t been in an accident have you, are you all right.’

‘Yes Mum, I’m alright,’ I assured her. ‘I got a job today and Alec drove me home, that’s all.’

Alec got out of the truck and I thought he came around to meet my Mum, but that wasn’t necessary.

‘Hello Anne, how have you been?’ He asked.

‘I’m okay thankyou Alec,’ she replied.

They shook hands but held each other’s hands longer than was normal. There was something there I thought. Something from the past.

Alec talked to mum about me working with him in the garden and the pay. She told him she was so sad to hear that I felt I had to find a part time job rather than be out having fun, but she was proud of me and happy that I was working with Alec.

Suddenly, Mum asked me to go and put the kettle on. ‘Mum I have to stoke up the stove, it could take a while.’ I explained.

‘That’s alright Frankie, I want to talk to Alec in private for a minute anyway.’

While I was getting the fire started in the stove Mum and Alec had a long conversation out the front.

Mum wasn’t flirty like she had been when we met Dad at the train, but she was definitely very friendly toward Alec.

After quite some time they came into the house. Alec sat at the table, in Dad’s seat and Mum never said a word. I couldn’t remember anyone else sitting in that seat since Dad left, but then we didn’t have many visitors.

They sat comfortably chatting about old times and what each other had been up to.

I found out Alec had never married. ‘There was only ever one love for me, and she was taken,’ he told Mum.

Mum told him about how things had been since Dad had gone. I thought she might be embarrassed to tell him about her job peeling potatoes, but she just spoke as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

I couldn’t get over how comfortable they were together. There has to be history there, I told myself.

It was well after dark when Alec left. See you bright and early in the morning Frankie, he said as he waved good-bye.

I was determined to be early the next morning. I left home at five thirty giving me plenty of time to get to the home.

Without rushing I arrived at six fifteen, just enough time to have a cuppa with Rosie before I had to start work.

We sat and chattered while we drank our tea. She was so easy to talk to, just like talking to your Nanna, or that’s how it felt to me, because I didn’t have a Nanna, so I was only imagining what it was like.

I walked over to the garden shed to collect my trowel and the wheelbarrow before heading back to the garden bed I had been working on yesterday.

After about ten minutes, Alec dropped by to check and see if I was okay.

‘I’m glad to see someone is on the job early,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t sleep to good last night so it could take me a while to get going this morning.’

I nearly had the bed finished when Alec came by to tell me it was smoko.

‘Frankie, I wasn’t joking yesterday afternoon, don’t go working yourself out of a job mate. You are doing a great job, just take it a little easier.’ Alec said.

We walked over to the kitchen and Rosie was there with our cuppa and morning tea ready for us.

The hot sweet tea with Rosie’s home-made fruit cake was a real treat. I haven’t eaten like this ever I thought. I had better take notice of Alec’s suggestion about not working myself out of a job.

After morning tea, I went back and finished the bed I was working on and cleaned up. I stood back and admired my work. Pretty good, I said to myself, and moved onto another bed in the middle of the lawn.

This one had to be weeded and the edges had to be trimmed. My plan was to start in the middle and work my way to the outside, that way trimming the edges would be the last job.

The sun was warm on my back now that I was away from the shade of the house. I noticed a nurse push one of the residents over close to where I was working and left him there.

Remembering Alec’s words