Two lads are in the final moments of the Abbotsford Brewery Apprentices Annual Boxing Match. The boxing ring in the brewery stables is several joined wooden hurdles supported on one side by a horse-stall. Horse coats hang over the hurdles to provide protection, and a tarpaulin covers a thick straw mulch to form a canvas floor. The smaller of the two young men is up against the fence, but in a final effort, he ducks and lands a straight left punch to his opponent's jaw. The bigger lad drops to the floor. He attempts to rise but cannot.
“One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! … ”
The men and youths standing six deep around the ring call out to the lad on the floor to get up.
“… Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten! Out!”
The smaller boy looks down at his opponent. He looks serious, unaware of the yelling around the ring. The older men are smiling and chatting. The younger boys and youths are vocal and animated in their response. Paul suddenly becomes aware of the crowd and looks around. On the balcony above the loading area, where managers and the accounts department have their offices he sees a row of onlookers among them, two young women, neatly dressed in skirts, and blouses. As Paul looks at them they smile, and one waves while the other blows him a kiss. Paul smiles and waves self-consciously then quickly looks away. At a distance from the crowd and near the exit gate, a heavily built and swarthy older youth accompanied by a younger lad stand and watch. They show no signs of emotion.
“The winner is ...Paul Stoner.”
The referee holds up Paul Stoner's left arm. Then a balding man wearing trouser braces over his office shirt and a crumpled tie climbs through a hurdle and goes up to stand on the other side of Paul. Then he speaks in a slow loud voice.
“Congratulations to young Paul Stoner on winning the Abbotsford Brewery's annual apprentices boxing tournament. He did a magnificent job. The lads were very well matched as you saw, taking the full five rounds to get to the finish.”
The works manager turns to face Paul Stoner.
“On behalf of the Abbotsford Brewery, I have pleasure in presenting you with the winners purse. Congratulations ...and may I suggest you don't spend it all at once.”
The manager grins and winks at Paul as the boy accepts the brown envelope nodding and offering a small grin and a murmured ‘thank you’ in response.
Paul slips the envelope into his shorts pocket and steps into the crowd. Friends gather to congratulate him, shaking his hand and slapping him on the back. The older workers clap and call out “well-done lad” then turn to head off home or back to begin their evening shift. Paul’s friend Ralph, helps him take off his boxing gloves then hands him his jumper and then his bag. Meanwhile, the works foreman speaks over the noisy gathering.
“Thanks lads. Home you go now, and don't be late for work in the morning.”
Paul tunnels through the crowd and sneaks off home.
Paul left his workplace at the brewery in the fading afternoon light.
As he crossed an alley way leading into the back of the brewery, someone grabs him from behind.
A strong arm holds him around the neck, and a hand covers his eyes. Paul receives a punch in the stomach and a knee in the crotch, then he's released from the arm hold around his neck and he slumps forward in pain.
A hand reaches into Paul’s trousers pocket and removes the envelope containing Paul's winnings. Paul drops to the ground and in a dark moment of dizziness, he hears his assailants run off.
A narrow single fronted weather-board house in a row of identical weather-board houses. Paul staggers along the side of the house to the back garden. He whispers to the cockatoo in the cage, hoping that tonight, it will not announce his arrival in it's screeching voice. But Cocky is quiet for once. Paul’s limping gait makes the bird wary, thinking that Paul is a stranger. He checks that his aunt is not outside in the yard, then crosses to the sleep-out where he falls through the door and onto his bed. He roles onto his stomach and sobs.
After a few minutes, Paul gets up and washes his face outside at the laundry tap then goes in through the back door. His aunt May is in the kitchen cooking dinner.
“Well, love? Did you win?”
“Yes, just! He boxed well. I thought he had me for a while. Lasted eight rounds.”
May turns to face Paul offering him the pudding mixing bowl the contents of which she had just emptied into the baking tin. She hands him a wooden spoon.
Are you all right then? No broken bones or anything? But, I bet you're tired and I bet you're hungry. We've got a roast tonight, so you can eat as much as you like.
“Thanks aunt May.”
May turns and busy herself moving saucepans on the gas stove.
“You don't seem happy about winning Paul. Is there something wrong or are you just tired?”
Paul carries the bowl to the kitchen table and sits down staring into it, thinking.
“I got robbed aunt May. Two blokes ...I think it was only two ...jumped me around the corner from work as I headed home. They took my winnings.”
Paul fought back his tears, but not before May sees his pain. She comes over to him and puts a hand on one shoulder and crouches down to examine his face.
“That’s terrible Paul. Does anybody else know? Did anybody see them or come to help you? Can you remember anything about them?”
Paul shakes his head.
“Not really ...except the man with his arm round my neck smelt awful. I wanted to throw up.”
“We'll go down to the police station right after dinner. They need to know when something like this happens. People need to feel safe when they walk the streets. Bastards like that should be caught and locked up.”
May moves over to the kitchen dresser to get plates and cutlery. Paul starts to move the spoon around the cake bowl.
“I don't want to do that aunt May.”
“Don't be silly. You must report things like this.”
“I don't want anybody to know it happened. Let's keep it to ourselves aunt May. Please. Let me deal with it my way.”
May lies the table then gets the roast out of the oven and begins to carve it. She is silent for moment.
“Have it your way if you like, but I can't help thinking that it's your uncle Rod talking. You spent too much time with him up there in the bush. You are so like him it's uncanny.”
Paul looks up and comes to life at the mention of his uncle's name.
“Uncle Rod taught me how to box, how to fire a gun, shoe, and break in horses and much more aunt May. He showed me how to manage my life on my own after dad went and mum died.”
His aunt listened, then in a quiet reflective voice she spoke.
“Being so independent is probably why your uncle stayed single all his life. Any woman that ever got a little bit close to him sent him running off over the border, or he’d hide out at a mate's fishing shack up on the river. I know because I was the one left behind to listen to the crying and wailing of his many girlfriends. I loved my brother but there are things he could have done differently. I just hope you don’t grow up to be exactly like him.”
Paul listened to his aunt. He noted what she said. Then he repeated what he’d said before.
“I don't want anybody to know about me being robbed.”
They eat dinner in silence.
“Your uncle would have been proud of your win today Paul.”
At the end of the meal, when the two are eating chocolate pudding with custard, his aunt inquires about his plans after his apprenticeship ends
“When do you finish your apprenticeship? Less than a year to go isn't it? Will you stay on at the brewery Paul or would you like to do something different?”
Paul holds his spoon in his mouth while he thinks about the question, then he removes it, looks at his aunt and responds.
“My supervisor at work reckons I’m good at maths and estimating stuff. He often asks me to help with checking quantities in deliveries or what stock I think we will need to order. And I do enjoy sums and geometry. Anyway, he says I should go to night school and train to be a mechanical engineer. He said it would be best if I got a job where there wasn’t any night shift. Once we finish our apprenticeship, we have to go on to the adult roster which means working nights. I don't believe the brewery is the right place to be, so at the end of the year I will look for a different job. That is what I will do aunt May.”
“Well, Paul, it sounds as if you know what you want. Now, have another helping of pudding while I run a hot bath. You need one after what you’ve been through today.”
Paul smiles.
“Thanks aunt May.”
Despite being very tired, so much had happened to Paul that day that he found it difficult to get to sleep. His mind was in overdrive. Examining the boxing match should have been uppermost in his thoughts. He was normally meticulous in reviewing every moment of a fight, examining every action to better understand the outcome of each move and each round. But so many other things intruded and demanded his attention. Being robbed was a significant event of the day but it seemed that he had already resolved all that was needed on this issue during his discussion with aunt May and it floated away from his thoughts.
A recurring image of the two young women with bright red lips standing on the balcony waving and blowing kisses as he was declared the winner, pushed aside all other thoughts. He found thinking about them exciting.
And then Paul found himself remembering Cynthia and that day at the farm in Rupunyip when uncle Rod’s girlfriend Sheila visited with her daughter.
“Sheila is coming over tomorrow. We are going to see some friends of hers then heading on over to a house in Wauchope that she’s thinking of buying.”
“Colin is bringing over the stock we bought on Thursday so you will need to be here to help him unload. Keep them in the yard until I get back and they’ve settled down. Make sure they have fresh water but don’t feed out any hay. They won’t need it. Oh and by the way, Sheila will drop off her daughter Cynthia here so you will have company for the day. There’s plenty of food in the cupboard so the two of you won’t starve. We should be back late arvo.”
“How come I haven't met her daughter before?” Paul enquired.
“She lives on a property north of the river in the Riverina with her father and his sister and family. He manages the place. She goes to school in Albury and comes to stay with her mother in the holidays. I reckon she’s about your age, maybe a bit older. She’s been around livestock all her life so the two of you will have similar interests. Be nice to her. Sheila says she thinks her daughter gets lonely on the farm.”
Sheila arrived early the next day and tooted the horn as she rounded the machinery sheds and pulled up outside the back door. Paul followed along as uncle Rod went out to greet her, not with his usual passionate kiss and energetic hugging, but with a brief hug and peck on the cheek. Paul instantly saw the reason for his uncle’s hesitant welcome. A thin suntanned girl with blond wavy hair stood beside the car surveying the scene.
“Rodney and Paul, this is Cynthia. Cynthia this is Rod and that is Paul his nephew, who lives here with him.”
The girl stood very still then moved her head one way and then the other looking first at uncle Rod and then at Paul.
“Hello both of you,” said Cynthia. “Great place you’ve got here.”
Then without another word, she headed down towards the creek that ran below the cattle yards.
“She will explore everything and drive you crazy with question,” said Sheila looking at Paul as she spoke.
“But you won’t find her boring I can assure you. She can do anything a man can do on the farm. And don’t worry if she doesn’t answer your questions immediately. She will be thinking about what you said. And she won’t always give the answer you expected. I’m told Cynthia is a bit different to most fourteen year olds. Probably too bright for her own good sometimes. But you will soon get to know her. Best of luck!”
Rod climbed in to the drivers seat. He turned the car around and Sheila got in and then, before heading off, Rod lent he out of the window and called out, “Don’t forget Colin is coming. We should be back between four and five but don’t worry if we are late. Enjoy yourselves and we’ll see you later.”
The tourer leapt forward then almost stopped before shooting off and disappearing around the corner.
Silence prevailed for just a moment and then Paul turned to check the sound of a voice calling from what seemed a long way off.
“Can you help me with this please?”
Cynthia waved to him from the far side of the creek. She was hanging on to a rope which was attached to the crayfish trap except she probably didn’t know what was on the end of it. It was snagged on something. He noticed that she was very wet and bedraggled. Her clothes clung to her and her hair looked crazy.
Paul headed down to the creek. When he got there he called out “are you all right?”
Cynthia nodded. “It’s snagged” she answered in a low voice. “If it is a crayfish trap, we should get it up and check it.”
“It’s not a problem. The door is closed when we’re not using it so there won’t be anything in it although sometimes an eel manages to slip in.”
Paul untied the thin rope that he used to pull in the big rope hanging from the big gum tree that they swung out on over the water hole. This time he wasn’t using it to drop into the water but just to get him onto the far bank. He dropped to the grass gently just a few feet from where Cynthia sat. She watched him intently, checking his every movement whilst cleverly hiding her interest.
“Shouldn’t you keep it out of the water when you’re not using it?”
“I do but we had big rains a week or so back and it looks like a floating tree branch might have dragged it in. I’ll get it out now while you are holding the rope. That will make it easier.”
Paul wadded into the water with his right hand following the taught rope and his left gently moving leaves and debris away in front of him. He quickly located the submerged tree limb and with great effort succeeded in raising a part of it above the water level so that they could see where the rope went. The cage also appeared and with a bit of pulling and pushing, Paul freed the contraption from its captor and called to Cynthia to pull the wire net up to the bank.
The two of them stood looking down at the net then Paul dragged it further away from the water, all the time watched by the girl.
“Follow me.” Said Paul. “There is a tree across the water just around the corner. You wont need to get wet again. Are you comfortable or should I get you a towel to dry off? I’m supposed to look after you. Your mum would be furious if she came back and found you had died of pneumonia.”
Paul attempt at humour had been ignored and he turned to lead them to the river crossing.
Half way along the track which led upto the house, Cynthia yelled ‘chickens’ and ran off towards the fowl pens nestled beneath the two giant peppercorn trees that gave afternoon shade to the homestead. Paul stopped and watched her then followed along. Cynthia had already let herself in to the chook pens and he could hear the hens warning cackles as the stranger moved among the nest boxes and the hanging self-feeder drums containing wheat.
“No eggs,” came a voice seemingly addressed to itself.
Paul put his head against the wire door of the dark shed and called out. “I collected a dozen or so before you arrived. But I haven’t checked the guinea fowl nests yet. Lets do that.”
The wacky looking girl appeared.
“Show me guinea fowl!”
Paul beckoned Cynthia from the yard.
“We go into the scrub over there.” He nodded towards a patch of casuarina trees and wattles below which long yellow native grasses crowded the woodland floor.
Paul led the way and Cynthia, her still damp dress now covered in short stalks of straw and spider webs from the chook shed, followed, all the time fighting back her usual desire to run forward to explore for new things.
As they approached the trees, Paul let out a series of cackling noises. Cynthia stopped and stood watching him. Suddenly a bird that she had never seen before, came out of the woodland in front of him followed by many others. Their feathers were blue-grey and interlaced with white feathers. They had little necks and tiny funny heads with bluish white scaly skin behind the eye that reached to the neck and bright red wattles hung below their beaks. The girl was thrilled and expressed herself in wild yelling which Paul eventually made out was her calling “guinea fowls, guinea fowls, guinea fowls. I love you! Guinea fowl are so funny, so funny.”
“Where do they live?” Cynthia shouted above the fowls loud calling. She came and stood beside Paul for the first time instead of standing at a distance, somewhere else, as she had done so far.
“They roost over in the peppercorn trees. They are great at guarding the chooks. They make a lot of noise if a fox or eagle comes around. And they nest all over the place but mainly in here in the long grass. Lets have a look.”
The two moved out of the sunlight into the shade of the woodland looking around them as they went. Suddenly Cynthia yelled out “here’s a nest.” Eight eggs lay in a grass and feathered nest in a hollow where a tree once stood. She bent and collected the eggs and lifted her dress to make a pouch for them. Paul looked appreciatively at her long legs newly exposed above her knees. He found her attractive and was conscious of feeling a pleasurable agitation which confused him just a little.
After delivering the eggs to the bowl on the kitchen sideboard, Cynthia dashed off to explore the house. Paul didn’t try to follow her but instead, brought some bread to the table and then sliced some lamb and found a jar of pickle. He called her name out in the passage way realising as he did so that it was he first time he had spoken her name.
“Cynthia! Come and have something to eat.”
Cynthia was suddenly at his side having come through the door which led to the wash house. She moved silently and surprised him.
“Who cooks?” Cynthia questioned.
“Uncle Rod does and so do I”. Paul replied.
Cynthia picked up a piece of meat and laid it on a slice of bread then wandered back outside. Paul heard the fly-wire door bang. He did the same with bread and lamb but added pickle to the lamb then joined her outside.
Typically, the girl had disappeared. Then he heard her questioning voice.
“Where’s your sow?”
Paul didn’t answer immediately but walked in the direction of where the voice had seemed to come from. For a moment he thought he had come in the wrong direction then saw movement up high and spotted Cynthia at the top of the ladder which stood between two water tanks. She peered in to one then the other then back to the first one again.
“We get dead possums in our tanks. Dad is alway fishing them out.”
Paul walked over to the stand and held the ladder to prevent it from sliding over. Rod had always said he would tie the top of the ladder to the frame running between the tanks but he’d never got round to doing it.
“We used to until we put the strips of wire netting over the top. Now we don’t get them.”
Paul found himself gazing upward and seeing all the way up Cynthia’s dress to her knickers. Her brown legs seemed to go on forever and that was exciting. But the part of her body he was attracted to most, after her face and hair, was her perfect feet and ankles. He thought how different life would be if they lived in the same house. Perhaps if uncle Rod married Sheila then Cynthia would come and be with them each school holiday and how wonderful that would be. He must think of ways to encourage uncle Rod to settle down and marry Sheila, he thought.
“Where’s your sow?” came the question again?
“We don’t keep pigs. We go away sometimes for a week or more, fishing or shooting. You can be away from cattle and sheep and you can leave food for chooks but pigs need daily attention. You can’t leave them alone on the place. They wouldn’t survive.”
Cynthia came down the ladder rapidly then stood in front of Paul and just stared at him while she finished off her bread and lamb. Then she turned and headed off again, this time towards the row of wooden sheds, each with its own door. He thought she would most likely start at the first one and work her way along, but she didn’t. Cynthia in her usual rapid walking style headed to the corner shed, opened the door and went in and closed the door behind her.
Paul wondered if this was her way of saying, “Don't follow me” but he hesitated for only a moment before following her.
Cynthia stood transfixed. This was Paul and his uncles training room. They called it the gym. The setup was very spartan comprising two different sized hanging punching bags and a roped off boxing ring with a canvas floor covering a thick layer of soft hay. Hanging on one wall were two rows of boxing gloves. Those on the top row were larger and mostly the same size while on the bottom row, the sizes went from the very small gloves that Paul had worn some years back to those that he now wore.
“I want to fight you.” Cynthia exclaimed.
Paul laughed. “You mean you would like to put on the boxing gloves?”
“Yes, and you put some on too.”
Cynthia reached up and selected a small pair which looked to be her size and proceeded to pull them on. Then she stared at the long laces hanging from her wrists.
“What do I do now?” she asked turning to Paul and holding her hands up.
“I’ll tie your laces so that the gloves don’t come off when you are boxing” he answered.
“But I can’t tie yours while I’m wearing these. So what will you do?”
“Don’t worry. I can tie my own. I have a knack using my teeth. Usually there is someone around to do it for you when you are at a boxing match.”
Cynthia held her hands up in front of her while Paul pulled the laces tight and wrapped and tied them around her wrists. Then he pulled his own gloves on and did a quick thing with his mouth to fix his laces around his wrists and out of the way.
“Are you ready to box Cynthia?”
Cynthia eyed him with the now familiar stare of a person trying to get the measure of him.
“Yes Paul.”
He liked the way she spoke his name. But then he liked everything she said or did. He took her upper arm in his gloved hand and led her to the ropes of the workout ring. He ducked under the top rope into the ring and Cynthia followed.
Paul moved them to the middle of the ring and showed her how to face him and hold her arms in a defensive stance then he backed away and stood in a similar position.
“So Cynthia, if you want to begin by hitting me, that would be a good start. Aim to hit my face and be ready to push my arm away when I try to hit you. Have you got that?”
“Why would I want to hit you in the face Paul?”
Paul fought back a smile and answered “Well, a boxer aims to beat his opponent by hitting him. They both keep doing this until one gives in or gets knocked unconscious. We are not going to do anything like that but you need to know that that is what boxing is about. The winner is the one who fights the best. You get that? Right now we are just sparing or playing at hitting if you like”
Paul moved his hands about to suggest sparing and Cynthia began waving here hands in a movement that seemed more like swimming.
“Oh yes! The other thing that boxers need to do is to keep their feet and legs moving like they were dancing. This means that they are all the time changing their position and making it more difficult for the other person to land a direct hit on their chin or nose. Got that?”
Cynthia stopped pawing the air and stood and stared at him in her usual disarming way. Then she started to dance, swinging her legs backwards and forwards and side to side, then she added the swimming movement and so became an amazing sight for Paul to behold.
Paul was mesmerised and slid totally under Cynthia’s spell. If this had been a proper fight, Cynthia would have landed half a dozen significant blows to his head which he might not have survived. As it turned out, he was unprepared for what happened next.
Cynthia suddenly charged towards him and fell and crashed into his chest. Paul managed to catch her in his arms but not before he lost his balance and together they fell to the floor, he on his back and she lying on top of him. Cynthia by this time had a gloved hand pressed against each of his ears and their noses were all but touching. If that wasn’t surprising enough for Paul, Cynthia pushed her face close to his and pressed her lips to his lips and they kissed.
The two lay there not moving. The kissing continued and Paul felt passion like nothing he had felt before. He shook the gloves from his hands and ran them up her back to her shoulders and then down again and over her small buttocks. Cynthia pressed his lips even harder with hers, moving her mouth slowly as though savouring something delicious. Paul ran his hand back up her thin frame and out over her shoulders to her bare arms and pulled her tighter to him. Cynthia shuddered ever so slightly and Paul’s body stiffened in response.
This magic moment for the two ended just moments later. The huge sound of a truck horn filled their space and a giant motor sounded as though it was about to come through the gym wall.
“Colin!” shouted Paul.
Cynthia rolled off and sat up looking confused.
“It’s the truck bringing the stock uncle Rod bought at the market yesterday. I have to show him where to go.”
Cynthia stared at him, trying to take it all in. For the first time she appeared confused and Paul felt a momentary twinge of guilt. But it wasn’t really his fault.
Paul took off and met the truck outside where it sat with the motor running with Colin waiting for someone to appear.
“This way Colin!”
Paul headed down past the sheds and round the corner and turned and pointed towards the second loading race.
By the time Colin had turned the truck around and backed up to the race, Cynthia had joined Paul. She stood beside him with her arms bent and her still gloved hands reaching forward.
Colin switched off the motor and jumped down to join the two, staring at Cynthia all the while.
“Gee Paul. I didn’t know you had a girl friend.” Colin said with a broad smile.
Paul went a bit red and attempted to introduced Cynthia but before he had finished saying her name, Cynthia replied on her own account.
“I will marry Paul and I will have four babies. That is if I don’t die of pneumonia beforehand.”
If Paul’s day with Cynthia had triggered an emotion akin to love, his second encounter with a girl - or rather, girls - took him somewhere else entirely, somewhere he could never have imagined.
Leaving work one Friday afternoon, Paul was greeted by the sound of two peoples voices speaking in unison.
“Hello Paul” they called.
Paul looked across the street and saw the twins from the accounts department, Lola and Rosa.
“Hello” Paul called back.
“We want to talk to you Paul. We are going your way. Come and walk with us.”
Paul hesitated a moment then crossed over to the corner where the girls stood. He smiled at the two as he approached. Their obvious face make-up and smart clothes made a strong impression on him and he felt he was entering a place he’d never been before.
Up close, Paul became aware also of the girls heady perfume. It reacheded out and enveloped him so that he felt enclosed in their world, a pleasant and exciting world that he knew he wanted to explore.
“We’ve been wanting to talk to you ever since we saw you fight. We had no idea that you were a boxer,” said the first girl.
“A ‘dark horse’ is what someone called you,” said the second girl.
“Stop. Please!” said Paul.
“First you must tell me which of you is Lola and which is Rosa. I’m so confused.”
The girls laughed.
“Silly boy. Does it really matter?” said the first one.
“Well, yes it does. You are two people, not one person,” Paul replied.
The second girl spoke.
“All right, it’s easy really. Once you get to know us you will notice many differences. But to help you out until then, just remember a couple of things.”
Paul stood still to look at the two and listen.
“I’m Lola and I have a small mole on my chin,” she said, placing a finger on her face to show him the spot.
“The other differences are that I usually speak first, though not always. Also, I’m left handed and Rosa is right handed. Another thing is that we always share things. Everything!”
“Everything” repeated Rosa.
“So there you have it Paul.” Said Lola.
“Simple isn’t it?” Said Rosa.
Everyone laughed. Lola took Paul’s left arm in her right arm and Rosa took his right arm in her left arm and turned him, then all three wandered gently in the direction of aunt May’s house.
As the three meandered through the Collingwood backstreets in the late afternoon summer sun, the sisters proposed to Paul that all three should meet at the boatshed at Studley Park at midday on the following day for a picnic. They said that they knew a quiet spot among the bushes on the other side of the river close to a good swimming spot.
“Don’t worry about food. We will bring enough. Just your swimming togs and a towel,” said Lola.
Over the years that followed, Paul would remembered the exact moment on returning from work on a Monday afternoon when aunt May suddenly treated him differently, when his aunt first spoke to him not as a lad, but as she would to any other adult male like his uncle or the woodman. A different aunt May now greeted him in the morning and on his return from work in the afternoon.
It was hard to say exactly what was different but if Paul had been able to analyse the situation he would have noticed that Aunt May no longer made jokes or acted in a motherly fashion. All he knew was that the change in her attitude was abrupt and he could never work out why. But deep down, he could not help linking this moment of change in his aunt with something momentous that had happened to him at the picnic with Lola and Rosa two days before. But how could that be? He had had one last swim and cleansed himself in the Yarra River before arriving home well washed, even shiny. And he had told his aunt simply that he was meeting friends and going for a swim. What had he missed?
Monday was washing day at May’s house as it was in every home across the country. As May sorted the dirty linen into separate piles she couldn’t help noticing a sudden waft of an unexpected scent when she picked up Paul’s towel. A woman’s perfume? May paused then laid the towel aside. She knew what she wanted to look for next. She found and dragged Paul’s underpants from the pile of dirty washing and carried them out the laundry door away from the smells of the rest of the washing.
Outside, May sniffed, and yes there was the same perfume smell. But this could have come from the undies being close to the wet towel for the past day or more. And who knows who might have borrowed and shared Paul’s towel?
Then May looked closely at the underpants and discovered three faint red patches near the fly buttons. May held the pants close to her face and sniffed again. “Lipstick!” she declared out loud.
In May’s mind, Paul had come of age and she knew that from now on, his world would be different.
Paul left the brewery and aunt May’s house. It happened more quickly than either of them expected. His apprenticeship finished earlier on account of a minor technical change in government work policy. His supervisor, Mr Collins, talked again about Paul studying at night school. Then one morning Mr Collins called Paul into his office and told him that the Board of Works was advertising for workers on the new Ocean Road project and how this was a great opportunity to expand Pauls working experience. He also said that as it would start close to Geelong, there would be the chance to study at night.
Mr Collins wrote Paul a glowing reference and within a fortnight, he had been offered a position as trainee in the procurement section and was told to report to the Board of Works depot in Geelong at 8 am on the first Monday in June. He was told that he would be kitted out with suitable clothing and then allocated accomodation to suit his work location. All necessary provisions would be supplied.
Leaving aunt May was touched with sadness but at the same time, it was exciting. Paul had long dreamt of getting away on his own. This new job provided just that opportunity and Paul was excited. He expected that his working days would be very different to the sheltered life he had enjoyed at the brewery. And then there was the challenge of being in a strange city with new people, and most of all, living as an adult and not the lad that apprentices where usually labelled by older workers.
In the years that followed, Paul would often reflect on those early days and training. He remembered the day he was promoted from order clerk to assistant Assets manager and given the task of working out a system for monitoring the distribution and maintenance of six hundred sets of picks and shovels. Later, when he studied at night school, one of his particular interest was explosives, first in estimating quantities to move a given lode of earth, shale or rock, and then the technical aspect of placing and firing the explosives. And when the opportunity arose, Paul managed to get himself appointed to the little band of powder monkeys, the men who moved up and down the length of the road project laying and setting off explosives to move the exact amount of material requested by the site engineers. In Paul’s eyes, he had made it to the first stage of his quiet but firm ambition to improve his lot.
A series of explosions blast a hundred meters of cliff-face. The Ocean Road is being built along the steep cliffs where the Otway Ranges fall to meet the sea. The roadwork's employed around four hundred men at any one time. Gangs are visible along the length of the new road heading east and a line of horses pulling drays can be seen waiting to collect material from the new blast.
Dust from the explosion rises at the point where the road works currently end. A lone figure strides up the road towards the explosion site. Paul Stoner is now a powder-man in charge of placing and detonating the gelignite to move the rock and create a pathway for the new road. Paul moves along the blast face carefully checking that all the holes he drilled and filled with explosives have been detonated. When he has inspected the area twice, he turns to face the men waiting with the horses and carts far down the road and blows long and hard on a whistle then waves a green flag sending the’'all clear' signal. The men begin to move up towards the new source of shale and rock to gather fresh supplies for the crusher and to clear the newly created section of road.
Paul is soon to turn twenty and has worked on the road for nearly two years.
As he waits for the men and horses, Paul takes out a notebook and writes down details of the blast. He looks up occasionally to assess the amount of rock moved then writes down his estimates. Then he gets a large tape measure from the bag he carries on his back and measures the length and width of the newly blasted area and writes that into his book.
As he finishes writing his report, he looks up and inland to the Otway Ranges, now looking higher and more tree-covered than the open low-vegetation country that the road has passed through so far.
The first man with a horse and a cart loaded with a scoop arrives and turns the horse and backs the cart up to the edge of the blast area, ties the reins back to the cart, rubs the horses nose then walks over to join Paul. Jack Jones is Paul's best friend. Jack manages all the horses on the road building site.
Jack stoops and picks up a piece of rock.
“This stuff's bigger than the last lot Paul.”
Paul puts away his pad and grins at Jack.
“It is bigger Jack. As we move into the hills so the hard rock takes over from the shale and mud-stone we've seen up till now.”
Jack turns and looks up at the ridges of the Otway Ranges looming ahead, then back at the newly blasted rock face.
“Makes sense I suppose. I guess it also means that the road surface will be harder to start with so that we won't have to add so much hard rock.”
Jack crouch's down and looks intently at the ground around him.
“And that means we are going to end up with a lot more rock than we need. Is that how you see it Paul?”
“Reckon so. But because the forested slopes will become steeper and wetter, and we will have creeks to cross, I think we’re going to need a lot of solid in-fill in some places just to hold the road up.”
The other carts are arriving, each with a team of four men. They turn their rigs and park as close in to the rock face as they can before beginning to shovel from the open ocean side. The loading is rhythmic and the men pace themselves so that they can keep loading, stopping only every ten minutes or so for a short break.
Jack turns towards his cart to unload the heavy scoop which will be used later when most of the rock has been taken away and the levelling of the section can begin.
“Got to collect bags of spuds this afternoon Paul. Will you be free to give a hand?”
Paul is watching the men loading, then half turns to call back.
“Yes, what time do you want to leave?”
“I'll call by about two. See you then?”
“OK, Jack! Take care.”
As Paul walks back down the road past the long procession of men and horse drawn drays, to the overseers hut just visible in the tea-tree down near the creek, Jack unlocks the tip-dray, ties a rope from the scoop bucket to a small tree then eases the horse forward until the tray tips and the scoop is dragged from the cart. Tomorrow, when much of the rock has been removed, he’ll hitch up the scoop to his biggest draft horse and begin shaping the road and the run-off ditches ready for the finished crushed rock surface.
It was cool inside the general store but outside, the midsummer temperature was rising fast. Paul had driven to the town early and parked the dray in the shade beneath the big pine trees that lined the edge of the foreshore. As the shop door closed behind him, Mrs Johannson called out from behind the curtain which screened the storeroom and office from the public area, “Be with you in a moment.”
Paul was the first customer for the morning, and the store staff were still bringing in stock to replenish the shelves, sweeping the side lane and the front footpath and generally preparing for the day ahead.
“Hello Paul. Jack still in bed?” Mrs Johannson laughed as she tied her apron around her waist.
“Good morning Mrs Johannson. No, There was a problem with the horses last night so Jack’s busy sorting it out. Nothing serious, but he has to be there. You’ll have to deal with me I’m afraid. He gave me my instructions and a list. Even told me that if I didn’t see Kate, I was to leave a message for her with you saying he’d be up at the weekend.” Paul smiled at Mrs Johannson and handed her the list of supplies.
“Well, Kate’s going to be disappointed not to see him when she comes in. They do seem to get on so well, and I don’t think they see one another very much. And she’ll have to carry her shopping home herself. Her order gets bigger each week. If it weren't for Jack, she’d have to make a couple of trips I think. Anyway, she’s a worker that's for sure, so she won’t complain.” Mrs Johannson put on her glasses and looked at Paul’s list, then called one of the shop assistants over to help her.
“Oh, yes. Jack asked me to help Kate with her bags if I could. I have to go to the blacksmith to order something to be made up, and to the butcher as well, so if she comes in, perhaps you could tell her to hang on till I get here. If she doesn’t want to do that, that’s fine, but I shouldn’t be more than three quarters of an hour.”
“All right Paul, I’ll tell her. We will see you later then.”
When Paul got back to the store, Kate was standing beside her two baskets and a shopping bag, talking to Mrs Johannson while she waited for him.
“Here he is. Paul your order is over near the lane door, and the trolley is just outside. Leave it all there until you get back.”
“Thanks Mrs Johannson. Hello Kate. Jack says sorry he couldn’t get here. Horse problems. But he will be up at the weekend, probably early because we both have to meet the blacksmith at 8am. He’s making something up for Jack and we both need to check what he’s done before taking it back to camp. It’s a new attachment for the scoop. Can I help you with these then?” Paul nods towards the baskets on the floor.
“You can Paul. Thank you. And thank you Mrs Johannson. I’m sure I’ll see you again later today. Mum’s booked a big group in for the week so we’re sure to have forgotten something. Bye”
Kate smiles and lifts up the bag and joins Paul heading for the door with the baskets.
“Thanks for this Paul. Did Jack make you do it?”
“Yes, threatened to put a snake in my bed roll if I didn’t. I tried to get out of it but, well … Jack can be persuasive.” They both laughed.
Although it was only mid-morning, the heat was noticeable. There was not even the light onshore breeze that usually made the summer so comfortable in Lorne. It was the sort of day when people stayed in their houses with the blinds or shutters closed. Hardly anyone moved along the street as Paul and Kate began their walk to the Grand Hotel, a good kilometre and half from the store. Paul could have used the horse and dray except the hill road to the back of the hotel was very narrow and steep and he’d have a bit of explaining to do should his rig get into difficulties. When a delivery from the brewery came, or firewood was delivered or, on the rare occasions when furniture items might arrive at the hotel, men carrying large wooden chocks were sent to follow the wagons up the road to place under the back wheels should the horses stall. Visitors parked their gigs or cars on the hotels beach-road vehicle yard and walked up the long flight of steps through the trees and blue agapanthus and a rugged garden to the flat lawn area in front of the hotel. The walk up was well worth it once you arrived and turned to look at the wide ocean view and the cliffs and high hills that stretched into the distance on both sides.
Kate chatted on about her family and life at the hotel, and Paul listened intently. Paul was always interested in what was going on around him, be it how things worked or what people did. And he was happy having this time alone with her. He admitted only to himself that he had found Kate to be a particularly attractive young women — both physically and for her personality and disposition — from the very first time Jack introduced them. Once he had established that her childlike laughter was really only a young adolescence’s nervous reaction to being with strangers or people she did not know very well, he could see that the person inside was most warm and generous and sincere. Kate had impressed him more than any girl he’d met before. But, she was Jack’s girl and Jack was her man and Paul held no illusions about where his or their allegiance’s lay.
Kate too, was enjoying this brief and rare moment alone with Paul. She had observed him with the same woman’s eye that first observed Jack and so far, she had found nothing but the best in him. And it wasn’t that her feelings for Jack coloured her view of his friend. Kate told herself that Paul was the sort of man she would most want for the older brother, something she had often thought about. A brother would be a man you could trust, love, tell your secrets to, seek help from and who would love you back without question. That was Kate’s fantasy.
As they neared the midway point, Kate asked Paul what she had once asked Jack.
“Do you have a family Paul?”
“Only my aunt May. She lives in the city. My father disappeared when I was one or two, and then my mother died when I was seven. My grandmother looked after me along with my uncle Rodney, but Gran died when I was eleven, and uncle Rod died in an accident when I was nearly fourteen. I moved to my aunt May’s house in Collingwood and did an apprenticeship at the Abbotsford Brewery. When I finished there I came to work on the road. There, you know my whole history. There’s nothing else to know.”
There was silence for a moment, then Kate said, “I find it hard to imagine how a person can survive without a family Paul. Jack’s early life is not a lot different is it. He lost his family early.”
“Well, yes, I guess so. He did have his mother until he was nearly sixteen and although he doesn’t see much of them, he still has his younger brother Alfred and his uncle Jock in Colac. Still, yes, we do share similar family circumstances I suppose. And I suppose it’s the reason that we are both fairly independent and pretty much self-sufficient. Like my uncle Rodney did for me, Jack’s uncle taught him a lot. We both had a good education with horses and stuff, and we were both taught to shoot and look after ourselves, cooking a bit of food and washing clothes, looking after livestock and fixing carts and water tanks and things. I guess one way or another, things worked out for us and so here we are, we’ve got well paid work and we get to carry shopping home for a pretty girl. Can’t get much better than that can it”?
Paul laughed out loud and put down the baskets and turned to look at the view. He put his hand up to shade his eyes.
“There’s a ship. Wonder where it’s going?”
Kate thought about the two young men and wondered if they’d had a family as she had, would they be the same or different. Then she put that thought aside as she tried another question she’d tried on Jack.
“So Paul, you have, or have you ever had a girlfriend? If not, do you think you would like to have one?”
Paul was a bit taken aback by the personal nature of the question, but then he turned to her and smiled and picked up the baskets and began to saunter on up the path.
“That’s a bit personal Kate,” he laughed. “Not sure how to answer that sort of question.”
“I’ve got things I have to do in life that probably don’t allow me any time for a girlfriend, at least not for a while. Sure, Kate, I do often think of being settled with a person I love, but I know that I must first establish myself and become well-off enough to be a worthy husband, father, and provider. When I do meet that special someone, I want to be able to offer her security and a future without financial worries. I suppose you could say I’m ambitious. I plan to move on from here fairly soon to somewhere where I can go to night school and study to become a mechanical engineer. Then I’ll be qualified to get a better-paid position and maybe one day, even start my own business. Now Kate, is that a good enough answer?”
He laughed and looked at her face to try to read her thoughts.
“What if you met someone in the next few months and just fell in love Paul? If it were the right special person, although you had not yet achieved the things you say you want to achieve, wouldn’t you still want to be with that person?” Kate’s voice sounded concerned and inquiring. “You wouldn’t just walk away from that person surely? Would you?”
“I can’t honestly believe that I would let such a thing happen, although I must admit that life sometimes brings unexpected surprises.”
“You mean that you don’t believe that you would walk away?”
“No, you’ve got it wrong. I don’t believe that I would allow myself to start a relationship until I’d at least reached some of the goals I’ve set for myself. It wouldn’t be fair to her or me or to our children.”
“So. Let me try to understand you. Do you not believe in love Paul? You don’t believe that special feelings between two people can be such that they want to do things together, including achieving those goals you’ve set for yourself?”
Paul sighed, feeling uncomfortable.
“Gee Kate, you’re making it hard for a bloke. Are we going anywhere with this? I was brought up to be very independent and that works well for me. Allowing myself to be vulnerable to unrealistic emotional swings and merry-go-rounds would be plain silly. Doesn’t that make sense to you? Of course, we meet people we find attractive, but so what? We can’t just jump into relationships without thinking things through. Can we?”
Kate did not answer. The two were getting close to the back door of the hotel. The conversation had stalled and neither Paul nor Kate were yet clear on where the other stood on the issue of love. Did they just not understanding something the other was trying to say? Kate felt disappointed that Paul did not fit easily and comfortably into her world view and Paul no doubt felt the same.
Kate stopped and turned to look at Paul and with a smile said,
“Well, Paul, if you were my older brother, from what you have just told me, I would be a little worried about you. I believe love can happen despite what else is going on. I would be interested in one day finding out how your life unfolds. I realise, now that I think about it, that we are all different and perhaps ways of regarding relationships are different for different people.”
Paul smiled back. He appreciated that Kate had taken an interest in him although he felt he had failed to fulfil her ideals. He wanted to give her something, some clue to whom he really was, some sign that he was human and did have feelings.
“Perhaps I should tell you one thing about me that my aunt May said a few years back after we had a small disagreement. I was about fourteen at the time. It might give you a clue, and I do confess that what she said bothers me even now. Aunt May said she thought that my uncle had been too much of an influence on me and had made me too independent. When I disagreed and defended uncle Rod, she went very quiet, then she talked about his relationships with women and how he had never married. She said that when a woman got too close to Rod, he’d run away – head off bush for a few months – leaving May to console them and to try to explain her brothers behaviour. She worried that my being so independent, the same might happen to my relationships. I didn’t really understand at the time, but you have brought back the memory of that conversation. I now see that it is something I should think through. Maybe I do have a different attitude to other people. Thank you Kate.”
Kate was moved by this last minute insight Paul had offered her, and she was about to answer him when the back door opened in front of them. Anna and one of Anna’s girlfriend from the village stood in the doorway, as surprised to see Kate and Paul as they were to see them.
Anna looked Paul up and down, then smiling at Kate turned to her girl friend and said,
“Would you believe it Edna, my baby sister meets more attractive men when she goes shopping than I ever do from behind the bar.”
Everyone laughed, appreciating the joke.
“Paul this is my sister Anna and her friend Edna.”
“Very pleased to meet you both.” Replied Paul, placing a basket on the ground and shaking hands with each of them.
“Jack couldn’t get to town today so Paul stood in for him. I guess I’m the lucky one.” Kate laughed and looked at Paul.
“As I told you Kate, Jack made me do it.”
Anna watched Paul closely then said,
“I have never seen you in the hotel Paul. Do you drink elsewhere?”
“No, I’m not here often, but I’ve seen you in the bar. You’re always very busy so you wouldn’t notice me. Half a dozen of us come up from the road works and camp down near the butchers paddock on a Saturday night once a month when we have a weekend off. Most times we will call into the Grand for a drink. Often we’ll go fishing off the wharf until quite late, and sometimes there will be a party somewhere or if the weather is good, we’ll have a bit of a barbecue and party on the beach.”
Paul reached down and picked up the basket ready to put them inside the back door.
“Well, just make sure you say hello to me when you come in next time. Come on then Edna, lets go down to your place. We’ll see you both later then. Bye.”
Anna squeezed between Paul and Kate, facing Paul as she did so. She gave him her famous ‘behind the bar’ smile, the smile that many believed kept the number of patrons high at the Grand Pacific compared to the other two hotels.
Paul immediately caught the smell of perfume and was conscious of Anna’s exaggerated femininity. It logged a small message in his brain, but he wasn’t sure what do with the message.
“Well, Paul,” Kate laughed, “you had better look out. You are now a marked man. My sister has noticed you, and you just might not escape. But then from what you told me earlier, perhaps you will.”
They both laughed out loud sharing at last a moment of understanding.
“Pop the baskets on that bench thanks Paul.”
Turning to Paul, Kate looked up at him and said,
“If I’m going to make you my big brother, I better ask your age. How old are you Paul?”
Paul thought for a moment then quickly replied.
“I’m twenty on Sunday. Is that the right age for a brother?”
“Perfect,” Kate replied.
“Please give my love to Jack and say I look forward to seeing him at the weekend. Will you be with him Paul?”
“Might not be on Saturday, there’s something I have to do, but I should be around on Sunday. Might do some fishing off the pier. Thanks for the chat Kate. It’s been good talking to you.”
As he turned to leave the kitchen, Kate reached up and kissed him on the cheek.
“Happy birthday for Sunday, and thanks. I enjoyed the chat too.”
When Jack and Paul had finished at the blacksmith’s, Jack headed off to meet Kate near the tennis courts on the foreshore across from the store. Saturdays were always busy in town and at the Grand Hotel, and Kate always had errands to do for Rosa which brought her down the street.
The day before, a fair ground carnival had set up at the far end of the foreshore, near where the Cumberland River joined the sea. Paul was interested to see whether they had a boxing tent as part of the show. He expected that there would be, but thought he should go and find out early in the day so that he could better prepare himself for later if necessary.
Paul had always kept up his basic fitness training that uncle Rod had taught him and he worked out most mornings before work. He had hung a makeshift punching bag from a big tree about a kilometre up the hill from the works camp site. Each morning he would run up the hill, spend fifteen minutes sparring with the bag then run back to camp and get ready for work. There was also a worker at the camp who had boxed in his younger days and who would sometimes spar with Paul for an hour or so on their days off. It wasn’t rigorous training but it was something, and it focused Paul’s mind on the activity he loved and which his uncle had taught him so well.
The carnival side-show tents were all up and their attendants were busy stocking the shelves with prizes, mainly toys, cheap jewellery and bric-a-brac. It was mid morning and as yet there were few visitors. Eastern snake-charming music came from the fortuneteller’s tent and a pipe organ started up somewhere over near the entrance.
When Paul found the boxing tent he couldn’t have been more surprised. A large sign announced that celebrity middleweight, Fritz Holland, from America, would be the star performer and that a purse of ten pounds was offered to anyone who could last a full three rounds with the great man. Paul had seen his boxing hero, Les Darcy, fight and beat this man at the West Melbourne Stadium five years earlier, after losing to him in Sydney the year before. It was a match Paul would never forget. What luck it would be for him to get into the ring with Fritz Holland.
After eating at the Spot Cafe, Paul headed to the butcher’s holding yards on the edge of town where he and Jack and two other young workers from the Ocean Road building gang were camped for the weekend. The hot sun was tempered by a south-westerly sea-breeze and the silence of the bush was broken only by flocks of noisy lorikeets.
Paul pitched a fork-load of hay to the horses from the lean-to at the end of the bunk house then he went in and rolled out his swag and lay down. It was cool inside and the sea breeze and the shade from the trees provided the perfect spot for an afternoon nap.
It was nearly time for Kate O’Malley to go back to work. She and Paul’s mate, Jack, sat on the bench overlooking the sea beside the path which led up to her family’s hotel. As they chatted, Kate’s older sister, Anna, walked down towards them on her way into town. She carried a small suitcase and a shopping bag.
“Hello Kate. Mum’s all sorted for the evening and dad’s in a good mood. Well, sort of. He usually gets grumpy when I have a Saturday night at Edna’s but he didn’t seem so bad this afternoon. Hi Jack. Tell me, what is your good looking friend Paul, doing tonight?”
“Hello, Anna. When I called for him early yesterday morning, I saw him slip his boxing gloves into his kit. I can’t think of any reason for him to bring them to town other than the carnival down on the foreshore might have a boxing tent. If that is the case, he certainly would be there.”
Both Anna and Kate looked at Jack in disbelief. Anna spoke first.
“You’re kidding us aren’t you? Paul a boxer? He’s not the type, surely”?
Jack laughed.
“If there is a boxing tent at the carnival, I’m sure that’s where you will find him. Oh, but don’t tell him I told you. He likes to keep it a secret. Paul thinks most people don’t understand boxing, so best they don’t know.”
Jack stood and took Kate’s hand and pulled her up from the seat.
Anna looked at the couple and laughed.
“You two look more like an old married couple every day. Thanks, Jack. Maybe I’ll look out for him if I get to the carnival, bye.”
Kate watched as her sister walked gracefully down the hill, looking elegant and stylish as always — even though she wore only a summer frock and sandals.
“When my beautiful sister dresses up in what she has hidden in that little overnight case and puts on her make-up, no man will be able to resist her. Paul doesn’t stand a chance if Anna decides she wants him,” Kate said, with a knowing smile.
Jack looked at Kate and rolled his eyes and laughed.
Paul carried a small army shoulder bag containing his boxing gloves, a hand towel and a clean shirt. It would also be where he put his penknife and money and the other things from his pockets before he got into the ring. When he reached the town Paul went down to the beach and splashed his face, wetted and rubbed his hair; and washed his hands. He was ready.
Anna had just finished putting on her make-up when the girls knocked on Edna’s front door. Gladys and Alwyn came in like excited children squabbling on their way to a picnic.
“You do what you like but I’m going to see the film,” said Alwyn emphatically.
“We always do what you want to do. I want to go to the fair,” replied Gladys.
Anna listened to the two and smiled.
“What do you want to do, Anna?” asked Gladys.
“Well, I’ve got a bit of a headache and I won’t be much fun, so I’m going to have an early night. I won’t go to the pictures but I’m happy to take a walk around the fairground. Why don’t we do that now, then you two can still catch the late showing. What do you think?”
“All right, let’s do that. Happy now Gladys? You might get to see the American boxer you keep on about. You haven’t stopped talking about him since you read about him in the paper,” said Alwyn. “I hope you won’t be disappointed. He might not be the turn-on you expect.”
“What he does in the ring will be the turn-on,” said a smiling, older and wiser Gladys. “You two can keep your pretty boys. I know what matters.” They all laughed.
A short fat man with a deep gravelly voice and a megaphone yelled out ‘Fritz Holland’ and turned to welcome the American as he climbed through the ropes. People booed and cheered and yelled out as the man in the bright red dressing gown stood grinning in the middle of the ring.
Holding his arm up to ask for quiet, the tubby spruiker paused, then spoke.
“Today we have the privilege of witnessing the talents of one of America’s foremost middleweight boxers. Fritz Holland so liked Australia that he decided to come back and see more of the country.”
He turned and nodded towards the boxer.
“Thank you, Fritz. Is there anything you would like to say to the audience?”
The boxer smiled back, then turned and scanned the people watching.
“We are here to see boxing at its best. Mr Lester Hammer here, my promoter, has made this possible. I cannot box without a partner so all we need now is for one of you Aussie lads to step up and show us what you’re made of.”
With that, he stood back and rotated slowly, waving majestically to the crowd.
“All right, ladies and gentleman. You know the rules. They are pretty simple. If a challenger lasts three rounds with our man or counts out, he collects ten pounds. So who do we have? Who is here tonight who dares challenge our American friend? Come forward and make yourself known now. You could walk away with ten pounds or at least the honour of knowing that you had the courage to get into the ring with the famous Fritz Holland. Come on lads. How about it?”
The crowed yelled and laughed and men slapped each other on the back and urged one another to step up.
Paul put up his hand and moved forward. Within moments he was in the ring. An attendant took his details then stepped quickly over to Lester Hammer and whispered in his ear. Paul removed his shirt then took his gloves out of the bag and handed it to the man who was to act as his Second.
“Put your hands together and welcome our challenger, local boy, Mr. Paul Stoner.”
Paul’s Second adjusted and laced his gloves then smiled pleasantly and said,
“Best of luck, mate!”
Paul waved to the crowd. Then, from the corner of the ring, he watched and waited for the referee’s instructions while running slowly on the spot to loosen up.
Paul watched Fritz Holland remove his robe and limber up. He reminded himself that they were not fighting in a proper boxing match. If Fritz Holland were fighting a proper tournament he would have studied his opponent to plan his strategy. This situation was very different. Fritz only had to beat up hard on the opponent, knowing that he was unlikely to survive his attack. And he knew that he had to go easy to start with just to let his opponent get to the end of the second round or, ideally, just into the third round so that the audience didn’t feel cheated.
Paul wondered what Fritz was doing here anyway. No one comes back to see the countryside and work for next to nothing when they have been used to earning more than a year’s pay for just one fight. Paul figured that something must have gone terribly wrong for the legendary Fritz Holland back in America.
It was then that Paul noticed that although Fritz was looking around and grimacing menacingly and shouting at the crowd, his eyes seemed unfocussed. No doubt he could still see a man shaping up to him in the ring; but, how clearly, Paul could not tell. If Paul was right, Fritz only had to keep attacking whatever was in front of him long enough to keep that person on the run or until he cornered him and dropped him to the floor. And it was only three three-minute rounds.
Paul had always thought that Fritz Holland must have tricked Les Darcy into committing the foul that lost him the fight in Sydney in 1914, although he failed to work out how he would have done this. Avenging his now dead hero, if successful, would be a hollow victory against a handicapped man. He must work things out as he fought.
The referee called the two men into the centre of the ring, muttered the usual words about understanding the rules of the contest, got the pair to shake hands and return to their corners. As Paul continued to limber up, his Second lent over the ropes and whispered to Paul.
“He’ll come out like a bull.”
When the bell rang, Fritz did just that. Hardly had Paul moved than Fritz was at him with rapid punches, driving Paul back towards the ropes. Paul had wanted to give the impression that he was a rookie with foolhardy courage and no boxing acumen. But he had to react defensively very quickly. When he ducked down and landed a straight left to Fritz’s solar plexus, his opponent immediately understood that Paul was a boxer. Fritz slowed, looking more intently at Paul, while always edging forward, keeping up the pressure.
Paul could see that Fritz was taller and estimated he was carrying more weight, but Fritz was not as fast on his feet and that would be to Paul’s advantage. Agility and lightning reflexes were essential for a successful defence when under extreme pressure. Occasionally, Fritz would lunge forward in an effort to get in close. His constant left hooks and jabbing were easy to avoid. His close-quarter punches — delivered in rapid succession and in a variety of combinations — never found their mark.
Paul twice repeated his ducking and straight right to the solar plexus, but although his punches were powerful, on their own they would not achieve much. For the moment though, Fritz had no idea what Paul might be capable of.
Then Paul made a mistake. From his basic stance position, Fritz suddenly waved his left elbow up and down five or six times, like a chook flapping a wing. If it had been only once or twice, Paul would have dismissed it as simply a flexing to adjust a muscle position. In the moment it took to run Fritz’s action through his catalogue of known moves it was too late. The straight right to Paul’s chin knocked him backward with such force that he hit the ropes. He immediately bounced forward back towards his opponent. Fritz was waiting for him with another punch to the side of the head. Paul reeled back to the ropes again. Bringing all his senses to bear, he ducked to the left of the oncoming boxer who bounced back from the ropes, turning to face Paul as he did so. Paul was there waiting for him. Bent low and coiled, he came to life with a left and a right and another straight left before Fritz Holland could steady himself to fight back. Fritz fell to his knees; then he was back up and looking for Paul. The crowd was becoming excited.
The bell sounded, and the two fighters went to their corners. Paul appreciated the water his Second poured on his head. It was hot outside and doubly so in the tent.
“You are good, so he’ll try to finish you in the next round. He won’t want a third. Best of luck.” Paul’s friendly Second swabbed his forehead and neck with the cold wet towel as the bell sounded for the second round.
Paul had decided to take the initiative and lead the fight. It seemed Fritz had the same idea, coming out determined to put Paul away for good. Paul had underestimated his own strength. At the end of that first bout he realised he could deliver punishment equal to anything that Fritz Holland could manage. While he knew that leading the fight was fraught with dangers, it made sense that he should step up to the challenge. He wanted to look back on this encounter with pride. Simply surviving it would never be enough.
They came together immediately. Fritz threw his most powerful straight left which, if it had connected, would have dropped Paul to the floor. Paul blocked Fritz’s left with his right glove and returned his own straight left to Fritz’s chin. It was Fritz’s second visit to the floor on his knees. The referee couldn’t help but show his surprise. He was slow to order Paul to a neutral corner and slow to begin his count.
“One! Two! Three! Four!”
Fritz staggered up. He fell backwards onto the ropes which propelled him forward and upright. The fight continued.
Paul moved around the ring and round and round his opponent. Fritz was a bit groggy and tiring fast. Paul wondered how much Fritz’s age was affecting him.
Now the crowd wanted the real action; the finale. They didn’t need to wait for the full three rounds. They wanted the Aussie challenger to fix this Yank right up and the sooner the better.
Paul knew that he could win. He only had to avoid getting in close. Clinches are the domain of tired boxers, when arms and legs get tangled up so that nobody can deliver a punch. Clinches were a time waster and only measured when judges were awarding points. Paul wanted to end this fight in this second round, and with a knock-out.
Paul knew that Fritz’s reach was longer than his. To get a good arm’s-length punch in, it would have to get past his opponent’s defences and ideally he would want to land two or more for them to be effective. Left and right hooks, or an uppercut, would all be useful but nothing could compare with a full weight of the body-backed arm’s-length direct hit to the jaw.
When Fritz at last moved towards Paul, the voices of the crowd rose. Paul swiftly moved forward, bringing his first big punch with him before Fritz could counter. Fritz reeled back but steadied himself and came forward punching the air in front of him. Paul dropped down to the left and got home another full straight right to the chin. Fritz slumped but did not fall. Then he went into a classic defensive pose; covering his face while moving forward. Paul moved around him, making Fritz follow. Paul could not get a third punch to the chin because of Fritz’s defensive pose. Then Paul moved in. Getting in close for the first time, he placed an uppercut on Fritz’s chin and between his defending gloves. It was so quick hardly anyone saw it. Fritz dropped his hands momentarily and as he did so Paul placed the third straight right to his chin.
Fritz went down for the third time.
“Kill him! Kill him!” chanted the crowd.
The referee was quicker this time. Lester Hammond knew he must act. He had noted the crowd’s reaction. The fight had been a big success although it looked as though he would have to pay out.
“One! Two! Three! … ”
Fritz Holland rolled onto his side and attempted to get onto his knees, then fell forward again; unable to move.
“Eight! Nine! Ten! Out!”
The crowd was beside itself. Hands were thrust into the ring where Paul stood, all wanting to touch him. Paul looked around and raised his hand and nodded and mouthed a ‘thank you’.
The referee held Paul Stoner's arm in the air as he announced him the winner. In the other hand, he waved the ten-pound note to advertise the fact that people did win money at his tent. He handed Paul the note and turned and looked at him and said.
“If you would like to make a lot of money lad, call by in the morning and talk to me. I need a good man like you. I’m getting tired of has-beens.”
Paul thought for a moment, then said, “Who knows, one day, maybe.”
Paul saluted his Second who stood smiling in the far corner, waved good-bye to the audience and left the tent.
When Paul stepped out from the fight marquee into the fresh air and the silver moonlight, he heard a woman’s voice call to him from the shadows of the big Cypress tree twenty yards from the tent. He stopped and looked into the darkness.
The woman walked towards him. She came close and stood in front of him and looked into his face. She looked like someone from an advertisement in a catalogue or magazine, or a model, or someone you saw in the movies. Her face was so alive and intense, made even more so by her bright lipstick and the glow of the coloured carnival lights.
“Hello Paul, it’s me, Anna.”
Was this really Anna O’Malley, from the pub, Kate’s sister?
“I’m amazed at what I just saw you do in there Paul. I’m confused. I don’t know who you are.”
She put a hand on his arm.
“No one told me you were a boxer. No one seems to know much about you at all. I’m not even sure why I’m standing here wanting to find out. Suddenly you seem scary. Tell me you are not scary, Paul. I need to know about you.”
Paul tried to collect his thoughts. His impulse was to laugh, but he saw that Anna was needing real assurances and he reasoned that if she had witnessed him in the ring — and it was the first boxing match she had seen — she was entitled to feel confused and uncertain.
“Hello Anna. No, I’m not scary. I’m just the same bloke you’ve seen having a quiet drink with Jack. I’ve boxed since I was thirteen, and I enjoy it. There, does that set your mind at rest?”
He gave her a big friendly smile and took her hand from his arm and held it.
Anna moved to stand beside him, then put her arm through his.
“No, Paul, I want to know more. I think you had better come with me. I’ll make you a drink, and then you must tell me everything. Please do that for me.”
Paul tried to concentrate on the situation but had difficulty. Images of the recent events in the ring were demanding his attention and Anna’s arrival had interrupted his thoughts. Her presence confronted him with new challenges. Her voice, her perfume, her need for his attention became intertwined with the afterglow of the fight. While unbundling his corralled emotions and thoughts and the scenes in his head resulting from the fight, perhaps he could answer her questions at the same time. Naively, that’s what he thought.
“If you’d like to, Anna. Where will we go? I should clean up a bit. Gets sweaty in the ring.”
Anna looked at him and gave a faint smile. Then she squeezed his arm reassuringly against the side of her body for just a moment and said, “My friend Edna and her sister have a house in Duke Street, just up off the main street. I’m looking after it this weekend while they visit their mother in Colac. We’ll go there.”
As Anna retrieved the house key from her bag at the front door of the small weatherboard cottage, Paul again attempted to cross-reference his thoughts and establish a footing in a reality in which he was comfortable, but without success. It didn’t bother him that he had not yet fully analysed Fritz Holland’s motives for the flapping left elbow movement near the end of the first round. Was it possible that a similar distraction had happened in the notorious Les Darcy fight which resulted in the foul against Darcy? Neither did he try to understand his compliant attitude to Anna’s request for him to come with her. Perhaps the blow to the head at the time of the arm flapping had concussed him slightly. He did have some understanding of the situation, though his theory was unproved. He knew from past experience that success in a physical encounter like the fight released something into his system which changed his perceptions of things ever so slightly; enough to elevate and then override that day-to-day rational thinking which normally dictated his thoughts and movements.
“Make yourself comfortable, Paul, while I put the kettle on. If you would like to clean up, the bathroom is through there to the right. There is still hot water in the tank if you want to take a shower. Please yourself. Oh, and the toilet is the door next to it.” Anna dropped her bag on the lounge room table and walked into the kitchen.
“Thanks,” said Paul as he wandered off to the bathroom.
Paul took a shower and thought how wonderful hot water and soap could make you feel. When he came back into the lounge, Anna was sitting on the settee holding a cup of tea. She had switched off the main light and put on the reading lamp next to the fireplace. Paul looked at her as if for the very first time. She looked fantastic. He noticed her tight-fitting blouse. Her shapeliness was accentuated by her tight skirt and his gaze could not avoid the stockinged legs and the heeled shoes. ‘Demure, desirable and dangerous’ he thought, or was that the voice of his Second? He smiled sheepishly.
“Feel good?” she asked.
“Really good,” he replied.
“Come and sit beside me Paul. You don’t have to talk. I won’t put you through all that stuff I spoke about earlier. I’ve settled down a bit.”
“It's not a mystery, Anna. Boxing seems violent to people who don’t understand it. Boxers respect their opponents and appreciate one another's technique. Boxing is not a lot different to football.” Paul added a sugar lump to his cup and sat down beside her.
“I think I was a bit taken aback by how the crowd reacted. They were near hysterical towards the end shouting, ‘Kill him!’ and stuff like that. For a while there, watching you in those last few moments, I really believed that was what you were going to do.” Anna looked at him, intense and questioning.
Paul managed not to laugh or smile.
“Boxing does attract some rough followers and many of them do see it as fighting. Most boxers see it differently, it’s a sport they can do well at. They don’t walk around picking fights; whereas some of the people who watch them might.”
“When I talk to you as we are talking now, I cannot for the life of me believe that it was you I saw fighting tonight. You seem to be a different person.”
Anna moved closer to Paul and took his hand in hers, threading their fingers together.
“Despite everything, or maybe it’s because of everything, I want to know you better, Paul.” She reached across and turned his head to face her, then kissed him firmly on the lips. He kissed her back and caressed her cheek with his free hand. Paul stopped thinking about the fight.
“Let’s relax and just enjoy the evening. I’m going to have a lemon cordial. You must be really thirsty. Would you like one too?”
Paul watched Anna get up from the settee. She was slender, and her body moved so easily.
“Yes, I’d love one thanks,” he replied.
“Good, I’ll make a jug,” Anna called back over her shoulder.
While Anna moved around in the kitchen making the drinks Paul had a moment to reflect. He made a mental note that Anna might be an analytical person like himself. He sensed that she weighed up every word that was said to her or that she spoke. If he had been less preoccupied with the night’s events, he might also have seen that her every gesture, her every smile, and facial expressions were calculated. Anna’s beauty along with her years of working in her parents’ hotels — where men of every type showed great interest in her — had expanded her catalogue of mannerisms beyond anything that most young women would ever attain. With clearer observation he might have seen that there wasn’t a situation involving men that Anna could not turn to her advantage. Anna could have whatever she wanted.
It was for only a moment, but not long after Paul downed his second long glass of lemon cordial he experienced a floating sensation quite unlike any he’d experienced before. He sank back into the softness of the settee, laughing at Anna’s joke about the question — ‘What does a whore want most for Christmas?’ — and he was halfway through his third glass when Anna stood and took his arm and pulled him from the settee and led him into the bedroom.
When Paul woke in the early hours of the morning and saw Anna naked and beautiful on the bed in the fading light of the full moon, he experienced a sensation not unlike the one he’d had when he won the fight. And it was similar to the feeling he had when he successfully completed other things he did, be they breaking in a horse, dynamiting a cliff face on the roadworks, or playing a game of cricket. Everything he did had a beginning and an end. Paul understood that only life itself was ongoing and everything that happened along the way was simply a single passing experience. He saw no connection between what he did each day and how life unfolded over time. The emotional glue that could connect related experiences to create something bigger, something that could influence the future, had failed to develop in him. A child who grew up alone — with no one to share intimate moments — had no use for such an emotion.
Paul knew that it was time to move on. He leant over and kissed Anna lightly on the cheek. He collected his clothes and went to the lounge room and dressed. Then, shouldering his bag, he left the house and headed for the horse paddock.
Anna stretched and turned when she heard the front door close. Pulling the blankets over her she smiled and reminded herself that she must not forget to replace Edna’s now empty bottle of Vodka.
