looked straight ahead. He didn't want their sympathy. It was even more embarrassing than their scorn. He just wanted to be left alone. Up ahead he could see 'the gang of four' in their usual hanging spot. Ties already off, shirts hanging out and cigarettes in their mouths. His only source of personal victory was that he had never let on that it upset him. He could have avoided the jeers and humiliation easily if he had walked to the front end of the platform. In nearly five years he never had. Whenever he caught the train he ran the gauntlet and walked past them despite the inevitable outcome. It had never stopped them, possibly it encouraged them more?
He braced himself, took a deep breath and continued walking anticipating the predictable shouts of 'poofter' or 'hello honky tonk' as he walked by. Before he reached them he felt a light squeeze on his shoulder. Lesley James, the prettiest and most sought after girl in his neighbourhood was looking at him with her big,blue heavily kohl lined eyes.
'Hi Ben. Are you okay honey?'
Shit, that was the last thing he needed. He could just see the 'gang of four' getting even more pissed off with him now that Leslie was breathing all over him.
'My mum says tell your mum that if she needs anything just to call'.
There was a slight pause before she took his hand and said,
'You too Ben, If you need anything, just call me, alright?'
Ben was fairly sure Leslie was hinting at more than help as he extracted his hand before replying.
'Yea, sure I'll tell my mum'.
He walked on closing his ears to the barely hushed giggles of Leslie's friends.
The 'gang of four' loomed and for the first time Ben made eye contact. Maybe today he wouldn't ignore them? Maybe he would get just one good punch in? Maybe.
They thought they were so cool. Ben just thought they were a bunch of ugly thugs with their short, stocky bodies, long, greasy hair, pimples, big teeth......well three of them were for sure. The ring leader, Michael, wasn't. Blonde, almost white, hair, piercing blue eyes, cocky white toothed grin and tanned face, Michael could have been a pin up poster boy like the ones Ben had on his bedroom wall. As much as Ben hated him he had always been fascinated by him.
'Hey Felix'.
Ben knew that this was meant for him. Felix stood for Felix the Cat, the cartoon character with the high squeaky voice - therefore gay in the minds of his yobbo peers. He walked on. One of the gang had started singing..'whenever he gets in a fix, he reaches in and grabs a dick....' He couldn't believe those guys had actually stayed on to senior year. Behind him he could hear one of Leslie's friends explode with laughter and Leslie trying, not too hard, to shush her.
He walked on, the colour rising and leaving a hot sensation on his face.
'Hey Felix, you want a smoke?'.
He turned. Michael had moved away from the gang and was close behind him.
'Come on man, don't make this harder for me. Take a smoke'.
Ben challenged his stare with one of his own waiting for the expected slur, which didn't come. Michael's eyes fixed with his and he felt a strange rush course through his body as he took the cigarette with a brief nod and headed on to the end of the platform.
Had that just happened? As he lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply he knew that it had. Almost 5 years of copping shit from them and all it had taken was one dead father to stop it.
One dead father , dragged up the street, brains and blood splattering all over the road, hit by an unknown driver who had failed to stop, and now everyone wanted to be his friend. He dragged deeply on the cigarette, eyes fixed on the train tracks as he waited for the train and escape to come.
Three
Back on the verandah Hope drank greedily, downing the glass in one mouthful. She was trying desperately not to remember. She wanted to think about her childhood, about happy days, about her loving, hen-pecked father, her bossy mother and her wonderful gentle brother. The harder she tried to remember the more she kept forgetting. Her mind kept jumping ahead to times she would rather forget and then further forward to the nightmare that she wanted desperately to blank out.
She stared out over the bushland valley that she loved so much. The place where she had found happiness and contentment. The place where she had found herself. Now it looked gloomy and threatening. The tall gum trees swaying and quivering with each gust of wind. The massive purple sandstone rocks which formed the steep valley wall growing darker as the heavy drops of rain began to build and fall in large plops. Trees and rocks as far as the eye could see.
Hope poured herself another glass. She would make this her last. She knew that she had to pull herself together for Ben. He had been so good and she knew she had failed him miserably. She didn't want to count the days in the past weeks when he had come home to see her in this state. She knew it was wrong, she knew she should try harder, but damn it was so much easier like this.
'Cooee love, it's only me'. Mrs T's voice rang cheerily up the back stairs. 'Ooh I've come at the right time then? No love, you stay there and I'll go get meself a glass and join you if you don't mind?'
Hope didn't mind. Oh god love Mrs T. She had been a rock since the accident, no, she had always been a rock ever since the day Hope and Peter had come to view the land which Mr and Mr T had been selling. Hope thought back to that wonderfully happy day when Peter had brought her here. They had been looking at land all over the city for nearly a year. Every weekend driving from one end of Sydney to the other looking for that perfect place to build their dream home.
She remembered the long drive from her mother's place. How she had fallen in love with the leafy suburbs with their grand houses which seemed to get more and more lovely the further north they drove. Then the disappointment as the lovely suburbs gave way to more modern suburban plots. Red brick and fibro housing lining the roads standing out like huge scabs against the bushland which fell away in steep valleys behind them.
Then they had turned a corner and driven down a hill lined by modest houses. Further along the road where steep, sandstone rocks began to thrust out and the bush came right up to the road, before the trees and rocks fell back as the road ended in a short hill leading back up the valley.
At the foot of the hill was an old house. Sandstone foundations and chimney with mellowed weatherboard walls. It looked so right to her. Their block was above the house. Almost at the top of the valley but not quite. The land sloped back gently for a short distance before falling steeply and then leveling out again sloping gently towards a creek which lay at the bottom. Beyond the creek, which could just be seen glistening between the trees, the land rose again sharply. Beautiful dark green gums with white and pink trunks clinging onto the rounded and weathered, purple and orange sandstone rocks which formed a majestic backdrop.
Hope thought about that wonderful afternoon. How she and Peter had spent nearly an hour walking all around the huge block in amazed delight. Delighted because it was just what they had been looking for and amazed because it was priced within their budget. Mr Thorne had explained that the block had been up for sale for over two years, ever since he had retired, but although many people had been interested it seemed that the steep site had put most potential buyers off so he had reduced the price on the advice of the real estate agent.
Mr
