Chapters One and Two
Cheryl Wilson
If you want to read Parts Two and Three Part the links are at the end of this post.
Part One – Chapter One
Flemington Road 1974
“Sorry I’m late,” says Abigail, from the driver’s seat, as they step into the lairy red Holden. “It has been a busy afternoon. Two piano lessons, two different kids, with parents as rich as.” “Half their luck,” smiles Loren from the back. “We’re just grateful for the lift – aren’t we Jack?” “Be there in no time!” grins Abie, pulling sharply from the kerb. “Don’t worry, Jack won’t be locked out,” and speeding toward Lygon Street adds, “Though it would be an excuse, Lorie, for you to have him stay overnight.” “Yes, only you know that I can’t, just yet. Also he’s admitted for short term assessment, so is under Travancore’s care.” Loren folds an arm around Jack, sitting beside her – and as it’s cooler, he’s now in the woolly gray track pants and striped sweater given over by staff inside a plastic bag. “So little is known about Jack’s condition. Though Andrew keeps telling me, that in the updates from America, they are calling it Autism.” She sighs, and grimaces, which briefly ages her face. “Andrew says there is more that we need to learn.” Having heard much of this before, Abie nods yes at the car mirror in pleasant assent. “I am not given much say in any of it,” continues Loren, and patting Jack’s hand gazes out the window. “With their ongoing assessments I’m just supposed to wait.” Easily turning the wheel Abie is heading down Lygon Street. “And how is Jack going?” And glancing his way she catches his eye and he goofily grins back at her. “Tell Abie good, Jack,” prompts Loren as he turns to the Holden’s rear window. His attention is drawn by the large red sign that’s flashing on and off, above a busy Carlton café – and with both knees pressed to the car seat, he points up at the unmistakable glass bottle – “Coca Cola!” he happily cries. But all both see is the back of Jack’s blonde head, as he strains against the window until the sign disappears. There are no flies on you, Jack,comments Abie, only he’s studying Loren then suddenly announces, “Coca Cola. Mum!” “Well!” goes Loren quite lighting up, “Well, I’m mum, and this is a first!” “Your Mummy likes coca cola too!” joins in Abie. “She likes to mix it with a little slug of Southern Comfort – don’t you mum!” – at which Loren chuckles; and Jack turns away from her as the car approaches Flemington Road
*
“My brother Ritchie wants his car back by nine. But I thought first we might have a drink.” As usual the pub is busy; and its circular bar wet due to the regular diehards’ slopped pots of beer. Loren clutches a vodka, Abigail a beer. They move away from the jukebox playing Mick Jagger real loud. “So,” starts Abie, and a white moustache trembles above her top lip. What’s the latest with Howard?” “It’s all a bit daunting.” Loren takes a few quick sips, and pats her pocket for smokes. “He is now saying he can’t afford two rents – that is his and helping out with mine.” “Hmm,” goes Abie, and wiping beer froth from mouth with the back of her hand, sarcastically adds, “And he would. It’s the least he can do. Even if you’re the one held responsible for Jack.” “Yeah. And he’s now going interstate. Until he sorts himself out.” “That’s convenient. And typical Howard. Doesn’t give a damn about his son.” “Don’t rub it in,” goes Loren looking glum.” “Sorry, my love. I mean well. You know that.” “Yeah, I do.” She tries a smile. “I’m so glad I’m not married to him. Even if I can’t afford rent on my own until I get extra hours at Bookstore. So means I might have to shift.” – “Hi Abie!” interrupts a goodish looking man, appearing at Abigail’s side – “Jules!” she goes, and looking up at first hesitates, then flirtishly grins. “It’s great to see you, again. Where have you been?” “You’d never believe me, Abie,” and smiles widely at Loren. “My good friend Lorie.” “Nice to meet you.” “And I think she’s looking for a cheap place to live. You wouldn’t know of anywhere local?” then turning to Loren adds, “Jules knows his way around.” Slowly emptying his glass, he pauses, is obviously thinking, then with a short laugh surprises them both – ”Well, as it happens I just might.” “It’s only until I’ve more money to spare” – goes Loren. “So are you looking for a house or a room?” he presses her. “A room. Yes.” Though she does not mention Jack, and for that matter neither does Abigail.
*
Days later an address was inside Loren’s bag. And after finishing at Bookstore, she’d soon stepped off the tram. It was a small three bedroom house in Nicholson Street, and though the clatter of passing trams was constant the area was handy to work. Both women were home; the chatty psyche nurse whom Jules called “a good sport” had truly amazing hair. The other freelanced for an agency. “I only work three days a week right now” admitted Loren, then mentioned she had a son. And suddenly it got complicated, as nothing about him would make any sense to these two strangers who were obviously waiting. “Jack has just turned six,” she started, “and has learning difficulties, and is in care for a while, but sometimes spends the day at home with me.” The temp woman smiled uneasily. The psyche nurse tried smiling kindly while sizing Loren up. In her own job she’s well used to dealing with those who have problematic agendas. But after she’s done strongly believes that home and the pub are her only refuges. So asked if Loren agreed that the house, her house as it turns out, “might be too small, and rather limiting for a child, such as your little boy, to spend time in.” And Loren knew she had to answer yes. “But give my best to Jules,” said the nurse with a toothy smile, “And good luck!” With a toss of flaming red hair she walked Loren toward her front door. Though it really wasn’t what Loren wanted to say – she managed Thank you. With the consequence that after Jules learnt of the rebuff, and experienced slight remorse, he suggested if the back room was cleared of all Howard’s stuff Loren might rent it out. She quickly agreed, as it had gathered dust for over a year while Howard wandered Victoria, picking up odd jobs, shacking up on the cheap with various bushy friends. So Jules contacted a mate with a Ute, and carried out the tip disposal for her. Then quite shortly after, Alice, a second year Arts student moved into the house
*
At Home 1975
Alice turns to Jack, leaning against her while sharing the piano stool. He’s in summer shorts, and with long skinny legs loosely crossed, is totally mesmerized as Alice thumps at the opening bars of ‘Bennie and the Jets’ “Do you like this song?” she asks. “A singer named Elton John plays it. You might have seen him on television.” Jack, while looking at her blankly says More and Alice continues at the keys. “Have you ever considered him trying the piano? I’d offer to do it only I’m no teacher.” Standing behind him Loren smooths the back of Jack’s neck where the hair has grown long. “Or even drums,” adds Alice, “As he’s awfully interested in music.” “Yeah, Abie has said the same. Only it’s not on the agenda at Travancore’s school. But they have taken him around to Billy Hyde’s on occasion, and their staff let him try out on drums and things.” “Couldn’t Abie help out with the piano?” adds Alice. “She hasn’t offered. Think Abie struggles to make a living with the pupils she has. And is wanting a job that pays more. Also, Jack’s only here on Saturdays or Sundays.” “Sorry, I forgot. Abie and her weekend boyfriend. Michael.” She pulls a face. “Don’t know what she sees in him.” “A meal ticket I guess.” “Well yes. Besides Abie is pretty and she went to a good school, didn’t she? It doesn’t show but. Some guys really like that.” Alice grins, wickedly sure of herself. “Jules though isn’t one of them.” “You only say that because you’re sweet on him yourself.” “Am not.” goes Alice, and turning to Jack adds “had enough of the piano for now?” just as there’s a quick rap at the door. “That’ll be Jules. He’s here for Jack.” “Oh.” Alice glances at Jack. “Why’s that?” “They are going to the park, just for an hour. There’s a trampoline which I’m sure he will like.” “Hi Jules!” smiles Alice. “Are you ready to go?” Jules however is grinning at Jack, now sliding off the piano stool and answering yes. “Terrific” goes Jules. “I’ll just grab him a windcheater,” says his mother racing off. “Is Loren going with you?” Closing the piano lid Alice tries hard to sound casual. “Not at all, this is strictly men’s stuff, no women allowed,” is the cheery response, and radiant with relief Alice exits the loungeroom.
*
Shortly after Loren hears Jules loudly call, “That’s it Jack, shut the front door for mum.” Crash goes the door. “Good lad!” he adds, and turning to Jack, rumples his hair. “Your son’s got incredible balance. He totally put me to shame on the trampoline. Quite the gymnast. So now you know what Jack’s future vocation will likely be,” and searches his pocket for keys. “Well mate, I won’t hang around, time for the pub. Were you thinking of going there later?” “Not tonight.” “Your loss, you never know Loren who might turn up.” “I’ll take my chances,” she grins back. “And thanks for the park.” “Anything for you. See you next time,” and waves goodbye Jack. She’s placing frying pan on stove top when the phone rings in the hall. “Hi Lorie, it’s me, Abie,” and cuts directly to the chase. “Wondering if I can come around? I’m planning on giving up Michael. I think he’s messing with some other woman – ” “Oh, that’s awful!”
*
“Yeah, and I’m hoping I’m not pregnant.” There’s a silence. “But that’s just between you and me.” “Of course, Abie. Only I can’t talk just now – as Jack’s here.” “Aah, yes, your usual Saturday. How is Jack? It’s been a month or so since” – she starts – “Yes It has, Abie,” – finishes Loren, pulling a face. “I don’t s’pose later tonight’s convenient?” “Maybe another time, Abie, as I’ve things to do after Alice drops us off at Travancore.” And is a little white lie that she doesn’t feel guilty about; as with a quick coffee here and a brief phone conversation there, she’s been slightly forgotten since Michael came on the scene. “Sounds a plan then Lorie, and let’s make it soon, hey?” “Okay Abie, just ring!” “And give Jack a big kiss from me, tell him I’ve missed him.”
Chapter Two
Travancore
As it’s her day off Loren sits in the small office at Travancore. It’s been a while since Jack started their special school part time. A plate of Tim Tams is propped beside Merle’s Olivetti. She offers a biscuit and tells Loren how much Jack looks forward to school. That he is less wary of those kids who had previously been so offhand. “I know they are capable of being cruel,” she adds – “and it’s because he is verbally unable to defend himself. It does boil down to Jack’s autism. While the awful truth is because all the children here have issues, they really can’t handle others.” Already Loren’s accepted that her son’s expressive language is far behind his receptive language, and will likely be a long term disability. “Though Jack is getting cluey with his daily routines,” continues Merle, shuffling through paperwork. “Once, when he wanted to open the cupboards housing the art equipment – he’d take a staff member by hand, and lead the way to the keys. But he now says “keys” then goes and takes them and opens the cupboards himself.” “That’s so good” goes Loren. “Also when he is home, and if I have friends around, I often see him show interest in the tone of voice, or the look on a face, or even the way someone moves. It’s like he is reading people.” “Yes, and it’s feeding into his receptive response,” says Merle. “He’s making sense of things. He’s placing the pieces together. “Though, at home I’ve found he doesn’t understand if a sentence is complicated.” “Of course, Loren. As it is, Jack seldom speaks without good reason. Although he does recognize the logos of all the TV stations.” And raising her eyebrows adds, “Also the brand names of some popular over advertised soft drinks.” “Coca Cola, for instance,“ is the response. “Exactly,” is followed by Merle’s winning smile. “And a good reason for Jack to speak up.” Next she is standing. “You will shortly get a letter.” She pauses, lightly touches Loren’s arm, “Something might be in the pipeline for Jack’s future arrangements. We will chat more about it then” – Suddenly a man’s head pokes around the slightly open door – “Can I have a quick word, Merle?” “Of course,” she answers, and smiling at Loren tells her she will be in touch.
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About Cheryl Wilson
Writing stories may be a way of life or as an escape from real life. I enjoy inventing characters and placing them in surroundings once familiar to me – especially our inner northern suburbs during the seventies. I also write shorter pieces about real people who are closer to my heart.
Copyright Cheryl Wilson, February 2025. All rights reserved; this intellectual property belongs solely to Cheryl Wilson.
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