evolved into very different individuals. Georgie was a serious child who hardly
smiled and was inclined to be a little chubby while Kevin was slim and agile
and radiated cheekiness with his dimpled smile. At the sound of the horn, the
twins stopped playing.
“Car,
Mum,” said Kevin.
Mum
smiled at him. She dropped a handful of pea pods into the pot that was already
three quarters full of fresh green pods, then placed it in the shade behind the
plants.
“Come
on,” she said. Like little ducklings, we all followed her as she started off
toward the front of the house to see what was happening. The car horn sounded
again as we rounded the corner of the house.
There
in the driveway stood a large black saloon, its motor still running. Two
headlights stuck out like overgrown ears on either side of the long bonnet
snout. Standing by the open driver’s door, with one foot on the running board
stood my father, his old navy beret cocked to one side on his head. A grin lit
up his handsome, angular face. In that grin my mother might have seen remnants
of the cheeky young soldier he had been when she first met him more than ten
years before. He beamed at her, like a kid proud of procuring some
treasure that he never thought he would find.
Behind
my father stood his good friend Gus McCole, a gentle giant even taller than my
father’s six feet. Gus McCole was well known in the district as an expert
axeman. He was held in high regard, not just for his legendary prowess with the
axe, but because he was a man of sincerity, loyalty and integrity. Gus’s kind
eyes sparkled with merriment when he saw the look of surprise on my mother’s
face. I noticed Bobby and Maxie, who must have heard the car arrive, running
across the green paddock next door.
“What
is that?” my mother asked, her eyes fixed on the car.
Dad
and Gus threw back their heads and laughed. They looked like two little boys
who had been up to mischief together. The twins ran to the vehicle. Kevin
headed for the front of the car, leaning on the bumper and reaching up to try
to touch a protruding headlight. Georgie watched his brother with a serious expression.
Dad
stopped laughing to answer Mum. “This, Mrs Rowley, is your new car.”
Mrs
Rowley was a term of endearment he sometimes used. In that title he proudly
claimed her as his wife and declared his love for her.
Mum
took a step back as though fearful for her life.
“My
what?”
“Your
new car. I want you to have some form of transport for when I’m out in the
bush. You and the kids are too isolated here.”
“But
I can’t drive this thing. I haven’t driven in years.”
“Don’t
worry. Once you’re in the driver’s seat it’ll all come back to you. Eh, Gus?”
Gus,
still grinning at Mum, nodded. “You’ll pick it up in no time, Myrtle.”
“I’ll
teach you how to drive this little baby,” said Dad eagerly. He was always keen
to instruct her in new skills.
“Teaching
me is one thing but I’ll need to get a licence.”
“Of
course you’ll need a licence. But with me teaching you, you’ll have your
licence before you can say Jack Robinson.”
Mum
rolled her eyes in mock disbelief. “Where on earth did you get it? We can’t
afford a new car.”
“It’s
not exactly new; it’s a 1928 Erskine,” said Dad. “And she won’t cost us
anything except registration and running expenses.”
Mum
widened her eyes in surprise.
“Gus
found it lying around in a shed.”
Gus
laughed. “That’s right, Myrtle. This old Erskine has been sitting around doing
nothing for years. What earthly good is that? One of the best cars ever made,
this little beauty. Might as well put her to good use, I reckon.”
It
was no surprise that the generous Gus McCole had come to our rescue. He and his
wife Mavis were not well off and yet they were always ready to help anyone out.
Dad
stepped back and gestured at the gleaming automobile. “Isn’t she something?”
My
mother’s expression no
smiled and was inclined to be a little chubby while Kevin was slim and agile
and radiated cheekiness with his dimpled smile. At the sound of the horn, the
twins stopped playing.
“Car,
Mum,” said Kevin.
Mum
smiled at him. She dropped a handful of pea pods into the pot that was already
three quarters full of fresh green pods, then placed it in the shade behind the
plants.
“Come
on,” she said. Like little ducklings, we all followed her as she started off
toward the front of the house to see what was happening. The car horn sounded
again as we rounded the corner of the house.
There
in the driveway stood a large black saloon, its motor still running. Two
headlights stuck out like overgrown ears on either side of the long bonnet
snout. Standing by the open driver’s door, with one foot on the running board
stood my father, his old navy beret cocked to one side on his head. A grin lit
up his handsome, angular face. In that grin my mother might have seen remnants
of the cheeky young soldier he had been when she first met him more than ten
years before. He beamed at her, like a kid proud of procuring some
treasure that he never thought he would find.
Behind
my father stood his good friend Gus McCole, a gentle giant even taller than my
father’s six feet. Gus McCole was well known in the district as an expert
axeman. He was held in high regard, not just for his legendary prowess with the
axe, but because he was a man of sincerity, loyalty and integrity. Gus’s kind
eyes sparkled with merriment when he saw the look of surprise on my mother’s
face. I noticed Bobby and Maxie, who must have heard the car arrive, running
across the green paddock next door.
“What
is that?” my mother asked, her eyes fixed on the car.
Dad
and Gus threw back their heads and laughed. They looked like two little boys
who had been up to mischief together. The twins ran to the vehicle. Kevin
headed for the front of the car, leaning on the bumper and reaching up to try
to touch a protruding headlight. Georgie watched his brother with a serious expression.
Dad
stopped laughing to answer Mum. “This, Mrs Rowley, is your new car.”
Mrs
Rowley was a term of endearment he sometimes used. In that title he proudly
claimed her as his wife and declared his love for her.
Mum
took a step back as though fearful for her life.
“My
what?”
“Your
new car. I want you to have some form of transport for when I’m out in the
bush. You and the kids are too isolated here.”
“But
I can’t drive this thing. I haven’t driven in years.”
“Don’t
worry. Once you’re in the driver’s seat it’ll all come back to you. Eh, Gus?”
Gus,
still grinning at Mum, nodded. “You’ll pick it up in no time, Myrtle.”
“I’ll
teach you how to drive this little baby,” said Dad eagerly. He was always keen
to instruct her in new skills.
“Teaching
me is one thing but I’ll need to get a licence.”
“Of
course you’ll need a licence. But with me teaching you, you’ll have your
licence before you can say Jack Robinson.”
Mum
rolled her eyes in mock disbelief. “Where on earth did you get it? We can’t
afford a new car.”
“It’s
not exactly new; it’s a 1928 Erskine,” said Dad. “And she won’t cost us
anything except registration and running expenses.”
Mum
widened her eyes in surprise.
“Gus
found it lying around in a shed.”
Gus
laughed. “That’s right, Myrtle. This old Erskine has been sitting around doing
nothing for years. What earthly good is that? One of the best cars ever made,
this little beauty. Might as well put her to good use, I reckon.”
It
was no surprise that the generous Gus McCole had come to our rescue. He and his
wife Mavis were not well off and yet they were always ready to help anyone out.
Dad
stepped back and gestured at the gleaming automobile. “Isn’t she something?”
My
mother’s expression no
Similar Books
