Breakfast on the Way to Brisbane, Page 3

CHAPTER 3

  BINGO

  Jemima looked upon Alfred with respect, as well as affection. They had been neighbours for years, from a time when they both had a partner. But time being what it is, brings changes and they now lived alone doing their best to manage on their meagre pensions.

  Jemima had been a widow for something like five or six years or so and Alf, a widower for a little longer. I suppose you could say they were good mates, in the true Aussie tradition. That is, they tended to watch out for each other, lending a helping hand with any pressing task - indoors or out.

  Today they were on their regular weekly shopping expedition. Jemima looking after the groceries and related items. Alf was running around after the miscellaneous chores, like going to the post office, the bank, the chemist, bakery, etc. It was an arrangement they had somehow drifted into and it worked out very well for both of them. They finished off the day's shopping in the food court of their local shopping centre, which happily gave a pensioner discount with the roast of the day. 'You couldn't buy all this and cook it at home any cheaper,' she remarked. It was all very civilised and good fun; and as anybody who knew them could see, it was a very agreeable relationship.

  'Come on, home for a nice cup of coffee.' Jemima announced at the conclusion of the meal - the coffee being definitely cheaper at home! Today, they would return directly to her place and so it would be her turn to provide refreshments. She had a neat three-bedroom, low-set house, the absolute mirror image to Alf's place next door. When they were comfortably settled, she passed the local newspaper to him. 'Have you seen this?' she inquired.

  'What? What is it?'

  'This here, this bit about a new retirement village they're building. Lovely place - look, it's right on the waterfront, see!'

  'Right... and a bit pricey too, I bet.'

  'No! No they're not! It's not what it says here.'

  'Ah, but don't forget the 'extras', there's always extras. They never mention them.'

  'Right. But even then..., I would love something like that. Our houses are alright - but all these bedrooms... six! Just for the two of us! It's not right..., it's not what you could call ‘socially responsible’... is it? Not when other people don't have anywhere to live.’

  'Don't be daft! We can't be held responsible for other people's problems. We've got enough of our own!'

  ‘Ah… maybe… But I still think it's not right. It's even a bit stupid, don't you reckon - really? Come on…'

  'Look, there's no denying we've got too much space. There are plenty of others who haven't got enough. But if you sold up, you'd be unlikely to have enough money. Money left-in-the-hand, like... to go out and buy something new. Not after all those expenses you wouldn't.'

  'No. I suppose not. Oh, well. It doesn't do any harm to dream - does it?'

  'No harm at all, my dear - as long as you remember it is but a dream.'

  'Yes... but wouldn't you like something like that? A lovely new place, one just the right size, easy to clean, beautiful view, gardens all done for you and live close to people your own age. That's important - right! No noisy kids, no noisy parties, no noisy cars or motor bikes. Just peace, quiet and everything new, clean and tidy.'

  'I told you, just remember it's a dream - alright? I mean I don't want to see you upsetting yourself. You will, if you let yourself get carried away with this social responsibility nonsense. I know what you are like.'

  'But... does it have to be just a dream, Alf?'

  'What are you talking about, woman? We just agreed you couldn't afford to buy one and neither can I. But..., I don't mind admitting it, they do look very nice. Yes, perhaps I wouldn't mind having one, if I won the Lotto!'

  'That's it, then!’

  'What, when I win the Lotto?'

  'No..., don't you see? We can't afford one each. But, how about one between us? Different story then, eh? Don't you reckon?'

  'Between us? What are you suggesting, woman - us? The two of us... living together, in sin?'

  'Lots do. It's common today.'

  'Common? It's common, alright, too bloody common! But I wouldn't do anything like that and neither should you. I'm surprised to hear you say it. It's not what I'd expect of, well... a lady like you!'

  'Now then, calm down! I never actually suggested we do such a thing, did I? Come on..., I didn't; did I? Admit it.'

  'No, but you got me excited there for a moment or two. Now what are you really suggesting then, we get married... or something?'

  'Married? We get married, did you say? Oh, I don't know, you coming out with a proposal! Just like that! You really have caught me by surprise. I had no idea you were going to say that or were even thinking such a thing. No idea you cared... not that much.'

  'Care? Of course I care. Why, we've been mates for years.'

  'Mates, yes. But..., I really didn't expect a marriage proposal.'

  'Is that what it was?'

  'Of course it was a marriage proposal! There's nothing wrong with my hearing. Hey! You're not going back on your word already, are you?'

  'No. No. I... I suppose not. It's not a bad idea, really – is it? There's a lot to be said for it. It could open up new possibilities, if we joined forces, so to speak. You know, I've always... sort o' fancied you.'

  'Now then, watch it!' Jemima said, lifting her finger in rebuke. I am... well, interested in marriage - you being such a nice, dear man; a great mate, as you'd put it. But for general, financial and material benefits. Not for... ‘you know what’!'

  'Not for 'you know what'? What does that mean? Do you mean sex? Can't you say it, woman? Come on, we're two adults talking marriage here; and that involves sex! Or it does in my book. If you have any problems with that, then best we have it all out now - before we even think of committing ourselves to anything.'

  'Sorry. Sorry, I can't say... that word. I am sorry, really – but you know, it’s not what I had in mind.'

  'Not what you had in mind? You want marriage, but not sex? Forget it. It's daft! You can stuff your cosy little unit by the water. Look, I don't want to appear harsh or unreasonable and I certainly don't want to give offence, but I'm not keen on being married and remaining celibate. It doesn't make sense to me. I'm a man, yes, an older man - but I'm not a pet poodle. I'm not dead from the waist down either! There's no way I could live with a fine, good looking, woman like you, sharing the same bed and not be sexually aroused! It's asking the impossible! You under-rate yourself.’

  'Oh, that's very flattering, Alf. I do appreciate your warm feelings – I do!'

  'They'd be warmer if ...'

  'Shut up, you old fool! We're supposed to be talking sensibly, here. I have to say, whether it hurts or not, that I never stopped loving my husband when he died. I couldn't bring myself to, to have ‘you know what’ - with anybody else. And that's that!'

  'Alright! Alright, Jemima. We know where we stand on that then, don't we? I must say, I understand and appreciate your feelings on the subject. It doesn't change my respect, or my love for you.'

  'Thank you, Alf. That's nice. I don't suppose you would..., possibly entertain the idea of well, there are two bedrooms...?'

  'No way! Absolutely unacceptable! I'm not sleeping in a separate bedroom.'

  'One room; twin beds?'

  'No! Not twin beds, either.'

  There was a long pause as they each searched their minds for a way out of the impasse. 'Just a minute. If you reckon, in spite of your age, you're a man still interested in... ‘you know what’, how've you been managing? I mean, all them urges and living alone all this time, eh? Tell me. I mean, we are supposed to be talking frankly and honestly to one another, aren't we?'

  'There are ways, my dear. Everything's for sale today. You should know that.'

  'Oh, what? You..., you, going to one of them there...'

  'There aren't any brothels here, Jemima. This is the backwoods of Queensland.'r />
  'Oh, what then? Out with it!'

  'There's a certain, lady.'

  'A lady? Huh! You mean a..., a professional lady? One of them so called ‘working girls’?'

  'Right. A ‘working girl’. A ‘flat-backer’. A ‘hooker’. One that makes house calls, for a small fee and mine does a pensioner discount too!'

  'No, never! I can't believe I’m hearing this!'

  'Ah..., well. That's the trouble, you don't want to believe it! You see the girlie ads in the local papers all the time. They're even in the phone books and yet people like you pretend such services don't exist? Why? There must be a dozen or more ladies plying their trade in this area alone. Yet none of the men folk around here are supposed to use their services? Come on, get real!'

  'Oh, alright. Maybe everything is for sale. Yes, it's true that most of us contract out for the jobs we can't do, or don't want to do, today. So why not contract out the ‘you know what’? Is that what you are saying? Hmmm...it makes sense I suppose, especially if it can save a marriage; or make one. Obviously a lot of other people have come to that conclusion. So, I guess I can learn to live with it too.'

  'What? What exactly does that mean?'

  'It means, me old darlin', that we can get married. We can have our lovely little retirement unit. You can continue to contract out the 'you know what' and hopefully we'll live happily ever after.'

  'Are you saying that, as my wife, you would approve of me continuing my little arrangement with my professional lady friend?'

  'Turn a blind eye might be a better way of putting it. Look, I knew nothing about it before and it didn't hurt me! I know we can enjoy our remaining days together and I'm damned if I'm going to let a petty, selfish, thing like my aversion to ‘you know what’, which I accept is, after all, a married man's right; stop us from having an otherwise wonderful, happy, relationship.'

  'Well, you do surprise me there, old girl. I never thought any woman could appreciate how distressingly painful enforced celibacy can be on a man. I suffered miserably in those last couple of years as me dear wife was slowly consumed by cancer. It was only after she died, mind, that I turned elsewhere for relief. I'm not afraid to say it now, to you. Finding an outlet was an absolute blessing. Back in the days when I worked in computer programming, they had a procedure whereby the first thing you did was set all the counters to zero; that's all the bits that collect information and add up and subtract, that kind of thing. Well, I can't speak for women, but sex does the same sort of thing for a man, I reckon. Sets all his pent-up feelings; discontent, anger, frustration, jealousy, hate; all those nasty things that bring on heart attacks, to zero! Good sex can do that. Turn a miserable, crusty, unhappy, man, into a warm, friendly, human being and a good husband too.'

  'Then you shall have all that, whatever it was you just said, with my blessing.'

  'But I'm not sure. I'm not convinced it will work when we're married.'

  'Look, love, you know how I like my Bingo nights - right? Well then, whenever I go to Bingo, I leave about six and I never get home 'til well after ten. What you get up to when I'm at Bingo, I promise never to ask. Right? I simply don't want to know. All I want is for you and me to be happy and I'm sure we will. We're going to have a great marriage, Alf. Come on, give us a kiss...'

  And they did get married. They were very happy indeed.

  Some three years later, Jemima was again seated in the food court of the local shopping centre, having her usual ‘roast of the day’, with her usual pensioner discount of course; when an old pensioner mate she hadn't seen for quite a while, asked if he could share the table with her.

  'Frank!' she exclaimed, excitedly. ‘How nice to see you. Please, do sit down.'

  'Look Jemima, I heard, you know, how you lost dear old Alf. So I just had to come over and offer my condolences. You don't have to say anything, love, because I know exactly how you feel. I really do, because I've just lost my Angela, about three months ago now.'

  'Oh, I am sorry, Frank. You poor thing. You were so devoted to one another, I know.'

  'That's where I've been, you see, down in Melbourne that is. When we heard she'd only got three months left, I took her down there to see our two daughters. I stayed on a few days after, you know, the funeral and that. Both of them wanted me to stay with them permanently. But, I'm sure you'll think I'm daft, quite honestly, I can't stand our two daughters. Not when they're together and certainly not to live with!'

  'Oh, Frank…!'

  'Now don't get me wrong, I love them dearly, as individuals. But put 'em together… and it's quite a different story. You wouldn’t believe it and being in the middle is absolutely impossible! I told 'em: “I'm going back to Queensland.” I said, “You can visit me every year and stay as long as you like, but don't both of you come at the same time!”'

  'Well, Frank, how many times do you hear that story today - families that can't get on! A great shame, that is.'

  ‘Yeah, but tell me, Jemima, what happened to my old mate, Alf?'

  'I killed him!'

  'You never did!'

  'I did. Well I think I did. Not directly, not with a gun or anything like that. But I killed him, all the same.'

  'What happened?'

  'It was my love of Bingo what did it.'

  'Bingo? Oh…, oh, yes I remember, you always liked the odd game of Bingo, every Friday night wasn't it?'

  'Yes, but that's it, you see. I didn't stop at the odd game of Bingo on a Friday. That's where it all went wrong. You see, after we had sold our houses and bought the retirement unit, we had a bit o' cash left. Well, not being used to having cash lying around, I started digging into it. Not buying things - well, not much. I just started going out more, mostly to Bingo. Then I suddenly had a run of luck. I started winning and winning, the more I won the more I wanted to play. Soon I was travelling to Bingo by bus, here, there and everywhere. I was hardly ever at home. Alf never liked Bingo so he was left to his own devices.'

  'Oh, so what was the effect on him, you know, being left on his own so much?'

  'I don't think he resented me being out at Bingo, though I couldn't blame him if he did. Anyway, he started spending on little ‘treats’ for himself.'

  'Don't tell me, all the vices to excess?'

  'Well, something like that, yes, I’m afraid so!'

  'How did he go, then? Heart attack was it?'

  'Yes, yes it was. I came home and found him dead... in his bed.'

  'How dreadful! But he didn't suffer?'

  'Oh, no. No, quite the opposite, actually he died pretty much with a smile on his face, as they say.'

  'Well, there you go - he died thinking of all the wonderful loving he'd had.'

  'Yes, yes… you could say that…’

  ‘And you can manage, you know…, financially?’

  ‘Oh, most certainly. He believed in insurance, did Alf. He was well covered. I hope you are? A lot of husbands simply don’t bother.’

  ‘Me? Yes, yes, of course. I’m well covered.’

  ‘Good for you! Anyway, I’m well provided for at present, though one can never have too much! But I still think I killed him. Or the damned Bingo did! I should never have left him, well not so often and not at his age. Not three or four times a week!'

  'Now don't you carry on so. You want to get out more. Don't stay shut-up in that retirement unit of yours, lovely as it is.'

  'Oh, no. I try to get out now and again, but single living doesn’t suit me.’

  ‘No, single living doesn’t suit me either. In fact, I hate living alone and I confess to suffering from unexplained mood swings. Odd moments of anger and strange feelings of frustration.’

  ‘That’s perfectly understandable. I do understand, completely.’

  ‘Oh, you’re too kind.’

  ‘Come to think of it, I seem to remember you did like my unit a lot, didn't you? You know, that day you visited us? Just after w
e moved in, wasn't it?'

  'Yes. I reckon it's got the best view in the retirement village, being right on the waterfront like that. You know my interest in fishing, I'd give my eye-teeth to live there, that I would!'

  'Would you now?'

  'Of course! My house is much too big for someone living alone.'

  'Why that's exactly why me and Alf sold up and moved in together.'

  'Ah, but if I sold, I'd never get enough to buy-in where you are.'

  'Oh? I might be able to help you there.'

  'Really?'

  'Of course! That's what mates are for. We are old mates, aren't we?'

  'Yes, of course.'

  'Well, I’ll tell you what, why not come and have dinner with me, tonight? Would you like that?'

  'Oh, yeah, too right I would! I’d love to.'

  'Great. We can have a good talk. "Let it all hang out," as my Alf liked to say. You know, I learnt a lot from Alf.'

  'I expect you did. A real man of the world, was Alf.'

  'Man of the world, you say? Well, yes, he liked to think so. Anyway, we can talk tonight about ‘men of the world’ and things like that. How men left alone, like you, can sometimes suffer in silence, unable to express their feelings or talk about their problems. We'll talk about making the most of one's opportunities, not wasting what little time we have left. How to share things, you know, a problem shared is a problem solved - that kind of thing. Maybe we'll come up with some answers, eh? To some of your problems as well as mine. What do you reckon?'

  'Great! I've always thought of you as being an especially interesting and understanding sort of woman. But it's Friday today! No Bingo tonight then?'

  'Oh, no, not tonight, Frank. There'll be plenty of time later, for Bingo.'