Nothing Lasts Forever Page 7

  The stables were sound, and they tended the horses and fed them hay from the store, locking them in for the night. Mel was in a state of euphoria, He couldn’t believe his good fortune.

  The next morning they found the fences in a state of disrepair, but the store had ample supplies of wire, hammers and nails. Within two days they were able to let the horses graze on the lush grass. Mel loved working beside William, who was constantly cheery and a wealth of information. Sometimes, in the residence, Mel noted the sadness in William’s eyes. This was, after all, where his beloved son had lived, and grief takes it’s time to heal.

  On the third night, after a meal made of whatever they found in the store, Stephen Grayson the lawyer arrived on time for his appointment to draw up legal papers. He was suitably impressed with the new manager of the store; his clothes and manners were impeccable.

  Everything was covered legally…Mel’s wage was to be a percentage of the profits and a letter was signed to go to the bank, opening Mel’s own bank account. It never entered the lawyer’s mind that Mel was a slave…a Kanaka. Grayson accepted him as a well- educated friend of the owner, and as the manager of this enterprise, his acceptance in the town as a well-to-do business man was ensured. It was of no concern to him what Mel’s skin colour was, or where he came from. His good judgment told him here was an intelligent, decent, capable man, and nothing else mattered.

  Mel dipped the pen expertly before signing ‘Manager: Mel Milo’ on the official papers. William had insisted he practice before the lawyer’s arrival. What surprised Mel was the bill of sale William produced, declaring that Baylord, the fine horse Mel had ridden from Stanthorpe, now belonged to Mel. The sales slip stated Mel had paid the princely sum of five pounds; this meant no one could ever lay claim to Baylord.

  “You earned at least that in your time on Jumbuck Downs,” William said softly.

  Mel found himself choked with emotion.

  The lawyer finally left, unsteady on his feet, after helping William and Mel empty a bottle of rum. Mel had the sense to sip slowly and drink little until he was more accustomed to this ritual.

  William stayed a few more days, helping Mel sort out the stores and repack shelves. He telegraphed previous suppliers with the news they were back in business. Mel made notes of supplies ordered, memorized the procedures, and set up his own book of records so precise as to amaze those who had been doing so for years.

  Things were going well in the store. The neighboring farms were pleased to have their local store operating again, and Mel gained their respect and admiration. If someone asked for an item not in the store, Mel would order it in, after sourcing it out in several publications. Nothing was too much trouble. The townspeople loved him.

  Chapter Six

  Mel found himself in a quandary. He couldn’t be losing his mind, not after achieving so much. He’d taken on the full responsibility of the store with no problems for two months now. It was almost as though he’d been doing it all his life. But on waking some mornings lately, he’d find things moved to somewhere else, upsetting his sense of orderly.

  Each night, before going to bed, he’d double check windows and doors, to ensure no-one could gain entry to put his plans to disarray. But, come morning, some things were not where they were supposed to be.

  He’d learned to control rage, but this was something else again. He did not understand what was going on in his life, and he hated that. Against all odds, he’d survived deprivation and hard times to become what he now was…a man of respectability. But his confidence was badly shaken by current events. He thought long and hard…could it be the small glass of port he allowed himself each evening? Maybe he’d better give it up. Damn! He was enjoying that little luxury.

  He was half asleep in his bed one night, when he heard papers rustling. There was no wind outside, no draught inside. He opened one eye, and fought the impulse to spring out of bed to confront the troublemaker.

  It was a full moon, and the glow through the windows lit the room almost as bright as the unlit lantern.

  The papers he had left on his dresser to pursue in the morning were turning over, as though someone was reading them, but there was no one there! Then the papers fluttered down as though suddenly discarded, and an eerie, cold stillness invaded the room. Mel jerked upright. What the hell was going on?

  He bolted out of bed, stumbling over the boots he’d carefully placed beside the bed. He restacked the papers in order and placed a lamp on top of the pile. They were going nowhere now.

  Barefoot he checked every window and door again, taking his time to make sure all was secure. When he re-entered his bedroom, the lamp had been moved aside, and the papers were in disarray.

  “Get out of here,” He yelled. “No more interfering or you’ll be sorry.” Once again he experienced the coldness of the room.

  Sleep was near impossible for the rest of that long night. How was he to cope with something like this? Some invisible force was trying to undermine his orderly life.

  As he pulled his clothes on in the morning, he studied the order of the disturbed papers. Then he found it right on top of the pile…the discrepancy in his last delivery. He knew he’d find it sooner or later…strange how it was on the top of the re-arranged pile of invoices, though.

  He telegrammed the supplier, giving indication of an urgent matter. A few days later, a horseman arrived and asked to see Mel’s bookwork, which bought about a look of wonder to his face. He couldn’t argue with those records, and he then admitted that there was a bit of pilfering going on with some of his deliveries.

  The supplier promised to make up the discrepancy as soon as possible, and try to put an end to the thieving.

  A few nights later, Mel was rubbing his tired eyes as he worked on his books at the kitchen table in the lamplight. His attention snapped to the darkest corner of the room where the lamp couldn’t quite penetrate. There had been a movement in the shadows, he was sure of it. As he willed his tired eyes to concentrate on the darkness, an apparition began to emerge. Wispy at first, like a rolling fog, it gained substance as he stared at it wide-eyed.

  “So you can see me now?” the well- dressed man said as he came forward.

  “Y-yes. I see you,” Mel said in wonderment. Was he seeing what he thought he was seeing? He’d never quite understood Milano’s gift. He did now.

  “Good,” the man said. “I’ve been trying for ages to get your attention.”

  Mel felt a bit braver now. “You’re the one moving things around and going bump in the night? Why the hell are you here annoying me, then?”

  “Oh well! Annoying you, am I? I could say the same about you, smart ass! Truth is, I was here first, and then you arrived, annoying me with your orderly, no mess, no nonsense ways. You see, this is my store, and you’re messing with things of no concern to you.”

  Mel drew a deep breath. So, this was the ghost of William’s son, John. Milano had been gifted with the ability to see and communicate with spirits, but now, to find he had this strange gift was a complete surprise. And what to do with such a gift?

  “Well, I’m sorry about that, but you’re not in a position to actually run the store, are you?”

  John relented. “Yeah, I know what you’re saying. I’m not the man I was. Actually I’m glad Dad chose you to take over. You’re doing well.”

  “Why aren’t you off flying around heaven, or whatever you’re supposed to be doing?” Mel was more intrigued than fearful. He had a good feeling about this ghost. He was sure it meant no malice.

  “I made the decision to stay earth-bound for a while. I still have unfinished business with this store.”

  Mel decided it was probably best not to antagonize John, but the thought of all the unnerving interference that had been occurring and the threat of more in the future bought on a feeling of frustration. “So you’re going to carry right on moving things around and bein
g downright irritating, right?”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way. Now you can see me and talk to me, you aren’t afraid of me anymore. That was part of your problem…fear of the unknown. We can work this out together.”

  Mel took a deep breath and spoke with authority. “I need to make it clear to you, John, that I’m in charge now, and I need things to be done my way. No interference.”

  John glared at Mel, if a ghost can glare, and then relented. “Yeah, all right. You’ve got things going quite well, actually, for a Kanaka.”

  “Do you think that makes a difference to my ability to run the store?” Mel treated John to a full-blown glare.

  “You’re doing all right for a pampered Prince, I guess.”

  So, this ghost knew it all, Mel acknowledged. “Yeah, I’m doing all right.” A smile played across his face. Who would have thought he’d be having such a conversation with a ghost? No one. And who could he tell of this strange event? No one.

  Mel lit the fuel stove and put the kettle on the hotplate. He wandered outside, feeling very contented. The ghost was not causing too much interference lately. In fact, he discussed things with Mel very politely…unless Mel disagreed, then John would whirl around in a temper, dislodging things in a whirlwind of destruction.

  Mel had learned that the best way to handle this situation was to just walk out. When he returned some time later, he’d find everything in its place, and no ghost to contend with for a few days. He needed a reprieve from the tantrums now and then. Such a temperamental ghost!

  Last night had been good…he’d been at the table penning his entries into his log book. “Cobb & Co coach in to-day. More demand for soaps and boiled lollies from the passengers…”

  “Not too many of those boiled lollies,” John said, reading over Mel’s shoulder. “Not good for the kiddies’ teeth.”

  Mel continued writing…“and we need a bigger range of cloth. The women watch the fashion pages…”

  “Bugger the women and their fashions,” John said. “This is a general store, not a boutique.”

  “…and ask about magazines on the latest trends in Europe.”

  “What’s all this crap about women’s fashion? You turning queer or something?”

  Mel drew a deep breath and treated John to a stern stare. “We have to stock whatever is in demand. It keeps sales up, keeps us popular and busy. I want William to be pleased when he comes next month.”

  “Dear Dad is coming to check on you, eh? Everything in order, is it?”

  “Everything is in order as you already know. I’m sure Mr. Grayson, the lawyer, will find that all is well,” Mel nodded happily. “Although neither of them would be very happy if they knew you were here annoying me.”

  “Annoying you, am I?”

  Mel laughed. Hadn’t they had this conversation before? “No, not really. I appreciate the company, actually.”

  This soothed the ghost, and he glided away to check on other things.

  Now, in the early morning air, Mel stretched and wandered over to his vegetable patch. He pulled a few carrots for Baylord, who nickered in anticipation as Mel entered the stables. Mel loved caring for the big bay, who, in return, was devoted to his master. It occurred to Mel how things had changed. Not so long ago he was fearful of horses, but now he had a healthy respect for them. And it made such a difference knowing Baylord was his. The pride of ownership of this magnificent animal was a new experience, and Mel relished the feeling.

  “How you going, big fella?” Mel asked as he rubbed Baylord’s velvet nose. “You ready for a run around the paddock?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Mel caught a shadow moving in the hay loft above. Instantly wary, he grabbed the pitchfork. William had warned him: “take no chances, Mel. Follow your instincts. There are bad people around who’ll take whatever you’ve worked hard for.”

  “Joe on walkabout,” said a familiar rumbling voice, and Mel found himself smiling with pleasure as he tossed the fork aside.

  “Joe! How did you find me?”

  The aborigine approached and gripped Mel’s shoulders in his familiar way. “Pretty good tracker, eh?” The smile on his face was priceless.

  Mel led Joe into the kitchen where the kettle was boiling. Joe was obviously ill at ease in a white man’s house.

  “Sit down and I’ll get us some breakfast,” Mel said cheerfully.

  “What break-fast? Joe want tucker.”

  Mel served up two big plates of scrambled eggs on toast which Joe ate with his fingers. Afterwards they settled back in the chairs and continued their conversation. Joe had been on walkabout for a while now. He was in no hurry to return to Jumbuck Downs, because he was expected to take a wife.

  “You have friend from spirit world here. I saw last night. You talken’.” Joe said.

  Mel answered with some surprise “you should have come in to meet him.” So Joe could also see the intrepid ghost. This was pretty amazing stuff!

  “Not ready,” Joe said. Mel wasn’t sure who wasn’t ready, but the wonder was that Joe had seen John’s ghost, and to him it was perfectly normal.

  “He look after you, this spirit,” Joe said with some authority. Mel found a bit of comfort in that, for there were times when he had his doubts about co-inhabiting with John.

  Through the day, whenever Mel went into the store to attend a customer, Joe made fresh tea. Mel was pleased that he had found the confidence to do so, but he’d never drunk so much tea in a day. He felt virtually ‘tead out’.

  Supper that night was slabs of ham and boiled vegetables from Mel’s garden. Mel was amused by Joe’s efforts to be domesticated. He had advanced to eating with a spoon. Joe told Mel that William had offered him paid work at Jumbuck Downs if he proved himself reliable. Joe wanted to be reliable, whatever that was, but didn’t plan an early return.

  After supper, with the mess cleared away, they sat in companionable silence in the big armchairs. Mel decided not to indulge in his port this time. He felt it unwise to introduce Joe to alcohol. He’d heard stories of aborigines going ‘off the rails’ on booze.

  “So, you boss man,” Joe said suddenly with a hint of a grin.

  Mel thought for a moment, then said “I guess I am.”

  Joe’s posture stiffened and Mel felt the familiar chill in the air. There was a wisp of fog-like vapor changing in shape from a spiral to a fuzzy upright shape.

  Mel glanced at Joe. His eyes were huge and his big hands clutched the arms of his chair.

  “Don’t be afraid, Joe. He can’t hurt you,” Mel murmured reassuringly.

  “What’s this blackfella doing here?” the ghostly voice said.

  “He’s my friend,” Mel answered simply. “He has every right to be here.”

  The upright shape changed into a long sausage shape, which slowly circled Joe and spiraled around him a few times, then reformed into the upright shape in front of him. John’s features slowly emerged from the fog.

  “What you want here, boy?”

  “Joe here see Mel. He boss man now.”

  “No need to rub it in, mate,” John said.

  Mel’s expression was one of wonderment. Not only could Joe see the resident ghost, but could communicate as well. Amazing!

  “Why you here?” Joe asked.

  Mel held his breath, hoping John didn’t take offence and start throwing things around again. But John’s expression remained placid.

  “I’m not ready to move on yet,” John answered. “This was my home, my life. Can’t leave yet.”

  Joe, now relaxed, leaned back in his chair. “You help Mel alla time?”

  “When I can. He’s stubborn, your Mel, and often won’t listen to good advice.” John paused. “But on the whole, he’s managing well, better than I did.”

  “You were going all right until you rolled that horse over on yourself
,” Mel said softly, then wondered if that was something ghosts liked to talk about…their demise.

  “Yeah! Stupid! Stupid!”

  “What were you thinking, riding hard in the dark and rain?” Mel asked.

  “Ah! I’d been to visit the ladies of the night, see…my weakness. While there I overheard a very loud man boasting about a plan to rob the general store. My store. So I was in a bit of a hurry to get back home and prepare myself. I couldn’t let anything happen to Dad’s investment; I wanted him to be proud of me. I’d been a bit of a disappointment to him in the past.”

  Mel listened in wonder. Was that why John was still here? He needed to appease his father; make sure the store was running at its very best before he could leave.

  “William was always proud of you, John, and he loved you as only a father can,” Mel said with conviction and a lot more understanding.

  “Yeah, but I spent too much time, too much money on the ladies, you see. We were always arguing about that. I feel awful guilty. I should have been concentrating on the store, just like you. That should have been my first priority.”

  Joe had been listening intently. His understanding of ‘white man talk’ was much improved. “So now you help Mel with the store alla time?” he asked again, curious to know what spirits did with their time.

  “Mel doesn’t need much help. He has no distractions, and puts all he has into it. But I plan to stay until the store is as good as it can be.”

  “Thank you, John.” Mel felt humbled. This poor ghost had set himself a mission, maybe to right a wrong, before he went on to other things.

  Mel felt a smile tug at his mouth. John didn’t always agree with Mel’s plans for the store, but he’d given Mel a bit of credit there, hadn’t he?