CHAPTER 1

THE SUMMER OF 1964

A hot sun in a clear blue cloudless sky greeted me as I left myfather's grocery store in Roxborough and wandered down themain street. Summers were usually hot and this was no exception. Aheat haze shimmered above the roadway and the pavement was likea bed of hot coals. I could feel the heat rising up through my feet asI walked, prompting me to quicken my stride. There was silence—brokenneither by any soft breeze to rustle the papers scattered in thegutter, nor the rumble of cars passing by. Apart from a few vehiclesparked in the street and two or three people walking aimlessly by, themain street was deserted.

It was a typical Saturday afternoon and as was the custom, I wasmeeting my friends at the local cafeteria in the central square to discussplans for the weekend. As I entered the café, I could hear the musicfrom the jukebox above the incessant chatter of teenage voices. Tiredceiling fans, which had worked too hard on many searing summerdays, had already lost their battle to circulate cool air in a room packedwith teenagers and a few adults. I stood in the doorway, looking fromright to left for a familiar body or voice.

"Guy!"

I spun in the direction of the sound and spotted my friends in theback corner of the room. They waved to me as I grabbed a Coke andmoved in and out of the tables and towards them. We were all sixteenand lived in the same street.

I sat next to Ivan, grinning inwardly at the infinite care he musthave taken with his appearance: not one blond hair out of place, evenhis sandals were polished. I sipped on the Coke.

"Geez it's hot!" I remarked, wiping the perspiration from myforehead.

"Yeah!" he replied, as he finished downing a milkshake. Hecarefully wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"How come you never look hot? I'm sweating like a pig andyou ... well you ... not a sign!" I remarked.

"Dunno! The heat doesn't really affect me much," he answerednonchalantly.

"I saw your dad loading the trailer. Goin' somewhere?""Yeah! We're going away for a holiday. Dad has four weeks offwork," Ivan grinned.

Ivan's dad, a Hungarian immigrant, worked at the local sawmills.

"When ya going?" I asked, as I leaned back in my chair, and placedthe icy cold bottle against my forehead.

"Next week."

"Then why is he loading the trailer now? He's got plenty of time."

"Dad likes to be prepared. He'll load most of the gear now. Therest he'll load the day before we leave."

"My dad would wait till the last moment and then he'd get angry ateveryone because he had to rush it or he'd forgotten something," I said.

"What about you, Georgie? Goin' away?" I asked my friend,sitting opposite.

"Huh?" he grunted.

Georgie Henderson had an intellectual disability and sometimes ittook him a while to understand what you were saying.

"Are you going away for a holiday or staying here?" I repeated.

"My dad can't afford a holiday so I'm staying in Roxborough," heanswered, running his hand through his thick, dark curly hair.

Georgie then proceeded to pick at the multitude of pimples thatblemished his face. All this time, his restless, inquisitive eyes movedconstantly—at once observing everything, yet comprehending little.Sometimes, it was difficult to grab and retain his attention.

"Looks like you and me, Guy!" He grinned.

I muttered, "Good to know Georgie."

I wasn't being petulant or sarcastic about spending my holidayswith Georgie. In fact he was good company. I was simply frustratedbecause Ivan was leaving Roxborough for four weeks and I was, I hadto concede, just a little jealous. I wasn't looking forward to spendinganother vacation at home.

At the end of the table sat the pin-up boy of our group, BillyJenkins. He had his back turned to us as he chatted to some of hisfootball mates. He was easily recognised as an unabashed fan of Elviswith his long, slick, black hair complemented by the mandatory bluejeans and jacket he wore like a uniform.

"How ya goin' Billy?" I asked loudly, to get his attention.

He did not reply at first, but eventually turned around, toacknowledge my presence.

"Fine! How's it goin' Harmon?" he answered with a grin.

"Hot!" I replied.

"Yeah! Too hot! I need another drink."

Like most city-bred boys, Billy moved in a manner that wasdifferent from his country peers. He carried himself across the roomwith a blatant swagger, exuding an air of confidence. As I watched him,I remembered when he arrived in town with his father, Jim Jenkins, thelocal policeman. I had helped Billy settle into the house opposite mine.He had confided in me about his mother deserting him at an early age.I didn't ask why, but assumed it was because his father transformedinto an abusive, loud, foul-mouthed man when he drank—and he wasa man who certainly liked a drink.

on many nights, I heard him arguing loudly with his father.Sometimes I heard Billy cry out in pain and I guessed he'd beenhit. My suspicions were vindicated when I saw him with welts andbruising on his face following an argument with his father. Billy alwaysproffered a viable excuse, so I chose to ignore both the rumours thatwere generated by some townsfolk and the physical evidence of hisinjuries. I didn't envy his life—no mother and an abusive father.

"Watcha doin?"

A thump on my arm followed this greeting, heralding the arrivalof the last of our group, Samantha Bennett.

Without looking up and turning around I remarked, "Well! Wewere just saying how quiet it was without Sam. Then you turned up!"I grinned, expecting another thump but instead I got an angryretort.

"okay! I know when I'm not wanted. I'll go. See ya!"

As she turned to go I grabbed her arm and hastily apologised,realising she was angry.

"I was only joking. Sit down, silly!" I said, motioning to the chairbeside me.

Sam pouted and remained standing. "only if you say `I'm a greatbig girl'."

Both Ivan and Georgie giggled as I blushed. "No way!" Iexclaimed.

She pulled away from my grip. I quickly mumbled, "okay! I'm agreat big girl."

"Sorry! I can't hear you."

She was goading me—and it worked. Without thinking, I shouted,"I'm a great big girl."

Everyone in the room automatically stared in my direction. I couldfeel the blood rushing to my face as I rested my head on the table. Itried to cover my embarrassment by hiding in the crook of one arm.Ivan, Georgie and Sam laughed hysterically and soon everyone elsejoined in.

Sam sat alongside me, grabbed my Coke and took a swig. Sheenjoyed teasing me and I tolerated her antics because she was mybest friend, even though she was a girl. Back then it was unusual for asixteen-year-old boy to have a girl as a best friend but I had grown upwith Sam. From an early age she had followed me around. We had donemany things together and I found it difficult to imagine not having heraround, even though she could be a pest at times. She took off her capand ruffled her honey blonde hair.

She grinned and winked. "Well, You should know by now thatno-one messes with Sam. Isn't that right Georgie?"

A huge smile crossed Georgie's face as he agreed, "Yep! No-onemesses with Sam."

Sam lived in the same street as the rest of us. She was a tomboy.

Her father had wanted his first child to be a boy and had even pickedout the name—Sam. When she was born, Sam became Samantha. Shespent more time with us than with girls her own age. To look at her,you'd think she was a boy—jeans, shirt hanging out untidily and abaseball cap tucked firmly on her head hiding her hair.

Spare time in Roxborough allowed teenagers a raft of pursuits. We`hung out' with friends, played sport and rode our motor bikes on thedirt roads and tracks on the outskirts of town. Sometimes we wenthunting. Most teenagers had access to a gun and the forest areas wereperfect for hunting. Many sixteen-year-old boys occupied their sparetime by pursuing the local girls but Ivan, Georgie and I were ratherself-conscious and shy. As a result, girls were off limits for us three, atleast for the time being.

Billy Jenkins had already logged plenty of experiences with theopposite sex and compensated for our inexperience with his ever-presenteagerness to regale us with his many escapades with girls fromthe city as well as local girls.

I looked around at the others expectantly, "What are we doing?"

"Well!" suggested Ivan, "I thought we might go to the Waterhole."

"Sounds great! Let's go! Ivan with me and Sam with Georgie."

Sam smiled sweetly at Georgie, "How about I ride your bike?"She was trying to provoke a reaction and she got it. The immediatelook of disappointment on Georgie's face prompted her to add, "onlyjoking."

We all knew how much Georgie loved riding his bike.

The Waterhole was about twenty minutes from the town, at thefoot of the mountains. It was a quiet area surrounded by trees and wasonly accessible by bikes or off-road vehicles. Few adults used it and soit was a popular swimming hole for the youth of the town. Ivan was theonly one of us who didn't have a bike, so he always rode with me.

I moved around the table to get Billy's attention and said loudly,"We're going to the Waterhole. Coming?"

He gave me a cursory glance and answered, "okay! But later ... seeyou there!"

We left him chatting and laughing with his friends and walkedhome to gather our gear and bikes. It was almost two in the afternoonwhen we had finally pushed our bikes to the outskirts of town.

We rode across the noisy wooden bridge traversing the KarinyaRiver and sped up the bitumen road towards the mountains. Tenminutes later, we turned off the highway onto a winding dirt road. Theroad gradually disappeared and became a narrow track as it coiled itsway through the forest. All I could hear above the gentle hum of the125cc motorbikes was the crackling noises of leaves and twigs beneathour tyres, as we raced along the forest floor.

Georgie was a fearless rider but his fearlessness often ended withhim lying in a ditch because he was speeding or doing something elsethat required more forethought than he was able to summon. Today hehad to follow me so there would be no silly accidents. For once, he hadto ride in the slipstream of dust rolling back from behind my bike. Thefurther we progressed, the denser the forest became, the shade canopyof the trees shielding us from the oppressive heat of the sun.

CHAPTER 2

THE WATERHOLE

About fifteen minutes later we arrived at the Waterhole and parkedour bikes under a tree. We had our swimming gear on under ourclothing so in a matter of seconds Georgie, Ivan and I were ready todive into the water. Sam had moved away to the other side of the treeto remove her top and shorts and joined us shortly after. She smiled inamusement at our gaping mouths and transfixed eyes. Georgie gave aloud wolf whistle and smiled.

"What?" Sam asked with a grin.

She was wearing a black one-piece swimsuit and it was plain tosee she had developed into a lovely young woman. The black swimsuithighlighted her curves and all we three males could do was stare. Ourpreoccupation was rather rude but Sam had certainly filled out in thelast few months.

She repeated, "What?"

She laughed at our embarrassment as we tried to mask the fact we'dbeen ogling her. I knew that I could never again look at her as one of theboys—not ever. I glanced at the others and I knew instantly that theyfelt the same way. In a short time Sam had changed into a Samantha.

I mumbled, "Um ... you look different."

"How?"

Her cheeky grin showed that she knew what I was thinking. Inaccord with her basic character Sam was enjoying seeing us squirm.

"The last time I saw you in swimmers you were a skinny kid justlike a ..."

My voice trailed off and I looked at Ivan for support but he'dturned away and pretended to busy himself tidying up his clothes.Georgie ... well Georgie just stared, his mouth agape. Neither of themwere any help.

Sam finished the sentence for me. "A boy?"

Before I could answer Georgie had recovered his vocal ability andblurted out, "You've got tits!"

Trust Georgie to be honest. Sam, Ivan and I burst out laughing.Georgie was puzzled for a moment but joined in when he realised wewere laughing at his remark. He reached into a bag on the side of hisbike and pulled out a bottle of beer. He tied a cord around the top ofthe bottle and gently lowered it into the cool water.

"Where'd you get that?" I asked, knowing full well he had stolenit from his dad's secret stash. I grabbed two packets of cigarettes frommy bike and placed them on a rock under the tree. We all laughedagain, in the knowledge that Georgie was not the only bandit in ourmidst, since I had taken them from my father's store.

"One day you two will get caught and cop it," grinned Ivan.

I scrambled down the bank and into the water. It was cool andthe slippery mud oozed between my toes as I waded out to wherethe water was waist deep. Before I could turn to the others, I wasbombarded by Georgie who threw himself into the water like anexploding bomb, quickly followed by Ivan and Sam. They stood up,shaking the water from their faces and laughing like little children.They had expected me to retaliate but I had dived under the water anddisappeared temporarily, breaking the surface some five yards away.We dived and swam, enjoying the respite from the summer heat.

The Waterhole was at the base of a small waterfall that trickleddown the mountainside. Oak trees stood like sentinels on all sides, theirlarge overhanging branches protecting us from the sun. Intermittentrays of sunlight broke through and glimmered on the surface of thewater that was largely shrouded by the canopy of leaves. The dark,tranquil water reflected the surrounding landscape. A tattered, wornrope hung from the branch of a gnarled oak and we used it to swingout and drop from a great height into the water. Here was a perfectspot to spend a relaxing few hours on a Saturday afternoon.

After spending almost an hour in the water we scrambled out andsat under a tree to smoke cigarettes and drink some of Georgie's coldbeer. I really didn't like smoking or drinking beer but for reasons Icould not deny, it made me feel more grown-up. Ivan declined boththe cigarette and beer offered him.

By contrast, Georgie loved to imitate the actions of adults bydangling a cigarette from his mouth or trying, usually unsuccessfully,to blow smoke rings. Without fail, he would always deliver a loud gutwrenching belch after gulping down the beer and then look at us witha silly grin on his face, waiting for our response.

Sam was willing to try anything but after a puff on my cigaretteand a mouthful of beer she screwed up her face and declared, "That'sawful! My mum says kissing a man who smokes and drinks isdisgusting. Now, I am sure she is right."

Ivan grinned, "So who have you kissed lately?"

"Don't be silly! Nobody ... yuck!" retorted Sam.

This was an opportunity I couldn't miss. Sam took pleasure inmaking fun at my expense and now was my chance, for once, to turnthe tables.

I teased, "Come on ... I've seen you eyeing off Robbie Kirkland.I bet you kissed him."

"Yuck! I don't like him so there ... What about you? Who haveyou kissed?"

That shut me up. Trust Sam to find a weakness in my makeup.My pride was salvaged by Georgie who had returned from the water'sedge.

"Where ya going on ya holidays, Ivan?" he asked, as he scratchedhis legs. He had splattered mud on them and let it bake dry. He tookgreat delight in peeling off the dry mud.

"We're going to Pindimar Beach—on the coast."

He grinned as the rest of us, po-faced and envious, sat staring intothe water.

Our conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Billy and hisfriends. The Waterhole quickly became a noisy, frenetic place withplenty of loud squealing and laughter as members of the group divedand swam. After the beer, none of us was in the mood to join them sowe sat and watched in silence. Finally, Sam decided to join a group ofgirls sitting near the water's edge.

Several boys dived and swam under water towards girls and triedto pull off their bikini tops, much to the delight of the other boys.Georgie revelled in this spectacle and was keen to get back into thewater. Billy stood on the bank and chatted to Lauren, a beautiful blondein a brief bikini. She had a reputation in town—the local scuttlebuttinsisted that she had lost her virginity at age twelve. My outlook, albeitbased only on flimsy personal experience, was that she and Billy weremade for each other.