Irish Darren

Irish Darren had nice eyes and a handsome face. He was a traveller, blown into town only for a short time. I guess you’d call him temp staff.

He had those slightly bandy legs and big feet. He had a thick arse and quite a bulge in the front of his trousers, you know, like he had a cricket box shoved down his jeans. Smooth and round and plump. I couldn't help but notice.

He had a great accent. I could have listened to him talk forever.

Lunch times, I chatted with the girls in the kitchen at the big table about my boyfriend, as they chatted about theirs. Hardly any of the sexless HR girls had boyfriends. Knowing look. A few did. Astonished look. It was usually the same faces talking, my team, and the same faces listening, the HR team.

I'm a bit of an over-sharer, rather than the opposite, so I often chatted. Irish Darren sat at the table with us, which was unusual for one of the other guys, it was usually just me and the girls. He’d sit and eat his lunch, listening, and then he’d join in the chat, sometimes. He’d talk and give of himself, he didn’t sit quietly by, that is what I liked about him the most. He was up for a chat as much as the rest of us.

I chatted about Mat, my boyfriend. Spanky McGee spoke about her husband, handsome Carl. May Pang spoke about Mike McRoberson. Irish Darren would talk about the places he’d been and the people he’d met there. He mentioned his girlfriend once, or twice, but not a lot.

I think I spoke mostly about the idea of a boyfriend, a conglomeration of all my past guys filling in the gaps, rather than strictly talking about Mat, so once I got going, I had stories, never ending stories, instantly cleaned up, and shortened.

When the girls and I laughed about guys, you know kind of intimate (nothing really) I noticed that Irish Darren was taking it all in quite intently, his eyes moving from one person to another. Kind of smiling, but not. Apparently, he has a girlfriend somewhere? Back in Ireland? Siobhan? I'm not sure now. He’d listen intently, say something interesting, and we'd be left smiling at each other, when we'd run out of things to say.

He'd smile at me.

I’d smile at him.

He’d hold my gaze just a little too long.

I’d hold his gaze just a little too long.

After a summer of that, me talking about guys in the lunch room, with him listening, often intently, I swear he followed me into the toilets a few times. It was late in the year, summer had well and truly started, the office was quiet. Of course, that was most likely my imagination, and lunch time hours being what lunch time hours are, people being out and about, but a boy can day dream, can’t he?

He had these big feet, and he always wore those leather shoes. The walls of the toilet cubicles had quite a gap at the bottom. And the bare light globe was right over the toilet cubicles, angled in such a way, so a guy’s reflection was reflected on the shiny tiled floor pretty quickly after he slides himself out of his trousers. If the guy was of the leisurely persuasion, which Irish Darren was, the times that I saw him, as he slid his pants off, and then his jocks, well, the reflection left nothing to the imagination, and if a guy stood there, which some do, rather than sitting down immediately, well, it was, practically, a picture show. 

Irish Daren had a big one flopping about, from what I could see. 

Then one time, I'm sure he sat forward with a hard on, rubbing it up and down. It bent upwards like a large banana. 

Did it? Was it? Was I imagining it? Ah? I could have made it all up, easily. We see what we want to see, isn’t that what ‘they’ say? True of life.

Those big feet, socks and hairy ankles, it’s intoxicating. And I am left wondering how much of it was all in my mind, fed only by my basest desires.

After a summer of that, me talking about guys in the lunch room, I swear Darren followed me outside a few times. 

By late summer, I’d started smoking again, stupid me. It had been the result of weekends on pot with my mate Leo.

I’d sit out the front on, what I assume was once, a planter, but had long since been filled in to effectively form a square concrete box, on the street, outside our building. It would be bathed in sun in the afternoon.

When Darren appeared on the footpath for the second time, when I was out having a smoke, he looked at me and smiled

Cute, pretty, Irish Darren. Nice, too. Such a nice bloke.

“Can I bot one of those?” he asked. Pointing to the cigarette burning in my hand with his chin, nonchalantly.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” I said.

“I don’t.”

What could you do? I offered him up my box. Lid set open like a cigarette commercial, and a slight Sale of the Century flourish.

“Thanks,” he said. He sat down next to me. I lit his cigarette for him.

“So, what’s with the smoking?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugged.

“Really? You don’t know? It’s not something people do unconsciously, now a days.”

He lay his head on my shoulder and went all floppy pretending to be unconscious. I’m not ashamed to say I liked it. His head on my shoulder. I could smell his hair. I could smell him. I could also feel his size, um, weight on me, I liked that too, feeling him press against me. 

He sat up. He shrugged again. “My visa is up, I have to go home.”

“Don’t you want to go home?”

“No.” He looked at me. “Oh, yeah, sure, I want to go home, but not just yet.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you want to see her?” I was thinking the correct answer to that was no. Ha ha.

“No,” he said. He laughed. “Yes.” He looked at me. “She didn’t want me to come to Australia and leave her behind, so I don’t know if she is my girlfriend, or not, any more.”

“Haven’t you been speaking to her while you’ve been away?”

He grimaced.

“No?’ I asked.

He grimaced again. That handsome face, looking unsure, it was sexy.

“Why?” I asked.

“She was pissed off. Every time I spoke to her she was…”

“Angry?” I offered.

“Well, not angry exactly, but not happy either.”

“Oh,” I said.

“She wanted to get married.”

“Married?”

“Well, we’d finished uni and got jobs, and as far as she was concerned that was the next step.”

“And you didn’t want to get married?”

“Well, um, no. I didn’t want to get married, I wanted to go and see the world.”

“And she didn’t?”

“She wanted, wants, to buy a house and have kids, she says we can see the world when we retire with plenty of money to enjoy it.”

“How long before you retire?”

“Exactly,” Darren said. He flicked his cigarette butt into the gutter. “She doesn’t understand…”

“You,” I offered.

“No,” he said. “She doesn’t.”

The straight boy lament, I thought, just before you go down on them.

“I like it here,” he said. “I want to stay.”

“Anyway, I’m being sent into the CBD office to work the rest of my contract,” he said.

“When are you doing that?”

“From next week,” he said.

“So, I won’t see you after this week?”

“No,” he said.

“Oh.”

“You better give me another one of your cigarettes,” he said. “And we can enjoy the time we have left.”

“Sure,” I said. I had another cigarette too.

The sun shone.

I didn't see him after that. Only at his farewell. We all went to the local pub and drank until it got dark. We all got drunk and hugged at the end of the night. 

I hadn’t seen Darren pissed before. He hugged me goodbye, kind of tight rather more tenderly than was really warranted. I remember, because he felt all lither and muscular. I could feel he was somewhat ripped, perhaps not abs, maybe, but a nice shaped chest, which he wasn't shy about rubbing against mine. We were out in the street after the night had finished, first out. It was just me and him at midnight in the dark, both pretty hopped up on alcohol.

"This is it, I guess," he said. Shy. Blushing. 

“I guess.”

He held his hands out, but made eye contact again, for a brief moment. "It was really great getting to know you." Hold the gaze. Hesitate. How are we going to touch each other? Go in like mates. As our heads came side to side, he turned his head, and I could feel his hot, luscious breath on my cheek, momentarily. His chest rested against my chest. He pushed in slowly as though we were going to rub crotches together. It was suddenly a game of chicken, close, close, hips twist, hips twist, hips twist. Three of the other guy’s trip drunkly out the door, suddenly, with a crash. We turn side on at the last minute and hug like mates. 

"I'll miss you," he slurred.

“I’ll miss you too.”

“Our toilet breaks,” he whispered drunkenly.

He spoke close to my ear and I don't think he meant to be quite that intimate and as soon as he realised what he'd done, he broke away. Stepping back. 

“What?” I said. What?

“Cigarette breaks,” he said. “I’ll miss our cigarette breaks.

“They won’t be the same,” I said.

He smiled and laughed self-consciously, kind of at the same time. He pulled away again. "See you." His adorable Irish accent. 

“See you,” I said.

He looked towards the other guys, who were right next to us by then, blind to what was going on. The three of them made blokey greeting each other noises. You know, grunt, grunt, grunt.

We held each other’s gaze unbeknownst to the others. I got tingles, wondering if I’d been just too shy to…

Bunny Saves The Day

Bunny stood by the open door and looked out through the wire screen. She inhaled sharply and exhaled long and deliberately. "I don't like the look of that. I don't like the look of that at all."

"Relax, will ya," said her husband. He sat incapacitated on the couch, with the remote in his hand, as he now did most days. "Don't go gettin ya self worked up."

"It looks as though it is up on Fergusson's Ridge." Bunny turned to look at her husband, "like in 84."

"Bunny, Neil said he'd be here, so he'll be here."

"No dad, I've leaned a thing or two in my 80 years, and I am telling you, it is time to leave.”

"Oh Bunny... no! Neil will be here."

Bunny looked through the venetian blinds, they made a clacking sound when she let them go. "I'm sorry Carl, but I think I am right... on this occasion." She looked back at Carl waiting for his next dismissal. Carl stared back mute. Some of the life had gone out of him now a days, since...

"I'll get my purse," said Bunny. She headed into the kitchen and picked up her large brown purse from the speckled laminex kitchen bench. She reached behind the back door and got the bunch of keys from the hook on the yellow wall.

"I'm getting the car out..."

"Oh Bun..."

"Your sticks are by your chair..."

"Neil said, Bun..."

"Neil said, Carl? What did Neil say?"

"He said he'd be here..."

"So where is he Carl? Where is Neil?"

"I don't know Bun."

"So, the fire is coming over Fergusson's Ridge and you're telling me that Neil will be here at some stage..."

"Bunny, we'd be better to stay put so they can come and get us. They know where we are..."

"Carl, I'm getting the car out," said Bunny. Her patience was running thin. "Make your way out the front, I'll help you into the car."

Carl's eye filled with tears. "Bunny, I am too old for this."

Bunny walked over to Carl's chair. "Come on hon." She picked up his sticks. "Here." Carl struggled to sit up on the front edge of the chair. "We'll be right, dad. We'll be okay." She held out her hand. He pushed it away. "I can still get out of a chair."

"Sixty years, luv and we've done just fine," said Bunny. She lent Carl's sticks against the arm of his chair where he could reach them easily. "We're a good team, hon, we're a good team. And it doesn't end here."

Carl sat on the edge of the seat. He looked up with loving eyes. "Go on, get the car.” He tried to smile, but wouldn’t let himself. “What are ya still standing here for?"

Bunny let the screen door bang behind her. She stopped on the veranda and looked up at the orange sky and wondered if they had left it too late to leave. She took her phone from her purse and pushed Neil's number. There was no answer. She slid the phone back into her purse. The air was dry, she could taste the smoke on her lips. She took the handrail in her right hand and alighted the stairs. The gravel path crunched under her foot as she stepped on the ground.

She pulled one Brunswick Green garage door open, securing it on the wire hook on the fence post. She opened the second garage door and secured it on the other fence post hook. She turned and briefly looked in the direction of the fire. She pushed the curls out of her eyes.

She squeezed along the side of the car to the driver's door. Carl's Customline never really fitted into the old garage. She ran her fingertips along the pink and black and white paintwork as she reached for the driver's door handle. She never really liked the colour scheme of the car when it was new and it hadn't really grown on her in the fifty years of ownership, but Carl was much more of a look-at-me type than her. She missed her Super Snipe, but since Carl's illness they had had little need for 2 cars and since Carl couldn't bare to part with his beloved 59 Customline, her Super Snipe had gone to grandson Felix. Even though she had admitted it to nobody, Bunny had been quite touched when Felix had turned 18 and he'd said that the only car he'd ever wanted was Bunny's Humber. Felix was an artistic boy who liked nice things, so it was no surprise to his parents that he wanted his grandmother's car. Felix and his best pal Blake had taken a year off before they went to uni to study design and they'd taken the car for a trip around Australia.

"I don't think your car is the best choice to go four wheel driving in the outback," said Carl at the time.

"Hon, I doubt that Felix, or Blake, will be leaving the bitumen."

Carl laughed. "I suspect you are right," he said.

Bunny reached for the door handle, she pushed the button and the door opened with an audible clunk. She slipped in behind the steering wheel. She proceeded to slide the key into the ignition, but the keys fell from her hand onto the floor, with a rattle. She struggled to reach them under her feet where they landed, touching them with her finger tips but not quite being able to grab them. She stretched but no. She stretched again with a heave and a sigh and she hooked the ring with her pointer finger. She pushed the key into the ignition. She pulled on the choke. She turned the key, pumped the accelerator a few times and pushed the starter button. The big car woke lazily from its slumber. Er, er, er, er, er, er. The body rocked gently. Bunny pumped the accelerator again.

"Come on," she whispered.

She pushed the starter again. Er, er, er, er, er. The big V8 coughed. Bunny pumped her right foot. Er, er, er, er, er. The car coughed again and the engine came to life. Brup, brup, brup, brup, brup, brup, brup.

She pulled down on the gear leaver and the car rocked into gear. She adjusted the rear vision mirror, she looked back at the dashboard as she grabbed the steering wheel with both hands. She took a big breath. She pushed gently on the accelerator, the engine brup brup brup bruped quicker as it began to slide backwards out of the garage. The light slid through the car as it emerged into the sun. Bunny sat upright behind the wheel, looking up into the centre rear vision mirror. The sun shone down through the windscreen and then over the bonnet and off the front of the car. Bunny pulled down on the left side of the steering wheel and the large nose of the big car began to slide to the right. She pulled down hard on the wheel and the car turned sharply to face the house. She pushed up on the gear stick and the car rocked forward into gear. Bunny pulled down on the right side of the steering wheel, as she pushed down on the accelerator. The car moved forward and the large nose slid around to the right and up the driveway to the house.

Carl was on the front veranda, balancing on his sticks, one in each hand.

Bunny got out of the car.

"That's not looking good," said Carl. "It looks like it is on the main road."

Bunny opened the passenger side door. The big car rocked as it idled. She stopped momentarily and looked in the direction of the fire. "No, luv." She pushed the curls from her sweaty forehead.

She moved quickly up the stairs to her husband. "Come on luv, it is definitely time to go."

"Hang on, let me get my balance." She took him by the arm and guided him down the stairs. He shuffled to the open door on the passenger side of the car.

"Give me your sticks."

"Hang on a minute."

"Turn around backwards and give me your sticks."

"Just a minute, woman, I need to get my balance."

"I'll guide you..."

"I don't need your help..."

Bunny laughed. Carl stopped and stared at her. "Carl Robertson, you needed my help when we got married to tie your bow tie..."

"I don't think..."

"You needed my help every day when we ran this farm together."

"We made a great team, Bun..."

"And you sure as hell need my help now..."

Carl exhaled loudly.

"So stop resisting, turn the hell around, give me you damn sticks and park your arse on the seat of that car you have loved for years."

"Okay, okay, keep you..."

"And she and I will get us the hell out of here."

Carl popped backwards onto the leather seat. “She’s a she?” Bunny lifted his feet...

"I can do it, I can do it."

And she pushed his legs into the car with one great shove.

"Steady on, steady..."

“Put your seatbelt on.”

She pushed the car door shut with a thump. She could still see Carl's lips moving, but she could no longer hear him.

She opened the back door. "A man just needs to catch his breath..." She flung her husbands two sticks onto the back seat. "Watch the seats, watch..." The back door closed with the same reassuring thud as the front door.

Bunny hustled herself around the back of the car, hanging onto each of the rear mudguard fins to balance herself, grasping her throat with her other hand. She opened the driver's side door and climbed in.

"Are those sticks okay on the back seat?" asked Carl.

"Yes, hon, perfectly alright."

He held her gaze and she held his. She fished a tissue out of her sleeve and wiped her nose. She pushed the tissue back up her sleeve. She pushed the curls off her forehead. She could feel her heart beating. She could feel herself breathing.

"You okay luv?" she asked her husband of 61 years.

"Yes." He sounded a little breathless. "As well as can be expected."

Bunny reached over and touched Carl's face. The two of them were still momentarily. The big V8 grumbled as it idled.

"Best we get going."

"Best we do," said Carl. He waved his hand in front of himeslf with a flourish.

Bunny reached for her seat belt, she pulled it across her chest and clicked it into its buckle. She pulled down on the gear stick. The car rocked gently into gear. She pushed down on the accelerator, the rear wheels spun briefly on the gravel driveway and the big car moved forward.

Bunny pushed harder on the accelerator and the car picked up speed, as they glided down the driveway to the front gate.

They stopped at the main road. They looked right towards town, but the road was clouded in smoke.

"Best we head left to Milsons," said Carl.

"Yes, looks like it."

She spun the wheel to the left and they headed south towards their neighbours.

"You better give it some boot, Bun, I think we need to put some distance in," said Carl.

Bunny accelerated hard, the V8 engine made a thrup, thrup, thrup sound and the big Ford picked up speed.

The sky in front was blue, the sun sparkled.

Carl hit the button on the CD player and Verdi began to play.

"Really?" asked Bunny.

"It relaxes me."



Then there was a car heading towards them. A big silver sedan.

"Is that Neil coming to get us?" asked Carl.

Bunny guided the Customline into the gravel, without slowing the speed, the car rocked noticeably, the steering wheel jumped a bit in her hands, stones were hitting the bottom of the car. She tooted the horn, Carl's car always had a horn like a foghorn in the fog. She waved with her fingers at Neil as he passed them heading in the other direction. She got a glimpse of her son long enough to see him making a big O mouth. She guided the car back onto the bitumen, as the right hand back wheel caught the car fishtailed just a little. Bunny’s wrestled the wheel with skill. “Oh, oh!” She watched Neil's Mercedes do a U-turn behind them.

"Oh good," said Bunny. "Now I can relax."

“Giddy up, old girl,” said Carl.

Bunny pushed her foot down on the accelerator and the big Ford rocketed down the road.

She looked in the rear vision mirror to see the black smoke filled sky falling away.

Neil was still behind, even if he wasn’t, exactly, keeping up.