Published: 6 Apr 2026

A Quandary of Sorts;

Funerals aren’t a happy affair but Ron had left a will that mostly read, keep it simple and put me down gently without any fuss. As for property, Ron owned nothing except his personal effects and a small bank account holding no more than his last pay from the mill. Without funds it was up to his son to meet the difference, fortunately Biff had saved a little towards fixing his FC Holden utility. The car could wait as Ron came first because Ron had always done for him.

Over the years Ron had been a strong supporter of the local rugby team and in the early years he had been deemed to be one of its best players until his knee gave way, so the local team performed a guard of honour dressed in the team colours. One of the team’s past although a minor player David Dowie was purposely absent, assuring he had business to attend to out of town on that day. No matter the rest of the Dowie family were well represented and on a sunny Friday afternoon Ron Bastion was laid to rest in the cemeteries newest section close to the shade of a large Candle Nut Tree next to his wife and Biff’s mother Veronica.

On the surface Biff appeared to be coping although it is his nature to bury anything that may be considered emotional deep down where no one can reach it. He had stayed at the Dowie house until the funeral then returned home with intention to sort through Ron’s affairs and make arrangements to become the lessee of the house.

There lay the first difficulty as the owner of the house had intended to sell the property even before Ron’s demise, only holding off because of his long time friendship and respect for Ron. Now he believed with Ron’s passing the unwritten contract had been paid in full and when Biff approached Ken Wright he was sadly informed the house was on the market with Biff offered first refusal at a fair price to forgo the need to advertise and the expense of an auction.

“With what? Biff had asked.

“Bottle caps?” Biff continued.

Ken Wright was kind enough to leave off advertising the property until the spring but as he had overstretched his portfolio he would then need to offload a number of lesser valued properties, especially those in need of major repairs.

With Ron no longer paying half the bills, Biff soon came to realise the value of money, so it was tighten the belt and eat frugally. Fortunately Ken understood Biff’s financial dilemma, holding back from issuing the annual increase in rent.

Finally Biff accepted Grady’s offer to help get his FC Holden utility back on the road so with help from Wayne Nelson’s old man’s tow truck the vehicle is soon at Byrne garage early on a rainy Saturday morning.

Within minutes of the vehicle arriving Grady has the bonnet lifted.

He is softly tutting while flashing a lead-lamp about the motor.

“What are you tutting about Grady?”

“The mess this engine is in. There is oil everywhere.”

“Most of the oil was there when I bought it from Eddie Ross”

“What did you pay for it?”

By Biffs expression he had paid far too much and too embarrassed to mention;

“Never mind how much I paid for it, can it be fixed.”

“I should think any motor vehicle can be fixed.”

“I’m only interested in this one.”

“It’s never good buying a second hand car without knowing its history and what I know of Eddie Ross he would have thrashed it about the farm paddock using it to carry stock feed, probably bogged it in the creek on more occasions that I can imagine, as for giving it the occasional service – who knows.”

“Yea’ sure thing and where would I get the readies for a new car, or even a half reasonable second hand job.”

“Umm’ true, that is why I haven’t bought a car; it is usually buying someone else’s problems. One day I’ll get myself a little sport’s number, possibly a new MGB in British racing green,” Grady pauses, “possibly even an E-type Jaguar.”

Grady’s eyes appear to glaze over from his dreaming;

“Straight six 4.2 litres, zero to sixty in seven seconds a top speed of 150mph, like the Jag’ that was in last week’s wheels magazine.”

Biff cuts Grady short;

“Nice unit Grady, even so I think you are dreaming; besides with that kind of power on these roads you will be dead in a week.”

“Point taken.”

Grady lifts the vehicle high on the ramp and starts exploring the undercarriage.

“Maybe,” Grady eventually says as he follows the oil from the motor to the differential.

“Maybe what?”

Grady lowers the vehicle and is back under the bonnet;

“You may be in luck.”

“Come on tell me the worse.”

“I reckon it’s a leaking head gasket and that is usually a relatively easy fix.”

“Compared with what?”

“If it’s the rings as you thought, then my advice would be to sell it for parts as I don’t think we would find a change over FC motor up this way and I doubt Jack would go as far as letting me do it for nix’, especially as it would take up more than an afternoon.”

With professional pride Grady removes the rocker cover then examines the workings beneath while Biff sits by watching the rain through the double doors.

Grady gives a happy sound.

“What’s up?”

“Everything else seems okay and I would say the oil is leaking between the engine and the head. I’ll change the head gasket.”

“How long will that take?”

“Most of the day.”

“Do you need a hand?”

“Not really, extra hands would only get in the way; if you like you can fetch me a new head gasket from that cupboard over there.”

Grady points an oily finger towards a row of cupboards.

“What’s it look like?”

“Never mind I’ll get it, instead you can put the kettle on; you will find tea bags in the lunch room and there should be milk in the fridge.”

“You’re showing off.”

Grady gives a smirk;

“I am – sorry. I’ve always wanted to say that to someone as usually I’m the tea lady.”

Biff is grinning; “and a butt-ugly tea lady at that.”

“Thank you for the complement.”

“I had a visitor last night,” Biff says.

“Who from?”

“Bruce Menzies.”

“Oh yea’,” Grady draws out his response, “what did Bruce Menzies want?”

“He heard the house is to be sold and said he has a spare room at his grandmother’s house if I am interested.”

“And are you?”

“Get real! Then again I should give him credit for offering, no one else has.”

“Mum said you could live home although you will have to share my room.”

“There is nothing more I would like – buuut,” Biff stretches out the word but with obvious intention.

“I suppose the hesitation is dad.”

“I don’t think David would be agreeing having me around.”

“When do you have to move out?”

“Ken said I can have the house until later in the year although we could be wearing a military uniform by then.”

“I almost forgot about national service, we should be receiving the results of the draw any day now.”

“Barry said it can take ages, depending on how many need to register at any given time.”

Some hours pass then as Grady is finishing the job Jack Byrne arrives to inspect his handy-work.

“How’s it going?” Jack calls as he comes in out of the rain.

“Almost done, I thought you were playing golf today Mr. Byrne?” Grady drolly recalls.

“In this weather,” Jack approaches and pokes his head over the vehicle’s mudguard, his eyes on the condition of the engine;

“Dirty.”

“My sentiment Mr. Byrne,” Grady agrees.

“Lucky you didn’t show it to Alf; you know what his comment would be.”

Grady recalls Alfred Deed’s favourite adage, “he would say fencing wire and a prayer Mr. Byrne.”

“Right in one, hey Biff where did you get this rusting pile of shit?”

“From Eddie Ross.”

“That figures – was it the head gasket?”

“Yes the gasket,” Grady answers.

“Lucky boy, if it had been rings you would be up for a couple of month’s pay.”

“I owe you one, Mr. Byrne,”

“Not me lad, Grady had put in the hours over home to make up time and equipment to do the job.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.”

“I only came in to collect some documents from the office; I’ll get them and be on my way. Grady make sure you tidy up when you are finished – Okay?”

“Will do Mr. Byrne.”

As Jack returns to his car Biff offers a question to Grady;

“You didn’t tell me you had to put in the extra hours to do this for me.”

“Aw’ it’s nothing mate and wasn’t worth the talk.”

“Still I’m double in debt to you now.”

“Forget it – start her up and let’s have a listen.”

In an instant Biff is behind the wheel and turns the key, the motor fires without hesitation.

Biff sticks his head out of the window, “any smoke?”

“None.”

“Sweet as honey and purring like a kitten,” Grady insures. “Turn her off and help me clean up the mess.”

Half an hour’s cleaning and Biff is itching to take the car for a test drive. By now darkness has closed in and it is past their dinner time, while the rain remains unrelenting.

“Tell you what, I’ll shout you a meal of fish and chips down the Tip-top café,” Biff offers.

“Can you afford it?”

“Almost.”

“I could call home mum always cooks more than necessary.”

“Is David home?”

“Saturday is his night at the club but he doesn’t leave until around seven, therefore I would think he will be.”

“I’ll give it a miss.”

“Then fish and chips it is.”

The Tip-top café is quiet because of the rain. The only other customer happened to be Michael Brown who is snatching a quick meal before his stint as barman at the Royal.

As Biff places their order Brownie approaches, placing a heavy hand on Biff’s shoulder.

Biff shrugs the hand away.

“What is your prob’ Brownie?”

“I hear your boyfriend is working on your heap of shit.”

If it wasn’t for his respect for Chipper Joe, Biff would have flattened Brown on the spot, as for calling Grady boyfriend that was Brownie’s way of enforcing an affront knowing it would raise Biff’s temperature.

“If you mean Grady, yes he was good enough to help me, how did you know he was working on my car?”

“My old man is doing some business with Jack Byrne and was at the Byrne house when Jack had to return to the garage for some documents.

“To answer your question, yes Grady did replace the head gasket for me,” Biff lowers his voice not to be heard by Chipper Joe;

“Brownie you’re lucky I don’t smack you in the mouth.”

Brownie pays for his chips and laughs;

“I’ll see you at midweek cricket practice.”

“One of these days,” Biff says as Joe wraps their meal in greaseproof and newsprint.

“Cricket,” Joe says as his Italian brain could never understand the game, or how a test series could go on for so long while lacking little animation then move on to another city repeating the procedure; if an Ashes series against England five times. A good game of Bocce showed spirit beyond crickets gentle clapping whenever a number of runs are made. Joe would say how can you enjoy a game without raising the blood by a single degree? Joe would shrug it away by saying I guess you have to be English to understand such a dull game.

Sitting in the utility’s cabin with the rain beating down on the windscreen in heavy drops, the air soon becomes infused with the aroma of salt and vinegar chips. In no time the windscreen becomes fogged from the heat of their chips and dampness of the night.

“Lovely,” Grady says, “I could eat chips for every meal and then some more.”

“They say the rain’s set in.”

“It’s supposed to clear by Saturday’s game,” Grady suggests more from hope than belief.

“Again thank you for doing the work on my car, I can never repay you.”

Grady silently accepts the accolade.

“Your Cousin Tony’s wedding is in a couple of months.”

“It is,” Grady agrees.

“Did you do anything about dating Roslyn Dobbins as a partner?”

“Na’, to be quite honest she doesn’t do anything for me. As you are invited, have you thought of anyone since dropping Trish?”

“I don’t think I’ll go.”

“You have to go Tony will be disappointed if you don’t,” Grady protests.

Biff laughs as the last of his chips warms his belly.

“What?”

“If we don’t have partners, then you and I may have to do the bridal waltz together. “Now wouldn’t that get tongues wagging?” Grady says.

“No I don’t think I’ll be going.”

“Have you finished your chips, I’ll dump the wrapping in the swing-bin.”

Grady takes the trash and dumps it. As he reaches the bin a car pulls up behind Biff’s utility, to avoid becoming soaked Grady is quickly back in the cabin.

“Isn’t that Rod Hawkins’ Ford behind us?”

“I can’t see anything with the rain and fogged windscreen.”

“It has a broken left hand side light.”

“That’s him.”

“Trish is in the passenger seat.”

“Oh!” Biff flicks the key and the motor starts, “do you want to go for a drive?”

“In the rain?”

“We should give the old girl’s new gasket a run.”

Grady doesn’t answer so Biff takes the silence to be agreement, moments later they are over the Granite Creek Bridge and passing the cemetery.

“Do you visit Ron’s grave?” Grady asks as they pass by the cemetery gate.

“No, why should I? Ron isn’t there he is in my head, in my body that is shrine enough for me.”

“It’s been all of ten years and mum still visits Grandma Olson’s grave taking fresh flowers every month. She said last time she noticed vandals had sprayed pant over many of the stones, some were broken or knocked over.”

“Some people have no respect.”

A short distance past the cemetery Biff pulls to the side of the road, “do you want to drive for a while.”

“Not in the rain.”

Biff becomes pensive, his gaze is through the windscreen as if mesmerised by the whooshing of the wipers.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just thinking.”

“Are you thinking about Trish being with Rod Hawkins?”

“No I’m well over Trish.”

“Then what?”

“I have a quandary of sorts.”

Grady wishes to ask, instead he releases a light chortle, “quandary,” he says believing it to be a strange word for Biff to use.”

“Yes Grady a quandary.”

“What is this so called quandary of yours?”

“It doesn’t matter, only something that has been bugging me since I was a kid but I would never act on it.”

“Is it to do with having to find somewhere to live?”

“Be real Grady, how could it possibly be that if it’s been bugging me for years?”

“Then what?”

“If I told you Grady, I would then have to shoot you.”

Biff attempts to display humour as he restarts the motor, “no Grady best you leave it be,” Biff does a u-turn back towards town, “again thank you for fixing the car, you are a real mate.”

By the time they are back at Grady’s house the rain had stopped;

“There you go; I’ve delivered you to your door.”

Grady alights then speaks through the passenger window, “do you want to come in for a beer as dad would be gone to the club by now.”

“Na’ not tonight, I have things to think about.”

Again Grady attempts to extract his friend’s so described quandary, “I wish you would confide in me Biff.”

Biff laughs, it isn’t a happy laugh nor is his answer fathomable, “believe me Grady it is something only I can work out.”

“Then be careful on these wet roads and I’ll see you at cricket practice.”

“Christ-sake Grady, it’s only two streets and I’ve been driving since I was seven.”

“Good night.”

“Yep – see ya’.”

“Yes see ya’,” Grady sighs as the utility’s taillights disappear around the first corner.

‘Biff is beginning to concern me.’

‘And there isn’t anything I can do except offer friendship.’

‘Sometimes I would like to offer more.’

Grady laughs as he goes inside;

‘Did I think that?’

“Is that you Grady?” Karen calls as she hears the front door open.

“Yes it’s me.”

Karen is in on the couch, her legs tucked up under a long floral dress as she sips at a large gin and tonic, beside her is the latest romance novel bookmarked at half its pages.

“Where is everyone?”

“Lewis is visiting Dennis and Robyn is in her room.”

“Has dad gone to his club?”

“Yes in a huff.”

Grady goes for a beer and returns.

He sits opposite his mother;

“What’s upset the old bugger now?”

“Grady!”

“Well it is true mum he’s been acting up ever since Ron’s funeral.”

“David feels he has an unfinished issue with Ron,” Karen admits.

“Then it’s now a little late to do anything about it.”

“You know your father; he’s like a dog with a bone when he gets something into his head.”

‘Twice tonight,’ Grady thinks.

‘First it’s Biff with his secret.’

‘Now dad has a secret issue with the dead.’

“I could ask about dad’s issue but like Biff’s secrete I suppose I’ll be told it isn’t anything to do with me. Although I’m starting to believe it’s all to do with me.”

Karen mixes another drink;

“I promise your father’s issue is from before you were born.”

“I often think Ron was the catalysts behind all of dad’s problems,” Grady expresses.

“In a way that is true, I’ve never said so before; Ron and your father grew up together, similar to you and Brian. Then in their teen years they grew apart.”

“Yes that part I have heard from Biff but what caused their falling out?”

“I’m embarrassed to say it was over me, truthfully I believe your father only married me to get at Ron.”

“Biff did say you and Ron had been seeing each other before Dad.”

“All three of us were mates. David and Ron were stock hands on Green Hill’s station, while I was the governess to the manager’s two children. I never knew Ron had eyes for me until after I married your father, by then it was too late.”

“Too late for what?” Grady asks.

“For nothing Grady.”

Grady would like to ask further but he could see anger wrinkling across Karen’s brow.

Grady finishes his beer and dumps the can in the kitchen tidy;

“It’s been a long day, I’m off to bed.”

“Did you fix Brian’s car?”

“I did and it is running like a charm – as sweet as honey.”

“You mentioned Brian has a secrete.”

“It is possibly not as much a secret, he said something is bugging him that has been doing so for a very long time and he won’t share his problem.”

“Ron often said Brian can be a little moody and secretive.”

“Don’t matter, it is as if half this town has secrets they won’t share with the other half. As I said I’m off to bed – see you in the morning.”

Gary’s stories are about life for gay men in Australia’s past and present. Your emails to him are the only payment he receives. Email Gary to let him know you are reading: Conder 333 at Hotmail dot Com

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