Johnnie, a romantic tale

Peter Cameron returned to Australia on an early Friday morning in December. He got off the plane at Kingsford-Smith feeling like one who has recovered from a long coma. Four years gallivanting the known world was enough; more than enough he thought. I’m home now. And it’s hot.

The familiar easy-going nature of his home country hit him almost immediately. He bought a soft drink from a vendor in the foyer and made his way down to immigration.

Ten minutes later he’d collected his bags and was sitting out the front of the Qantas arrival terminal in Mascot absorbing a Sydney summer morning.

He had called his sister Tanya from London two days ago with his schedule and sure enough here she was walking up the concourse to meet him.

He’d never seen a more welcome sight in a long time.

She’d changed as well. If it wasn’t for photos, he wouldn’t have recognised his youngest sister for any money. Gone was the faddish bobcut she used to sport; now she let her satiny brown hair hang well down her back. She’d slimmed as well. All in all, she was a comely young woman of 25 now.

“Hey stranger!” She ran up to him and hugged him. “Welcome home!”

“Thanks, it’s damned cool to be back here.” He stood back from her. “Look at you! Aren’t you the fashion victim now? Damn, you’ve changed.”

She pirouetted archly. “Oh yeah.” She looked him up and down. “So have you Pete. Are they Tommy Hilfiger clothes? You call me a fashion victim?”

“You’d know sis, you’re the clothes store genius here, not me.”

He looked out at the traffic. “Let’s go, I’ve enough of travelling for next two thousand years I think. Let’s just go home and let me sleep.”

“Well, Dad has got your old room set up for you so I’m gonna take you there.”

“You live in Cronulla right?”

“Sure do.”

“Can’t wait to see a damn real beach again.”

She laughed. “You’ll see plenty of it soon enough. Beaches in England nothing great huh?”

Peter looked at his sister sourly. “I’ve heard a lot of the convicts transported here were glad to get away from the joint. If you’d seen their alleged beaches you’d want to be transported out here too. I’ve missed Cronulla, Wattamolla, places like that. Hanging out on the Georges River fishing, people who talk like me, shit like that. Real beer.”

“You drink beer now?”

Peter shrugged. “Occasionally. It got a bit lonely sometimes.”

Tanya nodded. “I bet. Still, I’d love to travel the world like you did.”

“Like Dorothy said, ain’t no place like home. And that song of Peter Allan’s makes a whole lot of sense, you know?”

“I can imagine. Well. a lot has happened here. Ansett is owned by New Zealand now, we’re still ruled by the Queen and now we have a GST. The tax system is totally weird.”

“Hehe, Australia is now suffering what most countries I’ve been in have had going for some time.” He put his bags in the back seat of Tanya’s small Mazda and took a look around the sky. “Geez, this place is getting polluted. I’m glad I was on the other side of the world when the Olympics were going on. Now, I’m just glad to be here.”

“You didn’t sound too happy when you called me the other night. You sure something isn’t up?”

“Not anymore, I’m here now.” He got in the car and buckled up. Tanya moved the car out onto the open road and soon they were on their way to the suburb of Miranda.

Peter fell asleep in the car and wasn’t until Tanya’s nudging awoke him. “We’re here, home sweet home.”

In a daze, Peter got out of the car and glanced around the familiar front lawn of his parent’s house. A place he’d spent twenty-odd years growing up in; a place he knew intimately. Despite his fatigue he felt at home. The feeling of waking up from a coma felt stronger.

His parents had divorced in the four years he’d been away and now only his father lived here. His mother had moved to Melbourne with her new guy some months previously. Big deal. He didn’t like his mother much anyway. She’d given up being a mother when she started her religious crusading.

His father held Peter in awe and in many ways he was closer to his Dad than baby sister Tanya. Of his five kids, the eldest son, Peter Cameron, was the renowned ballroom dancer, peer of Paul Mercurio. Peter had been the talented one, the one to bring pride on the Cameron name, something Peter always had thought ridiculous. Dancing had been natural, something that was easy, something that flowed like water to Peter. At the very least, it’d given him a fair amount of financial freedom, never had to worry where food was coming from next. Those hours of seemingly mindless exercises and practice had paid off.

Now, here he was on the porch of the most homely place he had known.

“Dad’s at work and you’ve got the house to yourself, brother. Tonight, we’re all going to come over and give you a big shebang. Alyse has come up from Wollongong to see you.” She hugged him again tightly and opened the door to their parent’s home. “I have to rush; I took the morning off work to come and get you.”

“You’re sweet.”

“Yeah, I know. Get your arse inside and rest. I’ll be around at seven or so.”

“Is there food and stuff inside?”

“Should be, you know Dad likes to cook. And he knows you’re here. I guarantee there’s stuff in there for you. You’ve got my old room by the way, Dad’s got his train sets in the other rooms.”

“Sure.” Twenty eight hours of travelling had caught up with Peter with a vengeance. He covered a yawn. “Thanks again for picking me up, I’m going to crash. I’m stuffed.”

Tanya laughed and hugged him again.

Peter stood at the door for a little while staring out at middle class Sydney suburbia.He felt he even knew the trees on a first name basis. Wearily he turned inside and found Tanya’s old room without pausing to see what absence had down to the old place. Within seconds he was asleep.

At some indeterminate time in the future he was woken by a gentle shove and a man’s voice.

“Welcome home mate!”

Peter sat up in bed and blinked. He became aware of voices outside the room he was in. The light in the room was turned on and there stood younger brother Joel. Late afternoon sunlight streamed in through the venetian blinds.

Peter got out of bed and studied the grinning face of 29 year old Joel. He still looks like Peter André, Peter thought to himself. Pretty boy extraordinaire.

“Long time, no see! Welcome home Pete!” Peter shook the outstretched hand of Joel.

“Joel, oh man, let me wash up a bit. Who’s here?”

“Dad, Tanya, me, Alyse and Gwyneth.”

“Serious? All of us kids are here?”

“Sure. It’s not every day big brother comes home from spending years overseas. It’s a big fucking occasion man.”

Peter laughed. “Especially for me, I was dead tired.” He patted the lithe back of his brother and went into the bathroom and washed his face and straightened his hair as best he could. He heard his Dad’s good-natured bellowing and his sister Alyse’s cultured voice as she described the nuances of the medical industry to Gwyneth.

Swallowing butterflies, he smoothed his shirt and went out into the lounge room. He was confronted by four pairs of eyes he used to know so well.

“Well, look at you guys, glad to see you all.”

Peter’s Dad came over, a middle-sized man of fifty six with a salt and pepper beard and earnest grey eyes. “Welcome home Pete!” Another firm handshake. Peter stood back and surveyed his family, updating his memories of how they used to be. Dad’s hair was shorter and greyer, Alyse looked less like Kate Fischer now and more, Peter couldn’t define her. Gwyneth seemed a lot more smiling than Peter remembered his deadly serious second youngest sister. Each greeted him in turn. Peter was immediately touched at how genuinely pleased they were to see him. Tanya, he could always count on, the other three he had his moments with.

After four long years, it seemed that whatever was there had long since been swept away under the bridge.

Dad put a beer in Peter’s hand and he accepted a seat at the head of the table. The rest of his family sat down. Peter became aware that it was expected of him to lead off.

“What can I say? I’m rapt to be home. I truly am. Give me a moment to wake up. What time is it?”

“Close on eight.” Dad replied, peering at the time on the VCR.

“God damn! I’ve slept something like 10 hours. Geez.”

“How much sleep did you get coming from London?”

“Zero.”

“That explains it. Well, welcome home son. Welcome home.”

“Thank you. You guys rock.”

A whole host of small talk followed, each of his siblings filling Peter in on current affairs in their lives. Peter found himself absorbed in their comings and goings. Once, their antics would have meant nothing. once, the workaday world of these losers, as he once saw them, would’ve made trite hearing. Now, he listened in interest to Joel’s forays into music recording, Alyse’s horror stories of hospital life, Tanya’s tribulations of a clothes store and Gwyneth’s tales of her lawyer’s offices. Dad still thought the aldermen of the Sutherland Shire were crooks and how the GST had totalled everything.

Peter found himself getting involved in their lives. It dawned upon him then, although he had murmurings of a suspicion at other times, that his family had never forsaken or forgotten him. Only Mum. No matter how big the dance industry was to Peter and how miniscule and petty were the lives of his family, the reverse was never true.

He’d always harboured a soft spot for Tanya as most elder brothers would for the baby of the family, but he’d admitted to peers and lovers that she was a minion of nameless society as much as the rest of them.

Now, they were equals. They were his family. The overwhelming warmth and welcome admixed with the beer Dad was chain-feeding him made Peter more than a touch wistful.

“I’d really like to say sorry to you guys. What can I say? Success got to my head.”

“At least you come back.” Tanya commented, drawing a wry look from Dad.

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I? Well, I hate to bring it up, but; Mum?”

“Mum’s gone, man.” Joel said.

“She lives in Melbourne as far as we know.” Gwyneth said evenly.

“She does, and she’s very happy there now.” Dad said diplomatically.

“Geez, I’ve brought up favourite subject of the week, haven’t I?” Peter asked. “Forget it, who am I to killjoy my own welcome home. We’re here, we’re happy, que sera sera.”

Dad put down his beer. “Well, she is your mother and you deserve to know. She found God and she has left us to be with God.”

Peter regarded his father with a touch of the old arrogance. “Dad, I found more than God, I found money, fame and women, but here I am, with the people I know best, and the people I love the best. It may have taken me four years and a hundred entries in my passport, but I found it. You guys rock. Hell, Dad, I sat on the edge of the Rock of Gibraltar checking out the monkeys there and all I could think of was how much Alyse loved animals. I saw miniature trains in Denmark and I thought that you Dad, would go nuts here. I found God too Dad, and all five of him are sitting at the table with me.”

Dad laughed. “I guess you’re right. Can’t say I don’t miss her though. I do find it hard sometimes.”

“That’s what us offspring are for, company when you need it.” Peter said. “I came home because I missed you guys and, let’s face it, I treated you like pieces of shit. The reason I didn’t come home earlier.” Peter set his beer down and composed himself as best he could. “Well, I thought you guys would’ve hated me.”

Joel laughed. “Man, in your boots, I would’ve done the same thing. I’ve heard from guys in the studio it is very hard to keep fame and people telling you how great you are from getting to you.”

“And we never hated you,” Tanya added.

“And none of that matters now, Peter.” Dad said. “You’re here now.”

“Yep, I sure am. I have friends that tell me, without a Mum, a family disintegrates.”

“Ain’t gonna happen to us.” Joel said. “Hate to say this, but none of us are little kids that need Mummy any more. Sorry Dad, I know it sounds wrong putting it like that.”

“No, I know what you mean.” Dad replied. “You are all adults with adult lives and concerns. As for hating my son, I could never do that, Peter and I think I know your brother and your sisters well enough to know better as well. I’d like to let bygones be bygones. It’s not yesterday we wake up to, you know. Now, that you’re here, what are your plans, if you have any?”

“Buy a car tomorrow, that’ll be the first thing I’ll do. I may, just may, get into instructing. I’ve given up dancing for good. I performed at the Savoy in October in front of a few of the horsey Royals. That was my swansong as far as I’m concerned. Not to going to perform any more. Had a gutful of it. I’ve put more hours into dancing than most people devote in 50 years of working life. Time for me to be lazy for a while.”

“You’ve earned it, brother.” Joel said.

Peter looked around at his family. “Did I say swansong? How about one of you sisters get up and I’ll give a farewell performance to the best audience I can think of.”

As it turned out, Peter danced with all three of his sisters. While he could’ve found flaws in their movements or rhythms, he forebore from saying. He chose a waltz with Gwyneth and introduced the Renaissance pavane to Alyse and Tanya. He found great joy in doing what he knew best with those he knew best.

He went to bed again happy. He was home. He was with family.

Saturday morning, Sydney Australia in December. Warm and sultry, no hint of any breeze coming off the ocean though one would undoubtedly come in at the evening. Dad took Peter down to various car yards in Miranda and Caringbah. Peter found a 1980 Statesman, put $200 down on it and went to the bank for the remainder. With that out of the way, he changed his license and registration over to New South Wales. He was Australian again.

Dad wanted them all out that night at the Gymea Trade Union Club. Big gala bistro, like old times. Peter wanted to cruise to the beach. He got in his Statesman and headed east along the Kingsway past locations dear to his heart, Miranda RSL, Coyotes. Over the last hill he came into view of the South Pacific Ocean and the end of the Kingsway, there was the little mall with its trendy cafes, Dunnington Park, surf life saving club, the trees. Ages past he’d sat on this beach and watched the sun rise over the water. He’d gotten drunk here, he’d flirted with girls here, all aeons ago.

He parked his car and spent the better part of the morning walking up and down the beach, revelling being back in his own land and his own familiar world again.

A bit after midday he went back to his Dad’s house feeling a lot more like someone who fit in. Dad and Tanya were there; the others had gone shopping or some such.

“Cronulla hasn’t changed much.” he said.

Tanya looked at him. “That where you went? After we go out tonight, you can come over my place; it’s in Cronulla.”

“Ah, that’s right. So it is. Man, I’ve missed this place.”

His Dad laughed. “Sometimes, I would’ve loved to been in Europe with you. It’s all perspective I suppose.”

Peter smiled. His Dad and Tanya were horsing about with one of Dad’s prodigious train sets. Peter had lacked any interest in his father’s hobby, even from an early age, deeming it a thing for bored pensioners. He found himself absorbed in his father’s explanation of track layout to Tanya. He laughed. “Your damn trains are interesting Dad.”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” Dad quoted artlessly.

“Hell yes it does. Damn it’s good to be back home. I hope the feeling never ends. I hope for a lot of damned things actually. Peace and quiet being up among the top of my list.”

“My trains have always worked in that regard, Peter.”

“Bourbon does the trick for me.” Tanya said.

“Cronulla Beach will probably do it for me, or Dad’s trains.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent talking small talk about trains and other incidental matters until his other three siblings came home and talk was made about the bistro tonight at Tradies.

Peter thoroughly enjoyed himself at Gymea Trade Union Club that night. It was the first time in a long time that his family had entertainment under the same roof. The subject of Mum was never brought up and no-one seemed to care about her absence anyway.

Afterward, Alyse returned to Wollongong, Gwyneth to her home in Sylvania and Joel to his flat in Hurstville. Peter followed Tanya’s car back to Cronulla to a small cul-de-sac just off Elouera Road. Peter got out of his car and remarked to himself what a pretty neighbourhood Tanya had ended up in. Tanya led him up a small driveway to a small block of flats obscured by a growth of bushes.

“Wonder what Johnnie is up to.” Tanya said, pointing to a lit bedroom light.

“Johnny? He's your boyfriend or flatmate?”

Tanya gave Peter a sour and bewildering look. “Johnnie is a she, Peter. And she’s my flatmate”

“Johnny? That’s a boy’s name.”

“Johnnie, she spells it with an ie at the end.”

“Ok then, “

Tanya laughed. “You have a poor memory. She’s answered the goddamned phone when you’ve called. And I’ve told you a hundred times I live with an school friend named Johnnie”

“Oh, hell, I didn’t take much notice.”

Tanya nodded. “I know. Well, Johnnie is a girl, remember that.”

“As long as she does.” Peter commented under his breath. A wry smile from his sister told him that his aside was not totally inaudible.

Tanya opened the front door and Peter entered in to a nicely furnished flat. The front door opened up on a spacious lounge room decorated with Tanya’s pop nouveau leanings and a scattering of modish chairs and papa-sans. An arch gave entrance into a kitchen stacked with appliances and utensils. The first thought that came to Peter was “one could live here and live comfortably.”

Tanya gestured to the main lounge chair “Sit down. Do you want a coffee?”

“Do you have anything else?”

“Such as?”

“You mentioned bourbon earlier today.” “You drink bourbon now?” Tanya asked him incredulously. “Wow, you have changed.”

“Do you have any or not?”

“Sure.” Tanya said with a wide smile. “Feel like getting drunk with your little sister do you?”

Peter laughed. “Can’t say that I’ve done that.”

Tanya handed a tumbler to Peter. Jim Beam and Coke. Peter drank a bit of it at a gulp. For a reason he couldn’t fathom, something had honed his senses sharper than normal. He studied the photos sitting on the top of the entertainment unit. Tanya with various people, some he knew, like Mum and Dad, there was one with Joel. but most with women or men he didn’t know. Tanya looked over his shoulder. “Nope, not going out with any of them”

“The men or the women?”

Tanya smirked at him and forebore answering.

“Your roommate always hang out in her room?” Peter asked.

“Yep. Except when she’s at work or in the bath or out here eating.”

The bourbon had enlivened Peter a little in this short space. He searched through Tanya’s CD collection looking for anything familiar. There! He found a Strauss CD. He put it on and put his glass down.

“Let’s dance.”

Tanya beamed a smile at him. “Sure.”

He took his baby sister in waltz stance and moved her about the room with a grace and style that had won him awards and championships. Tanya was in seventh heaven. She had always adored the slim opportunities Peter had given her to dance with him and had even practiced dances while he was away.

“Who’s been giving you lessons?” Peter asked. “Why?”

“You’re not bad, not bad at all.”

“If you really want to know I have a few tapes of you.”

“Cool. Keeping in touch, huh?”

“I try.” She looked at him glumly. “You’re seriously going to give it up?”

Peter nodded. “I need a break from it. I need to live a little life before I forget how. Like I told you guys before, I can always teach. It’s a money-spinner if I ever need to cash myself up.”

“Live a little life? Starting with the bourbon, you reckon?”

“That’ll do for a start.”

Tanya went out into the kitchen to make herself a snack. Peter turned off the music and sat sprawled on one couch staring into nothing.

A door opened. A person came walking briskly out into the loungeroom. Peter saw a young woman about five feet and three inches in height, with a mop of loose short strawberry blonde hair parted scrappily down the right side. She was dressed in a loose black T-shirt and a pair of baggy faded denim jeans and a pair of lace up boots. Peter thought he’d never seen a more obvious tomboy. She paused for an instant, took stock of Peter, gave a definitely feminine wave and went into the kitchen.

For reasons Peter didn’t understand then, nor ever would, if asked in the future, he went out into the kitchen. The girl was busying herself in the fridge, making small talk with Tanya who stood by leaning on the sink.

“You must be Johnnie.” Peter said.

Her reaction took Peter back. She stood bolt upright and stared at him like he’d called her a tart. She had a pretty lightly freckled face and a small mouth now pursed in wonder. Her bluish-slate eyes regarded him in wonder. “Hello.” She said meekly. Peter immediately was charmed by her habit of looking up from under her eyelashes.

“You are Johnnie then?” Peter asked her, looking at her enquiringly.

“Yes, that’s me.” She replied. She had a lovely voice, girlish, without being twee.

“Well, I’m Peter. I’d be Tanya’s brother.”

“I thought so. She said you were coming home. How are you?”

Peter was taken back by her manner. It was like she had expected him not to even glance at her. “I’m doing fine now that I’m home. I’ve missed Australia.”

Johnnie gave a tremulous smile and continued her exploration into the fridge. Peter was thoroughly charmed now. He turned to Tanya and gave an appreciative nod. Tanya had to leave the kitchen to stifle a laugh. Peter followed her to her bedroom. He took note of the obvious lovenest method in which her bedroom was decorated and then looked at his sister. “What’s so funny?”

Tanya was in near-hysterics. She held her hand over her mouth and rolled on her queen-sized water bed. She sat up and composed herself. “I’m sorry.”

Peter finished off his glass at a gulp. “Out with it woman.OK, what’s wrong with her?”

“Not a damn thing. Wow, a guy actually said hello to her.”

“What’s so strange about that?”

Tanya nearly subsided into hysterics. She caught herself and looked at Peter with a Mona-Lisa smile. “Peter, none of my men friends have ever said boo to her. I’ve never seen a guy even glance at her. And you come out to the kitchen to say hi to her.”

Peter laughed shortly. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” He turned around and looked down the hallway. Johnnie was still in the kitchen. “There’s not much wrong with her.”

“No, there’s not, I’m glad you’ve noticed.”

Peter nodded. “Told you I’ve changed. I see the little things now.”

“Goddamn, you of all people think my flatmate is all right.”

Peter wasn’t listening. He picked up his glass and went back out ot the kitchen. Johnnie was busying herself with the remainder of a chicken salad. Peter found the bottle of Beam and the Coke and made himself another drink; all the while he felt two slate-blue eye boring into the back of him.

“So, what do you do for work, Johnnie?”

“A sales assistant in an arts and crafts shop in Miranda.”

“Miranda Fair?”

“Yes.”

Peter turned about and nodded at her. Johnnie bit her lip and went back to her meal. Peter gave himself to study of this young woman. Her hair wasn’t as untidy as he had previously thought. It was cut just below shoulder length and hung down straight from the part in the right of her head. It was an oddly tomboy-ish and yet altogether cute effect. If it wasn’t for the two definitely female projections in her shirt Peter thought he’d be looking at a boy with a weird haircut.

She felt his appraisal and looked up him much like a shy and naughty boy would to a stern mother.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare at you.”

Her fork stopped several inches from her mouth. “You were?”

Peter laughed, despite himself. “Yes, I was. I’ve had a long trip and I guess it’s easy for my eyes to glue themselves to things.”

Johnnie didn’t quite know how to take that and nodded with a puzzled expression. Peter shrugged and drank some more. Tanya came out f the bedroom and stood looking at them. “Well Johnnie dear, what do you think of my horrible elder brother? Cheap drunk isn’t he?”

Johnnie looked at the glass in Peter’s hand. “I wouldn’t know. He doesn't seem cheap in any way.”

“You don’t drink?” Peter asked.