Wild Orchids: Chapter Fifteen
By Denise Main and Ian Chisholm
Previous Episodes
‘Not much of a day for us to be out and about, George,’ Archie muttered as he stamped his feet and spread his hands over the small fire they had managed to keep alight.
‘Must have had a lot of rain overnight. Fingal Creek is running a banker, as far as I can see from here,’ George replied as he shook his wet beanie and joined Archie by the fire. ‘Looks like a day staying put here. Just as well our food supply is up to scratch, and we have enough fuel for the Primus and Hurricane lamp.’
‘OK, I’ll cook up a soup for tonight’s meal with the left-over vegies and the little rice we have,’ Archie announced as he rummaged through the box of supplies, holding up one item after the other.
‘Super, Arch, I like your meals, they stick to one’s ribs. Now, what’ll we do to fill in the day? Apart from keeping warm and dry.’
‘I know,’ exclaimed Archie. ‘Vinnie’s, Beryl, sold me some games and a Scrabble set, all for a couple of dollars. How about a game or two of Scrabble while we still have some fuel for the lamp? Pity it’s so dark under here, but with some light, I’ll be able to keep an eye on you to make sure you’re not cheating,’ he said with a mischievous chuckle.
‘I’m game if you are.’ George replied. ‘Though I’m warning you, I’m a dab hand at the game; had plenty of time to myself over the last few years to increase my word skills. And for your information, I’ve never cheated in my life,’ he said tongue in cheek.
Archie returned with the Scrabble set and with a victorious note in his voice cried, ‘Here it is and by the look of the box, it’s almost new.’
They set up the board game on the upended wooden crate they used as a table. Before long, the only sounds from under the Bridge were contained cheers of success when a good run of words was achieved, or disappointment when the score was not so good, while outside the only sounds were from the persistent drumming of rain and the sloshing of car tyres on the wet road above.
The competition was keen as they struggled to find the most obscure and high scoring words. Both were well read, but in different genres. They were in their element recalling words they hadn’t the need to use in a long time.
‘What’s that word?’ Archie demanded of George.
‘Idiom.’
‘Never heard of it.’
‘I thought of it in relationship to Longfellow’s poem about ships passing in the night. One of my early favourite poems,’ George replied thoughtfully.
‘Do you remember enough to recite it for me? Archie said. ‘In my past life we were forbidden to read poetry, only biblical excerpts.’
George refrained from asking the question begging to be asked and thought; I will let Archie tell me about his past life when he is good and ready. So instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and cleared his throat. He took in a deep breath, put on his best sonorous voice and began,
‘“Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness; So, on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again.”’
‘What do you make of that George?’
‘It’s often likened to people who only meet for an intense moment, then part, never to meet again.’
‘You know George that could have been us. If that mad guy hadn’t turned up and attacked me, we might have become like those ships in the night instead of roughing it together under a bridge. Goodness knows where I might have ended up. I’m happy with the way things have turned out. How about you?’
‘Yeah, even though I warned you that I had become a bit of a loner and not looking for company, but I can tell you that doesn’t seem to be the case anymore.’
‘George, you say a bit of a loner, but since I met up with you and we have managed OK, you’ve been nothing but a good friend to me.’
‘Maybe my recent rough life had caught up with me, made me wary of trusting anyone. Believe it or not, I once got on well with people. Bad experiences can really screw up your mind.’
‘George, before I was married, my life was sheltered. I was shy, didn’t make friends easily. Perhaps that’s why I fell in love so young and was easily led and made bad choices.’
‘That could be part of my story too Arch. Except I got caught by giving in to my selfish needs. No need for details, but to be honest that’s what it all amounted to.’
‘Never give in to temptation. That’s what my bible tells me. It’s why I listen to its message. All of us can be lured by the Devil,’ Archie added reflectively.
George had no need to pursue the conversation down that bumpy religious path and immediately changed tack. ‘Back to our present situation, it’s still early days, not sure how much longer I want to live under a bridge. But, so far, so good, Archie Pilgrim,’ George said with a smile. ‘Want to play some more. Rain’s still pelting down, not getting out of here for a bit.’
‘You’re on, don’t get too cocky, I’ve got a good word up my sleeve to toss at you.’
They finished one board after the other, each finding a winning run to keep their interest high. Archie’s references to words from the Old Testament were often a winner, while George’s knowledge of the classics held him in good stead. By early afternoon, the rain had finally petered to a drizzle, the wind down to a lull.
‘Not too late to go out,’ Archie reported after checking the outside scene. ‘I think I’ll take a short walk, get some exercise.’ Pulling his coat collar up to his ears he set off up the now sodden slippery slope to the road above.
The fresh, moist sea air revied his weariness, though his knees, stiff from hours of sitting at the crate table, took some persuasion; he had given his brain a good work out but not his body, though some of the words he had gambled with sparked painful memories. He remembered well the stabs of pain as the torrent of damning words rang in his ears. They rang with derision, accusing him of sinning and a disgrace in the eyes of the Blessed People. He thought, one day I might be able to tell George about it all, surely, he will understand why I had to flee.
George watched the fire’s flame die to a feeble flicker and awash with boredom, decided to take a walk. His feet slipped and slid on the overgrown path beside the swollen and fast-flowing creek. The sound of the water rushing through the tall reeds and over the rocks, reminded him of a composition he once wrote, and thought, I would like to try something like that. Maybe it’s my time again.
