Look After The Lad

"And Hotrocks, you’ll take young Gawn here out and show him the ropes ...and don’t lead him astray and don’t teach him any bad habits...” a chuckle ended the sentence, adding to my annoyance at this direction. Those words I knew ended my freedom for the rest of the day. Resentment filled me as I turned to face my charge, allocated from amongst the small throng of wide eyed recruits. The tall, pale skinned young man barely nodded at me, as he murmured an acknowledgment. He bore a slight air of arrogance as he looked me over. The slight smile on his lips was evidence he had already summed me up in his head. He leaned forward and quickly picked up a portable two-way radio, assuming immediate control over it. “We’d better go then” I directed quietly, as I picked up my hat and stepped hurriedly out of the caravan into the bright early afternoon sunlight. I was anxious to distance myself from the interest and sarcasm being generated in the van. “And Hotrocks, make sure you keep that radio on, we want to be able to contact you pair at all times”. The smarmy inference in a raised voice from the Sergeant was as plain as it was irritating. I fussed for a moment beside the door, slightly humiliated, checking the recruit had it on the right frequency. The bemused look on his face indicated he already had the task in hand. I quickly strode ahead and he fell into easy step beside me, seeming to enjoy the quickened pace. “Have I messed up your plans, having to take me out with you? He was blunt and challenging from the onset. The words came in a surprising thick accent and I was forced to concentrate in order to decipher what he was saying. “Ahh...the accent explains the pale skin” I thought. “No”, I lied, my irritation continuing, “its fine...no problem, I knew I would be taking one of you new blokes out on patrol”. I looked up, his dark brown eyes belied my defence, I knew he had not believed me for a second. He spoke politely, in a deep brogue, I was unfamiliar with. How long have you been in then? He asked pointedly. “I’m off the previous squad to yours”. I offered. “Well, I guess then you wouldn’t know much”, he smirked challengingly. “Saddled myself with a smart arse” I thought with more dismay. I was in no mood for an argument. “Agh... just ignore it and he might give it up”. “I’m sorry” I said, with new resolve, determined to be nice, “I should have introduced myself, I’m Debbie Horrocks. I didn’t catch your name earlier back there, what was it again”. “Michael Gawn” he replied, the rolled words were unintelligible to my ears. “I’m sorry”... Again came the quick response “Michael Gawn” “..er, sorry, still didn’t get it” “Michael Gawn” I looked at him blankly, the embarrassment mounting. “Fer fook’s sake” he muttered and laughed shaking his head “M.I.C.H.A.E.L ... G.A.W.N. “Ooohhh Michael” I confirmed, thinking the way he said it sounded like bloody mackerel or something”. (I still didn’t get the last name but was not going to pursue the painful discussion any further). “So where are you from Michael?” I asked feeling I would regret this further attempt at politeness. “Sydney” he replied slowly. I was sure he was being deliberate now. “No originally” “Oh, why didn’t you say ...Northern Ireland”, (he seemed almost to emphasize the ‘Northern’). “Belfast” he continued nonchalantly, “well actually a little place just out of Belfast...but you wouldn’t know of it”. I looked hard at him and couldn’t decide whether he was deliberately having a go. I chose to ignore the last remark. “How long have you been in Australia?’ Arrrgh... about 18 months now, he paused. “Did you come out here with your family?” I continued... “No, I came out on my own”. “Oh, you’ve got family here then?” “No, why would you think that?”...” I came out on my own, when I was 18”. His reply was almost dismissive of my assumption. ‘Coo... independent boy this one’ I thought, - ‘not easily phased’. I dismissed most of his conversation as I took stock of him. I estimated we were around the same age. His left hand indicated he was single. He was long limbed and lean, with a strong face. Although not classically good looking, his features were too uneven for that...he was certainly was not unattractive, but there was something unsettling about his manner. He was almost too straightforward for my comfort. As if determined to confirm my thoughts, he added “You know you ask a lot of questions, I suppose you think you are a copper or something”. “No”, I countered,” just wondering what language you speak, it sounds a bit like English, but not quite”. “Ah, very funny”, he responded, a wry smile played around his mouth. This conversation was not settling well and I elected to quit with the questions while I was ahead and stick to talking about the job only. The next forty minutes or so did not flow well. I explained the rudimentary role of a patrol officer at a local fair and my charge made it evident he resented me. His accent seemed to grow thicker and I felt sure he was deliberate, it was hard to tell. Either way I became determined to be rid of him and I steered our course back to the caravan base, feigning the need for a cold drink. A suggestion he seemed to welcome. Grabbing a drink out of the esky cooler, I slipped away from him and cornered Sergeant ‘Smarmy’. “Sarge”, I pleaded my case now, “I need to change trainee charges, I can’t understand a bloody word he says and it’s pointless talking to him because of it. I think he would be happier if you gave him to someone else ...please”. “Ahh , so young Gawn doesn’t take your fancy then”, he laughed loudly as I winced at his words, “we can’t have that. I’ll sort you someone else, he can have a bit of break here. He‘s looking a bit hot around the edges”. There it was again, the kindness interspersed with the sarcasm. No point in getting upset, I thought, at least he was going my way and I was getting rid of my difficult charge...and it was getting close to knock-off!