guy in an old utility pulled up alongside of us. I didn’t like the look of him, but Robin had accepted the lift before I could protest. She opened the door and said to me, ‘Do you want to sit in the middle?’
‘No, I better sit near the window because I suffer from car sickness.’ I sighed a quiet sigh of relief as she scrambled in first. It was true that I suffered car sickness, but that wasn’t the reason I chose the window seat. I may not have been the brightest kid in the world, but I had already figured that if this old coot was going to try any funny business, I had access to the door and I would have been out and up the road faster than John Landy. We got about halfway to the Gold Coast then he announced that he had to make a delivery of a parcel to a house at the end of an old dirt track. My hand went slowly over near the door handle and I never missed a stone on that dirt track. Robin seemed to be totally oblivious of us being in any imminent danger. Fortunately, he was true to his word and he took a parcel into an old farmhouse and got back into the ute and drove us directly to Southport. We got out and we thanked him profusely. I was shaking like a leaf in a westerly wind, both with fear of what could have happened and with excitement that we’d arrived safely.
I made a secret promise to myself that I would definitely not be hitchhiking back to Brisbane or anywhere else for that matter. I told myself, if the worse comes to the worse, Amelia, you’ll catch the train back and shoot the bloody Indians as you go.
We headed to Surfers Paradise and ended up at one of the beer gardens. I’d learnt my lesson from drinking that bottle of Brandivino twelve months or so earlier, not to drink alcohol again. Besides I hated the taste of all alcohol so I stuck to drinking lemonade. Not so Robin, she was sinking them back like a wharfie at the six o’clock swill. We met up with some fellows who lived in Brisbane and they promised us that they’d drive us back to Brisbane after the session closed at six o’clock. I didn’t want to appear to be a worrywart, so I figured I’d take them at their word. But I had a bit of a panic attack when I remembered that the last train to Brisbane left at five o’clock.
I thought to myself, what the hell am I going to do if they change their minds. Sitting in the beer garden was giving me the shits, and I reminded Robin that we’d come down to the coast for some fun and I sure as hell didn’t think sitting there all day was my idea of fun. The lunchtime session finished and we went for a drive in their car, but that was about as much fun as we had because we all ended up back at the beer garden for the afternoon session.
Finally, closing time rolled around and we all piled into the car. I said a few silent Hail Mary’s as thanks and a few Jesus, Mary and Joseph’s to protect us from harm. Someone suggested that they were hungry and wanted to get a hamburger. We drove around looking for a good hamburger joint.
My navigational skills in those days were very limited, however, I think we were at Burleigh Heads and by the time we found a suitable place waited for the burgers to be cooked and actually ate them, it was seven-thirty. By this time, I was really packing death with worry about what time we’d get home. Trying to sound very casual, I said
‘When are we leaving?’
Robin ‘Not until tomorrow morning’.
Totally flabbergasted, I yelled, ‘What?’
She replied very casually, ‘We’ve decided to sleep on the beach’.
I could feel the tears stinging the backs of my eyeballs as I fought as hard as I could to stop them spilling down my cheeks.
Amelia ‘W … when d … did you decide this?’
Robin ‘When we were in the pub and you were in the loo’.
I could feel my heart pound as hard as the surf and as I looked out the car window wondering what the hell I was going to do? A light shower of rain began to fall, tears welled in a flood and about two hundred feet from the car I saw a taxi pull up and a solitary figure alighted and ran to get out of the rain. I grabbed my beach bag, opened the door and ran as fast as my legs could move. I held one arm in the air and shouted, ‘Taxi, Taxi’. The cab driver held the door open and I dived in. I burst into tears and absolutely sobbed. When I finally managed to speak, I said, ‘How much will it be to drive me to Brisbane, driver?’ The cabbie turned around and tried desperately to calm me down and I began to cry again. Still sobbing, I told him what had happened. We looked over to where the car had been parked just in time to see them drive away. The cabbie said, ‘I think you’ve done the right thing, sweetheart, I just hope we don’t hear on the news tomorrow that your girlfriend’s body has been found in some deserted area’. I arrived home at five past midnight and I had to go into Edith and ask her to lend me five pounds (my entire week’s wage) to pay the driver his fare. Edith went off her brain telling me that she wasn’t going to give me a penny for the fare and reprimanded me for not being home hours earlier. I couldn’t even begin to tell you how much she harped on about how thoughtless and inconsiderate I was. I yelled, ‘Would you prefer that I should’ve spent the night on the beach with Robin and those blokes and possibly been raped and murdered?’ There was no immediate reply just a look of disgusted disbelief. I then added, ‘By the time you muck around, the cost of the fare will be up to six quid’ That struck a nerve, she scurried off to get her purse and handing over the fiver she said, ‘You’re going to have to pay me back at the end of the week’. Terrific, her only daughter escapes untouched and unharmed from a fate worse than death and all she can think of is that I have to pay her, her precious bloody fiver by the end of the week. To add insult to injury she added, ‘And lower your voice or you’ll wake your father’.
Jesus. I couldn’t win even if I was the only competitor. Lunchtime the following day, Robin came in to see me at work. She had the audacity and gall to try and borrow some money from me. She was still wearing her swimmers and her hair looked as if it hadn’t been combed. I was so angry I just wanted to punch her into the ground. In my most disgusted and disgruntled tone, I spat,
‘Robin, get out of here before I do something I’ll enjoy’.
You would think that I would have learnt my lesson with Robin and steered clear of her the moment I clasped eyes on her again wouldn’t you? Not me. Approximately six months later, I went to the Railway Institute dance on my own and Robin was there by herself as well. We sat and talked and she apologised for what she had done and I accepted her apology. I had a few dances and talked to a number of people whom I knew and at the end of the night I was offered a lift home, which I declined. I started to walk to the gates of the Edward Street entrance of the Railway Institute on my way to catch my tram in Adelaide Street when Robin ran up behind me grabbing my arm and said, ‘Come on, we’ll give you a lift home’.
I declined but she persisted. ‘I know these fellows, they’re okay. They’re giving me a lift and they said they’ll drive you home too’.
I asked very suspiciously, ‘Where do they live?’
Robin ‘Not far from me’.
Amelia ‘But that’s nowhere near where I live it’s too far out of the way’.
Robin ‘No, I’ve already told them where you live and they said it’s okay. It’s not too far to go’.
Again, I suspiciously asked, if she was sure they were reliable as I didn’t want to have to catch another cab again. I only had two-bob on me and the old girl would kill me if I had to ask her to lend me money again.
She promised me faithfully that they were genuinely nice boys and totally trustworthy. Like a fool, to save a 1/3 (twelve cents) tram fare I got into the front seat alongside of the driver. Robin got in the back seat and as we started to drive out the gates, both the front and back passenger doors flew open and two other fellows jumped in. I turned to Robin
‘Thanks a million, you bloody stupid bitch, when I get my hands on you I’m going to kill you’.
The driver ‘Calm down, they’re friends of mine and I’m going to give them a lift home too’.
Amelia, ‘Well as long as you don’t think