Read Without You I Have Nothing Online
Authors: J A Scooter
"I definitely
need to hear your ideas. What do you want out of this marriage, because frankly
I'm terrified of looking after you successfully? I'm so scared of
failing."
Taking Peter's hand,
Jennifer led him across to the leather sofa making him sit. While perched on
his lap she put her arm around his shoulders.
He eased back eyes
closed, knowing his priorities for life were already set. There was only one
priority in his mind, Jennifer and his much-anticipated family.
Silently he
contemplated the future. 'I'll cherish our children and make their life as
secure as possible. What else will matter? My family, and with God's blessing
this woman, whom I love so much, will be their mother on whom we shall all
lean.'
Slowly Jennifer made
her ideas known. "Peter, I want children but not yet. I wouldn't like to
give up my law career and to be truthful I'd love to continue and advance my
studies. Would this worry you? However, before I continue, what are your
plans? Now it's your turn."
"My love, I want
children but as you say not yet. We're establishing the foundations for their
lives and if the groundwork is secure and stable then their lives will be happy
and, God willing, long and fruitful.”
Sadly, Bob and Ted
felt a little neglected through all these preparations, although at times
Jennifer and Peter joined them to go out together with Ruth and Karen who
seemed to be the permanent partners for Ted and Bob.
Things were changing
in Peter's apartment, too. The place was subtly altered and Jennifer's clothes
seemed to take up all the available space.
Eventually April
arrived and Peter's bachelor days were almost at an end when he drove Jennifer
to Mascot airport.
"Goodbye,
Jennifer."
His arms encircled
her waist and the passengers had to thread their way around them.
"Don't be late
for our date next week. I'll be so anxious to see you. None of that rubbish
about the bride always being late.” Peter ruffled her hair.
"Be careful darling,”
she warned in a mock serious tone. "It's only a week and I don't want you
arriving on crutches.” Laughing and waving she joined the other passengers. Before
disappearing, she turned back toward him and blew a kiss.
"I'll be there
to claim my wife,” Peter thought, "but why does she have to go off a week
early? Women are so mysterious."
Peter shrugged his
shoulders and returned home. Ted and Bob were taking him out for a Buck's Night
to celebrate his final night as a single man.
They had laughed and
teased Jennifer unmercifully about the event, flaunting their ideas and
reveling in her looks of distaste. Yet the wicked twinkle in their eyes boded
trouble if Peter wasn't careful.
Promptly at seven, as
arranged, they picked him up.
"Put this over
your eyes,” insisted Bob who tied the blindfold tightly about his head.
When the car stopped
and someone guided him up a few steps, Peter didn't have the slightest idea
where he was.
A door clanged open
and his nose twitched. He could recognize that smell of spray paint and dust.
That unknown person
held his arms tightly as a pair of soft lips kissed him and, as he struggled,
another pair of equally soft lips kissed him. Two hands took his and guided him
further into the building by what he recognized as two females as their breasts
pushed against his arms.
"Where have you
been?” It was Joe's voice. Whipping the blindfold off and full of mischief,
Joe beamed at him.
Peter was standing in
his workshop and the two females holding his arms were the two young apprentices.
It was obvious they had also been the ones to kiss him.
"All your
workers are here and we felt it wasn't fair to exclude your two youngest,”
insisted Joe, putting forward a lame excuse for two females joining a
traditionally all-male occasion.
Looking around him,
Peter could see that Joe had gone to a lot of trouble, arranging with the
others to clear the workshop of cars and to decorate it. Big posters with 'Best
Wishes, Poor Bugger, Oh, the poor girl, If only she knew what we know' hung on
every wall, and every guest sported a black armband of mourning.
Down the center of
the workshop, the men had organized a long trestle table laden with steaming
Chinese, Thai and Indian food.
Peter was amused when
he saw the compulsory Tiger Beer, and he laughed aloud at what they'd placed in
the center of the table - a large cake on which someone had outlined in black
icing the words 'Don't do it! You'll be sorry!'
All Peter's workers
were present as well as local car salesmen and clients. Andrew and his father
were there, grinning as much as the Asian clients. It was a multi-cultural
evening of joy for the boss.
"Dad and I are
Jennifer's spies.” Andrew grinned. "Well, so she thinks!"
"The apprentices
have been sworn to secrecy and they’re in my care,” Joe beamed. "They'll
be sleeping upstairs and no-one else will be allowed up there under any
condition. This will be their first and last Buck's Night and an education for
them, but it's the age of equality of the sexes so here they are.”
Joe's voice dropped
away. He was taking his position as the workshop father very seriously.
Bill Williams' great
paws lifted Peter off his feet and handed him the first Tiger for the night. The
jokes, as they sat around the table chomping their way through the banquet,
were all at Peter's expense.
Every joke had brides
or bridegrooms as the topic. Repeatedly the married men offered their advice on
how to behave on the honeymoon, but Peter was sure their advice was
anatomically impossible.
"Yam Seng”
followed "Yam Seng” and Peter, who twirled the duck's head, made certain
the beak didn't point to him.
Many Tigers later,
Peter heard a commotion near the back of the workshop. Everyone around the
table cheered, and Peter was convinced they knew what was about to happen. He
didn't have to wait long.
Andrew and Eric had
pulled a tarpaulin from an ornate iron double bed that the Commander was
wheeling into view.
It didn't take Peter
long to recognize the occupants of the bed - two store dummies - one wearing a
red wig and the other sporting a crescent scar. They were in a most obscene
pose, although a sheet artfully draped across their hips hid the actual details.
A sign hung above their heads on the cast iron bed head.
'Peter. Not again. Can't
I get some sleep tonight?'
The men around the table
roared with laughter, and Peter's blushing embarrassment only caused them to
laugh even louder. Ted thrust another beer into Peter's hand as the party got
into full swing.
By Monday, Peter had
recovered sufficiently to remember fragmented details.
At one stage a girl
had materialized and had begun stripping, her whole attention concentrated on
him. She'd dragged his face against her bare body as she writhed and contorted,
encouraged by the cheers of Peter's erstwhile friends.
Peter's confusion and
the fact that he had far too much to drink didn't help when she dragged him to
the bed and began to undress him. God alone knows what she intended before a
thumping on the shutters interrupted her performance.
"Police! Open
up!” The order was brief and to the point.
Joe unlocked before
pushing the shutters high.
Two police from the
local station marched past him, straight to the stripper. "We're here to
arrest this sex fiend, Miss. It looks as though we got here just in time to
save you."
They grabbed Peter. Throwing
him down on the bed, they hauled his wrists to the bed head where they
handcuffed him. To the cheers of the crowd, they ignored Peter's yells of
innocence but stayed on to playfully pat the stripper and accept some food with
a couple of beers before leaving.
Peter's friends had
great fun at his expense. He was drenched with beer, chased around the workshop
by the stripper and had obscene messages sprayed on his chest. The things Peter
couldn't remember were - when he passed out, when the party ended or how he got
home.
"Some party
Boss!” Joe was the first to greet him in the morning. "You should have
seen your face when the stripper waggled her bum on your lap.” Grinning and
moaning, he was holding his head as if still recovering.
"If my head didn't
ache so much I would laugh."
The others in the
workshop, including the apprentices, were in no better shape.
Eventually Easter
arrived and the Sydney contingent arrived in Melbourne safely.
The wedding morning
dawned, and Peter stood before the mirror adjusting his Sam Brown - his leather
belt that included a leather strap over his shoulder attached to his waist belt.
Feeling proud, he donned his slouch hat and looked at the medals on his chest.
Standing straight, he
studied his reflection in the mirror. Shocked, he saw the reflection not of his
figure alone but of a second figure in a RAAF uniform standing beside him - a
figure with a smile wreathing its face.
The reflection in the
mirror raised his arm and saluted.
Returning the salute,
Peter turned to speak to his father but there was no one else in the room. Peter
knew that these visions - these remembrances - took place at significant times
in his life, and he'd learned to accept them when they arrived unexpectedly.
Now the time had
arrived for him to commit himself to the woman he loved, his nervousness almost
overcame him as a knock came at the door.
"My God,
Peter!” Ted was furious and worried. He and Bob had expected to escort their
friend in the traditional manner with all the men in formal attire.
"What the hell
are you doing?” He asked, amazed at Peter's appearance. "Have you taken
leave of your senses? Why the uniform? This is no bloody costume ball. For
God's sake, get changed. If you turn up in that fancy dress Jennifer will
murder you."
The arrival of
another military figure interrupted Ted's words and the Regimental Sergeant
Major entered the room. He saluted Peter. "Your transport is waiting,
Major."
The enigma that still
surrounded their friend left both of them speechless. Ted and Bob stared at
their Peter who returned the salute. What could they say under these
circumstances? The three men quietly followed the Regimental Sergeant Major to
the limousine.
"You're a
bastard! Why didn't you tell us?” Ted was furious and Bob at his elbow was
fuming.
In the car, Peter
quietly explained that his regiment had insisted on this military wedding as a
gesture of thanks for his bravery so long ago. Briefly and without revealing
his whole history, he outlined how he saved the lives of all the men in his
platoon.
"Just bear with
me and for God's sake hold me up. I'm so nervous I don't know if I have the
strength to get through this. I'm terrified I'll make a fool of myself."
With its tires
crunching their way around the gravel driveway to the huge doors of the
cathedral, the car made a friendly sound in the crisp morning air. Even the
peppercorn trees seemed to bow lower in welcome while the magpies threw their
heads back and caroled their joy. High over-head a solitary crow croaked its
mournful hello to the men.
Two Gurkhas in full
dress uniform opened the car doors. They saluted Peter as Andrew came down the
steps to join them.
"Just as well
we're all dressed decently. That fellow in the RSM's uniform just sniffed
loudly when I wouldn't produce an invitation, and he refused to allow me into
the church. When I said I was part of the bridal party - well, he smiled and
saluted me.
"God his hands
are like legs of ham. That knife at his belt looks bloody dangerous"
Peter laughed at the
horrified look on the faces of his bridal party. "Oh, his Kukri? Without
that he would be naked. It is dangerous and he cannot unsheathe it without
drawing blood."
Andrew changed the
topic without bothering to wait for an answer. "Where the hell did you get
him from, Peter? He's more gorilla than man. Just the person I wouldn't like
to meet on a dark night. I thought Gurkhas were wiry, little men but he's over
6 feet tall and I'm sure he's 12 feet broad. Is he a Sumo wrestler in his spare
time? He would make a good footballer. He's a handsome bugger though.