I Had to Become Brave

By Neve Knight

There is a little bit of Neve in all of us. Being a single baby boomer. She talks of the cowboy days of selling Shady Bay real estate as well as the halcyon days when Shady Bay was “the place to be.” The challenges of divorce, domestic violence, mental illness, and business betrayal are addressed with brutal honesty. The sea-change to a remote Tasmanian crayfish port provides yet further adventure, challenge, fun and interest. A near death experience leaving Neve without a hip for 14 months makes this a truly entertaining and compelling book for any reader. The story is sometimes sad, yet often funny reminding us that being true to yourself at all costs and in all circumstances will eventually crown you with wisdom, contentment, joy and abundance. This book inspires you to become a better person.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Aug 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781982290702

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Copyright © 2021 Neve Knight.

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ISBN: 978-1-9822-9069-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-9070-2 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date:  08/31/2021

Contents

Chapter 1     A Sad Accident

Chapter 2     Beginnings

Chapter 3     Cracks

Chapter 4     Shady Bay Property Passion

Chapter 5     Falling in Love

Chapter 6     The Change We Did Not See Coming

Chapter 7     The Tassie Adventure

Chapter 8     The London Experience

Chapter 9     Children, Children, and More Children

Chapter 10   The Loan of all Loans

Chapter 11   Onwards and Upwards

Chapter 12   The Corona Virus

Chapter 1

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A Sad Accident

1997

Jo! Jo! Paul is dead.

These were the words that dear, kind, fun, handsome, energetic, and loyal Steven, Skye’s boyfriend, called out to me. He came running up the stairs to tell me that Ella’s first boyfriend until then had drowned in the Shady Creek Canal.

All the boys had gone to band practice at Mr Sulk’s shed the previous night and had a few beers together to celebrate Paul’s eighteenth birthday. Brett, my son, and Paul were great mates. They had been looking forward to a night of birthday celebrations with their other mates—Brett (his cousin), Travis (my daughter), Steven (Skye’s boyfriend) Chris (our friend), and Paul (Ella’s boyfriend, who had only recently arrived from his home of Dilly Creek), were returning after a fun night at band practice. As they were over the limit, they had decided to walk home instead of driving Steven’s car.

It was November 1997, and Ella, my youngest child, had finished grade twelve at the Catholic high school in Oakley, which was then a small Sunshine Coast sugar cane and mill town. She came to talk to me and declared, I am going to Dilly Creek to live. Naturally I was surprised. The three children had been born and schooled in the well-known coastal town of Shady Bay. Dilly Creek was the exact opposite. I thought about it, and after looking at a map of Australia, I decided it would be better for her to go there than to Melbourne, where drugs would have been more common place. It is there that she met Paul Johnson, who became her first boyfriend. Ella was always the most sincere, loyal, generous person. My only worry for Ella was that she might be used by others in her life. And how right I was. She was a cute, lean, shy girl and was always loved by others. She was the sort of person who was brave, honest, and down to earth, who called a spade a spade. Everyone’s favourite!

Her friend, Chrissy, who had also been a student at a Catholic school in Oakley, worked for a government department of the Northern Territory. She had now progressed well within the ranks of a major international mineral company. Promptly, Ella decided it would be a good idea to start there as well, after completing school. Ella did not have great confidence in her scholastic abilities. Therefore, it was possible in her mind that this would be a way to start somewhere rather than nowhere. Ella, like all my children, always knew I expected her to find work when she graduated from school. After a number of her written applications had been positively received and several phone interviews, she was given the nod and was on her way in no time at all.

Ella and I packed up the car she and I bought for her from one of the children’s school friends. That car turned out to be a money pit and was eventually sold to an Aborigine in Dilly Creek. After bidding everyone farewell, we departed from Shady Bay. As usual, Mr Sulk, my de facto partner at the time, was brooding because I was doing something over which he had no control.

We drove and drove, seeking directions from our RACQ map and stayed the first night at Wilmot in a very old motel near a railway line that was used to transport the coal from the Galilee Basin. I called Mr Sulk frequently, as I really believed I loved him. But sadly, I felt very insecure when he became distant and sulky. That was his control tactic. I was such an insecure woman in many ways. I was so needy for love following my divorce a few years earlier.

Bitman, with its brown water and extremely hot weather, was our next stop after Wilmot. We slept at one of the Bitman hotels and battled through the night struggling with the intense heat. The next day, we drove through flat dry countryside, obviously in the grip of severe drought. Tinnabee, close to the Northern Territory border, was our next overnight stay. Once again we slept in a hotel, the only accommodation available. Ella looked in continued astonishment from the bathroom window at the Aboriginals living next door in a galvanised lean-to. I could see she was keen for this new adventure and not knowing what to expect. The owner of that Tinnabee hotel offered me work, which I was tempted to accept, as I, like Ella, liked adventure. Sadly, I was still drawn to Mr Sulk’s control and because of my chronic neediness, declined the opportunity for the new start which I yearned. I thought I was in love with this man and really did not value myself at all. I look back and see that I could have been in a far better relationship than the one I tried to hold together with Mr Sulk. Who knows what new adventure lay ahead of me had I remained working in Tinnabee? It would have been a whole new world, and I thrived upon a challenge.

Dilly Creek was our final stop the next afternoon. After booking into a motel for the night, I came to terms with the town that Ella was going to call home. Dilly Creek was hot and flat, and I was quiet taken aback by the primitive house in which Ella was to live. It was all very far away from home, but I knew instinctively that she would be OK. That evening we had dinner at the only reasonable eatery in Dilly Creek, somewhat surprisingly located inside a squash court. I spoke to one of the people at the restaurant who would be working with Ella and enlisted her help in keeping an eye on my young daughter. I was told by Ella, who looked so excited, but also suddenly older and more beautiful in the six hours that had passed, that I had best prepare to depart rather than stay overnight in the motel that I had booked upon arriving. We had arrived at this remote destination and she was eager to start her new life. I would have felt the same if I were her.

The bus terminal from which I was to depart from this hard outback town, smack in the middle of Australia, was a scene of fights and brawls among drunken indigenous people. I eventually left the bus terminal at Dilly Creek, waving goodbye to my seventeen-year-old daughter from the window as the bus pulled out into the night heading towards Wivenho. The Aboriginals continued fighting at the terminal, while my dear, sweet Ella and her friends waved to me. It was a sight I would not forget in a hurry.

I cried and cried during the entire bus trip to Wivenho. From there, I caught a plane to Brisbane and cried again throughout that entire journey. Mr Sulk picked me up from the airport in Brisbane. Once again, he was sulky, cranky, and removed. I put up with him, as I thought I needed and loved him. He was not a passionate man, but he could be charming when he wanted to be. A former client of mine had said to me many years earlier, A woman’s weakness is her ears, and a man’s is his eyes.

Well, I certainly liked to hear nice flattering things. How weak and needy I was then. Nobody would ever have thought that of me; I was competent, capable, forthright, and honest. But emotional wounds from years earlier had left me with little self-esteem. What a shame someone didn’t take me aside and tell me a few home truths. That is possibly why I am now inclined to be so blunt and brutally honest, and all too often, I warn young single mums to be careful with whom they spend their time.

Ella fitted in well at Dilly Creek, as she did everywhere she went. She met Paul, whose mother ran a hotel in town. His father, who lived in Melbourne, had not seen him since he was a very young boy. Ella and Paul became an item, each becoming one another’s first boyfriend and girlfriend. They found solace in one another. I wrote many, many letters to Ella from home in Shady Bay. While I wanted her to become independent, I was always concerned for her. Ella was the most adaptable of my three children, although she was the one I gave the least amount of time.

Brett, her beloved older brother, and my second child of three, drove over to Dilly Creek with his darling girlfriend, Lucy. Brett had completed his plumbing apprenticeship in Shady Bay, and he set off into the wild blue yonder to see his sister. Brett was employed immediately upon his arrival by a Dilly Creek plumber, played AFL with the Aboriginals, and worked in the Aboriginal communities. Brett became great mates with Ella’s flatmate, Chrissy, and her brothers, who loved to gamble.

Sadly, Brett and Chrissy’s brothers learned to love this pastime while in Dilly Creek. Paul and Brett also became the greatest of mates. Lucy managed the only dress shop in Dilly Creek, being greatly appreciated by the owners. It was not often such a lovely, educated girl was available for work in this rough gold-rush town. All in all, they enjoyed their time there. However, finally, Brett and Lucy decided to travel onwards to Brotmouth, while Ella eventually decided to come home. Being inseparable, Paul and Ella travelled home together. They caught a bus from Dilly Creek to Spring Hill, and from there took a flight to Sydney, and then to Brisbane. I was delighted to see this brave little girl of mine.

They stayed with Mr Sulk and myself until they drove off into the sunset after a disagreement with me. I had informed Paul that he would need to find a job. Ella, as always, protected him.

Thanks for being my mum, but we are going, she said. And off they went to the Gold Coast. Paul was familiar with the Gold Coast, having spent time there in his early years with his grandmother.

Being a homemaker by nature, Ella set up a lovely home in Southport. Over time, Shady Bay beckoned for her to return home. Upon their return, she obtained a chef’s apprenticeship at the renowned Bongo’s in Tillawill. She and Paul created a home nearby to my home, and she worked long hours to complete her apprenticeship. The owners of the famous Bongo’s in Tillawill were wonderful to Ella. And she always went the extra mile and was a devoted employee.

Meanwhile, Paul had hoped to obtain a plumbing apprenticeship with Brett’s boss. It seemed all systems were a go with the entire group of teenagers having an onwards and upwards attitude. Sadly, as I was to learn many times during the following years, things can alter in a heartbeat. The plans we make are often not where our actual paths lie. Paul and I became good mates, making our peace at Brett’s twenty-first birthday. I was happy. I had the opportunity to convey to him on that party night that I was proud of him for turning his life around. His proud comments were, Jo, I didn’t do it for you. I did it for Ella.

Skye, Ella and Brett’s older sister, Nana Mavis (my mother,) Aunty May, Nik (the children’s father,) and many friends supported us by attending Paul’s funeral. I adored my sister May. When I was a child, and as always, she did the right thing and brought a lovely meal up for us after the funeral and wake had finished. She still does this sort of thing to this day. I have only recently had a near-death experience with a long ten-week hospital stay. And each day, that lovely, loyal sister arrived with food, flowers, and the like.

A huge bus with the Dilly Creek contingent arrived at the front of my property in Shady Bay. They held their drinks as they alighted from the bus. Paul’s family were very suspicious and full of aggression towards us. They blamed us for his death. During the wake, we explained to them what had happened that fatal night. The boys left the shed after a fun band practice that happened to fall on Paul’s birthday. They decided to walk rather than drive because they had drunk too many beers and thought it safer. Brett took a short cut, diving into the Shady Bay Creek canal to swim home. The two others walked the long way home. But Paul, who adored Brett and followed him everywhere, dived into the canal after him. No one was aware Paul had done this. Brett was swimming and the others were walking. Sadly for dear Paul, he dived into the shallow water, hit his head, and drowned. Meanwhile, Brett had arrived home and was in bed asleep, with no knowledge of what had happened until the next morning, when Steven woke us in a panic.

Over time, as the facts of the event were revealed, understood and accepted, everyone found peace and coped as best they could. Eventually, the Shady Bay group and the Dilly Creek group became one in their grief. The true love and care that was evident at the funeral service infiltrated the hearts of many and all present bonded. Steven played his guitar and sang Nothing Else Matters, Brett read the eulogy, and finally, as we left our pews, we heard the Cat Stevens song Oh Very Young. As it turned out, though, no one was not left unscarred.

Ella and I sat in the little unit she and Paul rented in Shady Bay. It was five hours after the commotion associated with finding Paul first began. Ella and I went to see Paul after I woke her. I took a lovely pure wool bedspread I had made years before—I had once even tried to give it to a young couple, but no one had wanted my handmade woollen bedspread. Well, its time to be used had come. We placed it over Paul, who lay dead on the side of the embankment not far from the Shady Bay canal weir. Naturally we wanted to cover and protect him by providing dignity as so many people on their morning walk were stopping to stare at him.

Hours later, as we sat in the unit Ella and Paul rented, Ella asked, What is happening? What is this all about? Where is he?

She was an honest truth-seeker, and I said to her the words Pa (my grandfather) had said to me years earlier when I was very sad and distressed about my marriage breakdown, Put your face to the sun and let the shadows fall behind you. I continued, You can allow this sad event to define you and take a negative track.

I reminded her of a young boy we knew who lived in our street on Shady Bay Sound. He started to gain a chip on his shoulder, dyed his hair purple, mixed with the wrong crowd, and finally ended up in jail for murder. We discussed thinking onwards and upwards. Being Ella, she thought upwards. She had always been a brave, honest, and kind person, and my only worry had been that others would take advantage of her kindness and goodness. Fortunately, after a considerable period of challenging times, a delightful young man from Tasmania crossed our path, and he continues to protect her goodness.

Chapter 2

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Beginnings

1952 to 1972

Shady Bay was such a beautiful, natural place, so we moved to Shady Bay from Brisbane to start a new life in 1973. Nik and I were married in 1972 at a Catholic Church in Toolaroo, Brisbane. We were both born in 1952 and lived in Brisbane until 1973. Life was good in those days—full employment and not so many rules by which to live. I often wonder just how I managed to bumble along to get to where I am now. If I was starting again today, I often think I would never have made it with all the education, rules, limitations and so on that the young ones have to deal with these days. We were free, natural, surfing spirits.

I spent my childhood at my family home in Toolaroo, Brisbane, and am so thankful to have had such great, caring, and diligent parents. Dad was strict and regularly used the two canes behind the egg rack. All too often, my sisters and I would head off on Saturdays to the Girls Friendly Society (GFS) at the Anglican Church in Toolaroo, with evidence of cane bruises from my father’s discipline marking our legs. Piano practice was a must, and nonattendances also resulted in these canings. The family was very close and strict moral values were instilled into us. My two sisters and I looked nothing alike with May, the eldest, marrying a doctor. Rhona, my middle sister, married a builder, and I married a bricklayer.

Each family member was expected to pull their weight according to Dad, so we girls mixed concrete,