Return to Moondilla (26 page)

I chose to write a novel centred around drugs because they represent one of the most significant problems facing modern society. What they’re costing us, God alone knows, and it’s all money down the drain.

JC: Will all your novels be concerned with social problems?

GB: I shouldn’t think so. But anyone who has a conscience has to be concerned with social problems. They’ve been the basis for some of the best novels ever written. Take Dickens, Steinbeck, Cronin, and the best of our Australian writers. What did they write about? Social problems.

Not everyone is smart or has rich parents, and it makes me mad to hear the smart arses refer to others as ‘losers’. We used to have virtual full employment, and I think the most important things a country can offer its citizens are a good education, a decent health system and a job. The fact that we can’t offer everyone a job means that we’ve run off the rails and let our young people down. The decline in morality and the use of drugs are part of the unemployment syndrome.

JC: How would you rectify the situation?

GB: I think we need to introduce a form of National Service, at least for young people not in a job. Get them off drugs and teach them something useful, maybe incorporating a program of first aid. You can’t have young people sitting about on their
hands or homeless. You need to give them a mountain to climb, even if it’s not a very high mountain. Other countries have National Service but we seem to always rely on volunteers, except in the case of Vietnam which was a war we should never have become embroiled in. No politician would be courageous enough to broach the subject of National Service, of course, but I think it’s what we need now.

•

There were more questions I wanted to ask, but it was time for Greg to do his daily martial arts and gymnastic routine, after which there would be lunch. I’ve never seen anything to approach Greg’s athleticism or the controlled power he demonstrated for me. If Julie works out with Greg, as she assured me she does, it’s no wonder that she’s in such great shape.

‘Phew’ was all I could say when Greg finished. What more
is
there to say about a fellow who can smash timber and tiles with his bare hands? I’d wondered how he had been able to dispose of two tough crims, but after seeing him in action it was no longer difficult to believe he’d done it.

Lunch, Greg informed me, would be a simple affair. It may have been simple in his eyes, but it was one of the tastiest meals I’ve ever eaten. The centrepiece was a lamb roll encased in a clear jelly of rosemary and mint. There were small potatoes boiled in their jackets, eaten with either cream or butter, and a tossed salad with a mouth-watering dressing, the like of which I had never tasted before. A plate of cheese and biscuits was
served last, with slices of watermelon and honeydew from the home garden.

We lingered over the lunch, maybe for a couple of hours, and then Greg asked if I’d like to take a short cruise on the river. I looked at Julie, who was in shorts and blouse, and said that I didn’t have any suitable clothes for such an outing. Julie said that this wasn’t a problem, as she could loan me a pair of her shorts. Now I have to tell you, readers, that there wasn’t the remotest possibility that I would be able to fit into a pair of
her
shorts. I said I had a pair of jeans in my port and I’d wear them.

I’ve got to tell you that Julie Baxter in a pair of shorts and a plain blue cotton top still has more style than most women dressed in their best clobber. She isn’t a young woman, but she’s definitely all woman. Maybe it’s the exercising she does with Greg, but when Julie walks she sort of flows.

What I found so refreshing and heart-warming was the way Greg and Julie work together. I never heard a cross word pass between them. While her husband was talking to me, Julie went ahead of us and slipped one mooring rope off the jetty, then sat down in the boat and started the engine while Greg took my hand and helped me on board. Chief, Greg’s gorgeous German Shepherd, jumped into the boat and sat down next to Julie at the controls. Greg slipped the second mooring rope, and away we went. Julie looked after the boat while I talked to Greg. There hadn’t been a word spoken between Greg and Julie, yet each seemed to know exactly what the other wanted.

So we tooled off down the river. Greg caught three flathead and tossed two of them back. Occasionally I caught the glances that passed between him and Julie, and I have to tell you that I would die for a man to look at me like
that
.

It was a magical afternoon with two great people. After a couple of hours leisurely mooching about on the river, we drifted slowly home. I had a shower and went out onto the front verandah to watch the evening traffic on the river.

Dinner was something else. The main course was a big snapper cooked in foil. Greg had stuffed it with tiny tomatoes and goodness knows what else: he wouldn’t tell me. There was chilled white wine—which, Julie told me, they bring out for special occasions. Greg, of course, doesn’t drink wine or any kind of alcohol, even expensive gifts from his famous mother, Frances.

The author came across as a man extremely fond of his mother to whom, he told me, he owes a great deal. ‘Mum often disagreed with what I was doing, but she always supported me to the hilt. Mum is very keen for us to have children, and we both believe that children call for one’s total commitment. That’s not what a lot of children are receiving at home today, including some of those street girls I talked to.’

Julie put in, ‘We decided we’d have a brief spell before we started a family, but it’s taken longer than I expected. And it hasn’t been for want of trying.’ She laughed and shot a meaningful look at Greg.

‘You’re expecting?’ I asked.

‘Yes, I’m expecting at last,’ she said. ‘Greg is going to get the chance to be a real house husband because he’ll be looking after the baby for some of the time. We’ll have to try for another one or two because I’m not a young bird now.’

‘You look good enough to be a young bird!’ I said.

‘That’s Greg’s exercises, but I’ll have to cut out the more strenuous stuff.’

‘You’re going to carry on with the practice?’ I asked.

‘Oh, yes. The surgical stuff too. At least for a while.’

‘And I suppose your pregnancy is a big talking point?’

‘You could say that. Greg’s mother is over the moon about it.’

‘Does Greg allow you to do any cooking?’ I essayed.

‘Greg used to do virtually all of it, but I’m quite proficient now. I know I’ll never be in his class, while he says he’ll never be as good as his mother, but Frances disagrees. She’s actually used some of Greg’s recipes in her most recent book.’

I stayed with Greg and Julie that night, and the next morning Greg cooked the most mouth-watering omelette I’ve ever tasted. The man is a magician with food. Then the couple came out to the hire car to see me off. They stood together, hand in hand, as I drove away from that magical place with its lush shrubs, copious veggie garden and that long, lovely shining river.

I actually cried after they invited me to come again. I thought it was quite wonderful of Julie. I mean that if I had Greg Baxter, I wouldn’t be keen to share him with anyone else. Not for about ten years, anyway.

Greg is certainly a very deceptive fellow. He’s mild-mannered and softly spoken. If I hadn’t seen him break those planks with his bare hands, maybe I wouldn’t believe what I’d been told about him. Greg’s exterior masks a man of great athleticism and lethal power. If I were a man, I wouldn’t care to have him angry with me.

While Greg has a lot of anger in him, it doesn’t show until he begins to talk about drugs, the decline in morality and unemployment. Greg talks passionately about these problems, and I believe that the anger he feels will be revealed in his books. And you can’t help but agree that most of what he says is right. It’s just that not many people write about these subjects quite so well or anything like as passionately.

So what was my most striking impression of Greg Baxter?

It would be easy to describe him as a great athlete, chef and author, but what touched me most was his obvious love for Julie and hers for him. It was there in a touch on an arm and a quick smile—small outward manifestations of regard for each other.

I’m surrounded by divorced men and women, so I have a somewhat jaundiced view of marriage. My mother, who has been married to my father for nearly forty years, says that many of today’s people have no guts and walk away from marriage when things get tough. I cannot imagine either Greg or Julie walking away from a tough situation. I feel they would weather any storm and come up smiling. If ever two people were made for each other, they are Greg and Julie. It was a real privilege
to visit with them, and I hope that when Greg writes more books I get the opportunity to interview him again.

Greg Baxter packs a massive punch, both physically and as a storyteller. And something tells me that he’s going to make a great father.

P.S.

Dear Santa Claus,

I haven’t asked for anything from you for many years, but please,
please
, can I have a Greg Baxter for my Christmas present? I promise I’ll stop smoking and stop saying ‘shit’, and I will refrain from having lewd thoughts about my sister’s boyfriend. I even promise to go on a diet, begin jogging and attend a gym. I’d like him for this Christmas, Santa.