Beach Walker: Chapter 7
Revelations
I didn’t know what to expect — but I didn’t expect this. I’d imagined my friend living in a small modern unit or an old fibro beach shack.
I followed the phone’s instructions blindly as it led me out of town. Pulling into a gravel drive, I stopped. Surely the wrong address? No, this really was it.
Leonard’s property wasn’t grand, but good grief — it was big. The drive curved between sheokes and eucalypts, past paddocks dotted with sheep and black Angus cattle, until the house came into view.
It was modest for all that land. Just a simple farmhouse, barely distinguishable from a Seventies suburban home: a double-fronted, single-storey brick dwelling with a cement-tiled roof. To the right stood a corrugated metal garage, big enough for two or maybe three vehicles.
Leonard emerged from a side door of the garage as I drew up, shutting it behind him. He was wearing grimy blue overalls with a big rip at the thigh, almost indecently close to the crotch. I was careful not to look. He wiped his oily hands on an equally grimy rag.
‘Found it then,’ he grinned. ‘Bit out of the way, here. Come on into the house, I’ll get the coffee on.’ He paused. ‘Unless you want the grand tour first?’
