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pocket.’

      Geordie didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry at this artless answer. Big Sister’s response was to snap, ‘No, thank you, Fred. I’ll take your advice about the chess game, and then leave you to talk to Geordie about those things which a gentleman never talks about to good women but can, apparently, discuss with good men.’

      She rose agilely to her feet and stalked to the door of her hut where she turned to bid them both a haughty goodnight.

      Fred said anxiously to Geordie, ‘Why is Big Sister so cross with me? I tried not to tell her about Fat Lil, but she insisted.’

      Geordie hesitated a moment before saying, ‘I can’t explain to you now why she’s so cross with you, Fred. I don’t think that you would understand. But I’m sure that one day, perhaps soon, you might be able to work it out for yourself.’

      Fred nodded. He wasn’t sure that he understood what Geordie was telling him, but said in an earnest voice, ‘I do try to be good, you know, Geordie.’

      ‘Yes, I do know, Fred. Don’t worry about it. Go to bed yourself. Tomorrow is another day.’

      Fred nodded his head and did as he was bid, leaving Geordie to wonder what the future held for Fred and the Moore party now that Fred had remembered one of the reasons why women had been put on earth.

      Chapter Three

      The immediate future for Fred was a happy one. Women were attracted to him, as Fat Lil had been, and Fred Waring soon gained a name for himself as a man for the ladies, particularly since he was always gentle and courteous when with them. He never pestered them if they weren’t interested in him, but when they were, proved to be a joyful and happy lover.

      In short, he took to women as he had taken to the bottle—‘As though,’ Geordie said once to Sam, ‘he’s making up for lost time.’

      He also thought that, one day, Fred’s desire for women might go the same way as his desire for drink and disappear. He was still not sure how much his treatment of Fred had stopped him from drinking and how much it was due to Fred himself. Could it be that the man he had once been before he had lost his memory occasionally took him over—which he had done on the night of the chess game?

      Big Sister was in despair. ‘Who would have thought it?’ she wailed. ‘All those weeks—and nothing. Now this! You ought to try to stop him, Pa. It’s not right.’

      Her father looked kindly at her. ‘He’s a man, Kirstie,’ he said. ‘Fred needs his fun. It was right odd that he never seemed to need it before.’

      ‘Oh, you’re all the same,’ she raged. ‘All that you can think of is drink and women.’

      ‘And gambling and smoking and horseplay,’ said Geordie, laughing gently at her.

      Big Sister rounded on him, too. ‘Oh, you’re as bad as the rest, Geordie Farquhar, for all your education! You should be helping Fred, not encouraging him to go round lifting women’s skirts.’

      She realised that her anger with Fred was making her indelicate, and she began to wonder why she was so cross with him since, after all, he was only doing what the rest of the hairy monsters did.

      She was prevented from answering this question by Allie running in and announcing that Fred had made a strike, and they were all needed to wash the gold out. Organising this, and standing in the creek, overseeing the little ones, collecting the fine grains, and sharing in Fred’s pleasure at his first substantial strike, drove her annoyance at his womanising temporarily out of her head.

      Instead, Fred ended up that night with the choicest chops and Johnny cakes as a reward for being a good hardworking mate. Later, Pa gave him a share of the gold on top of his pay and Fred bought himself a new straw hat and Big Sister a ribbon for her hair.

      ‘A bluey-green one to match your eyes,’ he told her.

      She could scarcely be cross with him after that, particularly as he never said a wrong word to her, or tried to take advantage of her in any way. He was still his usual kind and gentle self, trying to help her a little, so that the entire care of their small party did not fall on her shoulders.

      She was cross later, though, when she found that he had gone to Fat Lil’s Place wearing his new hat, and Lil had seen him in it, and Fred had had a great deal of fun with Lil celebrating his strike.

      Fred’s going out on his own to Fat Lil’s had another consequence since Sam, Geordie and Bart began to include him in their forays into the night life of Ballarat. But he was not only beginning to alter mentally: the physical changes in him were even more striking. After a few weeks of hard labour his body and hands had both hardened: he was all muscle and had become a powerful man, larger and stronger than the majority of those in the diggings.

      Will Fentiman, who ran the boxing booth next to Hyde’s Place, walked round to the Moores’ claim one afternoon to watch them at work. He was particularly interested in Fred.

      Fred had been driving himself hard that day. It was hot and he had stripped off his shirt to reveal his powerful torso. He was about three feet down and, later that day, he was to strike a thin vein of gold which would help them to make a profit that week.

      After watching him swinging his pick for a little, Fentiman said, ‘You’re a big fellow, Fred, and powerful, too. You’ve got a good body there and you use it well. Have you ever thought of taking up the Fancy?’

      ‘Bit old for boxing, isn’t he?’ commented Geordie, who didn’t want Fred’s head hurt again before he was fully recovered.

      ‘Depends,’ said Fentiman. ‘There aren’t many his size. I’d like to see him spar. Can you spar, Fred?’

      Fred stopped and looked puzzled before he found some memory from somewhere. It was odd what he could sometimes dredge up.

      ‘Think so. A bit.’

      ‘Come round this evening,’ offered Fentiman. ‘I’d like to see you in action.’

      ‘No,’ said Big Sister sharply to Fred when he proudly told her of Fentiman’s invitation during their evening meal. ‘You’ll get hurt again.’

      This saddened Fred who liked to please Big Sister, but also liked to please himself. He was proud of his new-found powers and strength and wanted to try them out.

      ‘I would like to go, Big Sister.’

      ‘Oh, let him spar a bit,’ said Sam. ‘He’s worked hard, let him have a bit of enjoyment.’

      Even Big Sister’s flouncing couldn’t change the men’s minds so they all went round to Fentiman’s with him, even Geordie, who privately agreed with Big Sister, but after all Fred was a grown man, even if a slightly strange one.

      There was quite a crowd there watching Fentiman’s stable work out. Later he would ask members of it to try their luck against his men. There was always some fool, Geordie said, who was willing to risk getting his stupid head knocked off in an attempt to gain a few pence.

      Fentiman saw Fred and called him over. ‘Have a go with Dan’l here—he’ll be careful with you until he’s seen what you’re worth.’

      Dan’l was known as Young Mendoza after some famous fighter of the past, Geordie explained later. He was smaller than Fred, but much more skilful. He danced around Fred saying, ‘Loosen up, loosen up.’

      This had an odd effect on Fred—Mendoza was kind and didn’t really hit him hard, but after they had shuffled about a bit and Mendoza shouted, ‘Loosen up,’ again, it was as though a kaleidoscope shifted and the scene before him changed.

      It wasn’t dark Mendoza opposite to him at all, but a laughing sandy-haired giant, blue-eyed and confident, bigger even than Fred, who was saying, ‘Come on, come on, loosen up, you’re tight.’

      And then, suddenly, Mendoza was back again and Fred really had a go at him, remembering

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