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Big End
Big End
Big End
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Big End

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Big End is a coming of age novella set in the midst of the Cuban missile crisis. Eric, accompanied by a recording of Bill Haley and the Comets, is assembling the reconditioned engine of his Ford 10 prior to leaving the provincial New Zealand town of his upbringing and moving to the city to begin university. His girl friend arrives to tell him of the missile crisis. Sarah is a theatrical girl about to move to London to study acting. They are deeply in love but the relationship has not been consummated. They argue over the merits of Fidel and the prospect of the end of the world, joined by Eric's mother, who suffers from the nerves and then his invalid red neck father. The sign writer brother adds to the mix when he announces that his new girl friend is Maori. Meanwhile the radio commentary continues and the end of the world threatens. That night they make love and are discovered by brother and girlfriend, who have decided to get married. A new day dawns, the crisis mounting as the Russian ships steam toward Havana and they argue about Sarah's going and their relationship. She helps him put the engine in, momentarily forgetting the world. They return to global matters to learn that the crisis has been averted. But where is the celebration in this hick town? Eric's mother instead tells them that she has had a vision of God and her nerves are feeling better and the invalid father suddenly walks again. Sarah and Eric discuss their future, with doubtful result and when Eric asks for his birth certificate, his parents have to reveal that he is an adoptee. Sarah arrives that evening for the last time and they make love again in the Ford 10.
The next day Eric waves Sarah off on the train and goes down to the river where he has spent much time during his boyhood. His brother takes him to visit his prospective wife's parents, who are rough but welcoming, before he packs his car and leaves for the city.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherPaul Maunder
Release dateJul 30, 2019
ISBN9780463792995
Big End
Author

Paul Maunder

Paul Maunder has worked in theatre and film as writer and director, winning many awards. He has published a book of short stories, a reflection on the Pike River disaster and a study of NZ Community Theatre. He has written articles for various publications, both local and international, and many of his stories have been read on radio. He is involved in his local community and in national political organisations. He is interested in exploring the way historical circumstance and individual lives intertwine.

Read more from Paul Maunder

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    Book preview

    Big End - Paul Maunder

    Big End

    Paul Maunder

    Te Puawai Publishing

    PO Box 2 Blackball New Zealand

    Copyright 2019 by Paul Maunder

    Distributed by Smashwords

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    1962

    Big End

    ‘Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books;

    But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.’

    Romeo and Juliet

    October 27th, 1962

    09.00 hours

    Adjoining the cemetery at the northern edge of the provincial town, there's a street of ex-state houses, a term has some correlation with ex-prisoner. These houses have been bought by the tenant, transferred into the much-preferred, private-ownership model and have mortgages. A fence has been added, plus some trellis work, the gardens and lawns are well kept, a name is perhaps displayed: El Paradiso or Home Sweet Home, and the owners have painted them in a variety of colour schemes, with special attention paid to the windowsills. These houses, despite being built to a pattern, no longer have the functional sameness of the collective. It’s called Petunia Street.

    Down the drive of Number 31, a 1948 Ford 10 is parked. Its bonnet is raised, revealing a lack of engine, and underneath, the gearbox is propped up on wooden blocks. In front of the car, a sixteen year old boy called Adam is carefully unwrapping the engine parts which have been delivered by the reconditioner. Beside the newly bored block lie the crankshaft and flywheel, the pistons, the rods, the bearings, the piston rings, the valves and springs, the camshaft, and the planed head. School’s finished and he has a job to go to in Wellington over the summer, before he starts university. The record player in the garage is playing Bill Haley’s See you later, alligator.

    Putting the engine back together is a challenge, for this is the first time he’s done it. He is, as it were, virginal when it comes to assembling an engine. And when it comes to other matters… When he took it apart he had drawn careful diagrams. Nevertheless, the daunting task causes his Celtic-derived face to frown. He is of slim build, has intelligent eyes, and is dressed in shorts, shirt and sandals, for it is a warm day. Over the top he wears grey overalls.

    He greases the carefully honed bearings, places one half into the housings on the block, before lowering the crankshaft. He places the caps front, middle and rear, puts on the washers and spins the nuts until they are finger-tight. He takes the five-eighths spanner and tightens the nuts, tugging on the crank to make sure it turns freely, then bangs the nuts tighter with the heel of his hand against the spanner shaft. Finally he bends up the flaps of the washers with a screwdriver. Step one accomplished.

    The sun is now a third of a way along its trajectory. See You Later, Alligator finishes and the street is remarkably silent, apart from the sound of a distant, muffled vacuum cleaner and a baby crying. He glances up to see a woman cycling past, the friction of the tyres on the road and the turning of the pedals producing a murmur of resistance. The bicycle has a basket fixed to the handlebars to carry her shopping.

    He opens the box of rings and takes out the four sets. He lays them on the ground, three in each package, wrapped in greased paper. He grabs a piston and studies the widths of the grooves, unwraps one of the packages, decides which ring goes on the bottom, gently expands the ring so it fits over the piston and moves it down until it slots into place. Then the next, wider one, the oil seal, and finally the top ring, which prevents combustion gases blowing down into the lower engine. He turns the rings so the gaps are not aligned and places the piston to one side.

    He is anxious to get it right. Firstly, it is costing a considerable portion of his savings from holiday jobs, and secondly, when he goes to Wellington, the capital city, he needs a car. He bought this one cheap, for the engine was stuffed.

    09.30 hours

    Suddenly, Sarah, his girl friend, free wheels up the drive, brakes, hops off, throws down the bike and stands panting. She is dressed in the red halter dress he finds very attractive, for it leaves her shoulders bare, and he has more than once slid his hands under the skirt, caressing thighs and buttocks. Her top lip which has the faintest of moustaches, is lined with beads of perspiration and her brown eyes are intense. She swishes back her dark hair from her forehead.

    ‘Have you heard?’ she whispers in a panic-stricken voice.

    ‘What?’

    Her eyes desperately search his face. ‘They’re going to blow up the world.’

    It's hard to know what to reply to such a statement and faced with his silence, she slaps the bonnet of the car angrily. ‘The Americans have discovered there’re missile bases in Cuba. They say they’ll go to war with Russia if they don’t get rid of them and Kruschev has banged his shoe on the table at the United Nations and says he’ll push the button first. It’s the end, Adam, the end of everything. Back to cockroaches.’ She shakes her head, clenches her fists and wipes away a tear.

    It's hard to switch from his study of piston rings to the prospect of the mushroom cloud. He toys with the second piston in his hand, before looking up to find her studying him sceptically.

    ‘Of course, no one in this hick town cares. They just go about their boring hum-drum lives.’ She grabs a rag lying on the ground, examines it for a moment before blowing her nose. ‘I’m going to London and they’re going to destroy it before I get there. I can’t believe it.’

    He still doesn’t know what to say. He rises from his kneeling position, switches on his brother’s radio and waits for the valves to warm up. But it's Garner’s Request session. ‘There’s a special on linen this week,’ the announcer crows, ‘just two and six a yard, so get on down and buy enough for that next frock.’

    ‘See what I mean?'

    But now it's news time. ‘In the latest development,’ the BBC announcer states, ‘a US reconnaissance plane has been shot down over Cuba.’

    ‘Oh God, no…’

    ‘The US Government is expected to mount a military strike. Meanwhile, Russian cargo ships, reputedly carrying missiles, have reached the mid-Atlantic, on their journey to Havana.’

    She grabs his hand. ‘I’m scared, Adam.’ He wraps his arms around her and immediately feels a stirring in his

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