2. Firefly

When Mum and Dad called it quits early in 1987, I knew life was about to change. For better or worse, I wasn’t sure, but it was something that had to happen. Pop’s car had been stolen. Mum’s car had been set on fire. Drunken rages and abuse were common. There was no doubt that Mum had gotten out in fear for the safety of herself, my 4 year old sister Chantelle and me. It was time to move on.

In early morning darkness at Spencer Street Bus Terminal, Mum and us kids along with her friend Lisa, all boarded a Firefly bus headed for Sydney. I will never forget the day we left Melbourne with nothing more than a couple of changes of clothes and the love and care we had for each other.

The bus driver looked like Ian Turpie and being a young game show geek, all I could think about was Whammies and Big Bucks from my favourite TV show, ‘Press Your Luck’. I’m not sure if Ian Turpie was a sly character like this guy, because he seemed to take a real concerted interest in Mum well before we set off towards the Hume. Despite two young kids and a clear goal of getting out of Melbourne, this guy only seemed to have his own interest at heart. The trek to Sydney would certainly be eventful.

I was pretty tired and must have slept most of the way. We stopped at the Big Ram in Goulbourn for something to eat, not surprisingly, the Ian Turpie look-a-like found his way to our table. I remember people eating tin spaghetti on toast and some eating sandwiches while just about everybody had a coffee or tea. There is no doubt that bus trips of this length are very exhausting, even though you sit on your backside for the entire trip.

A few hours later the bus pulled up in Liverpool. I don’t know why, but we ended up getting off here. Maybe it was to escape the creepy ‘Ian’ who despite being told where to go, refused to back-off. At least now he had to drive on to Sydney while we safe in Liverpool.

Mum and Lisa walked us around for a short while and we came across a caravan park. This would be a great little place within the budget to spend a few days. By this time, it was late night and the reception was manned by a busted-looking old fella. There were no vans available until the morning, so for that night we had to wait around the reception area being entertained with tales of the park and stale biscuits. Man that was one long night. The morning sun had never looked so damn good!

The van that was allocated to us was nothing short of a total disgrace. Mum refused to let my sister and I even go in until she had given it a top to bottom clean-up. In fact it wasn’t just the dust, it was the handfuls of cockroaches, silverfish and various other creepy crawlies that infested the caravan. Mum had her work cut-out!

Lunch that day in the van was unforgettable. We had KFC and I’m sure of this. It was fair to say that Lisa might have made it on ‘The Biggest Loser’ these days and she had the appetite of an elephant! Her chicken bones were so clean and her corn cob completely bare. I don’t remember what I ate, I was too transfixed on watching Lisa demolish more food than I have ever seen.

It was a wet day and Chantelle and I had found an awesome puddle of mud. We must have looked pretty ordinary returning to the van, but that mud was the best to play in. I wonder what Mum was thinking seeing her two kids head to toe in filth. Maybe she was just happy to see us having a good time, knowing we were pretty ignorant to the fact of why we were in Liverpool let alone why we had left Melbourne in the first place.

After cleaning us up, Mum was keen on cooking something up for dinner. We always ate dinner early at 5:00pm. The stove in the caravan was hopeless. Not only would it not light, Mum was unsure if it even had a gas line hooked up to it. Maybe the neighbouring van could help.

A young Maltese man in the van next to us was more than happy to help. I don’t know if at the time he was keen on helping a mother and kids have a cooked meal, or if he again was another one of those guys who was attracted to my good-looking Mum. I don’t know what he did or how he did it, but he got the stove working and Mum was able to prepare some dinner. What a great young guy for helping out.

If I remember right, Mum invited the man for dinner and we ate us a five, squished up in the tiny van. It was handy to be-friend a local who could help us out with where to find everything and areas to steer clear of. Liverpool wasn’t an area to walk down the street alone in the late 80’s. Even today you need to keep your eye out.

This Maltese man claimed to be 21 and told us all to call him Martin. He even had a whizz-bang omelette recipe that he promised to cook up in the morning. Mum placed trust in him and allowed him to visit again the next day to cook up a storm. And a storm it was! Those omelettes were the best ever! I thought it great at the time that Mum had made a new friend and that we had a Male around who would look out for us in this van park. It was nice to feel safe, even though I still wasn’t sure why we had left Melbourne.

Call it fate if you will, but let the story be told. Martin Schraner married my Mum in 1990 and had two children, Beau and Mathew. This year they will celebrate their 22^nd Wedding Anniversary and things couldn’t be better. I went from Lee Peterson to Lee Schraner in school enrolment 1991 and so did my sister.  I haven’t seen my father in over 20 years, but this is irrelevant to my life as it stands today.

I only have one Dad and despite what my Birth Certificate says, I’ll always be proud to say that my Dad is Martin Schraner.

Be sure to login next week for the 3rd Chapter of "Nothing to Prove - The Autobiography of Lee James Schraner"