They travel to the Sunrise Coast by train. Rennie wants to show Vincenzo the beautiful countryside and the way for future trips. He knows that if his brother is familiar with the journey, buses to Satara Bay, he can commute on his own, taking little Pomadina with him.
Vincenzo has bought a summer suit for the occasion and he has also packed a beach towel and bathing costume. He is excited by the fact that Rennie has his own holiday house and motor boat for fishing. Vincenzo is a little jealous of his brother’s wealth; a large house in Curl Curl on a hill, with views to the ocean. A double deck, like a peaked cap on the house, overlooks a swimming pool and an undercroft garage containing his work truck and two cars. Rennie has given him the whole second storey where he sleeps, relaxes, feeds Pomadina, and plays billiards on the largest pool table he had ever seen. Vincenzo is also astounded that his brother’s first wife up and left, just as he was making it big in Australia. He knows there is something strange going on with a woman up the street, but after the first blow-up with his brother, he won't say anything anymore. He’s hoping in time Rennie will spill the Bertolli beans, perhaps when he’s good and ready. When he talks to Maria on the telephone, they both worry about poor Cattania; a child from their village as an exchange wife, and never heard of since.
On the train everything passes quickly, each station showing of blur of faces as they plough through, then a ten minute stop at a river junction before heading directly north.
‘See that fellow,’ says Rennie, pointing towards the window. ‘He’s selling oysters. We get some for lunch.’
Vincenzo pops his head out of the carriage window, and watches the man’s hands extend into the train, while at the same time passengers reach for the slim creamy bottles. The briny air and tang of fishing makes Vincenzo think of home. He could always smell the sea from his rooftop retreat. When he worked in his shop all day, all he could smell was glue and leather. So with the lulling sounds of the clickety-clack, he falls into a deep reverie imagining his own cottage and anchored boat offshore.
‘Another half-hour, says Rennie, ‘and we are there. The bus will take us along Sandy Bay Road, and then two streets down near the water is my bungalow.’
Suddenly a thrust on the rails sends the train rattling through a very long and dark tunnel. Vincenzo makes a mental note that the encircling smoke will give him enough reason to buy a car he noticed in Manly. He hopes next time they might drive along the Pacific Highway, with the fresh mountain air not blocking his sinuses.
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