In his role of protector, Alan took on extra duties in our neighbourhood, trying to keep it safe for us, his family. Being on a quiet road, with just three houses, lots of open space then a curve, and dead-end out of sight of ­passing traffic, attracted the wrong mob. Often unwanted items were dumped there, rubbish, stolen cars (often set alight), unwanted animals and a couple of times women who had been hurt.

On one such occasion a woman walked back down the street to our place, weeping. I gave her a cup of tea, comfort and let her talk. She said she had accepted a lift home only to be taken down our street and assaulted. I asked her if she wanted the police to be called but she said a very definite no. I drove her home. I am sorry to say that I did not follow up, thinking that if she wanted to, she knew my address.

Another occasion Alan found a woman lying down near the horse paddock in a semi-comatose condition after being pushed out of a car and run over. Alan came back to call the police and an ambulance and we both went back to try help her while we waited for them. In that case the man was known to the woman and charged.

Alan was often threatened both by teenagers and adults - including the police. Some of the police had their fingers in the money pie; had been partners in a local brothel. There was rumour that some of the girls were from Cerdon College. Certainly, many locals knew about it, but did not do anything.

Alan found out the supposed house, he called the local newspaper who were only too glad to take it on. They investigated, got the proof then reported it to Holroyd Council before printing in the paper - taking all the glory with Alan not mentioned, thank heavens. Then it was big news in all the papers, the place closed, and some police officers involved were charged, convicted, and jailed. Alan managed to stay anonymous for that one, but too often the troublemakers and the police knew who were making the complaints.

One day I heard a commotion outside our house, when I looked, I saw Alan standing out there and it appeared he was being threatened by a man on the street with a gun in his hands. I ran to our bedroom and got Alan’s rifle. I knew it was empty, but I took it to the door, aimed out and yelled out. They both looked up and saw me with the rifle pointed in their direction. He yelled “It’s alright, I’m not going to hurt him” then quickly took off. Obviously, he did not know my very amateur status. I never tried that at the orphanage. Ha Ha! I am learning new skills.

Alan didn’t have much of an explanation for the interaction, only saying “Just the usual” and then changed the subject by teasing me about handling the rifle and aiming at someone. Accusing me of a crime so we ended up laughing and I forgot to follow up on the cause of the argument.

I recall another occasion that I rescued Alan. Again, another commotion out front, I looked out the front door to find a policeman giving Alan a good tongue lashing. I do not know why but the policeman was violently wagging his finger at Alan as if he was a naughty boy. I was furious at the disrespect that was being shown to Alan, so I walked up to them and said to the cop “SIR you are talking to a grown man, not a child! Please show some respect to him - my husband is a good person and is entitled to respect even if you disagree with him.” I turned and walked back to the house leaving both floored by my approach and words. The orphanage had once more came to my benefit. I was poor at spontaneous displays of affection, but not so at displays of my disapproval!

I asked Alan what had happened, why had the cop come out of his way to see him. Alan shrugged his shoulders, laughed about it, and again just said the usual. I didn’t follow up, of course that was exactly what he wanted, and so it past yet again and I still don’t know.

In July 1982, Alan’s mother Elsie died and his father Jack was devastated. Alan had never returned to England and none of us had visited. Instead we had been keeping in touch regularly through letters and cassette recordings. We decided to send Chris over to England for 11 weeks so Jack would have a distraction during his first Christmas without Elsie. It was a great success and a life defining event for an eleven year old Chris. Barbara and Leslie went together six years later, and John and I went two years after that. We all got to meet Alan’s father and his extended family and see something of the world!

Throughout this time, we were also exploring Australia as a family including road trips during the school holidays. In 1984, Alan had major Coronary Artery Bypass Grafting surgery and the following year we decided to purchase some land close by that we could visit regularly on weekends. We discussed the purchase for a considerable time and Alan spent weekend after weekend exploring locations with the children, narrowing down possibilities then taking me on viewings and deal making.

The decision wasn’t made lightly. Price was of course always the top consideration, his infectious enthusiasm next and finally distance from home. The closer to Sydney we looked, the more land cost and the less you got. Some were out of our league from the get-go, like one with a stream. Next!!

Finally, we found the perfect block! The Land, as we called it, was a 110-acres of bush in Oallen, away from traffic, with a little shed just big enough for six bunkbeds, great fauna, and flora, close to the Shoalhaven River. It was two hours from home and within budget. Sold!!

Alan loved going down The Land, it was his escape and his joy. We would all pack our bags and drive down on a Friday evening for the weekend. It became Alan’s obsession, a place of peace and quiet where he could go bird watching, read books and get the weeks stresses out of his mind and body, coming home a renewed man.

It was marvellous as therapeutic measure and the kids loved being free to roam the bush, build cubby houses and dams, ride their bikes or play games. We’d often go swimming in the Shoalhaven River then sit around the fire in the evening while Alan told stories of Mad Bad Boris the Bolivian Bandit!

Back home, Alan continued to seek ways to improve the Greystanes area in general and our area in particular. Alan would take the kids to the council chambers; they would listen to some of the proceedings but generally had the run of the courtyard. Alan would collar the members of the Greystanes Progress Association, and more importantly the young and enthusiastic politicians. Some became his friends and when he was interested in a project, he would seek their view and support. Unfortunately, the GPA was in decline. They had very little money, declining membership and leadership was unchanged for many years. There was no focus and not much “progress”.

Then the newspapers said that a second Sydney airport was to be built and four areas were being considered for suitability. The preferred location seemed to be not far west of us near Penrith, and that got Alan’s dandy up! His first priority was to fire up and rebuild the GPA and encourage them to get into the fight against the airport. He got in touch with the GPA secretary who was not interested but was willing to hand over the books. Alan took over as President then started organizing, advertising and personally funding the first few meetings until local interest built and generated donations from businesses. He engaged the community by printing and distributing letter drops with the help of the kids and me to a minor degree. He was in his element.

Each meeting more and more locals turned up and by now he had reached out to all the Western Suburbs Progress Associations - they joined the fight and it became big news. It spread West to Penrith, East to Parramatta, down the coast to Wollongong, up the coast to Gosford and everywhere in between. All of those communities were going to be affected - all were definitely in. What a massive achievement!

Alan was heavily involved and was asked to speak everywhere. The anti-airport operation was alive, and everybody wanted in, including politicians who had elections around the corner. All parties were welcome to have their say but the movement remained run by local citizens, not politicians.

I was initially worried about the extra burden on Alan, he had major surgery a few years before and he was frequently tired, but he was thoroughly enjoying himself. He had the bit by the teeth and was not letting go. It was the remaking of him. He forgot his health troubles and his confidence was sky-high. It was his major passion at that time, he was not only loved doing it, but he was doing it very well and inspiring others. People took note of him, admired him, and became his friends - the respect was enormous.

Our relationship was not always roses, at times I’d be fired up by something he said or did. At one time we had a big argument about money, and I threatened to move out, got so far as packing my bag! I had been giving my pay packet to Alan to help cover the bills, but we disagreed on where to spend the remaining funds. Alan was not much of a handyman and our brand-new house, my pride and joy, was starting to deteriorate from lack of maintenance. It needed to be painted and general improvements but rather than spending on the house Alan was buying lots of plants for the neighbourhood. Not fair!

So, I told him that my pay packet was mine from now on. We argued about it, but I stuck to my guns and we discussed how the bills would be split. I also wanted to borrow so I could start the improvement immediately, but Alan stated that he would not sign a joint loan until a few months later, early the following year. Finally, we reached a compromise agreement!

Alan did of course continue to buy plants to try and re-green the neighbourhood as well as buy tools and supplies to fix fences trying to keep the trail bikes out of the nature reserve. He loved nature and was just so interested in everything pertaining to it. Personal glory for this work did not come into it, he just loved Australian nature, peculiar man! He had gathered a group of like-minded people into his surround - for his expanding knowledge, going on outings with them when he could, squeezing their brains - much to their delight. One such person was Arthur McGill; he was much older than Alan, but they formed a close bond bird watching together.

The children were growing and the older two preparing to move out of home. Christopher met and fell in love with Meagan, Barbara met and fell in love with Matthew and their adult lives began. Christopher and Meagan were married in Pittwater, the family staying the night prior and enjoying dinner together prior to the morning ceremony. Alan was very proud but sadly this was the only one of our children’s weddings that Alan saw.

In 1994, it was announced that the 8km canal that ran from Prospect, through Greystanes to Guildford would be replaced by an underground pipeline. The Canal was one of the last remaining remnants of natural Cumberland Plain Woodland in the Sydney basin and contains a number of rare and endangered plant specimens. There was a proposal to sell the land to developers, so Alan started the Canal Reserve Action Group (CRAG) and again mobilized the local community to save this important bird and wildlife corridor. The Lower Canal was made into a public reserve and listed on the New South Wales State Heritage Register.

My love for Alan was not the grand passion that you read about in novels or see in movies. He was my best friend and life partner, but we had some rocky roads to travel after he got sick. He needing time off work, becoming depressed and indulging in self-isolation before it became fashionable. He would go down to the land by himself, when he knew I couldn’t come, although he knew I would worry – I told him often enough.

Would we still be together if he had recovered? I don’t know, the future is the future and I can’t be a fortune teller - no imagination. I thought I always would have stayed married to him, certainly, I was totally faithful to him and firmly believe the same about him. No, divorce was never mentioned, though, of course, if he had thought it would make him happy then I would have considered giving him one.

I honestly think that my earlier life in the orphanage put a stay on my emotional development, except maybe anger which flourished for those early years. That can still unexpectedly explode, unwantedly - Barbara and Leslie can attest to this as living with them both over the last 20+ years they have each suffered by my tongue. Sorry girls.

In 1990, I had decided to reduce my night shift and changed to three nights per week at Little Sisters of the Poor, also taking a role as weekend sister in charge at Parramatta Nursing Home to maintain my pay. Barbara and Leslie both had long stints working there as AINs and John a shorter time as a weekend entertainer. By mid-1996 Alan’s heart started playing up again and I decided to give up night duty, resign from the Little Sisters of the Poor and grow the PNH role full time.

At the end Alan was extremely sick and his doctors advised to redo the bypass surgery. He was extremely worried, upset, emotional - all the things one should try to avoid when such a major operation is pending. He felt that his first heart surgery had caused some deterioration of his mental capabilities and was worried that it could only get worse after a second such operation. I pointed out that these defects, if there were any, didn’t show. He was the leader of the Greystanes Progress Association and the Canal Reserve Action Group. He was well respected in the community and in his accounting work, now at Abbotsleigh private girls’ school, but to no avail. He said he would prefer death to the decline of his intellect.

He did have my greatest admiration love and respect, but I thought that I had somehow cheated him. He was there for me always, loyalty was his middle name, but I wasn’t there for him at the end…

We admitted Alan into Westmead Hospital on Sunday November 3rd, for an overnight stay before his operation the next day. Out of the blue he asked me if I could ask Leslie and John to also think about leaving home sometime soonish, Christopher and Barbara having moved out a couple of years prior. I knew that it was just his present state of mind, the illness, the pain, the worry. It was logical that he would require peace and quiet to recover.

I should have played the waiting game, told him we’d talk about it later but reacting without thinking I said too quickly “No, I couldn’t do that”. It was the first time that the subject had been raised, normally we discussed everything thoroughly before deciding. But the words had been spoken and I felt Alan’s attitude change, he appeared to be looking for a fight to make me go away. I stayed until he asked me to go, as he would like to be by himself. That he was tired. I am sure he felt that I let him down, did not support him although he did not say.

Did I give a kiss goodbye? I’m sure I must have, but don’t remember. I do recall I was becoming annoyed as well. I said I will see you in the morning. His operation was scheduled first up, his last words to me were don’t bother very sourly. That was the last time we spoke to each other. I grumbled all the way home cursing the situation. The next day when I rang, he was already under sedation for his operation.

Barbara Smith collected me from home and sat all day with me at the hospital, awaiting good news. Alan’s operation was long and not without problems, he died on the operating table twice but was revived and eventually, discharged to the ICU. He not conscious of course but the kids and I got to see him one at a time, say a few words and give him a kiss. He looked dreadful, so very cold, and pale. The nurse reassured me it was normal and that he would remain under sedation for a couple of more days. Up until this time I honestly believed that he would sail through, no thought of death had entered my mind. Now I had doubts, I could see there were problems to overcome.

He was stable overnight and throughout the next day. We waited in hospital and eventually left him for the night around 10 pm. Before leaving I asked the current nurse the situation, she was very reassuring and his colour was certainly better, pinkish cheeks. The kids and I got home but just an hour later received a call that there was a sudden deterioration and I might want to come back in. I knew what that call meant - I had made many such calls myself, a nurse is not allowed to notify of death by phone. I was shattered.

The children were absolutely marvellous, organising everything, shopping and preparing for the wake, making me go to the beauty parlour to have a massage, hair done, receiving visitors… the works. Christopher took on my role in organising the funeral, selecting a local company. Thank you. I was eternally grateful to them all. It was a beautiful funeral with people overflowing and I greatly enjoyed the wake! A magnificent send-off, sharing stories and celebrating his short life in the way he would have wanted. Did I feel guilty drinking and laughing? No, absolutely not!

Always in our memories and hearts. Never forgotten!

NEVER VANISHED!