I Started Crying Monday

I Started Crying Monday

I Started Crying Monday L aurene

Kel ly

PINIFEX

Spinifex Press Pty Ltd 504 Queensberry Street North Melbourne, Vic. 3051 Australia [email protected] http://www.spinifexpress.com.au/~women First published by Spinifex Press, 1999 Copyright © Laurene Kelly 1999 Copyright © on layout and design, Spinifex Press 1999 All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without prior written permission of both the copyright owners and the above publisher of the book. Copying for educational purposes: Where copies of part or the whole of the book are made under part VB of the Copyright Act, the law requires that prescribed procedures be followed. For information, contact the Copyright Agency Limited Cover design by Deb Snibson, Modern Art Production Group Page design and typesetting by Julie Hunt Typeset in Filet and Stone Informal

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication data: Kelly, Laurene, 1954–. I Started Crying Monday. ISBN 1 875559 78 7. I. Title. A823.3 Made and printed in Australia by Australian Print Group

For my mother, for Carol, for my dog, Birri and all my nieces and nephews.

ACK NOWLEDGEMEN TS I’d like to thank Sandra Goldbloom Zurbo for her careful editing. Maralann Damiano, Nikki Anderson and Susan Hawthorne at Spinifex all gave me the support a first-time writer needs.

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Monday Afternoon

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got off the bus. The heat. The heat. All around. In my nose, eyes and ears. I could feel it chok-

ing me, drying up my throat. Suffocating me. It sat on top of the land and refused to budge. I was sick of it. I used my maths book as a fan. Trying to get some air circulating. It made no difference, but it felt as if I was doing something. I started the long trudge home. It must be a month now, I thought. No rain, no breeze, just heat. No one wanted to do anything. The heat was no excuse in the classroom any more. All the rooms had air-conditioning. In fact, it was the only time of the year when everyone pushed and shoved their way into class. The school got it a couple of years ago, when there had been a fatal heatwave. A couple of kids had fainted in the class and had to go to hospital by flying doctor. Rosie Adams, from grade eight, died. Everyone cried, cause she was a real funny kid. Next thing, after the funeral, all these men in suits came and oohed and aahed and the next thing the whole school had airconditioning.

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No one ever wanted to go home in summer, except those kids who swam in the waterhole out on Aboriginal land. My brother Toby and I always had to go home. We never got detention or kept back. We hadn’t ever been to the waterhole, but really wanted to go. Maybe our mum would drive us sometime. There was only one bus way out to Woop Woop, where we lived. It left every school day, punctually, at twenty minutes to four. If Mr Simpson the bus driver was ever late, it would mean a town emergency, like the plane crash, three weeks ago. About thirty kids from the high school and primary caught my bus. Me and my brother were the last stop and had to walk over a kilometre home from the bus stop. Some days we rode our bikes to the bus stop and left them there. Toby had ridden his bike today and I could see him ahead. Mine had a puncture. It wasn’t just the air-conditioning though, that made me want to stay at school. It was going home. It didn’t seem like a real home, more like the home from hell. I stopped to rearrange my heavy backpack, and get out my drink bottle. There were only a few drops left, but better than nothing. The heat shimmered, distorting the horizon. I could see the shapes of

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sheep, staggering about in the dirt. The colour green didn’t figure much in this environment. There was one old gum tree and many of the sheep were crowded in underneath the paltry shade it was throwing. The leaves looked more silver, than green. I could hear some bleating. In the distance I could see the unmistakeable silhouette of a dead sheep. Crows were taking care of the disposal of the body. ‘Poor sheep,’ I said out loud. I started crying. I sat on top of my bag and cried and cried, loudly. I shook my head and strands of hair stuck in my mouth and eyes. I brushed the hair away. ‘Poor, poor sheep.’ I was crying for all of them. The living and the dead. My crying eventually petered out into sobs. It was too bloody hot even to cry properly. What would Dad say if he saw me crying over the sheep? He’d laugh at me and say I was mad. They’re only dumb sheep, he’d say. I was boiling hot. My bag was heavy and my face streaked with tears mingled in dust. I got up and wiped my face with my handkerchief. I stared ahead. I found a hairband and pulled my hair up into the shape of an erupting volcano. One time, a few weeks ago, I burst into tears in class for absolutely no reason. I remembered my Social Science teacher saying, ‘You always feel better after

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a good cry.’ Well the teacher was wrong. I didn’t feel better. In fact, I felt worse. Maybe it hadn’t been a good cry, I thought, maybe it was a bad cry. Maybe you always feel bad after a bad cry. I certainly did. I picked up my bag, looked at the sheep, sniffed and set off again. The trouble is, I thought, I don’t have the energy for a good cry. There were no flowers to look at along the way. No birds, except the harsh cry of the crows. The fences all went in straight lines, the paddocks, big square boxes with fewer than half a dozen trees. There were dry dams and still windmills in the distance. The house was visible, and as I got closer, I could see my father sitting on the verandah in his rocking chair. My youngest brother, Jonathon, was riding around on his three-wheeler bike. My sister, Jenny, was playing in the dirt. ‘If everyone did as you did every day,’ I said angrily to my father, ‘the whole bloody town would shut down.’ He couldn’t hear me. I kicked the dirt in front of me. I knew he wasn’t the only one who had given up. For my family and many of their friends, life was becoming more and more depressing: the town was dying, just like the sheep. No one heard them dying every day. They didn’t even see the carcasses any more.

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The heat was grinding its way into everyone’s moods. The only people who weren’t irritable most of the time were those with air-conditioning. Electric fans came a poor second. I walked with my head down, remembering what many kids at school had been saying more and more. ‘Mum and Dad had another fight about the guns last night. Mum wants Dad to get rid of them.’ ‘So did mine,’ someone else would pipe in. ‘Dad says we need it to get food, the way things are going.’ ‘We already catch our food,’ said someone else. ‘Dad says people kill people, not guns.’ Some of them laughed at this because they knew guns killed people. Imagine, I thought, pointing your finger at someone and saying, Bang, you’re dead. Sure! The same argument went on in my house, often. Sometimes it scared me, but mostly I was used to it, and thought, Here they go again. I sometimes wondered what would happen if my mother and father were nice to each other. I imagined the conversation. ‘Hello, love of my life, mother of the most beautiful children.’ ‘Hello gorgeous husband, love of my life, father of our children.’ Then they would kiss, like in the movies, and my brothers and sister would smile at them like angels,

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just like in the movies. Then there would be this music, and happiness would spread out, even to the sheep. I knew it was crazy, and wondered if I was crazy. I don’t ever remember my mother and father getting on. All I remembered were fights and arguments and violence. In the movies, children come wrapped in love. How come after me, they had Toby, Jonathon and Jennifer? Why did they have more children, even though it seemed like they hated each other? It was something I didn’t understand. At school they talked about the creation of babies coming from an act of love between adults. Obviously this was the only act of love my parents were still capable of. I remembered when my mother brought Toby home, how Dad accused her of him being the travelling salesman’s child, and my mother replied something about him not being wise enough to know his own children or something. They fought while Toby screamed. It was me, at the age of three, who went and comforted him. I couldn’t believe when Mum had two more children after Toby. Two more to bring into the war. I hoped that they were the last. I mean, I loved Jonathon and Jennifer. It just was sad that Mum and Dad’s shouting scared them and made them cry. It was me who would try to distract them and

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take them outside, away from Mum and Dad. I’d try and make them laugh by playing some silly game with them. It usually worked, but sometimes in the night, the fighting would wake them and it sometimes took ages to get them back to sleep. It made me angry, and sometimes I would shout at Mum and Dad to shut up for the kids’ sake. Our dog Jesse came running to greet me. Jumping in the air, doing twists. The only creature with energy to spare, I thought. ‘Hi ya, Jesse,’ I said affectionately as I tried to pat her between jumps. She was five years old and our only working dog. I had fought for Jesse’s freedom to be both a worker and a pet, although she wasn’t ever allowed inside. My father said that dogs are chained up when they’re not working. End of conversation as far as he was concerned. Not for me, no way. This was my crusade and I knew I was on the side of right. Jesse wasn’t just a dumb animal; she was a spirit, just like us. Dad said I was a loony and should get decent books out of the library instead of the crap I read. What would he know? He never read any of my books! This was one of my only victories over Dad. My stubbornness and determination that I would never give up beat him in the end. It took four years, and

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even Mum had ganged up on me. It was one time my unhappy parents were united on something. A working dog is a working dog is a working dog, they said. Every time Jesse wasn’t working, I would let her off the chain and play with her. I got more beltings in my campaign to free Jesse than you could count on both fingers and toes. The more Dad belted me, the more determined I became. He eventually gave up. After that I noticed a new wariness in him towards me. As I got closer to the house I could hear Mum screaming at Toby. The only thing happy in this heat, I thought, are the flies. The numerous flies, that no longer waited for the sheep to die, but started eating them alive. Only some heard their suffering. Everyone said, ‘Can’t afford the bullets.’ I thought about the sheep and knew that the whole town and farming community had hardened their hearts to the suffering of the sheep. They marked themselves one more notch further from humanity as far as I was concerned. They denied the sheep the mercy, that they alone as humans could give. ‘Can’t afford the bullets,’ I scoffed. The flies buzzed in happiness; their ever-present drone grew to be part of the aural environment. I put my bag down and Jen came running up to me, grabbing my legs and hugging them.

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‘Hi sweetie.’ I picked her up and gave her a kiss. ‘Look at me, look at me.’ It was Jonathon riding towards me, very fast. ‘Slow down, buster, don’t run us over.’ I put my hand out to stop the bike as it almost collided into me. He laughed. I roughed up his hair. ‘You need a haircut, mate,’ I said. I put Jennifer down. ‘Mum’s going to cut it tomorrow,’ he said. Everything was tomorrow to Jonathon. ‘Haircut,’ Jennifer said as she touched her hair. It was funny, she had straight hair like me, and Jonathon had curly hair like Toby. ‘Not you, sweetie,’ I said. ‘You don’t need a haircut. It’s beautiful, it’s like mine.’ She grabbed my hand. I loved the feel of her little fingers curled into mine. I looked at my father. He had a bottle of beer: half full I’d say, half empty he’d say.

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Monday Afternoon at Home

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s I plonked my bag down, I saw Toby crying at the table.

‘What’s up?’ I whispered. He shrugged his shoulders. I was about to ask him more, when Mum turned around. ‘Why are you so late?’ Mum demanded. ‘I’m not late,’ I replied. ‘It’s so hot that I walked slowly so I didn’t die of heat exhaustion on the way.’ ‘Don’t exaggerate. Now get out of those school clothes and help me with the dinner. Do you have any homework?’ ‘Yes. We’re doing an assignment on jeans, but it doesn’t have to be handed in till next Monday.’ ‘Well, I’ll help you with it later, I just want to get the dinner and the children sorted out, so I can put my feet up.’ Mum looked out the window. She pursed her lips and the lines on her face became severe. ‘Unlike some lazy bastards, who have had their feet up all day.’ Her anger at my father actually cooled the room down.

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I changed slowly into shorts and a baggy T-shirt. I wished I could have a cold shower, not that the water would be cold, but we were on strict water rations. It felt as if all over the place people had got harder and meaner. People started blaming others for their misfortune. Fights between the white population and the small Aboriginal population, who lived mostly on the outskirts, were becoming more common. Even the people who ran the Chinese takeaway and the Greek milk bar were thinking of moving. I overheard Mrs Pappas telling her mother in a hushed voice that things were getting worse, and that she didn’t feel safe in the town any more. People were beginning to resent their ownership of the milk bar. The takeaway had graffiti saying, ‘Asians Out’, even though both Mr and Mrs Syuin had been born in Sydney. The only thing the community came together on – atheists, agnostics and Christians alike – was praying for rain. They’d sit staring at the horizon asking for clemency from the gods, begging for relief, promising all kinds of future good deeds if the gods relented and brought an austral wind that would cool the burnt earth. This would be the best preparation for the deluge. Because they all agreed on that. When it broke, it would break big time. It was

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feast or famine in this country. Droughts and flooding rains . . . The one line of poetry everyone in the town knew. That is how they saw it as they moaned on and on to anyone who would listen. They’d try to draw the dark clouds, the far-off lightning, the distant rumbling thunder with their prayers. ‘Please rain.’ They would beg as one. While they waited for the rain, an ugliness was sweeping in through the cracks. Friendships began to strain. It created a new thing for my parents to fight about. My father had received a pamphlet for a meeting in the town. A guest speaker was coming to gather support for an end to immigration and handouts to Aboriginal people. My father said that the Aborigines wanted his land, and he’d fight to the death to stop them. And he didn’t want the country overrun with Chinks, either. He’d fought in the Vietnam war and he knew what they were like. He said you couldn’t trust them. He also said he was keeping all his guns, because he had to protect his family. From what, none of us knew. He’d rant on about the government plotting to take his guns so the small man couldn’t fight back when the time came, and the time was coming, he was sure of that. The enemies who were so real to him, were invisible to us. My mother said he was being ridiculous and that the little he knew, he owed to his ignorance.

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My father was born here. My mother came to the town to teach at the local primary school. They’d met at the annual Farmer’s Ball. He’d been conscripted when he was eighteen. At the age of twenty-six, he had returned to help out on the family farm. His father had become ill and a year later was dead. My dad promised to keep the farm going, even though he had never wanted to be a sheep farmer. He wanted to be an engineer and had started university a year after he had returned from Vietnam. But three-quarters of the way through the course, he gave it up. It was the right thing by his father, the wrong thing for himself. It became a curse after the seventh year of drought. My Aunt Jean, who lived in Sydney, told me that my parents had fallen in love at first sight. I asked her about them on one of Aunt Jean’s rare visits. I found it so hard to imagine. I didn’t tell my aunt about Mum’s beatings, when Dad was angry. I didn’t tell her about Dad’s drinking. I didn’t tell her much at all, I thought later. Why not, I wondered? My aunt had done most of the talking. About a sister who she felt she didn’t recognise. The changes, she said, had been dramatic. She thought Mum looked ten or more years older than her real age. I was shocked to realise that my aunt, only two years younger, looked more than ten years younger than Mum.

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‘It’s because she never had children,’ my mother had snapped when later, in an innocent way, I had asked about it. Or a violent husband, I’d thought, but wouldn’t dare say. They had married when Dad was twenty-eight. Mum had been twenty-four. I thought about the photo of their wedding and tried to picture whether they were smiling or not. I was born first. The same day that Indira Ghandi was assassinated, 31 October 1984. My mother had told me my father was disappointed that I hadn’t been a son. Which had made it even weirder, his reaction to Toby, I thought. Although I suppose if he truly believed he wasn’t Toby’s father, that would explain it. ‘Julie, what are you doing?’ My mother’s voice interrupted my thoughts. ‘Coming.’

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Monday Night After Dinner

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fter dinner, which Dad didn’t eat with us, Toby and I washed up. Mum put the little

ones to bed. I could hear her reading them a story. Toby was drying the cutlery. ‘Why were you crying? Dad would have killed you if he’d been sober enough to see!’ ‘I hate this family, I hate them,’ he answered. I’d never seen Toby looking so coolly angry. The knife looked ominous in his hand, as he clutched real tight. He stared out the back window at the shimmering horizon. In the distance the cumulonimbus clouds gathered in angry conference. ‘Tobes, don’t cut yourself,’ I said as I took the knife gently out of his tight fist. I’d used my nickname for him to try and break the feeling of hate that he blasted out of every pore. He came back to me. ‘Don’t you hate ’em, sis?’ He stopped staring outside and looked at me. Some of my friends reckon that Toby has beautiful eyes, and that it’s a pity he isn’t a little bit older. ‘Course I hate them. I hate the fights,’ I answered.

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‘Sometimes I want to run away, run away to anywhere.’ Now I was angry. I glared out the window and washed the pot with extra muscle, slopping the water about. ‘Why did they have more children when they make our lives so miserable?’ Tears came to his eyes. ‘Even little Jen can’t handle it. You can tell. She’s a scared little kid.’ ‘I know Tobes, I know.’ I was thinking back to that first time I held him. My little brother. Some sisters and brothers don’t get on at all, but I think I am lucky that we only have stupid little fights sometimes. We live with so much fighting that somehow he and I have always had this pact that we wouldn’t be like them. I’ve always tried to protect him. I still do. I taught him how to disappear out of a room, once they started fighting. Eventually it became a bit of a game and both of us nearly wet our pants laughing sometimes. We’d do things like pretend we were being strangled, or shot, or in a boxing match. They wouldn’t even see us as they roared like dragons at each other. One of our favourite games used to be imitating them. We had our secret private spots where we would pretend to be Mum and Dad. We never hit each other. We would make up these stupid voices and say the most stupid things, like:

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‘You bastard.’ ‘You bitch.’ ‘Bastard.’ ‘Bitch.’ We would see how long we could go on and how many different ways we could say it. God, we laughed. We always had only each other. Toby said the spaceship dropped us off at the wrong family. ‘Have you kids finished the washing up?’ Mum came into the kitchen. ‘Nearly.’ ‘Well, hurry up. Don’t go near your father, he’s drunk.’ Our mother wiped down the benches. So, what was new? ‘Why does he have to take up all the porch?’ Toby asked Mum. ‘It’s the only place any of us can be cool.’ ‘Because he is a bastard,’ was my mother’s reply. ‘Well stuff him, I’m going to sit on the verandah.’ ‘Toby, don’t use that language in this house.’ ‘What language? Australian?’ He’d gone too far. She slapped him across the face. ‘Listen to me my boy, one bastard male in this family is enough. Got it? You’ll speak to me with respect or not at all. You hear?’ Don’t say anything, Toby. I was begging him with my mind. Don’t say anything.

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I could tell he wanted to cry, but he had learnt long ago, boys don’t cry. It seemed so stupid. If Mum hit me that hard across the face, I’d be expected to cry. If I didn’t, she’d say it was me being defiant. I’d probably end up with two slaps. If Toby cried, he’d get two slaps for being a wimp. Not a man. Well, for God’s sake, he wasn’t a man. Just an eleven-year-old kid, who felt pain like any other creature. Toby showed good sense and kept his mouth shut. He looked at me and I could see the tears in his eyes. They weren’t tears of pain or humiliation, but tears of despair. ‘Jesus, Mum, how come you’ve turned out so much like Dad by hitting us?’ My anger made me want to say something for once, clearly. I wanted Mum to see that we had had enough and would run away if they kept hitting us. We’d learnt in school that violence was not approved of in our society. That it was in fact a crime to assault another person. Mum knew that. Wasn’t it her who had told me who Mahatma Ghandi was? He used to be her hero, him and Nelson Mandela, she reckoned. I waited for the explosion. I was scared, but stared at her, holding the pot. I decided that if she came at me, I was going to hit her with it and run away.

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‘Go to your room,’ she said in a feeble voice. ‘Get stuffed.’ The slap stung. The anger, and what looked like hatred, in my mother’s eyes shook me. I put the pot down and went to my room. It wasn’t worth fighting with Mum. I could never win. I felt worse than I had ever felt in my life. ‘Why was I born?’ I cried into my pillow. I heard Dad yell at Toby to get him another beer. I heard the fridge open and close. I heard the screen door. As I cried weakly into my pillow, I wondered if Toby would sit on the verandah.

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Tuesday at School

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was amazed. I’d slept for hours in the heat of the night. I felt better. Maybe I’d had a good cry,

I thought. As Toby and I walked along to catch the bus, he said, ‘Why don’t we run away?’ ‘To where?’ He looked at me. ‘Any God damned place, far away from here,’ he said it with an American accent and I laughed. ‘Why, we could go to New York,’ I said like an American bad guy. ‘Why not Chicago?’ he laughed back. ‘How do you spell Mississippi?’ ‘Why, Ma’am, I don’t believe I know,’ he said, bowing. We walked along. ‘Why is it so bloody hot?’ he said. ‘El bloody Niño or something, they reckon.’ ‘Look at all the dead sheep.’ ‘Oh Toby, don’t.’ ‘They call this farming,’ he said. ‘I never want to be a farmer. Never, ever.’ I believed him. I didn’t either, but what I wanted to

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be I hadn’t a clue. Sometimes I thought air hostess or hairdresser, but someone told me that flying is really bad for your health, and that hairdressers work with a lot of chemicals. I haven’t really decided. Mum wants me to be something. Anything but a farmer’s wife or a checkout chick, she says. Once she said it would be good if I wanted to be a lawyer or something, because I am a lot like her sister, Aunt Jean. ‘It’s really hard to run away from here, isn’t it?’ Toby interrupted my thoughts. ‘Sure is. Only one road, one train, one plane.’ We both stared up the road to see if the bus was in sight. In the distance we could see its dust cloud, travelling independently behind. We could see Mr Simpson’s bald head. ‘Here’s Homer Simpson.’ ‘More like Marge! Ha ha.’ ‘We will get out of here some day, Toby. Don’t you worry. I would never go anywhere without you. Okay. Remember that, brother.’ ‘I know, sis,’ he replied, a tear in his eye. ‘I know we’ll stick together.’ As the bus pulled up he wiped the tear away. I had Social Sciences and English. I couldn’t concentrate and got into trouble, as usual, in both classes. It wasn’t serious. I wasn’t sent to Mr Stupid’s office. That’s what we called the headmaster. He

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was old and all he worried about was rubbish in the schoolyard. The real scary one was Mrs Kilpatrick. The deputy. We called her Mrs Killacatholic. If you were sent to her, it wasn’t just picking up papers in the yard, it was learning hundreds of lines, then reciting them back to her. Phew. At lunch time, Janie Porter told us that the police had come to their place last night. Her father had lost it and her older brother had rung the police. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the most dramatic, because their mum had told the police to lock their dad up and throw away the key. ‘Do you think they will throw away the key?’ she asked me, as if I was an authority. ‘No. It is just an expression.’ All the others kept quiet. Alice asked if any of us liked our fathers. There were six of us sitting on the ground, all girls. ‘I do,’ said Jo-Anne Carter. ‘He sometimes yells, but he never hits any of us, including Mum.’ ‘Mine isn’t too bad,’ agreed Ruth Osborne. ‘You’re lucky,’ Janie said. ‘Geez, I wish my father was someone like Tom Croydon in Blue Heelers.’ ‘They’re just made up,’ I said. ‘No one has real fathers and mothers like on

TV.’

‘You don’t say much about your father,’ someone said.

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‘Nothing to say,’ I said, ‘he’s a bastard. Simple.’ Ruby Watson said, ‘What about your mum?’ I had noticed that Ruby didn’t say anything about her father either, but I didn’t say anything. ‘My mum is the one who yells and throws things in our house,’ Dawn Boyle said. ‘Mum’s a bitch,’ someone else said. Did anyone have happy parents, I wondered? Was it that you only hung around with kids like you? All the kids with happy parents hung around with each other, and all the unhappy ones together. It made sense. I scanned the schoolyard while the conversation went on. It became just noise in the background. Somehow I got through the afternoon classes. Others misbehaved more noticeably than me, so I had avoided much trouble. The bus stop was chaos. Kids throwing other kids’ bags, people punching and pushing. Kids swearing. Some of the older kids were smoking. Buses came and kids piled on. Drivers tried to assert their authority by laying down the law. No one could argue much because of how far out of town their various farms were. Town kids didn’t need the bus. I went to my usual seat and was glad none of the drooby boys had spat a great big gooby or worse. Toby was sitting with a couple of friends. When we reached our stop we said thanks and see

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you to Mr Simpson. We watched the bus driving off. ‘Home sweet home,’ I said. ‘I just hope for once they aren’t fighting.’ ‘I hope for once Dad is off the verandah and not drunk. That he’s actually doing some work.’ ‘Do you reckon it will rain?’ ‘God, Toby, you sound like a farmer!’ ‘Don’t say that, or I’ll tell Lenny Bruce that you love him. Ooh la la. Julie loves Lennie, Julie loves Lennie.’ He skipped off. ‘Shut up, Toby, I don’t even like Lenny.’ I was mad. ‘Toby, come back here.’ He stopped. ‘It’s too friggin’ hot to bloody skip.’ He sat on his bag. ‘Who told you I liked Lenny? He’s a dork. I don’t like him. In fact, I’m going through a celebrant phase.’ ‘A what?’ ‘A celebrant stage, dummy.’ ‘What does celebrant mean, professor?’ ‘It means you don’t have a boyfriend.’ ‘I’ve never heard that before.’ ‘Exactly. It is a mature word for mature people.’ I stuck my nose in the air and started walking as if I were the queen or somebody. ‘Hey, wait for me.’ The house came into view. ‘He’s on the bloody verandah,’ I spat out.

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‘He hasn’t got a beer by the look of it.’ I peered hard to see if I could see as well as Toby that he wasn’t drinking. It looked promising. We reached the verandah. ‘Change your clothes and help me get the car going.’ Dad was speaking to Toby. It was funny because when I was eleven, I always helped Dad with the machinery. Soon as I got my period, he wouldn’t let me help. It was another incomprehensible. He just said, ‘It is not a woman’s job and your mother tells me you are a young woman now.’ At first I cared, but after a while I was glad not to be getting all that grease and stuff under my nails. It was so hard to get out. ‘Hi, Mum,’ I said as I shut the screen door. ‘Still bloody hot.’ ‘Don’t use that language and yes it is still bloody hot.’ You couldn’t win with parents. ‘What’s wrong with the car?’ I asked. ‘I don’t know and I don’t care. I hope he can’t fix it. He’s out of beer and I’m sick of him spending the money we don’t have on alcohol. Where’s Toby?’ ‘Dad asked him to help get the car going.’ Mum stopped folding the clothes and went to the back door. ‘Toby, Toby,’ she called. This is the bit about parents that bugged me the most. The way

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they would use us in their fight. If Mum told Toby he couldn’t help Dad, then Toby would be in hell. How would he decide who to obey? Just then I heard the car start. Mum slammed the door. ‘I hope he kills himself,’ she said. I didn’t know if she meant it or not. Well, at least we’ll be able to sit on the porch tonight, I thought. Dad wouldn’t be back for hours. If Mum could forget about him for a minute we might be able to have a nice evening. I had a lucky charm I carried around in my pocket, not that it had brought me much luck. Well, that’s not quite true, because there is good luck and there is bad luck. I sure had my share of bad luck. Maybe my lucky charm brought me bad luck. I got it out of my pocket. ‘Help me put the clothes away, and then you can do the ironing that’s left over.’ ‘Yes, Mum.’ I put the charm back in my pocket and decided that I would look in the school library tomorrow for a book about charms and luck.

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Tuesday Evening

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he thunder was louder now. It was still far away, but it sounded as if it were moving closer.

Toby, Mum and I sat on the porch. The little ones were in bed. The sun was setting but it was still stinking hot. ‘Can we go to the waterhole one day, Mum?’ Toby asked. ‘Your father won’t let you,’ she replied. ‘We could go without telling him,’ Toby persisted. ‘It wouldn’t be worth the price we’d all pay if he found out.’ Mum sounded different. It was as though since last night something had changed. I thought she was going to cry. ‘Are you all right, Mum?’ I asked. ‘I . . . oh, it doesn’t matter,’ she said. Something must be wrong. She’d usually tell me to mind my own business. I didn’t give up. For some reason, I felt safer tonight. ‘Are you sick?’ ‘No. My only sickness is having stayed here for so long.’

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God, this wasn’t like Mum at all. She wasn’t yelling. She was speaking quietly. I suddenly felt a cold chill. I shivered and stared at the clouds in the distance. ‘What’s up, Mum?’ Toby sounded worried. ‘Oh nothing, darling.’ She often called Toby darling. I couldn’t ever remember her saying it to me. A pang of jealousy stabbed at my insides. Maybe she loved Toby more than me because he had a different father. Maybe she really loved him and didn’t love my dad. I didn’t know for sure, but I wondered if Aunt Jean knew whether Dad was Toby’s real father. Maybe I’d write her a letter. ‘Do you want me to get you a cup of tea?’ I offered. ‘That would be lovely. Thanks.’ No darling, dear or sweetie. Oh, well. I went into the kitchen. I switched on the light as the sun had almost gone. What was going on with my mother? I hoped she wasn’t pregnant again. Surely not. Jonathon was only four and Jennifer two. We didn’t need any more kids. My parents weren’t fit to have another child. I wondered if I could ask her without getting my head bitten off. What would I say? ‘Mum, are you pregnant?’ Seemed pretty straightforward. What if she said yes? Do I dare ask her? I don’t want another fight. It is so peaceful without Dad. Could I do it? The kettle squealed and I jumped. I put the pot and cups down.

28

‘Mum?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Well I was wondering . . . um . . . well . . . you know . . . um . . . well . . .’ ‘I don’t know, and don’t say um,’ she answered sharply. This was more like the mum I knew. Maybe it was best just to forget it. If she was pregnant, I’d soon know. It wasn’t something she could hide for long. ‘What is it, Julie?’ ‘Um . . . why won’t Dad let us go to the waterhole?’ ‘Because he is a bigoted bastard. That’s why.’ ‘What’s bigoted?’ Toby asked. ‘Do you know, Julie?’ This was mum the teacher asking me. ‘I think so. Is it when you think someone is bad because they are different to you, like how some people talk about the Aborigines.’ ‘Yes, that’s a pretty good definition. You know about Hitler, don’t you Toby?’ ‘Sort of.’ He looked at me as if to say why did I ask. Sometimes when Mum wasn’t stressed out by everything she would talk to Toby and I about what she called the big picture. She made us read the weekend newspaper every week. She’d ask us questions about what we’d read, but she hadn’t done it for ages.

29

‘Well, Hitler was the reason we had what they call the Second World War.’ ‘Like Anzac Day and everything,’ Toby said enthusiastically. ‘Well, not quite. That’s about Gallipoli, but that is a different story.’ ‘Why didn’t they call the war Dad fought in the Third World War?’ ‘Oh, Toby, let’s just talk about Hitler for the minute.’ ‘Dad’s coming,’ I said. In the distance we could see the lights of a car. It was still miles away, but we knew it was him. Mum’s lips went tight and she clutched the seat. It was Dad’s rocking chair. It was like, even before he got here, Mum prepared for a fight. ‘I will tell you about Hitler some other time.’ ‘No, Mum, tell me now. Dad will be half an hour. He isn’t even at the first grid yet. You can tell. Surely it won’t take that long to tell me about this dude.’ ‘All right. Hitler became the leader of Germany in the thirties.’ ‘Was that when you were born, Mum?’ ‘Don’t be silly or I won’t tell you.’ ‘Just joking.’ ‘Anyway, he believed that the German, or what they called the Aryan race, were the superior race.

30

He turned the German people’s hatred and suspicion on to the Jewish people mostly. He also hated blacks, Gypsies, homosexuals. He wanted to rid the world of these people to make it a purer place. He told lies about them and stirred up neighbours to turn on their neighbours. It went on for many years and eventually the Allies defeated them in war. At least six million Jewish men, women and children lost their lives because of a bigoted madman.’ ‘Six million?’ ‘At least six million.’ ‘So Dad is like Hitler?’ ‘Yes. Instead of him having a whole country though, he only has his family where he can play Hitler.’ ‘Mum!’ I said. ‘Mum, you shouldn’t say that.’ Even though Dad, especially since he started drinking more, had turned into a horrible person, I didn’t think Mum should talk about him like that to us kids. ‘I’m sorry, Toby. No your father isn’t as bad as Hitler, but believing that other people – because of their colour, religion or ethnic background – are inferior is ignorance. Don’t be ignorant you two. Don’t be like your father with all his prejudices.’ ‘Mum, why do you stay with him?’ The question was out of my mouth before I’d thought about it. No way did I mean to ask that

31

question. I can remember another time when I asked and Mum just shouted, ‘Because of you, you bastards.’ She was silent. She looked out to the horizon. I wondered if she was thinking, or if she already knew the answer. Would she answer? Maybe I hadn’t asked it out loud, just imagined I did. She turned and faced me. I looked straight back, praying I wasn’t going to cop a mouthful. ‘I stayed because I thought it best for you children. I didn’t have any money and just couldn’t see any way out of here. Now that Jonathon and Jennifer are here, I don’t know if I can put them through what you have been through.’ She started crying. ‘Mum, Mum.’ Toby put his arms around her. ‘Don’t cry Mum, we’ll all run away, won’t we Jules?’ He looked at me for confirmation. I shook my head signalling don’t say anything about us having talked about it. ‘Yeah, we could all nick off. Catch the train. We could stay with Aunt Jean in Sydney. It would be cool,’ I said. I looked at Toby. His eyes were shining with excitement. He didn’t know that a couple of years ago, Mum had told me to keep a secret. We were going to leave Dad and go somewhere he couldn’t find us. I waited and waited. I’d even packed. It was before Jonathon

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was born. I kept hoping Mum would say tomorrow, but she never did. She got pregnant, and we never ever talked about it, except for when she abused me the last time I’d asked why she stayed. Dad’s car was getting closer. The sky had got dark. ‘Look. First star!’ I said. ‘Star light, star bright,’ I started. Mum and Toby joined in. ‘Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight.’ We all shut our eyes. I scrunched mine up and wished. Oh, if only they came true. We all looked at each other and I wondered if we had all wished for the same thing. The lightning was putting on an extravagant show on the horizon. ‘When will it rain?’ Toby said. ‘Maybe you children should get inside and go to bed before your father gets here. Who knows what sort of mood he’ll be in.’ ‘He’s not chasing me off the verandah,’ I said. ‘It’s too hot to sit in a stuffy little room. At least it feels a bit cooler out here. I love watching the horizon, all the different flashes, wondering where the lightning will strike next.’ ‘I’m staying,’ Toby agreed. ‘He can go to hell.’ ‘Toby.’ ‘Well, he can, Mum.’

33

‘Oh, dear. Dear dear,’ was all she said. The car pulled up. Dad staggered out, carrying a carton of beer. ‘Well, isn’t this a beautiful sight,’ he said. ‘My loving family, all sitting waiting for me.’ ‘Ignore him,’ I whispered. ‘Joan, Joan.’ That was my mother’s name. ‘I won a carton of beer and the meat tray.’ He put the carton down and staggered back to the car. ‘Don’t say anything, Mum, please.’ Toby and I both stared at her. My hands were wrung together and I stuck my nails into my hand. He got the meat out and put it on the verandah. Mum got up. Oh no, what was she going to do? She picked up the meat tray. ‘That’s nice,’ was all she said. ‘Bloody ungrateful bitch.’ ‘Shut up, Dad. Mum said it was nice! What more do you want?’ Oh God, here was I yelling at him when I’d begged Mum not to. ‘Don’t you start, it’s bad enough having one bitch in this house.’ Mum turned and said, ‘Ignore him,’ and smiled at me. We laughed. ‘What are you laughing at?’ Dad demanded. ‘You, you bloody idiot!’ said Mum as she walked into the house.

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He yelled back, but for some reason tonight was different. She ignored him. He sprawled out on the chair. Opened a can of beer. ‘You kids should’ve seen me playing pool tonight. Cleaned up the table, and won a few bucks into the bargain.’ I found it hard to believe I could ever be proud of my father. I knew I ought to be. He was a Vietnam vet, and had some medals. He never talked about the war, just said it was the worst time in his life, except for the mates he made. I knew he had nightmares about it because sometimes, especially when I was younger, I would wake up hearing him screaming. Looking at him now, wiping froth off his mouth, eyes glazed, red blotches on his face, I felt a pang. It surprised me. I thought I hated him, but knew I loved him. I felt like crying all over again. Crying for who he had become. I went inside, quietly. Toby stayed. ‘Goodnight, Mum.’ I went and gave her a kiss. I hadn’t done it in ages, but I really loved her tonight.

35

CHAP T ER

6

Wednesday Morning

I

was the first up and I was enjoying the peace. Mum was next.

‘You better wake Toby,’ she said. ‘I don’t want him missing the bus.’ I went into his room. I could tell he was pretending to be asleep. His breathing gave it away. I sneaked up and pulled his doona off him. ‘Don’t,’ he shouted. ‘Get up.’ ‘No. I’m never getting up again. I’m just going to lie here and die.’ ‘Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. You’ll miss the bus if you don’t hurry.’ ‘I’m never getting out of this bed again.’ He pulled the doona over his head. ‘Toby.’ I tried pulling it off him but he held on tight. ‘Look, Mum’s in a good mood. You don’t want to ruin that, do you?’ ‘I don’t care, I hate them all.’ ‘What is the matter with you?’ There was no reply, but I thought I heard a sob. ‘Are you getting up Toby?’ It was Mum’s voice. ‘Hurry up.’

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‘I hate you,’ he screamed back. Oh my God, this was going to be trouble. I hoped Mum hadn’t heard him. What was wrong with him? If it was me, I could have said

PMT,

but I don’t

think boys get it, even if they are nearly twelve. I whispered, ‘I hope Mum didn’t hear you.’ ‘I don’t care,’ was his reply. Mum stood in the doorway. ‘Toby, get out of bed this instant.’ I still couldn’t really tell if she’d heard what he had said. ‘Toby, do as you are told this minute.’ Her voice had the tone I dreaded. I was willing Toby to just get up, get dressed and carry on as usual. Jonathon called out to Mum that he wanted his breakfast. It distracted her. I put my hand on the doona and whispered, ‘Please Toby, just get up.’ He ignored me. ‘Wait on, Jonathon. Julie, go and get the children their breakfast.’ I looked from her to Toby. I didn’t want to leave him. I wanted to know what was wrong. This wasn’t like him. He was usually up before me and always seemed in a real hurry to get out of the house. What had changed? ‘Go on Julie, I’ll sort Toby out.’ I went into the kitchen where Jonathon and Jen were sitting on the floor playing with a cardboard box. ‘Do you want your breakfast?’

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They both said yes. I put Jen in the highchair. ‘What will we have for breakfast today?’ I said. ‘Lambs tails?’ Jonathon said yuk and Jen just nodded. I dished them up some cereal. I could hear Mum and Toby. She kept on telling him to get up and he kept saying no. All of a sudden the door to where Dad slept opened. Jonathon and Jennifer cringed. ‘What is going on?’ he shouted. ‘Can’t a bloke get his beauty sleep without having to put up with all you bloody kids and your noise.’ He could sleep forever and he still wouldn’t be beautiful, I thought. I wasn’t going to dob Toby in, so I said nothing. He looked at me and I turned away and wiped Jen’s mouth. ‘Where’s your Mum?’ ‘I . . . I’m not sure,’ I lied. I gave it away by looking towards Toby’s bedroom. I would be no good as a spy. They would get things out of me in no time. Oh well, at least they wouldn’t have to torture me. He stormed in there. ‘What in the bloody hell is going on?’ I followed him. As soon as Toby saw him, he jumped out of bed faster than I have ever seen anyone jump. He grabbed his school clothes. ‘Can I have some privacy?’ he said. Mum and I looked at each other. ‘What is going on?’ Dad asked again.

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‘Nothing,’ Mum said. ‘It is unusual to see you up at this time of the morning,’ she said to him in a sarcastic voice. She walked back to the kitchen. ‘It’s all the bloody noise. Can’t you keep those bloody kids quiet?’ Mum ignored him. ‘Now I’m up, I may as well stay up. Get me some breakfast.’ ‘Get it yourself!’ Oh, no! Usually of a morning I got to school without having to listen to them arguing because he never was up. It was the last thing I needed. I grabbed my bag. ‘See you,’ I said hoping I could get away. ‘Bye J and J,’ I said, giving them a kiss. ‘Have you got your lunch?’ Mum said. ‘Yes,’ I lied. God, I was lying a lot today and it wasn’t even seven o’clock. I hoped she wouldn’t want to see it. ‘You can wait for Toby,’ she said. I knew she meant so I could find out what was wrong with him. ‘He can ride his bike. He’ll catch up while I’m walking.’ Mum didn’t want another argument so she gave in. I was surprised to see Dad serving himself some cereal. Maybe he couldn’t be bothered either. I saw him hold his head and knew that was more likely

39

the reason. He had a hangover and if he started shouting it would hurt him more than anyone else. ‘Julie.’ I’d just stepped off the verandah. It was Mum. I turned around. ‘Don’t get the bus home after school. I’ll meet you in town. I’ve got shopping to do,’ she said it in a soft voice, continually looking back into the house. ‘But you usually do it Fridays,’ I answered. ‘Sshhh,’ she said loudly. ‘Just do as I say and tell Toby.’ ‘Are we going to . . . ?’ ‘Sshh,’ she said again, and went back into the house. I walked along, deep in thought. Toby came up behind me on his bike; I got a fright. ‘Don’t sneak up on me like that,’ I said crossly. He looked a bit shocked. ‘What was that all about this morning?’ ‘Nothing.’ ‘Don’t say nothing. It obviously was something. You were carrying on like a right pork chop.’ This was one of Dad’s expressions. Even to this day I don’t really understand how a pork chop carries on. ‘I just didn’t want to get up. Okay?’ ‘Whatever. Mum said not to catch the afternoon bus and to meet her in town.’ ‘What?’

40

‘Yeah, she said it to me before I left. I don’t know if it means anything, but it might mean what you think it means.’ ‘How do you know what I think?’ ‘The look on your face.’ ‘Oh, yeah, what do you think it means?’ ‘I’m not sure, but it could be that we are going to leave him.’ ‘Just like that.’ ‘Maybe.’ ‘Will we say anything to our friends?’ This was something I hadn’t thought about. Leaving my friends. I’d known them since I’d started school. Lots of kids’ parents fought but very few left their partners. ‘I don’t think we ought to, just in case we don’t.’ I suddenly felt very sad. I didn’t want to leave my friends, the school or anything. Why couldn’t Dad just go? That would be the best, then not everyone else’s lives would be disrupted. ‘I wish he’d just go.’ ‘You know how you went to bed last night, and I stayed on the verandah?’ Toby said ‘Yes.’ ‘Well . . . well. No, I’m not going to tell you.’ Toby rode off quickly. I ran after him. ‘Toby, Toby stop,’ I called. ‘It is too bloody hot for me to chase you. Stop!’

41

He was at the bus stop, and I could see the bus. It wasn’t far away. I got there just as it pulled up. ‘Morning, Mr Simpson.’ ‘Morning, Julie and Toby. I’m a bit early this morning.’ ‘Yeah.’ We both went to the back of the bus. ‘Tell me, Toby.’ ‘No.’ ‘Go on. You were going to.’ ‘I’ll tell you this afternoon, all right?’ ‘Why not now?’ ‘I just don’t want to talk about it.’ ‘Is it something bad?’ He looked at me as if he was weighing up the answer. I thought it ought to be easy enough to decide if something was good or bad. ‘Well is it?’ ‘I’m . . . I . . . well . . . I’m not sure if it’s good or bad.’ ‘How can you not know if something is good or bad ?’ I persisted. ‘Look, I’ll tell you after school. Okay?’ The bus had stopped to pick up the next lot of kids. There were six at this bus stop and they were noisy. ‘Quiet!’ shouted Mr Simpson. One of Toby’s friends sat next to him and I felt shut out and unnecessary. I stared out the window at the lonely land passing by, wondering what the day would bring. 42

CHAP T ER

7

Wednesday Afternoon

I

had a hard time concentrating at school. Even my friends noticed I wasn’t my usual self. Two

of them asked me what was up, but I couldn’t share my thoughts. A couple of times I nearly let it out accidentally that I may not see them again. I wasn’t sure if Mum was going to do it, so I thought it best just to keep quiet. My best friend, Jane, pestered me for a while, but I couldn’t even tell her. What if it didn’t happen? I’d feel like a real dork. I was impatient for the end of the day so I could meet Mum. Finally, the school siren announced school was out. Kids piled out of everywhere, running and screaming, bags flying. You could hear some of the teachers trying to get control. I looked for Toby but couldn’t see him anywhere. I saw his friend Rick. ‘Seen Toby?’ ‘No.’ Where was he? He knew we were going to walk into town together. I went to the bus stop. It was hard to tell if he was there or not. The bus we usually caught arrived. I thought I better tell Mr Simpson that we

43

weren’t catching it. Still no Toby. Maybe he walked into town with his mates. I went to the milk bar first, but he wasn’t there. I saw a couple of boys from his class across the road. ‘Have you seen Toby?’ I called to them. ‘Yeah,’ one of them answered. ‘Where?’ ‘He got kept in for calling Mr Peters a prick.’ I was shocked. Toby usually had a pretty even temper. Something pretty serious must have happened for him to lose it like that. I crossed the road. ‘Why did he do that?’ ‘Dunno.’ The boy looked at the other two. ‘Do any of you know?’ ‘Well . . . I think I might,’ Jimmy Allen answered. ‘Why?’ ‘It was Mr Peters’s fault. He called him a bastard. Toby had drawn a spastic picture of Mr Peters smoking a big joint and looking zonked out. Peters found it in his desk and dragged him. I was near the window and I heard Peters say, “You little bastard”. Toby said not to call him that, and then he called Peters a big prick.’ The boys all laughed. ‘Peters said he had to stay back, even though he knew Toby had to catch the bus home. Peters said he didn’t give a shit. He got detention and had to

44

write one hundred lines saying “I must respect my teacher at all times”, and “I must not swear”. What an idiot Peters is. Everyone knows he smokes dope. You can smell it on him.’ ‘I reckon Toby is cool,’ said another. ‘Teachers! Peters is a big prick.’ They all laughed again. ‘Thanks,’ I said. I walked over to the town memorial and sat down. I looked for Mum’s car but couldn’t see it anywhere. If Peters kept Toby in, that meant he would be in town in about another half hour. I hoped he turned up before Mum did, then he wouldn’t have to say anything about detention. Because I’d lied about taking my lunch, I’d only had half of one of Jane’s sandwiches to eat all day. My stomach was rumbling something terrible. I thought I was going to die of starvation. I didn’t have a blooming cent on me. If Mum had told me sooner than this morning about meeting her in town, I could have scraped up enough for some chips or something. I wondered if Mr Pappas, the local milk bar owner, would let me have some credit until Mum got here. Trouble with Pappas was that if you asked him for anything he expected to be able to grope you in return. I couldn’t face it. I saw Toby dawdling up the street. I called to him.

45

I hoped he had some money on him, or food, or something. He came up to me. ‘I heard what happened,’ I said. ‘Gee you should’ve known you’d get into trouble. You can’t swear at teachers.’ ‘He is a prick,’ said Toby angrily. ‘Did you hear he called me a bastard?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘How come he can swear at me, but I can’t swear at him? Adults make me sick with their saying you can’t do this, but I can.’ ‘I know it’s unfair, but you know you’ll cop it.’ ‘I don’t ever want to be a adult if it means I’m going to be a hypo . . . hypocrite.’ This was a big word for Toby. ‘What was up with you this morning?’ ‘This has been the worst day of my life. Where’s Mum?’ ‘Don’t change the subject. You were off the show this morning. Did Mum hear what you said?’ ‘What?’ ‘You know what! Gee, Tobes, what’s going on? You know you can trust me.’ He looked at me with those deep eyes. For a minute I thought doubt crossed his face. ‘Sometimes you can’t just say what you feel. You just don’t know what to say.’

46

‘Well, try by answering my questions.’ I was serious. He nodded. ‘Where’s Mum?’ ‘Don’t know.’ We looked across the road to the town’s only supermarket. There were a few cars, but none was our Falcon. Usually she had the shopping done, we’d go to the library, then home. She used to say to me, ‘You don’t need to learn to do the shopping. You’ll have all your adult life for that.’ It was her way of saying something that I wasn’t quite sure I understood. ‘Have you got any money?’ ‘Not much.’ He took a gold coin and some silver from his pocket. ‘Don’t forget, Toby, that we are in the middle of a serious conversation, but go and buy me some chips. I’m starving.’ He didn’t argue about it. Just took off. Anything to delay talking. I hoped Mum wouldn’t turn up before I found out what was up with him. Oh, and of course before I finished the chips. In my head I could hear Mum saying, ‘Don’t eat that crap. It’ll make you fat and ugly.’ I should have told Toby the biggest bag and a cold drink. I looked up at the town clock. It said twenty past eleven, which it has said forever. I guessed it to be about half past four.

47

I saw kids in shorts heading to the waterhole. Ruby Watson saw me and came over. ‘What you doing?’ ‘Waiting for Mum.’ ‘Why don’t you come down to the waterhole and cool off, girl?’ ‘I . . . I . . . I can’t.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘Mum would kill me.’ ‘Go on, live dangerously. You could tell the dirty ol’ man across the road to give her a message.’ I thought about it and thought I could even tell Mrs Thompson in the library. If we weren’t at the memorial, Mum would think we were in the library. She’d still kill me. ‘My brother is with me.’ ‘He’s got the most beautiful eyes,’ she said, smiling. ‘He can come too.’ Just then, Toby came back. He had a big bag of chips that he had already opened, and a drink. ‘You know Ruby, don’t you?’ I said as a way of introduction. ‘Sort of,’ he said. ‘Hi. You want some chips?’ Ruby shook her head. ‘I’d like a drink but.’ He passed her the bottle. I couldn’t eat the chips in front of Ruby. She passed the bottle to me. I took a big swig. It felt good.

48

‘Where’s bloody Mum?’ Toby said, looking at the town clock as if that would help. ‘Ruby asked us down to the waterhole.’ ‘Let’s go.’ ‘We can’t. You know why.’ I gave him the look that said, D-A-D. Remember? ‘Dad’s a prick,’ he said. ‘I thought you said because of your mum,’ Ruby said to me in quite a hostile way. ‘It’s because of Mum,’ I lied, and of course went red. How embarrassing. It felt as though I’d been caught in something really bad. I hated lying, but sometimes you just had to. Especially when you didn’t want to hurt people’s feelings. I couldn’t say, ‘Ruby, Dad hates blacks’, now could I? ‘Look,’ I said, after thinking that I didn’t care what Dad said, because I didn’t agree with him, ‘we could leave a message with Mrs Thompson at the library.’ ‘Cool,’ said Toby. ‘What about your dad?’ Ruby said to Toby. ‘Who cares?’ He shrugged. We walked over to the library. Ruby waited outside. We went up to Mrs Thompson, the only living thing in the library. She said a lot of people in this town don’t read anything except lies in the local and national newspapers. She had a little fan blowing at her face, which made reading difficult.

49

‘Mrs Thompson,’ I said in my best goody goody voice. ‘Yes, dear.’ ‘Um . . . we were wondering if you could give our mum a message?’ ‘Is your mother coming in today, dear?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘She seems later than usual,’ she said as she looked at the clock on the wall. It told the right time. Twenty to five. ‘It’s so hot that Toby and I are just dying. Would you?’ ‘Yes, certainly dear.’ ‘Would you please tell her,’ I hesitated, ‘um . . .’ I looked at Toby for support. ‘Tell her we’ve gone to the waterhole with Ruby,’ he blurted out. ‘Hold on,’ she raised her hand, ‘that was a bit fast for me, Toby. Would you please slow down.’ ‘We are going to the waterhole with Ruby,’ I said. ‘Are you allowed?’ We looked at each other. Why was I confronted with another bloody situation where the truth could be more trouble than a little lie? ‘Well . . .’ I looked at Toby. He turned away. This is when being the older sister means leaving responsibility up to me. He’d be able to say to Mum that

50

he never said we were allowed. ‘Mum wouldn’t mind,’ I said. Let’s leave it at that, I thought. ‘What about your father?’ Don’t say he’s a prick, I glared at Toby. He got my meaning. ‘I know your father was at that meeting a fortnight ago. I saw him there.’ She looked stern. ‘I was protesting outside when he went in. In fact, I spoke to him.’ Toby and I were as still as a roo, waiting, listening to see if there was danger around. ‘I deplore racists,’ she said with vehemence. ‘There is no excuse for ignorance in this day and age. No excuse at all. Now, where were we? That’s right. Your father.’ Mrs Thompson looked out the window. It was so quiet that we heard the minute hand on the clock tick over. ‘You know I taught him?’ she said. It seemed like she wasn’t talking to us but talking to her memories. Her eyes were glazed. Toby and I snuck a glance at each other. Ruby stuck her head in the door. ‘You fellas coming, or what?’ she said. ‘Hello, Ruby,’ said Mrs Thompson. ‘Why don’t you come in?’ ‘Too hot,’ Ruby replied. ‘Well, you coming, or what?’ she said to us.

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‘Just wait a minute,’ Mrs Thompson said. She looked at us. ‘All right. I will pass the message on. Now, no swimming in the altogether.’ She laughed. What did she mean? The altogether. Oh, I got it. The nude. God, as if we would! ‘She’s a good ol’ duck,’ said Ruby as we walked away. I wondered what in the hell Mum was going to say. Well, we didn’t have to tell Dad. He need never know. Our hair would be dry by the time we got back. It would be up to her. I knew we would never tell. We were going to have a swim. We only had one dam that went above our heads at home, but it was pretty foul from the sheep, so we hadn’t swum in ages. Oh, my God, another problem. What would I wear? ‘Ruby?’ We all stopped. ‘Ruby, I haven’t got any bathers.’ ‘Don’t worry, girl. I got shorts and a T-shirt you can borrow.’ We looked pretty much near enough the same size. Both of us were a little bit plumper than we wanted to be. Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t that anorexia thing. It wasn’t our imaginations. It was a fact. When she was in a kind mood Mum said that it was all part of the age I was. All to do with puberty and the changing hormones, but that I also had to

52

watch what I ate, like, no rubbish. The things my mum considered rubbish were the things I like best. It’s weird that! I wondered where she was.

53

CHAP T ER

8

Wednesday Night

M

um hadn’t turned up by six thirty. I was lying on the bank under a huge gum with Ruby

and some of her family. It was still hot but I felt so cool from all the swimming. It had been magic, jumping into the cool rockpool. Toby was still in, playing with some of the other kids. One of Ruby’s aunties had said that no one knew how deep it was and that some people had disappeared trying to find out. There were rocks you could sit on and it was just beautiful. Not muddy like our dams. It was a deep green in its depths, with a lighter green surface. You felt it was really clean. It was the best thing I had done in ages. I felt happy and had even forgotten about Mum. Well, not really, but nearly. ‘Your mum mustn’t have got to the library yet,’ said Ruby. ‘It is strange,’ I said. ‘Even if she wasn’t going to do the shopping, she’d still have to come and get us.’ ‘Maybe she’s talking to Mrs Thompson.’ Ruby suggested.

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‘Maybe. I just hope it’s her and not Dad,’ I said. I hadn’t meant to say it out loud. ‘Why?’ ‘Well, he probably wouldn’t even go to the library. Straight to the pub and he’d expect us to find him there.’ ‘They go on about us mob being drunks. Just seems you white people are invisible when you are.’ ‘My dad is a bloody alcoholic,’ I said. ‘So’s one of my uncles,’ she said. ‘I’ll walk back into town with you if you like.’ ‘No, it’s okay. I’m not going just yet. If he is at the pub, then we’d just have to wait hours.’ ‘What is he like, your dad?’ Ruby asked. Where do you begin? How do you answer a question like that? ‘He used to be better before he started drinking.’ I sat up and started pulling bits of grass out of the ground, not that there was much to pull out. ‘When did he start?’ ‘A couple of years ago. He said it was the drought. He’d been in Vietnam and sometimes he said that was the reason. He was on these tablets for a while, but I don’t know if he still takes them.’ I stopped. Ruby wouldn’t be interested in all this. ‘What about your dad?’ I asked, changing the subject.

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‘He’s dead. He died in prison,’ she said flatly. ‘I miss him.’ I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t think it was right, asking why he was in prison. He could be a murderer, or rapist or something. I’d never met anyone who even knew anyone in prison. ‘Want to know why he got locked up?’ she asked. ‘No. I mean, if you want to tell me, that’s okay, but I don’t want to ask.’ ‘For nothing,’ she said. ‘Nothing?’ ‘Yeah, nothing.’ We both stared into the distance. The heat was still dancing off flat plains. ‘It cut Mum up real bad, but at least she didn’t go on the bottle, like some do when tragedy gets ’em. She had six of us to bring up.’ I thought she was going to cry, but she didn’t. ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘he was picked up for some fines he owed. They were years old. One of them was for killing a protected animal. Can you believe that? His own tucker. He argued in court, but the judge was another racist bastard, so he fined him the max. Dad refused to pay. It was about four years later that the new cop came out one day with a warrant for Dad. He ran, but this young cop was faster. Dad had a crook leg. He charged him with

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more things and the next thing Dad is in jail. It was the same bloody judge and he sent him to the big house for two years.’ She stopped and looked at me. I thought I better say something. ‘That is terrible.’ It didn’t seem enough. ‘It happens all the time,’ she said bitterly. ‘They reckon Dad hung himself, but no way would Dad do that.’ ‘Did anyone investigate it?’ She looked at me like I was stupid or something. I went red. I could feel my cheeks burning and tears filling my eyes. ‘You’re gammin’.’ I didn’t know what to say. I had never known anyone sent away to jail. Sure the police had come to our place when Dad had brought attention to himself. They never took him away though. I wondered if it would have been different if he’d been Aboriginal. ‘I don’t want to talk about it any more,’ Ruby said. ‘Just makes me upset.’ ‘I’m very sorry,’ I said, and I was. It wasn’t as if it was my fault, but I felt sorry for her and her people the way they were treated in their own country. I knew it was getting late because the sun was low in the western sky.

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‘It’ll rain before the weekend,’ Ruby said ‘You reckon?’ ‘I know,’ she said, and smiled. I believed her. ‘I hope it does, the whole country needs it.’ Ruby was about to say something but she stopped. ‘I reckon I’ll have one more quick swim and then head into town.’ ‘Do you want to ring your house?’ ‘If that’s all right.’ ‘Yeah, sure. Come and use Aunt Joy’s. We can’t afford one in our house.’ We walked through the grass along a very wellworn track. We came to where all the houses were pretty close and all made out of fibro. ‘Aunt Joy,’ Ruby called out. There was no reply. We stepped up on to the verandah. ‘Aunt Joy,’ Ruby opened the screen door. ‘She must be somewhere.’ Ruby went looking in the other rooms. I stood in the loungeroom. ‘She’s not here. She might be at Mum’s. There’s the phone.’ She pointed. ‘Thanks.’ I dialled our number. The line was dead. Maybe a car had hit the telephone pole or something. It had happened before. I hoped it wasn’t Mum and the kids. If she’d come to town surely she would have gone to the library. Maybe she was too

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scared to tell Dad where we were. He’d definitely be in the pub. I looked at Ruby. ‘Do you know the time?’ She pointed at the clock. It said ten past eight. ‘The line’s dead. We better get going. I hope nothing has happened to them.’ I put the phone down. ‘Gee, I hope you don’t get into too much trouble.’ ‘It’ll be all right,’ I said even though I didn’t know if I believed that myself. I certainly hoped it would be. Toby was still in the water. ‘One more swim,’ I said. I jumped in and swam over to Toby. ‘We have got to go.’ ‘Now?’ ‘Yeah, now. It’s after eight.’ ‘Shit.’ ‘I tried ringing home, but the line is dead. Probably the heat or something.’ ‘What? That’s weird.’ ‘Come on, let’s go. Maybe Mum is too scared to come out and get us and is hoping we’ll turn up so we can all say we were at the library.’ ‘Yeah.’ We got out. Ruby was talking to her mother. I waited, trying to catch her eye. Finally she turned around.

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‘Thanks for inviting us,’ I said. ‘We really have to go.’ I said goodbye to her mother. ‘Thanks,’ said Toby, ‘that was excellent.’ ‘Catch ya at school tomorrow,’ Ruby said to me. I felt good. Maybe Ruby would become my best friend. We walked really fast back into town. ‘The library will be shut by now, you realise.’ ‘I know. I wonder where they are?’ ‘Well, if Dad’s in town, we’ll know where he is. I can’t imagine Mum being in the pub with the kids though.’ I was puzzled. We got to the memorial. We couldn’t see the Falcon anywhere. Dad would have parked around the back of the pub so the cop couldn’t see how long he was drinking. He was stupid sometimes. Didn’t he realise cops know about pub’s back carparks? They’re not that dumb! Our car wasn’t at the back either. ‘I better go in and ask Jack, I suppose.’ ‘Why don’t we try to ring again? Why isn’t Mum at the library? Why isn’t she here to pick us up? Where is she?’ ‘I don’t know. You go and try phoning, I’ll ask Jack.’ I went in. A few people were sitting at the bar. Not Dad though. A couple stared at me. I didn’t care. They were all drunks like Dad, as far as I was concerned.

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‘Excuse me, Mr Evans, have you seen my dad?’ ‘No Julie, he hasn’t been in today.’ ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Positive.’ He was pouring a beer. What was going on? Where were Mum and Dad? I went outside. Toby was walking back from the phonebox. ‘Still dead,’ he shouted. ‘Dad’s not in the pub either. He hasn’t been there all day.’ We looked at each other, puzzled. This had never happened before. There is no way Mum would leave us in town like this, especially this late. ‘What will we do?’ ‘I don’t know. I don’t want to walk twenty bloody kilometres.’ ‘Neither do I. Do you think something has happened, like a car crash or something?’ We sat down at the memorial. ‘This is weird.’ Toby agreed. I didn’t know what to think. My mind was a blank. ‘Maybe we should try ringing again,’ Toby suggested. ‘Yeah, but if the line is dead, it will take ages for them to fix it.’ ‘Why do you think the line is dead?’

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‘I don’t know, but remember that time that possum got caught in the wires and all the phones stopped working? The poor possum didn’t survive, remember that?’ We tried again. Still dead. This was getting serious. ‘Maybe we should go to Mrs Thompson’s place.’ ‘Yeah.’ The lights were on. I could see her sitting reading. I knocked on the door. ‘Who is it?’ she called out. ‘It’s me, Julie Rogers.’ ‘What are you doing out there at this time of night?’ She came to the door. ‘Mum hasn’t come to pick us up.’ ‘Come in, come in.’ ‘We tried ringing three times but the lines must be down or something.’ A look of alarm flashed across her face. ‘That is odd. Sit down. What’s your number? We’ll try again.’ I told her the number. She dialled it. I could tell no one answered. ‘I hope nothing is wrong,’ she said. ‘Have you had anything to eat?’ We shook our heads. ‘Well, come on we’ll rustle up something and think about what we can do.’

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Her kitchen was clean and tidy. We sat at the table. ‘How about an omelette?’ ‘That would be great. Is there anything I can do?’ ‘No, it is all right, dear. Just sit.’ I couldn’t help having this sinking feeling in my stomach that something was wrong. Why weren’t they here? I looked at Toby. He looked worried as well. ‘What do you think has happened?’ he asked ‘I don’t know.’ We sat in silence. ‘Here’s your omelette.’ Mrs Thompson handed us each a plate. It looked good. Even though I was starving, I didn’t feel hungry. Mrs Thompson said, ‘Eat up. I’ll go and make a few phone calls.’ She left the room. I ate a mouthful, then another, and before I knew it the plate was clean. Same as Toby’s. Mrs Thompson came back. ‘Now don’t you worry. I rang Sergeant Cooper and he is going to take a drive out to your place to see if anything is wrong.’ She was pleased to see our plates clean. ‘There’s some fruit in the fridge, if you’d like.’ ‘No thanks, I’m full,’ I answered. Toby did the same.

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‘Well, if you want anything else, just tell me. I’m having a cup of tea. Would you like one?’ I said yes, but Toby didn’t because he doesn’t drink tea. ‘I’ll just have water, thanks,’ he said. Mrs Thompson sat at the table with us. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll find out soon enough.’ ‘Yeah,’ we both said at the same time. She asked us questions that we answered. I knew she was just trying to keep our minds off thinking bad things. It sort of worked. It seemed like hours later, there was a knock at the door. I jumped. ‘Don’t get up,’ Mrs Thompson said, ‘I’ll go.’ We could hear voices at the door but couldn’t hear what was said. She came back with Sergeant Cooper. ‘Evening Julie and Toby,’ he said. ‘Have you been out to our place?’ I asked. ‘Yes,’ he said, hesitating. He looked like he didn’t want to say any more. ‘I’m sorry to say, there has been an accident.’ ‘What’s happened?’ I shouted. For a moment I didn’t think he was going to answer me. He looked very uncomfortable. He pulled at the collar of his shirt. ‘I don’t know how to tell you this. I’m very, very sorry, but there has been a fire. It’s a tragedy, no

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doubt about that. I’m afraid your mother and brother and sister are dead. Your father is alive. He has been taken by Flying Doctor to Sydney. He has some pretty bad burns, and they don’t know how it will go, but keep your fingers crossed, eh.’ I felt like something had hit me really, really hard. I was speechless. Toby had gone really white. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not Mum. No, no!’ ‘I’m sorry son.’ Sergeant Cooper went and put his hands on Toby’s shoulders. Toby started crying. Mrs Thompson ran to him and put her arms around him, trying to soothe him. His sobs were loud. Sergeant Cooper looked away. I hoped he wasn’t going to say anything about boys not crying. Why wasn’t I crying? I was too shocked. ‘What happened?’ I asked ‘We don’t know yet. Some police are coming from the city to try and figure it out. It has been so hot and you just don’t know what can cause a fire. Because you are at the end of the road, no one saw the smoke. Does your mum usually have a sleep with the little ones during the day?’ ‘I d . . . don’t know.’ I stifled a sob. ‘I don’t know, cause we’re at school. She might in this heat.’ I had no idea, and I suddenly thought maybe I will never know. I wanted to punch the walls and scream and throw things. I had to stop myself. What would Mrs

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Thompson think if I suddenly went berserk? Oh Mum, Mum, why have you deserted us? Poor Jonathon and Jennifer. How could they be dead? They were so young and now they would never grow up. I saw their faces and felt a stabbing pain in my chest. I couldn’t believe I would never see them again. My little brother and sister. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. ‘You two can stay here tonight,’ Mrs Thompson said, her voice quivering. ‘We will have to sort things out in the morning.’ ‘I have to ask you if there are other relatives of your mother’s who we should get in touch with?’ Sergeant Cooper said. ‘Only Aunt Jean in Sydney,’ I told him. Toby had stopped crying but he looked lost. I went and put my arms around him. ‘It will be all right,’ I said. ‘We’ve got each other.’ ‘It’s not fair,’ he said. Sergeant Cooper left. Mrs Thompson walked him to the door. ‘I’ve got just the thing for you two,’ Mrs Thompson called. ‘Rescue Remedy!’ She came back in the room with a little brown bottle. She extracted some with the eye dropper. ‘Under your tongue, Toby.’ He opened his mouth. ‘You too, Julie.’ She put a few drops in her own

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mouth as well. ‘Do you mind sleeping in the same room, or does one of you want the couch?’ ‘We . . . we don’t mind. We have no pyjamas or anything.’ ‘Don’t worry, we’ll find something. You poor, poor children. I know it’s very hard to take in now, but if you want to talk, I’ll listen.’ Tears had come to Mrs Thompson’s eyes. She quickly looked away. Silence filled the room, it was as if we were all alone in our thoughts. It was too hard to say anything, it was all so horrible to think about. I thought about Mrs Thompson saying she would listen if we wanted to talk, but what could I say? I just wanted to go to bed, shut my eyes and hope it would all go away. I said, ‘It seems so unreal, I can’t believe it.’ I gulped back a sob. ‘I think I’d like to go to bed now. Maybe we could talk more in the morning.’

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CHAP T ER

9

Thursday Morning

I

couldn’t believe that as soon as my head had hit the pillow, I’d slept like a log. When I woke

up I had no idea where I was. I was also a bit surprised to see another bed in the room, with Toby in it. He was still asleep. It took a little while for it to sink in that something had happened the night before. It came back to me in a big rush. Mum and Jonathon and Jennifer were dead. Dad was in hospital in Sydney. I got up and pulled the curtains. The world looked the same outside. But I felt different. I couldn’t really describe it. It was as though I was in a cloud, everything a bit swirly. I could hear noises in the kitchen. I grabbed my clothes. ‘Is it all right if I have a shower, Mrs Thompson?’ ‘Certainly dear. I’ll get you a towel. How did you sleep?’ ‘Fine.’ I hesitated. ‘I thought I wouldn’t, but it hasn’t really sunk in yet, you know, my mum, Jonathon and Jennifer being dead and Dad in hospital. I suppose it will become more real today.’ I held back my tears. ‘Well, don’t worry about that now. Have your

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shower and then we’ll talk. Toby still asleep?’ I nodded. ‘Why don’t we leave him for a while longer.’ The shower felt like heaven. I could have stayed under all week but knew that everyone had to use water sparingly. I reluctantly turned off the taps. The mirror was all steamed up. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to look at my face or not. Temptation got the better of me. I couldn’t tell if I looked different, now I was nearly an orphan. Somehow my eyes didn’t seem to see anything. I stared at myself. That is me, I thought. Julie with the straight hair and blue eyes. I studied my mouth trying to work out if my lips were thin or thick. People said you could tell if a person was kind or cruel by their lips. What sort of lips did Mum have? Dad had a moustache, so you couldn’t see his top lip. I could see his face clearly. Why his? I tried to imagine Mum, but my eyes filled with tears. I thought of Jonathon and Jennifer and started to cry. I sat on the floor, scrunching up the towel. I could see their beautiful smiles, the way they laughed, their twinkling eyes. Why? Why? Why? I cried and cried and didn’t know if I was ever going to stop. I suddenly imagined flooding Mrs Thompson’s bathroom and almost laughed. I wondered if you could run out of tears. I wondered where tears came from. If there were little sacks

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behind your eyes that held them. There was a knock on the door. ‘Are you all right, dear?’ I wiped my eyes. ‘Yes,’ I answered. ‘I’m nearly finished.’ I stood up and looked in the mirror. My face was puffy and red. I washed my face with cold water. It helped. I hung up the towel wondering how long we would be able to stay with Mrs Thompson. We wouldn’t be able to go back home if it was burnt down. Oh God, I had hardly thought about what that meant. What would be left? That would be the first thing I would have to do. Go and check out the house. Toby would want to come. How were we going to get out there? Not only was I nearly an orphan, but I was also homeless. It was all too much. God, I was only fourteen. Why should I have to deal with all of this? Mrs Thompson had set the table, something we used to do years ago in our house. ‘I don’t know what you usually eat for breakfast, but I always have juice, toast and a boiled egg. I don’t suppose you and Toby would want egg, seeing as it is what you had last night.’ ‘No, that’s fine. Don’t go to any trouble. Toast will do.’ I wondered if I was making sense. ‘I mean, I can do it.’ I went over to the toaster on the bench and put in

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a couple of slices of bread. The toast seemed to take ages to pop up. ‘If you don’t want to go to school today, I’m sure the principal would understand.’ ‘I want to go out to the house,’ I said. ‘I’m sure you do. I’ll see what we can do.’ I spread my toast. Toast, butter, Vegemite was all that came into my mind. Over and over again with each spread of the knife. Mrs Thompson seemed to understand my need for silence, as she didn’t say anything. ‘Will I wake Toby now?’ ‘Let him wake in his own time. It will be a hard day for both of you. I’ve already organised relief at the library, so I’ll be able to drive you.’ ‘Thank you, Mrs Thompson, you are being very kind to us.’ ‘It is the least I can do, Julie.’ The phone rang. It was in the hallway. Mrs Thompson answered it. I could hear her muffled voice, but couldn’t make out what she was saying. ‘It’s for you,’ she called out. Who knew I was here? ‘It is your Aunt Jean,’ she said handing me the phone. ‘Aunt Jean.’ ‘Oh, dear Julie, I am so sorry to hear what has happened, you poor girl.’

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‘I . . . I can’t believe it,’ I sobbed. ‘It must be very hard. I don’t know the details yet, but your father is in hospital down here. He is in intensive care and that’s all I’ve been able to find out.’ ‘Oh, Aunt Jean it’s all too terrible, Mum and Jonathon and Jennifer dead.’ ‘I know dear. I know. Listen, I won’t talk now. I’m flying up on the ten-forty flight. The police want me to come to the station. Mrs Thompson kindly said she would pick me up from the airport.’ ‘I want to go out to the house, but I might wait till you get here, Aunt Jean.’ I was still sobbing. ‘Toby is still asleep . . . no he isn’t . . . here he is now.’ I put my hand over the mouthpiece and told him it was Aunt Jean. I could see he looked as bewildered as I felt. ‘Do you want to speak to him?’ ‘Yes.’ I passed the phone to him. He spoke slowly, unsure of what to say. He handed the phone back to me. ‘It’s just terrible. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Are you okay?’ ‘Yes. Mrs Thompson is being really kind and she said we didn’t have to go to school today. I just can’t believe it, Aunt Jean.’ ‘I’m finding it very hard to believe myself, Julie. Are you and Toby all right?’

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‘Yeah, we’re all right. I’ll go now. It’s hard talking on the phone about it.’ I stifled a sob. ‘I’ll see you when you get here.’ I put the phone back. Toby was standing there looking at me. ‘When I woke up, I thought at first it had all been a dream,’ he said quietly. ‘It just seems so strange that we were swimming while they were burning.’ ‘Don’t say that.’ ‘Well it’s true. That’s what the cop said. They burnt to death.’ ‘Toby, don’t think about it.’ ‘How can I not think about it? Yesterday I had a mother and brother and sister, today I’ve only got you and Dad. Why didn’t he die and the others live. It’s so unfair.’ ‘Don’t say that. We both have to be strong. Everyone is going to gawk at us and feel sorry for us. We have to pretend we can handle it or else they might put us in homes or something.’ ‘They wouldn’t.’ ‘They might, especially if Dad dies too. You can’t go around wishing it was him, because we don’t even know how bad he is. Aunt Jean said he was in intensive care and that sounds pretty serious.’ ‘Has she been to see him?’ ‘She didn’t say. Come and have some breakfast

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and be nice to Mrs Thompson because she is sure being nice to us and everything.’ ‘What are we going to do?’ He sat on the floor and put his head in his hands. I could tell he was crying because his body shook. I bent down to him. ‘It will be all right, Tobes. We’ve still got each other and we don’t have to go to school today. We’ll be right.’ ‘I wished them all dead the other night. It’s all my fault. I thought if Mum wouldn’t leave Dad, it would be better if everyone was dead. I was sick of the fights and now . . . now . . .’ He cried some more and pulled at his hair. ‘He . . . he . . . he called me a bastard. Said I wasn’t his, said Mum was a slut. That’s what got me going yesterday.’ I didn’t know what to say, except, ‘He’s a lying bastard, take no notice. He was probably drunk and stupid as usual. You know how he says things when he’s drunk. Doesn’t mean they are true. You know that, Tobes.’ Mrs Thompson found us in the hall, both crying. I saw her looking at us. She brought the little brown bottle out of her pocket again. She gave us more drops of Rescue Remedy. It really seemed to help. We both stopped our sniffling. ‘Come on dears, come on, have some breakfast.’

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‘Come on, Toby, we’ll work out what we’re going to do.’ I almost said about going out to the house but I thought I better not just yet. Maybe he hadn’t thought about it either, just about Mum and Jonathon and Jenny. I thought, Aunt Jean will help. After all she was Mum’s only sister, our only aunt. Sergeant Cooper arrived as Toby was eating his toast. Mrs Thompson invited him in for a cup of tea. She told him about Aunt Jean and what time we were picking her up. He told us we wouldn’t be able to go out to the house that day as the police were still investigating the cause of the fire. I asked if we could just go and have a look but not touch anything. He seemed reluctant. But what about our dog, she’ll need us. She won’t know what’s going on. I saw him give Mrs Thompson a funny look. Bloody adults, they always conspired against us to not tell the whole truth. ‘What?’ I demanded. ‘What?’ ‘I’m sorry, but the dog is dead.’ Oh no. Not Jesse. How could she have been burnt? She wouldn’t be in the house. It didn’t make sense. How could she be burnt inside the house? Maybe she tried to save them by waking Mum or something. Didn’t Sergeant Cooper ask last night if

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Mum had naps with the children during the day? Maybe Mum took Jesse in to protect her from Dad. It didn’t seem likely. It wouldn’t be worth the rage Dad would go into if he found the dog inside the house. ‘How did she die?’ I found my voice at last. Sergeant Cooper looked embarrassed. He looked at Mrs Thompson as if she had the answer. ‘We’re not quite sure yet,’ he mumbled, still staring at Mrs Thompson. I couldn’t believe him but it was all too much to ask more questions. Jesse, Jesse, Jesse, my beautiful friend. Dead. I thought, I don’t want to know any more. I can’t handle finding out any more. I hoped that Mum and the kids had been asleep and died from the smoke not the fire. I wondered if Dad had got burnt trying to save them. It came to me strongly that no matter what, I wanted to go out to the house today. ‘Sergeant Cooper, when my aunt comes, I want to go out to the house. I won’t get in the way. I’ll just look. You see, none of this seems very real and I reckon I need to see the house burnt before it will start to sink in,’ I said it very firmly. ‘We’ll see,’ he said. ‘We’ll work something out with your aunt.’ I knew Aunt Jean would be on side, so I left it at that. The sergeant and Mrs Thompson left the

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kitchen. They stood outside the front door talking. I couldn’t hear them. I hadn’t asked how Dad was. I wondered if the cop knew. ‘Do you think I should ask Sergeant Cooper about Dad?’ I whispered to Toby. ‘Jesse as well,’ was all he said. I thought I’d leave it. Aunt Jean would know. I don’t know how I got through the time until we picked up Aunt Jean. Toby had withdrawn completely and had gone back into the bedroom to lie down. Mrs Thompson and I chatted about nothing much, then she went out to get some shopping. I wondered if the people in the town already knew. I wondered what my friends would think. Especially Ruby. I hoped she wouldn’t feel bad that we had been at her waterhole while our family burnt. At least we had something in common now. A dead parent. Maybe no one knew anything and wondered why we weren’t at school. Gee, I had come close to saying goodbye to my friends thinking Mum would come and that we were going to run away. Now I may well be saying goodbye for a while. I was pretty sure we would have to go to Aunt Jean’s. We couldn’t stay with Mrs Thompson, and even if Dad got better tomorrow, we had no house to live in. I knew I wanted to go to Aunt Jean’s to get away from it all. I hoped she would take us.

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I thought about the night that Mum, Toby and I had wished on the first star. I’d wished that we could get away from Dad and the farm. God, wishes do come true! I knew I would have to convince Toby that his wish hadn’t caused their deaths. I looked at the clock on the wall. It was only nine-thirty. I got a shock. It seemed as though I’d been up for hours. If the day was going to go this slow, I knew it was going to be the longest day of my life. I looked out the window and saw Mrs Thompson. I opened the front door for her. ‘Thanks, dear.’ She carried the bags into the kitchen. ‘I got us a little cake for morning tea. We will have to leave at about eleven to get to the airport.’ She put things away. ‘Mrs Thompson?’ ‘Yes, dear?’ ‘Do you know how Jesse died?’ I knew she did by the look on her face. Mrs Thompson was the kind of woman who would find it hard to lie. She seemed to struggle to answer me. Finally she said, ‘I think we better wait till your aunt gets here to find out what happened.’ ‘Why? Why can’t you tell me? I can’t believe she would have been in the house. Dad never let her and Mum wouldn’t. I just don’t understand how it could have happened,’ I blurted out, tears filling my

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eyes. She came over and put her arms around me. ‘There are things that are a bit unclear at the moment. The police are trying to find out what happened.’ I cried into her shoulder. ‘I just want to know, that’s all.’ ‘I know you do, dear. It is a tragedy. Let’s just wait for your Aunt. I’m sure she’ll help explain things to you.’ ‘What does she know? What aren’t I being told? How is Dad? Is he going to die as well? Won’t somebody tell me?’ I cried some more but she didn’t answer me. ‘It’s more than just the fire, isn’t it? There’s something you aren’t telling me, isn’t there?’ I knew I was right; I felt her take in a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry Julie, I can’t tell you any more.’ I pulled away. ‘I’m going to see Toby.’ I left her and didn’t even look at her face. I suddenly felt like things were going to get worse.

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CHAP T ER

10

Thursday Afternoon

I

t was an hour-and-a-half drive to the airport. Some people wouldn’t call it anything so

grand. It basically was a landing strip with a small shed. Only small planes landed. It was just out of the next town. This town was a lot bigger than our town, with more shops and people. Aunt Jean’s plane was late. Apparently flights from Sydney never arrived anywhere on time. The three of us stood outside. It was still bloody hot and the flies were annoying the hell out of me. ‘These flies are driving me mental,’ I said to no one in particular. ‘It’s hotter inside,’ Toby said. ‘Bloody stupid, if you ask me.’ I was irritated and upset that the plane was late. ‘Shouldn’t be long now,’ said Mrs Thompson in a conciliatory voice. We looked to the east hoping to catch a glimpse of the plane. The sky was blue forever. ‘There it is!’ I shouted. In the distance we could see a small silver dot glinting in the sky with occasional reflections from

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the sun. Gradually we heard its sound. It circled and came in to land. It pulled up. The first person off lowered a staircase. Aunt Jean was the third person off. We raced to her. Mrs Thompson stood back. ‘Aunt Jean, oh, Aunt Jean.’ We both grabbed her and she hugged us tightly. She started crying and the next thing we were all bawling and didn’t care who was looking. ‘Oh, Jules, Toby, I am so sorry.’ We stayed there for what seemed ages but must have only been a few minutes. ‘No use standing around crying,’ she said, ‘we better go and get a few things sorted out.’ ‘Have you seen Dad?’ I asked. ‘No. I didn’t go to the hospital. I rang them this morning and they said there was a slight improvement overnight, but we’ll just have to wait and see.’ We walked over to where Mrs Thompson had stood patiently. ‘You must be Mrs Thompson.’ Aunt Jean stuck out her hand. Mrs Thompson looked a bit taken aback. Not many women shook hands with each other in this part of the country. ‘Yes. Pleased to meet you, even though it is under such awful circumstances.’ They shook. Aunt Jean turned to Toby and I. ‘Will you please get my bags?’ I knew this was a way of getting rid of us for a

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minute. Once again I felt an anger rising that something was being kept from us. Something the adults knew that we didn’t. It wasn’t fair. It was our mother, our brother, our sister and our dog. We had a right to know. Instead of creating trouble though, I just grabbed Toby’s arm and headed to where a little wagon held the bags. There weren’t many, and Aunt Jean had described hers to us. I looked back and saw they were talking and looking at us. ‘Something is going on and I don’t know what it is.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Well, do you reckon Jesse would have been in the house and burnt in the fire?’ Toby looked puzzled. ‘No way, if Dad was around. No way.’ He shook his head. ‘What do you think happened? I mean, the fire and everything? How could the house just catch fire?’ We looked at each other. ‘Something stinks.’ We got the bags and walked to the car. Aunt Jean had taken off her jacket. ‘Is it always this hot?’ she asked. ‘Every day,’ I replied. ‘We could stop and have a cool drink in town before we drive back,’ Mrs Thompson suggested. ‘I could do a few errands while you all have a little talk.’

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Aunt Jean looked at us. ‘Sound all right with you two?’ We nodded. It was only about five minutes from the airport to the town. It had a big wide main street that had lots of different shops and things. We used to come to this town more often before the others were born, but when Dad started getting drunk all the time, we stopped. I remembered the last time. It had been so embarrassing. Mum had needed to get some material for curtains and some clothes for us. We had all gone, including Dad. He said he had to see the stock agent and would meet us in an hour. He didn’t show up, and we waited and waited. Finally Mum got sick of waiting. She marched us into one pub after another. He was in the last one. She yelled at him then and there in front of all these other men. They started teasing him about being able to tell who wore the pants in his family. He staggered out abusing Mum, and tried to hit her but she ducked and he hit the car instead. We all laughed. This made him worse. He started kicking and screaming and swearing. We all shut up. He’d really lost it this time. Mum told us to get in the car and lock our doors. We obeyed. He demanded the keys, banging on the door. They both ran around and around the car. Toby and I sank down hoping that no one we knew could see us. It

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was so embarrassing. Didn’t parents care how their children felt? Mum finally got in the driver’s seat, started the car and drove away leaving Dad swearing, fists raised in the street. He’d come home a few days later, stinking of alcohol. As I looked out the window, I remembered this as if it was yesterday instead of years ago. It was the last time we had all come to town together. I wondered if Toby remembered. He had been much younger. ‘Do you remember the last time we came to this town with Mum and Dad?’ I whispered to him. He shrugged. He screwed up his face as if he were trying to remember something hard. ‘No,’ he finally answered. ‘Why?’ ‘Don’t worry about it.’ We arrived in the main street. The main cafe was called The Walkabout. We’d been here a couple of times and it was said to have the best milkshakes beyond the back of beyond. Mum always thought that was funny. We sat in a little booth with a jukebox on the wall. You could pick songs from it. It would only play in your booth through these speakers below the table. Aunt Jean ordered a coffee and we had chocolate milkshakes. The milkshake had double icecream and was delicious. I tried not to slurp mine as it got to the end.

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‘Aunt Jean I want to go out to the house, I mean what’s left of it.’ ‘So do I,’ said Toby. ‘I’m sure you both do. I’ll have to speak to the policeman in charge of the investigation.’ ‘What investigation?’ It sounded alarming. Investigation. What did they need to investigate? The house had burnt. Surely they would be able to tell quite quickly what caused the fire? ‘How the fire began. If there was anything suspicious about it.’ ‘What do you mean?’ Aunt Jean looked very uncomfortable. ‘To see if it was deliberately lit.’ I felt sick. I hadn’t really thought much about the fire or how it would have started. I mean, Toby and I had thought mostly about how Jesse died. Gee, who would have done it? Who could do something like that, knowing that Mum and the kids and even Dad were inside? What sort of sicko would be so cruel? Especially two little kids. I couldn’t get Jonathon and Jennifer out of my head. Why them? They’d never hurt anybody. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. I blinked them away. I had to stay strong. ‘Do they think someone lit it on purpose? What have the police told you? They’ve told us nothing. I

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know there is something that no one is telling us. What is it?’ At that moment Mrs Thompson came in. She had several parcels under her arms. She looked at me. ‘Are you all right, Julie? You are very pale.’ ‘I just want someone to tell me what is going on.’ I burst into tears. For once in my life I didn’t care who saw me crying in public. ‘Julie, Julie.’ Aunt Jean cuddled me. ‘I’ll tell you all I know when we get back to Mrs Thompson’s. She has kindly said I can stay there till we make all the arrangements, then you two will have to come to Sydney to stay with me for a while.’ ‘How long?’ asked Toby. ‘I don’t know, darling. We had better go.’ The heat hit us as we left the air-conditioned cafe. Even though Mrs Thompson had tried to park in some shade, the car was still boiling hot. She had left the windows open, but it hadn’t helped much. She said at least in this part of the country you didn’t have to worry about locking things. Aunt Jean said there was no way you could leave your car open in the city. We drove mostly in silence; occasionally the adults would talk about the country. It was so barren and seemingly empty. Every now and then there would be a tree on its own, looking very lonely. I felt as empty as the land.

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When we got inside Mrs Thompson said she would head off to the library to see how things were and Aunt Jean could use the car. Aunt Jean said she had to ring the police and then we could all sit down and have a talk. I could hear her on the phone and tried to listen, but I couldn’t hear much. She just seemed to be saying, ‘Yes’, and ‘I see’ a lot. I heard her ask about us being able to go out there. She hung up. ‘We’ll be able to head out there after four. The police will be finished by then.’ Toby and I looked at each other. Now that it was a reality that we were going to be able to see what was left of the house we had lived in all our lives, I felt a bit nervous and maybe didn’t really want to rush out there. What would be left? Was everything burnt? Did all my dolls get burnt and my posters? What about my diaries that I had written in since I was eleven? Not every day, but at least every week. Was my past all burnt? It was three o’clock, so there was another hour to wait. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ I asked Aunt Jean. ‘That would be lovely, then we will talk.’ ‘I’d rather talk after I’ve seen the house. I don’t feel like it now. It all seems too much and I’m exhausted.’

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‘Maybe after we have been out to the house we could go to the waterhole?’ Toby asked tentatively. I gave him a look that would have melted icecream. How could he think of having fun when everything was so serious? ‘Toby!’ was all I said. ‘It was just an idea,’ he said softly, twisting his fingers together. ‘Where is the waterhole?’ Aunt Jean broke the silence. ‘Out on Aboriginal land. It’s so cool,’ Toby answered enthusiastically. ‘Dad wouldn’t let us go but we went yesterday with Julie’s friend, Ruby. She invited us any time we want.’ Toby said. Was it only yesterday that I had a whole family? It was so hard to believe that everything had changed so much in just twenty-four hours. ‘We’ll see,’ was Aunt Jean’s answer. By now I was pretty sure the whole town would know what happened. I didn’t want people feeling sorry for me. I’d felt sorry for Ruby yesterday because of her Dad, so I suppose I wouldn’t mind if she felt sorry. It was the people in the town who I never liked that I didn’t want to pretend they felt anything for me. I wouldn’t have to see anyone if I didn’t want to. I suppose after seeing the house, I might even want to go to the waterhole. You never know.

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Thursday Afternoon

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e drove in silence along the dusty road. I looked out the window at the sad sheep as

they flashed by. Sweat dripped down the front of my shirt and under my arms. Toby sat in the back, almost balled up against the window. ‘I wonder who that is?’ said Aunt Jean. A car approaching. We could see the trail of dust for miles. I hoped it wasn’t any of the town’s stickybeaks. I couldn’t handle answering any questions, especially, How are you dear? I’d bite anyone’s head off if they asked me. I would! It was a police car. Aunt Jean slowed down. Both cars pulled up beside each other. It was Sergeant Cooper and another local cop in the front, and two men I’d never seen before in the back. ‘Mrs Collins?’ ‘Ms Collins, Jean. You must be Sergeant Cooper!’ ‘Um . . . Miss . . . um . . . Jean,’ he stuttered. ‘We’ve finished our investigations. This is Detective Allen Davies and Detective Roy Bromby.’ He turned to the two in the back. ‘Do you want to talk to her now?’ he asked.

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‘It’s too bloody hot out here mate,’ one of them replied. ‘Perhaps you could come to the station . . . um . . . when you’re finished here,’ he suggested to Aunt Jean. She nodded. ‘Um kids, you’ll get a bit of a shock. There’s not much left of your house. Are you sure you want to go out there? It’s practically all gone. Nothing standing. It’s a big shock, even for me.’ He meant well, I could tell that. I just wanted to say, I think we’ve already had the biggest shock, that I reckon we could handle this. It is just a house, after all, different to losing a mother and family. But I didn’t. I just said, ‘We need to Sergeant. It will make it all real. I mean, yesterday . . . you know . . . and I think that both of us need . . . well I think that you know it will be best if we get it over and done with, look at it and everything, if you know what I mean.’ He nodded and looked at Aunt Jean. Some secret adult message. ‘I think Julie is right, Sergeant, getting it over and done with. We will then be able to get on with the other arrangements.’ He nodded knowingly. ‘Don’t forget, drop in on your way back. Are you staying at the hotel?’ ‘No. Mrs Thompson has kindly put me up.’

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He drove off. ‘Why were there detectives?’ Toby asked. ‘All fires, especially where people have died, are investigated by detectives from the arson squad. You know what arson means?’ I turned around to see if he knew. ‘Course,’ said Toby. He didn’t say anything else. Just went back to staring out the window. ‘Are you all right?’ I asked him quietly. ‘Sort of,’ he said. For some reason neither of us could talk much in front of Aunt Jean. I used to talk her ear off, before, whenever she visited, but I suppose I had a mum then. We’d never visited her in Sydney. I turned back, wondering how Toby and I were going to get through this mountain of pain. It was the sort of thing that happened to other people, not you. I suddenly realised why Rosie Adams’s sister had become so hard to understand at school. She went more and more off the rails and no one could help her. We just thought she was a jerk and treated her badly. She was in my class and before her sister’s death, used to hang out with the rest of us. Someone called us the Brat Pack. We didn’t mind because we knew about the ones they called that in Hollywood and they were all hunks. It was funny how she had just come into my mind like that.

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As we got closer, Toby leaned over the front seat and looked through the middle. Part of me didn’t want to stare but I couldn’t stop. There was no house. It looked totally unreal. No house. Just a water tank standing alone with all these blackened bits and pieces forming odd shapes. It looked like a painting I’d seen in a book. I took a great big breath. ‘It’s gone,’ I said. Toby started crying and shaking. ‘Why, why?’ ‘It’s terrible.’ Aunt Jean stopped the car and, to my great surprise, put her head in her hands and started wailing. Not just crying, but really making a lot of noise. It shocked me into silence. Toby stopped crying. We both stared at her. ‘I’m sorry.’ She pulled herself together. ‘It’s okay, I mean, she was your sister.’ She looked at me. Her eyes were full of tears. I could see she was trying to smile. ‘Well, we better get out I suppose.’ We walked to the edge of the remains. There were still little wisps of smoke curling into the air. I felt a great loss. How could a picture change so much? I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t do anything. Just stand there. I sort of took in that the firemen must have used all the water from the tank, but wouldn’t have wasted their own unnecessarily.

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‘So, what happened?’ Toby asked. He looked different too. His eyes were remote. It was like he was looking but not seeing, just like me. ‘I’m not sure yet. I will probably find out more when we go back to town,’ Aunt Jean answered. Her voice was very flat. I couldn’t make out whether she was telling the truth or not. ‘What do you know?’ I asked her. I could tell she was struggling with an answer. I wondered if her training as a lawyer would help her tell the truth. ‘Well?’ I’d given her long enough to give an honest answer. ‘Do you know how Jesse died?’ Toby butted in. I wished he hadn’t. I wanted her to answer my question first. ‘She was shot.’ She said it so quietly that I didn’t know if I had heard her properly. ‘What did you say? Did you say shot?’ ‘Yes.’ The earth fell away and I fell with it, landing when it stopped. Everything was spinning. Toby started screaming, kicking the ground, throwing dirt, swearing and everything. Aunt Jean raced to the car. I thought in a flash that she was escaping these two mad kids. I felt like eating the dirt, smearing it all over me. My tears were salty as I licked them. I wiped dirt on my face and screamed the

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loudest most piercing scream ever heard on earth. It stopped Toby, and I must admit, it stopped me. We looked at each other and laughed. We’d never seen each other this hysterical before. It was so hard to believe: no Mum, no Jonathon, no Jennifer, no Jesse, and no house. Aunt Jean came back with a little brown bottle like Mrs Thompson’s. ‘Have some of this,’ she said, after squirting some in her own mouth. I knew somehow whatever this Rescue Remedy stuff was, it sure worked last night and this morning. I remembered that before I’d had it last night, I didn’t think I would ever stop crying but I did. I got up off the ground, opened my mouth and took it under my tongue. Toby didn’t resist either. We knew there was no point looking for anything. It was obvious: nothing had survived the fire. Even Jonathon’s bike’s plastic bits had melted, even though it was in the yard. I nearly choked on a sob seeing it all mangled up, just sitting there. I could almost see his smiling face as he raced around the yard. I took a couple of very deep breaths. I couldn’t believe I would never see him or Jennifer playing in the yard ever again. I didn’t want to believe it. ‘I don’t think there is much point staying here, now,’ I said. ‘I thought there might be more left. You know, just some things.’ We all stared at nothing.

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‘Maybe we could come back when it has stopped smouldering. We might find something among the ashes.’ I was thinking of the things that wouldn’t have burnt, like metal things. I just wanted to get away and I knew I wanted to go to the waterhole. ‘Who shot Jesse?’ Toby said quietly. I looked at him with the answer that we both knew. We both knew and wondered, did that mean he also lit the fire?

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Thursday Night

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e drove back the way we had come. I felt so bad, yet somewhere I knew that I was glad

something was over. I didn’t want to think I was glad Mum was dead, I just felt like everything was going to be different. I stopped thinking and asked Aunt Jean how she felt about taking us to the waterhole. She suggested that she drop us off then pick us up later. It meant her going to the police station on her own. Well, I didn’t care what I didn’t know any more. I just wanted to go somewhere, where I had felt good. Get out of the heat. Be with people I knew wouldn’t ask me questions. ‘Could we get something to take with us, like some food and drinks? We had nothing yesterday and I think it would be good if we could give something back.’ ‘I’ll go to the shop and see what I can find.’ ‘Thanks, Aunt Jean.’ I knew she understood that there was no way I wanted to go into the shop. Because it doubled as the post office, it was, naturally, where the town’s biggest noses gathered.

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‘I don’t think I’ll be able to have fun at the waterhole,’ Toby said when Aunt Jean was in the shop. ‘It wouldn’t be right, would it?’ ‘I don’t know.’ I thought for a moment. ‘I remember when Granny Collins died and the funeral and everything. I remember being sad, but I didn’t know her all that well. Only used to see her a couple of times a year.’ I paused. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t have fun, just a swim to cool down and then come home . . . I mean . . .’ I looked out the window, ‘I mean, Mrs Thompson’s house.’ ‘How long do you think we’ll stay there?’ ‘Don’t know. Maybe till after the funeral.’ ‘Funeral,’ he said softly. Aunt Jean came back with her arms full. It looked as if she was going to feed the whole community. ‘Show me the way.’ I directed her and we stopped just before we got to the first house. ‘I’ll see if I can find Ruby. You wait here.’ ‘I . . . I want to come with you,’ Toby said. ‘Oh, all right.’ I knew I had to be kind to him. ‘Will you wait Aunt Jean?’ ‘Yes.’ We headed for the waterhole. There were more kids than yesterday, and I could see Ruby sitting where we sat yesterday. She saw me and got up

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slowly. I knew she said something to the others because they all looked at me. ‘Hi, Ruby. We were wondering if it would be all right to have a swim?’ ‘Sure, girl.’ She looked down on the ground and mumbled, ‘I’m sorry to hear what happened to your mum and all.’ She stopped and looked at me. A tear came in my eye, but I was determined not to crack up, so I took a deep breath and said, ‘Thanks. It hasn’t really sunk in yet even though we went out and looked at what used to be our house.’ ‘You can come and stay here if you want.’ ‘Thanks, but we’re staying at Mrs Thompson’s. Our aunt is here from Sydney. We’ll probably go back with her after the funeral.’ ‘I’ll miss you,’ she said. I didn’t know what to say so I just told her about having food and drinks and she said we didn’t need to do that, but get it anyway. ‘Do you want to meet my aunt?’ ‘Sure.’ Toby had already jumped into the water. Ruby and I walked up to where Aunt Jean was parked. ‘This is Ruby.’ ‘Hi, Ruby, I’m Jean.’ ‘Hi. Would you like to have a swim as well?’

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‘I’d love to but I’ve got a couple of things I have to do. Maybe some other time.’ ‘Sure. Thanks for the food and stuff.’ ‘No problem. Well, see you later. I’ll pick you up about seven, is that okay?’ ‘Great. If you had something to swim in you could have a quick swim when you pick us up. It’s worth it Aunt Jean. It’s so cool.’ ‘Maybe.’ She waved and drove off. ‘She seems nice.’ ‘Yeah. She’s a lawyer in Sydney. Mum used to be a teacher.’ ‘Let’s get into the water. We’ll just take this food to my house first.’ We walked in silence, each carrying a bag. I wanted to ask Ruby some more questions about after her dad died, how she felt and things, but I just couldn’t. Her mother was in the kitchen. She turned and I saw something in her dark brown eyes. I think it was sorrow. ‘You all right girl?’ she asked me. ‘Sort of,’ I said. ‘If our family can help in any way, you tell me, won’t you?’ ‘Thanks Mrs Watson.’ ‘Call me Auntie, my girl.’ She came and gave me a hug and I felt like crying all over again, but just

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sniffled. ‘A terrible loss, terrible. Now don’t forget, need anything, just ask.’ Her kindness made me want to cry. She hadn’t even known my mum and if she knew how my dad had talked about her and her people, I wondered if she still would be so kind. ‘Come on, Jules, let’s hit the water.’ Ruby grabbed my arm. ‘You can wear the same things I lent you yesterday. They’re dry on the line.’ We went out the back. I changed in her bedroom, which she shared with her other sisters. The water was even better than yesterday. It was so refreshing. It felt as if it was washing my troubles away. At first I swam quietly by myself. Suddenly I felt my legs being pulled down. For a horrible moment I thought it was one of the people who disappeared trying to find out how deep it was. I screamed and heard Toby’s voice telling me not to screech so loud, that I almost burst his eardrums. ‘Gawd, girl, what is the matter? I reckon they would have heard you in town,’ said Ruby, laughing. ‘I’ll get you.’ I swam after Toby and dunked him. He spluttered to the top, laughing. I dunked him again. A couple of others joined in splashing, laughing. I stopped suddenly. God, we were having fun. Was it right? I swam over to Ruby. ‘I don’t know if we ought to be doing this,’ I said to her.

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‘What? Doing what?’ ‘Having fun, I mean our mum and brother and sister are dead, our dad is in hospital and our house is burnt down. Somehow I don’t think we ought to be laughing and mucking around.’ I stared at her. It sounded so unbelievable, even to me. Ruby was quiet for ages. Finally she said, ‘Yeah, I sort of know what you mean, but I think, you know . . . um . . . you know . . . your mum would be happy that you were having some fun and weren’t crying all the time. She’d know how you feel, and how much you miss her.’ I listened, but wasn’t sure. ‘There’s heaps of shit to come, you know, like the funeral and all that. All those people in your face, wanting to know how you are and all that. This is time out. Take it easy on yourself.’ Ruby looked at me to see how I was taking her telling me this. ‘Put it this way, you probably keep thinking all these horrible things that you can’t get out of your head, except for when you are in the waterhole.’ I nodded. ‘How did you feel when your father died?’ ‘I dreamt it, then when the prison rang Auntie Joy’s it was like we already knew so it was no surprise. We do things differently than you fellas. We cry and moan, don’t mention their name. We didn’t

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get Dad’s body for nearly a month. Mum had to go there and argue with them. It made no difference, they just took their time. We had that whole month before we actually had the proper send-off for Dad.’ Ruby stopped talking and put her hands together, cupped some water and released it slowly back into the water. ‘I met lots of relatives, most from Dad’s side, at the funeral. They came from all over. This is Mum’s country, you see. Dad’s is further north. One of Dad’s brothers was meant to look after us in Dad’s place, but he didn’t last long. Missed his own country too much.’ ‘We’ve only got the one aunt and it looks like she’ll have to look after us. Well, until Dad gets better, if he does, I suppose.’ Ruby looked at me strangely. She looked as if she wanted to say something but didn’t know how. ‘What’s up?’ She didn’t answer, just looked off into the distance. ‘What’s the matter?’ I persisted. ‘Oh, it’s nothing, just talk you know.’ ‘What talk?’ ‘I can’t tell you. It’s probably just the people who have got nothing better to do than make up lies.’ ‘Tell me!’ I said it much louder than I had meant to and I noticed a few of the others looking at us. I

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noticed Toby was sitting on his own on a rock. I hoped he was okay. She didn’t answer. My mind started racing, wondering what in the hell the townspeople were saying. ‘Please tell me?’ I pleaded. ‘It’s just talk, okay? Doesn’t mean it’s true.’ ‘No, I know, but I want to know what they are saying.’ ‘They say your father shot your family, then torched the house. I’m sorry Jules, I didn’t want to tell you. It’s not true is it?’ ‘Course it’s not true!’ ‘See, I told you. It’s just those evil minds in town. They have to make a tragedy into a mystery.’ ‘Yeah. I hate them, I’m so glad we’re leaving this horrible town.’ ‘Just forget it, okay? I’ll race you to the big rock. Ready, set, go.’ We both plunged and started swimming wildly. My mind was in turmoil. Was it true? After all, Jesse had been shot. He wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it. Not the kids, surely not? Something prickled at the back of my brain. It’s true, it said. It’s not. It’s not, I screamed to myself. We got to the rock at the same time. ‘Race you back,’ Ruby said. ‘I might just sit here for a while.’

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‘I shouldn’t have told you.’ ‘No, it’s all right, I just need to think for a minute. He shot the dog, you know.’ ‘Oh, shit.’ Ruby looked alarmed. ‘Oh, Jules, I should have kept my big mouth shut. I’m really sorry.’ ‘It’s not your fault, Ruby. I sort of had a feeling that there was more going on than we were being told. This might be what it is. I can understand why Aunt Jean finds it so hard to tell us what she knows. My God, can you imagine if it’s true?’ I put my head in my hands and started crying. Ruby came and sat on the rock. She stroked my hair. ‘It will be all right, Jules, it will be all right.’ We sat there in silence for what seemed like forever. I felt myself becoming calmer and after a while my mind became empty. I’d run out of thoughts. ‘You okay?’ ‘Yeah, I’m okay. Geez, who could believe so much could happen in one day?’ ‘Do you feel like eating something, or a drink or something?’ ‘Yeah. Race you to the house.’ We swam, raced out of the water up to the house. I felt lighter and almost silly. Don’t ask me why. It seemed that I had found out too much and didn’t

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want to know any more. Toby came in and we all made big sandwiches. ‘I love this waterhole,’ Toby said to Ruby seriously. ‘It’s great. I’m glad my mum’s people came back here. She used to live in Sydney, you know. That’s where I was born but we came back here when I was three. I don’t remember Sydney.’ ‘Maybe your mum will let you visit us in the holidays or something.’ ‘Maybe.’ ‘Maybe Aunt Jean will let us visit you too,’ said Toby optimistically. ‘I don’t ever want to come back here to this stinking town,’ I said much more vehemently than I had wanted to. ‘What’s up with you?’ Toby asked, his face looking puzzled. I looked at Ruby. ‘Nothing. I suppose I’d like to come back here though. To the waterhole.’ ‘I wonder if your aunt will have a swim?’ said Ruby, trying to make the situation a little more comfortable. I could tell from her look that she felt guilty for having told me what the gossips in the town were saying. I’d pushed her, so she had no reason to feel guilty. I wanted to tell her but couldn’t in front of Toby. What was I going to tell him? Nothing, I thought. It will be best if we wait till Aunt

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Jean tells us. It was my fault I didn’t know more from Aunt Jean, because I’d told her we’d talk later, after we had been out to our burnt house. I wondered if this was what all that adult conspiracy stuff was about. ‘She might because I don’t reckon she’s used to this heat. What time is it?’ Ruby looked out the window. ‘Nearly seven I reckon.’ ‘Maybe we should walk up and see if she’s here yet.’ The three of us set off and sure enough Aunt Jean’s car was parked where she had dropped us off earlier. She looked absolutely dreadful. It looked as if she had been crying since she’d dropped us off. You could tell she had made an effort to try to hide it, but it hadn’t worked. Obviously her grief was too powerful to hide. ‘Are you okay?’ She nodded at me. ‘Do you want to have a swim?’ She looked at Ruby. ‘I’d love to, but I didn’t bring bathers. They were the last thing I would have thought of bringing here,’ she laughed, looking around at the red earth. ‘It’s okay. We swim in shorts and things. I’ll find you something.’ ‘Thanks, Ruby.’

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‘It’s great, Aunt Jean, it really is cool,’ said Toby enthusiastically. ‘It is, it makes you feel better,’ I said to her in a knowing way. ‘Come and meet my mum and we’ll find you something.’ We walked back to Ruby’s house. I wondered if I should say something to Aunt Jean about the town rumours. I thought it was probably best to let her have a swim and talk about it later. Ruby’s mum was feeding a couple of small children. Ruby introduced Aunt Jean. Mrs Watson gave her a hug and murmured about the tragedy. She offered Aunt Jean a cup of tea and Aunt Jean said that after a swim it would be lovely. Ruby found shorts and a top. We all went back to the waterhole. Aunt Jean dived in without any hesitation and swam as though she were being chased by sharks or something. She went really fast. ‘Geez, your auntie can swim,’ said Ruby, and we laughed. Toby dived back in. It was my chance to tell Ruby to not feel bad about what she told me. I didn’t want her to carry the guilt. ‘Ruby?’ ‘Yeah?’ ‘Don’t feel bad about what you told me, okay? I would have heard it soon enough, you know what

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this town is like. In fact the reason I haven’t heard anything is because I’ve only seen you and Mrs Thompson since all this happened.’ I paused to see if she was listening. ‘I’m glad I heard it from you, if you get me. Better a friend than someone I don’t even like.’ ‘I didn’t want to tell you, I really didn’t, Jules. It’s probably just crap anyway. You know what the people in this town are like.’ ‘Yeah, let’s forget it. I’ll ask Aunt Jean tonight if she’s heard the rumours. She’ll sort it out. She’s a lawyer, you know . . . oh, that’s right, I already told you that.’ ‘You’re doing good, girl. It is a hell of a lot to happen, you know.’ ‘Yeah, I know. Race you to the rock.’ Aunt Jean stayed in the water for about an hour and when she got out she said it was the best thing she’d done all day. That wasn’t hard to believe. We went back to the house. Ruby’s mum and Aunt Jean had their cup of tea on the verandah. We watched TV

with the rest of the family. As we were driving back into town I debated

bringing it up but thought I couldn’t in front of Toby. He and Aunt Jean were chatting away about Aboriginal people, the waterhole, sacred land and things. I wasn’t really listening.

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‘You are very quiet, Julie.’ ‘Oh, sorry. I was just thinking.’ ‘I think it is probably a bit late to talk tonight. How about we do it tomorrow? I feel pretty washed out.’ I wondered if I would be able to sleep with all this wondering if . . . well if . . . it hadn’t been an accident, what happened out on the farm, or if it was something much more horrible like . . . well . . . there was only one word for it – murder. The lights were on at Mrs Thompson’s. ‘I’m going straight to bed,’ said Toby. ‘I’m bushed.’ ‘I think even I will sleep like a log tonight, thanks to the swim,’ said Aunt Jean. I couldn’t say anything. I need more of that Rescue Remedy, I thought, if I am going to sleep.

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Friday Morning

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orning came. I didn’t want to get up. I could see it was late, because the sun was high in

the sky. There was something different about today, I could tell. For a minute I couldn’t figure out what it was and then it came to me. Clouds. There were clouds in the sky. I hadn’t seen clouds, except in the distance, for ages. They looked strange. Fluffy white balls just plonked in the blue. You all have silver linings, I said to myself. I wondered if that was where you sat, after you died, waiting for your turn to go to heaven. I wondered if Mum and the kids were sitting there looking down at me lying in bed. I knew Mum would be saying, Get up, you lazy girl. I didn’t want to get up and I didn’t believe in heaven either. ‘Julie?’ A quiet voice I recognised as my aunt’s. I didn’t want to answer, so I curled up and pretended I was still asleep. ‘Julie. It’s ten o’clock.’ Ten o’clock. I hadn’t slept in this late since . . . since . . . god I couldn’t even remember. Gee, ten o’clock. I’d heard Toby get up earlier. There was a knock at the door.

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‘May I come in?’ ‘Yeah, sure.’ I sat up. Aunt Jean came in and closed the door behind her. She was dressed in a very smart blue suit. Smarter than the whole town, I thought. ‘I wanted to talk to you, Julie, without Toby for a moment.’ ‘I want to talk to you too, about a rumour I heard yesterday. I haven’t told Toby yet.’ I bit my lip and those bloody tears were back. I obviously hadn’t run out. ‘Oh Julie, this is such a cruel burden for you and Toby.’ ‘So the rumour is true?’ ‘I . . . I . . .’ she stammered, ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what this small town has come up with.’ She looked angry. ‘Well, Ruby told me they were saying that . . .’ Could I say it? Aunt Jean looked at me and I noticed for the first time how much her eyes were like Mum’s. In fact I could see their similarities clearly, whereas before I hadn’t ever noticed it. ‘Well, she said . . . said that Dad shot everybody and burnt the house.’ Oh, no! Instead of her denying it straight away, tears welled in her eyes. Oh, my God! It was true. It was bloody fucking true! The bastard. I hated him. How could he? I hated him.

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‘They aren’t completely sure yet.’ Aunt Jean grabbed my hands. ‘Listen. Julie, at this stage,’ she paused and I saw her take a deep breath, ‘it looks like your father . . . he must have been mad . . . shot them and then set fire to the house.’ The clouds hadn’t moved. Are you there Mum? Where have you gone? Oh Mum why wasn’t I there to save you? I could have saved you. I would have hit him over the head with the spade or something. Oh, Mum, Mum, Mum. The tears tracked slowly down my face on to the T-shirt I’d slept in. I made no sound. I covered my mouth with my hand. Those thick or thin lips. Who could tell? Who cared now? ‘What are we going to tell Toby?’ I looked at her and felt hopelessness choking my heart. ‘You know he told Toby that he wasn’t his father, the night before . . . before all this happened.’ ‘Oh, my God, that man.’ ‘Is it true?’ ‘Of course it’s not bloody true. The stupid man. Joan told me that he had made accusations that were totally ridiculous. She said it was best just to ignore him. The truth would win.’ ‘Well, it never did,’ I said and slumped. ‘He was . . . I . . . mean is a sick man. He wasn’t always. I even liked him when I first met him. He

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seemed decent and honest. He worked hard and they seemed happy.’ ‘I don’t remember any happiness.’ ‘Oh, you will, Julie, you will.’ She hugged me tight. ‘You are a very strong young woman, darling. I’ve seen you taking real responsibility for your brother and I can tell you are very intelligent.’ She took my face into her hands and made me look her in the eyes. ‘Sweetheart, this will probably be the hardest thing you will ever have to face in your life. I will give you all the help and support you need. You and Toby. Don’t ever be afraid to ask me for anything.’ We both had tears in our eyes and we hugged gently. I knew she was crying, and I knew my tears were making wet spots on her smart blue suit. ‘Now, we have a lot of things to sort out. The practical things. Funeral, that sort of thing.’ ‘I don’t ever want to see him again. I hope he dies in agony.’ ‘Oh, Julie.’ ‘If he felt so bad, why didn’t he just kill himself? Why kill everybody and even Jesse?’ ‘It’s a good question.’ She stared out the window. ‘They even have a name for this sort of crime now.’ She looked at me. ‘Once, Mum called Dad Hitler.’

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A strange smile crossed her face. It quickly disappeared. ‘I don’t know a lot about these past few years. Joan and I stopped talking, properly, not long after Jonathon was born.’ ‘I don’t understand it, why they had more kids. I mean, I remember them fighting when Toby was born. And then they had Jonathon and Jennifer. I couldn’t believe it. Mum was off her head then and I got yelled at if I looked sideways. Dad had already started drinking.’ ‘You poor thing. Why didn’t you tell me?’ ‘I dunno. Sometimes when you visited I wanted to, but then you stopped visiting and by then it had got worse but it was sort of too embarrassing to talk about. Mum used to say that what goes on behind our doors was our business and nobody else’s. We knew she meant don’t talk about it with anyone. I mean, even my friends at school don’t know much really. I mean, they know Dad is a drunk, but everybody knew that.’ ‘I didn’t.’ We sat in silence, each on our own little island of thought. Maybe our own cloud. But where was the silver lining? ‘Toby will be wondering why I’m not up. I never sleep in, Mum doesn’t let us.’ ‘He’s gone out.’

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‘What?’ ‘Someone’s uncle came and picked him up about eight. They were going somewhere secret.’ ‘What?’ I didn’t believe it. Maybe he had mentioned it in the car, but I hadn’t been listening. ‘It probably is best. It will be good for him to have a few happy memories of the place where he was born.’ ‘Yeah.’ I felt important at being there to help Aunt Jean with the arrangements. I’d become an adult. My brother, still a child. ‘I’ll get up now.’ Aunt Jean left the room. I stared at the clouds and detected they’d moved about half a millimetre in the sky. It wasn’t hard to pick what to wear. I only had my school clothes, and the jeans and a T-shirt that Ruby had lent me. Mrs Thompson offered to lend me something of hers. Can you imagine? She wore dresses that said, ‘I’m fifty five.’ Not my style, thank you very much! Mrs Thompson had gone to the library. Aunt Jean poured me a cup of tea. Mum had taught me to drink tea as a way of sitting down and having a chat. It felt comforting to me that Aunt Jean followed the same ritual. ‘They don’t have funerals on Saturdays or Sundays,’ she said as we sat down at the kitchen table. ‘Probably just as well, because the police aren’t releasing their bodies.’

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She looked at me to see how I took her calling Mum and Jennifer and Jonathon bodies. I’d changed gears. Somehow, while staring at the clouds, I had decided I just had to get through it all, go to Sydney and then fall to pieces. ‘What have the police said?’ I could tell by the way Aunt Jean sat up straight that she was going to tell me the truth. She told me the details she knew, from what they had told her they believed had happened. ‘Do you know how he is?’ ‘The police rang earlier and said he had regained consciousness. Apparently he tried to shoot himself, but only ended up winging himself. He’d already started the fire and when it got too hot he rolled out. In the end he couldn’t kill himself.’ ‘How come he was unconscious?’ ‘Someone hit him.’ ‘You mean . . .?’ ‘No one is saying anything directly, but that detective, Davies, hinted to me that when Sergeant Cooper got out there and your father was going on about what he had done, he sort of lost control and punched your father enough to knock him out. He had burns as well, but it was the unconsciousness that sent him to intensive care.’ ‘So he’s not going to die then?’

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Aunt Jean shook her head. ‘What a pity.’ I stared out the window and there was Mum smiling at me from the cloud. Jonathon and Jennifer were playing around her legs. I turned back. ‘I don’t want to ever see him again ever in my life. I mean that, Aunt Jean. I don’t, and no one will make me.’ I gave her my I-mean-business look, that had worked with Mum. ‘You don’t have to Julie, if that’s what you wish. I’ll make sure of it.’ Her face looked severe and I knew she would do everything she could to stop him from seeing us. ‘I thought because there is nothing else I can really do this weekend that I would take you two to Sydney. Get some clothes, check out my place, discuss schools and things.’ She looked at me hopefully. ‘That would be great. Will we come back here?’ ‘Yes. We still have to make funeral arrangements, but I don’t think we’ll be back for a few days.’ Just like that, we were leaving all of this behind. All our past. ‘I want to say goodbye to some of my friends.’ ‘The only flight I could get is tomorrow morning. It won’t be goodbye just yet. We will have to have the funeral here because this is where she knew people the last fifteen or so years.’ ‘The funeral will be different. I sort of feel like

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today I just better say goodbye to everybody, but not the people I don’t like.’ I shut the door on Mrs Thompson’s house, walked up the street towards the school. There weren’t many people about, thank goodness. I was going to catch my friends at lunch time. Who knew when I would see them again? I wasn’t even going to come back for the funeral. I hoped Aunt Jean wouldn’t make me. Gee, it was going to be hard saying goodbye to Jane, Ruby, Diane and the rest. If they start crying, that will set me off. I was so tired of crying. I felt like I’d been crying since Monday. It looked as though the little cloud was following me. The silver lining, I thought. It couldn’t ever get any worse ever again in my life. ‘Goodbye dead sheep,’ I shouted as I walked into the school grounds.

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Epilogue

W

e’d flown out in the rain on Saturday morning. Ruby had been right about that.

According to the news it was raining heaps back there. Flooding in some places. I looked out the window of my aunt’s apartment. There was a rainbow arcing over the sea. For miles was the colour blue. It was so different to the red dirt I was used to. Toby and I had already been for a swim and it had felt like the water was washing something away. I’d cried but I couldn’t tell what were my tears and what was the sea water. I knew I was just beginning to grieve for my family, but I also knew that leaving that town was the best thing I could do. I was leaving my old life behind, like a snake shedding its skin. This was the new. The beach, the city and millions of people. New friends, new school. Everything new. Things can only get better, I thought. They surely couldn’t get any worse. I felt that I was going to be all right, and that I would take care of Toby and he’d be all right too. I crossed my fingers and wished for peace and happiness. Not just for me, but for the whole world.

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OTHER BOOKS FROM SPINIFEX PRESS Non-Fiction

Talking Up: Young Women’s Take on Feminism Rosamund Else-Mitchell and Naomi Flutter (Eds.) ISBN: 1-875559-66-3

What drives young women and what drives them mad? Exploring a range of experiences, this collection defines the landscape in which young women stake their claim to feminism. These young women are talking up. I finished this book feeling very optimistic. There is a new generation keeping the fires of feminism alight . . . they are fierce and brave and funny, and they are willing to fight. We are in good hands. Anne Summers, Sydney Morning Herald

The Spinifex Quiz Book Susan Hawthorne ISBN: 1-875559-15-9

Australian Educational Awards for Excellence, 1994 Who invented hieroglyphics? Who invented the first computer? Who built the pyramid at Giza? Who invented the wheel? Who was the first writer in the world? All were women. You’ll find the answers in The Spinifex Quiz Book. The Spinifex Quiz Book is funny, instructive, entertaining, and inspiring . . . use it alone or in school. I recommend it wholeheartedly. Senta Trömel-Plötz, Virginia It should be compulsory reading in every Year 10 class. Alison Coates, ABC

T he Day Kadi Lost Part of Her Life Text: Isabel Ramos Rioja Photos: Kim Manresa ISBN: 1-875559-74-4

The Day Kadi Lost Part of Her Life is the moving photostory of a 4year-old African girl named Kadi, who is subjected to female genital mutilation in accordance with the traditions of her community. Black and white photographs document the activities of the day on which she undergoes this operation and an explanatory text details exactly what FGM entails. It is our intention that the book will bring a wider awareness of this practice and encourage readers to speak out against it. Part proceeds of profits will go to the London-based non-government organisation, FORWARD (the Foundation for Women’s Health, Research and Development) who work internationally with the primary objective of campaigning for the elimination of female genital mutilation worldwide and promoting awareness to counter traditional practices prejudicial to the health of women and children.

Zelda Zelda D’Aprano ISBN: 1-875559-30-2

Worker, trade unionist and activist, Zelda D’Aprano in her autobiography shows the same spirit evidenced when chaining herself to the Commonwealth Building in 1969. An essential contribution to the history of the women’s movement.

Anthologies

Wee Girls: Women Writing from an Irish Perspective Lizz Murphy (Ed.) ISBN: 1-875559-51-5

There is a wildness and a daring in these voices. They call up legions out of the sea and set fires alight. They hang out over garden fences, move restlessly, are dotey, beaming, weeping, powerful. Always there is longing, the love of language, and the determined search for the right language. A remarkable collection. Phillip Adams

Angels of Power and other reproductive creations Susan Hawthorne and Renate Klein (Eds.) ISBN: 1-875559-00-0

In the tradition of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, are stories, poems and plays which imaginatively create unexpected futures. From the absurd to the frightening writers explore which angels and which monsters will emerge from the petri dish. Angels of Power should head the reading list of any course in ethics and reproductive technology. Karin Lines, Editions

Fiction

Another Year in Africa Rose Zwi ISBN: 1-875559-42-6

They came from the shtetl to a new land, a new life. Another year in Africa, they said, another year in exile. As old bonds break in the new land, eight-year-old Ruth is caught up in the dreams and fears of her parents, haunted by memories of tragedy and persecution that are not even hers. A tender, richly detailed and engrossing novel. Elaine Lindsay

Safe Houses Rose Zwi ISBN: 1-875559-21-3

Winner, Human Rights Award for Fiction A story of a unique friendship which develops against all odds and reveals the complexities of the Apartheid era. Set against the escalating violence of the last years of the regime, Safe Houses tells the story of three families—black and Jewish—who are inextricable bound by love and hate, hope and betrayal.

Poet r y

Poems from the Madhouse / Now Millennium Sandy Jeffs / Deborah Staines ISBN: 1-875559-20-5

A joint volume of poetry winning multiple awards. Sandy Jeffs invites the reader into the world of schizophrenia, while Deborah Staines evokes the mythic past and the technological future. Anne Deveson on Poems from the Madhouse: I read and read - and was profoundly moved. I delighted in it as poetry; I was touched by its honesty, courage and vulnerability. Dorothy Hewitt on Now Millennium: This book is really wild . . . there’s so much passion and commitment there and she’s drunk with words.

Bird and other writings on epilepsy Susan Hawthorne ISBN: 1-875559-88-4

Birds don’t fly with leads, I said. Safety belts are to learn with, not to live withI’m safer on the trapeze than crossing the road. And I do that every day, often by myself. So thirteen-year-old Avis argues when confronted by the limitations imposed on her at school. She has epilepsy and some of the teachers want to stop her from participating in the sport she loves most. Many-eyed and many-lived is this poet, as seismologist or lover, bird or newborn child. To the classic figures of Sappho and Eurydice she brings all the Now! Here! sense of discovery that fires her modern girl taking lessons in flight. Judith Rodriguez

If you would like to know more about Spinifex Press, write for a free catalogue or visit our website. Spinifex Press PO Box 212, North Melbourne Victoria 3051 Australia [email protected] http://www.spinifexpress.com.au/~women