Echo in the Memory

by Cameron Nunn

  I t took all of Will’s strength to get Pa up the bank and back to the house. Pa was conscious but his body was awkward and kept falling limp. Will was surprised how thin his grandfather was. Beneath the shirt were the fragile bones of a bird, angular and hard.

  “Don’t tell them about the cave,” Pa murmured as they struggled back toward the house. “They’ll ask you but don’t tell them. He’s got to get back there and get his name. You can’t say anything. Promise me.”

  Will promised, as much to try and keep Pa quiet as anything else.

  When Gran saw them she gave a stifled scream, pressing her knuckle against her mouth. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. We were working down in the creek and he had a turn. I think it was too much for him. Out of the way, Rosie, or hold the door open or something.”

  Rosie nodded mutely, and swung open the door for them to pass. Her eyes were big with fear. When they laid Pa down on the bed, Will said to Rosie, “Can you to run up the hill and tell Dot?”

  Rosie nodded but she stood still looking anxiously at what was happening.

  Will found a strength that he hadn’t felt before. He pushed back the fear and memories that rushed to the surface. “I need you to hurry, Rosie. Tell her that something’s happened to Pa. Tell her we need an ambulance or something. Can you do that?”

  Rosie nodded again. She seemed to draw courage from the way Will spoke and ran out of the house towards Dot’s.

  “He won’t go in an ambulance,” Gran said as soon as Rosie had left. “He’ll die before he agrees to go to a hospital.”

  Pa made an attempt to sit up and then slumped back down in the bed. “Stop fussing,” he said. “The heat was a bit much, that’s all.” His face was the colour of a cold fire and his lips were pale. He was covered in perspiration.

  “Just stay still. For once in your life, William. Stay still,” Gran ordered. “I’ll get a face cloth and some water.”

  When Dot arrived, she motioned for Gran to come into the next room. Her voice was little more than a whisper. “I’ve rung for the doctor but he can’t get here until this afternoon. He said we should call an ambulance if we’re worried.”

  Will watched her shake her head. “You know he won’t go,” she said. Her voice was shaking as Dot wrapped her arms around her in comfort.

  Will reached out and took Rosie’s hand gently. “You did well.”

  The doctor was a softly spoken man. He took Pa’s blood pressure and listened to his heart for some time. Then he stepped out of the bedroom and indicated with his head that Gran needed to follow. As she left, Will and Rosie were close behind until they were all standing in the hallway.

  “Is he on any medication?” the doctor asked.

  “He refuses to take medicine,” Gran replied. “He’s stubborn like that.”

  “Who’s his usual doctor?”

  “He won’t see doctors. He hasn’t seen one in years. If he’d been able to stop Dot from calling you, he would have.” Gran was fidgeting anxiously with the edge of her shirt.

  “So, he hasn’t seen a cardiologist?” he asked slowly.

  Gran shook her head. “Is he very sick?” Will could tell that Gran was hoping the doctor might announce that he had a cold.

  The doctor raised his eyebrows sympathetically. “Mrs Richards,” he hesitated slightly. “Perhaps we could talk in private.” He indicated Will and Rosie who were standing mutely in the doorway behind her.

  “Gran, I’d like to stay,” Will said quickly, stepping to her side. “I want to know how sick he is.”

  Gran smiled meekly, first at Will and then at the doctor as if to say, what can I do? The boy wants to stay.

  “Very well,” the doctor said gently. “If you’re asking whether he’s going to get out of bed this afternoon, then the answer is obviously no. Will he get out of bed tomorrow or maybe the next day? Well, he might. I can’t say for certain.” He paused, gathering his words. “Mrs Richards, your husband is very unwell. His heart is very weak. The injection will relieve some of the pain, and he should rest comfortably now. But he needs proper care. He needs to go to hospital and see a specialist who can diagnose him properly.”

  “He won’t go,” said Gran. Her voice was trembling and Will sensed that her words were tearing her apart. “I know him. He’ll say he’d rather die than go to hospital. I can’t do that to him again.”

  The doctor nodded sympathetically. “I understand this can be a hard decision but there’s nothing more that I can do for him here. He needs to be in hospital where specialists can run some tests. Would you like me to call an ambulance?”

  She shook her head. “But you said he might get up tomorrow,” her voice almost pleaded.

  The doctor sighed and Will read everything into that breath. “It’s possible that he might be slightly better tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” Gran said, brightening. “That would be good.”

  It were possible Kate were wrong about Cain. She didn’t say she’d actually seen him kill anyone. Maybe he didn’t know about it or he’d tried to stop them. Maybe it were Jack and the others what done the killing. The thought of the girl with her throat slit kept replaying over and over in my mind. I’ve seen all sorts of cruel things. I’ve seen the ones at Newgate whose necks don’t break when they fall, kick around till someone mercifully pulls on the legs and the life breaks finally away. I’ve seen men laugh at them what suffer. Good men who go to church on Sundays. It’s always the same.

  It were another two days before I next seen Cain. He came as usual to check on the sheep and to deliver supplies. Right away he sensed something were different. “So, what would it be that’s eating you up today?”

  “I don’t think you really want to know,” I said venomously.

  Cain were slow on the uptake. “I seen Miss O’Neill coming out of the woods the other day and now she ain’t happy either. I’m thinking that there’s been some sort of falling out between you two. Am I right?”

  “No, you ain’t right. My problem’s not with Kate. It’s with you, you old hypocrite.”

  Cain looked genuine shocked. “Now, what’ve I done that’s got you so riled up all of a sudden? Let’s have it out.” He took his pipe out of his pocket and tapped it thoughtful on his hand. “For the life of me, I can’t think of anything I’ve done.”

  “The black people,” I started. I could no longer use the word ‘savages’, not even in the deepest part of my mind. “They ran away, did they? You left out a few details, didn’t you?”

  “Ah, so that’s what’s bothering you.” He found a log and sat down and kept tapping his pipe, this time against his leg, as though there were something what needed to be shaken loose. “You’re squeamish about such things. I’ve told you before, some things have to die for others to live. Take the sheep for instance . . .”

  “We’re not talking about bloody sheep.”

  “My point is still the same.”

  “It ain’t. It ain’t the same at all. You killed them.”

  “Aye, and not without reason. They murdered Michael, the boy who were here before you.”

  “But you don’t know that. You said he could’ve wandered off. You told me that. You said you looked for him. You don’t know they killed him. You don’t know that anyone killed him.”

  “What do you want us to do? Go and ask them whether they’ve recently speared anyone. Or would you rather we wait until we find you dead with a spear through your back. When I see a dead sheep with its throat torn out and wild dogs about, I don’t try and find which dog is responsible. I take aim and I kill the lot of them.”

  “But we ain’t talking about dogs, damn you. We’re talking about people. We’re talking about people. You murdered people, Cain. You don’t even know if they’d done anything!”

  Cain put his hands up and laughed a little. “C’mon, Boy. Here we are, arguing over something so silly and I thought we were friends. There’s no need for us to be falling out over this. Killing ain’
t something I take a liking to. I’m not Jack what enjoys drowning puppies. But I done what I done because I had to, because it were right. I grant you the blacks are humans but they ain’t people like you and I, and I think it sad that friends should come to blows over savages.”

  “Four fingers and a thumb.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You wanted to know what makes them people? Four fingers and a thumb.” I glanced at Cain’s savaged hand with its missing fingers and knew instantly I’d hit the mark.

  “You arrogant English bastard.” He were angry now and his face were red but all the time he kept his voice straight. “How dare you lecture me! I’ve seen what savages can do. I’ve seen men die slowly. So don’t tell me what’s right and wrong, you little shit.”

  “What was it you said, when the English took your land it were the spoils of war, and when you tried to take it back it were called a rebellion? Isn’t that what you said?”

  Cain swung his hand back but I weren’t going to cower. He hesitated and dropped his hand. “Go to hell.”

  “Not me. It’ll be you what swings from the gallows. You and the rest of them, you bastards. I’ll find a magistrate and tell him what you and the others done.”

  Cain were already walking away. “To hell with you. Find a magistrate and he’ll pin a medal on my chest,” he tossed back over his shoulder. Then he turned and faced me. His face were livid. “You don’t deserve to hear this, but I’ll tell you anyway. Miss O’Neill says she wants to meet you as soon as you can, where you and her have been sneaking away to this past year. I’ll not be covering for you and her no more. You can tell Mr O’Neill what you told me and see how he takes it, you English prick.”

  I never spoke to Cain again after that day. Nelson snuffled beside me and I slapped him gentle across the side. I should’ve been grateful Cain had delivered one last message, but there were naught left in me but bile and loathing. Perhaps it were for Kate’s sake he told me.

  By the time I got to the sinkhole, Kate were waiting there. She’d been crying again. My first thought were that she’d seen Cain, but I knew that weren’t possible. She’d have left before he were halfway back along the track.

  “I had it out with Cain,” I said as I sat down. I were still too angry with the world to look at her, so I picked up a rock and threw it into the sinkhole as I spoke.

  “What do you mean?”

  “About the killings. I called him a murderer. I told him he’d hang.”

  “What’d you do that for? What if he tells my father?” Her voice were panicked.

  “I ain’t afraid of your father.” I flung another stone into the hole.

  “Then you’re a fool,” she said angrily. “If Cain says so much as a word to anyone, they’ll have you up before a magistrate for something or other and you’ll spend the rest of your time in a chain gang with murderers, or worse.”

  “If they put me in front of a magistrate, I’ll tell him everything you told me.”

  “You don’t get it, do you? Even if a magistrate believed you, do you think they’d care? They’re just blacks, damn you. They’re just blacks.” Kate were standing now, shouting her red words.

  It were what I expected her to say but I had my response already rehearsed. I spoke as calm as I could. “They’re people, Kate. I’ve touched their handprints. You know it’s wrong what they done. You can’t blink it away. Not from God. Not from yourself. I know you’ve seen things I ain’t seen before but I know killing ain’t right. You’re not like them, Kate. You know it’s wrong what they done.”

  “Promise me you won’t say anything more. I’ll tell Cain not to say anything. He’ll keep his counsel if I ask him. I know he will.” She wiped her face on the sleeve of the dress she were wearing. “Just promise me.”

  “I don’t want you begging anything from Cain.” I spat to show what I thought of Cain.

  “Cain’s a good man. Most of them are good men. But when you start threatening them . . . And I won’t be here.” She stopped suddenly.

  “What do you mean, you won’t be here? Where are you going?” Her statement caught me midways in my thoughts and grabbed my breath.

  “I wanted to tell you the other day but then we argued. I don’t want to go away without us being friends.”

  I heard the words but I couldn’t reckon their meaning. “Where are you going?” I repeated. In the back of my mind I thought she might’ve meant back to the homestead, back to Brymedura.

  “My father had some good news.”

  “What’s that got to do with you going away?”

  “Mr Harrison is leaving again. He’s going back to Sydney. He has a daughter in Sydney. She’s married to a man who knows people, even the governor. He’s agreed for me to go back and spend time with his daughter and her husband. She’ll introduce me to people, to society. It’s a more generous offer than anything I could’ve hoped for.”

  “Then you’re the fool, Kate O’Neill, and you know it. You’re the daughter of an Irish convict. Why would she introduce you to society? She wants you for a plaything.”

  Now it were Kate’s turn to be hurt. “You think I haven’t thought of that? I’m willing to take my chances. I know I’ve nothing to recommend me to anyone. I’m sixteen. If I’m lucky maybe someone will like the way I look enough to not care who I am. Someone with money and a future.”

  Cold hands squeezed around my neck. “But what about us? We talked about getting a run set up as soon as I got my ticket. It’s what we wanted.”

  “It’s what you wanted. I’m not like you. You’re all heart and passion and I’m all head. I don’t have the dreams you have. I look at a hole in the ground and I say it’s a sinkhole. You look at it and you see underground rivers leading to who knows where. Your mind’s already floating down through the caverns to come out somewhere that no one’s ever heard of before. Don’t be angry with me that I can’t be like you.”

  I dragged my hand down my face. “If you’re so glad, why’ve you been crying?”

  “With all my heart I want to leave and don’t want to leave. You make me dream. You’ve been my only friend. But I’ve got to go. I want to go.”

  I couldn’t meet her eye. I stared down into the blackness, into the invisible river what led nowhere but into hell. “Why now? Why so sudden? Is it because of what I said about the blacks?”

  She hesitated. “My father’s worried. He knows I wander off a lot and one of the men told him I were going off to meet someone in the bush.”

  “Who said that? Only Cain knows about our meeting.”

  “It doesn’t matter who told him. I denied it and swore on everything sacred that it weren’t true. I can’t keep lying to him. He believes me but I won’t keep lying to him. Sooner or later you’ll get caught and then it will be much worse. It’s better this way. If you care for me, let me go with your blessing and promise me you won’t do anything foolish.”

  I stood there silently. There were naught left in me to say. Words had been washed out like flotsam on the tide.

  She sat down beside me but my heart were breaking. “I brought you something,” she said, unwrapping a small bundle of blue calico. “It wasn’t intended as a going away present, but I wanted you to have it.” She pulled out a leather-bound book, a glass jar of ink with a silver stopper and a small knife. “It’s for you to write your stories in. You can’t write in charcoal and sand all the time. Maybe one day you’ll write a book of all your stories.”

  I looked at the gift but couldn’t touch it. It were the most precious thing I’d ever been given but I wanted to hurl it down the hole and be done with it. How long we sat there, I don’t know.

  “Crows,” she said at last.

  I looked up at her.

  “Crow feathers. The wings. They make good quills when there’s no geese around. The bastards have got to be useful for something.”

  I smiled then and Kate laughed. It were the last thing she said to me. I couldn’t say goodbye. I c
ouldn’t say it. I hated her for taking Kate away. My heart tumbled like a stone into the abyss at my feet. And there she left me, sitting in front of the yawning darkness where our first lessons had begun.

  When she’d gone, I cried for myself. I cried for the hands in the cave. I cried for my brother George, probably dead in some ditch in London. For Amos, yellowing like a calico memory. For Cain, who I loved, though I hated what he done. The misery of the whole world suddenly fell upon me, with all its heavy weight and all its injustice. I’d been living for a dream – a dream that I’d have my place. But in that dream Kate had always been there. Now it were all as hollow as smoke.

  Will’s grandfather slept soundly after the doctor had given him the injection. Will wanted to stay with him until he woke but Dot was insistent that he go with her and that Rosie come also. “Your gran needs space to be with your pa.”

  “But I know he’d want me there when he wakes up.”

  “He needs your grandmother to be there. Fifty years is a long time. When he wakes up, it’s Gran he needs to see.”

  Will gave in. Dot appeared more exhausted than he’d ever seen her. And he knew she was right.

  “I’ll have you and Rosie back after dinner,” Dot said, as they left the house. Only Nelson hung back, unwilling to leave.

  They crossed the driveway and began the slow walk up the hill to Dot’s place in silence. Dry grass whispered under their feet. Will looked over to the wall of golden cliffs and the rock that stretched like a misshapen finger pointing upwards. There was something calling from there tonight; a strange urgency that he hadn’t felt before, and then it was gone. It wasn’t like the memories that came with pictures, just a feeling of unease.

  “Your house is falling over,” Rosie said, breaking into Will’s thoughts.

  Will had grown used to the way that the verandah roof was propped up in the middle like an old clothes line.

  “It’s a bit like me, sagging where it didn’t used to sag. One day it’ll finally topple over with me in it. It’ll save burying me.” Dot tried to laugh and then there was silence again.