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The Silent Country

Page 13

by Di Morrissey

But he soon felt sleepy and after glancing over at Marta, who was now asleep, breathing evenly, her hair splayed across her pillow, he turned on his side and tried to watch the patch of empty sky through the tiny tent entrance.

  Colin and Marta were first up and had the fire going and the billy boiling before Helen joined them.

  Johnny emerged looking bleary eyed and Marta told him about the odd ball of light she’d seen. He looked skeptical and announced he was going to walk into town. ‘I’ll bring back some bread and eggs and stuff.’

  ‘How are you going to pay for it?’ asked Colin.

  To his shock, Johnny pulled a wad of notes from his pocket. ‘I played cards with a couple of the lads in the bar. I did very nicely.’ He winked and downed his mug of tea and set off for town.

  After their first hearty breakfast for weeks, everyone was grateful to Johnny and in a cheerful mood as they packed up, ready to head for the Stuart Highway.

  ‘Hey, Marta, you know what you saw last night?’ said Johnny as he stowed the kitchen pans. ‘Man in the store said it was something called the Min Min lights. Turns up every so often.’

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Colin.

  Johnny shrugged. ‘No-one knows . . . Could be space people, though he said the Abos reckon it’s some sort of spirit.’

  ‘Is it good luck?’ asked Marta.

  ‘We’ll find out, eh, won’t we,’ said Johnny.

  5

  VERONICA HAD STARTED HER second muffin and her third cup of coffee. She knew that she was having too much caffeine, but Colin was so absorbed in telling his story that she didn’t want to break the spell. She also knew that at some stage she would have to get Colin to tell it on camera, but for now she was happy to sit and listen so that she could understand the whole extraordinary chain of events.

  Cities recalled, homes in far-off countries, the stresses of urban life, all peeled away like layers of an onion the further the group journeyed. Priorities were basic. The enforced paring down of daily rituals to work and relationships suddenly made life simple in comparison to the lives they’d left behind. What had gone before, just a few weeks previously, was on hold.

  Caught in the limbo of the journey, the pressures were different, the awareness of their surroundings shifted. While they had known that there was this other part of Australia over the mountains dividing the coast from the great sheep and cattle stations and rolling countryside – the dead heart – none of them had ever really considered what it might be like. Now they had found that it was not a landscape that embraced them or belonged to them. It challenged them.

  The further away they travelled from their previous existences, the less they thought about them. Their world turned inwards. They fed off each other with laughter, frustrations, small irritations and loud disagreements as they hiccuped forward. They were still unsure of where they were going, knowing they were following a vague dream, a rubbery vision dictated by a man for whom they sometimes had contempt, who they sometimes joked about, who was sometimes infuriating, but who they still wanted to believe, so that his dream would also be theirs.

  ‘I’m feeling a little excited that we are getting somewhere,’ Marta said to Colin, as they sat together, fingers linked in the back of the Dodge. Peter was driving and Johnny was in the front beside him, having let Topov take the wheel of the Land Rover.

  ‘Helen says the Stuart Highway looks to be a decent road,’ said Johnny.

  ‘On paper, maybe. As we’ve learned that doesn’t mean much,’ said Peter.

  But when they reached the Stuart Highway they realised it was a much better stretch of road than the rough tracks they’d been on. They all came to a halt where Topov and Helen were poring over the map, which they had spread on the bonnet of the Land Rover.

  As the others gathered around and began arguing, Helen rapped on the bonnet and said, ‘We need to discuss this.’

  ‘No talk. We go north,’ said Topov.

  ‘No,’ said Helen. ‘We go south to Alice Springs. We’re very close already.’

  ‘Alice Springs is the heart of Australia,’ said Colin timidly. He’d always hoped to go there. Darwin was a bit of a mystery, he’d never heard of anything exotic there but the Alice, he knew, in the very centre of the country was special. ‘Surely there’ll be great things to film.’

  ‘Yeah, what’s in Darwin?’ asked Drago.

  ‘Darwin exciting place. More wild places past Darwin. What is called Arnhem Land,’ said Topov firmly.

  ‘Arnhem Land? What’s that?’ asked Marta. It was the first time she’d heard this place mentioned.

  ‘What’s there?’ asked Peter.

  Topov spread his arms. ‘This place very beautiful. Jungle, water, native people, crocodile, exciting place. We make film no people ever see before. This Topov dream.’

  ‘Might be your ruddy dream, mate,’ said Johnny, ‘but it’s out in no-man’s-land. What’s wrong with Alice Springs? We’re really close to it, maybe only an hour or two away and Darwin’s still days off. I could stand a bit of civilisation.’

  Topov shook his head. ‘We go that way. Darwin, Arnhem Land.’

  ‘Let’s take a vote,’ suggested Marta. ‘Alice Springs. Sounds good and civilised.’

  ‘Topov not film civilisation. Topov film wild Australia,’ said the director firmly and stubbornly. ‘Darwin good place. We go Top End.’

  ‘We’ll have to get some money pretty quickly to go anywhere,’ said Helen.

  ‘We get money soon,’ insisted Topov. ‘We find bank.’

  ‘So where’s the next stop if we don’t go to Alice Springs?’ asked Drago. ‘Where is there a bank?’

  Helen studied the map. ‘The next place would be Tennant Creek. On the way to Darwin. But Alice Springs is so much closer. It would be much more sensible to head there.’

  Johnny pulled a coin from his pocket. ‘What say we flip a coin? Heads to Darwin, tails to Alice.’

  ‘The great Aussie tradition,’ grinned Colin. ‘Heads or tails.’

  Johnny tossed the coin in the air as everyone stood back waiting for it to land. But swiftly and with surprising ease, Topov stepped forward, snatched the coin while it was still in the air and put it in his pocket.

  ‘We go to Darwin. Topov say.’ He yanked open the door of the Land Rover.

  ‘We could argue about this for the next hour,’ said Helen. ‘It’s six of one and half a dozen of the other, I suppose.’ And with that, she folded the map. ‘Topov might be right. This is what he wants to do, it’s what he’s talked about, in his own way. I don’t see that we have any option, seeing none of us knows any better.’

  No-one could argue with her logic, but there were disgruntled and disappointed comments.

  ‘What do you think, Colin?’ asked Marta as they returned to their car.

  He shrugged. ‘Like everyone else, I don’t know enough about either place. But it’s probably going to be the only chance I ever get to go to the far north of Australia. I suppose we could always come back via Alice Springs.’

  ‘Let’s hope we find a bank quickly and get some money,’ said Marta.

  ‘Blimey, in for a penny in for a quid,’ said Johnny philosophically.

  They drove north along the highway, heading towards Tennant Creek where they could stock up on food and water and, perhaps, glean some information about this mysterious Arnhem Land where Topov was determined to take them. But a sight that pulled them up and had them scrambling for cameras was a formation of rocks on either side of the highway that, according to the name on the map, were the Devil’s Marbles.

  ‘We must go and see it,’ said Colin.

  ‘Blimey,’ said Johnny. ‘You can’t miss seeing them. They’re enormous.’

  Topov was particularly excited as they bumped off the road into the stretch of shallow valley where huge rounded granite rocks were scattered like a giant’s marbles, abandoned in the middle of some casual game. What stunned them most of all was the sight of boulders, bigger than a small house, precariousl
y balanced on top of each other.

  ‘I’m scared to go close,’ said Marta. ‘They might roll on us.’

  ‘They’ve been here for centuries and centuries, I’d say,’ said Colin.

  ‘How could they get like that?’ exclaimed Helen.

  Topov folded his arms and gazed around. ‘This space people. They do this.’ He pointed a pretend ray gun. ‘Zap zap. Alien people come here.’

  ‘Ah, so speaks the geologist,’ commented Peter. ‘But they are amazing.’

  ‘We must film this,’ said Drago.

  Topov began waving his arms. ‘Marta, you must be in picture to show huge size. Drago, set up big camera.’ Topov whipped out the director’s lens from his pocket and began striding about looking for camera angles. ‘Yes, we put camera here. Little camera walk around for shots.’

  Drago didn’t move but looked at the sky and the huge valley scattered with the stones. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to set the camera there, to get the light on the rocks?’

  ‘Of course. Anyone knows that.’ Topov strode away.

  The rest of the group had taken off on foot to explore the weird landscape. Johnny took a penknife from his pocket which he normally used for peeling potatoes and scratched the surface of one of the rocks.

  ‘You’re not carving your initials into that, are you,’ chastised Helen.

  ‘Just checking it’s not some precious mineral. I bet you before we leave here Topov will have chunks of these rocks in his pockets.’

  Helen inclined her head as if to agree, but only said, ‘Let’s get on with this stopover, we still have to get into town.’

  But once they started wandering among the towering rock balls and boulders, everyone, even Helen, became fascinated and the further into the valley they explored the more they were impressed by the enormous scale of the boulders.

  ‘These are so big, yet they look like they are balanced on a pinhead. How do you suppose they got here?’ Marta asked Colin.

  ‘Peter and Drago reckon it’s probably to do with volcanic activity and then weather and erosion have carved them. Look, some of them have split neatly in half.’

  ‘Like giant gold grapes,’ said Marta. ‘It’s incredible. You almost feel like agreeing with Topov that aliens had something to do with this.’

  ‘Like the Min Min lights?’ Colin smiled. ‘I think Topov was only teasing us about the aliens.’

  Marta remained quite serious. ‘This is a strange country. Mysterious, magical, scary. It looks empty but it’s full of . . . spirits, whispers, ghosts, strange beings . . . Who knows?’

  ‘So you shouldn’t feel lonely out here.’

  She took his hand. ‘I don’t want to be alone. How can people take off and explore and travel in this continent on their own? Can you imagine travelling out here by yourself?’

  ‘Many do. And some die,’ said Colin. ‘The first explorers became heroes, even when they died. Now who knows how many cattlemen, swaggies, wanderers have disappeared out here and no-one has found them?’

  ‘That’s awful.’ She snuggled against him. ‘You could call and call for help in the outback and no-one would ever hear you.’

  ‘Except the birds. The birds of prey, in a great silent sky.’ He held her for a moment. ‘But in my story a black-fellow would suddenly appear from around one of these magic stones and lead us to water.’

  Now Marta smiled. ‘I like your stories.’

  Drago had his camera out and was taking photos of Johnny posing, crouching beneath boulders as if holding them up like Atlas.

  ‘Drago! The camera! Roll camera!’ bellowed Topov.

  Drago cursed beneath his breath and returned to where Topov was standing next to the big camera. ‘This not good angle. Look, sun going down over there, we need camera this side.’

  Drago gritted his teeth. ‘I told you that.’ Muttering in Croatian he began repositioning the heavy tripod and camera to capture the sinking sun.

  ‘It’s going to look stunning,’ said Marta.

  ‘It’ll be dark before they get what they want,’ said Johnny as Topov sent Marta off to pose by two particularly enormous egg-like rocks perched side by side with another heavy rock atop them. ‘I’m starting a fire.’

  ‘We’ll have to camp here,’ said Peter. ‘But I think that the sunrise should be pretty spectacular as well.’

  ‘So will the night sky,’ said Colin.

  ‘All right everyone, let’s drive the vehicles off the road to where we’re camping,’ directed Helen.

  They found a clearing where the surrounding rocks stood guard and sheltered them and everyone agreed that despite the cold this would be a night to sleep beneath the stars. Johnny took the axe to break up some wood to make a big bonfire. To one side of it he built a smaller cooking fire. Colin helped him by collecting spinifex and other kindling and thought how quickly Johnny had adapted to bush ways.

  All fell silent as the sunset began to turn the sky an opalescent firey red and orange. The rocks however seemed to blaze with an internal light, looking as though they were burning hot. From amber to gold to deep sienna they throbbed with light and Topov and Drago were ecstatic, each in his own way.

  Topov did a small dance, his tiny feet bouncing daintily beneath the bulk of his body while Drago concentrated on adjusting the focus and camera angles to capture the sunset lighting the strange rocks with Marta, a tiny silhouette, between them. Colin stood beside him making notes.

  ‘I suppose Topov will take credit for what you’re doing,’ said Colin in a rare moment of perception.

  Drago straightened and lifted his face from the eyepiece. ‘I know he will, but it’s important we capture these scenes and that they be correct. Or we have no film.’ He shrugged, ‘No film, no money.’

  As he bent to the camera a flock of brilliant small finches exploded like a burst of thousands of coloured gems, flashing between the rocks.

  With dinner finished, everyone gathered around the fire in the twilight awaiting the show of stars in the clear night sky.

  ‘We have to walk away from the firelight to see them properly,’ said Peter later as the sky changed from indigo to velvet black.

  ‘I’ll watch from my swag, thanks,’ said Johnny.

  Helen yawned. ‘Wake me if there’s anything unusual. I’ve seen enough. I’ll take a peek at sunrise.’ She headed to the caravan.

  ‘She’s never been up by sunrise,’ Colin whispered to Marta.

  ‘Wake me if there’s anything good,’ said Marta heading for her tent. ‘I’m tired too.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I cannot believe I am going to bed this early. In Europe I stayed up till the small hours. At sunrise I was just going home!’

  Topov sat nursing his rum. After the elation of his sunset dance he now seemed morose, deep in thought. The others ignored him as they readied themselves for bed.

  Suddenly Topov pointed at Drago. ‘Drago! You did not get good shot of sunset.’

  ‘Yes I did. I changed the position of the camera,’ he said pointedly.

  Topov’s face went purple. ‘You say Topov put camera in wrong position! No, Drago! You listen to Topov. Topov is director. Topov make film.’

  ‘Then go ahead. If we did everything you said the film will not be any good. I am the film cameraman. You brought me on this trip because you know Drago is a film cameraman. Not Topov,’ shouted Drago.

  ‘Cameraman do what director say,’ bellowed Topov.

  Colin looked at Peter who inclined his head as if to say, let’s move away. Colin moved and as Peter stood up, Drago eyed him.

  ‘This is between Topov and me.’

  Peter nodded understandingly. ‘We’re going to look at the stars. C’mon, Colin.’

  Colin grabbed his jumper and a torch from his chair and followed Peter who strode away from the fire.

  ‘Leave them to it. This has been brewing for a long time.’

  ‘Topov has had quite a few rums, will he get aggressive?’ worried Colin.

  ‘Yes. But he’s all h
ot air and shouting. So is Drago. Yugoslav emotion. Topov will go to sleep before he gets physical. Let’s explore. Do you know astronomy?’

  ‘No. Do you? Here, let me go first, I have a torch.’

  ‘No. It’s better to see by the stars, get your eyes accustomed, turn out the torch,’ said Peter.

  Colin did so and in a few moments realised he could see more around him in the silvery light than by following the small yellow pool of torchlight. Peter climbed over flat rocks, past large boulders, around some of the massive boulders until they were on a slight rise and could see the chessboard of giant marbles placed around them. He sat down and leaned against a large rock. Colin joined him.

  ‘I was half expecting you to lean back and push that rock away,’ Colin said. ‘They seem so lightly balanced that a push from a finger could dislodge them.’

  They settled themselves and sat in silence. Peter lit a cigarette as they gazed at the brilliant constellations.

  ‘You know these? Orion’s belt . . .’

  ‘I call that one the saucepan. And of course, the Southern Cross. Even I can recognise that, but in the city you can’t see a night sky like this,’ said Colin.

  ‘I used to look at the stars a lot when I was sleeping out, hiding in the forests and around farms in the war,’ said Peter.

  ‘When you were in the Resistance? Was it to keep your bearings?’ asked Colin.

  ‘No. For companionship. I was mostly on my own on reconnaissance or carrying messages. You never knew who to trust, even so called friendly farmers, so I kept to myself. It was a lonely time.’

  Colin nodded. This helped to explain why Peter was still very reserved and solitary. ‘And here, in Australia, do you have any family?’

  ‘I have no family.’

  ‘So what will you do after this trip? I mean, why did you come along with Topov?’ asked Colin.

  ‘Why did you?’

  Colin was silent a minute. ‘I thought it was a chance to get into the film business. Scriptwriting. But that’s looking less likely. I think now that it was an excuse. I just wanted an adventure to break the routine of my life.’

  ‘You’ve certainly done that. Will you go back to your life? The same job? The same safety?’ asked Peter.

 

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