by Di Morrissey
‘I don’t know. I guess I have to see how this play ends.’ Colin smiled in the darkness.
‘The final curtain might be interesting. To see if Topov pulls the rabbit out of the hat.’
‘You think he’s a bit of a magician? He has a way of springing things on you. He seems a lucky person. Lands on his feet when he should be flat on his face,’ said Colin.
Peter didn’t smile at Colin’s description. ‘Topov is the actor amongst us. I don’t believe he is who he says he is.’
‘He’s not Maxim Topov? Who do you think he is?’ asked Colin, quite shocked.
‘Who knows? The name is immaterial. I don’t think he’s Russian, I don’t believe he’s a famous director and he doesn’t seem to know much about cameras and film.’
‘Well, I agree Drago seems to know a lot more about cinematography . . . But Topov is the reason we all came along! Madame Olga would know about him, surely, or she wouldn’t have helped him. She’s put up money too. And he seems really committed to make this film,’ added Colin. ‘We have to give him a chance.’
In the darkness he couldn’t make out Peter’s expression but he felt the Dutchman was smiling, which was a rare occurrence.
‘You’re right Colin. I’m trained to be suspicious of people’s motives. We’re here, we’ve all invested in this project in some way – money, time, effort. We all want this to work. We shall see what tomorrow morning and those that follow bring.’ He stood up and started to climb back through the rocks.
Colin was thoughtful and realised that the taciturn Dutchman still really hadn’t revealed anything of substance about himself. But his doubts about Topov seemed a bit extreme. In the dwindling moonlight the rocks looked soft, spongy, as if a strong breeze would send them blowing away like tumbleweeds. A light cloud suddenly obscured the stars. Colin had started following Peter who suddenly stopped.
‘I don’t recall seeing that rock formation. Did we come this way?’
Colin hadn’t been paying attention. ‘I’m not sure.’ Suddenly he felt they were surrounded by forbidding shapes that were blocking their way, closing in on them and silently observing them.
Peter looked up at the sky. ‘Can’t see the stars. We could walk around here for hours. Best we wait till daylight.’
‘You have matches. If we light a fire, the others might see us.’
‘It will keep us warm.’
By torchlight they gathered enough wood to make a small fire and huddled into a crevice in front of it. With their jumpers tight around them, they tried to sleep.
The next morning, at first light, Colin and Peter easily found their way back to the camp. It appeared that no-one, apart from Topov and Helen, had slept well that night. The ground had been hard and the night chilly. But at dawn everyone forgot their discomfort as they watched, mesmerised, the sun glowing as it rose over the strange rock-strewn scene, changing it from harsh outlines to soft pink and lavender that then hardened to diamond sharp brilliance.
Drago tried to capture as much of the exquisite scene as he could, moving the bulky camera with Johnny’s help to the best positions. A sleepy Topov emerged from the caravan and, as the fire was stoked under the billy, Helen also stepped out looking businesslike and purposeful.
‘We must move on, this has delayed us.’
No-one answered her as everyone was discussing Colin and Peter’s night among the rocks.
‘It was a bit spooky,’ said Colin. ‘And at first we didn’t sleep well as there was all this scuttling about.’
‘Lizards. Lots of strange little ones in the rocks,’ said Peter. ‘And the tracks of quite a big one.’
‘Should we see if we can find it? Goanna over the coals for breakfast?’ suggested Johnny.
‘I’ll toast the stale bread, thanks,’ said Marta.
Topov plonked himself in a chair to await a mug of coffee. ‘Drago did good. Do like Topov say.’
Everyone ignored the comment.
They were still south of Tennant Creek when later that morning, they came across a group of Aboriginal people walking beside the road. The men wore torn shorts, the women faded and ragged dresses. All were barefoot and carried string bags. They looked scruffy and unhealthy. They stared sullenly at the cars as the group pulled over. Topov greeted them heartily but they simply stared at him.
‘Maybe they don’t understand his accent. You talk to them, Colin,’ said Helen.
Colin stepped forward and introduced himself, then asked, ‘Where are you from?’
One of the men jerked his head to where a single track wound westwards.
‘Is there a town, a settlement, over there?’
‘Camp,’ muttered the man. ‘Where you go?’
‘Darwin. Is it far to Tennant Creek?’
The man shrugged. ‘Little bit long way.’
‘Ask him if we can go see their camp,’ said Drago.
‘Can we drive to your camp? Are many people there?’
The man shrugged again and said something to the others. Another man shook his head.
Topov butted in. ‘We make moving picture. We take pictures, okay?’ He lifted the Bolex.
At this one of the younger women, who despite the dust and dirt might have been considered pretty with her large dark eyes and matted curls, stuck out her hand saying, ‘Two bob.’
‘She wants money! Like heck,’ said Johnny.
‘Let’s go,’ said Marta.
But Topov would not be deflected. ‘Drago and me take Jeep, go look. Colin, you come. Do talk.’
As they returned to the vehicles the Aborigines silently headed off the road, walking slowly into the scrubby landscape. They took no notice as the Jeep followed them. Within a mile Colin saw the glint of sun on tin and figures moving about but as the Jeep drew near, the Aborigines stood and stared. There was one building, merely sheets of iron nailed to rough-hewn posts. Its floor had tattered blankets spread on the dirt. The solitary wall was made of sheets of iron tacked together to act as a wind break. Other sheets of corrugated iron were bent over the ground forming small shelters where one or two adults could sit. Other humpies in the camp were made of branches and bark.
Scattered around were the remains of several campfires and a lot of rubbish and bottles. Emaciated dogs scratched about or lay in the dirt. Everyone was partly clad in an assortment of cast-offs. The women sitting outside their bark shelters wore strips of skirts, their bare breasts hung, wrung dry and their ribs were etched on their shrinking skin.
Everyone looked dejected, unhealthy and filthy. A few pans, a kerosene tin with wire as a handle, lay beside the fire, but there were no other amenities of any kind.
‘This is terrible. Horrible,’ said Drago. ‘We can’t film this.’
‘Poor people,’ said Topov. ‘Yes, take picture. We show world Aborigines worse than peasant.’
Colin was embarrassed and shocked. If he had thought about it at all, he had imagined Aborigines as still strong tribal people or settled in missions. Reluctantly Drago filmed the depressing scene from a distance, using the telephoto lens, but nobody seemed to notice or care. When he had finished filming they turned the Jeep around and followed the tracks back to the others.
Closer to town they saw a mission and paused. It was surrounded by a fence with barbed wire on top and inside there was a neat church and a row of what looked to be dormitory buildings. Aboriginal children were lined up outside them and were being addressed by two nuns. The children looked clean and well cared for. Despite the surrounds being treeless and bare, creating a seemingly soulless place, it was certainly better than the camp they’d seen.
‘That’s why there were no children in that camp,’ said Colin softly.
‘Good idea church to look after children,’ said Topov.
‘I suppose they think it will help the children,’ said Colin.
‘It’s better than that dismal camp. They live like dogs there,’ said Drago.
‘What are we going to find in Arnhem Land?’ wondered
Colin.
‘People stay wild. More better,’ said Topov.
‘I hope so,’ said Drago vehemently.
Tennant Creek was what they’d come to expect of outback towns – a wide dusty street, some pubs, a few buildings and scattered houses, but Topov became hugely enthusiastic the moment he spotted the mine heads that edged the town.
Anticipating some money from the bank, everyone booked into one of the town’s hotels and luxuriated in a hot bath, a bed with a mattress and hearty country cooking. The hotel was, by Helen and Marta’s standards, not the cleanest but it was a welcome change from camping. After they had all freshened up, Helen went to the bank, the men hit the bar, while Colin and Marta walked up Battery Hill to look at one of the ore crushing plants. Topov disappeared.
When they got back Colin and Marta sat outside the hotel on a bench having a glass of beer and Helen, looking annoyed and flushed, joined them.
‘Women are second-class people in this country,’ said Marta. ‘I’m glad you’ve joined us Helen. The ladies’ lounge is awful.’
‘I suppose I might as well have a gin and tonic seeing as we’re all in a mess now.’ She sighed and sat down.
‘What’s wrong, Helen?’ asked Marta. ‘Is there a problem with the money?’
‘You might say so. It hasn’t come through.’
‘Why not? Madame Olga was supposed to send it. Why hasn’t she sent it? What are we going to do?’ said Marta with some heat. ‘Where is the money we put up?’
‘I just telephoned her, reverse charges and she says it will be in Darwin when we get there. That doesn’t help us here.’
‘We didn’t think we had to pay our own expenses,’ said Marta. ‘That wasn’t part of the arrangement.’ She looked as though she didn’t know whether to cry or throw something.
‘It will get sorted out. It’s hard for me as business manager, of course,’ said Helen. ‘I don’t know how we’ll get to Darwin without any money.’
‘Maybe we should be leaving in the middle of the night,’ said Marta darkly.
‘Please don’t say anything to the others just yet. Let’s see what happens,’ said Helen. ‘I don’t appreciate being left in the lurch like this.’
Topov didn’t reappear until dark and then, having eschewed a hotel room, he disappeared into the caravan parked behind the hotel. When Topov and Helen walked into the hotel together, Colin, Marta and Johnny were seated in the hotel dining room, a basic but clean establishment. Topov was clearly in an expansive mood, jovial and loud, but as Helen rested her hand on his arm and whispered something, he brushed her aside and strode into the bar where a few men were drinking.
The barmaid, a sharp-eyed, sun-weathered woman, began pulling beers when Topov announced that he was buying drinks for everyone. He introduced himself to the two stockmen and a truck driver delivering cattle to the town of Katherine and waved to the other men in the room.
Helen joined the others in the dining room and Marta asked, ‘Why is he so generous? How is it that he can buy drinks for strangers when we can’t buy food and petrol for us?’
‘I don’t believe it. He seems to be one of those people that get hit in the rear end by rainbows,’ muttered Helen. ‘He spent the afternoon fossicking for gold. You know that he fancies himself as an amateur geologist.’
‘Did he find something?’ asked Marta, her eyes wide.
‘Yes. A nugget of gold, which he says he sold to some fellow from the mine.’
‘Did you see it?’
‘No, but he showed me some money. The problem now is to stop him spending it all.’
‘Let’s get him out of the bar,’ said Marta firmly. ‘We’ll help you.’
By the time Colin went back to the bar, Topov had engaged another three strangers in conversation about finding a ‘good place to make film’. Marta signalled Johnny to come over and she quickly explained the situation. Johnny, who was enjoying one of Topov’s free drinks, understood at once what Marta was saying and he slapped Topov on the back.
‘Hey, what’s this? You struck gold?’
Everyone in the bar went quiet and all looked at Topov.
‘Topov know rocks. I look at river, I look at hill. Topov knows where to find gold. I find big piece.’
‘So where is it?’ asked Drago.
‘Topov sell! I make good money. We all drink to celebrate. Friends, you drink,’ he exclaimed, dropping his arm around one of the stockmen who pulled away in shock. Topov threw some more notes on the bar but before the barmaid could swoop Johnny and Colin had their hands on the money.
‘This is for petrol. Supplies. No more drinks,’ said Johnny.
‘This money belongs to Topov. I say we drink.’
‘You want to share some of that cash? You can share it with us,’ said Johnny, ‘We’re owed expenses.’
Topov’s face darkened as they led him from the bar. ‘Topov find gold. Topov get more gold. Plenty gold in rocks.’
‘We’re not here to mine for gold,’ said Helen.
‘Can you just pick it up off the ground?’ asked Johnny, suddenly interested.
‘If it was that easy we’d all be out there,’ called the barmaid after them. ‘I reckon he’s having you on. Did ya see the nugget?’
Topov was incensed by her insinuation. ‘She think I tell lies. You talk to mine manager. Topov great geologist.’
Outside the hotel, Helen insisted that Topov settle their bill right away.
‘We want to leave early in the morning.’ She held out her hand. ‘Give me the cash. I’m the business manager, I’ll look after it.’
Topov reluctantly handed over a wad of money.
‘How many ounces of gold was it?’ asked Johnny.
Topov shrugged. ‘Enough.’ And stomped towards his caravan.
Everyone was subdued at breakfast after the drama of the previous evening.
‘Where’s Topov?’ asked Colin.
‘He’s having a shower upstairs,’ said Helen. She pulled out some money and said to Johnny, ‘Let’s go to the store for food supplies, fill up the jerry cans with petrol and get some water. We’ve got to make this money last until Darwin.’
‘Those blokes in the bar suggested that we should stop in Katherine. See the gorge. Sounds pretty spectacular,’ said Colin.
Helen shrugged. ‘There’s scenery and there’re things that are more anthropological. We’ve yet to see any traditional Aborigines, any real wildlife or the jungle that Topov wants.’
‘I say we take a side trip to this gorge,’ said Drago. ‘I want to take photographs. Let’s vote.’
Everyone raised their hand.
‘So long as it doesn’t waste time, money or energy,’ said Helen.
‘Oh, it’s sure to do all of that.’ Marta smiled.
Topov was annoyed that a decision had been made without him. ‘We see big gorge, better place near Darwin,’ he said gruffly.
‘Maybe. But we have to drive right through Katherine and we don’t want to miss something magic,’ soothed Helen.
‘Well, Katherine ain’t any metropolis either,’ drawled Johnny as they came into the outback town past the meat-works and a couple of pubs, one of which had a glaring pseudo-Aboriginal mural of boomerangs and kangaroos on its walls.
‘I’m so tired of cattle country,’ said Marta. ‘It’s scruffy land and you hardly see a house or a cow. Where are the forests?’
‘These cattle stations here are half the size of European nations,’ said Drago.
‘I think we have to drive off this so-called road to get an idea of the scale,’ added Peter.
‘The stock feed isn’t lush like Europe, but the cattle are tough and spread widely,’ said Colin. ‘You need a lot of acres to feed one beast.’
‘It would be great to see it from the air,’ said Johnny. ‘You blokes need to get a plane to film it and get the real idea of the size.’
‘Where we get plane?’ asked Topov, his eyes alight.
‘You mean, where do we get the money to
hire a plane?’ asked Helen, instantly pouring cold water on the idea.
They camped at the edge of the town for the night and Johnny turned out a respectable meal for them, as they all had turned up their noses at the local greasy spoon café in town.
‘We’re here to see this gorge,’ said Marta. ‘So how do we get there?’
Colin spoke up, pleased to be the one with the information. ‘I had a chat to the garage man when we filled up. He’s got a small boat and he said he’d be willing to loan it to us to go down the gorge. Said it’s quite something to see.’
‘Johnny, why we no bring boat?’ demanded Topov.
Johnny threw up his hands and Drago stepped in.
‘You saw the land we’ve come through, the bleeding caravan is bad enough, can you imagine bringing a boat as well?’
‘Seems you have something arranged, Colin. Let’s talk to the man tomorrow,’ said Peter.
It was a small, old boat, but despite its heavy construction it had a broad beam and was sturdy. They could all fit into it and the engine sounded healthy. Peter took the tiller, Topov sat in the bow with the Bolex and Drago had a small stills camera ready. The others settled into the little open boat as it chugged away from the makeshift landing towards the giant red cliffs which towered over the stretch of turquoise water.
‘The colours! Magnificent, yes?’ said Topov. He lifted his arm in a gesture of approval as if he were personally responsible for the stunning palette.
The linked gorges were still and peaceful, the stretch of calm water protected by ancient gold and red walls. Trickles of wet-season waterfalls, ferns, and small rock outcrops and overhangs sheltering caves marked the jagged cliff face. In the sky above, large birds swooped and shrieked.
Peter steered the boat close to the cliffs of the gorge then out to the centre before taking a right-hand turn under another row of cliffs. Here they could see that further along the river narrowed and at the bottom of the sheer cliffs were low flat rocks and shallow pools.
‘We could go ashore and walk around there,’ suggested Colin.
‘We’ll have to be careful where we leave the boat,’ replied Drago. ‘We don’t want it to drift.’