by Di Morrissey
The use of her pet family nickname unsettled her for a moment. ‘God, what I’d give to talk to Topov, to all of them, about their time here, brief as it was. Anyway, I hope Jamie comes soon. I want to work out what we do tomorrow. So what’d you shoot this afternoon?’
Eddie chuckled. ‘Two trainees. Reckon they’d be more at home in a video games parlour. But there was an old fella, a local elder, who knew the ropes, trying to get them to hunt down a steer. The trainees were scared stiff. They had rifles but I was more worried about them shooting each other, or us, rather than the bloody beast. The old man finally brought it down. Bloody magnificent. They strung it up from a tree branch and he showed them how to butcher it. The boys were better with a knife than a gun.’
‘That’s not our dinner is it?’ said Veronica.
‘Nope. Meat needs to be hung a bit longer than that.’
One of the backpackers came up and parked herself beside Eddie and introduced herself with a smile. ‘I am Joseline. I like very much your country.’
Veronica tapped Eddie on the shoulder. ‘We’re expected for dinner.’
‘Hey, one drink and I’ll be over. Get one of the kids to take you. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.’
Veronica stared at Eddie, a hundred flashbacks buzzing through her mind. ‘Eddie, we are working. I want you over at Rick’s place. Make whatever arrangements you want for after dinner, but you will be there, understood?’ She turned to the pretty blonde and lifted her finger. ‘He is working and he will walk out of here now. Okay?’
The girl lifted her shoulders. ‘I do not care. Whatever he wishes.’
‘No. It’s not what he wishes. It’s what I am telling him. I am his boss.’ Veronica turned on her heel and walked out of the bar as the blonde girl pretended to quiver.
‘She is scary boss.’
‘Yeah. She is.’ Eddie finished his beer. ‘See you back here at closing time.’
‘Maybe,’ said the blonde.
‘Whatever,’ sighed Eddie, hurrying after Veronica.
Rick and Vicki’s house was lit with soft lights and candles. The low hum of the generator powering the station houses could be heard on the night air. It was a comfortable family home with a pile of shoes and boots at the door, along with jackets and hats on a rack. A country music CD was playing and a small girl was rolling on a sofa with a puppy. A boy, about seven, got up and came to greet them.
‘Hello. I’m Toby. Mum said to come out to the patio.’
Rick, Vicki, Jamie and another young woman were gathered at the barbecue. Vicki handed Veronica a glass of white wine and gave Eddie a beer.
‘This is Sandra, she’s working with us as a nanny and cook for a year. A change from life in Sydney.’
Sandra smiled. ‘I sometimes think Toby and Natalie look after me. Nice to meet you.’
‘We’re teaching her to ride,’ explained Toby.
‘I’d like to learn properly too, one day. There must be some fantastic places to ride around here,’ said Veronica.
‘There certainly are,’ said Rick. ‘You could go out early in the morning. There’s a quiet old stockhorse you could use.’
‘Oh. I’m not sure,’ said Veronica. ‘What about you, Eddie? We’d need to take the camera.’
‘I’m happy to go with you,’ said Jamie. ‘Eddie could meet us at the gorge pool. Roly can drive you up, Eddie. I’ll take Veronica a different way by horse. You’ll both get a good feel for the place. Then I thought you might like to see the original homestead,’ he said. ‘Up to you, I’m sure you both have ideas.’
‘Not at all. I’m in your hands. And Rick’s and Vicki’s,’ said Veronica and was about to ask Eddie his opinion when she thought, blow him, I’m making the decisions. She turned to Jamie and said, ‘Actually, I’d love it. If you’re sure you can manage a novice horsewoman.’
‘Calico will look after you,’ grinned Rick. ‘That’s the horse.’
Sandra smiled at Veronica. ‘It’s time I put the children to bed. See you later, enjoy the ride. Vicki, the salad and garlic bread are all done. See you later, Jamie, perhaps next time you’re down you can bring your Billy as well, so that he can play with these two.’
Veronica turned to Eddie and said, ‘Sandra seems to be a very nice girl.’
Eddie knew she was telling him to keep his hands off and he grinned. ‘I have a date later with one of the backpackers.’
‘We can shoot the old homestead tomorrow. I’m so glad it survived. How far is it from here? Couldn’t it be incorporated into this station?’ asked Veronica.
‘It would be a nice tourist attraction wouldn’t it?’ said Eddie.
‘That was the original idea, but people went in, camped and trashed the place. It’s not in good enough nick to be a show place or a museum and it’s too remote to keep someone there to look after it, so it’s fenced off and we don’t publicise it,’ said Rick.
It was a relaxing evening. After dinner they filmed an interview with Rick and Vicki sitting together on the lounge giving a brief history of Brolga Springs and of themselves and how they’d grown up on stations like this one and how they’d come to see that its future was going to be brightest through the development of tourism.
As arranged, at first light the next day, Jamie tapped on Veronica’s door and handed her a pair of riding boots. ‘As Vicki promised. I have a backpack with me so if you don’t mind skipping breakfast we can set out and have a snack up at the gorge.’
‘Fine,’ said Veronica who was hanging out for a coffee, but pulled on the comfortable old boots and grabbed her hat and sunglasses. She’d already smothered her face in tinted sunblock.
‘I brought the horses up, so we can walk out from here. Saves going down to the stables.’ Jamie pointed to the two stockhorses tethered to the railing that fenced in the patch of lawn around the cabins.
‘Don’t be nervous, just relax. Calico will follow my horse. Let him have his head when it gets steep. Enjoy the view,’ said Jamie helping her into the saddle.
It was quiet. A few early morning risers were walking towards the shower block from the camping area and some of the staff were already at work in the kitchen. By the time they’d left the complex of buildings and yards and were on a sandy dirt track through low scrub, Veronica was starting to relax and enjoy the rhythm of the walking horse and the clear crisp air.
In the pearly pre-dawn light they wound through open land and skirted the small creek and lagoon where colourful canoes rested on the glassy water. A flock of screeching parrots skimmed past them and further away the dark shapes of the cattle stood quietly.
‘How many cattle are on here?’ she asked Jamie.
‘Only about eight thousand head. Country’s too rugged. Better for tourists Rick thinks.’
‘It’s certainly beautiful.’
‘There’s a small rise, want to try a gentle canter?’
‘Lead on,’ said Veronica gamely.
She was exhilarated and feeling more confident as they sped up the rise of the hill, but then she saw the steeper track leading towards the peak of a small sloping mesa. ‘Is that where we’re going?’
‘Yep, the track winds around, so let your horse find his way, he knows where we’re headed. Let’s go, then we’ll make it for sunrise.’
The sky was already running pink and gold as the horses stepped out smartly, Jamie in the lead. Veronica kept her eyes on the ground, worried where the horse was going, but it clearly knew its way. When they came out at the top she caught her breath as she saw the view spread below her. They reined in the horses.
‘I should have brought my camera.’ As far as she could see the landscape of rocky outcrops, grey and green trees, thick in patches, sparse in others, spread beneath her. The waterway and lagoon glinted in the first rays of the sun. But most breathtaking was the rock face beside them where a dancing trickle of a waterfall slid down into a broad, palm-fringed pool below.
Jamie swung off his horse and helped her dismount. ‘Take a sea
t on one of those flat rocks, almost purpose built and take in the sunrise. I’ll grab us a snack.’
Eating a sandwich, sipping a mug of tea from the Thermos and watching the sun rapidly rise and light the scene around them, Veronica didn’t speak. It was too beautiful for words. Jamie sat quietly, contemplating the scene, his back to her as the horses nibbled tufts of spiky grass. Finally he stood up.
‘We’d better pack up and head down. There’re some sweet biscuits if you want one.’
‘Okay. This air has given me an appetite,’ she smiled.
He put the sandwich wrapping and Thermos in his backpack and slung it on his shoulder, taking a final look at the view. But before he slid on his dark glasses, Veronica caught something in his expression, a sadness almost.
‘I’m very glad I’ve seen this. Thanks for bringing me.’
He nodded. ‘It’s not normally on the agenda. It’s a special place for me. I thought you might get a sense of how this country speaks to you,’ he said softly.
‘You seem to really love this place. Where did you grow up?’ asked Veronica suddenly.
‘Melbourne. My mother was a teacher and my father was a professor of ancient history. He has retired and they both live in Darwin now.’ He gave a slight smile. ‘Mum likes to tease him and say that there’s more ancient history out here than in Europe.’
‘And that didn’t interest your father, but it does you,’ said Veronica with a sudden flash of insight.
‘Yes. I got my degree in Melbourne and then had a stint in Canberra in the public service. Couldn’t stand the bureaucracy so I headed to Darwin.’ He walked to the horses and untied the reins from the spindly tree sprouting from a rock crevice. ‘Enough about me. C’mon, let’s mount up. You can have a swim in the pool and hopefully Eddie will be there.’
‘I hope Roly managed to drag him out.’
Towards the bottom of the rise, the track wound through a cool forest of trees and then they came out on a grassy verge that led around to the pool at the base of the small cliffs they’d just descended. There was a truck parked and Roly was squatting next to it, smoking a cigarette. Eddie was at the pool with the camera on his shoulder. At Veronica’s call he swung around to film the riders moving towards him.
‘Pretty spot,’ commented Eddie. ‘I’ve done everything I can. You need anything else here?’
‘How about some scenes of Jamie and me swimming?’
‘No, you go ahead,’ said Jamie. ‘Roly and I will hang around.’
It was hot and Veronica was glad Jamie had told her to wear her swimsuit. As he tethered the horses she went to the truck and pulled off her clothes and boots, then picked her way to the pool and slipped into the refreshing water.
‘Wow, this is wonderful.’
‘Roly says it’s a natural spring. You can drink the water,’ said Eddie. ‘Swim out into the middle by the little waterfall. Must run a gusher in the wet.’
As she paddled around, Veronica noticed the exquisite ferns and plants clinging to the rock face and a small bird chasing a large moth-like butterfly.
‘That’s enough. I’m coming in.’ Eddie put the camera on the seat of the truck and stripped down to his trunks and plunged in. ‘Ah, that’s better. Clears the head.’
Veronica gazed at his body, once familiar to her but now somewhat heavier. ‘So how was last night?’
‘Those girls at the bar had me drinking some crazy cocktail. Should’ve stuck to beer. But this is good. Just as well we’re early, there’s a big group coming out for a picnic later.’
Sitting on a rock to dry out, Veronica asked Jamie to tell her the names of the plants and describe how the area changed in the wet season.
After a while he glanced at his watch. ‘We’d better move on to the old homestead. This is where we’ll be following the original road, well, track, that your mob would’ve come in on. You still up to riding? Roly can bring Eddie in the truck along behind us.’
It was flatter country now and, with the surrounding range and small mesas, she felt a greater sense of isolation as though they were hemmed in by the enormity of the landscape. It was haunting and lonely. They arrived suddenly at a new barbed wire fence and a large locked gate with a ‘No Trespassing’ sign. Jamie got out, pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the padlock, leaving the gate open as they rode through.
Veronica had the feeling she was seeing what Topov and the others had seen as they were led to Mrs Johns’ homestead by Len Buchanan. How pleased Helen and Marta must have been to have a shower and a bed to sleep in. But the sight that now greeted Veronica tore at her heart.
What remained of the original wooden fence was nearly buried in the sandy soil. The old garden was now a patchy brown graveyard of tree skeletons and empty flowerbeds. The stone blocks of the main house were still there but the wooden part of the structure was splintered and sagging from the effort of trying to hold up the rusting roof. What windows were left were fringed with the tattered remnants of torn flyscreens. Piles of wood and corrugated iron were all that remained of the outbuildings. In the midst of rubble, a brilliant red-flowered vine clung to a lone brick chimney. But what wrung Veronica’s heart more than the neglect or the passage of time, was the silence of abandonment and the sense of loss.
She turned to Jamie as he dismounted. ‘Thank goodness Mrs Johns can’t see this.’
‘It would be hard for anyone who knew this homestead as it was to see it dying, slowly, like this,’ agreed Jamie. ‘Places like this show the futility of trying to outlast the land.’
‘Can we look around inside?’ Veronica slid off her horse.
‘I’ll show you where to step. There are a lot of rotten boards in the house.’
In the dim interior where the roof still held, some of the old furniture remained and it smelled musty and dank.
‘Do you suppose ghosts are here?’ asked Veronica, speaking softly.
‘There are no ghosts or spirits here. They’ve long gone to their proper place,’ said Jamie. ‘This wasn’t a grand place, but it was comfortable and there was a big verandah. Over there, on the other side of the yard, were quarters for the men, further down towards the creek there was the Aboriginal camp and somewhere over in that direction was the little schoolhouse.’ He squinted as he pointed.
‘How come you know this place so well?’ asked Veronica. ‘Is it part of the National Parks?’
‘No. It’s still part of the Brolga Springs lease.’ Jamie hesitated, then said, ‘I’ve been told many stories about this place, so it feels like part of my history too.’
‘But you grew up in Melbourne.’
Jamie paused. ‘My mother was born here. Lived here till she was ten.’
Veronica studied him, a premonition stirring in her. She saw his features, his skin colour, the reserved character that she couldn’t put her finger on.
He continued, ‘My mother, Doris, was a protégé of Mrs Johns. After Mr Johns died she didn’t want my mother to be sent to a mission so she arranged for her to go to school in Melbourne.’
Veronica stared at him, murmuring ‘Doris . . .’
Jamie went on. ‘Mrs Johns continued to make provisions for Mum’s education. She died just when Mum was accepted into uni. Mum said she was so proud of her.’
‘Jamie, you are not going to believe this, but Colin remembers her. He told me about Doris. Did you know about this connection when you were contacted to help us?’ asked Veronica.
‘No. I didn’t but I put a few things together. I know that Mum has a bracelet that she told me was given to her by a beautiful woman more than fifty years ago and I’ve read Mrs Johns’ journals in the archives.’
‘My God. I don’t know what to say,’ said Veronica.
‘You’ll need to speak to Mum, I reckon.’
‘Would she be willing to be interviewed?’ asked Veronica.
Jamie gave a short laugh. ‘Try and stop her talking. She’s a fierce little person though. She’s been quite involved in indigenous right
s for years.’
‘I’m overwhelmed. But Jamie, you’re now involved in what I’m doing.’
He shook his head. ‘Not really, I’m just a small part of the puzzle. I think there’s a lot more you have to find out that has nothing to do with me.’
Eddie, who had stopped to film on the way and Roly drove up in the truck. Eddie jumped out with the camera.
‘Well, this is more like it. Amazing old place. I got some great shots coming in. Where do I start? Is it safe to go inside?’
‘Jamie will show you,’ said Veronica. ‘He knows the place well.’ She watched the lean figure of Jamie, his blue shirt sleeves rolled up over his brown arms, his hat pulled low over his sunglasses, his boots silent in the dust, as he walked slowly over to Eddie.
9
VERONICA WAS SEEING THE land through new eyes. After seeing how interested she’d been in the old homestead, Jamie McIntosh offered to take her to the station cemetery. As they drove he told her some of the stories his mother had told him.
‘As a kid I loved the Dreaming Stories, the legends of my mother’s country, which her grandmother told her. But it wasn’t till I came here and saw the country for myself that they made sense.’ He pointed to the landscape. ‘Those red rocks, the gullies that run wild in the wet, those trees, the birds and lizards and little marsupials that I know are out there, well, what’s left of them, make me feel connected to this country because I know their stories and my mother was born here. I tell the stories to my son too.’
‘Have you brought him out here?’
‘Oh, yes. My mother insisted we do his smoking ceremony before he turned one. He’s nearly seven years old so its significance is starting to mean more to him now. The ceremony is a rite that cleanses the child, makes him strong and healthy and connects him to his belonging place. Billy often asks when he’s coming back to his country for a visit.’
‘And his mother?’
A shadow passed over Jamie’s face. ‘Janine – my wife – died suddenly.’