by Alan Collins
‘‘Ta Ra! The famous Abercrombie Caves await us,’’ Toni shouted exuberantly. Her voice echoed around the black escarpments. She took Joshua’s hand. ‘‘Beats unbolting old Holdens, doesn’t it, Joey?’’
Joshua thought: ‘‘It’s now or never.’’ He put an arm around her waist and kissed her hard on the lips. Even as he kissed her, he felt that she was in control, that it was a concession she made for the occasion, that young as she was, she was a thousand times smarter than he. Pulling away from him as though nothing had happened, she skipped ahead, calling over her shoulder for him to ‘‘get a wriggle on, sport, we’ve got a lot of exploring to do.’’
Exploring was hardly the word for it, Joshua reckoned. Toni, sure-footed, leapt from rock to rock leading the way up to where a battered sign pointed to the Bushrangers’ Cave. They had already passed the entrance to the main cave, well signposted for tourists. Ahead, Joshua could see a giant archway. Toni’s dimunitive figure was now framed in it as she paused, hands on hips, waiting for him with barely concealed impatience. Finally, when Joshua stood alongside her, she struck a pose, imitating a tourist guide.
‘‘Just beyond here,’’ she declaimed, ‘‘is the entrance to the Bushrangers’ Cave, so called because it was used as a hide-out for the ruthless Ribbon Gang in the 1830s and also the notorious Ben Hall and Frank Gardiner in the 1850s.’’ Joshua was about to speak; Toni held up her hand for silence. ‘‘The Ribbon Gang was on the run most of the time — just like you Joe — only, only …’’
‘‘Only what?’’
‘‘The whole gang of about ten was caught and hanged in Bathurst. I’ll show you the spot when we get back to town.’’ She had resumed her normal speaking voice and putting an arm around Joshua’s waist, whispered in his ear, ‘‘Don’t worry, sport, they won’t catch you and hang you — not while I can help it.’’
They climbed on in silence until they came to the cave mouth. Now the notes of the magpies and currawongs were still. As they entered the cave, they felt for each other’s hand. Daylight faltered as they penetrated deeper; the cold of the walls and the soft whirring of tiny bats’ wings drew them even closer to each other. Stalactites and stalagmites loomed as distorted bodies petrified by time. Toni pointed to a small skeleton in a niche in the wall. ‘‘Andy told me it’s the bones of a wombat that starved to death here thousands of years ago.’’
She released her grip on Joshua and moved off a few steps, mounting a small rock plinth. Clearing her throat, like a singer on a stage, she recited:
‘‘Hail Goddess of nocturnal sport,
Dark-veil’d Cotytto! to whom the secret flame Of midnight torches burns: Mysterious dame!
That ne’er art called but when the dragon womb Of Stygian darkness spits her thickest gloom,
And makes one blot of all the air —
Stay thy cloudy ebon chair
Wherein thou ridest with Hecate and befriend
Us thy vowed priests!’’
She jumped down and ran to Joshua, hiding her head in his jacket with embarrassment.
‘‘What on earth,’’ he murmured after a while, ‘‘was all that about?’’
‘‘Don’t ask me,’’ she said from the depth of his chest, ‘‘it’s just something we learned at school and I always wanted to find the right place to recite it.’’ She grinned up at him. ‘‘And the right audience!’’
Joshua took her in his arms and kissed her. This time, her lips were soft and her body nestled into his. Toni gave a little shiver. Silently, they walked back to the cave entrance. By the time they reached the jeep, the sun had dropped below the escarpment. Toni fumbled in her pocket and handed the keys to Joshua.
‘‘You drive home, sport,’’ she said softly and snuggled into the passenger seat beside him.
TEn
Andy Piper came home about six o’clock. He marched into the house using his boot to push an enthusiastic Bazza out of his way. Bazza took the hint and waited for Joshua who was a safe distance behind. All the way home from the tin shed Andy swore: ‘‘Give ya the shits, it would. Ya offer the bastard protection from the cops an’ what does he do? First day, he pisses off with me daughter. Sittin’ up like Jacky in the bloody jeep for the whole world to see.’’ He had kept up this tirade while Joshua sat beside him in the ute, carrying on as though he was not there.
Andy stomped through the house calling for Mrs Piper to come out and bear witness to Joshua’s alleged idiocy and ungratefulness. Joshua sat on his bed in the back room listening and although he did feel guilty as charged by Andy, this feeling was overridden by his curiosity at the omission of Toni from the charges. God, he thought, that girl could charm the birds out of the trees. She had certainly charmed him out of that tin shed and into a dark, dank, bat-infested cave, forty miles away.
Toni had dropped him at the shed mid-afternoon. She dragged off in the jeep, after telling him to ‘‘Stay cool. Dad’s bark is worse than his bite.’’ Now her voice came over the top of Andy’s loud mutterings: ‘‘Tea’s ready Nana, Dad, Joe. Wash up, it’s on the table.’’
Bazza poked his nose around Joshua’s door. Seeing there was no anger there, he advanced and got the expected pat. Joshua told him: ‘‘I think I’ve been a bit of a dill, mate, rushing off with Toni like that.’’ Bazza wagged furiously. Joshua laughed. ‘‘Yeah. I reckon it was worth it too. Come on, let’s go in and face the music.’’
Ethel Piper was already seated at the head of the table. Joshua said good evening to her and got a nod for reply. Andy kept his eyes down. A very subdued Toni brought in the heaped plates and then sat down herself. Four around the big kitchen table left plenty of room between them. When Ethel Piper finally spoke, she had to raise her voice slightly.
‘‘I am disappointed in you, Joshua. From what Andy has told me, you could have easily been spotted. I know we’ve given you a false identity but in a country town where nothing much happens — and where Andy is very well known — there’s always a busybody wanting to ferret around.’’
Without looking up, Andy said: ‘‘Too right. There’s no such thing as privacy here.’’
Mrs Piper went on reproaching him. Joshua half listened. He was watching Toni to see if she had anything to say but the girl tucked into her large serving as though she had taken no part in Joshua’s action. At one point, when Mrs Piper paused, she said chirpily, ‘‘How’s the tucker, Joe? Better than in Bondi?’’
‘‘And that reminds me,’’ Mrs Piper resumed, ‘‘I’m expecting a call tonight from Mrs Rothfield. What am I to tell her? That our grandson can’t be trusted?’’
Joshua looked up from his plate. He was deeply moved by the manner in which Mrs Piper had referred to herself and Mrs Rothfield as his grandparents. These two women had offered him such kinship and he had let them down. His eyes welled with tears. Mrs Piper and Toni both noticed and fell silent, putting down their cutlery and storing the moment. The silence was loud enough for Andy to look up and take in the situation.
‘‘Hell, Mum, Joshua did make a bad blue but it’s not the end of the world, is it?’’ He pushed his chair back and called for Bazza. But the dog, usually quick to accept table scraps, did not respond. His bark echoed down the hall from the front door.
Andy got up. ‘‘Better have a sticky. Could be Bruce Turner. I borrowed his welder.’’ Toni flicked her eyes in the direction of the back room. Joshua left quickly and Ethel Piper cleared away the table setting. They heard Andy’s voice, unnaturally loud and with a nervous edge to it.
‘‘Come in, Bill. OK, Bazza, calm down or Sergeant Fisher will have you up on a charge.’’
‘‘Ah, don’t worry Andy, Bazza and me are old mates.’’ The Sergeant entered the kitchen, took off his cap and greeted Ethel Piper and Toni.
‘‘Cuppa tea, Bill?’’ Ethel asked.
‘‘Nah, just had one thanks, Ethel.’’ He stretched his long legs out and shook a stern finger at Toni. ‘‘It’s about this young lady, Andy. And that heap of scrap iron yo
u let her roam around in. She went through Georges Plains this afternoon like a bat out o’ hell. Charlie Mackson down there saw her — Toni actually yelled G’day to him — and then she disappeared like a rat up a drainpipe.’’ He paused, cleared his throat and continued. ‘‘Look, I don’t want to dob anyone in but after all, I am a policeman. Toni was speeding and the other thing is, Charlie reckoned that as she came screamin’ over the hill, he saw a bloke sitting beside her, but when she went past him, there was nobody.’’
Andy started on a defence of the jeep rather than Toni when the Sergeant cut in.
‘‘Ah, don’t take me too seriously about Toni or the jeep, Andy. What I actually wanted to mention was that we’ve had a circular from the Commonwealth Police and the Sydney Sheriff’s Office that there’s a warrant out for the arrest of a young bloke — one of those draft dodgers, y’know, fellas whose numbers come up in the draw to go to Vietnam.’’ He looked hard at Ethel Piper. ‘‘About that cuppa. Too late to change me mind?’’ When she had gone, he spoke to Toni. ‘‘Listen love, it’s none o’ my business who you joy-ride round the country with but … you know what I’m saying?’’
Toni said coldly, ‘‘One father is enough, thank you Sergeant Fisher. Excuse me now, I’ve got the dishes to do.’’
Andy half-rose, ready to chastise her. The policeman told him to relax. Mrs Piper came in with a fresh cup of tea and a slice of fruit cake. The Sergeant looked at them both over the rim of his cup. ‘‘How’s your nephew working out, Andy? Doesn’t he board with you?’’ He looked around at the used dishes. ‘‘Not eating with you tonight?’’
‘‘He was buggered from the first day’s work, Bill. Went to bed early. These city blokes don’t know the meaning of work.’’
The Sergeant leaned forward and said in a hard, official voice. ‘‘Don’t stuff me about, Andy. If you and Ethel are playing games and telling me yarns about a nephew from Sydney …’’ He let the threat hang in the air.
For the first time, as long back as he could remember, Andy saw his mother go white with fear. Her breathing was laboured and she clenched her fists so that her ruby engagement ring stood out against a white knuckle. Andy found his voice and said, ‘‘If it was — you know — like you said, Bill, would you give us a fighting chance? You know, tip us the wink?’’
Before Bill could answer, Ethel stood up. She looked down on the police sergeant. ‘‘I’m damned if I’m going to ask favours or beg — yes, that’s what it is — beg to spare the life of a young man who has already lost through the horrors of war, three people who loved him. You know me better than that, Bill Fisher. Your mum and dad and me and Jack fought many a good fight together in the Labor Party and they were all against injustice of one sort or another.’’
‘‘Sit down, Ethel, let’s …”
‘‘Don’t you tell me to sit down in my own house, Bill Fisher.’’
‘‘Sorry Ethel, but you’ve got to understand that I’ve a job to do and everyone’s got a monkey on his back to see that it is done.’’ He turned to Andy for support. ‘‘What d’you reckon, mate?’’
Before he could reply, Ethel cut in. ‘‘You’re assuming a lot, Bill. As far as I know, we’ve got Andy’s nephew by marriage up here for a break — and that’s as far as it jolly well goes.’’
Sergeant Fisher stood up. He put on his cap and looked official. ‘‘I have to state that I am in no position to ‘tip you the wink’ as you put it, Andy. If there is duty to be done, I shall do it. Good night to you both.’’ He strode up the hall, his boots striking the floor hard, reinforcing his declaration.
They heard the door latch behind him. Mother and son regarded each other in silence. Bazza looked from one to the other, puzzled by the unaccustomed quiet, broken at last by Toni calling from the kitchen. Ethel replied: ‘‘Come out darling and bring Joshua with you.’’
They entered the room together; Joshua looked from Ethel’s face to Andy’s for a clue as to what had transpired. Toni irritated him by fiddling with the remains of the meal. A glare from Ethel stopped this. Finally, she turned to Joshua and in a compassionate voice spoke directly to him.
‘‘I am going to ring Shulamit shortly, Joshua, but before I do I must know what your feelings are in this whole matter. It seems to me that you are hardly more than a bystander in all this, despite the fact that you are at the centre of it. If I’ve got it right, it was your lady friend in Sydney that started you on the path of a draft resister. Very nice for her and her politics but not so easy for you. It sort of fulfilled her goal, didn’t it?’’
She did not expect Joshua to answer, but Toni sniffed and said, ‘‘Yair, I’ll bet.’’
Ethel Piper continued. ‘‘Now don’t get me wrong, Joshua. I personally reckon you are doing the right thing. It’s a war we should never have been involved in, and in the end, I think we’ll have to cut our losses and get out. A determined peasant force will eventually overcome a foreign army that does not have the people’s support. In this case, in Vietnam, they beat the French and now …’’
Joshua stood in front of her like a schoolboy being gently chastised by a teacher. He did not resent it; he was actually quite grateful that this strong woman was on his side. His father Jacob had supported his stand but for different reasons — reasons the law would have found quite irrelevant. He had lain awake for all those nights after he received the call-up papers, wondering if Laura was right, or even — and he was embarrassed at the very thought — whether he might have enjoyed army life. The printery was hardly providing him with excitement. His days had been pretty boring until he met Laura with her satchel full of causes, giving him a vicarious interest in the rough and tumble of street politics and, above all, a kind of loving he now missed very much.
While pondering on Ethel Piper’s words, he shot a glance at Toni. She was so different from Laura and yet in so many ways the two girls were mirror images of each other. Both saw in him, he realised bitterly, someone to be manipulated for their own wilful pleasure. They were girls who would not choose a man who wanted to dominate them. Joshua was coming to realise belatedly that having grown up without a mother, he seemed to be attracted to and also to attract girls like Laura and Toni.
Ethel Piper was drumming softly on the table with her fingers. Joshua rose and went to her. He stood behind her chair and put his arm around her. He trembled to hear himself say, so close to her ear that Toni and Andy could not hear: ‘‘Can I call you Grandma? I need to so badly.’’
Ethel Piper covered his hand with her own. She did not speak, a squeeze of his hand was her only answer. Andy and Toni looked at each other in wonder.
Andy spoiled the moment. ‘‘Just ’cause you’re makin’ up to Mum don’t mean that you won’t be back in the yard tomorrow pullin’ those Holdens to bits, understand?’’
Joshua smiled. Toni hid a grin behind her hand.
‘‘It’s no laughin’ matter,’’ Andy said, but could not resist a laugh himself. ‘‘It shouldn’t be a problem stallin’ Charlie Mackson and Bill Fisher. They owe me a few favours.’’
Ethel Piper made a fresh pot of tea. She told them that just as soon as she’d had her tea she would ring through to Mrs Rothfield. ‘‘Is there any message for your father … or anyone else?’’
Joshua blushed. ‘‘Tell Dad I’m OK — oh, and if he hears from Ilan, give him this phone number.’’
‘‘Is that all? Are you sure?’’
Joshua took one look at Toni’s wonderful, mobile mischievous face and assured Ethel that, apart from sending his love to Mrs Rothfield, there was no other message.
Ethel Piper put down her cup and left the room, signalling with a twist of her head that Andy should do likewise. ‘‘I’m leavin’ Bazza here to keep an eye on you two — so no monkey business,’’ Andy called.
A warm glow and a tiny aura of light came from the inspection glass on the Aga cooker. Toni switched off the room light, eased Bazza off the cotton mat in front of the stove and stretched out there h
erself. She reached up and took a cushion from one of the chairs and put it under her head. Lying on her back and in a voice that wandered offkey, she sang ‘‘Strawberry Fair’’ in a high, tinkly voice which Joshua, to his surprise, found quite pleasing. The last time he had heard a girl sing was in Laura’s deliberately dingy Paddington room. There she had strummed one chord as a repetitive accompaniment to ‘‘Joe Hill’’. Well, he consoled himself, both songs were about striving for a better life.
Toni’s song finished: she called softly to him, patting the floor by her side. Joshua stepped over Bazza, who slept on, occasionally giving little chortles of pleasure in his sleep. He looked at Toni and they both watched the dreaming dog. Joshua stretched out on the mat beside Toni and made little gurgling sounds in imitation of Bazza.
‘‘Nice doggy,’’ Toni whispered to him. ‘‘Does doggy want a kiss?’’
Joshua pulled her to him and kissed her furiously. After a moment, she broke free. ‘‘Steady on, sport, no need to put a headlock on a girl. I’m not about to escape.’’ She lay back and as he bent over her, she undid her shirt first and then his. Joshua whispered, ‘‘We should’ve done this in the Bushrangers’ Cave.’’
‘‘What? With all those bats flying around and dropping you know what all over us?’’
Joshua, having had only limited experience, was not sure whether this was an appropriate time to laugh. He knew from other occasions how difficult it was to maintain his dignity when his pants had fallen around his ankles. Of one thing he was sure: making love to Toni was more in the nature of an escapade than a serious attempt at seduction — and in this instance, it was far from clear who was seducing whom. As it happened, it was a brief but pleasurable interlude over almost before it had begun and performed without Laura’s post-coital inquest.
He thought that Toni got more pleasure out of stoking the fire of the Aga cooker than stimulating him. He went off to bed while Toni nonchalantly cleared the teacups away as though nothing had happened in that rambling cottage kitchen between a Jewish draft resister on the run and an ever so practical country girl.