Looking at her mother, she wondered if Elaine’s own marital experience – for she too had spent her life attempting to please her own husband – had made her able to recognise the same foible in her daughter. Gratitude was no basis for marriage, she thought, but the sixties had been a different era. And if Les Williams hadn’t married Elaine, in all ignorance of her condition, then Tilly might well have grown up in an orphanage. So maybe he deserved the gratitude and service his wife had given him through the years. But it wasn’t the same as love. The relationship, flawed by Elaine’s deceit, had cheated all three of them of that.
‘Mum,’ she said with sudden decision, ‘why won’t you tell me my father’s name? You always said he didn’t matter, so who can it harm? I’m no longer a child and I think I deserve to know.’
Elaine looked startled, then sighed resignedly. ‘Oh, Tilly! I thought we were past all this. It still doesn’t matter. How can it? There’s nothing of you in him.’
‘Well, that’s not true. Half my DNA is his. I don’t want to meet him, or claim him, Mum, if that’s what’s stopping you. I just want to know.’
‘Very well then.’ She folded the last sandwich into its wrapper. ‘But you’ll be no wiser. I don’t know his name. His mates called him Benno. It happened at a teenage party. We were drinking. The adults had left us downstairs quite early in the night, and some of the boys had sneaked in some grog. I got squiffy and giggly, and Benno was there.’ She flushed. ‘It sounds cheap and horrible – and stupid. It was. A quick fumble in the dark with a boy I hadn’t met before. I was sixteen and curious, and everybody said you couldn’t fall pregnant the first time. I never saw him again after that night, or learnt his surname, or even what Benno stood for – Benjamin, Benedict. Maybe his surname was Bennet . . . It wasn’t a meaningful or romantic act, just a stupid one. That’s why I didn’t want you to know.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Penitently Tilly took her mother’s hand. ‘I shouldn’t have asked. You were just a kid – it’s not fair to have your whole life ruined for one little mistake.’
‘Who said anything about ruin?’ Elaine demanded. ‘I got you, didn’t I? Do you really think that I would wish that undone? Shame on you, Matilda! You have always been reason enough for everything.’
‘Oh, Mum.’ Touched, she hugged the older woman to her. ‘I love you too. And I should know better than to try and judge,’ she said thinking of Gerry. ‘Nobody outside a marriage really understands it.’
‘Well, you’re right about that,’ Elaine said. ‘And quite a few spouses don’t understand it, or each other either. Now, do you think we need cake as well? And what about a thermos?’
‘Definitely cake, but Connor will boil the billy. I’ll clean up,’ she added with a glance at the clock. ‘Then he ought to be just about here.’
Chapter Twenty-nine
Connor was on time and, having loaded up, they took the road to the coast, leaving the main route to the station to turn onto a single vehicle track heading due north.
‘Where are you going?’ Elaine clung, aghast, to the hand bar in front of her as the vehicle shook over the potholes.
‘It’s the most direct way,’ Tilly explained before Connor could defend his driving. ‘If we went round by the station, that’s an extra two hours’ travel. This is a slower road, but shorter.’
‘Well, I’m glad you called it a road. It’s like something out of a Mexican Western,’ her mother said forthrightly. ‘Why doesn’t your company mend it, or make a new one?’
‘It all comes down to money, Mum. Matt grades most of the roads, but this one isn’t driven that often, so I suppose he thinks it has a low priority.’ Or maybe, she thought, catching Connor’s eye in the mirror, it was more about discouraging the rangers’ use of it. Movement off to the right caught her eye and she pointed. ‘Look, brumbies!’ The mass of brown and bay bodies flashed through the scrub in a burst of moving legs and flying manes.
Elaine clapped her hands, thrilled. ‘You never told me there were wild horses here.’
‘I suppose I’m just used to seeing them about. Heaven knows there’re plenty of them.’
‘And they just run wild and free? That’s nice.’
‘Only because wildlife’s protected here,’ Connor said. ‘Some of the stations trap them, and sell them for pet meat.’
‘That’s horrible,’ Elaine cried.
‘It’s economics,’ he said. ‘They’re a pest. They foul the waterholes, break fencing, eat feed – there’re thousands of them. The graziers have to protect their livelihood.’
‘Well, I wish you hadn’t told me. How come they’re here, anyway?’ Elaine asked.
‘Binboona used to be station country and it was all open range back then. No fences. So the stock – all the stock – cattle, buffalo, brumbies, wild pigs, spread right across the north. They—’
‘Oh, look,’ Elaine interrupted him. ‘Emus! Four, five – no, seven . . .’ She twisted in her seat. ‘Oh, I wish I’d brought a camera. Why didn’t I think of that?’
Binboona, Tilly thought, was really turning it on for her mother. She nudged her, nodding ahead. ‘Hang on now. This creek is a bit rough. Don’t bounce or you’ll hit your head.’
At the coast they found the same tamarind tree as before. Connor boiled the billy in its shade, and they ate some of the cake Elaine had packed with their cuppa.
‘So where’s the sea?’ she asked.
‘Just a bit further on. We’ll drive along the coast track,’ Connor said, ‘and see what we can see. The Gulf is pretty flat, so it’s not very spectacular. Not like the WA coast with its big tides. Still, the trawlers work it. Tilly said your husband was a fisherman?’
‘Yes. Cold water though, and a lot of bad gales. Not an easy life.’
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘So many occupations aren’t. Everybody finished? Shall we then?’
They started off again, driving slowly, with Connor pointing out the first glimpse of blue to Elaine. He was looking, Tilly knew, for Matt’s tracks from the previous day. She kept a sharp eye out and was first to spot the flattened area of coarse grass where a vehicle had turned around.
‘Somewhere here,’ she said, meeting his eye. She jerked her chin just as he trod on the brake, exclaiming as he did so.
‘What is it?’ Elaine asked.
‘I think I’ve just seen a particular plant. Stay there, I won’t be a sec.’ He got out, leaving the engine running, and headed for the thin scrubline that screened the beach.
After a moment Tilly pushed her own door open. ‘Think I’ll visit the ladies while he’s away. Just wait here, Mum. Once Connor gets into plants it can take him a while.’ She skipped behind the vehicle, made a detour beyond her mother’s sight and, jogging, caught him up where he squatted, examining a slew of bootprints in the sand.
‘Tide must’ve been in,’ he said, glancing up at her and then across the shallow bay. ‘They’d have motored in in the runabout, waded ashore. Two men, and that’—he pointed—‘the T-boot there, is what Matt wears. Question is why? A meet up with the boss, or something more?’
‘Like what?’
He shrugged, his brown eyes, netted in faint creases, intent upon an inner vision. ‘Could’ve delivered a pay-off, or a few kilos of drugs, I suppose. Maybe even slipped an illegal into the country, though that’s not very likely.’
‘No. Highly unlikely, I’d have thought,’ Tilly said. ‘What would he do with them?’
He grinned. ‘That’s my practical girl.’ Then abruptly he sighed and stood. ‘I shouldn’t have got you mixed up in this, Tilly. They’re just tracks in the sand now, but these men are dangerous. And if involving you isn’t bad enough, I brought your mother along as well.’
‘Speaking of which, you’d better grab a few samples off a bush and get back to her before she comes looking. After all, wasn’t this’—she waved at the empty beach with its betraying tracks—‘what you came for?’
‘Not entirely. There was this too.’ His arms swoope
d around her, drawing her in for a kiss. ‘Good morning, my dear. And then I wanted to please your mother too. Three birds with the one tank of petrol, you could say.’
‘Well, she is pleased. She thinks you’re charming and suspects an Irish background because of it. Or possibly because of your name. But she totally buys your cover, so let’s not make you into a liar, hmm?’
‘You’re right.’ He released her reluctantly and went to break off a section of a straggly shrub with yellow pea-shaped flowers.
‘What’s that?’
‘Broom bush. Jacksonia ramosissima. Or very similar. You usually find it further east. The flowers here are a bit different to the ones I’m familiar with,’ he said, examining them, ‘but they’ll do, anyway.’
Back at the vehicle, he snapped off a small piece holding the most blossoms and presented it to Elaine. ‘Sorry about the wait. This was what I spotted. I haven’t seen it growing in these parts before.’
‘It’s pretty. What is it?’
‘It’s a species of broom bush. I’m not quite sure of the variety though. Have to look it up.’
‘It’s a lot to remember, all those names. I suppose you know the Latin ones too?’
‘Oh, he does,’ Tilly said dryly. ‘Tell her the name of the big shade tree back at the house, Connor.’
He complied and Elaine laughed. ‘Sounds like a gastric problem. Well, since you know them all, what’s that dusty-looking bush over there?’
They arrived back at the homestead a little before dark, when the light was fading on the river and the flying fox colony there had begun to stir.
‘Just in time for the evening feeds,’ Tilly said. ‘Well, Mum, you can’t say you haven’t seen a different slice of the Top End.’
‘I had a lovely day. Tiring, but it was really interesting.’ Still clutching the wilting broom sprig, Elaine climbed from the vehicle and stretched. Her face and arms had pinkened from the sun, and wattle pollen dusted her hair and shoulders.
‘Thank you, Connor. And now I’m going to shower and lie down for a bit to settle my back.’
‘No, I want to thank you, Elaine, for your company and the delicious lunch,’ he responded, but found he was talking to her back as she made for the steps. Low-voiced, he added, ‘Well, that was quick. I haven’t offended her, have I?’
Tilly giggled. ‘Don’t be dense. She probably wants the loo. And she’s giving you the chance to kiss me goodbye.’
He grinned. ‘I don’t need telling twice.’ He swept her into his arms and complied. ‘She’s all right, your mum. Okay, my sweet, I’ll be back tomorrow. I need to report to my lot, and if I can phone from here, it’ll save me the drive to Spadgers Creek. What will you be doing?’
‘I should be working. But sometime this week we’re taking Mum out to Sandstone. It’ll depend on Luke’s schedule. Oh my God! We’re doing an extra slide night tonight and I’m supposed to help. I have to go.’ She snatched another brief kiss and fled up the verandah steps, turning at the top to wave goodbye before vanishing indoors.
The following few days fled by. Tilly spent them cooking, sightseeing with Elaine, stealing interludes with Connor, and doing brief stints of labour with Luke. Gordon Chant, the contractor, submitted his quote, along with an initial list of materials the job would require, then departed. He was gone when they took Elaine out to the springs, where a forest of ribboned stakes outlined the position of the proposed boardwalk.
‘The campground will be over there,’ Luke said, pointing, ‘and the ranger’s quarters further over, and much higher.’ He waved a hand at a rocky rise not far from the section of lower cliff where the Aboriginal paintings were. ‘The plan is to scrape the top off that ridge, level it, and then raise the building higher still on metal posts to maybe a metre above the ground. The paintings haven’t been flooded, so that should make it safe enough.’
‘And will they fix the road in?’ Elaine rubbed her back. ‘Because, honestly, I can’t see too many people willing to suffer over that even for such a beautiful spot as this. And what about the camp site itself? If, as you say, this all goes under water in the monsoon?’
‘There won’t be anything to be damaged,’ Luke said. ‘The ablution blocks will be demountable buildings we can load and remove at season’s end. Then we cap off the septic tanks – they’re underground anyway – and the water flows over the top. Bit of tidying and mowing at the end of the Wet, bring the buildings back and hook ’em up, and we’re in business again.’
‘And the road will be fixed, Mum,’ Tilly said. ‘But even the way it is, it’s worth the trip, don’t you think?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Elaine sighed with pleasure. ‘When I’m back home, I’ll remember today – sitting here listening to the water, with the ferns and moss all around, and the dragonflies like . . . like aerial rubies.’ She smiled a little at her own conceit. ‘It’s wonderful. Balm to the soul.’
‘I’m glad. Do you want to see the caves? The road gets worse from here on, I’m afraid.’
Elaine shook her head. ‘Caves don’t do much for me. And besides, you couldn’t top this. If we could just stop a little longer?’
So they stayed, before driving back to the homestead through the tawny dust of evening. On the way, Tilly spoke of Luke’s bats, as she had come to think of them, and the question hanging over their identity, which they hoped would be settled one way or another by the next mail.
And then Wednesday and leave-taking was upon them. Elaine, determinedly cheerful, hugged them all save Matt who, seeing her coming, proffered a hand and mumbled something with averted eyes. Tilly watched her mother suck in her breath before stepping gamely up into the little plane, and saw her face twist in the anguish of parting as she waved a frantic goodbye through the window.
Sophie had seen it too and put her arm around her cousin. ‘She’ll be fine. When does her flight go tomorrow?’
‘Twelve-thirty.’
‘Gives her time to see a bit of Darwin first, then.’ She hefted the incoming mailbag. ‘Right, back to the treadmill for us all. Whose turn is it in the kitchen today?’
‘It had better be mine,’ Tilly said, adding dryly, ‘The shock to our stomachs might be a bit much if we start with either of the men.’
Chapter Thirty
The first words out of Luke’s mouth as he entered the kitchen that evening were, ‘Did they come?’
‘Right here.’ Tilly handed him the package from the chemist. ‘How was your day?’
‘Hmm? Oh, you know.’ He ripped the packet open and was flipping through the photographs, giving a brief crack of laughter at one, frowning at another. ‘Not enough light,’ he muttered. ‘Shit! That – ah! Got ya! That’s a good clear one. Okay, now let’s see . . .’
He vanished into the lounge, reappearing some ten minutes later and saying triumphantly, ‘I knew it! It is different. Look, Tilly. You compare them, tell me I’m not dreaming.’
Holding the spoon she’d been stirring the mince with, Tilly studied the two pictures. ‘They are similar, but yes, I can see a difference. The nose shape is less pronounced. Wait, though – what if it’s just a gender thing, or age? I mean, if an alien compared a teenage boy with a man, it might not realise they were the same species, don’t you think?’
‘In the matter of colour, possibly, but I can’t see how it would affect the shape of their ears, say. Every species has a pattern it grows to, and unless I was unlucky enough to catch a freak . . .’
‘You’re probably right then. So what will you do now?’ Tilly dipped the spoon again and stirred, before lowering the gas. ‘Dinner’s about five minutes off.’
For once food failed to interest Luke. ‘I’ll ring Darwin – somebody at the university will know who to contact. I’ll send him the pic, but I reckon they’ll need a live specimen to be certain. Maybe I should start figuring out a bat trap? I daresay they’d have ideas on that too.’
‘Very likely. I’m about to ring the dinner bell, Luke. Just warning you.’
‘Huh? Oh, right. Where’s Sophie? I’ll get her to check it out. She—’
He darted off, leaving Tilly to cast up her eyes and turn off the heat. Dinner was plainly going to be late.
The following day, Matt, despite his grumbling, was rostered onto kitchen work.
‘Which fits nicely,’ Sophie said, ‘because we’ll be getting a load of steel out and you can show the men the best place to unload. Somewhere it’ll be easy to get at, Matt. It’s the supports for the boardwalk. It seems that the company’s moving pretty quickly on the project. I thought it would be months before they decided anything.’
Luke looked up. ‘Maybe they haven’t, except that it should go ahead. I mean, whoever builds it will need the same materials, and they’d likely want to get them in before the Wet. Graeme would tell them about that – how the roads close and the country shuts down for the duration. There’ll be another visitor too. Land Resources is sending a chiroptologist out once they contact him. Might take a few days, they said.’
‘And a chiro-whatsit would be . . .?’ Tilly asked.
‘A bat man. The bloke I spoke to sounded quite excited, so they’re not waiting on the photo – well, unless they can’t get hold of their fella before it turns up.’
‘Lotta bloody fuss over a flying mouse,’ Matt said. ‘Can’t see how it matters myself.’
‘You soon would if there weren’t any,’ Luke replied. ‘The insects’d carry us away, for starters. They’re great pollinators too, you know.’
‘Huh, that’s what we’ve got bees for.’
‘You can’t convert non-believers,’ Sophie said briskly. ‘Slide night again. Maybe you could include bats in your talk this evening, Luke?’
‘It’s an idea. Tilly and me, we’ll mostly be in the camp today. There are a couple of walks booked. I’ll do the gorge trail, and she can handle the other one.’
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