Ghost Bird

by Lisa Fuller

  This is where the town hits the first hints of bush. Walking this road with Mum is like getting a history and cultural lesson – that is where her uncle used to live, here is where her grandmother lived, and sometimes her family stayed there too. Every few metres she’ll drag us off the road to some bush or tree, showing us the flowers or leaves and talking about the best uses for it. She is our walking connection to this place.

  On my own the trip took less than five minutes, with Mum it always takes an hour.

  I make it up there fast without looking around, just in case something sparks a memory of Laney. Over the cattle grid and out into an expanse that’s been cleared for some forgotten reason. Mum always points out the stumps in the distance where the old hospital used to sit. I shudder, looking instead for the gangs of whiptails that hang out up here. There is usually a joey, and they sit, stock still, hoping you haven’t seen them. One small move and off they fly at top speed over the rocky slopes and down into the gullies.

  The dirt road ends at the big cement tank squatting on its own raised platform. Like an ugly king on his private little hill. On the edge of the flattened area around the tank is a giant boulder, worn smooth. One of my cousins says our people used the rock to grind food, another one swore it’s where women birthed their babies. They aren’t much older than me so I don’t know whether to believe them, especially that last one; it seems too exposed to me. Whatever its purpose, that rock is comfy.

  I find my way to that boulder and fall into my favourite pose, legs crossed, back straight and eyes focusing on the bush. Shutting Tupac off mid-flow I throw myself into the silence. It is so close to the highway here but only the whisper of the odd truck comes through.

  Soaking it all in, I sit with my back to the giant pimple of a reservoir that marrs the beauty of this place; its only good deed is the shadow it casts on days like this. I can see rooftops and trees from here, see the hills that surround us. All I can hear is the breeze and the bird calls. The approaching night always forces me home. Being up at the reservoir on twilight can get spooky, especially walking that dirt road. No way do I want to be there. Not because I am scared of spirits or stupid creatures, but a girl walking a darkened road at night has a lot to worry about.

  I shut my eyes and try to find some peace.

  I pop my headphones back in and switch to Tupac’s ‘California Love’, getting ready to head home, when I hear a car coming up the road. I know it isn’t Uncle Joe because of the sound of the engine, but I still feel guilty being up here. Too shame to do much else, I bend over and pretend to be fiddling with my Discman, trying to think what a normal kid might do in this place. It isn’t long till an old silver Holden comes bouncing over the grid, growling its way into my sanctuary. Toni Miller’s car, Sam’s mum. I feel all my muscles tense up. I’m here on my own with most of my mob out searching for Laney and the Millers are heading my way. Not a good place to be. My breath hitches, waiting to see who will get out of the car.

  The car bears down on me at a speed that feels unsafe. I see Sam’s pissed-off face in the driver’s seat just as it skids to a halt. His door flies open and he comes right at me, but I’m watching to see who else might get out. He’s leaning over me before I realise no one else is coming.

  ‘Who the FUCK do you think you are?’

  Having an enraged seventeen-year-old male standing over them might cow some girls, but not this little black duck. I am on my feet in seconds, forcing him to take a step back, returning the glare.

  ‘Alana Thomson’s daughter. Who the FUCK are you?’

  The look of shock on his face hits my warped funny bone and I bust out laughing. Sam’s lip twitch before he remembers he’s pissed off.

  ‘Yeah? Well, that’s even more reason to have stayed the fuck away!’ Sam’s rage has calmed, but he hangs on to it.

  ‘Well excuse me for asking you to help. I won’t do it again, dickhead!’

  Not really helping, a small voice tries to interject. But fuck him, I won’t be talked to like that.

  ‘If I’d wanted to help you I’d ave said so at school. You shoulda taken the hint and left it alone!’

  ‘Since I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin bout it’s a good thing I did!’

  Even I have to admit that last sentence doesn’t make much sense, and the confusion is clear on both our faces. I’m not backing down till he does, because if there is one thing guaranteed to piss me off it’s being blamed for something I didn’t do.

  For his part Sam shuts up long enough to try to puzzle that one out. He even takes another step back, which helps me feel less defensive.

  ‘Bullshit. You talked to her.’

  ‘To who? Your mum? My mum? Your imaginary friend?’

  His wince stops my smart-arseness and I take a second to register the tightness around his mouth and eyes. It almost looks like he’s in pain.

  Maybe it’s time to shut that big Thomson mouth and open them binangs, girl. Nan loved saying that. A mouth just like your bloody mother.

  ‘Look, in case you haven’t gotten the hint, I don’t know what you’re on bout. So tell me what’s going on or leave me alone, maybe before someone figures out we’re up here?’

  ‘Everyone knows you come up here anyway,’ Sam mumbles.

  ‘That just makes it worse then.’ It’d be nice to think people don’t much care what a sixteen-year-old kid is up to, but in this town they care from embryo to casket. And if they notice me then someone has probably seen Sam. ‘Shit, are you tryin to get us in trouble?’

  Wind firmly out of both our sails we stand there hangdog for a minute, thinking of our fates. I can’t take it anymore so I sit down again.

  ‘Well, you’ve done it now so you may as well tell me what’s goin on.’ I will not feel guilty for the flogging Sam has coming. I just won’t.

  I kind of expect another angry storm off so when he sighs and sits next to me I nearly fall off the boulder. I watch as he tucks his legs in tight to his chest and leans his chin on his knees. He looks out at the landscape. He’s brooding. God, teenage boys are such drama queens.

  ‘Aunty May asked to see you,’ he whispers.

  I feel like I’ve been stung by a hornet and brace for the rest of the little buggers to come join the party. My body vibrates with the need to shake more out of him. I’m finally starting to learn to hold things in. By the end of this I’ll have to find a way to let everything pour out for fear of poisoning myself with all the bad feelings.

  ‘Did she? Why?’ My voice is as quiet as Sam’s.

  ‘Don’t know. Just said it was for you girls to talk about and I wasn’t to stick my nose in it. I figured you talked to er.’

  ‘Not me. I don’t know why she’d want to see me.’

  ‘I do. She’s knows about Laney.’ His voice is so quiet I wonder if I’ve heard him right. ‘She found out yesterday, got real upset and had a bad spell. Today after school she woke up good as, askin to see you. I thought you’d told her.’ He glances at me from the corner of his eye. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbles.

  ‘What?’ I lean in closer.

  ‘Sorry, okay? I’m sorry for yellin at ya!’

  I raise an eyebrow like I learned from Aunty Agnes and he blushes. I can’t help but laugh and nudge his shoulder with mine.

  ‘Poor excuse for an apology, but I’ll take it.’ It’s my turn to not look in his direction for a bit, but Laney is never far from my mind. ‘So … are you gonna let me see her?’

  ‘She’s in the car.’ He nods with his head and I whip around so fast I whack him in the back with my elbow. I don’t even notice. I’m too busy staring at the grizzled old lady standing by the car. Gone are the nana nighties I am used to seeing her in, replaced with a pair of faded jeans, a massive baggy t-shirt and an even more shapeless flannelette shirt that flaps open. Her frizzy white hair is pulled back in a loose bun.

  �
�Ow!’ Sam complains.

  ‘Take it like a man ya big sook.’ May Miller stands at the back-passenger door giving us a look. ‘If you two are done screamin, can me and the girl have a yarn now?’

  ‘Yeah right.’ Sam stays put for a bit, but when the silence stretches on he looks at me carefully. ‘She made me and that’s the only reason.’ He sighs and stands. I stick my tongue out at his back.

  Making his way back to the car, Sam pauses beside May long enough to look her over. ‘You sure, Aunt?’

  ‘Get away now, this is just for us women.’ She taps him kindly on his arm and walks past him, straight for me. There’s something in her eyes that I’ve never seen before, although it’s not like I see her much. She is present and aiming it all at me. It scares the crap out of me. ‘And close your mouth, girl, before you catch them flies.’

  I snap my jaw shut but I can’t stop the stare. She hobbles over to me and then reaches for my shoulder, using it as a brace to leverage herself down. Once she is settled she tucks her own legs under her and faces out to the vista. ‘Geez-us, I can’t make any move without sound effects now. That’s how you know you’ve gotten old, bub.’

  ‘True?’

  ‘That grandson a mine made me lie down in his back seat, scared he’d be seen takin me to a Thomson.’

  Her brown eyes narrow on mine and I have to look away. The circles of blue around her irises just freak me out too much.

  ‘Bet you know why I come though, ay?’

  I stay stock still except for a quick shake of my head.

  ‘Hmm, ya don’t? But my nephew told me you was tryna see me. I guess if you weren’t …’ She reaches for my shoulder again.

  ‘No, wait! I ah, I … Aunty, I don’t know how to ask you this.’ My head drops and I feel tears brim. The past is something none of the oldies discuss, not ever. Not unless they want to and you never bring it up first.

  ‘I know, bub, you lost your sister.’ With gentle hands she cups my chin and forces me to look at her. I didn’t expect to hear kindness from a Miller, especially not this one. She’s the one I’ve always pitied, not the other way around.

  ‘Please just … just say it’s not like before.’ I can’t quite bring myself to say it. I’ve had a horrible feeling growing inside me. That maybe it’s one of those things they whisper about at night, round fires circled only by women, and the ones who tell the stories hadn’t been there. Hadn’t experienced it. There is always someone who has it worse.

  I am desperate for that not to be Laney. The dip of May’s mouth doesn’t bode well.

  ‘Please!’

  ‘I wish I could bub. Oh, how I wish—’

  Pushing her hand away, I stand, shaking. ‘You’re wrong!’ I shout. My voice hits her like a smack and she does what most black women do when attacked – she comes out swinging.

  ‘You the one wanted answers. You the one went to a Miller for them. First Thomson in memory and first ever to name a Miller “Aunt” I bet.’ The harsh tones seem too strong to be coming from that frail body. ‘You face it now!’

  I back away, which only makes her desperate.

  ‘She swimmin in the dark, lost in nuthin and not one person can pull her out. Not one!’ Spit flies from her mouth as she shrieks the last two words.

  The solid presence of May Miller is fading and her ghost is chasing me backwards. I hit a solid object that sends me staggering. A hood, metal, car.

  ‘But her mirror image might see a way she can’t, a way I couldn’t.’

  The creak of a car door and Sam is there, stepping forwards, making soothing sounds, even while I flee in horrible slow motion.

  ‘They’ve got her now, girl. Got her good. And no man can pull her out without damage. But what a man can’t, a woman does.’

  Sam reaches May’s side and takes her wildly gesticulating hands in his. I am so shaken I didn’t even notice them. He clasps her gently by the wrists.

  ‘Come back now, Ma. You can come back now.’

  ‘No, no! She doesn’t have it yet. She’s gotta have it fore I can …’ Her attention shifts to Sam and for a second reason flickers back to life. ‘Potters’ place, son, you’ve got to take her out to Potters’. And she can’t go alone.’ She grips his face and glares into his eyes, her voice quiet but so intense it carries to me just fine. ‘It has to be soon, she’s almost out of time!’

  Her small body slumps in a dead faint. Sam catches her as she rolls forwards, his horror and fear so like my own. I spin on my heel and take off like the Devil himself is on my tail.

  ‘You could’ve helped me get er in the car!’ Sam yells at my fleeing figure.

  Day 2, Twilight

  I lie on my back in the old cast-iron bed and stare up at the ceiling. After sprinting home I’d bawled my eyes out for a bit but got over that pretty fast. Tears are weak, they don’t fix any of it. All crying does is give me puffy eyes, a worse face and a headache. Mum and them will be home soon anyway. I can’t let her see something is up.

  I lie there and don’t think about May’s words.

  Flinging myself onto my side, I stare into the open space. The Millers aren’t to be trusted. This is probably some cruel joke to get me in trouble. The sheet feels like it has been sitting in the sun and it’s sticking to my sweaty skin.

  Ah shit. If I’m going to be uncomfortable then I’m going to do some freaking baking.

  I hop up and make my way to the kitchen. Mum’d defrosted a cornmeat last night, so I find her big stockpot and set it on the stove to cook. Cutting up the veggies ready to go only distracts me for so long. Thank God the mob did a raid on the snacks this morning, gives me a good excuse to restock.

  Baking always relaxes me. Measuring everything precisely, mixing it properly and the results are perfect and predictable. The worse part of the summers here is how little I can bake. Having the oven on in 40 degree heat makes the house feel like a suffocating, wet blanket you can’t shrug off. If I try it, Laney or Mum will storm in and go ballistic till I give up.

  I pull out the normal ingredients, cookbook and all. I probably know the recipes by heart but I never trust my memory. Reading a recipe also helps block out stray thoughts. I had no peace up at the reservoir, anything but, so this is my last resort.

  Potters’ place might offer some peace. Or at least some answers.

  I shake my head hard – no way am I heading somewhere dangerous on a warngee woman’s whim. Especially a warngee Miller. I curl my lip, remembering my family’s mistrust and intense dislike.

  Besides, everyone knows that place, has been told never to set foot on the south side of that land and it isn’t cos the owners are racists with a weapons collection. I’m not too sure why we can’t, there’s more to it than just warning kids away from racists. We deal with those every day of our lives. It’s another one of those rules that the old people fling out there but when questioned get all tight-lipped and glary. All I know for sure is it has something to do with the mountain that sits on the most southern part of the Potters’ place. The main house is set up on the north end, an easy drive to the highway. Racists one end, cultural taboo on the other. Did we need much more reason to avoid the entire place? They won’t say why the mountain is off limits. I never used to notice how much of our lives included little bits of information, partially offered and never fully explained. But I am getting sick to death of it. If they want to be so bloody mysterious then fine. I should go out there anyway just to see it for myself.

  You are NEVER to set foot on that place, Stacey Claire Thomson, you hear me?

  Nan rarely forbade anything, but when she did there was no mincing words. If I said what I was thinking to any of the mob I could feel the smack upside my head that would follow. Sure, I’m not clear on where science meets culture and how I’m supposed to navigate it and I don’t believe in a lot of it anymore … but to go against them? To openly defy the el
ders on something that isn’t just a vague warning, but an open ‘don’t do that!’? Mum will be the first in line to punish me, and she’ll let all the aunts and uncles have their say too.

  It isn’t really that I believe in the warnings, I’m doing as culture dictates – respecting my elders and following their advice.

  Yep, that’s why I don’t want to go out to the Potters’ property.

  Which begs the question – why was Laney out there with them boys? She believes in this stuff wholeheartedly, she would never have defied Nan. Not on her own anyway. Troy must’ve talked her into it. Probably justifying it by saying only the mountain is taboo. If they were at the house they had no reason to go near that place. I play around with the idea for a bit, throwing flour, sugar, milk and butter in a bowl and stirring on autopilot. Yeah, that must’ve been it.

  For the very first time in my life I don’t have enough chores to suit me. After I shove a few batches of patty cakes in the oven I clean the kitchen, do another wash, prep for school tomorrow. Hell, I would have done the toilet and bathroom – my two most hated jobs – if Mum hadn’t done them on Sunday. With the cornmeat and veggies prepped all I need to do now is set them cooking at the right time, and it’s only just gone 6pm. Every window and door in the house is flung wide open in a desperate and futile bid to attract a breeze or something cooler. The oven is off, but it has lifted the temperature into the torture zone. The heat pushes me outside.

  I grab a big bottle of cold water from the fridge and go to the chairs around the fire pit in the backyard. Mum had called in from Mundubbera to let me know what was happening (which was nothing) and also to check I was where she’d told me to be. When I asked to join one of the cars she just hung up, and I felt my blood reaching the same temperature as the house.

  May is a no-go so what else can I do?

  Nan always said to listen to our special dreams and Pop had all but said the same, but I can’t bring myself to see them as anything more than delusions of a worried mind. I’ll work this out real logical.