by Ryn Shell
“So did your dad. I’m sure we are going to find him there.” Rose could not remember being as relaxed since the time when she and Linton had lived as a family with Carl. Here, in the car with her children, travelling with a mutual purpose to their lives, she felt relieved from the pressures of meeting farm expense payments and even of raising a child and teenagers. Now that Carl clearly showed he was a young man, life seemed easier.
“This teddy tour has lightened a load off both our shoulders,” Rose said.
“Mum…” Carl said.
“What?” Rose smiled. “You look so serious. Don’t be afraid to say what you think. I’m not going to crack again.”
“I know you’re not going to.” Carl laughed. “That’s the thing.” His voice dropped low. “You’re acting different.”
Rose laughed, gave Carl a broad smile that caused newly seen laugh lines to pucker.
It was a joy for Helen and Carl to watch her face when she was happy like this.
Helen chirped in, “You look years younger, Mum.”
“You picked out great stock for us, Helen.” Carl grinned. “Those teddy bears you chose are so lightweight, even the car feels years younger to drive.”
“I love you kids,” Rose said. “I haven’t said that enough—I’m sorry. Here I am searching for Linton to make me happy, when all this time joy has been right there beside me in you.” Rose’s eyes watered. She reached into the back seat, where Helen played with a menagerie of bears. “Right now…” Rose swallowed and touched Helen’s hand. “It doesn’t matter to me if I do not find your father. I’ve realised he left the best part of himself with me in you two.”
Helen giggled and held out Sugarplum bear, around whose waist Rose had sewn a lilac sequin-encrusted tutu. “I love this one best, Mummy.”
“Then he’s yours,” Rose said. She watched Helen’s fantasy-bear play for a while and then straightened to chat with Carl as he drove.
“I never for a moment regretted you, Carl. If I could have waited and had my first child in my twenties, that might have been smarter, but it would not have been you. You were not a mistake, Carl. You were born out of first love, and you are beautiful.”
“Oh, God, Mum…” Carl flashed a moist-eye grin at Rose. “Please—no deep and meaningful revelations while I’m driving.” He reached for and squeezed Rose’s hand.

They camped beside Lake Hart. The dry salt lake glistened like a blue ocean as it reflected the colour from the sky. Rose, Carl and Helen strolled hand-in-hand over the firm salt lake bed. The salt had risen in circles, forming crusty rings.
“Like broken biscuits.” Helen jumped on and shattered a crisp raised crust.
Another memory was released from Rose’s partly blocked-out past. “I remember being a child, at home and alone,” Rose said. “I couldn’t go to school because I was sick a lot. Mum and Dad spent all day out on the farm and wouldn’t know that I skipped school.”
“You didn’t go to school, Mum?” Helen was wide-eyed and grinning.
“No, I didn’t—a lot of the time. When I was well enough to go, I was scared to go back because I’d missed so many classes. So, I took the threepence allocated for the return tram fair and walked to the corner store.”
As Rose talked, Helen stomped on the raised crust, smashing the crisp, bubbly salt and enjoying the sensation.
Rose jumped beside Helen. “I’d buy a brown paper bag full of broken biscuits for threepence, and walk home with them, then ate them in bed, hoping that Mum wouldn’t find out. If she knew, she never said anything.”
Carl had joined in the fun with Helen, jumping on piles of raised salt. Rose raced forward and leapt on a large pile of encrusted salt foam. The crust broke under her weight like biscuits would into crumbs. “Fancy waiting until I am thirty-five to learn to be a child.”
Rose, Helen and Carl laughed and ran around in the circles of salt crust, enjoying the sound and sensation and the entire experience of sharing a wild expanse of the dry salt lake playground.
They returned to the campground on the cleared rise with the view of the vast lake. Other travellers had arrived to camp for the night, many of them with caravans.
“Are they grey nomads?” asked Helen.
“Yes.” Carl dusted salt from his slacks. “Retired people finally having time to see all of Australia.
“That’s the life for me when I’m grey.” Rose grinned. “Only I think I’ll be a grey gypsy as I enjoy earning my living as I travel.”
Happy as a child at play, Rose walked through the campground with her children greeting the grey nomads as they passed. Laughing when they arrived back at their site, Carl lit the pre-set campfire and the three of them relaxed in the camp chairs.
“Hilarious!” Carl laughed as he looked back towards the other camps. It was half-light and many of the campers were making campfires not far from their vans, and a jovial happy-hour was underway.
Rose prepared her family’s meals during the last light of day and enjoyed a glass of wine with Carl beside their campfire under the brilliant outback stars.
“Funny how most of the travellers thought the salt lakes were full of water,” Carl said.
Rose nodded her head. “I realise that there are many people who travel around Australia and never leave the side of their car or caravan, other than to buy food and petrol or use the loo.” She laughed.
Carl chuckled. “Most don’t go for a walk or talk to locals, only the next caravan owner like themselves. Some of them don’t learn anything about the land and its people. Then they go home and think they have seen Australia.”
“I want to visit lots of the country.” Helen nodded her head and viewed her mum over the fire. “I want to experience life.”
“Oh, you will, honey,” Rose said. “And I’ll teach you how to stand up and take care of yourself. That’s something I was too long learning to do. No one can make you unhappy without your consent. My girl will learn how to take care of herself.”
Carl tilted his chin up. “I’ll be the one taking care of the two of you if we get a flat tyre or a mechanical breakdown.”
Rose put down her glass. “Do we need to leave the sealed roads, Carl?”
“I will stick to roads regularly used by station staff and the four-wheel drive enthusiasts. I can pack enough spares, so we’re safe touring off the main highway. You have no need to worry.” Carl went on, reassuring his mum, “I’ll have fun putting the mechanical know-how Trevor taught me to the test. You don’t want me to go rusty now, do you?” He grinned trying to jolly her into an agreement. “She’s a decent car, and the tool box will get us through anywhere.” He paused, waiting for Rose to agree.
22
Sitting watching the moonlight glint off the salt lake, Rose remembered things she had forgotten. Different words and events had brought these memories flooding back now that she was at peace and feeling secure in her ability to care for herself and her children without the support of others. Linton’s love for her seemed clearly to be a part of the past. Thinking of the long separation brought less pain. Their love receded. She could see it as having happened long ago and realised that neither she nor Linton was the same as they’d been back then.
“You don’t have to persuade me to move forward, Carl. Old insecurities die hard—they are leaving me. You can help me let go of them.” Rose poured the last of the wine into Carl and her glasses. “Carl, you’re not a yobbo, dare-devil type man, given to rash deeds. You’ve wanted to express yourself outside of the boundaries of the farm for a long time.” She sat down and raised her wine glass to toast him. “I trust you.”
The night became still and silent. They were far enough away from the other campers and caravans that they could talk in private. Carl’s eagerness showed on his face. His eyes implored Rose. A half smile quivered on his lips.
Rose nodded and confirmed her trust in him. “You can plan our adventure inland.”
Carl’s face animated. Rose thought that
the dancing flames reflecting in his wide-eyes and the expression on his face made him the handsomest man she’d set eyes upon. He outdid his father in looks and confidence. Linton, you would be so proud of your fine son.
Studying Carl’s appearance, perceiving the glint in his eye, Rose realised that previously she had not seen that combination of youthfulness and maturity, with the relaxed brow and soft furrows of laugh lines to the side of his eyes. Had she not seen her children clearly before?
“This trip is doing all of us a power of good,” she told him.
She lowered her glass, stood and lifted Helen into her arms and sat down again. Helen wrapped her arms around her mother and rested. The sequins on the small lilac bear, discarded in Helen’s chair, glinted in the campfire light.
Rose couldn’t help smiling as she watched the corners of Carl’s mouth quivering. Like an eager child, she thought. She detected him searching her face and knew that she could confide in him as a friend as well as her son.
“How are you, Mum?” Carl asked.
Rose sorted through memories, finding none that frightened her or left her feeling like that teenager she’d been, unable to assert her independence.
Carl was anticipating a response from her. His own eyes were perky, like a puppy or child who had been given a treat. For him, this was the anticipation of planning and leading their Central Australian tour. His eyes started to water from the intensity of his probing glance as he awaited her response. He blinked. “Campfire smoke got in my eye.” He brushed a tear away.
“Mmm,” Rose murmured. “I came to the outback in search of a man, and there was one by my side all that time. Don’t feel tied to Helen and me. When you see your opportunity, when you know that something is what your heart desires, you go and grasp it.” She paused. “Do you hear me, Carl?”
“You would have me leave you and Helen?” The smile had left Carl’s face.
“I’d have you be a man and take responsibility for what is right for you. Do not allow the mistakes your parents make to ruin half of your life.”
In a throaty voice Carl said, “I’m not going to, Mum.”
“Good.” Rose brushed her hand over Helen’s head and kissed her brow. “My mum and dad took me to see a movie about the outback that has always stuck in my mind.” She adjusted her hold on Helen. “It was about three young girls on a remote outback property. Their mother collapsed, and they set out on foot, down the track, to find their father. They became lost while walking along what they thought was the Birdsville track. They realised they were lost when they came upon their footprints. They had walked around in a circle. The story was to show the danger of the outback and how quickly you could die if you get lost. Back then, Mum made me afraid of adventure.”
“We can make a donation to the Royal Flying Doctor Service before we head out, if it eases your conscience that we might be a burden to others if we strike any trouble,” Carl said. “Without the existence of the RFDS there would be no way I’d even consider taking you and Helen off the main highway.”
“Go away, Mum,” Rose said out loud.
Carl raised an inquiring eyebrow.
Rose nodded her head slightly. “I hear her telling me not to do things—even now. I’m going to block unpleasant things like that from my mind from now on, Carl.”
“Do you think that’s a good thing, Mum?” Carl sucked in his lips. “Didn’t your doctor tell you—”
“I know.” Rose grimaced. “Freud’s theory of repetition compulsion. I’m getting off—I am off that treadmill. It is not the memories of the past that I’m suppressing. In fact, I seem to have opened a gate. They are flooding into my brain. What has changed is my response to them. I used to tell myself that I was stupid, and I’d let others tell me what to do. I even allowed your father to direct much of my actions. Maybe I just missed the security of someone taking responsibility for me more that I actually missed him. I don’t know. But, I don’t want anyone telling me how to live life. He’d find me so changed now. I won’t be led by others. I won’t put myself down again.”
“Dad doesn’t deserve to get you back.” Carl’s face coloured bright. “I never liked—that you’d just throw yourself at him—as if nothing happened. He deserted us.”
“Try not to judge without having all the facts.” Rose watched the glowing embers at the fire edge. “He’d have been traumatised by an explosion, and we were his dependents, so his instincts told him he wasn’t well enough to take care of others. I see him as having needed to take care of himself. He was probably doing what I’m striving to do now—leaving behind all the negativity of his past.”
“Never heard you talk like that about you and Dad.”
“I never told anyone before—I think—sometime he telephones—say’s nothing—just listens to my voice.”
“Mum—” Carl’s mouth opened in astonishment.
“I say his name—whoever it is—it is him though; I know it is him—he hangs up as soon as I say his name. He’s stopped doing that recently. You know what, Carl. I think I love him and me enough to stop looking for him and leave him to enjoy the life he’s made for himself.”
“You want to go home, Mum?”
“Hell, no! I’ve just begun to live my life and have fun. I’m going to live out those teenage years that I missed. I’m free at last.”
“Wh-o-o-o-a, Mum!” Carl’s slouched back relaxed in laughter, and he raised his glass in a salute. “Mum.”
“Yes.”
“You do realise…” Carl stood and lifted Helen out of Rose’s arms. “I’ll put her to bed.” He ducked and entered the two-person tent that Rose and Helen shared.
When Carl came back to the campfire, Rose asked, “What was it you wanted to say?”
“Nothing, Mum.”
“It’s about your dad, isn’t it?”
“What if I don’t—what if I hate his guts?”
“Then we will just say, ‘It was nice meeting you—goodbye’.”
“I might refuse to see him. Are you all right with that?”
“I am all right, Carl, and I’m going to get a lot better. You do what’s right for you. I don’t want to go to bed, but you can. Don’t stay up with me tonight. A lot of the negative self-talk I’ve always heard is my memory of my mum telling me off for things. I’ve got to put a stop to that.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I’ll just tell the negative voice in my head to stop. I need some time alone to do it.”
23
Long after Carl and Helen had gone to bed, Rose sat gazing across the lake, aware that memories of recent past were more important than those she’d finally released from dark recesses. There was nothing there in the past that she could not deal with. The present time was sweet.
Rose’s primary concern now was the lack of conveniently placed public toilets. They had managed outback lavatory functions at previous campsites by taking a walk with the shovel. That very basic, but common, practice in the country was now unworkable with few trees to hide behind, and so many other campers and caravanners about.
“I had to hang on till after dark, then go,” Rose whispered, glaring with annoyance. “I like my privacy.”
When the late-arriving backpackers and the retirees seeing the country from the comfort of a four-wheel drive station wagon and caravan (Australia’s grey nomads) had settled for the night at the unofficial side of the road rest stop, Rose took the torch and walked out into the desert alone. Turning the flashlight off to relieve herself, she sighed. “That feels better.”
Rose adjusted her clothing, reached out, picked up the torch and turned it on. “Shit!”
There, on the ground, between her and the torch, was a desert taipan. The deadliest snake in the world. She froze knowing she could not move faster than it could strike. She waited motionless. It slithered away.
Rose heard her mother’s voice in her mind, “Common sense is not always all that common.”
“Yes, Mum, I’m learnin
g by doing things the wrong way first time up. But I do learn and I am not going to keep repeating the same mistakes. We are living life, and having fun now. I am getting healthier—mentally stronger. I don’t do drugs, drink to excess, gamble or smoke. That makes the few flaws I have okay, in my way of looking at things,” Rose ranted out loud. “Now, butt out of my life!”
Something told Rose that she wouldn’t hear those negative inner voices any more; she could block them. “Thirty-five years old, for goodness sake—it has taken me a third of a century to learn to stand up to my mother and tell her to let me lead my own life.” Rose spoke aloud to herself. “I must sound like a crazy woman out here.” She shone the torch beam around the sand dunes and then walked back towards the camp.
“What is crazy?” Rose asked out loud. “Someone who talks to their dead mother?” She laughed wryly. “It’s an improvement on my talking every day to Linton. Mum, you screwed my life up making me marry Trevor and getting Linton sent away.” Rose made her voice carry into the shadows beyond her torch beam. “I don’t blame you any more. I’m responsible. I allowed it to happen.”
Rose wanted her mother to hear, to know she had been set free. She noted the spring in her step, and she felt liberated, released from the burden of believing herself to be the guilt-ridden teenager responsible for bringing an embarrassing shame on her family.
“Maybe we can learn to be friends now, Mum,” Rose said.

In the morning Rose and her children set off toward Alice Springs. Looking for a suitable campsite as the sky darkened, they saw a light moving parallel to the road, keeping pace with the car. Rose sped up; it followed at the side of them. “Okay, that’s creepy.” She reduced speed, and the light mimicked their pace.
Carl swallowed. “That’s unnerving,” he said.
“Your dad and Trevor saw lights before their truck crash. They are harmless, unless we let them distract us.”