‘You idiot, you could get y’self killed standing in the middle of the road like that!’
‘Sorry, sorry, I’m a bit lost,’ replied Billy timidly.
‘That has to be the understatement of the century,’ came the irritated reply. ‘You scared the shit out o’ me. What y’ doing out here?’
Billy pondered the question for a moment.
‘To be honest, I have no idea.’
‘What’d he say?’ a gruff voice inquired from within the vehicle.
‘Think he’s on drugs or someth’n.’ Turning to Billy: ‘So you just dropped out of the sky then?’
Billy considered telling the facts that he knew, but decided it would be wiser to keep them to himself. At the moment, extracting himself from his present predicament was his first priority, and further alienating his rescuers wouldn’t help his cause.
‘Just got dumped here and don’t wanna go into it right now.’
‘Girl trouble,’ the driver remarked wryly to his accomplice, who responded with a snort. Both men then broke into a cackle.
Billy sensed that, apart from the initial shock, both men were relatively blasé about their close shave. He saw his opportunity. ‘Can you give me a lift?’
The laughing abruptly stopped and the two men quietly discussed the situation. Billy stood for a moment, feeling very exposed in the bright light. He tried unsuccessfully to make out what they were saying. Eventually the discussion ended and the driver spoke up. ‘Ok, mate, we can tell you’re in a fix. We’re on our way home and you can come with us. We’ll find you somewhere to crash and sort the rest out in the morning.’
‘Thanks a lot,’ said Billy gratefully.
Up to this point he hadn’t even laid eyes upon his rescuers. They were hidden behind a wall of light. He walked over to the driver’s door and was slightly surprised to see a tall, thin Aboriginal man. His skin was the deepest tone of black.
‘My name’s Billy.’
‘I’m Rob and this is Tex.’ Rob motioned towards the shadow in the front seat.
The shadow’s head was engulfed in an enormous Akubra stockman’s hat and he barely acknowledged Billy’s presence. Exasperated, he responded wearily, ‘C’mon, I’m buggered. Let’s get moving!’
‘You’ll have to put some elbow grease into the back door. It sticks a bit,’ said Rob.
On his third attempt Billy managed to tug the door open. He slid into the seat, and it required the same amount of effort to close the door behind him. The car, a 1970s Ford Falcon, had seen better days. Billy hadn’t had the opportunity to scrutinise its exterior, but surmised that the main material holding it together was rust. The rips in the vinyl of the backseat were almost deep enough to swallow him. Surprisingly, the front bench seat appeared to be in pristine condition.
‘You might have to make a bit of room on the floor.’
Rob wasn’t kidding. The entire floor well was filled to the brim with cans, bottles and other assorted rubbish. Billy tried his best to ignore it. ‘My dad had one of these.’
‘Is that right? It’s my pride and joy, mate. Spend every spare moment I’ve got doing her up.’ Rob puffed himself up like a penguin. ‘Call her “The Interceptor”; you know, like Mel Gibson’s car in Mad Max? Cousin of mine worked on the film over in Broken Hill a few years ago. He scored a few parts from one of the ones they wrecked.’
‘So nobody uses the backseat?’ Billy inquired, trying to find a stable space to rest his feet on top of the pile of rubbish.
‘No, not yet, but I’m working on that too. Her name is Mabel.’
Tex chuckled. ‘Mabel wouldn’t be seen dead in this heap of shit, mate, not even in the front seat!’
‘Ok, ok,’ said Rob defensively. ‘Let’s get the old girl moving.’
He turned the ignition and the car roared into life, as did the cassette player. Slim Dusty blared out of the speakers, ‘And the biggest disappointment in the world was me …’
One of the speakers on the back shelf of the car was only a few centimetres from Billy’s left ear. He instinctively pulled his head to one side and clapped his hands around his ears.
‘Hey! Can you turn it down a bit!’
‘Sorry,’ Rob murmured sheepishly, and fiddled with the volume knob on the stereo. The speakers crackled loudly, followed by a reduction in the volume of the music. Slim launched into another verse. He reminisced about his travels. He sang about going without food and other hardships, and described how, once he eventually returned home, he had become a different man.
Rob swung the car around with some difficulty. He struggled with the big steering wheel and the lack of power steering. Once he was back on the road, he accelerated down the highway. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the music. Billy was not a fan of country music. He wasn’t a country boy and felt quite alien sitting in a car with two characters that clearly were. He had met very few indigenous Australians in his time. This was probably the longest conversation he’d had with one of them. He was aware of the political arguments over land rights and the stolen generations, but it had never interested him. The men were as foreign to Billy as any of the overseas backpackers he met in his local bar. Even their use of the English language was a bit hard to follow. At the moment he was totally dependent on them. He had no idea where he was or where he was going, but he still appreciated their generosity. In the city this probably wouldn’t have happened. There, it was every man for himself; or, at least, that had been his experience. Yet he felt a sort of kinship with his unknown saviours. He trusted them. They seemed honest and had taken everything in their stride, which was not at all like him. He was mistrustful of strangers and only spent time with his closest friends. He wasn’t prone to taking risks and, under normal circumstances, he would probably have ignored these people if they had asked for help on the street. Even so, he could relate in part to Slim’s words. He was clearly a long way from home and distance was certainly on his mind.
Rob slowed the car and turned onto a dirt side road. The previously smooth hum of tires on a sealed road turned into an undulating rumble. Rob called back, ‘We’re about a half-hour drive from here.’
‘Cool!’
‘Where you from?’ Tex spoke up out of the gloom.
‘Adelaide. Where are we going?’
‘Uranda, little place west of Alice Springs.’
Alice Springs! Billy was flabbergasted. His mates had really pulled off a coup this time. He guessed they had expected him to wake up a lot earlier than he had. Still, at least now he had an inkling as to where he was. All was not completely lost, although he doubted there would be a bus stop where they were heading. Maybe in the morning he could find some way to get to Alice Springs and head home. With all that had happened to him, his head was swimming. Thoughts of his wife to be and the wedding flashed across his mind. It was all too much to consider and he pushed the thoughts away. He let his head rest back on the seat and stared out the window and up at the stars. The rocking of the car and occasional vibrations from the corrugations in the road sent Billy into a restless slumber.
A short time later Rob woke him with the announcement that they had arrived at their destination. Billy peered out the window. They were in a small town consisting of an assortment of prefabricated houses. There didn’t seem to be a regular street plan. Just a few buildings scattered around and, as he had assumed, no sign of a bus stop. They pulled up at a small, single-roomed cabin constructed of white corrugated iron sheeting.
Rob stuck his arm through his window and indicated the small dwelling.
‘You can sleep here tonight. It’s open and the light switch is just inside the door. I’ll come ‘n’ get y’ in the morning and show you ‘round.’
Billy, not yet fully awake, groggily murmured his thanks before extracting himself from the car. He resorted to kicking the uncooperative car door with both feet to open it, and it took all his strength to slam it shut again. He waved a half-hearted goodbye as the car pulled slowly away, befo
re plodding up the few steps to the cabin and opening the door. He felt along the doorjamb and found a light switch. He turned it on, blinking at the sudden glare of fluorescent light.
The room was sparse but clean. In one corner was a small kitchenette, in the opposite a double bed. There was also a small table with two wooden chairs and a slightly overused, two-seater couch. He was exhausted and had lost all sense of time. Although it could only have been a couple of hours at most since he had stumbled off the bus, it felt like weeks. He glanced around the room again. Hanging on one wall was an Albert Namatjira print depicting a lone ghost gum with rolling hills in the background. The painting seemed to spring off the cream-coloured wall, its vivid pastel colours lighting up the rest of the otherwise barren room. Looking at it he felt better. It exuded its own warmth.
Billy let himself drop onto the bed. He tugged off his shoes and socks and threw them in one corner. He peeled off his jeans and flung them over one of the chairs at the table. He then lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. A large huntsman spider was trying to make itself invisible in the crevice between the wall and the ceiling.
Realising that he had forgotten the light, Billy groaned and rolled out of bed. He took one step towards the door, reached out and flipped off the light switch. He sat back down on the bed and slowly leaned back. It was a relief to finally be able to stretch his body out full length. He settled himself and stared once again at the ceiling. Starlight was streaming softly through one small window. After a moment Billy closed his eyes, and within seconds he was asleep.
On the other side of the room Pidgin sat cross-legged on the small table, staring inquisitively at the motionless figure on the bed. He let his chin sink down onto his chest. His beard and coat became one. In the dim light it appeared as if there was a mound of feathers piled up on the kitchen table.
2
Port Pirie, 1969
I can feel him moving in my belly. I’m pretty sure it’s a him. My mother could have told me for certain. He is strong. I can sense it by the way he kicks. He has spirit and will be a survivor.
Although he’s not due for a couple of months they have put me in hospital. There is talk of complications but the doctors won’t elaborate. I wish they would tell me what’s going on. They have done a lot of tests and are continually taking blood and urine samples. Quite often I’m feverish and on a number of occasions I have had blackouts. There’s more going on in my body than just a baby growing. Of this I’m sure. Something is taking hold of me and will not let go. Before the pregnancy I had begun training to be a nurse so I am familiar with hospitals. It irritates me that they won’t tell me what’s afflicting me. I can understand that they don’t want to alarm me but I have already had to contend with so much in my life. This is something I can deal with. I will take it in my stride, as I have done with everything else. I am not so much afraid for myself as I am for him. I want him to live. I have a really strong feeling that he is destined for greatness, and that it is my responsibility to bring him safely into this world.
When the fever takes hold of me I start having the most vivid dreams. I keep seeing myself as a child. It was when we were still living the traditional way, out in the desert. My parents are there, and my brother. There are just snippets, though, and all very foggy. At the start of the dreams we are all together, and then towards the end a darkness descends and I find myself standing alone. Something happens out there and it is terrible. I just don’t know what it is. My own memory of that time is very vague.
It’s all very upsetting. It hurts so much to think about my family. I wish they were all here now but they were taken from me. This all happened long ago. I guess at the time I was only about six years old. I honestly don’t know exactly when I was born, or where for that matter. I can remember being told that my parents were sick and that I wasn’t allowed to be near them. I thought that just meant not seeing them until they got better, but once they took me away I never saw them again. That was before they taught me English, so maybe I didn’t understand everything properly. My brother was also taken away and I have no idea what became of him. After the separation I recall crying myself to sleep at night for a long time afterwards. I felt so alone.
Most distressing of all is not being able to visualise my family’s faces. The memories I have of those times are only loose pictures in my mind, like photos in an album. In the dreams I am seeing them all over again. Somehow it’s the dreams that are giving those loose pictures more clarity. I can remember roaming the desert. I recall that it was a hard life but somehow we always pulled through. Although I can’t see his face I do see my father laughing. He had such a broad grin. It makes me smile just thinking about the happiness that poured from him. He never seemed to worry. At least, that is my impression. He knew so much about the land and what it had to offer. I recall him showing my brother how to find water and teaching him how to make spears and other tools. He was very proud of his spear-throwing ability and would show off in front of my mother. I know she secretly admired his talents but would never let on. She would often speak secretly to me of his courage but never to his face. There was so much knowledge there. It is a shame it’s all been lost. I’m sure if he’d had the chance he would have taught my brother more of the ways and we could have carried on as we were.
I also have memories of hunting for food with my mother. We would dig for ants and bush vegetables. I cannot recall us ever going hungry, even when my father returned from hunting without a catch. My mother would tell me stories and sing songs about the old ways. I wish I could remember her stories but my memory fails me. It was so long ago and I was so very young. I wish she was here now to help and guide me with bringing my child into this world. I’m sure she would know what to do.
After we were separated from one another they put me in a home. There were a lot of children there just like me. We came from all over the place. It was some consolation that we’d all been through the same thing, being separated from our parents and all. We could at least provide each other a bit of comfort. Most of the time I just kept to myself and tried not to attract attention. The sisters that ran the home were very strict and dealt out harsh punishment if you stepped out of line. I did make some friends there, though, and we still try to stay in contact. At the home they taught us a lot of things, like how to wash and clean, how to keep house. It was as if they were preening us to be dutiful housewives, or perhaps something even more menial. I do have to thank them for teaching me to read and write, though. Without those skills who knows where I would have ended up. They also drilled the Word of God into us. I’m certain my first English words were those from a hymn. When I was young I believed what they told me. I had no point of reference. Now I am starting to see things differently. The old memories are flooding back through my dreams. Perhaps it also has a lot to do with this new responsibility, bringing my own child into the world. It is now no longer only about me but also about him.
This country has changed so much since my childhood. I do know that I came from somewhere in the north of South Australia but very little else. I don’t know the name of our tribe, or even if they still exist. I have been brought up to forget those things. However, I can’t completely forget; it’s a part of me. My dreams reinforce this. Hopefully one day things will be different and I will be able to go back and find out about my heritage. At the very least I will try to instil this in my son, although I’m sure it will be difficult.
A few months ago I married a white man. He decided it was the right thing for us to do after discovering I was pregnant. He is a good man. He is kind and dotes on me, but he doesn’t understand what I’ve been through. This is not surprising. We come from very different worlds. Before I met him I thought I would go it alone. I was going to study hard and find a good job. Until I became pregnant I was a trainee nurse at this very hospital. The training was difficult but I was pleasantly surprised to find that I have a great capacity to learn. It also helped that a couple of the girls from the home
were studying with me. One of them is even attending to me now. So there are some positives, I guess. I don’t know that I completely trust the doctors, though. Especially because they don’t seem to want to tell me about my condition. Through my working experience here I know that they do their best for people, so I find it strange that they are not communicating. Maybe they just don’t know. At least I can rely on my friend. She is my eyes and ears, trying to find out what is going on.
Now that I’m having a child I’m afraid that I will need to put my aspirations of becoming a nurse aside, at least for the moment. My main priority is the safety of my baby. I don’t want to lose him as my mother lost me. It’s fortunate that I am married as that will keep the inspectors away. I need to ensure that our relationship survives, as it will affect what happens to my child. I have heard that they still come and take children away for no good reason. It’s best if I continue to live as I have been and keep my secrets to myself. If I keep my head down and use the friends I have, my child will be safe.
He is kicking again. Oh what power he has. I will whisper to him. It usually calms him to hear my voice. I’m certain that it won’t be long before I see his face. And his will be a face I surely will never forget.
3
The Community
The Day After
Billy opened his eyes. Everything was white. He slowly reached out his hand and felt a cool, hard wall centimetres from his face. He was alive.
‘Thank God!’ He exhaled.
He sensed something behind him and, pushing himself away from the wall with both hands, rolled over and swung his legs out of bed. His bare feet slapped the floor, jarring his ankles and causing him to wince. The bed was much lower than he had expected. He looked around the room. It was just as he vaguely remembered it from the night before. Something was lying on the table. With both hands on his knees he leant forward, letting his own weight pivot him into a standing position. He walked to the table and scooped up a feather. Curious, he reached down for his discarded jeans. Searching through its pockets he found what he was looking for. Pulling out the feather he had picked up the previous night, he laid them side by side on the table. He inspected them as if they were two pieces of criminal evidence. They were the same. A shiver ran down his spine.
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