The Red Coast

by Di Morrissey

  Jacqui watched Damien and Richie wandering around, discreetly filming the festivities. She greeted several people before joining some members of the committee as well as Riley Mathieson at the head table. By now more people were chatting or heading to the bar. There was a plethora of staff serving drinks and trays of hors d’oeuvres. Quiet piped local music was a backdrop to the chatter and laughter, and there were the occasional flashes from cameras as guests recorded the scene.

  Jacqui turned to Natalie, who was sitting next to her. ‘There must be three hundred people here,’ she said in amazement.

  ‘I told you that people would eventually buy tickets,’ said Nat happily. ‘Of course, not everyone here tonight will come to all the festival events. But we’ve sold a lot of extra tickets for this evening, and if there’s anything left after this year’s expenses, we’ll be able to put it towards next year’s festival.’ She smiled at Jacqui and Lydia, who sat across from them. ‘Everyone has gone all out for tonight and scrubbed up rather well, don’t you think? And it looks as though the women are wearing their best pearls! Well done, Broome!’

  ‘Yes, you look lovely, Jacqui. But enjoy tonight, as it’ll be full-on tomorrow,’ said Lydia.

  ‘Early starts for us all, I guess, so I, for one, won’t be staying late,’ replied Jacqui with a laugh.

  ‘Me either. My session is in the morning and I like to think about things and focus beforehand,’ said Riley.

  ‘That’s what I like to hear,’ said Nat.

  ‘Oh, I thought we’d take the red rocket up to Coconut Wells for a spin before your gig,’ Colin chimed in.

  ‘You mean the Porsche?’ said Nat. ‘Colin, tell me, just who in Broome is crazy enough to buy that car, especially after it’s been driven up here from Perth, and all over the place since?’

  Colin said nothing, but he shrugged, a wide grin breaking across his face as he winked at Riley.

  Realisation dawned. ‘You wretch! You’re buying that car yourself, aren’t you!’ demanded Nat. ‘I should have known. You’re mad.’

  ‘But you’re not really angry, beautiful lady of mine?’ Colin leaned over and gave his wife a kiss.

  Lydia rolled her eyes. ‘Easy come, easy go, eh?’

  ‘Not really,’ said Colin. ‘Our business is doing really well at present, and when these big mining people come to town, and their plans go ahead, we’ll do even better. This place will boom.’

  After he said this, Jacqui noticed that Lydia gave him an irate look, though she didn’t reply. Jacqui realised that she’d been too busy organising her mini festival bookshop to think much about the mining dispute, but obviously, for Lydia, this was a major issue.

  ‘Well, life is never dull with you, Colin,’ sighed Nat in resignation.

  ‘As if,’ said Colin with a hearty laugh, seemingly oblivious to Lydia’s frown and his wife’s forbearance.

  Nat suddenly rose to her feet and gave a wave. ‘Look, here comes Sheila! How great.’

  Feeling relieved that the awkward moment had been cut short, Jacqui turned to see the well-known face of Sheila Turner and a vaguely familiar man coming towards them, both smiling cheerfully. Sheila’s trademark white-blond pixie haircut, the same she’d worn all her life, was instantly recognisable, and revealed a pair of sparkling drop earrings. A beautiful silk shawl, a melting rainbow of colours, which Jacqui knew to be the work of local artist Sally Bin Demin, was flung around her shoulders over a simple white silk top which had been teamed with tailored black pants.

  Nat stepped away from the table to greet her guest and to make the introductions to the others. Sheila went around to them all and, as she looked each in the eye, she gave them a warm smile and a firm handshake. Then she turned and gestured to the man standing beside her.

  ‘And can I introduce you to my old friend, Phillip Knowles? When he knew I was coming to Broome, he offered to escort me tonight. Such a dear person,’ Sheila said, looking at her companion fondly.

  Jacqui looked again at this unexpected guest and the penny dropped. She realised that it was Peggy’s father, whom she’d met at the beach picnic at The Point, now looking spruced up and debonair.

  Phillip greeted them all and added, ‘I’m so pleased that Sheila’s here for the festival. I’m hoping I’ll be able to persuade her to stay on a few days afterwards so I can show her around.’

  ‘That sounds like a great idea,’ said Riley. ‘It’s amazing country out there if you can get to it.’

  As the waiters passed around trays of drinks, and Riley described his visit to Beagle Bay, Jacqui smiled at Phillip, who was seated beside her.

  ‘It’s lovely to see you again, Phillip. How’s Peggy?’

  ‘A bit excited about tonight. She’s been invited to a barbeque with a group of friends from her school. I believe your son will be there, too.’

  ‘At the Hendersons’? He certainly is. I imagine they’ll all enjoy themselves. So, tell me, how do you know Sheila?’

  ‘Both of us worked for a time at Sydney University. Different disciplines, of course, but we had a lot of mutual friends, and Sheila and my late wife got on particularly well. We’re great email buddies now, and since Sheila has come to this part of the world for the writers’ festival, I felt it was only right to offer her my escort services while she’s here. She hasn’t been exposed to indigenous culture in this part of the country and I think that’s the lure of the Kimberley, don’t you? She said she’s heading out bush with a filmmaker, so I’ve offered to go along to show them one of the sites I’ve been documenting.’

  Lydia, overhearing this, leaned across to Phillip. ‘Sorry to jump in, but can I have a few moments when things calm down? I’d love to hear about what you’ve been studying.’

  Phillip nodded amiably.

  Nat got to her feet. ‘I think I’d better see if our speakers are ready for the evening. It’s time to get this show on the road.’

  The sound system was smooth, and there were none of the embarrassing screeches Jacqui had experienced at other outdoor events. The first person on stage was Auntie Vi, who, as a traditional owner, observed the Welcome to Country. She wore a smart dress, had bright lipstick and looked very businesslike. But as soon as she began to speak, the crowd fell silent, quietly respectful of what she was saying.

  In Bardi language, she welcomed everybody on behalf of the custodians of the land on which the festival was being held, paying respect to the elders, past and present, a reminder of the rich cultural heritage they were all sharing that evening. Switching to English she repeated what she had said. Then she paused and looked across at the attentive crowd. Lifting her arm, she made a sweeping gesture.

  ‘Look at this beautiful place we are so privileged to enjoy. This is land where dinosaurs walked, this is land where our people have fished and celebrated for thousands of years. For hundreds of years this coast has welcomed strangers. This coast is where the sacred serpent sleeps . . . and should never be disturbed. Our elders have warned us that cutting the serpent’s spine will bring destruction and despair. Let those who want to invade this coast, bringing their greed and flash plans, be warned.’ Auntie Vi raised her arm and shook it. But before the stunned audience had time to react, she broke into a smile and added, ‘Now let’s have a good night!’ She went on to say that she hoped everybody would enjoy the writers’ festival and wished it great success.

  Nat hastily stepped up to the microphone and thanked Auntie Vi for supporting the burgeoning writers’ festival, and added that she hoped everyone in the audience would be attending many of the sessions on the programme. She thanked the sponsors and volunteers, the members of the committee, and finally she thanked the line-up of wonderful authors who had made their way to Broome to take part. She singled out some of the better known names, who, in turn, acknowledged the crowd’s applause.

  The guests were now invited to help themselves from the buffet sprea
d in the adjoining dining room.

  After dinner, as waiters cleared the plates and topped up glasses, everyone settled back to enjoy a very funny talk by a local comedian who had written a light-hearted pseudo-biography. There was an interlude after his performance, as the band members of The Pistons took over the little outdoor stage and began to set up. Some of the guests left their tables and began to circulate. The authors clustered in a group to meet each other and exchange anecdotes. Watching them, Riley commented to Jacqui that since authors tended to work in isolation, this was a rare and welcome occasion to meet others who understood the strange world of a writer.

  Lydia moved among the guests, gesticulating, talking, throwing back her head and laughing. Riley and Jacqui sat, listening to Phillip Knowles as he told Sheila Turner of his travels in the Kimberley hinterland. Then they all paused and looked at the stage as the band started tuning up.

  ‘This is quite a reunion,’ said Phillip. ‘The band, I mean.’

  ‘Yes, I heard all about it a couple of days ago when they played up at Beagle Bay,’ said Riley.

  They looked at the group milling on the stage. The men’s laid-back demeanour smacked more of a friendly jam session than the professional performance everyone had been led to expect.

  ‘They were the hottest band in Broome for years,’ said Phillip. ‘Wendell, the lead singer, started singing his own music and over time the others drifted to him, like moths to a flame. The band evolved into what is now considered true Broome music. These Broome boys sing about the bad things as well as the good times and everyone can relate to their lyrics.’

  ‘They’re scarcely boys now,’ said Sheila, looking at the group, which was clearly made up of middle-aged men.

  ‘True, it’s just a shame they never braved the big music scene. They could have been a hugely successful group with bestselling albums, but they’re just Broome boys at heart. Still, I bet we’ll be in for a great show,’ said Phillip enthusiastically. ‘I’m going to have a chat with them, because once they start playing, they won’t stop.’ He got to his feet and Lydia joined him.

  ‘I’m coming too. Jacqui, can you please ask Damien to film some of their show? They’re great characters.’

  ‘Okay, I’m sure he will, but I’ll go and check.’ Jacqui headed over to where Damien was focusing on the rising moon.

  ‘Hi there, you happy with what you’re getting?’ she asked as he lifted his eye from the viewfinder and smiled at her. Jacqui gestured towards the musicians. ‘I’m told this band is fantastic. They were really famous locally, and probably could’ve made the big time, but instead just kind of did their own thing in Broome. Tonight is a big public reunion for them, so Lydia asked if you could please capture some of it.’

  Damien nodded. ‘Yes, Richie and I have been hearing the same thing about them. We’ll definitely get a few grabs of some songs. But save a dance for me when I’ve finished filming, won’t you?’ he said as he gently stroked her arm.

  ‘Are you going to stay right to the end of the night?’ asked Jacqui.

  ‘Are you? I suppose you’re hanging out with the famous writers. I met Sheila Turner. I like her even more in person.’

  ‘Do you? I like her, too. But I might manage to tear myself away to have a dance or two, especially as Jean-Luc is staying over at the Hendersons’ for the night and I don’t have to hurry home,’ Jacqui said with a smile.

  Damien leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. ‘Could that be an invitation?’ he whispered.

  She gave a cheeky grin. ‘I think it could be.’ The thought of making love to Damien again made her tingle. She enjoyed being with him more than she had with any other man for a long time. With that thought came the realisation that she was beginning to have real feelings for Damien. She tried to be nonchalant. ‘But be warned, I have a very early start tomorrow.’

  ‘Then we won’t be here dancing into the small hours. Besides, I have to be at a 5 am shoot.’

  ‘A sunrise shot?’

  ‘Fishing. Not for fun, I’m filming some blokes going out on some large fishing craft for the doco. Hey, the musos are starting, let’s get rolling.’ He waved at Richie and before hoisting the camera under his arm, he blew her a kiss.

  As Jacqui headed back to her table, her phone buzzed and she quickly checked it. To her surprise she saw it was a text from Cameron.

  Hope the opening night and festival go well. Sorry I wasn’t able to give you a hand. Know you’ll sell a truckload of books. Good luck. Cameron x

  ‘Heavens, I didn’t expect that,’ she thought. Before she could reply, she was distracted by the sound of the band tuning up.

  Wendell, the leader of the band, had a face creased with laughter lines. His hair was streaked with grey, his Chinese, Malay and Aboriginal heritage obvious. The other band members seemed to be of a similar age, except for Hayden, one of the guitarists, who was still in his forties so quite a bit younger.

  Jacqui saw Wendell give a nod of acknowledgement to Lydia, his fingers warming up as they ran along the strings of his electric guitar.

  ‘Good to see you boys on a proper stage again,’ Lydia said.

  ‘Been a while since we bin on a stage,’ acknowledged Wendell. ‘We never stop jamming, though.’

  ‘Have you got any of those protest songs I suggested you write ready for your mob to sing tonight?’ Lydia asked loudly. ‘Once those oil and gas people start digging, it’ll be goodbye sacred sites and our land.’ She glared across at Colin.

  Several people nearby stopped what they were doing, their attention drawn to Lydia.

  Wendell continued to strum the strings of his guitar and, looking down from the stage, said quietly, ‘I think you might be jumping the gun a bit. We don’t know for sure where anything’s gonna be yet.’

  ‘Maybe not officially, but we all know it’s coming. The way I see it, it’s wrong, and people have to let the mining companies know that,’ said Lydia, her voice rising in anger, causing even more people to fall silent and look towards her.

  ‘I’m not so sure that it’s wrong,’ said Wendell softly. ‘Maybe the income from this project could be good for our people.’

  ‘Who’s been talking to you? To me, what you’re saying is wrong. Our land is important, so how can you be pleased that people are trying to take it from us?’ demanded Lydia, now thoroughly riled.

  ‘Hey, Lydia, we got a show to do,’ said another of the band members quietly.

  Lydia’s face was flushed but, before she turned away, she hit back at Wendell, ‘Money’s never solved our problems, mate.’

  Hayden, the guitarist, quickly stepped forward and took the microphone. With a flourish, he announced, ‘We’re The Pistons, we make the best music in the country, and we’re baaaack!’

  The crowd cheered, some whistled and everybody applauded.

  When Jacqui returned to the table, Riley turned and asked her, ‘What was all that about? Does it have anything to do with the things Auntie Vi was talking about, “breaking the serpent’s back” and all of that?’

  ‘I’ve heard that there’s a huge gas field offshore which a company wants to exploit, and it will entail building a gas hub on the coast, on what many locals consider to be sacred land,’ replied Jacqui.

  ‘Can you tell me about this serpent story?’ Riley asked Lydia as she sat back down beside him, still obviously fuming. ‘It sounds really interesting.’

  ‘I certainly can,’ replied Lydia, her voice still animated with passion and anger. ‘The spine of the red cliffs which travels along the coast is a songline, or dreaming track, made by the creator-beings, and tells the Dreamtime story of that particular piece of land. These song cycles are passed on from generation to generation and are important in our cultural history. To know your country is to know its songline.’

  Sheila nodded as she and Phillip joined the conversation. ‘That would mean that
the physical presence of the land is as important as the myth.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Lydia. ‘The very idea of invasive machinery hacking through that landscape, and especially those cliffs, is anathema to the custodians of that land. And to a lot of white people who don’t want to see the wonderful pristine landscape ripped apart, either.’

  ‘Still, nothing formal has been announced yet,’ said Jacqui.

  ‘But the rumours are flying,’ said Phillip sadly, ‘and I can tell that people are beginning to take sides on the issue.’ He nodded at Lydia. ‘Your disagreement with Wendell shows that, Lydia.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Lydia replied, ‘but I think that by the time any public announcement is made, it will be too late. Everything will be signed and sealed. The big guys will have set things up and any community consultation will be just tokenism.’

  Riley raised his eyebrows. ‘You think it’s a conspiracy, Lydia? But like Wendell said, if it all goes ahead, it could bring a lot of money and work to town.’

  ‘I think maybe people like Lydia are more worried about what they could lose rather than what they might gain,’ said Jacqui quietly.

  *

  In spite of Lydia’s spat with Wendell, there was no doubt the festival had kicked off on a happy note. The Pistons were a huge hit, and fans old and new were swept up in the music and rhythm and danced with abandon.

  Damien, who had finished filming, came over to claim a dance with Jacqui. As he arrived at their table, Riley politely stood and wished everyone good night. Turning to Jacqui, he added, ‘Jean-Luc is a lovely young man. I enjoyed hanging out with him at Beagle Bay. He’s certainly a credit to you.’

  ‘You’ve been incredibly generous with your time, and I know that’s meant a lot to him. Thank you, Riley. And good luck tomorrow!’ Jacqui replied.

  ‘Thanks. See you at the book signing!’