‘But not you?’
At the question, Parks paused with the bottle part way to his mouth and gave Matthew a penetrating look. ‘I see ya.’
On the receiving end of that look, Matthew felt a little hot under the aforementioned collar and realised belatedly that he had managed to get slightly tipsy. He cleared his throat. ‘It’s Sunday tomorrow …’
‘Don’t be offended if half the town are too hungover to turn up.’
Matthew smiled at that. His face was still feeling warm. ‘I think I’ll be bidding you goodnight now, Sergeant.’
Parks crossed his arms over his chest, liquor bottle nestled in the crook of his left elbow. ‘You called me Jonah earlier.’
Had he? Yes, Matthew remembered, he had. ‘You still call me Father,’ he pointed out.
‘So I do.’ One side of Parks’ mouth pulled up in his quirky grin. When it didn’t seem likely that he was going to say anything else, Matthew took a shuffling step back towards the door.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘goodnight, then.’
Chapter 2
Once the football season was done and dusted, the tail-end of the year accelerated at a heady clip. It was as though the entire town awakened from a glorious dream and realised it not only had work to do but was running late to get to it. The footy season being over meant no more training nights, no more Saturday games, no more Sunday hangovers from winning celebrations or losing commiserations. It meant the whole town could turn its attentions to life’s other aspects it had neglected over the past several months.
At least until the cricket season started up in mid-November, anyway.
As promised weeks before, the chimney at the Victoria Hotel “got a tree up it” before September was done, Parks having asked Matthew if he minded a branch of the churchyard peppercorn being sacrificed to the job. Even though Albie did much of the work, it was somehow only Parks who ended up covered in chimney soot. Albie called him a currawong for months after.
The numbers at Sunday Mass suddenly swelled and Matthew was increasingly busy. As his congregation grew, so did his duties, taking it upon himself to get to know each family—each individual, if possible—as well as he could. Invitations to dinners and afternoon teas flowed in, and Matthew accepted as many as he and his constitution could manage.
Before he knew it, October had been and gone.
Friday evenings in the Victoria Hotel became something of a habit and, one such evening in early November, Sergeant Parks fixed him with one of his characteristic unreadable looks and asked if he had much doing the following week.
‘I’m christening the Alson’s baby boy this Sunday,’ said Matthew. ‘Wednesday night, I’m having a late dinner with the Trenthams. Third time in as many weeks. And the Llewellyns have an elderly relative I’m spending time with on Thursday. Why?’
‘Just make sure you’ve got yer dance card free Monday and Tuesday,’ was Parks’ reply. ‘Time to take you to Munt, I reckon. Missus Strauss will lend ya one of the pub’s horses. You have spent a bit of time riding, haven’t ya?’
‘Not terribly much,’ Matthew had to admit. ‘We have trams in Melbourne, Sergeant.’
That was, evidently, the funniest collection of words anyone had ever uttered in the Vic’s public bar.
***
They left Dinbratten before eight on Monday morning. The new sun was just peeking over the rise of Stockman’s Hill above the town and strings of creeping mist still clung to the dips and shadows. There was plenty of blue in the sky, but at least as much cloud as well, and some darker grey glimpsed through the ironbarks as they made their way out of town warned their ride might not be entirely dry.
Being on horseback felt a little precarious at first. The animal’s warmth against his legs, however, soon gave Matthew a new appreciation for the mode of transport.
‘Alright there, Father?’ Parks called to him from the other horse.
Matthew noted the ears of the horse he was riding twitching in Parks’ direction at the sound of the trooper’s voice.
‘Yes,’ Matthew assured him. ‘I seem to have the hang of it.’
‘Bloody natural!’
Matthew couldn’t be sure if there was mockery in the trooper’s assertion.
The trail out of Dinbratten skirted the long gully behind All Souls church. They were walking amidst a heavily treed area, though a pleasant gurgling sound discernible through the thick wall of bellbird calls suggested Dinbratten Creek must be running nearby. Matthew observed two large black birds scrabbling in the undergrowth alongside the trail. He took them for crows at first, but they took flight as the horses neared and their stark white wing patches gave them away as currawongs. The birds hopped from tree to tree above their heads for some time, the female calling to the male ahead of her in the next tree before flitting across to join him.
‘The currawongs are nice enough, I s’pose,’ Parks said, watching them. ‘Don’t know why they’re always going on about Warracknabeal though. I mean, I’ve had some good times there myself, but I don’t go around singing about it all the bloody time like they do.’ His smile was wide, lazy.
Parks possessed the mystifying casualness of an experienced horseman. While Matthew held onto his horse’s reins for dear life, his trepidation keeping his shoulders, arms and hands all rigid with fear of falling, Parks barely held his reins at all, his posture in the saddle loose and comfortable, carefree. Frequently, he’d allow the reins to fall ineffectually about his saddle’s pommel, letting them slide and hang there while he rolled himself a cigarette or took a swig of water from the canteen he kept. Watching, Matthew thought he could be forgiven for believing Parks wasn’t even in control of his animal, so casual was his command.
Queenie, the police station dog, loped alongside the horses, diverting at irregular intervals to investigate a sound or, Matthew supposed, an interesting scent. She would disappear into the bush, out of sight for a minute or two, only to re-emerge slightly ahead of them. One time, she was wet from nose to wagging tail when she gambolled out of the scrub. As the sun melted the mists away and the morning advanced, the trail opened out wider and the towering trees, blue gums, ironbarks and river gums mostly, thinned a little. Despite being able to see further into the scrub, Matthew still couldn’t see a creek.
Jonah let his horse fall into step with Matthew’s, and the two animals bobbed their heads up and down together, acknowledging each other’s presence.
‘How far is it to Munt?’ Matthew finally thought to ask.
‘Just under a three-hour ride on a normal day.’
‘Three? And yet we’re staying overnight? We could be there and back by nightfall!’
The trooper gave him a wink. ‘Could do, yeah. And would do, probably, if I was on me own. But having you along … See, Father, with you not being comfortable with horses and all, I can turn what would’ve been a day’s work into a day’s work plus a day off.’ He leaned a little sideways in his saddle as if to whisper a confidence. ‘Police don’t exactly get holidays, Father,’ he said before sitting up straighter once more.
‘I’m afraid I don’t follow, Sergeant.’
Parks scratched his beard. ‘Within our own districts, those of us working together in groups have to just sort these things out among ourselves, see. George, who I work with, he’s gonna be wanting a day off next month when his Katy’s ready to drop their next lil’ tacker, right? And I’ll help him work around all our duties and such so that he’ll be able to do so. Right now though, I could really do with a little break. Just a day. Y’know, like we all need from time to time. So I’m delivering a summons that needs to go to Munt and I’ll stop in at the solicitor’s office to see to a few things and, because I’ve dragged you along with me, that’ll take care of my little break. Pretty clever of me to ask you along, really, if ya ask me.’
‘So I’m your excuse?’
Parks winked at him again. ‘A fuckin’ good one, at that.’
***
Munt was a much larg
er town than Dinbratten. They passed four pubs in the main street alone. Also on the main street, built out of the beautiful local bluestone, stood a Catholic church. There was an Anglican church somewhere in Munt, Matthew knew from the information he’d gathered on the area before his arrival in Dinbratten. But on which secondary, or tertiary, street it was located would have to remain a mystery for the time being.
‘Nice town, eh?’ Parks asked as they clopped sedately along the main drag.
‘Quite,’ Matthew agreed. ‘Bit bigger than I expected.’
‘Yeah.’ Parks flicked the dog-end of his smoke into the deep, flowing gutter. ‘A regular carnival.’
Once again, Matthew couldn’t be entirely certain how much sarcasm was contained in the trooper’s comment. No doubt this would be something he would come to learn and gauge about the man, the longer they were acquainted.
‘I’ve booked us a lodging at the Cricketers,’ Parks said next. ‘Left just up here.’
They steered the horses onto a side road. Rows of houses lined both sides for about half the street length. From about halfway down, the right-hand side was then taken up with a large citizens’ park. Central to this park was a large cleared area with football goal posts at each end and a discernible oblong in the middle indicating where the cricket pitch was being lovingly tended back into being for another season. Opposite the citizens’ park, on the corner of a cross-street, stood a two-storey, whitewashed building, signage along its gable declaring it the Cricketers’ Arms Hotel.
Parks led the way around back, to where the pub’s stablehand helped them with their belongings and took their horses away for stabling. Queenie, the dog, stood a moment in the middle of the yard, whining as she watched the horses being led away. Parks gave a short whistle and Queenie snapped her attention back to the men, obediently trotting after them as they entered the hotel through a door marked “Guests”.
***
Matthew awoke early, restless in a bed and a room so completely unfamiliar.
A glance at the other bed confirmed what he already knew—Jonah Parks had not returned all night. Soon after their evening meal the night before, a girl of about eight had delivered Parks a note “from her sister”. Matthew had been instructed, with a predictable grin, not to wait up.
Staring up at the fall of morning light upon the hotel’s faded wallpaper, Matthew gave a couple of unimaginative moments’ thought to what adventures a handsome man-in-uniform might encounter on a journey away from home. The tawdry imaginings were an indulgence he quickly shut down in favour of getting out of bed and putting a start on his day.
He dressed slowly and methodically, hauling his garments on like armour. Each one of the thirty-nine buttons of his cassock offered an opportunity for contemplation, for rumination on the subjects of sin and piety. By all rights, he should have felt immeasurably more holy when fully dressed. Somehow though, on that particular overcast morning, Matthew only felt a vague increase in his sense of aloneness, his apartness from his fellow man.
The fact that his “fellow man”, in this instance, had quite obviously abandoned his company to sow some wild oats wasn’t helping that sense.
He elected to take breakfast on the pub’s second-storey verandah, overlooking the football ground. The pub kitchen burnt his toast but made a kingly brew of tea, and Matthew watched kangaroos appreciate the cricket pitch while he ate.
Breakfast had been reduced to empty plates and sodden leaves at the bottom of the pot when two figures cutting across the park, walking arm-in-arm, caught Matthew’s attention. That the gentleman was a trooper was immediately apparent, his blue and white and black uniform standing out against the green of the playing fields. That this particular trooper was Jonah Parks was discernible long before his face came into focus. The sergeant’s tall frame, straight shoulders and slightly bowed legs gave his identity away to Matthew almost as quick as a personal greeting would have. Belatedly, Matthew gave a thought to how swiftly the sergeant had cemented himself in Matthew’s mental inventory.
The lady on Parks’ arm wore a dress of yellow and pale green. Closer quarters could no doubt reveal a floral pattern. She looked to have dark blonde hair, sandy, most of it contained in a loose bun at her crown. Matthew noted her fine figure only as an observance, obstinately giving his attention back to his breakfast—but of course he’d already finished, and his gaze lifted again to the couple scaring kangaroos on the playing field.
When Parks and his lady friend reached the roadside edge of the park, they turned into one another and embraced, his arms about her waist, her arms about his shoulders. A kiss was inevitable, Matthew considered and, sure enough, their hug turned into such almost as Matthew was thinking it. He shouldn’t have been watching, he supposed, but then people would do such things out in public, wouldn’t they?
He jumped a bit when footsteps sounded suddenly across the verandah floorboards.
‘A fresh pot, Father?’ breezed the young serving girl, already setting a steaming replacement on the table and making to gather up the cold one.
Matthew settled himself, hoping desperately that she hadn’t noticed him—a priest!—staring at the kissing lovers below. He mentally commanded his cheeks not to flush and thanked her for the fresh teapot. She indulged him with a beatific smile, gathering his dirty plates away.
When she’d left, Matthew exhaled heavily and chanced another look over the balustrade. Parks and his companion were stepping away from one another, Parks’ right hand rising to cup the lady’s face briefly as he moved away from her. She motioned a tiny wave of her hand and then they were parted, she turning to stride up the street towards Munt’s main road, and Parks crossing towards the Cricketers Arms.
Matthew slid his hand into the handle of the teapot and calmly refilled his cup. When he heard the stomping of boots coming up the interior stairs, he reached across to the table’s second setting and turned over the unused, upturned cup on the saucer there. He was pouring Parks a tea when the trooper pulled the other chair out and plonked down into it.
‘Morning, Father!’
‘Good morning, Sergeant. Shall we order you breakfast?’
‘Nah. Thanks. I’ve already eaten.’
Matthew glanced up as he set the teapot back down. ‘I trust that’s not an innuendo, Sergeant.’
Parks grinned, only slightly sheepish, and gave him a small wink. ‘Trust me, mate. When I give ya innuendo, you’ll definitely know about it.’
A little silence fell over them then, Matthew wondering what to say and wondering what Parks might. He supposed some sort of boasting would be forthcoming. He’d been led to believe that sort of thing was quite normal among the general population, among men.
‘My apologies, anyway.’
Matthew frowned. ‘Apologies? For what?’
Parks took a small sip of his tea. ‘Staying out all night like that. Didn’t intend on leaving you alone this long in a place ya don’t know.’ He leaned his elbows on the table’s edge and shrugged into it. ‘Hardly the nicest thing I’ve ever done, that.’ He looked up and met Matthew’s gaze, his eyes very blue in the grey day. ‘Sorry, Father.’
There was a pause, during which Matthew discovered he was too disarmed to say anything in response to Parks’ surprising apology.
‘Hope you were alright last night?’ Parks added after a moment, his voice carrying a little uncertainty. Perhaps he was worried Matthew may be upset or angry?
‘I—’ Matthew started, then cleared his throat softly. ‘I was fine. Thank you for asking.’
Parks regarded him, maybe waiting to discern if Matthew’s thanks were offered in sarcasm, then gave him a small nod. ‘It’s a nice pub, yeah? They take good care of their folks. It’s why I always stay here when I’m in town. Er. I mean, I always book in here … y’know.’
Matthew watched him squirm for a moment before taking pity on his sudden awkwardness. ‘I understand, Sergeant.’ He left it up to Parks to decide if he meant about the pub or about not
having stayed in it the night before.
The two of them lapsed into a halfway-comfortable silence, both enjoying the pub’s excellent tea and the pleasing view of the park, where the grazing kangaroos had remobbed around the town-end goals.
‘You got all your legal matters sufficiently sorted yesterday afternoon, I trust?’ Matthew asked eventually.
Parks delicately dabbed tea from his beard and nodded. ‘Solicitor got me to sign a bunch of stuff. But yeah. Poor old Ada.’ He leaned back in his seat, regarding Matthew with something of a “sizing up” look. ‘She was a good sort, was Ada. Questioned things. Took people on their merits. I think you would’ve found a few things in common.’
Matthew let those remarks soak in without comment.
When it became clear Matthew wasn’t going to say anything in response, Parks picked up the thread of his remarks. ‘Pity she croaked before you came along. I mean, she liked Father Swan well enough, don’t get me wrong.’ Parks hefted the teapot and refreshed both their cups. ‘Still. I’m sure Ada would be real happy to know her piano’s coming to such as you now.’
Matthew blinked. ‘I’m sorry? Did you say piano?’
Parks smiled across the table at him. ‘Ada’s will. What I had to see the solicitor here about yesterday? Yeah. She’s left her piano to All Souls. Gonna be a bitch of a thing to move, but.’
‘Oh my.’ Matthew accepted the new cup of tea, but let it stand on the table. ‘Do you think we might have it in the church hall? A piano would work beautifully in the hall, don’t you think?’
Parks was looking at him with a look of mild bemusement, and Matthew hoped he hadn’t sounded like he was gushing. Over a piano.
He recited a short prayer to himself. ‘Order my life so, O Lord, that it be always acceptable unto thee.’
He gave Parks a tight smile and stood up. ‘Have I time to pay a visit to my counterpart here before we leave Munt? I would rather like to compare churches.’
***
By the Currawong's Call Page 5