An Alice Girl

by Tanya Heaslip

  Mrs Hodder and friends making music in the School of the Air studio for us kids out bush 1971. (Courtesy S. Hodder)

  Miss Clarke, our much-loved governess, with Benny on a pony, Midge, outside the homestead, 1970. Miss Clarke was like a younger sister to my parents, and welcome company for Mum. And of course, she kept us in line!

  From left to right: Brett, me and M’Lis at Miss Clarke’s beautiful wedding. We loved her so much and were very sad to say goodbye.

  From left to right: M’Lis, me, Mum, Brett (with hand wrapped, ever ready for combat) and Benny, on the homestead lawn, 1972. Mum was forever busy, but she always found time to give us lots of love and hugs.

  Me on our beloved Pinto on the Witchitie lawn. We all had to prove we could ride bareback before we were allowed to graduate to a saddle.

  Dad, Brett and the Land Rover, at ‘dinner camp’ during a muster. Hot, dirty, exhausted—but still a grin from Dad. Working with cattle out bush was our life.

  Drafting wild cattle in red dirt, red dust and mulga scrub. We all worked hard during drafting, which often led to some near misses and heart-stopping moments. (Courtesy B. Braitling)

  Such glamour! My beautiful Mum and my handsome Dad at an Alice Springs Ball, 1971.

  Gorgeous Aunty Jill and Uncle Pete Gemmell, dancing at Bond Springs, 1973.

  Mr and Mrs Gorey dancing on the Bond Springs patio, 1973.

  Mrs Braitling and her beloved ‘Echo Foxtrot Whiskey’. The pilots were mostly men, and so we kids greatly admired women like Mrs Braitling, who took to the air. I loved her ready laugh; she and Mum were like sisters.

  From left to right: Dad, Mr Crowson and Mr Braitling playing ‘wild bullocks’ at the Dalhousie ‘Fly-in’, a rare moment of fun for these hardworking bush blokes.

  Brett and his best, bootless buddy Aaron Gorey, having breakfast out bush, 1971.

  From left to right: Brett, M’Lis, Benny and me, in the homestead stables, 1971. Always together.

  From left to right: Me, M’Lis, Brett and Benny, on the homestead lawns.

  From left to right: Me, Benny, M’Lis and Brett, swinging on the horse yards gates.

  From left to right: Brett, Benny, me and M’Lis, outside the kitchen, ready for horse action at the Alice Springs show. It was always such an adventure to go to the show!

  Our schoolroom, where I spent many of my happiest moments. I loved every bit of school, except for maths!

  From left to right: Me, M’Lis and cheeky Brett with our new wonderful governess, Miss Thiele, in the schoolroom.

  Me, concentrating hard, during School of the Air on our two-way radio. Oh, the joy I felt every day talking to my teachers and on-air friends! It fostered my love of learning for life.

  Dad in front of his beloved DQG; Mum (on the right) in a ‘pantsuit of the day’, with friends.

  M’Lis and Brett, ready for the Alice Springs show, with our legendary Head Stockman Charlie Gorey, 1972.

  Me on Sandy at the Alice Springs show, when I won my first-ever ribbon. I trained so hard and was so proud to come third in ‘Quietest Horse and Pony’!

  Janie Joseland on her beautiful horse Lucy, with Benny.

  Dad and stockman Barry Elliott, at ‘dinner camp’ during a long, cold, winter’s muster. Both men silent, thinking, in the way of bush men.

  Our much-loved Head Stockman Mick Schmidt, leaning up against his swag in the stock camp, blackened billy in front. Mick had such a cheeky grin and laugh!

  Barry Elliott, leading his camels down the railway line through Alice Springs’ Heavitree Gap, early 1970s. We called Barry the ‘cameleer’.

  From left to right: Benny, Robbie and Rhonda Schmidt, and Eeyore John Wayne, on Mum’s precious lawn. That donkey was a menace, but Benny loved him.

  The orange typewriter Mum and Dad gave me for my tenth birthday—my most magical present ever. I wrote many stories on that typewriter and escaped into exciting new worlds.

  From left to right: Brett, me and M’Lis in our best jodhpurs with our governess Miss Thiele celebrating her twenty-first birthday. She was a natural teacher and didn’t put up with much mischief from us, but we loved her.

  Alice Springs School of the Air camp—Lea Turner (on the left) and me (on the right), with Eric Turner, Jamie Turner, Grant Roberts and others.

  M’Lis and me at School of the Air camp, 1974. These camps were a great opportunity for us to spend face-to-face time with our on-air classmates.

  M’Lis and me playing our guitars around the campfire at School of the Air camp, 1974. We loved to sing and play whenever we had a chance.

  From left to right: Benny, me and Janie Joseland after a game of ‘cattleduffers’. This was our favourite way to spend a day—crouched low over our galloping horses, fighting off ‘baddies’ and protecting Dad’s precious cattle.

  From left to right: Brett, me, M’Lis and Benny in the homestead horse yards, some years on.

  Dad on his beloved Limerick. We rode many horses growing up, but we were never allowed on Limerick (except M’Lis—once). He was Dad’s pride and joy.

  Author’s Note

  One of the things I couldn’t know back then, as a despairing twelve year old, was that Mum would go from strength to strength, and become like one of the inspiring, creative women she used to talk about in such reverent tones.

  She would turn her grief at sending us off to boarding school into action, becoming a national leader pushing for equal education opportunities for kids in the bush. She would become a founding member of the renowned Isolated Children’s Parents’ Association (ICPA), Alice Springs Branch, and the Inaugural State President. She would help start the most extraordinary secondary school in Alice—St Philip’s College—so that bush kids could stay there, rather than being forced to go south. She would lead the College as its Chairman for many years. She would design bedrooms for the boarders that faced the ranges so they could see their land from the school and not be homesick. She would receive an OAM from the Governor General of Australia for her decades of devotion to bush children.

  Not bad for a girl who had to leave school at fifteen.

  Adelaide Miethke and Molly Ferguson would have been proud.

  Acknowledgements

  Writing this book has been a roller-coaster of emotions and memories and I have many people to thank for helping me reach the end.

  First, my precious family—Mum, M’Lis, Brett and Ben—for sharing their memories and their stories and allowing me to write about them.

  With only fourteen months between each of us, M’Lis, Brett and I spent our entire childhood as though in a three-legged race. We moved as one, in work, play, riding, school, and the stock camp. M’Lis and Brett gave me so many stories to include and allowed me to shape them into my own, supporting me as I wrote. Thank you—they are yours as best as I’ve been able to honour them.

  Ben was so very young during the years in which this book is set; he only reaches age five in the last chapter, but he gave me some great (and naughty!) stories as well—thank you, Benny ‘Slipsta’!

  Mum gave me some fabulous stories that don’t appear here because I ran out of room—but her life is a book in itself. There aren’t enough words to thank you, darling Mum.

  To our dear family friend, Mrs Braitling, thank you for sharing some wonderful stories too, as well as a lifetime of support and friendship to our family. And to Anne Schearer for the photos!

  A huge thanks to Ray Murtagh and Adam Gemmell for bringing back great memories of their time on the Bond; likewise, dear Lorna Schmidt, and a huge hug of thanks to my beloved lifetime friend, Janie Jo. Big hugs also to the beautiful Mrs Gorey and Rosie Johnson for inspiring me over the years.

  And, of course, Dad, for giving me as much as you did, and could (including your precious diaries), before you died.

  The 60s and 70s were a very different time in the bush and much has changed, including attitudes to work, how hard children should work, physical punishment and the rights of girls and women.

 
; That change is welcome.

  But I have no doubt the toughness we endured taught us some good things: hard work, never giving up, independence, and a love of the land. And despite how tough Dad was on us—which was a reflection of both how he was brought up, and how he learnt to survive himself—he and Mum gave us an incredible childhood on Bond Springs, which I’ll always treasure.

  A huge thanks to my wonderful writing friends, neighbour Renée McBryde and cousin Fleur McDonald, who read the first drafts, and gave equally wonderful advice. Renée literally did it in ‘sickness and in health’ and I’m so grateful. Thank you also to Annette Every for kindly proofreading for me once more, and my beautiful friends Andrea Davies, Jodeen Carney, Kellie Hill, Jane Aberdeen, Jane Carpenter, Anne Fulwood, Katie McGregor, Melissa Perry, Stephanie Mallen, Penny McCann, Rebecca Scott and Chris Noonan, all of whom have gone above and beyond to help me get my books out into the world. There are many more dear friends I don’t have room to mention but please know I’m grateful to each and every one of you. A particular thanks to the fabulous team at Coleman’s Printing. And of course Kim Mahood, Ted Egan and Toni Tapp Coutts—three fine Territorians who generously made the time to read my story and provide me with endorsements. Thank you all.

  There are also people who profoundly shaped my life who sadly are no longer here. Mrs Judy Hodder died far too young. She was a wonderful teacher who inspired so many bush children, including me.

  And the wonderful men of my childhood who are no longer with us either—Mr Crowson, Mr Gorey, Mr Braitling, Uncle Pete, Mick Schmidt.

  And now to my wonderful Allen & Unwin publishing team. Without you, there would be no book out in the world, so thank you with all my heart for making it possible to tell this story. A huge thanks to my wonderful publisher, Annette Barlow, her brilliant assistant, Jenn Thurgate, and my talented and inspiring editor Samantha Kent. You are all the best!

  Finally, I want to thank my amazing and wonderful husband, Steve, for his constant love and support. He tells me I can do it even when I think I can’t and he never stops believing in me. Thank you, my darling, for everything, as ever.

  It seems appropriate to finish with a story M’Lis told me about Dad and his beloved horse, Limerick. Many years after this book was set, Dad found Limerick, dead, in the Horse Paddock. Dad didn’t say a word. He got his old camera and went out to take a last photo. When Dad came back, M’Lis saw his shoulders heaving. He was wiping his eyes with his dirty shirt sleeves. He couldn’t speak. He had the photo printed and put it on his office desk. The picture was heartbreaking: Limerick was already half eaten by crows and dingoes. But on the back, Dad scribbled in his almost illegible writing: ‘Limerick—the horse that made Bond Springs.’

  Dad kept that photo on his desk for the rest of his life.

  Vale—Grant Frank Heaslip.

  You, like Limerick, fought the good fight, and died on the land you loved so much.

  The stories told in this book are either from my memory, or they are my interpretation of the collective memories of others of times in our life in the 1960s and 70s. Any mistakes herein are mine and mine alone—apologies.