Long Gone the Corroboree

by Tony Parsons

  Steele read that some of the locals claimed that it was a mystery how Jack Hewitt Junior had lived so long without doing any regular work. He’d worked at a variety of jobs as a young man but for the last thirty or so years of his life, he hadn’t worked at all. It seems that he’d had a good vegetable garden and fruit trees, and a daughter who’d contributed food but had lived a lifestyle well beyond his means.

  What Steele found astonishing was that in only a few generations, the original occupiers of the country had virtually ceased to exist. True, there were some descendants, people like Lilly Sanders and Dooley Davis, but the Gubbi Gubbi tribe, as a tribe, had been wiped out. There were stories concerning a handful of Gubbi Gubbi who were supposed to have hung on for some years before moving further out. There was also the persistent story of a very old Gubbi Gubbi man who’d lived for many years up in the Palmer River country of North Queensland. He was referred to by the local people as Marjaru which, roughly translated, means ‘the last man’. Steele had no means of checking out this story, but according to his research, the locals certainly believed it to be true.

  So there, for the time being at least, Steele’s research came to an end. It was entirely possible that Jack Hewitt Senior was an escaped convict or ticket-of-leave man and bush-ranger, and perhaps did bring with him to Queensland a fortune in stolen gold and sovereigns. He was supposed to have had a badly scarred back, which certainly suggested that he’d been a convict. Whether he was also a bush-ranger was harder to establish. What was true was that Jack Hewitt Senior had died as violently as he’d lived. It was also likely true that he was buried somewhere on Steele’s property. It wasn’t difficult to understand why both old Hewitt and the Gubbi Gubbi wanted the property. It was a place to want. There was the never-failing creek, the sweet spring water and the amazing fertility of the blood-red soil.

  Steele thought that if Jack Hewitt Senior had been a convict who’d worked in the road gangs and experienced the lash, Jerogeree must have appeared to be the answer to his dreams, a place to fight for and to die for…

  And it seemed, that’s what he’d done.

  Chapter Ten

  Dooley Davis had returned to the shearing sheds and peace reigned along Jerogeree Creek. Steele, wrote, fished and worked in his garden and thanked his lucky stars that his life was now free of complications. That was until a fully fit and once again very scantily clad Lilly turned up on his doorstep. She’d dressed and stuffed a yellowbelly with one of her special fillings and proposed to cook it for Steele’s lunch.

  “’Cos you were so kind to me and Billy,” Lilly said by way of explanation for her presence, swaying her hips meaningfully.

  “You don’t have to do things for me, Lilly,” Steele said.

  “I don’t see why not. You do things for Billy and me. So, why can’t I do things for you? It’s only a fish,” Lilly said with unarguable logic.

  “It’s not the gift of the fish that concerns me, Lilly. It’s the fact that you’re here.”

  “You think I want to screw you?” she asked bluntly.

  “You offered to on another occasion,” Steele reminded her.

  “Yeah, well, how else can I thank you?”

  “I’m not looking for thanks. I just want a quiet life with no complications. No female complications. Billy’s a different matter. He needs some help to make something of himself. How about you head off home and I’ll cook the fish you’ve so kindly brought me and we’ll leave it at that. If you have any messages for me, you can send them with Billy,” Steele said firmly.

  “You’re a funny fella, Mr Clay. I never met a man yet that didn’t want to screw me. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  “I’ll have to grin and bear it, Lilly. Now, off you go home,” Steele said.

  Despite Lilly’s weakness where men were concerned, he had to admit that she was a good cook. The fish tasted fantastic and he would never again think of Lilly without remembering the meal he’d eaten after her departure. Perhaps he would always associate a meal of yellowbelly with that generous woman with the swaying hips.

  Lilly didn’t visit him again nor did she send him any more fish, or any more of anything else. Billy did however, bring cryptic comments he’d picked up from his mother. The theme of most of these comments was that Lilly considered Steele to be not quite normal for not wanting to sleep with her. It seemed Lilly didn’t regard sex as a very big deal. She’d been indulging in it since she was a girl in her mid-teens and regarded it as something as natural as eating and sleeping. It was beyond her why Steele wouldn’t be the same as the other fellas who panted after her. She could understand Steele not wanting to get on the wrong side of Dooley because he was a bad man when he was on the piss, but in her simplistic way, Lilly couldn’t see how Dooley need ever know. Steele was such a nice man; she wanted to be nice to him, too. She thought it was sad, him being on his own and just writing all the time. It wasn’t natural for a man to live like that.

  So, Steele had a period of peace before the next blow-up, one that was largely responsible for changing his life in ways he could never have imagined. It occurred late one Saturday night and Steele was utterly oblivious to it because he went to bed early and slept soundly after a big session in his veggie garden. As a result, he missed the comings and goings of the various vehicles and was, therefore, in complete ignorance of what transpired virtually on his doorstep.

  Steele’s enlightenment came early on Sunday morning with the appearance of Josh Evans. The builder arrived in his one tonner, pulled up in a cloud of red dust and literally fell out of the vehicle in a great flurry of arms and legs.

  “Did ya hear about it?” he asked urgently.

  As this question failed to alter Steele’s composure, he followed up his first question with a second. “Ya didn’t?”

  “Did I hear about what, Josh?” Steele asked calmly. He could see that Josh was agitated about something and he guessed that it probably involved his young brother. It was also possible, but probably not likely, that Josh had won Lotto, despite the number of entries he made.

  “Ya live next door and ya don’t know what happened.”

  “No, perhaps you’ll calm down and tell me,” Steele suggested.

  “I thought the cops might’ve been here asking if you’d seen or heard anything.”

  “Well, they haven’t. Nobody’s been here. Not even Billy.”

  “Yeah, well, he wouldn’t ’ve been. There was hell to pay up at Lilly’s place last night. Dooley Davis caught Danny with Lilly and busted him up. Then, he started in on Lilly so Billy tried to stop him. Billy’s in hospital with a shirt full of busted ribs. But that’s the least of it. Danny got to his car and grabbed his shotgun. When Dooley went for him again with a knife, Danny shot him. Killed the mad bastard,” Josh said with his eyes almost standing out from his head.

  “Good heavens, Billy in hospital. What about the others?”

  “Lilly was badly knocked about and they rushed her to some flash hospital in Brisbane. Danny’s got a broken jaw and stitches in his head. Dooley took to him with a waddy of some sort. It’s touch-and-go whether Danny’s charged with murder, or manslaughter at any rate. Danny claims he fired in self-defence and to stop Dooley from belting Lilly again. I warned the stupid bastard to stay away from Lilly but he wouldn’t listen. It’s Billy I’m really sorry for. It wasn’t the kid’s fault what went on between the three of them. You’ll want to go and see him, won’t ya, Clay?”

  “Of course. Poor kid! No father and his mother in hospital,” Steele said.

  “Billy does have a father, Clay. He’s a hot shot doctor in Brisbane. I told ya about him. I don’t know if he was Lilly’s first bloke but she said he was Billy’s father. But he hasn’t been near Billy up to now so he’s not likely to change his tack. I think you can rule him out as being of any use. He might’ve sent money, but Billy needs more than money right now,” Josh said.

  “What about this Uncle Ted fellow Billy talks about? Could Billy go to
him for a while?”

  “He’s a pisspot, a likeable bloke but a boozer. He gets on the turps for a week at a time. I wouldn’t send a chook to him to be looked after.”

  “That fool woman,” Steele said and shook his head. “I wonder if there’s anything up there that needs attending to.”

  “It’s a crime scene right now but I’ll ask the cops if it’s okay for me to go up there and have a look around. I know they’ve got fowls and a few turkeys and a milking cow. You go and see Billy. It’s times like these I wish you had a phone, Clay,” Josh said.

  “No phone, Josh. I don’t want people ringing me while I’m writing,” Steele said.

  After Josh left, Steele changed his clothes and drove to the district hospital. He was allowed to see Billy and found him strapped up, pale and looking uncharacteristically pensive. A wan smile greeted Steele’s appearance beside his bed.

  “This is a nice how-de-doo, Billy,” Steele said with a forced smile.

  “They took Mum to Brisbane, Mr Clay. Dooley hurt her bad.”

  “So Josh told me. I’m sure they’ll look after her well down there. How are you feeling?” Steele asked.

  “A bit sore, Mr Clay. Dooley kicked me in the ribs and broke some of them.”

  “Dooley won’t worry you again, Billy,” Steele said quietly.

  “What will happen to me, Mr Clay? The sister here said that Mum is hurt real bad and won’t be able to come home for a long time. She reckoned they’ll put me in a home or something until she’s better.”

  “Not if I can help it. How would you like to come and live with me while your mum is out of action?”

  “Could I?” Billy asked with pathetic eagerness.

  “I don’t see why not. I’ll call at the police station and see what’s required for me to take temporary care of you. The only fly in the ointment would be if your real father wants you. He’ll have to be informed because I understand he and his family have been sending money to your mum ever since you were born,” Steele said.

  “He won’t want me. He’s a posh city doctor,” Billy said. “It’d be real beaut if I could come to you. Mum’d like that. She reckons you’re a bonzer bloke.”

  Even though I wouldn’t sleep with her, Steele thought. “Would you like me to bring you anything next time I come?”

  “Naw. They’re looking after me real well, Mr Clay.”

  “What about one of those fancy ice-creams you like?” Steele asked.

  “Aw, well, if you like, but you don’t have to.”

  “Josh was going to ask the police if he could visit your place. Is there anything there that needs doing?” Steele asked.

  “The calf can stay on the cow. There’s only the chooks and the turkeys and they’ve got self-feeders so they’ll be right for a day or two. You might have to fill up their water dishes by then. There’s feed in the big shed,” Billy said.

  “I’ll come back tomorrow and maybe I’ll have news for you,” Steele said. He touched Billy’s shoulder affectionately and left him.

  At the police station, Steele asked to see the officer-in-charge and was shown through to the inspector’s office. Inspector Miller was a relatively young man and an officer who impressed Steele immediately.

  Miller was well aware of the circumstances that had led to Billy being in hospital, as the altercation at Lilly Sanders’ farm had been the major incident his officers had attended over the weekend. Steele asked him what the situation was regarding Billy and if he could be placed in his care.

  “Are you a relation?” Miller asked.

  “No, I’m not a relation. I’m the next-door neighbour. Billy’s done odd jobs for me and I’ve been giving him voice lessons. I think he has a bright future as a country and western singer. I like the boy. If there isn’t a close relation that Billy would be happy to live with, I’ll look after him while his mother is out of action,” Steele said.

  “Have you discussed this with Billy?” the inspector asked.

  “Of course. Billy’s keen to stay with me till his mother’s on the mend.”

  “Are you married?” Miller asked.

  “No, I’m not married,” Steele said firmly.

  “Hmm… That’s unfortunate. Are you in a position to support Billy?”

  “I should think so,” Steele said.

  The inspector tapped his pen on his desk. “As Billy is a minor and not able to be cared for by a parent, at least for the time being, the normal procedure is that he becomes the responsibility of the State and he’d probably be placed in a State home or foster care. My advice is that you go and discuss the matter with the Court Magistrate. Her name’s Glenda Butler and she has jurisdiction in this field around here. See if you can convince her that you’re the right and proper person to look after Billy. My gut feeling is that it wouldn’t be on, but Mrs Butler might see it differently.”

  “Thanks, Inspector. I appreciate your time and your advice,” Steele said.

  “The thing is that the Court might not look kindly on Billy going to a single man. If you were married, it would be an entirely different matter,” the inspector said.

  “Billy would be far better off with me than he was with his mother and her blokes,” Steele said. “The first time he came to me, he had a black eye that Dooley Davis had given him and right now, as you know, he’s in hospital with broken ribs, also compliments of Davis,” Steele said tightly.

  “You don’t have to convince me. It’s the magistrate that makes the decision in juvenile matters,” Inspector Miller said. “By the way, what do you do Mr er… is it Clay?”

  “It isn’t, but it will do for the moment. I write books, Inspector,” Steele said.

  “You write books. What kind of books? Are they good books?”

  “Apparently quite a lot of people think so. They’ve sold very well,” Steele said.

  “The magistrate will want to know your financial situation, Mr Clay,” Miller said.

  “That’s understandable,” Steele agreed.

  “You restored the old Hewitt place, didn’t you?”

  “Guilty, as charged, Inspector,” Steele said with a half-smile.

  “Are you trying to hide from someone?” Miller asked shrewdly.

  “Why do you ask that?”

  “You aren’t keen to give me your correct name and after a while in this job, we get a kind of sense about that sort of thing,” Miller said.

  “Well, I’m not trying to hide from anyone in particular, simply from the world at large,” Steele said.

  “I see. Be sure and tell Mrs Butler that you restored the Hewitt place. It could count in your favour and then again, it might not. I went past there a couple of days ago. It’s some spot, isn’t it?”

  “I think so.” Steele rose and shook hands with the inspector. “Thanks again for your time, Inspector.”

  He was almost out of the office when the inspector’s voice pulled him up. “Have you seen any trace of the ghost?” Miller asked with a grin.

  “Not the slightest, Inspector. I think that’s an old wives’ tale,” Steele said.

  It was two days before Steele could get an appointment with Mrs Butler. He found her to be a very handsome woman and judged her to be nearing forty, though he didn’t consider himself a very good judge of a woman’s age. She had naturally wavy dark brown hair, steady grey eyes and a very deliberate manner of speech. Tall, with a generous bust, Glenda Butler presented as a formidable woman. Initially, Steele thought he might have described her as domineering, but she was, no doubt, a woman who’d seen more than her share of human discord – marriage breakups, domestic violence and juvenile problems – and he couldn’t blame her if she didn’t suffer fools gladly.

  Steele began by telling Mrs Butler that Inspector Miller had advised him to talk to her about his proposal to care for Billy Sanders, but the magistrate was already up to speed on Billy Sanders.

  “The thing is, I’d like to look after Billy while his mother is unable to do it. I understand that she was hurt q
uite severely and liable to be in hospital for some time,” Steele said.

  Mrs Butler picked up a sheet of paper, read it and frowned. “According to this report, Mrs Sanders will be in hospital indefinitely. She’s in a coma and there’s no saying when she’ll come out of it.”

  Steele took a step back. “That’s a blow. No one told me it was that serious.”

  “Have you had any experience looking after children… teenagers specifically?” Mrs Butler asked.

  “None at all until Billy began visiting me. I paid him to do some odd jobs for me while Josh Evans was restoring the old Hewitt dwelling. When I discovered that Billy was keen on music and had a nice singing voice, I helped him buy a guitar to replace the one Dooley Davis smashed. To keep it safe, he’d come and play it at my place. I’ve been helping Billy improve his speech. He has a really good voice and I think he has a great future as a country and western vocalist, Your Worship,” Steele said. He wasn’t sure how he should address a Court Magistrate but he thought he couldn’t be far off the mark with Your Worship.

  “Are you married, Mr Clay?” Mrs Butler asked.

  “No, I’m not married. I’ve never been married. And within the confines of this chamber, I’ll let you into a secret. My name isn’t Clay. My Christian name is Clayton, hence the Clay, but my name is Steele… Clayton Steele.”

  Glenda Butler sat up very straight in her leather chair. “My goodness! Not the writer, Clayton Steele?” she asked.

  “I confess I am.”

  “Good heavens! Clayton Steele here… in my chambers. You’re a famous man, Mr Steele. I read your four books, which were, as I recall, all bestsellers.”

  “They were, Your Worship,” he said. He noticed that there were bronze lights in her dark hair. He thought she’d have been a stunning girl in her younger days, as she was still a woman to admire.

  “What on earth are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I’m trying to remain anonymous. Nobody knows that I’m here. I mean, nobody who knows me is aware that I’m here or even that I’m back in Australia. Not even my family or my publishers,” Steele said.