Long Gone the Corroboree

by Tony Parsons

  “A very sensible and pragmatic point of view, Debbie. I’m very proud of what you’ve achieved and I’m sure you’ll have a very rewarding career that will make all your hard work thoroughly worthwhile. And maybe, you’ll find a man who’s not only working in the same field as yourself but considers you’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to him,” Glenda said with a smile.

  “How well you paint the picture, Mother. But you’ve always had a way with words, haven’t you? Nobody could tell a story as well as you, not when we were kids, not when we were growing up and not now. Donna and I were lucky to have you as our mother but the big problem is that instead of you fading into the background and allowing us to shine, you’re still our most serious competition,” Debbie said.

  “Surely not,” Glenda objected.

  “Surely, yes. There isn’t a place you go that people don’t look at you. Clay once described you as magisterial. He thought you were a very superior woman. In your case, it’s a combination of intellect, looks and six feet of classy female. You must ‘wow’ them in your court, Mother. Of course you’re serious competition. Not for young men but for the bright men of Clay’s age, not that there’s oodles of them in this neck of the woods. And you’d be too formidable a figure for most of them. You’re ageless, Mother. It’s not only me that thinks so because the last time I spoke on the phone with Donna, she said much the same as me. For some reason, you don’t come across to Clay as overpowering because you mesh. You definitely mesh,” Debbie said.

  “It’s nice to know I’m still discussed to that extent by my daughters. A lot of mothers just get put down. But I must say that I’ve never considered myself as competition for either you or Donna. Certainly not for a man. After the divorce and until I met Clay, I’d never taken the slightest interest in a man. Your father put me right off. And when we get right down to tin tacks, Clay is simply a good friend, a friend that I happen to like quite a lot and I believe that’s how he regards me,” Glenda said.

  “Pull the other one, Mother,” Debbie said and went back to her thesis.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Steele had spoken to Billy several times about building a combined study and music room on the site of the old dunny but there had always been some reason, usually financial, why it hadn’t been done. On a couple of slack periods, Josh Evans had told Steele that he had some free time if he, Steele, was ready for him to build the work room. Steele had had to tell him that he couldn’t afford it and that it would have to wait until his monetary situation improved. It didn’t improve markedly until he received the first royalties for his fifth novel, which were above and beyond his most hopeful expectations. Steele thereupon decided to wait no longer but to erect the work room as soon as Josh was available.

  Having made up his mind, Steele set about dismantling the old dunny. It was almost completely masked by the two huge bougainvilleas, one red and one purple. Steele wanted to retain the bougainvilleas and to erect the new building so that one end of it was covered by them. It would be walled-in on two sides and gauzed on the other two.

  It wasn’t an easy task because the bougainvilleas were very thick and thorny. Steele found an old pair of leather gloves and set to the walls of the dunny with a crowbar and heavy hammer. He dismantled the door and looked with fascination at the old toilet seat. It was made from pieces of packing case with the hole roughly cut out and rasped to a degree of smoothness. It was supported by about two dozen short round posts. Some of these had rotted badly but others were in a remarkable degree of preservation. Steele dug these posts out one by one and as he dislodged them, he saw that the old bog hole was half full of red earth. The last log in the back row was almost flush with what had been one wall of the structure. It was the largest log of the lot and when Steele made an initial attempt to dislodge it with his crowbar, it resisted his efforts. He dug down around it with his shovel and scraped most of the soil away from the bottom of the log. This time when he manoeuvred the bar under the post, it moved a little but remained in position. Steele worked at it until it came loose and then picked it up and threw it on the pile of logs he’d made. As it collided with the ever-growing pile, it made a peculiar sound, very different from any of the other logs.

  Steele stood upright and studied the log more closely. When he nudged it with his foot he saw that the log wasn’t solid and that one end of it, the end that had been in the ground, was covered by two layers of cowhide. The outer layer had rotted in places but the inner layer was in remarkably good condition, considering the time it had been in the ground. The cowhide wrapping was held in place by wire twitched round the log.

  Steele examined the log’s end and shook his head. A dozen thoughts raced through his mind. It was clear that the log was hollow and the obvious reason was that it had been a hiding place for something.

  Steele inserted the point of the crowbar under the wire and wriggled it off then squatted down to unwrap the cowhide wrapping. As it came free, a small leather bag fell out and landed at his feet. Steele put his hand inside the log and withdrew another bag and then, another. In all, about three-quarters of the cavity was filled with small leather bags, each one tied with strips of leather.

  Steele’s hands shook as he picked up the first bag. It took him a little while to untie the thong as it’d hardened with the years. When he was done, he tipped the contents out on to the dunny’s old door and looked at what lay revealed.

  It was gold, small nuggets of gold.

  For a few moments, Steele just stared at the scattered lumps of gold then he carefully swept them up and placed them back in the leather bag before inspecting each bag in turn. There were fourteen bags in all and they were mostly filled with gold nuggets, except for two which held gold sovereigns. Based on the current price of gold, what he’d found represented a fortune.

  Steele sat back on his haunches and considered his find. It seemed clear that the old story about Jack Hewitt Senior having been a bushranger in New South Wales was almost certainly true. It was also clear why his son, Jack Hewitt Junior, who’d lived to the ripe old age of 103, was able to exist for so long without working; he’d had access to his father’s gold.

  Steele heaved himself upright and walked around in a kind of daze. He was a very honourable man, but he was at a quandary about what to do with the gold. There would be no hope of tracing the original source of the gold, which could have had a great many owners and he was reluctant to hand it over to a government authority without some consideration. Steele’s immediate thought was that the gold should be used in some way to help indigenous people as part compensation for some of the wrongs that had been committed against them. Murder had been committed on Jerogeree and a section of a tribe virtually annihilated. Now it seemed as if the land was giving him a way to pay back something to the traditional owners.

  Steele picked up the log and threw it into the half-full bog hole and then threw more earth over it until it was well covered. It was only then that he realised that the discovery of the gold meant that he would never have to leave Jerogeree. It wouldn’t matter if he never wrote another word. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to write another book because writing was part of his very being, but if it happened that he didn’t, or couldn’t write again as when he was ill, a small proportion of the gold would keep him for the rest of his days. And, come what may, he’d be able to look after Billy, too. But he’d never tell Billy about the gold. He’d invest the money wisely to ensure the proceeds would always be there for him and his descendants.

  Steele put a dozen of the leather bags in a plastic drum and buried it behind the back veranda. The other two bags he took with him to the coast where he had the gold valued and then sold, with the money deposited in a new account he named ‘the Jerogeree Trust’ with himself as the sole signatory. He was aware that if he had turned up with fourteen bags of gold, there would have been questions asked but it was conceivable that a gold prospector, especially one with a metal detector, might have accumulated two ba
gs. He’d wait a year or so and then, deposit another two bags.

  Steele rang Josh Evans and told him that he’d levelled the site of the old dunny and he could come and build the new room just as soon as he was free of his other commitments.

  “Way to go, Clay,” Evans said. “I’ll come out and measure up what’s needed. You still want the covered walkway?”

  “My word. It rains buckets here at times. We’ll put a concrete path from the house to the work room. But I want to keep those two bougainvilleas,” Steele said.

  A couple of days later, Evans came out and measured up the workroom and the covered walkway that would connect it to the house. As usual, he contributed some worthwhile suggestions and if Steele could divert him from talking about cricket, he was a fount of knowledge about what was happening in the district. It was from Josh Evans that Steele gleaned the first disturbing reports about Billy’s wayward behaviour.

  “Finding it quiet here without Billy?” Evans suggested.

  “Not greatly. He used to be away at school for some years, so he wasn’t here much on weekdays. Being on my own doesn’t worry me,” Steele said. “But I do miss him. I miss playing music and singing together.”

  “I hear he got into a blue a while ago. It was over a girl but Billy had had a few drinks. Did you know about it?”

  “Not a thing,” Steele said. “Billy’s rung me a couple of times and he seemed pleased with the reception he’s had. Great applause and that sort of thing.”

  “Time will tell, Clay. Some Murri get very flash when they get their hands on money,” Evans said.

  “That’s not fair, Josh. There’s plenty of men who aren’t indigenous who get into blues and drink too much,” Steele said spiritedly.

  “I know all that, but…” Josh looked across at Steele and saw the fury in the big man’s eyes. “Clay, you did a damned good job with Billy. No one could have done any better, but you aren’t with him now and if a young fella gets into the wrong sort of company, anything can happen. Billy wouldn’t be used to booze for starters. He never had it here, did he?”

  “He certainly didn’t,” Steele said firmly.

  “Might be an idea to have a word in his ear,” Evans suggested.

  “I’ve had lots of words in his ear. There’s a limit to how much advice you can hand out. It’s largely up to Billy now. If he stuffs things up, then that’s his choice, but I’ll be very disappointed.”

  “A young fella like him with money to spend and girls ooh-ing and aah-ing after him, it could easily go to his head. He really needs a minder, Clay.”

  Steele shook his head. “I got him the best manager I could find and told him to keep a sharp eye on Billy. So far, he hasn’t come back to me with a single negative report,” Steele said.

  “I’m just tellin’ you what I heard, Clay. Okay, I’ll be here on Monday to kick this building off.”

  “Terrific,” Steele said with his thoughts still concentrated on Billy and how he might be coping with his venture into the world of entertainment.

  “I’ll see what else I can find out about Billy,” Evans said as he climbed into his one-tonner.

  “I’d appreciate it, Josh.”

  Josh didn’t let the grass grow under his feet. He spent a couple of days getting the workroom under way then left it to his former apprentice, Deano, now a qualified builder, and his new apprentice, Taffy. Also a cricketer, the young man had been given his nickname because his parents had emigrated from Wales, though Taffy’s accent was a pleasant mix of Welsh with an Australian twang and Steele enjoyed listening to him speak, regardless of what he said.

  Steele decreed that the workroom had to be built so that the bougainvilleas covered one enclosed wall, with the blaze of tangled colour clearly visible from the road. Josh Evans also installed a small rain water tank tucked away behind the building to provide water for an internal tap and sink. And when the electricity was finally installed, Steele had a functional workroom which was insect-proof and because of its roof insulation, comfortably cool to work in during even the hottest part of the summer.

  When the covered walkway was finished, Steele hung an array of plants on both sides and was delighted with the effect. Now, even in pouring rain, he’d be able to walk from the house to the workroom to write without getting wet. He was delighted with this addition, as he told Josh when the builder came to check over the finished job.

  “It’s just what I wanted, Josh,” Steele said. “A great job! When I put a table in, you’ll have to come out and have a beer or two.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll do that, Clay. The bookshelves what you wanted?”

  “Spot on, Josh. It’s going to be great working in here,” Steele said.

  “No flies and no mozzies either,” Josh said with a grin.

  “Not one,” Steele agreed.

  Glenda Butler came and inspected the new building and gave it her unqualified approval. “It would make a very nice studio,” she said with lifted eyebrows as if seeking a response.

  “I dare say it would,” Steele said, his face expressionless.

  If Glenda expected a more spirited response from Steele, she didn’t reveal it, but took charge of getting the afternoon tea ready. She’d brought a sultana loaf and sliced and buttered it before pouring their tea.

  “I’ve got something to tell you,” she said when they were sitting down.

  “Something good or something bad?” he asked.

  “Definitely good,” she said. “Donna’s coming home. She’ll be here next week.”

  “Is she back for good?” he asked.

  “It seems so. She finished her economics degree some time ago and she’s been doing a lot of financial writing. There’s a job waiting for her in Brisbane and she had the offer of another one in Sydney.”

  “That’s the benefit of a good education,” Steele said. “Is she still single?”

  “Yes, she’s still single,” she said. “We’ve never told Donna about you being here. We’re going to have to now.”

  Steele nodded. “I should think I’m old hat after the UK and Europe and the financial ramifications of the Common Market.”

  “We’ll have to wait and see. I’m sure Donna will want to meet you. As a teenager, she was obsessed by your books,” Glenda said.

  “Most teenagers are obsessed by something. If it’s not a person, it’s a cause,” Steele said.

  “True,” Glenda agreed. “So, are you amenable to me bringing Donna here to meet you? She will want to meet you.”

  “I don’t have any objection to meeting your oldest daughter, which begs the question: What effect, if any, will Donna’s return have on Debbie?”

  “Very little, as they work in separate fields. Of course, if you were to show a desperate interest in Donna, that might provoke a definite reaction,” Glenda said with a smile.

  “It’s difficult to imagine Donna could offer more than Debbie and I’ve been immune to her undoubted appeal.”

  “I think you’ll find that Donna is more worldly-wise than Debbie. She’s rubbed shoulders with some famous names. Lunches with cabinet ministers and trips to Brussels to talk to Common Market bigwigs. Not to mention her shopping forays in Paris,” Glenda said.

  Steele groaned and held his head in his hands. “God protect me from worldly-wise women!”

  “Don’t despair. You’ve always got me to fall back on,” Glenda said.

  “And you’re not worldly-wise? No, maybe you aren’t but you’re people-wise.”

  “I think you’ll find that Donna has a more embracing view of the world than me. What’s that word the Germans have for it?”

  “Weltenschaung,” he said.

  “That’s it,” she said.

  “Of your two girls, I’d suggest that Debbie has a more profound view of the world than Donna. Donna might be more concerned with its monetary problems, but Debbie is more concerned with how it’s being stuffed up environmentally. A nice contrast in views, don’t you think?” he asked.

 
; “I hope you don’t provoke the girls into debate about those issues. I’m like you now, Clay, I want peace and quiet in the home. I’ve never quite recovered from their father’s excesses.”

  “I’ll be the soul of discretion, Your Worship,” Steele said.

  “Clay!”

  “Sorry, it just slipped out. I suppose you’ll go and meet the lost child at the airport,” he said.

  “That’s my intention. Debbie’s coming home so we can have dinner together that night. That’s when I’ll tell Donna about you.”

  “Ah! I foretell loud noises as Donna explodes about her mother’s secrecy where I’m concerned,” Steele said with a grin.

  “Your sense of humour is at times quite ghoulish.”

  “Well, I’d like to be a fly on the wall for that dinner,” he said.

  For once, Glenda could think of no suitable response.

  Chapter Eighteen

  There were quite a number of well-dressed passengers mixed in with more casually dressed younger people, some probably backpackers, off the Qantas plane. Glenda, waiting in the reception area, scanned the newcomers keenly for the first sight of her daughter. She’d come alone to Brisbane, though Deborah had assured her that she would be back home to greet her sister that night.

  A tall, very attractive young woman in a beige pantsuit with gold accessories and tan handbag came through the opening into reception and catching sight of Glenda, made a beeline for her.

  “Mother,” she said as she put her arms round her mother’s neck.

  “Donna, it’s been such a long time,” Glenda said with a catch in her voice.

  “It certainly has but I’m back now.”

  “You look wonderful.”

  “Hardly, after a trip like that. I feel a wreck. Sleep, that’s what I need. A bath first and then sleep, glorious sleep,” Donna said.