‘Yeah – something new age, alternative, spiritual, off the planet, like the kind of stuff she’s always talking to your mum about,’ George said with a shrug of his shoulders.
‘How about a crystal? There’s a stall that sells them over there.’
Tess led the way to a little booth displaying pictures of moons and stars, and trays of black velvet covered in coloured stones of different shapes and sizes.
‘You and Tess pick one,’ said George. ‘Darce and I are just going over to say hello to Charles at his stall. Meet us over there, okay?’
Sam grimaced at George, but turned back to the trays of amethysts. After a few minutes he and Tess selected one which Sam thought his mother would like. They were just turning away from the stall with it in a paper bag when they were bumped heavily by someone going past. The bag flew out of Sam’s hand and bounced off the edge of the concrete kerbing.
‘Hey, watch out!’ Sam cried.
The person turned and snarled into his face. ‘Watch out yerself, idiot. Why’ncha look where ya goin’!’ A mean, pinched little face belonging to a young man of about twenty sneered at Sam, daring him to make something of it. He was carrying an armload of wooden carvings, obviously intended for one of the stalls. Sam opened his mouth to say something, but the young man was already gone, weaving through the crowds and out of sight.
Tess picked up the bag and they made their way over to where they could see George and Darcy.
‘Well, good morning, my young rescuers. How nice to see you again!’ Charles beamed at them and his eyebrows shot around his forehead like ferrets chasing a rabbit. He was wearing a colourful Balinese shirt and a sarong, and a pair of leather sandals, and was seated on a folding chair with the morning paper open on his lap. At his feet were dozens of little potted trees.
Sam and Tess smiled awkwardly at him.
‘So are you here to buy something in particular, or are you just after market food like everyone else?’
‘Actually we wanted to buy a Christmas present for our mum,’ George replied, and looked at Sam and Tess. ‘Did you get the crystal?’
Tess opened the paper bag and tipped the contents out onto her hand. ‘Oh no …’ The broken pieces of crystal glittered in the sunlight. ‘Some creep bashed into us and it fell on the road.’ She looked in dismay at the others.
Charles regarded the group for a moment and announced, ‘I have a solution. I would be honoured to give you one of my special bonsais – all mothers love plants, and this one is quite house-trained.’ He held up a beautiful miniature weeping fig, a cascade of green showering over a grey weave of trunk and roots in a small clay pot.
‘Oh, wow!’ exclaimed George. ‘That’s great!’
Sam looked worried. ‘We can’t take that – it must cost a heap.’
‘Not at all. It’s the least I can do,’ said Charles. ‘You helped me tremendously yesterday. I wouldn’t even have got here this morning if it hadn’t been for you. Now, where are those carry bags …?’
As they waited for Charles to find a bag to put the bonsai into, Tess pointed. ‘Look, that’s the guy who knocked the bag out of Sam’s hand, over there by that junk stall.’
The others craned their heads as did Charles. ‘That shifty looking character in the black T-shirt? You’ll do well to stay out of his way. Very nasty piece of work, that one. Very nasty.’ He stared at them oddly for a moment, suddenly grave and serious. He looked like he was about to say something more but then seemed to think better of it, and hefted the carry bag into the air.
‘Here you go. Now, only water it once a week or so, no fertiliser, and a nice sunny spot. If you have any problems with it, you know where to find me. But I expect it’s a long way to come to see the tree doctor! And, George, I will give your business offer some serious thought. Yes indeed, we could come to a very satisfactory mutual arrangement! Come and see me next time you are in town. Cheerio then!’ Charles waved them goodbye and turned to serve a customer.
As they headed in the direction of home, Sam glared at George. ‘What have you been up to?’
‘I reckon I could make a fortune selling Charles plants for his bonsai business. I’m going to talk to Dad about it when we get back – if it’s okay then Charles wants to come out and have a look around.’
‘I bet he does,’ muttered Sam. He didn’t trust Charles, but he wasn’t really sure why.
They were almost home. Sam, George, Tess and Darcy faced each other in the back of the Troop Carrier across a pile of boxes and bags and spare parts. The side windows were slid open behind them but the air funnelling in through the window was hot anyway. They had been on the road for three hours and everyone’s patience was nearly exhausted, in spite of the water and snacks which Sarah handed round every so often.
The vehicle came to a halt, and Mac yelled, ‘Everyone out! Pit stop for ten minutes – get yourselves wet and cool off!’
They had pulled up at a little creek. Mac stood on the bank for a moment surveying the water, scanning for crocodiles. The place where the road crossed the creek was wide and shallow with a rocky bottom, which made it a perfect natural road crossing and a reasonably safe place for a quick dip, provided you kept your eyes open. In any case, at this time of the year the creek was barely running, and only a hand’s depth of water flowed over the crossing.
Sam, Tess, Darcy and George fell into the cool water and wallowed around for a few minutes, and then wandered over to where Sarah and Mac reclined in the shade, to dry off before getting back into the car. In the trees overhead, the lorikeets and parrots screeched and scolded raucously, arguing over the green-yellow paperbark flowers. The sickly sweet smell of fallen blossoms fermenting in the creek pools below the crossing was almost overwhelming.
As they passed around a bottle of cold water, another vehicle pulled up. It was a grey Toyota utility, and there were several people seated in the tray back, along with five or six dogs. An old man in a felt hat climbed down and came over to where the others were seated, followed by a boy and a girl.
‘Vincent! G’day, old man – how y’ been?’ Mac jumped up and shook the Aboriginal man’s hand warmly. ‘And Norrie and Lazarus! How’s life in the big smoke? You blokes are going to school in Jabiru now, I hear.’
The two youngsters smiled shyly at him, said hello to Sarah and ducked around to where the others were sprawled on the ground.
‘Hey, you mob!’
‘Hey, Norrie! Hi ya, Lazarus!’
Norrie sat down beside Tess and the two girls smiled at each other.
‘We heard you were comin’ out for the holidays. Stayin’ a long time, eh?’
‘Yeah! Mum and Dad have gone down south for six weeks, and Darce and I are staying with Sam and George for the whole holidays – isn’t that great?’
Norrie beamed at Tess, her smile a brilliant white expanse in her dark face.
‘We might go hunting with the aunties, and fishing too, eh? And Lazarus got a new Nintendo in Darwin last week. You mob can come over to our place and we’ll play it.’
‘That’ll be good – we brought some games too. You still got the radio, or have you got the phone on now?’
Norrie nodded. ‘We got the phone, but we still keep that radio ’cause the phone doesn’t always work. We got a computer now too, so we can email you mob.’
Sam, George, Darcy and Lazarus were deep into a discussion about the football. The Darwin season was underway and one of Lazarus’s uncles was playing for Waratahs, the leading team.
‘Okay, guys, time to get going,’ Sarah called out to them, so they picked themselves up out of the sand and wandered over to where she was standing beside the ute, talking to the three old women in the back.
The old women cackled with delight when they saw the cousins. ‘’Ullo, you kid! Yack-ai! Lookim grown properly big one now!’
They carried on for a little while, chuckling and exclaiming and making a big fuss of them all, until the engine started up, whereupon the dogs, who had been sniffing suspiciously ar
ound the other Toyota and lifting their legs imperiously on its tyres, leapt back in on top of everyone, causing the old women to yell and swear and slap at them. Norrie and Lazarus waved goodbye and climbed aboard too, and the ute took off, swaying gently under its load. Mac watched them go with a frown on his face.
‘Old Vincent says there’s some blokes been poking around. He’s seen their tracks going off the road in different spots. Probably just pig shooters getting in before the Wet, I suppose, but we’ll have to keep an eye out for them.’
They reached the homestead half an hour later, and were welcomed noisily by the dogs, and by Jock the Fencer, the old pensioner who lived on the station and looked after the place when the family was away. His weathered face creased into a big grin when he saw the visitors.
‘Crikey! It’s the Fearsome Foursome again – I hope y’ brought back plenty of tucker, missus! This lot’ll eat us out of house ’n home! Blimey – looks like these two bin standin’ in a bucket of fertiliser, they growed so much! G’day, Darce! G’day, Tessie! Good t’ see yer again!’ He shook hands with them vigorously and helped carry the bags into the house, talking nonstop.
‘That mare of Sam’s hasn’t dropped her foal yet, but I’ve put her in the house paddock so’s to keep a better eye on her. The chooks have gorn orf the lay, only gettin’ one or two eggs a day now. Jim Parker called in to see yer, Mac, but he’ll give yer a call tomorrow, somethin’ about trespassers on his block. And the fence was down by the Pocket in one spot but I strained ’er back up agin an’ it’s fine now …’ His voice disappeared into the house with him, and they exchanged amused looks.
‘Old Jock’s been on the grog again,’ said George after the old man was out of earshot. ‘I bet a dollar he’s out by dessert!’
They finished unpacking the car and went off to check on the animals, Sam and George’s dogs following at their heels. Sam’s mare was due to give birth almost any day, and she stood in the paddock looking enormous and uncomfortable.
‘Poor Holly,’ murmured Tess, stroking the mare’s velvety nose. ‘She looks like she’s having twins, she’s so big.’
‘Oh no,’ said George, ‘one set in the family is bad enough!’
Tess had a particular interest in Holly’s pregnancy, as the foal was to be hers. The horses in the next paddock, having decided the children weren’t carrying halters or bridles, trotted over to the fence to investigate. The station had a fine breed of horses, culled from the brumbies that used to roam the flood plains. They were good on their feet, having been born and bred on the potholed grassy plains. Thoroughbred sires had been introduced from time to time, and the result was a line of tall, strong horses.
Holly moved jealously between Sam and the other horses. He rubbed her forehead, and scratched between her ears lovingly.
‘Which ones can we ride while we’re here?’ asked Darcy.
Sam pointed. ‘Toby, that chestnut with the blaze; Shona; Sabre, the bay gelding; Polly; your mare Gidget, and I’ve been riding Saxon while Holly’s out of action.’
‘Saxon? I thought only your mum rode him,’ said Tess with surprise. They all looked at the big brown stallion with the four white hoofs.
‘She did, but now that I’m older she lets me ride him. Or I should say, he lets me ride him. He’s pretty fussy about who gets on his back.’
‘What’s so special about you?’ demanded Darcy, who fancied himself as a crack horseman.
Sam shrugged. He really didn’t know. But the fact was that Sam had a way with horses. They trusted him quickly, and responded willingly to his soft touch on the reins.
‘Will we be allowed to take the horses out for an overnight camp, do you think?’ Tess asked, patting Polly, the fat little grey mare they had all learnt to ride on. George, being the smallest of the four, still rode her but felt it was time he upgraded to a racier model.
Sam frowned. ‘I dunno. We can go for plenty of rides, though. Up to the lake, for starters.’
George broke in impatiently. ‘Okay, but I want to know when we’re going to do the trip up to the cave. If we stuff about too long it’ll be too wet and we’ll have to wait another whole year, and we’ll never do it. Let’s go there first!’
‘Yeah, that’d be just the best! We should start making some plans about what we’ll need to take with us,’ said Darcy, his eyes alight. ‘When can we go?’
‘I’ll ask Dad in a couple of days. Just wait, okay?’
They climbed back through the fence and went on their way, checking out the chooks, the ducks and geese, and George’s guinea pigs. The sun was setting when they wandered back inside the house, where they were captured by Sarah and roped into setting the table for dinner. To George’s great delight, Jock didn’t let him down: before the main meal was over, the old man’s head was resting on his empty plate while his snores rattled the silverware.
‘Well, you guys have got a good start to your holidays,’ said Sarah the next morning. ‘Vincent just phoned to see if you’d like to go fishing today. I told him you were probably all too tired from the trip home yesterday –’ She grinned at them as their protests drowned her out.
‘– but I did say you’d be ready by the time he gets here, in about an hour. Don’t forget to take your hats.’
A couple of hours later they were piling out of Vincent’s Landcruiser on the banks of the McDouall River. The biggest river in the area, the McDouall wound its way lazily and hugely to the sea, and marked the western boundary of the McAllister property. Everyone set about finding handlines and bait, and looking for the best fishing spots, while Vincent’s wife Jamerrie and her two old sisters prepared a billy of water for tea. They were high up a steep bank and had a good view across the river. It was wide and slow here, and covered in huge pink and white lotus lilies.
Across the river a jabiru worked a section of shallow water, its brilliant red legs a striking contrast to the black and white plumage on its body and the iridescent green of its head and neck. Jacanas picked their way delicately across the big flat lily leaves, appearing to walk on water, while white egrets and herons hunted along the banks for little crabs and fish. Brilliantly coloured rainbow bee-eaters swooped and soared between the bushes and the river surface, scooping tiny beakfuls of water.
Fishing lines were found, hooks were baited and flung into the water, and everyone sat back to wait for the first bites, feeling very relaxed and lazy in the warm, humid air. Tess settled down next to Norrie and pulled out a book. There wasn’t much activity yet but no one minded.
Suddenly Lazarus pointed. ‘Look there, by that jabiru …’
A large black pig trotted down the crumbly bank on the opposite side, close to the jabiru. It was a boar, and its wicked white tusks jutted menacingly out either side of its jaws. It lifted its snout suspiciously, sniffing the air and peering shortsightedly around before advancing carefully to the water to drink. The jabiru, motionless in the shallows beside a mud-encrusted log, seemed completely unconcerned by the pig. Satisfied that no enemies were around, the pig lowered its head and began to drink. It was a peaceful idyllic scene.
‘I’m glad he’s over there and we’re over here,’ whispered Tess. ‘He looks really mea –’ Her words were cut off by a loud splash and a squeal from across the river. The big black boar was gone. The muddy log beside the jabiru had suddenly launched itself at the pig, grabbed it in massive jaws, and disappeared in a swirl of brown water. The whole thing had taken about two seconds. Everyone was silent with shock for a moment, then the old women began to giggle nervously.
‘Whoa … lucky we’re up such a steep, high bank,’ said Darcy. ‘Crocs can’t get up a bank like this, can they, Vincent?’
‘You’ll be right, young feller,’ smiled the old man reassuringly. ‘No croc gunna get us here.’
They fished for several hours, catching five good barramundi and a big fat catfish. There was no further sign of the hapless pig or the marauding log, but no one went near the water’s edge. There were still plenty
of other crocodiles about. They were sitting quietly drinking pannikins of tea and eating some fruit when there was a flutter of wings overhead. Vincent looked up, squinting into the branches of the paperbark tree above him.
‘What that bird doing here?’ he said half to himself, getting to his feet and staring into the leaves. A black and white bird was perched a few feet above his head. ‘He don’t belong here, on this river, this not his country … What you doing here, old man?’
‘What is it, Vincent?’ Sam stood next to Vincent and craned his neck back to see what the old man was looking at. He thought he saw a flash of black and white, but nothing he could identify.
‘Nothing, nothing,’ said Vincent. ‘Time we went home now, take those fish back for your mother. Come on, you mob!’
They put out the fire, packed up the fishing gear and climbed into the Toyota.
‘We’re ready, Granpa!’ called out Lazarus. The old man was standing a few feet away staring up into the tree again.
‘What’s he looking at?’ asked George.
‘I dunno,’ said Lazarus. ‘Some bird, I think.’ He shrugged and pulled out his Nintendo, and the four boys forgot about fish, birds and crocodiles all the way back to the homestead.
It was three days later that Sam raced into the house to find the others.
‘Dad said we could take the Landcruiser!’ he sang out.
George, Darcy and Tess cheered.
‘Can we camp out overnight too?’ asked Darcy.
‘Nah, Dad said we have to be back by dark. Reckons it’s too likely to rain. But if we get going early we’ll have a whole day to have a really good look around.’
They were up well and truly before daylight. They had packed the vehicle the night before, and were now gulping down breakfast and filling bottles with cold water. They moved around the kitchen quietly, but Sam’s and George’s parents still came out to issue last minute directions and warnings.
‘If it starts to rain, head home,’ said Mac, groggy-eyed with sleep. ‘I don’t want to have to come and pull you out of a bog. No mucking around, and Sam’s the only one to drive. Got that?’
Brumby Plains Page 3