If we’ve done something wrong and the Boss has caught us, we had better tell Mummy before he does, so we wait until Mummy’s around the other side of the tree and sing out to her then. When she answers, we start to tell her.
‘Mummy.’
‘Yes, babe.’ I can tell in her voice she’s tired.
‘You know we weren’t supposed to go swimming in the dam yesterday after we knocked off ?’
‘Yes, babe.’
‘Well, it was real hot so we thought we’d have a swim to cool off and the Boss caught us.’
Then she’ll start telling us off. We gotta tell her, though. We’d be in a lot more trouble if the Boss told her before we did.
Each day, we gotta pick enough cases or bins to get enough money to keep us and get a house. Every morning, Mummy tells us how many cases or bins we need for the day and, when we get that many, then we can knock off. We always gotta fill our quota for the day. Usually, Mummy stays in the paddocks a bit longer.
25
Blue, the ‘hero’ dog
We head back and forth from Condo to the paddocks, always travelling to where the fruit-picking work is. When we get home, we live in rented places. Now that we no longer got our place on the Island, we gotta live up the street in town, surrounded by tar and cement and streetlights and buildings and people. Very different to how we used to live on the Island. We survive in town until it’s time to go working the next time. We’re heading back to pick the oranges in Leeton again, where we live in a hut on the Boss’s paddock. It’s much easier when that happens. He just takes our rent out of Mummy’s pay. I’m still the smallest. I still gotta climb under the branches and get into the middle so I can pick the oranges that can’t be reached from the outside.
I have fun in there. If I can see Mummy isn’t looking, I can chuck an orange at the other kids but picking oranges can be hard work and we don’t have cases no more. The Boss has got these things called crates that hook to the back of the tractor. Our crates are pretty big so it takes a while to fill them. In some paddocks, they gotta a cage on the back of the tractor and we gotta fill them instead.
Now we don’t have smoko but we have the radio playing music to listen to and we still laugh a lot and tell jokes. We tell funny little stories about each other like, ‘Remember last year when we was picking the cherries at Matt’s and Paddy did this’ or ‘What about when we was at Gegg’s and Kerry did that’.
Maureen’s with us this time. She’s still in love with Sam but I think they had a fight. We sing her favourite song for her: ‘Sad Movies’. We sing lotsa other ones, too, trying to cheer her up. She smiles up at us but I think her heart is breaking.
Each afternoon, after we finish picking, we play for a while and then we sit out in the dirt and sing all the songs that we heard on the wireless. I’m a little bit sick one day and don’t go picking. Mummy comes down from the paddock to check on me and to get lunch ready. She don’t like leaving us anywhere by ourselves for too long—she always worries. She shows me a suitcase full of brand-new clothes for me and Kevin. There’s a real pretty dress in there. Mummy says I can wear it to the Condo Show next year. There’s no clothes for Lynnie and Paddy, though. I ask her why and she surprises me when she says, ‘It’s from your Nanna and Pop and they live in Gulgong’.
I never knew we had them as well! I have grandparents and I don’t even know ’em. I think it’s not fair though that Lynnie and Paddy don’t get nothing. Mummy says she’ll buy them something on pay day, so until then, she’ll put the new things under the bed so no one knows.
It’s Sunday, our day off. Mummy’s cleaning up again. She’s already cleaned our hut and now she’s sweeping the dirt outside. Lynnie, Kevin and me are playing marbles in the dirt, playing quiet for a change. We look up now and again to see what she’s doing.
Mummy sweeps all the dirt and rubbish in a bundle and finds a match and lights it. I’m waiting for her to tell me I can sprinkle the dirt with the water again. We hear a noise and look up from our marbles and scream, ‘Fire! Mummy, the hut’s on fire!’
Mummy makes sure all us kids are okay and hustled away from the fire but we can’t find Maureen. She’s in the hut, sleeping. Blue, the dog, goes in barking, trying to get her but he keeps running in and out. When he comes out, we tell him to get Maureen; we can’t see her coming. Mummy tries to go in after her but she can’t—the flames are too fierce.
We watch the door, panicking, but then, all of a sudden, we see her crawling out on her hands and knees. Blue wasn’t leaving her behind; he was just going back in and checking to make sure she was coming behind him. Outside, Maureen tells us how he was waking her up by dragging her off the bed by the hair—he’s so clever. We love him even better now that he saved our big sister. Blue’s our hero. We laugh about how he got his practice pulling us kids out of the river.
There’s no real loss to the Boss ’cause they just chuck anything together for us to live in. Our hut was just four walls and a roof made from lots of old wood, and a dirt floor. I reckon it looked like the hut made by the little pig in the nursery rhyme: anyone could’ve huffed and puffed, and it would’ve all fallen down, anyway.
We’ve got no clothes, no tucker, no nothing. Even the new clothes hidden under the bed burnt, too, but I really don’t mind. Mummy makes sure we don’t go without a feed. No fire would make her kids go without, and anyway, she puts all the money down her chest so we know there’s some there for when we need it.
We ask how the fire started. There had been a big bang; the big boys must’ve left a live bullet lying around from when they went rabbiting and Mummy must have swept it up with the dirt and rubbish. It exploded when she lit the fire and the sparks went onto the hut. So now, with no hut, we’re back living in a tent again. When the oranges finish, it’s time to go home to Condo. Once again, we are living with all our family around us beside the Lachlan River which is such a big part of our lives.
My Great Aunty, Tilly Goolagong, is the best fisherwoman in Condo; we all go fishing with her. She makes us walk for miles around the riverbank to get to her most favourite spots. We all love fishing and we’re all good at it, except I don’t like gutting them and seeing all their insides coming out so my job is to scale them instead.
I don’t mind this job because I watch the pretty colours on the scales from the sun. I get them all over me and that means it’s time for a swim. But we’re not allowed to swim where the lines are and disturb the fish, so after all that long walk to the fishing spot, we gotta walk up the bank some more. Us kids can walk for miles, though. It’s all part of bush living.
26
Christmas under the cherry tree
It’s still 1965 and we’re still working for our house. It’s time again for the cherries. We all work real hard on the cherries, and this year, we can’t go home for Christmas. We can’t afford it ’cause we gotta get this house so we’ll stay here in the paddocks. But that’s okay—we’ve had Christmas here before. When its knock-off time, Mummy sends us back to the hut and us kids go and wash up and tidy up, then we play for a while. Hide’n-go-seek is great here; there’s lots of room and trees to hide in. All the while, Mummy keeps working longer hours than anyone.
We take it in turns doing the chores here, too. The boys have to peel the potatoes for tea, and Lynnie and me have to get the wood in. I can cut the bigger wood now—not the big logs yet— but I’m real proud of myself, anyway. Mummy comes home when it’s getting dark. We’re all tired so she’s cooking while we have our showers. Two more days to payday, then we can do our Christmas shopping. Santa comes in five days.
Just before payday comes, Mummy tells us how much money we’ll have. She tallies up how much we have picked and earned each day, and how much we need for the house. She says we’ll have four dollars and fifty cents each for our presents. She’s sorry but that’s all we can have to buy our presents from Santa. We say it’s okay; we don’t mind. She asks us what we would like Santa to bring. I don’t know, maybe a doll.
She says, ‘On pay day, you can spend the afternoon in town and look around to see what you want. And you’ll all have your own pocket money, too, so you can buy presents for each other.’
Pay day is finally here. We work real hard in the morning so we can have the afternoon off. Mummy tells us to take it easy, not to worry too much, that we’ll be fine. We all feel happy—we can go into town and spend up big, well, pretend anyway. Mummy makes sure we’re all dressed in our best clothes and that our faces are clean. No way would she let us go to town looking untidy or dirty.
When we go in, we have a special lunch at the café and then we’re allowed to go and spend our pay on what we want, as long as it’s not heaps of lollies. The boys would love to spend all their money on them. Last week, I bought some paper dolls that you gotta dress up in paper clothes. It’s really easy and they look so pretty.
We go to the café and have a big feed and even a chocolate milkshake. It’s so nice that the boys want another but they can’t. Lynnie and me laugh—serves them right for being greedy. We all start looking into the shops. The boys are allowed to look by themselves but us girls aren’t. ‘It’s not fair! How come they can go by themselves?’ Mummy tells us, ‘Because they’re boys’. I still think it’s not fair. Sometimes, I wish I was a boy, too, then I could do lots more things as well.
Me, Mummy and Lynnie go into another shop and the shop assistant girl is nice. She asks me what I want: a doll or something else. I tell her, ‘I don’t know’. She points around at lots of different things. Just then, Mummy comes over and I look up on the wall and I see it. A little white dog. ‘Mummy, look up there, the dog.’
Grabbing a big ladder, the girl arms herself with a stick and, climbing the ladder, gets it down. It’s way up high. As I watch her, I hold my breath and then close my eyes real tight, whispering under my breath as I do, ‘Please don’t drop it. Please don’t drop it.’ I repeat it over and over again; my voice is in my throat but it doesn’t want to make a noise.
She gets it down safely and passes it to me. I love it. My heart is bursting as I hold it close and feel it next to my skin. ‘Oh, Mummy, it’s beautiful.’ The toy dog is white with a red tongue sticking out and it’s got a big gold chain on it. Mummy asks me, ‘How much is it?’ I turn the price tag around, holding my breath, saying a little prayer at the same time, willing it to be under my four dollars and fifty cents.
Oh, no, it’s five dollars fifty. I look at Mummy; I feel my heart breaking and my voice cracking as I try hard not to cry.
‘It’s okay. I’ll pick something else.’
I hand it back to the girl and walk away. I move away from Mummy for a little while. I don’t wanna let her see me with a broken heart. I don’t want Lynnie to see me, neither. She would tease me for being a sook and then she would tell the boys and then I would really cop it.
When I’m ready, I sing out to Mummy, ‘There’s a doll over here, Mummy’. It’s dressed in pink and real pretty. ‘Santa can bring me this instead.’ I point it out to her and go and find Lynnie. She’s chosen a doll, too, but hers can walk and it comes up to my waist. She teases me because her doll will be bigger than mine.
We go home, all of us happy with our shopping and our presents that we picked out. I think of the dog and wonder what will happen to him. It’s a wonderful afternoon, the sun is smiling and we are, too, ’cause we don’t have to work. We don’t even have to do any jobs tonight: no nothing. We can just rest.
Mummy’s lying back reading the paper. She bought us all a game of snakes and ladders, and the boys are trying to cheat. It’s been a good day. I’m tired, I wanna go to bed. It’s three days to Christmas.
Then it’s Christmas morning and Santa’s been in the middle of the night. I don’t know how he finds us and how he always brings the presents we pick out. I think, what a clever man he is, and I wonder how Mummy lets him know what we want. My mother, she’s pretty smart, you know. I open all my presents: first, there’s marbles and jacks, and some more paper dolls from Lynnie, and the boys bought me some play jewellery.
Lots and lots of presents just for me. I think I’m so lucky but I wonder where the little dog is now? We’ve all finished opening our presents and us kids show each other what we got. We’re all excited and happy but I didn’t get the doll from Santa. Lynnie got hers. Maybe he forgot—or maybe he thought I was bad so I couldn’t have a special present like the other kids.
I hear Mummy talking to me.
‘Kerry, there’s one more present to open. Yes, it’s yours!’
I think it must be the doll—Santa didn’t forget—and that means I wasn’t bad after all. Mummy passes my present to me. I feel it and can’t help but shake it, wondering what it could be. I know it’s not the doll—there’s no box.
‘Open it,’ everyone says at the same time ’cause they all know. My fingers get a hold of the paper and it starts ripping.
‘The dog! Mummy, I got the dog!’
Excited, I run to her and give her the best cuddle she’s ever had in all her life. I show everyone my dog. The boys want to know if the tongue comes out. She tells them to behave and leave me alone. I pick up my dog and go outside. This is the best working Christmas I ever had.
27
Leeton Show and the Mormons
We go and live in a little flat in Leeton till the fruit-picking season is over. We’re trying to earn as much money as we can to buy our own house somewhere. Big sister, Maureen, lives here in Leeton as well so that’s good; she has a place down the road from us. She has three boys now and we love ’em lots. Me and Lynnie, we’re allowed to help her with her babies which makes us feel so important and grown-up. We still try to avoid Sam, though.
Us kids love going down to her house. She still spoils us, plus she lives near the irrigation channels so we can swim there every day. One day, she got real sick and had to go to hospital. Sam takes Mummy to the hospital while us kids, we worry and wait at home. The doctors tell her a snake bit her—and she didn’t even know it.
We’ve got my cousin, Billy, living with us now in Leeton. He’s Uncle Paddy’s boy by his first marriage to Aunty Frances, the one that first told us the news about our house getting burnt down. (Aunty Frances lives in Forbes and we still call in there on the way home from the paddocks all the time.)
We’re going to church again, but this time, it’s the Mormons. We go to them for about six months while we’re in Leeton, this time doing the oranges. They’re really nice. Mummy makes ’em a cup of Milo every time they come and visit. They’re not allowed to drink tea or coffee so it’s Milo instead. We’ve all gotta have it when they’re here but Mummy loves her cup of tea. As soon as they’re gone, we put the jug on. I don’t think anyone could stop her drinking her cuppa tea. She wouldn’t give it up, not for all the money in the world.
We go to church and put our money in the tin, but sometimes it’s hard to do that; we need the money, too. We do it, anyway. Sometimes though, brother Paddy, he only pretends to put the money in there and keeps it instead. Then he buys us lollies to share. The Mormons baptise all us and cousin Billy, too, in the Murrumbidgee River which is just right for us ’cause we’re river people.
The christening takes place five days after my tenth birthday: 29th October 1966. We all gotta dress in white, then they take us out in the water and dunk us under. I come up spluttering as they hold you down backwards so the water goes right up your nose. We have a big barbecue in the park when it’s over. Lynnie loves Elder Hadley and I’m Elder Christianson’s favourite. I’m in love with him, too. He’s so tall—I only come up to his waist. I reckon there would have to be two and a bit of me to make one of him.
It’s Show time here in Leeton but we can’t afford to go. Mummy scrapes enough money together to buy some coloured crepe paper from the newsagent so she can make us some paper flowers which we can sell door-to-door. She makes some beautiful carnations— all different colours and so pretty.
We don’t like knocking on people’s doors and se
lling things much but we wanna go to the Show and Mummy says it’s an honest living and there’s nothing wrong with that. She tells us we have to sell in pairs. One of us has to stand out the front and play cockatoo and watch while the other knocks on the door. We’re not allowed to let each other out of each other’s sight.
Before we go into the front yard, though, we look to make sure there’s no kids playing there. We would die of shame if any of our friends see us. We say a little prayer, begging that none of ’em live in any of these houses in these streets. If we come to a house and see any kids at the house or even a bike out the front or in the back yard, we walk straight past and don’t go in.
I gotta knock while Lynnie plays cockatoo. I’m lucky this time. A lady answers. I ask her if she would like to buy some of my flowers. She asks me why I’m selling ’em. I tell her, ‘So we can go to the Show’. She doesn’t buy any flowers but gives me a dollar, anyway. It’s funny, a lot of people give me money but don’t buy the flowers. That’s good ’cause we can sell the ones they don’t take to someone else. We’re so happy: we earn enough for all of us to go to the Show and we spend up real big and have lots of fun on the rides, too.
Selling the flowers is just like when we was back on the Island and we took all the empty drink bottles up to the shop. When we did that, we hoped our friends didn’t see us cashing ’em in to get money, either. Meryl used to collect the most, so she sent us up to the shops with all these bottles in the pram and we had to buy milk and bread and slices of Devon sausage with the money the shopkeeper gave us; but it was good because she always made sure that there was enough for lollies for us.
The Cherry Picker's Daughter Page 10