Barra Creek

by Di Morrissey

  ‘Then you can’t eat at the mess.’ He glanced at her over his shoulder, looking at the way she was dressed in a sunfrock with short bolero, expensive sunglasses and a nice bag.

  ‘Go to the Darwin Hotel’s dining room. My son plays in the band.’

  The houses looked temporary and with many there was nothing but dirt in their front yards. The ugliness of the streets, though, was relieved by flowering poincianas, frangipanis and some sprawling hibiscus and bougainvillea. The port was bustling but the damp humidity seemed to slow every other activity. They passed the Don Hotel and men who looked like station hands or workmen stood in its doorways and on the steps holding large glasses of beer. She caught a glimpse of a group of blacks squatting in the dirt under a tree out the back, hopeful that someone would sell them some illicit grog. It was a pretty basic township but to see people and shops, after months at Barra Creek, was a novelty. She was relieved when they pulled up outside the Darwin Hotel and she saw the pleasant building with its wide verandah and green gardens.

  On the ground floor large rooms opened onto each other, filled with cane furniture and slow-turning ceiling fans. The receptionist had been contacted by the Monroes so she put Sally in a verandah room.

  Sally carried her bag upstairs to a plain, spacious room of polished dark wood smelling heavily of Johnson’s floor polish. Narrow double doors with lace curtains opened onto the verandah that overlooked the Esplanade. In the beer garden below, tables and chairs were set among tropical plants. It wasn’t stylish but it was comfortable and obviously the best place in town to stay. She was tired and went down the hall to the bathroom to wash. But she didn’t step into the shower until she’d swatted all the cockroaches.

  She lay on her bed listening to voices, laughter, cars and wondered how she’d sleep after the quiet nights at Barra Creek. In the early evening when a breeze brought the strong salty tang of ocean smells, Sally walked through the town. She found little to interest her and feeling nervous at the rough men and drunks that hung around the Don she went to Smith Street, glanced at the Victoria Hotel and saw some young women sitting on a car bonnet sipping pink drinks. One called out to her, ‘You on your own? New in town?’

  Sally slowed. The girls were nicely dressed and seemed pleasant. ‘Yes. I’ve just arrived. Do you live here?’

  ‘For the time being. We’re nurses up at the hospital. Where are you from?’

  ‘New Zealand originally. I’m working out on a station.’

  ‘Ah, governess eh? What’s your name?’

  ‘Sally Mitchell. What is there to do for entertainment here?’

  ‘Depends.’ A girl with bottle-blonde hair gave her a big grin. ‘I’m Joyce. We’re with some Army fellows.’ Two casually dressed men joined them carrying refills for the girls.

  ‘This is Sally. A governess, just arrived,’ said Joyce.

  ‘G’day, Sally. Want a Shirley Temple?’

  ‘No thanks.’ Sally was used to drinking with the men. The ban on women in the public bar of hotels irritated her.

  ‘We’ll probably go for a drink at the Darwin soon. Maybe we’ll see you there in the lounge then.’

  ‘Probably. Nice meeting you.’ She continued walking and returned to her hotel.

  It was Friday night and the lounge bar was filling up. Sally sat at a corner table, watching the various groups – men at the bar, women at the tables and lounges. The waiter had told her that mostly people from the bank or government offices came here; the RAAF, Navy and Army boys had their own messes for meals and drinking. The Victoria was ‘just a pub’, and the Don was the drinking home of the waterside workers, builders’ labourers and the ‘rough’ bushies. She saw Joyce and her gang come in and they quickly spotted her and made their way over to join her, pulling in chairs for the girls as the men headed for the bar after taking their orders.

  ‘We’ve been with a gang from Vestey. Boy, can they drink when they come to town.’

  ‘It can be isolated working on a big station,’ said Sally, and she wondered what Rob did when he left Barra Creek.

  The men talked to each other, only asking the girls what they wanted to drink. Or they kidded around with a remark or two before turning their attention back to the topic of driving a vehicle, on a road with really bad corrugations that wrecked the radiator, and other driving troubles from cooked engines to bad injectors, getting spares, breakdowns and bush mechanic improvisations.

  The girls laughed a lot and talked about people who were new in town or moving on; escapades at the hospital smuggling fellows into their quarters; the gruesome injuries of croc shooters; and a local man who’d come in with an embarrassing predicament to do with his penis and a soft drink bottle.

  Sally was bored. She glanced around the crowded room wondering what on earth she was going to do here for a week. There was a man looking at her. She did a double take as he was so different from everyone else in the bar. He was slim with a high brow and fine nose, a sculptured mouth that was smiling in her direction, thick dark hair and almond-shaped eyes. He must be Oriental, she thought, but not how she’d ever imagined an Asian to look, never having met anyone from the East.

  He was smiling and began to walk across the room towards her. Sally glanced around in mild panic and saw that Babs beside her was also smiling and beckoning him over. Sally shrank back feeling silly. Babs, like Joyce, was boisterous, blonde and jokey.

  Babs nudged Joyce, ‘Front and centre, look who’s here.’

  ‘Ooh. Doctor Dreamboat.’

  The man gave the girls a big smile and nodded at the group, but addressed Babs. ‘Evening, Barbara. Enjoying yourself?’

  ‘That’s the idea. We’ve just started.’

  He laughed and glanced at Sally. ‘Are you with us? I haven’t seen you around.’

  ‘This is Sally, she’s a governess out bush, not one of us. This is Doctor Lee,’ said Joyce.

  Sally leaned forward and shook his hand. ‘You wouldn’t want me on your medical team, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Surely you have to cope with the occasional medical emergency on a station. Where are you working?’

  ‘Barra Creek. Yes, we’ve had our share of . . . accidents.’ She looked down, suddenly overcome. For a little while she’d almost forgotten about Marty.

  She was relieved when one of the boys said cheerfully, ‘Who’s shouting?’

  Babs and Joyce finished their drinks quickly. ‘Listen, we have to go on for dinner. There’s a hillbilly singer on at the Victoria and we want to get good seats. You coming, Sally?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m supposed to meet Mr and Mrs Tsouris here, they’re friends of the owners of Barra Creek. Thanks anyway.’

  ‘Oh, they own the big Greek restaurant. See ya round.’ Joyce and Babs rose, followed by the other girls and trailed by the men after they downed their schooners.

  ‘Would you care for another drink, Sally? I know the Tsourises well. They’ll look after you.’

  ‘I suppose so. I think I’d like a gin and tonic please, Dr Lee.’

  ‘Please, call me Hal. It’s Harold, which I detest.’

  Sally had seen how deferential the nurses had been towards him, even though they were about the same age.

  ‘Thanks, Hal.’

  They exchanged small talk, and Sally was intrigued by him as he told her about the time he’d spent in Singapore.

  ‘Is that your home?’

  ‘No. Believe it or not I’m a genuine Darwinian. My great grandfather came here to seek his fortune. He thought this country was a paradise where a man prepared to work could prosper without being under threat from the powerful tongs.’

  ‘Is that like a kind of Chinese mafia?’

  ‘Yes, in a way. Imperial China was not a place to advance from the coolie classes. Like so many others from around the world, he saw Australia as a land of opportunity.’

  ‘And your family did well and have been here ever since?’ asked Sally, quite fascinated.

  ‘Yes, that’s right. An
d what about you? Where are you from? From your accent I detect a touch of New Zealand vowels.’

  ‘You’re right. My family’s story is rather mundane compared to yours.’

  He glanced at his watch. ‘Dinner is being served in the main dining room, would you care to join me for a meal?’

  Sally was finding the handsome and exotic doctor interesting company. ‘I’d love to, though I’m supposed to meet Mr and Mrs Tsouris for a drink and maybe dinner, the invitation was a bit casual.’

  ‘Casual is the operative word up here,’ said Hal, rising to his feet and holding out his hand to Sally. ‘We can send word to them that we’re in the dining room.’

  She walked beside him into the dining room, aware that eyes were following them with interest. Joyce and Babs had told her they’d met some of the governesses and they weren’t like Sally. They tended to be rough or good-time girls lusting after bull catchers, jackeroos, or any bloke ready to play up in town. They rarely lived in the house or dined with the boss and his wife. Quality governesses were hard to find or moved on from the tough life of the outback. Joyce and Babs had figured Sally as having rich parents who’d lined her up for a cushy job for a couple of months’ experience.

  They were halfway through dinner when George and Despina Tsouris came to the table, greeting Hal and shaking Sally’s hand in welcome.

  ‘I hope you’re comfortable,’ said Despina. She was very round, dressed in a bright silk floral dress and lots of expensive jewellery. Her dark short hair had a dramatic silver swathe in the front.

  ‘Very comfortable, thank you. I’m sure I’m going to enjoy staying here.’

  ‘I hope so, dear girl.’ She sat in the chair Hal was holding out for her.

  ‘How is Lorna?’ George asked.

  ‘It’s hard to say. Lorna is such a private person.’ Sally didn’t imagine the Tsourises were intimate friends but more social acquaintances of the Monroes, so she wasn’t about to gossip.

  George had flicked a nod to the waiter and a bottle of wine and a plate of olives appeared. ‘And you, Hal, how come you have found the prettiest guest in the hotel? Do you know Lorna and John too?’

  ‘No. I rarely get a chance to go bush. It sounds fascinating from Sally’s description, though. One of the girls from the hospital introduced us. I hope you don’t mind my intruding on your dinner?’

  ‘Of course not, we’re sorry we’re so late. We had to organise the chef. You can help entertain Sally, you know Darwin better than we do,’ said Despina, patting his arm.

  George poured the red wine from a bottle that Sally had never seen before. She’d never tried fresh olives before either.

  Despite being much older than Sally and Hal, the Tsourises were entertaining and generous company. They insisted that the meal was on them and hoped Hal would be able to show Sally a few of the sights as they were snowed under with their restaurant at the moment.

  Sally thanked them and turned to Hal. ‘I don’t want to impose, I imagine you’re busy at the hospital too.’

  ‘Not too busy, thankfully. It’s no imposition at all. I’d enjoy it. I’m due for a few days off my roster anyway. How about we start tomorrow lunchtime?’

  Despite her initial trepidation at being alone, Sally made sure her room was locked, turned on the fan, draped the soft mosquito net around the bed, turned out the light and, relishing the privacy and big soft bed, slept like a log.

  Hal greeted her the next day as they’d arranged and opened the door of his red MG convertible. He was casually dressed and looked like a thirty-year-old out for a day’s fun rather than the more serious doctor in coat and tie of the night before.

  ‘There’s a scarf in the glove compartment for your hair if you like.’

  Sally wondered where it had come from, but said casually, ‘That’s okay, a friend of mine at home has an Austin Healey. I like the wind in my face.’ She wasn’t about to appear impressed by his snazzy sports car.

  ‘It’s a bit of an indulgence and impractical for up here as you can’t take it into the bush, but I love it. I suppose you drive a Land Rover at Barra Creek.’

  ‘No, I ride everywhere. The oldest boy drives the Land Rover. You know how country kids learn to drive the minute they can see over the steering wheel? Although Ian wouldn’t have a clue about parking or traffic,’ she added as they eased into the Esplanade.

  He drove her around Darwin and the outskirts, past Fannie Bay and produced a picnic lunch, which they ate on Mindil Beach. Afterwards he showed her where his great grandfather had started a market garden and later built a store that had grown into an emporium. ‘He came here to dig for gold but actually made his fortune digging a market garden and selling food. I’m the first not to stay in the family business of trade and be a merchant.’ He laughed. ‘Sorry for the humble origins tour but I do feel immensely proud of my family. My grandfather was one of the few non-whites to hold public office in Darwin.’

  ‘Does living in Darwin satisfy you? Don’t you want to go to a big city hospital or overseas?’

  ‘Eventually. The hours are long, it’s demanding and challenging. But I get to do a lot of different things here; I plan on specialising in the future.’

  ‘So you’ll leave?’

  ‘Yes. Darwin is a place where time gets away. Months become years before you know it. I have a lot of family history here that draws me back, but I’ll have to strike out eventually.’

  ‘Do you still have family here?’

  ‘Only a couple of old aunties. My mother’s relatives are in the UK. I have family in Singapore as well.’

  Later he took her past his family home, a large house facing the port. ‘Auntie May and Aunt Winifred live there. I have a small place close to the hospital.’

  ‘What was the attraction of medicine?’

  His face clouded. ‘My mother died when I was young. It was cancer, and I wished so hard that I could make her better. So I gravitated towards healing people.’

  ‘Do you remember her well?’

  ‘I was ten at the time and I have some very special memories. She was English, my parents met in Singapore. My father was working with his uncle in his import business, my mother’s father was there with the British Army. They married at the British Residency and lived in Singapore for a while. Then my father decided to come back to Darwin to take over the family business. Fortunately my family didn’t lose much in the bombings during the war. The shops in town were damaged but we owned a lot of land so he rebuilt.’

  Sally was getting the picture that the Lees were a well-established family in Darwin. ‘Where did you study?’

  ‘Sydney Uni. I did my residency there but I couldn’t resist the chance to take up a position in my home town. I’ll move on pretty soon.’

  ‘To do what?’

  ‘I’m interested in treating children. But come on, what about you? You told me last night you were sidetracked on the way to London. What are your plans?’

  They were parked by the port and Sally was suddenly taken back to the excitement of sailing to England. ‘At the time it was the thing to do. I never imagined myself on a cattle station. But I love horses and the life out there, and I’ve become very attached to the family.’

  ‘How are the family coping after the tragedy? I read about it in the paper here of course.’

  Sally felt a pain at the unexpected opening of the wound of Marty’s death. It had been so intensely personal that it hadn’t occurred to her that strangers in other parts of the country would know about it. Tears began to roll down her cheeks. Furiously she turned her head and brushed them away.

  Hal quickly dropped his arm around her shoulders and, in a quiet caring voice, comforted her. ‘That was thoughtless of me. You must have been so close to him. It’s all right, Sally, go ahead, let it out.’

  His words, the tone of his voice, his bedside manner – as Sally had already come to think of his gentle, caring attitude – unleashed a flood of feelings. She found tears rolling from her eyes, her
voice cracking and a desperate desire to talk about Marty’s death. She poured out the story of what had happened, how guilty and responsible she felt, how Ian and probably some of the men, including Rob, blamed John Monroe for baiting the boy and pushing him into a dangerous situation. She wondered if Lorna blamed her.

  He listened, and when she finally ran out of words she was crying uncontrollably.

  Hal drew her close and stroked her hair. ‘There will always be questions and doubts in such a situation. But you must put it to one side, as indeed must the brothers, Ian especially. There is no going back.’

  It was the first time she’d truly cried for Marty. Hal was right, she’d never given in to her feelings. She’d had to be strong in front of Tommy and Ian and everyone else. Hal’s gentle manner had caught her unawares. He stroked her hair until her shoulders stopped shaking and the tears eased.

  ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t let this get to me . . .’

  ‘Sally, you have every right to feel rotten. It seems there’re a lot of people leaning on you and you don’t have anyone to support you. It must have been hard for you. I often see how the death of a child can splinter and even destroy a family, or make them stronger. You have a big responsibility to help them get through this.’ Hal wiped her tears and, impulsively, softly kissed her.

  Sally returned his tender kiss. There weren’t the fireworks of the first kiss she’d exchanged with Rob but the care in the depths of Hal’s dark-lashed eyes, the strength of his smooth face and hands, made her feel secure.

  ‘Don’t feel embarrassed. Shall we walk a little bit?’ He helped her from the car and it seemed the most natural thing for him to take her hand as they walked along the foreshore.

  Over the following week Hal made himself available to escort Sally around Darwin, taking her to the Saturday night pictures and to dances at the Victoria Hotel and the RAAF officers’ mess. They dined at the Darwin Hotel each evening, once with two other doctors and their wives. He took her for tea with his aunties at their large home, which was filled with Asian antiques. It was a very English tea with fine bone china. Her mother would have approved. The two sisters had inherited different features. Auntie May was small and delicate and looked very Chinese; Aunt Winifred was tall and thin and looked very British, because of her English ancestors.