Barra Creek

by Di Morrissey

  After an initial coolness, Hal and Sally started to talk again, mostly about the children, in a warm and friendly manner. They established a friendship of sorts, comforted by the knowledge that there had been no ugly scenes, no other people involved, their children had taken matters in their stride and their lives had not been too disrupted.

  Sally had no desire to seek a lover or a new relationship; she was happy enjoying her own company. She didn’t delve into Hal’s life and didn’t want to know if he was seeing anyone else. He wasn’t a wildly sexual animal; sleep was his number one pleasure and he was always tired at home.

  The legal separation period passed before she’d noticed, so Sally was quite shocked to receive a letter in the post one day notifying her of her divorce nisi. Hal had put the wheels in motion and been generous in his settlement. He had a new woman in his life and the kids had accepted her without much fuss, or a lot of interest it seemed. Marianne was divorced, had been a personal assistant to a corporate manager and was very involved in fund raising for charities. Sally felt a pang of jealousy, wondering if she was younger than her, more glamorous and better in bed. Then she saw a photo in the social pages of the Australian Women’s Weekly, and saw she was a sleek, fashionably groomed blonde woman about Sally’s age. She looked like most of the other women in the social pages.

  So here she was, a single woman again. It saddened her, yet it also gave her a small sense of elation. She opened a bottle of wine and wondered what she’d do with the rest of her life. It was 1976.

  School holidays approached. Hal rang to ask if the kids could spend both weeks of the holidays with her as he and Marianne were taking a cruise. Sally hated the idea of cruising, she thought it would be like being locked in a floating cocktail party, though Hal had always wanted to go on one. They were welcome to it.

  ‘Of course. I’ll ask them what they’d like to do. They enjoy it here on the weekends, but they might get bored spending all the holidays here.’

  ‘I think they’d like to go somewhere, do something different. They’re at that adventurous age. I’d take them on the cruise but, frankly, I think they’d find that boring.’

  Too right, thought Sally. ‘Okay, I’ll ring a travel agent and make a few enquiries. I hope they’re not expecting a trek through Africa or scuba diving on the reef . . .’ she paused as a thought hit her. ‘What about Barra Creek? I’ll take them there!’

  Hal sounded dubious. ‘They’re such urban kids, Sal, do you think they’d cope with the outback? They’re not as horse mad as you are.’

  ‘That’s precisely the point. It’s not only about horses. I think they need to experience a bit of real life, just as I did.’

  ‘Well, you discuss it with them. They have two weeks of holidays.’

  Sally’s enthusiasm won Jeremy and Trisha over. She made it sound like a cross between an African safari, the wild west and Jungle Man. She rang John and Lorna. Things did not sound so cheerful up there, but they were both extremely keen to see her.

  ‘It’ll be a breath of fresh air to have you here, Sal. It’s never been the same since you left . . . then the boys, then Rob. Nope, it’s not the same as it used to be,’ said John Monroe. Then he lowered his voice. ‘Lorna hasn’t recovered since we lost the little girl. Your visit might perk her up no end.’

  ‘I gather Tommy is doing well in England. And Ian? How’s he going?’

  Sally could hear the heat and anger in John’s voice. ‘Christ, Sally, it’s war I tell you. That young fella is getting too big for his boots. All this newfangled bloody gear and ideas. Don’t know what they teach them in these fancy management courses. All the good black stockmen have gone, since equal pay came in it’s impossible to pay ’em all.’

  ‘Are any of the mob left?’ Sally couldn’t imagine the Monroes running the property without the station blacks. How on earth was Lorna managing?

  ‘Oh yeah, the camp is still there; the girls and Fitzi. But now we get these young white jackeroos – most of ’em know nothing or think they know it all,’ he grumbled.

  ‘Oh, dear. You’re sure we won’t be an imposition?’ Sally was beginning to have second thoughts.

  ‘Not on your nelly. Like I say, it will cheer Lorna up no end. And I reckon it’ll do those city kids of yours a lot of good.’

  ‘Yes. I’m not sure what they’ll think of the outback at first. But they’re young and it will be an adventure.’

  ‘Right then. I’ll let Lorna and you work out the details between you.’

  Donny had gone to work in Townsville taking tourist charter flights out to the Barrier Reef islands and outback destinations up the Cape. There was now a new pilot and a more organised schedule for the mail, passenger and freight run. Jeremy and Trisha were a little scared of the small plane that flew them over the vast landscape. Sally looked down at the rippling sand ridges, the salt pans, the smudges of green around the ribbon of a grey river tributary. It suddenly reminded her of the pictures Frankie and Ginger used to paint in the schoolhouse.

  As they dropped down to the airstrip at Barra Creek she was struggling with her emotions. It was all so familiar and yet strange; the changes were startling. The airstrip had an upgraded surface and there was a corrugated-iron shed that served as a depot for freight and passengers. A new four-wheel drive was waiting to collect them. But then she saw John Monroe, looking much as he always had, grinning broadly. He embraced them all and threw their bags into the back of the Toyota. Laughingly he told the children the story of Sally’s arrival but they thought he was exaggerating.

  ‘High heels, stockings, pearls, the lot! And her port in the wheelbarrow and the black kids dragging her along,’ he said. ‘Lorna was impressed though.’

  ‘Where are Frankie and Ginger?’ asked Sally.

  ‘You did a good job on those boys, Sal. Would you believe Frankie is working at Gilbert River? He’s a bloody good stockman, he comes and does a big muster with us when we need him, and Ginger has a job over at Karumba. Once he saw the sea he took to it. Hangs around the prawn people.’

  ‘And Alice? Lizzie, Betsy?’

  ‘Lizzie is still sloping round the homestead, Alice is working in a shop in Normanton. Betsy’s kid Daisy is a card. I’ve taught her to ride and drive. She’s a real champ.’

  At the sight of the house, the years melted away and when she saw Lorna standing in a crisp cotton dress by the garden fence, tears came to Sally’s eyes. The children were quiet, this was so different from anything they’d seen before. But driving past the goats, they squealed in delight. Hovering in the side garden, wringing her apron and grinning broadly, was Lizzie. Beside her, waving excitedly, was Betsy. Lizzie’s hair was grey, her face more creased, and Betsy had grown quite plump. They came forward wailing, crying and laughing, reaching out to Jeremy and Trisha, who looked apprehensive.

  Lorna shooed the women into the house to get morning tea and John carried the kids’ bags along the verandah to the beds where Sally and the boys had slept. Sally hurried through the house, pleased to see that little had changed. As she stepped into the outdoor dining area she saw Fitzi standing by the door, holding his hat and looking sheepish. She hurried over and pumped his toughened hand.

  ‘You come back, good one, yeah, Mizzie. And you bring young pellas for learning up here. Good, good,’ he said, still holding her hand.

  ‘They’ve got to learn about the outback, Fitzi. Will you take them for a little walkabout round here, show them everything, eh?’

  ‘They go ride far way?’

  ‘They’re not riders . . . yet. We’ll show them, right, Fitzi?’

  ‘We show ’em, for sure.’

  There was a lot of catching up to do over tea and scones, reminiscing and laughing. The children were quiet, tucking into the tea and scones while remembering to be on their best behaviour. Sally had laid down the law, telling them how particular Mrs Monroe was about manners. As teacups were being topped up, a motorbike roared up – Ian had arrived.

  The moment he
came into the dining room Sally sensed the atmosphere change, the tension increase. He was taller and looked much older than his twenty-five years. He tossed his hat on the back of his chair, kissed Sally’s cheek, shook hands with Jeremy and little Trisha and leaned back as Lorna poured his tea. Sally couldn’t help noticing he was sitting in the chair that had always been John Monroe’s place.

  After some initial small talk about how the children had enjoyed the trip, John excused himself. ‘I’ve got to see to a few things.’

  ‘What are you doing, Dad?’ Ian’s question had an undercurrent of criticism, like Don’t do anything without my approval.

  ‘Just going to the stables to check on Dancer now her boss is back. How about I take the kids for a run around the place after they’ve changed out of those travelling clothes?’

  ‘That would be great, John, thanks. I can’t wait to see Dancer. She’ll be a mature lady now.’

  ‘Is that the horse you rode, Mum?’ asked Trisha.

  ‘It is. Maybe we can find a little treat to take her, a carrot or something.’

  ‘I’m sure we can and later you can go for a paddle on the river if you like,’ suggested Lorna.

  ‘The river?’ Jeremy had heard Sally’s stories about the crocodiles.

  ‘Would you like to go fishing? There’s been some good barra around, the boys tell me,’ Lorna said. ‘In fact we’re having some for dinner.’

  ‘No spare ribs?’ teased Sally.

  ‘We’ll get a killer tomorrow,’ said Ian, standing up. ‘Do you think the kids would like to help?’

  ‘I don’t think so, Ian, thanks,’ said Sally, knowing her children wouldn’t be able to face the killing and the butchering. She wondered now how she had coped so well in her first weeks there. Unlike her children, at least she’d come from a farm. Yes, this experience would be good for them.

  When Sally took the children along the verandah and showed them the bathroom, Trisha tugged at her hand.

  ‘There’re no rooms, Mum. Do we have to sleep out here?’

  ‘Are there snakes up there?’ asked Jeremy, pointing to the thick vines that still wound over the lattice on the verandah.

  ‘There’s nothing to worry about. You’ll hear all kinds of noises at night, but they’re just little creatures.’ She hoped there were no crocodiles in earshot. ‘There’s the little governess’ room, Trish, but it’s too hot for you to sleep in.’

  ‘I want to sleep in there.’ So far her children weren’t impressed with the living arrangements.

  ‘What about learning to ride? Then we can get you a horse to ride at my place.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Jeremy, more out of politeness than genuine interest. ‘I’d rather learn to ride a motorbike like Ian.’

  That first afternoon, John Monroe drove the kids around and Sally, back on Dancer, rode out to the home paddock feeling the happiest she had in years. Snowy waved his hat and rode over to meet her.

  ‘Haven’t lost your touch, Sally. You look just the same. I hear you have a couple of kids now.’

  ‘I don’t feel any different, Snow. It’s good to be back. Yes, I’ve brought my children with me. How’re things going?’

  The horses walked beside each other and Snowy rubbed the stubble on his chin. ‘Don’t like to say much, but you’d understand. Things are a bit crook, to tell you the truth. Ian’s turned into a right little Hitler if you ask me. He has all these bloody modern ideas like mustering with helicopters and motorbikes. Dunno why John doesn’t slap him back in his boots.’ He paused then asked candidly, ‘Do you suppose he has something on the old man?’

  Sally was thoughtful. She wasn’t going to gossip with the likes of the boozy old musterer but she had wondered the same thing. ‘Maybe John is letting him have a bit of rope, then he’ll pull him in when he gets out of hand. Sons always have to test their fathers, especially when they’re working in the same business.’

  ‘I reckon things went downhill after Marty got killed. And Ian still hates Monroe for what happened to Jasper. He was madder than a cut snake when Rob took that stallion.’

  ‘He paid for him. So what’s Rob doing?’ asked Sally as casually as she could.

  ‘Last I heard he’d married and was getting into them Brahman bloody bulls somewhere in the Territory.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve read a bit about that. They’re pretty hardy and carry a lot of meat.’ Sally was surprised at how hurt she was to hear Rob had married and no one had told her. ‘Well, I’ll be seeing you, Snowy.’ She turned Dancer and cantered away.

  Jeremy and Trisha sat in John Monroe’s truck and watched Fitzi, Snowy and Sally on horseback round up a mob of cattle with Ian and one of the young jackeroos on motorbikes. Bringing up the rear was a slim, young boy, his Akubra pulled down low, who rode one of the big stockhorses. Sally wondered if he was Chilla or Bluey’s son but she didn’t see him again.

  Fitzi took the kids on a long walk to the billabong and Lorna arranged picnics, let them help with the goats, ride in the billycart pulled by the nanny goat, and collect eggs and vegetables, which was a great novelty for them.

  The children were shy around the blacks, though they liked Fitzi and Betsy made them laugh. Lizzie bossed them and kept telling them debil man stories. Sally hoped Mr Stinky was no longer around. She missed the activity in the blacks’ camp and having the black stockmen on the property, and felt sad that no one bothered with corroborees any more.

  The single men’s quarters were quiet. Ian had set up his own place there, knocking three bunk rooms into one. Sally wanted to spend some time with him and have a talk, but an occasion never came about where they could be alone together. She wondered if this was deliberate. He’d always been serious and somewhat sullen, but she thought about the times they all played, fished, rode and told stories together. She thought she’d always be very close to the three Monroe boys. Now one was dead, one was far away and rarely kept in touch, and Ian treated her, if not as a stranger, then as someone who had briefly passed through his life. That was true, of course, but she liked to think that what they’d shared had been special.

  One evening sitting on the verandah with a glass of rum, savouring the peace and solitude, it occurred to her that perhaps Ian was avoiding her because she reminded him of the emotional times they had been through. Lorna came and sat beside her as the sky faded from gold to lavender. ‘Like old times, isn’t it, Sally?’

  ‘Almost. I’m so glad to be here. How are you, Lorna?’

  ‘I miss my little girl. She filled a big hole in my life.’

  ‘Why do you stay here?’ asked Sally softly. She’d seen how intolerable Lorna’s relationship was with her husband. She was glad she and Hal had separated before becoming bitter and growing to hate each other. But then, they hadn’t lost two children.

  ‘Where would I go? What would I do? Despite everything, maybe because of everything, I feel tied to this place. I’d miss it.’

  Sally had to agree. Although she was firm and capable, Lorna had always relied on John, the black workers and her sons to help her. She still looked as elegant and immaculate as ever, though she was very thin and her hair was coloured to cover the grey.

  ‘I’m really sorry about you and Hal. I never expected it.’

  ‘Me neither. But I like being on my own. I don’t want to stay alone, but for the moment I’m relishing doing exactly what I want. I love my little place down on the south coast. I’m thinking of getting a few more horses, maybe starting some sort of business. Lorna, you know you’re welcome to come and stay with me, for as long as you want.’

  ‘Thank you, Sally. Sometime I will. I don’t like leaving Ian and John here together. I try to be the buffer between them.’

  The children came running along the verandah and the conversation turned to the suggestion they go out to Snowy’s stock camp and sleep under the stars.

  Sally could understand their excitement. ‘Wow, in swags, around the campfire. That’s an adventure,’ she said.

  They were
n’t going far, just a couple of hours’ drive. Snowy and two jackeroos would bring in a small mob from the trap yards. John would drive the kids, and Sally and Fitzi would ride.

  Early one morning before they left, Sally went for a ride on her own, winding up the small rise at the back of the homestead to visit the sad little graves of Marty and Jilly. She dismounted and sat on the ground beside them. She rested her head on her knees and wept quietly, thinking of sweet Marty and dear little Jilly. How would she cope with losing a child? She couldn’t imagine. No wonder such a dark cloud covered the homestead.

  As the sun rose high she touched each headstone, then remounted Dancer, but when the horse turned she was surprised to see the young boy who’d helped muster the cattle with her and the others a couple of days before. She reined in, wondering if he’d been sent to fetch her. But he stopped his horse and waited, and Sally realised he was also surprised to see her there. He must have been about twelve or thirteen and his easy riding style reminded her so much of Tommy. He swung out of the saddle and Sally saw he was carrying a bunch of fresh gumtips. He came to Sally and took off his hat.

  ‘Morning, Missus.’

  Sally stared in surprise at the child who had short curly hair, beautiful eyes and a wide smiling mouth showing gaps between the front teeth. It was a girl, dressed in a boy’s shirt, denim jeans and old boots. Her skin was creamy brown and her nose and face fine boned. Sally’s heart lurched, this must be Betsy’s child. Rob’s child. She managed a smile. ‘Hello. Are you Daisy?’ As the girl nodded Sally asked, ‘What are you doing up here?’

  ‘Boss get me put dese one up here every week. Dey be poor babies dere.’

  ‘Boss? You mean Mr Monroe?’

  She nodded then looked worried. ‘No tell ’um Miz Monroe. She no like me.’