The Crocodile Hotel

by Julie Janson

‘I say, “You bad man. I hate you!”’

  ‘It’s okay, Shirley. We will help you’, said Jane.

  ‘He gottem dressed and give me his belt; it got silver buckle, blue stone. He say Edie buy it at show. Nice one’, said Shirley. Jane stroked Shirley’s back and the girl hid her body in the blanket.

  Lizzy stood up and took Jane’s hand. They walked away. ‘He lock her in truck, Missus; no water, she near bin finish up.’

  Jane saw Hubert walk over to the cattle yards where the men were working. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world.

  The voices of the old women whispered as Jane listened to the story of how Old Lucy had sent a spirit message to Shirley telling her to live. The sun had beaten down on the tin roof of the truck and Shirley had given up banging and shouting. When the women had found her collapsed in the cow dung, her heart was racing as the heat climbed to over forty-five degrees. She was perishing, needed water. Water would make it all right. Her lips had been stuck to the flesh, her tongue swollen and tasting of blood. Old Lucy said maybe she would die, no school any more, just a spirit world for her.

  The next day Shirley came to school. She was subdued and sat quietly at her desk practicing her cursive writing. Her work was neat and she wrote twice as much as any other student. This day she only copied the shapes of letters; she did not listen to stories or join in chanting the alphabet.

  Jane put her arm around her. ‘You okay, Shirley?’ Jane asked. But Shirley shrugged off Jane’s arm and kept writing the curling letters.

  The turquoise inlay belt lay on her desk, a coiled blue snake. Jane watched it all day and at lunchtime as the other children left the room, she touched Shirley on the arm.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Belt.’

  ‘Yes. You want me to give it back?’

  ‘Boss belt.’

  ‘I see.’

  Jane covered the object with her hand and Shirley bolted from the room. Jane rolled it up, this piece of evidence, a coiled sliver of truth. Hubert was a kind man most of the time but he was a rapist and she would somehow make him pay. She felt confused and didn’t know if the item could somehow protect the girl from future abuse. The word ‘abuse’, slippery like the ground after the flood had subsided, all grey and murky, sat in her head. Her fierce protective feelings for these children were as strong as her fury about the terrible bloody past. One more child stuffed up by a selfish pig of a man.

  Jane stared out the window, she looked for some kind of sign, but it was just dust now, the Dry in full swing, willy-willies, wild little spirit men with a mischievous intent, tore up the hills. There was no clear path of what to do. Maybe the crow squawking in the tree – was that a sign? Well, she couldn’t read it. She was helpless. The burden of the school was crippling her, but somehow this thing, this evidence would help her to discover a new depth of strength. She would confront him. Her hair stood on end at the prospect. Maybe it would all turn sour and she would be forced to quit her job, the only real job she had ever had. It was nerve wracking.

  At the end of the day, Jane stood at Hubert’s door, her heart beating, throbbing. He motioned to her to come in. He sat at the table with an overflowing ashtray and she put the belt down in front of him. The blue stones glistened and the silver snakehead shone.

  ‘What’s that for?’ he said.

  ‘You lose it?’

  ‘Might have – what’s it to you?’

  ‘Shirley gave it to me.’ Hubert pushed away from the table and stood up; his fist banged the table. She jumped.

  ‘Just leave the bleedin’ belt!’ He picked it up, unfurled it and lashed it across the table. Jane was still, in front of a mad buffalo. She nodded and turned to leave.

  ‘Did you rape her?’

  Edie walked into the kitchen, her fierce eyes on Jane.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Leave her to me, Edie. What the hell? You start accusing people and you’ll be run off. You know bleeding nothing … Look, kids tell fibs, you know how they can make up stuff. Have a heart. I love these kids. You know me Jane, big hearted Hubert.’

  Jane swallowed. He wouldn’t look at her. She moved towards the door, the air thick with fear. He sobbed.

  ‘She just turned fifteen. I could report you.’

  Edie leapt at Jane and swung her fist, Jane ducked.

  ‘Who do you think you are? Coming in here accusing my husband? I’ll punch your face in.’

  ‘Just try’ said Jane.

  ‘She’s a little liar – they all are, believe me. You watch it. I can have you out of here in the blink of an eye. Or you might meet with an accident.’

  Hubert caught hold of Edie as she fumed. She pushed him away and sat at the table sulking; steam seemed to spurt from her nose; her hand trembled as she lit a cigarette. His hand reached out to touch her; she shoved it away.

  ‘Get out!’ said Edie.

  ‘I love that little girl of Gertie’s like my own, wouldn’t hurt her,’ murmured Hubert.

  That shithead. Jane shook as she went down the steps. She felt a terrible rage and compassion for the girl. She was torn between going to the police and letting the old people work it out. Maybe they could sing him. She would have to leave Harrison if she spoke out, and she knew that Hubert drank beer with the local police.

  Later in the night, Jane lay awake listening to movement outside her van. Was it Hubert? Her fear turned the night into a sweaty ordeal. She was alone; someone might break the pathetic aluminium lock and rape her. Her imagination was alive with terrible pictures of Shirley in the truck. A dog started barking. He barked and barked until the night was quiet.

  The next day, the school seemed back to normal. Shirley played chasings with the little children. Then, Mayda looked over and motioned to Jane with her lips and eyes that there was trouble over at the Boss’s house. Jane nodded, she didn’t know what was going on but she guessed that Edie was having her say. Jane couldn’t read the undercurrents and spoke to David about it. Jane knew how Hubert had the girl in his truck, no one seemed to know where, and had left her to ‘perish with no water’. She had nearly died, but no police arrived; there were only muttering rumours. It was too terrible to contemplate.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Jane asked David.

  ‘Not sure. Maybe Missus know about everything. Gertie maybe talk’, David said. He looked worried and worked with his head down all afternoon with the younger boys. They were learning their times tables and it was a noisy exercise. Jane would not even ask David what would happen about Shirley: it was up to him to tell her if he had a mind to.

  Outside Raymond’s shack, half a cow hung bleeding and flies buzzed. Jane was out of her depth, her confidence shrunk to nothing, and she didn’t know what to do. Jane and David sat with Raymond, Sammy and Burnie. Robert stood nearby; he was upset and wanted know what everyone would do about Shirley.

  ‘Mr Raymond, you shootem Boss, yeeai?’ said Robert.

  ‘That won’t help, Robert. You go back down camp. This elder business and me.’

  ‘I lub her’, said Robert.

  ‘We all love her’, said Jane.

  Robert slunk away. They all knew about the rape, and wanted to know what David could do from his position as teacher’s assistant.

  ‘Nothing’, said David.

  Jane nodded with compliance. Lily livered coward. She looked at him and hated his weakness.

  ‘Mr Barkley Boss. Who will believe dat girl?’ said David. The men sat with their hats twirling in their hands.

  ‘Dis thing never happen all the time Mr Hubert bin boss. I not understand, we think him good man, trustem. Maybe dat girl she sung him, wid magic, he can’t fight dat’, said Burnie.

  ‘Powerful magic, that love magic’, Raymond said.

  David shook his head. ‘She only fifteen, too young.’

  Burnie agreed. Raymond said nothing. A tear ran down his face, he was a man destroyed. David put his arm around the old white man.

  ‘He’s a s
neak like Iago, tells you one thing but tricks you. I should shoot him’, said Raymond.

  ‘Your Wunungah mob no good, eh Ray?’ said Burnie.

  Raymond nodded his white head. ‘No good, I maybe kill him. She’s my only little girl’.

  ‘No talk of dat. We see what happens, eh?’ said David.

  ‘We might be pray for her’, said Sammy.

  Jane watched and felt a passionate rage inside.

  ‘I hate you all! Won’t anyone stick up for this girl? Because I will. I’ll tell the police!’

  ‘Don’t do that – make big trouble.’

  Raymond held up his hand. Jane nodded to him.

  ‘Long time ago, we had another baby, a little boy called Tom, after my dad. The Protector of Aborigines drove up and took him. Just like that. I argued with the man but he was adamant that the law was the law. No cohabiting with natives, and all half-caste children to be taken. It was raining. He was only two. He put him over his shoulder like a bag of spuds. Summum ius, summa iniuria – the greater the law, the greater the injustice. Never seen him since.’ Raymond sniffed and wiped his eyes with his shirt. Jane looked away.

  ‘They said it was for the good of the children. They thought they were doing the right thing. It’s paternalism – a sickness of white people; their atrocities; well, it kills you. My dad, you see, he was removed too’, said Jane. The men sat in quiet contemplation, looked at her and nodded.

  ‘You get Gertie to come down to the school. I can give Shirley some new clothes’, said David.

  ‘That’s not going to help, is it? What is a girl worth? A new shirt for Ray? A few packets of tobacco, some rum maybe?’ said Jane. David’s head bent low. Raymond sighed.

  ‘Shame job’, said David.

  ‘It’s not her shame, or your shame. A girl has been assaulted. I have to report it. It’s my duty of care. I can’t just leave it up to all of you’, said Jane.

  ‘What you tellem? They ask for proof, what you got? Nothin’. David showed his rage, he punched his hand into the ground. He hid it, but she saw his hatred burning.

  ‘I’m gunna take a truck to Rainer cattle station, and then hitch a ride into town. Might be talk to the Katherine police’, said David. The men’s faces were alight with fear because police were always terrible trouble, never justice.

  ‘Maybe you can see the Department fellas, at that Education office’, said Raymond.

  Jane thought this would be of no interest to them.

  Old Pelican strolled up and sat on a box. The men bent their heads towards him.

  ‘I get pay from Boss, new boots and Akubra, nice one – what you want? You father, I payem you half, eh?’

  The next morning, David came to see Jane; he told her about another dream, that he had a bull charge at him, he lost blood.

  ‘Dat animal king of horns, a wild buffalo, he got little mean eyes real low and stare for me, he maybe Wunungah’.

  ‘Maybe you want to get away from this station, be free of the Wunungah?’

  ‘Might be, but not you. I don’t want to leave you’, he said.

  That night Jane sat with David and Old Lucy by their fire.

  ‘Might be Kadaitcha man gettim. Him move like lightning, got feather feet. Dat Boss better watch’ im’, said Old Lucy.

  ‘He won’t know what hit him, never see ’em comin’, said David. Jane felt a shiver up her spine; her hair prickled; she felt cold. She stared at the land in the moonlight, and realised that she couldn’t see it, couldn’t understand it. The people and the land were one and it was not her country.

  David didn’t go anywhere; he just mumbled and turned the other cheek. Jane made a report and posted it. She wasn’t going to be weak.

  CHAPTER 4

  Hubert And The Whip

  Hubert played Hammond organ, even Bach, up at the tent church on Sundays. Jane saw the congregation through the tent door. She stood outside and listened; the music was sublime. Edie and Hubert told her that they were thinking of being ‘born again’.

  After church, Hubert walked over to talk to Jane; he threw lighted matches on the ground to burn the dry grass as they talked.

  ‘I’ve got something to show the little fella.’

  Jane hoped it wasn’t a new bible or his privates.

  Aaron followed Hubert and his three children to a dead tree that had collapsed. Underneath, yelping in the dust, were some half-dingo pups. The children picked them up and stroked their golden fur. Jane watched Hubert slung his whip over his shoulder and hold out a puppy.

  ‘You choose one, Aaron. They’re ready to leave their mother. They can lap milk.’

  Aaron was very happy. He took a little male puppy and squeezed it under his tee shirt. He ran home with the gift.

  ‘He’s half dingo; his dad is the white dingo. I’m calling him Flash.’ Aaron ran off.

  The dog came to lick her hand, he understood. Little Flash followed her around, wanted to be near in case he was called for. He licked the tears from her face. A dog didn’t stab you in the back; a dog was faithful and kind.

  A group of Lanniwah men came with David to Jane’s van. She invited them in. They had a serious problem – not enough food. David spoke for them and explained that the Boss was cranky. The other men, their heads down, eyes lowered, creased their perfect Akubras in their hands. There was an atmosphere of fear and anger, and Jane felt out of her depth again.

  ‘Boss says the cattle boys can’t work no more. He got no work. No work, no meat!’ said David.

  ‘What can I do?’ she said.

  David looked through the window at Hubert tying up his horses.

  The air between them all was thick. Jane chopped at some steak and piled it into a pot. The men watched the meat.

  ‘We can’t keep the whole mob on school food. There isn’t enough for the kids’, she said. The silence grew.

  ‘David, say something!’ Jane pleaded. He shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘I don’t know what to do’, he said.

  ‘We can write to the Department of Aboriginal Affairs. I can teach the older girls how to make a vegetable pie. And there are fish. We can take the big kids fishing at Limmeer lagoon – lots of barramundi’, she said.

  ‘He locked gate to lagoon, he say no one to worry cattle’, said David. He shook his head.

  ‘Just cut the chain with a bloody boltcutter’, said Jane.

  ‘Maybe we write a good letter, tell ’em what happen, ’bout dat girl’, said David.

  ‘You and your pathetic letters! Why don’t you be a man? I thought you blackfellas had some courage.’

  ‘I’m not gunna fight him or you’, said David.

  ‘Look, I’m angry too, but we can’t shoot ourselves in the foot. We rely on Hubert for everything’, said Jane.

  ‘So, you’re a coward too’, said David.

  The quiet was chilling. She kept stirring tinned vegetables into the stew. As she bent down to find another tin, the men walked out of the caravan and back to camp. She ran after them.

  ‘I’ll bring up some stew when it’s cooked, I can leave it at Burnie’s.’

  David put on his hat and walked past her in the direction of the Boss.

  ‘Don’t go near him, David!’ she cried out.

  David moved across the paddock towards Hubert. He seemed to be yelling at the Boss. A slow motion scene unfolded. Hubert saw him coming and sooled his dogs onto him. Jane was horrified. The red cattle dog nipped at David’s heels. He kicked hard and it ran away yelping.

  ‘Oh no, please don’t, David. Leave it!’ Jane shouted.

  She yelled at his back, but he was already silhouetted against bright blue sky, his tall frame and long hair against Hubert’s belly and bowlegs. They looked like a Javanese shadow puppet play with absurd characters and big noses. She heard David bellow:

  ‘You hate Aborigine. You push our people round like dirt. We starvin’. You come from that Queensland to run dis station for what? Rich Chinese businessmen. You steal welfare cheques from our mob
. You should be locked up. You nothin but a gin-jockey crook!’

  Jane saw that he was magnificent. She heard him yell with a pent up aggression that defied being punched in the mouth.

  Hubert fumed. ‘A crook? I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget, boy!’

  He ran to his truck and grabbed the stockwhip, swung it around his head and brought it cracking down on David’s back. Hubert was red in the face and sweat poured down his shirt. He rolled the whip up.

  ‘Go on, get off my place! Piss off! I’m Boss here. You’re nothing but a lousy assistant teacher. You’re nothin!’

  ‘Not your place; dis country my place.’

  The bullwhip cracked again, hitting the earth next to David. He cringed and ducked, but didn’t seem to be afraid. He looked like he was enjoying the drama of it.

  ‘That’s right, Hubert, you coward, use a whip. You’re too weak to face up to a man without it!’ said Jane

  David jumped at the next whip crack and began to look like a rodeo clown. Aaron put down his puppy and ran across towards him crying and shouting.

  ‘Leave him alone! he didn’t do anything!’ Jane rushed to pull the child out of reach of the whip. Now incensed, she ran and faced Hubert.

  ‘Don’t hurt my little boy! You touch him and I will kill you!’

  Hubert looked at little Aaron and slowly rolled the whip into his hand. He calmly walked towards his house. Then, as if in reverse motion, he turned and hissed at David.

  ‘I’ll give you until tomorrow morning to pack up and piss off Harrison Station. Don’t let me find you here or I won’t be responsible for what happens to you. I’m warning you!’

  David picked up his Akubra hat and dusted it off. Jane hung like a crow on the horizon, frozen. Hubert stood with his whip curled around his fist.

  ‘Maybe you’d like to as well, Mrs Reynolds.’

  ‘I need this job more than anything!’ she said.

  ‘She not leavin and I not goin’ off my country. Dis Lanniwah place, not yours! You have to shoot me first!’ David said.

  Old Lucy and Beatrice appeared magically next to Jane. They had their waddies. They looked over at Hubert.

  ‘You Boss fella not hurtem dat young one, or we killem you!’