The Crocodile Hotel

by Julie Janson

  ‘Stay there and shut up!’

  ‘You fellas can’t do this. We will fight you with white man’s law’, said the Northern Land Council rep.

  Renway walked back and forth in front of the stage. He leaned towards David again; spit flew from his mouth. His huge body was full of beef; full of faeces; he was high-status nastiness.

  ‘I’ll send a group of my blokes round to your station to beat the living shit out of ya. How do you like that? No one will stop us!’

  Burnie and Old Lucy moved out of their chairs and with great dignity walked from the stage. They moved to the door and the police officer nodded at Renway and let them pass. Jane was stunned; the room was now quiet. What could they possibly say?

  Jane felt a rising terror as she imagined the worst, the men coming in the night, maybe killing her and her child.

  Renway whistled to Harry like a cattle dog and they walked out of the room. Jane sat quietly with the historians. No one spoke … The Northern Land Council rep stood.

  ‘Now where were we? Yep, land rights for Lanniwah.’

  After the meeting, Jane walked over to David and hugged him.

  He greeted Rosie and Brian.

  ‘Thanks for coming.’

  ‘Happy to support your mob’, said Brian.

  ‘We don’t need you fellas to fight. We okay.’ Jane was not certain if that meant she was too involved. She didn’t want to feel offended, but she cringed.

  ‘I’m happy that you don’t need me.’

  ‘That right; too hard for you’ said the Northern Land Council rep.

  ‘I come back to Harrison some time. That my true country’.

  ‘I’ll be glad to see you back; I need your help at school’. Jane stroked David’s hand and he flinched. She was scared that she was drawing too much attention to him; she took Brian by the arm and left the room. Her chest pounded. She picked up Aaron from the child-minding centre.

  Out of a pub staggered two Lanniwah men, drunk and laughing. Aaron called out:

  ‘Mummy, here come funny men.’ Down the street came floats: they were trucks decorated in crepe paper and balloons. A sign read ‘Harrison’s Butchery, Purveyor of Fine Meats’. The butchers were dressed in drag with red lipstick and frilly white dresses; they had on big bras with tennis balls in the cups. They lifted them lasciviously to the cheering crowd and threw lollies to the children. Aaron scrambled for Minties.

  The celebrations culminated in a barbecue at the showground. Sides of beef were turned on spits, the beer tent was full and drunken cattlemen lurched in and out; they swore and spat and talked about beef. Aaron wanted a go on the ‘shoot ’em down’ stand, where boys honed skills with rifles. Jane held the rifle for her son; he shot down ducks and won a stuffed synthetic toy lion.

  There was a plastic thong throwing competition with thongs emblazoned with bright red, white and blue union jack designs. Jane watched and thought how white and self-congratulatory it was, a commemoration of British invasion. Aboriginal families looked on in distaste from distant trees; they weren’t included; they were conquered and despised. Jane bought a beer and drank in a tent with Rosie and Brian. They got mildly drunk like everyone else.

  ‘Who controls the past, controls the future.’ Brian said as he reached for a dry martini from his Esky.

  Beatrice appeared with David and her grandchildren; they all held showbags full of rubbish and licked fairy floss God knows where the money came from! Some cattlemen lurched drunkenly across the road from the beer tent. Jane and Rosie greeted the Lanniwah with hugs.

  ‘What dis for? Alla time Wunungah drunk?’, said David.

  ‘This one special ceremony’, said Jane.

  Beatrice looked. ‘Where dat ceremony?’

  ‘It’s all about Captain Cook and then Captain Phillip coming to put English flag in Sydney’, said Rosie.

  ‘We hear ’bout dat Captain Cook, he wantem make little mission. Walk about here, dere, everywhere. He walkabout all across our country.’ They all laughed and Jane touched David’s arm and he nodded. She dropped her hand down: that was all she needed, to be reassured that he cared about her. She took the children to buy ice creams.

  CHAPTER 6

  David Returns

  Lanniwah people gathered outside the dusty store. It had chain wire windows and peeling paint. Rubbish blew along the road. David was back. Jane was stuck dumb by his return. I must be cool, not show anyone my feelings. She saw him walk out of the store and she wandered why Hubert had let David in. He stopped and lent against a jacaranda tree, women watching him, curious. Coke cans tumbled in the hot wind, the sound of black cockatoos and distant ceremonies. Elvis music slammed from a portable ghetto blaster on a young man’s shoulder.

  Struggling to breathe, Jane watched David move in his tight blue jeans. How could she consider restarting the affair? The thought of loving him was so dangerous. Oh yes, bring it on. He was so black, his teeth so white, his smile so soft. She asked herself about her plan for redemption and her responsibilities as a mother. No, a forbidden affair would be unthinkable. She argued with herself as she drove her groceries back to her caravan. As she unpacked tins of corned beef and baked beans she decided to ignore her feelings and just be polite. She would ignore her burning in his presence. Yep, no problem.

  She took Aaron to the little white church tent and prayed to someone or something. She prayed to a bark painting with wavy lines in red and black of Jesus on a cross. She prayed to the painted ochre crocodiles and stingrays with glitter borders. The fusion of Aboriginal and Christian beliefs resulted in a confusion of the spirit. Yes, even she was confused, not to mention sexually frustrated. She could believe in animism that respected living and inanimate things or she could worship a man from Jerusalem who hung in pain on a tree. Dark guilty feelings simmered in her stomach. Aaron pulled on her arm.

  ‘Can we go now? Jesus isn’t here.’

  Aaron ran up and down the aisle with a tin truck. The lay-preacher’s wife, Dixie, wearing a patterned sundress and a tennis eyeshade, came towards Jane.

  ‘Welcome at last. We were praying that you would come along to Bible class. You have our pity because you are not yet saved. We will bring you into the fold to be reborn’,

  ‘Thank you. That’s very nice of you, but school … does keep me busy.’ Jane hurried away. The woman looked insane.

  A Land Rover pulled up outside. She saw that David was with some boys wearing dark blue Boys Brigade uniforms. They marched in to the church and stood in formation. Jane took Aaron by the hand and moved to the back while the boys arranged wattle in vases. She sneezed; the Christian light could infect you. She wondered why David was keeping his distance. He had arrived back at Harrison quietly and was not working at the school. She felt ignored. However, Harrison was too small a place to ignore someone.

  Jane was at the big house collecting medical supplies from Edie. As Jane stood near the door, David knocked. She averted her gaze; it was not the time or place for a reunion. He stayed on the veranda, smoothing his hat. Hubert walked out and swung his boot up on the railing. He indicated that David should stand further down on the step, so he could look down on him.

  ‘Yer got something to say?’

  David nodded and stepped backwards.

  ‘I want to hear you say it.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That yer bleedin’ sorry you nearly bleedin’ killed me. Yer flaming black prick. Next time we have a fist fight I’ll be ready for ya.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Yep, what?’

  David looked at his foot.

  ‘Boss.’

  ‘Okay mate, shake on it, and no more cheeky fella business or I’ll run you out for good! Too right. I don’t like dobbers, so I made that call to the coppers. You should be bloody grateful. Grateful! I want to see it on your face. You could have gone away to Fannie Bay Gaol.’

  Jane watched David’s face twitch, but he was silent. They shook hands and David strolled away waving at Jane.


  ‘Leave it, Jane. You don’t know what you’re playin’ with. He needs you like a hole in the head’, Hubert said.

  ‘Hubert, I got a letter back from the police about the girl who was raped.’

  ‘I said I would handle that’, he said. Jane stood her ground.

  ‘Really? By covering it up?’

  ‘Grow up, teacher. You got nothin’.’

  ‘They will keep investigating. You will get their attention.’

  ‘And pigs might fly.’ He walked away.

  She watched Hubert hide behind his Hammond organ and she walked down the stairs.

  PART FOUR

  NORTH WEST WIND, DRY SEASON, YAMS HAVE GREEN LEAVES – 1977

  A year passes and Jane feels at home in Lanniwah country, she is enjoying the cool nights. It is mango season and everyone gorges on the fruit. The Whistling Hawk dives for insects and crocodiles are searching for food.

  EIGHT MONTHS LATER

  CHAPTER 1

  Shirley’s Baby

  Eight long months passed, Jane’s relationships had shifted and developed. The land was now swept with cool dry winds and the sound of distant ceremonies. The Lanniwah children had begun to read well; some were moving onto young adult books and their faces lit up with pleasure when they first read a whole page without faltering. Jane smiled and pinched their chins with affection. She was loved and grew in strength from the children’s trust. Jane had trained Ricky as an assistant because David was absent, somewhere. The love affair with him was an on and off thing. Jane was not concerned: she knew it was his way and that he travelled around the country with little thought of her. Shirley’s pregnancy was full term and every one waited for the birth. Jane’s relationship with Hubert and Edie was almost non-existent. They pretended she was not there.

  Aaron was a big seven year old and still king of the camp kids. Jane watched him rush along the road with a group of boys, their tin trucks belting out plumes of dust. In school, he was working on his reading but was not as quick to learn as the Lanniwah girls his age.

  It was a beautiful Dry time, with clear blue skies and cool nights. Jane even wore a cardigan. Then Elvis Presley died; they heard about it from Raymond. All the community were mourning for the King of Rock and Roll. There was a ceremony and his songs were played accompanied by many tears and wailing. The cadence of the music swept through the camp and the girls cried in class and no one spoke his name. It was real grief.

  One night, there was a hush over the community, Jane heard the unmistakeable sound of a woman in labour; the panting drifted down from Raymond’s shack. She gathered up Aaron, put him in her vehicle to sleep, and drove through the dark to where Shirley crouched on her bed having her baby. Old Lucy and Gertie were attending and their steady cooing penetrated the room. Old Raymond stood outside, smoked cigarettes, and stamped them out half way through. The tension snaked around the dark tin walls. It was a long labour, too long. Gertie considered Jane for some time and Jane was afraid that she might accuse her of being somehow complicit in the whole event. That maybe Jane had been neglectful of her students and had allowed Shirley to be out late and get pregnant. That perhaps Jane was a person who put on a respectful face to the Boss and that she had not stood up to him. She walked out of the shack to stand near Raymond.

  For want of something more useful to do, Raymond took an axe and swung at the red gum logs piled beside the shack. He had a big fire burning, two billies were full of boiling water, one tipped over, and he quickly pushed it up right. The smoke rose in tall pale blue shadows and quivered around the landscape. The crack of the axe burst through the sound of his daughter moaning. Raymond leant against the wall and ran his thumb over the blade as Jane sat beside him. ‘In the old days, the station bosses fathered a lot of kids; some had ten or more and they were treated no better than slaves on the properties. I saw a bloke force his white son to tie up his half-caste brother and flog him on his naked back. Tears poured down his face as the young lad pleaded for mercy. God cursed Ham – is this why there is so much hate against black people? What life will my grandchild have? I’m too bloody old to be of use.’ Raymond sighed.

  Jane watched Raymond throw down the implement and sit on the woodpile, his head in his old hands. A desperate cry from Shirley broke the moment. Raymond tapped on the corrugated iron and Old Lucy called out.

  ‘Might be baby too big, better gettim Missus Edie. Gettim help.’

  Raymond struggled to his feet and lumbered into the dark towards the Boss’s house.

  The fear poured into the gloom and Jane huddled beside Gertie and held Shirley’s hand. Sweat poured down the girl’s face, her body contorted in pain as Jane mopped at her face with a wet napkin. She stroked the dark hair away from Shirley’s arched brow and a tendril was looped around Jane’s finger, she unlooped it and placed it gently amongst the beautiful ringlets. Golden Shirley. It was suddenly quiet, just the breathing of the women; no one spoke, and terror filled their faces. What if the baby died while trying to be born? What if Shirley was too young and too tiny to deliver what was obviously a very big baby? Jane’s anxiety pulsed, she watched Shirley sit up in fright, her face contorted with a contraction, and then Edie was beside her. She pushed Jane aside and motioned for the women to move out of her way. She had some forceps and she would want elbow room.

  ‘Get out all of you, except Gertie. Give the girl some air!’

  ‘Missus. She bad.’ Gertie cried.

  ‘Stop frightening her! We’re alright as far as I can see. Just take a few minutes more. Hold on, my darling girl.’

  Jane sat in the corner and watched in awe as Edie delivered the baby. Her thin pale arms were elevated as she pushed her foot against the old bedstead. The baby popped out, and it was a girl and she was fair skinned and slightly blue. Everyone sighed, the newborn howled and they all looked at Hubert’s child. Edie tied and cut the cord with a professional flourish and tucked the baby into a bunny rug. Edie shrugged and handed the bundle to Shirley for a moment before helping to deal with the after birth. After a while, Shirley smiled and Gertie knelt beside her to look at her grandchild. Clenched tiny fists pressed against her mother’s face.

  ‘My granny used to say that babies bring their love with them.’ Jane smiled at Shirley and patted Gertie on her back. Jane thought how weak she must sound – as if this child had been born with no cloud over her. So many Aboriginal babies born to white fathers had been murdered in the past, but this one was going to be loved at least by her mother and grandparents. The room filled with other family members and Jane stepped outside to see Raymond in tears by his fire.

  ‘She is okay, Raymond. You can see her if you want.’

  Edie walked out and washed as Jane tipped a jerry can over her bloody hands, the sound of the water was like a song, it splashed and Edie let it run over her legs and shoes. She looked like a woman exhausted by the truth of the baby’s paternity. Jane wanted to say something that would comfort, something that sounded wise and that recognised Edie’s pain but there was nothing to say. It was useless, and Jane watched the water run pink and trickle down Edie’s legs then into rivulets that created snake lines across the yellow dust. As if there were words that could make it better, make it not like thousands of other stories of Australia’s black and white history. Jane wanted this moment to be full of love and for the new baby to be accepted and not seen as a problem to be solved or a mistake or the evidence of betrayal and abuse of power. Edie just stared at the dirt and sniffed.

  ‘Another yellafella, what a shame.’

  ‘She is gorgeous! You saved Shirley.’

  ‘Just doing my job. Couldn’t let them die; wouldn’t be right.’

  Edie walked into the night and Jane watched her disappear; she looked defeated. There was a piercing cry in the stillness, like a howl of a wounded animal and Jane didn’t know if it was from a broken woman or a man in distress or what. Then, she heard a name yelled:

  ‘Damn you, Hubert!’

  Jane felt tested and
that she had somehow failed to be of use to anyone. She had been useless in the end, not able to offer support to a lonely Edie or advice to Raymond, in the way and of little consequence. A bystander who had not protected the young woman. She could not face Hubert, tell the police, make a difference, or protect any other young girl from abuse, or anything at all. She looked down at her dress: it was splattered with blood; she would be marked by this event, but a feeling of joy consumed her and she raised her face to the grey cloud that moved over a rising gold moon. The baby was so beautiful and alive and its huge black eyes had stared into the new world.

  A night bird swished past and Jane imagined Edie walking into her house and telling her husband that Shirley’s baby was here. Maybe a madwoman would come storming up those steps and maybe there would be screaming and rage. Jane pictured herself unclenching Edie’s hand from a rifle. The evidence of his duplicity was now certain, or would they all ignore the child, the half-sister of Elisha and the others. Yes, that was how it had always been: no one would say anything; the lies and secrets would float and fall like so much confetti.

  A few days later, Lanniwah women crowded around Shirley, admiring her newborn baby girl. Edie had visited and worried about the child. She was not drinking properly and Edie offered to take Shirley and baby Elizabeth to Katherine hospital for checking. Jane stood outside the school and watched them drive off; it seemed like a witch was kidnapping the pair of them.

  In Katherine, the hospital kept the baby because she was sickly and sent Shirley home with Edie. They could not accommodate a young Aboriginal woman when the wards were crammed with spectacular evidence of a violent outback. The bull gorings, rodeo accidents, beatings and beer bottle wounds kept the nurses running. Jane was appalled that the hospital would not admit Shirley alongside her baby.

  On their return, Jane watched in shock as Edie sat Shirley down outside Raymond’s shack and bound her breasts with tight nappies to stop the milk. Tears ran down Shirley’s face.