The Crocodile Hotel

by Julie Janson

  Jane wondered if perhaps she was missing something, and above all, whether Edie had reported her. Maybe they were grinning in triumph. Maybe they knew about Renway and his connections. Maybe they had stood behind their window and laughed while that terrifying man threatened her. She put a big latch on her door. A plank of hard wood across the inside. Still, she found it hard to sleep.

  ‘You can sleep in our bed if you’re scared – it’s a Sleepmaker king size’, laughed Hubert.

  She worried about unemployment. A terrible meeting with the authorities in Darwin. Dismissal. She was skin and bone, a mess of fear and anxiety. She was ill and Aaron was very weak with gastroenteritis.

  Wiltshire saw Jane as she came out of her caravan, a haggard skinny mess. She hung out washing with shaking arms and he rushed over and grabbed her by the shoulder as curious Lanniwah watched. She wriggled, but his grip was iron. His other hand waved up and down; he moaned like a maniac.

  ‘Out, out, Satan! I say, out!’ Jane grimaced and leant forward.

  ‘Fuck off!’ she said.

  The Lanniwah women wept with laughter.

  ‘The devil speaks in filth. It is the devil, not you. Beware, Jane, of Satan’s grip. I can help you. You trusted me when David was in gaol. Let me help you, please!’ he whispered. She wrenched her arm away and ran off down the road. Lanniwah women slapped their thighs and fell about – it was better than Charlie Chaplin.

  Jane became thinner and the gastroenteritis took away her strength. She sat for days on the toilet, shitting yellow water, and she feared that she might just die and no one but Aaron would notice or for that matter, care. All day she didn’t eat; she drifted with her mind clinging to an idea of redemption. Her child must get better; he was a messenger for Jane. His life was more important than hers was; he was a lesson in love … Jane recovered by starving herself but Aaron was thin and weak and she went to see Edie. Her feet were heavy on the big house steps.

  ‘Please Edie, my little boy is sick. Do you have any medicine?’ said Jane.

  ‘Get off my steps!’

  ‘He has bad gastro, I’m really scared, and I have run out of Gastrolyte. Please!’

  ‘If you let him drink out of the picks’ cups of course he will get sick – use your head, woman.’ Edie handed a bottle of liquid and sachets through the gate rails and walked away. She showed a little compassion.

  After a few days, Aaron was well, and ran back up to the Lanniwah camp. Jane struggled to school and ran into Hubert in his truck.

  ‘You feelin’ better?’ he said.

  ‘Yeah. But I’m frightened that I will get another visit from Mr Renway’s thug. I’m scared.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I can protect you. Just give a yell if anyone comes near and I’ll come over and punch their lights out. No one hurts a teacher on my property. I can give you a rifle if you want … Look, I care about your safety. Edie and I are responsible for everything that happens out here. It’s not your fault. Some townies are too political – why can’t we just leave this land rights stuff alone?’

  David arrived back in the community but did not work at school. He sent a note with Shirley. Jane read it and walked straight over to his house. He sat quietly by a fire reading a cowboy book.

  ‘Are you coming back to the school?’ she said.

  ‘Narr, no good for you.’

  ‘I want you to keep your job: the kids need you.’

  ‘You might be train up Ricky, or Shirley?’

  ‘I want you to do it.’

  ‘I go over Rainer River soon; might be work at dat school’, he said.

  She looked at his face; it told her of compassion and a hidden history.

  ‘My mother and father, they die when me little fella. Uncle raise me up. Teach me cattle work. I look out for my little sister and aunty, she blind. I can’t be with you.’ he said.

  His face was lightly lined and he had deep brown eyes that smiled but never held their gaze too long. His warmth oozed; he was open and awkward. She watched the top of his curly head as he used his bare foot to trace circles in the dirt. The air rippled with heat … She still felt alive in his presence.

  ‘I understand. Do you still want to finish your certificate then maybe go on to become a teacher?’ she said.

  ‘Might be, study in university. I go back to Darwin, but it’s big city, lotta bars and lotta white people. But make me feel like a stranger, and dis my own country. I gotta do some land rights work myself.’

  ‘I could come with you?’ she said.

  He looked at her and smiled; he reached out his hand but withdrew it. He held it against his red-checked cowboy shirt. She looked at the mother of pearl buttons. She stared at the hand, his beautiful hand. Her words hung in the space between them. She wanted to take them back, and she was ashamed of her longing. She ran her hands through her long hair; he watched the tresses as she stroked them. He swallowed and turned to watch the horizon.

  ‘No, no more. No more love, sorry.’

  Jane’s face crumpled. She knew this would happen – it was all impossible. They struggled to change the subject.

  ‘I worry about bilka men; they watch all things from miles. Dey sneak in my house, might be payback. Takem hair and makem poison that poison body.’

  ‘What’s that poison?’ said Jane.

  ‘Made from dat ant bed and stuff and you know singem, make it real strong and you can’t see him. Then I might be wake up dead, lookim down on my body like bird, from far away.’

  ‘But you haven’t committed any crimes? Why would they hunt you?’

  ‘Might be for some crime. Might be for that Daniel.’

  ‘You’re frightened?’ she said.

  She was devastated. He was not going to love her any more. Her face showed all the hurt but she kept up a cheerful conversation. Keep a happy face.

  ‘No, not for that. I wantem wife, Lanniwah. I not have promise wife long time yet’, he said.

  Jane was relieved to hear this; he wouldn’t marry for many years. The old men took all the beautiful young women. It wasn’t fair. Now she knew she was not a candidate for David. She never would be. The pity of it.

  ‘I go Katherine soon; might be find new job with Northern Land Council. Sorry, I got to do this. Too much trouble here. Sorry ’bout that.’ She felt devastated, he was going out of her life and she would have to live through the pain all over again.

  CHAPTER 5

  A Fight At The Hotel

  Jane went to the next remote schools meeting at the conference centre at the rear of the Crocodile Hotel. It was hot and sticky, like life was being sucked from the atmosphere. Aboriginal people stood in the shade near the post office, they waved to her.

  She knew that it was time to stop acting: she was going to be outspoken about her Aboriginality when necessary. She was sick of pretending to be something she wasn’t. It would be a peaceful professional time. She had no time for men or traumatic relationships. She left Aaron with Rosie at their house.

  She moved through the hotel lounge, velvet curtains stinking of smoke. Jane knew she couldn’t avoid Orlando. She didn’t want to avoid him. He must be there somewhere. She would be cool, sensible, kind but distant; they could be friends. Yes, she had a plan. She looked around. The people looked familiar. Horror of horrors, there was also a conference with bigwigs from Canberra and Darwin and teachers from local schools. They were all getting blotto, the women hugging glasses of moselle, the men vying for the opportunity to become the biggest imbiber of Cooper’s beer. Some of them called out to her across the mayhem. She walked around with an averted face; a man kissed her cheek. Someone was vomiting in a corner.

  Mr Pageworthy was back. The Education Department inspector pushed his face into hers. ‘How is Orlando?’

  Jane smiled weakly. ‘I haven’t seen him since last year. He’d be here somewhere, I guess. Same old Orlando, a real character’, she muttered and kept moving, a smile plastered on her face.

  ‘Fancy meeting you here! I was goin
g to come out for a formal visit. How’s it all going? I heard there was some problem at your school.’ He looked concerned. It was a man from the Darwin office, Mr White. He wore a brown cardigan, with shorts and a red spotted tie. There was tomato sauce on it. He grinned at her. She squirmed, thinking, for a terrible moment, that he was going to tell her about receiving a letter from the station, that she was on probation and there was a review of her contract or something and she was about to be sacked.

  ‘Marvellous, great pedagogical outcomes that meet my objectives, fabulous Aboriginal people’, she said. He sipped his brandy and dry.

  ‘No trouble then with the relief teacher?’

  ‘All marvellous. The Lanniwah are wonderful people, despite being massacred and exploited. It’s amazing, isn’t it, how one survives? Must go. Lovely to see you again. Give my regards to Darwin office’, she said.

  ‘Come into the regional office on Monday, I have to talk about some serious issues.’ Mr White watched her push through to the main bar, where it was wall-to-wall men. She felt that a pile of shit was towering over her, and she might just expire on the spot. Hadn’t Mr White seen Wake in Fright?

  This main bar, the Sports Bar (no blacks allowed) was loud with beer swilling and poker machines ringing out. The miners were drinking with the contract builders after work on Friday. The men’s eyes flickered around her. Jane searched nervously … She was uncomfortable, unwanted, in the male domain. She looked about for Orlando, she just couldn’t keep away. She would utilise a talking cure, summon up Freud. Expel him forever from her consciousness. Perhaps she could go somewhere with him and talk: it seemed like they had unfinished business. A group of men were nudging each other; she was a cockroach about to be squashed. They were talking about her, it wasn’t pleasant, and it seemed to be funny.

  Jane pushed past and slipped into the hotel kitchen. She leant against the stinking industrial Simpson dishwasher, like the ones she had unloaded as a seventeen year old at Basser College. She breathed in the smell of unwashed dishes, fat from steak and chips and there he was, Orlando, the name a song. He stood in front of her and smiled and she fell into his arms.

  ‘Thank God, I was about to run. It’s like purgatory in there’

  ‘You look beautiful. It’s been far too long. I forgot how you make my heart leap. Hey, stop hiding in the kitchen! Come on; we won’t eat you’.

  ‘Hey Orlando, I’m sorry about all the…’

  He took her hand and led her to the bar; his flesh was gentle and caring, and he gave her a lovesick look.

  ‘No, darling, I’m in the wrong, not you … We need a drink. God, it’s great to see you … Come and meet the boys, you know most of them. Johnno, Nobby, Bluey, Curley, Robbo, Dan.’ The men all greeted her. They stood against the bar, boots on the trough with hands gripping overflowing schooners of ice-cold beer. They leered and licked their lips.

  ‘Hey, I’d rather be on Lanniwah country fishing with Old Pelican, but here we are’, said Orlando.

  And, yes, Daniel was there. She looked at him: standing with arms crossed, legs apart, muscled. Staring at her. Right into her personal space. He now specialised in building houses on mining sites: fly in, fly out.

  ‘Look who’s here, the most beautiful teacher in the outback!’ He took her hand and kissed it, she blushed and the group of men laughed.

  ‘She’s working in an Aboriginal school’, said Daniel.

  ‘Good on you! Here we work alongside Aboriginal blokes, that bulldozer driver; he’s a blackfella isn’t he? Or is he an Indian?’ said Robbo.

  ‘Sure, we’re all really sensitive. We love our footie, our women in the kitchen or on the bed – narrr, just stirring you. And our fishing.’ said Daniel holding up his glass. He could be reasonable when he was apart from the other builders, but some kind of group macho atmosphere overtook him at the pub. Jane could smell his cologne, Armani or something. She whispered to Orlando.

  ‘Can we just go?’ But Daniel was zeroing in.

  ‘What you drinking, Jane? You look good enough to eat. They haven’t got cabernet sauvignon blanc on tap here. No, sorry. You like whisky. I hear you’ve been adopted by the local Indigenous people. That’s an honour. Seriously, I am part of that tribe too, so I’ve been told by a certain person. What does that make you in relation to me? I am a Jabiru man, and you’d be what if Orlando’s my father in law? Hey, you’d be my mother-in-law.’

  ‘That would be a taboo relationship’, said Orlando.

  ‘Can’t even look at you. That right, eh Andoboy?’ said Daniel.

  ‘Sounds good to me’, said Jane.

  ‘Come on, be a good girl. There’s not too many white guys left to talk to. Did ya hear about the bloke snorkelling off the point? Got eaten by a salty croc. His wife saw him lifted out of the water in its jaws. True. We going drinking or what?’ said Daniel.

  Jane pulled on Orlando’s arm. ‘Let’s go Orlando. I thought you might want to talk.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be such a snob with your juicy reputation’, said Daniel. Orlando simmered.

  ‘Just leave it, he’s drunk.’

  ‘Sorry, sorry. I am a respectful admirer. And I’ll have you know that I am not drunk, just slightly inebriated.’

  Another man walked into the bar; it was Harry, but he had fallen off the wagon. He was also drunk. Kenny Rogers squealed “Lucille!” from the juke box. Harry staggered towards Jane and held out his hand.

  ‘Oh gawd, it’s the pretty hippy teacher. You remember me from last year don’t you? That’s me, the Boss’s love child. I saved your life in the outback; you could have perished, and those kids. Gee, I love those little pickaninnies … that other stuff, you’ve forgiven me, I hope. You’ll be pleased to know that I still go to Arseholes Anonymous; but tonight I’m drinkin’. I’m gettin’ charged up so I better not run into those land rights uptowners. You see, if anyone tried to take my land, I’d neck myself.’ He held up a schooner glass.

  ‘Leave her alone, Harry’, said Orlando.

  Jane nodded and shook his hand. He gripped hers hard and smirked. She felt like vomiting; the scene was getting worse by the minute. It was creepy. There were whispers behind her back while someone stroked her hair. Orlando was laughing but he looked terrified. Why? Jane felt like she was witnessing a conspiracy. The men kept looking over at the Blacks’ Bar outside.

  Then she saw David. It was one of those terrible coincidences, an agonising gulf between them. She caught him watching her. He stood outside in the beer garden, with some Aboriginal men wearing white shirts and land rights badges. They looked like the Northern Land Council men. She wanted to walk over to David and greet him, but the long walk past white men with beers was too much. It was a walk between two worlds, and she would stand out like dog’s balls.

  Harry pulled an object from his back pocket and showed it to Orlando and Daniel. Jane strained to see it. My God, it was a knuckle-duster with a silver skull and green glass eyes. He put it on his hand and made a fist. He tucked it into his crocodile-skin belt. They all laughed, all of them, even Orlando. She wanted to scream. It was some sort of plan, for what? For who? Why?

  Jane could see David drinking a bottle of Fanta orange outside, his white shirt unbuttoned to the waist, his dark chest visible. He was still a non-drinker. He helped a drunken uncle to his feet. She wanted to move outside and squat down under the palm trees next to the Lanniwah and let them know she was with them, but she was rooted to the spot, embarrassed, imagining herself leaning on David’s shoulder.

  Daniel was in her face; he ate up her discomfort. He could read the whole thing: he could see her duplicity, her cowardice, her submission, and how she sometimes ignored the prejudice and hate. Jane reached for a white wine and chugga-lugged.

  Daniel and Harry picked David out from the rest outside the Crocodile Hotel. They had seen Jane watching him, admiring him. Orlando wanted them to stay out of it; he couldn’t condone it. They wanted David badly. All the land rights bullshit. Other nights they cruised for
Aboriginal girls to screw in the casuarinas, needles in the sand.

  ‘We like to lay out a bloke. Or get laid out. I like a fight with anyone, really. You know me, keeps me fit, doesn’t mean anything. I was a champion at boarding school. Lionel Rose, he’s alright.’ Orlando turned his head to laugh it off.

  But Daniel was getting himself into the red zone. Half yelling as he moved into the car park.

  ‘White, black, I’m not a racist.’ His eyes locked on the Lanniwah men. Jane moved away from the advancing Daniel. All night, this had been going to happen, a drunken disaster. She was stunned, out to the side watching Daniel advance … She had a few tears, it was pathetic; the past and the future stormed together at this moment.

  ‘There he is. Hey you, fucken David!’

  David had been onto it from the start. He stood free, at the paved edge of the drinking area. Jane saw Orlando dropping away from the blaze of Daniel. Now David moved, she saw him going to avoid trouble, moving through the shadowy patch of eucalypt trees by the hotel exit. Moving fast across the sand, leaving the area of lit street behind.

  Daniel slid into the car park, turning to his audience of mates, jangling the keys to his Land Rover. Jane became aware of Orlando’s arm next to her. She clung to it, watching the boarding party, Harry co-pilot. Daniel’s energy was revving through the engine, wailing in the night. He beckoned them, jerking his arm through the window. Jane knew she couldn’t prevent anything or raise a protest. She got in the car.

  The car’s suspension was wrecked; they thumped along the corrugations, on the hunt.

  The engine roared, gears crunched, low gear over white sand. A cassette came on, loud. The Bee Gees. ‘Saturday Night Fever’. Music to disguise the hatred.

  ‘Having fun, Janey?’

  Orlando leant towards Harry in the front seat.