The Audrey of the Outback Collection

by Christine Harris

  ‘No, he’s not. He’s just invisible. You can’t see him.’

  ‘It’s awful when you miss people.’ Price hesitated. ‘Can I tell you a secret?’

  Audrey turned to look at him. Sweat streaked the dust on her brother’s cheeks. His hair was all over the place.

  ‘When Jimmy left to go back to the city,’ he said, ‘I cried.’

  Audrey stared in disbelief. ‘I didn’t see you.’

  ‘’Course not,’ Price said. ‘I cried by myself, when no one was looking.’

  Audrey thought about that for a moment. ‘How come girls are allowed to cry when people are looking, but not boys? Is that sort of like men always knowing what they’re doing?’

  A grin slipped across Price’s face.

  Audrey couldn’t help chuckling.

  ‘You’re always going to remind me about blowing up the dunny, aren’t you?’ said Price. ‘Even when we’re really old and bent like boomerangs.’

  ‘I reckon so.’

  Suddenly there was a gust of wind. Red sand lifted like dry fog. Then the wind spun round and round, whipping the sand into a frenzy.

  ‘Look at that,’ said Price. ‘It’s a ripper.’

  As soon as the words left his mouth, the wind stopped. Grains of red sand drifted back to earth.

  ‘Whoa. That’s odd.’ There was a hint of awe in Price’s voice.

  Goosebumps ran down Audrey’s arms. It was one of those ghost winds. She and Price exchanged startled glances.

  Audrey gripped her brother’s arm. ‘If you let someone go and they come back because they want to, they can stay because you haven’t made them. Right?’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Good.’ Audrey smiled. ‘Because Stumpy’s back. It’s another miroolcool.’

  She gazed towards the spot where the dust devil had vanished. ‘Stumpy’s running pretty fast. He’ll need a drink when he gets home. Fair dinkum.’

  Audrey Goes to Town

  Audrey could hardly wait to get to Beltana.

  One

  Audrey Barlow bounced as the wheels of the wooden cart hit a pothole. Although the floor was padded with blankets and what was left in the food bags, each bump jarred Audrey and her brothers.

  Douglas fell sideways, giggling. He was only three, so he giggled at nearly everything.

  ‘Sesiting, isn’t it?’ said Audrey.

  ‘Exciting.’ Price tried to sit straight and tall, as though he didn’t care about the roughness of the bush track or the town they would reach that afternoon. But his eyes shone.

  Eucalyptus trees grew on the wide plain. Although the sand was not as red as back home, the grey saltbush was familiar. And there were tufts of green grass. Maybe it rained more in the south. A grey rabbit scurried across the track, its tail and ears flashing white.

  Audrey looked up at her parents on the high front seat of the cart. Mum had been unusually quiet for most of the trip. Her face was pale. Audrey wondered if Mum’s leg was hurting. Years earlier, a tank stand had crushed it, so she walked with a limp.

  Dad turned his head to peer at Audrey from beneath the brim of his battered hat. His bushy beard fluttered in the wind. ‘Not far now, Two-Bob.’

  She grinned. Dad always used her nickname. A swaggie called Bloke had given Audrey that name when she’d said, ‘You’re as crazy as a two-bob watch.’

  Swaggies usually avoided towns. But Audrey could hardly wait to get to Beltana. From her home in the bush, it was three days’ walk to the nearest house. And a lot more than that to a town.

  ‘Dad, are the houses in Beltana really right next to each other, in rows?’ asked Audrey.

  ‘Sure as eggs.’

  ‘There won’t be so many flies because there’s more people to share them.’ Back home, flies stuck to their backs like dark coats. Especially on north wind days.

  Suddenly Mum grabbed Dad’s arm. ‘Stop!’

  Two

  Mum half-dropped, half-jumped to the ground without waiting for Dad’s help.

  Audrey exchanged a surprised look with Price.

  Their mum bent over, her arms cradling her stomach, and began retching into the saltbushes.

  Douglas slipped his hand into Audrey’s and squeezed. Silence settled on the family. The only sound was Mum going for the big spit, and the wind hissing dust.

  Dad stood, holding the camels steady. His rough hands were as battered as his hat. Dirt stained his fingernails. Dad narrowed his eyes and stared at the Flinders Ranges on the horizon. Audrey guessed he was trying not to make Mum feel awkward about being sick.

  He slipped the reins into his left hand and, with his right, patted his top pocket. Although he had given up tobacco, he still liked to chew on the empty clay pipe. He fumbled as he took it from his pocket and the pipe fell to the ground.

  Snort lifted one of his large flat feet and crushed it.

  Dad glared at his camel, then down at the crumbs of his favourite pipe.

  ‘Snort’s in twubble,’ said Douglas.

  ‘Snort’s always in trouble.’ Audrey wriggled her fingers. They were starting to tingle from her little brother’s tight grip.

  Dad must have been very worried if he could watch his pipe get smashed and not say naughty words.

  Mrs Barlow reached into her pocket for a handkerchief. She turned to face the family. Her skin was shiny with perspiration. She moved her mouth into the shape of a smile, but it didn’t look real.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asked Audrey.

  Mrs Barlow nodded. ‘I’m not a good traveller.’

  Dad gave Mum a funny look like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. He offered Mum his hand. She took it and climbed back onto the front seat of the cart.

  As they began moving again, Mum’s back was straight and she didn’t take her eyes off the track ahead. But she gripped the seat with both hands as though she might slide off. Audrey had a strange feeling, as though someone had whispered something important and she’d missed what was said.

  Three

  A glint of light to the left of the track caught Audrey’s attention. She blinked hard. It was the kind of warm, clear afternoon when mirages shimmered in the distance. But this glint was real.

  ‘I can see the railway line!’ she shouted. ‘I wish a train would come past so we could hear the driver blow the whistle.’

  ‘There’s the station,’ said Price. The tremble in his voice gave away a hidden thrill at seeing the first building.

  ‘Where?’

  Price pointed.

  At first, all Audrey saw were trees. Then she spotted an iron roof. She didn’t mind that Price had been first to notice the station. She’d seen the railway line before anyone else.

  ‘I want to see the fing too.’ Douglas tugged at Audrey’s sleeve.

  She wasn’t sure that her little brother knew what that thing was. Douglas sometimes became excited without understanding why.

  As they drew closer, the station building seemed to grow larger. The platform was hidden on the other side of the building. Three Aboriginal men sat together with their backs against the wall. One of the men nodded a greeting. Audrey and Douglas waved.

  The track widened. Two carts could have passed each other, side-by-side.

  A flapping cloud of feathers and noise rose from a tree. The screeching pink-andwhite cockatoos made Audrey jump. Her mother laughed. Audrey was glad that Mum was feeling better. Their trip was almost over. Perhaps, when the cart stopped rocking, so would her mum’s stomach.

  To the right of the track, mounds and headstones showed a graveyard. Audrey pictured the wooden crosses at home that marked the resting place of her two sisters, Pearl and Esther. Here in town, people were buried with many of their friends. Even when they died, they were not alone.

  Just past the graveyard, a large dam reflected the blue of the sky.

  ‘Strike a light,’ shouted Audrey. ‘Look at all that water.’

  ‘That’s for the steam trains,’ said Dad.

  ‘Town
’s an amazing place. They even water their trains!’

  Four

  ‘What’s that, Pwice?’ shouted Douglas, pointing to a building on the edge of town.

  ‘It’s the telegraph station. You can send messages and letters from there.’

  ‘Whenever you want?’ said Audrey.

  ‘I guess so.’

  At home the Barlow family used to wait for Mr Akbar to turn up on his camel with their mail. Sometimes it was months between visits. Now the mail was supposed to come in a truck. So far, that hadn’t happened. Maybe the new mailman was still trying to find their house.

  Audrey ran her tongue over the grit on her front teeth. She couldn’t do anything about the dust on her skin. Her fair hair was tied into plaits, but a few loose strands always escaped. Her mother sometimes said she looked like something the cat dragged in. Which wasn’t really true. They didn’t have a cat.

  After the telegraph station, there were houses along proper town roads. Most of the ramshackle buildings sat on bare dirt. Audrey had imagined gardens so green they would be too vivid to look at without blinking. There were trees, but no grass. Not even saltbush.

  ‘Leaping lizards!’ Audrey called out. ‘Those houses have glass in their windows.’

  ‘So will ours, one day, Two-Bob,’ said Dad. ‘You wait and see.’

  They rattled past a hotel. It had a long verandah decorated with green plants in tubs. Laughter billowed out of the open windows. After the hotel there were more houses and then a tiny school. The schoolyard was silent.

  ‘It’s holiday time,’ Dad explained.

  Then Audrey smelled something familiar. Fresh bread! Dad had told her Beltana had a real bakery. Not just an outside oven made from crushed ants’ nests, as they had at home.

  On the road were other carts, riders on horses, an Afghan on a camel, and people walking. Audrey wanted to look in every direction at once. Her neck was becoming sore from turning her head left, right, then left again.

  A plump Aboriginal woman with a scarf wrapped around her hair smiled as their cart went by. Audrey waved.

  Then she heard loud rumbling and twisted around for a better look. A dust-covered black car had turned onto the road behind them. Douglas threw himself, headfirst, onto Audrey’s lap. His elbow hit her shin. His words were buried in the folds of her blue smock-dress.

  The noisy car quickly caught up to the cart, its tyres whipping up dust. More dust than a camel would make, or a horse. More than two horses. Audrey glimpsed the driver’s long, dark sleeves and hat. Then the car passed and they were swallowed up in a cloud of dust. The camels pulling the Barlows’s cart snorted and sped up.

  ‘Stay close,’ Audrey reminded her friend Stumpy. If he ran off by himself, she might not be able to find him. Price rolled his eyes.

  Douglas lifted his head. ‘It’s gwowling. It’s got a tummy ache.’

  ‘It’s not growling, Dougie,’ said Price. ‘The car has a motor to make it go.’

  Audrey felt a bubble of excitement. Anything could happen in town.

  The front door opened and a tall, old lady marched out.

  Five

  A little further along, a herd of goats strayed onto the road. They bleated and refused to obey the bald man who was trying to guide them. The goats were like naughty children, each wanting to go their own way.

  Douglas sat up and stuck his thumb in his mouth. Gently, Audrey tugged at his hand. His thumb popped out. The second she let go, it went back in as though it was on a length of elastic.

  On the last road in town, Dad pulled on the reins and the camels came to a grumpy stop. The cartwheels crunched on gravel.

  ‘Here we are,’ said Dad.

  The big house stood alone, facing the plains. Large windows at the front of the house looked like eyes, except they were shut. Dark green ivy covered the front wall. If it grew any more, it would block the doorway.

  ‘Dad, is there another door at the back?’ asked Audrey.

  He nodded.

  ‘Mrs Pat … Patingsin must be rich if she’s got two doors.’

  Dad leapt down onto the dusty road. ‘The lady’s name is Paterson, Two-Bob. Better get it right.’

  ‘Pancakes,’ said Douglas.

  ‘Are you hungry, Dougie?’ Audrey smiled at her little brother.

  Price jumped to the ground by himself. Dad helped Mum down, then Douglas and last of all, Audrey.

  She felt her stomach flutter as she looked at the big house.

  Stumpy stood back, restless and snorting.

  The front door opened and a tall, old lady marched out. She was dressed in black, from her high-buttoned collar down to her ankles. She looked like a burnt stick.

  As the lady opened her gate, Dad put one hand to the brim of his hat and tilted it. He didn’t shake hands with girls and ladies. Only men. Dad had a strong grip. Maybe he was worried he’d squash girls’ hands. ‘Afternoon, Mrs Paterson.’

  Mrs Paterson’s grey hair was pulled back into a tight bun. A good share of wrinkles creased her face. Her nose was sharp enough to open a can of peaches and her mouth drooped at the corners.

  Audrey’s mum stepped forward and smiled. ‘Thank you for asking us to stay, Mrs Paterson.’

  ‘I have a large house and one tries to be charitable.’

  Mum’s smile disappeared.

  Mrs Paterson’s voice made Audrey think of water dripping into the dark well at home.

  Dad introduced them all.

  There was something about the way the old lady eyed them up and down that reminded Audrey of her dad inspecting stock.

  ‘You must be tired and hungry,’ said Mrs Paterson. ‘Come inside. Do be careful to close the gate properly. Otherwise the goats will eat everything.’

  ‘Pancakes,’ demanded Douglas.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Mrs Paterson’s mouth tightened like a shrivelled quandong.

  Suddenly, a month in town seemed a long time.

  Six

  The Barlow family sat around Mrs Paterson’s kitchen table.

  Although the kitchen was large, it was so neat that Audrey wondered how often the old lady sat there. There were cupboards with doors, not just stacked wooden crates like home. And the glass window over the sink was covered by net curtains. They had gone yellow in places from the sun and Audrey could see where they had been mended. But they were proper curtains.

  There was a soft shiny covering on the floor, with a blue flower pattern.

  ‘That’s linoleum, dear,’ said Mum, with a wistful look.

  The floor at home was rammed mud. In summer, Audrey’s family sprinkled it with water so it didn’t crack in the heat.

  Audrey ran her fingers down the fat leg of the solid kitchen table. The wood was smooth, cool and straight. Everything Dad made was as crooked as a dog’s hind leg. But no one minded. A navy-and-red checked cloth covered Mrs Paterson’s table. Audrey put her palm against the cloth. It felt stiff.

  Then the rich aroma of stew filled the kitchen and Audrey forgot all about the curtains and the coloured tablecloth. Over by the stove, Mrs Paterson slipped a large ladle from a hook and began dishing stew into bowls. The pot looked large enough to hold stew for the whole town.

  She carried the bowls to the table, one at a time. And she didn’t spill one drop. As well as meat, there were potatoes, carrots and peas in the rich, dark gravy. Audrey’s mouth watered. It was bad manners to start eating before everyone was seated, but Mrs Paterson moved as slowly as a wet hen.

  Douglas slobbered on his thumb. Audrey tried to ignore the juicy sound.

  The kitchen was growing darker. Audrey stifled a yawn. Her legs still felt as though they were shaking from the rattling cart. That morning, like the previous seven, her family had woken with the birds. All the birds in the bush had called out to each other as the sun rose.

  Mrs Paterson’s black skirt rustled as she reached up to tug at a cord that dangled from the ceiling. Instantly, a light came on.

  Audrey gasped. Douglas forgot abo
ut his thumb. Even Price looked surprised.

  ‘It’s a miroolcool,’ said Audrey.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Mrs Paterson blinked rapidly.

  Audrey wondered if Mrs Paterson begged pardon because she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  Mum smiled. ‘The children have never seen an electric light. We use kerosene lanterns.’

  ‘Of course. There is a windmill out the back, attached to a generator which gives me electricity.’ With both hands, Mrs Paterson smoothed the back of her skirt before she sat at the table.

  Audrey didn’t understand what wind had to do with the bright light in the kitchen. But she was thrilled to see it.

  ‘However …’ Mrs Paterson stared across the table at Audrey. ‘That is no reason to speak frivolously about things in the Good Book.’

  Audrey had no idea what the word starting with ‘friv’ meant, but she liked books.

  ‘Do you have Martin Rattler?’ she asked. ‘Fair dinkum, that’s a good book. It’s my favourite. Axshu … act-u-ally … it’s my only book, but even if it wasn’t, it would still be the best. It’s got the sea in it. That’s a big water they have at Adelaide and, if you stand on the beach part, you can’t even see the end of it. You can hop in a boat and sail right to the edge, ’cept there is no edge. Mum says the world’s round, so if a country didn’t get in your way, you could sail around in a big circle, but you wouldn’t fall off.’

  Mrs Paterson’s eyeballs wobbled.

  ‘I’m hungwy.’ Douglas grabbed his spoon.

  Mrs Paterson cleared her throat. ‘First, we must give thanks.’

  ‘Fanks.’ Douglas dipped into his stew.

  ‘I mean thank the Lord. I am only the cook.’ Mrs Paterson bowed her head to give her own kind of thanks.

  Audrey looked down at her bowl. She was hungry enough to eat a goanna between two slabs of bark. Reluctantly she closed one eye, but kept the other open. She could hear the telltale drone of a blowfly. There it was—hovering near her plate. Fat and black. At home the Barlows kept their meat in a cool safe with hessian walls. If blowflies sneaked in, the meat became infested with wriggling, white maggots.