by Karen Wyld
The next day, Brigid went again but still the campsite was empty. Instead, she spent the day with Omer. Not wanting to be a burden, she offered to help. For two weeks, Brigid went with Omer every morning and, not seeing any sign of Isabelle, spent the day working at the mine. Brigid enjoyed helping Omer. She’d discovered a liking for working deep underground. It was quiet, just like her many years of travelling through the outback, and not unlike stargazing from beside campfires. But in this new darkness she searched for shining stars in rocks.
‘You’ve stopped packing,’ Omer remarked one morning as they left the house.
‘I’m waiting until I speak with Isabelle again. I hope you don’t mind.’
Omer shook his head. ‘Not at all. We’re enjoying your company. Bethel is loving having the girls around the house. I’ve not seen her this happy in a very long time.’
Bethel and Omer were content in each other’s company; the love and respect they had for each other was obvious. Even so, sometimes Omer would find his wife staring blankly, with tears rolling down her face. Silently crying, just like the little sparrow he’d found hiding in that lifeboat many years ago. And just like all those days ago, Omer would wrap strong arms around Bethel and wait quietly.
Brigid had found Bethel crying on a few occasions, but did not pry. Instead, she hurried her daughters away, keeping them occupied while Bethel took a moment for herself. And there were those numbers. On numerous occasions, Brigid had seen flashes of the tattoo on Bethel’s wrist. She knew what it meant. Just like sad tales of sorting people by blood quantum, sharing horror stories of inked numbers should never be forced.
There soon came a time, however, when they were both ready to unwrap difficult stories. One afternoon, Brigid was kneading bread dough and Bethel was dressing a lamb that Omer had killed that morning. The lamb was to be the main dish at a feast the next day, to celebrate Omer and Bethel’s anniversary. They had invited all their neighbours and friends, and the women had been busy preparing food for the last two days.
As the sun headed towards the horizon, Bethel declared, ‘That’s enough for today. The rest can wait until the morning. Let’s catch our breath before serving supper.’
After they washed off the flour, blood and sweat, Bethel made them both a cup of tea. They took their cups outside, to watch the sun set. Omer had built a wooden bench under the olive tree in the backyard. It wasn’t much of an olive tree, given the harsh environment it had to survive in, but it was a good place to sit. This tree had significance for Omer. He’d carried it, as a small sapling, all the way from his homelands, protecting it like a child until he found a place to settle. Under this tree had become a favoured place for Bethel and Omer to sit at the end of many a day. This afternoon, Bethel sat with Brigid, watching the dying sun. A sharp screech of galahs broke the silence as they took off, then flew overhead. Brigid smiled when she saw what had startled the birds. Victoria and Maggie were helping Omer with the afternoon chores, which included enticing two very stubborn goats in for milking. One of the nannies had taken off, and the girls were attempting to corner the stubborn goat. Omer stood back, laughing while offering suggestions.
Brigid smiled. ‘They do enjoy helping Omer with the animals. Although, in this instance, I’m not sure they are actually being helpful.’
‘You have good girls. Strong, courageous, willing to try anything. We have enjoyed having them here, bringing an air of wonderment and joy to our home.’
‘You’ve made us feel so welcomed. It’s beginning to feel like home. Even this olive tree reminds me of home. My granny also brought treasured saplings from her country. She was so proud of the apple orchard that she started. Granny told me she’d planted them with purpose, to set down stronger roots in a country strange to her. Those trees from her home country helped her create a new home, for a new family. Unfortunately, Granny did not have the chance to watch her fruit trees grow with a husband by her side, but she did create a good home for my mother and me. Later, there was my stepfather and brothers. I really miss my granny. It just didn’t feel like home after she died. This house feels like a home. Omer and you have welcomed us in, like family.’
‘Omer is a good man. I could not want for a better partner to share my life with. I will let you in on a little secret: he is not my husband.’
‘I don’t understand. Tomorrow is your wedding anniversary.’
‘It’s an anniversary, yes. Just not of our wedding. We never had one. It’s too hard to make people understand, though. Too much judging and not enough acceptance in the world. Tomorrow, it will be seventeen years since Omer and I first met.’
Brigid waited, sensing that Bethel had more to share.
‘I already have a husband. As much as I cherish Omer, my heart belongs to my husband. To be honest, I do not know if Casimir is even alive. I suspect not.’
Bethel put her cup on the bench, and looked up to watch a gentle breeze play in the olive tree.
‘It’s been so good having the sound of children laughing in my home once more. I had a son and a daughter. Your Maggie reminds me of my Maja.’ Brigid heard her daughters squealing as they tried to catch the rebel goat. She wondered if Bethel wanted to tell her more about her daughter.
‘Maja died before the face of evil revealed itself to the world. Despite knowing that the world was turning into a dangerous place for my angel, I tried desperately to anchor her to me. She’d caught a fever. One that even her papa couldn’t cure. Casimir was a doctor, and I was once a nurse, and still we could do nothing. Medicine and good food were becoming so scarce. There was nothing we could do. After Maja died, our son Jakub stopped listening to us. Before that, Jakub had been avoiding coming home, finding the sight of his sister’s frailness too hard to bare. Instead, in darkened cellars and barns, he listened to brave and angry men who burned brightly with hope, and the weapons of steel and wood they were stockpiling. The day after we buried Maja, Jakub left. Forever I will carry the knowledge that I was unable to protect my children.’
Brigid looked out across the flat, dry earth, reflecting on survival in the face of the cruelty of mankind. Seeing a movement in the corner of her eye, Brigid turned her head to see Omer standing by the side of the house, watching his wife with concern. Brigid signalled with a hand that all was fine. He nodded in gratitude and walked away. Omer knew that Bethel often needed space on the eve of their anniversary, to remember in silence those she’d lost. To remember those who had loved her before he met her. He also knew that later, when they shared the warmth of their bed, Bethel would need his strong arms as she tried once again to make peace with her past.
Bethel commented to Brigid, ‘Looks like they’ve caught that goat. So we should get supper on the table.’
‘We can do it in a little while. There’s no hurry. If you don’t mind me asking, did you see your son again?’
Bethel nodded. ‘I saw Jakub one more time. It was in the street outside our home. They had come for Casimir and me. We hardly had any time to gather warm clothing before they pushed us roughly onto the truck. Standing up there, pressed against my husband and too many of our neighbours, I noticed Jakub in the crowd below us. He was pushing people aside, trying to get to me. I knew Casimir had also spotted him, as he took my hand in his. I caught our son’s eye and shook my head. Jakub stopped. As the truck drove us apart, he mouthed, ‘I love you.’ His father and I silently sent our love to him, willing the tears to pause until our son was gone from our sight.’
‘I am so sorry, Bethel. He sounds like a son to be proud of.’
‘Yes, that and more. Although I was afraid when he joined the resistance, I was also proud of him. I do not know what happened to Jakub after that final sighting I will carry forever. Through the evil of those following years, every day I prayed he was safe. I still do. And I feel his presence. Do you think a mother knows if her child still walks the earth? I feel that, then I tell myself that is foolish.’
‘No, not at all. I believe we can feel loved ones
’ presence, even if their whereabouts are unknown.’
‘I’m not so sure about my husband. Although it hurts to say so, I believe Casimir did not survive the camps. We were separated, sent to different places. Once they discovered I was a trained nurse, I was given the job of keeping alive the few they considered of use. Those evil men and women did not value life, but some of them highly valued the pursuit of medical and scientific knowledge. They were cruel to doctors, scientists and inventors of weaponry. They also wanted them kept alive.
So they used me for my nursing skills, which meant my time in those camps was not as bad as most people experienced. I hoped, given his medical skills, my husband had at least the same conditions as I. Casimir had always been so determined and wilful, he would not have found it easy to comply. To take orders from demons. When those big chimneys started to spew out heavy ash…’
Brigid put an arm around her. The last bit of sunlight was extinguished as the women sat in silence under the olive tree.
On the way back from the mine, Brigid saw smoke rising in the distance.
‘Stop!’
‘Looks like Isabelle has returned,’ Omer remarked.
‘That’s not where she was camping before. Maybe it’s not her.’
Brigid peered anxiously out of the car window as Omer drove off the road and towards the campfire. As they got closer, they saw Isabelle standing near the fire, with her hunting dogs surrounding her. Isabelle didn’t pay them any attention as she continued to skin a large roo. After tossing scraps to the dogs, she stood and wiped her hands on her apron.
‘This isn’t far from your house. I can walk back later,’ Brigid said to Omer.
‘Make sure you head off well before dusk. Don’t want you falling down any old shafts in the dark.’
‘I’ll be careful,’ Brigid promised as she got out of the car.
She approached Isabelle hesitantly, keeping an eye on the dogs that growled and snapped at each other as they devoured the offal.
‘Don’t mind them,’ Isabelle called out.
Brigid walked around the dogs to get to her.
‘Is it tomorrow already?’ Isabelle said with a grin.
Brigid laughed. As Isabelle removed her bloodied apron and took her rifle inside, she indicated that Brigid should sit outside the makeshift shelter. She came back out and sat beside Brigid.
‘You shoot?’
Brigid nodded. ‘My grandparents taught me. I still have my grandfather Albert’s gun.’
‘How long you been walking?’ asked Isabelle, handing her a tin mug full of water.
‘Way before the girls were born. After my granny died, I left home. Mum had remarried when I was little. To Frank, a good man. I’ve got three younger brothers. I don’t know why, I just never felt close to any of them. Only my granny. She’d started to encourage me to travel, so when she was gone, it seemed the right thing to do.’
‘How did you find your other kin? Did your mother tell you where to go?’
‘She told me nothing. It’s hard to explain; something led me out there. Good thing I found that place, as the twins were ready to be born and I couldn’t walk any further.’
Two young girls ran over and placed plates of food in front of Isabelle and Brigid. After thanking the girls, they ate in silence.
When Isabelle had finished eating, she got up slowly, releasing a small groan. ‘These bones are giving me trouble lately.’
She went into her humpy and came out with a bottle. Sitting down again, she poured some whisky into her cup and offered the bottle to Brigid. The younger woman tipped out the remaining water from the mug she held, before refilling it with whisky.
Brigid took a sip before speaking. ‘Something also led me to Danny. A little bird. Where the desert meets the sea, I met Danny.’ She wiped away a tear.
Isabelle offered to top up her cup then said, ‘He told me about meeting you. I told Daniel that he’d been living not so far from the town where his parents first met. He didn’t believe me at first. Life is like that. Patterns. History. Stories. Mistakes. Whatever. It all just keeps on repeating.’
‘Did he talk about me much?’
‘All the time. Couldn’t shut him up some days.’
‘What did he say?’
Isabelle shared some of the conversations she’d had with her nephew, while Brigid soaked up the words, delving deep into her memories for a clear image of Danny. When the bottle lay empty in the dirt, Isabelle stood up. She whistled for her dogs and went to go inside her shelter.
Brigid stood up. ‘You’ve still not told me about the last time you heard from him.’
‘Tomorrow,’ replied Isabelle.
‘But…’
‘Tomorrow. Come back tomorrow. It’s getting dark, and you need to get walking.’
Brigid watched Isabelle disappear into her shelter, followed by her dogs. Reluctantly, Brigid walked away. She stopped when she heard a whistle. Turning back, she saw Isabelle.
‘Don’t forget to bring those girls with you tomorrow. They have cousins to play with. Much better they are here, with family, than under that white woman’s feet all the time.’
And then she was gone again.
Brigid walked across the rocky plain, towards the road. There was just enough light left for her to see the outline of the roughly tarred road that would lead her to Omer and Bethel’s house. Almost tripping, Brigid realised she was a little bit inebriated. It was so rare for her to drink that it was little wonder the whisky had gone straight to her head. Walking with more care, she made it to the road without falling. The moon was full, allowing her to see the road. Halfway to her destination, Brigid thought she heard giggling. She stopped, trying to locate where the sounds had come from. All she could see in the moonlight was piles of dirt left by mining operations, on both sides of the road. Suddenly, her surroundings looked eerie and unfamiliar.
She thought she heard distinct sounds of laughter, and they sounded close. Then she smelt smoke, and a tantalising smell of something cooking. Brigid walked towards where she thought the smells were coming from, and noticed sparks dancing.
‘Careful you don’t fall in a crater, sis.’
These words were followed by loud laughs, from what sounded like multiple people.
‘Don’t call her sis. That one is proper too good for us,’ said another voice.
Brigid blushed as she heard yet more laughter.
‘Leave her be, it’s not her fault. Being brought up as a little brown potato has made her a bit silly.’
Brigid kept walking, curious to find out who was talking, even if their words were hurtful. As she carefully manoeuvred her way around the many discarded mineshafts, Brigid felt she might as well be walking on the moon’s crater-littered surface, so alien did this landscape suddenly feel to her. She finally found the campfire and stood in the shadows, taking in the figures who sat in the firelight. Brigid counted seven people. All women, she noted with an embarrassed glance at their partially unclad state. As the firelight tickled bare skin, Brigid noticed they were very similar to each other in appearance. Like sisters, or cousins perhaps.
One woman smiled. ‘Come, sit. Don’t mind my sisters. They were just teasing. You’re welcome to join us.’
Brigid walked towards the circle of women, and sat in the gap created when two shifted over. She put her hands up, feeling the warmth of the fire. Brigid looked around, noticing they were all looking at her.
Nervously, she introduced herself. ‘I’m Brigid.’
‘We know,’ they all replied with one voice.
One of the younger women asked, ‘What did that bossy one tell you?’
Brigid said, ‘Sorry?’
As the others laughed, one remarked, ‘I’m pretty sure Isabelle has never even uttered a sorry.’
‘True. That one would never say that word, not for anything,’ remarked another.
‘She’d make you sorry though, if you ever crossed her.’ Brigid frowned in confusion, which made the wo
men laugh harder.
An older one said, ‘About your man, silly. What did Isabelle tell you about Danny?’
‘How do you know him?’
‘He was here once. Long time, now. We often saw him, late at night, standing on the shore of the ancient sea.’
‘He was silly lovesick, like you,’ laughed one woman, and the others burst into laughter again.
‘Good-looking fella. I was almost tempted. Almost,’ shared one as she flipped her hair back with a toss of her head.
‘As if he even noticed you.’
‘Aye, look out.’
The women continued their banter as Brigid gathered her thoughts. One of them handed her a leg of something. Brigid took it and tentatively bit into the warm meat. It was good. Really good. She ate it down to the bone, then started to feel sleepy.
‘Hey, you need to get moving. Those daughts are waiting for you,’ said one of the women.
Brigid sat up, alert once more. She noticed the women had covered themselves with cloaks of wallaby skin, and were gathering their belongings. The roasted roo they’d been sharing was now a big pile of bones.
One woman turned towards Brigid, and said softly, ‘You don’t need him, sis. You don’t need any man. Look at you, how far you’ve travelled. You can do whatever you set your mind to, so why set it on chasing a shadow?’
‘She been too lovestruck, that one.’
‘She been forgot who she is,’ affirmed another.
Another looked at Brigid, frowning. ‘She’s turned her back on the ancestors. Refuses to listen to Country. She only has herself to blame.’
‘I reckon she can hear them. How else do you think she got here?’
‘She only hears what she wants. Takes only what serves her purpose. Gives nothing back,’ replied the frowning woman.
‘True,’ said another, throwing dirt on the fire.
‘Perhaps she’d do better finding herself, and not chasing that man.’ Some sisters nodded and all started talking at once. Each one had a piece of advice for what she should be doing, could be doing.