by Di Morrissey
I thanked him for speaking up and sent a swift prayer of thanks to the Almighty that Reverend Mother had not been privy to any of this. But I confess, it had never occurred to me that the heathen race of wild blacks could have beliefs and a culture that might interest civilised people.
Our return journey was as uneventful but as difficult and uncomfortable as the outbound one had been, and Reverend Mother and I were pleased to be finally back in our familiar surroundings at St. Mary’s. So when I returned to my simple room and stood by my window looking at the familiar sight of the river stretching to the sea that also washes upon the shores of my homeland so far away, and heard the sweet voices of the girls singing in a nearby dormitory, I felt truly fortunate to have been called to do God’s work in this country that is older than time and whose secrets we have yet to learn.
May God bless you, my parents, and the Holy Mother protect you,
Your loving daughter,
Evangelista
Bella looked up. ‘Isn’t that just an amazing letter, Ned? Doesn’t it make you want to go to Maytown and see what’s there? Aren’t you a little bit curious to see what it’s like now? It’s still early, we could take some sandwiches and have a picnic.’
Ned had known he wouldn’t get much done while Bella was here. Besides, Sister Evangelista’s letter had piqued his curiosity too, and if Frederick’s display at the roadhouse was anything to go by, the place must be littered with the broken dreams of days gone by.
‘It’ll be damned hot, but okay, let’s hit the road. Maybe Maytown might give me some ideas, too.’
Ned wrapped up some sandwiches, two pieces of Theresa’s fruitcake and two large bottles of cold water in a cool bag and they set off, eventually following the rough, undulating dirt road that led to the former diggings in the sparse scrubland.
‘I cannot believe how dry the vegetation is out here,’ said Bella. ‘When you think of tropical Queensland, you think of the lush coastal area. This is quite different. Hard to grow much in this uninviting scrub.’
‘Just think what a journey it must have been for those prospectors to make, even with a horse or dray,’ said Ned.
‘They must’ve been keen,’ said Bella.
‘Gold fever. Quick riches. It would only take one person hitting pay dirt and the fuse would be lit. People would come from everywhere.’
‘Even China. It’s hard to imagine all those hundreds of hopeful Chinese, getting on boats to come to this hot and dry wilderness. What must they have thought when they found they had to walk into this?!’ wondered Bella.
‘You have to admire them. All of them.’
‘We have it soft in comparison, don’t we?’
They passed a small sign and stopped the car, got out and looked around. The unremarkable area was dotted with a few trees and bushes but not much identifying a town.
Bella glanced around and spotted a noticeboard at the top of a rise.
‘I think it’s up there,’ said Bella, as she pulled on a hat and her sunglasses. ‘There’s not a breath of air. Hope there’s some shade.’ She took off with Ned trailing behind her.
Ned wasn’t sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t the scene which actually spread before them.
There were no buildings to speak of, just a crumbling rubble of handmade brick foundations overgrown with grass and vegetation. A row of a few spindly trees marked the once bustling main street that was now reclaimed by the bush. The only real sign of the once-busy town was the slate marking the kerbs and guttering of the street. The hotels, shops and businesses that Sister Evangelista had described had seemingly evaporated under the relentless sun and by the passage of time.
‘There isn’t a thing here!’ cried Bella. ‘I saw the photographs in the museum and this was a busy town! Now there is nothing.’
‘It really is a ghost town,’ agreed Ned.
Bella picked up the long neck of a broken bottle. ‘I wonder what was in this? Beer probably. This looks like handmade glass.’ She put it back in the dirt where she had found it and walked on. ‘This place is so exposed. So barren and lonely. How isolated the prospectors must have felt.’
‘It seems that way now, but in its heyday we know it was buzzing.’
‘Here’s something.’ Bella leaned down to read a small sign. ‘This was the bakery, and I think that must have been the old oven.’ She indicated a pile of bricks and twisted iron partially buried under grass and rusting sheets of corrugated iron.
‘Look here,’ called Ned. ‘The newspaper office. The one that was mentioned in the letter.’
‘The Golden Age,’ replied Bella.
Ned scuffed his feet in the dirt and bent down, scooping up a handful of it. Scattered across his palm were a dozen small lead letters, fragments that indicated a compositor had once set rows of words and sentences to be inked and printed in order to tell the news of the day. Ned dropped them in his pocket.
‘Let’s go and see if we can find any of the mining camps that Sister Evangelista wrote about,’ he said.
They cut across the open empty scrubland to where some spindly trees sprouted throughout the quiet gullies.
Here, as they wandered around, exploring the remnants of the Maytown mines, they found massive rusting hulks of stampers and crushers, and a few shelters of old bricks, rotting logs and iron roofs that had housed the throbbing, thumping, powerful machines which had extracted gold from the surrounding rocks. Once the noise from these machines had echoed across the land, but now they were silent save for the forlorn rattle of loose tin stirred by a sudden warm breeze.
Further on they came to a small shack which someone had re-erected. It was filled with remnants of the mining camps: rusting food tins, old bottles, bits of unidentifiable equipment.
Subdued by the forlornness of the place, Ned and Bella turned from the gullies and made their way back to what had been the town. On its edge they came across a small neglected and overgrown cemetery. They walked silently amidst the forgotten graves, reading the weathered and broken headstones.
‘What a lonely place to spend eternity,’ said Ned softly.
Bella peered at the markers. ‘There are no Chinese buried here,’ she said.
‘No, I think their ashes would have been sent home in ceramic urns,’ Ned replied.
They walked a little further into some of the other gullies, circling back to where they had begun.
Bella fanned her flushed face. ‘Oppressive, isn’t it? That breeze didn’t last long. Well, I have to say I’m glad I came here, but in all honesty, I’m having second thoughts about being able to entice Chinese tourists to visit here. I mean, there’s not much to see.’ She glanced across the barren scrub, chewing her lip. ‘The Victorian goldfields – Ballarat, Bendigo, Castlemaine, Beechworth – all still have their beautiful buildings, built with the proceeds of their gold rushes, and the towns are still actually functioning. I mean, how would a place like this compare to somewhere like Sovereign Hill?’
Ned nodded. ‘This place would be on a hiding to nothing, added to which it’s very difficult to get to. Bella, I reckon if you want to promote the gold rushes to Chinese tourists, or any tourist for that matter, you’d be far better off doing it in your own backyard,’ said Ned reasonably.
Bella stared at him and looked away. ‘Hmm. This has been interesting, but as far as gold rushes go, Victoria has more to offer. There really is no comparison. But it doesn’t mean that the rest of Antony’s ideas lack substance,’ she said, lifting her chin. ‘Far North Queensland has some spectacular things for tourists to see and do. Sorry if I’ve wasted your time on the wild idea of Maytown, though.’
Ned smiled. Despite Bella’s disappointment, he’d enjoyed this excursion with her. ‘C’mon, let’s eat the sandwiches and then head back. It’s a good two hours’ drive before we can have a swim in our river.’
‘Yeah, that sounds like an excel
lent idea,’ Bella said as they turned back to the car. ‘And what are you planning for dinner tonight, chef?’
‘What say we fire up the pizza oven extravaganza?’
‘Super. And I’ll be hanging out for a glass of anything that’s really, really cold. This heat is totally draining,’ said Bella.
As they bumped back towards the river house, the car’s air conditioner separating them from the oppressive heat outside, Ned couldn’t help but think about the impermanence of what had once been a thriving community and which now had sadly disappeared into the silent and lonely landscape. The day with his sister had been a wonderful distraction for them both and for once they’d been able to hang out without arguing about their family situation. Spending time together was opening them back up to each other but Ned knew that another conversation about the dedication wouldn’t be far away. The closer they got to Carlo’s place, the more Ned realised that Bella’s quest for answers would mean that decisions would have to be made, but he hoped this would not include having to tell Bella the real reason for his refusal to return to Tennyson.
8
The drinking water tasted stale, the temperature stayed in the high thirties, the river flowed sluggishly and both Bella and Ned felt irritable most of the time.
It’s the heat, Bella chided herself after a spat with Ned over something small and silly. She was determined to stick it out with Ned in spite of the uncomfortable conditions because she was hoping for some kind of breakthrough with him.
Bella felt there had to be a reason for Ned’s reticence, his inability or unwillingness to articulate the feelings that had made him keep her at arm’s length for so long and were now making him stubborn about returning to Tennyson. It was beginning to trouble her deeply, for it seemed to Bella that if they didn’t rekindle their old rapport and be honest with each other then they would become polite and distant strangers and remain that way for the rest of their lives. Indeed, she’d almost welcomed the earlier snappish exchange as a sign that they could voice their own opinions, but as usual Ned had walked away before a proper discussion could eventuate. Bella was increasingly finding her brother’s refusal to engage with her very frustrating.
It was late in the afternoon and the sky was a mottled grey with dark green streaks flaring behind a low bank of clouds. The air was so oppressive that Bella decided she would only find relief by going for a swim. The river was low but being in the warm water was more comfortable than sitting in front of the fan or the air conditioner, which rattled and roared.
As her feet touched the sandy bottom heading back to the bank, she lifted her head and was startled to see a strange man who looked to be in his seventies sitting beside the table on the riverside terrace. He was smoking and looked very relaxed, almost as though he was at home. She swam to the bank and stepped from the water.
The man was rugged looking and had a proprietary air about him which she didn’t like. He stared at her with a smug smile on his face, making her feel uncomfortable.
‘Howdy. You the girlfriend, are you?’
‘No. I’m the sister. Who are you?’ she replied, hastily wrapping herself in a towel.
He got to his feet and stretched out his hand, still looking faintly amused as he eyed her up and down. ‘I’m Jack.’
Bella ignored the hand and, clutching the towel around her, barely able to keep her voice civil, asked indignantly, ‘And why are you here?’ The man’s self-satisfied familiarity made her instantly dislike him. Just who does he think he is? she thought to herself. How dare he look at me like that.
‘Ah, you’ve met Jack,’ Ned called out as he came down to the terrace carrying a glass of wine and two bottles of beer. ‘He’s driven over here for a visit.’
‘I see. Excuse me, I’ll go and get dressed.’ Bella turned and went up the steps to the house.
‘Come and have a drink when you’re ready,’ called Ned.
Once indoors, Bella peered surreptitiously at Ned and his visitor as they settled into their chairs. Ned didn’t seem surprised by Jack’s arrival; in fact, he had seemed really pleased to see him. Jack was obviously much older than they were, and the American’s manner annoyed her. She dried herself, threw on a cool loose shirt over some cotton shorts and went to the kitchen, where she grabbed some biscuits and cheese and joined the two men beside the river. She passed around the cheese platter, picked up her glass of wine and sat in her favourite chair.
‘Jack is my neighbour across the valley,’ said Ned by way of explanation.
‘Oh, right.’ Bella waited, then realised that no more details would be forthcoming, so she sipped her drink. Jack gave her a smile as he lifted his beer to his lips.
The men seemed relaxed, but Bella was uncomfortable and not just because of Jack’s presence. The air felt thick, there was no breeze and she could feel perspiration clinging to her face and body and trickling down her back. She turned to Jack and said rather pointedly, ‘You’re a long way from home.’
Jack didn’t respond immediately, slowly savouring his beer before saying, ‘You don’t have to make small talk. But to answer your assumption, ma’am, the United States of America is not my home. I might be from there, but I’m not of there. This place, Far North Queensland, is my home.’
‘I was told the far north is the country of last resort and not to ask questions,’ replied Bella.
‘You got it, miss,’ said Jack easily.
‘Bella, just relax. Have another biscuit and cheese,’ said Ned.
But Bella wasn’t mollified. ‘No wonder you’re friends with my brother. You both seem to be strong silent types. Don’t say what you really think under any circumstances.’ She fanned herself but the heat felt incessant. ‘Come to think of it, that must be a male thing. Men! You can’t live with them and you can’t shoot them,’ she said flippantly. ‘My ex-boyfriend Brendan is just as bad. He doesn’t criticise, doesn’t argue, just sits on the fence saying things like, “You decide what you think is best for you”.’
‘Smart fellow,’ said Jack affably.
‘Bella, if Brendan dared to tell you how to run your life, you’d eat him for breakfast,’ said Ned mildly.
Bella suddenly rounded on her brother. ‘Why do you insist on making me sound like such a bitch, Ned? Because you can’t make hard decisions yourself?’
Ned rolled his eyes. ‘Geez, Bella, would you back off? My life is just fine, thanks. That is, it was until you barged in trying to redirect everyone. Just because people don’t do what you think they should do, doesn’t mean they’re at fault and you’re always right.’
‘Well, not everyone thinks of themselves first, like you do,’ snapped Bella. She pressed her drink to the side of her face in an effort to cool herself, but it seemed to have no effect.
‘Oh, I so miss family life,’ said Jack as he rolled his eyes.
Bella ignored him. ‘Ned, you should be thinking of Mum and not just yourself.’
They glared at each other and Jack leaned back, unperturbed. ‘Ah, so are you the favoured son?’ he said to Ned.
Bella turned to Jack. ‘Actually, he’s the only son. Which is our business, not yours.’
‘Bella!’ interjected Ned. ‘Take it easy. Sorry, Jack.’
Jack lifted a hand. ‘It’s okay.’ He turned to Bella and she felt the full force of his intense gaze and knew instinctively that he was not a man to trifle with. He might be a lot older than she was, but he was tough, and clearly he didn’t suffer fools – and probably women – gladly.
‘You’re right. What happens between you and Ned is none of my business. But remember this, Miss Bella, you have a mother and a brother. I have no family. My fault. I’ve seen too much. I did what I had to do and then some, and I’m not proud of everything I did. I lost the family I had because of the wars I was fighting. I learned too late that waving the flag in grand and righteous wars is all a great con. Wars are there
just to make money for the rich while the rest of us pay the price.’ He shrugged. ‘Like I said, I saw too much.’
‘So that’s why you’ve buried yourself out here?’ said Bella, startled by his outburst.
‘Bella, leave it alone. Stop attacking people.’ Ned turned to Jack. ‘Ignore her.’
‘Miss Bella can say and think whatever she likes. I like people who speak their minds,’ said Jack placidly.
Bella opened her mouth to speak but Ned beat her to it. ‘She’s trying to figure out how to bring hordes of Chinese tourists to this part of the world,’ said Ned, clearly trying to change the subject.
At that moment a flash of lightning ripped across the horizon.
‘Aha.’ Jack studied the sky for a moment. ‘Too bad it’s not the real thing. Only a dry storm. No rain, everything tinder dry, so the lightning strikes start bloody bushfires. Welcome to the mango season.’
‘What’s that mean?’ asked Bella.
‘It’s what the locals call the build-up to the rainy season, when the weather becomes really oppressive and everyone waits for the wet to start. People work on automatic, trying to keep their moods and emotions in check and not get into fights. Once the first rain comes, it’s a relief, time for a drink and to wait for the follow-up rain to cool things down.’ Jack got up. ‘But these dry storms are worth watching. Even if they don’t bring any immediate relief, they promise better times ahead. Ned, this calls for a proper drink. I’ll get some of that bourbon, okay?’
‘Of course, go ahead . . . Oh, bugger, Jack, I forgot. We’re out of bourbon.’
‘You mean you’ve started drinking like a real man, Ned?’ Jack lifted an eyebrow, but Ned looked uncomfortable and didn’t seem to want to explain himself in front of Bella.
‘Come up to the bar and see what else Carlo’s got. I’ve sort of been cleaned out.’ Ned hurried up the steps to the house, followed by Jack at a more leisurely pace.
Bella sat for a moment, thinking about Jack. She thought he was arrogant, and his use of all that American idiom for effect, as though he was sending himself up, really irritated her. Bella sipped the last of her wine and decided to get another glass.