by Judy Nunn
May felt the reassuring pressure of the girl’s hands and heard the force of her words, and she looked up to meet the determination in Jess’s eyes. She was impressed by this show of strength and maturity in one so young. Jess can’t be more than eighteen, she thought. Where does this strength come from?
‘Tell me about your brothers, Aunty May,’ Jess urged, keen to learn of her mother’s family, but keen also to distract May from her turmoil. ‘Mum said she had two brothers who were a lot older.’
‘Yeah, that’s right, Archie and Leo, gone now, both of them.’ Successfully distracted, May’s tone was again practical. It served no purpose to dwell upon the past, not now when her niece needed information. I’ll think about Rose later, she told herself. Yes, that’s it. I’ll think about Rose and she’ll come to me and we’ll talk and I’ll tell her I’m sorry.
Buoyed by the thought, she continued. ‘Leo died as a young man, an accidental death, racing with a mate in revved-up cars. He was a wild one, Leo. Archie died a few years back, fifty he was, same age as my husband, Ken, who went around the same time. That was sad, losing a brother and a husband in just one year. Good men, Archie and Ken, too young to go.’ She gave a shake of her head then brightened considerably as she added, ‘But Archie’s son and family live here, and my son and his lot, so that’s good. And my daughter and her mob stay whenever they’re in town, she and her husband live up Katherine way, so there’s always a crowd, lots of grandkids. I like that.’
They were interrupted as if on cue by the arrival of Millie and the boys, who lined up to be introduced.
‘These are my grandchildren, Millie and Jack,’ May said, ‘and this is one of my brother’s grandsons, Bobby.’
Jess proffered her hand and as they shook all around May made the official announcement with pride. ‘This is my sister Rose’s daughter, Jessica. Say hello to your Aunty Jess.’
‘Hello, Aunty Jess,’ all three chorused and Millie gave a sort of bob as if to royalty.
‘All right, you can go now.’
The boys charged off to return to their footy practice, but Millie dawdled away, casting lingering looks over her shoulder, praying she’d be asked to stay.
‘Next time, Millie,’ May said, ‘next time your Aunty Jess comes to visit you can stay and talk, but not now.’
Millie cast a regretful glance at her aunty from the city, obviously doubting she’d ever see her again.
‘I’ll come back, Millie,’ Jess said. ‘I’ll come back, I promise and when I do we’ll talk you and me, a very special talk, just the two of us.’
Millie smiled the prettiest of smiles, she was a very pretty girl, and there was a skip in her step as she went happily on her way.
‘She’s a good girl,’ May said. ‘They’re all good. I got six grandkids living here and they don’t cause trouble, even the boys. Not out there sniffing petrol or paint stripper or whatever they can get their hands on like some of the others. My lot go to school,’ she said with inordinate pride. ‘I make sure they do, take them there myself every day. Their own parents don’t bother, too busy drinking.’ Her face hardened. ‘Not fair on the kids, they’ll end up going the same way. Not fair.’
May’s stern expression was confronting and Jess wasn’t sure what she should say.
‘Where are the rest of the family?’ she asked.
‘Gone into Alice for the day,’ May gave a shrug, pretending she didn’t care, ‘probably on the grog. Soon as the government money comes in it goes on the drink.’ Her mood remained stern. ‘Trouble is it’s the school holidays and they’ve taken the rest of the kids with them. Jack and Bobby only stayed home cos they wanted to muck about with the football: they’re both footy mad. I won’t have it,’ she said, a ferocious gleam in her eyes. May could be fearsome. ‘If that lot come home drunk the kids can stay, but I won’t have the parents here in this house, not with the grog in them. They can sleep in the streets and get picked up by the police, I don’t care …’
May’s tirade continued, but Jess sensed the sadness that lurked beneath the woman’s rage. Eventually May herself conceded that her anger was born of despair.
‘Archie and Ken were good men,’ she went on to explain when her anger had abated to be replaced by frustration, ‘proud men, fine examples to their sons. But their sons don’t have the same pride. Their sons are broken men and their sons’ women aren’t much better. I feel a bit sorry for the women,’ she admitted in a rare moment of honesty – as a rule she had little time for her daughter-in-law and her nephew’s wife, both of whom she considered weak. ‘They should have stood up for themselves, but they didn’t. They thought the easy way out was to get drunk with their men, but it only brings on the fights and then they get bashed.’
May downed her tea, which was thoroughly cold by now, but having someone intelligent with whom to discuss her predicament so distracted her that she didn’t notice.
‘Things should have got better when the rights to our land were handed over,’ she continued. ‘That was a proud time for us all. But things didn’t get better. Things seemed to go even more wrong after that. People didn’t care the way they should have, not around here anyway. They were greedy, only wanting whatever they could get out of the government. This is a sad place, Jess, so many lost people. No pride left, nothing to live for but the grog, what sort of life’s that?’ May was well and truly warming to her theme now. ‘And that’s the problem, see, they don’t know what they want out of life. They don’t know what’s on offer.’
She gave the table an alarmingly loud thump, startling Jess. ‘That’s why my lot go to school,’ she announced. ‘My lot go to school because school’s the answer. Education,’ she declared triumphantly as if unveiling a great hidden truth. ‘Education!’ she repeated, daring Jess to differ. ‘That’s the answer.’
Jess smiled. May was clearly accustomed to haranguing others on the subject. ‘I can’t argue with you there,’ she said.
Her niece’s agreement would have pleased May immensely had she heard it, but she was so wound up again that she didn’t. ‘You don’t have to be educated yourself to know it’s the answer for the new generation,’ she went on passionately. ‘I’m not educated – I left school when I was thirteen and even I know.’
‘Yes, but you’re wise, Aunty May.’
May stopped abruptly, realising she’d been on her soapbox, as she so often was, and it occurred to her that Jess was the last person she needed to lecture about education. Jess was from the city. She’s probably had a real good schooling, May thought, past thirteen, I’ll bet. ‘How far did you go with your education, Jess?’
‘I’m only just about to begin really.’
‘Eh?’ May was confused. ‘I start uni next month.’
‘Uni? University, you mean?’
‘That’s right.’
‘You got to be joking.’ May’s incredulity was bordering on comical. ‘Rose’s girl going to university?’
Jess laughed. ‘Yes, Rose’s girl going to university.’ There was a lengthy pause, May successfully rendered speechless. ‘Don’t you want to know what I’ll be studying?’
‘Yeh, course I do.’ Does it matter? May wondered as she relished what was surely the proudest moment of her life. Rose’s girl is going to university – does it matter what she’s studying?
‘I’m going to study us, Aunty May. I’m going to study our people. And when I’ve graduated I’m going to use my studies to help our people.’ It was Jess who was now passionate: May had lent her inspiration. ‘I’m not sure exactly how I’ll help, perhaps I’ll become a teacher, I don’t know, but I’ll work with our people.’
‘How do you mean you’ll study us?’ May was still pondering the words, mystified. Reading and writing and arithmetic, she could understand, but how did you study people?
‘I’ll learn about our history from way, way back,’ Jess explained, ‘and I’ll learn our languages …’
‘You already speak our language.’
�
�Only one of them,’ Jess said. ‘Only Western Arunta, and I don’t even speak that particularly well.’
‘You speak it good enough for me,’ May said firmly, then she smiled, gladdened by the sudden realisation. ‘So even living in the city with a whitefella husband Rose brought you up speaking our lingo. That’s real good, that is.’
‘Yes. Dad wanted her to teach me, he even speaks a bit himself –’ Jess came to a halt. ‘Oh hell,’ she said, suddenly reminded of the fact that her father was waiting outside in the car. ‘I have to go, Aunty May.’ She stood.
‘What’s the matter?’ May also stood. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Dad. He’s waiting outside.’
‘What?!’ May was appalled. ‘You left him out there all this time?’
‘I forgot,’ Jess admitted sheepishly.
‘God, girl, it’s a hundred and ten in the shade out there!’ May had never converted to the metric system. For practical purposes she recognised dollars and cents, but when it came to the rest, particularly measurements and temperatures, she was intransigent. A mile was a mile and a hundred and ten degrees was hot. ‘You can’t leave a whitefella from the city hanging around in that sort of heat!’
‘He’s in the car and it’s got air-con,’ Jess countered hopefully, but her aunt was already heading for the front door. She followed.
Outside, May made a beeline for the four-wheel drive, where the white man was sitting behind the wheel, the door open, but the engine running and the air-conditioning turned on.
Toby saw the large black woman charging towards him, Jess in her wake. He turned off the engine and got out of the car.
Coming to a halt in front of the white man, May didn’t wait for Jess to join them and make the introduction. ‘I’m Rose’s sister, May,’ she said, offering her hand.
‘I’m Rose’s husband, Toby,’ he said, and they shook.
But the handshake wasn’t enough for May. She gathered him in her bear-like embrace and Toby returned the hug with a wink to Jess. The meeting had obviously gone well.
Upon parting, May’s eyes remained linked with Toby’s and her hands retained a firm grip on his shoulders, refusing to relinquish contact. ‘You got a fine daughter here, brother,’ she said.
‘You are right, sister. I am proud for father such a daughter.’
His mispronunciation didn’t bother May in the least. She was delighted by her brother-in-law’s use of her language. ‘That’s pretty good,’ she said, ‘I’m impressed,’ and she hugged him all over again.
Watching the two on that day all those years ago, Jess had had the distinct feeling she knew what her father was thinking, and that it wasn’t of her at all, but rather of Rose. She’d been quite sure he was thinking that Rose, through her daughter, was finally being reunited with her family. Later, when they’d conferred, Toby had told her she was right.
Jess dropped the aunties off in town at the northern end of Todd Mall as requested.
‘I’ll be in touch in a few days after I’ve seen the surveyor boss,’ she promised. She was to travel north to Ti Tree the following day to meet the team that was working on the southern leg of the railway corridor from Tennant Creek to Alice Springs; it had recently arrived with all its attendant heavy machinery. She would allay any fears the local community might have and check on the welfare of newly employed Aboriginal workers.
After waving goodbye to the aunties through the open car window she continued along Wills Terrace, down the slope of the riverbank, across the dry bed and up the other bank to the eastern side of the Todd where the terrace then became Undoolya Road. Needless to say, on those rare occasions when the Todd River was in full flood and a raging torrent, the Wills Terrace crossing was non-existent. Pedestrians could avail themselves of the footbridge certainly, but vehicles could cross the river only via the main bridge at the other end of town.
As she drove Jess’s mind was still on Aunty May, recalling another visit she’d made to Hermannsburg a whole six years later and how different it had been. Well of course it was different, she thought, I was with Roger. There’d been no relationship between them at the time other than that of tutor and student, heaven forbid! The mere thought that there might be one day would have shocked her back then. But she’d certainly idolised him. Professor Roger Macready was idolised by all his students.
She recalled how she’d felt embarrassed when Roger had insisted on taking photographs of her with her family. She hadn’t known exactly why she’d felt embarrassed, Roger was only doing what anthropologists did, surely, she’d told herself, but it had felt wrong somehow.
That visit to Aunty May’s should have warned me, she thought, I should have read the signs, how naive I was … Then the cautionary voice in her brain activated and she forced Roger’s image aside the way she regularly had over these past several years. I really must go and see Aunty May, she told herself, her thoughts having served as a timely reminder, it’s been a whole two months and she’s not getting any younger.
She turned into the driveway of the block of flats where she lived, a pleasant collection of single-storey apartments, old-fashioned in style, strung out in a row rather like a country motel, hers the one at the western end. She drove around the back to the parking area and, pulling up at the bay reserved for her, gave Roger one last thought. Oh well, I must certainly thank him for the flat.
The provision of the flat had been very generous given the short duration of their marriage. She hadn’t asked for a thing from the divorce, but when Roger had discovered that she’d accepted a long-term contract requiring a move to Alice Springs, he’d arranged the purchase of the flat, sight unseen, via one of his many contacts there. She had to acknowledge now that she was grateful
Jess was very fond of her modest little two-bedroom apartment. It was attractive and, being a short walk over the footbridge into town, conveniently situated, but most of all it was a safe haven a long way away from Roger Macready.
She unlocked the front door and stepped inside to a pleasant open-plan sitting room and kitchenette. The window above the sink looked out over the street and its acacia trees, and the ones to the side offered glimpses of the red gums that towered majestically over the river. Only glimpses indeed, but so very Alice.
Dumping her backpack on the sofa, she poured herself a glass of water, downing it as she went through to the bedroom. She started stripping off her gear: a shower first, then she’d walk over the footbridge and meet up with whichever group of mates was having a drink at the Todd Tavern. There was always a bunch of them there after work, an eclectic mix. They might be colleagues from the Central Lands Council or from the temporary office that had been set up by APT, or they might be others who were in local business. Jess had a wide circle of friends in Alice Springs, both black and white.
But she wouldn’t go on to dinner as she often did. Just one drink with the gang, she decided, then she’d come home, have a snack and get an early night. She’d have to be up at the crack of dawn. Ti Tree, close to two hundred kilometres north, was not considered a long drive at all by desert standards, but she wanted to be there early. Meeting with the community elders was always a lengthy procedure and after checking on the locally employed Aboriginal workers, she’d need to chase up the surveyor as she’d promised the aunties she would. The surveying team was bound to be somewhere south of Ti Tree, blazing a trail well ahead of the workers and their heavy machinery. She would have to seek the surveyor out separately and that would take extra time.
Tomorrow promises to be a big day, Jess thought, as she stepped into the shower.
CHAPTER SIX
Matt Witherton had been steadily working his way south for the past eight months. As Senior Surveyor employed on the construction of the railway corridor from Tennant Creek to Alice Springs, he led a four-man team comprising Assistant Surveyor, two junior assistants and a machine operator for land-clearing purposes where necessary. A new machine operator together with the bulldozer was recruited from each donga towns
hip – generator-driven and with all modern facilities – that sprang up every hundred kilometres or so along the route in order to house the workers and teams of experts required to create the massive corridor with its bridges, culverts and roadworks. The reconnaissance surveying team, although operating well in advance of the rest of the workers, was also housed at the donga camp, the men returning at the end of each day’s work.
For the past decade or more Matt had chosen to work in remote locations and was an acknowledged expert in his field, but the Ghan was undoubtedly the most stimulating challenge he’d yet encountered. Other experts had quickly come to the same conclusion. In fact the teams of surveyors, engineers and designers employed on the various sections of the corridor had encountered such ever-changing conditions and in such remote terrain that inventiveness had become essential. From the outset they’d adopted a pioneering approach. This was the Northern Territory after all: wild, uncharted land. Surely better to use what was available and make decisions on the spot than to rely upon supplies and solutions from far-distant sources unfamiliar with the topography. This laissez-faire attitude infuriated the bureaucratic superiors in the city, often arousing friction and causing trouble for those who chose to ‘bend the rules’.
Matt enjoyed both the challenge and the freedom his work on the Ghan offered. Coupled with his love of the desert, he had to admit that this was possibly the most stimulating and enjoyable job he’d ever had – until a fortnight back anyway. A fortnight back trouble had arrived in the form of Gavin Johnstone.
Gavin Johnstone was the new machine operator recruited from the donga camp that had recently been set up not far from the small outback town of Ti Tree. Gav had been surly and uncooperative from the start and Matt had at first assumed it was because he didn’t wish to be assigned to the surveying team, but would have preferred instead to remain one of the crew involved with the heavy earthworks. Having always considered a harmonious relationship between his team members essential, Matt had been quite happy to offer the man an escape route.