by Judy Nunn
‘I’ll be there. What time should I turn up?’
‘Late afternoon – she wants to have a cuppa with you. I’ll let her have a good long sleep after lunch. The medication makes her tired and I don’t want her too worn out to enjoy the sunset with us. She’s really looking forward to that.’
‘I’ll be there at four o’clock.’
‘She said don’t forget the biscuits.’
‘I won’t.’
They could still hear the smiles in each other’s voices as Jess hung up the phone.
May’s health had plummeted dramatically over the past several weeks. Tests had revealed pancreatic cancer, a diagnosis which May herself had taken very much in her stride.
‘The doctors are talkin’ surgery and chemotherapy and things,’ she’d told Jess, ‘but nah,’ she’d scoffed. ‘I don’ want any of that stuff. Time’s up. I’ll say my goodbyes and be off soon.’
Millie’s call had not been unexpected.
‘G’day love, come on in.’
Millie ushered Jess into the little back bedroom where May sat bolstered up by pillows receiving her guests like royalty.
‘Good to see you.’ May held her spindly arms out wide and Jess walked into the hug, bending to embrace the frail body. She’d been shocked by her aunt’s weight loss during her last visit, and now only a fortnight later the once burly frame seemed to have withered away to nothing.
‘G’day, Aunty May.’
‘I’ll bring in the tea; it’s all ready,’ Millie said and disappeared.
‘My angel she is,’ May gazed lovingly after her granddaughter, ‘my own personal angel and a tower of strength, that girl. She’s the one’ll lead this family when I’m gone. Take a seat, Jess.’
Jess sat in the only chair, a rickety hardback that was pulled up beside the bed to accommodate the visitors who’d arrived to pay homage, one by one, throughout the morning. Millie had intermittently ushered family members in for brief meetings, monitoring the time in order not to overtax her grandmother. She’d been given strict instructions, however, regarding Jess. ‘Leave Jess till last,’ she’d been told, ‘after I’ve had my nap when I’m good and fresh. I want a cuppa and a chat with Jess.’
‘Glad I got myself prepared,’ May said with a smile bordering on smug, ‘they’re all lined up in the spirit world ready and waiting to give me the big welcome – pretty good, eh?’
‘Yes, pretty good, Aunty May.’
May’s smile faded as she reverted to Western Arunta, she was in deadly earnest now. ‘You know the best thing you ever did, girl?’ The question was obviously rhetorical so Jess waited for the answer. ‘The best thing you ever did was to come home and find your family. Family is who you are, Jess. We’re who you are and we’re where you come from, the good and the bad of us, you need to know that.’
Jess nodded, again aware no answer was required, and again waiting for her aunt to continue, but the door opened and there was Millie with the tray, perched upon it two mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits.
May’s withered face cracked into a grin as Millie placed the tray on the bedside table. ‘Ah good girl, Jess, you remembered the biccies. Chocolate chip too,’ she said, then with a nod to her granddaughter: ‘Thanks, Millie love.’
Without uttering a word Millie crossed back to the door.
‘Aren’t you joining us?’ Jess asked.
‘No, thanks.’ Millie turned and gave the slightest shake of her head. She’d blossomed into an attractive young woman fulfilling the prettiness of her childhood, but it was her assurance that most impressed. There was an air of quiet command about Millie. ‘No, I’ll leave you two to it.’ Her look told Jess everything that needed to be said. ‘Aunty May is making her personal goodbye speech to you, Jess,’ is what Millie’s look said.
She left, closing the door quietly behind her. Aunty May had been making a personal goodbye speech to every single member of the family, as was befitting her position as elder. Millie knew that such moments were precious and demanding of respect.
Determined to make the most of what little strength she had left, May ignored the tea and biscuits and continued directly from where she’d left off.
‘You told me a long time back you’d studied our people at university,’ she said, ‘our history and our culture and languages, that’s what you said. Well that’s good,’ May nodded approvingly, ‘education and learning’s good. You probably know more about our people than we do ourselves,’ she added in all seriousness, albeit with a smile. ‘But there’s something you can’t learn from books, Jess, something that comes from here,’ bony fist tapped emphatically on bony chest, ‘from right here, deep inside. Family gives you that. Family’s real important. You know what I’m saying?’
‘Yes, Aunty May, I know what you’re saying and I agree. You’re right. The best thing I ever did was to come home and find my family. I’m a much stronger person for having done so.’ It’s true, Jess thought, it’s most certainly true.
‘Righto,’ May reverted to English, ‘time for tea and biccies, that’s tired me out that has.’ Jess passed her aunt a mug of tea and May took one of the biscuits from the plate she was offered. ‘Your turn now,’ she said. ‘Tell me all about what’s going on in your life and don’t worry if I doze off. Just wake me in time for the sunset.’
Jess talked about things in general. May was particularly interested to hear about the progression of the rail corridor, which was now not far from Alice Springs. ‘They’ll be laying track early next year,’ Jess said, ‘or at least so I’m told.’
But before long May’s eyelids were drooping, the mug still three quarters full resting in her lap, the biscuit, which had received one brief dunk and one small nibble only, clasped in her other hand. Her appetite was so diminished she couldn’t eat biscuits anyway. The request for them had been merely an act of bravado, but she’d so enjoyed seeing them on the plate.
Jess gently took the mug and the biscuit from her aunt’s hands and sat watching as May dozed off.
Less than ten minutes later the door quietly opened and Millie put her head around it to take in the scene.
‘Didn’t mean to interrupt,’ she said apologetically, ‘but I was pretty sure she’d be asleep by now: she doesn’t last long these days. Come out and join us, Jess. Evie and the girls have made chicken sandwiches. We’re going to have our tea early while we wait for the sunset.’ When Jess cast an uncertain glance at her aunt, Millie added, ‘She won’t want to eat anything and she’ll sleep until we wake her.’
Jess joined the others crowded into the front room, fifteen in all, sitting cross-legged on the bare floor or squatting on sleeping bags, sipping from mugs of tea and chattering among themselves as platters of sandwiches were handed around. There was May’s son and nephew with their spouses and children, grown now, including young Jack, who’d flown up from Adelaide that morning. There was May’s daughter, Eve, and her husband and their three children, also grown, who’d driven throughout the night and day from Katherine over a thousand kilometres to the north. The clan had gathered in force to say their goodbyes.
The tone was respectful. There was no alcohol present, even the heaviest drinkers among them abstaining that day. The family’s general mood, however, was not one of gloom, but rather of sharing. There were smiles and spatters of laughter as, in their own language, two generations exchanged stories of misdemeanours that had incurred the wrath of Aunty May. ‘Do you remember when …’ led from one tale to another, and Jess, sitting there watching and listening and laughing along with them, felt very much a part of it all.
Shortly before sunset, Jack and his cousin Bobby lifted May’s special armchair out into the street, positioning it perfectly where she’d have the best view. Then five minutes later Millie and Eve fetched May herself, rugged up against the cold in her favourite cardigan. They supported her between them, May determined to walk.
Once she was seated upon her throne, the family gathered around her, some squatting in the du
st and others standing, but all silently watching as the rays of the setting sun slowly painted the sky.
Jess found herself casting furtive glances at May. The look of rapture on her aunt’s face was hypnotic. But after a little while she concentrated upon the sky as the others were doing, it seemed disrespectful to intrude upon May’s connection with the universe.
At the very peak of the sunset’s beauty someone finally spoke and the voice was May’s, clearly and loudly addressing the family as a whole.
‘I’ll be part of that,’ she said, her gaze still focused upon the sky, ‘I’ll be a part of that every single day.’
The announcement was extraordinarily effective, as had been May’s intention. Everyone present knew they would never again look at a sunset without being in the presence of Aunty May.
They went back inside half an hour later while the sky was still gently aglow; it was cold and May was ready to go to sleep.
Eve and Millie put her to bed, but when they returned to the front room, Millie whispered in Jess’s ear. ‘She wants to see you, Jess. Pop in and say goodbye.’
Jess approached the bed quietly, May appeared asleep and she didn’t want to disturb her. But the black eyes sprang open, still startling in their intensity.
‘I’ll say hello to your mum for you, Jess,’ she said. ‘I’m lookin’ forward most of all to seein’ Rose. You go on home now, love. No need to hang around. I’m glad you came.’
Jess wasn’t sure what to say. ‘Goodbye, Aunty May.’ What else was there?
‘Goodbye, love.’
She crossed to the door, but the voice, although a little weaker, still reached her clearly as she opened it.
‘You belong real well in two worlds, Jess, and that’s something to be proud of. Not many do. I’m right proud of you myself, I must say, and I know Rose is too.’
‘Thanks, Aunty May.’
‘Go on home now, there’s a good girl.’
May closed her eyes and Jess quietly stole away.
But she didn’t go home. She stayed with the family, talking and drinking more cups of tea and eating biscuits and potato crisps from the packets the younger ones had bought from the grocery shop earlier that day. Then she curled up in a spare sleeping bag in the corner of the little bedroom shared by the unmarried girls of the clan. The only single female member not present was Millie. Millie was keeping a vigil by May’s bedside.
Sleep evaded Jess that night, not through physical discomfort, she was a good sleeper under any conditions as a rule, but because her mind was running riot.
It was well after two in the morning when she crept through the cottage, the sleeping bag blanketed around her shoulders, past her aunt’s bedroom door and outside to sit on the porch step looking at the moonlit backyard, May’s words about the importance of family still echoing in her mind.
She thought of her mother, of how Rose had had no family and how that loss of identity and belonging had destroyed her. And she thought of herself. What of her own life? What might have happened had she stayed in Sydney in the artificial bubble of Roger’s world? She, too, would have been destroyed. But most of all her thoughts were of Matt. Matt and his father Dave were uppermost in Jess’s mind as May’s words echoed like a mantra.
‘Family is who you are, Jess. We’re who you are and we’re where you come from, the good and the bad of us, you need to know that.’
Surely Matt and his father need to know that, she thought. There’s too much mystery surrounding their past. Surely they need to discover the truth, to find out who they really are.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting there. Huddled up in the sleeping bag she must have dozed off, for the first hint of dawn was in the sky when Millie stepped outside.
‘She’s gone.’ Millie sat beside her on the porch step. ‘Slipped away in her sleep, didn’t wake up.’
Jess took the girl’s hand. Even in the half-light she could see the glisten of tears. ‘Aunty May willed herself to go, Millie, just as she said she would.’
Millie nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and Jess draped the sleeping bag about her shoulders to ward off the cold, gently pulling her close and cuddling her as she might a child. For all Millie’s strength it was only natural she would be bereft. Her grandmother had been the one solid thing in her world, the person who had been an anchor throughout her entire life.
Millie allowed herself to be cuddled, even giving in to a brief silent weep. Then she gathered herself and pulled away.
‘Thanks, Jess,’ she said, ‘I needed a bit of that.’
‘You’re the new leader now, Millie. You’ll take up the baton and lead the next generation.’
‘I know.’ Millie smiled. ‘That was Aunty May’s goodbye speech to me.’
They sat quietly together watching the sun’s first rays appear over the horizon. Then Millie stood. ‘I’ll let them know now,’ she said.
They embraced each other and Jess left the family to grieve, driving back to Alice Springs through a glorious sunrise.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Aunty May’s burial was an eclectic affair involving various funerary practices, as was often the case with highly respected elders. Word was relayed and many travelled from other communities to join the family and those at Hermannsburg for a traditional send-off. There was the chant of mourning songs and the performances of ritual dances, with the male members of the family painted white, the clicking of many sticks and the haunting dirge of the didgeridoo. There was the smoking ceremony, selected native plants ignited to smoulder and waft among the guests, cleansing the air and helping the spirit on its way to join the Ancestral Beings. And after all due ceremony had been observed May was given a Christian burial in the Hermannsburg Cemetery, the service conducted by the Aboriginal pastor of the Bethlehem Lutheran Church, a man with whom she had been well acquainted. For practical purposes May had always paid great respect to the church, believing her position in the community dictated she should, but even the pastor knew she had never converted, that her beliefs were purely blackfella.
‘It was a great send-off, Dad,’ Jess said to her father over the phone after a full account of the proceedings. ‘I wish you’d been here,’ she added regretfully.
‘I wish I had too.’ Toby’s voice held a distinctly critical edge. ‘You should have told me. I would have dropped everything and come up, you know I would’ve.’
‘Yes,’ Jess felt duly chastised, ‘and I know Aunty May would have loved you being there too; she often talked of her “white brother”. But everything happened so quickly, Dad. She just decided to die and that was that.’
Toby wished he hadn’t sounded critical. He could hear the faintest echo of something wistful in his daughter’s voice. What was it? An ache, a need? Something was wrong. ‘I can cancel my recording sessions and come up now if you like,’ he said, playing it cool, not sounding alarmist; the call was Jess’s after all, but God how he’d love to see her. He missed his daughter and thought of her constantly, but he would never intrude. His pride in her achievements and the success of her life outweighed his personal need for her company.
‘No.’ Jess’s decision was instant. ‘Don’t come to Alice; I’ll come to you.’ Her father had read her correctly. Jess ached to pour everything out, to share all the secrets of the past several months, and the only person she could pour it all out to was Toby. There was no-one else in whom she could place her complete trust. ‘I’ll arrange a few days off in a week or so and fly down to Sydney – okay with you?’
‘Sure, why not?’ The response came back in Toby’s typically laid-back Irish style, but he was having trouble disguising his elation.
‘I’ll give you a ring when I’ve made my plans.’
‘Right you are then.’ After hanging up the receiver Toby let out an almighty whoop of joy, startling Ringo, the five-year-old Cairns terrier/blue-heeler/cocker spaniel/‘whatever-else’ cross he’d recently rescued from the pound. Jess hadn’t met Ringo yet, but the dog was
just the sort of scruffy, mongrel-mix she adored and Toby couldn’t wait to introduce them.
Jess’s plans were slightly delayed, however, by a further unexpected decision that seemed to pop up out of nowhere.
It was just several days later, the following Saturday, when she’d agreed to meet Matt for lunch at the Tavern.
‘Only a couple of weeks to go,’ he said, digging into his steak. ‘It’ll be coming up to nail-biting time shortly.’
‘What will?’ She’d been thinking of something else.
‘The contractors arriving at the detour …?’ His reminder was heavily laced with irony – how could she possibly have forgotten? But he could tell she was distracted, she hadn’t even started to tackle her steak. He wondered what was on her mind, but decided not to ask. She’d get around to it in time. Jess always spoke her mind and he was happy to wait.
He didn’t need to wait long. Jess took just one mouthful of her Scotch fillet, chewed thoughtfully for a while, then after swallowing seemed to forget her meal altogether as she launched into the topic that had remained uppermost in her mind since Aunty May’s death.
‘Don’t you ever think about your family’s history, Matt?’ she asked. ‘Don’t you ever wonder where you come from?’
Ah, so that’s it, he thought. ‘You asked me virtually the same question months ago,’ he replied with a smile, ‘and I said no. I take it now you’re convinced that my ancestors are black, you’re presuming I’ve had a change of mind, is that right?’
She ignored the fact that she was being sent up. ‘Yes probably. Don’t you want to know? Don’t you want to find out the truth?’
Matt wondered if he’d been insensitive. He supposed he had: this was obviously not something he should joke about. It was also not something to which he’d given a great deal of thought, surprisingly enough. He’d been concentrating so hard on the practicalities of re-directing the route of the rail corridor he’d ceased questioning why they were doing it. But even as he stopped attacking his T-bone and prepared his answer, Jess barrelled on.