Liberty

by McWatters, Nikki;

  Will shrugged. ‘Better they flee now than freeze on the field and let us down. We don’t need them.’

  I looked at Will in his dashing green tunic with polished pewter buttons, skin-tight white breeches, V-cut boots, and a small felt hat with a green ribbon tied in a knot sitting on top of his dark curls. He looked handsome and dressed to be taken seriously. Around his waist he wore a green silk sash and I noted that most of the others did as well.

  ‘Are you afraid, Will?’ I asked softly.

  ‘No, love, no,’ he said gently and pushed a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. ‘There will be ballads sung of these times and our children and their children will be free and it will be because of what we do here today, tonight and tomorrow. I am proud to be a part of it. Our dream of a republic is about to become a reality. I’ve waited my whole life for this, Betsy!’

  ‘When will the British troops arrive?’ I asked, breathlessly, feeling nervous but a little bit thrilled that the day of reckoning was upon us.

  ‘They are almost here. We received word from Nugent, their leader, this morning. He plans to sack all four townships that have given us these brave rebel men,’ he said, sweeping an arm around to take in the swarming rebels dotting the hills, more numerous by far than sheep. ‘They have warned us that if we do not desist from our rebellious activities they will proceed to destroy the towns of Killinchy, Killyleagh, Ballynahinch and Saintfield. And any person found with arms will be put to the sword.’

  His mention of arms took my breath away. I suddenly realised that I had forgotten the coffin of weapons on the kitchen floor that Mary Ann McCracken and I had risked life and limb to transport across rough terrain to the inn back down in Ballynahinch. I put my hands over my face for a moment and then looked back at him.

  ‘The muskets,’ I said to Will, my blood boiling with anger at myself. ‘I … we … brought all the foodstuffs but the weapons are still at the inn …’

  Will looked momentarily concerned but pushed it away and wrapped an arm around me, squeezing me tightly.

  ‘The redcoats are some way off yet. I will ride back with you to get them. We need those muskets.’

  Sarah and Eilish had been swallowed up by the rebel troops and I could see them laughing with some of the men. Eilish seemed to have settled somewhat. Perhaps the jovial atmosphere on the hill and the impressive number of men ready to fight had eased her terrors. I was a wee bit angry at the two women for also having forgotten. It had not been my sole responsibility yet I was silently cursing my foolishness.

  ‘If we take my horse, we’ll be there and back in the blink of an eye,’ he winked. ‘There is so much going on and I might have been distracted and forgetful too. Don’t concern yourself, Betsy. You’ve been a pillar of strength to us and just look at the food you’ve brought. Think of the energy it will give us!’

  ‘I feel right terrible, Will. I’m so sorry. It’s something of a pattern for me. I forgot Annie O’Neal’s plight and look what happened to her! Now, the weapons. I have a head of fluff. I was so busy with the cooking and packing of the food that the weapons had gone clean out of my mind. I get carried away by the moment and …’

  Will leaned forward and kissed away my words, consuming me with a marvellous silence.

  ‘George?’ I asked when we finally pulled apart.

  ‘Oh, he’s having a special meeting with Munro, going over tactics. He’ll not miss me,’ Will said. ‘Let’s get away so that we can be back before all that food gets gobbled up.’

  Together we rode back to town downhill, fast. I rode astride the horse, behind Will, holding on tightly around his waist, pressing my body into his, my face buried beneath his shoulder-blades, listening to the gallop of his heartbeat. We pulled up in the yard behind the inn and at that moment a sound invaded my ears as I swung off the horse. It was a strange beating that came on the breeze and trembled up from the dirt underfoot.

  ‘What’s that?’ I frowned, cocking my head toward the noise.

  We listened, stopping still, searching, wondering. The sound came again. A solid, thudding distant drone, almost like thunder.

  ‘Drums,’ Will whispered, his face going white. ‘Military drums.’

  ‘The redcoats,’ I said to him, gripping his hands in mine. ‘Oh no, Will. They’re here. They’re marching into town.’

  That night in the Brisbane lock-up was one of the worst nights of my life. The holding cell stank of a heady mix of urine and vomit, and there was graffiti on the walls that might have been written in blood; swear words and offensive statements that I had never imagined existed. I was terrified, although at least I wasn’t alone. There were three other female students in the same cell. I had no idea what had happened to Barton, Agnes, Luke or Jeff. The whole memory of the march became a blur. At least Barton had been right about one thing: the police did not end up charging us with anything and the only repercussion was a stern talking to.

  Feeling dirty and dishevelled, I had to walk all the way home to Kelvin Grove because I had left the boarding house the day before with nothing but the key to my room in the pocket of my jeans. Out in the bright daylight it all seemed like a bad dream. Nothing had changed. People were going about their business, off to work as if nothing had happened. I scuffed down the street, kicking my sneakers against the kerb, feeling the autumn breeze through my hair. I licked my furry teeth, which were in desperate need of a toothbrush, and I began to wonder if any of it had really been worth it. We’d marched. We’d chanted. We’d carried placards. Luke had burned his draft notice. Some of us got arrested and then released without charge and then everything went back to normal. Walter Leary was still dead and my brother was still packing to go to war.

  Back at the boarding house, I let myself in and walked up the stairs and along the hallway to my room. I felt a sense of relief to see my familiar mess. I was suddenly really hungry and realised I hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day before. I wondered if Luke was back in the kitchen, preparing food just like nothing had ever happened. I lay on my bed, shut my eyes and tried to flush the past twenty-four hours out of my head. I was almost asleep when I heard someone whispering my name. I thought I was dreaming.

  ‘Fi! Fi!’ it said in a hoarse sort of whisper.

  My eyes opened and I struggled to sit up. I looked down to see Luke rolling out from under my bed.

  ‘Luke? What?’ I said, still trying to wake up.

  ‘Shh!’ he said and put a finger to his lips, his eyes darting frantically to the door.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I said crossly. ‘If Mrs Lotte finds you here she’ll evict me.’

  ‘Never mind the dragon lady,’ he said, sitting beside me on my bed. ‘It’s the cops I’m worried about. They came looking for me first thing this morning and I managed to climb up the piping and crawl into your room.’

  I looked across at my open window. The curtains were wet around the edges where the storm had crept in. Luke was wearing jeans and a white singlet. His arms were deeply tanned. His eyes were as wide as saucers and his hair was a wild mess.

  ‘Shit!’ I said. ‘This is starting to feel way too real. Too serious. Too big. What the hell are you going to do, Luke? You can’t live under my bed.’

  ‘Well, obviously not.’ He laughed.

  We both smelled of stale sweat.

  ‘Well?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’m considering my options. By the way, we were on the six o’clock news. It was the top story. I watched it in the common room and turned it off before my aunt came in but she is going to be ropeable when she finds out. And she will. The cops will be back. She was out this morning, thank goodness, but it won’t be long before someone tells her.’

  ‘Did they say your name or show your face?’ I asked, alarmed that it had made such a splash in the media.

  ‘Yes. My name. My face. Barton ranting into the megaphone and you sitting
there like a stunned mullet.’

  ‘You saw me?’ I gasped. ‘No!’

  ‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘Not a close-up or anything but it looked like you were clinging to my leg. Were you clinging to my leg?’

  ‘No, of course not!’ I said incredulously. ‘Or at least I don’t think I was.’

  I let that bit of news sink in. I had never been on television before. It felt pretty strange. I assumed my face was blurred in the crowd. There were so many of us and to the untrained eye I figured we all looked the same. I was extremely glad Mrs Lotte had missed it.

  ‘You’ll be out of a job when she finds out, I guess,’ I said to Luke. ‘Or will she cover for you? She’s your aunt after all.’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Nah,’ he said. ‘She was just doing me a favour by giving me the job. She doesn’t like me much. I’m going to catch a bus back home to Townsville. Probably today. Lie low for a bit.’

  I felt a wave of sadness. I would miss Luke and his smile.

  ‘I suppose you do have to get out of Brisbane,’ I said, and pouted. ‘But I wish you didn’t have to.’

  ‘Me either,’ he agreed. ‘But I’m still glad I did it. I really do believe in standing up for what I believe in.’

  We sat there for an awkward moment and I don’t know what possessed me, perhaps I could blame exhaustion or strained emotions, but I leaned across and kissed Luke on the cheek and began to inch around for a kiss on the lips. I hadn’t kissed a boy since the year ten dance but it seemed like the right thing to do. Luke was so handsome. It took me about three seconds to realise that Luke was not only not kissing me back but was gently pushing me away.

  ‘I’m sorry, Fi,’ he stammered and drew back, taking my hand. ‘I …’

  ‘No, no.’ I gave an embarrassed laugh that came out like a snort. ‘I’m out of line. I’m sorry.’

  ‘I thought you and Barton …’ he said shyly.

  ‘Oh gosh, no! Barton! No way,’ I erupted, shaking my head. ‘Barton McLeod loves himself too much to let anyone else in for a shot.’

  ‘Oh.’ Luke nodded thoughtfully. ‘I just assumed. He looks at you like … and I just thought. But, hey, Fi, it’s not you. I think you are awesome. Really. It’s just … I like you heaps, Fi. You’re a great girl and if I was going to like a girl, you’d definitely be the one. I’m not … well … you know … into girls. Like that.’

  He shrugged and his cheeks went a deep purple. It took me a few moments to understand what he’d said to me.

  ‘Yeah,’ he gave a tight smile. ‘I haven’t told anyone that before. I—’

  ‘Oh my God, Luke,’ I said, trying not to overreact. I patted his hand, nodding a bit too enthusiastically. ‘Really? Hey, that’s great. That’s fine. I’m cool with that but you know … a bit … you know … embarrassed because I kissed you and …’

  ‘Now, if you’d been Barton McLeod,’ Luke laughed again, ‘I might have kissed you back.’

  I chased that image out of my head. It felt a bit weird. I had never met anyone who was open and honest about being a homosexual. I’m sure they were about, even in Bandaroo Flats, but no one ever actually admitted it. I thought it was pretty brave of Luke to tell me. I was surprised. Luke was Luke and I loved him. As a friend.

  ‘You are one cool bird, Fiona,’ he said, leaning in to my hair. ‘I’m going to miss you.’

  ‘Fiona!’ A loud, angry shout bellowed from the doorway. I reeled back, startled and filled with a creeping sense of dread at the sound of the familiar voice.

  I looked, horrified, across to the open door to see my father. He looked like he was going to explode. I had never seen him so angry. He looked like a bull about to charge. And I realised then that I was sitting on my bed with dishevelled hair, cosied up to an equally ragged-looking boy!

  ‘Dad!’ I shrieked, leaping to my feet.

  ‘What the devil is going on in here?’ my father strode into the room, shaking with rage. I was really worried that he was going to thump Luke.

  ‘Hi, I’m Luke,’ Luke said, standing up and holding out his hand. ‘I’m the cook here at the boarding house and I was just leaving. Like leaving for good and I was just saying goodbye to Fi because we’re friends and—’

  ‘It’s not how it looks, Dad,’ I groaned. ‘Really. Luke’s just a friend and he’s leaving and I was just—’

  ‘Pack your bags, Fiona!’ Dad roared. ‘I’m taking you home.’

  ‘Why are you even here, Dad?’ I stammered, confused. He hadn’t once visited me in Brisbane since I had been at uni.

  ‘I saw you on the telly,’ he said. ‘On the six o’clock news with the whole world watching. My daughter. A communist. A rebel. Marching illegally!’

  Luke began to skulk out past Dad, giving me an awkward wave.

  ‘And you!’ Dad turned to yell at Luke. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself. You’re a coward and don’t deserve to be called an Australian.’

  ‘Sorry, sir,’ Luke said sheepishly. ‘See ya, Fi. I’ll write.’ Then he disappeared out the door.

  My father continued to glare at me and his gaze felt like bushfire.

  ‘Pack! Now!’ my father ordered. ‘This university caper is over. You are coming home with me. I would have driven down last night but I was too upset. It would have been dangerous.’

  I looked around my disaster of a room. I’d come to love it. Even the tattered wallpaper. My textbooks were strewn about the floor.

  ‘No, Dad.’ I stood in front of him, defiantly. ‘I’m not going home.’

  ‘Yes, you are. It’s an order.’

  ‘No, I’m not.’

  ‘Yes, you are, my girl!’ he barked.

  I began to cry. ‘But I love it here. I love uni. I love Brisbane.’

  ‘Yes, I can see what you love!’ Dad growled. ‘Half-naked boys in your room!’

  ‘He’s just a friend,’ I said. ‘He’s not like a boyfriend.’

  ‘You are down here in Brisbane, breaking the law, living like a pig and making out with boys in your room. Fiona, you are out of control.’ Dad continued yelling, ‘I thought you were mature enough to handle some independence but clearly you are not.’

  ‘I’m eighteen!’ I shouted back, losing my cool. ‘You can’t tell me what to do anymore, Dad!’

  ‘Until you are twenty-one you will do as you are told. Stop talking back to me, Fiona! Your mother would be ashamed of you today.’

  I bristled. I thought about the book in my wardrobe. I thought about Joan of Arc. I thought about all those women’s names.

  ‘No, she would not, Dad!’ I said firmly. ‘She would be proud of me. She would not have wanted Murray to go to a war that doesn’t involve us. Mum would have marched beside me. It felt like she did.’

  ‘Stop now!’ Dad seethed.

  ‘She would have gone to university and done medicine if she could have. She wanted to be a doctor, not a nurse and even then, she had to leave to be a wife and mother.’

  ‘There is no shame in that!’ he argued back.

  ‘No, there’s not,’ I said. ‘But she wanted more. And she wanted more for me and she would have been proud that I stood up for what I believe in.’

  ‘And she’d be fine with you having boys in your room first thing in the morning?’ he growled. ‘You know how that looks, Fiona?’

  ‘Really, Dad,’ I sighed, rolling my eyes. ‘If he was my boyfriend I’d tell you. No big deal. But he’s just a friend. He doesn’t even like girls and—’

  ‘Oh my God!’ my father said, shaking his head. ‘That’s it. It’s settled. I will wait downstairs. Not another word from you, young lady.’

  We stared at one another in a silent showdown, both shaking with emotion.

  ‘University has ruined you,’ Dad said, his anger still high.

  ‘You’re wrong about that, Dad,’ I said s
adly. I was starting to feel defeated.

  ‘Fifteen minutes,’ he said, tapping his watch. ‘I’ll settle up the monthly account with the landlady when she gets back, and see you in the car. I’m parked out the front.’

  Dad left me alone and I sat on the edge of my bed, sobbing. It felt like the end of the world. My life had become an enormous colourful balloon and my father had just come in and burst it. I thought about Agnes and wondered where she was. And Barton. I knew Luke would be packing downstairs. The house of cards had come crashing down and I wanted to be sick. I was trapped in a nightmare.

  But my father was formidable and when he was angry he was like a big brick wall. There was no getting around him. I was just a kid and I didn’t have the means to survive on my own and be independent. Perhaps, I thought, I’d just go home and things would settle and I could try to get back to university in a year or two. I knew that Dad needed someone to help him on the farm while Murray was away. I didn’t think he could do ‘alone’ very well.

  I wiped my face and pulled out my suitcase from the wardrobe and put it on my bed. I began to pack.

  The last thing I put in, on top of my badly folded clothes, was the Systir Saga, wrapped in its red cloth. I put my hand on it and promised all the sisters that I would come back one day and I would be a lawyer and I would be a good one who made a difference in the world.

  Three days had passed since Lagoy forced me to forsake my place of safety, my refuge. I had been born in that small, damp cottage. I had been held and suckled as a baby by my mother, whom I could no longer remember. And yet those gentle embraces had seeped into my being and become a part of me. In that house, my grieving father had brought me up to be a good and decent girl. He had cooked me meals and told me stories. He had fashioned two little hatchets to keep me safe. He had stroked my hair when I was sick and cried with me on my final night at home as I packed up my meagre belongings, touching every surface of the house, committing it to memory. Three days and I missed my father immensely. The sorrow soaked into my bones, settling like a permanent ache.