Earth, page 4
‘Alright, Frank, alright, but don’t put ideas in the boy’s head and please promise me you’ll never go bush, up an’ leave all this . . . leave me.’
‘I’ve been tellin’ ya, my darlin’ girl, you are my wife, I love ya, Claudie. Takin’ an interest in my family isn’t leavin’ ya in the lurch.’
‘Promise me.’
‘Here, woman, give us ya hand. See this ring I give ya. That’s me promise to ya all them years ago an’ nothin’s changed except now I know a bit about me own mother an’ that’s the only blood family I’ve got. Ya can’t deny me that.’
‘It scares me, Frank.’
‘It scares me too, but only because of all the rot people like Pakington an’ Campbell put about. As if they’d never listened to themselves talkin’ about all of us bein’ made in the image of God, about love thy neighbour –’
‘Alright, Frank.’
‘No, it’s not alright. They’re bloody hypocrites, they don’t believe in God, they believe in dressin’ up an havin’ clean white hands. Sorry, but ya can’t hide things from the boy, he’s smarter’n you an’ me put together. An’ I’m startin’ ta put a few things together in me own ol’ rough ‘ead, but it don’t change nothin’ between you an’ me. It don’t change nothin’ between a man an’ a woman. That’s more sacred than any Christ I know.’
‘Alright Frank, I just get scared sometimes.’
‘We all get scared, Claudie, all of us. Gertie’s comnin’ down too.’
‘Gertie? How do you know?’
‘She sent a message with Vera Tomkins.’
‘When Frank, when’s she coming?’
‘Soon, said she’d see you soon.’
*
‘Mum?’
‘Gertie, just . . . just a minute, I’ll have to wash my hands. Here, pull the sheet up, Mrs Gregory is asleep. The baby’s drinking, they’ll be alright for a bit. Now, Gertie . . . it’s . . .
‘Mum?’
‘What is it?’
‘Don’t be angry, Mum.’
‘Angry? I’ve got no right to be angry?’
‘Look, I know, I know what you think. I know you’re disappointed, but I’m doing my best.’
‘To do what?’
‘To earn some money and come back for Alfie.’
‘In your own good time.’
‘Mum, please, since Angus left – ’
‘Angus left a year ago. Didn’t think he’d last that long.’
‘Mum, please. I’m trying to tell – ’
‘Tell me. Tell me. Tell me why you ran off with a vagabond. After all we’d done.’
‘Oh, Mum, listen to me.’
‘Why, you never listened to me. If you had, if you’d only –’
‘Mum, I’ve come back to try and sort things out with you. To try and and explain how things are going.’
‘And how are they going?’
‘Mum, if you’d just stop interrupting me. If you’d just stop looking at me as if I’m some criminal and not your own daughter, I might be able to explain.’
‘Well, go on then, explain.’
‘Mum, I didn’t expect you to throw your arms around me and tell me you loved me but I thought we could talk. And I’m finding it hard to talk when you just glare at me with your arms folded like that.’
‘I only ever wanted the best for you, Gertie. I slaved, so did your father, we slaved to give you the best we could, to bring you up in a Christian home, to put your feet on the – and then you went against everything we’d ever taught you, even after I begged you, didn’t I, remember I came and begged you not to go off with that man.’
‘Well it’s all over, isn’t it. He’s gone. I was wrong. I made a mistake, just like you said, but if – ’
‘If what?’
‘Will you let me finish, Mum.’
‘Go on then.’
‘If you could just be patient, Mum, just let me get back on my feet.’
‘We hear rumours about some of the company you’re keeping in Melbourne, my girl, and they’re not going to get you back on your feet. Quite the opposite.’
‘I’m twenty-four, Mum.’
‘You’re a mother.’
‘I’m trying as best I can. I haven’t got enough schooling to do that secretarial thing.’
‘You should come back here and wash clothes or take in ironing or whatever it takes to look after your son.’
‘I can’t do that. I’m – ’
‘I did it. Plenty of other women do it for the sake of their children.’
‘Please, Mum.’
‘Listen Gertie, listen to this one more time. When I grew up, we had nothing. Not a thing. As a girl, as a teenager, I didn’t even have underwear, not a stitch. Can you imagine what . . . anyway, I washed, I ironed, I saved until – ’
‘Alright, Mum.’
‘It’s not alright. It’s poverty. It’s not having a penny to buy a cup of tea when you’re at the shops. It’s being threepence short of a bag of flour, the shopkeeper watching you as you walk around the shop, knowing you’re poor, judging you, condemning you because you’ve got nothing. And that’s what’ll become of you, Gertie. You’ll end up with nothing. Can you see, Gertie? Can you see how it all goes? I love you, Gertie, I want the best for you but I can’t stand aside and let – ’
‘Mum, just give me a bit of time. I’m going to stay with one of Dad’s aunties.’
‘Aunty? He hasn’t got any aunties.’
‘Oh, Mum, don’t be so blind. You know as well as – ’
‘He doesn’t even know his mother.’
‘Well, plenty of people do.’
‘Who? The blacks? What would they know?’
‘They know their own family.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean? A smart crack at me? Besides all those women are drunks and prostitutes.’
‘Oh, Mum, that’s not true.’
‘From what I’ve heard, you may as well be one of them.’
‘Mum, please –’
‘Come home. Come home, Gertie. Come and stay with your son, with Alfie. He needs you Gert. He asks after you all the time. He cries, every bedtime. You should –’
‘Just another few months, Mum. I’ll get a job and – ’
‘Haven’t we heard this before, Gert. A few more weeks, a month, a year. Do it now, Gert, come back or you’ll never –’
‘I will, Mum, I promise.’
‘Promises. Anyway, you’d better be quiet. Mrs Gregory’s waking up and I’ll have to clean her up a bit.’
‘I promise, Mum. I’ll come back home, you’ll see.’
‘Well, make sure you do, and make sure you live in the light of the Lord, like we taught you. We’re not stupid, you know. We know what goes on in the city, and you mark my words, you don’t know everything yet, my girl. Just because you’re a woman, doesn’t mean –’
‘Alright, Mum.’
‘It’s not alright. I’ll have to go anyway.’
‘Well, say hullo to Dad . . . and Alf.’
‘And what else? When they ask me when you’ll be back?’
‘Soon.’
‘In the sweet bye an’ bye, in the never never.’
‘Soon, I promise.’
*
‘How did this happen, Mary?’
‘Doan know, missus.’
‘Where did she get a knife to do this?’
‘Shell, missus, she cut with shell.’
‘A shell? Don’t be ridiculous. A shell couldn’t cause these wounds. And anyway why would she do it three days before Christmas?’
‘She cryin’ for baby, missus.’
‘Oh you people. We clothe you, feed you, teach you, we put vitamins into your children and you still carry on with these childish superstitions.’
‘Yes, missus.’
‘Now, see if you can clean her up and make sure you use soap, don’t go using dirty rags. I’ll get some bandages from the infirmary.’
‘Yes, missus . . . ol’ fat arse. Now, Betty, here, clean up blood liddle bit. Baby alright, sister, baby gettin’ real fat. Agnes and me we see ‘im last week. Fat as ol’ possum.’
‘Woorer Woorer bobam bobam.’
‘Oooo, now, ooo, now, ooo now sister, doan worry ‘bout Woorer Woorer, doan cry. We look out for that boy. We find ‘im, we tell ‘im ‘bout his gnurdong. Doan cut no more, sister, it be alright bye an’ bye.’
*
‘In the sweet bye an’ bye.
We shall meet on that beautiful shore
In the sweet bye an’ bye
We shall meet on that beautiful shore.
There’s a land that is fairer than day
And by faith we can see it afar
For the Father waits over the way
To prepare us a dwelling place there
In the sweet bye an’ bye.’
‘That Betty’s Woorer Woorer, look.’
‘Ooo, baby. What they doin’ ta poor thing.’
‘Baptise ‘im. Look, see water. That God water.’
‘He cryin’, poor thing. Poor baby.’
‘Eh, lookout, that Missus Pakington glarin’ us. Shush, now, Elsie, gettin’ us in trouble.’
‘Not takin’ my baby.’
‘Well shush now, or chuck us out, an’ no tucker.’
‘Dearly beloved, bear witness to the blessing of this innocent lamb of God’s flock, raise up your voices to the mercy of our Lord who begs each of the little ones to come unto him, each one born in his own image, even this poor bairn brought to the charity of His church where he might flourish in the warmth and light of the Lord. Bless him, oh Lord, as you have blessed each and every one of us, put his feet on the path of righteousness – ’
‘What’s ‘e doin’ to ‘is feet?’
‘Shush.’
‘ – lead him not into the way of temptation and deliver him from all evil, for yours is the kingdom, the power and the glory for ever and ever, amen.’
‘Look at that Missus Pakington, pickin’ up poor Woorer Woorer, ‘oo she think she is?’
‘Shh.’
‘They got no right takin’ that baby.’
‘Shh.’
‘Can we go now?’
‘Shh, here she comes.’
‘Mary.’
‘Yes, missus.’
‘You can tell Betty that her son is going to a very good Christian home where he will have the best of everything he should ever desire. He has been baptised in the name of the Lord as Augustus.’
‘Yes, missus.’
‘Who is this?’
‘Elsie, missus.’
‘Where is she from?’
‘She’s a cousin, missus.’
‘Yes, Mary, but where does she come from?’
‘Up the country, missus – Birron Yallock – big river country, missus.’
‘She should wear shoes in church.’
‘Yes, missus.’
‘And pinafore, that dress will not do at all.’
‘Yes, missus.’
‘See to it by next Sunday, Mary, if you will.’
‘Yes, missus.’
“oo that?’
‘Missus Pakington. I tol’ ya that.’
‘What she say?’
‘She say you gotta have shoe and ‘nother dress.’
‘Why she tell us ‘bout shoe and dress?’
‘She give out the tucker. No dress, no tucker. You lookout that one, Elsie, coz she upset she send you away, take baby, give beltin’, anythin’, she the boss alright, true.’
‘You tell Betty about Woorer Woorer?’
‘No.’
‘Why no?’
‘We just look out that baby, watch ‘im, bye an’ bye tell him mother, tell ‘im daddy. Betty too sorry now. We tell her bye an’ bye.’
*
‘Mrs Palmer, I don’t think this is a good idea at all.’
‘It will work out for the best, I assure you, Mrs Pakington.’
‘And in what way can you better prepare for the child’s future than Mrs Angliss?’
‘We have another child for him to play with and to help in his education, my husband has a job – ’
‘All very well, Mrs Palmer, but if what I hear is true, your husband might be of the same blood. Hardly the kind of example we are seeking, you understand.’
‘I understand perfectly. My husband is a Christian, Mrs Pakington – ’
‘A Christian we’ve not seen at church for at least eight weeks.’
‘He’s a devout man, believe me and the soul of kindness and as you know he is devoted to his grandson.’
‘A child, of course, sharing that blood.’
‘But not dark enough to cause concern, surely, Mrs Pakington. Both children will be brought up to fear the Lord and to aspire to good upstanding lives. Please do not judge Frank too harshly - he’s an honest working man and fears the Lord as – ’
‘Well I’ll mention it to Mr Pakington but you understand the Angliss family property has the opportunity to provide suitable work for the child at Lockington Station.’
‘Yes, Mrs Pakington, but no church within forty miles.’
‘We’ll see, Mrs Palmer, but believe me Reverend Pakington is quite impressed with the opportunities at Lockington.’
*
‘So you got your horse back, William?’
‘Yes, but not before those thieving blacks had – ’
‘The blacks, what did the blacks have to do with it?’
‘When something goes missing Alwyn, where do you think it’s gone?’
‘But are you accusing our station blacks of taking the horse?’
‘Them or their cohorts.’
‘But they’ve been so reliable, William, I’ve heard you brag to other graziers about how pliant they are.’
‘Oh, they’re handy enough, but untrustworthy, you never know when they’re going off next or what they’ll take with them.’
‘You mean holidays, William, they have the gall to take holidays?’
‘But they never tell you, they just go.’
‘Such disrespect, William, so little loyalty in return for what you lavish on them. What is it, William? A plug of tobacco, a pair of trousers at Christmas and a bag of flour and sugar for the whole camp once a month, goodness, they’ll have us destitute in no time!’
‘I’m sick of that schoolmistress tone of yours, Alwyn. What I mean is they should be grateful they’ve got a place to stay at all. If it wasn’t for me – ’
‘In their own land, they should be grateful to have a lean-to by the creek in their own land?’
‘Well, what did they have before?’
‘Stone houses, freedom of the whole district. Miss Dawson –’
‘Miss Dawson. That pack of nigger lovers are causing us all the trouble on earth. Even the Governor is beginning to restrict grants of land on some of the best western pastures and for what end? So that blacks can lie about at their leisure. Your kind of talk, Alwyn, is causing London to make a great invasion into colonial affairs.’
‘A British colony governed by British law.’
‘You don’t understand the practicalities of government, Alwyn, you never will.’
‘Women would be incapable of course!’
‘Well it’s just that when you’re involved in these things in a purely practical sense, dealing with the natives, dealing with the commerce and politics of it all, well, you begin to take a more pragmatic view. You have to understand the native mind, to realise that these creatures are doomed, their civilisation, if you could call it that, never had a hope. If it wasn’t us it would have been the French or the Dutch. At least British law will protect them from all that.’
‘Oh yes, British law gets them a new pair of trousers every Christmas.’
‘For goodness sake, Alwyn, I’ve had quite enough of your insolence. It’s not what I expected of a wife?’
‘It’s not what I expected of my country.’
*
‘I debased myself in front of that woman, Frank, in order to satisfy one of your whims and then you’ve got the gall to suggest we invite Betty to come here too. Why not the whole camp, Frank, what about the dogs and goats? Why not bring – ’
‘Now, now, Claudie.’
‘Don’t now, now, Claudie me, Frank. Anyway I doubt they’ll let us have the baby.’
‘They might.’
‘And we might be able to feed it.’
‘We’ll feed it.
‘You’ll do the loaves and the fishes will you, Frank?’
‘Alf an’ me will do the fishes.’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Yes. I’ve got an arrangement with Snodgrass to supply snapper an’ crayfish for the hotel. Me an’ Alf will go out at the weekends. That boy can smell a fish a mile off.’
‘You mean Sunday, don’t you, Frank. The Lord’s day of rest. You’ll be taking my grandson – ’
‘It’ll be dawn, Claudie, we’ll be back by church if the boy wants.’
‘The boy will.’
‘Alright, we’ll be back in time for Alf to hear the power of Pakington’s thought brewed from a hundred cups a’ tea between Sundays. Tuppence a pound the salmon, threepence the gars and whiting, sixpence the snapper an’ a bob the crays.’
‘And how will you catch them without a boat?’
‘We’re rebuildin’ an ol’ ‘couta boat Snodgrass swapped for that load a’ red gum I cut fer ‘im. Tuppeny Bark we’re callin’ her, me an’ Alf, a name we kind a’ dreamed up.’
‘Dreamed is right. You’re both good at dreamin’.’
‘An’ I’ll tell ya somethin’ I didn’t dream. We’ll be gettin’ that baby of Betty’s.’
‘Mr Pakington will see the superior ability of two paupers to bring up a black child better than the biggest landholder in the district, will he?’
‘Let’s say fate has intervened, Claudie, in the manner of two Arab fillies what went missin’ last month. Let’s say the whereabouts a’ them horses was known to some old fence builder, let’s say this fence builder went to the recipients of them horses who, let us say f’rinstance, had an interest in makin’ sure Betty’s baby was looked after. This ‘ere fence builder “discovers” these ‘ere horses an’ informs Lord High an’ Mighty Angliss that they’ve been found safe an’ well. Mr Angliss is real pleased ta see ‘is ‘orses ‘cause ‘e reckons the foals of Mornin’ Peal might win him a Werribee Cup, Melbourne Cup maybe.’
