Back on the Island
We’re heading home once again and this old house of ours looks better each time we come back from living in the tent. We’re all happy, back where we belong. One day, we catch brother Paddy smoking down in the gutters. He can make circles with the smoke. My eyes are wide as I watch him take a deep breath and move his mouth just right to make a perfect circle escape between his lips.
Lynnie tells him, ‘We’re gonna tell Mummy’.
He reckons, ‘No way’, and makes us smoke a cigarette.
He tells us, ‘If we don’t do it properly the first time, we gotta do it again’.
Lynnie, being the next eldest, has to go first.
Paddy says, ‘Take a big breath. Draw back.’
Then, it’s Kevin’s turn. I watch them each having a go drawing back on that smoke, only to end up coughing, with tears coming outta their eyes, and then Paddy passing the smoke to them again so they can have another go.
It’s my turn. I take a draw but it’s not big enough, the smoke doesn’t make me cough the way it did with the other two. He makes me do it again. I take a big breath this time and smoke goes deep into my mouth all the way down to my lungs and I start choking, tears in my eyes. I can’t catch my breath. Lynnie is patting me on the back trying to get all that smoke outta my lungs. Tears are dripping outta my eyes.
Paddy says, ‘Now we’ve all smoked, we can’t tell Mummy. Otherwise, we’ll all be in trouble.’
It’s Saturday, the sun is shining and us four kids are allowed to go to the pictures, all by ourselves. The picture’s great: it’s Elvis. I love Elvis but I don’t like the lion that comes out and roars real loud, and you can see his big teeth. I don’t tell the others this, otherwise they’ll make my life a misery teasing me again.
We walk home laughing and talking about Elvis, trying to remember his songs. We sing “ Love Me Tender” all the way home.
We laugh and giggle about the show and the cartoons, all as happy as can be. We walk down to the end of the main street and start down the dirt track that leads us home to the Island. Mainly, we go to the matinee show, but as we get older, we’re allowed to go to the night shows. That’s good but frightening, too. At night, the gutters are scary. Scary, dark and noisy. Spirits live down there. At the end of the main street, there’s no streetlights—only the stars and the moon to guide us—but we know this road well. We start talking loud, making a noise to let the spirits know we’re coming home.
As we get deeper down into the gutters, the bigger kids start singing, ‘Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so’. I join in. We’re in the middle of the gutters now. Our voices are softer as we sing a song about the devil.
The devil is a sly old fox and, if I catch him,
I’ll put him in a box, lock the door
and throw away the key for all the tricks he played on me.
I’ll do it all for Jesus, I’ll do it all for Jesus,
He’s done so much for me.
There’s a rustling coming from over in that tree. The bigger kids start teasing me.
‘Oooooh, Kerry, you wanna watch out: they’re watchin’ you!’
‘They’re comin’ to get you. Listen, here they come.’
A noise comes out loud from amongst the trees. I look and see shadows; shadows that appear as ghosts waiting to get me and take me away. The wind is blowing the branches and it really does sound like someone or something is standing there, waiting for the right moment to jump out and get me. The other kids start screaming out at the top of their lungs, pretending the ghost is right there, right beside me. They start running at the same time.
‘They gonna get you!’
‘There’s one right behind you, Kerry!’
Terrified, I stand still, not wanting to take another step. I want Mummy. I’m scared and alone and it’s dark. Paralysed, I stand and watch three bodies run up the top of the gutters; they’ve left me behind! I’m in the middle of the gutters by myself. I start screaming as I watch my sister and brothers leave me and feel the wind encase my body as I would a spirit taking hold of me. I start to run, bolting as fast as my legs will carry me while trying to catch them and swearing at the same time.
‘Don’t leave me!’
‘Don’t let them get me!’
Sobbing, I run up the other side of the gutters but I can’t catch up. I can’t breathe. I can’t run no more. I stop, willing air to come back into my lungs so I can begin to scream and yell. I scream at them at the top of my lungs, ‘I’m gonna tell Mummy’.
They stop, wait. My favourite and best saying, ‘I’m gonna tell Mummy’.
They call me a sook and say I’d better not dob them in, otherwise I’m gonna cop it. And they won’t take me to see Elvis again.
When we get home, Mummy asks, ‘What was all the noise down in the gutters?’ They all look at me, daring me to tell on them, but I don’t—know they’ll get me if I do. And I don’t really wanna get them into trouble.
I say, ‘Nothing, Mummy. We was just singing.’
I didn’t tell, but they still leave me down the gutters every time we go to the pictures. Scaring me to death. I love Elvis so much. If we got no money, the kids aren’t allowed to tell me if Elvis is on at the pictures. If they do, I wanna go so bad that I chuck a big tantrum and I cry and scream out at the top of my lungs about going to see him. One day, to keep me quiet, Mummy told me I was gonna go to the blanket show instead of the picture show. I was so happy.
I asked her, ‘What’s the blanket show?’
She tells me, ‘It’s a surprise, but if you hurry up, brush your teeth and put your pyjamas on, then you’ll find out’.
I run and do my teeth and change into my pyjamas and then I’m back, quick as lightening.
‘I’m ready, Mummy,’ I tell her, and then she gets up and takes me into my bedroom and tells me to get into bed so she can tuck me in. I start crying.
‘I wanna go to the blanket show.’
‘Come on, then. This is the blanket show. You go to bed.’
The kids start laughing, teasing me. I’m angry and upset—I wanted to go to the picture show not the lousy blanket show. I don’t wanna go there; I wanna go to the pictures and see Elvis!
All the next day, the other kids tease and tease: ‘Kerry, you wanna go to the blanket show?’
I hate them. They’re always tormenting me. As soon as I get something wrong or do something dumb, they give me heaps.