Actually it was three weddings on one day, not four. The fourth wedding had already been, and the funeral came later. But Susan, and her new best friend Cathy, always thought of this day as the day of four weddings and a funeral. Perhaps, it was because of the movie of the same name, with the ‘oh so dishy Englishman’ that they both rather fancied, it was also because this part of their story really began with the four wedding invitations that had arrived the week before Christmas, followed with the first wedding a month before. Now it continued with many of the same cast of characters on another remarkable wedding day which followed. Then the sequence concluded with a funeral of sorts a few days later, for parts of a man long gone.
So Anne had married David. It was something that Susan felt hugely emotional about, an emotion of unfettered delight for both David and Anne. On the day of their wedding, with her as a bridesmaid, she had cried many more tears than she had on her own wedding day, and the delight of the occasion was almost equal to her own wedding day for her.
She knew, from the stories others told of herself, that she had been briefly involved with David, even engaged to marry him. But it was a vanished memory. Anne had retold Susan the story of her own first meeting with David, when he was with Susan, almost engaged. Anne took delight in saying how there was a primal spark of attraction between them both on that day. Even though they had not acted on it until much later, when Susan had formally broken the engagement and given Anne her blessing, she felt there was an inevitability to all that had followed, like two attracted magnets which finally fused. Susan could see it was a rightness she and David did not have.
She liked David, she could feel his charm and saw his good looks. But he did not melt her insides the way Vic did with a single look. She also knew how her own vanishing had torn David and Anne apart, over and over, continuing for over two years while Anne searched for her. It had probably delayed their wedding plans equally.
So this wedding had a right feeling, it was long overdue for them to formalize life together. After the ceremony they went off on a month long honeymoon, travelling the globe, going to more countries than Susan could count. They returned just in time to celebrate this triple wedding.
Anne had told her, on the girls night out in Darwin, when Susan asked about her modest drinking, that she thought she was expecting. It redoubled Susan’s delight and she shared her own news that this time they would do it together, only two weeks ago she had got the positive test result herself. Now that she and Vic had decided to return to Australia to live it was even possible that they would have their babies together, almost as twins.
Today both she and Anne wore bridesmaids’ dresses, she on behalf of Cathy and Anne on behalf of Sandy. So it would be lovely to stand side by side in the combined bridal party.
It was strange how this event had come about. Three groups of people, unknown to each other at the start of last year, and two couples unknown to each other until after her own marriage last year, had struck up friendships almost overnight, all having decided to get married.
When one couple told the other of wedding plans in Darwin, the second couple said they had almost identical plans. Soon after, all three couples were out for a meeting and drink. It turned out, when they compared notes, that all had wedding plans for Darwin in the same week.
Almost as a lark, one person had said, “Why don’t we do it together?”
Five other heads nodded, it was effectively settled.
So after that it was just about figuring out how.
A place of great emotional resonance for all was East Point, the place where Darwin Harbor met the sea. Here Alan and Sandy, along with other friends including David, Anne, Buck, Julie and Vic, had gathered in much sadder times, for the opening a missing persons memorial.
The names of Susan Emily MacDonald and Cathy (Fiona) Rodgers, along with others who were also missing, were inscribed on a stone block. Cathy and Susan’s names were there still, inscribed on metal plaques giving the details of when last seen before missing and now a couple lines about their return. Two other names on the list of over 50 had similar joyous returns told, the fate of the rest was still unknown.
So this was a place of hope as well as sadness. With the link between all these couples through this story, and their love of this place with its north-western vista, looking over the vast ocean towards Indonesia, all had agreed that this was the perfect place for their wedding ceremony to be. So on a Saturday in May, as the late afternoon sun fell towards the sea, making glistening lines on the watery horizon, they assembled to marry.
They each had their own celebrant, each according to their own custom, a Presbyterian Minister for Cathy, a civil celebrant for Alan and Sandy, and a rabbi to mark Beck’s Jewish heritage. All assembled stood as witnesses for three ceremonies which together took an hour. By the end of the third the sun was only a hand’s breath above the where the sea met the sky.
None were overly religious, but all had a sense of destiny and awe at how life had drawn them together. A central figure was the aboriginal man, Charlie. He was a friend to all; all had shared his wife’s catfish curry and forged their friendships around his table. He began by welcoming all to his country, Larrakia land. He spoke first, then a second time again at the end, this time doing a smoking ceremony to waft clouds of grey into to reddening sky, then calling on his rainbow serpent dreamtime ancestor to look kindly on these new married people and guard their lives together.
When his speaking was done the sun had fully set. Then the two hundred guests moved on to the Fannie Bay Trailer Boat Club for an evening of stories, laughter and celebration.
It was a simple but inspiring ceremony. Susan was so glad to have been a part of it. She looked with equal pride at Vic, standing with Buck alongside Alan as a groom’s man. This was something they had shared in equally.
Soon the night was done and just one ceremony remained.
It happened a fortnight later. Alan and Sandy were just returned from their honeymoon. It was a much smaller and more somber gathering, just her, Vic, Alan, Sandy, Buck, Julie, Charlie and Antonio, uncle of the man, Mark, his surviving next of kin.
They waited together in the front office of the coroner’s building while two parts of a man were released from its custody. These body parts had sat for over three years now while the legal processes around his murder and the inquest about his role in the disappearance of the “Lost Girls” had rolled on. When all the lawyers were done this man’s mortal remains, a skull and a forearm, the parts had been forgotten about.
Finally, almost as an afterthought, as Sandy tidied up in preparation for her own wedding and to take three months off work, perhaps to try for a baby of her own, she had come across these two preserved items resting in a storeroom cabinet. At first she had not known what to do. There was no obvious family seeking return of the remains.
So she had talked to the two best friends of the man Vic and Buck, about what should be done. While Mark’s father was still alive Mark had explicitly rejected him having any role in his estate or other parts of his affairs, in his will. So they contacted his surviving uncle, who remembered Mark with affection as a child, and the three had agreed on a plan.
What remained would be cremated and the ashes divided into three parts, one to go to his mother’s family in Italy. These grandparents were too frail now to make the journey but wanted to bury some part of the grandson they never knew in their own family graveyard. The second part of the ashes would be returned to the billabong from whence they came. Vic and Charlie would do this together, it was to return a part to the crocodile spirit which had brought this to pass, whose power they had both known.
The third part belonged to Susan. It was for a role given by the man’s own request, something he had asked Susan to do in his farewell note, to take a part of him to a place in the desert which he had shown her long ago.
She said she was not ready to do it yet. She said she would only do this with remembrance of who he had been. This memory had not come back. So she delayed her part, in hope that one day this memory would return.
Today was the beginning. When the small coffin shaped box, into which the parts had been placed, was brought out, Charlie took his agreed place in the front to lead the man’s spirit home. The other four men each took a corner of the little box. Their wives walked with them, each with a hand resting on the box as a mark of respect. They placed the coffin box into a waiting hearse and followed it in funeral cortege, in two cars behind.
They brought it to a private chapel next to the crematorium. Here a priest of the church of his ancestors would say his Catholic ceremony, so as to meet the request of his Italian family. Gathered inside the chapel were a handful of other friends, come from many places across the outback by personal invitation. They included Vic’s mother, uncle and sister, some miners from leases in unknown places, a store trader from Borroloola, Mick, fey Irishman from Top Springs and a few others, mostly with black skins.
There were no outside observers of this unannounced ceremony. It was not something to advertise; too many had been hurt by his actions. Yet in these gathered people’s hearts was a part which held real affection for the life of this man and the good he had done.
Four photos of the man in life adorned the chapel. One was from Buck. It showed him astride a horse, intense concentration on his face as he tamed a wild spirit. Another showed him arm in arm with Vic and Vic’s mother, his second family. A third showed a small boy going fishing with his Uncle many years ago. The final one was of a mother with baby in arms, Rosalie holding little Vincent Marco Bassingham. Together they seemed to make a fitting tribute to the tragic story of the boy’s passage into manhood. It was little enough, but it felt as if at least some good parts of his memory were held and valued by his true friends.
Uncle Antonio, Vic and Buck each told a story of a boy and man, who was a friend to many in the bush. A few others told their own stories too.
Then it was done. As the words, ‘Dust to Dust, Ashes to Ashes’ were spoken what remained of the man they had known passed from sight.
Vic and Buck had tears on their faces as did Mick and some others. Susan remained dry eyed, wishing for a memory to give her own tribute.