Remembering this bad time, thinking back, we see that it started with everyone leaving here. No, not everyone. But many.
Alphonse of course. The police took him away. He was with his family. They flew in, got him, he was gone.
Annie and Milton chartered a plane, quietly, just for themselves, with all that money Annie won at cards. They went to Broome.
Moses was driving out to Broome also. He had a big meeting to go to. He was taking Francis with him. That Franny, he was a spoilt one. It may be that Moses felt guilt for the bad way Franny was brought into the world.
Moses didn’t leave until night-time. He didn’t want to take lots of people with him. He knew some would go and get drunk, run out of money, get homesick, fight or make some other trouble, and eventually ring the community here and ask for money to get a plane so they could come back to their home.
So they—Moses and Franny—were driving through the coconut trees and on their way. But just then a big mob came running up between the houses where the big casino tree is. They were running pretty hard, some of them. Grim and quiet, some looking behind, the fastest ones slowing down and laughing nervously as they got to the vehicle. They said there was a devil-devil, maybe two even, hiding behind the casino tree, someone saw it. Who? Dunno. Maybe from that crazy woman’s house, the one she keeps in there. But they didn’t talk too much; just jumped in the back of the ute and said, ‘Drive.’ Their eyes had gone big and round.
The people that got up early next day—it was young ones, the children—found money and cards all scattered in a trail going away from the tree and up to the coconut road. Some said that yeah, they saw the devil footprints near the tree. Yep, like a bullock’s foot, and there was also footprints with heel, toe, no instep; but it was all messed up pretty soon and no one could really tell.
Anyway, the scared ones had a cold trip out, all huddled together on the back of that Toyota, with just one blanket between them. Raphael, Bruno, Paulie, Gemma, Scholastica and some others. But things got worse. Very bad.
And Milton, who few out with his missus Annie, he was not really ready for holidays. But probably, because Alex was also going out, Milton was worried about having that woman—Annette, Mrs the Great—as boss. What about her? Dalek Woman. She like a robot in one of those films. Short, built, walking with little quick steps. Could be on wheels. Her arms straight in front of her pushing, pushing.
She was boss of the school, once, for a couple of days when Alex had to go away to a meeting. Hard woman. She trundled into the community office, yelling at giant Gerrard that he was not to pay the school cleaners. She’d take their pay, she said, her voice angry but cold like a recording, because she did their work for them. No, really, she would give them their pay only when they worked. She told them not to bring their children when they were meant to be cleaning because they just made more mess than there was to start with. Her face went red like her lipstick and she was short-circuiting when she saw Annie bring her dogs into the room with the vacuum cleaner.
When she was very angry her voice went loud and sharp like a saw or a rattle in a car, and she made people want to sneak away, pull their heads down into shoulders and creep away. People took off their heads and hid them in their pockets so that they didn’t see or hear her, and so she couldn’t tell who they were.
She thought people were her slaves. She told Milton to do too much weeding and to mow the lawn right to the edge of the fence. It was hot, man, you know. He didn’t come back to the school while she was boss.
At school assemblies she looked more alive; smiled like a snake or a crocodile. Lots of teeth. She did have a friendly smile, when she gave the little kids the pretty bits of paper which had her writing and a little picture on them. The kids got one if they came to school clean, with combed hair and good clothes, and on time. Then, at the assembly, they stood next to her, with her hand clamped on their shoulders, and she told everyone who the good mums were too.
Sometimes people watched her, crossing the grass of the schoolyard, coming to the shop in the late afternoon. She came in a dead straight line, lookingstraightahead, following the track from her house door to the store, holding money bunched in one upheld fist.
‘Shoo! Shoo! Off you go, you know you’re not allowed here now.’ She frightened the little kids away from the swings and they took off, running and tumbling before her as if she was pushing a minefield before her somehow.
She got to the shop and most of us looked away, or maybe smiled shyly at her. Maybe get behind her and stick your elbow in someone so they laugh, or yelp, and she might turn and look at you along her sights.
Gabriella called her Dalek Woman.
Anyway, it was true, true for sure, that Milton did not like having her for his boss. So he and his missus, Annie, and the money, went away for a little holiday.
So. People were heading out for Broome. And Alex took Stella with him to Broome, too. He needed contact with his kind. There was a teachers’ meeting; it was a Principals’ Conference and an Aboriginal Education Workers’ Conference held together. Maybe Stella was not so happy to go, but she’d see other people from other Aboriginal communities there. She knew lots of people from those places.
Anyway, Alex had arranged for her to go. She did work at the school sometimes. He could not go if he didn’t have an Aboriginal school worker with him. He didn’t trust anyone else. He had also spoken to the hospital in Broome. One of the special doctors who had looked at Beatrice when she was sick, and who had been there when our old people fixed her, was visiting Broome. He wanted to see her. The hospital people would look after Beatrice during the day while Stella was at the meeting. They had a day care centre there. People were happy for that doctor to see Beatrice, and to wonder at how we were so clever.
You understand that Raphael was not very happy that Stella was going. But then, he finished going himself also. And in the true finish no one was happy. No one.
Alex, Stella, and Beatrice touched down in Broome just before the sun. It is a long fight in such a small plane. They were later than Alex had planned. Another principal, a man, drove them to their accommodation. Alex and that other man boomed cheerfully together in the front seat. Stella, in the back, held Beatrice under one wing and brooded over the plastic shopping bag full of clothing and toiletries which she clutched between her thin calves. Her ears still rang from the roaring plane, and she remained partially deafened by their unpressurised descent. She felt nervous, trapped between the pink necks of the men in front and Alex’s big suitcase in the boot of the car. Sometimes the men turned and brayed, and their blue-green eyes bobbed and leapt all over her. The car was air-conditioned, the windows wound tightly up. A cold wind whistled within it. Stella eyed the streets, silently calling to the people she knew who walked them. Beatrice was silent also, but not sleepy. Silent and big-eyed, she rested her head against her mother’s breast.
They were staying at a resort by the beach. It was a big, new place, like a village, with chalets spread around its grounds. There was a swimming pool, restaurant, crisp sheets, a television toilet shower in each room.
Alex went to eat with some of the others who were there for the conference. Stella, who had not yet seen anyone she recognised, did not want to go. She said she had a little headache. She and Beatrice wanted to stay in their chalet and rest. They walked to the beach and had fish and chips, just like a couple of tourists.
The AEW who was supposed to be sharing Stella’s room did not turn up. So she and Beatrice had it to themselves. They sat in bed together in the darkened room, watching the bright, flickering television. Beatrice fell asleep, and late in the night Stella heard the voices of the others, loud and laughing, trailing away to the other chalets.
The dusty Toyota with its shivering passengers crowded on the tray rumbled into Derby that same evening. They stayed with relations to sleep, and Moses drove with some of them to Broome the next day.
When Alex knocked on Stella’s door in the morning that mob in Derby were all still asleep. So was Stella. And Beatrice. They were snuggled up nice and warm and quiet. The knocking on the door hammered its way into their dreaming.
‘Stella? Stella? Wakey-wakey. You’re not at home now. Haven’t got yourself a fella in there have you?’ Haw haw.
Stella opened the door, smiling shyly. Her dressing-gown, bought for this trip, was tied tightly around her waist and held by her arm across her body, her hand gripping her shoulder in reassurance. Alex returned in a short while and took Beatrice to the day care centre at the hospital. There were tears in her eyes but she was quiet. Stella should have left her at home. Perhaps Stella should not have gone to this silly conference. Alex took Beatrice away by the hand. She looked back. Alex bent down to her as they walked, she leaning out from him and held by his hand. He spoke quietly. What did he say? It looked like deadly kind. She straightened her little self up, didn’t look back.
To start the day some people—one of them was an Aborigine—spoke to all of the people at the conference. Later they sat around in small bunches. The room had lots of varnished pine and bits of bright colours and green pot plants. The bright sun fell in slices from the window blinds. It looked strange to see such a room with so many black people in it, arranged in clusters. Stella said that.
During that morning Raphael, Bruno, some other fella arrived at the conference. They just walked in. They looked shabby, silhouetted more grey than black as they hesitated in a triangular chunk of sunlight propped against the glass doors. They saw Stella, started toward her. Alex cut them off before they could reach her hearing or find her voice among the many. He told them everyone was very busy. See? They better come back later, in the afternoon, say three o’clock. They shuffled out, in single file until they passed through the doors.
They were back just after lunch. Again Alex spotted them and herded them out as if they were bullocks. He told them Beatrice was at the hospital day care centre.
They didn’t come back. Before the meeting was closed for the day Stella asked Alex to ring the day care centre. But Beatrice, she wasn’t there any more. Stella rang the woman at the day care centre, and that woman said Beatrice wasn’t there.
When Alex and Stella arrived the woman smiled at them. It was a nervous smile. She was worried. A man had come in, she told them. He said he was Beatrice’s father. She described Raphael. He didn’t seem to have been drinking, she said. He said he was taking her home, she wasn’t some animal for a zoo he said. He didn’t want no gardiya looking at, no hospital using, his poor girl.
Well Stella was upset. Alex was cranky. He thought it was another typical cock-up. It was like handling kids constantly, dealing with these people.
He had to help. It was their conference. He drove Stella around and around in the hired car, around and around looking for Beatrice. He needed that air-conditioner. He had steam leaking out of his ears, a face that was all red, a mouth tight and skinny like a scar. They looked in town, they looked in parks, they looked at the football oval, they looked at the beach, they looked in the pub.
Eventually Alex left Stella at the house of someone she knew. She could keep looking, with their help. He had an appointment.
Halfway through his tennis game, just as he’d been serving aces to his colleague, Alex was called to the telephone.
The day care centre. ‘Who’s picking up the girl and her mum and dads?’
Her dads? Shit!
‘I’ll have to forfeit mate. Your game.’ Alex reminded his rival of who was really winning. ‘Bit of strife with my AEW. You know what they’re like.’ He regretted saying that. The other one just nodded, smiled. Smugly. They both knew it was not the right thing to say, not at a conference like this. Not to another principal of a tiny, isolated Aboriginal school who is vying with you for promotion. So Alex lost.
Alex was relieved to see only Stella, Beatrice, and Raphael at the centre. It could have been better though.
‘G’day, Mr Seddum.’ Raphael was ingratiating, a bit tipsy. Stella was quiet. It was difficult for her to smile.
Raphael and Stella asked for a lift to where the others, from home, were staying. When they got there the house was empty. Alex sat in the car, both hands clenching the steering wheel, and watched Raphael, Stella, and Beatrice knock, wait, look through the windows. They walked around the house, twice. At the completion of the second lap Stella slowly walked across to the car, and to Alex, dragging Beatrice. They talked through the driver’s window. The motor was still running. Because of the air-conditioner.
Alex reminded Stella that she was in Broome for professional reasons. A lot of school money had been committed to her being at this conference.
Stella and Beatrice drove back to the resort with Alex, and Raphael continued circling the house. Dinner was booked for seven o’clock.
Alex sits at a table with the other headmasters. His gut contracts when he sees swaggering Raphael, bloody staggery Milton, shrinking skinny Bruno bastard entering the room. He didn’t think they’d have the nerve. Cheeky. Bastards. Cheeky black bastards. That’s what he thinks. All the efforts he’s made. Must’ve been too soft with them. They’re jacking up against him.
He watches them walk over to the table, on the far side of the room, where Stella sits. They stand around the other table, and seem to know the other people, Aboriginal people, who sit there. Alex watches them over the shoulder of a colleague sitting opposite him. It is hard for him to concentrate on what the man is saying. The room is noisy with conversation, with people eating, waiting for their food. The intruders sit at Stella’s table. Did they know there’d be spare seats? They gunna bludge a meal? Oh, Alex must’ve been feeling pretty wild. His beer turns warm in his hand. He smiles quite politely and chats with his colleagues as he watches them laughing, eating, drinking at Stella’s table. He cuts his steak so savagely that the fork bends. His colleagues are too polite to notice the intruders, even though the laughter from that table is loud. Hooting, voices competing for attention. But not Stella’s.
After dinner Stella sidles over to Alex, who is drinking beer to calm and cool himself. The beer steams and hisses as it touches his angry red-hot lips. She asks Alex if he will ask the pilot if Raphael can return with them on the plane.
‘Stella,’ Alex’s voice is too tight. It is like he is holding himself by the throat to restrain his anger, to keep himself seated. ‘Stella, I think you should ask him yourself.’ He makes a mental note to see the pilot as soon as he can and tell him no. ‘Ask him yourself.’ His grip loosens a bit and he nearly snarls, ‘He’ll have to pay you know.’
Stella returns to her table. Everyone in the restaurant is noisier. The talking is ferocious, particularly at the table of intruders. Look at them; dirty clothes, unshaven faces. Alex’s shaven face is like stone. He is not talkative. The person opposite him is. Alex doesn’t hear what he is saying, he just sees the mouth flapping. Raphael, behind the mouth flapper, beckons Alex. Alex doesn’t move, but the words he might shout to Raphael fairly scream in his ears. Raphael comes over to his table. Those people with Alex wonder at the scruffy black man, but offer polite smiles and pretend to continue talking to one another.
‘Oh yes ... Well, in my experience ... consequences ... what you must realise ... try to imagine...’
‘You might say no when I ask you this,’ says Raphael.
‘I probably will, but you won’t know until you ask.’ Grim Alex. This is better for him, eh?
Raphael wanted to borrow two hundred dollars for a taxi to Derby where he was going to buy a car he’d heard about. When Alex said no the other intruders came over. They waved their arms about, talked loud, complained that no one ever helped them out when they really needed it. A lot of people were looking.
Alex was angry and embarrassed. In his head he probably had images of himself failing about with a chair and chasing those black men away.
They left.
And the restaurant got noisy with talk again.
Alex and his fellows spoke earnestly about the difficulties of being a school principal in remote communities, and working with the community, with Aborigines.
At many other tables they said different things and tried not to laugh too much, too loud.
Raphael, Bruno, Milton walked back to the pub. They were sparked up. Maybe they’d get some beer, more money from Annie maybe, flagons; head back to the mangroves. Some house? The pub?