Charlie spent the afternoon cleaning her cottage, unpacking groceries, and sewing. By the end, her hand throbbed a little, but she found that ache, as well as the ache in her shoulder muscles, satisfying. She’d achieved a lot that day, and it felt good. She sat on the couch with a hot cup of tea as she tapped on her phone to edit photos she’d taken of the clothes she’d sewn that day. By the time she finished her tea, two tops were up for sale, and it was approaching 10:00 p.m. Feeling relaxed, she decided now was a good time to try to access the Dream again. At least once more before heading to bed for real dreams.
She sat back in her armchair, getting into a comfortable position and slowly relaxing each of her muscles as she breathed in and out. She heard the insects outside her windows chirping their music, as well as the wind gently blowing through the grass. Intent… Charlie thought strongly. I need to know who the Grey is. Show me who the Grey is… Frustratingly the Dream continued to elude her — she felt it just out of reach.
Just as Charlie’s frustration threatened to break her calm, she felt another presence join her; in fact, she sensed the figure standing beside her. A slight fear coursed through her but nothing like she’d felt with the Grey. It was more innocent, and there was something else too…a cheekiness. Marie? she probed gently. It’s okay — I’m going to help you. Show me who the Grey is, darling. I’ll stop him from hurting you. Show me…
Feeling the familiar tugging, Charlie sighed in relief as she allowed herself to be drawn into the Waiting Place, into the Dream. She opened her eyes and found herself in the living room, the decor the same as it had been in Marie’s time. She was sitting in the green-upholstered armchair, daylight streaming through the windows. Hearing sounds coming from the kitchen, she willed herself to the doorway. Emma had rolled up her sleeves and was kneading dough on top of a wooden counter. Working besides her was Aunty Alice, her own sleeves rolled up, flour sprinkled across her apron. The two were engaged in a deep, friendly conversation.
Hearing more noises outside, Charlie willed herself to the front of the cottage. A small table had been set up on the veranda with four seats. On one seat sat a middle-aged Caucasian woman. Two young girls Charlie recognised as the youngest Evans girls — Alice and Florence — also sat at the table. Both were older than Charlie had seen them before, perhaps six or seven years old. Each had a chalkboard in front of her, learning their letters from the older woman. A third chalkboard sat unused at the fourth empty place. Of course, Marie is off hiding or making mischief, Charlie thought, amused.
Marie? Charlie called out. Where are you, darling? Feeling a light tugging, she let it pull her. The world blurred, and then she found herself standing somewhere she didn’t recognise. There was a large clump of gum trees, and just beyond them, stretching as far as her eye could see, stood a property fence, made of wooden stakes and wire. A group of men were replacing the fence — Kapiri, Jacob, and three Caucasians she didn’t recognise. As Charlie stepped closer to investigate, thinking one of these must be the Grey, Kapiri stood and turned. He stared directly at her. Charlie stopped in surprise — if he were seeing her, this was the first time it had happened in the Dream. Aside from her strange moment with Marie at the creek — and she wasn’t sure Marie had actually seen her. She tilted her head as she examined Kapiri back. Although he stared in her direction, his eyes weren’t fully fixed onto her.
Charlie looked behind her to see empty grassland before turning back to Kapiri. “What do you see?” asked Jacob, the first to notice Kapiri had stopped working. The other three turned to look as well, obviously happy for any small distraction from their jobs.
“I’m not sure,” Kapiri replied in his deep, smooth voice. “I thought I saw a shimmer in the light, just for a moment. But it’s gone now.” Shocked by the thought that Kapiri had caught even a glimpse of her, Charlie fled to the gum trees, determined not to alter time in any way. She’d always assumed she was a silent observer, not something that could be touched or seen. Marie was the only one she’d ever interacted with. “Whatever it was, it’s gone now,” Kapiri said, turning back to the fence.
Jacob passed Kapiri a water skin. “It’s hot today,” he said.
“Let’s stop for a break,” Kapiri ordered. “The squatter will be coming by soon to check on our work.”
The others threw down their tools without any further encouragement, wiping dirty hands on even dirtier trousers. A snapping sound brought Charlie’s attention to the branch above her head. Lying across the branch, her dress hiked up to her waist to reveal stockinged legs, was Marie. If it had been possible for Charlie to laugh out loud in the Dream, she would have. Marie had obviously followed the men out to the fence, rather than do her schoolwork. As there were no horses in sight, they obviously weren’t too far from the cottage. How they hadn’t seen Marie following them, Charlie didn’t know. The grass was long enough to crouch behind perhaps. And her white dress would blend in perfectly. This Marie certainly was a troublemaker.
“Start us a fire then,” one of the Caucasian men called, wandering to a large pack leaning near the fence. “I’ll boil us some tea.”
“You’ve got everything in your bluey, you have, Tom,” said a second man.
Tom opened his bag — his “bluey,” as it had been called — and pulled out a billy, two cups, and a tin of tea. Charlie recognised the name Bushell’ on the side of the tin and smiled to herself. They still only sell Bushells or Tetley’s in the local grocer! she thought. So Tom must be one of these swagmen… Marie scooted a little closer, farther down her branch; Charlie felt excitement and curiosity seeping out of her.
“Tell us a story, Tom,” one of the others piped up as they set about boiling the billy. “How far did you walk this week?”
“Too far,” Tom answered in a gruff but friendly voice. “There’s too many swaggies on the roads now. Not enough work to go round. My stories would bore you all to tears… It’s not so easy for some. The whole country’s gone bung.” He poked the fire with a stick. “Well, most of it,” he added, motioning around him. “You blokes are lucky.” He grunted as he stood, then walked back to his swag to search for something else. He came back carrying something wrapped in a wet cloth and a small tin. “You boys hungry?” Not waiting for an answer, he fished a knife out of his pocket and went to work on the tin. Charlie realised it was corned beef as the lid popped open to reveal the bright-red meat.
Tom removed the billy from the fire then poked the sticks a bit more until it died down. He unwrapped the other item and removed a lump of dough, which he placed in the dying fire. “That damper’ll take time to cook,” one of the other men piped up. “Come on, cobber, tell us a story.”
Marie’s leg dangled down from the tree, and Charlie could almost hear her excited pleading. Come on, cobber, Charlie heard Marie thinking. Tell us a story, please.
“All right,” Tom conceded. “It’s March now? Well, almost four years ago to the day you know where I was standing? Sydney Harbour. And you know what I was seeing? The Big Fella opening the Sydney Harbour Bridge,” Tom sighed, then laughed gruffly. “Well, it wasn’t him that opened it, was it? Some Irishman rode out of the crowd and slashed the ribbon with his bloody sword.” Tom laughed harder, the men joining in. He poked his damper with a stick, smiling as he remembered. “The police dragging him down off that horse was one of the most exciting parts of the whole day. Then, of course, they had to retie the ribbon for the Big Fella.”
“What I wouldn’t give to have been there,” one of the men said, making tea with the boiled billy.
“You could barely move for the number of people there that day,” Tom said. “But I had one of the best seats in the house. Right under the sign for Clements Tonic. Natures great remedy! Dressed in my best suit… And when Jack Lang cut that ribbon, a rocket shot up into the air, and there was fire across the sky and flags flying everywhere. And then the parade! Oh, ho, the float full of Australia’s surf girls… Cornstalks, the lot of them!” Whistling, the men clapped Tom on the back.
“Ah, but that’s all behind me now.” He rubbed his face. “Now the most I can look forward to is a dry night’s sleep, a good day’s work, and some tucker with good men.”
“Cheers to that, Tom,” Jacob said, passing him a mug of tea.
“That’s not all some can hope for,” one of the stockmen piped up. “I hear Bill has boxes of pounds buried somewhere on the property. He doesn’t trust the banks. Always rattling on about the porkers, like he’s as down on his luck as the rest of us.”
“That’s enough of that,” Kapiri interjected. “Tom, we’ve got to fix the full property fence. Why don’t you stay on a few months? At least see the other side of winter with us. It’d be better than humping your swag through the frost and rain.”
“Don’t you have to ask the squatter?” Tom asked in his hoarse voice.
“Bill will see the worth of it,” Kapiri said. “Here he comes now anyway.” Kapiri nodded. In the far distance a horse could just be seen trotting towards them.
One of the stockmen spat on the ground before practically growling at Tom, “The squatter is one of these Aborigines Progressives types.” The tension built, but Tom quickly offered to tell another story, and the atmosphere died back down.
Charlie looked up at Marie, who was happily watching the conversation, then back to the men. One of you is the Grey, she thought. If she stayed long enough, she might just find out the names of the other two stockmen. Maybe that racist spitter…
A tremble ran through Charlie’s sternum. She shuddered, looking around her. The tremble ran through her sternum again, almost like bubbles rapidly popping in her chest. Something doesn’t feel right… She tried to pull herself out of the Dream and felt a little resistance. Again, she pulled back as she’d done the first time, but something held on to her. Marie… Charlie thought, realising it might have been the child holding her back. Marie, I need to leave… Charlie tried a third time and, blissfully, felt herself surge back.
She gasped as she became aware again, sitting in her living room chair. Her mouth felt sticky, her head was pounding, and she found it hard to focus on the room around her. It was still dark, so she couldn’t have been in the Dream for long, but her whole body felt stiff. It wasn’t just her mouth that was sticky — her whole throat and chest felt gummy and achy. Quickly she realised she was thirsty. So thirsty! Charlie stood up and stumbled. It felt as though her legs had fallen asleep. Her right leg shook as she groggily walked to the kitchen where she filled a glass with water.
She drank it greedily, despite the pain in her throat as she swallowed. She downed a second glass more slowly before thinking to check the time on her phone. 3:00 a.m. But not 3:00 a.m. on Thursday — it was 3:00 a.m. on Friday… She’d been in the Dream all Wednesday night, all through Thursday, and into early Friday morning…