Gibber’s Creek Gazette, 20 January 1975
A Stink-Free Creek
Fishermen and yabby hunters may once more be able to forage in Gibber’s Creek with the unveiling today of the new Gibber’s Creek Sewage Works by local member Nicholas Brewster, ALP. ‘The backyard dunny and the fly-covered dunny man as well as the septic tank will soon be things of the past,’ said Mr Brewster.
Gibber’s Creek Chamber of Commerce president, Mr Graham Flint, responded, ‘Thanks for the sewerage system, mate. But your new highways between the big cities aren’t going to help Gibber’s Creek — and your constituents are the ones who’ll pay for them.’
SCARLETT
Scarlett gazed out at the bowerbirds sitting hawk-like in the apricot branches, as they had been since they’d eaten the fruit then discovered that humans would also, sometimes, put even more food out for them on the bird table.
It had been more than two weeks since her mother’s letter. What did you write to a mother who had abandoned you?
Scarlett thought of Jed’s words: ‘It’s about the woman you are now.’
So who was Scarlett Kelly-O’Hara?
Dr McAlpine had told her that it was unlikely her back, with its incomplete spine, would ever be strong enough to let her stand, unless supported by her arms on the therapy bars either side. He also admitted that as no one had yet found a cause for her deformities, there was no known prognosis.
Scarlett might — with work and determination — become stronger. She might marry, have children, a long career, and die at one hundred and four.
Or whatever caused her condition might reassert itself at any time, weakening her muscles . . .
That was NOT going to happen. She had come so far. She was not going back.
Okay. She knew who she was. She knew what to write too.
Dribble Homestead
via Gibber’s Creek
Dear Mrs Taylor,
I hope you are well. Excuse my not calling you Mum.
You want to know how I am. As you saw in the café, I’m still in a wheelchair, but I can care for myself now, pretty much. I go to school and am top of the class in everything except art.
I am not good at domestic science either, because it is BORING, and I am excused from sport, which is EXCELLENT because I can spend the time in the library.
I am going to study medicine at Sydney Uni next year. I will live in college and Jed is even getting a car specially modified for me so I can get my driver’s licence.
Jed’s name is Jed Kelly. She is my adopted sister and I live with her at Dribble, her property outside Gibber’s Creek. The address on the top of this letter is the best place to write to me.
I go to River View three times a week after school for therapy — we are working on my legs and back now — so I do get any letters sent there.
I’m not sure what else to say about who I am. I love reading, but about things more than stories. My friend Leafsong has the café where we met now, and I help her there often.
I am glad that you wrote to me. I hope you have a very good 1975.
Best wishes,
Scarlett Kelly-O’Hara (Sharon)
There. Done. That was exactly who she was: the girl who had achieved a miracle. And if that were possible, why not another?
One day . . . just maybe . . . she would walk.