Gibber’s Creek Gazette, 10 November 1975
Stockpile of Unpassed Bills May Mean Double Dissolution
The twenty-one bills the Senate has twice refused to pass may be the basis for another double dissolution at the next election in two years’ time, according to local Labor Party president, Mr Bill Hutchins, or even another election this year. ‘Every law the Senate refuses to pass is a slap in the face for the people who voted in the Whitlam government in two elections in two years. This leaves the way open for the prime minister to announce a double dissolution election, with another joint sitting of both Houses so the legislation can be passed.’
SCARLETT
Scarlett hauled herself out of Nancy’s car, dragged out her wheelchair and whizzed up the drive then along the Dribble veranda, almost mowing over the old cane lounge chair. The last exam done!
Free! Free not just from school, but free of all the confines of her old life. Never again would anyone tell her what she had to wear, how she must spend most of each day. She could choose her life from now on!
The world stretched around her. University, and friends there who loved playing with information and ideas too. New subjects, lecturers who WANTED you to know more than them. She could LIVE . . .
‘Finished!’ she yelled as Jed opened the front door. ‘No more exams! No more school. No more uniforms. Ever. No more Barbie or barbarians. Do you KNOW what Barbie said this morning? She plans to get engaged on her birthday next year.’
‘Who to?’
‘To whom,’ corrected Scarlett with dignity. ‘Don’t forget I did my English exam a fortnight ago. BRILLIANTLY.’ She grinned. ‘That’s just it. Barbie has no idea who she’s going to marry. But that’s the extent of her life plan. Can we go down to the river so I can throw my school uniform into it?’
‘Always happy to go down to the river. But how about donating it to St Vinnies instead?’
Scarlett wrinkled her nose. ‘Not as dramatic. But okay.’ She wheeled her way into the kitchen. Jed followed as Scarlett peered into the fridge. ‘Have you heard from Sam?’ Sam had made a lightning trip to California to see solar panel producers there.
Jed nodded. ‘He’ll be glad to be home tomorrow. But he’s also glad he went. He says there’s an incredible difference between what manufacturers say the panels will produce and what they actually do. But the ones he’s ordering really do deliver what they promise. I put out an ad for welders too. Each panel will need a different-sized frame to fit on each roof.’ Jed grinned. ‘We get the factory on 15 December. The Whole Australia Catalogue starts on 1 January.’
Scarlett wrinkled her nose again. ‘I still don’t like the name.’
‘Me either. I wanted something about Willing Wombat Workers, but Sam pointed out we need to sell to large companies, not just ordinary households. He says whole factories can be run on solar or wind power.’
Scarlett turned from the fridge, a wedge of asparagus quiche in her hand. ‘How about the Total Power Company?’
‘Maybe. We have three weeks before we need to register a name and start printing letterheads and business cards. And hire a manager,’ she added.
‘Lovely to be able to just pay money so you don’t need to do the boring bits.’ That’d been another Barbie barb this afternoon: ‘SOME of us have to work from now on. It must be nice to be able to do nothing till uni starts.’ There’d been enough truth in that to hurt. Scarlett WOULD just enjoy herself till uni began. But another truth had hurt even more. If she’d had to work at a holiday job, who would employ her? Leafsong, from friendship? Because an able-bodied waitress could work ten times faster than she could. Filing at River View? She couldn’t even reach the top filing cabinet without help. Most workplaces weren’t even designed for her wheelchair to reach them, much less get a job there.
She was free. Except Jed would pay for her freedom.
Jed eyed her, surprised. ‘Yes, it is. How about we celebrate with glasses of milk out on the veranda? There are some walnut slices too.’
‘Sounds good.’ Scarlett tried to put her unease away. This was a time to be happy, not bothering about blithering Barbie . . .
Jed carried out the milk and walnut slices. She sat on a beanbag next to Scarlett’s wheelchair and gazed out at the river, slumbering today, dappled with cloud and blue. ‘You know, I’ve been thinking.’
‘This is a newsflash?’
‘Don’t be rude to your elders, brat. No, seriously, I’ve been thinking about next year.’
‘So have I.’ Scarlett stretched her legs out luxuriously. Luxury to be able to stretch her legs. They might never bear her weight, but they were hers, at last, moving at her will . . . She suddenly realised what Jed was saying. ‘What was that?’
‘I said,’ repeated Jed, ‘that I’ve looked through the Sydney Morning Herald property section. There’s a three-bedroom, ground-floor home unit only about fifteen minutes from Sydney Uni that might be perfect for you. There’s a paved footpath all the way to the campus, though we’ll need to check there’s somewhere you can get up the kerbs.’
Scarlett stared at her. A home unit? She could just hear Barbie’s voice: ‘And they’ve bought her a HOME UNIT now.’ ‘I thought I’d stay at the Women’s College. That way I’d be right at uni.’
‘Sure, but there’d be no one to help you do things at college, and we’d still have to arrange to have a room and bathroom that are wheelchair accessible. So I was wondering . . . how about asking Mark if he’d like to share the unit with you? Just as a friend, of course.’
‘Mark?’ Scarlett stared at Jed with a flash of guilt. It had been AGES since she’d even seen him. But she’d been so flat-out the last few months, and after all, he had a whole community to look after him, even if some of their ideas were a bit nutty. ‘I haven’t even seen him since way before the exams. I decided to put some space between us, remember?’
‘I’m sure he understands how you feel now.’
‘Maybe. But why would I want him to live with me? Or why would he want to leave the Chosen to come to Sydney?’
‘I’ve heard that people are leaving the Chosen of the Universe.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘Oh, just someone,’ said Jed evasively.
Scarlett stared at her suspiciously. She had become very, very good at seeing when Jed was being just a little too innocent. ‘You’ve had the Chosen investigated.’
‘A bit.’
‘What exactly does “a bit” mean?’
‘It means that I wanted to find out if Ra Zacharia was a con man, or if he was genuine.’
Scarlett bit down her anger. ‘And what did you find out?’
‘Nothing conclusive. He does seem to believe in all the stuff he’s peddling. But the important thing is that he thinks his aliens are due to arrive tomorrow.’
Scarlett tried to shove her anger away. ‘I could have told you that. I DID tell you that. Though I’d forgotten the date. Did you employ a private investigator? Did you have him follow me and Mark too?’
‘Of course I didn’t have an investigator follow you and Mark.’
Which meant Jed HAD hired an investigator, who probably HAD investigated Mark too. How dare she have her friends investigated! ‘You might have trusted me. At least TOLD me.’
‘I do trust you.’
But obviously not to make important decisions, thought Scarlett, her rage growing. A private investigator!
‘When the aliens don’t arrive tomorrow, Mark might be very glad of a place to stay,’ Jed continued, not even SEEING that she’d been wrong, that Scarlett was having to bite back fury. ‘And you’ll need someone with you next year.’
‘No, I won’t,’ said Scarlett, trying to sound calm. ‘Jed, I don’t want to live with Mark. I like him. He’s a friend, even if I’ve neglected him. But don’t you even REALISE what Mark might think if I asked him to live with me? He’d think I liked him. Which I do, but not like that. I don’t want to live with ANYONE. This is what I’ve been working for. To live my life by myself. Finally be independent.’
Jed frowned. ‘But what if you fall?’
‘What if ANYONE falls? I’ll yell for help. Or crawl to a phone and call an ambulance.’
‘Don’t be silly. But you’re right — sorry, having Mark help is a dumb idea. I’ll stay with you for the first few weeks. Or maybe you could stay with Jim’s family, just till you get settled and learn your way around the uni. You don’t want to manage uni and living by yourself all in one go.’
Scarlett swallowed. ‘Other people do.’
Jed too obviously bit back, ‘Other people are not in a wheelchair.’ ‘Brat, don’t be silly. You’ve never even lived in a city, much less on your own.’
‘I know. That’s why I want to do it. Starting at college, like you did.’
‘We could advertise for someone to share the flat with you.’
‘Aren’t you listening? I don’t WANT a flat! I don’t want you to stay with me for the first few weeks either.’ Didn’t Jed understand? This was her next great leap. True independence.
‘Have you any idea how small rooms are in a college? There’ll be even less room with a wheelchair. And you won’t have your own bathroom. What if a wheelchair won’t fit in the shower cubicle?’
‘I’ll find a way to manage. My own way.’
‘A flat is the obvious solution. And someone to help you. Free rent in exchange for buying groceries and other things you need.’
Rage filled her, hot as boiling tomato soup. Later, she would analyse it: see humiliation, jealousy, despair. She would be sorry. See the love in Jed’s actions. But for now: ‘No! You are not going to buy me a flat. I don’t WANT more help!’
‘But you need help.’
Its very truth stabbed her. ‘So you’re going to buy me a friend?’
‘What?’
‘Buy a friend for me. Buying what you want? Like Matilda?’
‘She hasn’t bought anything that matters,’ said Jed quietly.
‘River View. A house for you.’
‘She’s never used her money to buy me. Or Nancy.’
‘She bought a newspaper to make the entire area think the way she does! You just don’t see it, do you? Other people do!’ Barbie’s malicious face flashed before her. ‘You bought Sam.’
Jed stared at her, her face white under its tan. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You used your money to get him back here. To keep him with you.’
‘That . . . that’s not true.’ Jed’s voice wobbled.
‘He was happy up at Nimbin. There were people with the same ideas as him. Communes like Halfway to Eternity, all kinds of alternative ideas, more people coming to the region every day. But you had to buy him a factory down here —’
‘Leave Sam out of this!’ Jed stood up. ‘I’m going to pretend we never had this conversation. And then we can drive up to Sydney and see the apartment. And when you realise it’s exactly what you need, maybe you’ll apologise.’
‘If you’re waiting for an apology, you’re going to sit there till you’re grey haired. You are NOT my mother. You’re not even my guardian. You’re . . . you’re just trying to keep me a child because you don’t have the guts to marry Sam and have kids for yourself.’
‘That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.’
‘Is it? Maybe it’s time that someone told rich Jed Kelly the truth, instead of sucking up to you.’
‘No one sucks up to me.’
‘Don’t they? You’re the one providing the money for this new business. You don’t know a dipole from a monopole, but everyone shuts up when you make mistakes because they can’t correct GENEROUS Jed Kelly, who’s paying for it all. How could Sam afford to go to California without your money? And Leafsong provides your food whenever you ask, even if she’s bushed from working since five in the morning, because it was kind Jed Kelly who bought the Blue Belle. You’ve paid for every one of us. And now you’re still trying to buy me.’
Jed stared at her, white faced. ‘That isn’t true. Any of it. And I am not buying you.’
‘Too right, you’re not. Because I can’t be bought. Not any more. I had to accept things before. Now I don’t.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Jed. And left.
Scarlett watched her go, strong bodied, beautiful, dark hair flowing over the light tan shirt and 1930s green linen trousers as she strode down to the river. Jed, who had everything, who could buy everything she didn’t have.
Including a sister. Jed, who had to be grateful to the Thompsons, to Tommy, to Matilda, had bought herself a little sister who had to be grateful to her. Always, and for everything.
For despite all that she had just said, she had few choices. Whitlam might have made university free. He might have outlawed discrimination. But nature had discriminated against her. No law could change that.
Jed was right. She needed Jed’s money to go to uni, even if her scholarship covered living at the Women’s College. A scholarship would not pay for taxis, or the physiotherapy that she’d need to pay for once she left Gibber’s Creek.
An hour ago she had thought she was free. She’d been fooling herself. Accepting Jed’s charity to pretend she could be independent. And Jed . . . how could Jed do this to her?! She’d thought Jed trusted her. Admired her! And yet Jed had hired a private investigator to investigate her FRIEND! Had thrust her dependence at her. OF COURSE you need me. OF COURSE I’ll give you everything you want.
But she DIDN’T want it! Didn’t want the flaming flat. Didn’t want Jed to keep helping her. She wanted to be free. To show Jed she COULD be free!
She sat, clenching and unclenching her fists, watching Jed stride along the river till she vanished in the trees. She didn’t want to be there when Jed came back, much less stay on for months until she went to uni. Or till Jed delivered her to the flat she didn’t want.
But what choice did she have, if she didn’t accept Jed’s help to go to uni? Back to River View? Or Overflow? Both would be charity.
Without help — a lot of help — and a heck of a lot more education, the only job a girl in a wheelchair might manage to qualify for would be a typist. Not even a secretary — you needed legs to run errands. Nor would a job as a typist bring her the money needed to fit out a place where she could live with dignity.
Her whole life had been spent with ramps or lifting bars provided for her. Her whole life suddenly seemed a prison of obligation, impossible to escape.
The breeze from the window flickered the papers on the table. There was a letter on top, unanswered.
She had accused Jed of buying her to be the sister, even the daughter, she didn’t have. But she was someone else’s daughter. Someone who had given her away, a long time ago, but who seemed to be clumsily trying to make amends now.
Being helped by your family — your REAL family — wasn’t the same as accepting charity, was it? And the Taylors lived in Sydney, not even too far from the university. Maybe Mr Taylor . . . her father . . . could drop her there on his way to work. That’s what families did.
Scarlett wheeled inside and picked up the letter, looked at the phone number, then wheeled out to the living room. She lifted the receiver and dialled.
A man’s voice. She almost asked, ‘Dad?’ But no father had written to her. Only one person so far had claimed her.
‘Could I speak with Mrs Taylor, please? Tell her it’s Sc— Sharon.’
‘Sharon?’ The man’s voice held shock, and something more.
And then the woman’s voice, eerily familiar from their last meeting. ‘Sharon? Is it really you?’
‘Yes. You . . . you said you wanted to meet me soon. Can you come down to Gibber’s Creek? Now?’
A pause and then, ‘It’s quite a drive . . . Lunchtime tomorrow?’
Excitement fizzed at the immediate acceptance. Mrs Taylor did want her! ‘Could we meet at the same café? It’s got a new name now, a sort of new name . . .’
‘I know where it is. Sharon, this is wonderful. I hoped . . . I’ll see you tomorrow . . .’ a pause, and then a carefully pronounced ‘. . . darling.’
Scarlett put the receiver back in its cradle. ‘Darling.’
She had been a fool. What else could her mother have done back in the 1950s with a child who couldn’t even lift her head? They’d told parents back then, ‘Don’t visit your children in hospital. Only let them come home from boarding school once a year. Your daughter must get used to her new life without you.’
She was wanted. She had a family. She could have had one for the past two years if only her stupid pride hadn’t got in the way. And her excitement at living with Jed at Dribble, so much more romantic than a suburban Sydney home. An exotic sister who gave her all she wanted . . .
Yes, she had been stupid. And the Taylors’ home was big enough for her. She had seen that in the photo: a standard three-bedroom house. She didn’t need much equipment now. A bar above her bed; a chair in a shower. Maybe a ramp up the back steps. Anyone could build a ramp. You just heaped up dirt and tamped it down and put down concrete. She had seen it done half a dozen times.
The Taylors weren’t rich — she had seen her mother’s clothes, her car. But they had a house. And she didn’t eat much. And she’d have her scholarship, which would pay for putting in the lifting bar, and even taxis, if she didn’t have to pay rent because she was HOME.
Tomorrow.
The river glinted out the window. The river she had always known, its sullenness in the 1960s drought, its crashing belligerence in flood. The ground thrushes who sang that snakes were near. The termites that filled the air before the rain. The swallows who nested above the back door and dropped mud on you as you came inside . . .
And Jed, who she did love, in spite of everything. And Leafsong and Nancy and Matilda and Matron Clancy and . . .
But she would have to leave them all to go to uni anyway. And once she had a home — the home that she had been born to — she could come back here. Spend holidays in Gibber’s Creek. Work at the café. Begin again with Jed, as friends and equals . . .
And now all she had to do was pack a bag and call Nancy and ask her to pick her up on her way to River View the next day, to drop her at the café. Nancy always left with the birds, long before Jed got up, at least when Sam wasn’t there.
She could tell Nancy the bag was so she could stay with Leafsong for a few days now her exams were over. And if she kept her bedroom door shut when Jed came back, they needn’t talk at all, not until she was with her . . . her family, and she didn’t need Jed’s help ever again.
Her life would change. All would be well.
She did not try to analyse why she was crying.