Chapter 14

Lesley

At Andrée’s urging, I made contact with a number of the girls I knew from Cherbourg who were also working as domestics in Brisbane – Jan, Edna, Gloria, Euriel and my childhood best friend Patsy. And, because of the strong cultural and family ties that exist between the people of Cherbourg and those living in the central Queensland Aboriginal settlement of Worrabinda, my friends and I expanded our circle to include girls we knew from up north – Pearl, Laurel (Coy), Coral (Nanny), Lorraine, Dianne and Joan. We were all in the same situation. Aboriginal. Servants. And a long way from home. But, together, in the safety of our numbers, there was a shared confidence and sense of security. We’d meet up at the local coffee lounges any chance we could. Other times we’d spend a quiet night in together – usually at Andrée’s place. It was no surprise that my dear boss-come-friend was adored just as much by my Aboriginal friends.

In August 1971, I took the youngest of Andrée’s children to the Royal Brisbane Exhibition – or as the locals call it, the ‘Ekka’. After spending the day together, going on rides and buying show bags to send home to my siblings in Cherbourg, I returned later that evening with my friend Coy. While walking past the rides and vendors in Sideshow Alley, we’d occasionally see a familiar black face stick out among the crowd.

‘Your brother Donny is here,’ different blackfullas would report. A little further on, I’d receive another status update on my brother’s movements: ‘He’s over at the wood-chopping arena, talking to some fulla.’

I love the black grapevine. Although not always one hundred per cent accurate, it was the fastest and cheapest form of communication we had going at the time – our equivalent of text messaging and Facebook.

Based on the fresh intelligence from my sources, I wandered over to Donny’s last-known sighting. Through the crowd I could see my brother; and on this occasion the Murri grapevine’s information proved to be reliable – Donny was indeed ‘talking to some fulla’.

‘Who’s that good sort over there?’ my friend Coy nudged me in the ribs with an over-eager elbow as we walked closer.

‘That’s my brother!’ I hissed with the protectiveness of an older sister.

‘Who? That fair-skin fulla – is he your brother?’

‘No, Donny’s the one with black hair and dark skin. I don’t know who that other guy is.’

‘Well by the way he’s looking at you I thought you knew him,’ Coy teased.

‘Knock off!’ I giggled, but conscious the handsome stranger was making eyes in my direction.

‘Hi Donny!’ I said wrapping my arms around my brother. ‘What are you doing down here?’

‘I’m working in Brisbane now,’ he answered with a kiss on the cheek. ‘I’ve been down here for a couple of weeks.’

As he spoke, I sneaked another glance at his friend. He was even more handsome close up, with his athletic build, brown wavy hair and olive skin. The attraction was strong and obvious enough for Donny to introduce us.

‘This is Willie. We went to school together in Murgon.’

‘My real name is Colin, Colin Williams, but all my mates call me Willie,’ my brother’s friend added. I noticed the corners of his mouth curled, hinting at a shy cheeky smile. Butterflies fluttered somewhere near my heart.

Willie explained that he grew up not far from Cherbourg in a small village called the Gallangowan Forestry Reserve, where his father was the senior ranger. It was then I learned that, despite his olive complexion and dark features, he wasn’t Aboriginal. This made me even more intrigued. Here was a white man hanging out in an area at the Ekka referred to as the ‘Blacks’ Bar’ – the place where Aboriginals were known to drink – rather than socialising with the other whitefullas in their known watering hole, the Cattlemen’s Bar, over on the other side of Sideshow Alley.

How did this good sort come to be here with Donny? My brother was five years younger than me and, by the time Donny’s age group started high school, the government’s segregation policies had changed. From 1964 Aboriginal students from Cherbourg had been allowed to attend high school in Murgon with the local white kids. That policy change came too late for me, as by then I was already working in Condamine as a domestic servant. But Donny and Willie had remained friends from those school days.

‘I used to follow your brothers’ footy games and cricket matches around town,’ Willie said. ‘Those Malone boys were good players,’ he added, stroking Donny’s ego. My brother chuckled in agreement.

‘That’s right! Just like our dad, Champ Malone.’

While the boys reminisced about my family’s sporting prowess, Willie kept looking at me. Each time, his eyes caught mine just that little bit longer. And I got lost in his gaze. But there was someone else looking too – my friend – who waited patiently for her introduction.

‘O-o-h and this is my friend Coy,’ I added hastily, embarrassed that I’d been swept up and distracted by Willie’s good looks.

‘Nice to meet you,’ Willie greeted. ‘Can I buy you girls a drink?’

‘A lemonade, thanks,’ Coy answered with little hesitation.

Willie looked at me, waiting for my drink order. The attention from his almond-brown eyes made me blush.

‘Oh, umm, I-I-I’ll have one too, please.’

‘So Willie, where do you work?’ Coy asked, moving closer towards him to hear his voice over the noise. The barman handed us our drinks and I smiled to myself while sipping the lemonade. I’d always admired Coy’s confidence; she really wasn’t intimidated by anyone and was far more relaxed in situations like this than I was. Out of all of our friends, she and I were the only ones who weren’t married or with partners. My shyness and occasional stutter always made it that bit harder for me to strike up a conversation with new people, especially fine-looking ones of the opposite sex.

‘I’m in the army and am stationed over at the Enoggerra Army Barracks,’ he said. ‘Do you girls work?’

‘I work at a nursing home,’ Coy offered, smitten by the handsome stranger. I was just as smitten, but doubted he’d feel the same way about me when I had such strong competition. Willie listened as Coy began telling him about herself. Predicting my own defeat, I turned to Donny to talk about how the family back home were going. There was much to catch up on. Ma and Pa were getting on in age. I was concerned to hear Pa had had an accident while working at the sawmill. A piece of timber had partially blinded his eye, and because of this he had retired. Our brother Claude had a few months earlier returned home from fighting for Australia in the Vietnam War.

‘What about you, Lesley?’ I spun around, surprised to see Willie looking at me. ‘Do you work?’ he prompted.

‘I-I-I work for a family at Clayfield … you know, looking after kids and helping with the housework … that sort of thing.’ My voice trailed off, embarrassed by the attention. I didn’t know what else to say. I wanted to let Coy do all the talking.

We finished our drinks and the four of us wandered down Sideshow Alley looking at amusement rides to go on. Willie walked up alongside me and started talking but I worried that Coy might think I was trying to cut her out on purpose. She didn’t seem to mind, though, as she and Donny had already paired up in conversation.

Around strangers I wasn’t much of a talker, but with Willie it was easy to become absorbed in conversation – even if it was not about anything in particular. Even the screams and loud music from Sideshow Alley couldn’t distract us. With him nothing else seemed to matter; it all faded into the distance. Even my nervous stutter disappeared. There was no need for me to be anxious or timid with this man even though I’d just met him. Willie’s presence seemed reassuringly familiar and it made me feel safe.

Some time passed before we realised that Donny and Coy were no longer walking behind us. Willie immediately went into protective mode, scanning the crowd with the training of an army scout, for any sign of my friend and brother. But they were nowhere to be seen.

‘How were you planning on getting home tonight?’

‘Coy and I were going to share a taxi back to my place.’

‘Well I can’t let you travel alone at this time of night. Let me escort you home,’ Willie suggested, and we made our way to the taxi rank. I was grateful for the company, as I’d had some bad experiences in the past when I’d been out on my own. As the taxi turned into my street, it slowed down to look for the house.

‘Just here thanks, driver,’ I instructed. ‘The driveway’s on the left.’

Willie gave me a strange look. He could see no sign of a house; just a long, curved, slate driveway nestled among the trees. Together we walked up the driveway, and I could sense his curiosity. It was dark and shadowy, revealing little about the house until we reached the end of the path.

Andrée had left on the outside lights for me before she went to bed. The lamps shone brightly, illuminating the manicured gardens and the multi-storey house in all its glory. I could see Willie was trying to remain unfazed by the sight. But his eyes had the same surprised look I had become used to seeing by now from others and my family who’d visited me. His eyes darted around in awe and he struggled to fill the silence.

‘So, umm … this is where you live?’

‘Yeah,’ I replied not really knowing what else to say.

‘Does your boss, umm … do they treat you … umm?’ he stumbled. I knew what Willie was thinking.

‘Yes, she’s real good to me … more of a friend than a boss … and her husband is nice too.’

‘That’s good,’ he nodded, not knowing what else to say. He fidgeted with his collar and then ran his fingers through his hair. For the first time all night, it was he who was nervous and struggling to speak.

‘Can I see you again?’ he finally asked.

‘Mmm. I’d like that.’

‘Because I live at the army barracks I don’t have a phone; so I’ve got to use a pay phone. But if I could have your number, I’ll call you.’

Neither of us had a pen nor paper handy, so he had to memorise it. Willie looked towards the driveway, hoping the taxi was still waiting for him by the side of the road. We knew this was the end of our evening together and neither of us wanted to leave.

‘Well then, umm, I suppose I’d better let you go inside and get out of the cold.’ There was another awkward pause and a fiddle with his hair before Willie gathered up enough courage to lean forward and softly kiss my cheek. ‘Good night,’ he whispered into my ear.

Willie watched as I unlocked the latch and went inside. The door closed behind me, but I still didn’t want to leave; the man I wanted to be with was there on the other side, and with each second moving further away. I thought of him walking alone back down the driveway, and then climbing inside the taxi and being driven away – returning to his life at the army barracks, leaving me here without him.

Would Willie remember this evening we had together? Or would I be just another girl whom the handsome soldier met, and by morning, had forgotten?

The next day I went about my chores with much hovering near the telephone. Each time it rang I held my breath, waiting for Andrée to tell me that I had a call. But it didn’t happen.

‘Of course he isn’t going to call,’ I told myself. ‘A handsome man like him won’t be interested in a girl like me.’ I felt stupid for even hoping that he would.

A day or two later, there was a call. It was him! Thank goodness, as I don’t know how much bloody longer I could’ve held out before hearing that deep voice again. Willie was also keen to see me but our next date would have to wait. I was in the middle of helping Andrée and her family pack for a few days away at their beach house down on the sunny Gold Coast. Any other time, I would’ve been thrilled to go with them. Each time we holidayed it hardly seemed like work – collecting shells on the beach with the children, or cooking alongside Andrée in the kitchen, while taking in the stunning views of the Pacific Ocean. But this time around, my heart wasn’t in it. There was only one place I wanted to be, and it wasn’t by the sea among the millionaires in their glamorous homes.

It was with Willie.

Tammy

That’s such a lovely story, Mum. I’ve never heard you talk about this before. It’s nice to know that you fell in love, and had the chance to experience the same feelings and emotions as other young people, irrespective of race and colour. Why haven’t you spoken about this much before?

Lesley

I don’t know … I suppose because it’s private. You know, I get shame talking about this kind of stuff, especially with my children! But hey, just because I don’t talk about it, doesn’t mean I don’t reminisce about my time with your father. Every year in August, when the Royal Brisbane Exhibition rolls into town, I look forward to seeing the Ferris wheel with its lights and carriages gently spinning around. I’m reminded of the good times I shared with ‘my Willie’, before the heartache and sadness that was to follow.