Field Walking

by John Bishop

PART TWO

  HOUSE ON THE RIVER

  Tony’s Orchard

  Sunday 27th September 1992

  Until Tony purchased his house on the river, in September 1990, none of the Blake family had ever been on the property. All of them had seen the house from the sandstone bridge on Old River Road, the aspect that had attracted Tony’s attention. It was a two-storey timber structure on a small promontory 100ms downstream from the bridge. The river turned sharply right along the promontory then curved back in a large semi-circular arc, so the late nineteenth century architecture of the building on the point was seen in striking outline against the wheat paddocks on the other side of the river—paddocks stretching across the flat plains to a mountain range at the far edge of the fertile valley. There was a broad verandah on the upper level of the house. Emily, who had often ridden her bicycle across the bridge in her youth, remembered having sometimes seen a man leaning on the railing, fishing from the upper deck. It could truly be described as an idyllic image and nobody in the family had been surprised when Tony, having seen an estate agent’s “For Sale” sign, determined to buy the property, even before inspecting it.

  Access to the property was by an unmade side road off Old River Road. From a gate nearly obscured by long grass, a gravel driveway wound through trees and native bush to the main entrance. The area around the house had been cleared of most of the original vegetation to reduce the fire hazard. Grassed areas sloped away to the river on three sides. The remainder of the property appeared largely untouched. It was not until Tony was handed the plans of the site that he realised there had once been a citrus orchard. The layout was now barely discernible in the long grass and overgrown bushes on one side of the driveway. ‘There’s enough to do to refurbish the house without tackling the orchard at this stage,’ he had informed the family after his first visit. ‘Sometime in the future we will consider what to do with that area.’

  He decided the time had come to turn his attention to the orchard when structural alterations to the house were finished and interior decorating well advanced. He had named the property Arramulta. He and Emily were now permanent residents. Like Alfred’s naming of Banabrook, Arramulta was the nearest rendering they could get to the Aboriginal name for the valley, which a local elder told Tony meant a place where trees overhang the river.

  An orchardist was brought in from beyond Bullermark to examine the citrus trees. He emerged from the undergrowth to give his opinion that, after heavy cutting back followed by lighter pruning over a couple of years, most of the trees could be expected to produce good crops. He had also discovered that the orchard had been watered by a pumping system drawing water from the river into irrigation trenches cut along the slope. ‘You’d need to put in a modern pump. I found bits of the old one. Good museum pieces but no other use now. The owners were smart to install a pumping system. You couldn’t rely on the rainfall we get out here—not for citrus trees. But you musn’t over water citrus neither, so pumping is a good way to go.’

  ‘So, what should I do next?’ Tony asked.

  ‘There’s a lot of clearing to do at ground level. A small calf-dozer is what we want. I know a bloke who’ll do that real easy. Then you need careful cultivation between the rows so as not to damage the root system. There’s an orchardist near Calway has a narrow tractor and furrower. I’ve used him before. Mention my name and he’ll give you a good price. Get him to call me and I’ll give him a run-down on what to do. And I’ll see if I can find a good tree surgeon for you. I don’t have the time to tackle the job myself. But get the clearing done first so he can get a good look at what needs doing. It’s getting a bit late in the season for pruning, but I reckon it’s worth doing the first cut this year provided you’re prepared to get the pumping system going again before summer.’

  With work in short supply around the district, contracts to clear and furrow were arranged within a week. On the last Sunday in September, Judith and Max visited Arramulta after the morning service to have lunch on the upper deck and inspect the grove of overgrown trees.

  ‘Lunch first,’ Tony insisted. ‘While you have been at work with the Almighty, Emily and I have been communing at the altar of haut cuisine.’

  ‘What he means, honey, is I cut up the vegetables under his eagle eye.’

  ‘Un sous-chef sans pareil. Was I not clever to put the kitchen on this level? As if cooking were not already a delight, to do so with such a view is indescribable. If I am able lure Judith, my angel and partner in such ventures, to join me in preparing a feast for our friends, perhaps even Caroline and Sean would visit when word of such an event filtered back to Canberra or Sydney or other places where the devil does his work—apologies padre!’

  ‘You really are wound up today,’ Max laughed.

  ‘Too many nips of cooking sherry! There, I have confessed.’

  ‘Well I’ve finished with the devil for today. I’ve removed my collar and Judith is driving so I’m allowed a drink!’

  ‘Max, honey, I’ve never seen you so relaxed,’ Emily said. ‘The demise of that bastard d’Aratzio has done wonders for you. Tony’s got a red open but if you feel like a white, this Pinot Grigio is yummy, and it’s local—first pickings from the vines Grant Hughes put in.’

  It was a happy party that made its way into the orchard after lunching on canard aux cerises and a dessert of Cuban bananas. They walked the freshly furrowed lanes between trees that, in their overgrown condition, had a chunky grandeur about them. The ancient broken pump was now in full view, as was part of the original irrigation system. The land sloped gently down to the stretch of river not seen from the bridge. They stood for some minutes on the sandy bank before starting back, each taking a different lane but in sight of each other.

  ‘Hang on!’ The call came from Max who had stopped and was examining the ground. ‘Tony I think you’d better have a look at this.’

  The small party gathered around an area in the lane Max had taken. For a while nobody spoke. Then Tony said, ‘Alas poor Yorick.’

  In addition to what was unmistakably a human skull, there were two or three bones partly uncovered, one of which appeared to be the end of a tibia, one of the few bones a non-medical person might recognize.

  ‘Suddenly, I am sober,’ Tony said. ‘We must not touch anything.’

  ‘Could this be an Aboriginal burial ground?’ Emily asked.

  ‘I would hope it was nothing more sinister,’ Tony said. ‘But these objects are so close to the surface, you have to wonder.’

  Field Walking

  Monday 28th September 1992

  Tuesday 29th September 1992

  The day after the strange discovery at Arramulta, Tony called on Constable Dominic Gerado and made a report. Dominic telephoned the station at Calway Junction. The sergeant at Calway quickly decided this was a matter for his superiors in Sydney and promised to call back as soon as he had instructions. After an hour of waiting, Dominic told Tony to go home. Pending orders from police headquarters, all he could think to suggest was that nobody go near the site.

  It was early afternoon when Tony received a call from Justin Brody.

  ‘It’s really not my department, Tony, but the commissioner knew I was familiar with Arajinna so he’s handballed the problem to me. It was referred to him because nobody further down the line could decide what to do. If these remains were found on a property in Sydney, the forensic department would have made an inspection immediately and we’d have an idea what we’re dealing with. Unexplained human remains are usually treated as a potential crime scene until forensics has had a look, but the commissioner doesn’t want Dominic sitting out there with the area taped off, and he’s sensitive about the possibility of disturbing old burial grounds. We were blasted in the press over an incident out west last year. So we’re asking you to sit tight and not tell anyone else what you’ve found. I’ve got Meg back in full harness and I’m lending her to the head of forensics who will be up to see you tomorrow. Name’s Gunter Karp. Meg and Domi
nic will assist under his direction. Gunter’s short staffed like everybody. We’ve chartered a flight out of Bankstown and the word is your strip is usable. Dominic will pick them up in the morning. They should be at your place by ten.’

  ‘Okay then, Roger Wilco, or whatever they say.’

  ‘I think it’s “ten four” these days. Depends on what re-runs you watch.’ Justin laughed and rang off.

  The next day, Megan Schmitz was welcomed as an old friend. ‘There’s something about Arajinna?’ she said, ‘I can’t keep away from the place.’ She introduced forensic examiner Gunter Karp who was built like a front row forward but had soft hands and a gentle manner. Emily offered refreshments, but Gunter said he’d rather start the inspection so he could determine how long the job might take. Tony took them to the area where the find had been made. In quick time Gunter had given instructions to Dominic and Megan and was taking preliminary photographs.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Tony said. ‘Give me a time and we’ll have something prepared for lunch.’

  Gunter looked at his watch. ‘Noon would be a good time to review things. We’ll take a break then. And thanks. Lunch is often a luxury on jobs like this.’

  Soon after noon, the forensic team arrived at