by David Laing
A handful of locals, acting as officials for the night, were racing around pinning up photo displays on the front wall. On the stage, one of the local fishermen, Jed Turner, with his jacket off and sleeves rolled up, was busy setting up a microphone and lectern.
As soon as Snook and I sat down, Snook took off his jacket and plonked it on the seat next to him. ‘For Gloria,’ he explained. ‘She said she was comin’. Her dad’s gonna be here too. I hope he doesn’t talk to me like he usually does and I hope he doesn’t want me to still go for that doctor’s visit like he said before.’
‘I don’t think he will,’ I tried to assure him. ‘Not after today. I think that finding all those bones might have put us in the clear. He’ll know now that we’re not completely loopy after all.’ I pulled at his sleeve. ‘Here he comes now. He’s got Gloria with him and look, Mr and Mrs Cooper are with him too.’
Snook snatched his jacket from the seat just before Gloria ran over to sit down. Good, I thought, the romance is still going strong. After saying ‘Hi’, we all watched as her dad helped the Coopers over to the seats next to us.
‘Hello again, young man … young lady,’ Mrs Cooper said, not bothering with the seats but hanging onto her husband’s arm and walking stick instead. ‘Harry and I have something to say to you two.’ She waved the stick in front of our noses. ‘We want to say thank you. You have made two old people very happy. You found Aaron while all the authorities could not.’ Old Mrs Cooper’s gaze focussed on me. ‘You’re someone very special, young lady. I’ve known it from the start … you have the vision.’ I immediately felt my face start to burn.
‘Yes, yes,’ her husband said, trying to get her to sit down. ‘Knowing what happened to our son has been a tremendous relief. Doctor Huntingdale has made it all very clear to us what actually happened to Aaron, but there’s one thing that puzzles me. You told him that our son fell off the cliff and ended up in the river and that he was washed downstream to the lagoon? How could you possibly know that?’
Still feeling flushed after Mrs Cooper’s kind words, it was a few moments before I could focus on what her husband was saying. Finally gathering my thoughts and taking care not to tell him about my suspicions – that he was pushed – I tried to answer his question. But it wasn’t my words that came from my tongue … they were my mother’s:
La Doowi
Tjukuritjana nyangu.
Aaronkanu kurunpana nyangu, kalinya tjakultjunu.
Seeing the look of astonishment on Mr Cooper’s face at my sudden flourish into Pitjantjatjara, I hurried to explain. ‘Snook and I had a vision of The Dreaming, Mr Cooper. We could see Aaron’s spirit. He walked beside us and he told us what happened to him, how he’d gone missing.’
Harry Cooper looked at his wife who was dabbing her eyes with a tissue. He gave her a hug. ‘I guess that says it all, Marge. If the lass says that she and Snook saw Aaron, then that’s good enough for me. Fair enough?’
Marge looked up at her husband, nodded slightly and then turned to us. ‘Thanks again, you two,’ she said, her voice trembling, ‘for putting our minds at rest.’
I smiled when I heard that and I also smiled when I saw Gloria rub the back of Snook’s hand. I kind of hoped Snook would respond in some appropriate way, but in typical fashion, he said, ‘They’re puttin’ the photos out for display. Wanna have a look?’ Not waiting for a reply, he stood up and then pushed his way through the crowd to the front of the hall. Sighing at Snook’s impatience, and after excusing ourselves to the Coopers and Gloria’s father, we followed him.
‘Strewth,’ Snook said when Gloria and I caught up with him. ‘Look at ’em all. There’re mobs of ’em.’
There were definitely mobs – close to fifty or sixty displays, I’d say.
‘What do you reckon?’ Snook asked. ‘Do you think we’ve got a chance against all of these?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘By the look of it, there are a lot of professional-looking prints. They’ll take some beating.’ Walking along, looking at the displays, I said, ‘There’re landscapes, wild animals, birds, the different characters who live around here …’ I turned and looked at Snook. ‘I wouldn’t hold out too much hope of us winning.’
Gloria, who’d been standing back listening, asked, ‘Isn’t that the judges over there at the other side of the hall? It looks like they’re pinning ribbons onto some of the entries. Let’s go look.’
We wended our way through the crowd until we came to the displays with the ribbons. Each of those, we saw, had won an award and below each was a sticker showing why they had been chosen. I read some of them aloud:
‘Birds in flight’ - For meritorious effort.
‘Dolphins at play’ – For an outstanding depiction of wildlife.
‘Sam in his shop’ – The clutter prize.
‘Huh,’ Snook mumbled. ‘None of ours are there, eh?’
‘I can’t see any,’ I agreed. ‘In fact, I don’t think any of ours have even been put up. They probably weren’t good enough.’
‘Probably not,’ Snook said, sounding disappointed. His let down was soon forgotten, however. He nudged me in the ribs. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘Over there, near the judges.’
Following Snook’s line of sight, I saw what had caught his attention. It was none other than Mr Reginald Blowhard, looking at the various displays.
Seeing him cruising around, made me think he’d entered the competition after all, that he might even have won a prize, but then again, judging from his long face, I changed my mind. Deciding to let bygones be bygones, we wandered over.
‘Hi,’ Snook said. ‘We didn’t think you’d be comin’ tonight.’
‘Humph, you lot again. So far you’ve brought me nothing but bad luck, and by the looks of it, you’ve done it again. Look at my beautiful photos over there.’ He pointed to one of the displays. ‘Those idiots of judges haven’t even me a meritorious ribbon.’
We strolled over to look at Blowhard’s efforts. Snook was the first to react. A sound like a choking chicken burst from his lips and he doubled over. ‘Are you okay?’ Gloria asked, frowning and patting him on the back.’
‘He’s okay,’ I whispered. ‘He’s trying not to laugh out aloud, that’s all.’ We looked at Blowhard’s efforts and then looked at each other. I couldn’t blame Snook for going into what looked like a choking fit. You could only laugh at Blowhard’s display. One photo showed a bird swimming in the lagoon, too far away to tell what species it was. Another exposure was of a wildflower, very nicely framed except that it was Ragwort, a despised toxic weed to stock. And in another, a half wallaby – the last half – seemed to be escaping from something or someone as it ran through the bush. And so it went on.
I thought I’d better say something about Blowhard’s efforts before Snook did. ‘Oh well, Mr Blowhard,’ I said in my most diplomatic voice, ‘at least your photos are on display. Ours are nowhere to be seen.’
‘Yes, well, only the best were chosen for the display you know, but never mind, one day you may become as accomplished as I.’
I noticed Snook’s cheeks were starting to burn and that his eyes had taken on that wild warrior look that he gets sometimes. Mr Blowhard’s going to have to stop stirring Snook up like this, I thought. It was getting to be a habit.
Gloria had noticed the change in Snook, too. ‘Don’t do anything,’ she said to him. Then, noticing Jed Turner blowing into his stage microphone as a last test, she said, ‘Look, Snook, there’s going to be an announcement. Let’s listen.’
Chapter 38
* * *
Giving Blowhard one last dirty look, Snook did as Gloria asked and turned his attention to Jed Turner. No longer in his shirt sleeves, Jed was looking quite smart in a jacket and tie. After tapping the microphone a couple of times and giving it one last blow – he’d seen it done before on important occa-sions like this – he started the official proceedings.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, girls and boys,’ he began, in the way he’d practised in
front of his wife that afternoon. ‘Good evening and welcome to our West Coast photo presentation night. The judges – that’s Fred and myself − have picked a winner, but before telling you who that is, I’d like to introduce you to a very special person, Professor Ian McClelland. He knows all about dinosaurs and old bones. He’s a – Jed had practised saying this word all afternoon – palaeontologist.’
‘A what?’ Snook asked.
Gloria helped him out. ‘He’s the scientist at the lagoon this afternoon. Don’t you recognise him?’
‘Oh, yeah, I do now. I didn’t at first, all dressed up like he is in his jacket and fancy tie.’
‘Shhh, Snook,’ Gloria said. ‘He’s about to say something.’
‘Thank you, Mr Turner,’ Professor McClelland said. ‘Before the winner of your competition is announced, I have a special announcement to make. Would Snook and Jacinta Kelly please come forward?’
‘Wh-what?’ Snook said, immediately stumbling over his words. ‘He wants us … up there? No way!’
‘Go on, you big scaredy cat,’ Gloria said, giving him a push. ‘Get a move on. You too, Jars. You’re both wanted.’
Snook and I did as we were told and made our way onto the stage. I don’t know about Snook, but I could feel every eye in the hall staring at me. I was feeling more embarrassed with every step I took and I could feel my face burning. The crowd seemed as puzzled as I was. There were lots of sideway glances, shrugs and whispers going on.
We crossed over to the professor. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he was saying, ‘yesterday, Snook Kelly and his cousin, Jacinta, made one of the most important discoveries of the century. Together, they found a skeleton of a … a rhotosaurus, a prehistoric dinosaur that lived and roamed over our land more than one hundred and sixty million years ago. Needless to say there will be a substantial reward for this grand discovery, but more importantly, the Kelly name will now go down in history as the one that found … Stompy the dinosaur.’ Smiling down at both of us and grinning widely, he shook our hands and simply said, ‘Well done, you two.’
The hall erupted. The crowd had been listening to the professor’s every word. ‘And now,’ he said, after waiting for the applause to die down, ‘I would like to share with you something that I have learned about Jacinta.’
I winced. I didn’t like hearing my given name; I much preferred plain old Jars. I was still suffering from an acute attack of embarrassment too, the kind you get when you’re suddenly surprised. Even though my parents had brought me up to be grateful and to show respect in situations like this, I was finding it hard. I guess it was the feeling of acute embarrassment that was doing that, but some of what my parents had taught me must have rubbed off. My head had suddenly lowered and my eyes were now seriously studying the floor-boards; I was showing respect the Aboriginal way.
Suddenly, I felt better and my embarrassment left. The professor wasn’t talking about me anymore; he was saying something about Snook.
‘Last Thursday evening,’ he began, ‘Snook Kelly saw an asteroid from the past. It was the biggest and most devastating object from outer space that the world has ever seen and when Snook told Jacinta about his vision – about the asteroid – she believed him. She had seen the same dinosaur.’
I was getting that blushing feeling again. He’s going to talk about me now, I thought to myself.
The professor must have noticed my sudden discomfort. He squeezed my shoulder in a confidence boosting way, before going on with his address:
‘Jacinta supported him, even when Snook told her about another vision he’d had … of a young boy. It didn’t matter that Snook’s words appeared to be outlandish, unbelievable, out of this world, she continued to believe what her cousin was telling her. Then the inexplicable happened … she saw the boy, too.’
At this stage I was beginning to feel even more uncomfortable than before. I glanced over at Snook, but he seemed to be taking it all in his stride.
‘Most importantly,’ the professor was saying, ‘the discovery of the dinosaur led to the remains of two human beings being found – Lucy Kemp and Aaron Cooper.’
He waved a hand in our direction. ‘The question now may be asked: why were these two young people shown these things … the asteroid, the young boy, the dinosaurs? I suspect that we’ll never know. But, ladies and gentlemen, there are things in this world that perhaps we are not meant to know or understand, as Snook and Jacinta did. So,’ he concluded, looking down at us again, ‘thank you both for your magnifi-cent discoveries and thanks for believing.’ The professor then did a very strange thing. His eyes rolled backwards and his upright, self-assured stance and manner disappeared and his lips started to tremble as if he was in shock … as if he’d seen a ghost. And then, in a faraway, echoing voice, he said:
Aaronnga pula Lucy-nya kuwari kurunpa pukulpa nyinanyi. Ka Stompy-nya kula pukulpa nyinanyi munu pakuwiyarigkulalta ngarinyi.
I smiled at his words which said to me and to Snook, ‘Aaron and Lucy are now happy in spirit. Stompy is happy too and is finally resting in peace.’
Chapter 39
* * *
Jed took the microphone and thanked Professor McClelland who was thumping the side of his head with the palm of his hand as if his ears were full of water. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Jed said, as though he hadn’t seen the professor’s strange behaviour or heard the inexplicable words coming from his mouth. ‘Like I said, the judges – that’s me and Fred – will now announce the winner of the photo comp.’
On cue, Fred came out of the side room near to the stage carrying a large sheet of cardboard under his arm. He took it with him onto the stage and walked over to Jed. Shouldering him aside, he grabbed the microphone in both hands and held it to his mouth.
‘In the judges’ opinion, the winner of the photo competition was spot on and really deserved to win. The photos show in a really good way what’s important for us here on the west coast. Therefore, it is with great pleasure that I can announce the winner as none other than our local girl … Jars Kelly.’
The crowd roared once again, cheering, hand clapping, feet stomping, whistling and, for good measure, a few thumbs up from my school friends. It was amazing. The noise died down at last, giving Fred a chance to hold the sheet of cardboard, with my photos displayed, high above his head.
The crowd erupted once more and I thought they’d never stop, but there was something else about the applause this time. There was a lot of laughing going on; I couldn’t understand it; everyone was in fits. Even the Coopers were laughing out loud. I could see them sitting up the back, still holding onto each other.
Fred, standing on the tip of his toes, was holding the cardboard sheet with my photos on it even higher. He’d even taken to jumping in the air and wiggling it up and down, and my eyes started to well with unshed tears when I thought about how it had all started:
Tjukurmanany … The Dreaming.
No one noticed the lone figure pushing his way towards the exit, his face twisted with rage. Nor did they hear his almost silent words of anger as he mumbled, ‘I’ve never been so insulted in all my life. I led those little monsters to the dinosaur. It should be me up on that stage. Humph, the sooner I leave this place, the better. Yes, that’s what I’ll do – Rex and I we’ll leave and find another town, one that’s friendlier.’
The crowd, still smiling, laughing, and digging one another in the ribs, filed past my photo display – propped up at the front of the stage – about the escapades of Mr Reginald Blowhard during his stay at the gorge camping ground. I had wondered about showing Blowhard in these compromising situations and had nearly not given the photos to Sam. Sam had convinced me in the end. ‘Show them,’ he’d insisted. ‘Blowhard’s brought any shame that he feels on himself, and in a way he’s done good, brilliantly in fact. He’s now helping to protect the bush and its wild life.’
The crowd continued to chuckle and ponder over the captions as they filed past and as they did I could see that Sam’s advice had been
sound. Lots of people were pointing out the captions to others, many of whom were nodding as though agreeing that yes, the bush should be looked after. I was pleased. Blowhard’s encounter with the snake, his problems with the fire, his meetings with Charlie the possum, and his adventure with the flood, had all been valuable experiences, not only for Mr Blowhard but for others to share as well.
Epilogue
* * *
Sometimes Shadow and I go wandering in the countryside that surrounds Cray Bay, and sometimes our walks take us back to the gorge camping area near Ghost Mountain where so much happened over that long weekend in March. It’s then that we walk along the bank of the fast flowing river or beside the winding Snaky Creek, and sometimes we even wade through the shallows of Mucky Lagoon or climb the mountains. I especially like to climb Ghost Mountain; it reminds me of Mamu, the evil spirit who’s said to live there, and it’s then that I wonder if he was real. I also wonder if it was Mamu who pushed poor Lucy Kemp and Aaron Cooper off the cliff and into the river so many years ago.
When Shadow and I walk, listening for the solitary, drawn-out caw of the currawong or the finch’s chirpy song, we can feel the wet grass under us and the wind and sun in our faces; we can see every rock and every tree that we pass and we can smell the airy wetness of another Tasmanian day. That’s when I know that I am not alone.
I think of my family then and how they were killed by the buffalo in the Northern Territory and I remember my mother, who talked to me just a little while ago. I think of the phantom kid, and Stompy, and all the other dinosaurs that perished because of the monstrous asteroid.
