The Red Coast

by Di Morrissey

  Great change can come from small but significant events. If they did actually win the fight against Chamberlains, perhaps they’d be a symbol for others to fight for their own backyard, their land, their city, their country. Win or lose – it was silence and inaction that spelled defeat.

  Moving past the rows of books that held dreams, adventures, history and essays and escapism, Jacqui wondered what would be the story of this time and this place that she was passing through.

  She remembered how she’d felt when she’d arrived in France – the fascination, the differences, the history everywhere you turned, its culture and otherworldliness, its significance. In comparison, she had considered her homeland raw and new and – she shook her head at the thought now – uncultured, with its hearty and youthful uncouthness, its brash cut-and-thrust style accepted as an asset. Yet she’d remained totally unaware of the depth of history Australia could lay claim to. She knew of the million-plus visitors each year to the Chauvet Cave in France, with their replica of art 35,000 years old. Here, her own backyard could claim living art in thousands of caves and shelters, up to 65,000 years old, and its stories and history lived on in oral and physical ceremonies by the artists’ descendants. Surely this was the oldest story in the world.

  Yes, this was worth fighting to save.

  *

  Jacqui was sitting outside the bookstore sipping a cappuccino and reading the local newspaper when Lydia plopped into the chair next to her.

  ‘Hey, you. Hmm, that coffee smells good.’

  ‘Is that a hint? I’ll treat you. Sylvia is on duty today, we’re putting in orders for the new releases. Nice to be back in a routine.’

  ‘You have your life back on track, that’s good.’ Lydia eased back in her seat and folded her arms behind her head. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m about to up-end mine.’

  ‘Huh? What do you mean? I’m not liking the sound of this. Let me get you that coffee.’

  Jacqui returned with a refill for herself and put Lydia’s coffee in front of her. ‘Now, how come your life is turning upside down?’

  Lydia took a sip. Carefully she replaced the cup in its saucer and gave Jacqui a crooked smile. ‘I just quit my job.’

  Jacqui stared at her for a moment. Then she reached out and touched her hand. ‘Lydia, are you okay? I mean, you’re not sick or anything?’

  ‘No. I don’t have a fatal disease.’ Lydia smiled. ‘Well, hold that thought. It could be. I’m changing career paths.’

  ‘You’re really doing it? Going into politics?’ exclaimed Jacqui. ‘I thought that was a far-off kind of plan.’

  ‘Nope, not quite. I’m joining the bureaucracy. I suppose that’s politics, in a way, but for the moment it’s working with great people in my community, and outside, where decisions are made to achieve outcomes that benefit everyone equally. At the moment the scales aren’t tilted on the side of my people. We need to get things balanced equally. I reckon I can help make a difference. It’s why I went into media, and why I knocked back job offers over in the east so I could stay here and try to tell our stories, good and bad.’

  ‘I’m not surprised to hear this,’ said Jacqui quietly. ‘It’s an obvious move for you. While everybody has looked to Eddie for leadership through this campaign, you’ve been the one making things happen.’

  ‘Ah, but Eddie’s the inspiration, our guiding star. He’s the man we want in federal politics. I’m just the stirrer in the background. But I can talk to people, negotiate, formulate, speak out and, well . . . I refuse to be labelled a spin doctor, but rather a voice to speak truth to the powers that be; fighting for what I believe to be right, even if it’s unpopular. It’s taking a risk and standing up, especially for those who can’t. Or don’t. Sorry, no political speeches.’ She looked at Jacqui. ‘It sometimes feels scary, but I know it’s what my family, my people, my friends, expect of me. It’s what I expect of myself.’

  ‘I’m so proud of you,’ said Jacqui gently. ‘This is a huge step. We’re lucky to have you here. What did your station manager say? Will Jason take your place?’

  ‘Jace will, for sure. He knows I have his back if he needs help. But he’s going great guns. He could be off to a metropolitan station before we know it. The manager in Perth said I was nuts, but admired my guts.’

  ‘So you’re free to fight on. Have you spoken to Wally at all? He’ll be interested to hear this news. And support you all the way,’ said Jacqui.

  ‘I haven’t talked to him yet. Actually, your pal Cameron is setting something up in Perth, I’m not quite sure what. There’s some meeting with Eddie, Arthur, local pollies and Chamberlains. Cameron thought I should be there. I’m going to have a chat to him this morning. Thought I’d let you know the news.’

  ‘Will Daryl Johnson be at the meeting?’

  ‘I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Have you told Cameron about your career plans?’ asked Jacqui curiously.

  ‘Eddie told him, I believe. Eddie has been through the mill with meetings. It’s not how he likes to operate. He’s tried to persuade the politicians to come up here and sit down at The Point and talk things through. No chance of that, of course.’

  ‘Eddie has really done the hard yards trying to make them understand why there’s more to this whole fight than just one issue.’

  ‘Oh, he really has, the poor man.’ Lydia drained her coffee. ‘Thanks for that. I needed it.’ She stood up. ‘I’m glad you approve of my plan. My family are behind me, and don’t seem too surprised. Some of my colleagues round the traps, and a few businesspeople, think I’m just a loudmouth Aboriginal troublemaker.’ She grinned. ‘And that’s just fine by me.’

  Jacqui jumped up and gave her a hug. ‘I think you’re terrific and I love you heaps!’

  After Lydia left, Jacqui went back to work, deep in thought.

  *

  ‘Hello, Jacqui, dear.’

  Jacqui looked up and broke into a wide smile. ‘Lily! How lovely to see you. Is Sami with you?’

  ‘She had to race back to Perth. The art exhibition calls. She’ll be back up again soon, she’s found some wonderful artists. Young men, too. In fact, she’s sent you a gift, which gave me the perfect excuse to drop in today. Here it is.’

  ‘She didn’t have to do that!’ said Jacqui, taking the hard, flat object Lily passed over to her. A smaller tissue-wrapped parcel was with it.

  ‘She thought of you and all you do so quietly for the town. The writers’ festival was such a success. And you’ve been wonderful pushing me to do my book.’

  ‘How’s it coming? I’d love to read some when you’re ready. All I know about your family is what I’ve seen in the museum!’

  ‘I’m almost there. I’d love your opinion when it’s done. It’s covered quite a lot of the history of this place.’

  ‘Wally will be keen to read it, I know that. He’s been putting down the stories and ceremonies and knowledge he was given from Elsie’s elders. We need stories of our past written for posterity. Who keeps emails and Facebook posts?’ Jacqui laughed as she unwrapped the tissue around the first package.

  The parcel contained a pearl shell, as big as a large saucer, its gleaming mother-of-pearl surface etched with dramatic blood-red peaked and wavy lines.

  ‘It’s a special riji, the carved pearl shell made by our senior male artists. The designs are rubbed with ochre so they stand out. This one is the Three Snakes and it represents this red coast,’ said Lily.

  ‘It’s stunning.’ Jacqui could barely speak.

  ‘Pearl shell represents water, so it means life. They’re for the men to wear, and were given as gifts and traded. They’ve been found hundreds of kilometres away from their shoreline.’

  ‘It’s so special,’ said Jacqui, quite overcome.

  ‘They’re generally given to young men to mark their transition to adulthood. I thought you might like to g
ive it to Jean-Luc when you feel it’s appropriate.’

  ‘Lily, I don’t know what to say.’ Jacqui felt tears come to her eyes. She knew Jean-Luc would treasure this. ‘It’s so meaningful. He’ll love it.’

  Lily picked up the smaller package. ‘This is a carved pearl-shell bangle for you. It’s an experimental piece by one of the new young artists. I thought it pretty. It’s a Point design too. They’re all getting onto the bandwagon to promote The Point.’

  ‘It’s lovely.’ Jacqui slipped it onto her wrist. ‘I’m so thrilled, thank you.’

  Lily reached out and took her hand. ‘Sometimes we take people and their efforts for granted. No matter what happens with this horrible greedy mining and whatever else they’re after, sometimes we old locals forget to show our appreciation to those who move here and fight for us, and with us. Like you. It’s just a token, Jacqui. Now, show me what’s new in. Alison and I are both out of reading material.’

  *

  Two days later it was Jacqui’s turn to do the fresh food run out to The Point. While enthusiasm and determination to hold out against Chamberlain Industries hadn’t wavered, the camp had the dispirited look of those there under sufferance, as if there were no other choice. Impressions of refugee camps and homeless collectives under bridges and city caverns came to mind. But as soon as Jacqui called out hello, there were cheerful greetings, hands to help and news to share.

  So many had volunteered their time over the past months, as well as their passion and their talents, with no thought of giving up. As morning tea was prepared Jacqui found a chair in the shade and sat down to chat. She hadn’t been there long when a pretty Swedish volunteer from the communications and media tent came over and offered her a glass of juice.

  ‘Thanks. You’re still here,’ said Jacqui with a smile.

  ‘Yes. I went out for a few days to see the whales. So extraordinary, so beautiful! They are leaving now for the south.’

  ‘Well, it’s lovely you’ve stuck around. Any news?’

  ‘We’ve just heard there’s a big meeting being held in Perth. Something is going on. Eddie has been speaking. There’s a bit of a gathering, rumours flying everywhere.’

  ‘Really? Does that mean anything?’ asked Jacqui.

  ‘Who knows.’ The girl shrugged. ‘There is a press conference called for late this afternoon in Perth.’

  ‘There’s been a lot of activity on the water off The Point,’ said one of the men. ‘They could be trying to land equipment by sea. They tried it once before.’

  ‘They’ve done a lot of land clearing and exploration drills, further out, where they claim they have rights. They could be getting cocky and override us out here,’ suggested another fellow.

  ‘We might need reinforcements. We have a group on standby,’ added another.

  Jacqui finished her juice and made her farewells, anxious to get back to her shop. She collected the rubbish to drop at the tip and recycling depot in town and headed back along the dirt track.

  As soon as she was in mobile reception range her phone pinged several times with text messages. She took no notice, but after several more messages came in, she pulled to the side of the red dusty road and looked at her phone.

  Lot of action here in Perth . . . keep radio and TV on! Press announcement later, from Lydia.

  Cameron had sent, Wally’s film has sent them scurrying!

  And finally there was a message from her mother. What’s happening up there? Heard something on the news.

  Jacqui dialled Lydia’s number but her phone went to message bank. Then she rang Cameron, who picked up quickly.

  ‘Hi. Where are you?’

  ‘I’m on The Point road, heading back to town. What’s going on?’

  ‘Stars seem to be aligning for you. Wally’s film was the straw that broke the camel’s back. There’s so much evidence already about the environmental issues and the Songlines and native title thanks to Mabo, but this footage provides a crucial link in the chain to show ongoing connection with the land. It made everything we’ve been arguing about real, by associating a family with a direct connection to that place. I wish Wally had been here. The New Country Leadership Trust have swung around to support Eddie, big time. I’ve had a long discussion with Daryl, and it now seems they are planning to make an announcement later today.’

  ‘What about? Isn’t this all very sudden? Can it be possible that they’ll go away? Leave The Point?’

  ‘Not sure. I don’t want to jump the gun. Some of the international people from the joint ventures are here. I’m worried about Eddie, too. This is taking a big toll on him. He’s been magnificent, but he’s exhausted.’

  ‘Oh gosh. He needs a break. Has he any family with him?’

  ‘I’m keeping an eye on him. He’s still so determined, so calm, so focused!’

  ‘Cameron, whose side are you on? I mean, who are you backing here?’ said Jacqui suddenly.

  ‘Jac, I told you, I try not to take sides. Everybody is hurting over this. I’m trying to help facilitate a way through. Wally’s evidence was a win. Daryl is in the pincers, and the government wants it sorted. Everyone is losing money. No one wants to lose face, either.’

  ‘Our people won’t compromise. I do hope people don’t get their hopes up,’ sighed Jacqui. ‘So where are you off to next? Back to your place in Sydney? Is your work up here finished then, for now?’

  ‘No. I’m staying around here, might have to rent something. These negotiations will be ongoing. And I have another task waiting in the wings.’

  ‘Right. Well, please keep an eye on Eddie. Though I’m sure Lydia is doing that.’

  ‘Yes. But she’s everywhere and in demand. What a powerhouse. She’s going to make a difference. Sorry, I have to go, let’s talk after the news announcement.’

  Jacqui drove back along the deserted road that had now become familiar to her. She felt anxious, though, that things might not turn out as they all hoped. The odds seemed impossible. And just what was Cameron’s real involvement? Was his familiarity and friendship with her because of their old connection, or because they’d shared an intimate interlude during a crisis out on Lake Disappointment? Or had he infiltrated her life and connected with her friends for other reasons? Slowly she had come to trust, and, she had to admit, rather like, her old neighbour. But had the episode with Damien clouded her vision and judgement?

  Mentally she shook herself. ‘Enough, just get on with things,’ she told herself.

  Several people popped into the shop and asked if she’d heard from Lydia, and wondered what this news conference was about. Word seemed to be filtering through town, and Jacqui heard that small groups closely involved with the protest campaign had gathered at the pub.

  She rang Wally. ‘There’s to be some announcement, do you want to come out or are you glued to your radio?’

  ‘I have the ABC on. Do you want to come round here, love? Mind you, it mightn’t be anything definite, but something tells me it’ll be news all the same. There’s just too many big names in one room if you ask me.’

  ‘I’ll pop in after I close the shop.’ Jacqui didn’t like to add that she might need to commiserate with him. There were so many rumours flying around. Another customer told her there was a lot of activity at the Chamberlains offices outside town.

  Jacqui tried to keep busy in the shop. Glancing at her watch during a lull, she saw it was ten minutes until the 4 pm news. She closed the shop, put a sign on the door and walked across the road to the pub.

  For a Wednesday afternoon there was an unusually large group gathered at one end of the bar.

  Bobby Ching spotted her and made room. ‘Want a drink, Jacqui?’

  ‘I guess so, thanks Bobby.’ She glanced at the TV above the bar. ‘Nothing been said yet?’

  ‘Nah. Just the regular program. Might all be a storm in a teacup. These people never
seem to want to make a definite decision. Always trying to find a way to weasel around things.’

  It was an odd way to catch up with people she knew, as Jacqui normally only went to the pub when the Pigram Brothers or local bands played.

  Suddenly, as the bartender turned up the volume on the television set, everyone fell silent to watch the newsbreak.

  There were the news headlines, and then suddenly –

  ‘In breaking news, we now cross to Perth, where there has been ongoing conflict between Chamberlains Industries and their joint venture partners, and local stakeholders and townsfolk over plans to establish a natural gas refinery on the Dampier Peninsula. After protracted negotiations it appears some resolution has been reached. We cross to reporter David Maine.’

  For a moment Jacqui’s attention was diverted at the sight of Eddie, Daryl Johnson, the Chamberlains legal team head, two local MPs and a state government minister, and, to one side, almost out of camera range, a calm-faced Cameron.

  She re-focused as Daryl Johnson began speaking . . .

  ‘. . . And therefore, in light of the current economic and market conditions, and the difficulties and sustained opposition in an extremely challenging external environment, Chamberlain Industries and our partners have decided not to progress with the development of the LNG project at The Point on the Kimberley Coast of WA at this time. We remain committed, however, to developing the potential of the gas field offshore at a future date.’

  The reporter was asking questions, but no one could hear him above the outburst that erupted along the bar of cheers, shouts and stamping feet. Some people ran outside and started yelling in the street.

  Bobby was thumping Jacqui on the back. ‘They’ve quit! We’ve won!’ Phones were ringing and orders were shouted to the bar staff.

  Jacqui hugged Bobby, mumbling that she had to get back to the shop. She hurried from the pub as people were streaming in. Tears were running down her face. It was almost too much to take in.

  Fumbling, Jacqui unlocked the shop door and closed it behind her, taking deep slow breaths. The quiet oasis, the familiar smell, the silence, calmed her. She went to the coffee machine and had almost finished making herself a cappuccino when her mobile rang. She hoped it was Lydia. Already she’d heard several messages ping into her message box.