by Nene Gare
‘Course there’s nice people,’ Rene said calmly. ‘But your not gunna come up against em. You’ll be beat before ya get that far. The ones your gunna meet, spose ya go ta Perth like ya seem set on, they gunna be the small fry, the mean ones that likes ta have someone ta treat like dirt. Makes em feel bigger. Or ya’ll maybe get friends with some white man that doesn’t mind comin ta camps like this.’
‘What was it like—where you lived in Perth?’
‘Them!’ Rene was scornful. ‘They was a good lot, they was.’ Her eyes were on Trilby, weighing, measuring. ‘Kicked up a fuss before we even moved inta the place, before they even seen us. An it took a couple big dogs ta keep em fum pesterin the life outa us after we was there.’ She laughed suddenly and then mirth took her over entirely, shaking her in its grip until her whole body bounced merrily, until May had been infected and even Trilby was forced to smile. ‘Gawd! Will I ever forget that monarch flyin down the path with a bit outa his pants an then screechin at me over the gate. An me pretendin not ta understand.’
‘Didn’t you make any friends?’ Trilby asked.
‘If ya could call em friends,’ Rene said. ‘I minded plenty a kids for people that wanted a night out on the tiles. I didn’t ask em to mind mine. An there was the ones like I said made em feel big havin someone ta look down on. Gave me all their ole clothes, too, that wasn’t good enough for em no more. But we was all square there. Did a bit a tradin with me pals, an a bit a cash always come in handy. Nup! We didn’t have em in our place, an they didn’t have us in theirs. That way no bones got broke.’
Trilby stared ahead of her, her tea cold in its cup.
‘I found out who me pals were—when I needed a bit of a help,’ Rene continued softly. ‘We wasn’t let ta starve, up in Wilga. Always got a handout from the camps round about, an no questions asked. That’s something ya gunna find out fa yaself, Trilby, ain’t it? Ya not gunna let me tell ya. Don’t think I don’t know that, an Gawd knows why I been wastin me time talkin to ya. Eh, May, any more tea left in that pot?’ She reached for the teapot and felt its weight.
‘Gawd, she can drink tea,’ May said with much amusement. ‘Good job it ain’t conto.’
‘An that reminds me,’ Rene said, apropos of nothing. ‘Fred got my bit a money fa some horse e fancied. If ya got five bob, May, it’ll do ta start me off tonight if I can get in a game.’
‘Dunno why ya always come down on me,’ May complained, reaching reluctantly for an oversize brown handbag and raking through its depths.
The canvas cover gave to the push of a hand. Phyllix walked in followed by a white man. The white man’s dirty sweat-stained shirt billowed almost to his thighs before being confined in the skin-tight jeans that showed every curve of his fat swaggering body. In one hand he carried a sugar-bag that was full of clanking bottles. This he lowered gently to the table.
‘Well!’ he said, planting his pudgy hands on his hips, fixing his small piggy eyes on Trilby. ‘So this is the gel that wants a lift down ta Perth. An me going down that way meself tomorrow. What ya think a that, eh? Like ta come with me?’ He leered.
Trilby’s eyes flew to Phyllix. His gaze met hers unblinkingly and she read the meaning in his eyes. If she wanted a lift to Perth this was the sort of man she would travel with.
TWENTY-NINE
‘I can’t go to Perth,’ Trilby thought wretchedly. ‘Phyllix will have to take me home again.’ Questioning by her father seemed infinitely preferable to continuing with a plan which might end with her having to accept favours at the hands of such a man. She actually shuddered at the thought.
She moved towards Phyllix, but the white man cut across her path. Taking two bottles from the sack he waved them at May. ‘What about a drink to warm ourselves up? These two’s yours, May. That treacly muck you like.’ He moved closer to Trilby. ‘What’s your name, gel? You can call me Teddy—or Bill—or anything else you like. I don’t mind.’ He laughed uproariously at the expression on Trilby’s face, slapping his obscene hips.
‘His name’s George,’ Phyllix said levelly, going to the make-shift cupboard and selecting some cracked cups and a couple of peanut butter jars. ‘You wanta drink, Trilby?’
‘Course she wants a drink,’ May sniggered, while Rene looked disapproving. ‘Looks as if she could do with a drink, that one. Go on, Phyllix, give us all one.’
Phyllix filled the cups. George lowered his bulk on to the sagging bed between May and Rene and put an arm about each. Rene shrugged him off irritably, but May giggled and widened her beautiful dark eyes at him. ‘Now, you,’ George admonished, ‘don’t you go puttin on a turn. I don’t want to get in no trouble with your ole man. I had enough a that last time I was here. I’m gunna do a line with the little gel that wants to go to Perth with me.’ He reached forward a paw and gave Trilby’s waist a squeeze. His breath was already strong with alcohol and, as well, through the loose and flabby lips came the odour of decaying teeth. Phyllix cleared his throat and when Trilby looked over at him he gave her the smallest of beckoning nods. She went to him gladly and stood quietly at his side, her flesh remembering the hot clutch of the pudgy hand.
‘You wanta drink?’ Phyllix motioned towards the filled cups. Trilby hesitated, then picked up one of the glasses. It was uncomfortably full and took some balancing.
Before anyone could drink another man came into the room. Trilby had seen him around town. He had a broad good-humoured face and his flat widely-spaced brown eyes were rayed about with laughter-lines. He was grinning now and his smile disclosed an even row of square white teeth. Only for an instant, as his gaze fell on George, did his face lose its glow of good fellowship. But George exerted himself to be affable.
‘Brought up a bit of the doings, Willis. Sit down an have one, man.’
‘We got another visitor too,’ May simpered, moving primly away from George. ‘Look who’s here, Willis. Young Trilby Comeaway. She’s doin a bunk ta Perth tomorrer. With George.’ She laughed shrilly.
Willis turned to Trilby. ‘You the one that’s just had ya baby die on ya?’ he inquired with rough friendliness. ‘Ne’mind, sister. You’ll have more.’ He grinned at Phyllix. ‘If the young bloke has any say in the matter, eh, Phyllix?’
Trilby drank from her glass to hide her confusion. Phyllix bent to whisper. ‘Ya don’t have ta drink it. Just hold it.’
‘I’m hungry,’ Trilby whispered back. ‘Is there anything to eat?’
Phyllix moved quietly over to the shelves and fossicked round among the tins. He came back with a few biscuits, soggy and smelling of mildew. Trilby pushed them into her mouth, grateful even for them. Her stomach ached with emptiness.
‘What say we light a fire outside?’ May said brightly. ‘Then we can all sit round an get a bit warm. An Billy can come over an play is mouth-organ. C’mon.’ She stood up, smiling secretly down on George, then turning wide innocent eyes on her big husband.
‘An you jus behave yaself see?’ Willis rumbled, his uncertain gaze on George.
‘Don’t you go lookin at me,’ George said heartily. ‘Come on, Willis. You and me’ll hunt up some wood. I don’t go muckin round with no one else’s woman. Not when the bloke’s as big as you, anyhow.’ He clapped an arm round Willis’s shoulder and the two went out.
Trilby and Phyllix exchanged glances, then they too tried to sidle unobtrusively out through the doorway.
‘Gunna play handies,’ May’s bright-eyed gaze followed them. ‘You better look out fa that George, Trilby. I think e’s got is eye on you.’ She laughed again, and Trilby felt a flash of anger. She turned to give it vent, but Phyllix gave her a little push. She swallowed her anger and passed through the doorway before him.
‘She don’t mean any harm,’ Phyllix said gruffly. ‘Ya don’t want to take any notice, that’s all.’
‘She’s just stupid,’ Trilby said proudly. ‘As if I’d let a man like that touch me.’
‘I’ve got a blanket,’ Phyllix said. ‘Here it is. We can sit on it.’
Trilby was tired and her shoulders drooped. Perth seemed as far away as ever it had been. She thought of Rene and the things Rene had said. She lifted her gaze to George as he stood to pour himself another drink. As surely as ever, she knew what she wanted, but there were so many things in between. For the first time, there were miserable doubts in her mind. Above all, weariness both of mind and body. Behind her was Phyllix’s shoulder. She felt she must keep away from it.
‘Drink up your wine before it’s spilt,’ Phyllix whispered in her ear. ‘One glass won’t hurt you.’
Recklessly, Trilby picked up the glass and drained it. And having done that she resisted no more the impulse to lean against Phyllix. As her eyelids drooped and her lips parted on a soft sigh, Phyllix slid his hand round her waist, moving so that he was steady beneath her weight. For an instant before she slept, Trilby felt warmly safe.
It was quite dark when she woke. The fire still burned high and someone was singing. Lazily through half-closed eyes, Trilby watched the lit figures of women and men, and as she did so there was a scuffle on the other side of the fire. One of the big Berring men was holding a smaller man by the scruff of his neck. It looked so funny that Trilby laughed. A woman raised her voice in indignation. ‘Only jokin, that’s all e was doin. Put the pore bastard down. If ole Nosy Parker May over there hadn’t told ya…’
‘Did e or did e not ask ya?’ the big man demanded.
‘If ya wanta know e did and I said I would, like hell, with you around.’
‘Ah! You!’ The big man shook the smaller one as if he had been a toy. ‘If you was half a man…’ He shook him again, disgustedly. ‘Go on, you just get.’
Strong legs set wide apart, hands on hips, he stood watching as the man scurried out of sight into the surrounding bush. Then he began, with calm unconcern, to upend a bottle over an enamel mug.
From the bush came a plaintive protest, ‘Always pickin on me.’
A roar of laughter went up from the circle as the big man strode forward a few steps, bent forward from the waist and emitted a most realistic roar of rage which was answered by a frightened squeak and more frantic scufflings.
‘That’ll be the end a him fa tonight,’ he came back grinning. ‘The sawed off young runt.’
‘Woke up at last,’ Phyllix said, as Trilby laughed with the rest. ‘You’ve been sleeping a couple of hours.’
‘The little gel want something ta drink?’ George said amiably, staggering a little as he plastered himself alongside Trilby.
Trilby stopped laughing abruptly and moved away.
‘Come on. Less fill up ya glass,’ George leered into her face.
‘No, thank you,’ Trilby said politely.
George snatched at her glass and poured from his bottle until the glass brimmed and spilled on her lap and her legs. Then he pushed it into her hand, spilling more of the strong-smelling stuff as he did so.
‘Drink it down,’ he ordered, ‘an I’ll come back an give ya some more.’
‘That’s right,’ May yelled from her position against a man’s shoulder. ‘Drink it up girl, or there won’t be none left for ya to drink.’
George leaned over and pressed her arm. ‘I’ll be back, kid. You wait here and George’ll take care of ya.’
Phyllix followed George with his eyes. ‘You still want that lift ta Perth?’ he murmured and Trilby shuddered.
Another argument had started up opposite them, between the same couple.
‘Ah, shut ya guts,’ the big man said tiredly. ‘Give a man a bit a peace. If ya gunna yap all night ya might as well go after im.’
‘Awright well, I will,’ the woman snapped, staggering to her feet with difficulty. ‘Ya don’t treat me like no bloody dog an get away with it.’ She tried to draw herself up proudly but she had had just a little too much conto. The big man gave her a careless shove and she fell forward on her face. Again the group brayed with laughter. It was too much for the woman. On her back, she lashed out at the big man with both feet, catching him on the side of the head with her high-heeled shoes.
Phyllix rose swiftly, blocking out the sight of the fracas which followed from Trilby’s horrified gaze. ‘Come on,’ he said quietly. ‘We’re getting.’ With one hand under her arm he pulled her to her feet. Trilby was shaking from the cold and from fear. With the whole camp now in an uproar, she clung desperately to Phyllix’s hand as he dragged her after him.
She took one last look at the firelit scene as they plunged into the bush, one shocked and unbelieving look. These were the kind who had befriended Rene when she needed help? These fighting yelling madmen and women?
Into the chilly darkness Phyllix led her, far beyond the light of the fire and the raised and angry voices. Wattles stung their faces and the ground beneath felt soft and springy. When the silence of the bush was all about them Phyllix stopped and spread out the rug. Trilby sank down on her haunches and rested her weight on her hands. Phyllix would have pulled her close, but she resisted. ‘I’m tired. Can’t we just sleep?’
‘No!’ There was pent anger in the short sound. Phyllix moved so that his face was between her and the grey of the bush and sky. ‘We’re gunna have this out properly—now, if ya never listened to nobody before, ya gunna listen to me now. Ya saw that crowd back there? You go to Perth by yaself and that’s the kind of people ya gunna end up with. An men like that George. Their own kind won’t have a bar of em so they buy their way inta camps like the Berrings’ with a bagful of cheap wine. You won’t find nothing ya want in Perth. I’m telling ya.’ His voice changed. ‘Trilby, why won’t ya stick with me? What’s changed between us two? You said we was gunna be married when I come back from the bush that time.’
‘I never meant it. I said it to get rid of you.’ Trilby flung the truth at him impatiently and in the long silence that followed she was only relieved to have found so quick a way of ending the talk between them.
She was all the more startled and angry, therefore, when she found her shoulders gripped by strong fingers. Jerking upright, she saw bared teeth and a glitter of eyes before her head was shaken back and forth in a quick and relentless rhythm. The strong fingers bit even deeper into her forearms. A scream that rose to her throat was choked before she could utter it. Then her head hit the ground with a thud as the boy flung her from him.
Dazed and afraid, she rolled herself into a ball and covered her face with her hands. Her breathing was tangled with deep wrenching sobs. She heard Phyllix say, ‘All right! We’re finished.’ And there was such a note of scorn in his voice she shrank as though she had been slapped. She felt him withdrawing from her and instantly an insanity of fear possessed her. This was like the time when her mother had sat on the end of her prison bed and pleaded with her. And had risen and gone away because she would not answer. There was the same feeling of terrible loneliness, the same desperate need for something strong and unchanging to which she could cling. And in the moment of his withdrawal, Phyllix became that which she sought.
Like an agile cat, she grasped at his belt and hung on to it.
‘Don’t go, Phyllix. Stay with me.’
Phyllix did not move.
‘Let me tell you,’ Trilby wept. ‘You don’t understand, Phyllix.’
Slowly the boy slipped back to the rug. For a while he listened to the girl’s tearing sobs, then, with her hand still clutching his belt, he moved her with his arms until her head rested on his shoulder.
‘Tell me,’ he said, and his voice was gentle again. With one hand he smoothed the side of her head, the warm soft skin of her face and the springing curling hair. He crooned over her and held her until at last she was quiet. They rested for a while in silence. Trilby’s eyes were closed, and over her head Phyllix looked unseeing into the grey and misty bush.
&nb
sp; ‘I’d stay with you,’ Trilby said at last, haltingly. ‘You don’t know how easy that’d be. But it’s not only me, Phyllix. It’s something I live with, here,’ her clenched fist struck her heart as though she would hurt the thing that lived in her breast. ‘It keeps telling me I’ll end up like that old woman if I don’t get away from you all.’
‘What old woman?’
Trilby stared away into the bush, seeing again the witch-like body, the black eyes spitting sparks, the rim of foam that crusted the curled and snaking lips. ‘Dad had to kick her out. And he called her an old black nigger. She hated him then. She would have killed him, killed him some awful way that would have made him suffer as much as possible. And I knew why too. I know she was filthy and old and horrible to look at, but she’d got so that she didn’t mind all those things. She didn’t mind anything but being called a nigger. Don’t you see, Phyllix? She was as young as me once, maybe just like me, wanting all the things I want, and now—all she wants is not to be called a nigger. All the things she used to be afraid would happen, like I am, they’ve all happened. She’s only got one thing left to be afraid of.’
‘Go on,’ Phyllix said quietly.
‘If I stay with you, the things that happened to her will happen to me,’ Trilby said pleadingly. ‘I want a proper house to live in and I’ll get a humpy. I want nice things to wear, my own things, not other people’s cast-offs. And I’ll end up with one single dress. If I have children I want them to be clean and pretty, not running round with dirty noses and no pants on because it’s too much trouble to wash them. But after a while there’ll be so many kids I won’t care how they look so long as they don’t bother me. I won’t care about anything but gambling and winning at cards and sitting round talking with all the other women. And if we want to drink, we’ll have to sneak it and drink it quickly, so the monarch won’t catch us, and you’ll get drunk and come after me with a bottle or break my arm on purpose like one of the Berring men did once. And we’ll quarrel all the time and I’ll end up like that old woman, not caring about anything so long as I’m not called a nigger.’ She straightened a little in his grasp. ‘Phyllix, I hate that name as much as she did. I could kill someone, too, if they called me by it.’
