To Kill a Bunyip

by A R Dent

  ~~~~~

  Father Fred

  ‘That’s a lovely story if ever I read one. Penny will be famous one day.’ said Father Fred.

  ‘Oh Father, I’ve never in my life cried so much listening to someone read a story. It’s the most beautiful thing I have heard. May I read it all by myself?’ Mary said.

  ‘Mary, there are some minor corrections needed. I will go over the manuscript and make one or two minor adjustments, and return the manuscript to Penny. When she corrects the mistakes you can read it then.’

  ‘Oh Father, you’re such a gracious person. Doing that for Penny. Her parents will be so proud of her one day.’

  ‘Mary, it is my humblest opinion that is needed. And a gift given me by the Lord that helps my parishioners through me. I will see you tomorrow Mary. Thank you for listening. I do think Penny will know one day how much you helped.’

  Father Fred attended to the manuscript with all the zeal of a book editor. A training Father Fred had never had. Father Fred phoned Betty to tell her Penny can pick up her manuscript.

  The next day Penny woke early. Her book would happen. Someone has gone to the trouble to read it and help. Someone else had now believed in her. Father Fred will be her guide to finish the book for the competition. Penny had breakfast and walked the dogs down to Norman Point and back. Penny sat with Charlie and talked about how she wanted to leave Null and live with her aunt. Charlie snuggled in to Penny. Penny knew from Charlie’s reaction he understood every word. Penny then explained that if life in Null has a few quirks and mysteries then she would stay. Charlie immediately snuggled tighter and made whimpering sounds. Penny hugged Charlie tighter. Penny then said,

  ‘Charlie, what if we create a life worth living? A Null as a part of some magic. A magical event. With Father Fred, helping everything will be fine. You wait here Charlie. I’ll be back soon, I’m off to the presbytery now. Oh, it’s starting to rain. See you in a little while Charlie.’

  Penny ran along the road until she got to the presbytery.

  ‘Good morning Penny. Yes, I have it all ready for you. Penny, can you go over what I have notated? I did correct a few things but it will come together when you see the corrections I noted,’ Father Fred said.

  ‘Thanks Father, I’ll go home now and look at it. The rain’s coming down heavy isn’t it? I’ll keep the manuscript dry in Jack’s wet bag he uses on his kayak. Thanks again Father,’ said Penny.

  The next day in the Dawson home. . . .

  ‘Penny, what’s up? What happened? What’s that you have there? Why have you dressed up your manuscript with ribbons and coloured paper? It looks like a Christmas tree,’ Betty said.

  ‘Mum, I’m ruined. I’ll always be ruined if I go near Father Fred again.’

  ‘What happened? Tell me exactly what happened? Did he - did he - tell me exactly where his hands were?’

  ‘His hands were held together as he always does. In front of him. He always has his hands clasped together,’ said Penny.

  ‘Well what did he do?’

  ‘Father Fred put all this Christmas tree decoration on my manuscript to show what’s wrong with the book.’

  ‘Ok. Go down to Mrs Buchanan and ask her to help then. I want you to get help. We’re having enough problems down at the committee of the Seafood Festival with Father Fred and his love of literature. Ok, sorry Penny, go and see Mrs Buchanan and I know she will help. Eloise is always asking me how you are going at New Brunswick High. I’ll make you a special dinner tonight. Just for you. Seafood stir fry the way you love it. Chicken and prawns stir fry. Aunty Robin’s recipe she got when she moved to Noosa. Today is Sunday. Go now and see Mrs Buchanan down at the Dragon Boats. I know she’s there today.’

  ‘Thanks mum. I’m not allowed to call her Mrs Buchanan now. I’m to call her Eloise. Her words mum.’

  ‘Oh, isn’t that lovely, go down to Eloise and see her, and take all that Christmas decoration stuff off your book.’

  Penny went to her room, removed all the post-it stickers, and erased as much of the pencilled scribbled notes in the margins as she could. Taking care, Penny made sure her back-up copy was on an external hard drive. Penny knew the story had to be hers but she knew she needed help. Charlie and Oscar were with her brother Jack. Alone, Penny went to the Dragon Boat training via the long way. A slow thoughtful walk alone. Eventually Penny summoned enough internal fortitude to go and talk with Eloise.

  “Hello Eloise. I need help in developing characters for the story. Everyone and everything around here is so boring in regard putting drama into the story. Are there any short cuts to developing the storyline and characters?”

  ‘I’ve read the book that you showed me. How much further have you got with it,’ Eloise said.

  ‘I wrote another thousand words but then deleted it. The book is as you read it.’

  ‘Each student I’ve taught that tried too hard, failed. Allow your inner self to guide you. Each person is their own fingerprints. I have to go now. The boat is ready to leave. There are other worlds, other dimensions, on this planet: other cultures we never knew existed until we open our eyes. Worlds meet when we notice our nose as we seek another vista of life. Our viewpoint, our Point of View always has our nose within that viewpoint.

  Look out and observe: your nose is always included in what you see. Objectiveness in an opinion includes our own subjective selfishness.’

  Penny stood near the shore watching Eloise Buchanan, her ex schoolteacher, paddle away in the distance with the Dragon Boat crew training for their next regatta. As the boat turned the bend and disappeared from sight, Penny threw her manuscript onto the ground and cried. Five minutes later Penny walked home. Her manuscript lay in the mud where it landed.

  Fresh fish.

  As a part of the support network of the social infrastructure of Null, religion played its role. The annual Blessing of The Fleet had come and gone. Father Fred extended himself beyond the religious needs of his congregation and included social activities to keep his flock busy in mind and body. Father Fred was a kind man and his kindness was predisposed because of his abhorrence of Protestants. Father Fred decided many years ago, during his time training to be a Priest in Ireland, he was going to devote all his time and energies to the faithful. His height seemingly influenced his helpers. Standing 4ft 6 inches above the ground when he stood erect meant he could not look down on people except for when he was standing at the pulpit or giving a funeral service. During a funeral service, his listeners were below him and the person in the casket was below him. During his teenage formative years Fred O’Leary was called upon for National Service for his three months of conscription. When Fred stood in front of the medical officer, the examiner put a large X alongside of his name and said, ‘Go home and learn to draw and paint as well as Toulouse Lautrec, you might have a career at something.’

  Father Fred suffered loneliness of the kind a widow endures. In his early twenties Father Fred fell in love with Cynthia, the most beautiful woman in the whole of Ireland. The woman rejected his love and Father Fred married the church instead. Since that day he had seen many a woman as beautiful. Father Fred had a habit of only seeing beauty in women who were six feet high or taller. In his solace Father Fred daily plucked the hairs from his nose (Heaven knows why. Nobody was shorter than him, and couldn’t see under his nose), trimmed the hair from his ears, and trimmed the hair from the nape of his neck. Father Fred knew he would leave the church immediately if a woman as beautiful as Cynthia appeared in his life. A woman in his life being over six feet in height meant he didn’t have to call in an electrician every time a light bulb needed changing. Father Fred regularly trimmed his big bushy eye brows. The idea of finding a woman and having to look at her through bushy eye brows was not for Father Fred. However, alas, a woman never appeared and now in his sixties the church had sent him to Null as pseudo retirement and to keep him away from Protestants. In spite of his abilities to spot a Protestant from an Irish mile away, Father Fred’s
love of fishing meant he could communicate to fisher-people. His love of literature meant he could communicate to the members of the Book Club. He encouraged a range of activities to focus on the sick and needy. Boredom, he knew, was an enemy of the soul in small villages. Social interaction was needed and he personally helped those seeking to be part of the community at large. Father Fred took particular interest in a long time friend who was once living in a small country town down near the Snowy River. Inland high country, where the rivers started and the water flowed because of melting snow. Father Fred used to visit the area to fish the rivers and met Greg Cunningham there many times. Now Greg Cunningham was living in Null and old fishing friends returned to the waterways sharing thoughts and knowledge.

  Father Fred and Greg went for a cruise on the river at the first opportunity after Greg’s arrival in Null. Deep holes where Mulloway, Barramundi, and Cod were known to frequent. Father Fred thought it right to show Greg a few good places to catch the family meal however the day revealed Father Fred didn’t know exactly where the deep holes were.

  Father Fred knew the value of helping those people who catch fish. Having friends who catch fish meant he had a supply of fresh fish. The day Father Fred returned home from showing Greg where the fish might be, he happened to meet at Snapper Creek boat ramp, another member of his congregation. After a courteous meeting at the boat ramp, Father Fred had a fish to take home for his evening meal that night.

  Father Fred returned home to a sumptuous meal prepared by one of the spinsters of his congregation. Father Fred had several such single women who attended to him. It was generally believed by the women that being a man, Father Fred could not cook and look after himself and do all the wonderful work he did for the community. Father Fred in turn returned their assistance with a plentiful supply of fresh fish someone donated to him. Father Fred knew, living and working in a small fishing village, fresh fish in his life was a bonus.