A Prayer for Blue Delaney

by Kirsty Murray

  ‘Well, something like that,’ said Rosie, looking dubious. ‘My dad reckons Bill was like one of them lizards that can change their colour all the time. So maybe he was famous for lots of things.’

  ‘I don’t care if he used to be famous. I just want to know where he disappears to all the time,’ said Colm.

  ‘Like I said, being Sunday, it’s not the pub so it has to be the two-up school. You want to go see?’

  An old bicycle lay propped against a tree near the unmade road. Rosie dragged it out and dusted down the seat.

  ‘You want to pedal or you want me to dink ya?’

  Colm didn’t want to admit he couldn’t ride a bike. ‘Well, I don’t know where we’re going so you better pedal for the first bit.’

  Rosie swung a leg over the battered bicycle. ‘You can sit on the seat. I don’t think my arms are long enough to reach around you.’

  Colm felt shy about putting his arms around Rosie so he gripped the saddle as the bike shuddered and bounced over the corrugations in the red dirt road. ‘Is it much further?’ he asked.

  ‘Nearly there!’ shouted Rosie over her shoulder, pedalling furiously.

  There were half a dozen old cars parked outside the long tin shed and a couple of battered bikes propped against the walls.

  ‘Follow me,’ said Rosie. She climbed up on a pile of wooden crates and boxes stacked behind the shed and Colm scrambled up beside her. A wire grille set at the top of the shed gave them a clear view of the gathering inside. A group of men stood in a circle, all facing each other. It looked as though Nugget was in charge of the ring. He walked around the group, speaking to each man.

  Bill stood near the front of the circle. In his hands he held a piece of sweat-stained wood. Colm couldn’t make out exactly what it was - a fat ruler or a butter pat with two pennies on it. Then Nugget called out again. ‘Set in the guts; get set on the side.’

  There was a flurry of hands and money moving around the ring.

  Then Nugget cried out, ‘Come in, spinner!’

  Bill stepped into the middle of the circle, lowered his arm and then, with a quick turn of his wrist, tossed the pennies and sent them spinning high into the dusty air of the shed. They landed bright side up on the ground and Nugget cried out, ‘Heads are right!’

  ‘Crikey, heads on ‘em like mice!’ grumbled one of the men who had backed tails.

  Rosie gave a giggle. ‘Heads means Uncle Bill has won. And he gets to spin again. He never loses a toss. That’s why Dad had to drag him off for a game. I reckon Uncle Bill has magic in his fingers, the way he always wins - every time.’

  Colm was so engrossed in watching the game that he didn’t hear a car coming up the track until it was at the gate.

  ‘Crikey! It’s the coppers!’ said Rosie. She scrambled down the pile of old boxes and ran into the shed. Colm followed. There was a flurry of panic as the circle of punters began to break up.

  ‘Hold your places, men,’ shouted Bill. ‘Put your dough and your smokes away. Nugget, the black book, quick.’

  Nugget raced out the back and was inside in a flash with Colm’s battered Bible in his hands. ‘Hats off,’ yelled Bill as he strode into the centre of the ring again.

  ‘Dearly beloved brethren, we are gathered here today, in the sight of the Lord . . .’ he intoned.

  At that moment, Colm saw four policemen charge into the shed. The two-up punters pretended to take no notice. They stood with their heads bowed in hushed silence as Bill continued to preach.

  ‘Judge us, O God,’ pronounced Bill in a loud, deep voice that made the walls of the shed hum. ‘And distinguish our cause from the nation that is not holy: from the unjust and deceitful man, deliver us . . .’

  Colm couldn’t resist looking up. To his amazement the police stood meekly on the edge of the circle, caps in hand. He felt a rush of annoyance. Bill didn’t even believe in God! Why couldn’t they see that he was acting? But when Bill spread his arms to bless the crowd of punters as if they were a real congregation, he looked exactly like a holy priest. Colm lowered his head again, praying that God would forgive Bill.

  After the mock service was over, Bill boldly approached the police officers and introduced himself as a travelling preacher. Colm couldn’t bear to hear him lie. He and Rosie walked out into the hot morning sunshine.

  ‘We better get out of here,’ said Rosie. ‘Mum would be mad if she knew we was here, especially with coppers around.’ She picked up the bike and swung a leg over the seat. ‘Hop on,’ she said. Colm shook his head. He felt uncomfortable dinking on the bike with Rosie in front of the crowd of men milling around outside the shed.

  ‘I’ll run this time,’ said Colm.

  They were just about at the bitumen when the police car drove past. Colm didn’t like the way the officers looked at them, the way the policeman on the passenger side wound down his window and stared back at Colm and Rosie as they veered off the track and into the scrub.

  17

  Stolen

  Rosie threw the bike down outside the bungalow. ‘I can’t believe old Bill got away with that.’

  ‘Were they breaking the law?’ asked Colm.

  ‘Too right,’ said Rosie. ‘And Dad’s been caught running two-up schools before. But I don’t know why the coppers make such a fuss. It’s just a different sort of prospecting, that’s what he reckons. Don’t you tell Mum what happened. She gets real scared if she hears the coppers have been sniffing around.’

  ‘Why? She hasn’t done anything wrong.’

  ‘It’s not about right and wrong. It’s about us being Aboriginal.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Like I said, you don’t know nothing about nothing sometimes,’ muttered Rosie.

  Colm was showing all the boys how to make Rusty fetch when the big black paddy wagon bumped down the road towards the bungalow in a flurry of dust. Doreen saw it first and instantly called for Rosie.

  ‘Rosie! Boys, come quick!’ There was a note of urgency in her voice that made both Colm and Jimmy break into a run.

  She handed the baby, Barbara, to Rosie and then thrust Jimmy at Colm. ‘You take ‘em out back. Hide over behind the tailings and stay there until I call you. You don’t come sooner, understand?’ she said. Then she hurried the other two boys inside and shut the door.

  ‘C’mon,’ called Rosie, running up the mountain of tailings behind the bungalow. Colm followed, feeling as though a vice was wrapped around his chest.

  At the top, they both turned to look back. A policeman was arguing with Doreen while another was trying to catch Barry and Ted, the two little boys Doreen had attempted to hide in the bungalow. Colm saw the officer finally catch them and herd them into the big black car while Doreen was held struggling and shouting by the other officers. Another policeman was running up the hill, heading straight for Colm and Rosie.

  ‘Run, run,’ shrieked Rosie, grabbing Colm by the wrist and pulling him away. ‘Don’t let them catch you!’

  ‘Let go of my wrist,’ panted Colm. ‘I can run faster if you let go.’

  As soon as he was free, Colm sprinted forward, hugging Jimmy to his chest. He could feel Rosie close behind him. His heartbeat thumped loudly in his ears. Jimmy started to yell, wriggling against Colm’s tight grip. Colm could see Rosie was having trouble hanging on to Barbara.

  They both ran for the shelter of an outcrop of rock, scurrying in between the boulders and gratefully putting down the two toddlers. Barbara and Jimmy looked frightened, their dark eyes wide. Rosie put her finger to her lips. ‘No crying,’ she said. She peered out from between two rocks.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Colm in a hoarse whisper.

  ‘They’re gonna try and take us away. Some of Mum’s first kids, they got taken before I was born. I’ve got a big brother called Pat and I’ve never even seen him. Emily, these ones’ mum, she got taken away too, but she was bigger and she came back. When I was little, Mum used to dig a hole and cover me up in it. I used to have to sit quiet as a mouse. But t
hey don’t mess with us when Dad’s home. I wish Dad was here.’

  ‘That’s crazy,’ said Colm, incredulously. ‘You’re a family. They don’t take kids away from families.’ He felt a jolt of fear as he said it. Maybe it was really him they were after, not Rosie and the others. Maybe they knew he wasn’t anyone’s boy, that he didn’t belong to any of the grownups, and they had come to take him back to Bindoon.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Rosie through gritted teeth. ‘He’s coming this way. We’re gonna have to run for it again.

  ‘We’ll split up,’ she said, scooping Barbara into her arms. ‘He can only chase one of us.’

  Before Colm could reply, she’d dashed out from behind the rock and was zig-zagging down the steep hillside. Colm picked up Jimmy and veered off to the left. When he heard the thud of the policeman’s footsteps behind him, it gave wings to his feet. He had to outrun the man. Clutching Jimmy so tight that the little boy cried out, he ran as hard and as fast as he could.

  When he stopped, neither Rosie nor the policeman was anywhere in sight. He felt as if he had run for miles. His arms ached and Jimmy was crying, his face streaked with tears. Colm put the little boy down and scanned the horizon for a sign of Rosie.

  ‘Want Nani!’ Jimmy wailed. Wearily, Colm picked him up and started back towards the pile of tailings. He tried to shush Jimmy, in case the police were still there, but when he peered over the top of the hill, the black car was nowhere in sight.

  Doreen was sitting alone in the dust, bent over like an old woman. For a moment, Colm thought someone had beaten her, she looked so crumpled and broken. Her face and clothes were covered in dust and her eyes were red from crying.

  She stared at Colm for a moment as if she didn’t know him and then she reached her arms out for Jimmy. Jimmy started crying again as Colm handed him back, and she held him close against her body, rocking the small boy back and forth and sobbing along with him. Colm had never seen an adult cry. It made him want to run away again, to run as far from her unhappiness as he could. But he knew Doreen needed him.

  He went into the bungalow, stoked up the stove and set the kettle to boil. When the water was ready, he made a pot of strong black tea. He put four spoonfuls of sugar in a cup and poured the hot water over it. His hands were trembling.

  Doreen was still weeping and rocking Jimmy in her arms. He squatted down beside her in the dust and offered her the tea. She drew a deep shuddering breath and took it. He sat down beside her, staring down the track.

  ‘They took Rosie and Barbara too, didn’t they?’ he asked.

  Doreen simply nodded and shut her eyes. Colm didn’t know what to say. He stared at his bare feet. His eyes felt hot and itchy and he rubbed them with the back of his hand. Then a single tear dripped onto his leg, and then another. Doreen slipped an arm around him and drew him closer to her. Jimmy reached out and touched Colm’s face. The three of them sat together in the dust and cried.

  Later, when it was almost dark and there were no more tears left, they went back into the bungalow and Doreen lit a kerosene lamp. Jimmy fell asleep in Doreen’s arms as she sat silently waiting. When they heard Tin Annie pull into the yard, Colm ran outside to Bill. He’d spent the afternoon feeling angry with the old men, but at the sight of them he burst into tears.

  Nugget came into the bungalow and took in the emptiness. He picked up the sugar bowl from the table and hurled it against a wall. Doreen held Jimmy close.

  ‘What the hell were you doing, you stupid cow!’ Nugget yelled at Doreen. He turned and kicked a big dint into the wall of the tin shanty and then marched menacingly across the room towards Doreen.

  Colm leapt between them.

  ‘It’s not her fault!’ he shouted. ‘Where were you? Why weren’t you here, looking after them?’

  Nugget’s face flushed even redder and he clenched his fists, but before anyone could speak another word, Bill grabbed Colm by the arm and dragged him outside. They could hear the sound of things flying around the bungalow and then Nugget shouting again. This time, Doreen shouted back. Bill frogmarched Colm over to Tin Annie and opened the door.

  ‘Get in.’

  ‘No,’ shouted Colm, trying to wriggle free of Bill’s grip. ‘It’s not fair.’

  ‘Doreen can sort him without you making things worse. That’s just Nugget, angry as a bull-ant. It’s his way.’

  ‘It’s a stupid way! Why doesn’t he do something? Why don’t you do something?’

  Bill looked at the ground and Colm could see the defeat in the old man’s whole body. Colm clenched his fists. What was the use of being a grown-up if you were as helpless as a child?

  ‘You wait here,’ said Bill, manhandling Colm into the front seat of Tin Annie and then turning back to the bungalow.

  Colm could hear Bill’s voice, a calming murmur beneath the roar of Nugget’s anger.

  When everything was quiet again, Colm climbed out of the ute and tiptoed over to the bungalow. The adults were talking in normal voices now. He edged the door open and saw Nugget sitting at the table with a cup of tea in front of him. Doreen was beside him, one hand resting on Nugget’s shoulder. Colm couldn’t believe she’d forgiven him so quickly. He came into the room and stood behind Bill.

  ‘So what are you going to do?’ asked Colm.

  Nugget shrugged.

  ‘They’ve probably sent ‘em to Moore River. It’s where they took Pat, Doreen’s other boy.’

  ‘Then you have to go and get them back,’ said Colm insistently.

  ‘Jesus, mate,’ said Nugget, looking to Bill. ‘Can you get that kid to shut up?’

  ‘He doesn’t usually have this much to say,’ said Bill, frowning at Colm meaningfully.

  ‘They probably won’t give me Emily’s kids, but I might get Rosie. I’ll have to go to Perth to try. I don’t know. Me and Doreen, we’re not married - couldn’t get permission from the boffins in South Australia, so I just took her out of the state.’

  ‘Do you want me to come?’ asked Bill.

  It was Doreen who made the decision. She looked around the whole table, her dark eyes resting for a moment on each face.

  ‘No, Nugget goes alone,’ she said. ‘I have to go home, and Bill, you have to take care of this boy of yours. That’s how it has to be.’

  Bill opened his mouth to argue but Nugget lifted a hand to silence him.

  ‘Dor’s right. Crikey, Bill, I taught you how to fight, didn’t I? I can fight my own battles. I’ll get the girl back, one way or another.’

  ‘If there’s anything we can do,’ said Bill uncertainly.

  ‘I don’t want to leave her and the little tacker alone. The welfare have been watching us for a long time now, and they’ll be back. Reckon you could drive Dor and the little one to Ceduna and put ‘em on the train there?’

  ‘This isn’t my country,’ explained Doreen. ‘My people, the Ngarrindjeri, they’re from Raukkan. White fellas call it Point McLeay, near where the Murray River meets the sea. I can maybe keep Jimmy safe with me there.’

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ asked Bill, looking from Doreen to Nugget. ‘If you want me to help you out in Perth, take on the bastards . . .’

  ‘You got your own worries, Bill,’ said Nugget, shaking his head. ‘You’ll lose that kid of yours if you’re not careful and I know how much he means to you.’

  Colm was astonished. Bill had hardly spoken to him since they’d arrived in Kalgoorlie. Colm had started to think Bill had even forgotten his real name as he hadn’t called him anything but ‘Sonny Jim’ for weeks.

  That evening everyone bedded down early, exhausted by the terrible events of the afternoon. Bill brought his swag out onto the verandah, alongside Colm’s, and they lay talking in the darkness.

  ‘Thank God they didn’t get you, too,’ said Bill.

  ‘But why did they take the others?’ asked Colm. ‘I don’t understand. I thought it was me they were after.’

  ‘The thing is, the authorities reckon it ain’t right for a black woman
to raise a white man’s kids,’ said Bill awkwardly. ‘The black fellas … they’re not like citizens in the way white folk are.’

  ‘That’s stupid! Why not?’

  ‘Well, that’s a mighty good question,’ said Bill. He sounded uncomfortable. He didn’t seem to have good answers to any of Colm’s questions.

  Colm lay on his side, puzzling out what had happened. Every way he turned it, it was wrong. People did such stupid, terrible things to each other. It made him glad that he believed in God. At least God didn’t do stupid things. He put his hands together and began to pray.

  ‘What are you muttering about there?’ asked Bill.

  ‘I’m praying,’ said Colm.

  Bill made a hurumphing sort of noise and turned his back on Colm. ‘Waste of breath, if you ask me. Prayers won’t change the law.’

  ‘I’m praying to Our Lady so she’ll watch over the children until they get back to Doreen.’

  Bill didn’t reply. Colm added an extra prayer for Billy Dare.

  The next morning, Doreen packed her and Jimmy’s things into a suitcase and a battered carry-all and put them in the back of Tin Annie. Colm and Rusty jumped into the back as well so that Doreen and Jimmy could share the front seat with Bill.

  When all the goodbyes had been said, Bill fixed a tarp over the top of Colm and Rusty so that the sun wouldn’t burn them.

  ‘There you go, Sonny Jim,’ said Bill. ‘You ready for the open road again?’

  ‘Yes, but can I ask a favour?’

  ‘You can ask,’ said Bill warily.

  ‘Please don’t call me “Sonny Jim” any more. I have a name, my own name.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with having a nickname,’ said the old man. ‘I’ve had more names than you can poke a stick at. A rose by any other name smells as sweet, as old Will Shakespeare would say.’

  ‘I’m not someone in a play!’ said Colm. ‘I’m me. You never use my real name. You always call me other things. My name is Colm.’

  Bill laughed.

  ‘All right, Colm it is, then. But if you and I are going to keep gallivanting across the countryside together, I reckon one of us should be changing their name. See, all this trouble, it’s given me a lot to think about. I reckon if folks think you’re a stray, someone might take you away.’