by Tony Birch
Sonny noticed a team of roadworkers on the other side the river, climbing the sandstone steps above the falls. One worker drove a metal spike into the ground with a hammer, while another spied on the boys through a pair of binoculars. Sonny rolled and lit two cigarettes, passed one to Ren, jumped onto the bonnet of the wreck and bounced up and down. A flock of white cockatoos lifted from a tree down on the bank. The birds screeched at Sonny to cut it out. He went on jumping until he slipped, fell onto the bonnet and slid off the car. He sat up. The palms of his hands were grazed with rusted metal. And they were bleeding.
‘You’ll need a tetanus injection for that,’ Ren said. ‘Or you’ll get lockjaw.’
‘You got it wrong. That only happens if a dog bites you. There’s nothing locking my jaw. Listen.’
He cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled at the top of his voice to the workers, ‘Fuck off and leave our river alone.’
One of the workmen called back, ‘Fuck off yourself’, and the others laughed.
‘I’ll give them fuck off,’ Sonny growled.
He was about to yell something back at them when it started to rain. Ren got into one side of the car, and Sonny the other, with Broken Mary seated between them. The rainwater mixed with flakes of rusting metal created blood-red streaks that ran down the cracked windscreen. Across the river two workmen carried a large box between them. A third man wheeled a piece of machinery on a trolley. They set to work, bolting a cannon-sized drill together and attaching it to a machine on the trolley with a length of hose. When they switched the machine on the roar was heard throughout the river valley. The men steadied the drill, driving it into the sandstone. They quickly disappeared in a cloud of dust.
Once the drilling stopped and the dust settled the boys saw that one of the workmen was on his hands and knees, clearing the hole. He forced something into it and climbed the steps, laying a length of wire as he went. The other workers picked up their equipment and followed him. The team disappeared over the side of the hill.
The windscreen had turned red and it was difficult to see what was happening. Sonny wedged his body out of the side window and wiped the windscreen with the back of his hand. ‘Where’ve they gone?’
Before Ren could answer they heard a loud explosion. Rocks fell from the sky like rain, bombing the river. A hunk of sandstone, the size of a large fist, crashed onto the bonnet of the car. Ren buried his head in his hands and didn’t move until he was sure the rocks had stopped falling. Sonny opened the door, hopped out and looked across the river. Smoke and dust lifted slowly from the steps. Or what was left of them. Large branches and strips of bark had been torn from trees.
‘Why’d they do that?’ Sonny cried. ‘There’s no road going over that side of the river.’
‘Dunno. They could have killed someone.’
Sonny picked up the block of sandstone from the bonnet and studied it like a piece of moon rock that had fallen to earth. ‘I bet we could do some damage if we had that stuff. Explosives.’
‘We?’
‘Yeah. You and me. If they go blowing our place up, we could do the same to them.’
He hurled the rock into the bushes and picked up the KEEP OUT sign. ‘Grab your girlfriend Mary and let’s get going.’
Scaling down the bank to the camp, the boys found the fire low and could hardly see the river men in the gloom. Tex sat in his car seat, wrapped in a blanket, and Cold Can was looking off into the distance. Big Tiny was laying under a tarp spooning beans from a tin can and Tallboy was pacing the fire. They had to have heard the explosion but didn’t seem concerned about it. Ren sensed there was something wrong.
‘I’ve got something for you,’ Sonny said to Tex, holding up the sign. ‘I’m gonna bang it into one of the trees here so nobody can come by without your permission.’
‘And look at this,’ Ren added. He stood broken Mary in front of the fire and brushed the dirt from her face. ‘She is going to watch over the camp.’
Tex looked across at Mary and managed a wave of the hand. ‘She some angel?’
‘More like a mother,’ Ren said.
‘Oh. Could use one of them about now.’ Tex shivered so badly his bones rattled.
‘Fire’s nearly out,’ Sonny said. ‘You want us to build it up for you?’
Tex could barely nod his head. Sonny collected branches, threw them on the fire, and picked up a ratty blanket to fan the flames.
‘You’re gonna get pneumonia or something, Tex, if you don’t take better care of yourself,’ Ren said. ‘It might be time for you to move back to the wheelhouse.’
‘Too late for that,’ he croaked. ‘Tex is ready for the gun.’
Cold Can looked across the fire at Tex, his face fretting in the low light. He knew he wouldn’t survive a week on the river without the old man.
‘You’re not dying,’ Ren said, with no good reason for saying so. ‘I heard that you were a boxer. A champion. You never told us that story before.’
‘Who told you that one?’
‘Sonny’s uncle Rory.’
‘Oh.’ He wasn’t interested at all.
Sonny rolled a cigarette, stuck it in Tex’s mouth and lit a match for him. The old man sucked hard until he drew smoke. Air whistled through his lungs. He laid his head against the back of the seat and pulled the blanket under his chin, knocking the cigarette from his bottom lip. Sonny picked it off the blanket and put it back in his mouth.
‘What can we do to help?’ Ren asked.
‘Get on home. Take old Tallboy with you,’ Big Tiny shouted. ‘Just been telling us he’s fucken deserting.’
Tallboy stopped circling the fire.
‘Fuck up, Tiny. Don’t be misrepresenting me. Telling the youngsters I’m a deserter. I got good reason for taking off. Here I was thinking you’d be happy for me.’
‘I am.’ Tiny chuckled. ‘Because I know you’ll run back here quick.’
Tallboy scuffed the ground with his heel. ‘Won’t be coming back. Tomorrow is goodbye for all time.’
‘Where you going, Tallboy?’ Sonny asked.
‘See my daughter. And a grandkid. She got herself a fella and a place. A caravan out back for me.’
‘How long since you seen them?’
‘Never seen the baby. And my daughter, not sure how long. Years.’
‘How’d you find her, after all this time?’ Sonny asked.
‘She found me. I went for a feed at the Brotherhood. A fella there says a notice been going round from a woman seeking information as to the whereabouts of her father, Michael John Garrett.’
‘Otherwise known as the one and only Tallboy Garrett,’ Big Tiny added.
‘Quiet down. This is my story, Tiny. There was a phone number for me to call. Welfare fella give me some coins for the call. I walked round the block a coupla times working on my courage before I called up.’ He stared up at the web of girders holding the bridge together.
‘And what happened when you rang?’ Ren asked.
Tallboy straightened his jacket and ran his hand through his hair like he was about to make an important speech. ‘We caught up some time we missed. She told me I have new blood. A grandson. Maybe I want to see him, she said. We been on the phone more times since. I’m on the bus to where she is. Tomorrow. Welfare helped me with a ticket. I got a suit coat and clean shirt to collect. Haven’t had a drink in three days. I’m ready.’
‘Did you tell her you already got a girl of your own, the white lady?’ Tiny needled him again.
‘Get fucked,’ Tallboy snapped. ‘You’re only jealous.’
Tex tried his best to sit up in his chair. He glared at Tiny until the fat man looked away. Tallboy took a step forward and shook hands with Sonny. ‘I’m happy that you boys come by the camp tonight. Both of you is good boys. You been good friends to us.’ He shook Ren’s hand and held on to it. ‘I got
to tell you, this grog is no fun. It’s made me poor in the head for a long time. You stay away from the drink.’
Tallboy looked down at Tex, who’d fallen asleep. ‘I need a favour from you boys. Once I’m gone you call in on Texas for me. I won’t be back. Not ever.’
‘We will. We always will,’ Ren promised.
Tallboy nodded towards Cold Can. ‘There are some who care for him like a true brother. Cold Can is up for that. Always been the same way. But others,’ he raised his voice to be sure Big Tiny heard him, ‘give a fuck bout no one but themselves.’
As the boys walked away from the camp, Ren stopped, turned around and looked at Tallboy’s long shadow dancing in front of the fire.
‘Take care of yourself,’ Ren shouted.
Tallboy lifted a hand and waved back.
The boys struggled climbing the bank. They stopped and looked through the compound fence again. The bulldozers were eating their way into the earth. A canyon was working its way to the river.
‘Won’t be long before there’s nothing left for us,’ Ren said.
‘Remember what Rory said? We shouldn’t give up without a fight. That’s exactly what we done. Give up already.’ Sonny picked up a stone and threw it over the fence. ‘I got to go out with Rory tonight. Into the city to some pub.’
‘What for?’
‘Since he come home sick from the races, he’s been complaining about his guts. He’s taking me to meet the gateman from the racetrack. He ticks off the emus on race days. Rory says he needs to endorse me, let the gateman see my face in case I need to cover for him any time.’
‘Does he think he’s gonna get real sick?’
‘Not sure. He says it’s all about insurance.’
Ren lay on his bed that night thinking about how poorly Tex had looked, and what Tallboy had said about the drink being no good for him any longer. He understood for the first time that while the river men enjoyed an adventure, their lives could also be miserable, with no warm bed to sleep in on cold nights, no family to take care of them, and the grog killing their bodies. He opened his window, looked up at the clear night sky and remembered reading in a science book that some of the stars, glowing millions of miles away, had been dead a long time.
The thought frightened him so deeply he was about to close the window and jump back into bed when he noticed a soft square glow on the roof above the kitchen of Reverend Beck’s house. He poked his head out of his window and saw that Della’s bedroom light was on. He hopped out of his window, quietly crawled across Sonny’s kitchen roof and perched underneath her window. He slowly raised his head until he could see into her bedroom. She was sitting at a dresser, with her back to the window, brushing her hair in a mirror. It was longer than he would have expected, almost reaching her waist. He could see a large photograph in a frame on the wall next to the dresser and recognised the black face of the Messenger Divine. Standing next to him were Reverend Beck and his wife. They were years younger. Della leaned forward, stared into the mirror and studied her face. Her own and Ren’s eyes met. He ducked under the ledge and tried to scramble away.
The window opened and Della called him back. ‘Don’t go. Please.’
She moved her chair from the dresser to the window. Ren leaned against the sill, standing on the roof. She asked him where he’d been that day, and he told her about the hunt for the tunnels, finding the statue of Mary, and the deep hole he and Sonny had seen on the way home being gouged by the machines. He also told her how angry it made him feel that anyone would want to do harm to the river. As she leaned forward and listened, Ren looked more closely at the dark rings under her eyes. She also had a deep scratch across one cheek.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked.
Della raised a hand to her face. ‘Why do you care?’ she answered, defensively.
‘I don’t know. I feel sorry …’
Della cut him off with a sharp look that surprised him.
‘My father is doing important work, and everything he does, bringing the church here, he has done at the request of the Messenger and for his family. We sometimes feel sorry for you people. Outsiders.’
‘You haven’t been hurt?’
‘Of course not. Don’t be silly.’
Hearing footsteps on the stairway outside her door, she turned her head away from Ren. ‘You have to leave now. That will be my father coming to pray with me.’
Ren lay awake in bed until the early hours of the morning, thinking about what Della had said. She hadn’t seemed troubled at all, which did nothing to explain the scratch on her face. He eventually fell asleep but woke sometime later, thinking he’d heard a loud crash in the distance. The sounds of dogs barking echoed across the neighbourhood. A little later, Ren heard a police siren. It grew louder as it passed the house then quietened and stopped as he fell back to sleep.
CHAPTER 12
Ren woke the next morning, believing he’d dreamed about the police siren, that he and Sonny had found themselves in some sort of trouble and had been chased. It wasn’t until he left the house later that he found out that police were swarming over the compound. He walked to the end of the lane and noticed one of the RTA workers talking to a uniformed policeman. A detective was leaning against a car with one hand in his pocket and the other smoking a cigarette. It was the infamous Foy.
Mick O’Reagan, the milkman, was walking along the street reading from a piece of paper in his hands. He didn’t see Ren until he was almost on top of him.
‘What’s going on down there with the coppers? Ren asked.
‘Looks like someone has broken in. The fence has fallen over on the far side of the yard and one of the machines is fucked. On its side in the dirt. Serve them right. Messing with the earth that way. Can only be trouble in that.’
Mick waved the piece of paper in his hand. ‘Got a letter here from my boy. I snuck out of the house with it when I spotted the postmark. Thought it might be bad news and I didn’t want the wife getting hold of it first. But it’s good news.’ He smiled. ‘Good news.’
Ren walked back to Sonny’s place to tell him about the break-in at the compound, but when he knocked at Sonny’s door a woman opened it. It was Rory’s girlfriend. She reminded Ren of Olive Oil. He couldn’t look at her without thinking what Sonny had said to him about her and Rory having sex.
‘Sonny here?’ he asked, looking down at the doorstep.
‘Nope. Heard him tell Rory he was off to the paper shop. Shoots through soon as I show up. The kid doesn’t like me.’ She shrugged. ‘He only come in for breakfast and then pissed off again.’
Ren walked around to the shop and asked Brixey if Sonny was around. Brixey pointed to the back room. ‘He’s just about living here. I’m thinking of asking him for rent.’
Spike was repairing the back wheel of an upturned bike and Sonny was counting a tray of five cent pieces.
‘You ready, Spike?’ Sonny asked.
Spike spat in his hands and rubbed them together as if he were about to lift a three hundred pound barbell.
‘Ready.’
Sonny spilled two handfuls of coins onto the worn and scarred counting board. Spike sat down opposite him, watching closely as Sonny spread the coins. ‘Okay, Spike. How many are there?’
Spike ran his eyes over the coins for a few seconds, no longer. ‘Forty-two. That’s two dollars and ten cents.’
‘Ren, you count them for me,’ Sonny asked, ‘while I stack the papers.’
Ren counted the coins, to the exact total Spike had announced. ‘How’d you do that?’ Ren asked.
Spike shrugged his shoulders and smiled. ‘Just can.’
‘It’s not all he can do,’ Sonny said. He threw Ren a dog-eared copy of the Victorian Football League Almanac. ‘Pick any game from that book and ask him the scores. Ask the crowd numbers if you like.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘
I’ll bet all these five cent pieces that it’s not.’
Ren flipped through the book and settled on round one, 1927. ‘Okay, Spike, can you give me the scores for any of the games?’
‘Give you all of them.’
Spike closed his eyes and rattled off the points for each game, quarter by quarter, as if he was reading them from a scoreboard. Although he couldn’t see how Spike could have tricked him, Ren was convinced he must have. He picked another year and round. Spike answered correctly again. Ren was impressed.
‘How’d you do that? That’s fucken brilliant, Spike. You should be on the TV.’
‘As long as the questions are about football,’ Sonny said. ‘Try telling him what day is it, Spike.’
‘Fuck off, Sonny, I know the day.’
Sonny wouldn’t stop teasing him. He poked a finger against the side of Spike’s head. ‘When they put that plate in your head, you got the wrong one, I reckon. I’d bet all of them coins on the tray that you can’t tell us when you were born. The date.’ He pushed Spike in the chest and Spike pushed back, just as hard. Sonny pushed him again. ‘Come on, tell us your birth date, retard.’
‘Don’t call him that, Sonny. Leave him be,’ Ren said.
‘Mind your fucken business,’ Sonny snapped.
‘What’s up with you? Leave Spike alone.’
Before Sonny could say another word Spike threw a punch at him, hitting him square on the nose. Sonny fell to the ground, crashing into bikes and prams. Spike stood over him. ‘Don’t call me a retard,’ he screamed, ‘or I’ll punch you again.’
‘You are a fucken retard.’
Spike dropped his knees into Sonny’s chest and grabbed him by the throat. Brixey heard the commotion from the shop and came running into the back room. He dragged Spike off Sonny and threw him across the room. Sonny sat up. His nose was bleeding.
‘What are you doing, Sonny?’ Brixey demanded. ‘Having a go at him like that. You leave the boy alone.’ He turned to Spike. ‘And you, out of here. Go and keep an eye on the shop.’
