“Oh mum! It’s not,” Kylie replied. “It’s just that all these places are mentioned in both the old diary and in this book and I’ve got no idea where they are so it is no help at all. Someone must know where they are; this ‘Perseverance’ Mine; and all these other mines: the ‘King of the Ranges’; the ‘Rose of Shamrock’, ‘Cody’s Claim’ and so on.”
Gran looked up from her book and peered over her glasses. “Plenty of people know where they are. Stan’s people still have their farm right near Warramine Creek. It is just over there somewhere.” She indicated the next ridge to the east. “And the Reids would know where they all are. As I said the Reid brothers went looking for the famous ‘Jewellers Shop’ half a dozen times and they had maps. I saw them looking at them.”
“Who? Bert and...and.. and Victor?” Kylie asked.
Gran shook her head. “No, not the boys. Their father Bruce, and his brothers Brian and Dennis. Back in the Seventies.”
Allison’s eyes lit up. “Perhaps we could ask them for the loan of a map?”
“Yes,” Kylie agreed, her heart fluttering. “Could we go over to the Reid’s Farm to see them? Please mum. It’s not nearly as far as Atherton.”
Both Uncle Bill and Mrs Kirk laughed aloud. “Not that much different,” Uncle Bill replied.
“Please mum,” Kylie wheedled.
“Are you sure it is to look at old maps you want to go there?” Mrs Kirk asked.
Kylie blushed crimson, knew it, and blushed even more. “Of course. May we, please?”
“I will think about it,” Mrs Kirk replied.
Allison looked up. “If it is raining tomorrow we won’t be able to do anything here,” she put in.
Mrs Kirk looked at her and smiled. “Yes,” she said slowly. “Alright. We will see what the weather is like tomorrow. If there is rain we will go visiting.”
“Oh thank you mum!” Kylie cried.
“Steady on. I said if there is rain.”
“Yes mum. Come on rain, fall!” Kylie called.
They all laughed. Mrs Kirk stood up. “Time you girls were in bed. Come on. Milo time.”
CHAPTER 7
LESSONS IN LIFE
There was no rain. The dawn sky was clear and clean. Bartle Frere stood up against it like a massive piece of stage scenery. Kylie walked along in the semi-darkness shooing the cows towards the milking shed and thinking pleasant thoughts about Bert. She was mildly surprised at herself as she had rarely considered boys as anything other than grubby and often disgusting creatures who played silly games.
Thoughts of boys returned to her when she stood in the shower later. As the warm water soothed her sore muscles she checked the bruises. Most had gone but there was still a large discolouration which showed with a sickly greenish tinge on her chest. That was from the whack by the gun butt. Kylie gently massaged it, noting that the bruise extended right from one nipple to the other.
It was the sight of them that got her thinking about boys. She knew that she was starting to develop breasts and was both fascinated and excited by the prospect. From talking to her friends and from overhearing her brothers and their friends she knew that boys were particularly interested in breasts and that boys liked to see them and play with them.
Tenderly she gripped the tiny soft buds and felt them, wishing they were bigger and wondering what it might be like. She was aware that Allison’s were bigger and had already noted, with some annoyance, how Bert had looked at them, with evident approval. In a surge of jealous emotion she squeezed both her tiny breasts and was suddenly aware that the nipples had become erect and that the action had spread a warm tightening into her thighs.
It was a pleasant and exciting discovery and she tenderly experimented for a few minutes, imagining Bert doing it to her. Then she shook her head. ‘No he wouldn’t. I am too young.’ That caused a twinge of regret until another thought followed. ‘So is Allie!’ That was some comfort.
At that moment Allison banged on the door. “Come on Kylie! Hurry up! You’ll dissolve; and I’m getting cold!”
Kylie finished her shower and hurried to dress, now hot and ashamed of the thoughts she had been entertaining. Fresh and scrubbed she went out to help prepare breakfast.
Over toast and marmalade her mother asked: “What are your plans for today girls?”
“Can we go over to the Reid’s like we said please mum,” Kylie asked.
Mrs Kirk considered this for a time, then nodded. “After lunch. What will we do this morning?”
“What is there to do?” Margaret asked.
“I will be cleaning the house,” Mrs Kirk replied. “And there is a Christmas tree to put up.”
“Oh yes please! May we decorate it please?” Margaret asked, her eyes sparkling with delight.
“Of course,” Mrs Kirk replied.
After breakfast Kylie opted to do the washing up, then helped to dust and vacuum the lounge room. Allison and Margaret went off with Uncle Bill to cut the tree. They returned half an hour later with a sapling cut from the edge of a field. Uncle Bill brought in a large bucket which he had carefully cleaned. The tree was placed upright in this and then wedged and held in place by stones from the garden. Christmas paper was then draped around the bucket to hide it.
The Christmas tree was placed in the corner of the lounge room beside the old fireplace. Several cardboard cartons were extracted from a cupboard. These contained decorations which were taken out and sorted. Kylie laid out a row of coloured balls and tinsel flowers. As she did she noted that many were broken, or had no hooks on the back. She felt a twinge of disappointment. The decorations were obviously old and had seen many Christmases. Unwilling to hurt Gran’s feelings she said nothing but went on sorting, trying to find enough undamaged ones.
Not so Allison. She said: “These are very old Mrs Feltham. Most of them are broken.” She held up a tattered tinsel streamer which looked very ragged.
Gran nodded. “Yes dear. They have been used for many years,” she replied. “I suppose it’s time we bought some new ones.”
“What with?” Uncle Bill asked. He was seated in his arm chair beside Gran. Kylie saw his face twist into a bitter smile. The sight stabbed her to the heart. ‘Poor Old Uncle Bill! He can’t even afford to buy new Christmas decorations!’ To her it was an appalling thought. ‘I must find that gold mine!’ she told herself.
Margaret said: “May we buy you some new ones, as a present for giving us such a wonderful holiday?”
Gran coloured with embarrassment, then nodded. “That is very kind of you dear. I would like that. But don’t spend too much money.”
“We won’t Mrs Feltham,” Margaret said.
Allison turned from trying to drape the tattered tinsel around the tree. “We could go to town to buy them.”
“To town!” Uncle Bill snorted. “That’s all you girls want to do!”
“All girls do Bill, you know that,” Mrs Kirk said with a smile.
“We could drop in on the Reids on the way,” Allison added.
Mrs Kirk laughed aloud. “Yes we could. As I said, we will go after lunch, but I will phone Violet to make sure she is home.”
Mrs Kirk stood up and walked towards the phone. As she did it rang, giving her a fright as she had been about to pick it up.
“Hello, Feltham Farm. Who? Oh yes sergeant.”
‘The police!’ Kylie thought. ‘I hope it isn’t bad news.’
But it was. Mrs Kirk said: “Yes, I see. Thank you for telling us. Goodbye.” Then she put down the phone and turned to face them. “That was the police sergeant in Malanda. He says that the two men have been released on bail. The court case will probably be in mid-March. He will inform us of the dates.”
Kylie was horrified on both counts. “Oh Mum! What if they come back here?”
Mrs Kirk shook her head and replied: “They are not likely to. The sergeant said they had been specifically warned not to come near any of us or they will face more charges. I don’t think they will.”
&nbs
p; Kylie nodded, but in her heart she was scared and she knew it. Resentment that two strangers could so spoil their Christmas welled up in her heart and that made her feel guilty as she was not normally like that.
Later, when the tree had been decorated as well as the available decorations allowed, Kylie sat next to her mother having morning tea. The old diary was open on the table in front of her. As she sat staring out the window Uncle Bill went past with the two dogs. He was on his way down to the bottom paddock.
“Mum.”
“Yes dear?”
“Why has Uncle Bill never married? He’s a nice man.”
Mrs Kirk glanced at her brother and a look of sadness settled on her face. When she did not immediately answer Kylie voiced her thoughts: “Doesn’t he like girls?”
Mrs Kirk shook her head. “Yes he does. No, you see that farm away over there, the one beyond that line of pine trees?” She pointed to a distant cluster of buildings.
Kylie nodded. Mrs Kirk then explained: “When he was young he was madly in love with the daughter of the family who own it. Jane her name was. For years they were inseparable and everyone just assumed they would be married. They even became engaged. Then one day Bill discovered her with another man doing something that was wrong.”
Kylie’s mind raced. She guessed what it was her mother was hinting at, the suspicion confirmed because her mother’s cheeks and neck had tinged red with embarrassment. Mrs Kirk went on: “Jane just laughed and threw his engagement ring back at him, then went off. But she didn’t marry that man either. She ran off with a salesman and we never saw her again. Bill was very hurt.”
A wave of sadness and sympathy engulfed Kylie. ‘Poor Uncle Bill!’ “How could anyone do that sort of thing mum?” she asked, anger at Jane’s actions becoming stronger by the minute.
Mrs Kirk shook her head sadly: “Because people are sometimes driven by strong emotions. You will understand when you get older.”
“Didn’t Uncle Bill ever fall in love again?” Kylie asked.
“I think his heart was broken. Worse, his trust in women had been broken. Oh Kylie dear, he is such a good man, straight and true. I wish he would meet a nice woman and get married. He would make a wonderful father.”
Kylie pondered the nature of humanity in sadness and anger for a while. Her mother moved to refill the teapot and plainly did not want to discuss the topic further so Kylie lowered her head to continue reading the old diary.
She was deeply immersed in this when Margaret came puffing up the back yard.
“Kylie, come and see. A cow is having a calf!”
Kylie wasn’t sure that she really wanted to see that but Margaret was insistent. Mrs Kirk encouraged her. “Go and watch dear. It will be educational, if nothing else.”
Feeling mixed emotions, not least embarrassment, Kylie put the diary aside and went to pull on her gum boots. She walked with Margaret down to a clump of trees near an old tumbledown shed. Allison was there, crouching to watch.
The cow was almost finished and Kylie was just in time to see the calf actually slide out onto the ground. She found the sight both fascinating and disgusting. The calf was all covered in a sort of bluish membrane which was coated in blood and mucous.
“I wonder if that hurt much,” Allison commented. “Mum says it really hurts to have a baby.”
Kylie had seen videos of babies being born and she accepted the idea of being a mother herself sometime in the future but she wasn’t sure how she really felt about it. She was both amused and shocked by Margaret’s next comment.
“My mum says it is more fun making babies than having them.” With that she giggled. Kylie did too, mostly from embarrassment. She had seen one of those sort of videos too, at a friend’s house. She also had two older brothers so she had often seen naked boys. Several times she had even accidentally discovered them playing with their penises. Once, when she had burst into the bathroom without knocking she had surprised Graham furiously tugging at his. Masturbating she knew it was called. She had discussed this with Margaret, who had admitted she had once helped Graham to do it.
It was all very worrying, but also very exciting. But not the sight of the cow licking the mucous and membrane from the calf’s head. Kylie felt quite sick. “I think that is revolting,” she said.
Allison shrugged. “Only natural,” she commented.
Kylie watched the cow lick more of the blood and mucous off. The calf was lying on the dirt and grass and that made her feel even more nauseous.
Margaret said: “I wonder what it will be like to have a baby?”
Allison looked up at her. “It will hurt. Like trying to shit a watermelon mum said,” she replied.
“I think I will like trying to make one though,” Margaret added with a giggle.
Kylie was shocked as well as amused. “Margaret! Don’t you and Graham do anything naughty. You are too young.” ‘And I don’t want him to get into trouble either,’ she thought. She dimly knew there were laws about how old a person had to be to be allowed to do things like that.
Allison then shocked and peeved her more by saying: “I would like to make love to Bert.”
“Allie! You are too young. Besides, he could go to jail,” Kylie replied. She was astonished how strongly she felt about it.
Allison laughed and replied: “Only if someone found out. I wouldn’t tell.”
Kylie was even more shocked. Worse, she knew she was being a hypocrite and was jealous. She struggled for an answer but was saved by Margaret who said: “If you got pregnant you would be found out.”
Allison sneered. “I wouldn’t. I’d be careful. We will take precautions.”
‘Will!’ Kylie thought in hurt dismay, her mind grappling with how people ‘took precautions’ so as not to have babies when they had sex. It was all very adult and scary and she felt sick with worry and annoyed at her own jealousy.
By this time the cow had licked the calf all over and the calf had its eyes open and was moving its legs. The eyes were huge, shining orbs which looked so appealing that Kylie’s disgust ebbed. The cow nuzzled the calf in to her udder and it began to suck.
“It will be alright now,” Allison said. She was still watching with evident fascination. Kylie stayed for a while but then wandered back up to the house, her mind and emotions in a confused whirl. She found it a relief to settle back to reading the old diary.
She noted that she was near the end of the writing. Before she had gone down to see the calf being born she had read that Hector had left home to try to find more gold. She resumed reading and was soon absorbed. She turned the page and read:
- 11 March 1932- Went down the track to the ‘Erin’. Not feeling well. Tough going in the wet. Ask for work at the ‘Erin’. No luck. Spend the night at Frank’s.
- 12 March- Prospecting up the side gullies off Nugget Creek. Rain.
- 13 March- Prospecting up Nugget Creek above Frank’s. A few ‘shows’
- 14 March- sick
- 15 March- Prospecting. Found some dust but not enough to pay any bills!
- 16 March- Prospecting. Found one tiny nugget the size of a Number 4 shot.
- 17 March- Prospecting. Found a few specs of colour. Food almost gone.
- 18 March- Frank very sick. Shot a scrub turkey. Took it over and cooked it for him. He is a cheerful coot, even when he is down. He has the gold bug bad; is convinced that there is a major reef somewhere up Nugget Creek.
- 19 March- Heavy rain. Search up Nugget Creek from Frank’s claim. Found a few grains. Don’t think I am finding even enough to be equal to the dole. Worry about Emma and the kids.
- 20 March- Prospecting. Found a few more grains. Maybe Frank is right? He is still very sick. Killed a big scrub python and made a stew for Frank.
- 21 March- Find a tick on myself. Maybe that is what made me sick. Frank is so sick I persuade him to go to see the doctor. Heavy rain.
- 22 March- Heavy rain. Take Frank down to Doc Ward’s at Goldsborough. Have trouble crossin
g the creeks which are flooded. Takes all day.
- 23 March- At Goldsborough. Ask for work at the saddlers and from Jess Blake (carter) but no luck. This Depression is a hard time for working people. Walk back up to my camp. Takes all day in the rain.
- 24 March- Tidy up Frank’s camp. Feel very sick. Back to my own camp but too ill to do any more.
- 24 March- Sick as a dog.
- 25 March- Ditto
- 26 March- Ted Phillips from the ‘Bright Smile’ dropped in and asked me over for lunch. They have just had a good strike and are celebrating. Go down to join them but can’t eat much. They are good chaps.
- 27 March- Rain but stops by midday. Prospect further up Nugget Creek. Feel sick but make the effort as my food is almost all gone.
- 28 March- I have found it! I have found the ‘Jeweller’s Shop’! Nuggets the size of marbles just lying on the stream bed and gold dust trapped in the rock crevices, just waiting to be scooped up! Nearby is a rock face just studded with gold like plums in a pudding. Pegged a claim, then picked up all I could. Collected twelve jars of gold. Too heavy to carry so I have hidden them under a rock overhang twenty five paces upstream. Take only one jar as a sample. Back to camp feeling so sick I can hardly walk. Write a letter to Herbert with instructions on how to find the claim in case anything happens to me.
-29 March- Pack up. To the ‘Erin’ and mail the letter. Don’t tell anyone. Just tell them I am off home for a rest and to get more food. Take the Christmas Creek track but can hardly get up the hill. Spend the night on the track in heavy rain.
- 30 March- Very sick but manage to make it home. Thank God! Give Emma the gold and send Billy Thorpe to register the claim. To bed. Very sick. Emma is a good wife.’
The diary abruptly finished. As she was reading the page Kylie had been gripped by mounting excitement. Now the enormity of the tragedy swamped her. ‘Poor Grandad Hector! Poor Emma. Just as he found the gold he is struck down by fever. Oh how sad!’
But he did find gold! Excitedly Kylie re-read the account of the discovery. ‘There is a gold mine. And I will find it to save the farm,’ she vowed. The image of her ancestor struggling through the dark, wet jungle filled her mind, to be succeeded by the images of her Great Grandmother struggling to run a farm and raise four children. ‘Or was it only three?’ That sent her back to her notes.
The Publicity Push Page 7
