A New Kind of Dreaming

by Anthony Eaton

  Jamie shook his head.

  ‘Then you must realise how stupid what you did this afternoon was. What if the police find out you were wagging school?’

  Jamie almost smiled. If only she knew. He managed to control himself, though, and let her continue.

  ‘Another half an hour and I was going to call Sergeant Butcher in to look for you. We both know what that would have meant.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  Lorraine let go of the cup and reached across, taking his hand on the table. Her touch was light with a faint trace of warmth, perhaps the last heat from the tea, perhaps not. Either way, Jamie felt his skin tingle – it reminded him of his mother. A long time ago. Jamie forced the memories out of his mind. He needed to stay focused.

  ‘Jamie. Please . . .’ Lorraine stopped.

  For a long time the three of them sat, Jamie keeping his face impassive as he struggled with the emotions that stormed around inside him, Lorraine looking at him, appraising, Archie sitting silently, watching.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Lorraine asked finally.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ The wave subsided and Jamie began to feel in control again. Archie filled the kettle and replaced it on the old stove. Releasing Jamie’s hand, Lorraine leaned back from the table.

  ‘What were you doing down there? You’re filthy.’

  ‘Nothin’ much. Talkin’ mainly.’

  ‘Talking?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  There was a moment of silence. Jamie waited.

  ‘What did you talk about?’

  ‘Bits and pieces.’ A thought came to him – Lorraine must have been around Port Barren for a few years now. ‘Cops and boats, mainly.’

  Her whole attitude changed. Her body stiffened as she sat up suddenly, throwing him a penetrating stare. For a moment Jamie thought that she was going to press him for more details and he dropped his eyes, ready to go quiet if needed. Lorraine hesitated then decided not to press the issue, at least for the moment.

  ‘You’d better go and wash up.’

  Jamie nodded and rose silently. As he moved towards the door, Lorraine noticed the deep scratches on his arm, a legacy of his awkward fall into the bottom of the boat. She saw the dried blood in the cuts. She noticed the limp.

  ‘What happened to you? Have you been fighting?’

  ‘Nah.’ Jamie shook his head, struggling to find a plausible explanation. ‘I just had a bit of a fall. From the rocks near the car park.’

  Lorraine looked him up and down again. He could tell she didn’t believe him.

  ‘Go and get cleaned up, and then let me have a look at those cuts.’

  As he reached the kitchen door, he turned back to face Lorraine and Archie, who were still sitting at the kitchen table. Lorraine was watching him with a slightly worried frown. The little crease between her eyes, which always appeared when something was on her mind, was obvious in the bright glare of the kitchen bulb.

  ‘Can I ask a question?’

  Archie raised an eyebrow. Lorraine answered right away.

  ‘Sure. Of course.’

  ‘Was McPherson a drunk when he arrived in Port Barren?’

  Lorraine looked confused.

  ‘What? Jamie, I hardly think . . .’

  ‘Go wash.’ Archie spoke the words quietly, with just the tiniest of nods towards the door. There was no room for hesitation – it was clearly a command. Jamie grinned to himself as he left the room.

  sixteen

  ‘Hey!’

  Jamie sat up in bed, startled to find Cameron at the back door.

  ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Nothin’. Come in.’

  Cameron climbed the stairs and walked inside, taking in the screened-in porch with a quick glance.

  ‘Nice place.’

  ‘It’s comfy.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  While Cameron pulled an old wooden chair up towards the bed, Jamie propped himself on one arm.

  ‘Haven’t seen you for a day or two.’

  ‘I’ve been keepin’ out of the way. After the boat and that.’ He didn’t mention his conversation with McPherson. Now wasn’t the time.

  ‘Yeah. How’d you hold up the other night?’

  ‘Not too bad.’

  ‘I slept like a log.’ Cameron grinned. ‘Must have been that lucky punch you got in.’

  ‘Lucky?’

  ‘Yeah. You wait – next time I’ll be ready for you.’

  ‘You’re just soft.’ Jamie began to feel a little less morose. He’d been feeling strange since waking up, an hour or so ago. It was Saturday morning so school wasn’t an issue, but Jamie was bored, and even school would have at least been something to do. In the few days since the episode at the boat he’d been continuing his policy of lying low, so there wasn’t anywhere he could go. He was pleased to see Cameron’s face grinning up through the fly wire. The two of them hadn’t spoken much since that afternoon. At school Cameron always seemed to be hanging around with the other kids, and Jamie didn’t feel like dealing with all the stares and whispers, so apart from a couple of nods the two of them had stayed away from one another.

  ‘You heard the news?’ Cameron was serious again.

  ‘What news?’

  ‘About McPherson.’

  ‘Eh?’ Jamie sat up. ‘What about him?’

  ‘He’s dead. Topped himself.’

  ‘Bullshit!’

  ‘Nah. Hung himself from the lamp pole on the end of the jetty. They found him last night.’

  ‘When did he do it?’

  Cameron shrugged.

  ‘Dunno. No one had seen him for a couple of days. Last time anyone saw him was the other night in the pub.’

  ‘Which night?’ Jamie’s heart began to pound.

  ‘Wednesday, same day as the boat thing.’

  Jamie felt the blood draining from his face.

  ‘Shit mate. I’m in trouble.’

  ‘Eh? What?’

  ‘I was talkin’ to him, McPherson.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘The other day. After you headed home.’

  Jamie related his trip to the pub. When he’d finished speaking, Cameron sat for a couple of minutes.

  ‘Bloody hell, mate. What do you think he meant?’

  ‘I reckon there must have been someone else on the boat. Butcher knocked them off and didn’t know about the girl bein’ there. Maybe she saw somethin’. He was just lucky she didn’t speak English, but he had to get rid of her too, before the flying doctor arrived with an interpreter.’

  Cameron thought about this, then nodded.

  ‘Yeah. Makes sense. What about McPherson though?’

  Jamie shook his head.

  ‘That’s what worries me. He tells me this the other night, or at least gives me a few pretty simple clues, and then suddenly he’s dead. You really reckon he killed himself?’

  ‘Don’t know. Couple of guys found him when they went fishing. No idea how long he’d been there, but the doctor said it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours.’

  ‘So where’d he go then? Between Wednesday and last night?’

  ‘God knows.’

  Jamie’s head was whirling with ideas and suspicions. The uneasy sensation was stronger and more intense than ever. It reminded him of something else he’d meant to discuss.

  ‘I been thinkin’—’

  ‘Yeah? Did it hurt?’

  ‘Nah serious. ’Bout somethin’ you said.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The other day, out on the boat, when we were talkin’, you said that everyone felt strange when they arrived here. Remember?’

  Cameron’s expression changed.

  ‘Yeah. I was ho
ping you’d forgotten about that.’

  ‘You got any idea why?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why everyone feels that way?’

  ‘Listen . . .’ Cameron stopped, gathering his thoughts.

  ‘You’ll think this is a bit weird. Anyway, it’s just a theory of mine. Nothing I could prove.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You ever been to that old prison down in the city?’

  ‘Don’t change the subject.’

  ‘I’m not. You ever been there?’

  ‘Which one?’ There were several prisons and Jamie had visited his brother in a few of them.

  ‘The museum one, down near the port.’

  ‘You mean that old one, built by convicts?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Nah, never been there.’ That had been closed down long before Eddie got put away.

  ‘We went to visit it during our holidays. They take you on tours.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So there’s this one cell you visit – right near the gallows. When I went into it I felt totally freaked out. A bit like when you go near the boat only more intense.’

  ‘Yeah. So what’s your point?’

  ‘The tour guide was telling us about how they used those little cells for the death inmates, the ones due for hanging. There was a whole tiny row of them there, but only this one cell got to me. It turned out to be the one where the condemned prisoners were locked on their own for the last three hours before they were executed.’

  Jamie considered this.

  ‘So what? I don’t get it.’

  ‘My point is this, and this is my theory so you better not laugh, even though it sounds stupid. I reckon that places absorb some sort of energy from the people who live in them. You know how in some places you automatically feel welcome and happy, and in others you don’t? Well, that’s what I think causes it. And anywhere that people have been through a lot of pain there’s a really potent build-up of that energy.’

  ‘You’re talkin’ about ghosts.’

  ‘No, it’s not really . . .’ Cameron thought for a second. ‘Well yeah – I guess you could say that, but not like walking sheets and rattling chains and that stuff. This is more, I don’t know, more abstract. This isn’t something that can harm you or anything. It’s just an energy field that you can sense. That’s all.’

  ‘What’s this got to do with Port Barren?’

  ‘It’s got more to do with that boat.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Think about it. That little girl they found on board. How long had she been lying there with her family and friends shot up all around her? Imagine how scared she’d have been. Couldn’t the boat have picked up on that?’

  ‘So you do reckon it’s haunted.’

  ‘I knew you’d think it was funny.’ Cameron stood up, unhappy.

  ‘Nah. It’s just’ – Jamie looked for the right word – ‘weird. Makes sense though in a strange kind of way.’ Jamie thought about the other places he’d felt the girl’s presence – the back of the truck, the nursing station.

  ‘Anyway,’ Cameron continued, ‘it’s just this idea I had. It’s not like you could prove it or anything.’

  ‘Nah. Guess not.’

  Cameron obviously wanted to change the subject.

  ‘You want to do something?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t know. Go down the beach and hang out. Always a few guys under the jetty of a Saturday morning.’

  The feeling of being an outcast in the town was still strong in Jamie’s mind, and since the incident with the windows it had been more uncomfortable than ever being around people. He’d heard the whispers and the sniggers behind his back, and in school the odd comment, pitched just loud enough for him to hear. It was too much effort to deal with other kids. Besides all of that, he had a feeling that if Butcher had discovered what he and Cameron had worked out, then both of them were in danger, but Jamie in particular – he was the only one who’d actually been seen talking to McPherson that night. If word got back to Butcher . . .

  ‘Nah, she’ll be right. You go.’

  ‘You’ll have to start mixing with the others at some point, you know.’

  ‘It’s not just that, I got homework to do. Gotta catch up.’

  For a second or two Cameron looked like he was going to argue, and then decided against it.

  ‘Whatever. I’m going to head off. If you change your mind . . .’

  He left the sentence unfinished. They both knew there was no chance of that happening.

  ‘I might catch you a bit later, eh?’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’

  ‘See ya.’

  The screen door slammed and Cameron was gone.

  seventeen

  Jamie moped around the house, bored and restless. Cameron was right. He couldn’t just hang around on his own forever, but he found it hard to go anywhere in Port Barren. It wasn’t just the kids. Everywhere he went he was aware of the accusing glances, the pointed stares. Even though there wasn’t a shred of evidence against him, he knew that in the minds of the people of Port Barren he was guilty of the window vandalism, and who knew what else. Also, of course, the possibility of running into Butcher worried him. In fact, when he thought about it, he was a little disturbed that Butcher had been so quiet for the last couple of days. If the Sergeant was actually aware of what Jamie had discovered, then it was surprising that Jamie hadn’t already had a visit. The thought played on his mind.

  He started a bit of reading, part of his homework, but the conversation with Cameron kept turning over and over in his mind. In the end he flopped off his bed and wandered into the kitchen, where Archie was sitting in his usual seat at the table, reading the paper.

  ‘Morning.’

  Archie nodded without looking up.

  ‘You got anythin’ needs doin’ round the place?’

  He wasn’t sure why he’d asked. It seemed better than hanging around doing nothing. Archie put down the paper and turned his level gaze upwards. Once again Jamie found himself uncomfortably aware of those blue eyes, so out of place on Archie, and the feeling that they were staring deep into his soul.

  ‘Sit down.’ Again the low, resonant voice seemed to go right through Jamie. He pulled up a chair.

  ‘You want to hear a story?’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘This town, it’s full of stories. Some Aboriginal, some white, some Malay, some Indonesian. All sorts of different ideas. I reckon you might need to hear one of them.’

  Jamie shrugged his shoulders. This wasn’t what he’d expected.

  ‘I’ve got nothin’ better to do.’

  ‘No, not good enough.’ Archie stared again. ‘I talk only to people who want to listen.’

  Under the searching gaze Jamie felt increasingly uncomfortable. Without realising it he fidgeted slightly.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I just am.’

  Archie continued to stare, until Jamie couldn’t handle it any longer.

  ‘Tell me the story. Please. I want to hear it.’

  The old man held his gaze steady for a few seconds longer, then turned his attention back to the newspaper. Guessing that he’d said the wrong thing, Jamie started to leave. Archie’s voice shattered the silence like a gunshot.

  ‘Sit!’

  The single word seemed to echo off all the hard surfaces in the room and Jamie sunk back into the chair. Without taking his eyes off the paper, Archie began to speak.

  ‘You come into this town thinking that you’re something different, something new. But you’re not, you know. People have been coming and going from this part of the country for much longer than either you or I have been around. All for different reasons. Fi
rst the Aborigines. They came for their Dreaming, to visit their sacred places, to hunt, for ceremonies. Then when time had passed and the seasons began to change they’d leave for a while – move on to other parts. Later the white men arrived – came for old rocks buried in ancient ground. Came to dig and to load onto ships. When the rocks are gone, so are they.’

  Archie sipped his tea.

  ‘Oh yes, son. This land’s had its share of weary travellers. The locals have names for them. Two main types, we say – wanderers, and lost ones.’

  Jamie sat still, interested but not wanting to show it.

  ‘Many lost ones and many wanderers have come, and many have left again. Some at peace, some in turmoil. Some are people who were taken from where they belonged. These are the wanderers – people searching for their homes. Some are those who had the place they belong to taken from them. These are the lost ones. They search for a new place to belong. Sooner or later though, they all seem to come to Port Barren.’

  Archie’s voice was deep, almost rhythmic. Jamie felt himself being drawn into the story.

  ‘Not so many years ago, the wanderers started to come from the south. These were Aborigines – the Punjima, the Kurrama and the Innawonga peoples. The stolen children, and their children. They began to return to the place of their birth, of their Dreaming. They returned to walk the land of their ancestors, to join with the spirits of the earth that bore them.

  The lost ones came more recently, from the sea, from far-off places and distant wars. They landed all up and down the coast. Many had been promised paradise – a land of oases and palm trees, of cool, deep, green waters. What they found was desert and prisons.

  To live here, you have to learn that life is a balance between being a wanderer and being a lost one. When these others arrive, in buses and cars or sometimes even on foot from the south, or on old boats from the north, the people who live here can usually make them welcome, because up here everyone is aware of the wanderer and the lost one within themselves. Usually these travellers, wherever they’re from, can find peace of some sort. This is important. It keeps the balance of the land.

  Sometimes, though, there is no peace. A wanderer arrives and is driven away. A lost one comes and yet still remains lost. Then the balance is interrupted. Their pain settles across the land. When this happens, the people must wait for another to come – a wanderer or a lost one who can balance the pain. Can restore the land. Can bring peace.’