FOLLOW THE MORNING STAR

by Di Morrissey

  Ernie nodded. ‘I know what you mean. Well, I’ll do me best, Snowy.’

  The old man rocked on his heels and looked satisfied. Their past and their future, the origins of all life, and the laws to live by interpreted through the legends, would pass into Ernie’s hands and the spirits of their shared totem would be pleased.

  ‘We head back to Tingulla now, eh?’

  ‘Righto, Snowy. Things are shipshape here. The men have come back from Tingulla now shearin’s over. Also, some old bloke turned up, a swaggie, name of Chipper. Said he’d met Queenie on the track.’

  ‘He bin workin’ here or campin’?’ asked Snowy.

  ‘He’s a worker all right. Struth, can he swing an axe!’ declared Ernie. ‘He cut a stack of fence posts like a ruddy machine. Every one of ’em identical. Said he might hang around for a bit, which suits me. So, Snow, I guess we can head back today.’

  The young man and his elder briefly clasped hands. A bridge had been crossed.

  The next day at Tingulla, Dingo sat at Queenie’s desk finishing up the paperwork on costs of the shearing and sale of the clip. He wrote her a note and pinned it to the top of the file as the phone rang. Millie picked it up somewhere in the house but quickly appeared at the office door.

  ‘It’s America. That French friend of hers, Henry whats his name.’ Millie seemed flustered. ‘You’d better talk to him, Dingo, I don’t git that flippin’ accent of his.’

  Dingo smiled as he reached for the phone. Henri the hotelier who had wanted to marry Queenie. Millie had never thought the match should go ahead and in a way that had been the catalyst for her to bring Queenie and TR together.

  ‘Henri, this is Dingo McPherson. Queenie is out in the bush, can I help?’

  ‘Dingo! How nice to speak to you. I’ve just received a long letter from Queenie. I am most distressed to hear about TR. Is he any better?’

  ‘Not much. Physically he’s making slow progress. No return of his memory yet. It’s all very sad and difficult. I’m helping out for a bit.’

  ‘That is a great pity. Well, Dingo, I know you are privy to some of Queenie’s business plans so I will speak to you so you can pass on this news, yes?’

  ‘Sure, if it’s business.’

  ‘Queenie wrote to me that she is selling the Kurrajong Hotel and she had always promised me first refusal. I’ve spoken to my company directors and bankers and I would be very agreeable to buying the hotel. We would make very few changes as I know it is run superbly. In a few months I will come out and review matters. So tell her yes, I accept her offer.’

  ‘I had no idea she wanted to sell,’ said Dingo in surprise. ‘She must have some plan up her sleeve.’

  ‘Dingo, she says she wants to set up a fellmongery and a tannery . . . What is this?’

  Dingo laughed, rubbing his thinning white hair. ‘Well, I’ll be . . . it’s a place that takes the wool off the sheep hides and the tannery treats the skins. Turns it into leather.’

  ‘Ah, I see. It makes sense now. She is thinking of going into wool and leather fashions, I believe.’

  Dingo grinned. ‘You’ve got to hand it to her, she doesn’t let the grass grow under her feet.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Never mind, Henri. Did Queenie say if this was something she and TR had been working on by any chance?’

  ‘No. I get the impression she had come up with the idea since his accident. Please, wish them well. I will begin drawing up documents for the sale.’

  ‘Righto. I’m sure shell be pleased. She’s out in the scrub chasing some lost bulls, she should be back pretty soon.’

  Henri looked down from his office to the traffic sliding along elegant Fifth Avenue and smiled wistfully at the memory of beautiful Queenie. She was probably happier in the Australian bush than she ever could have been here in the metropolis. He supposed she had been right in refusing to marry him. He sighed. He also knew he could never compete with the incredible bond of love that had bound her and TR together. But in his own way, Henri still loved her.

  ‘Ask her to telephone me when she is able. I hope things become happy for them very soon. Au revoir, Dingo.’

  ‘Hooroo, mate, nice talking to you.’ Dingo hung up the phone and wandered outside to find TR. He was sitting in a chair, staring into the garden, a newspaper dropped in his lap. ‘G’day, mate, how’s it going?’

  TR shrugged. ‘So so. What’s new?’

  Dingo winced internally seeing TR so dispirited. ‘I’ve been talking to some hotel bloke, friend of Queenie’s. She’s selling her hotel in the Blue Mountains to raise some capital for a wool venture. She talk to you about it in the hospital?’

  ‘Nope. Of course, she could’ve talked to me about it before . . . but then I wouldn’t remember that, would I?’ TR’s voice had a bitter edge.

  ‘No matter. But when Queenie gets back I reckon you should get involved in this wool thing. Starting from scratch now.’

  ‘Give me an interest?’ asked TR with a wry smile.

  ‘Sort of. But you’re a smart man, TR, and Queenie respects your advice and opinions. That hasn’t changed. Getting in with something new that’s just starting up means it doesn’t matter what went before. You’re right at the starting blocks with Queenie on this one.’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  Dingo nodded and didn’t say any more, but he was slightly heartened. TR hadn’t sounded as negative or bitter. He’d talk to Queenie. This new project could possibly provide some common ground for her and TR to start getting to know one another again. They had always been such a great team together. Playing, working, loving, they sparked off each other, supported each other, and shared such a bond it made outsiders wonder that two people could be so close. And everyone secretly wished they had what Queenie and TR shared.

  Millie made sure Jenni was out of the house and made a phone call to Mrs Quinn. Later Millie said to Jenni, ‘Mrs Quinn rang, she wants you to go over for dinner tomorrow night. Thinks you need a break.’

  ‘Really? Just me? What about TR?’

  ‘Give him an evenin’ off, luv. Take one of the cars and go over, they always have nice dos. You haven’t had a break since you arrived, it’ll do you good.’

  ‘Well . . . I don’t like the idea of the long drive back on my own.’

  ‘Oh, dinner at the Quinns’ means staying the night. They always have a big breakfast and everybody heads off after that. Them’s a country style dinner party. I told her you’d go. TR, Jim, Dingo and me will manage just fine.’

  ‘Well, in that case . . .’ Jenni looked rather pleased at the idea.

  Later Millie had a quiet conversation with Snowy, who listened then nodded, ‘Tomorrow night. We’ll set it up.’

  Millie watched Jenni drive off to the Quinns’ in the late afternoon then hurried down to find Jim, who was in the meat house hacking chunks of meat off a frozen carcass. The meat house still was an old-fashioned shed, but it had been modernised with a cold room and freezer. Jim worked at the solid wood block with well-worn knives that reflected decades of service. Millie heard the thwack of the meat chopper and knew he was preparing her order for the week’s meat.

  ‘She’s gone. Now, how do I tell TR what we got planned?’ she announced, holding open the screen door.

  ‘Come in or out, Millie; either way close the door, luv. Flies.’

  Millie stepped into the shady coolness, pulling the flyscreen door shut. ‘Would it be better if you spoke to him, Jim? Being a white fella. If he don’ remember nothin’ then he might think I’m just talkin’ rubbish.’

  ‘I think Dingo’d be best to talk to TR. I can’t go to this shindig you’ve cooked up anyway. Seein’ as I’m not initiated. But Dingo has been, he knows tribal customs. Let him take TR under his wing.’

  ‘You’re right, luv. Can I take some of them chops now, I’ll grill ’em up for dinner with some garden vegies.’

  When he’d finished in the meat house, Jim washed his hands under the tap at the old tank be
side the shed and went to find Dingo who was in the chill room built onto the woolshed. Merino skins were stacked in large piles in their raw state between layers of salt and hessian.

  ‘She’s got a good old stockpile of hides here,’ commented Dingo to Jim. ‘This will go to the fellmongers no doubt, and be the start of Tingulla’s wool enterprise she’s setting up.’

  ‘What fellmongers?’ asked Jim. ‘None around here.’

  ‘The one she’s building. Well that’s the plan as I understand it, she’ll tell us all about it when she’s back I’m sure.’

  ‘That Queenie. She’s a real . . . aw heck, what’s the word. You know them blokes that’re always doing things, settin’ up shows and stuff, doin’ deals . . . ’

  ‘Entrepreneur. That’s right. Always full of bright ideas and schemes. But unlike most people, Queenie isn’t just talk. She makes them happen.’

  They both chuckled fondly. ‘Did Millie tell you she called this mornin’ to say she got them bulls?’ asked Jim.

  ‘Yeah, she did. I’ve heard of that Mitchell,’ said Dingo. ‘Nasty piece of work. They caught the blokes he’d hired to do the duffing and they all squealed like stuck pigs. He won’t get away this time. A lot of people have to thank Queenie for this I think.’

  The two men headed back outdoors. ‘Where’s Snowy?’ asked Dingo.

  ‘He’s in the bush getting things ready. Millie said you had to meet him at the southwest corner after tea.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Er, Dingo there’s one other thing. Millie wanted you to tell TR what’s goin’ on.’

  ‘He doesn’t know?’

  Jim shook his head. ‘Millie figured he might not want to do it, and she wanted Jenni out of the picture. Nothing against the girl, but well, it is sorta secret stuff, right?’

  Dingo nodded. ‘Women. They always make things more complicated than they need be. I’ll just tell TR we’re takin’ him out.’

  After dinner Millie busied herself in the kitchen with the dishes while the three men relaxed on the verandah. Jim leaned back in his chair and rolled a cigarette. ‘You blokes best be getting a move on, eh?’

  ‘I’m intrigued to say the least, Dingo,’ said TR with a smile. He liked Dingo enormously even knowing they’d been friends in what TR referred to as his past life. In his mind, their friendship had only just begun.

  ‘Get those sticks of yours, and I’ll bring the Toyota around to the steps here.’

  Jim helped TR into the passenger seat, half lifting him off the ground as the step up was so high. TR winced in pain and Millie cautioned him to be careful. Jim shut the door and went around and shook Dingo’s hand. Then, standing with his arm about Millie’s waist, they watched the red taillights of the vehicle disappear down the driveway.

  Twenty minutes later the headlights flicked onto the bush track leading south. Suddenly, in the beam of light, they saw Snowy. He was standing by a tree, ramrod straight, his arms by his side, dressed in his old blue shirt and work pants. They stopped and Snowy got in the back seat and began giving Dingo directions.

  They weaved through scrub country for another hour until Snowy tapped on Dingo’s shoulder. ‘This’ll do. Put ’im over there.’ They parked near the trees he indicated. ‘TR, you wait little time, okay. We come back git you real quick.’

  TR shrugged. He was beyond wondering. In his past life he might have known what this was all about, now he was just along for the ride. He didn’t care much about anything these days. He felt he was drifting in an often painful grey haze, with a few patches of sunshine provided by sweet young Jenni.

  He had no idea how long they left him there. He’d watched the clouds scud across the moon and stars and then dozed for a bit. Then Dingo was beside him, opening the car door and helping him down. ‘Lean on me, there’s a bit of a track here, it’ll be hard with those sticks. Don’t trip, for God’s sake.’

  ‘The moon’s bright, I can see fine.’ TR began following Dingo, watching the ground carefully. Gradually he became aware of a faint humming noise. Then a slow steady beat. For a second he thought he was hearing his own heartbeat, then he realised it was a muffled drumbeat.

  They stepped into a clearing and TR stopped and looked about in surprise. A small group of Aboriginal men were seated in a semicircle. Their faces were painted with streaks of white clay, and he was surprised to see one of them was Ernie. He smiled at TR reassuringly through the white paint.

  ‘Sit here.’ Dingo helped TR down to sit on a log, where he stretched out his legs, holding his crutches across his lap. Dingo sat cross-legged beside him.

  Snowy disappeared into the shadowy scrub, then reappeared carrying an armful of green bushes which he placed on the small campfire in the middle of the clearing, causing smoke to billow and a pungent sweet smell to swirl into the air.

  Ernie sat cross-legged on the ground beating together two music sticks painted in an intricate design of ochre, yellow and white. Beside him sat another man also holding two short ornamental music sticks which he began to click together. On Ernie’s right the didgeridoo player lifted the long hollow tube of wood and cradled one end in the fork of his toes, then began breathing and blowing into the other. The haunting wail rang through the bush. The beat began to get faster.

  ‘Who are these people?’ asked TR, leaning close to Dingo’s ear.

  ‘Local tribe.’

  ‘What’s the ceremony?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  The music was now very loud and rapid and from out of the trees four more men appeared. These were the dancers, naked except for shorts, a loincloth, one with only dried grass covering his genitals, another in underpants dyed with ochre. Their bodies as well as their faces were elaborately painted, and one man had brolga feathers in his hair. Another had a tail of long grass swinging at the back and through his prancing movements he became a horse.

  As TR watched he suddenly saw, enacted before him in mime and dance, the story of his accident. The bolting horse, the tree, another horse and TR falling. The dancers carried the injured rider to the centre and laid him down and ‘doctored’ him, then came in a series of pantomimes the man’s efforts to walk. But he kept falling over and needed another man to hold him up. Finally the helper refused to hold him up any longer and they left the injured man lying on the ground like a crumpled doll.

  The singing began. In unison the men chanted, the wailing sound rolling through the bush. As TR sat there he realised this was for him, he could feel it physically entering his body like a burning flow of energy. He was transfixed by the theatre in the moonlight, hypnotised by the strange magic of the moment.

  The singing went on for several hours, all the men clapping as they sang. Finally the figure who had lain motionless on the ground in the centre all this time, began to twitch. Slowly he rose to his feet, swayed and stood there; then, like a robot, he took firm measured steps across the clearing and disappeared into the bush. The music reached a crescendo and TR closed his eyes, feeling like he might faint. He suddenly had a vision of a brolga. He saw it dance on long fine legs, its soft grey wings spread and noble head arched as it danced. The vision was so vivid he could feel the draft of air from the movement of its wings. He thought he’d closed his eyes for a second or two, merely to catch his breath, but when he blinked and looked about him he found the clearing deserted save for Dingo seated beside him.

  Dingo smiled at him. ‘You all right, mate?’

  ‘I only closed my eyes for a second. What happened?’

  ‘Only what was supposed to.’

  TR felt drained and exhausted, but strangely exhilarated. ‘Was I hypnotised?’

  ‘No. Just sung. Time to go. Soon be dawn.’

  ‘I saw this brolga . . . it was so real. What does that mean?’

  ‘Must be your totem.’ Dingo helped TR to his feet, handed him his crutches and they moved slowly back to the LandCruiser in silence.

  As they drove into the dawn, TR knew he had been through a very special and my
sterious experience. He knew instinctively he should never speak of this night with anyone, not even Dingo or Ernie. He knew some great change had come about in his life, and he felt a serenity and peace he hadn’t known since his accident.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Saskia adored her little cabin tucked away in a grove of palms at Harmony Hill. Best of all she liked being on her own, with her own space, her own things about her. It had been fun sharing an apartment with Sherry and Julie at university but being on her own, responsible for her own wellbeing, organising her own life, was a delightful change. She was apprehensive about her mother’s reaction to it all. However, that hurdle was still to be crossed. Maybe when Queenie saw this place she would understand a little better Saskia’s wish to do her own thing. Thinking back over her mother’s life Saskia was suddenly aware Queenie had never done this. Tragedy had flung her into a role of responsibility and challenge. She had never travelled, hadn’t had a carefree youth, or been able to explore and stumble along the road to maturity. For her mother, the eyes of older wiser and often resentful adults had watched her every step. Queenie had battled and won the day, but at what cost? wondered Saskia.

  She loved, respected and admired her mother, and while many were in awe of the famed Queenie Hamilton, Saskia was determined to step away from this shadow and make her own way. She wasn’t ambitious — perhaps because she had been brought up with so much — but Queenie had made sure her values were sound. Saskia was no privileged brat, despite the wealth and prestige of her family and its heritage. While Saskia appreciated all that Tingulla stood for, she loved it for her home. This was where her roots were, the generations that had gone before her had created this magnificent station. Its history was part of the history of Australia. But to Saskia what she loved was intangible — the view from every window, the ghosts of her family who had lived here, plants tended by her grandmother, the shared Aboriginal heritage, the stories passed down of the exploits of the men, horses, cattle and sheep. Like every child of Tingulla she had her own special memories, her own special places. Tango had missed growing up at Tingulla but in being reunited with his family, he too had made his places of peace on this land. Tingulla was in her blood and would always be part of her life, but she had to roam a little before returning to its security.