Kimberley Sun

by Di Morrissey

  ‘This does all sound a bit odd. Have you tried to talk to him?’

  ‘Sort of. But he always changes the subject. He hangs around the tent all the time, like he’s waiting for something. He doesn’t seem too interested in what’s going on here.’

  ‘Maybe he’s shy. Maybe his English isn’t very good.’

  ‘Nah. Say, Lily, maybe you’d have better luck. He’s a worldly kinda guy. Or maybe he doesn’t like mixed-race people. Perhaps he thinks I won’t understand. Why don’t you talk to him? Please?’

  ‘What about? What do you want to know, Bobby?’

  ‘Dunno. It’s like he’s always watching me. I can’t figure what he and Matthias had to meet about. If I go back and see Matthias I want to tell him something . . . I mean, I tried to be helpful, now it seems a waste of time. I’m buggered if I can figure out why they had to meet.’

  ‘Bobby, I’d like to help, but I’m not sure what it is I’m supposed to do,’ Lily said. Then, seeing Bobby’s face she added more brightly, ‘Well, just being sociable can’t hurt. Why don’t you introduce me?’

  While preparations were under way for the camel race, Bobby introduced Lily to Hajid. He apologised for not knowing his surname, but Hajid didn’t offer it. Bobby realised there wasn’t much point staying around so he excused himself and left them together.

  They chatted about the carnival atmosphere at the property, the countryside and the remarkable preparations for the races. Hajid’s English was impeccable, as were his manners, but he gave nothing away. It was very practised small talk and Bobby was right, Lily found there was something very unnerving about him. ‘Your name is unusual,’ she asked casually. ‘Where in Europe are you from?’ She hadn’t been able to identify his accent.

  Hajid gave a slight smile. ‘I have lived in many places, dear lady.’

  When he didn’t elaborate further, Lily asked, ‘Did your family move around a lot or is it your business? Are you here on holidays?’

  He didn’t answer but studied her with faint amusement.

  Lily pressed on. ‘I gather you were to meet a friend here. Bobby told me he had an accident. Such a pity.’

  ‘Accidents do happen I’m afraid.’

  ‘So you’ll see him in Broome?’

  Hajid paused, looking a little annoyed and then gave a thin mean smile. ‘So many questions. Is this the Australian way?’

  ‘Possibly just a woman’s way,’ she answered lightly. She was finding him disturbing and deliberately evasive. ‘We tend to be curious creatures.’

  ‘That is an international trait, I believe,’ he agreed with a smile. ‘I am in Australia on business and I took the opportunity to experience some of the essence of the country. And before you ask what my business is,’ he gave a slight inclination of his head and Lily blushed, ‘I am an art dealer, on sabbatical.’

  Lily wanted to ask what kind of art he dealt in but she was beginning to feel embarrassed at her blatant probing. Suddenly Hajid excused himself as he saw Bobby helping one of the riders with his camel, and Kev and Bette with their camera, photographing the whole scene.

  ‘I am sure we shall have an opportunity to talk more.’ He hurried away towards his tent.

  Lily strolled over and watched Bobby help saddle the fidgety animal. Bobby raised an enquiring eyebrow. ‘Your friend is an art dealer,’ she said. ‘I didn’t find out anything else. He is either very clever, very private, or very evasive. In fact, tick all of the above,’ she decided.

  ‘Oh well, maybe that’s what he and Matthias had in common,’ said Bobby. ‘Matthias was teaching archaeology, and art too, I think.’

  ‘Do you know much about camels?’ asked Lily as Bobby struggled with the camel, which seemed reluctant to be saddled.

  ‘Not much. They’re a bugger of an animal.’

  ‘You can say that again,’ agreed Luke, the young man who was preparing to ride it. ‘We need a few more jockeys. You want to try, Bobby? Or what about your lady friend? All you have to do is sit on it and hang on. They go like the clappers once they take off. I’ve got a sure thing, and the jockey gets prize money.’

  ‘Good heavens, no,’ exclaimed Lily with a laugh.

  ‘How much? For winning?’ asked Bobby, his face earnest.

  ‘Bobby, you’re not thinking of riding?’ said Lily.

  ‘I could do with a jackpot. I don’t think I have a taxi-driving job to go back to,’ he said. ‘I might have to try to get back on the luggers.’ He turned to the stockman. ‘Is that all you have to do, hang on? And what’s a sure thing with camels?’

  Lily shook her head. ‘Bobby, you’re incorrigible. I’m off to breakfast. See you round.’

  ‘Put a couple of bucks on me, Lily,’ he called after her. Lily lifted an arm in acknowledgment. She didn’t think he’d really do it.

  But later in the day, as the jockeys and their animals lined up for the big race, to her amazement there was Bobby looking a little uncomfortable and concerned atop a rangy camel covered with bald patches. Number twenty-six was painted on its rump in whitewash.

  The camels were held back by a rope stretched across in front of them and when they were in rough alignment, a cow bell was banged, the rope dropped by the two men on either side of the track and, to the cheers of the crowd and frenzied urging of the riders, the camels surged forward. There was no railing and several camels began heading off course, including the mare Bobby was clinging to. He had no control over the reins as the camel seemed unsure of which way to turn and was slowing down, allowing others to overtake them. Then something seemed to click in her mind and she took off in a bolt, shoving the other camels aside, her neck outstretched and aimed straight as an arrow for the finishing line. Bobby glanced back at the chaos behind him, delighted to know he was ahead of the pack but terrified in case he should come off at some height and speed.

  And then he saw why his animal was in such haste. At the finish line stood one of the boys holding its calf. Bobby was aboard a frantic mother heading to rescue her offspring. He won the race, but his anxious steed refused all entreaties to kneel and stood determinedly with her calf. Bobby was forced to lower himself onto Luke’s shoulders to reach the ground before stepping up to claim the jockey’s prize.

  There were some good-natured shouts implying unfair advantage and underhand tactics, but Bobby was elated to be declared the winning jockey and revelled in the absurd moment of glory. He waved to Kev and Bette who’d put money on him and cheered him on for every second of the mad race.

  Back in the tent to clean up before dinner, Bobby was surprised to see Hajid’s belongings had gone. As had Matthias’ backpack.

  When he made enquiries at supper he learned that a few people had left on a supply plane, which had brought in extra beer and beef for the larger than expected crowd. The beer was being kept in a big hole in the ground close to the eating area. The hole had been filled with ice and covered in wet hessian bags and then loaded up with cartons of beer from the coldroom at the homestead, and topped up with the new supply.

  When Bobby mentioned to Lily about Hajid’s surprise departure, she told him not to worry. ‘He is obviously going to Broome to meet up with Matthias. You did what you could. It’s not your fault he wasn’t very forthcoming.’

  Bobby still looked concerned. ‘Funny thing is, I hate to say it, but my stuff was a bit messed up. It looks like someone has been through my things.’

  ‘Is anything missing?’ asked Lily. ‘Maybe you should mention it.’

  ‘Nah, I don’t have anything of value. I’ve got my wallet.’ He patted his hip pocket.

  But later that night a few others began to complain of missing items, or that their belongings had been ransacked.

  Bill quietly took Lily aside. ‘It seems some of the kids around the station have been doing a bit of pilfering. The organisers don’t want to make a big scene but the kids have been caught down at their camp and now all the loot is up at the homestead.’

  Lily shook her head. ‘I’d better ch
eck my stuff.’

  ‘I think it was more a dare than serious theft. They took silly things that caught their fancy. Hopefully the old men will bang their heads together, or whatever is appropriate, to teach them a lesson.’

  Lily ran into Bobby near the homestead verandah where lights blazed as the generator hummed in the distance. The woman with the clipboard, who seemed to turn up everywhere, was making notes and ticking off items as they were claimed.

  ‘I don’t reckon I lost anything, but I’ll take a look,’ said Bobby, more curious than concerned.

  Among the remaining items, including bright shirts, torches and packets of cigarettes, was something so stunningly different that it stood out – a small wooden box with brass fittings. Bobby nudged Lily and whispered in her ear, ‘That box, it belongs to Matthias. It was in his backpack when I put it in the tent.’ He didn’t bother explaining that it must have been taken before Hajid left with the bags. Bobby picked it up and claimed it, and his name was duly recorded.

  ‘What’s in it Bobby?’ asked Lily.

  ‘Damned if I know what it is.’ He opened the box and showed her the strange metal sun. ‘An ornament of some sort.’

  Lily took the sun and turned it over in her hands. ‘Lovely craftsmanship. It looks old.’

  ‘He must have picked it up in his travels. I’ll bring it back to Broome for him,’ said Bobby as they walked over to the camping area. ‘I feel bad when this kind of thing happens. The kids out here are dropping through the cracks. I guess I was lucky with my dad being so strict. Though it bugs me a bit now.’

  Lily glanced at the young man beside her. ‘Tell me, Bobby, how do you define yourself? Your heritage. Do you think of yourself as Chinese, Aboriginal or European Aussie?’

  ‘All the same, I reckon. Most of all I’m a Broome fella.’ He laughed. ‘Plenty people round like me. You know the definition of confusion, don’t you?’

  Lily shook her head.

  ‘Father’s Day in Broome! Ah, seriously, that’s why I don’t like big cities, people want to put you in a box. You don’t do that, of course, Lily,’ he added to put her at ease.

  Changing the subject Lily said, ‘The kids around here do seem to be a bit lost. They are not totally traditional and they’re only getting half a white education.’

  ‘I s’pose they’re not interested. They’d rather fish, get a handout for tucker and rubbish, they don’t think much past tomorrow,’ said Bobby. ‘I got schooling. I’m good with my hands, fixing things and stuff.’

  ‘How do you think the boys that get into mischief here would go in a regular school down in Perth?’

  ‘They’d hate it,’ Bobby answered quickly. ‘They’d run away. All they’d want is to go to the game parlours, watch videos, eat pizza. That’s the best whitefellas have to offer in their eyes.’

  ‘Complex business, isn’t it?’ said Lily. Then she added firmly, ‘But I’m convinced education is the key to solving most of their social problems.’

  ‘Up this way we have a lot of schools, but some are better than others,’ said Bobby. He gave a shrug. ‘You learn stuff by not going to school, too. I mean, I never learned to ride a camel at school.’

  Lily laughed. ‘Your face was a picture when you were hanging on for grim life.’

  ‘Man, that mum camel wouldn’t have stopped until it got to her baby. If her kid was in Darwin we’d still be going.’ He grinned. ‘Maybe I should split my winnings with Luke, the bloke who saddled her up. He figured out the idea to put her baby behind the finish line.’

  ‘I’m sure he put a bet on you. As a matter of fact, I did too.’

  ‘You did! I hope you cleaned up, Lily.’

  ‘It was modest. I donated it to the Flying Doctor.’

  ‘Oh. Do you think I should do that as well?’ said Bobby, a little reluctantly.

  ‘No. You won it fair and square. People and companies donated prizes. You earned it, you keep it.’

  He looked relieved. ‘I’m a bit hard pressed. My dad won’t help me out anymore, unless I go into the business.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘Computers and freight aren’t my scene.’

  ‘What work have you done that you liked doing best, Bobby?’

  ‘Ah, working at the pearl farm. I did everything from cleaning shell to working luggers. I even worked in the kitchen and helped to repair the boats when they were laid up. Of course the girls were nice, lot of seasonal workers, but really it was being on the water, around the boats and the sheds, that smell . . . the salt, whatever it is, gets me.’

  ‘And the pearls?’

  ‘Oh, it’s exciting when a big one turns up, or it’s a huge harvest. But it was the whole thing I liked.’

  ‘So why didn’t you stay there?’

  Bobby shrugged. ‘I was stupid. I hung out with a bunch of guys who got pissed so we didn’t get back to the farm after our week off, and they trashed a boat. I was trying to stop them and get the gear back in one piece. But well, who was going to believe me? I tend to mess things up, but my dad doesn’t want to know when I say it wasn’t my fault.’

  ‘Like this taxi accident. And your passenger going walkabout,’ added Lily.

  He gave a half smile. ‘Must’ve killed a Chinaman in another life.’ They reached Lily’s tent and he touched her arm. ‘I’ll come good, Lily.’

  ‘You already are, Bobby. Don’t write yourself off. See you later.’

  Lily rose early and packed her bag and tidied the tent. Only a few other people were up; it had been a late night. No one had wanted to turn in after being enchanted by the sound of Yvonne Kenny singing in the crisp night air, her voice soaring up to the stars. Bill’s group had all agreed that opera and the outback made a magic marriage. Now the campfire was being prodded back to life for a billy of tea. Some early risers were tucking into pannikins of rum and hot milk. Ribs of beef were ready to be thrown on the barbecue for the recovery breakfast. Lily decided to go for a walk.

  A flock of black cockatoos rose from a boab tree, breaking the calmness of the morning. The sky was changing from gentle amethyst to intense blue. It was pleasantly cool with a faint breeze hinting of the warmth to come. Lily soon got clear of the homestead camp and turned down a track that led to a large waterhole marked by a slowly turning windmill. In the distance was a range of hills that appeared to circle the huge property in an enveloping embrace. Closer was a low ridge that appeared to have caves under its overhanging ledges. The effect of the rising sun on the rock face was startling, making the shapes, lights and colours in the ridge look like a subtly changing work of art.

  ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’

  A quiet voice behind her made Lily spin around. A tall young man, maybe in his early thirties, was sitting on a log partially hidden by scrub. He had sandy hair falling in his eyes, a great smile and green eyes. He was very attractive in a casual way. Lily could imagine the impact he’d make strolling into a trendy bar in Sydney. He stood up and flicked the hair off his forehead. ‘It’s the best time of day.’

  Lily regained her composure. ‘Yes, it is. I love getting up early when I’m out here. Away from the city. I sleep in when I’m in Sydney.’

  ‘Right, I can relate to that.’ He laughed. ‘Actually, I didn’t make it to bed so I guess that makes me an early riser too. I’m Timothy Hudson – Tim.’ He walked towards her.

  Lily gave him a warm smile and held out her hand. ‘Lily Barton. I’ve had a fantastic time. You?’

  ‘Hey, it’s hard not to, isn’t it?’ Their hands gripped and looking at his friendly, attractive face Lily liked him immediately. Sometimes you have to get to know people, and sometimes you know in an instant whether you like, or dislike, them. ‘It’s been a great welcome home for me.’

  ‘This is home? Where have you been?’ asked Lily. ‘Shall we walk a bit?’ They began walking around the waterhole.

  ‘I was born in Albany, grew up in Perth. I’ve been around the west most of my life. But these past few years I’ve been working in Indonesia. I just lobbe
d into Broome and figured I couldn’t miss this bash. Only Aussies could run a show like this.’

  ‘Ah, getting a cultural transfusion to reaffirm your national identity. Casual, yet organised, rough and tumble hard drinkers, a cocktail crowd, didgeridoo at the campfire, opera under the stars,’ summed up Lily.

  ‘I had some pretty wild times up there. But you’re right, culturally, it’s not home, y’know? This feels more familiar, even for a city boy.’

  Lily nodded in agreement and waved an arm around. ‘Look at all this – it’s magnificent, magical.’

  ‘And no one else in sight. I missed that sense of distance and emptiness in Asia, the peace –’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry if I intruded on your peace, your meditation,’ said Lily quickly.

  The young man glanced at her. ‘The right company is welcome at times.’ They walked side by side without speaking for a few moments, then he said quietly, ‘The silence, that’s another thing I missed.’

  At that instant two cockatoos flew above them, screeching loudly. ‘Shut up!’ Tim shouted, shaking his fist and he and Lily burst into laughter.

  ‘So, what are you doing next? Are you staying in Broome long?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, I hope so. Do you know Broome well?’

  ‘I’m getting to know it better and better.’

  Tim smiled. ‘You live there?’

  ‘I’m thinking about it,’ said Lily. ‘What were you doing in Indonesia?’

  ‘Oh, I started out working on a little aid project, government-funded stuff. Nothing spectacular. Then I worked for a company up there. I loved it but I suppose I got homesick.’

  Lily stooped to pick up a rock, examined it closely then threw it into the waterhole, and they both watched the movement of the ripples.

  ‘And what are you doing in Broome?’ he asked as they resumed walking.

  ‘Looking around, trying to understand the place a little better,’ said Lily, deliberately being vague. ‘It’s an intriguing part of the country, don’t you think?’

  ‘I won’t argue with that.’ Tim flashed a mischievous smile.