coffee. Two coffees, Midge,” he called into the room behind him, “Let"s
go outside, Marilyn.
“I guess you"d better stay, Shirley, and help with the coffees
. Midge"ll
take care of you.”
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Falling into Queensland
Chapter 4
Shirley pushed through the bead curtain into the kitchen. Midge was lighting the gas beneath the kettle. She was a short woman, with an unruly mane of honey blonde hair cut into a point between her shoulders. She was wearing a white apron, and an old fashioned suspender belt with black stockings. Heeled ankle boots. Nothing else apart from her tattoos.
She turned and smiled shyly, but it was difficult for Shirley to speak.
“Come in – I"m Midge,” she said. She had an open, friendly face with laughter lines making her comfortable.
Her prominent rubbery nipples had gold rings pierced through them. Large rings, the size of twenty cent pieces. Shirley struggled not to stare at them.
Midge"s smile widened. “Don"t worry,” she said, “It"s just Japan"s
way. He pays me to put on a show.”
“Er – I"m Shirley. I"m sorry…” What else could she say?
“Relax. You"ll soon get used to it. I did, and I even came back for
more. Now, two coffees. That"ll be for his lordship and Marilyn, I suppose. You"ll just have to get yours in here with me. Hungry?”
She was hungry. She had missed breakfast. “Yes – I am.”
“Good. I was just going to nuke some chilli for Japan. I"ll do a bit more for all of us.” She was getting the coffee organised and Shirley had a chance to look at her. Midge was not young – mid-thirties, she guessed – and her body had a comfortable used look about it. Her tattoos were fascinating. In the small of her back she had a symmetrical abstract blazon in darkest blue, a thing of fine curlicues and spikes that reached out towards her hip-bones and down to the cleft of her buttocks. The large bow she had tied in her apron strings obscured it. Similar creations on a much larger scale spread across each shoulder and wrapped around her upper arms. When she turned, Shirley could see that they also reached under her arms and around to cup her sagging breasts in their tendrils, like an illusory brassiere. More curls were escaping above the top of her apron. Shirley wondered what the apron hid.
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Falling into Queensland
“I like your tattoos,” said Shirley. It seemed the proper thing to say.
Midge looked down at them. “Yes – one of my men gave them to me. Took a long time, but they were worth it. At least I get a chance to show them off here. This time of year, anyway. In the winter, it"s too bloody cold out here and Japan lets me and his other girls wear clothes.” She waved at the walls around them. “This old thing"s all metal and it"s freezing. Except in the bar when the heat"s turned up. Then we"re only allowed body stockings or something transparent. And the tattoos don"t keep you warm, believe me. Here – put the milk in, will you? Japan"s milk and two, Marilyn"s milk no sugar.”
She passed a carton of milk from the fridge and Shirley topped up the coffee mugs. Midge had produced a packet of biscuits and was putting them on a plate. “Come on, then. You bring the coffee.” She hung her apron over the back of a chair and led the way out through the lounge.
They stepped out onto an area of raised deck shaded by a canvas awning. They were on the main roof of the dredge and the huge machine stretched out in front of them. Japan and Marilyn were seated on plastic chairs at a garden table. They were talking seriously but stopped as the coffee arrived. Midge set the biscuits between them and went to stand behind Japan.
“Hi, Midge,” said Marilyn. “Back again? You"re looking good.”
Midge smiled and nodded. She addressed Japan in a low voice. “Japan, please could I take Shirley up to the top to show her the view?”
Japan thought for a moment. “Yes, why not? Marilyn says she"s good. And then get us some lunch. What were you going to do today?”
“I was going to give you some chilli on rice, Japan.”
He looked at Marilyn. “Suit you? OK. And bring some of that white wine. You know, the Hardys stuff. Open a bottle and bring it up here while you"re cooking.”
Midge led Shirley off to one side and around to a rusty ladder fixed to the wall of the living quarters. In spite of her heels, Midge scampered up. Shirley climbed slowly, gripping the rungs far too tightly. They came out onto a small platform surrounded by a railing. The cables that ran forward to the heavy frame at the front of the dredge were no more than
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Falling into Queensland
two metres above them. “They used to come up here to grease the cables,” said Midge, but Shirley scarcely heard her. She was looking out over the tortured valley.
It was covered in the tailings left by the dredge. Long mounds of rocky gravel, spat out like worm casts. She could see now how the dredge had come to rest at the foot of the hills after eating its way through the landscape. The tailings covered the plain completely, right to the other side more than a kilometre away. In front of her, the valley narrowed and the damage petered out. In the other direction, it carried on until it was lost around a bend.
“The river"s over there,” said Midge, “They pushed it right over to the other side. We go swimming there sometimes. Japan says that the river will push its way back across here eventually and make everything flat again.”
Shirley rested her elbows on the railing and thought. Marilyn had said the dredges had eaten up the town. She had not understood at the time, but now it was obvious.
Her eye was taken by a small caravan nestling between two embankments. “Who lives there?” she asked.
“There? I"m not sure. Let me see… I think it"s probably Fingers"s van. It"s difficult to tell from up here „cos the paths go all over the place. I can get there at ground level, but let me see – yes, it would have to be Fingers. And there"s lots more. Little places everywhere. Look – over there – that"s Pig and Rosie. Rosie stays here all the time, not like me. And The Relic. He"s been here for ages. He"s built himself a really nice shed. You can"t see the shed, but that"s his television dish.”
Shirley was beginning to see the shape of the community. Tucked into the narrow valleys between the banks of tailings were signs of habitation. There were electricity poles threading their way into the wasteland. Where her sight line allowed, she could see paths, apparently sealed with bitumen. Now she could pick out the black tops of chimneys. There must be many sheds or caravans out there. How did their occupants live in such a strange place? What did they do to earn their daily bread?
“There are no roads,” she said.
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Falling into Queensland
“That"s right. Just paths for the bikes. We don"t like roads. If the cops want to come round snooping, they have to walk. They don"t have bikes up here in the north. But they don"t bother us much. Hardly ever come here, and we always get a call before they do. Makes life easier. And if they"re looking for anyone special, he"s got plenty of time to get lost in the bush before they arrive.”
“But what does everyone do here? I mean – there"s no work…”
“Oh, we keep busy. There"s plenty to do once you get settled in. Japan says we"re just like a normal community. When there"s enough people around, there"s always things to do. All the guys have a bit of a workshop and they"re forever making things. Or fixing up bikes. They do some really class chopping here, if you can believe it. Chopper city… And the vans and sheds always need work. There"s some kids around and we teach them. And the guys are always wandering off somewhere – down south to sell bikes or buy hot parts. Out in the bush for pigs and roos. Some even take trips to pan for gold – this is a mining lease and it"s all Japan"s.”
“Do you ever get visitors? I mean tourists and so on?”
“No. We don"t want them. Just people like Marilyn. She"s a friend. Sometimes a four wheel drive will come down the road,
but they don"t stop. We"ve put „No Camping" notices everywhere, and if anyone doesn"t get the message, we just pay them a visit. Doesn"t happen often. Look – I"ve got to go and get lunch. You can stay up here, if you want, or come with me.”
She followed Midge down the ladder. Marilyn and Japan were talking in low voices. They did not look up as the girls passed.
Midge sent Shirley back with a bottle and two glasses. She got a smile from Marilyn but no invitation to join the table. In the kitchen Midge was well organised. She had the rice started in one microwave and was defrosting some chilli in another. She set Shirley behind a small collapsible table and gave her half a tumbler of white wine topped up with lemonade. She put plates, cutlery and sauce bottles on a tray and brought her own drink to the table.
“Ah, get off my feet,” she said stretching her legs out in front of her. “Japan"d be a lot less keen on heels if he had to wear them himself.”
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Falling into Queensland
“I can"t believe he makes you dress like that. In front of everyone, as
well.”
Midge shrugged her shoulders. “He"s paying for it. Five thousand dollars a month in cash, and a ticket home every six weeks. Not bad just for cooking and dancing round without my undies. And fucking too, of course. That"s a bit of a drag, but it"s better than working for a living. As long as I do just what he wants, it"s OK. He doesn"t knock me around or anything. He"s quite sort of caring, in his way.”
“But showing you off…”
“Oh, it"s not so bad. There"s not so many places an old bird like me would get stared at by all the men. I think it"s part of his power thing really – with the other men, I mean. He keeps making me wave my sexy bits around under their noses but if they so much as raise a finger… They can look all they want, but I"m his woman and they"d better not forget it. I can do what I like on my days off, of course, but I live in Ballarat and that"s my business. Not that I get much of a chance to do anything there. My kids take all my time when I"m home.”
“You have kids?”
“Yes. Boy and a girl. Nine and eleven. They stay with my Mum, and me too on my month off. Not the best, but it works out, I suppose. Like being a miner or something. I fly off and work in the bush for six weeks, then I come home for a month and it"s all holiday. I don"t know how it"ll be when they"re a bit older. The girl looks like she might be as bad as I was. Oh well, I made my own way. She"ll have to do the same. As long as the drugs don"t get her, or she doesn"t get herself knocked up at fifteen like my Mum did. She"s going on the pill as soon as she starts her periods, like it or not. Then she can screw around all she likes.
“You with Marilyn? I mean, are you together?”
“Marilyn? You mean…”
“Yeah – Marilyn goes both ways. Didn"t she tell you? Used to be all
men but I think she"s just into women now. I can see why, some of the dick-heads she used to hang around with.”
“But, she"s married. She said her old man worked in a mine somewhere.”
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Falling into Queensland
“No – she used to be married. But she gave that up long ago. Didn"t have kids or anything, and she"s too smart to stay with the shit-for-brains she was with. No, her old man"s her father. She"s talking about her dad. She lives with him.”
One of the microwaves pinged and Midge jumped up to stir the chilli. It smelt exciting. Midge put it back in the microwave.
“Four more minutes, and that"ll get it. What about you? You visiting Port Bruce?”
“Sort of. My uncle lived there, but he"s just died. I came to clear up.”
“Oh, so you"re just shooting through, then?”
“Mmh, may be. I quite like Port Bruce, actually, and my uncle left me his house. I"m wondering what to do. I mean, home is in London but… I"ve only been here a few days and I certainly want to stay longer. I"ve got three weeks off work so I may as well look around while I"m here.”
“London to Port Bruce; that"d be different. Think you could stay there without going troppo?”
Three days. She had only been in the north for three days, if you did not count the extra day in Cairns. She was shocked. She had seen so much already and she just knew there must be heaps more to find out.
The other microwave pinged. Midge checked the rice and poured two thirds of it into a serving bowl. Then the chilli was ready and she did the same with that. Midge carried out the tray with the plates and cutlery. Shirley followed with the food, feeling like a servant. Japan ignored them both. She should have asked Midge for an apron and stripped off as well. Perhaps he would have noticed her then.
She enjoyed lunch, chatting with Midge and listening to her descriptions of life in Ballarat. She could have sat for longer but Midge suddenly jumped. “He"s calling,” she said, although Shirley had heard nothing, “Come on, we"ve got to clear the table.”
Japan finally spoke to her. She was filling her tray when he said, “Did you have a good lunch, Shirley? What was Midge telling you about us?”
“About you?” she was falling over her tongue, “Nothing, really. We were talking about her kids in Ballarat.”
“Good. Good. That"s the way. Next time you come, I"ll take you for a drive around the place, if you get here early enough. Meet some of the
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Falling into Queensland
guys. Or you can stay the night and we"ll have a party. What about that, Marilyn? Make a night of it.”
Marilyn was not enthusiastic. “You just want some fresh meat for your men, Japan. But this one"s not on offer. I"m taking care of her. We"ll think about it.”
“I hate to waste a good woman, that"s all. Right, mate, why don"t you take Midge inside and get her measured up? I"ll call Mongo to come over.”
Marilyn produced a notebook and measuring tape from her shorts and stood Midge in the centre of the living room carpet. She passed the book to Shirley. “Here – you write, I"ll measure.”
“What are you making for me?” asked Midge.
“Ah-ha – am I allowed to tell you? I guess so – he didn"t say not to. He wants to make you a pair of chaps. In shiny red leather with black belt and fringes. And a tight little bodice-waistcoat thing to match. Sound good? He says you"ve got black cowboy boots and a hat already.”
“Oooh – that"s – that"s fantastic.” Her eyes were wide with surprise and pleasure. “He really gets some good ideas sometimes.”
“I suppose I"ll have to make the chaps smooth inside because I don"t think he"ll let you wear jeans under them.”
“No chance,” said Midge still smiling happily, “And nothing under the top either.”
“Yes – he was really particular about that. He wants it to support you and come up just far enough to show the tops of your rings. That"s not going to be easy, especially in leather. Men just don"t realise how difficult tits can be.” She knelt at Midge"s feet. “Stand still. Right Shirl, let"s get these down. Inside leg sixty-six centimetres.”
Marilyn measured very carefully and Shirley had covered a double page of the notebook before she was satisfied. “Good, Midge. That should get it. But you"ll have to come for a fitting on your way out. I can do the chaps straight out, but I"ll have to do a mock up of the top in denim first. I don"t want to make mistakes in the leather. I"ve spoken with Japan. You"ll go out and come back through Port Bruce next time, not Cooktown. So you can get your fitting and by the time you get back
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Falling into Queensland
it should all be ready. So we"ll see you again soon. We"ve got to run off and see Mongo now.”
Mongo arrived just as they were stepping off the dredge into the car park. The rumbling of his bike approached from behind the tailings and filled the air as he sped down the path and into the car-park. He was a big man, dressed in faded jeans and a sleeveless denim jacket, and sporting a grubby red bandana around his neck. His face was rough and red, and although he was not old, his blonde hair was thin and receding. He was
smiling happily at them as he pulled up and switched off. His bike was even bigger than Marilyn"s.
“Hey, Marilyn. We"ve been waiting for you. I want a bag for travelling.”
“Yeah, Japan said. Some sort of pannier.”
“No – I"ve got those already. I want something smaller like, to put my money and stuff. You know - something I can carry over my shoulder like, when I stop at roadhouses. And that sort of stuff.”
“A shoulder bag – like a haversack or something.”
“Nah, you"re not listening. I don"t want a bag like that – I"d look like a bloody sheila, wouldn"t I? It"s got to be one I can take off my bike and hang over my shoulder. You know what I mean…”
Marilyn did not know what he meant. “What are you thinking of, Mongo? Have you seen one like it?”
“Well, yeah. Lots of times. Like on videos or the telly. They look cool.”
“Right – so we"re getting somewhere. On films. What film? Who had
one?”
“Clint Eastwood,” Mongo replied happily, “He"s cool. He"s always got one over his shoulder when he gets into town. Fist Full of Dollars.”
“Whoa there. You"re talking cowboys here. Not bikies.”
“No. Not bikies. Clint Eastwood doesn"t do bikie stuff.”
“Oh, oh, oh. Now I understand. Saddlebags, like for a horse.”
“Yeah. That"s right. I can take them off my bike and carry them over my shoulder.” He mimed hanging them over his shoulder and pushing a door open with his other hand. “They"re going to look cool.”
“How are you going to fasten them to your bike?”
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Falling into Queensland
Mongo had not thought about that. “When I"ve got a bird, I guess
she could sit on them.”
Falling Into Queensland Page 5
