The Last Dingo Summer

by Jackie French

  ‘But they didn’t even have that!’

  ‘But could it be proved? There were so many orphanages back then. So many unwanted kids, orphaned kids, mothers who couldn’t afford to keep their kids when their fathers came back maimed from the war, fathers who couldn’t look after them when their mothers died. No supporting parents’ benefit back then, almost nothing for a widow, no help at all for a widower.’

  ‘But children died!’

  ‘Yes,’ said Blue. ‘And do you know what’s worse? Kids are still suffering abuse and no one does anything, because they are just kids. Talk to your uncle about it sometime. Time after time he’s tried to get the police to act. They just say that there need to be adult witnesses.’

  ‘But it can’t be allowed to go on!’

  ‘And if enough people keep trying, maybe one day it won’t,’ said Great-Aunt Blue. ‘Meanwhile at least we can listen, like you did today.’

  And I will paint it, thought Fish.

  And Mr Sampson’s stories? The men missing in war, the abused girl no one acknowledged, the kids left hungry when their fathers skipped out on maintenance payments. Perhaps she should paint them too. Suddenly the true meaning of ‘Lest we forget’ became clear.

  I won’t forget, she promised silently. I don’t know if I’m good enough yet. But I will be.

  Fish realised the Greats were still looking at her.

  ‘I didn’t know you were going around asking questions,’ said Blue, her eyes troubled.

  Fish shrugged.

  ‘Is this about the bodies under the church?’ demanded Gran.

  Fish nodded.

  Great-Aunt Blue shared a look with the other two women. It was a look Fish recognised: a ‘what are we going to do with Fish?’ look.

  ‘Fish, you can’t do that.’

  Fish looked at her impatiently. She was doing it.

  ‘I think your Aunt Blue means it can be dangerous,’ said Gran quietly.

  Blue nodded. ‘Half the district obviously knows you’re asking questions. The whole town will probably know by Friday. That’s how things work around here. And there’s no mass murderer. Not here — someone would have noticed.’

  ‘Not if they chose people who wouldn’t be missed, like the kids at the orphanage. Or Merv.’

  ‘All right, just pretend there might be a mass murderer.’ Great-Aunt Blue hesitated. ‘This isn’t something to play with, Fish. Someone tried to kill me when I was about your age. My uncle. He burned down my house, then when Mah got me out, he tried to poison me and, when that didn’t work, sent a hired killer.’

  Fish stared at her. ‘What happened to them?’

  A sigh. ‘They both died in prison. Neither of them has been hanging around here murdering people, if that’s what you’re thinking. They tried to kill me for money. My uncle would have inherited the family factory if I had died. But people who can kill are dangerous. Once someone’s decided the normal social rules don’t apply to them, they feel entitled to whatever they can get away with. Fish, stay out of this. Please.’

  Fish looked at her. Great-Aunt Blue seemed so worried and so incredibly kind. There was no way Fish could say, ‘I’m doing this for you so no one will suspect your son.’

  ‘Please,’ repeated Blue. ‘Promise me you won’t go around asking any more questions.’

  Fish considered. There seemed no one else here to go to. She had achieved nothing; nor was she likely to. And suddenly her fossicking for missing people seemed tawdry among so much past tragedy.

  Blue was right. Gibber’s Creek would have noticed if any of their own were missing. Others would have looked for them, tried to find out what had happened. No one here would let someone just vanish with no questions asked. Which meant that any more questions from her would be useless. ‘I promise I won’t go around asking any more questions.’

  She felt the tension flow from the room. Great-Aunt Blue stood. ‘Come on. I’ll teach you how to make a Black Forest cake. We need another one for the stall.’

  Fish considered telling her she didn’t want to know how to make Black Forest cake. But the one on the coffee table had been the best cake she had ever eaten, and she had absolutely nothing else to do. ‘Okay.’

  ‘When you can make one cake well, you can vary it into fifty different recipes,’ said Blue with evident relief. ‘Come on. I’ll show you how.’

  Fish shrugged but mentally, because Great-Aunt Blue was being kind, even if the last thing Fish wanted was another cooking lesson after all the months of Dad trying to show her how to fold pastry and stir-fry vegetables, and followed her out into the kitchen.

  Chapter 41

  Team Yabbie from Year 1 Gibber’s Creek Central School Make First Visit to the Swimming Pool

  Pictured left to right: Emma Sampson-Lee; William Edwins; Skye Hadlock; Shanti Lee-Sampson; Taylor Strewizki; Emma Bodicelli; Jodi Sullivan; Emma Mountmont; Beau Lee; Johnny Green; Graham White; Joey Sampson; Shanti Smith.

  SCARLETT

  Scarlett drove into the carport between Jed’s car and the kitchen, then once again pulled out her chair and walked the two steps to sit in it.

  Every time she felt a new surface under her feet it felt good. Good? Wonderful! She grabbed her bag, balanced the box from the Blue Belle on top of it and wheeled her way carefully up the ramp.

  ‘Special delivery from the Blue Belle, potato pizza, eat it while it’s hot!’ she yelled. ‘Oops,’ she added as Jed came out of the living room. ‘Is Mattie asleep? Oh, she’s walking!’ Mattie took four uncertain steps, then fell back on her nappy-cushioned bottom.

  ‘Taataat!’ Mattie held up plump hands.

  ‘She’s saying Scarlett!’

  ‘Or possibly “I want my elephant”,’ agreed Jed.

  Scarlett dumped the pizza on the bench, the bag on the floor, and wheeled over to Mattie. ‘Come on, darling, put your arms up and you can have a ride. That’s it!’ She wheeled up the corridor and back, Mattie on her knee.

  ‘Taa taa ga taaat!’ demanded Mattie.

  ‘I think that means “Please may I have another two thousand rides, Auntie Scarlett?”’ translated Jed.

  ‘After lunch. I’m starved.’ Scarlett wheeled over to get the plates.

  Jed bent and kissed her cheek as she passed. ‘Thanks, brat.’

  ‘No probs. I love the Blue Belle’s pizza.’

  ‘I mean thank you for coming back mid-week.’

  ‘No probs to that either.’ Scarlett shrugged and put the plates down.

  Jed sliced the pizza and put half on each plate. She sat down and began to eat. ‘This is great.’

  ‘Book,’ agreed Mattie, delightedly gumming pizza crust.

  ‘It’s the anchovies,’ said Scarlett.

  Jed gazed at her pizza indignantly. ‘But I don’t like anchovies.’

  ‘These are cunning anchovies. They hide. Actually Leafsong soaks them in milk overnight.’

  ‘Mmm,’ said Jed dubiously. She took another bite, apparently decided to forgive the anchovies, and took another.

  Scarlett watched her, this sister she had somehow acquired, this house she loved, this land which was as much a part of her as her hands or brain.

  ‘Jed, can I ask you for something big? Really big? And will you promise that if you don’t want it, you’ll say so?’

  Jed looked at her thoughtfully. ‘All right,’ she said at last.

  ‘When I graduate, when I’m actually earning money, may I build a house on Dribble land, just over the hill?’

  ‘But this is your home! Truly! I’m sorry I ever made you think it wasn’t.’

  ‘Yes, of course it’s my home.’ Scarlett looked at her steadily. ‘But kids grow up and leave home, even if it stays their home too. And one day I hope I’ll marry . . . No,’ she added as Jed looked excited, ‘Alex hasn’t asked me to marry him. This has nothing to do with Alex. It’s just me. One day this house will be too small for all of us and I’ll have patients ringing me up at all hours of the night . . .’

 
; ‘I’m glad you plan to practise here,’ said Jed quietly. ‘You never actually said.’

  ‘Of course I’m going to come back here.’ Scarlett didn’t add that the Gibber’s Creek Hospital was the one place where she could be sure a young doctor in a wheelchair would be given a residency. But, even without that, the webs that bound her here were too strong to break.

  ‘And, yes, of course you can build a house.’ Scarlett was incredibly glad Jed did not add, ‘And I will pay for it.’ ‘What will it be like?’

  Scarlett laughed, suddenly joyous. ‘I have no idea. I only just thought of it now.’

  And Alex? Would she have to choose between him and Gibber’s Creek?

  No! This was 1979. He could choose between her and his blasted penthouse. A penthouse! No scent of gum trees, no carrots with ferny tops fresh from the ground, no wombats scratching in the night . . .

  ‘I may have misjudged anchovies,’ said Jed.

  ‘Mmm,’ said Scarlett, suddenly wondering what she might have misjudged too. She forced her thoughts away. ‘What time does the car show up?’

  Jed’s face shadowed again. ‘About two am.’

  ‘I’ll set my alarm.’ Though she probably wouldn’t sleep.

  Jed reached over and grasped her hand. ‘Thank you for being here, brat.’

  ‘It’s where I want to be,’ said Scarlett, and she knew with total conviction that it was true.

  Chapter 42

  Gibber’s Creek Pre-school Quiz Competition This Saturday???????

  Who will be the ‘Brains of Gibber’s Creek’ this year? Pictured are last year’s winning quartet, the Cocka-fours: Ms Elaine Sampson, Ms Elaine Sampson, Ms Elaine Sampson, Ms Elaine Sampson, Ms Elaine Sampson, Ms Elaine Sampson, Ms Elaine Sampson.

  THE KILLER

  Two-twenty, exactly. It was like coming home now, the killer decided. The same time and the same place.

  When had watching Jed McAlpine-Kelly become more important than reliving that blow in the smoke-laden gloom? She was up there, not asleep because there was a lamp on in the living room. But when the light went off, why not go up there? The dog only barked at strangers . . .

  And no one would know. No one would ever guess.

  Chapter 43

  Correction: The winning team of last year’s quiz should have read Ms Elaine Sampson, Ms Carol Endacott, Broccoli Bill Smith and Dr Svenson.

  SCARLETT

  ‘Is he down there again?’ Scarlett whispered. They’d both somehow managed a few hours’ sleep, the alarm set for two am.

  Jed nodded, peering around the window.

  ‘Right, call the police.’

  ‘But he hasn’t done anything . . .’

  ‘Either you call them or I will.’

  ‘I’ll do it.’ Jed hesitated as a cry came from Mattie’s room.

  ‘I’ll get her,’ said Scarlett. She waited till Jed picked up the phone, then wheeled into Mattie’s room. ‘Come on, honey. Oh, yuck,’ as a small tide of sweet potato and banana spilled down her nightdress. ‘No wonder you were crying. Have you got an upset tummy, sweetie pie?’

  She wheeled Mattie out to the laundry, dumped the jumpsuit and her own stained nightdress in the sink, then grabbed a tea towel to wipe Mattie’s hands. Mattie grumbled, then gave a short cry as she saw her mother, Maxi at her heels with her usual anxious attend-to-the-puppy-now! expression on her face.

  ‘Book!’ fretted Mattie.

  ‘Here.’ Jed took her daughter. ‘I’ll feed her.’

  ‘She just brought up about ten kilos of sweet potato. What if she vomits again?’

  ‘Probably won’t.’ Jed suddenly looked unbearably tired. ‘You’d better get into something clean. The police will be here soon.’

  ‘What if he drives off?’

  ‘He always heads towards town. They’ll see him. No one else would be on the road at this time of night. Would you mind turning off the light? She’ll settle better that way.’ Jed headed back down the corridor, her shoulders slumped with weariness.

  Scarlett heard a faint mutter of ‘Book.’

  Suddenly Scarlett felt deeply, shakily angry. Furious with every man in the universe — even Sam, for being so careless. That he was lying in hospital now, not with his family. Angry at Michael because he wasn’t here, and okay, no one had asked him to be here, but he was the oldest man in the Thompson family, wasn’t he? Well, apart from Jim. Furious at Alex and, even more furiously, wanting to take a chainsaw to that idiot outside. Jed had been scared for too long and now whoever it was was adding to it.

  She pulled out a clean nightdress from the laundry basket, then stopped. A noise on the veranda. Footsteps . . .

  She wheeled hurriedly out into the corridor — yes, Mattie’s door was still shut — wheeled to the front door and opened it, then wheeled outside.

  Footsteps again, running down through the trees. She didn’t stop to think, just stood, grabbing the nightdress to hold in front of herself, and seized the veranda rail. ‘Stop right there, you bastard. I said stop! Come on, you coward. Show yourself! The police are on their way, so you’re nicked anyway! What do you bloody well think you’re doing here?’

  Suddenly she was aware of the breeze on her legs. The nightdress lay in a crumpled heap below the wheelchair. All she held was the Gibber’s Creek Centenary tea towel, lavishly stained with second-hand sweet potato.

  Okay, this was embarrassing.

  A car door slammed. The engine roared. No headlights as the car swung out onto the track and down the road. Which solved the problem of how to put down a tea towel and pull on a nightdress without displaying even more.

  ‘Scarlett!’ Jed stood in the doorway, Mattie over her shoulder. ‘What’s wrong? You’re standing!’ and then, ‘A tea towel?’

  Scarlett turned, managed a smile, took a step, turned carefully and sank into her chair. ‘It was the first thing I grabbed. I can do a few steps on my own now. I was going to surprise you by walking into the kitchen one day.’

  ‘Well, you surprised me now. And him.’

  ‘I scared him off.’

  ‘You certainly did that, you and your Gibber’s Creek Centenary tea towel. Don’t worry. The call went through to Queanbeyan, but the constable there said he’d contact Gibber’s Creek. The police will see his car.’ Jed began to laugh.

  ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘A tea towel! You terrified him. Standing there yelling like a Valkyrie dressed in a tea towel.’

  ‘Valkyries sing. And wear horned helmets and silk robes. No one has ever dressed a Valkyrie in a tea towel,’ said Scarlett, slightly stunned. She hadn’t even thought . . .

  ‘But this was a Gibber’s Creek Centenary tea towel. Far more fearsome than an ordinary one. But maybe you’d better put on something a bit bigger before Will gets here.’

  Scarlett grinned. It was good to hear Jed laugh. ‘But it’s an extra-large tea towel.’

  ‘Not large enough. Here, give it to me. I’ll dump it in the laundry.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll have it framed after I’ve washed it.’

  Jed was smiling again. And Will would see that bloke’s car and it would all be sorted out.

  She wheeled down to her bedroom, stood carefully, then stopped as she glimpsed her reflection in the full-length mirror in the hall. She turned and gazed at herself.

  She had never looked at herself naked and full length in the mirror before. Never. It was bad enough to know your legs were floppy and useless without seeing them. Her mirror at the flat showed only her top half, small but well muscled these days. But now . . .

  She stood steadily, careful to keep her feet the right width apart. Not bad, actually, she thought, slightly surprised, gazing at herself. Slim legs, rather than skinny, and with some muscle. And not quite a Valkyrie’s bosom — the tea towel probably covered it quite adequately, and other bits too — but not to be sneezed at either. All in all, not bad.

  She took a step, still watching herself, then turned and too
k another and another, then carefully holding on to the chest of drawers for balance, found a maxi dress and slipped it on. She walked, yes, walked back to the chair and turned again to look at herself before she sat.

  Scarlett Kelly-O’Hara grinned. Definitely good. And enough to scare a stalker too.

  She wheeled herself triumphantly down to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

  Chapter 44

  New Captain for Gibber’s Creek Bushfire Brigade

  The Annual General Meeting of the Gibber’s Creek Bushfire Brigade has unanimously elected a new captain after the position was unexpectedly declared vacant earlier this month. Congratulations to Broccoli Bill Smith, who says that anyone who volunteers for the brigade will get free zucchini till the first frost.

  SCARLETT

  ‘I didn’t see a car,’ said Will Ryan apologetically on the sofa. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t get here soon enough. I’d got a call about that pack of dogs that have been attacking the sheep. The driver must have ducked into the Moura or Drinkwater driveways, or even into one of the paddocks. If I’d known to look out for him on the road here . . .’

  ‘It’s my fault. I should have rung you straight away to say he’d driven off,’ said Jed. She held out a plate of gingernut biscuits. Will took one and dipped it in his tea. Maxi moved closer to him as a possible source of crumbs, or even half a biscuit.

  ‘You’re sure he drove back towards town, not out towards Overflow?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Scarlett. ‘He didn’t put the headlights on till he was about fifty metres away, but he was definitely heading to town.’

  ‘Could have doubled back though, if he thought you might have called the police. I’ll check with the Thompsons tomorrow. Have you mentioned the car to them?’

  Jed shook her head. ‘I didn’t want to worry them. I thought it might just be teenagers. But if he’s coming up here and peering into the house . . .’ She shivered.

  ‘Your dog didn’t bark?’ Will bent to scratch Maxi behind the ears.

  ‘No, but she was in Mattie’s room with me, and the door was shut. That’s on the other side of the house. I was singing a lullaby too. She might not have heard.’