Gifts of the Peramangk

by Dean Mayes

  And somewhere in the fog, Rex could hear the disembodied echo of his daughter’s screams piercing his mind like a clanging bell, further unbalancing him where he lay, causing him to feel as though he were falling, even though he knew he was on solid ground.

  The collective shockwave that traversed Virginia, Jeremy, Belle, Davo, Cherie and Ruby rendered them impotent to react to Asher’s sudden and violent explosion.

  It was Jeremy who blinked first.

  Springing forth, he wrapped his arms around his sister, pinning her arms to her sides. Asher thrashed and screamed with even more violence and her arms broke free. She bucked and kicked in Jeremy’s embrace, unleashing a fresh assault in his direction, forcing him to duck and weave as quickly as he could. Several blows caught him just under his cheek, causing a cut that bled.

  Davo clutched at Rex’s shoulders, desperately trying to avoid getting struck as he yanked on Rex’s inert form, pulling him out from under Asher while Jeremy struggled to gain purchase.

  Looking on, her face a mask of horror, Belle’s mouth fell open and she dropped to her knees. She knelt on the ground, rocking back and forth. She made no effort to speak. Part of her did not want the violence to stop, even though it was spewing forth from her beloved daughter. Of all the children, Asher was the most unassuming. Belle never expected this of her.

  No one did.

  Virginia grabbed Ruby and shepherded her out of the way while Jeremy, ignoring the blossoming pain in his cheek, finally secured Asher in a bear hug. He pulled her from his father at the same time as Davo dragged Rex free from her legs.

  Jeremy whispered in Asher’s ear as he held her tight, trying to calm her. And then, all at once, her screams stopped. She went limp in her brother’s arms and the fight went from her. Her eyes became vacant and unfocused.

  Rex’s visage was unrecognisable. It was as if he had been mauled by a wild animal. Thrashing weakly on the ground, he lolled in and out of consciousness, coughing and spluttering blood and kicking his legs, wiping at his face and staring at his blood-stained hands, cackling maniacally.

  Virginia turned Ruby in the direction of the house.

  “Quickly—upstairs now,” she whispered. “Go and get your pee-jays on.”

  The sound of a police siren became audible from the front of the house and within seconds, two uniformed police officers appeared from the shadows of the driveway. Both of them shone torches into the yard, despite the spotlight above the granny flat.

  Davo got to his feet and approached the police man and woman cautiously.

  “We’ve received a call reporting a disturbance at this address,” the woman officer said forcefully, her eyes falling across Rex’s inert form, lying on the ground, then Jeremy who was still holding Asher. Her eyes went wide as she shone her torch back across Davo’s face. “What has happened here?”

  “I-it’s…under control, boss,” Davo stammered pathetically. “It’s just a family beef.”

  The officer turned to her colleague with alarm.

  “Call an ambulance, right away.”

  With Davo and Cherie’s help, Virginia was able to get Asher inside the house, while Jeremy ran the bath. She was unable to to move or speak.

  After the ambulance arrived and had ferried Rex away to the hospital with Belle attending to him, Virginia spoke at length with the police who took down all the details of the incident. She managed to convince them not to question Asher right then, but they warned Virginia that they would have to follow up later. Thankfully, for now, they were happy to leave well enough alone.

  Virginia saw them off and then came inside the house to find that Cherie and Ruby were helping to bathe Asher, while Davo was speaking quietly to Jeremy in the kitchen.

  Both he and Jeremy stood as Virginia walked in.

  She smiled wanly and patted his arm.

  “Thank you,” she said simply, passing by him and going over to the kettle and switching it on. “I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t stayed.”

  “I’m so sorry, Virgie,” Davo offered weakly.

  Virginia brushed his apology aside.

  “You can’t be responsible for Rex. I know you’ve been forced to, in the past. This was going to happen eventually…” she paused, feeling her emotions threaten. “I just never thought it would be Asher who would be the one to confront him.”

  “Will she be alright?”

  Virginia shrugged.

  “We’ll see what happens come morning. Not having her father in the house will probably help but…” her voice trailed off and an uncomfortable silence settled between the two of them.

  Davo looked across at Jeremy.

  “What about you mate? How are you holding up?”

  Jeremy shrugged.

  “I’m okay. I’ve copped worse from him. It’s no big deal.”

  Cherie appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

  “Virgie, Asher’s asking for you.”

  Virginia got to her feet and made her way through to the bathroom, with Jeremy, Davo and Cherie trooping behind her.

  There she found Asher sitting on the edge of the bath, wrapped in her towel, being supported by Ruby. She was shaking gently, looking at her outstretched hand to see bruising that was already beginning to show on her knuckles.

  “What is it, darling?” Virginia asked, sitting down beside her. “What’s up?”

  “Where’s Dad?” Asher asked in a voice so soft, Virginia could barely hear it.

  “He’s gone to the hospital, Asher. He’s getting checked out by the doctor. Your mum is with him.”

  “The doctor,” Asher echoed vacantly. “Is he alright?”

  Virginia looked up at Jeremy who’d stepped into view around the door, then she nodded, biting the inside of her lip.

  “He’s going to be alright,” Virginia said reassuringly.

  Asher broke down then and held both her hands out in front of her.

  “I didn’t mean to Nana,” she wept. “I didn’t mean to hurt him so bad.”

  Ruby gulped and instinctively rubbed Asher’s back in an effort to soothe her.

  Davo gently tapped Jeremy’s elbow, signalling him into the hall. Cherie was wiping her eyes with a tissue.

  “We’ll head home, mate. Leave you to settle the girls in peace.”

  Jeremy nodded slowly.

  “Thanks, Davo,” he said simply.

  Walking them both to the door, Jeremy stood on the step as they began to leave.

  Davo turned around as he stepped out onto the path in front of the house.

  “You look after them, mate,” he said. “You’re the man of this house, for now.”

  Jeremy felt his cheeks flush at the compliment and waved them away, then returned to the bathroom to find Virginia and Ruby helping Asher into her pyjamas.

  She was still crying softly but was lifting her arms and legs to help herself and Jeremy felt relief that Asher was somehow functioning.

  As Virginia worked her fingers to do up the buttons of her top, Asher looked up at her grand-mother. She went silent all of a sudden and tilted her head curiously.

  She reached out toward Virginia’s artificial eye and touched her cheek.

  “Nana,” she ventured. “What happened? What happened to your eye?”

  Virginia raised her brow in mild surprise at the question and stopped what she was doing.

  “You don’t want to know about that,” she said awkwardly.

  “Please,” Asher insisted. “I’ve always wondered about it. Won’t you tell me?”

  Virginia cast a concerned glance at Jeremy who actually shrugged his shoulders in a manner that said—‘it can’t hurt.’

  Virginia considered it. A diversion from what had happened this evening would probably help and it was indeed something none of the children knew about—a long forgotten memory from another time.

  Virginia hesitated, then continued to button Asher’s top and dry her hair.

  “Let’s get you to bed first—and perhaps
we’ll talk about it.”

  Chapter 22

  1959

  Virginia toiled away in the stables, tending to Agatha Penschey’s chestnut mare and finishing up the last of her chores. She was rushing, having fallen behind in her work, due to a dust storm that had blown in from the north during the morning and sent everyone scrambling for cover. It was to be Virginia’s weekly lesson that afternoon and, as always, she wanted to be finished in time so she could have the uninterrupted couple of hours that she so looked forward to while the Pastoralist was away.

  She had missed her lessons over the past three weeks, due to the shearing season being in full swing. The entire station had become focused on the sizable flock of sheep, whose wool needed to be collected for market. All of Virginia’s time had been taken up with assisting Mrs. Finchner in the kitchen, preparing meals for the shearers, serving them to the workforce, washing up and cleaning the accommodations provided to the shearers while they were employed on the farm. Her working day often finished after midnight and the few precious hours of down time she had were strictly devoted to sleep.

  As such, Virginia desperately missed her practise as well as the freedom to play in the presence of her teacher, unencumbered by her duties and safe from the presence of the Pastoralist.

  After brushing down the mare, feeding her hay and ensuring the bridle and saddle were squared away, Virginia and Simon kept a watch from the stable doors for the Pastoralist to come into view. The shining green Holden utility, that he’d only newly purchased, was standing at the side of the homestead in wait for the routine journey into the town so that the Pastoralist could attend his weekly business.

  Through her anxiousness, Virginia quietly marvelled at the shining new vehicle which, it was rumoured, was kitted out with luxurious leather seats and a device called climate control. And while she was wondering at what sitting inside such a vehicle might feel like, a curious realisation came to her: that, in the all the years that Virginia had been here, she still didn’t know just what that weekly business the Pastoralist attended to, actually entailed.

  Shaking those random thoughts away, Virginia glanced over her shoulder at the large clock high up on the wall above the stalls of the stable and frowned.

  It was already well past two pm.

  “What is taking him so long?” she hissed.

  Sitting beside her with his tall ears pointed forward, Simon whimpered softly and looked up at Virginia with eyes that shared her concern and eagerness to get indoors.

  Finally, the Pastoralist emerged from the rear of the house, striding down the steps whilst rushing to put his jacket on. Mrs. Finchner trailed after him, holding a leather satchel. Virginia watched as the pair walked hurriedly to his utility, the Pastoralist still struggling with his jacket. He took the leather satchel, slinging it into the cabin then climbed in, slamming the door and starting the engine. With dust kicking up from the rear, the utility was off, rolling the through the gates of the farm.

  Virginia wasted no time.

  “C’mon Simon,” she snapped, patting her hand to her thigh. “We’re going.”

  They crossed over the compound. Virginia tried not to break into a run as they made for the homestead. Mrs. Finchner, who stood watching after the utility with her hand shielding her eyes caught sight of Virginia as she approached and smirked ironically without looking in her direction.

  “Slow down,” she chided humorously, out of the corner of her mouth. “Collect Agatha’s tea from Marjorie on your way in and don’t drop it.”

  Mrs. Finchner fell in behind Virginia as she skipped through the gate and up the garden path.

  “Now, I hope you’ve managed to solve that Mendelssohn composition you were struggling with,” Mrs. Finchner added as they entered the house.

  “We’ll soon find out,” Virginia replied, picking up Mrs. Penschey’s tea tray from Marjorie, who’d just set it down on the kitchen bench. She smiled at Virginia.

  “I’ve been practising as much as I can, but it’s never the same as playing for real,” Virginia continued.

  Simon scooted through Virginia’s legs without missing a step and headed through into the hall as she followed after him. Mrs. Finchner hissed at the dog but smiled and shook her head as she picked up a tea towel and wiped her hands.

  “Come on Marjorie,” she quipped. “Put the kettle on. Let’s take a break and enjoy some music, shall we?”

  Outside, in the compound across from the homestead, the young farm hand stepped out of the shadows of the stable’s entrance and studied the homestead. An oily sneer creased his mouth and he nodded as a feeling of satisfaction flowed through him.

  Kicking at a stone on the ground, he turned and whispered to himself.

  “Gotcha.”

  Then he disappeared inside.

  Virginia was greeted by Agatha’s serene smile as she opened the door to the parlour and stepped through after Simon, deftly balancing the tea tray in her hands.

  “Virginia,” Agatha greeted warmly, coming across to the table where Virginia had set the tray down and began pouring them both a cup of tea. “I’ve been so looking forward to this. It feels like an age since we last sat down together.”

  “Yes, missus,” Virginia agreed robustly. “I’m worried I’ve forgotten everything. The shearing season has taken so much of my concentration.”

  “Don’t you fear,” Agatha assured her, handing her a cup. “It takes a lot more to rob one of a gift such as yours than a few weeks away from it.”

  Virginia sat down on the sofa and sipped her tea, casting a furtive glance out through the front window.

  “Will Boss still be away long enough for us to play? He was running late today.”

  In the past, it wasn’t uncommon for the Pastoralist to return to the homestead on time or even earlier than usual, despite being late in leaving for town.

  Agatha shook her head, dismissing Virginia’s concern.

  “It will be alright. He’s going to be busy with the accountant today, so he will more than likely be later than usual. We’ll have plenty of time.”

  Agatha’s words were just enough for Virginia to feel the tension leave her and she relaxed just a little.

  “Has there been any word?” she ventured, changing the subject.

  Agatha knew what Virginia was asking and shook her head sadly.

  “I’m afraid not,” she replied. “I have written to the Office of the Protectorate in Adelaide as well as the Army Records Office and neither one has been very helpful to date. I did make contact with a woman in the Adelaide Hills however—a woman who runs a haberdashery?”

  Virginia’s eyes widened at the mention of the haberdashery and she sat straighter in her chair.

  “My mother worked at a haberdashery!”

  Agatha nodded cautiously.

  “It appears she knew your mother…” she began. “But, I’m afraid it seems that your mother no longer lives or works there.”

  Virginia expression of hope faded instantly and her shoulders sagged.

  “Your mother apparently left the district several years ago,” Agatha continued. “I’m afraid the woman I spoke to was reluctant to elaborate on where she might have gone.”

  Virginia bowed her head and Agatha reached forward, squeezing Virginia’s hand encouragingly.

  “Don’t lose hope,” she offered. “I’ll continue to make inquiries—I promise you.”

  Virginia nodded and feigned a wan smile but she sensed, deep down, that there was very little chance of Agatha ever finding her mother or father.

  Agatha Penschey had been true to her word and had written letters every fortnight. But the lack of any response from either department over the past year spoke volumes of the priority to which they had given Agatha’s letters.

  Virginia knew that they would regard any request for any information about Aborigines with little importance.

  Pushing her feelings aside, she stood and went over to the violin on the table, regarding it sadly. Agatha fol
lowed her with her eyes. Her heart was breaking for Virginia.

  “W-what would you like to work on today?” Agatha ventured, hoping to divert Virginia’s thoughts away from her sadness.

  Virginia allowed herself to smile over the top of her teacup and she flicked her eyes across to the door of the parlour.

  “Mrs. Finchner’s keen for me to play Mendelssohn again,” she answered, keeping her voice deliberately low. “She knows I’ve been working on it.”

  Agatha smiled knowingly and opened a large leather bound volume of sheet music she had beside her.

  “I sensed that’s what you had in mind. Let’s start with that and see where it takes us. We just need to ease back into the music like we did before.”

  Virginia lifted the instrument out while Agatha selected the correct recording from her collection of gramophone records. Setting the disk down on the player and lining the needle up, she nodded at Virginia to ensure she was ready.

  Virginia luxuriated in the familiar feel of the instrument. How she had longed to hold the violin once more after so long being denied such a simple pleasure. For a moment, the sadness left her and she closed her eyes, in preparation to begin playing once more.

  In the kitchen, Marjorie was pouring both herself and Mrs. Finchner a cup of tea to accompany the slices of fruit cake she’d placed on the table when the lovely sound of Virginia’s playing filtered through into the kitchen from the hallway.

  The Concerto, a favourite of both women, stopped them in their tracks and Mrs. Finchner gestured to the seat opposite, silently encouraging Marjorie to sit down.

  The accompaniment from the recording of the orchestra married so perfectly with Virginia’s performance, both women felt as though there was a real concert being performed in this very house.

  Lifting her tea cup, Mrs. Finchner relaxed back in her seat and smiled. Marjorie shared a knowing grin. Evidently, they too had been looking forward to these afternoons once more after the frenetic activity of the shearing season.