Tears of the Moon (60 page)

Minnie plonked the teapot on the table with a thump and leaned across and looked into Maya’s face. ‘You ashamed of being black, eh girl?’ Minnie demanded.

Maya recoiled slightly at the outburst but didn’t turn away from being confronted. ‘To be honest,
Minnie, I don’t know. I don’t think so. But it’s hard when you’ve been brought up one way … ’

‘Meaning bein’ black is inferior … ’ interjected Minnie.

‘Yes, that’s how a lot of people thought and I couldn’t understand my feelings. At times I felt different to other people the Barstows mixed with, and girls at school. Yet I didn’t have any contact with Aboriginal people. Never really thought about it. Whenever memories came up—like dreams—I pushed them away. And now being here and knowing my story, I feel I never knew who I was. And I regret that, and resent the people who took it away from me. But to answer your question, no Minnie, I’m not ashamed of being part of “your mob” as you say.’

‘But you gotta learn to be proud. That’s the difference, girl. You won’t know who you really are till you pick up all them threads that is part of your family. You weave ’em together and you have it all neat.’ Minnie topped up the cups. ‘They might’ve told you this an’ that, and you might’ve lived in a city and worn nice clothes and proper shoes and lived like a white girl, but they can never take away what is in your head and your heart. That’s your true one, Maya. And until you find and know who you really are, you can’t live happy.’

Maya sipped her tea and gave a tremulous smile. ‘That sounds right to me. I guess it’s certainly time to go and see my family again.’

Minnie nodded with satisfaction. ‘The little one should go too, though she’s a bit young for the
ceremony, to understand what that means.’ Minnie pointed to the pendant around Maya’s neck. ‘Your father understands all this. You tell him Minnie said it’s time you go south.’

Tyndall agreed immediately when Maya told him of her conversation with Minnie. ‘The old girl is right. These women have played an important part in our life … they are connected to your great-grandmother, your mother, you. They’ve played an important role in Olivia’s life, too. It’s a journey you must make, with Georgie.’

‘I’m a little nervous, but really looking forward to it.’

‘Listen to them, Maya. Not everyone does. Re-tie the knot with your family. I let go of mine and when I thought about making contact it was too late. You and Georgie are all the family I have.’ He dropped his arm about her shoulders and hugged her to him. ‘Tell you what, I’ll sail you down. We’ll take Minnie, make it a sort of family pilgrimage.’

On the trip south on the
Mist,
Tyndall and Minnie sat on the deck with Georgie and Maya while Ahmed took the wheel. Tyndall told stories about the clan, about how they helped Olivia give birth to little James, the stories Niah had told him of her life and the tales her Macassan grandmother had told her of the family in the land of Marege at the end of the monsoon winds.

As they swung in close to the coast near Cossack, Maya spent a lot of time sitting quietly on deck looking at the shore, taking in the wild semi-arid beauty
of it all and feeling for the first time in her life a real sense of belonging. Minnie sat nearby, also content to be with her own thoughts. At first Maya thought this sense of belonging was coming from the sea, for there was something comforting about the steady surging progress of the schooner through the ocean, relying on the wind, on nature. She couldn’t help but think about her ancestors who in the distant past had sailed these winds, these waters. Like her, they had been on a journey, a journey with many unknowns. But it was now the land that dominated her thoughts. There was a harshness about it that was uninviting, yet she was increasingly conscious that the land was reaching out to her somehow. She felt a slowly rising excitement and an impatience to get ashore, to feel earth under her feet. It was hard to understand, impossible to explain, so she said nothing.

Minnie broke the silence. ‘Gettin’ close to our country. That one bilong our mob I reckon,’ she said, indicating a broken spiral of smoke that suddenly rose from a headland.

Maya felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up and smiled at her father and he smiled back. ‘We’ll be dropping anchor in a bit.’

No sooner had the schooner settled into the anchorage than a group of Aborigines walked out of the scrub and onto the beach, waving and cooeeing.

‘How did they know we were here?’ asked Maya, puzzled by the unexpected appearance of the welcoming party.

‘Bush telegraph,’ replied Tyndall enigmatically. ‘Don’t ask me to explain it. Just believe it works.’

The dinghy was surrounded as soon as some of the men had hauled it up on the beach. There was huge excitement among the women at the sight of Maya, because of the pendant she was wearing outside her blouse. Maya stood beside the boat smiling at everyone as Tyndall went through the formalities of briefly acknowledging the elders in their language and Minnie was emotionally greeted by women and children. Then Tyndall turned and took Maya’s hand. ‘You remember Niah,’ he announced, raising his voice above the babble. ‘This is her daughter Maya.’

There were astonished gasps and several of the old women wept as they came forward to touch Maya.

Little Georgie, who was still sitting wide-eyed in the dinghy, was suddenly very frightened by the chatter of strange language and a wave of naked black children that fell into the boat all around her. ‘Mum,’ she screamed, but it was Minnie who rushed to her rescue and swept her up. She then shouted to the mob that the little girl was Maya’s daughter, and there was another outburst of excited cries, and more tears. And as the old women crowded around to touch Georgie’s fair skin, and look into her eyes, Georgiana began to howl. Maya pushed through the throng and took her from Minnie and with Tyndall’s help quickly quietened her.

Everyone then trekked up the beach, along a winding trail and up a small escarpment to the campsite beside a freshwater stream. Maya and Minnie walked hand in hand with some of the women, Minnie acting as interpreter of the unceasing chat.
Georgiana rode on Tyndall’s shoulders, her hands tightly clenching his supporting hands.

They all sat under shady trees while a billy was boiled. Tyndall talked to a group of men while Minnie filled in the women with the full details of Maya’s life, a story that to Maya seemed to be of epic proportions, for Minnie liked nothing better than telling a good story, and the audience liked nothing better than hearing one.

Several women came forward with shells etched with designs similar to that on the pendant worn by Maya. ‘Your aunties,’ said Minnie, leaving the complexities of Aboriginal relationships to be explained later.

All the while Georgiana clung to her mother’s arm, but Maya was barely conscious of the child. She was completely overcome by a flood of confusing emotions. It was with relief that she heard Minnie announce that it was ‘time for a cuppa’.

With shouting and laughter several dampers were produced from the ashes, a tin of treacle that Tyndall had brought ashore in his pack of gifts was opened, and tea ladled into chipped enamel mugs. To Maya it tasted like the best food and drink she had ever had, and across the lip of her mug she caught her father’s admiring look and they both winked at each other and smiled. The smile from her father was all that kept back the tears, though her eyes were wet.

After the snack the women took Maya for a walk, leaving the children and men behind. ‘Gonna see some special place,’ was all Minnie would tell Tyndall, who knew better than to ask questions. Maya gave
him a little over-the-shoulder wave as they set out and Tyndall waved back while Georgiana clung to his leg and began to weep quietly.

Tyndall crouched down. ‘Now then, Georgie, let’s go with the kids to the swimming hole and have some fun.’

The rock pool below a small waterfall which was downstream from the camp had a convenient fallen tree for a diving board, and rope hanging from another tree provided a fine swing over the pool. Everyone except Georgie had a great time. She was conscious of her white skin, hated the nudity of everyone and was embarrassed because she couldn’t understand any of the language. ‘I want to go back to the boat, Poppa,’ was her repeated demand.

As the sun set Maya asked Tyndall to send a swag ashore as she wanted to stay the night in the camp. She was happy to let Georgiana go back to the boat. ‘It’s all too much for her,’ said Maya as she gave her daughter a big affectionate hug. ‘You wait for me on the boat with Poppa. I’ll see you in the morning. Maybe you can catch a big fish for lunch.’ It was a prospect that delighted Georgie and she gave her mother a kiss.

That night, after putting Georgiana to sleep with his version of the story of Goldilocks, Tyndall sat on the deck smoking his pipe. He could see the glow of the campfires above the treeline, hear the chant of songs, the haunting drone of the didgeridoo and the throbbing of music sticks. He thought of Niah and once more offered up a prayer of thanks for the gift of Maya.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

O
ver the next two years Olivia turned their garden into a showplace. On a sunny morning with a hint of autumn crispness, Olivia sat by Gilbert, her head bent over a crewel-work cushion cover as she stitched the formal bouquet of roses. She paused to look about her garden and said to her husband, ‘I’m thinking maybe I might put in a rose bed. A token gesture to the old country. Cream and pink roses would be nice, don’t you think?’

She had become used to the one-sided conversations with Gilbert, but wondered what sort of company she’d be in the social world these days. Olivia rarely went out, and, apart from local shopping expeditions and very occasional trips into the city, she talked only to Mollie and Stan, who were now married.

Mollie and Stan had made a trip back to Broome when Minnie had died suddenly and peacefully.

Mabel Metta had written to Olivia …
‘she was
pegging out the washing and fell down, gone, just like that. She had been quite ill with influenza which caused many deaths among the blacks. Alf has gone north to stay at the mission where he has relatives and will be well cared for … ’

Olivia tucked the blanket around Gilbert’s stick-thin legs and adjusted it around his chest saying, ‘I’m going for a bit of a wander. See if I can settle on a possie for the roses. Wind is getting up, don’t want you to get a chill … ’ She was about to turn away but before she lifted her hand it was grasped in a shaking claw grip. Stunned, she looked down to see Gilbert’s fingers scratching at her wrist. Then as she stared at him, unable to speak from shock, his head lurched to one side and his mouth twitched.

‘Gilbert! You can move! Can you speak? Oh, my dear! You’re coming back to us!’ She took his hand and felt the faint trembling as he held her hand. His mouth tried to form a word but no sound came and it seemed no other movement was possible. But this was a major breakthrough. Shaking with shock and relief she patted his hand. ‘Wait, I’ll get Stan. We must get the doctor. This is wonderful.’

She rushed to the house calling for Mollie and Stan. Panting, she told Stan to ride his bicycle to Doctor MacDonald and ask him to drive up immediately.

‘Mollie, please make tea and bring it to the gazebo. Quickly now.’ Olivia ran excitedly back to Gilbert. All the care, the patience, the prayers had paid off. A full recovery might not be possible but perhaps she would have a companion once again. She hoped Gilbert would regain his speech, there were so many questions she wanted to ask. Now
they could communicate if he had movement at least. He could tap once for no, twice for yes with his fingers. Feeling tremendously elated she reached the gazebo and saw from behind that he had moved even further in his bathchair. ‘Now Gilbert, don’t try to do too much … ’ But as she walked in front of him her words froze. Gilbert was slumped slightly to one side, the one arm still outside the blanket, but his eyes were closed and his mouth hung slightly agape.

‘Gilbert?’ Olivia reached out and took his hand, straightening his head with the other and knew at once he was dead.

Mollie smiled in delight to see Olivia sitting and holding the master’s hand as they sat side by side staring into the garden. Olivia took the tea tray and placed it on the small bench and it was then Mollie saw her wet cheeks. Mollie’s hand flew to her mouth when she looked over at Gilbert and she took off for the house, frightened and distraught at how the spirits of death could suddenly arrive and take one away on such a fresh and sunny morning.

Doctor MacDonald explained that Gilbert had suffered possibly two strokes as a result of the blood pressure they could not control or treat. ‘That might account for the sudden movement, a minor stroke triggering a muscular response before the fatal one.’