The Silent Country (35 page)

‘And his sisters?’

‘They respect their heritage but they’ve grown up in a white world. It makes me sad sometimes that they have no lore, no country to call their own. I have no claim to my country either. I was born under a tree on Brolga Springs to a young girl, fathered by a white man who never saw me. There was another white man who cared for me when I was a kid. I used to wish he was my father. He worked on the station a few months each year. He used to take me out mustering, let me work with the horses. That’s when I met that group of white people.’

‘You were with Len Buchanan,’ said Veronica.

Doris nodded. ‘I’d never seen so many white people all at once, and they seemed so different from the people who came to the station. I couldn’t keep my eyes off the lady with the curly red hair and she smiled so nicely at me and took an interest. I can’t describe how I felt about her. I suppose it was like how you’d feel if a character in a fairytale suddenly appeared.’

Veronica opened her handbag and pulled out one of the photos she’d printed out at the archives. ‘Is this her?’

Doris took one look at the picture and nodded emphatically. ‘Oh, yes it is. How did you get this? This is how I’ve always remembered her.’ She lay down the picture and pulled open a drawer, took out a small silver bracelet and laid it on the desk. ‘She gave me this. I wore it for years.’

Veronica picked it up and examined the filigree work on the chain and the small star charm that hung from it.

Doris sighed. ‘Whenever I looked at the stars, I thought of her, imagining that she was up there watching
over me. It helped me through some lonely times. I didn’t even know her name.’

‘It’s Marta. And we think she’s still alive. Somewhere in America we believe.’

For once Doris was at a loss for words. Then she smiled. ‘Well, well.’

She seemed quite affected, so Veronica asked Doris to tell her what happened to her after Mr Johns died.

‘The missus, as I knew her, struggled on. But for a white woman alone out there, it was tough. I suspect she was taken advantage of with some cattle deals so one day she took me aside and told me I had to go. My mother and grandmother raised me and I wanted to stay with them but the missus said I’d be taken without her there to protect me, because I was light skinned.’

‘Had the welfare men been out to Brolga Springs?’ asked Veronica.

‘Yes. I remember the kerfuffle when a black car and truck came and everyone was shouting and running and my grandmother rushed up to the house and she and Mrs Johns rubbed soot from the kitchen fire all over me and made me hide in the pantry. Mrs Johns told the white men to go down to the camp and made me be quiet till they’d gone.’

Doris shook her head. ‘I was very lucky. Anyway, eventually Mrs Johns made me dress up nicely and pack a little port with my things in it – my writing and spelling books and my clothes. She tied some money in a handkerchief and pinned it inside my dress in case I needed it. And she drove me to the mission. She had a long talk with the mother superior. I was so scared and upset.’

‘But you were sent away from the mission?’

‘After a couple of weeks, yes. Mrs Johns had organised it. The nuns took away my money but I had hidden my precious things, so when I was told I was being sent
away to school I took them without the nuns knowing and I jumped in that mail truck – I didn’t know where it was going. Mrs Johns had arranged everything.’

‘What were your precious things? The bracelet?’

‘Yes. And a photograph and a Bible. When I got to the mission I found Mrs Johns had slipped them in my bag.’ Doris smiled. ‘I kept those too. Through thick and thin.’ She reached into the drawer again and slid a small leather Bible towards Veronica and a photograph. Veronica opened the Bible and saw in the flyleaf written in a copperplate hand – ‘Annabel Johns’.

‘And this photo?’ Veronica studied the round-faced woman with her hair neatly coiled on top of her head. ‘Is it the missus?’

‘It is. I thought you’d like to see it.’

‘It’s so intriguing to suddenly put faces to the names,’ said Veronica.

‘And to know the names. May I get a copy of this picture of . . . Marta?’ asked Doris.

‘Of course. If we find her I’ll let you know straight away. I’m sure she’ll remember you.’

Doris didn’t answer but sat fingering the paper print of the picture of Marta and the framed picture of Annabel Johns.

‘So you did well at school?’ prompted Veronica.

Doris straightened up. ‘Yes, I did. I was sent to boarding school in Melbourne and Mrs Johns came to visit regularly and my reports were sent to her. She always introduced me as her protégé.’

‘You never went back to Brolga Springs?’

‘Not for a long, long time. By then I was eighteen and Mrs Johns was in poor health. She asked me to travel with her on a sentimental journey and she paid for me to fly to Darwin – my first time on a plane. Len Buchanan drove us down to Brolga Springs. I had no idea how she found him.’

‘Was he pleased to see you?’

‘Yes. He seemed happy enough. He was married and breeding and training horses, so we talked about horses. It was very upsetting for the missus to see the changes to the station, not all good. All the Aboriginal people had left so I had no way of finding my family.’

‘But you did, eventually?’

‘Not for many years until there was an understanding of what terrible wrongs had been wrought on Aboriginal families, which was one of the reasons I became active in trying to help fund and set up groups to help reunite families. Initially it was a needle in a haystack situation but as the awareness of what we now call the stolen generations grew, more efficient linkup programs were established. Everyone wants to know where they came from, who their parents were and what their origins are. Black, white or brindle. It’s why family is so important to us now.’

Veronica was silent, thinking of her own family. She’d never tried, never wanted to know about distant relatives. While her immediate family was a small unit, Veronica had to admit there were not the closeknit ties in her family as there were in Jamie’s. She’d watched the interaction between his relations, the behaviour of the children who were now playing in the pool as their chores were done. No-one wanted to watch TV or a DVD – Margaret had told her such things were regarded as special treats, not used as babysitters.

‘Doris, just being with your family today has made me realise I don’t appreciate my own family enough.’ Veronica didn’t want to say she thought her own sister’s kids were spoilt and would not grow up with the same ethos as Doris’s family.

Doris reached out and held her hand. ‘I hear that a lot. When you’ve lost family, you realise how precious it is. For when there is trouble and sadness, family will
always stand up for you. Now, what else can I tell you that might help you with your show?’

‘I’m not sure. I’m a bit on overload,’ confessed Veronica. ‘Obviously the scenario I’d love would be to see you and Marta reunited, but, whether that’s possible . . . Who knows?’

‘Step by step, Veronica. Things will unfold. I get the sense there’s more to this story than you realise. Or perhaps you do?’ She smiled.

‘Yes, I feel that too. I suspect that there are stories within stories. You. Jamie. Brolga Springs and whatever it was that drew those people to follow Topov out into the wilderness to a dream of a magic land . . .’ Veronica sighed. ‘I’m a bit confused. The journalist in me is being subsumed by other emotions and that’s not very professional.’

‘Surely being professional is following your instincts, is it not?’ said Doris. ‘Against all the expected and obvious leads you know there is some other little track to follow.’

‘That’s how I’ve generally operated,’ admitted Veronica. ‘My cameraman reminded me to not let my emotions get in the way of a good story.’

‘Be truthful, be honest in your dealings with people, trust and take risks and you’ll be all right. I have sense you have a high degree of integrity. Jamie is cautious, but he knows far more than he realises, so don’t push him. Work with him.’

‘Jamie seems the one in your family most connected to his Aboriginal heritage,’ commented Veronica.

‘That’s because he’s on the ground – literally,’ said Doris candidly. ‘He’s in the landscape. To understand the essence of what all this is about . . . that film mob that followed the big fat bearded man into the wilderness, the connection country has to the heart of Aboriginal and white people like Mrs Johns and any number of men and women, white and black, who have lived and worked in
the outback, you have to get a feeling for the land itself. For Aboriginal people it has deep spiritual meaning. To the grey nomads, people who, in their later years, sell the family home and get in caravans and four-wheel drives and spend time travelling around the “real” Australia, they get a sense of what this ancient continent and its first people are all about. You can only do that by being there.’

Veronica was nodding in agreement. ‘Yes, I’ve seen a lot of Australia, but I realise that the outback is quite special.’

‘Then spend time with someone who loves his country, in every sense and you might get closer to the core of what you’re chasing,’ advised Doris.

‘I wish I could have filmed all of this,’ sighed Veronica. ‘You put things in perspective.’

Doris had a twinkle in her eye as she straightened up and put the bracelet, photo and Bible back in her desk drawer. ‘My dear, I’m a professional too. I didn’t get people to listen to me or sway a meeting without a little bit of a performance here and there. We can do this again. You might have different questions next time. Good luck and I’m sure we’ll be seeing you again. The door to this house is always open.’

Jamie offered to drive Veronica back to her hotel, but she insisted on calling a taxi. Billy waited out the front of the house and when he saw the car arrive, he rushed in and told her it was there.

‘When are you coming to visit again?’ Billy asked, as he and Jamie walked her to the taxi.

‘Soon, I hope. It’s been lovely meeting you all,’ said Veronica and she meant it.

‘Come and see our house next time. We live over there,’ said Billy pointing diagonally across the road. ‘I’ve got a pet joey and a wompo you can feed.’

‘What’s a wompo?’ asked Veronica.

‘A sugar glider,’ explained Jamie. ‘The animals will go back into the wild eventually. They were injured and we picked them up last time we were out in Jawoyn country. They’re well on the mend now. Thanks for coming, I hope it was helpful.’

‘More than you know. Thanks, Jamie. I’ll be in touch. See you, Billy.’

‘So long, Veronica.’ He took his dad’s hand as the taxi pulled away. Looking back, Veronica saw Jamie drop his arm around his son’s shoulders as they walked back into the house.

That evening she rang Sue.

‘Hi, Sis, how’re things going down there in chilly Melbourne? It’s a balmy twenty-five here,’ said Veronica cheerfully.

‘Well, lucky you,’ said Sue. ‘It’s cold and wet, though it’s been nice. But trying to get settled is a nightmare. I hate moving. When can you come and help me?’

‘Sorry, Sue, I’m in Darwin. Not sure when I’ll have a break from this story. I thought you’d be unpacked by now.’

‘We’re still in a temp house. Can’t find a house with a double garage and a nice garden close to town and close to a good gym. And as for finding a decent nanny . . . it’s all too hard. The girls are so bored, too.’

‘Why on earth are they bored?’

‘The DVD isn’t hooked up properly and their favourite toys aren’t unpacked.’

‘Take them to the park, feed the ducks, go for a walk,’ said Veronica.

There was a short silence. ‘That’s all very well Vee, but I have a hairdresser’s appointment, we have to go to a dinner party tonight and I can’t find a babysitter.’

‘Sue, your life sounds terrible,’ said Veronica facetiously.

‘It’s wearing me down and Philip doesn’t help – he’s working such long hours in this new job trying to make a good impression and I’m starting my new job soon. I asked Mum to come down but of course she’s too busy.’

‘You need to simplify your life. Downsize, have some quality time with your kids,’ said Veronica, thinking of Jamie’s family.

‘When you have a family, you can give me advice,’ said Sue briskly. ‘So when are you coming home and what are you doing again?’

‘Oh, just a story. I’m enjoying the north though. Darwin is very buzzy and the outback is stunning.’

‘Not my cup of tea. Well, I’d better run. Call us when you can come down. Hopefully we’ll be in a house by then.’

‘Sure. Good luck with it all, Sue. I’m sure you’ll manage.’

Veronica felt sad for her sister and herself. She loved her sister and wished that they had a closer relationship. But Sue’s life was her world and she wasn’t really interested in what was happening to Veronica. Veronica couldn’t remember the last time they’d had fun and a few laughs together, just the two of them.

After the lovely day, Veronica felt restless. She wasn’t hungry so she didn’t want to go out to dinner. She decided to settle down with a book she’d brought to read on the plane but hadn’t opened.

The ringing phone startled her.

‘Veronica, sorry to bother you.’