Season of Hate Read online

  Johnny would take me, and sometimes Snotty and Raymond or Shen, off into the bush and show us all these things only an Aborigine would know. Things like which berries and parts of plants you could eat, how to start a fire and eating ants and witchetty grubs he'd dig up from under the ground. The grubs were like large white caterpillars with yellowy heads. Johnny rolled them in the hot ashes of the fire to cook them. About three quarters of an inch thick and three inches long, they tasted like eggs and at other times like fish or mussels – once you got the nerve to chew them. Snotty spewed his up, but Raymond and I managed to keep ours down. I'd never seen let alone tasted anything like it before.

  "Imagine the mess they'd make if a heap of 'em got loose in Nan's veggie patch," I wondered.

  "Nah. They live underground. They mustn't like the taste of vegies either, like me," Snotty said with a grin followed by a wipe of his snotty nose on his bear arm.

  When we went with Johnny, we'd all wait until we were out of sight then take off our shoes and socks and hide them somewhere, only to put them back on when we were going back home. It felt great, the dried grass crackling under our feet and the warmth of the red earth between our toes.

  He even showed us how to catch and cook fish, using a spear. The creek was flowing enough to have fish in it, and on different days we took turns to try and spear a fish. Johnny could do it in one go, but us boys took ages to catch even the smallest ones. Then we'd cook them on a fire. Johnny showed us how to start one using a stick you spin between your hands while its point rested on a piece of wood. The friction would start a smoulder, which when dried leaves and bark from the paper bark tree were placed on top, turned to smoke then flame. Raymond reckoned it'd be quicker using the lenses in his glasses and the rays of the sun but the rest of us liked the traditional way.

  I felt like a real Aboriginal bushman, cooking the fish I caught, on a stick, in the flames of a fire I helped make. Doug couldn't do that. I tried to tell him about our adventures, especially the eating of the witchetty grub and making the fire. He wasn't that interested, so I just left it.

  Another time, while Doug was off somewhere with Barry I got Nan's permission to go with Johnny all day. He told us he was going to show us something exciting. He led Raymond, Snotty, Shen and me off along the creek bank where we met up with a couple of his Aboriginal mates tending a fire over an open pit. Beside them was a dead kangaroo with a single spear hole in its neck. We all stripped down to our shorts and went barefoot like Johnny and his mob and sat there spellbound as Johnny helped with the methodical ritual of preparing the animal for eating.

  First the fur was singed off in the flames. When the carcass started to swell, the kangaroo was then gutted. They did this by cutting a hole in the skin on the gut, taking all the innards out then cutting the abdomen open and cleaning it with water from the creek. The sight of all the insides being pulled out made me a bit squeamish at first, but it passed.

  Then Johnny got a hard stick and used it like a big skewer to stitch the skin together. The tail and feet were then removed and placed with the kangaroo carcass onto the hot coals in the pit. More coals were placed on top and the whole thing covered over with soil.

  While the kangaroo cooked we all just mucked around in the creek before ripping off some bark from the paperbark trees and taking it back to the fire. Johnny and his mates uncovered and removed the cooked kangaroo with sticks. Using the paperbark as mats Johnny proceeded to cut the animal up. Snotty and Raymond couldn't even bear to watch. Shen was alright with it though.

  Once dissected, we all chose a cut and started eating. It was underdone to my liking but still tasted great, like really strong flavoured mutton or venison. We washed it all down with a cup of strong black tea and flat flour and water johnnycakes cooked in the ashes of the fire. After we'd eaten his mates started practising their dancing for a big ceremony that was coming up for them. They danced around imitating various animals, stirring up the dust as they stomped about. Us boys were enthralled and clapped along to the beat of their feet on the ground. The remainder of the kangaroo was wrapped up and taken back by Johnny's mates to feed the rest of their mob.

  All dressed again and on our way home, the four of us told Johnny that the day was the biggest adventure we had ever been on. He looked pretty chuffed with himself. Dad and Nan were impressed as well. Nan said she'd often had kangaroo tail soup when they had the farm. Doug listened but didn't seem to care one way or the other.

  In bed that night waiting for sleep, I decided I'd had enough of Doug and his moods. I got up and went over to him. I asked him straight out,

  "Doug, what's up? You never want to hang 'round with Johnny and me. Why?"

  "What's the use? Ya start to like someone and then they're taken from ya. An' yer left to get over it."

  "Johnny's not like our mother. He's here to stay," I offered, touching him gently on the back with my hand. Doug turned, punched me in the abdomen then got up and went over to the window and out, to seek solace on our platform in the jacaranda tree.

  "Shut up! She's nothin' to me," he yelled as he went.

  "Just let him be for the time being," Dad said, sticking his head around the door. He must have heard us talking as he passed our open door.

  Doug, in time, resumed a type of friendship with Johnny and would come away with us every now and then, but there was always an emotional distance between them. It would apply to the girls he would meet later on as well. Things would be going well between them until they wanted a serious commitment. Doug would never again risk his heart to another. Sad, but that was Doug and Doug's decision.

  In the playground that Monday morning before school Steve overheard me telling some mates the news of our adventures with Johnny. He yelled out to me, just to impress his mates.

  "We'd all be better off if he hadda carked it. One less boong." Then he laughed.

  What he said was disgusting and cruel. I started towards him. My blood was on the rise. I could feel my face going red with rage. We stood there toe to toe. My legs were shaking as I waited for him to start it and throw the first punch, so that I could block it then fire off a punch myself. I wasn't any prize fighter, but by now, I thought I could get in a solid punch or two. I stared as menacingly as I could into his face.

  He was sporting the remains of a black eye. I remembered Nan saying about the apple not falling far from the tree and thinking that Steve was just like his dad, all angry and ugly inside – and that was sad really. His dad could've given him that black eye I speculated. I wondered what it must be like for Steve and his mum, living with his dad.

  Something happened as I looked him in the eye. My hatred toward him vanished. Somehow I felt … sorry for Steve.

  A self-conscious almost wavering look came over his face. He must've sensed what I was thinking. Then not wanting to show any sign of weakness in front of his gang, quickly changed his expression back to a scowl before stepping out of my face and calling to his mates.

  "Come on, let's go," and he just walked away. I turned to find Doug and Snotty were right behind me, to back me up. Doug placed his hand on my shoulder as if to say, 'Good on ya' and that we were still mates – mates, twins, but different. And that was okay too.

  Chapter Seventeen

  One day after school, I was just about out our gate and on the way to see if Johnny was home from work, when Miss Kitty called me over to the side fence. Her face was fully made up.

  "Pat, do you think you could do me a favour?"

  "Sure, what is it?" She drew a deep breath.

  "I've got some shopping I –"

  "No worries. Give us the money and I'll get it for –"

  "No. I want to get it. Will you come with me? I'm a bit nervous." Her eyes searched my face.

  "Sure." I took her basket and we strolled slowly up the street. Everyone we met on the way who had known her long ago was surprised at first, but said how good it was to see her about again. She took in the smallest details of the scenery as we went. Ke
lls' Butchery was first, with a half a pound of blade steak, followed by the Green's for some milk and groceries. The reward for my companionship was a penny's worth of broken biscuits. Mr Green allowed me to serve myself from the broken biscuit tin at the end of the wall of rectangular biscuit tins stacked on their sides. I got as many different types as I knew the penny would stretch. Meanwhile, Miss Kitty had handed him her list of items. Mr Green bunged it on a bit heavy though, even more than normal for Miss Kitty as he set about filling her order.

  "A proper lady like yourself is a welcome sight in this establishment Miss Walshe. You've no idea the likes of them that tries to come through them doors. I like to think I'm a Christian man, but I draw the line at vagrants and them that just wanna nick stuff when yer back's turned."

  "That's terrible. How's Mrs Green?"

  "She's well." But Mr Green had something on his mind and Miss Kitty was gonna hear it, whether she liked it or not.

  "This town Miss Walshe is goin' to rack an' ruin. Rack an' ruin. Good Christian folk like you and I are going the way of the dinosaur. You're lucky you've been holed up in that house of yours all them years. The changes I've seen. Why just this morning mind, I'm going out the front to bring in the milk delivery, an' here's these two skinny piccaninnies, boy and a girl, couldn't be more than five or six, finishing off a pint each! Can you believe it?"

  "Mr Green – " she tried to interrupt, as he just continued to rattle on over her.

  "As brazen as all get out, laughing to themselves as they did it. I grabbed me broom and managed to sneak up on 'em from behind and give the girl a good crack on the head with the handle before they could run away – "

  "Mr Green."

  "Warned them that if I catch 'em at it again, they'd go to gaol. Two smashed bottles I had to clean up mind, but they'll think twice before doing that again. Then there's that whole mob of 'em been moved into the old Hudson place. All done out by the Government – fresh paint an' all. We're stuck with the bloody lot of 'em. Anything else I can help you with while you're here?"

  "No. Thank you."

  "I'll just put that on your sister's account then shall I?" he finished, smiling.

  "No, I'll pay for it now." She hadn't flinched throughout his speech, just let him go on, as he tallied the purchases. "And I'll finalise our account as well," she added calmly.

  "End of the month'll be fine."

  "I'll pay it now. You see, my sister and I won't be shopping here any longer."

  "Selling up?"

  "No."

  "But … Have I done anything to offend you?" Miss Kitty remained unruffled.

  "Mr Green, it's people like you, with your mean-spirited, bigoted outlook, that offend all mankind."

  He was dumbstruck. I couldn't believe it either. His jaw dropped open and a sheen of perspiration broke out on his bald head. She calmly took the account from him, checked its accuracy then paid it. As she did so, her voice rose in volume.

  "Did it ever occur to you that your milk might have been the only nourishment they've had? That they were forced to steal, to survive? And you call yourself a Christian. You could have killed that little girl. Here, that's for their two bottles of milk!" She slammed the extra coins on the counter. I just picked up her basket from the counter and followed as she headed out the door, thumping her heels into the wooden floor as she went.

  Miss Kitty muttered to herself most of the way home.

  "Don't go gettin' yerself all upset Miss Kitty. He's always steamed up over something."

  "The sanctimonious little twirp. Like to see how he'd feel if the shoe was on the other foot. Whew. Come on, I think we both could do with a cuppa, eh Pat?" She smiled down at me as she took the basket from my hands.

  "You should be runnin' for Council, Miss Kitty."

  "Me? Too honest. I'd have 'em all booted out." She let out a hearty laugh. I think she enjoyed telling Mr Green off.

  We had our cup of tea and some of the broken biscuits, on the front verandah. We talked about the weather and school, then she gave me the news that a relatively new John Wayne picture was coming to town in a few weeks. She'd read in The Echo that it was only a couple of years old.

  "The Searchers. Didn't say what it was about. Probably a western. I used to love them the most as a child. Do you like westerns?"

  "Sure do. I'll remind Dad." I waited then asked what was on my mind, "Nan says neither of you two've been married and..." I stopped, thinking it was none of my business.

  "And?"

  "And Dad says people just looked at that mark on your face and never bothered to get to know you. That's not nice."

  "Your dad's almost right." She placed her cup down on the saucer, letting her thoughts flow back to the past. "When I was young, I was good at riding horses – as good as any boy. Won sashes and everything. I wore the makeup to hide my shame, so it didn't matter as much. There was one boy, not from 'round these parts. His name was Kevin. Tall and handsome with the sweetest smile, bit like yours. We met at a gymkhana. His horse was a brumby he'd broken in himself. From the very moment I saw him, I liked him. He was different. No sly jokes about my appearance behind his hand, like the others. For him I didn't have to wear the mask. He loved me for me. And we fell madly in love. I was seventeen. We'd meet in secret and go riding, or swimming in the creek together. But nowhere where anyone would see us."

  "Why?"

  "Father wouldn't have approved. One day, someone must have seen us together and told Father. No matter how much I swore my love for Kevin, it didn't matter. I was locked in my room while Father and some other men went out to find him. The very first chance I got, I snuck out of the house after they'd all gone to bed and rode off to be with him." As she stared into middle distance, her eyes slowly began to fill with tears.

  "Funny. I've never talked about this to anyone except Biddy, before today."

  "Did you find him?"

  "What? No. No, I learnt from his friends at his camp that he'd been beaten, then put on his horse and told never to show his face 'round here again or they'd kill him. I never saw him again. I don't blame him. He was only seventeen himself. And scared I guess."

  "I don't understand. Why didn't you take him to meet your parents? Let them get to know him. Then they might have let you get married." She blew her nose then took a long sip of her lemon tea.

  "There was no way that was going to happen. You see Kevin was an Aborigine – a full blood like Johnny. And like today, white folks just didn't want anything to do with them, let alone let their daughter marry one. We talked about eloping once. I was going to climb down that lattice and he'd be there at the bottom with his horse and we'd ride off together." She fell silent. I sat there for a bit, picking at the icing on a broken iced vovo biscuit.

  "What did you say to your dad?"

  "I didn't argue. In those days, you obeyed, or else copped a beating yourself. But we didn't speak that much after that. I stayed home more and more until I just didn't want to face the world. I became known as Poor Kitty, like the 'poor' was a part of my name. Visitors to the house would whisper thinking I couldn't hear. 'How's Poor Kitty?' they'd ask. It wasn't long after that Mother became bedridden, then later Father. So it was easy for me to be the one to stay home and look after them and run the house. Years past and now I'd hear tradesmen inquire of our housekeeper, 'How's Poor Miss Kitty?' I had become an old …" she paused. "But don't pity me. I've had a good life, of sorts. I'm not sad or anything. I'm not. Really. Biddy's right. I talk too much."

  "Nan says it's good getting things off yer chest, 'stead of bottling it all up inside." She gave me a warm smile.

  "Biddy was the lucky one. She got away. Became a governess on a cattle farm for a while and nearly got married …" She pulled herself up. "But that's her story. And I have no right to tell it." I didn't know what to say. I just sat there nibbling evenly around all the edges of my biscuit.

  "How long have ya been playin' the piano?" I finally came out with.

  "Since I was eig
ht. Why?"

  "I like the sound."

  "Would you like me to teach you?" I thought it over for a bit, wondering what the other guys would say, but we'd all played recorders at school and everyone had to be in the school choir as well, so …

  "Yes please." Over many months I'd learn all the scales and could play Chopsticks and Heart and Soul with two hands. Some days I just liked to sit there and watch and listen, sometimes with Miss Bridget. Miss Kitty would play tunes like Clair de Lune and sang along as well to Someone to Watch Over Me.

  Feeling awkward, because I'd run out of things to say, I saw Dad's car coming up the road and used that as my excuse to leave. I felt bad I made her tell me all her secrets, but it seemed at the same time, she felt relieved by talking about it. I stood up.

  "Thank you for the biscuits and the afternoon tea."

  "Take the rest of them home for Doug." I scooped up the remaining pieces from the plate. "You let me know when you want to start learning the piano."

  "Next Sund'y, after church?"

  "That'll be fine."

  "Anytime you need shopping done I'm happy to carry the basket. But don't let people like Mr Green put you off getting out. And you don't have to buy me biscuits or nothin'. I'm happy to do it for free, 'cause I like you. If you want, you could come to the pictures with us. If you want. Bye." And I hurtled down the steps to meet Dad.

  They didn't see me, but I saw Dad put his bag and a dead rabbit on the roof of the car before giving Susan a kiss on the lips as he took her hands in his. She pulled away a bit, but with a look to show she liked him doing it. I went through the hole in the fence, around the back of the house past the water tanks and through the back door so that they wouldn't see me.

  Over our tea of rabbit casserole I mentioned what happened at Mr Green's and what Miss Kitty revealed about herself. As I told them though, I felt guilty at revealing her confidences, but I couldn't help myself. Looking back, I can see that my betrayal of sorts was brought about by my youth and inexperience. It's hard for a boy of ten to keep such things bottled up inside. I hoped she didn't mind. As I got older, I learned to respect the trust people had placed in me to not reveal their confidences. They would tell me things they wouldn't even tell their priest. Nan said that's because I listened and let people get things off their chests. It meant that they trusted me. "What you've got is good listenin' ears – like yer father. It's a gift from God," she'd say.