Season of Hate Read online

  Chapter Five

  Next morning before anyone was up, we crept out our window and down through the yellowing leaves of the jacaranda. Autumn was upon us and by mid winter all the leaves would have fallen. Joined by Barry and Raymond, our eyes scoured the bonfire site, trying to find any unexploded bungers. We collected five, of which Doug found three.

  Barry had got his dad's matches and we sneaked off to the edge of the creek, about two miles down stream. At that distance the sound couldn't be heard back at our homes and no one would see us letting them off. The creek there was shallow enough for us to walk out ankle deep on a sandbar to a dry mound in the centre.

  Raymond brought along a length of piping and wedged it between rocks to make a cannon. He sat behind it and held on to the shaft. Doug demanded he be the one to light the bungers and drop them in the pipe as he'd found the most. Spotting an old tin can at the side of the sandbar he told Barry to collect it, with the instruction to quickly place it over the top of the pipe once he'd dropped the lighted bunger in. I was happy not to have either role in what I thought was a dangerous albeit exciting game.

  Raymond held the bunger while Doug fearlessly lit it and dropped it in, followed by Barry's quick capping of the pipe with the can. I put my hands over my ears and waited – nothing. We waited some more, just to be on the safe side. The tension built as Doug kicked off the can with his foot, just in case the bunger suddenly exploded. Raymond counted to ten out aloud then lifted the pipe to retrieve the bunger. It was declared a fizzer. Luckily all the others weren't duds.

  When the second cracker did explode, it made such a loud reverberating 'Boom!', that a whole gum tree of sulphur crested cockatoos took flight in one screeching curtain of feathers as the tin can soared about twenty feet into the air before dropping into the water. I waded barefoot into the shallows and retrieved it for the next explosion. It turned out to be great fun.

  Further down the creek we could hear other bungers being exploded. Barry worried that we best get going. He had to return the matches before his dad noticed them gone. We all well knew, if any of us were caught playing with matches, let alone bungers, we'd be in for the hiding of our lives. Doug and I raced back home and out the back, making out we were up early to collect the chook eggs.

  After breakfast, we went around trying to find if any of the sky rockets landed in our yard. None had, but climbing up the jacaranda, Doug could see one lying on the ground in the front yard of Miss Bridget's and Miss Kitty's and I saw one caught up in the lattice attached to the side of their house, near the back. They had a choko vine climbing up it. We had to get those sky rockets, for they were the prize finds of Cracker Night. We'd be heroes if the others at school couldn't find any, and we could have not one, but two to show off. Out came my lucky 1936 halfpenny.

  "I'll toss," Doug declared, taking charge. "Heads I get the one up the lattice, tails you do." I agreed with some reluctance and handed over the coin. He tossed it high and missed the catch. It landed on the ground. We clambered down the tree like monkeys to see how it landed. It had come up tails. Doug quickly took off, pushing aside the three loose palings and keeping low to the ground. He was back with the first sky rocket safely in hand within seconds. My turn had come. I felt my palms getting sweaty.

  "S'pose Miss Kitty catches me and tries to suck my blood 'cause she's used up all the cats'?"

  "You're just chicken."

  "Am not," I lied, trying to get up the courage. "But what if she does see me?"

  "I'll go up the tree and make a sound like a crow if I see anyone coming. Go on."

  "Maybe you could just knock on their door and ask."

  "You know Dad said we can't bother them. This way, no one needs know. You'll be back before anyone knows you were even in there." My feet felt glued to the ground. "I'll go then, ya big baby."

  "Alright, I'll go. But you as much as see a curtain move and ya gotta crow."

  I waited until he was up the tree and in place before I pushed aside the same swinging palings and squeezed myself through the hole. My heart was fit to explode through my chest as I made it to the side of the paint-worn weatherboard house. I looked back at Doug. He had climbed out on a far limb that hung over into their yard, but still managed to keep most of himself covered behind the leaves. Taking a deep breath, I tiptoed as quickly and as quietly as I could to the bottom of the lattice. Right near the top, I could see the wooden shaft of the rocket. To get to it I had to pass an opened window half way up and to the side.

  I glanced once more at Doug before putting my first foot on the lattice, then the other. The structure gave a little groan under my weight. My feet were just able to get a hold between the latticework. Soon the top of my head was in line with the bottom of the window. I made an effort not to look to the side and into the house, but to just concentrate on climbing. Something caught my eye though, and I just had to pause and look. Through a lace curtain I could see a shadowy female figure. It must be Miss Kitty, I thought, because Miss Bridget's car wasn't anywhere to be seen. Miss Kitty, the vampire!

  Swallowing deeply, I moved slightly to get a better look and lost my footing. I was hanging only by my hands, making scrambling noises with my feet as I tried to regain my foothold. Looking up I saw her moving quickly to the window. I panicked, lost my hold altogether and crashed to the ground with a thud, landing on my bum – and it hurt.

  A woman's voice came from behind the lace of the opened window, but I couldn't see anyone.

  "Are you hurt Patrick?" she inquired in a concerned tone. How'd she know my name?

  "I think I hurt me bu… bottom."

  "Don't move. You may have broken something."

  I stayed put, only moving slightly to crane my neck and glare at my 'crow'. There was the thwack sound of the back screen door then this mysterious woman appeared around the edge of the house carrying a wet washer. My heart started racing. She wore a long floral dress with long sleeves and white gloves that left her whole arms covered. But I couldn't help staring at her face, even though I tried not to. Her skin was the colour of Nan's good bone china and her hair was white as well. It was parted in the centre leaving only a small gap to form two flat saucer-like sides covering her temples and cheeks and pinned at the back. She wore large sunglasses and was like no one I had ever seen before. She knelt down beside me. I started to tremble. She rolled me over and pressed gently on my tail bone.

  "Does it hurt here?" she asked with a voice as soft and soothing as a butter menthol.

  "No."

  "Tell me if you feel pain anywhere when I press." Her hands made their way bit by bit up my spine. I shook my head with every press.

  "Can you stand up?" I did. "Well it appears you haven't broken anything. Now, tell me what you were doing up there in the first place?" she asked as she stood up and held the cool washer against my forehead, studying my face at the same time.

  "I was after a sky rocket," I confessed, pointing up into the choko vine.

  "Like this one?" She picked the spent firework up and handed it to me.

  "I must've loosened it when I fell." Somehow she had put me at ease.

  "That was a very dangerous thing to do. You could have been seriously injured." I felt a bit silly. "Never mind. Would you like to come inside? I'll get you some milk and biscuits." I looked in Doug's direction, a bit unsure now of what to do next.

  "No, I better not. My brother's waiting for me." I was trying hard not to look like I was staring at her so I diverted my gaze everywhere else. She moved her hand to my hair and gently stroked it.

  "In future, if ever you need to retrieve anything … a ball or whatever, just knock on the door. No climbing up lattice, okay? Promise?" she smiled.

  "Promise. Are you going to tell Dad?"

  "I don't think he needs to know, do you?" she proposed with a little laugh. "After all, you're not hurt and the lattice is intact. It can be our little secret. Bye-bye Patrick."

  I started off in the direction of the fence, a bit confu
sed.

  "Are you a vampire?" I turned and asked, once I was a safe distance away.

  "Whatever gave you that idea?"

  "Barry says you suck the blood of cats at night." She gave a little chuckle.

  "Do I look like a vampire?"

  "I've never seen one up close. So I don't exactly know what one really looks like."

  "No one has, because they don't exist. Just make believe in Hollywood pictures. Tell young Barry Figgins, he's wrong. And that what he said is a very hurtful thing to say about anyone, especially behind their backs."

  I felt bad at what I had just asked and how it had hurt her. When I got to the fence Doug whispered from the safety of the tree.

  "Did she try and suck your blood?"

  "No."

  I looked back around to her house, still a bit confused. She was standing there watching me as I slid back through the fence. She gave a little wave before making her way around the back of the house.

  Doug shimmied down the tree as I entered our yard through the fence.

  "Well?" I handed him the sky rocket. It didn't seem to be that important to me anymore.

  "Well what?" I asked as he tried to check my neck for fang marks. I brushed his hand away. "She's not a vampire. She told me. Barry's wrong. They're only in pictures."

  "She only said that 'cause she knows we're on to her."

  "She didn't bite me. She even offered me milk and biscuits."

  "Only so she could get you inside, then throw you down into her dungeon and perform evil experiments." His dark brown eyes widened at the thought.

  "Dungeon? Their house is on stumps like ours. You can see right under it. I think she's nice. An' anyways, she's not gonna tell Dad."

  After securing our sky rockets, one in each of our school bags, we wandered back out front. Adopting our customary stance of leaning over the pickets of our front fence, we waited for something, anything to happen as we watched the powdering of dust on the road blow up the street.

  "What d'ya wanna do?" Doug sighed. I was still thinking about my encounter with the enigmatic Miss Kitty. What was it with that weird hairdo?

  "Dunno."

  Flies glided on the breeze. Even they seemed bored – not even bothering to be a nuisance. Now we lived here all the time, we kept on running out of things to do. Lunch was hours away.

  Within a few days, Doug pointed out a big bruise that had come up on my left buttock. Neither of us uttered a word about it to Dad or Nan.

  Chapter Six

  The seasons changed. It was now winter. The yellowed leaves of the jacaranda were all but gone. The overnight temperatures dropped dramatically. Lighting the gas stove for a hot breakfast helped warm the house from the buffeting of the cold westerly winds. Of an evening Dad would light the large log fire in the lounge room as soon as he arrived home. The heat it generated would last until early morning.

  This night we started the evening meal as usual, with Dad saying Grace – all eyes closed and heads bowed.

  "For what we are about to receive, Lord make us truly thankful."

  "Amen," we all responded.

  Nan had made lambs fry, ox kidney and bacon. She dollopped the mash potatoes then spooned the meat with its rich gravy over our plates followed by the peas Doug and I had shelled earlier. Once we'd finished talking about our day at school and Nan had given us the date of her next CWA afternoon tea, Dad went into a serious mood. I had this strange feeling we were about to cop a talking to, but for the life of me I couldn't work out why.

  "Fellas, this Saturday morning, I want you to come with me. I've got something to show you."

  "Where to?" asked Doug, just before me.

  "You'll see."

  Doug and I looked at each other and wondered what it could be. The tone in his voice meant it was something serious, but we were too afraid to ask. At least there was no 'Dougal' or 'Patrick' so we weren't in any trouble.

  "Then after, I've heard some pictures have arrived in town." We let out a high pitched squeal.

  "Lord Almighty. Quieten down. You're not outside playin' now," snapped Nan.

  "One's an old Errol Flynn one, The Sea Hawk; and one's, oh …" It seemed like he was acting dumb on purpose, but we hung on every word. "A Tarzan one." I opened my mouth to give another squeal, but luckily Doug's kick to my shin stopped me in time.

  "Owwh!"

  "What did I just say to you two?" Nan warned. I looked daggers at Doug.

  "They've got a Bette Davis double on at night. Now Voyager and The Letter. Give you a night out," he put to Nan.

  "I'll ring some of the girls."

  "After the matinee, how about I pick up some takeaway from the new restaurant? Something different for a change. Give you a break from the cooking and time to get ready," Dad offered.

  "Lovely," she struggled out, barely hiding her misgivings. "Wonder what it tastes like – Chinese food. Just don't pick anything too spicy." Doug looked at me and miaowed softly as Nan was talking. My excitement over going to the pictures took a bit of a dive. One of my favourite meals, beautiful velvety rich lambs fry and kidney was becoming harder to swallow.

  "You feelin' a bit off colour?" Nan inquired, as I fell behind everyone at the table.

  "Just not that hungry."

  "Might need a good dose of castor oil. What do you think, Dad?" Nan suggested.

  Appetite restored, I finished everything on my plate, much to Dad and Nan's amusement.

  As soon as we had permission to leave the table, we raced into the lounge room, talking non-stop about Saturday's programme, trying to guess what the stories might be and letting out a Tarzan call every now and then until Dad called out.

  "If you two don't keep that noise down in there, there'll be no pictures." We continued in excited whispers, beating our chests and doing silent Tarzan calls, lion roars and mimicking the bow-legged walk of Cheeta, Tarzan's chimpanzee, while they talked on at the table – just loud enough to be overheard.

  "You should be takin' someone ta the pictures. You should."

  "Mum please. I've told you, I'm not interested in dating."

  "It's a small town, love. Everyone knows yer circumstances. You'd stand a better chance with that ring off ya finger."

  "I've no intention of taking it off."

  "Then you're a fool."

  "That it? I'll join the boys inside."

  Saturday morning couldn't have come fast enough. Dad had told us to rug up as it was going to be cold. We realised we must be going to visit one of Dad's sick patients, because he was loading a heavy metal pot full of casserole and two dampers I saw Nan make the day before, onto the back floor of the car. We were almost ready to leave, when Mrs Symonds hoyed us from across the road, before running over and handing Dad a box with some old blankets, a tin of powdered milk, bars of soap, as well as two loaves worth of sandwiches.

  "I think we're going on some sort of picnic," I whispered to Doug. But what was Poppie's old water drum that he used to fill stock troughs with, doing in the boot, we wondered.

  "Here Harry, take these."

  "That's very kind of you, Esme. I'm sure they'll be much appreciated – especially the blankets." She gave a small smile.

  "Hello boys. He's a good man, your dad. Well you are. Let me know if there's anything else I can do, Harry," then she darted back to her house.

  It wasn't long before we were at our destination. Dad got out with his medical bag and we followed over the brown sandy loam.

  Before us was this big fenced in area and in the distance several large gum trees and just a few others scattered around. We entered the enclosure. Some of the fencing looked like it had been deliberately pulled down.

  "This is the old Aboriginal Reserve or Reservation, boys." Doug and I both dropped open our mouths at the same time, with anticipation. We were a bit apprehensive, but felt safe with Dad.

  My fear and excitement soon dissolved into disappointment. Where were all the tepees and horses like the American Indians on Reservations we
saw at the pictures? Where were all the bare chested men with feathered headdresses and women with papooses on their backs? We made our way further onto the Reserve. Sheets of corrugated iron were lying on their sides on an angle, sticking into the air. They were propped up by tree branches, and other twigs and smaller branches formed sides to them. What passed as a dwelling looked like it could so easily be blown away. They were empty, but each had a small fire near it that hadn't been used for some time.

  "What are they?" I asked.

  "They're called humpies. That's what some Aborigines sleep in."

  "Where are the tepees and horses?" Doug asked, echoing my very thoughts. Dad stopped and came down onto his haunches to our level.

  "Fellas, you're thinking of American Indians. These are Aborigines. Just like those near the creek on Cracker Night. The tribe in this area are mostly the Wiradjuri people. Here

  thousands of years ago. Old as cavemen." We couldn't hide our disappointment, and though still curious to explore, kept very close to Dad as we moved on.

  "Don't the Abos get cold?" I asked. Dad jerked my arm roughly.

  "Don't ever let me hear you use that word."

  "That's what Mr Wood calls them," I reasoned meekly.

  "Bob Wood is living proof you don't have to have a long neck to be a goose. He calls them that as a put down. How'd you like it if someone kept calling you, 'whitey' or 'shortie'? You wouldn't like it would you?" I could feel by my bottom lip starting to quiver that tears were close.

  "It's okay, I'm not having a go at you, mate," putting an arm around me and pulling me to his side. "They're called Aborigines. And it's important we respect them by calling them by their right name. Now, you asked me whether they got cold. Well, that's why there's all those little fires near each humpy. There used to be a lot of people living here, but a lot have moved on. Sergeant Farrar, Penny's dad, was in charge until it was closed down. We, or rather the white authorities, put the Aborigines here in the first place."