Crow Country (7 page)

T
he next evening Sadie discovered that she'd lost her gloves.

‘Oh,
Sadie
.' Ellie lowered her magazine. ‘Not
again
.'

Sadie hovered in the doorway, waiting to see which way Ellie would go. She might say gaily,
never mind, we can pick you up another pair next time we go to Bendigo
. Or she might insist that Sadie retrace her steps for the past forty-eight hours until she found them.

‘Did you lose them at school?'

‘No, I had them last night when we went to the pub.'

‘Did you leave them there?'

‘Dunno. Can't remember. Maybe.'

Ellie raised her magazine. ‘You'd better go and get them then.'

‘Now?
But it's dark!'

‘I'm not made of money, you know. I can't afford to buy you new gloves every five minutes.'

‘You got a new scarf,' said Sadie.
‘And
a new beanie.'

‘But I haven't lost them, have I?'

Sadie muttered, ‘If you hadn't stayed up all night yakking to David, you wouldn't be so grumpy.'

‘I beg your pardon?'

‘Nothing.' Sadie dragged on her parka. ‘I'm going. Probably to be
attacked
and
murdered
in the
dark
. Oh yeah, and
frozen
. Happy now?'

‘Yes, thanks.' Ellie turned a page. ‘I love you.'

‘Weird way of showing it.'

Sadie stomped out into the twilight. A blanket of cold had settled across the plains. David had told her Boort meant ‘smoke on the hill' in the local Aboriginal language. Smoke was rising now from the odd chimney in town; Sadie could taste it in the back of her throat. She shrank from the idea of walking into the pub all on her own. At least it was Sunday, a quiet night; there'd be hardly anyone there. The soft grey glow of TVs shone from the houses by the lake; in town, the main street was empty.

Wah-waah,
remarked a crow from somewhere in the dusk.
Your own fault.

‘Mind your own business, stupid bird,' muttered Sadie, trudging up the hill, eyes on the pavement. She found her gloves in the gutter outside the pub. They must have fallen from her pocket as she was struggling into her parka on the way home.

Pulling the gloves onto her icy fingers, she crossed the road and stood for a moment beneath the stern stone soldier. The old shop was closed up and empty, its windows boarded, grass sprouting from the gutters. Sadie lingered, staring. It was bizarre to think that she'd been inside that building in a different time, in a different life.

Waah . . . waah . . .

Sadie shivered, and swayed where she stood. As she put out a hand to steady herself against the memorial, a pitch-black tunnel closed around her. Wind rushed in her ears, its howling mingled with the crow's warning cry. She staggered, almost fell.

When Sadie straightened up again, she was standing by the kitchen door behind the shop, holding a tin basin in her hands. Automatically she swung her arms to fling out the washing-up water onto Mum's flower beds, shook the last drops from the basin, and wiped her damp hand on her apron.

She'd already turned to go back inside when she heard raised voices across the street outside the pub. She paused in the shadows and peered round the side of the building, knowing she couldn't be seen. She listened, her heart beating hard.

‘You can't tell me what to do on my own land!' That was Mr Mortlock's voice.

‘I'm tellin' you, it's wrong! It's against the Law, all the Laws, you can't do this thing; you
mustn't
do it!'

It took Sadie a moment to realise that it was Jimmy Raven shouting; Jimmy, whose voice she'd never heard raised in anger.

‘How
dare
you speak to me like that?'

The dim figure of Mr Mortlock lunged forward, his hand raised to strike. But Jimmy Raven didn't flinch or step back; he stood his ground.

A door swung open and both men turned, blinking in the blaze of golden light. The door creaked shut, and a third figure, shorter than the others, joined them on the footpath.

‘What's all this, then?'

A thrill of relief prickled down Sadie's back. It was Dad; he would sort this out.

‘You keep out of it, Clarry,' growled Mr Mortlock.

‘Come back inside and have a drink,' said Clarry. ‘Too cold to stand out here arguing.' He added in a low voice, ‘You get on home, Jimmy.'

‘I got to speak with Mr Mortlock,' said Jimmy.

‘Telling me I'm not
allowed
to dam Cross Creek!' shouted Mr Mortlock. ‘Bloody cheek!
Mustn't do this, mustn't do that!
You'd think it was his own damn land!'

‘Not my country. But this is my business.' Jimmy stood tall, unmoving. Mr Mortlock's bluster blew past him like a breeze past an ancient red-gum tree.

‘Steady on,' said Clarry. ‘No need to get excited. Jimmy, why don't you come along with me? You can have this talk another time.'

‘Just because you've been to France doesn't give you licence to cheek the boss.' Mr Mortlock pointed a trembling finger at Jimmy. ‘You remember that, boy. If it wasn't for me, you'd be rotting on the res- erve with the rest of your miserable, god-forsaken—'

‘All right, all right, Jimmy's coming along with me,' said Clarry. ‘This is all a misunderstanding – things will look different in the morning, I'm sure. Good night, Gerald.'

Mr Mortlock muttered something. Then he jam- med on his hat and lurched away round the corner of the pub. A moment later Sadie heard the sputter and cough of an automobile engine coming to life, and gravel sprayed as the motor roared away.

Dad led Jimmy across the street; Sadie pressed herself back into the deepest shadows by the kitchen door.

‘Come inside,' Dad urged Jimmy.

‘No, I got to get home.'

There was a pause. Clarry said, ‘Are you going to tell me what this is all about, Bird?'

Sadie had never heard Dad use Jimmy's army nickname.

Jimmy shook his head. ‘He wants to flood the valley.' His voice was deep with despair.

‘Well, it is his land, Jimmy,' said Clarry. ‘Why shouldn't he build a dam if he wants to? For heaven's sake, some of his own family are buried in that valley. If he doesn't mind covering their graves with water, why should you worry about it?'

‘No!' Jimmy broke away; Sadie could see the fierce light in his eyes. ‘No. He mustn't do that.'

‘Jimmy, be reasonable—'

‘It's like – it'd be like me settin' that church on fire.' Jimmy flung out his arm in the direction of the little weatherboard church. ‘What would you say if I set the church on fire, hey?'

‘Jimmy!' Dad's voice was shocked. ‘You can't let people hear you talk like that!'

Sadie clutched at the tin basin's rim. The new church, with the bell that everyone had scrimped to pay for, and the coloured glass in the windows. God's own house, a sacred place. The thought of anyone burning it down filled her with a sick hor- ror.

‘That's how it is for my people,' said Jimmy in a low voice. ‘The same thing. That place was a meeting place for our people, a holy place. You seen them trees there? They're special trees, a special place. You understand?'

Clarry was silent. At last he said, ‘No, Jimmy. It's not the same, not for me. I'm sorry, but . . .'

His voice trailed away, and the two men stood without speaking. All around them, the darkness was alive with the tiny noises of the night: the scamper and rustle of small animals, the sigh and whisper of stirring leaves, the distant creak of ancient trees.

Clarry shook his head and lifted his hand in a gesture of regret or bewilderment or helplessness. Then he turned and let himself into the kitchen; the door groaned and banged behind him.

Sadie whispered, ‘Jimmy?'

Jimmy searched for her in the shadows and gave her a sad smile. ‘I thought I seen you there, hidin' in the dark.'

‘What you were telling Dad just now – I think I understand.'

‘You think so?' Jimmy shook his head. ‘You understand it? Maybe you can explain it all to me some time.' He was silent for a moment. ‘You know, Sadie, this isn't my country. I wasn't born here; this isn't my land. My country is way down south by the sea. I don't belong in this place. I don't reckon I'll ever see my country again. But I know a special place when I see it. There's a special place in that valley. I know it. The people who belong to that place, they're not here to protect it, so I got to do it. You understand that? That's what I got to do. He builds that dam, drowns that place, I don't know what might happen. Bad things. I don't know what. I been trying to tell him, but he won't listen. Even your dad don't understand. Gerry Mortlock never going to listen.'

‘It's not your fault,' said Sadie. ‘You've done your best.'

‘Law's the Law,' said Jimmy. ‘Law's broken, we all suffer. I gotta do something.'

Sadie bit her lip. ‘If I can help,' she said. ‘If you can think of anything—'

‘Too late for that, Sadie, I reckon.' Jimmy nodded toward the door. ‘You go in. Your mum'll be wanting you.'

Sadie glanced back at the house and then back to Jimmy. But he was gone.

Sadie was alone in the darkness, the washing basin cold in her fingers; the stars prickling icy overhead in the vault of the sky; a wild cawing in her ears, and a bright light dazzling her eyes . . .

She was on her hands and knees in the road, blinded by car headlights.

‘You bloody little idiot!' someone shouted. ‘I could have killed you!'

Sadie scrambled to her feet, waved her gloves at the car in a dumbstruck apology, and staggered off into the night. She told herself that it was fright at being nearly run over that made her legs wobble.

But a sick feeling of dread churned in her stomach, a foreboding that something terrible was going to happen. Blinded by the car's lights, Sadie stretched out her hands in the soupy dark, as if she could grope from one fistful of shadow to the next. The night thrummed with rustlings and scamperings and the slow whir of insects, but she couldn't see.

S
adie dreamed.

In the dream, she walked across an endless plain. It was night. The ground beneath her feet was swallowed in darkness, but the sky that arched over her shimmered with innumerable stars. She walked, stumbling over stones, toward the sound of weeping.

A crow, larger and blacker than any crow she'd ever seen, lifted his head as she approached, as if he had been waiting for her. Tears etched a terrible silver trail from each of his bright eyes. He didn't speak but gazed at her from a grief so deep there were no words.

She wanted to comfort him, but she didn't know how. In her dream, she clumsily reached an arm across the crow's neck. But as she tried to embrace him, he shivered and dissolved, evaporating beneath her touch, and her arm plunged into nothingness, through dark as soft as feathers. There was only the sorrow-struck cry,
waa-aah . . . waa-aah . . .
 that echoed across the earth, inside her head, vibrating through her bones, and she trembled awake in her own bed.

On Saturday, she didn't go with David and Ellie to watch the Magpies lose to St Arnaud. Ellie didn't try to persuade her to come; her mum seemed more than happy to seize the chance of some time alone with David to finish making up after their argument.

Sadie finished her homework in record time and slouched around the house feeling bored. She thought about visiting the stones, but her dream had made her uneasy. She was worried that the crows might be angry that she'd shown their place to Lachie; maybe it was best to stay away.

After a day of boredom, she eagerly agreed to go to the pub for dinner.

Ellie caught her in the bathroom. ‘I think it'll be all right tonight,' she said in a low voice. ‘They just needed to get used to the idea. Lots of people saw us at the footy today, and no one said anything.' She glanced at herself in the mirror, touched up her lipstick and practised a quick smile. ‘It'll be fine. You'll see.'

Sadie wondered how her mum could possibly know if anyone had said anything or not, but she kept quiet.

As they walked to the pub, David asked Sadie how she liked living in the country.

‘I hated it at first,' said Sadie. ‘But I like it more now.'

‘Yeah? What do you like?'

‘Well . . .' Sadie considered. ‘The stars are kind of beautiful. And I like that sculpture made out of old spanners. That's cool.'

‘Gotta love the spanners,' David laughed; he seemed to find Sadie funny, even when she didn't mean to be, but his wide smile was so infectious that she couldn't mind.

‘Where's Walter?' she asked.

David tipped his head to look at her. ‘At his aunties'.'

Sadie thought that David and Ellie exchanged a glance over the top of her head. Annoyed, she stalked ahead.

They found a table in the dining room. Sadie's heart flopped over when Craig and Amanda Mortlock took the table beside them, with Lachie and an older blonde girl she hadn't seen before. Craig leaned across to introduce his daughter Bethany. ‘She's down at uni,' he said proudly. ‘Must be smarter than her old man, I only lasted two terms!'

Bethany looked smooth and bored, like her mother. They talked to each other in low voices, ignoring Ellie and David and Sadie. Sadie could see Lachie trying to catch her eye, but she refused to look at him. She wished more than ever that she'd never shown him the stones.

Toward the end of dinner, Sadie heard Craig say to Lachie, ‘If we don't start winning games, we're looking at a merger. Maybe not next year, but the year after for sure. No one wants to play for a losing team. Damn shame to see the club disappear after a hundred and twenty-odd years.'

‘We need a new coach,' said Lachie. ‘Sorry, Dad, but it's true. Vic's useless.'

Ellie leaned over and rapped her spoon on the table to catch Craig's attention. ‘You looking for a coach for the Magpies?'

‘We could use someone to help Vic out,' admitted Craig. ‘He was great, twenty years ago, but he's a bit past it now.'

Ellie smiled. ‘David can coach.'

‘Is that right?' Craig shifted in his chair and stared at David.

David shot Ellie a frowning glance. ‘Used to coach in Mildura,' he said reluctantly. ‘But that was a long time ago.'

‘Produced some great players, your lot.' Craig swigged his beer. ‘Bloody geniuses, some of them.'

‘I'm not that good,' said David.

‘Can't take discipline, though, that's the trouble,' said Craig. ‘Brains aren't wired up that way. Brilliant, quick, amazing skills, but unreliable. Can't turn up to training week in, week out. No commitment, no discipline.'

David said, ‘I had enough discipline to make it all the way through a uni degree.'

His eyes and Craig's locked for a moment.

‘I had family problems.' Craig's jaw jutted out. ‘My father died unexpectedly. I had to come home and run the farm.'

‘Had some unexpected deaths in my family, too,' said David. ‘Brothers, cousins.'

Craig shifted uncomfortably in his chair. ‘What I said – no need to take it personally.'

‘I didn't.'

Craig set down his beer and leaned forward. ‘Talking of family, how's your nephew settling in?'

‘You mean Walter? Fine, thanks.'

‘Yeah? Only I heard he's making it tough for himself. Telling lies, picking fights, making trouble . . . Won't make friends that way, not round here.'

Ellie's eyes flashed. ‘Walter's a great kid. If any- one's been picking fights, you can bet it's not him.'

Craig said blandly, ‘Just telling you what I've heard. My mistake.'

Lachie ducked his head and scratched the back of his neck.

‘He's come here to make a fresh start,' said Ellie loudly. ‘It's a shame some people won't let him do that.'

‘Ellie. Let it go,' David murmured.

Ellie laid down her knife and fork. ‘Isn't it
interesting
how black boys
make trouble
, but white boys just
have
accidents
?'

Craig's face flushed purple. ‘Beg your pardon?'

‘You know exactly what I'm talking about! When someone
made trouble
at your lake by almost drowning, because someone else had
accidentally
punched him in the face!'

‘Well, maybe
someone else
should have thought twice before she ran off with a new boyfriend!' shouted Craig.

‘Well, maybe if her old boyfriend hadn't been such a dickhead, she wouldn't have had to!' shouted Ellie.

‘
What?
' said Bethany.

Amanda's face was white as soap. The whole dining room was hushed; everyone was pretending not to listen.

‘Sorry,' said Ellie, into the silence. ‘I apologise. That was totally unnecessary. Sorry.'

Craig gave a forced laugh. ‘Jeez, you start out with a nice polite chat about football and look what happens.'

David pushed back his chair. ‘Time we were leaving, I reckon.'

Ellie groped her arms into her coat. ‘Bye, Amanda. Nice to meet you, Bethany. See you, Lachie. Sorry, Craig.'

‘Don't worry about it,' said Craig. Sadie thought he looked oddly satisfied.

Bethany's bewildered voice followed them as they pushed toward the front bar. ‘What was
that
all about?'

Ellie's face was pink. She said to Sadie, ‘Wait outside with David. I'll pay.'

‘No, I'll pay,' said David, and pushed ahead of Ellie to the till. Sadie glimpsed his face and it scared her; she'd never seen it look so hard and grim.

As soon as they all were outside in the cold, David said, ‘Well, at least I won't have to coach the bloody Boort football team.'

‘Why shouldn't you coach them? Forget about Craig. The rest of them are good kids, they deserve a decent coach.'

‘I'd rather spend my energy on kids who really need it.'

Ellie thrust her hands into her gloves. ‘You mean not white kids?'

‘That's not what I said—'

The pub door burst open and Lachie Mortlock hurtled out like a rocket. ‘Good, I caught you!' He had no coat on, and his cheeks flushed in the chilly air. ‘David, Dad said to tell you he's sorry if he said anything that offended you. He said it's all water under the bridge. And if you did want to give us a hand with the coaching, he'd make it worth your while.'

‘Oh, really?' said Ellie, switching sides again. ‘Well, you tell him—'

David interrupted. ‘Tell him it's okay. I'm sorry, too.'

Lachie shifted from foot to foot and rubbed his nose. ‘You know . . . we could really do with a new coach. Or someone to help out, at least.' He looked pleadingly at David. ‘Training's on Thursday nights at the oval. If you're not busy.'

David looked up at the sky. ‘I'll think about it. I guess you've gotta start building bridges some- where.'

‘David!' Ellie threw her arms around him.

Sadie looked away, embarrassed, and saw Lachie watching her. He blurted out, ‘Sadie, you want to stay? The pool comp's on tonight. Want to be my partner?'

A week ago, Sadie would have given anything to hear those words from Lachie's lips, but now she silently shook her head. Then she realised that no one had seen it in the near dark between the street lights; they thought she was hesitating.

‘I'll walk her home afterwards, Ellie, I promise,' said Lachie. ‘It won't be too late, we'll finish up before eleven.'

‘How about it, Sadie?' said Ellie. ‘Sounds like fun.'

Sadie opened her mouth to say,
no thanks
. Then it occurred to her that Ellie probably wanted to snuggle up on the couch with David without her hanging around.

‘Okay,' she muttered. ‘I'll stay.' She hoped her mother would be grateful.

‘Cool,' said Lachie. ‘See you on Thursday, David? Hopefully?'

‘Maybe,' said David. ‘No promises.'

‘Let's go,' said Lachie. He put his hand on Sadie's back and guided her back inside the pub. Despite herself, Sadie felt a thrill run down her spine.