Kal (61 page)

Eora was the Dharug name for the coastal area which was the home of the Gadigal people, and, like many, Wolawara had found it hard to leave the waterways of his ancestors. ‘We belong to the sea and to the rivers,' he had said when talk of leaving had first started. ‘We are water people. It is wrong to take our families into the arid land.' And his stubbornness, he admitted now, had resulted in the deaths of two sons and a daughter. As for Yenerah, his last remaining son …

The admission was difficult and Wolawara's gaze remained fixed on the ground. ‘With your own eyes you have seen him, Thomas. He is possessed. Once a fine young man, now he begs in the streets for the rum to feed his demons.'

Wolawara raised his head and, behind the guilt in his eyes, was an angry resolve. ‘This is not the fate which will befall my grandchildren. While there is strength enough left in this old man, it is Wolawara who must save them.'

Thomas paused for a moment before asking, ‘What will you do?' He glanced briefly at Wiriwa who was listening intently for the answer.

‘We will leave Eora.'

It was obvious from the fleeting shock visible in Wiriwa's eyes that Wolawara had not discussed his decision with her.

Thomas looked from one to the other. Wolawara and Wiriwa are old, he thought. Like me, they are old. Now was not the time for them to leave the home of their ancestors.

He said nothing. But, as Wolawara continued to talk, the seed of a plan germinated in the mind of Thomas Kendall.

 

‘I've never seen anyone swim like that.'

James and William were lost in admiration as they stood watching young Turumbah's naked body cut through the water like a dolphin. One minute the boy had been submerged, the next he had leapt to the surface, emitted a squeal and disappeared again, only to reappear seconds later, twisting and rolling and diving like a creature delighting in its natural element.

When he had finished showing off, Turumbah swam closer to the point on which the boys stood and beckoned them to join him.

‘Come massa! Come along! Come!'

For William the temptation was too great. The afternoon was hot, there was no-one about, so he took off his shirt.

‘William!' James was horrified.

‘No-one can see. Come on, James.'

Stripped to his undergarments, William flopped clumsily off the rocks. He could swim enough to keep himself afloat but he didn't venture too far from the point. Turumbah joined him and a splashing match ensued.

James wandered back along the point to the reedy shallows. Today had been a succession of shocks to him. From the fearful black man and his threatening dance, to Grandfather Thomas speaking in the native tongue and, finally, to the unashamed nakedness of Turumbah. That had been the biggest shock of all.

When Turumbah, signalling silence, had led James and William in a circle behind the hut to the water's edge and proceeded to strip to his bare skin in front of them, James's shock had left him speechless. No-one should be seen naked. For as long as he could remember, his mother had told him that nakedness was a sin. ‘Cover yourself, James,' she would say when, as a very small boy, he emerged from the tin bathing tub, ‘cover yourself.'

Shocking as today might have been, however, it was exciting
and unpredictable, a day like no other, and James wanted to be a part of it. He found a flat, dry rock, sat down and carefully took off his shoes and stockings. With equal care, he took off his vest, folded it with his jacket and placed his new felt hat on top. Then he pulled his trouser legs up to the knees and waded out into the shallows, enjoying the water, cool against his calves and the sand, coarse beneath his feet.

A shadow glided amongst the reeds ahead, then stopped. Too curious to be alarmed, James waded stealthily towards it. Just when he was convinced it was nothing, merely a play of light, the shadow reappeared right in front of him. About a foot in length and breadth, its sides appeared to gracefully curl, and once more it glided ahead of him, only to disappear in a brief flurry of sand.

James was fascinated. For a full ten minutes he followed the small stingray through the shallows until the creature retreated to the deeper water.

When he finally returned to the rock where he'd left his clothes, he found William and Turumbah dressed and sunning themselves as they waited for him.

‘I saw a fish! A fish with a long tail!' James called excitedly. ‘I followed it everywhere!'

‘
Daringyan
.' Turumbah called back. ‘Catch him towsan this place.' It was only then that James noticed, perched atop the Aboriginal boy's head, and at a rakish angle, his new felt hat.

James's dismay must have been evident, and he felt himself flush as William laughed loudly. ‘Give it back to him, Turumbah, I told you he would be angry.'

Regretfully, the boy took off the hat. He examined it briefly to make sure it was unmarked—it was only a little damp inside—before handing it back with a mischievous smile.

James put the hat on and concentrated on the buttons of his vest, keeping his face averted. His shocked reaction had been instinctive. He didn't really mind Turumbah wearing his hat. He wished that William hadn't laughed.

As James knelt to put on his shoes and stockings, Turumbah stopped him. The boy repeated a word several times, a word which the other two didn't understand. ‘
Badangi, badangi
,' he said, then beckoned impatiently. ‘Come, Gran'sun James, come along.'

They followed him, Turumbah unfastening a knifelike implement made from shell which dangled from the twine about his waist. It was time to shuck oysters from the healthy crop which grew along the rocks of the foreshore.

An hour later, when the boys returned to the hut—Turumbah ensuring that his hair and clothes were dry and that their approach was from the opposite direction to the bay—James's hands were scratched and bleeding and one trouser leg was torn. The big toe of his right foot was painful where he'd stubbed it on the rocks, and he knew that inside his shoe blood was oozing onto his stocking.

But James didn't care. He wiped his hands on the once pristine white handkerchief and returned it to his vest pocket. He savoured the sea-salt taste of the oysters on his tongue. The day had been the most exciting and memorable of his young life.

Thomas noticed James's dishevelled appearance but said nothing.

Wolawara rose to farewell them, and the two men shook hands.

‘I beg of you, my friend,' Thomas said, taking both of Wolawara's hands in his, ‘do nothing until I next come to you. I will return within seven days. Until then, please do not leave Eora.'

Wolawara nodded his consent and Thomas and his grandsons turned to go. But Turumbah would not leave it at that. He made a great show of shaking hands as vigorously as he could with William and James. Particularly James.

‘You like Turumbah, Gran'sun James? Turumbah
budjerry
fellow.'

Before he knew what he was doing, James had taken off his new felt hat. He couldn't help himself. Holding it in both hands, he offered it to Turumbah.

The boy stared at the hat and the outstretched hands, bewildered.

‘Take it, Turumbah,' James said. ‘It's yours, a gift.'

No second bidding was necessary. In a moment the hat was on Turumbah's head, and when Thomas and his grandsons finally set off, the boy was still leaping about excitedly, dancing, waving and pointing to his new possession.

Thomas studied his younger grandson as they walked away from the clearing. There would be hell to pay when his mother found out he'd lost his new hat.

James felt his grandfather's eyes upon him. He looked up and smiled reassuringly. He had no regrets. He didn't quite know why he had done what he'd done, but he would weather the storm.

Thomas was pleased. More than pleased. It was a breakthrough. James was not yet entirely under the influence of his mother. It was time for him to learn some truths.

‘Let's walk to the Common,' he said, ‘and sit and talk. There is a story I wish to tell you both.'

He would tell them the story of Wolawara. But he would not tell them of his plan. Not yet. The boys would find out soon enough, for it would alienate him from his younger son forever. Now was the time for his grandsons to know the truth so they may judge his actions accordingly.

Much as Thomas railed against the exclusivists and their class system, the truly unpardonable sin in his eyes was the lamentable predicament of the native, who had been stripped of all he'd owned, including dignity. His numbers had been decimated by white man's diseases and he had been left to beg in the streets, his women to exchange their bodies for food. It was not the way Governor Phillip had wished it. It was not the way the King of England himself had instructed the colony be governed.

Thomas and his grandsons reached the vastness of Sydney Common where cattle and goats grazed and where, on misty mornings, groups of gentlemen regularly held swan-shooting parties. When they had settled themselves on a grassy hillock in the late afternoon sunshine, Thomas told them his story.

Judy Nunn

Maralinga

During the darkest days of the Cold War, in the remote wilderness of a South Australian desert, the future of an infant nation is being decided … without its people's knowledge.

A British airbase in the middle of nowhere; an atomic weapons testing ground; an army of raw youth led by powerful, ambitious men – a cocktail for disaster. Such is Maralinga in the spring of 1956.

Maralinga
is a story of British Lieutenant Daniel Gardiner, who accepts a twelve-month posting to the wilds of South Australia on a promise of rapid promotion; Harold Dartleigh, Deputy Director of MI6 and his undercover operative Gideon Melbray; Australian Army Colonel Nick Stratton and the enigmatic Petraeus Mitchell, bushman and anthropologist. They all find themselves in a violent and unforgiving landscape, infected with the unique madness and excitement that only nuclear testing creates.

Maralinga
is also a story of love; a love so strong that it draws the adventurous young English journalist Elizabeth Hoffmann halfway around the world in search of the truth. And
Maralinga
is a story of heartbreak; heartbreak brought to the innocent First Australians who had walked their land unhindered for 40,000 years.

Maralinga … a desolate place where history demands an emerging nation choose between hell and reason.

 

Judy Nunn

Floodtide

This novel is a brilliant observation of turbulent times in the mighty ‘Iron Ore State' – Western Australia.
Floodtide
traces the fortunes of four men and four families over four memorable decades: The prosperous post-war 1950s when childhood is idyllic and carefree in the small, peaceful city of Perth … The turbulent 60s when youth is caught up in the conflict of the Vietnam War and free love reigns … The avaricious 70s when Western Australia's mineral boom sees the rise of a new young breed of aggressive entrepreneurs … The corrupt 80s and the birth of ‘WA Inc', when the alliance of greedy politicians and powerful businessmen brings the state to its knees, even threatening the downfall of the federal government.

Each of the four who travel this journey has a story to tell. An environmentalist fights to save the primitive and beautiful Pilbara coast from the careless ravaging of mining conglomerates; a Vietnam War veteran rises above crippling injuries to discover a talent that gains him an international reputation; and an ambitious geologist joins forces with a hard-core businessman to lead the way in the growth of Perth from a sleepy town to a glittering citadel. But, as the 90s ushers in a new age when innocence is lost, all four are caught up in the irreversible tides of change, and actions must be answered for.

Floodtide
is a character-driven, merciless rush of blood from the pen of Judy Nunn, one of Australia's master storytellers.

 

Judy Nunn

Heritage

In a time when desperate people were seizing with both hands the chance for freedom, refugees from more than seventy nations gathered beneath the Southern Cross to forge a new national identity. They came from all over wartorn Europe to the mountains of Australia to help realise one man's dream: the mighty Snowy Mountains Hydro-Electric Scheme. One of the greatest engineering feats of the 20th century, the Snowy Scheme was being built with pride from the sweat and blood of displaced people.

People of all races and creeds tunnelled through a mountain range to turn the course of a majestic river, trying to put to rest ghosts from the inferno of history: buried memories, unimaginable pain and deadly secrets.

From the ruins of Berlin to the birth of Israel, from the Italian Alps to the Australian high country,
Heritage
is a passionate and fast-paced tale of rebirth, struggle, sacrifice and redemption, and a tribute to those who gave meaning to the Australian spirit.

 

Judy Nunn

Pacific

After fulfilling her dream of performing on the London stage, Australian actress Samantha Lindsay is thrilled when she scores her first Hollywood movie role. She's to play Sarah Blackston, a character loosely based on World War II heroine Mamma Tack, an English nurse who was invaluable to the US forces and native population of the New Hebrides during the conflict in the Pacific. It's the role of a lifetime.

On location in Vanuatu, uncanny parallels between history and fiction emerge and Sam begins a quest for the truth. Just who was the real Mamma Tack? And what was the tragic secret that threatens to destroy people in the present day? The answers reveal not only secrets of the past but Sam's own destiny.

A masterful interweaving of the lives of two passionate women and two worlds,
Pacific
is Judy Nunn at her enthralling best.

 

Judy Nunn

Territory

Territory
is a story of the Top End and the people who dare to dwell there. Of a family who carved an empire from the escarpments of Kakadu to the Indian Ocean and defied God or Man to take it from them. Of Spitfire pilot Terence Galloway, who brings his English bride, Henrietta, home from the Battle of Britain to Bullalalla cattle station, only to be faced with the desperate defence of Darwin against the Imperial Japanese Air Force.

It is also a story of their sons, Malcolm and Kit, two brothers who grow up in the harsh but beautiful environment of the Northern Territory, and share a baptism of fire as young men in the jungles of war-torn Vietnam.

And what of the Dutch East Indies treasure ship which foundered off Western Australia in 1629? How does the
Batavia
's horrific tale of mutiny and murder touch the lives of the Galloways and other Territorians - like Foong Lee, the patriarch of the Darwin Chinese community, and Jackie Yoorunga, the famous Aboriginal stockman? What is the connection between the infamous ‘ship of death' and the Aborigines that compels a young anthropologist to discover the truth?

From the blazing inferno that was Darwin on 19 February 1942 to the devastation of Cyclone Tracy, from the red desert to the tropical shore,
Territory
is a mile-a-minute read from one of Australia's best loved writers.