Brown Skin Blue (4 page)

‘Here he is,' Cassie says as I come through the door. ‘Come on, love, grab a coldie.' She's a big woman with a big smile. It sits wide on her face and crushes her eyes. She's still got the brochure, fanning herself. Boof sits next to her on another chair, easy and relaxed, resting against the back of the chair, his legs and arms at odd angles. Sally and Bob are opposite them. Bob is talking.

‘So, I'm taking her into town tonight. You gotta treat a woman real good, you know. Only one way a bloke gets what he needs.' Bob stops to drink and stuff a few chips in his mouth, and if anyone else wants to get a word in, they better do it now before his mouth is free again.

‘Where's Jim and Janice?' Sally asks.

Jim and Janice work Fridays through to Mondays so Boof and Cassie have the weekend off. They have their own people working the café, too. Denise and Rourke.

‘Should be here soon,' Boof answers. He sees Bait at the door. ‘Come on, boy.'

‘You're not having that bloody dog in here, Boof,' Cassie says. She holds a fat finger up to him so he gets her meaning.

‘Hear that, boy? You're in the bloody dog house tonight,' he replies and downs the rest of his beer. Bait sits on the doormat.

‘What are you doin' for the weekend, Barra?' Sally looks right at me.

‘I ... I dunno.' I shrug and reach for the chips.

‘Hey, Cassie, Barramundy here wants to know how you named the crocs,' Sally says.

I did ask Sally about it over lunch one day, but I wasn't expecting her to bring it up in front of the whole group.

‘They've all got their own stories, Barra. Give me a name and I'll tell you their story,' Cassie replies.

I think for a second. ‘Mavis,' I say. It's the ordinary names that I think would be the hardest to come up with. Elvis and Scoop are easy. Elvis the Pelvis.
Thank you very much.
Scoop because he has to rely on three paws, to push him through the water, instead of four.

‘Right,' Cassie says. ‘Well, this one is personal. See, when I was a kid there was this old cow who lived next door. Grumpy old bitch. Always stickin' her nose in our business, bustling over and tellin' our parents what we were up to. She was the kind of woman who was always worse off than anyone you knew. If you lost a pet, she lost a kid. If your house was flooded out, hers got washed away. She was nasty, too. Once, my sister, Gina, went out with this boy. When they came home from the pictures, they stayed out front in his
Holden, pashing. Mavis tells my mother next day that she saw them doing it, going the whole way. Swore on a stack of bibles, too. My sister was grounded for a month. My father gave her boyfriend the belting of his life and then his own father bashed him again. And it wasn't true.' Cassie takes a swig of beer. ‘Now when we was namin' the crocs, the second one in our run always seemed to be snapping at the others, staying longer by the boat, going as close to the other crocs' territory and butting in where she didn't belong. I couldn't think of a better name for her. Good revenge, namin' crocs,' she says. ‘I only hope the old cow was alive to see the paper the day they did the article on us. I made sure her name was there in black and white. Second croc of the run: MAVIS.'

‘If you hang around long enough and we extend the run, you might get your chance at naming one, Barramundy,' Boof says.

I'm in the back seat of Boof's Land Rover and Bait is right beside me. I tried pushing him away but he's stronger than he looks. He pushes against me and won't budge. I don't want Boof lookin' back in the rear-view to find me rough-housing his wonder dog.

I'm in the back seat because Sally is in the front. After Jim and Janice showed up and we finished our beer and the chips ran out, Sally asked Boof if she could have a lift as well. Cassie had things to finish up, as usual.

‘I appreciate the lift, Boof,' Sally is saying.

‘Not a prob, love,' Boof says. ‘I usually take young Barramundy home, so it's no trouble anyway.'

Sally turns in her seat to look at me. Her mouth scrunches into a small grin.

‘Where do ya live?'

I swallow and pat the dog.

‘Humpty Doo Hotel,' Boof answers.

Suddenly Bait is my friend. The only diversion from having to answer any more questions without studying the same trees and spinifex through the window. Bait slobbers more. Hangs his head low and lays it on my lap. He looks up at me, briefly, wet black eyes. Clear and bright. Simple and stupid.

‘Well you can drop me there at the same time,' Sally says.

‘You got plans?' Boof asks and Sally turns back to look out the front window. She turns up the radio.

‘Sorta.'

‘So, Barra,' Boof adjusts the rear-view so he can see me. ‘Time you told us about yourself, I reckon.'

‘Yeah, where you come from?' Sally adds.

I'm cornered. Stuck in a car with no escape and an oily runt on my lap. ‘I been all over, really.'

‘Likely story,' Boof says with a smile.

‘No. I have. My mum, she moved around. Sometimes we'd stay for a few years in one place, other years we'd move every week.'

‘So what's your favourite place, then?' Sally prompts.

‘Here,' I say with finality, hoping that's an end to the discussion of my life.

Sally turns back around to face me. She flicks her fringe. I like how she does that.

‘That dog likes you.' She's smiling and her nose wrinkles. She understands about the dog.

‘Pat him,' I offer.

Boof is singing along to the radio – ‘Great Southern Land' by Icehouse – tapping his fingers on the wheel, lookin' happy.

‘Great Southern Land, in the sleeping sun.'

Sally leans over and pats Bait on his head. He whimpers with pleasure. She's stretched against the seatbelt and her T-shirt is held tight at her waist with the tension. It stretches and the lace on her bra peaks up over the material. Her breasts are firm and round.

‘You walk alone with the ghost of time.'

She wipes her palm across my shoulder. Bait's oil and stench. She pokes her tongue out at me and unwinds back into her own seat.

‘They burned you black, black against the ground. And they make it work with rocks and sand.

‘If Bait likes you, then I like you,' Boof adds at the end of the chorus.

Bait likes everyone.

The song finishes on the radio and Boof holds the last note loud, long and out of tune. And he doesn't seem to care. Boof seems comfortable in what little skin he has.

‘Hey,' Sally says, leaning over to the radio to turn the volume up higher as a news bulletin comes on.

Government investigation ... Small communities ... continuing abuse ... lack of care ... after notorious paedophile, McNabm Blue ... something should have been done...

They're all the words I hear coming from the speakers through the radio. My heart leaps into my throat and I think I am going to pass out. I wind the window down and suddenly
Bait is too heavy and hot and I push him across the seat. I'm gulping air and sweating like I'm a bloody cloud about to burst with rain. The same line of
Great Southern Land
going over and over in my head.
You walk alone with the ghost of time.

Sally and Boof say something, they turn the radio down then Sally turns around, reaches over towards me, but it's all shrinking away. I'm being pulled down. Suddenly every fear I have is thrashing inside my mind. I can't get away from any of it. He's not really dead at all and the noose is out there, waiting to catch me unaware. It's going to get me for sure. I can feel it squeezing my throat dry. I couldn't look up, even if I wanted to. It's all down and back, just the way it was. It's black back there at the ground of my beginnings. And it's blue. It's all Blue.

‘You look sad, young Barry. What's a boy like you got to be sad about, hey?' Blue says to me.

I'm sitting under the shade of a tree at the edge of town. Mum's in the van. I left when it was rocking. My mates and I were playing marbles in the dirt. I lost most of my smallies, but I'd managed to keep my large. I was rolling them over in my pocket, wondering how long to leave it before going back home, when Blue showed up.

He's a nice lookin' bloke. Some around the town are rough and ugly. Scary when they've been on the booze. Can't stand up straight. They spit and slosh and their eyes don't look human. Most of the time they don't give us kids a second
look. We're not worth talking to or knowing. Except to kick or punch or swear at.

We've been in this town for a while. At least a year, or more, I think. We came while I was in second grade, and I'm in the third now, so it must be about right. This is the town I was born in, too. Batchelor, near the Rum Jungle. But we've been all over the place in between.

The Rum Jungle got its name from an accident in the 1800s when a bullock wagon got bogged in the jungle near the croc-infested Finnis River. The bullockies let the oxen go and set about drinking the rum. One of the biggest binges in history. Mum's great-grandfather was a bullocky. Got struck by lightning. And died with a whisky bottle clutched under his arm. Mum says that her great-grandfather knew how to plug out of life.
He was already soaked in the spirit when he departed,
she said to me.
The only way to get one up on God.

‘Na. Just waiting,' I say to him.

He sits down next to me under the tree. He smiles and reaches into his pocket. He's got jubes covered with sugar in a small white paper bag.

‘I got too many of these. They can rot a man's teeth. You should have 'em.'

I haven't ever been given lollies by a grown-up before. 'Cept my mum, sometimes, when she's happy and cashed up.

I'm bloody hungry so I take them and say thanks.

‘No problem. You're doin' me a favour. You young things can do things a bloke like me can't any more. You're special, you know.'

‘You kiddin'?'

‘Na. I'm serious.' Blue's quiet for a moment while I put two jubes in my mouth. They're black rings with white sugar.

‘I bet you're thinkin' that most grown-ups don't think to say that to a kid, right?'

I'm not thinkin' anything except how good the lollies are, but he's kinda right. I nod.

‘Yeah. We're a disgrace to ourselves, sometimes. Adults, that is, boy. We should tell you young blokes a lot of things to make you feel good about yourselves. But we get lazy and forget.'

‘Well. I'm gonna leave you to those,' Blue points to the paper bag, ‘and your thoughts. What's your name?'

‘Barry,' I say.

‘Barry.' Blue stands. ‘But I'll be seeing you around. Okay?'

I look up and have to squint because of the sun blazing red and hot, but I nod again. Most of the shacks and vans have got silver aluminium roofs and, in the middle of the day when the sun is red and angry, the roofs glow hot like they might just go up in flames. Sometimes the roofs change and look like mirrors with the sun bouncing off and poking you in the eye. I've seen it from up the water tower where I'm up so high that I can see the tops of everything you can't see from the ground. It looks like a giant pinball game with sunbeams racing round the rooftops.

‘You ever feel like you need a sweet. Come and find me. You'd be doin' me a favour.'

Blue leaves and I feel real good.

The door of the Land Rover is open, the engine is idling and the buffalo horns are in front of me above the pub door. Boof is standing outside on the dirt in front of me. I'm clutching the seatbelt like it's a lifeline.

‘You right, Barra?' Boof says.

I swallow but I'm dry.

Sally comes out of the pub door with a few cans under her arms. Three beers. She gives two to Boof, pulls the ring on the third and hands it over to me.

‘What happened, Barra?' she says.

‘I dunno,' I say honestly. I remember hearing his name and then I was somewhere in the past.

‘You right, mate?'

‘I'm fine,' I say, pushing past them to get out into the fresh air. ‘Thanks for the lift. I'm fine,' I call over my
shoulder as I walk to my room. Bait barks after me.

I've got a small TV with rabbit ears on top of the bar fridge and I turn it on and something documentary-style rambles on. I can only get the ABC.

...Australian soldiers went to the Vietnam War...

I turn the ceiling fan on full and it rattles like the wings of a helicopter.

Horrific injuries and shock ... Little wonder they didn't adjust to life back home...

I lie down on my bed and close my eyes.

...Tonight we talk to some of the men who came back...

I plan to stay this way for the rest of the weekend.

There's a knock on the door. I open my eyes and it's dark. The fan's still whizzing above me and the curtains are fluttering like sails in the breeze. There's another knock. Louder. I stand up and go to the door.

‘It's me, Barra. Sally.'

I open the door and Sally's standing there, arms folded. No smile. No flick of her fringe. ‘You gonna let me in?'

I move and she walks past me. She looks around the room for a minute then turns on the light switch by the door.

‘Nice,' she says.

I close the door and turn off the TV before sitting on my bed. Sally sits next to me.

‘Listen,' she says, ‘I just want to make sure you're alright. You're a strange bloke, Barra. But I like you. You kinda went
funny in the car earlier. Looked like you were gonna pass out.'

‘The heat,' I mumble.

‘Right,' she says. But she's tough and I know she doesn't buy it. She sighs. She stands up and walks around the room. It's small. She could just turn on the spot and take it all in. She walks to the fridge and opens it up. It's empty. She closes it again. ‘What's this?' she says taking my list from under the magnet.

I stand and walk over in a hurry. ‘Nothin',' I say, trying to grab the paper.

Sally whips it behind her back and stands against the wall. ‘Nothin', hey?'

‘Come on, give it back.'

She wrinkles her nose. ‘Look. You tell me what it is, and I'll give it back. Deal?'

I think about wrestling her for it, but the image of her breasts and lace from the car come back to me. I don't want to get that close. Or I do.

I nod and walk back to the bed.

‘For a minute there I thought you were gonna fight me for it. Here,' she says handing over the paper.

I take it and put it under my pillow.

‘So. What is it?'

I swallow.

‘Come on. We had a deal.'

‘It's a list.'

‘Of what?'

‘Fathers.'

‘Fathers?'

‘Yeah. Fathers.'

She's quiet. She's got her hands underneath the sides of her legs and she's leaning forward. She turns her face to look at me. ‘Want a drink, Barramundy?'

‘Sure.'