The Girl with No Name Page 10

  He thought then of the bush. Almost without realising it, he had grown to love the local bush, scrubby as it had seemed to him when he first came up from Perth. He had learnt to know it a little, and to see it with different eyes. He now saw, not simply a mass of trees, all much the same, but different species; even, here and there, he was able to recognise an individual tree. Instead of seeing bare ground he had learnt to look for the tracks of lizards and of birds. Though not yet able to identify more than a few such tracks, he was making progress. Whereas once he knew nothing about these things, they had now become important to him. In short, he had changed. And, he thought with a twist of pain in his chest, he owed all this, more than anyone, to No-name. How could he leave her and go to live in a place where their friendship was no longer possible? He tossed in his bed, groaning inwardly.

  twelve

  I’ll Come Back!

  In those last few days before leaving, Matthew saw No-name as often as he could. He rode up to Two-mile each day after school, and she was usually somewhere around, waiting for him. Sometimes he just sat with No-name and her grandmother and whoever else was at their house, enjoying the camaraderie and trying to follow the conversation, which took place sometimes in English, sometimes in their own language. Other times, Matthew and No-name went for a walk in the nearby bush, looking for tracks. No-name pointed out birds’ nests, the lids of buried spiders’ holes, the tracks of scorpions. Once he dinked her on his bike as far as Limestone Quarry, just outside the town. The pair scrambled over the rocks, and then sat still and watched the birds and other wildlife that soon resumed their business once the human beings were tranquil.

  Towards sunset, they climbed to the very top of the rock formation overlooking the town, and stood together staring down at the life below. Matthew remembered the first time he had climbed up there, with his father, not long after arriving in the north. In the two and a half years that had passed since then, the town had spread closer and closer to the rocks, like an organic growth. Now, he could look down into people’s yards, see the separate articles of washing on their lines, and hear their speaking voices carried upwards. Yet no one looked up to see Matthew and No-name standing there above them. They might have been gods or eagles.

  Matthew knew this was the last time he would see this view for a very long time. He wouldn’t let himself think the thought lurking just below consciousness – perhaps for ever.

  ‘I’ll come back, No-name,’ he said suddenly, fiercely, without looking at her. ‘I promise you, I’ll come back!’ No-name’s hand touched his and fell again, but she didn’t speak.

  Most of Matthew’s school friends seemed to think he was lucky to be going to Perth, and couldn’t understand his lack of enthusiasm. He didn’t try to explain. He had kept his friendship with No-name and her family pretty much to himself, sensing that it would be treated by some of the others as a bit of a joke. He didn’t want to have to defend himself at school as well as at home. Besides, he felt just a little bit possessive about No-name. He liked to keep the time they spent together as something special between them. Only Nick understood what it meant to him, and like the good friend he was he had been careful not to intrude.

  ‘You’re going to miss all this,’ he said one day, without specifying what he meant by ‘all this’.

  ‘That’s for sure,’ said Matthew, grateful that at least someone realised how he felt. ‘Everyone else seems to think I should be glad to go back to Perth.’

  ‘That’s because they like doing different kinds of things. You’ve got into the life up here in a way none of the rest of us has. You’ve made real friends with the locals. It’ll be hard to get used to life in the city. But don’t take it too hard, mate.’ Nick reverted to his usual cheery self, giving Matthew a friendly shove. ‘I reckon you’ll be back.’

  ‘You think so?’ Matthew looked at Nick hopefully, cheered by his words.

  ‘Nothing surer!’

  Matthew had noticed that the Aboriginal students treated him differently since he had been visiting the community at Two-mile. They were friendlier, and greeted him with a wave and a ‘G’day, bro’!’ when he ran into them in town. They seemed to know and accept him these days, treating him as an ally rather than a virtual stranger. He felt rather proud of this development.

  A couple of days before Matthew was due to leave, Nick held a party for him. None of the black kids came, but Matthew wasn’t really surprised. He thought they would probably have felt shy about coming to Nick’s house, even though his parents were going to be out. Organised parties didn’t seem to be their style. Nick gave a speech, clowning to make everyone laugh, and Matthew said his thanks and farewells, trying to keep the same tone of banter and fun. A lot of people promised to write, but he doubted if many of them would. I’ll soon be forgotten, he told himself.

  The morning of departure came, like the morning of an execution. Matthew’s father was up at dawn, loading the last of the family’s luggage into the car. His mother was rushing around with a duster and broom, fearful of leaving any dirt for the next occupants to find and criticise. Matthew cleared his room of his few remaining possessions, and put them in his backpack for the journey. In the front pocket he found the pair of fire-making sticks No-name had given him at their first meeting. He had never managed to make a fire with them. As he looked at the sticks again, the dark scorch marks still proof of her efforts, he realised they were the only tangible reminder he would have of her. He tied the sticks together with a length of twine, and wrapped them carefully in a handkerchief before putting them back in his pack. Then there was nothing else for him to do but have breakfast. He found he couldn’t eat, and left the table to sit on the front step. His eyes were fixed on the road that led to town, and beyond town to Two-mile, but it was empty.

  At last everything was ready to go. The fans were turned off, doors were locked, there was nothing left to hold the family back. Matthew’s mother and father were already in the front seats of the car. Reluctantly, dragging his feet, Matthew opened the door and climbed in next to the bags and boxes piled on one side of the back seat. His father started the motor. They were just pulling out of the driveway when the familiar old brown ute appeared suddenly at the bend in the road.

  ‘Wait!’ Matthew almost yelled. ‘It’s Frances!’ His father said nothing, but he stopped and kept the engine idling until the battered ute pulled up on the verge. As usual, there were people leaning out of both windows and sitting on the back, most smiling broadly. No-name’s face peered out, small and pinched amongst the hats and beards. Matthew jumped out of his father’s car and went up to the ute. Awkwardly, he put out his hand and touched No-name’s arm. He exchanged falsely cheerful words of greeting with the other people in the car. He saw then that her grandmother was crushed in the back with everyone else. She smiled at Matthew and he stretched over and shook her hand. He could not speak.

  No-name climbed down from the ute and stood beside it, her eyes lowered. Matthew took her hand and held it for a moment, not daring to look at her. Then, turning away his face, which despite all his efforts was beginning to contort, he climbed back in the car behind his father. Both his parents waved at the people in the old ute, then his father let in the clutch and their own car started to move.

  Matthew sat leaning out of the window, looking behind, waving. He was thankful that his parents had the tact not to speak. The ute was still standing outside the house in which he had lived, which would soon be occupied by strangers. He watched No-name, skinny as a beanpole, standing motionless, not even waving, staring after the fleeing car. She got smaller and smaller. The tears Matthew had been holding back now streamed down his face unchecked.

  ‘I’ll come back, No-name!’ he said aloud into the wind, which snatched his words and carried them triumphantly back to her. ‘I’ll come back one day, I promise!’

  The road swept into a bend, and Matthew carried away with him his last image of No-name, a tiny dark splinter in the morning light.


  About the Author

  Pat Lowe was born in the UK in 1951. In 1972 she migrated to Australia, and after seven years in Perth moved to the Kimberley. There she met Aboriginal artist Jimmy Pike who introduced her to his country in the Great Sandy Desert. Pat is a clinical psychologist with ten years service in WA prisons. Her two previous books are: Jilji – Life in the Great Sandy Desert (Magabala Books, 1990, and shortlisted for the 1991 WA Premier’s Award) and Yinli – Desert Child (Magabala Books, 1992, and shortlisted for the 1993 WA Premier’s Award), both written with and illustrated by Jimmy Pike. Pat’s young adult novel Feeling the Heat won the Young Adult Section in the 2002 Western Australian Premier’s Award.

  The Girl With No Name was shortlisted for the 1995 Australian Multicultural Literature Award, and commended for the 1995 Family Award for Children’s Books.