The Girl with No Name Read online

  ‘There’s no way I’d bring her back here with Dad the way he is,’ he told his mother. ‘Her relations are so friendly and easygoing, I’d die of shame if anyone made her feel uncomfortable.’ He meant his mother too, but didn’t say so. Even so, she looked injured.

  ‘Your father’s not a bad man,’ she reminded Matthew. ‘He’s just a bit conservative. He’s made a lot of concessions, letting you do what you want. We both have.’

  ‘I know,’ said Matthew. But why should it be a concession? he thought. He knew they’d never make such a big thing of letting him spend time with Nick and his family. Well, as long as his parents didn’t interfere with what he was doing, that was the best he could hope for, and he made up his mind to respect their wishes in other ways.

  Meanwhile, his outings with his second family, as he secretly thought of them, became the most important part of his life. He drank in the knowledge the people gave him, and made it his own. He took every opportunity he could to spend time with them, and waited impatiently between one outing and the next. He found himself becoming more and more at home in the bush, sitting by camp fires, sleeping on the ground, looking for animal tracks. At the centre of all this was his friendship with No-name.

  ten

  Surprise Encounter

  One morning when Matthew got up early, worrying about an assignment he had to finish for that day, he remembered his bicycle had a puncture he hadn’t fixed. His father, who started work at six, was having breakfast.

  ‘Dad, can you drop me off at school this morning on your way to work?’ Matthew asked. He didn’t mind getting there early, and quite often did so, though not as early as this. It gave him a chance to catch up on neglected homework, which he did sitting on a bench at the table in the bough shed outside the school. Once No-name had turned up early as well, and for a while the two of them sat watching the early morning birds come down to drink water from a dish the gardener had left under the tap. The girl told him the names of some of the birds in her language, and described their habits. Then the other kids had started to drift in through the gates and No-name had run off with some girls.

  ‘You’ll have to make it smart,’ said his father. ‘I’ll be leaving in five minutes. If you’re not ready you’ll have to walk.’

  Matthew swallowed down some breakfast and went to comb his hair and pick up his school-bag. He heard the sound of the car starting up and ran outside.

  ‘Damn!’ said his father, looking at the fuel gauge. ‘I forgot to fill up last night.’ He backed into the road and started off at a steady pace in the direction of the prison. He kept looking at the gauge; Matthew saw that the needle was right on empty.

  ‘I’ll drop you off and then get fuel,’ his father told him. But almost before he finished speaking, the engine died and the car glided to a stop. Matthew said nothing, but watched his father out of the corner of his eye. The man’s face was murderous.

  There were several seconds of tense silence, then Matthew’s father got out of the car and stood looking at it. Matthew joined him.

  ‘I’ll take the jerry can,’ he offered, knowing his father always carried one in the boot.

  ‘It’s a couple of miles to the roadhouse.’

  ‘I might be able to hitch a lift. Anyway, Mr Franklyn will get someone to bring me back.’ He was the proprietor, and good to his customers.

  Matthew’s father opened the boot and took out the jerry can. Matthew started off on foot. It was too early for most other people to be heading into town, but he would be unlucky if no one came along. He looked about him, seeing lizards dart away as he approached, hearing unidentified rustlings in the dry grass at the side of the road. There were no sounds but those of his own footsteps and of nature preparing for the day. Had he not been aware of his father waiting impatiently by the car, he would have slowed down and enjoyed the walk ahead of him. It looked as if the assignment would have to wait in any case. As it was, he moved as fast as he could.

  Just then he heard a car approaching from the opposite direction. ‘Murphy’s law,’ he said to himself, barely glancing at it. But the car slowed down as it came near, and he heard someone call his name. He looked up sharply, to see a rather dilapidated station wagon, which he didn’t recognise. He stopped, puzzled. There were several young Aboriginal men in the car, all smiling and friendly as if they knew him. Then he saw that the man with the hat next to the driver was No-name’s cousin-brother, Alfie. He grinned at Matthew.

  ‘Where you going?’ asked Alfie.

  ‘To the roadhouse. We ran out of fuel.’ Matthew nodded at the jerry can he was carrying.

  ‘Where your car?’

  ‘Back down that way.’

  ‘You want fuel?’ Matthew nodded. One of the young men in the back opened the door and they all squeezed up, somehow making room for Matthew. The jerry can was taken from him and pushed behind the seat. When the door was shut against Matthew’s side, the car set off again. But, instead of turning around to go to the fuel station as Matthew was expecting, they went on in the same direction. When his father’s car came in sight, the station wagon slowed down. Matthew saw his father, severe in his khaki uniform, glance up and frown, casually gesturing with his hand for the driver to keep going. He was leaning against the bonnet, but as the other car pulled to a stop and he saw his son hanging out of the back window, a white face amongst a sea of black ones, he straightened up, startled.

  Everyone got out of the station wagon, talking and laughing. Matthew wished his father would unbend a little. He introduced him to Alfie, and the two men shook hands. The jerry can was produced from the back of the ute along with a short length of hose. One of the young men pulled out the screwed-up piece of cloth that served as a fuel cap, and started syphoning fuel from the tank of the old utility into the jerry can. When the can was about half full, he stood it next to the other car. Matthew’s father, looking embarrassed to be receiving help, unlocked his fuel cap and took it off. The young man lifted the jerry can onto the boot, and Matthew saw his father wince as the bottom of the can grated against the paintwork. In went the hose, and this time it was Alfie who sucked at the end of it until fuel came out, then directed the flow into the tank, spitting petrol as he did so. They all stood watching the hose as if they could see the fuel flowing down through it.

  There was a sucking sound as the jerry can emptied, and everyone started talking again. The two young men shut the lid of the jerry can and threw the hose back into their car, and Matthew’s father replaced his fuel cap. He turned around and took out his wallet.

  ‘I must give you something for the petrol,’ he said.

  Alfie shrugged, smiling. ‘No, ’e right,’ he said. But the other man pushed a note into his hand.

  ‘No, take it,’ he said. ‘You can’t give me your fuel for nothing. You’ll need to refill soon.’ Alfie casually put the money in his pocket, and nodded his thanks.

  ‘Well, thank you very much for your help,’ said Matthew’s father to the group of men, a little stiffly. ‘I appreciate it.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks a lot!’ said Matthew, wanting to cover up for his father’s awkwardness. The men had all piled back into the station wagon, and its engine started with a squeal from a loose fan-belt. But they waited until Matthew’s father had successfully started his own engine before taking off. With smiles and waves they disappeared down the road, their exhaust pipe billowing smoke.

  Matthew’s father did not speak as they continued the journey to the school. But at the gate, as Matthew climbed out with his school-bag, he said, ‘Not a bad bunch of fellows, those friends of yours.’

  eleven

  A Shock

  The heat had been building up for weeks, and the end of the school year was approaching. Matthew rode to the dam for a swim as often as he could. One day when he got back, he found his father home before him. He sensed an atmosphere that told him something important was being discussed, and he felt an unaccountable stab of dread.

  ‘Your father has somet
hing to tell you,’ said his mother, in unusually formal tones. Matthew waited.

  ‘We’re moving,’ his father told him bluntly. Matthew didn’t understand.

  ‘Moving?’ he said. ‘Where to?’

  ‘To Perth,’ said his mother. ‘Your father got his transfer.’

  Matthew had been vaguely aware that his father had applied for a promotion and transfer south, but he had put it out of his mind as something unlikely to happen, and in any case a long time off. He had not fully registered the significance of it for the family, nor what it would mean to him. He stood stunned at his mother’s words.

  ‘Can’t be!’ he gasped in disbelief. ‘We can’t go back to live in Perth!’

  ‘What’s wrong with Perth?’ said his father. ‘You didn’t want to leave Perth when we came up here.’

  ‘That’s different. I didn’t know what it was like here then. I know what Perth is like. I hate it!’ he said, suddenly furious.

  ‘Oh, come on, Matthew, it’s not that bad. You were happy there,’ his mother reminded him. ‘Your dad’s got a promotion. Don’t spoil it for him.’

  ‘Yeah – congratulations, Dad.’ Matthew’s voice was lifeless. ‘It’s good for you, I know that. But can’t they give you a promotion and leave you here? There must be senior officers’ jobs here as well as in Perth.’

  ‘If I stay here I’ll still be an ordinary one-pipper when I retire. If you want to get on in this job you just have to be prepared to go where the promotions are.’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose. How soon do you have to go?’

  Matthew’s parents exchanged glances. ‘Quite soon,’ said his mother, not looking at him.

  ‘How soon?’ Matthew demanded, fear seizing him.

  ‘Matthew, we’re leaving at the end of next week,’ his father told him, a note of apology in his voice.

  ‘Next week?’ Matthew almost yelled, shocked. ‘How can it be next week?’

  ‘There’s been a couple of resignations, and one of the senior staff down there had an accident. They need me to start as soon as possible.’

  ‘You applied for a transfer months ago, and you never heard anything all that time. How can they expect you to go in one week? They can’t do this to us!’

  ‘I know it’s a bit sudden,’ said his father again, ‘but that’s the way it is. We’d have to go sooner or later. It’s nearly the end of the school year for you anyway. It doesn’t make much difference.’

  ‘What do you mean, it doesn’t make much difference?’ Matthew was almost in tears. ‘Of course it makes a difference! It’s all right for you. But I don’t want to go. I just don’t want to go!’

  ‘Well, that’s just too bad.’ Matthew’s father was losing patience. ‘We’re going, and that’s that. You might as well get used to the idea.’

  ‘Why do I have to go?’ Matthew turned to his mother. ‘Can’t I stay here?’

  His mother laughed gently. ‘Of course you can’t stay here on your own,’ she said. ‘Where would you live?’

  ‘With Frances’s family!’ said Matthew suddenly, without thinking, then wished he had kept his mouth shut. His father’s face clouded.

  ‘Don’t tell me you want to stay here just so you can turn into a blackfeller!’ he said angrily. Matthew felt his own rage mounting.

  ‘What’s wrong with blackfellers?’ he shouted. ‘I’d rather stay with blackfellers in the bush than be stuck in a house in Perth with a front lawn you have to mow on Sundays like everyone else!’

  ‘You’d rather hang round with a bunch of criminals, would you?’

  Matthew stared at his father. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘That little thief you run around with. And the father she takes after.’

  Matthew could think of nothing to say. So his father had known all along.

  ‘Freddie Ajax is the biggest drunken rogue in the district. If I’d known he was her father I’d never have let you have anything to do with her in the first place.’

  ‘How did you find out?’

  ‘When that daughter of his came visiting him on the weekend, cool as you like.’

  ‘Well, why shouldn’t she visit him? He’s her father!’

  ‘I knew that girl and her family would be a bad influence on you,’ said his mother.

  ‘That girl?’ shouted Matthew. ‘That girl’s my friend! She’s the best friend I’ve ever had! You’ve never liked her, just because she’s black! And because she doesn’t dress up! And because her family’s poor, and they don’t drive round in a flash car! It’s not her fault her father’s in prison. And she’s not a thief!’ Matthew was almost choking from holding back tears. ‘Well, I’d bloody well rather live with her family than with you!’ He ran out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

  Matthew headed along the road towards town, walking fast, breathing heavily, trying to get his feelings under control. At first, he couldn’t even think. He felt choked up, full of anger and grief. He marched along, cursing aloud, sobs shaking him, tears jumping from his eyes.

  After a little while, he became calmer, and started to think about the row he’d just had with his parents. He knew he’d blown it, yelling at them like that. But he didn’t care, he didn’t care! He’d meant what he said. Oh, he loved his mother and father all right, and he didn’t really want to hurt their feelings. But he’d changed! He was no longer the same person he’d been when they moved up here from Perth. And he knew why. In a way his mother was right – it was because of No-name and her relations. They had opened up a different view of life for him. It was as if he had been waiting for this to happen. It wasn’t just the hunting, the excitement of learning new things, though that was part of it. More important was the feeling of being so at home when he was with his new friends. It was quite different from anything he’d known. He didn’t care who No-name’s father was, or what he had done.

  He struggled to understand his own feelings. Why had he become so attached to No-name’s family? Partly, it was the way people behaved with one another – they seemed so easygoing and accepting of other people – of him. And they were not caught up with having things, with making money, with being busy. They didn’t worry about how they looked, or whether anyone spilt anything or made a mess. They weren’t forever criticising one another. They seemed to take life as it came, to just get on with it. He knew people weren’t saints. But they seemed to have a different idea of what was important in life, one that made sense to Matthew. Above all, they didn’t worry about appearances, which his own parents set so much store by. Couldn’t they see it wasn’t appearances that mattered, but the person underneath?

  These thoughts didn’t really satisfy Matthew. They weren’t enough to explain this fierce sense of grief at the thought of leaving. His pace had slowed down a bit, and his fury had passed. He was beginning to feel guilty about the way he had left the house. Nevertheless, he kept walking, thinking, thinking about the future. He knew he couldn’t stay behind if his parents went to Perth. They would never allow it. And in any case, he had nowhere to stay. All his relations were down south. He couldn’t really impose himself on No-name’s family, even without his parents’ opposition. Yet Matthew felt certain that, if circumstances were different – if, for instance, his parents abandoned him, or died in an accident – and he asked No-name’s family if he could live with them, they would say yes. Even though he knew that none of this was going to happen, and he wouldn’t really want it to, Matthew took some comfort from the thought.

  The bush was quiet, and yet alive with sounds of insects. As Matthew started to feel calmer, he listened. There was something comforting in hearing nature, oblivious of his problems, carrying on as normal around him. He would have to go to Perth, that he knew. He would have to complete his schooling there. But no one could keep him in Perth forever, no one. Once he had finished school, he would be free. And he would come back. Aloud, he made himself a solemn promise: ‘I’ll come back. Whatever else happens to me, as long as I’m alive, I swear I’ll
come back.’

  Once he had made this decision, Matthew felt calmer. After a while he turned and started to head home. By the time he reached his front door he was ready to apologise to his parents.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry I lost my temper,’ he said. ‘I know I have to go to Perth with you. I don’t want to leave here, but I know if you go I have to. I just wasn’t expecting it so soon.’

  His parents listened without answering, still angry with Matthew for the things he had said. He tried again.

  ‘I didn’t mean that about living with them rather than you,’ he said, not sure he was telling the truth. ‘But I will miss them. Badly,’ he added. Matthew’s father grunted.

  To avoid the risk of further discussion of No-name and her family, which he knew he couldn’t face without losing his temper again, Matthew went to his room. He tried to read but he couldn’t concentrate on the words, and found himself reading the same few lines over and over without making any sense of them. In the end he gave up and lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He felt heavy in his heart. He hadn’t yet had time to accept that he was going to have to leave his beloved north, or to realise fully what that would mean to him. He pictured to himself, one by one, the places he knew, and imagined never seeing them again. He thought about the school, about Nick and his other friends. But the pictures that kept coming into his mind again and again, and twisting his heart, were of No-name, her grandmother, and all the other relations he had now met. They were the people he would miss the most.

  He remembered the first time he had ever seen No-name, as an upside-down face peering at him from the rock overhang. And then standing shyly in front of him, her mouth stretched into a wide smile. He could still see her shapeless figure, her dress hanging down loosely as if she hardly knew she had it on. He saw her again, as he had seen her so many times now, sitting unselfconsciously on the ground, her mind absorbed with gutting a goanna or building a fire.