PREAMBLE

This is a novel. Except for those mentioned in my introduction, all characters portrayed here are of my invention.

It is true that Jim Bowler, a geologist working in the Willandra lakes area came upon the chance finding of the most ancient evidence of human cremation ever found. The female remains he had found were in five hundred skeletal pieces. Miraculously, three vertebra were still intact. After more intensive searching less than three hundred metres away, the remains of a man were also found. Scientific carbon dating placed both bodies as persons existing at the same time. I invented my story of the young lovers Yabbra and Kirra based on these facts.

The account of the police involvement and inquest involving my character, Ralph, is also true. It happened to Mr Eddie Murray. I received permission from Eddie's father, Mr Arthur Murray, to use the factual accounts concerning his son's death in this book.

My year-long story of Dundiwuy is also based on a true story. Fifteen years ago I had many reasons to visit the Australian Film Commission (AFC) in North Sydney. The Aboriginal Artist's Agency had offices in a renovated house very near the AFC, so, just as often, I would drop in for coffee and chat with my friends there. One particular afternoon we were sitting in the backyard and laughing at the story of this young fellow from the Northern Territory. I realised then that his would make a wonderful story. Ten years later I tried to find out who the man was — I wanted to interview him to get his story, first hand. But, incredibly, the people who I laughed with that day didn't remember who he might have been. So, I re-invented the man and his story, calling him Dundiwuy, expanding the original story for use here.

Coonabarabran, Burra-Bee-Dee and Gunnedah Hill are also real; both sides of my family are from there. I recently visited several exciting new archaeological finds (inhabited caves and painted ceremonial rock faces) safely hidden away near Coonabarabran, in the Warrumbungle Mountains, where my ancestors left an orderly record of their existence. Scientists using the Radiocarbon-14 method to date the numerous artifacts found at this important site, confirmed they existed around twenty thousand years Before the Present (BP); fifteen thousand years before construction of the ancient pyramids of Egypt had commenced.

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DREAM ONE:

RALPH

1

Coonabarabran, Australia — 1950

Ralph Whatton said you didn't have to wait long before something really bad happened in his family.

Ralph fought his way home from school every day, or so it seemed. If he wasn’t getting bashed by white kids they would be black ones. He attended Coonabarabran infants school which was next to the primary school where the bigger kids went. He had brothers, sisters and cousins in the primary school who, more often than not, dragged him off some sorry sod who had chanced to take him on. If Ralph wasn’t doing too well they'd leave him to fight his own way out of trouble. It was as though they cared more about the sorry sods than they did about him. They told him they were actually giving him a chance to come good, to win. But when he was really in trouble his older sisters would run to his rescue and break it up.

Ralph was from a large family of eight children: five boys and three girls. Not counting the one who died at birth, he was number six in order of arrival, one of the younger ones.

His father, Bert, was on unemployment welfare. There were no jobs in the area. They lived in a very depressed part of the state, this was especially so if you were an Abo. Bert fixed cars, trapped and sold rabbits, raised free-range chooks (which he killed, dressed and raffled on Saturday afternoons at the local pubs). For his own dinner table he hunted wild meat — emu and kangaroo — which he put through the mincer. And he'd read your tea cup for two bob.

Ralph doted on his father. He helped him with the sad-looking cars he'd take on to fix, consequently he learned to drive when he was young. His dad would only allow him to drive on public roads at night, and only then because he wanted him to chauffeur him and his mates home from the pub. But most times Ralph drove on the bush trails which criss-crossed the open plains and fenced paddocks. The main problem was cost: he used more than his share of petrol with his joy riding.

Late one night, when Ralph was seven, the police were at the front door of their house on Gunnedah Hill. His father had bounded out of bed in answer to their loud knocking. Ralph came to his bedroom door and crouched low peering around the corner so he could see and hear.

The young cop spoke softly. ‘No mistake Bert, it was your boy alright — we both saw him. He actually drove pretty well, but Jesus mate, how old is he? six or seven... too young that’s for sure. Don’t you reckon?’

‘Yeah, s’pose so,’ Bert said, reluctant to agree.

The older cop was much louder and angrier. ‘Listen, you lot had better take reign of your bloody kids. I fuckin’ mean it! If we see him roaring up and down the street again then it’s you we’re gonna come and get! Understand?’

‘Yeah right!’ Bert replied, he was angry now too. ‘You boys finished now, I want to get back to bed?’

‘Yeah, we’re finished,’ the younger one said.

Before now could turn Bert closed the door.

Ralph could hear the cops muttering to each other as they walked back to their car. He couldn't understand exactly what was being said but they were not happy. The police car gave out a wrathful roar; skidding on loose gravel, it accelerated down the steep bush track which connected Gunnedah Hill to the Oxley Highway.

‘That fuckin’ kid’s gonna get me put behind bars!’

Ralph winced as his father shouted at the ceiling.

‘Who taught him to drive Bert?’ Ruby asked sarcastically. She always sprang to the defence of her children, even if they were in the wrong. Ruby's ancestors came to this area from the Willandra Lakes district hundreds of years ago, they were Bindjara people.

Ralph went back to the bedroom window, through which he had just climbed, and closed it, sealing out the cool night air. He thought the police might have seen him; he'd seen them in his rear view mirror. Then in the middle of his thoughts, thwack! His older brother belted him on the back of the head.

‘We’re all gonna get it from those cops now because of you. You little bastard,’ Bruce said.

‘Yeah, you little shithead!’ Roger his oldest brother joined in. He took a swipe at the back of his head too.

Then they all started yelling at him; he shared his room with four brothers. The commotion was such that it caused his father to come to restore order.

Storming in, he switched on the light and shouted. ‘Shut up!... and get to bed!... all of you!’

Everyone fell into beds and grappled for covers, the room quietening immediately. Bert switched the light off and stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips. He was a big man and his massive silhouette almost filled the opening.

‘Jesus!... I really don’t know about you lot,' he said closing the door and shaking his head. ‘I just don’t know.’

The next day, the asphalt of the Oxley Highway felt cold under Ralph’s bare feet. He had been sent to the shop by his mother, she needed three loaves of bread. He groaned, squirmed and faked some tears but couldn't worm out of it this time. God, he thought, mum can pick the worse time, he was right in the middle of a deadly game of marbles, he was winning against his older brothers.

Ralph thought his brothers never did enough around the house, never shopped or did anything for the family; the girls and he did everything, but mainly it was the girls.

After crossing the white, wooden bridge which spanned the steep slopes of the Castlereagh river, Ralph saw a large leather handbag. He looked about and could see no one. He scooped the bag up without missing a stride, skipped down the river bank and rolled under the bridge to investigate his find. It was a woman’s handbag alright, filled with lip stick, a powder pack, a frilly handkerchief and a small purse. He nervously fingered the clasp of the small, leather purse, his heart leaped its way into his neck.

'God!' he said out loud. He was sure he'd heard a fanfare of trumpets as he opened the clasp. It was full of money; green bank notes hurriedly stuffed in. He counted them: five single pound notes, a ten shillings note and three shilling coins. He was rich!

He slid down the river bank and began to dig a hole in the soil near the river’s edge. The ground was hard so it took him quite a while to dig the smallest of holes. He panicked; he thought someone would soon come along, see him, and wonder what he was doing down there. He abandoned the hole, gathering some stones he shoved them in the handbag. With a grunt, he threw the bag into the slow flowing river then ran up the hill to continue the errand for his mother.

As he neared the town, Ralph suspected everyone could see he was walking differently; his exuberance was hard to contain. He was rich! Luckily for him there weren't many people in town that day but he did notice his brother, Bruce, leaning against a shop wall laughing with a friend.

When Bruce saw his brother; he couldn't help but notice his bouncy gait and he saw he wasn't able to hold his mouth right. To him there was a secret behind those tight lips. He stepped away from his friend and called to Ralph.

'Ralphie, where you going? Come 'ere,' he said.

'No, I'm in a hurry.' Ralph kept walking. Now Bruce knew for certain something was up; he ran beside him and grabbed him by the arm.

'You going on a message for mum?'

'Yeah.'

'Whatcha gonna buy?'

'Nothing,' Ralph became worried. 'I'm not buying nothing.'

'Why have you got your hand pushed down deep into your pocket for?'

Ralph immediately pulled his hand out of his pocket.

'You've got something in there. You're worried about losing it. What is it?' Bruce came threateningly close. He was older and bigger than Ralph, he was eleven, Ralph was seven: Bruce towered above him. He gave only one gentle shove and Ralph caved in and decided to share his fortune. Out of all his siblings he liked Bruce best anyway so it wasn't so bad.

'Okay, but you can't tell anyone... right?' Ralph whispered, he'd changed his tone.

'Right,' Bruce said softly, he had changed his tone too. 'What's up?'

'I found some money.'

Bruce looked about, his face filled with guilt. He hated how his face flushed when he was caught out. He leaned down to his brother's ear and asked: 'How much?'

'Nearly six pounds.'

'Jesus! — we're rich,' he said and his face became even redder. 'What do you want to do with it?'

'I haven't made my mind up yet, but I thought I'd start off with a meal at the Deluxe.'

It may have seemed a simple thing to most people but Ralph had never eaten in a café or restaurant; this is what he wanted from his new found wealth more than anything. It was a dream, a goal he had set for himself.

'If you want to come with me, you can't ever tell anyone ever, okay?'

'Okay, no worries.' Bruce smiled. Looking down at his little brother he saw a new person emerging.

2

The Deluxe Café had been designed and built in 1933; even though most of the world had enjoyed and passed on from the dynamic art deco design, Coonabarabran had not. Many of the residents still thought it thoroughly modern. At meal times, it was usually filled to capacity.

The two brothers walked meekly into the huge eating hall, past the bar with rotating, round stools in front of it. Behind the counter, on the wall, there was a long, decorative, cut-glass mirror for customers to look into. They had decided to sit at a booth so they stood for a short while, deciding which one would be best. Their whispers soon gained in volume, becoming loud prattle between clenched teeth: they could not agree.

'It's my money!' Ralph said finally — Bruce could not argue with that.

He moved ahead of his older brother and slid along a seat at a booth where he could look down the length of the hall-like room to the café entrance. Bruce sat opposite him so he would not have to face the world, a strategy he was pleased to adopt. He was still in the early phase of guilt.

Rhonda Hawkins, the thin, red-haired waitress proudly paraded up and down the hall dressed in her pink uniform; she had sensible black shoes on her feet, like those worn by school children. Rhonda smiled at the boys and walked up to the Italian manager, who was busy at the counter. They spoke out of the sides of their mouths then she picked up two menus and came toward the Whatton boys.

'Hello boys do you want drinks?... or are you eating here today?' she asked, staring into Bruce's face, demanding an answer.

'Do you want something to eat?' he asked his younger brother.

'Yeah.

'Well what do you want?' he asked nervously.

'I don't know?'

'Well, have a look at the menus and I'll come back in a minute when you've had a chance to read them,' Rhonda suggested tactfully.

Ralph thought Rhonda was wonderful. He marvelled at how she dealt with the situation. So began a lifetime infatuation that was rekindled every time he saw her.

'I'll have a mixed grill,' Ralph said. He was ready for Rhonda when he saw her coming back to the booth. He read on the menu that it consisted of just about every kind of meat and every kind of vegetable you could think of.

Bruce was impressed. 'Me too,' he said.

'You're easy. Two mixed grills. Anything to drink?'

The boys looked at each other.

    'Coke for me,' Bruce said.

'Me too,' Ralph added quickly.

'And two cokes,' she said as she wrote slowly and deliberately on her small pad. 'Thank you boys.' She collected the menus and her pink dress swished as she walked away.

In no time, Rhonda returned with serviettes and cutlery. By the time she came with the meal, Ralph was convinced he was captured on celluloid, in a movie sequence. It took them a long time to eat the mixed grill; combined with the Coke's fizzy gas, their small stomachs had become bloated.

As they burped and laughed on their way home along the main road — carrying three loaves of bread — they were oblivious to the fact that Rhonda had just reported them to the police. She had seen the bundle of notes Ralph pulled bashfully from his pocket when he paid his bill: kids of his age in Coonabarabran never had that kind of disposable income, especially black kids.

The old cop and the young skinny one arrived at Ralph's house about ten minutes after he and Bruce had. It was Bert who answered the loud banging on their door.

'What is it this time?' he sighed.

'We need to talk to two of your boys Bert,' the young one said.

'Which two?'

The young cop looked at his pad. 'Bruce and Ralph.'

'What do you want to talk to them about?' Ruby said as she joined Bert at the door.

'Just bring them here. You can listen while we talk to them,' the older one was impatient.

'Bruce, Ralph come here!' Bert called. The boys knew their secret was out. They walked slowly to their father's side.

'Yeah dad,' Bruce said.

'These policemen want to ask you some questions. Okay?'

'Okay,' they answered together.

'Where'd you get the money boys?'

Bruce decided to dig in. 'What money?'

'The money you spent on the mixed grill at the Deluxe Café,' the old one said.

'And the money you've still got in your pockets,' the young cop added.

'Come on, empty them out,' Ruby said.

The boys knew they'd had it.

'I haven't got any money,' Bruce said hurtfully, knowing he was in the clear.

Ralph pulled the money from his pocket then erupted in tears. Pleading to his mother he confessed. 'I found a purse, Mum. Down near the bridge. Honest, I didn't pinch it Mum, I found it.'

'That's good enough for me. You heard them they found it,' Ruby said. Her mother's instinct had come to the fore again.

'It's not that simple Mrs Whatton, we've got a complaint that a handbag containing money was stolen and your boy admits he took money from a hand bag.'

Bert scoffed. 'Yeah, but he found it.'

'That's bullshit and you know it Bert!' the old cop blurted.

'No, I don't know it's bullshit and neither do you,' Bert said, stretching to his full height.

'Listen, come out here and talk. I've got an idea,' the young cop said. The two policemen and the parents went out of the boys' earshot. The conversation was animated; Ralph strained unsuccessfully to hear what they were saying. Soon they came back nodding their agreement.

'Well boys, I'm sorry,' Bert said sheepishly, '... we can't help you this time.'

Both boys looked to their mother. She shook her head, her eyes welled with tears.

'You'd better come with us lads,' the older policeman said as he stepped forward.

'I didn't pinch nothing,' Bruce said as he was grabbed him by the arm and led them to the car.

'Sure that's right son,' the young cop said. 'We meet fellas who say that everyday. We're used to it.' He slammed the door very hard behind him.

'Mum?' Ralph pleaded looking back at his mother standing at the door. She folded her arms and leaned against the door jamb as the car wheels threw dust in the air and sped down the trail.

Inside the car the mood was sombre and silent when they finally came to the Oxley Highway, the sealed section of road that led to town. Then the younger cop who was driving leaned over his shoulder and spoke slowly out of the side of his mouth.

'Okay you can tell us now, where exactly did you get the money to pay for the mixed grills?'

'I found it,' Ralph blurted out.

'Where did you find it?'

'Near the bridge in town,'

'Which side of the bridge?'

'The other side, near town.'

'What did you do with the bag?' the older cop asked.

'I put some stones in it and threw it in the water,' Ralph said without hesitation. The two cops looked at each other.

'Want to take a look?' the younger man said.

'Why not?'

The car stopped beside the road on the gravel about fifty metres past the wooden bridge. Everyone piled out and walked down the river bank.

'Who's going in? because I'm not,' the old cop declared, laughing.

'I will, I know where it is, I threw it in,' Ralph volunteered with some pride. He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt but no shoes; he pulled the T-shirt over his head and waded into the slow flowing stream. 'It's over this way,' he said and pointed.

The policemen stood with their hands on their hips while Bruce sat on the grass with his legs crossed. Onlookers stared curiously at the scene as they passed in their cars. Bruce wouldn't look up, hanging his head in shame.

Several minutes had gone by when Ralph smiled and dived under the water. He resurfaced with the stone-filled handbag tightly in his grasp.

'I've got it!' he called out triumphantly, water streaming down his face. 'I've got it!'

Bruce punched the air and yelled, 'You beauty! Now do you believe us?'

'It proves you actually did have a handbag from which you took money that didn't belong to you.' The older cop was smirking. 'Let's go,' he said, gesturing to the boys and they all walked back to the car.

As the car pulled up in front of the police station the policemen took on a different attitude.

'Okay boys out of the car,' the younger one said.

They were roughly pushed up the stairs that led to the reception area and through the swinging gate which connected the room to the hallway of cells. The older cop pulled keys from a rack as he went.

'One in here,' he said pointing. The boys hesitated. 'Come on, I don't care which one.'

Bruce stepped forward and walked bravely into the cell. The cop closed the steel door deliberately hard, causing the crashing metal sound to resonate in their ears. To Bruce in the tiny cell, the sound was deafening.

Ralph was next. He was pushed in his cell also and the door was again slammed firmly. But Ralph was ready, he plugged his fingers into his ears before the door was shut.

Hours passed. It was cold and dank in the cells and it smelled of urine and unscented soap. Ralph's eyes were hurting and he'd long since tired of crying. He hammered and punched the walls with his fists until they hurt then he called out through the door.

'Dad!' he called. 'Dad! Where are you Dad?

The lights were switched on at the jailhouse just a few minutes before Ralph's door was opened and he was reunited with his brother. Together they were ushered into the front lobby. As they entered, Ralph noticed his father was at the reception desk signing a collection of papers.

'Dad,' he said smiling.

'Shut up!' his father was firm. 'Just shut up.' He stayed bent over the papers on the desk.

'I hope you boys have learned your lesson here today,' the older cop said. 'We've given you the benefit of the doubt and your dad has agreed to pay back the money you spent. Now piss off out of here. I don't want to see you back here ever again.' Holding them by the shoulders, the cop kicked both boys solidly in the backside.

3

Two years had passed when Ralph's dad made the announcement that their city cousins were coming to visit during the Christmas holidays. Everyone was expected to help get the house in readiness. Furniture had to be moved, overdue repairs to the roof done, walls and stove cleaned. A new toilet hole was dug out the back, and Ralph helped his dad relocate the shell — which was the toilet walls with a flat roof — over the new hole. Ralph simply refused to help do anything near the previous toilet hole.

The hotter weather was on them and everyone visibly slowed. Every year Ralph heard his father say: 'You'll never get anywhere out here if you battle that summer sun. The old black men know. The white men are learning, those that listen to us, that is.'

Then one night over dinner, Ralph's father announced that the train bringing their cousins from Sydney would arrive the next day. Ruby asked Ralph if he would like come to town with them to help carry their bags; and he said he would. Ralph liked the idea that his mother thought him strong enough to help.

The tired-looking, '36' Class, steam locomotive slowed and shunted jerkily to a stop at Coonabarabran station in the early night, twenty minutes later than scheduled. Ralph surprised himself that he was excited by the spectacle. Then, as numerous passengers came walking by, he immediately picked out Lottie — his beautiful young cousin — from the crowd.

Lottie: he would know her anywhere, pick her out anywhere, even though they'd never met. She was five years old and was dressed in a long, maroon frock that splayed out with frills on the hem as well as on the cuffs of the sleeves. She wore a light blue ribbon in her long hair.

She smiled at him. He shuffled his feet and gave his best smile back.