Ghost River (23 page)

It was many months later, on an early summer night, when the northerly breeze picked up and a familiar scent filled Ren's bedroom. It was forecast to be warm again the following day and Ren thought about a swim in the river, but with none of the enthusiasm of the summer before, as there was no one around to share it with. After Rory had come out of hospital he decided it would be better for Sonny if they moved away and avoided Foy altogether. They shifted across to the other side of the city. Before they left, Sonny handed Foy's pocketbook to Ren.

‘I want you to keep this for insurance. If that prick Foy gives you a hard time you go to Brixey and show him this. He'll know what to do. And another thing. If my father shows up back here you give him the full inspection before you let him know where we've moved to.'

Rory had organised a van to move the few bits of furniture worth keeping. Ren stood on the street watching as the van was loaded. Sonny helped with the move and was about to get into the passenger seat when he saw Ren standing on his verandah.

‘I'll be seeing you, Ren.'

‘Yeah. When?'

‘When the weather picks up. They don't look like filling that hole in the ground. I'll be back for a swim.'

‘You will?'

‘Course I will,' Sonny answered. He turned away without saying goodbye and got into the van.

Ren walked to the middle of the street and watched until the van had turned the corner and driven away. He walked over to Della's house and stood at the front gate. Some days after the flood the Reverend Beck's body had turned up downriver, shackled to the skeleton tree, his body whipped and beaten. The police had arrived at the house to notify Della and her mother of the news. How the Reverend had ended up in the river during the storm was a mystery and when his death was reported in the papers it was treated as
misadventure
.

Within a matter of weeks Della and her mother moved out of the street. Seeing the stable door ajar, Ren and Sonny had climbed the fence and taken a look inside. The chairs and most of the holy pictures had been left behind. The piano was gone, along with the framed image of Father Jealous Divine and his Virgin White Bride.

Ren bought himself a new camera with a telephoto lens and taught himself to take photographs. Some weren't so good, but as he slowly came to understand the camera he took some that were almost as beautiful as the picture of the bird he'd once stuck on the back of his bedroom door. Every chance he got he headed for the water with his camera, making pictures and remembering the stories of the river, some that he'd first heard from Tex and others he'd made up himself. It soon became difficult for him to distinguish the truth from the wild imaginings of both a young boy and an old man.

It surprised Ren that the story he remembered most clearly was not one of his own, or a tale told by Tex. It was a story Tallboy Garrett had entertained him and Sonny with on one of the first nights they sat around their campfire with the river men. They were all there that night, Tex, Big Tiny Watkins, Cold Can and the Doc.

‘I got a beauty for ya,' Tallboy announced, before standing to his feet and clearing his throat. ‘There was this one time, way back, and I was working with this trapper fella along the river. Not here.' He waved. ‘Further up there is another place with the ferrets, giving them fucken rabbits a hell of a time. The ferret, he's boss of the bunny, but he has his own enemy. He's got to defend himself from them old cats along here. Them cats, once they got the blood in the nostrils they would take out a team of ferrets in a morning's work.'

‘You sure of that?' Big Tiny interrupted.

‘Yeah, I
is
fucken sure.' Tallboy scowled.

‘They bring down a hunting dog if they was in the mood, a pair of cats working together, of course. I'm working with this old boy that day, Hector, and we catched a cat in one of them traps we set up round the rabbit holes. A big old Tom that come bolting out the burrow into the cage. That boy had fangs like a sabre-tooth and nuts big as bowling balls.

‘Hector, he hooks a snare round the Tom's neck. The Tom growled and spat. He was angry and would have went us if he got himself free. Hector is hanging the cat by his neck and drops him in a sack with a decent old stone. He ties it up with wire and throws the sack into the water. A splash and the sack went down.

‘I says to him,
What are we doing, Hec?

‘W
aiting.

‘
For what?

‘
See in good time.

‘So we waited. Then we waited some more. I spot some bubbles in the water and the old Tom bobs up. He swims to the bank, sneaks into the scrub, giving us the
fuck you boys
with a snarl and a spit as he goes.'

After Tallboy had finished the story he sat down by the fire next to Ren.

‘That story,' Ren asked, ‘does it mean something? Or is it just a good story?'

‘It means plenty. You find yourself down at the bottom of the river, for some it's time to give in to her. But other times, young fellas like you two, you got to fight your way back. Show the river you got courage and is ready to live. She needs to see that. Or she'll take you. That's the most important story of all.'

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This book was made by a Gang of Four – myself; my publisher, Madonna Duffy; my editor, Jacqueline Blanchard; and designer, Josh Durham. So, firstly let me thank my co-conspirators. I also want to thank my family; mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters and the generations we make. My children, Erin, Siobhan, Drew, Grace and Nina never leave my side. Each word is for you – always. To Sara and Ella – I love you both, but please make some room in the bed. To my half-time philosopher and friend, Chris Healy, I appreciate all the advice, good and bad. To my dear friend Danny Ward, ten years ago I promised you a river story – we did it, mate. And finally, when I want to feel her love I return to the Yarra River, to her heartbeat, and know it has been worth the wait.

First published 2015 by University of Queensland Press

PO Box 6042, St Lucia, Queensland 4067 Australia

www.uqp.com.au

[email protected]

© Tony Birch

This book is copyright. Except for private study, research,

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no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system

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written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.

Cover design and photograph by Josh Durham (Design by Committee)

Typeset in 12/17 pt Bembo by Post Pre-press Group, Brisbane

Printed in Australia by McPherson's Printing Group, Melbourne

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at
http://catalogue.nla.gov.au

ISBN

978 0 7022 5377 5 (pbk)

978 0 7022 5569 4 (epdf)

978 0 7022 5570 0 (epub)

978 0 7022 5571 7 (Kindle)

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