Season of Hate (22 page)

The cry went up – "The bridge!"

There was a rush of people in its direction. The fire had taken off in the undergrowth as the men were sawing away further up the creek bank. We stayed with Johnny, but you could see in the distance how bad it was. Flames were starting to twist themselves around the bridge timber supports on the creek bank. Several men took off their pyjama tops, drenched them in the creek then wrapped them and then themselves around the supports in a desperate attempt to smother the flames. Others with full buckets just hurled the water in their direction. The men gripping the supports were soaked, but no one cared for it quenched the fire, stopping it from going any further up the bridge and onto the railway tracks themselves. A collective 'yahoo' was let out by those at the bridge, pleased with their efforts.

The fire had spread right to the very edges of the creek, but luckily did not jump it as feared. More trees leading to the bridge continued to be sawn, just in case, but in the end the wheat crop was saved.

Work on the remains of the three houses stretched into the early hours of the morning. By the end the fire was tamed and extinguished. One by one, singed and exhausted people started to pack up and go home while the fire crew stayed on in case of any flare-ups. Some of the able bodied men in the town pledged to help them with the mopping up after a full inspection by Sergeant Farrar in the morning. A few others like Mr Renshaw and his wife, and the Greens, made the effort to thank Johnny.

"That was a selfless act young man. You are welcome in my store at anytime," offered a sheepish Mr Green. Johnny attempted a smile but had to close his eyes. Dad encouraged him to rest and take it easy as the hum of the Flying Doctor's plane could be heard in the distance.

The death of Steve ended the night with a sickening pall over everyone, for everybody knew everybody and to all townsfolk, Steve was, well, just like family. Binda was still crying as she sat down next to a sleeping Johnny and gave him a kiss on the cheek. I introduced her to everyone as Johnny's girlfriend. She blushed as she wiped her tears.

The Flying Doctor landed in the paddock nearby and Johnny was loaded carefully onto a stretcher then lifted into the plane. Mrs Symonds accompanied him. A concerned Miss Kitty waited with Mr Symonds until the plane took off and was out of sight.

In the meantime, the white neighbours who lived across the street from the three burnt out houses, set up their large holiday tent and canvas camp beds in their front yard for Miro and his relatives until the rest of his family returned. Others delivered blankets and assorted clothing to them as they only got out with what they had on their backs. The Richardsons and the Palmers, now both homeless, were to stay with friends and relatives in town. They were inconsolable but at least they had time to get out with most of their furniture, clothes, papers and irreplaceable photographs before losing their homes.

We all started back to our various houses with our buckets and shovels.

"Will he live, Dad?" asked Doug.

"The burns are very bad but I think he'll make a full recovery."

"Mr Wood saved my life tonight," I said, looking up at Dad.

"Bob Wood?" queried Nan, somewhat incredulous.

"How, son?" Dad asked.

"When I was getting the cordial. I was taking a short cut and tripped over a Big Red lying in the long grass behind Mr Wood's place. It stood up, this far away from me," I emphasised with my hands. "There was a whole mob of 'em."

"Was not," Doug interjected.

"Was so. You weren't there."

"Pipe down and let him tell the story," Nan demanded.

"He whacked it with his shovel and it took off. The others followed. Mr Wood made sure I was alright and walked me home then back to the fire. I can't work him out Dad. I told him you said sometimes he acts like a bit of a goose. But he's not that bad once you get to know him." Dad placed his hand on my shoulder as we continued on home in silence. He stopped at the gate of the Wood's house.

"I'll just check how they're going. You two go straight to bed. I'll follow shortly."

"Say 'hello' to Mr Wood for me. And tell him I'm sorry about Steve. And that I said 'thanks'. And that after what he did for me tonight, I don't think he's a goose."

"I will. Now home to bed, the pair of you."

Doug fell quickly asleep, but I was curious to find out what was happening in the Wood house. I quietly pushed open the bedroom window so as not to wake Doug then stepped out onto the jacaranda's branch before treading onto the platform. Quickly I shimmied down the rope ladder and off across the road.

By now the electricity had been restored. Most of the lights in the Wood's house were on. I couldn't risk sneaking up the steps and have a creaking floorboard give me away. Looking around I spotted an old ladder lying at the side of the house. It was heavy but I managed to place it under the lounge room window. I could hear only Dad's and Bob Wood's voices. Careful to keep my head low, I peered through the lace curtains at a distressed Mr Wood standing with a drink in his hand.

"I'm not much of a fuckin' father, I know. But he's all I have. We couldn't have no more," he sobbed. Dad just stood there beside him and let him talk it all out. "He only did it to please me. Dear God what have I fuckin' done?" He fell to his knees, the glass and its contents spilling from his hand. I'd never seen him like this before, broken and unguarded. Dad reached out to him and gently rested his hand on his shoulder.

"Bob, say your 'goodbyes' together, with your wife. She needs you. Then both of you try and get some rest. I'll handle any arrangements for you, if you like."

"No. He's my son. I can look after it," he stated as he stood and stiffened.

"You sure? It's no –"

"We'll be okay." As Dad turned to leave, Mr Wood reached out and shook his hand.

"Thanks. Thanks for everything. And say a 'hello' to Pat from me. He's a good kid."

"He asked me to thank you again for saving his life tonight. My deepest thanks as well, Bob. And also, he says he doesn't think you're a goose." Mr Wood nearly lost it then, but held on as he wiped his eyes with his hand.

"How's the black boy?"

"Johnny. Badly burnt, but he'll be fine – in time. I'll drop back in the morning," Dad reassured softly.

"I can't go in there. I can't," Bob sobbed. Dad gently touched his arm.

"Go to her. You need each other more than ever." Dad moved to leave.

I raced to put the ladder back but waited until Dad was safely mounting our front steps before I scurried across the road, up the jacaranda and quickly to bed.

BANG!

A loud resonating sound louder than any bunger shattered the stillness of the night and lingered in the air. Honey and two other neighbouring dogs started barking. Doug and I both sat straight up in bed.

"Did you hear something?" Doug whispered in the darkness.

"I thought I dreamt –"

"It wasn't a dream. I heard it too – close by." Shortly after that the telephone rang and Dad answered it. We heard him leave quickly through the front door.

"Come on. Quick. Let's see what's happened," Doug directed. We were out the window, down the tree and crouched behind our front fence in seconds.

Lights had come on in some of the neighbouring houses by now as well. At the front gate we looked in both directions. Dad was just outside the Wood's front fence, talking to their neighbour Mrs Grady and some others who had gathered. Sergeant Farrar's car was coming to a stop outside their gate. Dad and he went inside the house and emerged a few moments later holding tightly by the shoulders a distraught Mrs Wood. At the same time, Miss Kitty and Miss Bridget hurried across the road and joined them. Dad and Sergeant Farrar whispered to each other while the sisters and Mrs Grady tried to comfort Mrs Wood. Her arms were flailing about, trying to resist their attempts to calm her. Dad, with the Walshes' agreement, took Mrs Wood back to their place. Sergeant Farrar went back inside the house after thanking Mrs Grady and urging her and everyone milling around to go home.

While Doug and I waited until everyone was inside and the others had dispersed, Raymond came up beside us from over his side fence and put his hand on my shoulder, scaring the shit out of me.

"What's doin'?" he whispered. Doug's quick hand over my mouth stifled my scream.

Once the coast was clear we all crouched down so as not to be seen and slunk through the swinging palings. We kept ourselves as low as we could and scampered across the lawn and under the Walshe house. Their voices were muffled by the lino and barely audible. Mrs Wood was one minute wailing then the next sobbing loudly. This went on for what seemed like minutes before all went quiet. There were footsteps and a door closing, then Dad's voice.

"That'll calm Pam down and help her get some sleep. I'll call back tomorrow." Dad's slippered feet and dressing gown could be seen between the open risers of the wooden front steps as he quickly went down them heading back to the Wood's house.

The three of us shot across the road then down the side of the house once Dad and Sergeant Farrar were both safely inside. Lights were still on in the lounge room and one of the back bedrooms. I pointed out the ladder. Our three pairs of hands lifted it up and placed it silently against the wall near the back bedroom. Doug started to go up it and we pulled him back down.

"We'll toss," I demanded in a whisper, pulling out from my pyjama pocket my lucky halfpenny.

"You two first," Raymond suggested and I seconded. Doug won in our toss then again against Raymond. Up he went. We held the ladder steady after Raymond and I tossed for second. We spoke in whispers.

"What can you see?" Raymond asked after winning our toss.

"There's curtains … hang on …" Doug went quiet.

"What?" I quizzed, while trying to keep my voice down.

"It's Steve's body on the bed, all covered up with a sheet."

"Let me have a look," demanded Raymond, pushing Doug aside for his turn before he'd even reached the bottom rung.

"All the action must be in the lounge room," Raymond indicated as he moved quickly down the ladder. We grabbed it and edged it up to the next window. I pushed my way up between them for my go.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. I felt my guts churn. I thought I was going to vomit. I wanted to scream but no sound would come out. No amount of questions from the others could elicit a single syllable out of me. I was rigid, transfixed with terror. My breath became laboured. Through the lace curtains I could see Mr Wood's body on the floor; the very man who only hours earlier had saved my life. Beside him was a single-barrelled shotgun. Dad was up near his head blocking my view a bit until he moved. He and Sergeant Farrar were talking over the body.

"Oh my God," I finally managed to get out, only to be greeted by Doug and Raymond's strained whispers.

"What, what?" they both pestered. I came back down shaking my head, trying to erase what I had just seen, trembling and unable to speak. Raymond pushed me aside as he scrambled up the ladder.

"Struth! There's blood and guts everywhere – up the walls, over the lounge, even on the ceiling. There's this big pool of blood coming out from under Wood's head," he relayed as he descended.

"Come on, let me see!" demanded Doug a little too loudly as he pushed Raymond aside. "Shit. The back of his head's blown off!" Doug started coming down the ladder at speed. "Sergeant Farrar's comin' over ta the window."

Doug in his haste, slipped on one of the rungs and fell with a thud. Getting to his feet, he vomited in the hydrangeas while Raymond and I quickly grabbed the ladder and placed it on the ground. The three of us then raced and hid behind the dunny.

We could hear Sergeant Farrar walk out onto the back verandah. My heart that had minutes ago been in my throat, now felt as if it would burst through my chest as we crouched like statues, too scared to even breathe.

The Sergeant removed a small torch he wore on his belt and shone it around the yard and up the side before going back inside. We waited until we heard him lock the back door. A few minutes later we peered out from behind the dunny and saw him drive off in his car. I was willing to take the risk of being caught, just to see what Dad was still doing inside.

"Help us with the ladder and hold it steady," I instructed. Once at the top I peered in. Dad was kneeling, eyes closed in prayer, as he held the hand of the now sheet-shrouded body of Bob Wood. He placed the hand down by the side of the body then crossed himself. He held that position for a few moments before getting to his feet. Turning off the main light he slumped exhausted into a lounge chair next to the blood spattered lampshade of the standard lamp. His face and form were lit by its glow in the otherwise now darkened room. His hands were smeared with blood. I watched as he burst into tears then rested his head on the back of the chair. He stayed like that, staring up at the ceiling as he kept vigil.

The enormous tragedy of the scene hit me hard as well. Not only the death of Steve and his father, but the impact of seeing my dad so upset – and me being helpless to do anything about it. It was only Doug's pulling on my pyjama leg that brought my thoughts back to getting out of there and back home before we were missed.

"What's happenin'?" pestered Raymond, shielding his mouth with his hand to muffle his voice.

"What's Dad up to?" followed Doug.

"Oh nothing'," I lied. "Must've gone in to see Steve." Before we left the three of us made a vow that none of us would ever mention our being here to anyone – ever.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," we all repeated before dispersing quickly.

After creeping up the jacaranda and back into bed, Doug whispered to me in the darkness.

"I reckon she shot him after a row," Doug pronounced.

"Or after he'd hit her maybe. That's how poor Steve got all his cuts and bruises, I reckon." But I wasn't fully convinced he had hit her, not after the incident with the Big Red. "I'm goin' to sleep." But I couldn't, at least not straight away. The enormity of the evening's events weighed heavily on me. There was the fire, my heart-stopping encounter with the Big Red, Steve's tragic death and the terrible burns sustained by Johnny, ending in the violent death of Mr Wood and Dad's heart-wrenching reaction to it. They were still all swimming around in my brain. Hours passed as I tossed and turned on restless sheets.

Breakfast was late but over by the time Dad came home. Standing in the kitchen doorway he looked like he'd never slept. His hands were cleansed of any blood but there were traces on his clothes. Nan turned from the sink. She pulled her chenille dressing gown closed over her nightie as she sat down in a chair across from Dad.

"Gwen phoned shortly after that shot. Is what she said true?" Nan asked. He hesitated, as if unsure whether our young ears should hear what he was about to say. He cleared his throat.

"Bob Wood shot himself." Doug and I were speechless.

"Dear God," Nan wailed, crossing herself. Doug and I copied her actions, not knowing what else to do. Dad motioned us over to him before giving both of us a long rib-crushing squeeze and a kiss each on the top of our heads.

"What about Pam? She must be devastated," Nan worried.

"The Walshes have taken her in. She's heavily sedated. I'm going to bed. Let Susan know will you. I'll drop by the surgery 'round lunchtime after I call in on Pam."

Once he'd left for bed, Nan pulled us aside.

"If yer father knew what you were up to last night, oh yes, I know you weren't in ya beds. You wouldn't be able to sit down for days," she whispered.

We were busting to tell our story at school, but kept quiet. We'd all made our pact. Mrs Grady had relayed the shooting around to all her team of gossips by now so the whole town knew already, anyhow. Nan was right as well. If Dad ever found out where we were, he might actually give us the belting he threatened from time to time. If not, there would be one helluva lecture and loss of pocket money – maybe for good we reasoned. Miss Kitty told me later while I practised the piano, that sometime early that morning, the Sergeant relieved Dad at the Wood house. He was joined by Mr Edwards from the funeral parlour, Father Prittenden and later on, some out of town official carrying a briefcase.

Nothing was the same after that. Our world had changed. We'd never witnessed death before. For weeks after I'd wake in a jolting cold sweat, the sound of a shotgun going off in my head. The nightmares were so vivid and in colour. I could see in my mind's eye the blood and tissue splattered interior of that lounge room and the growing pool of blood seeping out from under his head onto the rug. The most disturbing aspect of the dream was that the body I saw wasn't that of Bob Wood – it was Doug's. I felt I couldn't mention it to anyone, for telling might make it come true. I waited and in time the nightmares went away.