Dean Mayes [Mayes - Gifts of the Peramangk

Central Avenue Publishing Edition

Copyright 2012 Dean Mayes

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This edition is published by arrangement with Dean Mayes

centralavenuepublishing.com

First electronic edition

Created and distributed by Central Avenue Publishing a division of Central Avenue Marketing Ltd.

GIFTS OF THE PERAMANGK

ISBN 978-1-926760-81-0

Published in Canada with international distribution.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design: Michelle Halket

Cover Photography: Copyright Courtesy of Anne Akiko-Meyers Photographed by Lisa Mazzucco

Prayer Of The Children lyrics reproduced with the kind permission of Kurt Bestor

In the Adelaide Hills of South Australia lies a triangular wedge of countryside extending from the Barossa Valley in the North to the Southern reaches of the Fleurieu Peninsula. These are the lands of the Peramangk nation and the home of the Peramangk Aborigines - a tribe steeped in a unique culture and held with a mystical reverence.

Aboriginal & Torres Strait Islanders are advised that the following story contains depictions of people who have died.

For Simon...

Gifts of the Peramangk

Chapter 1

1951

Golden beams of a mid afternoon sun knifed down through the canopy of a weeping willow, whose leafy fingers swayed back and forth above a water hole. Silent explosions of light danced across the sunlit water like glittering fairies until they disappeared on the craggy shore.

This simple ballet regenerated itself, sustaining a hypnotic dance of light and movement which was reflected in the eyes of a child that sat on the bank of the water hole, just forward of the main trunk of the willow tree. Transfixed by the beautiful dance, she tilted her head, allowing the light show to carry her imagination away.

The girl was slight, rake thin, with shining, raven black hair and coffee brown skin. She blinked as the sunlight dazzled her vision and the shimmering light danced across her powdery skin, her flawless cheeks.

She wore a simple cream coloured dress with a lilac flower print. The contrast with her skin was as incongruous as it was pretty. She sat hunched forward slightly, her sinewy legs outstretched, her bare feet exposed to a pocket of sunlight that peeped through the canopy of the willow. Her soles were uncharacteristically tough and leathery in comparison to the rest of her skinthe result of rarely wearing any form of footwear. Not that she was in any way aware of this at her age. For Virginia was only eight years old.

SPLASH.

Virginias eloquent reverie was suddenly and abruptly broken when somethingor someonehit the water in front of her like a bomb, throwing up glittering cascades of water that drenched not only Virginia, but two of her companions who had been lying beside her, sunning themselves.

Bloody hell! Virginia squeaked, as a similarly lithe and dark young figure erupted from the water wearing a huge grin. Youre a menace, Bobby!

Virginia stood up, arms outstretched, her dress soaked as the shock of the cool water dissipated but was replaced by the awkward feeling of wet clothing stuck to her skin.

She cursed under her breath, inadvertently inhaling some of the water that had splashed across her face. She coughed and spluttered for several moments, wiping furiously at her face.

Virginia had had enough fun in the water for today. Having only recently recovered from a prolonged bout of bronchitis, she had been swimming, jumping and playing in the cool water for the better part of the morningwhen the suns warmth was at its peak. Virginia was exhausted now and thus was happy to relax on the shore and watch the others frolic in the water, swing off the rope and tyre swing that hung from one of the boughs of the willow and sun themselves on the shore.

Stifling her cough, Virginia maintained her steely grimace a moment longer before her facade cracked. Bobby flashed a broad, cheeky smile and she returned it in kind. He then flipped himself into an effortless duck dive and disappeared below the surface. Virginia shook her head then balled her fist to her chest.

There were seven of them in all, a mixture of Aboriginal and Caucasian children: four girlsthree of whom sat on the shore, including Virginia, and one in the waterand three boys. They ranged in age from six to thirteen years old. They were as close a group of friends as one could find. The children lived a carefree existence in the Adelaide Hills of South Australia, revelling in the temperate climate of the ubiquitous Australian bush and the rolling green pastures that were defining features of their homeland.

It was an uncharacteristically warm autumn Saturday. The unexpected, extended summer weather gave the children plenty of extra lazy days by the waterhole, their favourite place in the whole world. The boys had built a ramshackle fort here, from pieces of discarded iron and timber that lay nearby. The rope swing that hung out over the water within easy reach was a particularly proud achievement for Bobby who had managed to procure the rope after several failed attempts.

As Bobby surfaced several feet away from where he had executed his dive, Virginia sat down once more, crossing her legs in one effortless motion as she smoothed out her dress before her.

Her companions, who were tying an impressive length of daisy chain, admired her summer dress silently. One of the girls quickly reached out with her hand to billow out the material behind Virginia, to prevent it from crumpling underneath her as she plonked down on the ground.

Your mums done such a good job with that dress, one of the girls remarked languidly as Virginia picked up the length of daisy chain before her and assessed her handiwork.

She smiled bashfully, glancing at her friend, Lucy, beside her.

Mum is a good seamstress. Mrs. Stinson gave her this material months ago and Mum has been working on it, little by little ever since. Mrs. Stinson is good to us.

The Mrs. Stinson Virginia referred to owned the haberdashery in Totness main street and employed Virginias mother there as a shop assistant and seamstress. Her mothers work was, in fact, quite well regarded throughout the district.

Has your father seen it yet? Have you sent him a photograph?

Virginia bowed her head and shook it meekly.

We dont know if he got the parcel Mum sent yet, she responded quietly, glancing sideways at her second companion, a slightly chubby Caucasian girl named Rita, on the bank. We sent him photographs weeks ago but we havent heard anything.

Is your mum worried? I heard the men in the pub talking the other day, saying that lots of soldiers are getting hurt in Karea .

Rita reached around behind Virginia and poked Lucy in the ribs, causing the younger girl to jump where she sat.

Its Korea! she scolded disapprovingly. And dont be so nosey.

Virginias eyes glazed for just a momentbut it was enough of a moment for the girls to notice that she was worlds away from them. Rita gently placed a hand on Virginias shoulder and smiled.

Dont worry, Ginnie. Hell be alright. Hes a big fella and he knows how to look after himself.

Virginia looked at Rita and managed a wan half smile in return.

I miss him, she said simply, pausing to stifle another coughing fit from the residual water she had inhaled earlier. Mum really misses him. Its been weeks since weve heard anything. Sometimes I hear her crying at night. I wish he would come home.