Goodbye Lullaby. Jan Murray
Bernie indicated the already extinguished camp fire, another excuse to get Miki alone. ‘I could stay, y’know?’ she whispered out of the corner of her mouth as she kicked at the dead embers.
Miki felt tears coming on.
‘Go south with you for a few days … till this business blows over?’ insisted Bernie.
‘I’ll be all right, I promise.’
‘I’m thinking you mightn’t be all that right, sister. You’re not in great shape, y’know. Those bloody emotions of yours are all over the place.’ Bernie tapped Miki's forehead. ‘You’re stewin'.’
‘I’m angry.’
‘Same bloody thing.’
‘Don’t worry about me. That’s an order.’
‘Of course I bloody worry about you, girl. Of course I bloody do! What do you reckon? Have y’got a bloody mother to do it? No. Y’got me. So belt up!’
Miki knew their closeness worked both ways. Bernie was half right; she had no mother. But Miki helped fill an aching hole for Bernie, too. A surrogate daughter, probably, she reasoned as she felt Bernie’s sad eyes fixed on her.
They were both on the brink of tears. Bernie reached out to her. 'Come here, girl.'
Miki put her cheek near Bernie’s and felt the other woman’s tears joining her own. The aching, the longing, it never goes away, she thought. Bernie just puts on a better front, that’s all. Bernie’s braver, much braver.
They clung together, ignoring those around them until, finally, she looked across at Jimmy and saw his hang-dog look.
These partings also upset Jimmy, she knew, but she also knew that Jimmy would just as soon stand in a corner and give himself six hard uppercuts than let anyone think he was up for a bit of affection from a sheila! He stood with one foot on his running board, holding the driver’s door open and feigning impatience with the two women.
Miki forced him to let go of the door handle, insisting on a farewell hug. The old digger might pretend to be embarrassed but she knew he expected a show of affection at times like these. In their business, camaraderie was a given but it didn’t hurt to seal it with a big, friendly clinch.
‘Bye, Jimmy. Keep your head down, mate. Look after yourself.’ She planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek to go with the hug––one he ostentatiously wiped away with the back of his hand. She looked over her shoulder. ‘And her,’ she added. ‘Look after your old lady when you get back, Jimmy. She’s precious.’
She moved to the back of the truck, to where her escapees were settling in among their camouflage, the youths she was surrendering.
Holding James Richardson young face between the palms of her hands, she planted a kiss on his forehead. 'We made it. Who'd have thought, hey?' She looked into his eyes for several more seconds then hugged him to her chest. ‘Your mum would be so proud of you, Jamie,’ she whispered. 'God bless.'
He nodded slowly and blinked away his tears.
She moved on to her next charge. Taking Giant’s gaunt and bearded face between her hands, she planted a kiss on his receding forehead. ‘Goodbye, Robert.’ She produced a small paperback from her hip pocket and handed it to him. It was another Kerouac, her own much-rubricated copy of On the Road. ‘Keep the faith, comrade.’ She smiled at the serious young man, ruffling what was left of his hair before she moved up to where The Force was busy trying to avoid her.
He looked contrite. She pulled his face towards her and planted her motherly kiss on his forehead. ‘You be kind to the girls up there, okay David, you bad boy?’
She looked into three sets of hopeful, defiant young eyes and tried to fathom all kinds of things she couldn’t name. ‘Live well, kids. Have a good life.’ She stepped back from the truck, turning before they could see her tears.
Bernie tied down the last of the ropes and climbed aboard, her elbow resting on the window.
Jimmy started up his engine and threw the Bedford into reverse.
Miki stood, hands in her shorts pockets, watching them drive off.
‘Peace!’ A loud farewell from the youths, accompanied by the zeitgeist’s salute.
‘Peace,’ she whispered.
She watched the Bedford make its way between the bushes, turn the bend in the track and disappear. Where would life take these young men, she wondered. The only thing she knew for certain was that she felt vindicated in having done her small part in helping them find their way there, wherever it was.
God help the others, she thought as she climbed into her own vehicle and threw it into gear.
It was a long way home.
~~~
It was her second day on the road; Long, lonely days. Endless miles down an empty highway. Red earth country. A parched landscape. Anthills and spinefex grass. An uncanny stillness broken only by a sudden squawk of cockatoos off in the distance. A chorus of cicadas. A dog day afternoon. A day to induce ennui.
Coming into a township an hour or so ago she had passed a school where students were playing sport, supervised by a group of nuns. One young nun had her habit tucked up and was running with a hockey stick but it was the two teenage girls down by the fence, away from the others that captured her attention. Driving past, she wondered if those two would still be friends years from now.
Speeding towards her, a car. A black one. It passes and in its tail wind comes the realisation she has been driving on auto pilot.
She surfaces into the present.
Looming up ahead is the familiar old one-pump service station and garden cafe; no more than a wooden table and bench beneath a lonely mulga tree. Stuck out in the middle of nowhere, but doing a valiant job of creating a welcome pit-stop for the weary traveler, thought Miki as she eased back on the throttle and turned into the yard, bumping over broken bitumen until she came to a stop at the faded pre-war pump.
‘Thanks for the welcome, old sport,’ she called out to the yelping blue cattle dog. Old Blue had been lazing under the veranda before hearing the approaching vehicle. Comatose, like everyone else in this heat, thought Miki.
The first time she called in here the dog had almost taken her leg off. Now they were buddies and the mutt was spinning around in paroxysms of delight, stopping only long enough after every tight rotation to cock a leg on each of the Jeep’s wheels. She had a mango for him. It was always the way. Each time she passed, going north or south, she and Old Blue renewed their acquaintance with these small offerings of friendship; dog piss and mangoes.
Miki smiled as the dog gave a grateful bark and snaveled the mango from her hand and wagging his tail, trotted back to his dusty hole under the house to savour the gift.
The screen door on the fibro cottage flew open and a heavily pregnant woman came waddling down the veranda steps, followed by a toddler.
She flung her arms out to greet the little boy, disappointed when he hung back behind his mother’s skirt.
‘The only thing he’s going to hug right now is his bottle. He’s just woke up and a bit of a sook,’ the mother said. 'Aren't you, baby? A sookie boy. You say hello to Miki. Go on.'
Reaching into the back of the Jeep, Miki retrieved a small black and white panda and handed it to the child, trying not to show her hurt when the toddler rejected the gift with a determined shake of his head, and sliding further behind his mother’s skirt. Embarrassed, the young woman thanked Miki with a smile and squatted down awkwardly, attempting to interest the boy in the panda. When both women looked up they saw the husband standing on the steps of the cottage. Miki helped the pregnant woman back on her feet.
The solidly built man zipped up the last inch of his fly and ran a