This is story 3 in the North Queensland trilogy
“Vance?...Vance? Are you with us or out the window somewhere?”
Vance snapped out of his day dream. “No Miss. Just thinking.” His classmates laughed and he felt his cheeks redden. In fact he’d been staring at the girl between him and the window. Zoe. Her long black hair, striking profile, and the silky dark skin set off by her white linen sleeveless top. The prettiest girl in North Queensland, he thought, maybe the whole of Oztralia, at least if he was the judge.
A previous set of stories was published in 2012 in a book entitled After Oil: SF Visions of a Post-Petroleum World, available from Amazon (Amazon) or in Australia from Fishpond (Fishpond).
[Also see my new story: Beijing Private Eyes - A foreign teacher in Beijing meets an unexpected and attractive visitor in need of assistance. He offers to help and things begin to get complicated.
Read Beijing Private Eyes - Part 1 Arrival here ]
Heart of Glass
By Matthew Griffiths
“Vance?...Vance? Are you with us or out the window somewhere?”
Vance snapped out of his day dream. “No Miss. Just thinking.” His
classmates laughed and he felt his cheeks redden. In fact he’d been staring at
the girl between him and the window. Zoe. Her long black hair, striking
profile, and the silky dark skin set off by her white linen sleeveless top. The
prettiest girl in North Queensland, he thought, maybe the whole of Oztralia, at
least if he was the judge.
They had known each other since childhood, she lived in the aboriginal settlement
by the lake but he knew her through his relatives there and they had been friends
all through high school. Today was graduation day, the last day of school ever,
and he knew that if he wanted to be more than friends this week was the time to
do something, before it was too late.
He hoped she would stay in the town and do cloth-tech, she was good
with cotton, linen and wool, she made her own clothes, but he wasn’t sure. She
loved horses too, maybe she would do horse breeding nearby? She rode a black horse with white blaze, as
distinctive and beautiful as she was. He wanted to see more of her than for just
an occasional replacement horse shoe or visit to town to get supplies.
“Have you chosen a livelihood Vance?” asked the teacher.
“Yes Miss, a blacksmith.” he said. She nodded. That was no surprise to
anyone. The town smithy had been in his family for three generations. His
father and uncle were both blacksmiths and farriers, shoeing horses, fixing
equipment, and now they had a big workshop where they and three others
manufactured metal products for the whole district.
The teacher moved on to other students. Some would be farmers raising crops
and fruit trees with their families on small farms using wind powered pumps to
irrigate the land and composting to build the soil. Others would do woodwork,
or forestry - coppicing gum trees for firewood, or growing better specimens for
use in furniture and household implements; cloth weaving and clothes making; fishing
in the nearby lake, or further afield on the coast; some would hunt bush tucker
using boomerangs and spears like the ancient times, but with the help of horses
and other aids the aborigines didn’t have back then.
One or two would study health and become med techs, others would study cattle,
sheep, horses and dogs – the stock teams always needed vets, still others solar
tech and electricity – keeping a few old time technologies going, radios, the
town telefone, the public teevee set with its six hours a day of programs, the
clinic fridge, and the town festival lites. High school was four years of
morning book work and afternoon prentising – learning practical skills in
farming, horticulture, metal and wood work, weaving and clothing, hunting and
bush lore. And now it was over.
“Zoe, what is your plan?”
“I want to be a vet and travel with the cattle teams, explore the west
and see the desert.” she said smiling.
Vance’s heart pounded. She didn’t want to stay in the town. He looked
at Zoe’s beautiful dark skin and then down at his. It was brown and covered
with a layer of pale sun proteck cream which made him look whiter than he was.
Only two generations of aboriginal blood. “Still a few more to go yet.”
Grandmother said laughing, “Maybe your grandkids will be able to go out without
so much sun proteck.” Grandmother had the whole family tree in a big leather
bound book. “The ozone layer should be healed by then too.” she said. His Grandad
had died of sun cancer. “Long time coming,” said Grandmother, “but mercifully quick
in the end.” His great grandfather had come to the country from the city as a
boy with white skin and old time ideas of space rockets and robots. He ended up
becoming the blacksmith and marrying a local girl from the aboriginal settlement
round the lake.
Vance looked up at Zoe again. His cheeks still felt hot. If he was darker
he wouldn’t blush so obviously either.
The cattle team slept around the camp fire. A man woke up and stared up
at the stars, the Southern Cross shining clear in the blue black sky. He sensed
the warm body beside him. He propped himself up on his elbow and ran his hands
along the curves. He deliberately chose a sleeping spot away from the others, ‘can’t
stand your snoring’ he said to the other men. She did the same on the other
side of the fire where the women slept. Then she came to his swag in the night.
The cattle teams were a dozen or so people travelling on horseback and
a wagon or two. Musterers for the cattle, a vet for the cattle and farm dogs, a
farrier for the horses, a cook to tend to hungry stomachs and a med tech for any
injuries.
In late summer and autumn they moved west, moving with the stock to where
the grass was lush and green for the summer rains. They returned home to cluster
around the permanent lakes and wetter coastal plains in the winter. In spring
they stayed close to home for calving, letting the dry heat and fires out west
take their annual toll, then heading out in summer after the rains began,
returning only for the Chrissmiss New Year festival.
The old inland family cattle stations had been abandoned, laid waste by
drought and floods. The land regenerated with scrub and bush and in between,
grass. The wire fences had broken down, replaced by wooden stockades spaced at
intervals for the cattle to use at night, to protect them from dingoes and
feral dogs. The head jackeroo carried a gun but ammunition was too expensive to
use often.
Sheep gangs were the same. Grazing far and wide and returning for
lambing, shearing, and slaughtering.
The woman murmured as he ran his hands over her skin, glinting in the
flickering fire lite. Then she opened her eyes. She looked up at him and
smiled, slowly reached her hand up and pulled his head down to hers.
The show grounds at the edge of town were the site for the Chrissmiss
New Year festival. The old wooden
grandstand, its tin roof replaced with wooden shingles stood on one side
overlooking the large grass oval. The entire site was a hive of activity, every
neighbourhood and settlement assigned a task.
In the oval stood goal posts for
rugby league, fences and rails for the horse jumping, and areas for wood
chopping, boomerang and spear throwing, and in the final two days a rodeo and
horse racing. A stage for the six monthly public assembly and the entertainment
had been erected in front of the grandstand.
The Chrissmiss New Year festival
was the biggest of the year and this festival was going to be the biggest in
years – welcoming in a new century. The public assembly was also expected to be
the biggest in memory with the main topic the proposal to change the year from
2100 to 100 to signify a new era, separate from the crazy old times that had
faded in the last century and the ancient times before that. The system of
local democracy provided for local debate in each shire and town whose
decisions which were then carried by representatives to regional assemblies and
then the state and national parliaments. Local shire councils also held regular,
well-attended, community meetings.
Vance helped pass the precious
strings of electric Chrissmiss lites to the young boys and girls scampering up
the pine tree with the Mayor of the shire council looking on to ensure nothing
went wrong. The solar panels were plugged into the battery pack ready for a
test later in the day.
Then Vance went to find Zoe. He passed the composting toilets,
temporary showers, and the extra latrines dug for the festival. “To cater for
the overflow.” The Mayor made the same joke every year. Zoe’s family was
camping in fields near the showgrounds with others from the lake settlement and
other nearby communities. It saved the trip home each night, a waste of good
partying time, and added to the festive atmosphere. He chatted to her for a
while before plucking up his courage. “Would you like to go to the dance
together?” he asked.
She looked away and bit her lip. “Maybe. Let me think about it.”
“Ok. See you at the ceremony.”
“See you.”
On his way home he saw Zoe’s cousin Ella. She was four years old and cute
with long black hair and endless curiosity. She was squatting on the ground
looking intently at something, her blue cotton dress scrunched up around her
knees.
“What are you doing?” Vance asked squatting down beside her.
“Looking at insects.” she said holding up a magnifying glass.
“Wow, that’s great.” said Vance smiling.
In the afternoon the town was abuzz. The cattle teams were back. The
first of them arrived on the north road. Vance’s uncle, the team farrier, rode
lying down in the wagon, his leg wrapped and splinted. “Mongrel horse bucked up
and kicked me a few days ago.” Vance went home with him and helped him inside.
Zoe continued her work at the showgrounds, keeping an eye on the road from
the west. A noise started up and she saw a crowd surge toward the road. She
followed looking out for one of the horsemen. She saw him, sitting high,
muscles taut and strong under skin burned almost black by the sun. His hat sat low
over his eyes. Oliver smiled at the attention of the crowd that surrounded the
horses, welcoming the team home. Zoe pushed through as he dismounted. “Hi
Oliver.” she said smiling and brushing back her hair from her face with one
hand.
He looked her up and down. “Hi. Ah, Zoe isn’t it?”
“Yes.” she said. “You all got back just in time. It’s going to be a
great festival this year. Are you coming to the dance tomorrow night?”
“Planning to.” he nodded smiling. “I guess I’ll see you there.”
“See you.” She smiled and blushed.
On Chrissmiss Eve the town shut down and everyone headed to the show grounds.
The Mayor of the shire, a tribal elder, gave a formal welcome and opened the festival.
The group of school leavers and prentices of suitable age gave a
ceremonial dance presentation showing elements of local history and culture.
They had practised for weeks, in between stories and lessons from the elders
and respected members of the local community. The lessons reinforced and
explained the customs and values they had grown up with; reminding them of both
the unity and diversity of the community, oneness with the land, the special
places in the shire – the mountain, lake, river and steams; and that they were
part of something larger then themselves, in which they would have a role and
responsibilities as well as the freedoms of adulthood.
Vance looked at Zoe during the dance. She moved gracefully and looked
beautiful as always in her costume and ceremonial paint. At the end of the
performance the group were presented to the crowd one by one. His parents were
in the audience and his aunt and uncle, sitting awkwardly, leg extended next to
his crutches. He saw Zoe’s family there too. At the end he looked over at her.
She smiled back at him. He held her gaze, cheeks flushing but unable to look away.
Her eyebrows lifted a little, then she turned away and went to her parents in
the stand.
They left the stage and the celebrations began. A didgeridoo sounded its
deep tones – Wah, omma omma, omma omma,
omma omma, aah,…wah, omma omma, omma omma, omma omma, aah. A drum and the
clacking of boomerangs joined in, traditional dancers moved around the stage.
He went to his family and they
congratulated him on his graduation. Afterwards he looked around the grandstand
for Zoe but she had gone.
Later there was singing and a guitar and other instruments. People
started dancing and the beer and apple cider began to flow. Beef, lamb, fish, kangaroo
meat and possum kebabs sizzled over fires in the food stalls, the tempting aromas
wafting over the crowd. People circulated through the market tents and greeted
old friends.
Vance had two mugs of beer, enough to relax his nerves but not too much.
He went to find Zoe but she wasn’t in her family tent. Later the town band had
its turn. Vance played his saxofone, an instrument from the old times, handed
down from his great grandfather. He saw Zoe dancing and tried to get her
attention but she was dancing with another guy and didn’t even seem to notice him
on stage.
After the band finished its songs
he carefully placed the saxofone in its case and went to look for Zoe again. He
carried a bag with him. Inside was a gift for Zoe. He had made a carved wooden
mirror frame, his last prentise woodwork project. The glazier had gotten the mirror
glass from Townsville especially. Vance had broken two pieces trying to cut it
to shape. He hoped that wasn’t bad luck.
Eventually he saw Zoe talking and laughing with some of the cattle
team. He slowly walked over hoping she would notice him. They group talked and laughed
and moved to the music. He saw Zoe trip over a stool and stagger to the ground,
spilling her drink on the grass. She gingerly got up, unsteady on her feet. Vance
frowned. The women in the group laughed even harder, they were all older than
Zoe. Vance moved forward and grasped her arm to help her up. She waved her arm
and pulled away. “Leave me alone.” She slurred her words slightly
“Come with me.” Vance whispered. “You’re drunk.”
“Go away, I’m fine.” She pushed him and turned back to the group.
The next morning a small group cleaned up after the night before and
others readied the oval for the horse jumping. Suddenly a cry rang out. “Fire!
Fire!”
Everyone looked towards the voice. A man was pointing to the
grandstand. Smoke rose from one end, then flames began licking up the rear wall
and into the roof. The old dry wood made perfect fuel and the warm day with a
breeze the ideal conditions for it to spread quickly and dangerously throughout
the structure, crackling as it devoured the floor, walls and roof.
“Water!” someone shouted and ran for the hoses. People rushed to help
unroll the hoses and direct them at the stand. The low pressure of the town
water tank could only reach half way up the near end of the grandstand. The feeble
steams of water did little to slow the blaze. Boards and beams fell down
landing with bursts of flame and leaping sparks. The fierce heat forced
everyone back. The crowd watched in shock as the flames slowly reduced the old
stand to a smouldering heap of charcoal and ash.
As the embers slowly cooled the accusations started to fly. “Someone
did this to disrupt the public debate.” shouted someone. “The religo’s can’t
stand to lose the argument.” another joined in.
“Lies.” someone countered.
The Mayor arrived and attempted
to control the crowd. He stood on the small stage, smoke from the grandstand
wafting behind him. “We have lost a great asset,” he said “but we lose
something more precious if we allow this to divide us. We should be thankful no
one was hurt. Let’s get to work building a new place to hold the debate. The constable
will decide if there is any blame to be found.” With that he began to direct
people to erect new temporary shelters on the grass bank on the opposite side
of the oval, and move the stage.
The show jumping was cancelled for the day so Zoe was left to recover
from her hangover and help her family in their tent.
In the afternoon Vance went to look for her carrying his bag again to
give her his gift. He arrived at the family’s tent but she wasn’t there. He
patted her horse tied up behind the tent. Then he chatted to her parents while
they boiled some water in a billy over the camp fire and served him tea. Then,
there was a noise at the entrance of the tent. Zoe came in quickly. Vance saw that
her eyes were red.
“What’s wrong?” said her mother.
“Ella is missing. No one
has seen her for hours. Auntie Vivienne is scared she was in the fire.”
Vance’s mouth dropped
open. He leapt up “She must be somewhere. I’ll help you look.”
She nodded and they went out
together to scour the showgrounds again. “I’m sure she wasn’t in the
grandstand. No one was up there, most people were still having breakfast.” Vance
said. He looked at her. She seemed in a daze.
They searched all around the
showgrounds, Vance even went to the grandstand and walked around it tried to see
if there were any signs in the ashes but he could see nothing. He saw the
police constable writing in a notebook. “Do you know what started it?”
“Not yet.” he replied, not looking up.
“We’re looking for a little girl, about four years old, blue dress. Have
you seen any sign of her?”
“No.” said the policeman still writing notes in his book. Then he
looked up thoughtfully. “You’re thinking…?”
Vance shrugged.
“No sign of anything here. Don’t worry. I’ll keep my eyes open.” He gave
them a reassuring smile and went back to his work.
Vance nodded and turned to Zoe. “Let’s look in town. Maybe she’s gone
to play with some other kids.” They knocked on doors, asked passers-by, and searched
everywhere they could think of, but there was no sign of Ella. Zoe began to
cry. Vance put his arms around her. “I reckon she’s ok. She’ll turn up soon.” Zoe
nodded, still sobbing.
When she stopped crying they walked
slowly back to her parent’s tent. Vance opened his bag and gave her the gift.
“I made this for you.”
“Thank you. It’s lovely.” She studied
the gift for a few seconds. “I’m sorry about last night. I was drunk. I…”
“It’s ok.” Vance said. He
hesitated for a moment. “You like that guy, right?”
She nodded, hesitant to meet his eyes.
He shrugged. “I’ll come back later and see if Ella is back. Get some
rest.”
In the afternoon a large crowd sat under trees and the temporary shade
cloth erected around the oval and the debate began. The Mayor and councillors
sat on the stage to facilitate the discussion. People came up one by one to
voice their views.
“Our values come from the Bible’s
teachings.” a man said waving the copy of the book in the air. “If we forget
what God has done for us we shall allow evil to arise.”
“Among us we have Christians, Buddhists,
Hindus, all sorts, none of that stopped people from damaging the earth and
bringing down the end of the old days. It is time to make a break from those
times.”
“Old time religion didn’t save the
old time people. We had to rebuild nearly everything.”
“Our values come from many places
not just that old book. It’s time for a change.”
“The teachings tell us to care
for all creatures, great and small, and the calendar is a reminder”
“We don’t even spell Chrissmiss
the old way now. The religion went out of Chrissmiss in the old times, long
before the government simplified all the spelling. No one cares anymore what
date some guy was born, or what year.”
And so it went on. The town printer even pointed out it would save on
ink and recycled paper. It was clear the majority were ready for the change. The
old times were a long time ago and the world was different now.
The horse jumping commenced the next morning but Zoe did not compete.
Ella was still missing. She and Vance searched for hours but still nothing.
“We’ll search again after the games this afternoon. I’m going to watch
Oliver in the rugby league. He’s playing for the Farmers’ team.” said Zoe.
The rugby league competition was a four team knock out tournament for
the local teams to have some fun and crown an honorary champion for the
festival. The games were shorter due to the summer heat and were supposed to be
social but despite the laughs and lite-hearted banter of the crowd the teams
took it particularly seriously.
Vance walked towards home. As he
passed some tents he saw the cattle man, Oliver, pull a woman close, put his
arms around her and kiss her on the lips. He recognised her as one of the group
from the other night.
Vance stopped to check it was not
someone else, then quickly moved out of sight as they stopped kissing. He
changed direction and headed for another tent.
“I want to play for the town
team.” said Vance. The coach of the team looked at him impassively. “Let me
play.”
“Well, we could do with another player,
your uncle is out this year.” The coach stopped and looked Vance up and down
again. “These guys are big and strong. And you’re…”
“I may not be big but I’m fast.
Surely you need someone who can run and pass, and I’m not scared to get
tackled.”
The man considered for a few
seconds. “All right then. Be here at 1.30 this afternoon.”
Vance went to the team tent early and pulled on his playing gear. Then
he went to see Zoe.
“What are you doing?” she asked looking at his clothes.
“I need to talk to you. I know this is none of my business but I need
to tell you this, as a friend.”
Zoe crossed her arms over her chest and eyed him sceptically.
“I saw that guy, Oliver, with someone else. A woman.”
Zoe’s face tightened. “You’re right. It is none of your business…”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“That’s enough. Look at you. What are you doing? You didn’t even play league
at school this year. You’ll get… if this is about Oliver then you’re crazy.”
Vance shrugged and turned away.
Vance and Oliver stood in
the middle of the field after a tackle. The game restarted and moved away from
them. “I saw you with that woman this morning. If you’re not serious about Zoe
then leave her alone.” Vance hissed.
Oliver smirked “Jealous are we kid? Go back to school and practice your
ABC’s.”
Vance followed him around the field
and tried to tackle him at every opportunity.
“Rack off dropkick,” Oliver snarled. “or you’ll regret it.”
“Rack off dropkick,” Oliver snarled. “or you’ll regret it.”
Shortly before half time Vance caught a pass and ran forward. Oliver
was there to tackle him, thumping him heavily to the ground and landing on top
of him. He made to get up and then pretended to stumble and put his knee into Vance’s
stomach. “Uhh.” gasped Vance, winded. Then Oliver leaned over, screening him
from the crowd, and punched him in the face. A jolt of pain shot through his
head and blood spurted out of his nose. Vance rolled over, clasped his hands to
his face and then tried to get to his knees. He pulled one hand away. It was
bright red. In the distance somewhere he heard the referee blow his whistle.
His team mates helped him off the field. One held a cloth to his face.
Zoe took a step towards where Vance was walking off the field, and then
she stopped. She looked over at Oliver smiling with his team mates. He caught
her eye and nodded.
At half time Zoe made her way to the
team tent. “Are you ok?”
Vance looked away. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t have to do this. You’ve proved whatever stupid point you’re
trying to make.”
Vance didn’t answer. Zoe shrugged and walked out. The blood stopped
flowing and he took the cloth away from his face. The coach came over to check
on him. “I’m going back on.” said Vance quietly.
“40 - 16. That’s a beating.” one
of the players said as they changed in the tent.
“Like a crocodile devouring a turtle.” said another man laughing. “Oh,
well, there’s always next year.”
“You did well kid.” another said, looking at Vance. His face was covered
in dried blood and his body ached with bruises. “You’ll remember this one for a
while.”
After cleaning up his face Vance walked home alone. As he walked past the
primary school, something flickered in the corner of his eye. He tuned to look.
He saw a flash of blue in the wooden playhouse. He walked in the gate and
slowly crossed the sports field. The blue flashed again, this time behind the
playhouse, near the building. Vance urged his aching muscles into a jog. He reached
the side of building, crouched down and looked underneath, between two broken
boards. He saw a small bundle of black hair and grimy clothes. “Hi Ella. It’s
me, Vance. Zoe’s friend.”
The
girl stared at him warily.
“Zoe and your mum are very worried about you. How about we go and see
them so they know you‘re ok?”
The girl nodded dumbly and
crawled out. He took her to Zoe’s tent. Zoe ran to get her Auntie Vivienne. She
came in and swept the little girl up, her face wet with tears. Slowly Ella told
them what happened. “I hid under the school so no one could find me.” she said.
“Why darling? Why did you hide? Mummy was very worried. We looked
everywhere for you.”
The girl bit her lip, her little face contorting as she struggled with
something. Finally she opened her mouth. “I ran away because I scared you mad
at me.”
“Why would I be mad at you darling?”
She began to cry. “I didn’t start the fire. Really I didn’t.”
“The fire? What fire?”
Her breath heaved and she tried to talk between sobs. “The big gran’stan’.”
said Ella.
Zoe and Vance exchanged glances. “How did the fire start Ella?” Zoe
asked gently.
“Not me. It was the yellow dot.”
“What yellow dot, sweetie?”
“The big glass made a yellow dot on some leaves and started the fire.”
“The big glass?” Zoe asked.
Ella pulled her magnifying glass out of her pocket.
“Oh, you mean the magnifying glass? The one you use to look at insects.”
Ella nodded.
Zoe took it from her. “It’s all right. We will put the big glass away
so the yellow dot can’t come back, ok? And the grownups will build a new
grandstand.”
Ella nodded and sniffed. “I’m
hungry and firsty.”
The New Year’s eve celebration started like the Chrissmiss Eve one and
became even more raucous. Vance decided to allow himself three ciders, or maybe
four. His black eye had turned yellow and faded and his sore muscles hurt less.
And it was New Year’s Eve, time to forget all that had gone before and start
anew. He stood, mug in hand staring at the festival lites on the tree,
listening to the music coming from the stage. A figure walked up beside him and
stopped.
“How’s the wounded solja?” Zoe
asked.
He turned to her and grinned.
“I’ll live.”
She smiled back. “I heard a rumour you’re going out with a cattle team next
week instead of your uncle.”
“Yeah. He broke his leg. They
need someone to replace him. Horses don’t shoe themselves.”
Zoe nodded.
Vance continued. “I’ve heard the western grazing lands are beautiful,
but it’s hard work.” he paused, “A lot like someone I know.”
Zoe laughed. “Don’t try that line
on my Dad. He’ll kick you off the verandah in two seconds flat.”
He smiled.
“I’m going to ask if I can go
with the vet.” said Zoe. “My dad is mates with the head jackaroo. I think they’ll let me. But if we are going
to be more than cobbers you need to come and convince my parents that you’re not
just a useless footy player.”
“Hey, fair go. We didn’t lose only
because of me.” he said. “Would it help if my face looked normal first?”
“That would be good. Failing that, at least wait until the bruises go.”
She leaned against him and put her head on his shoulder. He slipped his arm
around her waist. She did the same. “Come out to the house in a couple of days,
hey?” she whispered.
“Too
right.”
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Tell me what you think. Constructive comments welcome.
If you like the story share with it with your friends.
If you like the story share with it with your friends.
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