Territory (53 page)

Terence Galloway was planning a new promotional campaign for the following year. But this time it would not be aimed at boosting sales. The advertising ploy had proved so successful that he was now, via the power of television, one of the most recognised faces in the Northern Territory. It was time to set his sights on the mayoral office. Terence determined that the following year of 1975 would see him the new mayor of Darwin.

He decided that he must prepare the ground before openly mounting his campaign, however, and the first step was a series of generous donations to a number of worthy causes. He found Aggie Marshall extremely helpful, knowing full well that, when he told her he expected no recognition, she made it secretly known that the anonymous benefactor was none other than Terence Galloway. Aggie always believed in giving credit where credit was due, and the word slowly spread that not only was Terence Galloway devoted to charitable concerns, but he expected no thanks.

Then of course his mistresses had to go, their discovery was not worth the risk. He gave Rose a month's wages and sacked her, warning Fran that, should her niece ever
make any indiscreet remarks, she too would be given her walking orders.

He feared that Lisa Langello would not be so easy. The only reason the girl had kept her mouth shut this long had been because of his generosity. Terence's ego no longer deluded him, as it first had, that Lisa was a woman in love. She made her liking for money and the trappings that went with it all too obvious.

Lisa's position as ‘the Emporium girl' and her exposure on NTD8 had been an easy cover for both her elevated circumstances and the truth of their relationship, but Terence now cursed himself. He'd been a fool to set her up in a flat and assume he could maintain the secrecy. At the time, however, he'd lusted after her so strongly that he'd have done anything to have her. And he had to admit that the sweaty Friday night couplings with a girl less than half his age had made him feel like a young buck again.

Now, eight months later, the novelty had worn off. Already she was an unnecessary threat to his reputation and next year, in his bid to become mayor, she could well prove his undoing. He'd warned her from the outset that if she ever told of their relationship he'd kill her. Just to put the fear of God into her. It had worked, he could tell, she was terrified. But who knew when she might babble on at the mouth with a few drinks in her. Lisa was a walking time bomb.

Terence cursed both his stupidity and his vanity for having landed him in such a predicament. He'd have to get Lisa Langello out of Darwin somehow. He pondered the situation and it didn't take long before he came up with the answer. He rang Sydney.

‘You remember her, Greg,' he said, Greg hadn't recalled the name. ‘We used her in the ad campaigns, the girl from the Emporium.' Terence laughed at Greg Sharman's response. ‘Yes, that's right, great tits. Well I'm good mates with her dad and he asked whether I could pull a few strings for her.'

Terence had no idea who Lisa's father was, Kit had told him once that her family lived in Katherine and that she had nothing to do with them, that she hated her father. Probably some interference there, Terence had thought; hell, Lisa was made for interference.

‘She's very keen to go to Sydney and break into the business, and her dad wondered whether I could help. Naturally I thought of you.' Greg probably wouldn't believe the father line, but Terence didn't particularly care.

Greg was not forthcoming, but Terence persevered. ‘You're casting things, though, surely,' he said. Oh yes, Greg replied, they were always casting. ‘Well just whack her in front of a camera. Give her a screen test, that'll keep her happy. She's really looking forward to a trip to Sydney, and her Dad'll pay the air fare and put her up for a while.'

Greg laughed, he'd got the message. ‘Sure. Got to keep Dad happy, don't we?' he said.

All solved, Terence thought as he hung up. He had no fears of Lisa returning to Darwin when the job fell through. She'd have a taste for Sydney by then and some man would pick her up. She was that sort of girl.

 

It was a fresh September day, hot but not too humid, perfect Darwin weather, when Kit bumped into Lisa outside the Don Hotel. Although her flat was a little way out of town, she still worked at the Emporium and he'd often seen her around since they'd separated. She buzzed about Darwin in her little bright red MGB these days, the famous girl from the Galloway TV ads, and she was always bright and breezy, always the same old Lisa, but Kit had sensed somehow that she wasn't really happy. Today was different.

‘Kit,' she exclaimed and she hugged him, ‘how wonderful to see you, I was going to ring you to say goodbye and tell you the news.'

‘Something fantastic obviously,' he said. She looked
radiantly happy. ‘Don't tell me, I'll guess. You're engaged, and you're going away to get married.'

‘Oh, better than that,' she scoffed, ‘you can get married any day. I'm going to Sydney, I've got a test for a commercial. And if the first one takes off, it'll be a whole
series
. It's for a new line of chocolates, I forget the name, Caramel something.'

‘That's great, Lisa.'

‘It is, isn't it?' She was literally jumping up and down. ‘I only found out the day before yesterday and I leave next week. It's that director, you remember? Greg Sharman?'

‘I actually never met him, but I remember the name, he did Dad's commercials, didn't he.'

‘Well he
wants
me! He's
asked
for me!'

Kit laughed, her enthusiasm was beguiling, she looked so fresh and so young. ‘A star is born!' he announced. ‘Lisa Langello,' she twirled in front of him, ‘from Emporium Girl to Caramel Queen!' She squealed with delight. ‘Let's have a drink to celebrate.'

‘Only a quick one, I've got mountains of shopping to do. Although why I don't know,' she said as they walked into the Don arm in arm, ‘I'm going to Sydney, shoppers' heaven.'

An hour and three white wines later, Kit reminded her that she had shopping to do.

‘Oh my
God,
is that the
time
!' She hadn't noticed. She'd forgotten how much she loved being in Kit's company, he always made her feel beautiful, and she hadn't felt beautiful for a long time now.

Outside in the street, Kit hugged her goodbye. ‘I'm so happy for you, Lisa,' he said.

‘Thanks, Kit.' She knew that he meant it. ‘Still love you a bit,' she said, and she kissed him before she whirled off in a flurry of excitement.

A month later, Kit received a phone call from his father asking him to come to the house for a photo session.

‘Just a father and son shot,' Terence said, ‘it won't take long. It's for a magazine article about me. Bit of a bore and I don't want to do it, but it's good for business.'

Kit obliged and they were photographed sitting together in the study, Terence's war photographs, of which there were many, dominant in the background. He looked every bit the proud father, arm draped over son's shoulder. Terence didn't bother telling Kit, but it was a further stratagem of the ground-laying plan for his mayoral campaign in the new year. The publicist he'd employed felt the creation of his image as a family man was important.

Several weeks later, the magazine article appeared and Kit was infuriated. ‘A family of Territorians' it was headed. Well, he supposed that was all right, although he'd expected the article to be a profile on his father. But ‘My Son the War Hero' in bold print beneath the picture of the two of them disgusted Kit. Terence was quoted as being deeply proud of his son's heroic deeds on the battlefield. ‘My younger son is the greatest pride in my life,' he said. Then he spoke at length of his family's proud war record. His father had fought at Gallipoli, he himself had served as a fighter pilot in the Second World War. ‘Just doing my duty,' he was humbly quoted as saying. And of course there was the grief he'd experienced with the death of his elder son in Vietnam. ‘We've been a family serving our country,' he said nobly, ‘and I know my son Kit joins me when I say that we're proud to be Australians. Even more so, Territorians.'

It was tasteless self-aggrandisement, and Kit barged into his father's office at the showrooms, slammed the magazine down on the table and told him so.

‘They won't see it that way,' Terence replied. He'd been delighted with the article.

‘Who won't?' Kit demanded.

‘The general public. The people who are going to vote me in as mayor.'

Kit stared at his father. He should have known. Terence Galloway always had an ulterior motive.

‘They'll see us quite rightfully as a family of war heroes,' Terence continued implacably. Kit's annoyance didn't upset him one bit. It was too late now, the article was out there and there was nothing he could do about it. ‘I don't know why you're upset,' he smiled, ‘you should be delighted that I'm so proud of you.'

‘You're not proud of me,' Kit said, ‘you never have been.' He continued to stare at his father, suddenly aware that he detested the man. Why had he never realised it before? ‘And from now on, when you want to use people to further your own gain, leave me out.'

Terence shrugged and said, ‘Fair enough.' But he said it to the air. Kit had stormed out of the office.

 

Shortly before Christmas, on a Saturday morning, there was a knock at Kit's door. He opened it to find an Aboriginal woman standing there. Probably early middle-aged, but she could have been sixty. Slovenly, ill-kempt, in a tattered dress, greying hair matted, she presented a lost and forlorn figure.

Kit was currently writing a feature article on the tragic plight of many of Darwin's indigenous population, a subject close to Jim Bowditch's heart, and the two of them were committed to the importance of the story. He wondered briefly if the woman's arrival had something to do with the article. Had she been sent to see him by one of the many contacts he'd used for research? If so, he wondered why they'd not telephoned him.

‘Hello,' he said, waiting for her to introduce herself, but she didn't.

‘You're Kit Galloway, aren't you?' she asked.

‘Yes.'

‘You don' remember me I bet, but I met you coupla times when I come to Bullalalla to visit Mum.'

He looked at her blankly, obviously puzzled.

‘My Mum, Nellie,' she said. ‘I'm Pearl.'

‘Pearl! Of course I remember you. Come in.' He didn't really remember her. He had vague memories, as a small child, of an attractive young woman with two babies who used to visit Nellie from time to time. But he most certainly remembered Nellie. And Jackie. This was Nellie's and Jackie's daughter Pearl. Good God, he thought, she looked so old!

He ushered her to the table by the window and she sat gingerly on the edge of one of the chairs, the small string bag she carried clutched in her lap.

‘Can I get you a cup of tea, Pearl?'

‘Don' wanna be no trouble.' She looked rather sullen, as if she didn't want to be there. So what on earth had prompted her to come, Kit wondered.

‘No trouble, I was just about to get one for myself, I'll make a pot, eh?' He chatted away amiably as he filled the electric jug, trying to put her at her ease. ‘It's lovely to see you, how are your kids? They must be all grown up now.'

‘Nineteen and twenty,' she said, still without the vestige of a smile, but he could sense she was relaxing a little. ‘How old are you?'

‘Twenty-six.'

‘Yeh, you were only little when I used to visit Mum.'

‘And how's Nellie?' Kit asked, ‘she must be getting on.'

‘She's dead.'

‘Oh. I'm sorry to hear that.'

‘She bin dead for a long time,' Pearl shrugged, ‘seven, eight years. Dad's still alive, but.' She scowled momentarily, it was because of her dad she was here when she didn't want to be. Kit Galloway was being very nice, though, it was good that he remembered her kids. ‘Dad always liked you,' she said.

‘I always liked him too, Pearl.' Memories flooded back.
You get 'im here, Kit
. Jackie's black thumb pressed against
the steer's skull.
You get 'im here, 'im feel no pain
. Jackie picking him up from the ground, his shoulder aching like hell,
you kill 'im good, Kit.

‘He's a fine man, your father.' Kit brought the teapot and two cups to the table. ‘How is he these days?'

‘Don' see him much. He's gone Warai, lives out in the bush most of the time. Won't work for whites anymore, not since Mum died. He comes in to see me sometimes, though.' She said it with pride.

Pearl and her husband lived in a shanty on the outskirts of town, and the fact that her father visited her was a testament to his love. Jackie Yoorunga was highly respected amongst the black community and he didn't approve of Pearl's husband Eddie and his mates, who were drunk more often than not. Jackie would have nothing to do with those he considered had strayed from the path. ‘No way for black fellas to live, Pearl,' he'd said time and again. ‘They got no pride for themselves.'
Easy for you to say,
Pearl would think. Her Eddie used to be a good drover, but where was the work for drovers now? And when the St Vincent de Paul's in Stuart Park found him odd-job work, labouring or gardening, she'd have to scrounge whatever she could from his pay before it went on grog. Eddie drank 'cos there was nuthin' else for him to do.
Easy for you to say
, Pearl would think, but she never answered back to her dad. Her dad didn't know what it was like.

Kit fetched the milk and sugar and poured the tea.

‘You not married,' Pearl said, looking around at the small apartment, it was not a question.