The Songmaster (12 page)

The abandoned baby case blew back into the media the following morning. Susan read the details in the newspaper over breakfast.

A retired couple – birdwatchers – backpacks weighted with reference books, note and sketch pads, Thermos of tea and sandwiches, binoculars and camera, had walked into the Lawson State Park off the Hume Highway as the dawn chorus began. Feet sensibly shod, they had diverted from the walking track and made their way into a thicket of trees, hoping for a glimpse of a white-throated treecreeper.

It was Mr Irvingstone who had tripped on what he thought was a log while gazing at the treetops.

Under the grey blanket, covered in branches, was the naked body of a young woman. A mere slip of a girl. She’d been strangled. A gag was tied across her mouth. Mrs Irvingstone had begun to cry. Mr Irvingstone went behind a tree and threw up.

The body was identified as that of Lisa Vorland. It was quickly revealed she had recently given birth and tests linked her with the abandoned baby found in the Victorian Art Gallery.

Susan put down her toast. ‘Poor bloody girl. Some people just cop it,’ she thought.

She couldn’t get the story out of her head. Such a young girl. What had driven her to give up her baby? No matter what the circumstances, that would never be an easy decision. They’d probably never know why. The tragedy kept running through her mind, haunting her.

Susan spent the morning in the Family Court where this time she was representing a mother who wanted full custody of her two children. She returned to the office, grateful she’d won this case as neatly as her last.

Back at her desk, she rang Beth Van Horton. They discussed Barwon’s case. ‘So what did you make of him?’ asked Beth.

Susan considered her answer. ‘Well, between you and me, he is a charming fellow. I can see how Shirley found him attractive. There is fault on both sides, it’s nothing more than a domestic really. An unfortunate misunderstanding. It’s a shame it got this far.’

‘She’s brought humiliation on both of them.’

‘We’ll try to keep it all as low key as possible. But of course, we can’t control the media. They’re going to get stuck into a handsome former celebrity who’s ripped off a rich woman,’ said Susan.

‘Not to mention the black and white issue,’ added Beth. ‘It’s got all the ingredients of a bad soap opera. The sooner he gets to the Kimberley, the better. I’m heading there when I leave here. And I hope he’ll be following me soon.’

‘How long are you staying in the Kimberley?’ asked Susan.

‘I never make plans. I go and then decide. Time and attitude are different once you’re in the Kimberley.’ She gave a small laugh. ‘It’s another world. Being with the Barradja is another world. It’s something everyone should experience.’

‘Why’s that?’ Susan was intrigued.

‘It’s not just the enjoyment of being with these people, it’s how it alters you. It’s changed my life over the years. I look at the world, the people in it, and who I am, quite differently now. And for the better, I might add.’

‘I wish I could experience that.’ The words fell out of her mouth before she’d thought about it.

‘Why don’t you? It’s very simple. Just come.’

‘I’d love to,’ laughed Susan. ‘You know how you get to turning points in your life? Maybe I’m facing one now.’

‘It would be a valuable experience for you, a learning experience if you’re prepared to open yourself to whatever happens.’ Beth’s voice was soft and down the phone line Susan could sense that there was a subtext in Beth’s words, but wasn’t sure what it was.

‘I’ll think about it.’

‘You’re the one with the deadlines, pressures and career. You decide what’s important in your life,’ said Beth. ‘You tell me if you want to come, and I’ll fix things.’

‘Thanks, Beth.’

Over dinner she told Andrew about her idea to go to the Kimberley with Beth. He was pleased and he started telling her places she should see. ‘Bungle Bungles, Broome, any of the Kimberley coast, Yandoo . . .’

‘Wait. I’m not making this a sightseeing holiday. Though I’m still keen to visit your place. I’ve never been to an outback property.’

‘Then what is the reason?’

Susan sipped her wine. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure. I guess I’ll let Beth be my guide. You know how sometimes you feel you just want to do something.’

‘I try to avoid those times. They’re dangerous. I like to plan and be in control.’

‘I’m beginning to believe it’s better to leap in the deep end. You can’t be responsible and do the right thing every day of your life.’

‘I guess. I never think about it. I’m working at daybreak most days. Till past dark.’

‘I can say the same thing. I’ve never taken off, been irresponsible . . . maybe that’s not the word. I’ve never just been free with no plans. I’ve studied and worked since I started school.’

Andrew shook his head, a trifle bemused. This girl intrigued him. ‘They call it “smelling the breeze,” the desire to go over the range – The King Leopold Ranges.’

‘It’s not just the physical journey, Andrew. It’s the inner one as well. I don’t understand any of it, but I just have a feeling that time spent over there with these people will be, I don’t know, special.’

Andrew stared at the tablecloth before answering. ‘These people. What makes you think they’re special?’

Susan bristled. ‘I don’t know. That’s why I think I should go. What about you? I bet you just talk business, give orders and be the boss.’

‘Someone has to be the boss. That’s my role. And Dad’s, too. Maybe when you’re there you’ll understand better how tough you sometimes have to be when running a big property. You can’t afford to be soft-hearted.’ He gave her a quick smile, trying to defuse his last words. ‘I mean, we don’t give our cattle names. If an animal is injured, we can’t take it home and nurse it back to health, it’s too far, you can’t hold up men, all those sorts of things.’

‘So you shoot it?’

He nodded and Susan blurted, ‘What about the black population on Yandoo? What happens if an Aboriginal stockman falls off his horse and breaks his leg?’

Andrew didn’t take offence. He laughed. ‘We wouldn’t shoot him, for God’s sake. We’d call in the Flying Doctor.’

Nonetheless, Susan could see the pragmatic attitude that ruled Andrew’s thinking.

Sensing her feeling, Andrew touched her hand. ‘Susan, don’t think I regard Aborigines as second-class citizens. They’re crucial and important men on a station. Great horsemen and good with cattle. They’ve been very important to opening up the west. From way back.
And you know, when I was growing up, my closest friendship was with an Aborigine.’ He stopped, looking reflective.

This remark startled Susan. ‘Ah, now you can say some of my best friends are Aborigines, right?’ she said with sarcasm leavened with a smile.

He looked at Susan, unsure whether to take it as a joke or a social comment, and decided to let it pass. ‘It’s something I don’t talk about much.’ He topped up their wine. ‘I was four, my brother had just been born and with all the excitement I wasn’t being watched as closely as normal and I toddled off for a walk, and before anyone noticed I was way down by the blacks’ camp close to the creek. I started exploring, and climbing over some pandanus roots, I tripped and fell in the creek and was out of my depth. I couldn’t swim, but I had the wits to hang onto a branch and yell at the top of my lungs.’

‘Who rescued you?’

‘This black kid. He was only six at the time. A bit of a loner who kept wandering away from the women at the camp.’

‘Like you.’

‘Yeah. Anyway, he jumped in the creek – he was at home in water like a little platypus – and he swam me piggyback to the bank.’

‘He must have been a bit of hero.’

Andrew smiled. ‘Do you know, we never told anyone. I guess we knew I’d get into trouble and be kept under stricter surveillance. So we started playing games, my clothes dried and
I wandered home for lunch. The grown-ups were really fussed when they realised I’d gone missing, but I started to make a habit of it and I always turned up, so as I got older, it became accepted. Within a year I was spending most of the day with Hunter. He taught me to fish, catch lizards, throw a spear, all kinds of stuff. We were like brothers. Hunter and I shared everything until puberty, when he got initiated and I wasn’t allowed to share in that. The old men took him off and when he came back with his body cuts, and he’d been circumcised, he said he couldn’t talk about it. And he’d changed. He seemed older, different. And he couldn’t spend time playing with me the way he used to, he had responsibilities and things to learn.’

‘Didn’t you?’

‘Of course. I was always helping with musters and around the stockyards. Hunter and I were still educated together through School of the Air. We’d sit under the pepper tree outside the house with the two-way radio on a table. Julian, my brother, and Hunter and I did our homework together for ages like that.’

‘So what happened?’ asked Susan.

‘Then the day came when I was twelve and I was sent to boarding school. I came home for Christmas holidays and Hunter was gone. He’d been sent to a mission school, so we lost touch.’

‘So you’ve never seen him since?’ When Andrew shook his head, Susan reached out and squeezed his hand. ‘That’s sad.’

‘Anyway, I can still throw a boomerang.’ He laughed. ‘Maybe that’s something you’ll learn while you’re out west. You going to drive over?’ he asked suddenly.

‘Across the Nullarbor Plain? Are you mad?’ laughed Susan.

‘Why not? Be an adventure, it’s mostly bitumen road now.’

‘I’ll think about it. Somehow I can’t see my Saab nosing into the Kimberley. Beth tells me the Barradja will be at their dry season camp a couple of hundred kilometres outside Kununurra.’

Andrew looked serious. ‘Have the people in that community agreed to you going? You could be seen as representing white law and that could be a problem. You’d better make sure Beth has permission to bring you along.’

Susan was surprised. ‘I hadn’t thought about me being allowed to go in or not. I’ve never faced the idea of not being allowed to go somewhere in my own country.’

‘You’ve stormed the portals of the all-male law clubs, I assume?’ He gave a smile.

She pouted at him. She was trying not to take offence at his flippant male remarks. ‘My sisters did that for me a few years back. Mind you, the old boys’ network is alive and well in the legal profession. We’ve just started a women’s legal network which is proving quite effective.’

‘I bet. I wouldn’t tangle with a mob like
you.’ Seeing her raised eyebrows he added, ‘Just kidding. So. When are you coming?’ He looked eager.

‘I don’t know. I have to get time off, liaise with Beth.’ Susan was already making plans in her head. ‘We’ll just have to see what the fates work out.’

The kiss goodnight left her breathless.

He promised to call. This pleased her. The more she saw of him here, the easier it would be visiting him in the Kimberley.

Susan met Beth and Barwon outside Waverley Local Court for the hearing of his case. They had already appeared at the List Day, where Susan had entered a plea of not guilty on behalf of her client and had the matter announced as ready for hearing.

‘Nervous?’ asked Susan, glancing across at Barwon. He shrugged slightly, adjusting his tie. He wore a navy blazer, charcoal pants and white shirt. She had complimented him on his outfit. ‘You look like an ad for Country Road.’

‘I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t apprehensive.’ He gave a brief smile that turned to a grimace as he saw several photographers outside the entrance to the court.

Inside, Barwon sat in a chair behind Susan, who was at a long table with the police prosecutor at the other end. Shirley Bisson was seated in the first row behind the prosecutor. Elegantly
dressed in a pale blue suit, she sat with lowered head, looking at her hands in her lap. The clerk checked that the recording apparatus was working and nodded to the prosecutor.

The police officer from Rose Bay, who had attended the scene, gave his evidence, reading his statement onto the court record, followed by the second officer who had corroborated his superior’s statement.

Susan then addressed the magistrate and quickly explained that, because of the superficial nature of the defendant’s wound, she was consenting to the tender of a medical report from the hospital, to save calling the doctor to court. The report was tendered into evidence with the consent of both parties and received by the magistrate.