The Story of Danny Dunn (76 page)

Helen hugged Sam for a long time and simply allowed her to cry and to drown in her own misery. Finally, she held her daughter at arm's length, and looked directly into her eyes. ‘Samantha, I'm going to tell you something about your father that we decided years ago – in fact before you and Gabrielle were born – never to tell you.'

Sam, despite herself, was curious. ‘What?' she sniffed.

‘Before the war, everyone knew that your dad would represent Australia in rugby league. In fact, if the war hadn't intervened, he was certain to have been selected for the next Kangaroo tour of Great Britain. So, you see, he too had to face disappointment and forego the honour of playing for his country. Like you and Dawn, he was the great hope of Balmain, and people loved him. Danny Dunn was the local hero and kids followed him as he walked down Darling Street.'

Sam nodded. ‘Must have been tough, really tough.'

Helen then told the story of how Danny, captured by the Japanese, had gone to the rescue of a mate, because it was his duty to defend one of the men for whom he was responsible. She described how Danny had been savagely beaten. ‘The attack was so vicious it fractured his back and all but ruined his face,' Helen said, now fighting back her own tears. ‘Samantha, your father did that for a mate and because it was his duty. As a result of his fractured back he would never play for Australia or play any sport again, other than swimming and rowing his beloved skiff to keep fit.' Helen paused. ‘When he tried to help Dawnie, he saw this as his duty as the member for Balmain. What you need to know is that he is your closest mate and would gladly give his life for you. He is desperately disappointed for you, and last night he cried in bed because he knows this is his fault and there's nothing he can do to fix it.'

‘Oh, Mum, that's awful!' Sam whispered, awestruck at the thought of her father crying.

‘No, listen to me, Samantha. You
must
understand. Given similar circumstances he'd do the same again. Your dad can't bear unfairness, and he'll always fight for the underdog against mindless, or even mindful, authority. He simply couldn't make an exception because you are his daughter.'

‘I . . . I understand, I really do,' Sam said, ‘but it's still so unfair!'

‘Look, Dad and I talked last night, and we agreed that at nearly fifteen you are old enough to make your own decisions. So, if you
really
believe you can't continue with swimming, then we would understand if you decided to give up trying for the Mexico Olympics. You can change schools if you want to and concentrate on your HSC, then decide what you want to do with your life. What do you say, darling?'

Sam barely waited for Helen to finish. ‘But, Mum, Dad has always wanted . . . he's always expected me to swim for Australia. I know how disappointed he was when Gabby stopped swimming! Remember, you had a terrible row and you threw that wine bottle at him. Gabby and I were scared stiff! Dad was furious!'

‘Yes, I won't deny that, but first and foremost he wants you both to be happy. You've already got a drawer full of gold medals, Sam —'

‘But I promised!' Sam interjected, clearly distressed.

‘Darling, it's a big wide world. Whatever you do in life, the swimming you've done all these years has taught you character, determination and the will to succeed; none of it is wasted. Dad knows and accepts that.'

‘No!' Sam cried, clearly alarmed at the suggestion. ‘Three gold for Sammy! I promised!'

Helen looked sternly at her daughter. ‘Are you sure, Samantha?'

Sam kissed her mother. ‘Thanks, Mum, but I've made up my mind.
I won't let Dad down.'

‘I know, darling. So let's show him just what his daughter is made of, shall we? The Mexico Olympics are in two years' time. Let's make that your aim. But remember, if you miss out on selection, or a medal, we'll . . . he'll love you just as much. He just wants you to try your hardest.'

Sam sniffed and wiped away her tears with the backs of both hands. ‘I'll do it,' she said, jutting out her chin.

Helen smiled, then, cupping Sam's face in her hands, she looked into her daughter's startling blue eyes, and kissed her gently on the cheek.

Sam rose to her feet. ‘Where are you going?' Helen inquired.

‘To find Gabby and apologise; she came in to comfort me and I told her to bugger off!'

‘You didn't use the “f” word, I hope, Samantha?' Helen said sternly, though there was a twinkle in her eye.

Sam nodded. ‘Sometimes it's the only word that's right, Mum! But she'll forgive me – I'm her twin.'

Danny, devastated, had talked with Helen long into the previous night, raging and swearing until he had vented most of his anger, then weeping helplessly with frustration and grief. On Helen's advice, he had agreed to talk to Sam, but after a sleepless night, he left early for work, putting off the confrontation until that evening.

He didn't beat around the bush. ‘Sam, we all know why this happened. It's my fault, not yours, and I'm sorry, terribly sorry. Life sometimes doesn't deliver those things we feel entitled to. Events get in the way; unfair decisions, like this one, get made. We have to learn to bear these burdens or they crush us.'

‘But, Dad, it's so unfair.' Sam's composure crumpled in the face of her father's distress. ‘All you did was try to help Dawnie, and now they're punishing us! And what if I never get another chance, like Dawnie?' she lamented.

‘Life always gives us another chance, darling,' Danny said, not entirely believing his own words. ‘We just have to pick ourselves up, brush ourselves off and have another go. Let me tell you a true story. It's sad, but I think you're strong enough to hear it.' Danny then told Sam the story of a prisoner of war called George Watford who had been with him in Thailand. ‘George rescued a starving mongrel dog and shared his food ration with her . . . she was an ugly little bitch, with lots of character. George grew to love her, I think more than his life, because by halving his food ration he was starving himself to death faster than any of us.' Sam, knuckling the tears from her eyes, listened intently. ‘One day a Japanese soldier beat the dog to death with a pick handle, in front of George —'

‘Oh, no! The poor little dog!' Sam burst into fresh tears.

Danny, noticing Sam's horrified expression for the first time, decided against telling her the fate of the dog. The soldier had taken an axe and chopped the scrawny pup into four pieces, then made the broken-hearted George cook and eat it.

Danny patted Sam on the shoulder, then continued. ‘George Watford survived the camp, mostly due to getting his full rations back, and when he returned to Australia he studied to become a vet. He told me that he very nearly took his own life over the incident and I believed him. But he decided to live, and today he runs Australia's biggest animal shelter for the RSPCA. So, you see, darling, some things make us stronger, more determined and better, even though at the time we believe we lack the strength to survive.'

Sam nodded grimly, then attempted to smile. ‘But, Dad, I need those gold medals to stick up your arse,' she wailed. Danny left his daughter's side, believing that, whatever happened, she was going to recover.

Danny resigned from parliament before the 1968 state elections. It had become clear to him that the Askin government had the potential to become as corrupt as the previous government – possibly even more corrupt – and that it was only the presence of the two Independents that kept them honest. The polls were indicating a big swing towards the Liberals, so Danny decided to resign as the member for Balmain, having achieved his purpose. The legislation to clean up Balmain and the other industrial waterfront areas around the harbour had finally gone through. Surprisingly, in the end, Labor made no attempt to block it in the Upper House.

Askin, true to his word, had offered the offending industries generous terms and financial help to relocate to the west. While the Waterside Workers Federation organised a protest march under the usual banner – ‘Jobs for Waterside Workers!' – the local people quickly saw the benefits and only the diehard communists continued to thump the bar and demand their legal rights to air and water pollution.

Bob Askin visited Danny when it became clear that he was not going to stand for another term and offered him a safe Liberal seat. ‘Danny, all the polls indicate a landslide for us. It looks very good and I could almost certainly offer you a ministry. One of the reasons for our predicted success is the harbour-front clean-up. We'd like to do the same in Newcastle and Wollongong, and you would make an excellent minister for state planning. What say?'

‘Bob, I got lucky. I was here when you scraped into government on the bones of your arse; I'm under no illusions. With the greatest respect, you're Frank Packer's man and a big-money politician, whereas I'm, at heart, a poor man's politician. If you scratch me, you'll discover a blue singlet – wouldn't suit the crisp-white-shirt style of your blokes. Thank you, but it's time I went back to the law and put a few more wife beaters away.'

‘Don't worry, Danny, there'll be plenty of work for you from my government.'

Danny laughed. ‘As long as it isn't defending the indefensible.' He paused. ‘Bob, I have to thank you for keeping your word and passing that legislation. It was my reason for going into politics in the first place.'

‘No, Danny, it was the legislation the city and the state needed. Anything I can do for you in the future, just come and see me.'

Danny grinned. ‘You wouldn't have any ideas about how to discredit the Amateur Swimming Union of Australia, would you?'

‘Ah, you've proved to be a very good politician, Danny, astute and insightful, but with them,…well, you were much too naïve. Too much Brundage's Bondage there for such as you and me.' The premier grinned. ‘Frank Packer might have been able to help. If the silvertails who run the Swimming Union ran the country, we'd all be using a straight-arm salute. Still, I'll bring it up at the Premiers Conference in Canberra next year. I don't hold out much hope that the federal mob will listen, but it will be a nice relief from fighting for more hospital beds.'

Sam, somewhat to the surprise of everyone in Balmain, was selected for the Mexico Olympics, and the media began to refer to the three Golden Fish most likely to bring back gold – Sam, Karen Moras and Lynette McClements. On the new ABC-TV show
This Day Tonight
, swimming coach Forbes Carlile appeared as Bill Peach's guest to comment on the Olympic female swimmers.

‘Do you think this is the beginning of another golden age in women's swimming and that we may discover another Dawn Fraser at these games?' Peach asked him.

Carlile was careful with his reply. ‘A Dawn Fraser is a very rare fish – 
a natural swimmer who improves a little with training and technique but arrives virtually the perfect package. Having said that, our present female swimmers can compete and win against the rest of the world – Karen Moras, Lynette McClements and Samantha Dunn, to name only three, are among our Golden Fish for Mexico, and I expect them to do well.'

‘No young Dawn doing laps in a side lane, then?' Peach asked.

‘Well, as matter of fact, I have a young swimmer from Queensland starting to train with me. She's only twelve, but I haven't seen a talent such as hers since Dawn was a nipper.'

‘And her name?'

‘Shane Gould.'

Bill Peach turned to camera. ‘Shane Gould, sounds like gold; remember, you heard it here first.' He turned back to Forbes Carlile. ‘Do you think if Dawn Fraser were permitted to compete in Mexico, she'd have a good chance of taking the five gold medals people are saying she's capable of? Become the greatest swimmer in Australian history?'

Forbes laughed. ‘I'm a swimming coach, not Nostradamus. One thing we all know in swimming is that there's many a slip between the starter's gun and the final touch. Even the best swimmers can have a bad day.' He paused. ‘But having said that, in my opinion, Dawn Fraser
is
the greatest swimmer in Australian history.'

‘The Olympic swimmers are in Townsville for training. Does it worry you that you and the other professional coaches – Harry Gallagher, for instance – are not permitted to accompany and train your own swimmers? Are you concerned that the Amateur Swimming Union of Australia has selected one chief coach, Don Talbot, to oversee the training for all the swimmers?'

‘That's two questions,' Forbes replied. ‘I'll answer the second one first. Don Talbot is an excellent coach and a good appointment, but having said that, we are asking a great deal of one coach and his helpers. Naturally, when you've worked with a swimmer, sometimes for years, you know every aspect of their character and training capacity, and when they are placed for a few weeks under a different coach it is likely to be difficult for them.' He looked directly at Bill Peach. ‘Yes, frankly, it would be very nice to be able to be with your own swimmer, be the last person they talk to before mounting the starting block in Mexico.'

‘So, you think this policy is the wrong one?'