Chapter 15: Sydney

Tessa was taken aback when a tall, grey-haired man addressed her at the baggage carousel in Sydney.

“You must be Tessa! I’m really glad to meet you! I’d offer a hug and kiss, but you might find it overwhelming.”

“You’re overdoing it, Gordy!” said an over-loaded Sam. “Tessa, this is, as you must have inferred, my grandfather.”

“How do you do, sir?”

“I’m fine! More than fine. I’ve been worried about this young man, but like a mother bear, I’m sure you can lick him into shape.”

“Ravens peck, but I’ll do my best.”

“Good. Got everything? I’ve a car outside. We’ll be at the Marriott in 20 minutes.”

The ‘car’ proved to be a Mercedes with a driver.

“This wasn’t necessary,” Sam said.

“Actually, it’s a bargain. I was picked up, I don’t have to drive, it waited right by the Terminal, and I won’t have to concern myself with it downtown. I learned this from Weena’s father, Rob, decades ago: money solves many problems. Now, briefly, tell me your plans”

“Well, depending on what dad’s arranged, we’ll have three days here in town. I thought mum might like to do an art tour with Tessa one day. I’d like to spend some time with you and dad. Tessa and I will do your museum one day...”

“Not quite ‘mine’ any more.”

“But you can get us in?”

“I believe they’ll recognize my membership.”

“I want to look at the Cuddie Springs stuff again.”

“Possible.”

“And Tessa’s never been here. You could show her your spiders...”

“That was but an notion of mine half a century ago. Anyway, give Tessa a chance – we’re already past the golf courses.”

“I’m just looking. I’ve never seen so many houses. The past few days were only my second time in Adelaide.”

“Well, Sydney’s over four times Adelaide’s population. Edging five million, I think. By the way, UNSW’s over there. We just passed through Kensington. This is Moore Park. Now Paddington. There are some arts places around here. The Art Gallery is on our left and over there are the Royal Botanic Gardens. Not at their best in the autumn.”

“It’s all too much...”

“Well, here we are.”

A doorman had the door, a porter with a cart was loading the baggage and Gordy turned to the driver.

“Thank you very much. That was really quite efficient.”

“My pleasure, sir. Thank you.” And he pocketed the note Gordy handed him.

“Don’t you need to pay?” asked Sam.

“After over twenty years, the company seems to manage to invoice me regularly.” He led the way to the desk. “Hollister, party of two. I phoned yesterday.”

“Yessir. If the occupants would please...” he gestured at a card and a pen.

“Sam, just put in your name and the numeral ‘2’, OK?” Gordy slid his card across and the clerk ran it.

“Thank you, sir. The porter has your key cards. Enjoy your stay at the Sydney Harbour Marriott at Circular Quay.”

“I’ll wait in the lounge,” Gordy said. “Take your time, wash up or whatever.”

“We won’t be long.” “Thank you, Dr. Hollister.”

“Gordy.”

“Gordy.”

It was about 15 minutes later that Sam and Tessa joined Gordy.

“I’ve made a reservation for 1900 at Aria for the six of us,” he said.

“Six?” asked Tessa.

“We three, plus Patrick, Rachel and Weena. Your future family.”

“That’s untimely!”

“Perhaps, I don’t think so.”

“Think?”

“I don’t have a python nor an eagle.”

“I hate to interrupt,” said Tessa, “But I’ve been in a taxi, an airplane and a limo. Could we get outdoors for a bit?”

“Of course, my dear. Let’s walk over towards Government House. Will you be warm enough? And do you need a snack?”

“I need a snack. Let’s have coffee or tea and a sweet and then traipse about.”

Gordy flagged a waiter.

“While my under-nourished grandson gorges himself on sugary calories, Tessa, tell me where you went to school.”

“St. Mary’s in Port Augusta. It doesn’t exist any more.”

“Your departure had such a calamitous effect?”

Tessa laughed. “Not quite: the Sisters merged it with St. Mary’s in Adelaide. I wish I were there now.”

“You didn’t like St. Mary’s?”

“The school was fine. The Dominican sisters were wonderful. And I learned a lot. But I was the only abo. And the girls sometimes called me ‘nigger’.”

“You’ll have to tell Rachel about that. Maybe she’ll tell you about the time – she must have been six or seven – when a bully called her ‘jap’ in the school yard.”

“Shush,” said Sam. “Those are my parents.”

“I am afraid of them.”

“You shouldn’t be, Tessa. Do I frighten you?”

“No. But you are ‘grandfather.’ I don’t know how to behave with Sam’s parents.”

“Ah, yes. But you aren’t married. So they aren’t your in-laws.”

“Despite St. Mary’s, I was taught about avoiding those elders.”

“C’mon. Rachel and Patrick aren’t members of any band!” Sam said. “And you spoke with my dad!”

“Over the speakerphone. That was not direct.”

“You’re wrong, Sam. Patrick is the Carpet Python. He has been known to several bands since he was a child. And you have presented Tessa as your intended. Typically, there is an avoidance relationship between a man and his mother-in-law, usually between a woman and her father-in-law, and sometimes between any person and their parent-in-law of the same sex. So Tessa fears what is coming. As she said, she doesn’t know how to behave at dinner. Luckily, I will be there. As will your sister.”

“She will also be a problem,” Tessa remarked.

“Why? She’s not yet fourteen.”

“She is Weena and so carries the Weena who was your grandmother. I must greet her as your younger sister, but also as the spirit of your grandmother.”

“And she’s a brat!”

“I don’t know that you should say that. I hadn’t thought things through when we were with your father’s sister and your father’s sister’s daughter. Henry was completely outside.”

“I have a suggestion,” Gordy interjected. “While Patrick is a Python and Sam Bunjil, neither carries tribal blood. You may respect Patrick and hold his words in high regard, but he is not your father-in-law.” He stood up. “We’ll walk through a bit of the Domain and then go to the restaurant.”

“May I call you ‘Grandfather’?”

“Of course. But I really prefer Gordy.”

They crossed at Bridge Street and strolled through the grass. Sam pointed to the Residence, but it of little interest to Tessa.

“So much grass! So many trees!” she exclaimed. “And this isn’t even the lush north! Maybe we could go up there someday!”

“You should go through the Botanical Garden while you’re here,” said Gordy. “I know Sam won’t be very interested. But he’ll take you.”

“Sure. But not the Art Gallery, too. I’ve been there too often with my mother.”

They walked about a bit and then went to the restaurant. Patrick, Rachel and Weena were there before 1900.

Dinner had been awkward for Tessa at first, but Weena chattered with her about school and fashions and Rachel about going to the Gallery, and she had relaxed enough to exchange a few remarks with Patrick. They arranged that Patrick and Rachel would come to the hotel in the morning: Patrick and Sam would go to the Government Offices on York Street and Rachel would take Tessa to the Art Gallery.

Monday morning, as they walked south, Sam asked his father where they were going.

“NSW Government Offices. But we’re getting you government photo ID. We’ll get something similar for both of you in Perth. Any member of a band will know of you, as they know of me. But this is the sort of thing that satisfies European Aussies.”

“I understand. But, you don’t see any problems, do you?” Sam stressed ‘see.’

“No. But my snake doesn’t reveal everything; nor, I imagine, does your eagle. Remember what Machiavelli wrote: ‘God is not willing to do everything, and thus take away our free will and that share of glory which belongs to us.’ The Prince, Chapter 26] While those that are observe and know, they do not divulge.”

Sam followed Patrick to a small room where he stood at a line on the floor, had a picture taken, signed a printed form, and watched as the picture was printed onto the form, the form was sandwiched in plastic and trimmed. “Thanks,” he said to the clerk, placing the card in his wallet.

“Now, we’ll stroll over the the Museum and meet Gordy,” Patrick said.

As planned, they met in the main entry, where Gordy was chatting with a young man. “Excuse me,” he said as they came up, “These are my guests.”

“Thank you, sir,” the man said and walked off.

“An entomology student,” Gordy said.

“You attract them, Dad, as flies to roadkill.”

“That’s unkind. Anyway, what do you want to see?”

“Aboriginal artifacts. But especially the Kimberley points.”

“Ah, yes. You’ll be flying out there.”

“To Perth on Thursday. Up to the Coastal Camp on Saturday ... possibly on Friday.”