Chapter 8

Tom was at a bit of a loss as to what to do for the rest of the day.

He went to find a friendly soul to make him some tea. He met up with the jackaroos from the night before as Phil, the taller brother was getting water so they could put on a fresh billy and to wash up a bit. The brothers looked a little worse for wear.

“G’day mate, weren’t you with them nurses?” Phil asked Tom as he filled the billy under the tap.

“Yeah, they left this morning,” Tom told him.

“Well, that sucks. Harry and I were hoping to hook up with them broads today and take them for another spin. They were some wild women,” Phil said.

“Yes, they certainly were interesting characters,” Tom added with a grin.

“Well, come and get a cuppa with us,” Harry, the younger brother, offered before dunking his head under the tap.

“Thanks, I’ll be happy to do that,” Tom responded with amusement as Harry’s shaggy, black curls were whipped back and forth to throw off the excess water.

“Hey, have you been out to the Olgas yet?” Phil asked as they walked back to the tents that the boys had put up the day before.

“No, how far away are they?”

Harry said, “About an hour’s drive if we sight-see on the way. We’ll take you if you like. Not much action here during the week unless it’s school holidays. Then a bloke has got to be a bit careful as some of the High School girls look a lot older than what they are.”

“Do you two come here often to score with the tourists?” Tom just had to ask as they settled down around a small camp-fire near their tents.

Phil grinned, “Hell yeah, we come here for a week about every two or three months to visit with the grandparents and get a bit of action. Winter is the best time because we get a lot of overseas tourists during their summer holidays.”

“Harry and I even thought of becoming guides here, but they aren’t supposed to fraternise with the guests. So, we’re going to keep working for the ol’ man on our cattle station. It is east of here.”

“It must be difficult to have one foot in each camp,” Tom stated.

Phil looked at Tom oddly, but Harry grinned. “It can be. We’re pretty lucky because we get the best of both. While some of the elders don’t like us raising beef, we take what we learn from them and use it to make sure we look after the lands we use.”

“Also, being this far away from the coast means we don’t see a lot of the discrimination that the other people do. Phil didn’t like going to school as much as me.”

“That was because I was forever bailing you out of trouble,” Phil told his younger brother as he poured the steaming tea into the tin pannikins. He added a dash of cold water and then handed out the cups.

Tom had to chuckle. Not having any siblings, he was enjoying being with the two young men, who were a few years younger than himself. Half an hour later, he found himself being transported to the Olgas in a beat-up old ute.

Being with some locals was an education for Tom. They took him to see some of the gorges and water holes. The boys told him some of the stories the people had of how the Olgas were formed.

They told him their proper name was Kata Tjuta, this meant many heads. There were thirty-six domes in the range, some over 500m tall. They also told him it was an important place for men’s business but didn’t elaborate much on just what that meant.

Tom decided that Harry was a charmer and a gifted storyteller. He could see why Barb had ended up with him. Phil was a bit more reticent, but he was a good listener and Ally did like to talk, so Tom saw why that coupling happened too.

He did wonder if he should tell the boys to lay off the turps a bit more if they were planning on getting lucky. He decided that it wasn’t his problem and that he would just enjoy the day spent with the young men.

And enjoy it he did.

The men got back to the camp at Uluru in the late afternoon.

Tom decided he had better go find his bus and thanked the boys for spending the day with him. A new bus full of tourists had turned up, so the boys found plenty to distract themselves with, and Tom headed off into the failing light.

He had planned to head off a bit sooner. However, the bus driver hadn’t said he had to call for the bus at any particular time. He still had the torch that Victoria had given him, so he had light to help him find the way once it got too dark.

Tom was some hundred meters from the camp when he heard screaming. He ran back to find out what was going on. As soon as Tom heard the excited babble that a dingo had taken a baby, he was rooted to the spot in shock.

He flicked the screen to his watch on and looked at the date that said ‘1980-08-17’. Tears started dribbling down his cheeks as he now remembered why that date was significant.

He was here and had he remembered sooner he could have stopped the anguish that was going to descend upon a family and tear it asunder. He wanted to go and say sorry to the parents, but that wouldn’t bring the baby back.

It wouldn’t stop the accusation that would later fly when the mother would be accused of killing her own child. It wouldn’t stop the inquests that would span decades as the parents tried to prove their innocence.

It wouldn’t remove the heartache of being wrongfully imprisoned and having your second child taken away from you, while you served a life sentence. Or being crucified by the media and the unforgiving public that would never believe your innocence.

It wouldn’t stop all those sick baby jokes that his father had told him had been common after it had happened.

He couldn’t stop any of it.

With a heart filled with sorrow, Tom walked away from the camp.