Dee ran a guesthouse north of the city, which was how the two of them first met. She had short black hair and high cheekbonesand greeted Jack by flinging her arms around his neck and kissing him hard on the lips, Tommy standing there awkwardly, unsurewhere to look. When they parted and Jack introduced him, she flashed an appraising glance and said, smirking, “Well, justwait till the girls get a look at you.” He became a pet project for her: Dee gave him a room for a peppercorn rent, and whileJack was seeing to business (as he put it) she showed Tommy the town. Cleaned him up, got him a haircut, had him fitted fora suit and other new clothes. They walked arm in arm along the pavements, Dee laughing her big laugh, her head tipped backto show her apple-white neck and the damp pink of her tongue. Tommy worried about the two of them. He was feeling things,for sure. But then he’d never had a female friend before, didn’t know how these things worked. The whole city knocked himsideways: the crowds of people, the towering buildings, the traffic in the roads; even worse in the nighttime, swaying drunkenlybeneath the gaslights.
In a bootleg dancehall in the back room of a pub, Dee introduced Tommy to a group of her friends, who teased him for his accent and asked for stories from the mythical north. Tommy had nothing to tell them. His stories weren’t for these people, for dancehalls. He paired off with a blond girl called Sally. They spent the night together a couple of times, Tommy lying in her bed afraid to fall asleep in case he scared her with the horrors of his dreams. He didn’t get them every night, but they were unpredictable to say the least, and without work to tire him out his mind roamed. He drank to keep it quiet. To knock himself out cold. He fell for Sally heavily, as a young man of his age would, and as their time in Adelaide grew shorter he began to worry about leaving her, which had Jack roaring when he heard.
“It’s every woman you ever speak to, Bobby! No different to that whore!”
At Jack’s instigation he opened a bank account, risky in the middle of a depression, but not as risky as carrying a rumpledstack of banknotes around. He needed some convincing. Handing over all his money like that. His father had never had one,didn’t trust the banks, and it seemed way above his station in truth. But a bank account felt like something a man shouldhave, a man of means anyway, or at least a man with aspirations beyond simply getting by. Jack had shown him such things wereachievable: he led two lives, Tommy realized. One up north with the cattle and the country, another down here like some gent.That had been Tommy when he was younger: all he’d wanted was to grow up like his father, while at the same time feeling thereshould be more. He’d been more curious than his brother. Better at reading and numbers too. Once, he’d suggested they startat the school in Bewley, and Billy had looked at him like he’d lost his mind. Now it seemed vaguely possible that there wasa life for him out there, a different life, away from all the guilt and the pain. He was unsure exactly the shape it mighttake, but a bank account seemed a good start, and when he came down the steps in his new suit that day, with the papers inhis pocket and a lightness in his heels, he felt like he’d just sneaked a peek into his future, without knowing yet what thatfuture held.
Still, it was a relief to leave the city. All those buildings, those crowds. He’d not realized he could miss a place like Marree but as the train rattled north and the land opened out it felt like he was going home. He went directly to the post office. He’d written Arthur from Adelaide, told him all about the city, and Sally, and everything else. It had occurred to him while he was down there that he might have tried to track Arthur down: he had the name of the station he was working on, and though it was probably still hundreds of miles away they were closer than they had been in a long time. He didn’t. It felt like they were following different paths now. But when he opened the letter he found waiting for him in Marree, he allowed himself to hope those paths might cross one day, that he would see his old friend again.
Tommy—
Adelaide? Are you bloody kidding me? You’ll stand out like a bald cockerel down there! I’ll bet that young Sally helped you settle in some—it’s good to hear you’re enjoying yourself anyhow. Things are all right on the station here, even with the bloody sheep, but it won’t be for long, I doubt. They’ve let most of the whitefellas go, now there’s only the bosses and us blacks. On account of we’re cheaper, see. Saving them a proper wage. But the place is for closing, I reckon, so I’ll likely be on the road again. Maybe don’t write for a while in case I’m not here—they’re not the sort that would send on my mail. I’m pleased you’re getting by though, Tommy. And don’t worry about before. Nothing’s ended between us. You ain’t rid of me yet!
Arthur
It became the rhythm
