jo dutton - from alice with love (extract)

8/22/2019 Jo Dutton - From Alice With Love (Extract)

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Ater the end o a long-term relationship, Alicias lie is at a

crossroads when news that her mother is critically ill takes

her back to her childhood home o Alice Springs.

Though she hasnt consciously intended to remain in

central Australia, when Alicia is oered a job setting up a school

on an indigenous outstation she decides to stay. Surrounded

by the mesmerising beauty o the desert, Alicia takes charge

o the new school and, though the challenges are substantial,

she nds the work deeply ullling.

When Alicia meets Patrick through her work, shes

instantly attracted to him. Patrick shares much o Alicias

outlook on lie and their relationship fourishes until they hit

a crisis regarding their uture together ...

From Alice With Love is both a beautiul love story and a thought-

provoking novel set in the exotic red centre o Australia.

F I C T I O N

Cover design: Nada Backovic Design

Cover photographs: Josephine Pugh/Arcangel Images,

Mike Gillam, Andy Rouse/Getty Images

From Alicewith Love

FromAlicewithLove

JoDutton

Jo

Dutton

A beautiul love story,

a thought-provoking novel


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From Alicewith Love

Jo

Dutton


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First published in 2013

Copyright Jo Dutton 2013

All rights reserved. No part o this book may be reproduced or transmitted in

any orm or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording or by any inormation storage and retrieval system, without prior

permission in writing rom the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968

(the Act) allows a maximum o one chapter or 10 per cent o this book,

whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution

or its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or bodythat administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency

Limited (CAL) under the Act.

This project has been assisted by the Australian

Government through the Australia Council, its

arts unding and advisory body.

Arena Books, an imprint o

Allen & Unwin

83 Alexander Street

Crows Nest NSW 2065

Australia

Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100

Email: [email protected]

Web: www.allenandunwin.com

Cataloguing-in-Publication details are available

rom the National Library o Australia

www.trove.nla.gov.au

ISBN 978 1 74331 334 3

Set in 11/18 pt Sabon by Midland Typesetters, Australia

Printed and bound in Australia by Grifn Press

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

The paper in this book is FSC certified.

FSC promotes environmentally responsible,

socially beneficial and economically viable

management of the worlds forests.C009448
mailto:[email protected]://www.allenandunwin.com/http://www.trove.nla.gov.au/http://www.trove.nla.gov.au/http://www.allenandunwin.com/mailto:[email protected]


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1

Chapter 1

Id been expecting Mum to call. Id let her quite a ew mes sagesduring the week. When my phone rang just as I was goingto bed and Michaels number came up I hal expected it might

be her.

Alicia, he said. Your Mum is really sick. Shes been admitted

to the ICU, they think its acute hepatitis.

It was impossible to take in.

Alicia, sweetheart, Michael said anxiously, are you there? At

rst I could only nod. I think I was waiting or it not to be true.

The seconds stretched. Finally I said, Yes. How on earth did that

happen?

I sat down while my stepather told me what he knew. Hed only

got back rom a week out bush that aternoon. At home hed ound

Mum slumped in the bathroom, vomiting, her skin a jaundiced

yellow. When he asked how long shed been there, she couldnt

tell him; in act, he said, itd been hard to get any sense out o her.

Hed rushed her up to the hospital. That was hours ago. He hadnt

wanted to call till he had some idea what was happening. Like


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me he knew there was no way I could have just grabbed a fight

anyway. There was only a morning fight to Alice Springs.

A team o doctors had assessed her. Shed been put on a range o

drugs to stabilise her. Antiviral and immunosuppressant. He wasnt

sure o all the details and I didnt really care. I just wanted to know

shed be all right. Theyd know more by morning he said. They

were waiting to see i she responded to the drugs; i not, they might

have to transer her to a liver transplant unit, probably in Adelaide.

That really shook me but I didnt know what to say. He sounded

overwhelmed and I elt too ar away.

Is someone else with you?

Yeah, the unholy trinity has arrived.

That would be Frank, Iry and Lucy. Part o my Alice amily.

Good.

I better get back upstairs. My phone will be o but Ill check

messages regularly.

Tell her Im coming. Ill be up in the morning. And keep me

updated. I they look like moving her let me know as soon as you

nd out.

O course, Michael said.

See you tomorrow, tell her I love her, and you o course.

I rang my ex, Floyd. Wed been together or ten years and though

our relationship had ended, the last nine months hadnt been easy

or either o us. Leaving my job as a primary school teacher at the

same time probably hadnt been the best decision to have made.

Financially and emotionally, it had been a dicult time. Just when

I thought Floyd wouldnt answer he did. He was in Darwin, getting

some background on a story but was coming back to Sydney on the


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from alice with love

3

red-eye. He suggested we meet at the airport. His calmness steadied

me and I was grateul he was still available to me in a crisis.

It was a warm night and I packed with the an whirring, aware

that this heat would pale into insignicance when I got to Alice.

Everything summery I had went into the case. At the last minute I

threw in my bush boots and hiking shoes. Without really thinking

about what I was doing I ound mysel tidying up the fat as though

Id be away or some time. As I was clearing up my desk, I came

across my employment older in the bottom drawer, containing my

CV, qualications, reerences. For some reason I picked it up and

threw it in my suitcase too.

When Id nished packing, I paced my small balcony, wishing

I had a view to calm me. But the ocean was blocked by fats just

like mine. Four foors up, I aced the back o other concrete boxes,

and the whining o air-conditioning units which had spread like

tumours on outside walls, blowing hot air. I couldnt go to bed.

Sleeping was impossible. There was no way I could stop worrying

about Mum. I elt so useless and scared.

In the end I rang a taxi to take me to the airport.

It was 4 am, still warm, and on the street, I could hear the sea

tumbling in the distance, the waves murmuring reassuringly, and

or a moment I thought about how it might be all Id miss.

The airport was dead but at least I elt like I was on my way.

I organised mysel near Floyds arrival gate. To pass the time I

watched the cleaners run their machines back and orth over the

foors as the terminal slowly came awake. The worst-case scen-

arios about Mum, that shed die or need a new liver, kept me tightly

wound and awake.


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Floyd was easy to spot in the disembarking stream, a head above

most o the other passengers. He looked tired, but on spotting me

his ace broke into a warm smile. As he drew up alongside me he

swung an arm around my shoulder, steering me through the crowd

into a corner booth in a ca.

His kindness in spite o everything that had passed between us

made it easier to lose it or a ew moments. I elt overwhelmed

with sadness and ound mysel crying on his shoulder. He hugged

me, his arms strong and reassuring, his stubbled chin resting on my

orehead.

Hey, he said, passing me a napkin so I could wipe my tears and

blow my nose. Rosll be ne.

You dont know that, I replied.

Shes tough. Shes the toughest woman Ive ever met. Have

some aith.

Floyd was good company, telling unny stories about Territory

politicians and generally trying to distract me rom spinning into

too dark a space. No doubt he had heard rom mutual riends how

much Id been struggling lately. My ragility was no secret and he

knew Id been leaning on Mum or support. Times had been hard.

I didnt want Floyd back, it wasnt that; I just wasnt condent Id

ever get the amily o my own I wanted.

Floyd and I both started when the baby in a nearby pram began

crying. Only its small bunched sts were visible, faying the air.

I sighed. Lie seemed so unair. I olded my arms on the table and

rested my head on them.

Floyd rubbed his palm in a circle on my back. Itll be alright,

he said.


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I hoped so. A message had come through rom Michael. Mum

wouldnt be moved.

See, Floyd said, optimistic as ever. Shes already on the mend.

On the fight, the ear that Floyds presence had kept at bay returned,

swamping me. My chest was tight and Panadol seemed powerless

against my headache. The cold glass o the window provided some

relie, though, so I rested my orehead on it or most o the three-

hour journey. Descending was an absolute relie; as the amiliar

landscape moved into ocus it calmed me a little, like the presence

o an old riend. In steady waves the caterpillar ranges marched

away to the west. To the south, ochre claypans were revealed,

delicately detailed, indecipherable as ancient maps.

As we swooped lower the white conical roos o Pine Gap came

into view. Spooky ears, my childhood riend Lekisha had dubbed

them or the spying the deence base was rumoured to do. For a

moment the lime-white road to the Aboriginal Catholic Mission,

one o the places Lekisha called home, appeared at the tip o the

wing beore unurling eastward like a cowboys cast rope. The green

smudges took ormmulga, corkwood trees, and acacia bushes.

And then wed landed with a bump, and were taxiing towards the

terminal.

The heat hit me like a slap as I stepped down onto the tarmac.

Outside o the plane, the country seemed more oe than riend.

The sky, vast and daunting, stretched beore and above me. Distant

brown ranges circled, shimmering threateningly, and heat radiated

rom the black tarmac.


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Inside the terminal I waited in a daze or my bags, trying to

distract mysel rom my ear by watching the dance o arrival play

out. I saw a couple o people I vaguely knew, including the recep-

tionist at Mums work, who smiled at me sympathetically.

Wheeling my bags outside, I waited in the stifing heat or

Michael.

The last time Id been here was at Easter. Floyd and I had come

up or a holiday. It had rained or two days and the river had

fooded. The waterholes had lled. It was a joyul time, watching

the country spring to lie as opportunistically as the desert did, in a

sudden bright burst o colours. Buoyed by the beauty, inspired by

these images o hidden possibilities re-emerging, Floyd and I had

almost ooled ourselves into thinking we could make it.

Since then there had been barely a drop o rain, not even in Jan-

uary when cyclones oten pushed storms inland. The bright colours

had long since aded, and the plants did what they could to survive,

receding back into a hazy purplish wash over the landscape. At the

end o the airport concourse the ghost gum cried tears o sap, leav-

ing sticky amber blotches on the ochre paving. Foreign buel grass

had rampaged through what had been an attractive native garden,

reducing it to a scratchy brown patch. Unsettled by how unhealthy

everything looked, I hoped it wasnt some kind o sign.

Fortunately, just then Michael pulled up next to me in a Land

Cruiser, the legal service emblem emblazoned on its door. I threw

my cases in the back and opened the passenger door, grabbing the

hand rail and swinging mysel up onto the seat. Michael leant over

and landed a kiss above my eyebrow beore Id even shut the door.

I gave him a clumsy hug over the gearstick.


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Im glad youre here, he said.

How is she going? I asked, watching his ace careully.

He played with words in his mouth, taking a long time to choose

the ones he wanted. Shes resilient, he said.

How careul he was with his words made me certain she was no

better than last night. She might even be worse. I dgeted with my

bag. I wanted to ask him more but I thought it might be better just

to wait and see her or mysel. He obviously ound talking about

her too hard.

Old songs I hadnt heard in a while played on the local radio

reminding me o Mum. Everything I saw out the window reminded

me o her. The wide sandy river, the red and purple hills, even the

buel grass which she hated. It struck me that i she died Id never

be able to bear coming back here, and Id lose both her and this

country I loved so much.

Shell make it, Michael said in the tone he reserved or acts. In

his court voice. Which oten made them not acts at all but details

in a narrative he was trying to sell.

Am I that obvious? I asked. I thought I was hard to read?

Who told you that?

Floyd.

Well, he said. I suppose it depends on the situation. I think

blind Freddy could see how you eel right now.

He squeezed my hand.

The driver o an oncoming van stuck a black hand out the

window, the turn o his palm, thumb and nger cocked. Whats up?

Was that Henry? I asked, craning my head around to stare

ater the van. Henry was Lekishas uncle and Id always had a


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sot spot or him. Yeah. Hes been great. A real leader. Now the

new housing has been built at Promised Land everyones more or

less up there all the time and hes getting the kids in and out to

school.

Hes running the kids into school in town?

Yeah.

Thats a big commitment, I said. And expensive too, given

it was a round trip o over two hundred kilometres.

Ros ound some money to help with the costs.

O course she did. Mum was every unding bodys nightmare.

I there was a dollar to be ound she could sni it out. Shed shown

a natural talent or nding money since starting here over thirty

years ago as a volunteer social worker partnered with an Aborig-

inal mentor, Lekishas grandmother, Magdalene. It was probably

Mums nose or money that prompted the Aboriginal health organ-

isation to give her and Magdalene some o their earliest paid roles.

Later, Im sure it was this same skill that had her promoted reluct-

antly into a management position. It couldnt have been her tact:

Mums eisty nature had oten landed her in trouble with bureau-

cracy. It was knowing just how to write a submission that had

saved her neck. That and her relationship with Magdalene.

With a pang o ear, I wondered what would save her now.

They think they might nally get that school up and running

there soon, said Michael, clearly determined to keep talking now

hed started.

Really? I said, jolted back. The dream o starting a school or

Magdalenes small community at Promised Land was almost as old

as I was.


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Yeah, theyre pretty condent. I heard theres been a response

to the last report they wrote to put up to the department. The one

Floyd was lobbying on behal o.

Thats good, I said, too distracted or the conversation. We

were nearly at the hospital when Michael, ever the pragmatist,

made a quick detour home so I could drop o my gear.

When we pulled in to the driveway, the house and garden looked

the same.

The old red gum was still standing. Above the roo line the fame

tree was ablaze with tongued red fowers. Fat purple ruit weighed

down the mulberry tree so heavily it looked like a weeping variety.

At the doorway I nearly tripped over Mums red Birkenstocks. All

by themselves they could have made me cry. I put my head down

and tried not to look at her old brown leather work bag on the hat

stand as I dumped my suitcase on the foor o the entrance hall.

Coming out I noticed Mr and Mrs Press across the street sitting

on their verandah in the same soa chairs theyd reclined in or as

long as I could remember. Mrs Press caught my eye as I was getting

into the car. I raised a hand in a wave but her return smile was so

loaded with concern and sympathy that I had to look away in case

I started crying again.


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Chapter 2

When we got to the hospital I insisted Michael drop me o inthe car park and head on to his oce. I saw him waver, hisinstinct to support me at war with his duty to return to work. Like

Mum, he had always been a complete workaholic. Hed been the

senior lawyer at the legal aid oce in Alice or decades. I knew even

this mornings break would be enough to have created a backlog.

There was no mercy in his line o work, no let-up.

Go, see whats happening at work then come back, I instructed.

Are you sure?

Michael! I bit my bottom lip and I think he saw then that it

wouldnt have mattered i his desk was totally clear: I had to see

Mum on my own the rst time. I needed space to cope.

He nodded. Take care, he said, giving my hand a squeeze

beore driving o.

ICU was on the top foor o the hospital near the operating

theatres. I made my way through the automatic doors and down

the hospitals expansive entrance, the big bright mural painted by

women I knew ailing to get my attention or the rst time. I didnt


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notice Frank, Iry and Lucy, who were waiting or me near the lits,

until they intercepted me.

Hey, I said, realising now why Michael had agreed to leave me.

We hugged in an uncoordinated scramble. Irys hair was blacker

and she was thinner. Frank was getting wider. And Lucy looked as

blonde and gorgeous as ever.

We just wanted to make sure youre okay.

Lucy held my hand while she spoke.

Thanks, I said. I just want to go up and see her.

You dont want one o us to come? Iry asked.

No. Im right. They were making me more nervous, not less.

Call, said Lucy. For anything.

I promised to and having just missed both lits, took the stairs

at a run.

On the rst foor I turned down the corridor towards the theatre

recovery room and then passed through some double swing doors.

The meeting room where amilies are given news o patients and

where they can just sit together when things are really bad was to

the let. The main door to ICU directly in ront. I pushed the buzzer

and waited. I was just considering whether I should push it again

when a nurse answered.

You must be the daughter, she said. Your dad said you were

coming.

I didnt correct her, only nodded and ollowed her into the open

and alsely cheery light o the space.

There, she said, tilting her head and letting me go on ahead.

In spite o all my ears and dark imaginings over the last ew

hours I was underprepared. The impact o the shock seemed to


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travel to me in slow motion. It didnt seem possible that the woman

in the hospital bed could be Mum. Her ace seemed bloated. Her

skin was an unnatural shade o yellow and hung o her loosely.

She looked as though shed aged ten years since Christmas. Why

did Michael say she was resilient? He should have just told me she

looked like she was about to die. Because she did. Mum was on

oxygen and had another tube down her nose. Her eyes were taped

closed. She was surrounded by machines, boxes that beeped and

displayed alarming-looking numbers that fashed red and green

like trac lights. It was hard to know how to get closer to her.

Tentatively I chose the side o the bed with the least obstructions

and took her hand, bending over to kiss her. I was shocked at how

putrid her breath was.

A large bag o clear liquid hung on a stand beside the bed, a drip

line eeding into a cannula just above her let wrist. I tried to ocus

on something small, something I could understand, and attempted

to read the label on the bag o liquid, but the letters were as incom-

prehensible as Mum being in such a bad way.

No wonder the others thought they should have come up

with me.

Fear pounded like sur. An undertow threatened to drag me out

where I couldnt stay on my eet.

The nurse stopped by to check Mums drip and she adjusted

a valve.

Were getting on top o it, she said. This sort o acute liver

ailure is most unusual. But try not to worry, all the indicators tell

us shes going well. She smiled reassuringly and moved on.

How could I not worry? I elt sick with it.


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I knew I should have managed to be tougher or Mums sake.

She couldnt bear it when I was upset. But as soon as the nurse

turned away I burst into tears. I didnt notice shed turned back

until I elt a comorting hand on my back.

Its a shock, she said. A big one. Have a cry. Its good.

I really cried. Nothing, though, like the crying this room would

have seen. The raw grie the nurse would have witnessed. The

rituals.

Thanks, I said, when Id managed to blow my nose and pull

mysel together.

All part o service, she said, kindly. And its Ali, she added as

she moved away.

Alicia, I said.

I took down the rail on Mums bed and perched careully next

to her, holding her hand tightly, taking in more calmly her ravaged

state, her shrunken chest, the worried creases embedded in her ace

as though, even so heavily sedated, she somehow knew she was in

deep trouble.

I wanted to do something, to say something, and I remembered

how in books and movies people are instructed to talk to uncon-

scious loved onesthat even i they cant respond, they can hear.

Youll be right, Mum, I said. I elt a bit silly talking to an

unconscious person aloud but I knew the sta wouldnt think it

was odd, even i they heard me. I rubbed Mums cool hand warm in

both o mine as I wondered what story I could tell her that would

best show her how much I needed her. There were so many. In the

end I chose an old one, rom when I was nine years old and Mum

would have been thirty-two. Younger than I was now, I thought.


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Do you remember the time you took me to the waterhole?

It was a SaturdayI know because I had a bye at netball and

you were home. And suddenly you said, Grab your shoes, a hat

were o. They were always spur-o-the-moment decisions, our

tripsat least I thought so, but maybe you planned those adven-

tures. Girls business, youd sing out to Michael, and wed head

o on what you called a one-box adventure. The single swag would

be in the boot, and orty litres o water ready and waiting as usual.

I always chose the stu or the ood box. I picked biscuits, ruit

and some nuts and dried ruit. A stub end o cheese. And at the

last minute I grabbed a ew eggs and some bread and you laughed.

We always ollowed the rules and told Michael where we were

going and when wed be back. We knew hed give us twenty-our

hours leeway beore hed come searching, in case wed had a minor

breakdown or we were having a good time and in no mood to rush.

That happened a ew times, didnt it?

On that Saturday we headed north, past the turn-o to Prom-

ised Land. Remember, Mum, the protest signs on the roadside,

the ght still on or the excisions up there. And that old sister

o Magdalenes was sitting there next to the signs like she could

have been part o the land. And you said to me, Can you imagine

begging like that or your home what some ella stole? O course

I couldnt. Still cant.

That day we went ar, up and then o on the Plenty. It was

stinking hot, unusual or early August, and the air-conditioning

in the car didnt work. Did it ever, or did you buy the beast like

that? I threaded a strand o Mums hair back behind her ear. Shed

always been ridiculously tough.


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We lost our way in the scrub searching or the waterhole you

said existed somewhere hidden in the hills. Not lost, lostwe could

have always made our way back to the main track and then to the

main road, we just didnt want to give up. We were quite method-

ical, I know that. For years I kept in my diary the coordinates you

got me to write. I wish I could remember the nal onesthen we

could go back there. But maybe we can go without them, nd it all

over again. When youre better, I mean.

By dusk we still hadnt managed to nd it, and you decided it

was too dangerous to keep searching so ar o the beaten track in

the dark. We saved the rest o the picnic ood or lunch the next day

and the eggs or breakast. Good thinking to bring the eggs, you

said, teasing me. Maybe you planned this. And when I looked

like sulking you tickled me and made me laugh.

We ate the last apple as though it was the most special apple in

the world. You cut it into waer-thin slices and ed them to me one

by one. We were sitting up on the wide bonnet o the car and once

wed nished eating we leant back on the windscreen to watch as

the stars emerged rom the darkness. The amous desert light show.

And you told me that the stars were the souls o children waiting

to be born. That that was why all my lie Id eel as i Id been

here beore and had known you orever. Because beore I was born

I was waiting up there, looking down.

I imagined then that her grip tightened in my hand. Clearing my

throat, I pressed on with the story. As the night grew darker, you

made me a bed on the back seat and gave me your sarong to keep

the fies and mosquitoes o my ace. You camped on the single

swag just outside my open door.


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16

I remember waking beore dawn, when the light was the pink

and blue o airground spun sugar, so sot, so beautiul, beore it

simply melted away into the yellow heat o the rising sun. Ive never

seen light change like that anywhere else. In act, when I think o

home its that image o sunrise which always comes to mind.

Anyway, I was looking down at you as the rst o the suns rays

reached you. Your hair was so long back then, lit up like a crown

o wild red sparks. It was the rst time Id ever really looked at you

when you were still. You seemed perect to meyour proud nose,

your wide ace, your mouth with the dark pink lipsmore beauti-

ul than an angel. I knew then Id seen you rom the sky and chosen

you to be my mother.

Shed been a good choice. Not always sweet, but air and

strong. Mum could always look ater hersel and was pretty capa-

ble out bush. Getting slightly o course had been unusual, and in

the morning it didnt take us long to nd the small pool less than

a kilometre rom where wed slept. The break in the escarpment

shed been looking or was hidden around the next bend in the

rocky curves o the ranges wed been ollowing the day beore.

Standing in the riverbed with the water at our eet we spent

some time looking up at the ace o the range, amazed by its beauty.

It elt as i someone, a god perhaps, had gone to great trouble to

nd just the right shape and shade o red rock to make this dra-

matic setting. I remember eeling as though my heart would burst

with love or the place, or my mother, or the lie Id been given.

Overcome with emotions I couldnt voice, I ran straight into

the water in my shorts and top. Ater Id splashed her enough,

Mum ollowed me in. It was lovely water, cold and brown but


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clean enough to drink. She told me this was a special place, and

that we were lucky Magdalene had given us permission to come.

Id never understood why she said that when rom memory,

the water was nowhere near Promised Land. Why would we have

needed Magdalenes permission?

We foated or ages in the small pool; when we were cold we

got out and lay on the bank and waved our arms to leave angel

imprints in the sand. I could have stayed or much longer, but we

had to be back beore Michael reported us missing. When we let

Im sure Mum promised we would go back sometime, but or some

reason we never had. Perhaps, i she got better, we could go there

again.

I stood up and stretched. At the central desk the nurse was busy

with the duty doctor, studying some data or other on a computer

screen. I assumed some o the inormation rom the monitors on

Mum were ed there but I had no real idea how the system worked.

I moved a chair closer to Mums bed so I didnt have to perch on

the bedside. It wasnt much more comortable sitting down. There

was a deep indent in the seat and it was hard not to be reminded o

all those other people whod sat here beore me. Waiting. Wonder-

ing. Hoping like I was that everything would be all right. With so

little control it was a terriying place to be.

I leant my head back, slipped o my sandals, put my eet on the

bed and stretched out as comortably as I could, as close to Mum as

possible. Im staying, here at the hospital with you, I said, trying

to sound lighthearted, until you at least say hello.

High above me on the opposite wall was a single window.

Anyone with business in this room had no time or views, but I


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18

was glad to be aorded a scrap o sky. It was reassuringly blue,

with small clouds, white as cotton wool, being chased across it by

the wind.

I texted Michael. FYI all ne here, no change. Tell others I be

in touch.

Finally the early start and the stress caught up with me, and

I closed my eyes, just or a moment.

jo dutton - from alice with love (extract)

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