Chapter 6

Rachel called her parents to tell them her vocational news. Then we called mine. Then Rachel called Al. And then we went out for dinner – to Splash on King Street.

Thursday I got Rachel to go to the Gallery and thank Winnie (she ended up taking her to lunch). I went to the library in the Museum and tried to find out when and by whom the parks had been laid out. It was far tougher than I thought it would be. I realized that as the whole continent had been viewed as "unoccupied," lines could be drawn and stakes planted anywhere. As long as your claim didn't impinge on someone else's, it was OK. And "someone" couldn't be an Aborigine. It was quite depressing. But it did mean that if I could get Jimmy or his successor to claim the Innamincka Regional Reserve – or any additional part of the Strzelecki Desert – the government was going to have a tough time in court.

The office party was excruciating. The social hierarchy was patent in the groupings. I only knew about a half-dozen, but tried to introduce Rachel and express good wishes to as many as possible. The minister expressed his hope that world peace was imminent ... or something of the sort. Once I noted that a few people were making their escape, we left, too.

"And next year, we'll have to go to dozens of them," I noted.

"Are you kidding?"

"You don't think we'll be offered cheap plonk by every gallery in the area? You'll be someone of importance."

"Maybe I could write anonymously – like Bernard Shaw."

"You'd look great in a full beard!"

Saturday we were at my parents' for dinner. Rachel went over her news again and I spoke about my ideas.

"Are you still in touch with Jacky or Jimmy?" I asked.

"Not really. I may have the phone number of the house in Mitchell, though."

"I'd rather talk to Jimmy," I said, and I explained my notion about Innamincka and the Strzelecki.

"That's not a bad idea. You should talk to someone at the Queensland ILA."

"Who?"

"The Indigenous Lawyers Association of Queensland. They're in Brisbane. But I'd bet they've got someone interested in land rights. I've met Terry Stedman, who's on their Board. But he's interested in child safety and child protection. I've got his card in the office. But you can look them up, they've got a web site."

"That's a good tip."

"If you're interested in the Desert, there's an Aboriginal Legal Rights Movement in South Australia – but I don't know much about them. But what you want to do is maintain wariness where the do-gooders are concerned."

"You disliked them when we were in Perth."

"I sure did. Sometimes I think the overtly evil do less bad than the innocents trying to do good."

"The law of unforeseen circumstances."

Dad laughed. "Absolutely. Think of the cane toads -- they were introduced from Hawaii in June 1935 by the Bureau of Sugar Experiment Stations in an attempt to control the native grey-backed cane beetle and the Frenchi beetle. Terrible. Anyway, I'm positive that any band of Aborigines would take better care of the Preserves than the Park Service does. They collect fees all right, but the idiots set fires anyway."

Trying to change topics, I asked "What's new with Sarah?"

"Ask your mother! She seems to be keeping up her studies. Henry's still in Guam – actually one of the smaller islands, but I can't recall which..."

"Tinian?"

"No. Nor Saipan."

"Rota, then."

"Yes. I think that's it. He went to Tinian first, though."

"Does it look worthwhile?"

"Not really my thing. But others say he's doing 'important' work. I expect he'll work in the field for a few more weeks. Then he'll organize and write. Four months, six months ... maybe eight. Then he'll have his degree."

"And... ?"

"Damned if I know."

"Damned if you know what?" Mum and Rachel reappeared.

"What's up with Sarah and Henry?"

"They'll do whatever Sarah wants, once he's 'doctor'," Rachel said.

"Really?"

"I think so. He'll get a job – one of the campuses of the University of Hawaii or a university here – and they'll be married in a year."

"Has Patrick's snake been talking to you?"

"No. I've seen them together and you know what happens when you keep your ear to the ground?"

"What?"

"You get dirt in it." We all groaned.

"What about you, mum?"

"What?"

"Are you getting on the Board of the Modern?"

"Hardly. They just want money and introductions."

"Rachel had that impression, too. The ladies seemed OK."

"Oh, they are. But they're in an awkward situation – between a public entity like the Gallery and a private place that does sales."

We were nearly through dinner when dad asked: "What would you two think if we were to move?"

"Where? Nearer downtown?"

"No, further. Much further."

"Back to Perth?" Rachel guessed.

"No. Canberra."

"I thought you hated it there!"

"Well, yes. But that was a long time ago. Before I met your mother. Let me explain. Next year I'll have had this job at the Museum for five years. Also at the end of next year, Larry Marshall's term as Chief Executive of the CSIRO is up – he only accepted a two-year term. Several people – including your father, Rachel – seem to want me. Chas points out that were I to take a five-year term, I could retire at 65."

"With your faculties impaired!" mum interjected.

"Possibly. Maybe probably. It's nearly 30 years since I was first employed by the CSIRO. Larry brought a fresh outlook a year ago. He's from physics and venture capital. The Organisation had too much S and too much R and hardly any I. It's picking that up. It would be bad to elevate from within. And Chas' point is that I spent over a decade in house, another at the University, and now five at the Museum."