use the Latin names, I said, as he planted his foot and the V12 engine took us between the khaki scrub, the spidery flowers. We were flying at 120 kilometres an hour. We have so much flora, I said, so many species, but hardly any common names. We are an anti-intellectual people who speak in Latin. I wonder what they were really called.
Kelvin was threading in and out of traffic and he did not look at me but I could feel him bristling. What do you mean, 'really'?
Previously, I said, before 1788.
The country was more real before 1788?
Don't get so quarrelsome so fast. I meant, what did the Eora people name these plants?
We were approaching the first traffic lights where the intense botanical show faded away and Moore Park Road stretched before us. Now, as he slowed, Kelvin looked across at me and rolled his eyes.
Listen, he said, I am all for Aboriginal land rights.
Good.
And I wish this little turd of a prime minister could be big enough to apologise to the Aboriginals for all the dreadful shit they've suffered, but this is my country too. I know what I call grevillea. And I don't give a fuck what it was called before. I have no fucking interest, Pete. This is a big city. We've got four million people. We've got so much other more important shit to deal with.
Well I guess the Eora don't give a fuck either. There was a war, that's what I told Sheridan. There was a war, mate. Our side won. All through history there have been wars for territory. I think that's been our big mistake, to never admit that there was a war, to pretend that we found this nice empty bit of land that no one happened to be using. We were raised on lies and it's a shock for people to recognise the truth. I don't mean the Aboriginals, they've known all along.
After that we drove in silence, as we came down on to Moore Park Road beside which a great swathe of green stretched luxuriously to the horizon.
What do you think this road was 'really' called? he grinned.
Shut up, Kelvin.
No, there was a road here, Pete, or at least it was a path at first.
How would you know a thing like that?
As a matter of fact, I learned it this morning, waiting for your plane.
Sheridan?
He says that tens of thousands of years ago, there was a cliff beneath Moore Park Road or Anzac Parade, he wasn't sure which one. Anyway the Kooris had a path along the edge of the cliff from Sydney Cove to Botany Bay. Then the sands blew in from the east and the land was flat but people are creatures of habit so the footpath continued to follow the line of the cliff. For tens of thousands of years this track was used and by the time Sheridan's great-great-grandfather was nabbed for forging contracts it had become a cart track. And now it is Moore Park Road.
You think that's true?
Sheridan is a fucking disaster, but yes, probably.
Soon we had turned off Moore Park Road and I guess it was the jet-lag high for, as I passed through Centennial Park and into Woollahra, beneath huge Moreton Bay figs, along street after street of Victorian cast iron, I thought that I had never been in such a beautiful city in my life.
Did you choose this route on purpose?
But Kelvin did not even understand my question. He was in a hurry now. He had a meeting with his fellow syndicate members who were nervous about this falling market.
What are you going to do today? he asked, as he pulled into the lane and yanked my case out of the boot.
CHAPTER THREE
HERE IS THE KEY to the house, said Kelvinator, and here is the key to the old Honda which is parked in the street. Use it as if it was your own. Here is the burglar-alarm code, don't lose it, and will you be eating with us tonight, no, don't worry, call me at work when you make up your mind. Janet will be back from Melbourne around lunchtime. The kids will be home at four but they can let themselves in.
He left to face his board. And I stood in the middle of his newly renovated kitchen worrying about Sheridan. Like most of my Sydney friends Sheridan
Kelvin was threading in and out of traffic and he did not look at me but I could feel him bristling. What do you mean, 'really'?
Previously, I said, before 1788.
The country was more real before 1788?
Don't get so quarrelsome so fast. I meant, what did the Eora people name these plants?
We were approaching the first traffic lights where the intense botanical show faded away and Moore Park Road stretched before us. Now, as he slowed, Kelvin looked across at me and rolled his eyes.
Listen, he said, I am all for Aboriginal land rights.
Good.
And I wish this little turd of a prime minister could be big enough to apologise to the Aboriginals for all the dreadful shit they've suffered, but this is my country too. I know what I call grevillea. And I don't give a fuck what it was called before. I have no fucking interest, Pete. This is a big city. We've got four million people. We've got so much other more important shit to deal with.
Well I guess the Eora don't give a fuck either. There was a war, that's what I told Sheridan. There was a war, mate. Our side won. All through history there have been wars for territory. I think that's been our big mistake, to never admit that there was a war, to pretend that we found this nice empty bit of land that no one happened to be using. We were raised on lies and it's a shock for people to recognise the truth. I don't mean the Aboriginals, they've known all along.
After that we drove in silence, as we came down on to Moore Park Road beside which a great swathe of green stretched luxuriously to the horizon.
What do you think this road was 'really' called? he grinned.
Shut up, Kelvin.
No, there was a road here, Pete, or at least it was a path at first.
How would you know a thing like that?
As a matter of fact, I learned it this morning, waiting for your plane.
Sheridan?
He says that tens of thousands of years ago, there was a cliff beneath Moore Park Road or Anzac Parade, he wasn't sure which one. Anyway the Kooris had a path along the edge of the cliff from Sydney Cove to Botany Bay. Then the sands blew in from the east and the land was flat but people are creatures of habit so the footpath continued to follow the line of the cliff. For tens of thousands of years this track was used and by the time Sheridan's great-great-grandfather was nabbed for forging contracts it had become a cart track. And now it is Moore Park Road.
You think that's true?
Sheridan is a fucking disaster, but yes, probably.
Soon we had turned off Moore Park Road and I guess it was the jet-lag high for, as I passed through Centennial Park and into Woollahra, beneath huge Moreton Bay figs, along street after street of Victorian cast iron, I thought that I had never been in such a beautiful city in my life.
Did you choose this route on purpose?
But Kelvin did not even understand my question. He was in a hurry now. He had a meeting with his fellow syndicate members who were nervous about this falling market.
What are you going to do today? he asked, as he pulled into the lane and yanked my case out of the boot.
CHAPTER THREE
HERE IS THE KEY to the house, said Kelvinator, and here is the key to the old Honda which is parked in the street. Use it as if it was your own. Here is the burglar-alarm code, don't lose it, and will you be eating with us tonight, no, don't worry, call me at work when you make up your mind. Janet will be back from Melbourne around lunchtime. The kids will be home at four but they can let themselves in.
He left to face his board. And I stood in the middle of his newly renovated kitchen worrying about Sheridan. Like most of my Sydney friends Sheridan
Similar Books
The Secret Lives of Married Women
Elissa Wald
I Drink for a Reason
David Cross
Dead Secret
Janice Frost
Darkest Love
Melody Tweedy
The Wolfe Widow (A Book Collector Mystery)
Victoria Abbott
Every Part of You Taunts Me
Megan Hart
Full Bloom
Jayne Ann Krentz
Closer Home
Kerry Anne King
Sweet Salvation
Maddie Taylor