Caprice Read Free Page B

many years before.
    I was reluctant to leave this place. I wanted to spend a few more minutes and try to visualise and feel their ghostly presence as they must have sat in the shady bough shed shooing the sticky bush flies away from their meals and themselves. This is where they sat silently or singing, but always watching the vivid sunsets every evening—a different one each day, none the same, special uninhibited views of the beautiful Kingsley sunsets.

The Donaldsons
    Jack Donaldson began work immediately on his return from Mt Dunbar Station, as an orderly at the Kingsley Hospital.
    â€œI liked it until they asked me to do a shift in the morgue, you know, handling dead people. I couldn’t do that, I told the matron, Matron O’Neil,” he said.
    â€œI told them I was pulling out straight away. But they called me back and gave me a job as the gardener,” he said proudly, his leathery sunburnt face lighting up with self-satisfaction.
    Phyliss Charles was one of the hospital laundresses. Her Auntie Bella Charles was the senior laundress. Their working day began at 5.00 am, lighting the two coppers. They washed everything by hand—no washing machines in those days.
    â€œWe starched and ironed the next day. We worked really hard then,” remembered Phyliss.
    Phyliss actually came up from Geraldton for a holiday with her aunt and decided to stay on in Kingsley.
    â€œI’m glad she did, cos I wanted to marry her as soon as I set eyes on her,” said Jack.
    She was a very attractive young girl, short—not quite five feet—slightly plump with dark brown hair, not too curly, but nice and wavy. She was a pleasant smiling, popularyoung woman. She and Jack were married six months later at Geraldton.
    At the same time, Lucy was working as a part-time kitchen hand, until she became pregnant with Peggy, who became my mother.

“Mad” Mick Muldune
    Before Lucy and Mick Muldune were married, Sergeant Andrew (Andy) Miller and other white people in town tried to undermine their relationship and some even went as far as encouraging unattached white women to seduce the Irishman.
    â€œMarry a nice white woman,” they said.
    There were few white eligible women to choose from: there were the nurses from the hospital, the local barmaids and a few transients, so the competition amongst the men folk of the town was fierce. The ratio must have been in the vicinity of 80:1. There must have been more unmarried males in Kingsley than anywhere else in Western Australia.
    â€œWe used to watch all the young white fullahs, all spruced up, going up the path to the nurses’ quarters to try their luck,” said Jack grinning sardonically.
    The Irishman used to tell the others, “Why should I want to marry a white woman when Lucy’s perfect for me. She doesn’t yell or shout and let her tongue run away out of control.
    â€œAnd further,” he added, “When I go out I know she’ll be waiting for me at home.
    â€œNo man, and I mean no man,” getting quite angry now, “will covet my wife. I can trust her not to run away with any oily-tongued, charming hawker.”
    Is this what happened to the Irishman back in his homeland? Did a hawker elope with his sweetheart? Perhaps so, or perhaps not. Who knows? He was a very private person, secretive and selective. No one will ever know. He continued expounding Lucy’s attributes with great fervour.
    â€œShe’s a good cook, a good housekeeper. She’s not a demanding, domineering woman. She suits me very well, thank you very much.”
    To Mick Muldune, Lucy compared with his mother as the embodiment of pure womanhood. A most unusual comparison considering one was an Aborigine and one was Irish. “Me mam was a saint, who struggled all her life without complaining. God bless her.”
    Others tried to influence him by attacking Lucy personally, advising him, “You don’t have to marry her. Do what