Chapters (68)
- Dedication
- Clancy of The Overflow
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- Chapter 62
- Chapter 63
- Chapter 64
- Author’s Note
- About the Author
And she had the gully too. The Overflow men did not come there, did not even know of it, seeing only a crevice between the rocks, the thorn bushes, the trickle of water that wandered to what was left of the river in its sand. But once through that narrow gap the gorge opened up, steep and rock strewn, the water trickling over the rock ledges, even now, for it was the sand that swallowed most of it, had swallowed it, the aunties said, since white men dug the river and the land upstream, as well as downstream, hunting for that useless sparkle called gold.
There was a pool. She did not know the pool’s significance — she had been stolen too young for that — but she knew it mattered. She also knew that it was strong, that every time she sat here, on the smooth warm rock around it, the pool gave her the strength to keep on going so that, somehow, she might be free, once her people returned from Reservation.
The sky had slipped in its vast circle. The owl flapped once, twice, then rose, its talons out. It grabbed the possum that lived in the tree called ‘apple’ behind the house.
The possum screamed. She heard its scream echo up the gully. She smiled. The owl’s young would eat well tonight.
And now she must go back in, to the small hot space shut off from the sweet clear complexity of the night air, for she must be up with the grey dawn to light the kitchen fire when the house’s inhabitants woke, instead of sleeping till her body’s need was done.
Why?
Because they had guns, she told herself. And because, just now, she had nowhere else to go, except to whatever Sydney turned out to be.
Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Piperade
There are many versions of this dish, which is a sort of Basque omelette or scrambled eggs. Don’t bother to make this dish unless you have really good, rich squishy tomatoes.
Olive oil, 3 large onions, 4 red capsicum (can use grilled capsicum from deli), 6 cloves garlic, 10 large, very red, ripe tomatoes, 6 eggs, 1 bunch basil (leaves only), black pepper
Add olive oil to pan. Sauté chopped onion until transparent. Add sliced capsicum, cook for another 2 minutes, then add crushed garlic for 10 seconds, then skinned tomatoes (remove skin by dipping tomatoes in boiling water, then quartering them — skin will peel off easily). Cook for 10 minutes, stirring so the mixture doesn’t stick. Pour in beaten eggs and basil leaves. Don’t stir once the eggs are mixed with the vegetable purée; just shake the pan as vigorously as you can. Take it off the heat when the eggs are nearly set; don’t overcook.
Eat hot, with the pepper freshly ground over it.
GIBBER’S CREEK, MAY 1980
JED