Free Bridge of Triangles by John Muk Muk Burke Page A

they ran off again, taking Joe with them. The boy explored the backyard which was wrapped around by tall straight paling fences which separated Rose’s place from three other houses. The houses all had thick corrugated fibro roofs and low brick chimneys. A few had TV aerials.
    There was an outside lavatory, which made him think—after all this was Sydney. Even Grandma Leeton’s house had a toilet inside. But this one did flush, so that was nice. But it still smelled, and had a few dirty newspapers strewn about the wooden floor. Manton Street had had an outside lavatory which was emptied once a week by men on a horse-pulled cart. And Waterbag Road had a can which his father emptied into a hole he dug and covered with earth.
    He explored the wonders of the yard: concrete paths; a clothes line which spun around. It had some pegs on thewires. And wooden steps leading down from the back door and an old fridge lying under the house. There were several bikes under there too, with flat tyres and bits missing. He poked around until he couldn’t think what else to do. Keith and Mary were still inside. He tried to feel the excitement of being in Sydney and sure, there was something—a waiting feeling—but it was not anything like he expected. He didn’t know what he expected but surely Sydney should be more than this. He kept going up to the power pole that stood outside the front fence and looking at the wires which were attached to the fibro wall, just to the right of the front door, under the eves. The wires hung down in a gentle sway across the yard. Somehow, mysteriously, they connected up to the television set which stood inside waiting. Perhaps Sydney would get better at six o’clock. But six o’clock seemed as far away as Christmas.
    There were a few straggling shrubs lining the front fence which someone had planted with the best of intentions. They still held a few torn looking leaves and a couple of plain grey sparrows flitted about in them. There were ants on the footpath. Ants in Sydney, now that was something he didn’t expect. Fancy ants living on this concrete foot-path. Perhaps there were lizards. He would look all around, he would look everywhere for lizards. The boy looked as the screen door made its little sound. There was Clarrie, leaning against the frame. “So, youse ’ave come to the big smoke, eh? Pissed off from the old man eh?” It was more a statement than a question. Chris remained silent. His head hung down and he raised his eyes a little to look at this man who seemed to pour out so much hostility.
    Later on that night, after the disappointment of the grainy television and Aunty Rose had made up a bed on the floor in her boys’ room for Keith and himself—lucky Joe was sleeping with Paul—he listened for the sounds of Sydney.It seemed like the middle of the night. Five boys in bed in the small room, but he couldn’t hear them breathing. He could only hear the silence, like a buzzing, ringing sound which was not exactly in his ears. The room was black. Aunty Rose had not shut the door but all the big people were in bed. His mum and Mary in bed with Rose. And Clarrie, well he didn’t know where Clarrie was sleeping. But even with the door open the house was black and silent. Was he the only one awake? Why was he left watching the dark and wondering? Why was he left listening to this silence? He could feel Keith’s side. It was a little comfort in the silence. The air seemed full of tiny grey dots that swirled about in the blackness. The faint smell of gas seeped along the narrow hallway and into the air he breathed. What made that sound which seemed to be inside his head? Could it be an insect in his ear? No it wasn’t on just one side. Perhap he got an insect in both ears? It didn’t sound like an insect. Once an insect had got in his ear at Waterbag Road and his mum had poured some melted butter into his ear and he heard and