Page 58 of The Pearl Sister
I want to go home . . .
‘G’day,’ a voice said from behind me. ‘How ya doing?’
I turned round and saw the girl from the tourist information desk standing behind me.
‘Okay.’
‘You waiting for someone?’ she asked me.
‘No, I don’t know anybody here yet.’
‘Then mind if I join you?’
‘Course not,’ I said, thinking it would be rude to say otherwise, even if I wasn’t exactly in the mood for small talk.
‘Did you just go swimming?’ She frowned at me. ‘Your hair’s wet.’
‘Erm, yeah,’ I said, patting it nervously, wondering if it was sticking up or something.
‘Strewth! Has no one warned you about the jellyfish? They’re brutal this time of year – we don’t go into the sea here until March, after the coast is clear. You got lucky then. One sting off an irukandji and you coulda carked it. Like, died,’ she translated.
‘Thanks for telling me. Any other dangerous things I should know about?’
‘Aside from the crocs in the creeks and the poisonous snakes that roam around this time of year, no. So, have you managed to contact yer rellies yet?’
‘You mean my relatives?’ I double-checked, trying to keep up with the Aussie slang. ‘No, not yet. I mean, I don’t think I actually have any alive here. I’m tracing my family history and Broome is where I was told to start.’
‘Yeah, it fits.’ The girl – whose name I was struggling to remember – flashed her lovely amber eyes at me. ‘You’ve got all the hallmarks of being from around these parts.’
‘Have I?’
‘Yeah. Your hair, the colour of your skin, and your eyes . . . bet I could tell you where they came from.’
‘Really? Where?’
‘I’d reckon you’ve got Aboriginal blood with some whitefella mixed in, and maybe those eyes came from Japtown, like mine.’ She gestured vaguely inland. ‘Broome was heaving with Japanese a few generations ago, and there are lots of mixed kids like us around.’
‘You’re part Aboriginal?’ I asked, wishing now I’d taken some time to do more research on Australia, because I really was sounding like a dunce. At least I suddenly recalled her name. It was Chrissie.
‘I have Aboriginal grandparents. They’re Yawuru – that’s the main Aboriginal tribe in this neck of the woods. What’s CeCe short for?’ she asked me.
‘Celaeno. I know, it’s a weird name.’
‘That’s beaut!’ It was Chrissie’s turn to look amazed.
‘Is it?’
‘Yeah, course it is! You’re named after one of the Seven Sisters of the Pleiades – thegumanyba.They’re like goddesses in our culture.’
I was speechless. No one had ever –ever– known where my name came from.
‘You really don’t know a lot about your ancestors, do you?’ she said.
‘Nope. Nothing.’ Then feeling rude as well as stupid, I added, ‘But I’d really like to learn more.’
‘My grandma is the real expert on all that stuff. Reckon she’d be stoked to tell you her Dreamtime stories – stuff that’s been passed down through the generations. Give me a call whenever and I’ll take you to meet her.’
‘Yeah, that would be great.’ I glanced out at the beach and saw the rain was now a memory, replaced by a golden-purple sun sinking fast towards the horizon. My attention was caught by a man and a camel strolling along the beach in front of the bar.
