John Marsden - Circle of fight

Meanwhile, once we got over ideas like using Liberation to storm the offices of the Department and take Madeleine hostage, or plucking Gavin out of their arms in a daring 3 am raid, we got into the serious stuff. I told them that I was going to sell the property. I’d told Mr Young the day before, because even though I knew deep down he was mostly agisting his cattle at my place because he felt he owed me a favour, at the same time he had three hundred head of stock and he’d have to find a new home for them. Depending on who bought my place of course. I’d thought it might be Homer’s parents; he said they wanted it but didn’t think they could afford it. They already carried a lot of debt, as did we all I guess. I know I did.

Then there were the Sandersons, the people who’d been given a part of the place after the war, when all the big properties were broken up by the government. They were making a good go of their farm, unlike the other three families who’d got half the place between them, until we leased it back. But I’d be happy enough for the Sandersons to buy it all. They were nice people, kind, and hard-working, and it’d be a great break for them, if they could raise the money.

But the real issue was what I would do, where I would live, where we would live, me and Gavin hopefully, if we somehow managed to prise him out of the grip of the Department. The obvious thing was to buy a place in Wirrawee, so we could keep going to the same schools and hang out with the same people, etc etc. And that was OK, and I thought I’d be happy enough with that. But deep down inside me something hankered for a bit more. Something different. Something special. A new stage, a new era.

Fi put me through a funny little cross-examination. She must have been learning from her mother.

‘Now Ellie, do you want to keep farming? Cos you could buy a little place, just a few acres maybe.’

‘No, no, I think I actually want a break from it. It does tie you down. If I’m going to leave it I might as well take a complete break.’

‘Do you want to finish this year at school?’

‘Well I guess, except I think I’ve almost left it too late. I’m so far behind and I’ve missed so much…’

‘Claim special circumstances,’ Lee said. ‘I told you that before. I don’t know why you’re so against it.’

‘God I would,’ said Jess. ‘I’d do it in thirty seconds. Just watch me.’

‘Well, maybe I should… I guess I have been a bit stubborn about that.’

‘Ellie? Stubborn? Who said that?’ Homer jumped up, looking around him as if my worst enemy had just come in. ‘Not Ellie, surely! Never!’

Fi ignored him. ‘What do you want to do next year?’

It was hard to concentrate on her questions. I felt like I had a headache even though I didn’t. ‘Oh I don’t know, it seems impossible to think that we could be let loose on the world already. I don’t have the energy for that. I wouldn’t mind crawling back into kinder for a while.’

‘Go to uni?’

‘Well, eventually, maybe. It’s so boring the way everyone does that and it’s just taken for granted that we will. I’d just as rather do something else. Start a business or travel or something.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Fi said.

‘You can’t travel if you’re looking after Gavin,’ Lee said.

Fi continued. ‘Do you want to live in a city at some stage?’

‘Actually I wouldn’t mind it for a while.’ For the first time the idea did appeal. I felt a kind of stirring of energy within me. Bright lights.

‘We can share a house and share the kids,’ Lee said. ‘Stratton’s not a bad place actually.’

I just laughed but Fi said, ‘You know that’s really quite a good idea.’

‘Wait a minute, have you two been cooking something up?’ I asked, instantly suspicious.

‘No, no,’ Fi said. ‘I never thought of it before. But it could be quite a good solution for both of you. Instant babysitters.’

‘What about Jeremy?’ Homer asked.

‘Yeah, well, I don’t know about Jeremy,’ I answered.

Fi’s mum and Bronte’s dad reappeared, demanding coffee, in the nicest possible way. Major Gisborne asked me if I wanted to talk to them away from the others but I knocked that back so we all sat around the kitchen table.

‘Three things,’ he said. ‘One is that you’ll need a court order to get the boy back. There’s no other way of doing it in the short term, although if the court rejects us we can try enlisting public opinion and putting pressure on them that way.’

‘Which you are better placed than most to do, Ellie,’ Mrs Maxwell said. ‘But it’s messy and it might not work. It could even backfire on you. But if that’s all you’re left with, once the legal options are exhausted, well, it is there as a possibility.’

‘That’s what I thought she should do,’ Homer said.

‘OK, next thing,’ Major Gisborne continued. ‘You’ll need an SC, or QC as they used to be called. It’s no good mucking around with anything less. It’ll cost you an arm and a leg, but if I can get the fellow I want, he might knock a bit off the bill. He owes me a few favours. Even so, you should allow upwards of thirty thousand dollars for this.’

Homer whistled, but the Major ignored him. ‘Now, Bronte tells me you should be pretty well off when you sell this place, but let me know now if that kind of money is going to be a problem.’

I swallowed hard. ‘No, I can sell some of my cattle. I’m going to have to sell them anyway. Only, what’s an SC?’

‘State Counsel. They’re the top guns, barristers who are used for the big cases, the famous cases. And the important cases, like yours. Now, finally, we think you should go for broke and demand the right to be appointed as the boy’s legal guardian.’

That shocked me. I couldn’t see how someone my age would ever get that kind of right from a court. But Mrs Maxwell explained why they thought it might work.

‘For one thing Ellie, if you gave birth yourself, say at sixteen, you would undoubtedly be the mother of the child and no court would take away from you the right to nurture the child and protect him and look after him and make decisions on his behalf. Now these circumstances are different because of Gavin’s age, but we’re both inclined to the view that since the war a number of guardianship orders have been made that would never have been countenanced before the war. For example, you may have seen in the papers, about two months ago, a mentally disabled woman was given the guardianship of a teenager because they were already in that kind of relationship and had been since the war, and it was working well for them. There were various conditions imposed by the court, as to supervision and monitoring and so forth, and if you get an order like this you can expect the same. But we think there is a chance of getting a court to look at your situation with a fresher eye than you could have expected a couple of years ago. That’s the best-case scenario for you and Gavin.’

‘Now the SC might well disagree with us,’ Major Gisborne cut in. ‘But we’ll soon find that out. If you want us to take this path, if you give us permission to go ahead, I’ll ring and see if he’s available. I assume you’ll want us to apply for an urgent hearing.’

‘Yeah, this afternoon would be nice,’ I said.

Mr Neil Blaine, sorry Neil Blaine SC, was quite something. A week later I was in Stratton waiting in a dowdy dark room to meet him. I was shivering with the tension of the past seven days and with the fear of what was to come. If I lost Gavin I would put that down as having lost everything. Of course I still had my friends, and good friends they were, but family are as different from your friends as your dog is from your cat. Families are cats I think.