Memoirs of an Arresting Woman

By Wendy Laing

In 1961, when Laurie McKenzie arrives in Darwin to take up a position as a constable, the Superintendent of Police informs her that because of an administrative error, she is the first and only female to be appointed as a police officer in the Northern Territory of Australia.

Laurie is posted to the outback mining town of Rabbit Creek where, as part of her job, she must deal with murders, a paedophile, a wife-beater and crocodile poachers, as she strives to earn the respect of the townspeople and her male colleagues.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Mar 7, 2019
• ISBN: 9781922261540

Wendy Laing

Mt name is Wendy Laing and I am an Australian writer who lives in Deloraine, a small town on the island state of Tasmania.I am the Secretary and Competition Coordinator for the Society of Women Writers Tasmania and I also run a writers' group in Deloraine. I write articles for the Launceston Examiner newspaper and the Meander Valley Gazette.Although I have previously had poetry published in ‘Word Weavers’, and short stories in magazines such as Stylus, Memoirs of an Arresting Woman is my first fictional novella.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

A steady trickle of fluid leaked from one of the engines. We had been in the air for about an hour after taking off from Tennant Creek in the Northern Territory when I stared out the window and noticed the drip.

‘Excuse me,’ I called to the hostess as she glided past, a glass of water in her hand.

‘Can I help you?’ she said, leaning over me on an angle in an attempt not to spill the drink.

‘Is oil supposed to leak from an engine?’

The hostess glanced to where I pointed, gave an ‘oh’ and headed towards the cockpit. Water from the glass sloshed onto her uniform, but she did not notice in her hurry to the front of the plane.

A few minutes later, after two loud dings, a message rang out over the intercom above our heads.

‘This is your captain here. Sorry for the inconvenience folks, but we have a small predicament with an overheated engine. Unfortunately, this means an extended stay at the Katherine Airport while engineers repair the problem.’

It was the first week in April 1961. I was one of three police officers on a two-year transfer from South Australia to the Northern Territory.

We’d taken off from Adelaide Airport at 8.30 that morning. I’d placed my satchel and police hat on the overhead luggage rack. Two men carrying similar hats noticed mine and smiled hello as they made their way to seats farther back in the aircraft. As we took our seats, the lady sitting next to me introduced herself.

‘I’m Mary Henderson; I’ve been visiting family in the Barossa Valley for the past month. My husband is the vet in Katherine.’

Once settled, my handbag tucked between the seat and the window, seatbelt on, I turned towards her and smiled. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mrs Henderson, my name’s Laurie McKenzie. I’m travelling to Darwin to become a constable with the Northern Territory Police Force.’

All seemed well, but once in the air, the journey became a nightmare. Every time we landed and took off from small towns along the flight path, my stomach moved up and down with the plane.

‘Why are we stopping everywhere?’ I asked the hostess after taking off from a place called Oodnadatta. As we rose into the air, the plane had given a sudden lurch. My stomach churned like the inside of a washing machine.

‘It’s called the ‘milk run’ because we carry the mail and perishable items for the townspeople,’ the hostess replied. ‘Do you need anti-sickness tablets to soothe your stomach?’

I shook my head. ‘No thanks, I’ll try to sleep instead.’

When we reached Katherine, I waved goodbye to Mrs Henderson and headed into the waiting room. The remaining passengers sat on red vinyl armchairs, books or magazines in their hands while mechanics worked hard to repair the engine. The room was hot and stuffy; even the ceiling fans circulated warm air.

As we waited in the terminal, the two men from the plane strolled over to where I stood at a window watching the engineers as they toiled in the heat. The sound of an occasional bang from a spanner interspersed with colourful swear words floated through the air.

We shook hands and introduced ourselves.

‘I’m Graeme Mathers, and this is Bruce Flynn. We were constables stationed at the Elizabeth Police Station before we applied for positions in the Northern Territory.’

At about thirty years of age, Graeme was tall and angular. He reminded me of a stork, with his thin face and a large nose. Even his hair sat in wispy clumps.

Bruce was the exact opposite. Not as tall as Graeme, his broad shoulders, square chin, and brown eyes gave him a dependable look.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ I said. ‘I’m Laurie McKenzie. No experience at a police station yet. Fresh out of the training college. I graduated last week.’

We exchanged a few more pleasantries, centred in the most part on where we would prefer to be stationed.

‘Darwin will suit me fine,’ Bruce said. ‘Beaches, palm trees, fishing, plus some police work in between.’

Graeme wiggled his body into a new position on an uncomfortable sticky vinyl chair.

‘The motto for the Northern Territory police force is To Serve and Protect,’ he said. ‘That’s on the shoulder patch of the uniform shirts. Although our cap badges still have the Australian Coat of Arms on the hatband.’

Graeme mused as he chewed on his bottom lip. ‘An assignment to Alice Springs would be okay. I liked what we could see of the town when we landed there.’

‘We’ll soon know.’ I replied. ‘The Northern Territory is a huge place; we could find ourselves assigned anywhere.’

Three long hours passed before we heard our flight called over a loud speaker.

The passengers boarded the plane, and we took off for the next stop, Darwin.

Once airborne, the droning of the motors became a continuous noise. My eyes grew heavy as my thoughts meandered back in time. Memories flooded in about the terrible day my life turned upside down.

On the final day at school, exams finished, textbooks returned to the library, University beckoned. English was my best subject, so maybe I could do a degree in journalism. The results of my exams would arrive early next January. A break was in order with lots of beach time, swimming and sun baking. Holidays a definite first before decision time about the future.

With a glance at my watch as I alighted from the bus, it occurred to me no one would be home. Mum and Dad were at a football match. My brother, Roddy’s team, were playing the grand final against Finsbury Secondary College. They were runners-up last year but with the addition of two new players, had become a strong team. The match wouldn’t finish until sometime after five o’clock.

Mum said not to cook anything; they would pick up fish and chips on the way home.

A bookshop on the corner of our street would be a good place to spend some time. An hour later, two magazines crammed into my satchel on top of my school books, I continued on my way.

Engrossed in my thoughts, I barely glanced at a police car parked on the curb outside my house. Two uniformed constables stood on the veranda knocking on the door.

The front gate squeaked, and they turned to face me as I walked up the short path towards them.

‘Can I help you?’ I enquired.

They removed their caps and held them in front of their bodies. The policeman twisted his hat around with his hands, an uncomfortable look on his face. The lady brushed wisps of hair from her forehead.

‘Are you Laurie McKenzie?’ she said.

‘Yes.’

‘This is Senior Constable Johns,’ the policewoman said, indicating the man standing next to her. ‘And I’m Constable Gaylord.’

‘My parents are not home. They’re at a football match with my brother.’ I looked at my watch. Almost seven o’clock. ‘They seem to be running late. Is it important?’

‘It’s you we’ve come to see, Laurie. Can we come inside and sit down please?’

Their faces, so solemn, caused a sudden sensation of apprehension to crawl up my spine.

The officers followed me into the house where I ushered them into the lounge room. Perched on the edge of the sofa I watched them seat themselves, the policewoman on the sofa, the policeman across from us on an armchair. My hands lay clasped on my lap to stop their nervous shaking.

‘Has something happened to my parents?’

‘Sit next to me, Laurie. It is bad new I’m afraid,’ the policewoman said.

‘There is no easy way to say this …’

She held my trembling hands as I sat on the lounge. ‘Your parents and brother have been in a car accident on the way home from the football match. A drunken driver, coming towards them, speeding too fast, deviated onto the wrong side of the road.’ Constable Gaylord paused, struggling to find the right words. ‘Out of control, he slammed into your parents' vehicle, which veered off the road onto the gravel, where it turned over in a ditch.’

‘Are they okay? Are they in the hospital? Can I see them?’

‘No,’ the constable replied in a low, calm voice; ‘All your family died at the scene of the accident, Laurie.’

My lips trembled as big sobs welled up in my throat. Tears filled my eyes and ran over my cheeks. My parents and brother dead? It didn’t seem real. Was it a dream?

A shaky hand reached into my pocket and pulled out a handkerchief.

‘How did you find me?’ I managed to say, wiping tears from my eyes.

‘Your phone number was in your mother’s handbag, and we traced your address from the information provided.’

Constable Gaylord accompanied me to the morgue, stood close by and wiped tears from my eyes while I identified my parents and brother. Having no marks on their faces gave them a serene appearance. They did not look like accident victims, just asleep and white, so white and cold.

Even with their bodies lying on the tables, I still believed this was a bad dream; my parents would be back soon from the football match. There would be laughter and smiles because Roddy’s team had won. At the time, my mind could not comprehend the fact everyone I loved was dead.

Georgia, as the policewoman said to call her, arranged for a friend of my mother’s to stay for a while.

‘Only until the funeral,’ she said when I worried about not knowing this person, except by sight. She and Mum had played bingo once a week. She always waved from the driver's seat of her car when dropping Mum back home. Both my parents were only children. My grandparents on both sides of the family had passed away years ago. There was nobody left – but me.

I returned to the present when a change in the engine noise meant we were losing altitude as the plane came nearer to landing.

Hands white with strain clutched the seat as the plane touched down at Darwin that late afternoon. Eleven long hours after leaving Adelaide and three hours later than usual due to the enforced stay in Katherine. Never had I been so pleased to reach the end of a journey! Satchel and handbag in one hand and hat in the other I joined the queue exiting the plane.

Although it was late afternoon, heat rose in waves from the tarmac through the soles of my shoes. It was almost like a walk over hot tar. Oh, but the relief to place both feet on solid earth again!

Graeme and Bruce joined me as we entered the terminal. A uniformed policeman stood near the exit gates, eyes scanning the passengers. He smiled as we walked up to him.

‘You must be the three recruits from South Australia.’ he stared at me, opened his mouth to add something else, but after a few seconds, shut it and gave me a puzzled grin.

‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘this is Graeme Mathers and Bruce Flynn. I’m Laurie McKenzie.’

‘Harry Brooks,’ he said, shaking our hands. ‘Collect your luggage from the departure area, and we can leave. The car’s parked outside the entrance.’

As we walked over to the baggage arrival section, he told us because of the delayed flight time; we had the privilege of being booked into a hotel for the night. As an afterthought, he added there was no need to worry about the expense. The Government would pay for our stay.

Harry explained the civilian airport was situated in the Air Force base a few miles south of the town. It would take twenty minutes to drive to the hotel, in the heart of Darwin.

As we drove past houses dotted each side of the road, I gazed out the window, fascinated to see homes built on stilts with laundries underneath. Red and purple bougainvillea vines meandered up veranda posts. In many gardens, frangipani bushes flourished interspersed with tall palm trees. Shouts of glee arose as children splashed and played under garden sprinklers set up on lawns. Dogs barked and nipped at the hoses.

Late afternoon meant shops were closed and traffic sparse as we drove through the town and pulled up at the hotel.

A sign across the front door read Darwin Central Hotel in large black letters. Flower pots containing bird of paradise, anthurium, hibiscus and delphiniums hung from the first-floor veranda. These brightened an otherwise dull frontage.

Harry disappeared into reception to book us in while we unloaded cases from the car boot.

‘Here we go,’ he said when he returned, ‘Graeme and Bruce will be sharing a room on the ground floor. Laurie, you have a single room on the first floor.’

He handed over the room keys and pointed across the street.

‘The low brick building opposite is the police station. Inspector Drinkwater would like to welcome you and discuss your duties in the Northern Territory Police Force at 7.30 tomorrow morning. I have taken the liberty of ordering an early breakfast at a quarter to seven.’

We shook hands and thanked him for the lift. Harry climbed into the car and waved as he drove away.

‘See you tomorrow morning.’ I said to Graeme and Bruce as we carried our luggage into the hotel. ‘No tea for me, too tired to eat after the long flight. I’ll have a shower, read for a while and sleep.’

They both laughed. ‘Okay Laurie, see you at breakfast.’

They stowed their luggage in the cloakroom and headed toward the bar.

Lugging the case and carrying the satchel, I climbed up the stairs to the first floor. After a long walk along the corridor checking numbers as I passed each one. I found my room and unlocked the door. While placing the suitcase and satchel on the floor next to the bed, I yawned. Clean white sheets and two pillows beckoned.

Apart from the bed, the furniture comprised a bedside table and a small one-drawer wardrobe. There was a handbasin, bar of yellow soap and a clean white hand towel. A mosquito net hung from a hook over the bed.

At least the room wasn’t hot and stuffy as the open louvres in the window