Story_2007

=Community Story 2007=

Write around Murray! Who is Murray? Read the story find out. This is an interactive fictional story created by participants and visitors to the 'Write around the Murray' festival held in Albury/Wodonga in July–August 2007. It remains unfinished - so if you'd like to pick up the thread and continue the story of Murray, please scroll to the end, click Edit this page, add your contributions and save.

Preface
Murray is a very old woman, she has lived in the region longer than anyone can remember. She has seen many people come and go and because she is a particularly good listener, people often visit her when they are happy and excited or when they are feeling particularly low. Murray holds many of the stories in her heart and is always anxious to add to her collection. Although she is very old, she is still considered beautiful. Her blue eyes change with the light, her voice ripples along like the flowing water, at the moment she is struggling, her resources are limited and she fears she will not be able to continue supporting the people who rely on her. In the past, when times have been bad, something has always come along to allow her to continue her work and she is trusting that this will happen very soon.

Chapter 1
Murray woke to a drumming on the tin roof, a sound that had been absent so long it was almost lost in memory: rain, a sound of hope, a promise of new life. She didn’t return immediately to sleep but lay warm and comfortable, reflecting on her long life and the people whose stories were interwoven with those of her family; from these thoughts she moved to speculation on how the difficulties of the younger generation of the family might be resolved. The music of the rain softened and she was finally lulled back into a deep sleep, the last she would have for some time. Abrupt announcements interrupted: a car bomb killed 48 civilians in Baghdad; Melbourne woman shot, her baby also injured; four road fatalities. Murray cuddled deeper into the blankets a little concerned that such news no longer surprised or shocked her, it was the same every morning, only the numbers killed changed. Thus she gradually surfaced to meet the day. After pulling on a track suit, she moved into the kitchen and put on the kettle. While waiting for it to boil, she gazed through the kitchen window over the city and was stunned, as she always was, by the beauty as the colours of Autumn spread out below her. She followed the line running down the steps of Monument Hill, along Dean Street and now extended until the imposing walkway that crossed the new freeway provided a new focal point. This line blended the old and the new: almost a timeline for the city’s progress. Her eye reached the horizon and paused alert for the breaking moment of dawn, this morning the sun emerged bright scarlet between two deep banks of cloud. On past occasions she would have described the clouds as sinister but this morning, after the long years of drought, she felt only a momentary sense of foreboding then elation at the promise they contained. Having dressed and finished the little work necessary, she emerged from her front door, walked out through her gate and headed down the hill to join friends at her favorite coffee shop. The heavy clouds still seethed but the rain had ceased for the moment; she was hardly aware of the black bird circling the old home screaming its raucous cry. She headed down through the gardens and her world filled her with a joy that everyone she greeted along her way seemed to share. Murray’s family had lived in the old house for generations. A widow now she had moved back into the huge family home perched on a steep block almost at the top of Monument Hill. Her great grandfather had a lucky strike at Beechworth and used the money to set up business in Albury. That done, he proceeded to build the most comfortable house in the district. As with all families, there had occasionally been dark rumours but the family had always been successful in keeping their skeletons firmly locked in the cupboard. They were very respected in the town; from childhood she had been taught the importance of appearances. Now she was the only one left who was interested in preserving the past and was unhappy with the prospect of letting the old mansion go, her only option if she wished to keep up the life style she enjoyed. She felt a strong attachment to the city where she had lived most her life. She had been away for three years while she studied art in Melbourne and then a year when she had travelled in Europe. She had married a //suitable// boy, from a family who was happy to find work in the family business, produced three children, two boys and a girl - apparently successful in their lives. They live in distant cities and visit Murray only very occasionally. She was tireless in her social work and that brought her into contact with all kinds of people; people who sometimes shared their darkest secrets with this woman who could listen so patiently and never seemed shocked by what she heard. Murray’s life in retirement was quiet and contented. She attended some classes, served on a few committees that interested her, lunched with friends, attended the races and often went to church. Overseas trips were quite frequent and she usually travelled alone. In fact, in spite of all her activities she was a bit of a loner, she liked to be in control of a situation; able to move on as soon as she was bored. She had plenty of friends she could stay with in Melbourne or Sydney but preferred to be independent. She felt that indeed life had been very good to her. Reaching her favourite cafe, she pulled out a chair beside a thickset man who sat with a steaming cup of coffee and a newspaper spread out in front of him. ‘How’s things?’ she greeted her friend Alfons and waved to the waitress who was clearing the remains of a breakfast from a nearby table. ‘Strong black M’am?’ called Měi-Líen an elegant Asian girl whose long black hair was tied in a tight pony tail. ‘That’d be great Měi-Líen’ responded Murray, ‘How was the exam last night?’ ‘Don’t even ask,’ responded the girl frowning ‘It was gross, probably back to China for me next semester. Last time I went home my dad said any more bad results and he won’t pay for me any more.’ ‘It’ll be OK, you’ll see.’ Murray turned back to Alfons. ‘It’s a wonderful day isn’t it. It feels like a new beginning.’ ‘Then let’s hope it’s a good beginning.’ Was his gruff response. Murray heaved a great big sigh. ‘Don’t be so grumpy Alfons, on a day like this what other kind could it be?’ His reply was drowned in the thomp, thomp of powerful speakers from a long, slinkey black car with darkened windows that came screaming to a halt close by. Four doors opened in unison and from each emerged a man dressed in black from head to foot. As one, the four car doors slammed and the fraternity commenced its menacing walk to the sidewalk café.

Chapter 2
Alfons was really not listening to Murray, in fact he never really listens to her at the best of times. And today was not the best of times for him. The black clouds were not just in the sky, they were really gathering in his mind and he was not convinced that this day was going to turn out any better than any other day since the incident. He'd lost faith in everything; his family, his friends and he had become very cautious and suspicious and not an easy person to talk to these days. Alfons kept his gaze rivetted on the four men in black approaching menacingly. Should he get up and leave right now without a second glance or should he stay and find out just what they were up to. His covert glare was not immediately obvious to those around him at the table, as he had a knack of peering out from beneath his bushy eyebrows and thick eyelashes, without others being able to see his eyes. Something his daughter was forever telling him off about. He wondered now what Chelsea would have said about his actions today. "Dad! Raise your brows - you're gunna get dandruff in your eyeballs." She really was a piece of work, that Chelsea - he really missed her - if he could change anything he'd change the events of the last month so he could have her back. With that thought he decided he'd stick around and find out what was going down today.

The shadow of the men in black loomed over his table and Alfons was just about to move his chair back to make his exit when suddenly he was surprised and worried as the leader of the four men in black approached Murray.

"Are you Murray? Murray Welshpool of Albury?"

"Yes, I am. Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?"

"Harley, Harley Black, maam. It's an honour to finally meet you. Can we go somewhere more private? I have some news. Some news that may possibly make your day, maam, only it requires a modicum of discretion. Shall we?" Murray, flattered by Harley's gentle hand pressure and suggestion to raise herself, complied to his request and followed the four dark men to the Limousin. Harley, opened the back door for Murray, and she felt herself melt into the plush black leather seats. The sound system played orchestral music, perhaps Sebastian Bach, couldn't be Slash's Snakepit or was it Velvet Revolver? Yeah, Murray nodded, it's Loving the Alien from the Contraband Album, 2004. A smile sat neatly on Murray's face - this was going to be One Good Day!

Chapter 3
Mêi-Líen watched the man in black guide ‘Strong-black M’am’ into the fancy big car. It wasn’t a sight you saw often in Dean Street. The occasional Mercedes or BMW perhaps, but mainly little gas-savers or country-utes or cars she now considered a normal family sedan though her mother and father would laugh at the description. Normal and family for them was a pair of Pigeon bicycles in Beijing (a pigeon-pair her English teacher would call them: Mêi-Líen was still working on the idiom). Her parents couldn’t afford much besides her education. She’d buy them a car once she finished her exams and got a job and got some money and… And got a life. It wasn’t that she disliked serving coffee to these people, but when she read stereotypes in the local paper about the Gold-rush Chinese and their opium houses she couldn’t help but compare it to this lot trooping down on cue for their daily fix. Their orders never changed. They threw pleasantries at her (though not tips) and sat talking at each other. ‘Strong-black M’am’ and ‘Eyebrow Man’ were regulars. Predictable. Until the limousine pulled up of course. One of the men in black had looked like Brad Pitt. You had to use your imagination when you worked in jobs like this. She wondered what Brad Pitt would want with a fragile flower of a granny. She wondered why ‘Eyebrow Man’s’ eyebrows had shot up to chase his receding hair. She took another order. A shot rang out. The café stood still in a tableaux of terror. Terrorism was the topic of the moment yet no-one had given them pointers on how to behave in the event. The tableaux melted back into reality. ‘Just a car backfiring’ the owner reassured. ‘You know these flash limousines.’ That got a smattering of laughter from the clientele. Bicycles never backfired. Mêi-Líen rode the wave of homesickness as it came to take her again. She’d be a fine surfer with all this practice. A second shot rang out. The laughter died. Her English teacher had used the word died like that. Laughter can die, excitement can die. Like people can die.

Chapter 4
Unaware of the pandemonium left behind her, Murray nestled into the soft leather seats as the chauffeur eased the limo from the kerb and merged into the traffic. For some strange reason that Murray couldn't explain, she didn't feel frightened of these four handsome young men sitting beside and facing her in the back of the stretch limo. "Champagne Murray?" "Don't mind if I do." Murray took a sip of her champagne and smiled at the men. "So do you think it's about time you introduced yourselves?" "I guess it is," said the rugged man sitting opposite her. "I've already introduced myself, but these three clowns are my brothers, Walter, Dave and Lucas." "So, why have you abducted me from my daily coffee fix? And how did you know I was going to be there anyway?" "We know quite a lot about you Murray. Where you live, your daily ritual to meet your friends for coffee, in fact we know quite a lot about your family history," Harley continued. "Or should I say // our // family history." "Our family? Oh darn!" said Murray as she wiped spilt champagne off her slacks. "What on earth do you mean? I'm the only one left." "It's a long story Murray but you are definitely not the only one left. Your grandfather is our great grandfather." Murray, open mouthed, just stared at Harley, trying to make sense of what she just heard. "But Grandpa only had one son. How could he be your great grandfather?" "Because he actually had two sons. One lived in London with his mother, Agatha Black, and the other son, your grandfather, lived here in Australia with his other wife." "Great grandfather must have been a randy old devil," laughed Dave, "He spent time in each country without the wives ever knowing." Murray's mouth was so wide open now she was almost dribbling. "I'm sorry but I just can't take this in. Grandfather, a bigamist? I really don't believe it. If you are after money I'm sorry, you may as well take me back to the coffee shop right now, because it has all gone. I can barely keep the old house from falling down around me let alone keep up appearances." "Calm down Murray," said Walter. "We are not after your money or your house. In fact we may be able to help you out there. We just wanted to meet you." "Well you have gone to extraordinary lengths to meet me. What's wrong with my front door?" retorted Murray. "As Harley said before it is a long story and certainly not one to reveal in a crowded coffee shop," said Walter. "And besides," added Lucas, "We wanted to get you away from Alfons." "Alfons! What's he got to do with it?" Murray felt like she was spinning so fast that she would be thrown like a top right out of the open roof. There was so much to try and sort out in her mind that Murray hadn't realised that they were on the new highway heading out of town. "Where are you taking me?" she said as she realised how far she was from the CBD. "We are taking you to our father's place. He's the one that's researched the family history and has wanted to meet you for a long time." Harley topped up Murray's glass. "I suggest we all have a champagne and let Dad start from the beginning when we get there." "But what about Alfons?" persisted Murray. "He has got himself into a spot of bother. A gambling debt I believe, but Dad will throw more light onto that when we arrive." Murray was feeling totally confused and somewhat agitated now, so took a big breath and an even bigger gulp of champagne. The charming young men involved her in their small talk and before long she realised that she was enjoying the intrigue and couldn't wait until she met her unknown cousin. Thirty five minutes later after travelling for a few kilometers alongside neat white fences, they approached the entrance to what looked like a professional looking horse stud. The limo stopped and waited for the imposing steel gates to open. Suddenly, Murray sat upright and peered at the crest set into the steel frame above the gates. "That's the Welshpool crest!" she exclained. "But you said your name was Black!" she accused, looking directly at Harley. "We are all Welshpool's. We just didn't want to reveal ourselves in front of Alfons, so I took the first name that came to mind; my great grandmother's maiden name." "I can't wait to meet your father," said Murray, relishing the mystery even more now as they travelled past the manicured hedges lining the driveway to the modern two-storeyed home she was glimpsing through the trees. Liz46

Chapter 5
Meanwhile the gunshots continued to fire on the coffee shop and pandemonium broke out. Mei-Lien found herself grabbed unexpectedly from behind and found herself being dragged further back into the cafe.She was shoved roughly up against the wall and was told to shut up and be quiet. Then he released her and turned and left. Mei-Lien stood there in shock and watched as the man walked out of the door making a mental note of his clothing so she could hopefully help the police later.

After the gunshots Mei-Lien walked shakily towards the kitchen entrance and collapsed against the door frame. She looked cautiously out into the cafe to see if it was safe. What she saw instead was 'Eyebrow Man' leaning against the table, eyes closed with blood leaking out of his shoulder. Bec2

Mie-Lien jumped as sirens bombarded the atmosphere from all different directions. The noise stirred eyebrow-man enough for him to say in a rasp like voice, "run."' Mie- Lien stared at him still unable to move. "Run," repeated Alfons, "they'll be back. They want Murray, they want her secret. Find her, warn her." Mie- Lien started toward the front door as the phone shrilled in the background. Should she go or stay? The screech of the police car tyres as they pulled in front of the cafe made up her mind for her; as simultaneously she spun around and bolted for the back door.

Two blocks away, Mie- Lien stopped to catch her breath and pulled out her mobile phone. Frantically she jabbed buttons willing Murray to answer. All the while her mind threw questions at her. ''How did they know of her connection to Murray? How did Alfons know? Where had the men in black taken Murray?" Dejectedly Mien Le slid to the ground as her phone call remained unanswered

Drusilla2

Back at the cafe the scene was bedlam - police cars, policemen and people everywhere. Some of the midday shoppers had rushed over to peer at the damage to the shop front from the shots fired, and of course the police were doing their best to cordon off the area and keep some sort of order. Alfons was being roughly manhandled into the divvy van pulled up at the kerb right outside of the Commercial Club and another crowd of onlookers had appeared inside the new alfresco courtyard to find out what was interrupting their quiet afternoon's flutter at the pokies. He was trying desparately to wrench his arms free from the clutches of the two stony faced constables and as he was pushed into the rear of the van he slipped and bashed his right knee savagely on the towbar. By the time they were slamming fast the rear door Alfons was writhing on the floor of the van in agony. All thoughts of Mie-Lien left his brain instantly as he tried to ease the sharp burning pain he felt in his knee. He knew this day was going to bring trouble - he knew it from the time he woke up. He would need to be more careful.

Outside of the van the two constables began their routine surveillance of the surrounding area - stopping to question one or two bystanders and scribbling notes in their notebooks. The crowd was beginning to thin out as people realised that it was all over bar the shouting. Those who had been sitting at the table next to Murray and Alfons were now being interrogated and the police had everthing under control

From his vantage point high on the rooftop of the building diagonally opposite the cafe, the shooter kept his head low, still peering at the scene below through the telescopic viewer attached to his .22 rifle.

ELL