The Gospel According to Luke by Emily Maguire Read Free Book Online Page A

found.’
    â€˜Fuck. Found?’
    â€˜I was found sleeping peacefully inside an empty beer carton on Platform 2 at Granville Station,’ he told her. ‘The police never managed to track my mother down so I ended up at the New Hope Boys Home in Redfern. Apparently the police named me before I was delivered to the home, but nobody could ever tell me why they chose this name. The house mother reckonedI might be named after some heroic policeman who died performing great deeds, because otherwise why would they give me such an inappropriate name.’
    â€˜Inappropriate?’
    â€˜Because I’m a darkie.’
    Aggie looked at him hard. ‘You’re not that dark. You’re caramel. Anyway, so what?’
    â€˜Well, it caused a lot of disappointment. The couples wanting to adopt a little boy would choose from the information sheets which one they wanted to meet. They’d skip over Hakim Ali and Yin Yip and Johnny Poulos and say that this Luke Butler sounds more their type. They’d say it was because my school reports were so good or because I was so athletic, but then when it came to meet me, these things were suddenly unimportant and they would choose some blond kid who couldn’t even read and who preferred breaking other boys’ bones to actual sport. It didn’t take me long to figure out that the likelihood of me being chosen for adoption was minute, and that it became even smaller with each passing day. People like babies more than little boys, and they like little boys more than big ones, and regardless of age or size, people like light-coloured boys better than dark-coloured ones.’
    â€˜Not all people.’
    â€˜No, that’s true. Some wanted a boy of their own ethnic background, but no one could be sure if I was or wasn’t. I just had to accept that I wouldn’t beleaving New Hope until they booted me out on my sixteenth birthday.’
    Aggie put her hand on his knee. ‘So you spent your whole childhood there? God, that’s terrible.’
    â€˜No, it really wasn’t. Sometimes it was actually fun. I had my own little gang with the other boys who were never getting out. Like poor old Charlie who was Koori and told everyone his parents were just having a holiday and would be back any day. And there was Dominic, who reckoned he was French, but no one believed him because he was black and spoke Aussie and everyone knew French people were white and spoke wog. Charlie and Dom were the darkest and then it was a toss up, depending on who had spent the most time in the sun, between Hakim the Leb, Johnny the Greek or me from Granville Railway Station.
    â€˜Alex Morton was in our gang even though he wasn’t dark. We made a special exception because the house fire which killed his parents and sister had burnt all the white off him. He spent half the time in a pressure suit and the other half plastered in bandages through which pus would ooze if he didn’t change them often enough. The white kids rejected him, none of the prospective parents wanted him, strangers stared at him, and his skin was certainly coloured, and so he fitted right in with us. Not that we were picky; safety in numbers is a good thing when you’re an outcast.’
    â€˜It sounds horrendous.’
    â€˜Then I’m telling it wrong. It was fine. I was never beaten or locked in a closet. My basic needs were met, and when I got older I worked in the kitchen and garden for spending money. And I was well-liked within my group, sort of a leader, I suppose. It wasn’t like a Dickens novel or anything.’
    Aggie sighed and pressed both her hands to her face.
    Luke told her how he had never wanted to lead the gang, it was just that he seemed to have a gift for arguing with racist teachers and beating the heck out of nazi bullies, and this meant the other boys depended on him. Secretly, he never stopped wanting to be white. He spent the silent prayer time at the end