Dreamscapes

by Tamara McKinley

  ‘Then I’m glad we’re friends,’ said Rosa with a warm smile. ‘You can always come here for the holidays. Mum said so this morning.’

  Harriet returned the smile, warmed by the generosity and friendship she’d received during her stay. ‘Thanks,’ she said, unable to put into words the emotions that were rushing through her.

  Rosa shrugged. ‘No worries, Hat. If it hadn’t have been for Mum, then I don’t know what would have happened to me and Connor. I’m glad I can share this with you.’

  Harriet was still on the brink of tears; she had never known such kindness, such an open-handed giving of friendship. It was an emotional moment. When she’d finally got her feelings under control, she rolled onto her back and breathed in the warm air that was scented with wattle, pine and eucalyptus. Lying there in the grass, she gazed through the leaves and up to the sky. She felt sleepy and at peace. The sky was clear, and she could hear the crickets sawing in the trees, and the laughter of a kookaburra nearby. It was so remote here, that Sydney, school and her mother could be a million miles away. If only it could stay that way, she thought wistfully. But of course it couldn’t.

  Harriet sighed as she closed her eyes. She’d been shown a different way of life on Belvedere. Catriona had spent hours with her and Rosa, organising picnics and swimming in the billabong, telling stories and encouraging the girls to explore and have fun. It was all so distant from the ordered, but restricted existence in Sydney where she was expected to be polite and well behaved. Rosa was luckier than she could ever have imagined, yet she felt no jealousy, how could she when Rosa had so openly offered to share it all with her?

  Harriet’s mother’s insistence that children should be seen and never heard was a lesson she’d learned very early on. Most of her childhood had been spent in boarding schools, and during her mother’s brief appearances in the holidays she’d been expected to comply with her relentless social climbing. The parties and weekends away with people she hardly knew and didn’t like, had been made just to keep the peace, for Jeanette Wilson’s ambition was not something to be crossed.

  School was an escape from the strictures of the very neat apartment in the city, and the stifling rules and regulations she’d had to adhere to since she could remember. It had been a little easier when her father was around, and she missed him terribly. Dad had always found time in his busy schedule to come to open days and take an interest in her triumphs and offer consolation in her failures. He’d been her best friend, her rock, encouraging her to be ambitious for herself – to take pride in what she could achieve – always boosting her confidence and showing his pride in her bright intelligence.

  Her mother, Jeanette, had different ideas, and as Harriet grew older, she’d come to realise that the private education was merely another tool in her mother’s quest for her to meet what she called the ‘right people’. She was already talking of finishing school in Switzerland, and the possibilities of snaring a wealthy and connected husband so she wouldn’t have to work for a living. Harriet was confused by the mixed messages she was receiving from her mother. Jeanette had worked all her adult life – she was a prima ballerina in the Sydney Ballet Company – and had worked long, exhausting hours to reach the peak of her career. Why should it be different for her?

  ‘What’s the matter, Hat?’ Rosa’s voice snapped her from her thoughts.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said with a contented sigh. ‘I’m just happy to be here.’

  *

  Over the next six years, Harriet’s friendship with Rosa and Belinda was firmly established. Belvedere had become a second home, Catriona a warm and welcoming presence during the school holidays. Belinda’s unrequited love for Connor never dimmed despite his numerous conquests in Drum Creek, and Catriona became convinced the piratical swagger his injured knee had left him with went a long way towards his success with women.

  As she stood in the yard with Pat Sullivan and watched the three girls saddle up their horses and ride off, she realised with a start that Rosa, Belinda and Harriet were no longer children. At seventeen, Rosa was still small and slender, but she’d filled out in all the right places, which was startling in such a little thing. Her hair was short and spiky, tipped with bright red dye. She liked wearing dark eye make-up and lipstick, and her clothes were unorthodox to say the least – usually black, skimpy and totally out of kilter with the lifestyle of the Outback station. Her fondness for jewellery, short skirts and miniscule tops had become the talk of the neighbourhood. She was getting more like Poppy by the day.

  Belinda was taller, broader and of stocky build like her brothers. She still preferred to wear jeans and T-shirts, and was more at home on a horse than in the classroom. Despite her age, Belinda would always be a tomboy. Her hair was a halo of dark curls which tumbled over her shoulders and almost to her waist, and her eyes were the brightest blue. When she smiled she could melt an iceberg and her personality defied criticism.

  Harriet was of average height, slim and elegant, her deportment like that of a dancer. Her thick blonde hair swung to her shoulders, her complexion was creamy and her eyes were sometimes blue, and sometimes green. She was still the calmest of the three, but her sense of fun and her confidence had blossomed during the years at Belvedere, and she was a different girl to the one who had arrived, shy and alone at school on that first day.

  ‘Time seems to have flown,’ Catriona murmured. ‘I can’t believe those three larrikins are almost eighteen.’

  Pat smiled. ‘Eighteen going on ten, more like,’ she said. ‘Horse mad, and as mischievous as a wagon-load of monkeys. Just look at them going hell-for-leather, not a thought in their heads.’ She turned to Catriona. ‘It seems like only yesterday since you came to live here,’ she murmured. ‘No regrets?’

  Catriona laughed and ran her fingers through her short-cropped hair. It was much more practical – cooler too – and at fifty-seven it suited her. ‘None,’ she said firmly. ‘But I couldn’t have settled in so quickly if it hadn’t been for you.’

  Pat shrugged. ‘I didn’t do very much,’ she demurred. ‘Your personality and the way you’ve brought up Rosa and Connor were enough to earn respect from everyone.’

  Catriona dug her hands in her trouser pockets. ‘I knew I’d have my work cut out trying to raise someone else’s children, and I was worried about fitting in after the years of travelling,’ she said quietly. ‘You helped more than you realise, Pat. I was terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing, of turning up in some designer dress when jeans and a shirt would have been more suitable.’ She squinted in the sun. ‘I didn’t want to be different, you see,’ she confessed.

  Pat gave her a swift hug. ‘You’ll always be different,’ she said with a smile. ‘But it’s a nice difference, and we all love hearing your outrageous stories. It’s as if Poppy’s come back.’

  Catriona watched the three distant figures that were almost drowning in the heat haze. ‘I think that’s the greatest compliment you could have paid me,’ she said finally.

  They strolled back to the house. Archie demanded feeding as usual and was most disgruntled when he was served the remains of some dried food. He was a big, fat, ginger tom now, with a voracious appetite and a penchant for sleeping all day. Catriona was in no doubt as to who was in charge in this relationship, but he was pleasant company when the girls were away and she enjoyed his warm, purring weight in her lap during the long, cold winter evenings.

  After making a cuppa, Pat and Catriona sat in the shade of the verandah and watched the men go back and forth from corral to paddock, from barn to shed. The calves had been separated from their mothers and were complaining loudly as they kicked up the dirt in the corral. The road-train would be coming later today to load them up and take them to the stock market. It was the one time on Belvedere she hated, but she was wise enough not to say anything. There was no place for sentimentality out here: just good business and common sense.

  ‘Poor Connor,’ sighed Pat as he peered out of the blacksmith’s shed befo
re crossing the yard. ‘He’s still terrified of Belinda.’

  The two women giggled. ‘She follows him about like a shadow, all eyes and trembling lip,’ spluttered Catriona. ‘He spends half his time avoiding her.’

  ‘Unrequited love,’ sighed Pat. ‘Poor Belinda. I was hoping she’d grow out of it and find a nice boy at college.’

  ‘Perhaps she’ll meet someone at university?’ said Catriona.

  Pat chewed her lip and began to fidget with a button on her cardigan. ‘She’s decided not to go,’ she murmured.

  Catriona’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘But I thought she was as set as Rosa and Harriet on a career in the law? They’ve talked of nothing else for years.’

  Pat tucked her short, greying hair behind her ears. ‘Belinda’s tired of school,’ she said flatly. ‘She can’t wait to get out into the great big world and start earning money.’ She sighed. ‘I’ve tried talking to her, but she’s made her mind up, and you know how stubborn she can be. Once she’s set her heart on something, nothing will sway her.’

  Catriona thought of the girl’s passion for Connor – it didn’t bode well for the poor boy, but then he was almost twenty-two; some girl would catch him sooner or later. And she rather liked the idea of Belinda for a daughter-in-law. She gathered her wayward thoughts and returned to the subject in hand. ‘I suppose she’ll work on Derwent Hills? I’m not surprised. She’s a country girl through and through.’

  Pat shook her head. ‘Her brothers are already taking over. There really isn’t a job for her there any more. She’s decided to stick with the law, but on the enforcement side of things. She’s been accepted at Police College in Sydney.’

  Catriona looked at her friend and saw the disappointment in her expression. Pat had wanted so much more for her only daughter. ‘I’m sorry, Pat,’ she said. ‘But Belinda always was happier doing something physical rather than poring over books.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right. But I was quite looking forward to having a lawyer in the family.’ She grinned. ‘Something to boast about. Still, if I know my daughter, she’ll do well at whatever job she chooses.’ She laughed. ‘I pity any poor bloke who tries to get the better of her though. With three brothers and a life on a station behind her, Belinda’s more than capable of handling herself.’

  The two women finished their tea and went down to the utility. ‘I’d better get back, there’s a ton of things to do before it gets dark.’

  Catriona gave her a hug. ‘I’ll bring Belinda back on Sunday night,’ she said. ‘Then we can all fly over to Sydney on Monday and settle the girls in for their last semester.’

  ‘It’s hard to believe they’re finishing college,’ sighed Pat as she turned the key in the ignition. ‘Feels like only yesterday they were in junior school.’

  Catriona stood on the step and waved as Pat drove through the first gate. She watched the trail of dust billow and ebb before turning back to the house. Closing the door behind her, she went into the lounge and sat down at the piano. After a moment’s thought, she began to play, her fingers sweeping over the keys.

  The tune was called ‘Summertime’, from Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess, and it seemed to encapsulate the very essence of this moment. As she began to sing the haunting melody she realised that change was coming into her life again and, although it was sad to think the childhood days were gone, she was looking forward to the next stage in life’s adventure.

  The three girls came slamming through the screen door just after sunset. They were filthy, out of breath and starving – as usual. Catriona sent them off to the bathroom, and closed the piano lid. The day had disappeared as she’d become lost in the music.

  Rosa came rushing into the kitchen just as she was carving the roast beef. ‘Mum,’ she shouted. ‘Billy says he’ll take us out tonight. You can come too,’ she added hastily. ‘Please say we can go.’

  Catriona smiled at the concession. ‘Maybe,’ she said as she carried on carving. ‘Where exactly is Billy planning to take you?’

  ‘Isn’t Connor coming in for his tea?’ asked Belinda as she and Harriet entered the room and sat at the table.

  ‘He’s eating with the men,’ said Catriona as she swiftly finished carving the joint. She saw the crestfallen face and relented. ‘But I expect we’ll see him later,’ she added.

  ‘Can we go out with Billy, then?’ asked Rosa impatiently.

  Catriona looked down at her and smiled. ‘Hadn’t you better explain exactly what Billy plans to do out there in the middle of the night?’

  Rosa shook her head. Her eyes were shining and she positively glowed with excitement. ‘I promised not to say. It’s a surprise.’

  Probably one of his mysterious walkabouts, Catriona thought. But why not? It could be fun. ‘As it’s your last weekend at home, I think we should all go,’ she said. She looked across at Belinda. ‘Why don’t I see if Connor wants to come too? I’ll go and ask him after tea, shall I?’

  Belinda blushed and dipped her chin. ‘If you like,’ she muttered with a studied lack of enthusiasm.

  Rosa and Harriet nudged one another and giggled, and Catriona glared at them to behave. Rosa teased her brother unmercifully about Belinda, and it was all getting past a joke. Perhaps being at Police College would cure Belinda of this passion and set her mind to other things.

  *

  There was something about the stillness of the night which made conversation unnecessary. Catriona sat easily in the narrow stockman’s saddle, one hand on the reins, the other on her thigh as they followed Billy Birdsong and his two strapping sons out into the country. Her senses were sharpened by the crisp, cool air, and the scents of the night drifted up to her as the horses trotted at a leisurely pace through the long grass. Eucalyptus, pine, crushed grass and wildflowers mingled into a delicious potpourri as the moon gilded the tops of the trees and threw deep shadows beneath them. The rustle of a gentle breeze sifted through the clumps of brittle spinnifex and chattered in the drooping eucalyptus leaves like whispers from ancient spirits. The effect was spellbinding.

  Catriona glanced across at the three girls and saw they too were affected by the grandeur of their surroundings, although how much of Belinda’s was due to Connor’s moody presence she had no idea. The girl was positively radiant.

  The land opened up and the stands of trees were now behind them, the hills a distant line of dark shadows on the far horizon. Billy Birdsong slowed his horse to a walk and pointed to a series of low swells in the land. ‘Eggs of Rainbow Serpent,’ he muttered.

  ‘Good Dreaming Place. Plenty Ancestor Spirits.’

  Catriona’s lips twitched into a smile. Billy was being a little dramatic as usual. He was a wonderful storyteller, but inclined to over-egg the pudding when it came to performing for an audience. Yet, as she glanced at the others she could see they had become enchanted by their surroundings and the mystery behind this strange journey into the night, and were staring ahead, their expressions rapt as the Aborigine talked in his sing-song voice of ancestors and spirits and totems from the Dreamtime.

  The fleeting urge to treat this outing as bit of a lark was swept away in the realisation that Billy fully believed the Dreamtime story of the Rainbow Serpent, and was leading them into territory uncharted by any white man, into the myths and legends of creation. And how could she doubt them? This place, this sense of timelessness, was overwhelming. The very essence of all she believed lost in the sheer grandeur of this ancient and mystical land, and in the soothing, lyrical voice of the Aborigine who led them further into its silent heart.

  The sense of being in a sacred place grew stronger as they turned their horses’ heads towards the voluptuous curves of those low hills, and Catriona became aware of how she was being drawn to them. It was as if she was dreaming, as if she had been willingly overtaken by an unseen power that was too strong to resist. Yet she didn’t feel afraid, and had no wish to turn back for there was a profound conviction that she was about to experience something extraordinary.

&nbs
p; The gentle undulations rose against the night sky like the humped backs of benign whales that had been frozen in time as they plunged through the ocean of grass. The Aborigines led the way, the older man’s voice drifting with the soft wind as each of them was slowly engulfed in the deep shadows cast from the hills across the grassland. The gentle swish of horses’ hoofs through the grass accompanied the music of his voice and the sigh of the wind. They were being drawn into the Dreaming, back into the time when the first Spirit Ancestors left their footprints upon the newly created earth.

  The riders were strung out in a line behind the Aborigines, and Catriona wondered if they too were experiencing this deep sense of aloneness, of being small and insignificant against the ancient hills and the all-encompassing sky. Were they sensing the presence of long-dead spirits, or was she just imagining things? She shifted in the saddle and looked around at the others, but they were like awed children as they followed the sweet, tantalising song of their Pied Piper into the Never-Never.

  They finally came to a halt and slid from their saddles. With the horses hobbled, they silently followed the barefooted black men along a narrow, twisting track that spiralled up the highest of the hills. Billy Birdsong was muttering, his words unintelligible, but somehow soothing as he drew to a halt beside a long flat mesa and sat down.

  Catriona and the others followed suit, each of them utterly enchanted by the sound of his voice and the view spread before them. Gilded pastures stretched to the horizon and silver snakes of water meandered in and out of deep shadows as the land curved and folded against itself beneath the moon. But it was the sky that drew them, and Catriona found it was the most natural thing in the world to lie back against the brittle grass and to stare up and become lost in the magnificence of it all as she traced each glittering path of the heavenly constellations.

  The Milky Way splashed a broad sweep across the darkness, Orion and the Southern Cross seemed so close it was almost as if she could reach up and pluck them from the sky, almost as if she could hold the golden orb of the moon in her palm and feel its power. As Catriona followed the draw of the moon and the stars she heard the siren song of the Aborigine and felt the earth melt from beneath her. She was weightless, drifting, being rocked in the cradle of creation by unseen hands that were slowly taking her towards infinity. There was no fear, just a profound sense of peace, of being where she was meant to be.