The Shifting Light

by Alice Campion

  The room erupted into hubbub.

  ‘Man, that was the best thing ever,’ laughed Ben. ‘Hil’s face, what a cack.’

  ‘Don’t be an arse, Ben,’ said Izzy. ‘Do you think she’s okay, Nina?’

  ‘I’d better go and see,’ she replied.

  ‘Hold on, where’s Lachlan?’ asked Izzy.

  Nina turned, but he was gone. As she made her way to her mother, Nina caught snatches of conversation from the crowd.

  ‘Typical – trying to make this something political …’

  ‘Hilarious. They should put on a proper show.’

  ‘… It’s inappropriate. I mean, after all the effort …’

  ‘I spent weeks sticking cotton wool on Brendan’s merino sheep outfit and it didn’t even get a look-in.’

  ‘… Someone had to say it to Hilary. We were all thinking it anyway.’

  ‘I bet you Heath Blackett was behind it. He’s become a socialist, I heard. Or was it a greenie? Both I reckon.’

  Nina finally reached her mother who stood alone and adrift in the middle of the hall. A clump of hair had fallen across her face. Nina took hold of Hilary’s slumped shoulders and steered her gently to a chair. ‘Can I get you anything?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m alright,’ said Hilary dully.

  Nina sat beside her and placed her hand over her mother’s. Please don’t let this be the start of another breakdown.

  Around them, the crowd seemed uncertain of what to do but a general picking up of discarded shawls and hats began. The remaining food was snaffled into bags and beer dregs drained from glasses.

  ‘Of course I should’ve included them,’ Hilary muttered, half to herself. Then to Nina’s surprise she stood up.

  ‘I’d better go see Moira and apologise.’ She brushed Nina’s hand away and gave her an unexpected kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Cripes – you scared me! I didn’t know anyone was still here.’ Peg Myers stood frozen in the doorframe of the hall, as Hilary turned from the window seat where she had been sitting alone for 20 minutes.

  The crowds had long gone, as had the cleaners, and Peg was obviously doing a final check to see that nothing and no-one had been left behind.

  ‘I did leave earlier,’ said Hilary in a monotone, her hand shading her eyes from the fluorescent lights that Peg had just turned on. ‘But I came back, as you can see. And I’d like to stay for a bit – if you’ve no objection.’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Peg quickly, but Hilary’s eyes registered the nervous toying with a jumble of keys in her hand. ‘I do have to lock up, though.’

  ‘Here,’ said Hilary, holding up a hand, ‘I’ll take care of it.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Peg, throwing her the keys. ‘Thanks and … err, it was a good night, well for the most part, I mean …’

  ‘Yes. Thanks for all your help, Peg.’

  The woman nodded and headed towards the door.

  ‘Peg,’ called Hilary, now facing the window. ‘Can you turn off the lights again on your way out? The moonlight’s bright enough.’

  ‘You sure?’ A pause. ‘Yes, okay, Hilary. Good night.’

  Hilary did not turn to see her leave, but instead kept her gaze on the empty street. The car park was deserted. It was cold outside, she knew, but the night was beautifully clear. Millions of stars. The brilliant moon shed its glow over the town that seemed to have cast off the night’s excitement and retreated back into the same old dismal place it would always be.

  Hilary opened the packet of tobacco she had ‘borrowed’ from her brother, Lobby, after everything went wrong.

  She pulled out a paper, filled it with tobacco, and began to roll it backwards and forwards. When was the last time she had done this? Years ago. The fountain with Jim – that’s when. She sealed the fine taper, lit it and took a puff. The only remnant of the night’s festivities appeared to be someone’s discarded light-coloured shawl, luminous in the moonlight by the gate. The glamour, the colour that had lit this place up just hours before had disappeared, as had her good name and her dignity – once again. Hilary’s eyes started to water. She took another puff.

  ‘Wouldn’t have picked you as a smoker.’ It was someone else by the doorway, a man this time.

  Hilary looked up.

  ‘Sorry to intrude,’ said the voice, as the man it belonged to walked closer and stood in a pool of moonlight.

  It was Lachlan Wright. What was he still doing here?

  ‘Mind if I join you?’ he asked.

  Hilary paused, then shrugged.

  ‘I was halfway down the road when I realised I hadn’t thanked the one person who made tonight happen,’ Lachlan continued, as he pulled a chair up to join her.

  She looked at him, eyebrows raised.

  ‘So, thank you,’ he said.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she said, brushing some ash from the velvet folds of her dress. ‘You’re right – I haven’t smoked in ages, but after tonight, well, I feel like I should treat myself.’

  ‘Good point,’ said Lachlan. ‘I suppose,’ he said searching in his jacket, ‘that seeing you’re treating yourself, you might be interested in a shot of this?’ He held out a hip flask. Her mind flew back to that day at the fountain, a lifetime ago, when Jim had offered her a sip from a similar one.

  ‘Sure.’ She took a sip and felt its warmth flow to her stomach, before she handed it back.

  ‘Cheers,’ he said as he raised it in the air and took a gulp. Then his face turned serious. ‘I’m sorry about what happened tonight. After all your hard work …’

  ‘The truth is …’ said Hilary. ‘It does hurt. I wish it didn’t, but it does.’

  Lachlan nodded. ‘I can see that.’

  ‘I don’t know why I bother,’ continued Hilary. ‘You try to drum up some real enthusiasm, some excitement – try to make people care about what this town once had and what we’ve lost, but no. Everyone’s just too eager to rip down anything that has a whiff of imagination.’

  ‘Such a pity,’ said Lachlan.

  ‘I’m stupid. Should’ve seen it coming,’ said Hilary. ‘They just put me back in my box every chance they get. Make sure they paint me as the rich bitch on the hill who doesn’t know anything about anyone.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, but –’ said Lachlan.

  ‘Cast again as an hysterical racist,’ said Hilary, anger rising in her belly. ‘For Christ sake, my own daughter, Deborah, married an Aboriginal. My granddaughters are …’

  She stubbed her cigarette out on the window sill.

  ‘Sorry things turned out as they did. It’s tough,’ said Lachlan, leaning forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees.

  Hilary smiled and said half to herself, ‘Pathetic, aren’t I? But I’m tougher than I seem. Have to be, living here. I had a bad spell a while back and people couldn’t wait to see me fall on my face again. But I’m different this time. Stronger.’ She felt her eyes fill.

  ‘Well, for what it’s worth,’ said Lachlan, handing her a handkerchief, ‘I thought the ball was brilliant. And I wasn’t the only one. That grazier couple – Kathryn and Pat Blackett?’

  ‘Mac,’ said Hilary, wiping her eyes.

  ‘Mac, yes. Heath’s great-aunt and uncle – they were thrilled with the costumes, the music, not to mention all of that work you did with the archives. I doubt the National Library could’ve done a better job, frankly.’

  ‘Thank you,’ sniffed Hilary.

  There was a pause.

  ‘Mind if I have one?’ Lachlan asked, nodding to the tobacco.

  Hilary threw the crumpled packet and watched as Lachlan began to roll a cigarette. He had done this before.

  What was his story, anyway? She knew everyone had been just dying to see her reaction when she first cast eyes on Jim’s doppelganger, but she had not given them the satisfaction of a scene, even though the resemblance was, well, unsettling. Those eyes. And the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck. But he was not Jim.

  Hilary leant back on the window seat,
took another nip of whiskey and put her feet up. She looked at Lachlan appraisingly.

  ‘I see you’re weighing up the resemblance again like everyone else I’ve met in Wandalla.’ He smiled.

  ‘Not really. Not many knew Jim like I did. There is some resemblance. But you strike me as a whole different kettle of fish.’

  ‘How you getting home?’ asked Lachlan.

  ‘One of the station hands will be over here soon. I’ll get a ride back with him.’

  ‘I can take you.’

  ‘And risk being seen at this late hour with the town pariah?’

  ‘I tend to sympathise with pariahs.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Hilary, standing and brushing down her gown. ‘But no thanks.’

  The night was so silent and the darkness so dense in the empty Springs homestead that Izzy felt strangely disoriented. As if to compensate for the sensory deprivation, a parade of images from the evening passed in front of her eyes in intense detail. The bush band with their biblical beards, thumping away on lagerphones and washboards. The tiered china stands of asparagus rolls and ribbon sandwiches. Kathryn Blackett’s awkward questions about that locket. The appreciative look in Lachlan’s eyes when he had first seen her in the low-cut blue gown.

  He had been elusive all night. It felt like she had been constantly catching glimpses of the back of his head disappearing through doorways and around corners or being engulfed by revellers. But when he had emerged from the shadows at the side of the hall and drawn her out onto the footpath, she had felt breathless with excitement. It had seemed insanely romantic to be standing in their fairytale costumes in the moonlight and when he had taken her hands she had not been able to stop her feelings from tumbling out. Yet he had said nothing, even when she asked him how he felt. He had simply scooped her into his arms and planted his warm lips on hers. Maybe that was his way of saying they had some kind of future together, she thought. Or maybe he just wanted to stop her talking.

  It was a whistle from the back of the hall that had ended the moment. At the time she had not understood, but of course, they were just about to start the pageant and he had helped plan the whole interruption. And a good thing too. It just showed that he was as principled as she had always thought him.

  Izzy slid out of bed and felt her way to the bedroom door. She had left it ajar, but he might not see it if he didn’t turn on the light. She heard a car approach. It had to be him – the two of them were the only occupants here tonight.

  Hastily, she fumbled for the candle and matches that sat on the small hall table outside her room in case of blackouts. Izzy lit the wick and placed the light so it drew attention to the open door. As the car drew up, she leapt back into bed and tried to still her breathing. Now she could find out what tonight had meant to him.

  His boots clattered on the timber verandah and she heard the front door creak open. There was a pause as she watched the light flicker in the draft. Izzy’s anticipation mounted as he walked towards her door. Then there was a whoosh of breath, the candle was extinguished and the footsteps moved down the corridor to his bed in the office.

  CHAPTER 14

  ‘Nina, Nina, Nina. Tsk, tsk, tsk,’ sighed Lachlan, shaking his head.

  ‘What’s up?’

  Her cousin was leaning in the doorway of her studio holding a sheet of paper. ‘Is this meant to be an agistment invoice or an abstract objet d’art?’ he asked quizzically, looking over his reading glasses.

  Nina laughed. ‘Let me see,’ she said, swiping it from his hands. It was splattered with red and green flecks. ‘Bit of both, I guess.’ She handed it back to him with a smile.

  ‘We really need to do something about the state of your office. I’ve heard of colour-coding, but this is ridiculous,’ said Lachlan, walking back to the office.

  Nina followed him, wiping her hands on her painting apron. ‘Really?’ she said, concerned. ‘I know I’m crazy busy at the moment but I wouldn’t have thought things were too bad. What’s the problem exactly?’

  Lachlan sat on the desk and turned to face her. ‘Look, it’s not really my call – but I’m a bit worried you might be letting the business side of things slide a little.’

  Nina looked at him, puzzled.

  ‘I shouldn’t have said anything.’ Lachlan smiled ruefully.

  ‘No! Not at all. I value your opinion, in fact I count on it,’ Nina replied.

  ‘There are a few things that trouble me and it’s not all about paint,’ Lachlan quipped. ‘Everything’s been filed okay and the bills appear to be paid more or less on time, but you don’t seem to have a real plan with the business. As far as I can see, things pile up and then they’re taken care of in a bit of a flurry. We need to have a rethink of your priorities. We need to get more than one or two groups a month. Or we need more agistment. Letting other people’s stock graze here could really supplement the retreat.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Nina, flopping onto the camp bed opposite him.

  ‘Well,’ he continued, ‘if you look at how much you’re actually making by leasing your grazing rights as compared with hosting the tours – agistment wins hands down. Such a small outlay and …’

  ‘But –’ began Nina.

  ‘I know, I know – the retreat is part of your dream job. I get that. But just look at how much work it involves. Agistment’s just money for jam. Make the business pay better without you having to do much.’ Lachlan grabbed his laptop. ‘Just check this out.’

  Nina joined him as he searched the local stock and station agents. ‘Thinking of buying a poddy calf, are we? A racehorse?’ she smiled.

  ‘Hilarious. See,’ said Lachlan, scrolling down.

  Nina studied the screen. There were ads from farmers wanting grazing land and they weren’t that far from The Springs – well, not far for out here.

  ‘There are heaps of these,’ said Lachlan. ‘Don’t you see? If we push this side of the business we can wipe away a lot of the worry with the other side. Let the boring stuff pay the bills. I’m not talking about a huge change. Just a smart one.’

  Nina nodded. This was sort of making sense.

  Lachlan continued: ‘Anyway while we’re at it, your existing contracts are up for renewal. You just need to sign them – and soon,’ said Lachlan.

  ‘Ugh,’ groaned Nina. ‘I know, I know. I just haven’t got round to it …’

  Lachlan cleared his throat. ‘Yes, I realise you’ve got a lot on. Anyone can see that. But you can’t leave things hanging. That’s how people lose business.’ He shuffled a pile of papers. ‘Now, I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty earlier today of drawing up a new contract – nothing too flash – the Coombes, out Mount Cubba way. You know?’

  Nina nodded as he handed her the pile of papers.

  ‘Wow, there’s a lot,’ she said.

  ‘Right, first up – a form you need to complete for the Office of Water.’

  ‘Better run that one past Heath.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Lachlan, placing that form on the desk. ‘Now here’s the renewal papers and a membership form for the local Primary Producers’ Association which you really should join. Oh, and there’s the Land Management Action Group I signed you up for – they can get you heaps of discounts in town. There’s also some insurance forms due last month that seem to have been overlooked.’

  Nina flicked through the papers.

  Lachlan smiled. ‘Sorry – didn’t mean to ambush you. Look, think about more agistments and if you’re keen we can talk about it later.’ He took off his glasses and ran his hand through his hair.

  Nina sighed. ‘No. You’re right. Chuck us that pen.’

  Lachlan handed it to her. ‘So, you’re happy for me to deal with the grazing rights?’

  ‘Yes. And I’m the one who should say sorry. I’m so, so lucky I have people like you and Izzy looking out for me.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Lachlan. ‘Just sign here.’ He flicked through a few pages and pointed. ‘Here.’ More pages flew past. ‘And her
e.’ He smiled. ‘And one more.’

  Nina scrawled her signature and threw the pen on the desk. ‘If only all my tasks today were this easy.’

  Lachlan laughed. ‘Actually, there’s something you could do to make it easier for me.’

  ‘What’s that?’ said Nina.

  ‘Well, Izzy’s only here one week in four. Her bedroom’s empty the other three weeks. Maybe it’d be more efficient if I moved into that room and she stay with the guests in the shearers’ quarters, or when that’s full, take the camp bed here in the office.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Nina. ‘I can see you’ve got a point. But … Izzy’s worked her heart out for this for a whole year. I just don’t think I could do that.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Lachlan turned back to his papers. ‘Now, you get back to the hard yakka with your painting. Are you on track for the exhibition?’

  ‘Sort of,’ said Nina. ‘I need to get stuck in while I have some time to myself. But I’m finding it hard to get into the right head-space. You know, I’m still questioning myself.’

  ‘You shouldn’t. Heath away again, is he?’

  ‘No, he’s out with Ben.’

  Lachlan shook his head.

  ‘What?’ asked Nina.

  ‘I just hope that fella of yours appreciates how much you have going on,’ he said. ‘What with the exhibition, trying to run a business …’

  ‘Course he does.’

  Lachlan held up his hands. ‘Yes, ignore me – said too much as usual. I just worry about those farming ideas of his. Many of them are sound, granted, but it doesn’t take much to get people here offside.’

  ‘What? Have you heard something?’ asked Nina, concerned.

  ‘No. That is, not directly. But I just hope his ideas start to pay off soon. Take some of the pressure off you.’

  Nina felt herself flush. ‘They will pay off, Lachlan. He’s doing really well. More and more people are into what he’s trying to do and …’

  ‘Speak of the devil!’ Lachlan said as they heard the screen door bang and Heath’s unmistakable ‘Nina!’ from the hallway.