‘Know what? I’m done in – bed for me.’ Izzy yawned.
‘Me too.’ And then it hit her like a blow. It really was all up to her. ‘Izz, does he really think he’s not good enough?’
‘Maybe. What I do know is it’s cruel to keep him in limbo like this.’
‘You’re probably right,’ said Nina. ‘Definitely right.’
As Izzy climbed the steps, she stopped when Nina spoke: ‘I wish you’d tell me what’s bothering you, though.’
‘It’s late, that’s all that’s bothering me. And you have to drive home to Kurrabar.’
CHAPTER 19
The clomp of hooves and the gentle snorts of the frisky horses gave Nina a strange sense of déjà vu as she followed Jet’s black haunches across the paddock. Heath had insisted he show her why the extra cattle on The Springs would have been disastrous. It was not often they made the time to go for a ride these days but this was a chance to show him his passions mattered to her.
She never tired of looking at Heath as he rode, the confident line of his back and shoulders, the way his long legs gripped Jet’s sides. She gave Rapid a gentle kick to catch up with him. Nina knew he was often in her paddocks moving his stock around while she was painting. It was an arrangement that had usually worked well.
‘See how the feed here is almost finished, there’s only a bit of green underneath,’ said Heath. ‘This is what I was talking about. If we had left that many cattle in here any longer, it would never have regenerated.’
She noticed the adjoining paddock, which she remembered being dusty and open, did not look so destitute now. The bare patches of earth were covered in a variety of olive and green grasses. Ahead, a herd of 60 or so cattle walked slowly along the fence-line.
‘So how long do you think they should stay in this paddock?’ she asked.
‘Just for a week or so, then we’ll rest it, so the saltbush can grow back.’
‘What are those lines of green?’ asked Nina surprised, pointing at the coloured strips in the dry grass they were riding through.
‘That’s the new native grass trials we put in last spring. Don’t you remember?’
‘Oh … yes.’ Nina felt embarrassed. Had she really been that self-absorbed? How would she feel if he was so dismissive of her painting? ‘It looks amazing.’
‘It’ll keep growing, even when the rest of the paddock dries off,’ Heath explained.
She was used to seeing these paddocks as just a beautiful textured landscape, in tones of brown and green. She had never really noticed the different types of grasses and the way they grew. Heath had always teased her, saying: ‘You just see this place in terms of paint acres, not farm acres!’ And he had been right.
Syd darted out to bring in a calf that had started to wander. Jet and Heath cantered off, moving as one. The calf gave up almost immediately and turned to rejoin the herd. The pair turned and trotted back.
‘Good boy, Syd,’ said Nina. ‘It’s really working. What you and Ben have been doing. I can see that now.’
Wordlessly, they spread out to steer the cattle through the gate Heath had left open. The animals, used to his handling, wandered through unperturbed until they saw the new grass and then hurried through mooing for their calves. Backing Jet skilfully, Heath closed the gate.
‘So what’s this grass called?’ asked Nina as they headed across the paddock.
Heath smiled. ‘Knottybutt.’
Nina looked at him. ‘Seriously?’
‘Or you could call it box grass, but I like Knotty …’
‘… Butt,’ laughed Nina. ‘I’ll remember that!’
The feathery stems swayed gently in the breeze. The colours were subtle, delicate. The lines of grass spread out like fingers caressing the dry, grey earth. This was what held the land, what protected its soil. Nina wished she had her sketchbook or camera with her.
‘You’re going to laugh, but I need to paint this. Got an idea.’
‘You mean you don’t want to come and check the water tank in the bottom paddock?’ he teased. ‘Go on. When the brush is hot, stick it in some paint. Haven’t heard you this inspired, for a long time.’
Nina held his gaze. ‘Thank you,’ she said simply, then turned and cantered off, the wind blowing her hair. Her mind was full of colour, lines and movement.
The light was fading but Nina couldn’t stop. She stood in front of the easel in her studio, the canvas filled with interwoven lines – roots like highways burrowing into the earth itself. Near the top, a mass of delicate fronds spread out into the distance. She began experimenting with a weak wash down one side, the soaking rain.
Heath had turned up later with a plate of cutlets, beans and mashed potato and sat watching her eat. Nina had barely tasted it although she had wiped the plate clean. She remembered vaguely smiling at him and a goodbye kiss.
This was all-consuming – the excitement of an idea taking over, where she was its slave.
It seemed so right to be capturing his dream in paint, uniting their two visions.
It was only when the morning chorus of birds and the glow of light penetrated her consciousness that Nina was able to stand back from the canvas. She shook her head. Had she really done this? The tiny dots of grey soil were interwoven with a fine network of pale, almost luminous, subterranean roots, while the ground’s surface was a crown of thick sage brush strokes. Smeared through the intricate patterns were streaks of rain, a falling cascade of colour.
The shifting light brought new depths of meaning and subtlety to the work. It felt as though she was really seeing into the heart of things for the first time. This was the breakthrough she had needed. Not just in her painting but her life.
The way ahead seemed suddenly clear.
All at once weariness enveloped her. She swayed and sat exhausted on the old sofa. She would come back later and look again. Right now, she needed to … Moments later she was curled up, cuddling a pillow, falling into sweet darkness.
CHAPTER 20
‘Glad you’ve finally washed up here,’ said Moira. ‘I was itching to get back from Dubbo again for a squiz. Pull up a pew, Izzy. Ben, can you fit in there?’
There was something about Moira’s garden that ran down to the river, with its citrus trees and constant stream of friends and relatives, that drew Izzy here on every visit to Wandalla. It was a sort of wildlife haven for the emotionally bruised, she thought. She always left feeling stronger.
Yes, stronger and somehow changed. Maybe it was because just being with Moira made her consider things that she’d never had to before – like the drama around the Settlers’ Ball. It had underlined how bizarre Miss Morphett’s romantic notions of explorers forging into an uninhabited interior were. It was much more complex.
‘Give us a look.’ Moira stretched out her hand and Izzy placed the locket into it.
‘We were hoping you and Roy could tell us if these markings had any Koori meanings,’ said Ben. ‘As far as we know it was made around here, so if they’re Aboriginal they’d be related to the local people.’
‘What do you reckon?’ said Moira, passing the locket to her husband.
Roy looked closely through a magnifying glass. ‘The number’s not any use to us. And that’s nothing like the spears we paint. Circles in circles can mean a meeting place, but you’d usually see them broken, like two hemispheres facing each other. Got to say it doesn’t look like anything from our people but I’ll ask around. Let me make a quick sketch.’ Roy made to leave.
‘Here, I’ll take a pic.’ Moira pulled out her phone and clicked away.
‘You’re a marvel, love.’ Roy smiled and winked at Izzy.
‘Hey, so you finally got that letter out of Hilary,’ said Moira. ‘I knew it must be important. Do you reckon Sarah Blackett’s hunch was right? That Barkin’ lit the fire?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Izzy. ‘Maybe he just felt sorry for the girl, losing her brother. But none of that would explain the markings. And what does it have to do with
Nina’s locket? We know the engravings on hers might mean the waterhole but what do the –’
‘Here you go.’ It was Sheree, Moira’s daughter, elbowing in with a tray of coffee and scones. She plonked herself down. ‘You gotta try this lillipilli jam and tell me what you reckon. I’m entering it in the Show this year.’ She pushed the jar across to Izzy. ‘That bloody Beth Kloostus beat me by a gnat’s dick last year. This time I’m taking home the ribbon.’ Sheree folded her plump arms and pursed her lips.
Izzy and Ben piled their scones with the purplish jam, thick with fruit.
‘Totally awesome. You will so win first place,’ said Izzy through a bulging mouthful.
‘Hmmm,’ added Ben as the table was besieged by a scrum of kids all clamouring for a share.
‘Speaking of the Show, Izzy, you still good to give us a day’s work at the bush-tucker tent on the Saturday?’ said Moira, dispensing scones and juice into eager hands.
‘Of course.’
‘We’ve been talking about setting up a café in town long-term to give the kids some work experience,’ Moira explained to Ben.
‘Everyone was rarin’ to go after that business at the ball,’ added Roy. ‘It seemed a shame to let all that energy go to waste. But the jobs just aren’t there for young people with no track record.’
‘We’re looking at that place near the war memorial that used to be the video store,’ added Moira. ‘They’ll rent it to us for practically nothing, but it’ll cost a bit to fit it out. Anyway, me and the kids thought we’d have a bit of a practice with a bush-tucker tent at the Show. Just for the three days. See how we go.’
Roy emitted his low, rumbling laugh. ‘The Women’s Auxiliary lot’ll be cheesed off when they find out.’
‘They need to up their game,’ said Sheree. ‘Everyone’s sick of those sausage rolls they serve every year. You could fire them out of a cannon.’ She turned on the kids. ‘Okay, you lot – off! Shoo.’
‘I’d back you in any scone war, Moira,’ said Ben.
‘Well, between my cooking and Sheree’s bull-headedness, we reckon we could make a go of it,’ said Moira. ‘It’s just a matter of getting the kids trained up.’
‘Bloody brilliant,’ said Ben.
‘And Izzy’s already showing Sheree how to keep the books and the like. That reminds me, Izzy, don’t leave without taking mine and Roy’s tax spreadsheets. And Phoebe Ross wants to talk to you about keeping their books too.’
‘Awesome, I’ll call her,’ said Izzy.
‘But what about you?’ Moira turned to Ben. ‘You and Heath entering your Senepol weaners in the Show this year?’
‘Nope. First time in ages, Auntie Moira. We both want to but we just don’t have time,’ Ben replied.
‘Heath judging?’
‘Nah, hasn’t been asked to this year.’
‘There’s one for the books,’ said Roy, shaking his head.
‘Anyway, he’s been too involved with this Sydney taskforce, and I’m running things by myself – just about. He reckons the Minister might come out and make an announcement about the whole conservation thing.’
‘Good,’ growled Roy. ‘Might take some of the pressure off Heath. I hear he’s been copping it a bit for the tougher water restrictions, hasn’t he?’
‘Yeah. You’d think he was personally responsible for the river levels,’ said Ben.
‘Sorry, but we’d better get going – I should’ve been back half an hour ago,’ said Izzy.
‘Hold on a tick.’ Moira ducked inside, returning with a USB stick. ‘Last two months’ accounts,’ she said, handing it to Izzy. ‘And say g’day to Nina.’
‘I will.’ Izzy was glad she’d found a moment to speak to Nina and apologised for being so straightforward about her and Heath. But Nina had brushed her concerns away, saying she appreciated the honesty.
‘And hello to that big brother of yours too, Ben,’ added Moira, kissing him. ‘Lachlan too. Tell him to come and visit, Izzy.’
‘Sure,’ said Izzy, trying to sound lighthearted as her stomach turned over.
‘You’ve gone quiet,’ said Ben, as he drove the ute over the bridge that marked the edge of Wandalla.
‘I guess.’ The thought of the houseful of guests awaiting her at The Springs was exhausting. But the knowledge that she would have to sit across the dinner table from Lachlan and keep them all happy and entertained was the real mood-killer.
‘So, with all these accounting gigs, does that mean you’ll be spending more time out here?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know,’ she answered. ‘I’d love to give up my other tours. Maybe get more accounting contracts and sort of base myself out here.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘But … it’s gotten a bit awkward at The Springs.’
‘Lachlan?’ asked Ben, shooting her a sympathetic look.
Izzy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘I’d tell you but it’s just too …’
‘Too what? Surreal? Violent? Adorable?’ prompted Ben.
‘Depressing. Degrading. Disillusioning.’
‘Tell me.’
‘Does wham, bam, thank you, ma’am mean anything to you?’
‘Ouch.’
Then it flowed out. ‘We hadn’t been together for ages, but I kept hoping that … maybe he still liked me. That I meant something to him. Then, on Sunday night, he came in about midnight, marched into my room and I just let him. Welcomed him, actually. It was over in a flash and then …’
Izzy was choking up.
‘Then, he got up and left – like I meant nothing to him. And now, he treats me with this kind of polite disdain. Like some lord might treat the staff, you know? All I was looking for was closeness. I can’t stand it. I can’t …’
To Izzy’s dismay, the sobs that she had suppressed for so long came tearing out of her chest in long, agonising gasps.
‘Shit, Izzy, are you okay?’ said Ben, reaching a hand across to touch her shoulder.
‘I’ll be fine. It’s my own stupid fault,’ she cried.
‘That fucking bastard.’ Ben reached for the hand control and brought the car to a halt on the road’s gravel shoulder.
‘This has to stay between us,’ pleaded Izzy. ‘If Nina knew, she’d feel like she had to ask Lachlan to leave. And she’s relying on him.’
‘She should know what he’s really like,’ said Ben, his voice full of concern. ‘Heath always thought he was a snake.’
‘Promise me you won’t say anything to anyone? I feel humiliated enough. I don’t want the whole world to know how dumb I’ve been.’
There was a pause.
‘Okay,’ said Ben at last. ‘But you’re really through with him now?’
‘Completely.’
‘Then it’s just between us.’
The strains of Motown filled the kitchen, as Nina chopped a bloody piece of beef. Since she’d arrived at The Springs, her father’s old cassette collection had offered a soundtrack to her new life. As the tape clicked off, she stopped, knife mid-air, rinsed her hands and reached up to the old cassette player on top of the fridge. She opened the deck and turned the tape over. What next? She smiled as she read DB Faves. Jim’s cassettes were always intriguing because the labels were so cryptic. The familiar chords wafted out. Of course! Nina began chopping again in time to David Bowie, while Syd thumped his tail at her feet.
‘Okay, enough teasing. Here you go,’ said Nina and threw a chunk of meat into his bowl. Repetitive work and great music could also soothe frazzled nerves. And hers had been sorely tested over the past weeks, even though things were starting to settle down after the cattle business.
It was only good luck the McNallys had come to the rescue with their grazing land and she had ended up only having to pay the transport costs. Massive relief.
Nina took another piece of beef out of the fridge. Lachlan had stuffed up big-time there – and he knew it. He had been very apologetic; well, to her anyway. And that was the problem. The air still crackled
whenever he and Heath were in the same room. In fact, things had become so strained she was relieved when Heath had to go back to Sydney for two days last week to talk to the water people. She’d hoped things would be better when he returned and they were – sort of. He seemed cheerful enough, but whenever she asked him about what was going on with the plans he had presented to the department, he’d been tight-lipped. Not letting her in.
She sighed and started rolling the cubes of meat in flour.
Rebel rebel …
Nina washed her hands again and pulled a fresh chopping board from the drawer. Having Lachlan at The Springs meant she was always on edge. She wasn’t even sure why he was still here. It was only ever supposed to be temporary. But then he had started making himself indispensable. So awkward. She had seen him walk to his car yesterday afternoon dressed up in a smart jacket, pressed pants, polished shoes, and she had wanted to ask if he was on his way to a job interview, or to talk to one of the Campbells about starting some sort of business. But she couldn’t face a scene. He needed to leave.
She pulled out a box of onions from the pantry and began peeling and chopping. She had started doing bulk cooking and freezing sessions a couple of times a week now. It had made perfect sense when Lachlan had suggested this as a way to save time and money. But when she looked at the pile of carrots and potatoes that still had to be chopped, she didn’t feel so enthusiastic. If Lachlan had to be here, at least he could be helping out right now. Where was he?
Brinnnng, brinnnng. The landline startled her, as it always did. She threw a tea towel over the meat, ran to the hallway and picked up the handset, covering it in onion juice.
‘Hello, Nina here.’
‘Hello,’ replied an unfamiliar woman’s voice. ‘Oh it is you. I wasn’t sure I had the right number.’
The woman began again. ‘Sorry to bother you, my name is Janet, Janet Wright. I’m Harry’s sister. Your grandfather’s sister, I mean.’
‘My grandfather’s … Oh! So you must be Lachlan’s mother,’ said Nina. Remembering that her caller was suffering from dementia, she slowed her speech a little. ‘It’s wonderful to meet you – well, talk to you, anyway.’
The Shifting Light Page 19
