by Di Morrissey
‘And possibly one of the most beautiful. Okay, let’s analyse this a little further. Her fascination with pearling has been going on for a few years, ever since she found out that your great-great-grandfather was a master pearler. She had a lonely childhood and now she’s found family . . .’ He raised a finger as Sami went to interrupt ‘ . . . family that she can accept and love. She has a close male friend here, do we still say “boyfriend”?’
‘Not really. And he’s not that, nor partner. I don’t know what Dale is. Male companion, some of the time, I guess. He’s not keen on this pearl deal either.’
‘But you and your mother are going to look at it. Get a gut reaction and suss it out as best you can, right?’
‘But we know nothing about assessing or running a pearl business.’
‘I’m a great believer in gut instinct. And your mother will get professional and financial advice when the time comes. So, go up there and look around with an open mind. Then go on to the next stage. Now, next problem. Prioritise.’
‘I have to think about that. It’s a toss up between focusing on my thesis and grappling with the pressure about my so-called relatives here.’
‘The thesis can be addressed at any time. Sooner rather than later. Or you can drop the whole thing. Family, you’re stuck with. Now, why are they so-called?’
Sami sipped her tea, grateful for the chance to get her thoughts a little clearer. ‘Well, it’s such a faint connection biologically, and I don’t see that they have any involvement in my life. You know what I mean.’
‘So you’ve answered your own question. Right?’
‘It’s not that easy. I have to be honest and confess that knowing I’m connected to an Aboriginal bloodline makes me feel so uncomfortable at times. And that makes me feel guilty. It’s not just the immediate family stuff, it’s all that indigenous baggage.’
‘Meaning?’
‘The whole reconciliation issue, the black versus white debate, the appropriation of Aboriginal heritage. I was born in a hospital, not under a tree in the Kimberley.’ She took a gulp of tea.
‘You do tend to jump in front of trains, don’t you?’ said Palmer mildly.
‘Why can’t I say, “Oh cool, no big deal”? It means so much to my mother. And they’re all so willing to embrace me. But I want to run a mile.’
‘At some stage you need to have a sit-down talk with Goonamulli, Biddy and Rosie. Those questions are very personal.’
Sami ran a hand through her hair in frustration. ‘Life used to be so uncomplicated.’
‘Quite a lot of Australians are grappling with the same issues,’ said Palmer, trying to help her. ‘Basically, how do we all live in this country and feel we belong here, whether we were born here or just arrived? And how do we deal with the issue of whose land is it anyway?’ He reached over and squeezed her hand. ‘No glib answers, but a cliché instead – give it time. There’s a lot you’ve got to come to grips with here, and in the end you might decide to run away. Maybe it’s like looking at some of this art we’ve come across out in the scrub, the longer you look the more you see.’
‘Speaking as a professional, of course.’
‘As a friend,’ he said softly. Palmer unfolded his lanky frame and held out his arm. ‘Let’s go for a walkabout round town.’
‘I feel so much better, Palmer, thanks. Okay, I will take you to a favourite place – for a special reason.’ As they walked to Pauline’s showroom, she recounted Bobby’s story of how he’d ended up with the mysterious sun symbol and what Pauline had discovered. ‘And then the centre pops open and there is a tiny rolled-up piece of paper with weird writing, or symbols, on it.’
‘Aha. Does it look like a necklace, an amulet of some kind?’
‘It could be. But it’s more the size of a chunky belt buckle than a pendant. What do you think?’
‘I’ll reserve judgment until I see the object,’ he said in his professorial voice.
Sami dug him in the ribs. ‘Okay. So how long are you going to be in Broome? Are you going to stay with Farouz? That’s pretty rustic accommodation.’
‘I enjoy his company. I might spend some time at the Cable Beach Club a little later. I thought I’d enjoy the good life for a short time. I will be going out into the desert again at some stage.’
‘Ooh, that’s what I want to tell you! I went crabbing and there’s some amazing fossil footprints of dinosaurs of some kind, on the rocks way over on the other side of the bay.’
‘Really? That sounds intriguing. How does one get there?’
‘A friend of the family, Eugene, has a boat, just a tinnie with an outboard. He works at the Bird Observatory, but he’ll take you.’
‘Excellent. I like the idea of the mud crabs.’
Pauline was a bit taken aback on meeting the tall, lean and very casual doctor in the leather hat. But after chatting for a few moments and being fixed with those wonderful blue eyes and a beguiling smile, she began to see why Sami adored him. He did look rather like a movie star. One minute he was a down-to-earth Aussie with wild humour and colourful phrases, the next minute he was seriously dispensing wisdom and penetrating thoughts. Dr Ted Palmer, she decided, was a bit of a charmer who, because of his age, position and personality, seemed safe and supportive as well as very entertaining.
‘Here it is.’ Pauline opened the box, took out the metallic sun, opened it and revealed the roll of paper.
‘Aha!’ Palmer took a quick look at both sides, then put on his glasses to study it more closely.
‘Any ideas?’ asked Pauline.
‘It’s quite common in the Middle East, a sort of good luck charm. Often people roll up their favourite verse of the Koran or write out a favourite poem for carrying in the charm. However . . .’ He squinted at the paper. ‘This is an old script, but the paper is modern.’
‘Like Egyptian hieroglyphics?’ suggested Pauline.
‘No. I’d say the language could be Gandhari or Prakrit, which is why I can’t translate it. We need someone who specialises in these ancient languages.’
‘Do we want to know that badly?’ asked Pauline.
‘I do,’ said Sami and Palmer in unison.
‘I’d like to talk to the young fella who ended up with this. The German tourist has disappeared for sure?’ Palmer looked perplexed, but intently interested.
‘I don’t think Bobby knows much, but let’s talk to him. He’s been carting this thing around thinking Matthias might turn up and claim it, but he figured it was some kind of souvenir, not important.’
‘I disagree. This is most interesting.’ Palmer turned it over in his hands.
Pauline nudged Sami. ‘Tell him what happened at Bobby’s house, the break-in.’
Sami looked at Pauline a little puzzled. ‘Do you think that could be connected?’ She turned to Palmer. ‘Bobby’s home, he lives with his parents, and his father’s office were ransacked. Nothing seemed to be stolen. The police thought the thieves were looking for something specific, but as I said, nothing was taken. Could they have been looking for this?’
‘Who knows?’ said Pauline. ‘It’s just a wild thought I couldn’t suppress.’
‘Maybe if we can translate this message, whatever it is, we might be wiser. Can I have a copy of this?’ Palmer asked.
Both girls shrugged. ‘Why not?’
‘It’s all a mystery to me. I don’t know what or where Gandhara is, but I like their style,’ said Pauline. ‘Let me know what you guys find out.’
‘It might take a while. I think I need a mate who’s an art historian at Curtin Uni in Perth to help out,’ said Palmer. ‘It mightn’t be anything.’ He put the sun in its box and closed the lid and grinned at Sami. ‘But then it’s good to face a new little challenge now and then, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah,’ she sighed. ‘Red Rock Bay, Star Two, here I come.’
C h a p t e r N i n e
‘BROOME INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT’. The sign on the tin roof always made Lily smile. She loved the small
tropical airport with its casual atmosphere, where a swimsuit, sarong and bare feet weren’t out of place to wear to welcome friends. After Tim checked in he turned to Lily. ‘Why don’t we sit out in the garden area and have a beer?’
‘Fine. It’s a good place to people watch.’
‘I can’t argue with that. It’s quite a sport in Broome, isn’t it?’ observed Tim, settling down with a light beer. He raised his glass. ‘To Lily, and thanks for bringing me out. It’s nice to have a send off. I’m so used to travelling on my own.’
‘Well a ten minute drive is hardly out of my way. I keep thinking there must be a hundred things we need to talk about, but other than hoping you come back with the money in the bag, so to speak, I don’t know what else to say. We seem to have covered as much as we can at this stage.’
‘Lily, I’m going to recommend Star Two as a good option for investment. It’s always subject to so many things and we can structure the deal in a number of ways. There’s due diligence, your agreement to come in, market research, all of that. The investors have been very positive on the phone, but . . .’ He fiddled with the beer coaster on the table.
‘But what?’
‘Don’t count chickens before they hatch, or pearls before they’re harvested. But from my experience with these two guys, once they say they’re interested, they’re in.’ He put his bottle of beer down and looked at Lily intently. ‘I’ll keep you in the picture but I will need feedback as soon as possible on how you feel about the terms, the deal. Well, I know how you feel at the moment but there are hurdles ahead.’
‘Meaning financial advice, legal advice, and so on,’ said Lily.
‘The “so on” meaning your daughter. I would hate to see you turned off about going ahead if the only obstacle is Samantha’s disapproval.’
‘You’re being unfair, Tim,’ Lily admonished gently. ‘She is just being protective of me. Like she said to you, she doesn’t want to see me blowing the piggy bank. She’ll probably feel different when she’s seen the farm, understands the potential and has come to terms with the family link.’
‘It’s already a going concern. We’re not going in there as white knights to rescue some old bugger who doesn’t know the value of what he has.’
‘I agree. Dave strikes me as a smart cookie. He just doesn’t have the energy, inclination or money to change things,’ said Lily.
‘I think he operates on the principle that if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Though I suspect from yarns with him that years ago he wanted to be a major player. In fact, he hinted that he could have been a bigger player if things had been different. He didn’t elaborate and I got the message not to pry.’
‘Do you think there was a problem? Maybe I should gently try to probe. We need to know these things.’
‘I doubt that it’s important, Lily. It was something personal, I’d say. Isn’t there some saying about mixing business with pleasure?’ He lifted an eyebrow as he swallowed a mouthful of beer.
‘Hmm. Good thing we’re just friends and there’s no family or emotional link. I couldn’t imagine working with Dale, for example.’
Tim was about to say he couldn’t either, having heard a few stories of Dale’s heavy handed tactics on some building sites. He asked as delicately as he could, ‘How important is Dale’s approval in the deal?’
Lily caught the meaning behind the question. ‘It’s all right, Tim. I appreciate Dale’s advice, his company and friendship, but I make my own decisions. I’ve been on my own – apart from Sami – for a long time. Too long, I suppose . . .’ She paused. ‘I suppose at my age it’s silly to expect a handsome prince to gallop up on his white charger and sweep me away. But, hell, a woman can dream.’
‘We all dream, Lily. Sure we want to make money, but a loving relationship seems to be the bottom line, and harder to find than ever. I’ve had my share of heartache. What about you? Were you married to Sam’s father a long time?’ They’d never shared anything so personal and it seemed incongruous that they were doing so on a sunny afternoon in a noisy, crowded airport beer terrace.
Lily was frank. ‘Eleven years. He is a stuffy academic who has gone back to his university in America. He was very much a long-distance father. He tried his best. I think he was more interested in dusty tomes than an energetic teenage daughter.’
‘She is feisty. Strong willed, I guess,’ agreed Tim. ‘Perhaps she needed a firm fatherly influence during the teenage years.’
‘Well, she did have some input from a dear, gentle loving man for more than ten years. He was there for us in a way, but never seemed to have time to totally switch off from the corporate world and commit to us. Well, to me.’
Lily looked so sad Tim asked gently, ‘What happened?’
‘He died some years ago. Quite suddenly, not long after I first came here. It’s another reason I don’t have anything holding me in Sydney.’
‘I see. Lily, perhaps that’s also another reason you want to get into this pearl farm. You need something vital and stimulating in your life. When weighing up the pros and cons, try to keep the emotions out of it.’
‘That’s such a male thing to say, Tim! Nonsense,’ said Lily dismissively. ‘If this opportunity doesn’t make me want to throw my heart, body and soul into it, then it’s not worth doing.’
‘Now that’s a complicated and very feminine approach!’ He downed the last of his beer. ‘Looks like people are boarding.’
‘Keep me posted. As you know, I’ll be out of touch up at Red Rock Bay for a while.’ She gave Tim a quick hug. ‘Go get ’em, boy.’
He gave her a thumbs up, shouldered a small backpack and headed to the departure gate thinking it was an unusual business arrangement they had. Lily was twenty years his senior at least, yet he felt so at ease around her and never considered their age difference. He liked her a lot and his instincts were telling him this would be an excellent partnership.
Rosie was seated on the floor of her tiny gallery packing a bark painting in bubble wrap to mail it to a customer when Farouz came in with a rolled blanket under his arm. ‘Hey, Farouz, how are you doing?’ she said brightly, concealing her surprise at his visit. ‘Don’t tell me you want a painting of camels?’
Farouz gave a polite little bow in greeting. ‘No, but if you or your artists ever need a camel as a model, my rates are most reasonable.’ They both laughed as Farouz sat down on the floor opposite her. ‘I have something that may interest you. I have been intending to bring it in for quite a while, ever since I came back from the first of my dry season trips out in the bush to get more camels.’
‘Is that Middle East market for our camels still holding up?’ Rosie asked. ‘It’s odd really, when you think about it. Aussie camels going over there.’
‘There are many odd things in life.’
‘True. Now what have you got to show me?’
He carefully untied the cord around the bulging blanket and rolled it out like a carpet merchant in a bazaar. Instantly Rosie was hit by the colour, subject matter and design. It was so different from the art she was used to seeing from the Kimberley region. She leaned forward to pick up the paintings one at a time to study. Under the last canvas were several woven works. ‘How stunning,’ she gasped, as she ran a hand over the top one. ‘What have they used. Wool?’
‘Local fibres, even camel hair.’
Rosie was silent for a moment as she adjusted her eyes and her mind to this unusual and intriguing artwork. ‘There are natural fibres, local ochres and colours, a stylised form of indigenous work in some parts, this motif in the centre . . . it’s familiar. It’s all quite lovely. Who on earth is doing this? What’s the story?’
Farouz traced his fingers over the design on the thick carpet. ‘Oh, big story in this one,’ he said with a smile.
‘You know the story?’ Rosie glanced back at the rug. ‘Actually, it looks rather Persian.’
‘They’re done by a group of women out in the desert. You tell me what you think. Can you sell them?
’
Rosie sat back on her haunches looking at the dazzling array of artworks. ‘They’re very different . . . weavings, tapestries, wall hangings . . . something new. The theme, the interpretation is very unusual. I like them very much. But I need to know a lot more about them. What do you know about these?’
‘It’s a long story. Not mine to tell,’ he said, his face taking on a closed, stubborn expression. Rosie recognised the reticence, so often an artist or a third party came in to her gallery with art that they wanted to sell, but on their terms. She had long ago learned to sit and listen to the story of how an artwork came to be. Her talent for patient listening, no pressure, no wheeling and dealing, and also being indigenous, had all combined to give her access to, and the trust of, art communities all over the northwest. She also had a reputation for paying fairly and involving the artists in the promotion of their work. Rosie had discovered and continued to nurture many Aboriginal artists.
‘Farouz, I never buy through third parties. I want to talk to the craftspeople and painters. Where are they?’
‘Long way away. They have a teacher. She showed them how to do these things.’
‘Really? Who’s that?’ Rosie was surprised.
‘I can’t say any more.’ Farouz stood. ‘You think about them. I’m going out there again soon. It will take a couple of days but I’m in no hurry. I’m driving a truck, picking up some wild camels I know are out that way. A friend spotted them from the air. So, are you coming?’
‘Farouz, it’s not that simple for me to get away with a family and this business. I’ll think about it. I’d like to live with these for a while longer if I may. Can I hang them? See what sort of reaction I get.’
‘Okay. If they don’t sell I’ll take them back next trip.’
‘Thanks for thinking of me, Farouz,’ said Rosie, shaking his hand.
‘You’re number one, Rosie. People trust you.’ He got to the door and turned back. ‘It’s important you go out and see these people. I promised I’d bring someone safe back to see and talk to them. I must not say more than that.’ He adjusted his hat and stepped into the bright sun, leaving Rosie puzzling over his use of the word ‘safe’.
