Kimberley Sun

by Di Morrissey

  Lily was having dinner at Dale’s house and it was another magnificent sunset. She preferred Dale’s barbecue dinners to sitting in a restaurant. The spacious house with its orchard of mango trees, wide lawns edged with palms, the big swimming pool and spa, was private and it was only a short walk down to a deserted beach. Lily stretched out in the bubbling spa, jets of water pulsing into her back and neck. ‘Absolute bliss,’ she declared.

  ‘Enjoy this while you can. There won’t be any luxuries where you’re going.’ Dale handed her a glass of champagne and got in the spa, reclining on the other side, putting his feet against the foot massager. ‘The barbie is going, fish are marinating. Ah, this is the life.’

  ‘It sure is. I’ll think of this as I hang out in the mossie-infested shack, hammock, or whatever accommodation we get.’

  ‘Your choice.’ He yawned. ‘Where is Sami? How come she never wants to join us out here?’

  ‘Oh, she’s met some hunky diver and they’re going out with friends. She says she’s researching the pearl business, but I suspect the handsome Chris is the real excuse.’ Lily spoke lightly. It had become a bit of a thing with Sami who said she felt trapped at Dale’s place as they were so far from town and she couldn’t make an excuse to escape easily. Lily knew Sami hadn’t warmed any more to him here in Broome than when she’d first met him in Sydney. It was also awkward when Lily stayed in the master suite with Dale, and Sami stayed in the sprawling guest quarters. ‘And where’s Simon? He likes living in town, obviously. I gather he’s over his injuries. They were all very lucky with that accident that no one was seriously hurt.’

  Lily sipped her champagne and decided to ask Dale outright about what had happened as far as the charges went. Harlan had been present when Eugene made his statement and been absolved of any wrongdoing, but Harlan had heard whispers about Simon, who’d been declared at fault and causing the accident. ‘Are there going to be any charges or ramifications from the accident?’

  ‘Yeah. No new car for Simon.’ He leaned his head back into the cushioned headrest, appearing to debate whether to say more. ‘Well, it wasn’t too good really. His licence has been cancelled for about six months and he got hit with a hefty fine. Guess who paid, of course. He’ll have to be a bit more careful and not lose his temper over other idiots on the road.’

  Lily sat upright, spilling her drink. ‘But, Dale, it was Simon’s fault! Surely he should be made responsible in some way!’ She was suddenly furious, suspecting Dale had pulled strings. ‘Poor Eugene can’t afford to get his car repaired. I bet Simon’s car is being fixed right now.’

  ‘Now, Lily, calm down, the matter has been dealt with.’

  ‘Not fairly or satisfactorily if you ask me!’

  ‘I’m not asking you,’ snapped Dale angrily. ‘Now drop it, okay?’

  ‘No, I won’t. Eugene is related to me and Dolly has brought him up to be an honest and responsible young man. Simon and his mate had a gun! They were waving and pointing it at Eugene and his friends. Maybe they were only fooling around, but it smacks of racist threats to me.’

  ‘Bullshit. And who told you about any gun?’ Dale stepped out of the spa.

  ‘Dale! I was there! I saw them. I reported it. And Harlan told me the police recovered a gun from the bushes. Simon’s mate threw it there. Come on, don’t lie.’

  ‘They’d been out hunting. His mate was full, they’d had too much booze. So young fellas do stupid things from time to time. That’s life.’ He downed his champagne and went to the bar near the pool and poured himself a scotch.

  ‘No harm done! Eugene and his mates were stone sober. They were threatened with a rifle, run off the road and injured. Something stinks and I’m going to get Harlan to look into this.’ Lily jumped out of the spa and began furiously towelling herself.

  Dale reached her in four strides. ‘Look, leave well enough alone. I told you it’s been dealt with. If it makes you happy, I’ll pay for your little blackfella’s car to be fixed too.’

  They glared at each other and Lily saw Dale was several strong drinks ahead of her. ‘Yes, I think that would be a good thing to do. Eugene is part of my family, so I’ll tell him to get his car fixed at your expense. And you can turn off the barbecue, I’m going home. I have a lot to do before we leave for the farm.’

  He grabbed her arm. ‘Don’t get on your high horse, Lily, it’s no big deal. C’mon . . .’

  She shook herself free. ‘When it comes to things like this you and I are so far apart it’s not funny, Dale.’ She put her glass on the table and walked into the house to get her things. She heard the splintering crash as Dale threw her glass into the rockery. As she drove away in her dripping swimsuit Dale was sitting morosely at the bar pouring himself another drink while the spa bubbled merrily.

  Sami and Rakka returned to the old house after their early morning walk, and Rakka flopped into her chair on the verandah. ‘She’s really at home here, thanks again,’ Sami said warmly as she took the glass of iced water Rosie handed her.

  ‘We love having her around. Now, I should think about going into work, it’s almost time to open the gallery. You should pop in and look at some interesting things old Farouz left with me.’

  ‘Will do. By the way, Rosie, can you get a message to Eugene for me please? I have a friend who wants to have a look at the dinosaur fossils across the bay and I was hoping he’d take him over.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s not a problem. But why not ask him yourself? He’s staying in town for the moment. He and Bobby Ching are house sitting Ross’ little house down by the creek. Ross has gone back to Melbourne for a while. We’re going down there this afternoon. You can come then if you like and bring your fossil friend.’

  ‘Okay, I will. When, afternoon, sunset?’

  ‘Sunset. We’re taking Biddy for an outing.’

  ‘Really? I didn’t think she got out of the house, or bed, much,’ said Sami in surprise.

  ‘No, well, out of the blue she came up with the idea of going to sit by the creek. Sentimental stuff, I suppose. She used to love to fish along the creek in the old days. Anyway, we thought it would be comfortable for her on the verandah of the little house.’

  ‘That’s great. Dr Palmer will love meeting the mob. I’ll call at the gallery before we go there.’

  ‘Problem,’ said Rosie. ‘I have to close early to come home and help with Biddy.’

  ‘I can look after the gallery for an hour or so, if you like,’ offered Sami impulsively.

  ‘That’s fantastic. Why didn’t we think of this sooner? It’s so hard to find someone to take over when I need to get away. I hate to close when there are tourists around.’ Rosie gave her a quick hug. ‘By the way, how are things going with the expedition to the pearl farm?’

  ‘Mum seems to have it under control. Dale was going to lend us a four-wheel drive, but I’m not sure if that’s still on. I think they had a bit of a blue last night.’

  ‘That’ll blow over. He has a quick temper.’ Rosie gave her a shrewd look. ‘You’re not too keen on him, are you? Any particular reason?’

  ‘I s’pose not. When I first met him and Simon in Sydney I found them both arrogant and a bit abrasive. I was surprised at some of their attitudes, particularly as Mum had been going on about how tolerant the people in Broome were. Anyway, I saw no reason to get close to him. I didn’t anticipate seeing much of him, but that seems to have changed.’ She stopped, wondering if Lily confided her feelings to Rosie, then shrugged. ‘What I mean is, I hadn’t anticipated my mother considering moving here. It’s made Dale rather proprietorial and I don’t like it.’

  ‘Is that going to colour your reaction to the pearl farm?’

  ‘No. Mum can run her own life. I just don’t want to see her doing anything stupid or risky.’ Sami was annoyed that Rosie might see her as a potential spoiler.

  ‘None of us do, Sami,’ she said reassuringly. ‘And don’t worry too much about Dale and your mum having the occasional argument, they’re big enough to
look after themselves. I’ll see you down at the gallery.’

  Late that day, left alone in the Little Street Gallery, Sami browsed, enjoying the atmosphere created by the old galvanised-iron and timber building, its polished floorboards slightly bowed from a hundred years of footsteps. A breeze from the vent on the roof carried the scent of frangipanis. But it was the art that reached out to embrace her. Strength, light and colour glowed from the canvases that were hung and stacked in each room, and reverberated in all her senses. As she studied the paintings she imagined she could feel the warmth of the sun from the desert floor, hear the birds at a waterhole, smell the bush, and hear its special song.

  Sami knew that in the Kimberley there were about thirty indigenous languages and cultures, each originating from different parts of the country. But until recently she had ignored the opportunities to study the complexities of Aboriginal history, culture and relationships. She hadn’t joined in the reconciliation crusade of the 1990s, and it was only this trip to the Kimberley that had forced her to make a critical review of where she stood on so many issues. She now felt a sense of guilt, and that made her angry. Her attitude, she reasoned, had been partly driven by an emotional reaction against her mother’s excitement on discovering the Aboriginal bloodline in the family and the living connection to Broome. Coming to grips with that hadn’t been on Sami’s agenda . . . until now. She appreciated Rosie’s attempt to start bridging the gap in the quick tour she gave her of the gallery before she left to get Biddy.

  ‘Do you know much about the way Aboriginal artists show their view of the world in their paintings?’ Sami asked. ‘Bridget and Goonamulli have tried to explain it to me. I’m used to judging art by European standards – form, line, composition, colour. With Aboriginal art it’s more about where the work was created; that it incorporates the place along with its culture and people, is that right?’

  ‘Absolutely, which makes it different from, say, a white landscape artist painting what they see in front of them.’ Rosie waved an arm around. ‘These painters belong to a specific country and have the right to tell their stories over and over. But they can tell it each time in a different way.’

  ‘Mmm, even though they’re variations on a theme, I suppose it’s like looking at your garden. It looks different every day you go out into it.’ Sami was grappling with this very different approach to art than the one she had studied.

  ‘Exactly, except here each time the story is told the artist might put in an historical reference or a Dreamtime element, or a modern incident which they know is there, but one can’t see it with western eyes.’

  Sami knew she’d have to spend more time with Rosie and Goonamulli and Bridget to try to see the layers of this art. Were there secret and sacred messages in the painting that had powers to seduce or exorcise? It certainly gave her more material to explore for her thesis, and she sat at Rosie’s cluttered antique roll-top desk and began to make notes.

  ‘Ahoy there! Or is this a silence zone?’

  ‘Hi, Palmer.’ Sami came out from behind the desk and stepped into the gallery. ‘Another grand entry. Two and a half stars.’ She laughed.

  He pulled off his battered bush hat. ‘Ah, what a collection. Awesome. Rosie has excelled herself. It’s so important that she buys directly from the artists, it shows in the quality of the work she sells. I love this building, too, don’t you? It’s almost a work of art in itself. One of the few originals in town, I’d say,’ said Palmer appreciatively touching the timber wall, then he focused his attention back on the art. ‘This is fabulous stuff, no wonder she sells to the top collectors.’ He looked at Sami. ‘Now where is the man who’s going to show me the dinosaurs?’

  ‘We’re meeting Eugene down at a friend’s shack. He’s staying there with another mate, looking after it. You might like it. It’s old, but pretty rundown from my mother’s description.’

  ‘Another original perhaps?’

  ‘I think so. Anyway, it’s close to Dampier Creek. We’re meeting Rosie and Biddy there too. They’re coming to watch the sunset.’

  ‘Sounds like fun. How could I refuse an invitation to see the sun go down over the mangroves of a classic waterway from a genuine old Broome residence?’

  ‘I knew you’d enter into the spirit of the occasion. Now, can you help me lock up, please?’

  As Palmer went to shut a window he stopped and stared at a table in a corner. Spread across it were the weavings and paintings. ‘Now these are interesting, oriental almost.’ He unrolled one of the cotton canvases and studied it, his brow furrowed.

  Sami joined him, curious. ‘Farouz brought them in. When you say “oriental”, do you mean like Middle Eastern?’

  ‘Mmm. Funny we should come across something like this so soon after seeing the strange sun amulet. I wonder where this influence is coming from?’

  ‘Perhaps someone is just interested in the style or a story from another culture,’ Sami said.

  ‘Yes, but here? The pigment is ochre. I can’t imagine why an Aboriginal artist would paint this – I wonder what the story is.’

  ‘Maybe you’d better ask Farouz.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll definitely talk to him about them.’ Palmer picked up one of the weavings. ‘Look, here’s another puzzle. See, in the corner of each weaving there’s an abstract design, almost a signature. What does it look like to you?’

  ‘A sun,’ said Sami slowly.

  ‘And this, I believe is a gul.’ He traced the outline of a geometric style flower. ‘The rose. Well, Samantha, I think we have an interesting mystery here.’

  Biddy must have sensed it was going to be a special sunset. She sighed appreciatively as Rosie and Harlan helped her from the car at the little old house down by the mangrove-lined creek. Already the sun was sending out its final dramatic rays. Eugene and Bobby were standing by the corner of the verandah and shouted a welcome.

  ‘Do you know this place, Biddy?’ asked Harlan softly.

  ‘Oh I bin in dere many times. Me and Alf.’

  ‘Along the creek or the house, Biddy?’ asked Rosie.

  ‘Captain used to sit up there with Ahmed. They drink and talk with all them boys. Lugger boys.’

  ‘Well let’s go and sit on the verandah with a few friendly ghosts, eh?’ Harlan swept Biddy into his arms like a rag doll, she was so frail she weighed little. At that moment Sami and Palmer drove in.

  ‘Where’s your mother?’ called Rosie. ‘She said she was coming down.’

  ‘I haven’t seen her since breakfast. I thought she might be with Dale – patching things up.’

  ‘She’ll turn up.’ Rosie gave Palmer a big smile and held out her hand. ‘Hi, Dr Palmer, it’s been a while since we last saw you in town. Welcome back.’

  ‘Dr Ted Palmer, you know Rosie, of course. This is Harlan and Biddy, and this is Lizzie,’ said Sami, scooping up the energetic little girl.

  ‘Hi. Follow us,’ said Harlan as he walked with Biddy in his arms and stepped onto the verandah where the two boys had set out chairs and an old cane lounge. He put Biddy down and was about to help her to a chair when she demanded her walking stick.

  ‘I can walk round dis place with no eyes,’ she said. ‘I used to cook in dere.’ She pointed her stick towards the kitchen at the rear of the house.

  ‘You’re looking good, Aunty,’ said Eugene.

  Biddy acknowledged the lad with a nod, then turned her watery eyes to Bobby. ‘You Ahmed’s boy?’

  ‘Who’s Ahmed?’ asked Bobby.

  ‘Dis be his house. Him and Tamerah live here.’

  Rosie and Harlan exchanged a questioning glance, then Palmer walked over to her. ‘You seem to remember this place well, Biddy. I suppose you’ve seen a few sunsets from here, eh?’

  She looked over the creek and thicket of mangroves. ‘Boats, all gone. All them fellas. All gone. Jist Biddy here now.’ She took a few trembling steps, leaning on her cane. Sami sprang to her side, but the old Aboriginal woman straightened up and stood silently, wrapped in he
r memories.

  ‘What do you see, Biddy? What do you hear?’ Palmer asked conversationally and Sami gave him a glance. They seemed strange questions.

  Biddy spoke strongly and clearly. ‘I see all the boys working on dem boats all tied up dere and Tyndall, he drinkin’ and singing. He sing an’ sing.’ She broke into a chuckle.

  ‘Music. That’s what we need.’ Palmer sprinted back to the car as Biddy was helped to a chair. And as everyone sat down, he marched onto the grass at the edge of the creek and began to play the bagpipes. The mellow notes of ‘Over the Sea to Skye’ floated towards the bay, and the mood on the verandah relaxed with everyone enjoying Biddy’s delight at the music. No one noticed Lily walk around the side of the house and stare in surprise at Palmer and his mesmerised audience. He finished with a flourish and Biddy clapped along with the others as Lily joined them.

  ‘I didn’t know you’d arranged entertainment as well as a great sunset!’ She greeted everyone, patted Biddy on the shoulder and kissed Sami. Palmer came towards them, bagpipes under his arm.

  ‘Mum, meet Dr Palmer,’ Sami said brightly.

  ‘The man you’ve been out bush with?’ acknowledged Lily, thinking he didn’t appear anything like the dusty academic she’d imagined. After being married to a fusty, bespectacled university lecturer she had them typecast. But Palmer was slightly crumpled and amazingly handsome. He even looked strangely familiar, and he exuded a cheerful confidence. ‘I understand you have been keeping a watchful eye on Sami out there in the wilds,’ said Lily, shaking his hand.

  ‘I’m delighted to meet you. We all need watchful eyes on us out there,’ he said. ‘Sami is no exception, but she is a very competent and independent young woman.’

  ‘You seem to know her rather well.’

  ‘You get to know people well sitting round a campfire and yarning under the Kimberley stars, then trudging through the day under the hot sun.’ He smiled at Sami who gave him a big smile back. Lily wondered how much Sami had shared with this rumpled academic, and suddenly she felt slightly excluded.