by Di Morrissey
‘Sure. I’ll be out in the Kimberley wilds again soon by the looks of it,’ said Sami.
‘Great. Thanks. We must go now, I’m on duty at the museum this afternoon.’
After they’d left Rosie made coffee for them both when she heard Sami was keeping away from the apartment while Tim and her mother talked business. ‘You don’t seem to like him,’ observed Rosie.
‘Mmm,’ confirmed Sami. ‘As I told Pauline this morning, he gets me off balance so easily. Maybe it’s because he’s close to Mum and I’m being overprotective. Though after going up to Star Two I can see how easy it is to be swept away by the magic of pearling. I can see why it gets you in. I loved being on that lugger out in the bay.’
‘The mystique of the pearl is like gold and opal fever. It’s infectious. It seems to cast a spell over you. I’m a bit the same about the art,’ said Rosie.
‘Me too. I feel I’ve been lured out to the Kimberley like a fish. The bait is dangled, you bite and then you’re hooked.’
‘Landed but not gutted, eh?’
‘Well, now that Mum wants to go ahead with the pearl farm everything is getting more complicated. I don’t know if she’ll have enough money for the deal.’
‘We could always take out a mortgage on Olivia’s house.’
‘Rosie, you and Harlan own it!’
‘But it’s your family home too. If Tim thinks Star Two is a goer, Harlan should look into it and we’ll do it as a family.’
‘Mum wouldn’t hear of it, I’m sure. But thanks for offering.’ Sami was touched but uncomfortable. Once again the notion of family, that they were all in this together was brought home to her, especially the many references to the past.
Rosie sensed her discomfort. ‘So how’s the thesis coming?’
‘I’ve been a bit slack. I need to write up a lot of notes. Jean’s been great at the library, letting me use a computer, but it’s not the same as working late at night when you get the urge. I’ll get there.’
‘Sami, we have a spare computer. Harlan has an office at home he never uses. Come and use it any time. Stay the night, there’s a couch in the office and you can work as late as you like, whenever inspiration strikes.’
‘Well, it’s more mundane than inspirational at this point, I’m floundering through the whole methodology process. But, Rosie, if you’re sure . . . that would be really great. It’s fine staying with Mum, but it’s a holiday apartment, not conducive to spreading papers around and working late at night. And I miss Rakka under my feet when I work.’
‘Let’s go home and tell Harlan. He’ll be delighted.’
At the house they found Biddy was sleeping and Harlan reading. It was immensely peaceful. Harlan’s office was spacious – one wall was filled with law books and his collection of early editions of Australiana and more recent indigenous publications. There was an easychair, a long couch and a desk under the window that looked across the bay. ‘Wow, Harlan, this is great. Thanks so much. I could live here,’ Sami exclaimed.
‘Any time. Make yourself at home. Rakka has already claimed this space. That’s her chair where she sleeps at night. In the day she sleeps on the verandah outside Biddy’s room.’
Sami crouched down and cuddled her dog. ‘How about we go down to the beach?’
‘Maybe Lizzie and I will come with you, if that’s okay?’
‘Great. I was going to walk home and get the car. But if you can drop me back at Moonlight Bay, I’ll start to gather up my paperwork. Now I’m feeling quite motivated.’
Walking along the northern end of Cable Beach, Harlan talked about his years working in New York studying public interest law to learn about the problems encountered by minorities and how the law tries to help them, his decision to come back to Broome and his desire to help Aboriginal kids in the district. ‘It’s so depressing in the Children’s Court. One after another they file in, minor and major offences, so much of it springing from boredom and fractured families. And most of them keep turning up again and again. Bloody sad.’
They reached the top of the dune and watched Rakka race after a squad of seagulls lined up along the beach like soldiers at ease. ‘Farouz’s place is just over that dune. Will we call in and show Lizzie the camels?’ said Harlan.
‘Good idea. I’d like to ask him about those weavings and artwork he brought in from some desert community.’
They found Farouz under the canvas awning outside his shack smoking a pipe. He lifted a hand in greeting and beamed. ‘Welcome, welcome.’ He opened two folding chairs and pulled out a cushion for Lizzie, who seemed rather awed at this unusual dwelling. ‘I am making tea. Or coffee?’
‘Please don’t go to any trouble, Farouz,’ said Harlan.
‘Guests are a blessing. It is custom,’ replied the old man, heading indoors to boil water.
‘I’ll give you a hand,’ said Sami and followed him inside. She was surprised at how different it was compared to the casual beachy exterior. Beautiful old rugs covered the floor and hung on one wall, others were thrown over an ancient couch. An old high-backed carved leather saddle was polished and used as a coffee table base with a large brass tray for the top. Piles of paperback books with Persian writing on their covers were stacked beside it.
Soon they were settled in the shade beneath the awning, a slight breeze coming from the sea. Farouz fussed with sweet rich coffee and a plate of dates and nuts, and a little cake for Lizzie.
After small talk Sami asked about the paintings and woven mats, and Farouz was immediately uncomfortable, then cautious.
‘I cannot say much about these things. I hoped I could help earn some money for the women who made them. The artists are keen to explore this new work.’
‘It is very different. You know I study art. I would be interested in meeting them. Rosie said you were going back there. Could I come with you?’
The old man paused, a little taken aback and perplexed about how to answer.
Harlan tried to help. ‘Farouz, I think you can trust Sami to be sensitive to . . . whatever the issues are with the women, the whole mob out there. She could be helpful.’ He didn’t know what the issues were but he was following his instinct.
Farouz sipped his coffee and looked at his pipe but then seemed to make up his mind. ‘She is your good friend, yes?’ He glanced back at Sami.
‘She is family, Farouz.’
He nodded, satisfied, and turned to Sami, giving a slight bow of his head. ‘I would be honoured to have you travel with me. But I was planning to go by camel, unless I can find a truck.’
Sami acknowledged the formal little gesture. She tried to be as diplomatic as possible. ‘No, I am honoured, Farouz. I wonder, perhaps to save time, if we should go in my car?’
He leaned back. ‘Ah. Time. I measure time by the moons. For you it is by the watch, yes?’ He gave a slight smile.
‘Well, let’s say sunsets,’ said Sami. ‘Day by day.’
‘We shall come to an arrangement. It is a long way away, a small remote and dry community trying to re-establish the old ways.’
‘How does that work for their young people?’ asked Harlan.
Farouz gave an expressive shrug and gesture that said much. ‘There are a few young people. So many are in trouble. The women want more education for the kids, but that is hard.’
Harlan nodded. ‘It’s a common enough story in this part of the world. No wonder the women want to try to get something going. Art has been a great saviour and earner for many communities.’
‘What interests me, Farouz,’ said Sami, ‘is that the depictions are so foreign to what I’ve seen of Aboriginal art.’
‘They are stories. You will hear them. Many stories,’ he added. ‘Life is made up of our stories, isn’t it?’
‘That’s true. I’m hoping to learn about the stories that relate to faith, religion, spirituality. What we believe. How they are shown in all kinds of art. Traditional and tribal art especially.’
‘There is one God. We are all as o
ne. We shall talk about this.’ He grinned. ‘We will have time as we travel.’
‘Sounds like it,’ said Harlan. ‘Now we have to work out the logistics. If Sami drives out there with you, could someone else drive a truck up to bring back the feral camels?’
‘I have friends with a property that I use as a base. Sami and I can go to Dari outstation from there,’ said Farouz. ‘Bobby. Bobby would do this. Drive a truck with the camels.’
‘He’s a bit young, isn’t he?’ said Harlan doubtfully.
‘He needs such a journey,’ countered Farouz enigmatically. ‘It is settled. All will be well.’ He smiled. ‘I have a new calf, born last week. Would you like to see it?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Sami brightly. ‘Come on, Lizzie. This will be fun.’
When Sami walked back into her mother’s apartment she was surprised to find Tim still there, sitting on the balcony with piles of plates and paper notes scattered over the table.
‘Sami, darling, come on out. We’re having a sundowner.’
‘We’ve moved on from lunch.’ Tim grinned at her.
‘So I see.’
‘Get a glass and come and join us. We have a lot to tell you.’ Lily pulled out a chair.
Sami poured herself a glass of wine and looked at her mother’s bright eyes. ‘Well?’
Lily gestured towards Tim. ‘He’s done it. The two investors are coming on board. We’ve been working on a business plan and all those practical things. Plus a bit of pie in the sky.’
‘So what’s the bottom line?’ asked Sami briskly.
Tim glanced at her. ‘Would you rather I left and you can hash this over with your mother?’
‘There’s nothing to hash over,’ Lily said firmly. ‘And nothing that can’t be said in front of you, Tim. Sami, be a little generous, Tim has brought home the bacon, as they say. Star Two is in business.’
‘Have you told old David George the good news? I mean, is the money in the bank?’
‘Fair go,’ said Tim tightly. ‘They’ve made a commitment, I have the paperwork and a letter of agreement. There’re a few steps to go through. And once your mother and I are in agreement we’ll present the proposal to Dave.’
‘He’ll jump at it, I’m sure,’ said Lily.
Sami didn’t react other than taking a long sip of her wine.
‘Darling, I thought you’d be so pleased and excited,’ exclaimed Lily. ‘This means we can get cracking soon.’
‘Are these investors just handing over the money? They don’t want to come and look at the pearl farm?’ Sami asked.
‘They’re number crunchers. They’re looking at the paperwork and projections I put up,’ said Tim. ‘Frankly, we don’t want them to come and see the farm – not in its current state. We have to do a lot to it before they come over.’
‘And we’ve harvested a decent crop of pearls,’ added Lily.
‘Now don’t get too optimistic, Lily,’ admonished Tim. ‘We have no way of knowing what Dave has got out there. We can hope, and make plans for next season.’
‘So what’s the immediate plan?’ asked Sami.
‘We base ourselves up there for a while. Hire more staff as the season picks up and look for good technical people, do a lot of running repairs, and upgrade equipment and facilities. We have to apply to increase our quota of wild shell that the drift boys can collect from our unspecified lease.’
‘Apparently that’s not going to go down well with the other pearl farms,’ said Lily. ‘I have so many ideas, it’s a matter of priorities – as Tim keeps reminding me.’
Sami looked at her mother’s slightly flushed face, heard the enthusiasm in her voice and wondered how much was the effect of wine. ‘I reckon you might have a few things to sort out here in town first, though.’
Tim seemed to sense what was going on in her mind. ‘Listen, Lily, I must go. I have a dinner date. Talk it all through with Sami, we’ll go see the bank and start the wheels turning on Monday.’ He lightly touched Lily’s shoulder. ‘Don’t get up, I’ll see myself out. Enjoy the sunset. See you, Sami.’
‘Enjoy your dinner,’ Sami answered without smiling.
‘I will. I will.’ Tim left and they heard the front door click behind him.
Lily lifted her glass. ‘A toast, Sami – to my new life.’
They clinked glasses. ‘Maybe we should head up to the farm in a few days, depending on how quickly this paperwork and so forth gets done.’
‘I can’t, Mum. I’m organising a trip out into the scrub country to see some Aboriginal artists, for my thesis.’ As Lily’s face registered disappointment, Sami added, ‘And you’d better tell Dale.’
‘Yes, I’m seeing him tomorrow. He’s having friends over for a barbecue, you’re welcome to come.’ Lily rose and started clearing the table, suddenly feeling weary and, if she was honest, apprehensive. Oh well, she wasn’t turning back now. As she and Sami stared out across the bay at the colour show in the sky, Lily knew that no matter what Sami or Dale thought, she was going to do this. She just hoped that the two men she was teaming up with were capable of helping her fulfil her dream.
On Sunday morning when Sami came back from her swim the phone was ringing. She reached for a banana as she picked up the receiver.
‘It’s Palmer, what are you doing?’
‘Having breakfast, what’s new?’
‘This and that. I have a new address. I rented a cottage in town.’ He gave her the address and phone number. ‘What are you doing this afternoon?’
Sami glanced at the bathroom door, hearing the shower running. ‘I’m supposed to be going over to a barbecue at the dreaded Dale’s. Are you going to rescue me?’
‘Won’t that upset your mother? If you’re going through with the Farouz trip – and I think you should – and if she goes through with this farm thing, it doesn’t leave a lot of mother–daughter time,’ he said.
‘She is going through with it. Despite my doubts, Tim has stitched up some deal. And yes, I am going with Farouz. He thinks Bobby could take the truck to pick up his camels.’ She bit into the ladyfinger banana. ‘We’re driving my car up.’
‘So you’re not looking forward to this shindig today? Why not take me along?’
‘You’d hate it.’
‘Let me be the judge. Come and see my digs and pick me up. Dale doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d mind an extra at a barbie.’
‘No, there’re a few locals going along. Palmer, I’d love you to come, if it’s not too terrible for you. I’ll call Dale and ask if it’s okay. Do the right thing.’
‘Good for you. Bring your mother with you to see my place.’
‘Maybe, it depends on whether she wants her own wheels. She sometimes stays over. Although Dale could bring her in.’ They set a time to check out Palmer’s Pad, as Sami instantly dubbed it, and then Sami took a bowl of mixed fruit on to the balcony.
‘This is a nice area. I haven’t been down here before,’ Lily said to Sami as she turned the corner into a quiet residential area. The houses lacked any great architectural style due to the cyclone-safe building restrictions, but they made up for it with lush gardens. There were huge stands of tangled weeping bougainvillea in all colours, birds of paradise, velvet lawns pampered with sprinklers, and stylised Japanese gardens. Even the unkempt lazy gardens managed in their overgrown lushness to look picturesque.
Number fourteen was painted on a whitewashed rock at the beginning of a short gravel driveway disappearing behind gums and acacias. The house was ordinary – low, a sloped tin roof, sliding doors to one side. But as Palmer ushered them inside they saw that the front room opened onto a wrap-around verandah enclosing a small pool and landscaped garden, with hammocks strung up under shady trees.
‘This is cool. Kind of Balinese,’ said Sami. ‘How long have you got this place?’
‘As long as I want. The owner karked it and his daughter is living overseas. Fully furnished and everything, which is just as well because all I have with me I can ca
rry on my back.’ He looked around. ‘I’m not used to living with neighbours so close, though.’
‘The bagpipes?’ Lily said with a slight smile.
‘Yeah. Well, if this is suburbia I’ll hack it. Have to go back to the big smoke eventually. But I’m not thinking about that yet. There’s plenty to keep me occupied in this part of the world. Right, Sami?’
‘I have to admit it is full of surprises. You have no idea living in a city what’s over the range.’ She waved a cautionary finger at her mother. ‘And don’t say I told you so.’ Her mother only smiled.
‘I’ll just get my potato salad and the plonk, then we can go,’ said Palmer.
‘Potato salad!’ Lily whispered to Sami in astonishment. He returned with a bowl of salad that looked superb and the wine was an excellent vintage from the Margaret River, provoking another exchange of grins between the women as Palmer led them to the car.
Lily also observed that the dishevelled character she had originally met now looked quite stylish in navy trousers and a loose white cotton shirt. He hadn’t abandoned his leather hat and his hair was tied back in a braided band that looked African. He had tiny coloured strings twisted around his wrist and a leather and gold band. Palmer didn’t wear a watch.
During the drive he made them laugh with tales of his house-moving experiences. ‘The last big move I made I hired a truck, piled everything on top and set out across Melbourne and got stuck under a bridge, a low overpass. The traffic policeman turns up and makes copious notes then looks at me and says, “So are you stuck? Silly bugger.” I said, “No, I’m delivering a bridge!”’
Lily laughed with Sami then asked, ‘So where’s home now?’
‘Wherever I happen to be. I’ve never been one for staying in one place very long.’
‘So, Palmer, don’t you own anything? Do you have any assets other than those bagpipes?’
‘Sami!’ admonished Lily.
‘That’s all right, Sami and I have been up close and personal before this,’ said Palmer, which made Lily flinch. She had the feeling that behind his nonchalant, cheerful manner there was a very sharp and analytical mind. And quite possibly an emotional wound or two. Why would a bright, achieving man in his fifties still behave like a twenty-something backpacker? Palmer leaned over the front seat between them and spoke with a thick Scottish brogue. ‘Sami, any time you go to Scotland you can stay in my castle.’
