by Di Morrissey
‘Excellent. I assume you have taken all the necessary security precautions?’
She looked at the handsome and affable lawyer. ‘Good point, Mr Robertson. I’ll add it to the agenda.’
He escorted her to the lift and pressed the button. ‘Sounds like you have a pretty crowded agenda.’
‘I do. I’m working my way through it.’
‘Good luck. Call me any time you have any problems or questions. You have my direct line and my mobile. I’ll be interested in following your fortunes.’ He shook her hand as she stepped into the lift. As the doors slid shut he made a mental note to visit Broome in a couple of months. He’d be interested to see how Lily Barton was making out.
Lily hailed a taxi and asked to go up to Kings Park. She needed to escape the city and the pressures of business. A walk in the quiet gardens would help soothe her feelings. In her mind there was no turning back now. Tim had sent an email message that he had interviewed and picked out four good divers plus two women who were hard workers and prepared to turn their hand to whatever was needed. One of them was licensed to drive the boats and the other, Vivian, had been trained as a seeding technician. Dave had been using contract technicians to seed the pearlshell each season. Tim thought they should develop their own people and keep them on a three-year contract to start with rather than picking up whoever was available each season. He’d agreed with Lily when she said they should try to nurture a sense of loyalty among the staff so they felt they were part of the farm’s growth and prosperity.
When Lily had talked of the close-knit bond between Tyndall, Ahmed, Yoshi, Olivia, Hamish and the original Star of the Sea pearling company, Tim had laughed. ‘Lily, it’s a job nowadays. One with a good salary and a different kind of lifestyle. It doesn’t suit everyone and it’s notoriously transient. It’s a way to make good money and then move on to something long term.’
Lily’s mobile phone rang, breaking her reverie. She debated whether she’d answer it as she’d got out of the habit of using it in Broome. Then she thought better of it and fished in her handbag.
‘Hello.’
‘Hi. This is Ted Palmer. Where are you?’
‘I’m in Perth. Sitting on a bench in Kings Park actually. Where are you?’
‘I’m about five minutes away. I was going to suggest a walk in the park, but you got there ahead of me. What are you doing?’
‘I’ve been dealing with all the legal stuff for the farm. I needed a breather.’
‘You sound a bit overwhelmed. How about I meet you by the Anzac Memorial as soon as I can, okay?’
‘Oh, all right. I’ll look out for you.’ Palmer would be a diversion. She decided that she would enjoy having someone from Broome to talk to about her day. She’d promised Dale she’d call and tell him how it went with the lawyer, but that could wait till later. Soon she saw Palmer coming and couldn’t help smiling. He loped along with long energetic strides, his trademark hat in place, and as he got closer she saw he was wearing a dark navy jacket, charcoal trousers and a pale blue shirt. He lifted his arm in greeting.
‘Hail, fellow Broomite. How are you coping with the big smoke?’ He gestured towards the city skyline.
Lily fell into step beside him. ‘I wasn’t doing so well until I came up here and took a few deep breaths.’
‘Signed on the dotted line, eh?’
‘Just about. I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. That I won’t be catching the plane back to Sydney. To my old life. That’s gone.’
‘Well, you certainly are getting on with things. Good on you.’
‘Why are you in Perth?’
‘I do some guest lecturing at Curtin. I like to stick to this part of the country as much as I can. I’m developing quite a good research base. One has to keep publishing, you know. And Eugene – thanks to Sami – has been very helpful.’
‘Oh, the dinosaur fossils. Will that keep you occupied for a bit?’
‘Yes. I’m arranging for some experts to come up and do some preliminary investigations. I’d also like them to date some of the rock art sites. It’s always a contentious debate. And I have a part of a puzzle that I’ll share with you. But first I think we should celebrate your new status. You’re looking all too serious, even a bit worried. Come on, relax, this is a great moment for you.’
‘Yes, I need to destress. Lawyers make me hyperventilate when I know they’re going to say, “Sign here”.’
‘There are some great places on the waterfront at Freo. Little Creatures is a good one. Lunch, a wander around the maritime museum, you name it.’
‘Sounds like just what I need,’ said Lily gratefully. ‘I haven’t been to Fremantle for years.’
The sun was barely up, there was a clarity to the light before the glare and heat that made Sami catch her breath. She walked around her vehicle one more time. Farouz peered out of the car window at her with a ‘get on with it’ expression. Rosie and Harlan were holding hands, watching her. ‘Go on, kick the tyres. You’re dying to, aren’t you?’ urged Rosie.
Sami laughed and kicked the back tyre for good measure. ‘I’m just procrastinating, aren’t I? Well, thanks for getting up to see us off.’
‘Promised your mum – not that we’ve done anything, you guys have everything under control.’ Harlan tugged at the rope securing some of Farouz’s gear on the roof rack. ‘Safe journey and happy hunting, or whatever it is you’re after.’
‘Farouz is the hunter. I feel like some intrepid lady pioneer explorer. Daisy Bates or Miss Pink,’ said Sami. She tried not to show it, but heading into the vastness of the desert again was disturbing. There was the tingle of anticipation of the adventure, but there was also a gnawing in her stomach. By venturing into the Kimberley, she believed she was facing the spectre of her own self. In the past few years she had been trying to come to terms with who she was. Her mother had rattled the foundations of their secure life together by announcing she had ‘another family’. Deep down she blamed her mother for shifting the balance within herself. Every time Sami looked in the mirror, a question hovered. It had also made her wonder what lurked in her father’s background. She’d never discussed Lily’s family with him. They didn’t touch on family subjects in their occasional phone or email conversations, but stuck to the safety of career and academia.
Sami pushed these thoughts away as she always did. She had enough to deal with in her life at present. And the immediate journey was, for a city girl, quite an undertaking. While she was relying on Farouz’s outback skills, she was the leader. Rosie seemed to sense she was wavering slightly. ‘I’ll be intrigued to hear what you find. Bring back anything you can. And phone home!’
‘Will do.’ She gave them both a quick hug and got into the car. With a final wave she drove away from the bungalow. She glanced at the man beside her. ‘The journey has begun, eh Farouz?’
The old camel man sitting very straight backed turned to Sami. ‘Ah, the journey began a long time ago.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Like the threads that knot into a carpet, we make a pattern in our lives, each building on the other until we stop and look at the beautiful picture we have made.’
‘Mmm, weaving is a nice metaphor for life, Farouz. How we blend the colours and weave the threads together decides what we make of our life. I like it,’ said Sami thoughtfully. ‘Maybe that’s the key to how I should tackle my thesis. At the moment I feel like I have balls of wool and I don’t know how to knit them all together. Maybe I’ll learn more about this weaving concept when we get out to Dari outstation.’
‘I believe so,’ said Farouz confidently.
Sami drove slowly through the sleeping township out onto the deserted highway, then turned right. A great emptiness stretched before them. Sami had been nervous about this expedition, but as the sun rose, so did her spirits.
C h a p t e r T h i r t e e n
WHEN TIM ARRIVED AT THE FARM IT LOOKED different, not physically, but he was now seeing it through the eyes of someone who was comm
itted to this place. It was quiet and felt almost deserted. At the canteen Serena told him she thought Dave was down by the pontoon at the mouth of the creek with her husband Don. The divers were out in the boats checking and cleaning the oysters, and other staff were working in the sheds. After a cup of coffee Tim decided to find Dave and talk about the good news.
He took the old ex-army jeep that was used to run about the farm, and headed to the boundary fence, cutting through what was known as the back gate, to go down to the creek to see Dave. Then he thought he would circle the whole farm, working inwards to cover as much ground as possible. A metaphorical walking over every inch of Star Two, to continue assessing what they needed to do to upgrade the operation.
As he got close to the back gate he saw that it was open, the wire loop used to hold it shut apparently rusted through. The track on the other side led to scrubby paperbarks, but it was seldom used because most visitors preferred the longer but better kept main dirt road. He stopped and rummaged in the tool box for pliers to fix the loop of wire. It was mid-morning, uncomfortably hot and very still.
A slight crunch made him turn and glance over his shoulder, and he straightened in surprise. At first he thought a boy was standing by the fence, but then he realised the visitor was an adult Aboriginal man. He was very short, barely above Tim’s waist height, and middle aged. Dark skinned, he had a bold shock of yellow tinged, tightly curled hair. He wore tattered shorts and a denim shirt with the sleeves torn off at the shoulders. He had a rather nonchalant expression but Tim was struck by his strange, light green eyes.
‘G’day, mate, you looking for anyone?’ asked Tim in a friendly voice as the man sauntered towards him.
‘Not really. But I am looking for a feed and a place to sleep.’ It was a statement, no hint of begging for a handout. He stared at Tim with an intense look.
Tim looked at the man curiously. He carried nothing more than a small cloth bag tied around his waist with twine. If he hadn’t been so short he would have looked slightly menacing. Tim figured he couldn’t do any harm; some bloke on a walkabout. And some inner voice was telling Tim to be generous. ‘I reckon we can manage that. I’ll just fix this gate and I’ll take you up to the canteen.’
The strange little man perched on the bonnet of the jeep and silently watched him work. Then he swung into the passenger seat as Tim packed the tools away and they set off back towards the main camp. ‘Come a long way?’ asked Tim conversationally.
He didn’t answer for a moment. ‘I get around.’ He paused. ‘I’ve been here before.’ He looked at Tim. ‘Dave still here, isn’t he.’ It wasn’t a question.
Tim nodded, wondering what it was about this man that was so odd. His detached air, his clipped conversation. Was it because he was so short that he made up for it with Attitude with a capital A? He had a faint accent, almost a sing song. Oh well, give him a meal and send him on his way with a bag of tucker. ‘Yep, Dave still runs this place. Did you work here before, or were you just passing through?’
‘I’m a traveller,’ he answered.
Tim decided to dispense with trying to make small talk, the fellow was too enigmatic. He drove past the shell dump, past the dormitory bunkhouse and pulled up outside the canteen. ‘In there, mate. Ask for Serena, tell her you’d like a bit of a feed.’
‘And what’s your name?’
‘Tim. Tell her I said it’s okay.’ He watched the fellow jump out without a backward glance or a thank you. Tim drove away faintly amused.
He found Dave down at the slipway where the old lugger was pulled up in the wooden cradle, working with Don antifouling the hull. Dave greeted him with a handshake. ‘Good to see you. So we’re in business?’
‘Congratulations are in order, I believe. Lily has almost completed all the legal agreements. She’ll be back up here with it all for your approval and signature in a day or so.’
Dave waved a hand as if brushing away a mosquito. ‘Ah, paperwork isn’t my forte. I’ve had my time with legal eagles. I prefer a handshake deal any day.’ He pumped Tim’s hand again. ‘There’s a new moon tonight. A new leaf, new start, all that. We’ll have a snort later.’
‘Just the same, Dave, Lily thinks you should have your own solicitor look over the contracts, make sure they’re all fine with you.’
‘Nah, I can’t be bothered with all that. You know something, I’ve been done over by the best of ’em in one way and another, and I had the most expensive silk in London. I learned to live and let live the best way I can. Now what do you reckon?’ He gestured at the Georgiana.
‘She’s coming on well.’ Tim crouched and looked at some new repair work on the hull below the waterline. ‘Bloody good job. Did you do that, Don?’
Don straightened up, rubbing his back, and rested his paintbrush on the top of the can of red paint. ‘Yep. I was apprenticed to a shipwright in Darwin once. I’ve fixed up a boat or two in my time.’
‘Well that’s handy to know. This one’s going to be an asset, in lots of ways, I reckon.’
‘We wanted to fix her up good and proper before Lily got back. Seeing as how the old girl meant something to her. Being named after her mother and so on,’ said Dave.
‘They don’t make ’em like this any more,’ Don assured Tim.
‘And do you make running repairs on the other boats?’
‘When I’m not diving and something needs doing,’ he replied. ‘I could do with an offsider occasionally.’
‘Can’t we get some young blokes to work with you, train them up a bit?’ suggested Tim.
‘Those kids at the community, you’ve got family there. D’you reckon they’d be in it? There’s not a lot of prospects hanging out with Sister Angelica,’ observed Dave.
‘I’ll talk to the elders. Protocol, you know,’ said Don.
Dave was blunt. ‘Some of the kids get into strife when they go down to Broome. A couple of them got work on a building site, but some white kids gave them grief. So they gave up and came back and do bugger all. If you and Lily set something up, it could work. But they’d have to do more than just look after boats.’
‘Serena’d help keep an eye on them,’ said Don.
‘Okay, we’ll put it on the agenda for our first board meeting when Lily gets back.’
Dave looked alarmed. ‘Crumbs, not bleeding meetings!’
‘Very informal, I promise,’ laughed Tim. ‘Is there anything pressing I should know about?’
‘There’s always a bloody drama of some kind. Machinery packing it in left, right and centre. Again, I’ve only got a couple of lads who are good at fixing things. Maybe we should start an apprentice scheme up here.’
‘We’d need skilled people to teach them, that’s the problem. But it’s something to think about,’ said Tim. ‘By the way, I picked up a funny little bloke as I was driving down here. He just turned up at the back gate looking for a feed. Strange looking fella, very short, hair a sort of yellow colour, weird light green eyes. He didn’t have much to say for himself. Said he was travelling, though he wasn’t carrying much.’
‘Oh, Christ, don’t tell me he’s back again.’ Dave slapped his head in frustration.
‘What do you mean?’ Tim was perturbed. ‘Have I done the wrong thing? I took him down to the canteen for a feed.’
‘Oh, God. Now we’ll never get rid of him. He turned up once and hung around like a bad smell. He’s a pariah in my book.’
‘C’mon, Dave, don’t be so hard just because he looks odd, doesn’t fit in.’ Tim glanced at Don who had turned his attention back to painting and was ignoring them.
‘I believe that little bugger is bad news. I’ll give him the heave ho soon as I see him.’
‘Ah, he can’t be too much trouble. Now what else is happening round the place?’ asked Tim.
Dave scratched his head and looked uncomfortable. ‘We could have a problem. I’m waiting till I know more. I don’t want to upset the applecart, or bother Lily, y’know.’
‘Now, listen Dave, w
e’re all in this together now, so if there’s a problem we all need to know. Don’t think that you have to spare Lily the bad news because she’s a woman. Okay?’
‘Roger, Tim. Over and out.’ He gave a rough salute, reverting to his clipped British accent that rarely surfaced. ‘Later, old boy, later.’
Tim was slightly concerned, but nodded and got back in the jeep thinking he must ask Dave a bit more about his background over a drink some time. The old boy was very private where his family history was concerned. Tim had put this down to Pommy reticence, but now that they were partners they should share more personal stuff. Not that Tim had any skeletons in his closet. He came from a very average family: level headed parents and a nice sister back in Perth. He’d been the maverick by taking off and working in Indonesia and now the northwest.
That evening long after dinner, Tim was relaxing with a beer by the remains of the fire in the big open barbecue. Don and Serena had gone home, and most of the staff were in bed knowing they had an early start. ‘That little fellow has disappeared. He must have eaten and gone. What’s the story with him?’
Dave fiddled with his pipe. Tim was amused at his fastidious method of lighting up. He should have been sitting in a leather chair in a London club, not by an open fire near a creek wearing shorts, T-shirt and sandshoes without laces. After a minute or so he put down his lighter and studied the end of his pipe. ‘Don tells me he’s a bad luck fellow, doesn’t belong anywhere. He calls himself a traveller. Just turns up anywhere and everywhere.’
‘A sort of swaggie.’
‘Not really. He never has anything and never offers to work for a feed. He gives me the creeps. I had a run-in with him and sent him off last time. Yeah, that was a bad time. A storm came up out of the blue . . .’ Dave drew on his pipe.
‘Is that why you called him a pariah?’
‘I s’pose so, not that he had anything to do with the storm, of course. But some people are just bad news.’
Tim hesitated then said, ‘Speaking of unfortunate things, you mentioned a court case or something . . . what was that about? If you don’t mind my asking.’
