Gifts of the Peramangk
Page 40
They all opened their eyes together and Ruby drew the urn back.
“This was her homeland—her watta. It is our homeland. This is Peramangk country…from where Nana was gifted to us.”
Ruby carefully lifted the lid of the urn and stepped away from the others.
Looking up at the boughs of the willow, she waited for the right moment, then tipped the urn.
The ashes spilled forth and caught the breeze, blowing gently across the water hole.
Minty put his arm around Asher as she wiped tears away and Jeremy stood close by in quiet contemplation, watching as the mortal remains of their grandmother settled across the water hole, across the bank on the far side and further afield, until they disappeared from view.
Satisfied, Ruby turned and rejoined the others.
From the boughs of the willow above their heads, the breeze picked up again and in that moment, a sound akin to a satisfied sigh carried down and lingered among them.
She heard the orchestra. She heard the audience. Standing in the wings, she stepped from left foot to right foot, a nervous excitement coursing through her. The luxurious red evening gown was so new that it felt starchy and uncomfortable. But it was undoubtedly beautiful. The heels, equally new, felt only marginally better—but only because she had worn them in for several hours. She held the violin in readiness as she ran through the mental exercise she had practised countless times over the years—her preparation to perform.
She was here…she almost couldn’t believe it.
The applause trailed away as an announcer’s voice sounded.
“Ladies and gentlemen. Would you please welcome to the stage, all the way from Australia—Miss Ruby Delfey.”
Ruby lifted her head and stood tall as the applause struck up once more. She took in a deep, even breath and stepped out onto the stage, squinting in the powerful spotlights that trained themselves on her as she approached her mark in front of the orchestra.
Royal Albert Hall seemed vast—much more so than she had ever expected.
Looking out upon the audience before her, above her and around her, Ruby smiled politely, bowed her head then acknowledged the conductor beside her. He tapped his lectern and raised his hands to the orchestra.
Ruby raised her grandmother’s violin to her chin and readied herself.
The conductor lowered his baton and the orchestra began.
Down in the audience, several rows back from the front of stage, a small and diminutive figure sat straighter in his seat.
And as his former student brought her bow down and began to play, Khalili closed his wizened eyes.
And he smiled.
L'Chaim
Acknowledgments
To Steve Gilshenen, a Peramangk descendant, who unlocked the door to a beautiful language and a culture that has captivated and moved me.
To Molly Ringle, who became my sounding board and confidante during the writing of this novel. Your assistance and counsel was a diamond.
To Scott Taylor, who has been one of my strongest advocates and friends during this writing journey and whose encouragement and enthusiasm helped me no end at a really critical time.
To Chemda Khalili, who has taught me more about the value of identity in recent times than anyone I know and who allowed me to craft a character who is possessed of her beautiful spirit.
To Anne Akiko-Meyers, Lisa Mazzucco and Rebecca Davis for their very kind consideration in the use of a beautiful photograph that truly captures what music means.
To the team at Central Avenue Publishing, namely Meghan Tobin-O’Drowsky and Jessica Peirce who polished this book like no-one else could.
Finally, my deepest love goes to my family - to Emily, Xavier and Lucy for giving me the greatest gift of all.
About The Author
Dean Mayes has established himself as an author of great passion and literary style since releasing his first novel “The Hambledown Dream” in 2010. When not writing, Dean practices Intensive Care Nursing in Pediatrics. He lives in Adelaide, Australia with his partner Emily and his children Xavier and Lucy.