The Secrets We Keep

by Shirley Patton

  She looked up at the apricot tree and breathed in the blossom’s spicy perfume. The tree always bloomed in time for the spring equinox early next week, the downy-skinned fruit ripe by November. She stewed the last of them to extend the season, and Christmas lunch was never complete without her famous apricot compote, laced with a dash of the Cointreau Jack gave her a couple of Christmases ago—it was still half full, special occasions only. There were a few of those coming up. It would have been Frank’s seventieth next month; he’d loved his apricots. Every day she missed him, but she wouldn’t wish him back, not like that. She laid the paper on her lap and lifted her sunglasses to wipe her eyes. Her last memories of him were under this tree.

  The sound of a gate shutting told her Jack was coming through the garden. She turned her head and peered at him over the top of her glasses. Later than usual and a little dishevelled, she noticed.

  ‘Can’t believe the time, Aggie. Reckon I’m on me way out.’

  I know.

  ‘I’ve had a good innings, but. And you know what to do, don’t you? The will is beneath the loose floorboard, under the bed. Everything’s sorted.’

  Jack had no direct family alive, only two great-nephews he saw occasionally.

  ‘There’s some for you and some for the boys, all fair. And I’ve added a new bit in.’

  ‘Well, I think someone has to witness any changes, and it can’t be me, Jack.’

  ‘No, it’ll be right, you know where everything is, don’t you?’

  She wanted to say stop, don’t talk like this, it’s too painful to contemplate, but she nodded, reassuring him. She owed him that. He’d loved her all these years.

  ‘Much in the Miner? Have you had a gander?’ he asked looking down at her, his hand shading his eyes.

  ‘Yes. Kerry. On the front page, and rightfully so. Here, have it. I’m going to put the kettle on. Do you want to stay out here or come in?’ she asked, pushing herself up from the lazyboy.

  ‘No, I’ll come in with you,’ he replied, taking the paper. ‘Looks like a good story,’ he said following her through the back door and into the cool kitchen. He sat at the table and read the paper, glancing up occasionally as she made the tea.

  ‘You know, it’s beaut young Kerry’s been elected. That took a lot of gumption. Reminds me of when we fought for …’

  She only half heard him through the noise of the kettle whistling.

  ‘And don’t tell me it’s a coincidence the government announced its first ever air quality policy in the paper yesterday,’ he went on, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘You know, I’ve been thinking, that’s going to make it hard for the mine owners to stick to and I’m wondering if that doesn’t simply play into the hands of whoever it is that wants to buy them all up?’ He leant forward. ‘Speakin’ to Bill at Kerry’s rally, the rumour is it’s Alan Bond. Don’t tell me there isn’t some advantage for him in it.’

  Aggie stopped midway with the teapot in her hand, sensing something from what Jack had said. A chasm, an immense hole, a huge pit opened up before her, then just as quickly it disappeared. Fall in a hole? No, that wasn’t it. The image made no sense and she brushed it away. Perhaps it would later; it often did.

  ‘Well, that doesn’t make sense, Jack,’ she said pouring his tea, ‘whoever’s buying would have the same problems. Mind you, they’ve made a big thing of the policy in Kerry’s story, saying her campaign helped make it happen. She’s not taking the credit, though, have a look. There, last paragraph,’ she said leaning over Jack’s shoulder, pointing at the bottom of the front page. ‘“It’s the town that’s done it.”’

  ‘Yep, see what I mean, she’s a good’un. She’d have made a good union rep, you know, like her dad. I remember when—’

  A knock on the front door interrupted Jack’s soliloquy.

  ‘Come in,’ she called out. ‘That’ll be Lori,’ she said to Jack.

  ‘Did you smell the kettle going on?’ Aggie laughed, looking up as Lori came into the kitchen wearing a fuchsia blouse tucked into a pair of three-quarter length tight white cotton pants, a vibrant contrast to her brown skin and black hair. Her dark eyes glowed. Aggie couldn’t have had children but if she had, she would have wished for a daughter like Lori.

  ‘Yes, I thought I’d call in before I went over to Kerry’s. Big party today, eh?’ Lori jumped up and down. ‘Amber’s birthday and election celebrations. Kerry said she’d have a party whichever way it went. And what a result, it’s so exciting.’ She reached out for Aggie and gave her a hug before sitting beside Jack. ‘Hello, Mr Gray, lovely to see you, great day, eh?’

  Jack nodded, the avalanche washing over him.

  ‘And did you see in the paper yesterday, Labor’s announced an air quality policy. Wow! And Kerry’s on the front page today. Honestly, I’ve been like a cat on a hot tin roof all morning. I’m all psyched up. I—’

  ‘Have you time for a cup of tea?’ she jumped in as Lori took breath.

  ‘I do, don’t have to be there till one.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Another hour or so. There’ll be a crowd. I think half the town’s coming. But we’re all bringing a plate and something to drink, makes it easier.’

  ‘Have you left yours in the car?’ she asked, concerned about the heat.

  ‘No, Paddy’s bringing ours.’

  She noticed Lori flush at the mention of Patrick’s name.

  ‘I’m meeting him there. He’s at the office. Reckons Saturdays are the best time to get things done! I’m trying to convince him otherwise,’ she laughed.

  A vibrancy shone red around her, flaring at each mention of Patrick. Aggie smiled.

  ‘You’re looking flash, Lori,’ Jack said admiringly.

  Aggie saw an old spark of light flicker above Jack’s head. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘you do too, Lori. Beautiful colour on you, that fuchsia. Do you want something with your cup of tea?’ she said, handing Lori a cup. ‘There’s melting moments, if Jack leaves you one,’ she offered, as Jack reached for his third.

  ‘I’ll be off, leave you to it,’ said Jack, standing up to go, biscuit in hand.

  ‘No, please, don’t leave on my account.’

  ‘No, no, Lori, I want to catch the butcher before he closes at one. You right for a roast tomorrow, Aggie?’ he checked, making his way out the door.

  ‘Looking forward to it, Jack. Thanks for coming over. See you tomorrow.’

  ‘See you, Mr Gray.’

  ‘Tooroo, Lori,’ he called back, departing.

  Agnes watched him gingerly negotiate the back step and close the flywire. She turned to Lori and sighed deeply, struck by Lori’s contrasting exuberance.

  ‘I’m so excited, Aggie. So much has happened. I’m definitely going to Northam for the statewide meeting. And I will be sitting the uni mature age entrance exams. It’s all sorted. We’re still talking about moving in together.’ She stopped and stared at Aggie. ‘You haven’t said anything, have you? Of course not, just, we haven’t told anyone. I didn’t even tell Paddy I’d told you. But I know you’ll keep it to yourself.’

  Aggie leant back a little. Lori’s joy was luminous, uncontainable. She remembered those early days with Frank, when she’d wanted to meld into him, print him on her skin, claim him. And she had.

  ‘And those two readings I did on Thursday evening, they went really well. There was lots of proof.’ She took a sip of tea and looked back at Aggie. ‘No, I still haven’t told Paddy,’ she added, answering her unspoken question. ‘I wanted to ask you about one of the symbols I saw in the cup,’ she said, diverting.

  ‘Go on,’ she responded. Agnes smiled, knowing Lori would tell Patrick about her clairvoyance, but like the unfolding of the plans she had made in the white heat of that evening with him, not as she expected.

  ‘Well, you know when the cup’s been drained and there’s a large clump of tea-leaves at the bottom and then it thins out towards the top?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, drifting into sensing. She could tell by the light around Lor
i that she too was opening up.

  ‘Well—hang on, I’ll show you.’ Lori took a large gulp of her tea and tilted her cup towards the saucer, pouring out the dregs of the amber fluid, leaving the tiny amount needed for swirling the tea-leaves around the cup.

  She watched Lori try to manoeuvre the leaves so the majority stayed at the bottom. ‘I’ll do mine too and we can look at both.’ Aggie tipped the last of her tea into the saucer and with an experienced hand, swirled the few remaining drops around the cup. They spread out in a fine golden mist, a few tiny leaves settling near the bottom.

  ‘Oh, it hasn’t worked,’ Lori complained, peering at the leaves spread evenly around her own cup.

  ‘Well, it won’t, will it, you can’t contrive it, not if you’re going to read them,’ she laughed. Alert to the energy building up between them, she placed her own cup back on the saucer and leant over to look into Lori’s. ‘What was it you wanted to know?’ she asked, aware images were already forming across the screen of her mind. She closed them off to focus on Lori’s question.

  ‘You see how the leaves are spread around my cup, well, the other night, there was a large clump at the bottom and then it thinned out towards the top. Well, I could tell from the clump the difficult time that the woman was having and I picked up she had ended a relationship, which she had. I knew the thinning out and the lighter trail up the cup meant she would get through it all right, but in the middle, before the clump thinned out, was a perfect little image of a lily. She asked me what it meant and I wasn’t sure. I got a bit nervous, Aggie. You know how I want to focus on the positive, and I kept thinking how you often see lilies at funerals, so I just closed off. I felt bad afterwards like there was something I should have said. Did I do the wrong thing?’ Lori asked, round-eyed.

  Although she used her discretion when she read, Agnes usually shared most of what she discerned, good and bad, whereas Lori had made it clear from the beginning she only wanted to focus on the positive, give people hope for the future. And that was the deal she’d made with her spirit guide.

  ‘Well, you could have asked the lady what it meant for her, but often the symbols that form have a special meaning for you. Shorthand from your guide. So what meaning does a lily have for you?’

  ‘Um, I’m not sure,’ Lori said, screwing up her face.

  ‘See, in mine, if an elephant appears, I know the person is someone who forgives but never forgets. It’s why you can’t learn how to read cups from a book, or even from me, for that matter. I can only give you the basics but the interpretation is up to you. I mean, things do come through literally, you might see a ship and the person is off on a cruise but often it’s symbols whose meaning you have to discern.’

  ‘Oh, I know!’ Lori exclaimed, ‘I know what a lily means to me. Love. When I was little, Papa used to tell me lilies mean love. He always gave Nonna the first belladonna from his garden.’ Her eyes misted.

  ‘There, now you know. When a lily appears, you’ll know love is coming into their life or perhaps someone is sending them a message of love. You’ll know which it is,’ she assured her. ‘So look for what the images symbolise for you when you read the tea-leaves. That way your readings will become deeper and more meaningful.’

  Lori nodded. ‘Thanks, Aggie. What’s in yours?’ she asked leaning forward.

  ‘What do you get?’ she encouraged, tilting the cup towards Lori.

  ‘Very light, there’s lots of spiritual energy around you, up most of the cup, into the future. Right now, the leaves at the bottom there, I see … I see … oh, money coming in, there’s a dollar sign, pretty obvious that one, are you going to win the lottery, Aggie?’ Lori asked, looking at her, laughing. Just as quickly she stopped laughing and thrust the cup back at Aggie. ‘That’ll do, eh,’ she said, her smile unsure. ‘How about mine? Anything exciting? Then I must go,’ she said checking her watch. ‘Oh, God, is that the time already, it’s half-past one,’ she yelled, jumping up. ‘You know, when we talk about things, I’m sure I enter another time zone.’

  ‘Have you closed down?’ she warned, knowing Lori hadn’t.

  ‘Aw. Right.’ Lori sat down again and closed her eyes.

  She picked up Lori’s cup. Images started running across her mind—a party, a jack-in-the-box with the lid flying open … Aggie turned down the cup and leant back, ceasing her knowing.

  Lori jumped up.

  ‘All good?’ Agnes asked politely. She needed to close down too.

  ‘I think so. I did it a bit quick. How do I look?’ She twirled around, laughing.

  ‘Beautiful.’ And she was, inside and out.

  ‘No, I mean my chakras, can you see them, are they all closed?’

  ‘You’re fine, go, enjoy your day. Say hello to Kerry for me, give her my congratulations and wish that little girl a happy birthday from Jack and me.’ She stood up and walked Lori to the front door.

  ‘Does she know Jack?’ Lori asked, curious.

  ‘No.’ She stared, unblinking, at Lori.

  Lori stared back, her head on one side. ‘Oh, okay. I will. See you soon, Aggie. I better get going, I don’t want to miss Kerry’s memorable day, or Amber’s.’

  Aggie watched Lori walk down the path.

  Memorable? Aggie thought, closing the door. For one person it is going to be unforgettable.

  Aimee put the finishing touches to the cake. Cake decorating was one of the few culinary skills she’d retained from her mother. She looked out the kitchen window; a crow flapped on the clothesline. Above the horizon a mushroom-shaped cloud billowed, backlit by the rising sun. She remembered her father’s phone call, over a week ago.

  ‘Aimee, how’s things?’ His voice had had a nervous chirp.

  Why was he ringing her at seven-thirty in the morning? ‘Good. Why are you ringing? Is everything all right with Mum, is—’ she’d queried.

  ‘Yes, yes, everything’s fine. Just wanted to catch you before you went to work. Um, all good with the old lady? Settled in has she?’

  ‘Mrs Clancy? Yes, thank you, all settled.’ A prompted phone call to Housing from the local member, Kevin Compton, and a grateful Mrs Clancy had moved into one of the vacant units. A cake and a card had turned up on Aimee’s doorstep the following week. Most days, as Aimee drove to work, Mrs Clancy waved to her from over the fence. It wouldn’t happen in a city, she thought, the boundaries are sharper there.

  ‘Good, good,’ her father continued. ‘Um, about your local council elections, coming up this week, I heard from Kevin that a woman’s running on an environmental platform, pollution from the roasters.’

  ‘Yes, I told you that,’ she said warily. What was he getting at? She checked the time. She didn’t want to be late for work. She had duty then a home visit with Kerry.

  ‘Well, confidentially, there’s been some progress on that, and I thought you’d like to know, but you have to keep it to yourself until it’s announced next Friday. That’s election day, isn’t it?’

  As if you don’t know that, she thought.

  ‘Yes, so okay, what’s the news?’

  ‘Confidential?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know.’

  ‘We’ll be announcing an environmental protection policy for the goldfield’s residential areas that will include a maximum ambient SO2 concentrate level for the area. Self-monitoring to begin with.’

  She disliked the triumph in his voice but she was impressed. ‘That’s something. How do you think that’ll go down with the mine owners?’ She wasn’t sure what it would mean but it sounded like progress.

  ‘Let’s just say there are discussions going on as we speak but I can’t say much more. Now, remember, Aimee, confidential.’

  She’d scratched her head. Had Kerry’s campaign been that influential? Kalgoorlie wasn’t a marginal seat, it had been Labor for years. Why now, after years of knowing the sulphur was a problem? she wondered. Who else stood to benefit? She rubbed her eyes. It was too early to be analysing. Her brain hurt.

  ‘Aimee, co
nfidential, all right?’ her father repeated.

  Confidentiality, the constraint to whistleblowers. She thought of Jan, whose comments last month, at lunch with Lee, broke all the rules. ‘Before they lost government the bloody state Liberals approved Japan’s Power Reactor and Nuclear Fuel Development Corporation to mine uranium at Mulga Rocks. How did they get away with that?’ Jan railed, her face crimson. Aimee remembered Lee’s shocked expression. Ideas on how to leak the information had flown around the room. Her own cheeks flushed.

  She took a deep breath. ‘Dad, remember the uranium …?’

  ‘Oh, Aimee, don’t start, I—’

  ‘No, no, wait, listen to me. I need you to listen to me.’ The determination in her voice must have registered.

  ‘Go on.’

  She could picture the set expression on his face. But she was going to say it. She’d keep Jan out of it somehow.

  ‘I heard a mining licence was granted two years ago to Japanese geologists to mine uranium at Mulga Rocks, north of Cundeelee, and that’s why the people were moved, isn’t it?’

  There was a long silence on the end of the phone

  ‘And they shipped yellow cake to Japan in forty-four gallon drums for treatment and testing. How did they keep that quiet, Dad? And Coonana,’ she went on before he could interrupt, ‘just happens to be conveniently located on the other side of the railway line. What would Cundeelee have been in the way of, Dad?’ She heard her voice rising.

  ‘Aimee, where did you get this information?’

  She could hear his breathing. Silence.

  ‘Aimee, I said, where did you get this information?’

  ‘It’s true, isn’t it?’

  ‘Aimee?’

  ‘It is, isn’t it?’

  ‘Aimee, where—’

  Jan was right. This time she’ d hung up the phone. Her hands had trembled as she took it off the hook. Lee would have been proud of her. She knew it might not change anything—the initial approval didn’t happen on state Labor’s watch but it hadn’t been stopped either. The move to Coonana couldn’t be undone, and even with a federal Labor ban on uranium mining, the way remained open in the future, at the expense of the Aboriginal community. But she’d tried. And she’d stood up to him.