Dedication
For Hepsey — G.M.
For David and Melissa — S.M.K.
Contents
Cover
Dedication
1. A Daddy and His Daughter
2. Bluebirds and Firebirds
3. Saffron’s Other Brother
4. Elephant Clouds and Afternoon Tea
5. Tools for Truth
6. Sir Attenborough and the Velvet Worms
7. Different Ways of Looking
8. The Loud Silence of Saffron Silk
9. Saint Lucy’s Cats
10. Farewell to Little Petal
11. Double Happiness
12. Science and Technology vs Tender Moments
13. An Invitation
Hilde Larsson’s Lussekatter
Other books by Glenda Millard
Copyright
1. A Daddy and His Daughter
‘I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.’
The shed on which these words are chalked belongs to Ben Silk. Ben often sees angels but none of them is made of marble. They are live and loud with cherry-tart cheeks and bare feet, wearing daisy-chain halos on their tumbling hair and wings made of wire coathangers and chicken feathers. Some days they dance amongst the tussocky grass where new lambs play. On others they might wander between the soft blue folds of the hills or sleep in the sun on bales of sweet yellow straw, their wings tethered to the clothesline like cloudlets. These are the children of the Kingdom of Silk.
The words on the wall of Ben’s shed belong to a famous painter and sculptor called Michelangelo, who lived many hundreds of years ago. Ben is not a famous painter or sculptor; he is father of the sometimes-winged children, drives a beaten-up old Bedford truck and collects things other people have no use for. He is excellent at playing harmonica, cotton-reel knitting, and building tree houses and many other useful things. His shed is cluttered with items such as planks from disused jetties, railings from rickety bridges, decaying fenceposts from forsaken farms, unlabelled tins half-filled with paint, bent bicycle wheels, ropes and pulleys, inside-out umbrellas, wire coathangers and chicken feathers in hessian sacks.
It was Saffron, the fifth of Ben and Annie Silk’s daughters, who wrote Michelangelo’s words on the wall of her daddy’s shed. Saffron was well informed about historical figures such as Michelangelo, Joan of Arc and Cleopatra. She had also studied the myths and legends of Greek and Roman gods and goddesses. But one of the most interesting living people Saffron knew was her daddy, because of his ability to see things that other people could not. Extraordinary and unexpected things like mermaidenly ladies in driftwood branches, wild horses rearing from red gum fenceposts, wings in wire coathangers and angels in the cabbage patch.
The gift of seeing, like all special talents, takes practice and practice takes time. Ben often practised on his Seat of Wisdom, which had once been a dentist’s chair. He positioned his seat directly under a skylight in the roof of his shed so he could see birds flying and clouds passing and so he would know he’d been there too long if he could see the moon and stars.
Sometimes while he was wondering how best to show other people what he could see, Ben knitted tea-cosies or odd socks. On other occasions he watched dust fairies floating in streams of light and, from time to time, he pulled a lever and lowered the chair just enough so he could draw finger pictures in the sawdust on the floor. Now and then he just sat and thought. Thinking deeply was encouraged at the Kingdom of Silk. At first glance it would be easy to conclude that Ben was wasting time, but Saffron knew better. She believed wholeheartedly that her daddy would one day be as famous as Michelangelo and would go down in history as the Seer of Cameron’s Creek.
Seeing what other people could not wasn’t the only thing Ben did when he sat in his Seat of Wisdom. It was there, long before Saffron was born, that he dreamt of making Naming Day Books for his children and of a ceremony at which they would be presented. In the weeks and months before each ceremony, Ben spent hours sorting through his collection of useful pieces of wood. From these he would carve covers for the books to protect the precious memories of his children’s lives; their minutes, hours, days and years.
When Ben shared his dream with Annie, she made paper to cushion the words she would write for each of her babies. Pages and pages she made from torn wallpaper scraped from old walls. Each sheet was embedded with secrets from past inhabitants of their house on the hill. Each leaf was scented with smoke from fires that once warmed other people’s children. There were enough pages to hold everything Annie knew about the babies who had grown in the quiet dark inside her; the moments before, during and after their births on the bed that Ben made and the wonderful celebrations of their Naming Days. But, wisely, Annie always made more pages than she knew how to fill. Empty pages for moments yet to be lived. Words yet to be spoken on days yet to dawn. For she knew that every baby held mysteries only time would reveal.
Of the seven Naming Day Books only one is complete. It is the one made for Tishkin, the youngest of the Silk sisters. For time is a gift and Tishkin’s time with her family was as brief as the spring daisies that yellow the hills of Cameron’s Creek. The perfect amount of time it took for her family to fall in love with her. Tishkin comes to them still, in the wind, the rain and the sun, and in the rustling of leaves they hear her name. But although she is for always and forever at the heart of the Kingdom of Silk, she leaves no footprints in the garden. The other books belong to Tishkin’s brother, Griffin, and to her sisters, the Rainbow Girls: Scarlet, Indigo, Violet, Amber and Saffron.
When Perry arrived at the Kingdom of Silk, he already had a name. The golden letters on the suitcase he brought with him stood for Perry Maxwell, God’s Dearest Angel. He was called Perry Angel for short. There was no need for a Naming Day celebration. But the Silk family were fond of merrymaking, ritual and ceremony, so when Griffin’s best friend, Layla, suggested a Day of Cake and Thankfulness to welcome Perry to his new home, they readily agreed.
Days after Saffron’s birth, Ben held her in his arms while he sat on his Seat of Wisdom as he had done with each of her four older sisters. They gazed at one another in the soft, sawdusty silence. Ben turned his small and precious child this way and that under the single yellow light bulb. He gazed at her starfish fingers, seashell ears, pearly nails and rockpool eyes. He watched her salty lashes sweep slowly open and shut like sea anemones and tried to imagine what sort of person his tiny girl might grow up to be.
You might think that Ben, Seer of Cameron’s Creek, would have unravelled the mystery of babies, at least by the time his fifth daughter was born. But Ben had learnt that every baby is unique, and even after a year had passed it seemed there was more that Ben and the rest of the Silk family did not know about the newcomer than they did.
On the day of her naming ceremony Saffron was still buttercup fresh, spring lamb new, a little mystery to them all. Ben raised his face to the sky and declared to the universe:
‘All we know about our fifth daughter is that her hair is more lovely than marigolds.
All we know is she is more rare and more precious than the costliest spice.
All we know is she is more beautiful to us than Aurora, goddess of the dawn.
And for all that we know we name this small and precious mystery Saffron Silk.’
After Ben had finished speaking, Annie placed a tiny circlet of white flowers and yellow ribbons on Saffron’s head. Ben’s words and everything else that happened on Saffron’s Naming Day was recorded in her book. The wreath was dried and framed and hung on the wall above Saffron’s bed. Annie painted its likeness in Saffron’s Naming Day Book along with the following cap
tion:
The flowers in this garland are freesias. They were grown from bulbs that Nell Silk was given by a stranger on her wedding day. The bulbs were transplanted from Nell’s city garden to the Kingdom of Silk when she came with her son, Ben, and his wife, Annie, to live here. In the lore of flowers, the freesia represents innocence. The yellow ribbon signifies hope, happiness and kindness.
There are photographs of Saffron wearing a long white dress embroidered with buttercups and love by her wise and wonderful grandmother, Nell. Faded snapshots show her sisters playing in the sappy spring grass, trying to catch apple blossom in butterfly nets. In others, Amber and Barney Blacksheep watch curiously from the comfort of the old wicker pram in the shade of the Cox’s Orange Pippin tree. Barney, an orphaned lamb, wears an organza bonnet and a knitted pink vest sprigged with ribbon rosebuds. If you look carefully at some of the photographs you will see that Amber is feeding Barney Blacksheep sugar-coated aniseed rings from Nell’s handbag.
In Saffron’s favourite photograph she is cradled in Nell’s arms. Her daddy has just finished reading his declaration and her mama is placing the garland of flowers on her marigold curls. The three people she loves most in the world are all looking at her with love and wishfulness in their eyes. It was probably one of the first tender moments in Saffron’s life.
Not many people expect the world’s leading authority on tender moments to be a small white-haired woman who doesn’t drive a car or know how to operate a computer and who has no ambition to learn how to. Nell Silk never attended a university because they do not offer courses in subjects such as the observation of tender moments. There is no technology, no textbook, no diagram or formula with clear instruction on how to identify and preserve them, pressed like forget-me-nots, between the pages of one’s life. It is a hand-me-down skill usually passed on by wise and wonderful grandpeople to their children and grandchildren.
Some of these wise people live in mud huts or in homes made of ice or even in holes in the ground, and some live in palaces with golden taps and crystal chandeliers and heated toilet seats. Some wear diamonds in their teeth, some wear animal skins on their backs and some wear almost nothing at all. But each and every one will tell you that the skill of capturing a tender moment is the most wonderful thing they possess. It is more like magic than almost anything else in the universe, except perhaps reading hearts or books or seeing things that other people cannot. The observation of a tender moment brings unspeakable pleasure equally to the giver, the receiver and the observer.
According to Nell, life is a mixture of moments. Some are tiny and tender, like holding a just-hatched chick to your cheek. Others, like falling in love with a new baby, linger far longer. These moments can make your heart soar above the clouds for days or weeks or months, before they settle quietly, comfortably around you, like a hand-knitted scarf. Occasionally there are heavy grey moments that make your heart ache for longer than you thought possible.
On the day of Saffron’s naming no-one could tell what sort of moments would fill the pages of her book, but everyone hoped the tiny tender ones, those that make the soul tipsy with ordinary happiness, and the quiet comforting kind would far outweigh the others. This was their wish for her from the beginning, even before they learnt she had to go away.
2. Bluebirds and Firebirds
Saffron first saw the firebirds when she was at school. She wasn’t alarmed, since she knew her daddy also saw things other people didn’t. Besides, it was during her Joan of Arc phase, so she thought it possible the birds were a vision from the heavenlies. But she didn’t tell anyone else about them.
Saffron, like her older sisters, had been home-schooled until Tishkin died. Then Annie became ill with sadness and had to go to a hospital far away in the city to learn how to be happy again. So the Rainbow Girls went by bus to a school in the next town and Griffin walked to Saint Benedict’s School in Cameron’s Creek.
Saffron was miserable at school. She missed her mama and Tishkin so badly that it hurt to breathe. She thought her heart was broken and that she had caught sadness sickness, so she begged her daddy and Nell to let her go to the hospital where Mama was, to learn how to be happy again. She buried her face in Nell’s apron and felt her grandmother’s body working; her warm heart squeezing, her quiet breath sighing in and out and her muscles tightening, trying to close down the tear-drop department.
One day soon after, when Saffron arrived home from school, Nell had a gift for her. It was a silver ring with a small enamelled bluebird on it. Nell said it was the bluebird of happiness and that it had been a gift from her Johnny when they were sweethearts.
‘Johnny said that if anything ever happened to him he wanted me to look at this little bluebird and remember the happy times we’d shared. When Johnny and my girls, Katie and Ella, were killed in a car accident, I thought I’d never be happy again. Every time I looked at Johnny’s ring, I’d cry. Even now, after all these years, when I look at the bluebird, my heart is squeezed. But Johnny was right, I learnt to remember the good times. It’s all right to cry, Saffron, and it’s all right to feel sad. It’s normal and it helps the hurt in us heal. Annie needs special care but the rest of us just need each other. I promise that some day you’ll be happy again. We all will, even your mama.’
Nell pushed the bluebird ring onto Saffron’s thumb. It fitted perfectly.
‘I’d like you to wear Johnny’s ring. I can’t fit it over my knuckles any more. When you look at it or feel it, I want you to remember how birds return in spring after the winter, to build their nests, to start again. If I hadn’t lost Johnny and my girls, I might never have been lonely. I might never have welcomed a little boy called Ben into my home. I might never have known you. Happiness will come, sweetheart, happiness will come.’
Saffron wore the bluebird ring every day that Annie was away. Some days she cried and some days she did not. She still missed Tishkin and always would, but Nell was right, happiness, like the birds and like Annie, eventually returned to the family at the Kingdom of Silk.
At school Saffron learnt many things she didn’t know. One of the strangest things was that other children’s fathers did not knit tea-cosies or odd socks or even scarves. They didn’t see things in lumps of wood either or watch dust fairies dance in the light and they didn’t waltz under the stars with their wives. Other fathers had no Seat of Wisdom in their sheds and other mothers did not sing to their goats to make the milk sweeter — in fact most of them had no goats. Some children had never heard of Grandmother Magic and didn’t understand what tender moments were. And the teachers didn’t encourage cogitation. There was no time for thinking deeply. They wanted Saffron, like all the other students, to answer their questions quickly.
Saffron found school and all the people who went there strangely mysterious, as though they came from a different world. Even though she eventually got used to their strangeness, she wasn’t sure they would understand if she told them about the firebirds.
By this time Saffron was slightly less of a mystery to her family. They discovered she was excellent at pretending to be other people. This was something she inherited from Nell. Ever since Saffron could remember, Nell had played dress-ups with her. Nell usually played the part of Fairy Grandmother, while Saffron almost always chose historical characters. Amongst her favourites were: Joan of Arc, also known as the Maid of Orleans; Hannibal with his mighty army of elephants; Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt; and Anne of Green Gables. Joan, Hannibal and Cleopatra were real people. Strictly speaking Anne was not. But when Saffron read the book, Anne seemed positively real to her. Anne was easier to become than the others because there was no need for horses, elephants, venomous snakes or burning at the stake, and also on account of her marigold hair.
Saffron even made costumes for the characters she liked to play. Once it was Nell who made all the dressing-up clothes using a pedal-operated sewing machine. But now Saffron could pedal faster. She rarely ran the needle through her finger and even when she did, she trie
d to be brave by reminding herself of the astonishing hardships her heroes and heroines had suffered. But even so, it is difficult to be courageous when you are in agony.
Uniforms were not compulsory at the school the Rainbow Girls attended, so Saffron sometimes wore her costumes. Being called names by some of the other students didn’t bother Saffron. There were worse things than being called a weirdo. At least weird was interesting, she thought.
During her Joan of Arc phase, Saffron wore her long white martyr’s dress and hung a wooden cross whittled from kindling sticks around her neck on a bootlace. It was extremely difficult to look miserable all day but she managed until lunchtime, when some of the more curious students asked questions about her costume. Saffron explained how Joan saw visions, who spoke to her and told her she had been chosen to help the rightful king of France. She led an army to drive out his enemies and, sadly, was put to death because of her beliefs, when she was only nineteen. It seemed to Saffron that this was a dreadful mistake, since many years later Joan was declared a saint.
The Maid of Orleans seemed to inspire a few of the other girls in Saffron’s class. They took to wearing white dresses to school and asked Saffron if Ben would make them crosses. At home, Scarlet told everyone that Saffron had a cult following. Saffron wasn’t sure how many people it took to make a cult, but she was almost certain five wasn’t enough. Then the drama teacher, Mr Chalmers, suggested the students stage a play about Joan for the Christmas concert. Saffron played the lead role. She and Nell made the costumes. Saffron wanted a real fire for the burning-at-the-stake scene, but Mr Chalmers said the school’s insurance policy didn’t cover deliberately lit fires. Even so, the play was a great success.
The Tender Moments of Saffron Silk Page 1