The Shifting Light

by Alice Campion

  Moira looked up as Hilary made her way to the counter. ‘Here we are, Hils has come to see us,’ she smiled, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘Take a seat and I’ll come over.’

  ‘Just looking for a strong coffee, thank you, Moira,’ Hilary called over her shoulder, then settled into a spot next to the counter.

  ‘Outa milk!’ called Sheree.

  ‘Only plunger-style, I’m afraid. That do, Hils?’

  ‘Anything will do right now. Thank you.’

  Moira placed two coffees and wattle cake slices on Hilary’s table and sank down next to her.

  ‘Sure you’re right there, Mum?’ Sheree’s tone was uncertain.

  Moira nodded, then turned back to Hilary. ‘Alfie told me about your blue ribbon in the show jump. Well done you.’ She put both feet up on the chair opposite. ‘More spark in the old girl yet!’

  ‘More than you know, Moira.’

  They both laughed and sipped at their steaming coffees.

  ‘Three thousand, four hundred and fifty-three dollars. And 80 cents!’ A shout from Sheree.

  ‘No way! You sure, Sheree?’ said Moira.

  That’s right, thought Hilary. Sheree and … Helen.

  ‘Beat yesterday by heaps. Better get this cash into the night safe. You right if I head off, Mum?’ Sheree stuffed the cash bag in a backpack and put it on front ways.

  ‘No worries. See you at home – and grab some fish and chips for the kids. I’m over cooking,’ said Moira.

  Sheree chuckled. ‘Hey, see youse in the morning,’ she called to the young staff who were chatting excitedly at the counter. ‘You were deadly today. I’m real proud.’

  Moira filled Hilary in about how she and the Koori trainees were planning to open a café in a month or so. Locally-sourced ingredients, bush-tucker counter sales. Hopefully a springboard for them.

  ‘… And, after wages and costs, if we make five grand from the Show weekend, then we’ll reach what we need for the fit-out. The Ross boys are doing the building and we’ll have working bees for the painting and set-up. Most other things people have donated, and seems like the whole mob’s making pickles and jams and what have you.’

  ‘Just make sure you serve decent coffee,’ said Hilary, hopefully. ‘If my horse had a kick like the coffee in Wandalla I’d send it to the knackery.’

  Moira chortled.

  ‘It shouldn’t be that hard,’ concluded Hilary.

  ‘It’s a matter of machinery. Looked at a decent espresso machine. Not cheap. And then there’s the training. What I wouldn’t do to be able to send this lot on a barista course.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Dubbo’s the closest.’

  ‘What would that cost, including the coffee machine?’

  ‘You wouldn’t get away with under 10 grand, I reckon. Anyway, this won’t buy the baby a new bonnet, will it?’ Moira announced, standing and collecting her coffee cup. She started clearing the last few tables while Hilary sat and thought.

  ‘… Go on then, get out there and enjoy it while you can.’ Moira shooed the last of the team away. ‘But don’t forget – seven in the morning, so don’t have too much fun,’ she called after them and turned to Hilary. ‘You staying the night, Hils?’

  ‘No, I’ve just been thinking.’ Hilary gathered her bag and headed to the entrance. She took Moira’s hand and pressed payment for her coffee and cake. Under the note and coins lay a cheque for $10,000.

  ‘Oh, Hilary! It’s too much. I can’t … I don’t know what to say.’ Moira welled up. ‘I know things haven’t always been good between us, but I wish …’

  ‘Just shows how desperate I am for good coffee,’ said Hilary, gathering her sunglasses and handbag. ‘And if there’s any change left over, get some decent tablecloths, would you?’

  Izzy’s legs ached as she headed to her car parked under a stand of gums on the far side of the Showgrounds. The air was cooler now in the late afternoon and she felt strangely energised. The café had been a huge success, Nina and Heath were pumped about his appointment, and she’d had so much fun with Ben. Now, she needed to change before tonight’s gala. A local band was playing, the wine tent was doing some tastings and Hilary had organised some of her late husband’s fireworks to be set off.

  Izzy finally reached the car and fumbled in her bag for her keys.

  ‘What the fuck are you playing at?’

  She wheeled around. It was Lachlan – his mouth set in a straight line.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she spluttered, wishing she had already opened the car door.

  ‘You know exactly what I mean.’ His voice was cold.

  Izzy looked around. The car park was deserted in the gathering dusk. Most people were in the main Show area or had left for the day. ‘Lachlan, I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she said, trying to keep her tone matter-of-fact. She turned to face the car again. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to …’

  But he wasn’t having it. In a second his hands were gripping her shoulders and he had turned her to face him once again. ‘Just because you can’t have what you want, you don’t have to take your frustrations out on me,’ he said. ‘Who do you think you are, telling Hilary about us?’

  ‘Telling Hilary? What are you talking about?’

  ‘Hilary and I had something good going. Really good, until you had to stuff it up. I’m too old for this jealousy crap. You and I had a fling – nothing more – so back off and stay out of my business.’

  A bubble of anger leapt from Izzy’s stomach to her voice. ‘You and Hilary? What a joke! Even though the idea of you two sounds pathetic, do you really think I’d care? I’d rather die than tell anyone that we were together. Just the thought of it makes me sick!’

  She turned back to the car and this time managed to open the door.

  ‘Stay out of my business and keep your fucking mouth shut,’ Lachlan spat.

  ‘Happily,’ said Izzy, jumping into the car and slamming the door.

  Lachlan turned as if to go, and she lowered the window. ‘Hilary didn’t need me to tell her what a low-life you are. She obviously figured it out for herself, quick smart!’

  Lachlan swore and sauntered off.

  Izzy caught her breath. She was shaking. Nina had a right to know about this dark side to Lachlan. Should she let on he was also with Hilary? No, that was Hilary’s business and over anyway by the sounds of it. Izzy put her head in her hands for a second and wondered whether she should just start the car and head home – but maybe he would be on his way to The Springs as well. Then again, what if he decided to stay late here too?

  She desperately wanted to stay. She needed to see Ben – now more than ever.

  ‘Isobel Rainbow,’ she told herself. ‘Don’t let him win.’

  She scrambled her spare dress and makeup into her bag, got out of the car and headed to the Ladies. ‘He’s not going to scare you away from The Springs, or anywhere,’ Izzy muttered. There was no way she was going to let a scumbag like that ruin her night. There’d been too many nights ruined and too many scumbags.

  No more.

  Now, which lipstick should she wear? Red or pink?

  ‘Stop right there, Ma’am! You look a bit lost! Need some direction in your life?’

  Izzy, deep in thought, didn’t realise at first that the tiny jockey-like man in the sequinned spruiker’s jacket was talking to her.

  ‘Yes, you, young lady! All dressed up, I see, and nowhere to go? You have a question about love, money, family, the future? Let the amazing Madame Zena tell you what the universe has in store for you.’ He handed her a flyer.

  MADAME ZENA

  Due to popular demand and sell-out appearances in Paris, Rome and Dubbo, Madame Zena is bringing her rare talents and sixth and seventh senses to Wandalla.

  Direct from the mountains of Romania, her accurate predictions and uncanny abilities will astound and amaze.

  You know you have to see her – and so does she!

  This will be the best $10
you will ever spend.

  Izzy looked at her watch. That business in the car park had made her hurry and now she had about half an hour to kill before she was to meet the others.

  Why not! She needed a bit of fun and it would help take her mind off Lachlan. ‘I’m in,’ she told the spruiker.

  ‘You won’t regret it, love. She’s one of a kind. Step this way.’

  It looked just the same as every other sideshow tent, except for a red velvet curtain at the entrance with Madame Zena embroidered in silver above an orange crystal ball.

  He pulled back the curtain and Izzy stepped inside.

  It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The tent was festooned with rugs, scarves and cushions in deep jewel colours. The air was stuffy and charged with incense.

  In the middle of the tent was a card table covered in purple velvet with camp stools on either side. Izzy sat down and waited. Madame Zena was nowhere to be seen.

  Then came a rustling and murmured voices from behind a curtain.

  ‘I can’t help it – me bursitis is bustin’ me,’ said one voice, a woman. Izzy didn’t detect a Romanian accent.

  Then a man spoke – the spruiker? She couldn’t make out the words but he didn’t seem happy about something.

  More rustling.

  Then the woman again. ‘Bea is fine – she’s watched me a million times.’

  Suddenly the curtain was pulled aside and a girl of about 12 appeared. She had long red hair under a purple turban which kept slipping down her forehead and over her glasses. Her freckled face was pale above her red kaftan. She wore trainers underneath, Izzy noticed. The girl closed the curtain behind her and glided to the table, eyes half-closed as if she was in some sort of trance.

  Izzy stifled a laugh as she saw the girl was holding an open can of lemonade with a straw in one hand.

  ‘Madame Zena, I presume,’ said Izzy as the girl sat opposite her.

  ‘Never presume,’ replied the girl, who then took a big slurp of lemonade and reached behind her to grab the crystal ball which she plonked on the table.

  Izzy started to giggle.

  ‘Shhhh!’ the girl said, scowling. ‘Dealing with the future is no laughing matter. And it’s tiring.’

  ‘Sorry, Madame Zena.’ Izzy straightened her face.

  ‘Actually, Madame Zena is unavailable at this time,’ said the girl, who was now shuffling cards which had materialised from one of her long sleeves. ‘I am Bea, her granddaughter. Rest assured,’ she said, patting Izzy on the forearm, ‘I too have the gift.’

  Izzy felt a mixture of mirth and disappointment. She had been keen to see the real Madame Zena. But this girl was hilarious. For a second, Izzy thought Ben might pop his head out from behind the curtain. A joke.

  ‘We shall begin,’ said Bea suddenly. She put her head down on the table for a few seconds then sat straight back up, looking directly at Izzy.

  ‘You have recently escaped a dark cloud,’ she said.

  Izzy smiled. Dark cloud, she thought. She’s definitely got the lingo sorted.

  Bea leant forward. ‘Heed my words,’ she said. ‘Leave him well enough alone. There is nothing but trouble around the one who seeks to make you feel bad.’

  Izzy felt a shiver race along her spine. Lachlan. But, no, this was ridiculous …

  Bea rubbed her temples then took another sip of lemonade.

  ‘You want me to continue?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course,’ said Izzy.

  Bea had Izzy shuffle the cards this time, then laid a few of them face down on the table. She then ran her hands over them, scooped them up in a pile and looked in the crystal ball.

  ‘There’s a flower that used to be in your home,’ she said, adjusting her glasses.

  ‘A flower?’ said Izzy.

  ‘Yes – this flower, too, has caused you much pain in the house in the hills. But this flower is out to make amends. She’s not sure how to find a way back to you, but she wants to.’

  ‘She?’ said Izzy. All at once the realisation hit her – Tulip – she must mean her mother.

  Suddenly, the sickly scent, the dim tent and Bea’s unsettling words made Izzy feel claustrophobic.

  ‘Thank you, Bea, but I think I’ve heard enough,’ said Izzy, fumbling with her purse. ‘And please, thank your Grandma Zena.’

  Fresh air, she needed fresh air.

  ‘Sure,’ said Bea, finishing her lemonade. ‘Just one more thing before you go.’

  ‘Yes?’ said Izzy uncertainly.

  ‘Better times are ahead. Your destiny is right in front of you. And … Cupid holds a golden future.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Izzy, putting a $20 note on the table before scram bling to the entranceway. ‘Keep the change.’

  The Show had seemed so big and exciting when he was a kid, especially at night, Ben mused as he made his way towards the flashing lights of sideshow alley. Each year when the Show arrived, he, Heath and the other kids would pedal out after school to watch the Ferris wheel sprout like Jack’s beanstalk into the air and the dozens of trucks and trailers make their way through the gates. The entire conversation for weeks beforehand would be about how much money each had saved, which showbags were the best value, what rides they would go on. And later, the question of what girl you asked to come with you became a life or death decision.

  It seemed so small after Sydney, he thought fondly. Rather than looking exotic and a bit scary as they had back then, the carnival people now just seemed bored, their wares tawdry. But the mingled incense of fairy floss, fried food and horse dung, along with the screams and music from the rides, still managed to evoke the heady feeling of those days.

  A familiar curvy figure stepped out of a tent ahead of him. Izzy. Despite himself, Ben felt his chest tighten. She stood still for a moment as if in thought, twisting her hair absent-mindedly around a finger. He suddenly felt lighter.

  ‘Hey, Izz!’ he called. Her eyes found him in the crowd and a smile lit up her face.

  ‘Ben! I was wondering where you got to.’

  ‘Just checking who won the different cattle classes. Since Heath didn’t judge this year, he’ll be keen to know what happened,’ he replied. ‘It’s a serious deal around here.’

  ‘No bull?’ Izzy laughed. ‘So, what will we have a go at?’ she asked, her gesture taking in the crowded laneway of attractions. ‘Clowns? Hoops?’

  ‘Shooting gallery for sure,’ said Ben. ‘Though I have to reveal a big secret – they bend the sights a bit off flush so you’re not really shooting straight. Skill is nothing. You’ve just gotta let go and feel it, like the Karate Kid.’

  ‘Wax on, wax off, sensei,’ laughed Izzy. ‘Six shots for five bucks – we’ve gotta hit something.’

  The two took up their positions on either end of the counter and loaded their pellets.

  ‘It’s that way, okay?’ said Ben, gesturing to the metal ducks streaming slowly past. ‘Don’t point it over here. I’ve already got three pellets from where Heath shot me with a BB gun when I was 11.’

  ‘Really, can I feel?’ With gentle fingers Izzy probed the muscle of his forearm, sending shivers through him. Her face was so close to his he could lean forward and kiss her. But that was the last thing she needed right now. Some other bloke coming onto her.

  ‘Wow. Do you set off the metal detector at the airport?’ she asked.

  ‘Come on, let’s just focus,’ he replied. ‘Sense the duck. Be the duck.’

  She raised the airgun. Ping, ping, ping. Her bullets missed the target.

  ‘Find the zone,’ Ben teased.

  ‘Stop it, you’re putting me off!’ she laughed.

  ‘Check this form,’ he said after her other bullets had also failed to find their mark. These were probably the exact same guns he’d shot with on this spot 10 years ago, he thought. Same dodgy mechanism. He aimed deliberately between two targets. Sure enough, a duck went down. Izzy jumped and clapped her hands. A couple of misses, then another hit and another.
r />   ‘That’s got to get us something,’ Ben smiled at the bleach-blonde woman behind the booth.

  ‘The rabbit, the rabbit!’ said Izzy, pointing at a pink fluffy bunny.

  ‘Nup. We’re taking the hat,’ said Ben, indicating an outsized blow-up Stetson.

  ‘Youse’ll have to blow it up yourselves,’ drawled the woman, passing him a flat package.

  ‘Go on then, I want to see this,’ said Izzy as they moved away from the booth.

  Ben took a deep breath and blew into the flab of plastic.

  ‘Come on!’ said Izzy, capering in front of him so that he lost his breath in laughter. ‘What’s the matter? Can’t do it?’

  Ben steeled himself and blew again. He was going to wear this damned thing if it killed him.

  ‘Did you know you can tell how good a kisser someone is by how they blow up an inflatable whatever?’

  ‘Mmmm?’ Ben encouraged her, not taking his mouth from the tube.

  ‘See, the way you wrap those sensual lips around that mouth piece tells me everything,’ teased Izzy. ‘It’s all in the pucker.’

  Was she flirting or joking? He kept puffing.

  ‘And the heavy breathing adds a certain carnal element to the proceedings,’ she added, looking slyly at him from the corner of her eye.

  My god, she was flirting.

  ‘There!’ Ben, breathless, held the enormous hat aloft.

  ‘Here, let me crown you.’ Izzy took the Stetson, crouched down, and placed it on his head. She paused, and the laughter on her face died away.

  ‘I want to kiss you,’ he found himself saying. ‘But I know you’re …’

  ‘Shh,’ she said, putting a finger on his lips. ‘Just let go and feel it – isn’t that what you said?’ She drew the hat from his head and then her soft lips were covering his and he was burying his hands in her hair.