She was rewarding herself after a busy morning searching the Wandalla library archives following her conversation with Moira. She’d drawn a blank. It’s hard to find something when you don’t know what you’re looking for. Though she enjoyed seeing the photograph of Old Barkin’ Larkin.
Here at the Commercial Hotel, in the beer garden overlooking the river, you could lounge around all afternoon. Bach was free to scatter the green parrots grazing on the bank high into the air, circling back as if he’d done the most important job in the world, time after time. And every time, Nina had to smile.
She knew she was an object of curiosity for the other people there. Even her more subdued outfits were different, like today’s polka dot shirt, 50s head scarf and paint-splattered jeans. She’d discovered that if you were reading, or drawing, no-one would bother you. But if you wanted to chat, there were always one or two takers who’d tell you their complete life story if you showed the slightest interest.
The Commercial had become Nina’s guilty pleasure. It was quiet now but the Friday afternoon rush would soon descend.
The hot, dry air made the shadows sharp and dark. She was really starting to see this country, she thought as she darkened the bird’s wing tip. So different from humid Sydney, with its softer light and lush vegetation. The dryness here made the air electric; it gave her energy.
She rummaged through her charcoals.
She had woken that morning and rushed to her canvas in the ‘studio’ to snatch an hour’s painting before heading into town. She’d been determined to improve the man in her Durham House painting but it was useless. She had washed in a whisper of a male figure, larger than that in Jim’s painting. The man was now closer and she had decided to turn him around a bit, so that his face could be seen at quarter view. A couple of times she thought she had nailed his stance. It still wasn’t right and so she had left it for the less elusive elements in the picture but, in the end, she’d become so frustrated she picked up her sketchbook and camera and headed for town. At the Commercial, she enjoyed sketching the show-off magpie, which was much easier to portray than the painting of the man. The most annoying thing, she mused as she started on the bird’s beak, was that she knew what she was after. She wanted to look at her canvas and feel that stab of recognition she got every time she viewed Jim’s original painting. And that was probably the problem right there, she thought. It was hard to paint a feeling.
She felt restless, irritated. But why? She knew why. She needed to see the man’s face on her canvas. Ridiculous, given the face wasn’t even visible in the original. Yet she knew the picture would never be complete until she could see who he was.
‘Oh my god. That’s great!’ Deborah’s voice.
Nina jumped up, knocking over her beer. ‘What are you doing here?’
Deborah, looking fresh and neat in a polo shirt and jeans, seemed on edge. ‘I’m … I have to pick up an order. Mum’s got some cotton farmers’ conference thingy at Paramour this afternoon.’
‘Sorry,’ Nina stammered, as she righted the glass and wiped her now sticky hands on her jeans. ‘I didn’t mean … I only meant I didn’t expect to see you here.’
‘No, I’m sorry to sneak up on you,’ Deborah said.
‘Would you like to join me?’ Nina cursed herself as the formal words came out of her mouth. She had dreaded running into Deborah or, god forbid, Hilary, ever since the party. She had thought she might call Deborah to say goodbye before she left town and leave it at that.
Deborah took a deep breath and rushed her words. ‘Look, I’m so sorry about what Mother said to you at the party. It was unforgivable. Sometimes she gets carried away. And your dress. I’m just so sorry. We’ll pay to get it cleaned.’
‘No, no, don’t worry. The stains came out in the wash. I just hope you don’t think I was trying to … what Hilary said.’
‘Oh my god, of course not,’ said Deborah, looking directly at her. ‘As if. Mum’s got an imagination on her, that’s for sure.’
The memory of that dance almost a week ago returned – how she’d never wanted it to end.
‘You’ve got such a talent,’ said Deborah, indicating Nina’s drawing. ‘I wish I was good at something like that.’
‘What about all those ribbons at your place? You are good at something,’ smiled Nina.
‘Well, a lot of those are Mum’s,’ said Deborah shyly. ‘She was a good showjumper when she was young. The Blacketts gave her a horse. It was the one thing that kept her going at school.’
‘How come?’
Deborah’s smile disappeared. ‘She was bullied. I went to the same school – DDAGS, if you can believe it. Darling Downs Anglican Girls’ School.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘It was the same when I was there. In every year there was one group of girls whose job it was to squash anyone different. They didn’t pick on me so much because I’m one of the Flints, but when poor Mum was there …’
Nina wanted to be sympathetic, but Hilary was hard to feel sorry for.
‘In the science lab I found Hilary Murphy is a slack arse mole burnt into one of the benches.’ Deborah gave a wry smile. ‘Not good.’
‘Do you want a drink? Nina asked.
‘No,’ said Deborah. ‘I’m just here to pick up an order for mum. I’ve got to get back to Paramour. Saracen’s lame.’
‘Ben said you train and breed as well as doing show work?’ said Nina.
‘Did he? I’m surprised he mentioned it. We’ve got a bit of a breeding program started but I’d love to build it up more. Matty’s a whizz with all that. He picked a champion at the yearling sales last year. He’s absolutely gorgeous.’
‘Who, Matty or the horse?’ joked Nina, immediately wishing she hadn’t when she saw Deborah blush.
‘The horse, of course,’ answered Deborah. She turned back to the sketch. ‘So, have you done any drawings around The Springs?’
‘Yeah, lots. I’m inspired by all of Dad’s canvases lying around, and the countryside’s amazing. I’m trying to get it down in my sketchbook before I have to go. I’ve had a little bit more time now the house is nearly sorted.’
Deborah sighed. ‘Yes, the house. You’ve done so much on your own. I really admire you.’
No, Deborah, please don’t admire me, Nina thought. I’m the last person you should be admiring.
‘We should show you a bit of the country before you go,’ said Deborah. ‘Go riding. Heath could lend you one of his horses. They’re a bit steadier than ours and he’s a great teacher.’
Nina didn’t quite know how to reply to this so she just smiled.
‘There you are! I’ve been ringing and ringing.’ Hilary marched across the grass towards them, and stopped dead when she realised who Deborah was talking to. Nina stood. Somehow she didn’t like to sit while Hilary was standing.
For once, Hilary seemed lost for words. Her mouth moved, as if she wanted to say something, but no sound came out.
‘Oh, Mother. I was just asking Nina to come riding one day. Heath and I could show her around while we’ve got the chance.’
A few loaded seconds passed.
‘That’s just it, Deborah, you won’t have the chance. There’s far too much to do before the wedding. I’m sure she’ll understand. You’re back to the big smoke soon anyway. Aren’t you?’ Hilary didn’t wait for Nina’s response. ‘Waste of time to play at riding when you don’t have a horse. Besides, not everyone can ride, as you well know, Deborah. And Heath’s too busy. It takes a lot of work to run a property out here, not much time for gallivanting around the countryside. He’s already had to spend time fixing that fence up near The Springs.’
‘Where’s Dad?’ asked Deborah. She looked uncomfortable.
‘When you offered to organise the conference sandwiches I obviously thought you meant the Royal. Your father and I have been over there for 20 minutes cooling our heels,’ said Hilary.
As if on cue, Phillip appeared. ‘Hello, chicken. Yes, there was a lovely breeze over there on the veranda
h. You two grabbed a good spot here though.’ He kissed Deborah on the cheek. Hilary blew sharply through her nose and looked around the beer garden.
‘Hello, Nina,’ said Phillip.
‘Hi, Phillip.’
‘Here’s your order,’ called a hefty barman, walking over with a box piled high with sandwiches above one shoulder.
‘Put them on the table please. God knows what they are like,’ said Hilary, peeking into the paper bags.
‘I heard they were yours, so I whacked a bit of parsley on the top of ’em.’ The barman smiled.
Phillip chuckled good-humouredly. Hilary glared.
‘I’ll go and pay,’ Phillip said. ‘Big night tonight at Paramour for the conference. Luckily, my long-range Catherine wheels have finally arrived,’ he said to Nina, who was getting to like him more and more.
‘Just hurry, Phillip, will you? We need to go,’ said Hilary.
‘By the way, lovey, I saw Smithy in the bar on my way in,’ he replied.
‘Who? What?’ said Hilary annoyed.
‘You remember Smithy. He and his mate the Fox were shearing for the Blacketts years ago. He was telling me he used to see you at the bonfires by the river as a girl. Cracker night. I was telling him about the latest rocket projection systems you can order on the internet. He was quite –’
‘I have no idea who you are referring to,’ said Hilary. A group of drinkers in shorts and thongs in the corner of the beer garden kept erupting in gales of laughter. She glanced at them uneasily. ‘I’d like to get out of here now, if you don’t mind, before we get mugged or something. I certainly hope they didn’t rob you blind with the lunches, Deborah.’
‘I’m off too,’ said Nina with relief. For a second she’d weighed up whether she should offer Hilary an apology for the party but quickly came to her senses. If anyone should apologise, it was Hilary. She felt her anger rising but managed to speak, for Deborah’s sake.
‘It was lovely to see you, Deborah.’
‘Here, I’ll help you pack your stuff up,’
Deborah replied. ‘Deborah, for heaven’s sake, we have to go!’ Hilary snapped.
‘Okay, okay. Bye, Nina.’
‘Finally!’ sniffed Hilary, picking up Deborah’s bag.
Chill, thought Nina, as she gathered her charcoals. She spotted Bach sniffing suspiciously close to Hilary’s patent leather pumps. Please, Bach, no, she thought.
The little dog cocked his leg and Nina swooped, saving him from certain disaster.
‘Filthy animal!’ spat Hilary. ‘This is why we never come here. You should control him. I’ve seen better behaved dogs at the pound.’
‘Mum!’ said Deborah.
‘What?’ asked Hilary.
Nina tucked Bach under her arm and turned her back on Hilary. If she never saw that woman again, it would be way too soon.
CHAPTER 9
Nina sat up, enjoying the feel of crisp sheets on her bare arms. The sun was just up but she felt wide awake. Everything in her room was in place. The flowers of pressed metal on the walls and ceilings were highlighted by the morning light falling through the long windows. I bet Mum loved this room, she thought. Nina’s grief, familiar by now, lifted her and dropped her softly like a rolling wave. Here at The Springs, where she and Julia had spent so many happy childhood moments together, Nina felt close to her.
Beyond the window, the mackerel clouds were still shaded dawn pink. Nina swung her feet to the floor and picked up the sketchbook with the drawings she had done the day before at the pub. She had been working on the charcoal sketches intermittently but with only one day left until her departure, it was time to make a serious effort on the Durham painting.
She had learned scraps of information about her father over the past three weeks, but they were scattered pieces of a jigsaw that it seemed she would never complete. Ever since Jim had left she’d relied on the hope that she’d find him eventually, maybe when she had grown up. Or that her phone would ring, or there would be a knock at the door and he’d be there, explaining everything.
But in reality the answer seemed tantalisingly out of reach. She couldn’t stay here without money but selling would be like selling out, abandoning any hope of discovering what happened. Working, she could keep it on the market for six months or a year. She might still find a better buyer or even a way to make it financially viable.
She wished she still had her mother’s wise counsel.
Nina threw the sketchbook on the bed and padded barefoot into the studio. She lifted her Durham House canvas from the easel and held it up to the window. She had ditched the watercolours for oil. This made the constant revisions easier to manage. The tree was almost there, the fountain was fine, she just needed to work out how to recreate the patina of the old stone work. But the man had changed again. Now, he turned slightly more towards the viewer, like someone had called him. She’d captured the beginnings of a face, though it was still little more than a smudge. Not to worry, Nina reasoned. It would come, though the painting would have to be finished in Sydney now. She bundled up the canvas and her paint box and soon she was out on the verandah, hard at work.
She daubed greens, greys, whites and blues on her palette, then blended and laid them onto the canvas. An hour flew by. She was reminded of how enchanted the world became with a brush in your hand. She was happy with the way her colours were working. Maybe Jim’s presence in the house had helped, she mused.
Coffee. Nina headed to the kitchen, lit the stove, put the coffee in the little steel pot and waited for it to boil. Bach nuzzled her leg, reminding her to serve him his breakfast.
Nina took the pot off the stove and grabbed a mug from the cupboard. She took her coffee back out to the verandah.
‘Morning.’
Nina jumped. Heath Blackett was tying a palomino pony to the garden fence while his dog Princess stood watching, obedient. Meanwhile, the same enormous black horse he had ridden on the day they met at the gate nosed the grass, twitching a fly from his magnificent rump.
‘What are you doing here?’ sputtered Nina.
‘I didn’t mean to scare you,’ Heath said. He seemed hollow-eyed and worse for wear.
‘Well, you did.’ Did Deborah know he was here? God, did Hilary?
Nina was immediately aware of how her nipples might be visible through the thin singlet of her pyjamas. Thank god she was wearing the long pants with the cowboy print – what if she’d just gone with undies?
Then her embarrassment turned to irritation. She stopped herself from crossing her arms, or going to get a robe. Why should she be embarrassed? The thought must be in both their minds. The party. Their dance at the party. The way his arms felt around her. She’d give anything to feel his hands on her body again. The image of Deborah’s tear-stained face in the ruins of the party jumped into her head. Nina swallowed a painful lump in her throat.
Not going to happen.
‘I saw Deborah yesterday,’ said Nina.
‘Yes, she told me.’
Silence.
Why was he here? Was he going to mention the party? Hilary’s accusations? Did he expect her to? What possible reason could he have for coming into her garden at this intimate hour? It wasn’t fair. She breathed out again, trying to find calm.
‘Look, I hope Deborah’s okay after the party –’ she managed.
‘There’s an issue with … some of our steers might have wandered onto your property,’ interrupted Heath. ‘The fence might be down. I thought we should check it out.’
Nina couldn’t think of anything to say.
Heath took off his hat and turned it in his hands, looking into the distance. He wetted his lips and drew breath. ‘I brought Rapid over for you to ride.’ He gestured with his hat to the palomino, which was nosing the larger horse’s muzzle.
Heath coughed. ‘And you’ve met Jet. We could take the quad bikes, but there’s some rough country up the back. We wouldn’t get round the whole fence line on bikes. Be better to take the horses. If – you
don’t mind. That’s what Russell –’ he cleared his throat – ‘what we used to do.’ Heath dusted his hat against his trouser leg and looked at the ground.
Nina took a breath. ‘Sure. It’s my last full day here, I may as well take a proper look around.’
‘Deb thought that you might enjoy a ride.’
‘Oh, Deborah, of course,’ stammered Nina. ‘It’s been years. Oh … um … nice. I’ll just get changed …’
She turned for the corner of the verandah and ran straight into a spider’s web so strong and sticky that she bounced back, shrieking and slapping at her face.
Shuddering with disgust, she scrubbed her hands against her pyjama pants as she scurried out of sight. First, that fishtail, and now this. She hated Heath in that moment. Aaagh!
As Nina disappeared, Heath turned and kicked the ground, swearing under his breath. Rapid snorted and that yappy dog of hers started running circles around the patient Princess. Why had he come? Sure, Deborah had thought it might be a good idea, a sort of make-up after Hilary’s carry-on at the party. But it was early. Too early. He’d embarrassed her. An image of how Nina had looked standing there, her smooth skin, the sunlight framing the too-thin white singlet that had revealed everything, lingered. Her beautiful face had been puzzled, hurt, angry.
A ride would clear his head.
He needed to see her as someone who’d very soon be on her way back to the city where she’d come from. So, when Deborah had mentioned a ride, it seemed like a good idea. He knew she’d be no good at it. It wasn’t really fair on Nina, but it was the only way he could think of to put her out of his head.
Why did he have to mention the fences? He’d checked those fences himself less than a month ago. He should have thought this through – should, should, should. But he’d been sleeping so badly since the party that he didn’t know what he was doing. And it was all her fault.
Not her fault, no. But dancing with Nina had confused him. And he couldn’t work out why. It had all been so above board. He was a host welcoming a visitor. But her perfume and the feel of her waist under his hand – it had scrambled his brains. Not to mention … And now he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
The Painted Sky Page 15