An enormous circle of women evolved; dancing on the spot together, hands joined and singing as loudly as they could manage:
Kick off the high heels
Kick out the boys
Ladies on the dance floor
Let’s make some noise!
We don’t need no partners
Time to get down
Sisters better show your moves
Time to paint the town.
Deborah couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such fun. Singing at the top of her voice, holding Linda’s hand on one side and Aunty Shona’s on the other, she was interrupted by Matty shaking her shoulder from behind, shouting over the noise. ‘It’s your mother. She’s not too happy. Had to come in coz nobody could hear the car horn. Better get out there now.’
CHAPTER 12
The dust of the outback is notoriously hard to get rid of. It filters into your hair, your clothes, your hubcaps and your heart, so that you are still finding small drifts of it long after leaving.
In her dream, Nina was lost in swirls of it, her heart thumping as she searched for the thing that was missing. In the clinging, airless dust, her hands fell upon something solid, hard. It was a door. To where? She scratched over its smooth surface. It was no use – locked. She tried shouting but the dust dried her voice to a croak. Despairingly, she fell to her knees, feeling with her hands. If only he was here. A drop of water, and then another and another. Absorbing the dust as it came, the rain fell thick and dark like blood.
Nina opened her eyes. She was drenched with sweat. Cool early light showed her bedroom in Woolloomooloo. She was home, safe. The door buzzer sounded, long and insistent, as if it wasn’t the first time. Nina staggered out of bed and pressed the intercom.
‘Package,’ a voice said. Nina pressed the door release and grabbed a robe.
A surly looking boy with too much product in his hair stood at the door holding a box from a courier company and an electronic pad for her to sign. Strange. She hadn’t ordered anything.
‘Thanks,’ she said, but the boy was already walking away.
Nina turned the box over in her hands. A printed label said Wandalla District Hospital. Proudly serving the Western Division for 150 years.
She fetched a paper knife from her desk and slit the tape open, still mystified. Inside was a battered brown paper parcel, carefully and comprehensively tied with twine, with her name and address printed on the front in felt-tipped pen, as if it had been intended for the post. Yet when she turned the parcel over, this one had no return address. A ‘With Compliments’ slip fell to the floor. It read: ‘Apologies for the tardy forwarding of these items. The package had been inadvertently misplaced.’
A chill ran through her. It looked like … it looked old. Like a message from the past. She exhaled and cut the string.
She was right. It was old. Inside was a black painted cash tin so scratched and dented it could have belonged to Barkin’ Larkin himself.
Of course it was locked. Nina shook it. There were things inside, but it didn’t sound like cash. She tried to prise it open, ruining her paper knife. Going to her desk again, she selected a small screwdriver. Again, no luck.
There were some old keys in a vase that Julia had kept ‘in case’. As Nina emptied it into her hand she saw her own keys lying on the mantelpiece. The keys to The Springs were still on the ring, including the small brass key she’d never found a use for.
Sure enough, it fitted, and the tin opened with a whiff of mildew.
Inside was junk you’d find in an old office drawer – an ancient bank book, folded papers, curled notebooks, old coins and medals. She unfolded a blue piece of paper that looked official. Her grandparents’ marriage certificate, dated 1963. A similar piece of paper was Russell’s birth certificate. Russell. He must have had this box in hospital with him, the time he … didn’t come out again.
Lying among the detritus was a brown leather wallet that looked familiar. The leather was stiff, and cracked a little as she opened it. From a faded driver’s licence photo, her father’s face looked into hers with a lazy half-smile. Nina felt her heart lurch.
She checked the date on the licence. Yes, the year before his disappearance. She pulled out a few five and ten dollar notes. As she did so, receipts fluttered onto the table. One was from a hardware shop in Sydney in October the year he disappeared, for a pick, a miners’ lamp and some batteries. Another was from McLeod’s general store in Wandalla on the seventh of November. The seventh. Four days after he had disappeared.
Her mind raced. Here it was, in her hands. The proof she’d been looking for, the track she’d been unable to trace. He had gone to Wandalla. Why hadn’t Russell told anyone? Russell must have lied to the police. And where did Jim go from there? She held the wallet upside down and shook it. A tiny photograph fell out, which she immediately recognised.
Running to the wardrobe, she reached behind a tangle of scarves and belts and pulled out the old jewellery box she had loved so much. The ballerina, guardian of her childhood treasures, still glistened in front of her mirror, making a couple of jerky, off-key pirouettes. There it was – the matching picture from the photo booth. She remembered the day they had crammed into it at Central Station, she in the front, mouth open in a giggle as she squirmed away from her father’s tickling fingers. There had been three copies of the image, one for each of them. Her mother’s had been placed in Julia’s coffin with her.
Nina reached into the box again and pulled out some yellowed foolscap sheets that had obviously been crumpled up and smoothed out again, written in her father’s hand. She began to read.
My beautiful Harrison –
It was like a punch in the belly. Harrison. Her father had loved Harrison. Nina pushed herself up from her chair and walked out onto the balcony, holding the paper. She took a deep breath.
Harrison must have been keeping it a secret all this time.
What to say? I know it will be hard for you to forgive me for coming to Wandalla and not contacting you.
An affair, then. A slow-burning rage began to build inside her. Her hands shook.
Our times here together have seen me through some of my darkest hours. I keep going back to the day when you touched my hand for the first time. For a second I wasn’t sure if what was happening was real or whether your hand had just brushed mine by accident. And then we looked at each other. I could hardly breathe.
Nor could Nina.
And I can hardly breathe now just thinking about it. And then there were all those times at the fountain. Laughing till we couldn’t laugh anymore, drunk with the sunshine. Your arms around me. Sometimes I thought I’d burst I was so happy. And I guess that has been the hardest thing over the years, trying to hide the happiness.
An image from our last night is with me whenever I lie down to sleep, an image of you standing by the fountain with the moonlight on you. God.
So, how could I come to The Springs and not let you know? The reason is that I’m ready to come out, to make my life with you, like you’ve always wanted. I don’t know why it’s taken me so long. I’ve been a coward, I know it. If I’d come out earlier I might have caused less damage.
But first, I owe Julia and Nina something for what I’ve put them through. I need to give them some financial stability before I go. It’s the least I can do. Julia’s always worked so hard and it’s just not fair. And Nina trusts me. I don’t want her to grow up hating me.
Nina’s hands shook so violently she had to put the letter on the table to read on.
I’ve worked out how to swing it. Do you remember the gold locket and Barkin’ Larkin? I used to think it was just a story, but I checked the old newspapers from Hill End and it all happened, just like they said. And I’ve figured out the clues on the locket, so I know where to look.
If I can find the gold and set Julia and Nina up, then I can leave with a clear conscience and we can go somewhere together, away from the history, the mess, the whole
That
was all. She rifled through. Where was the next page?
How was it possible for this other life to go on at the same time as he’d been playing the loyal husband and father? She thought back to the day she’d met Harrison, the sound of his voice when he’d told her how much she looked like Jim.
Nina got up and paced the room.
Harrison. That liar. This explained a lot. More than anything she wanted to confront him. He could have given her answers. And yet he’d lied all the time she’d been in Wandalla. And he must know a hell of a lot more than he was telling. This nugget story was so like her father, like all the other crazy business opportunities he was always chasing. Typical. But what had happened?
And then her mind swung back to her mother. What a lonely life, married to someone who was thinking of someone else. Nina walked out to the balcony again and rested her elbows on the ledge, staring unseeingly into the bright harbour morning. Her mind whirled. It was like the ground under her had moved. So, this is his other life.
Her father had betrayed her and yet she still wanted to protect him, to rescue him, to find him. Where was he?
Maybe he’d found the nugget and been robbed. Or killed. Or maybe he was just bullshitting about the nugget and the locket. Like he’d bullshitted about the rest of his life.
Nina went back inside, scooped up the box and contents and took it into her bedroom, dumping it onto the bed to make a thorough search.
She folded the letter and put it aside. Two matching notepads with cardboard covers were held together with a perished rubber band. Printed neatly in a child’s hand on the inside cover of the first she read:
This Belongs to Russell Larkin age 10
The Springs via Wandalla, New South Wales, Australia, The Southern Hemisphere, Planet Earth, The Solar System, The Galaxy, The Universe.
If by chance this book should roam, bash it up and send it home!
10th of August 1979
10/8/79: Went into town with Dad and Jim. We had a thick-shake each. Got this book. Mum is sick again. She said to write down my thorts now I’m 10.
11/8/79: Made raft with Jim. Helped Dad with new heifers. Mum still sick.
12/8/79: Maths test, nothing happened.
Nina imagined Russell’s earnest young face as he wrote. She flicked through the few pages of youthful printing.
In the next booklet the writing changed into an adult scrawl, with random notes – shopping lists; phone numbers; comments on the local cattle sales, lists of cows, heifers and steers.
Flicking forward, she came to a page with one note only.
24 JUNE 1990.
Dad died this morning at Wandalla District Hospital.
RIP Harold James Larkin
1937–1990
The opposite page headed with her father’s name.
NOTES – JIM – WHAT I KNOW.
17 NOV 1997.
Jim arrived Friday November 7th, 6 pm.
Drank Bundy – he was talking non-stop.
3 am – Jim disappears after we have fight.
CLUES:
Never said he was coming
Only had small backpack
Had hitched lift
Fight with Julia? When she rang, he said to say he wasn’t here
She sounded upset
FACTS:
I said we’d make a better go of the place if it was the two of us, with Julia and little Nina. He laughed. Not in his plans. Said he had it all sorted, but I’d better put the place on the market if it was too hard for me to run it without Dad.
Got up to have a slash. Jim was still awake, manic. He was writing a letter. I was shitty about how he said to sell the place. OK for him, he’s not working his guts out trying to make a go of it.
Grabbed his letter. You think you know your brother … I mean, shit, I’ve shared a bed with him often enough. It makes my skin crawl to think about him. Him and that Harrison poof together. It’s disgusting.
Told him what I thought of him. Would of decked him but he ran away. Took his stuff and went.
I did the right thing. He’s shamed the family. People round here’ll never talk to me again. They’ll think I’m the same.
21 NOV.
Julia’s been ringing nearly every day. Where the fuck is he? I don’t want to tell her about the letter, Jim might change his mind and go back.
In the next entry the handwriting was shaky.
15 DEC.
Found Jim’s bag stuffed inside tree at waterhole. The zip shone out in the sun and caught my eye. Clothes and wallet inside. I searched around the waterhole for hours but didn’t find anything.
He can’t of topped himself. He can’t of. I said some bad stuff to him. But would he have done that? I dunno what to do. Drinking too much. Can’t seem to get a handle on things. If he’d gone in to see Harrison, he’d have taken his stuff. Should I call H? I’d only end up yelling. And there’d be some kind of investigation. Maybe he just went bush, wanted to be alone.
20 DEC.
Julia ringing all the time. Shit … I’ve left it too late now. I can’t go to the cops, they’d ask why I didn’t report it in the first place, or when I found the bag. Maybe they’d even think I had something to do with it. Got to get it together.
WHAT COULD HAVE HAPPENED?:
1. He got lost. But if he did he’d either have turned up somewhere or died by now. So nothing I can do there.
2. Living up the coast. God I hope so. But it’s not like him to stay away.
3. Topped himself. I can’t believe it. He was on top of the world till we had that fight. Ready to set up in town with that arsehole. Was it the fight? That would make it MY FAULT. Is it my fault?
4. He ran off and made it look like he killed himself? No. He’d have left his things in the open or in the house.
5. Someone else killed him? Maybe. But who and why?
6. Had an accident. Have searched every day. Found nothing. Could he still be alive?
25 DEC – CHRISTMAS DAY.
Julia rang to wish me Happy Christmas. Don’t want to tell her anything till I find out where he is. It is my fault. She’d never understand why I didn’t say anything and the fuckin cops will think it’s me.
He’s a mad bastard for leaving a beautiful decent person like Julia, and little Nina, an angel.
The next entry was a wild scrawl.
6 JANUARY 1998.
Mate where are you? I’ve been round and round the waterhole, the paddocks … send a sign that your OK … Julia’s just holding it together, I can hear it in her voice … trying to sound ok cause little Nina’s listening …
Where the hell are you?
The next page was headed: ‘TO NINA’.
The writing now showed a distinct tremor, like the writing of an old, old man. Poor Russell.
I’m writing this from hospital. Don’t think I’ll be going home this time.
I’m so ashamed. I never told you or your mum he was here. I was just afraid. Course they were going to think I did it. Soon as they started the investigation, Harrison would be telling them all about him and Jim. They’d think I killed him out of anger. But you’ve gotta know, Nina, I never laid a hand on him.
OK, yeah, I said bad things. Now, when I think back I know I shouldn’t of. I was wrong. He couldn’t help being the way he was any more than I can help drinking. Nothing matters. I’m writing this so you know the truth.
He reckoned he worked out where old Barkin’s fortune was. But I know this property inside out. There is no way that there could be a hiding place anywhere and me not know about it. It’s just a story, Nina. Just Jim and his fantasies.
You got a wonderful mother. Make sure you take care of her. She’s been through a lot. More than you know.
Nina looked up from the page and everything around her had changed. The room seemed different. Everything was different.
I’m leaving the property to you. It wasn’t easy going to see Harrison about the will, knowing what I know. I was going to leave this with
him too, but what if he read it? Even if I sealed it up, he could still find it and then I’d be stuffed. So I’ll get the nurse to post this to you when the time comes.
Live a good life, love. And don’t keep secrets from the people you love. It’s poison.
Love
Uncle Russell
Nina held the diary with two hands, tears rolling down her cheeks.
No wonder Russell hadn’t been able to face them all these years. Did his words send her father to his death? Still, she felt sorry for Russell. She’d never realised her uncle’s affection for her. And now, hearing of his remorse and knowing of his long struggle with the bottle, she was full of regret and tenderness for him. For them all.
Her path was clear. She needed to see Harrison. To go back and sort this out, no matter how difficult it would be to confront him. And this time, she’d talk to Hilary, and get the truth from her at last.
Nina gathered her father’s letter and Russell’s diary, locked them in the cash tin and dragged her wheelie bag out from the wardrobe. She put the cash tin inside and started to pack for the heat of Wandalla.
CHAPTER 13
So there he was. Deborah tip-toed into the kitchen at Kurrabar. Heath stood at the sink drinking a glass of water, looking out the window.
‘Gotcha,’ she cried as she grabbed him round the waist.
‘Bloody hell. Watchya do that for?’ spluttered Heath as water ran down his shirt.
‘Chill out,’ laughed Deborah. ‘Can we go for that ride now?’
‘Sorry, Deb, I can’t. I’m in the middle of doing the January tax and looking at what we should be doing with this place. Too many numbers and it’s doing my head in.’
The Painted Sky Page 19