The Painted Sky

by Alice Campion

  Hilary sighed as she slowed the car down on the home stretch. That last time she’d seen Jim, she had spotted him by chance as he was hitching a lift on the road to The Springs.

  At first, she’d thought she was seeing things. There had been so many times since her return to Wandalla when her heart had leapt at the sight of his familiar shape, only to realise with a sickening thud that it was someone else. But this time it was real. It was him, standing on the side of the road as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She’d pulled over and he climbed in the car. Centimetres from her. Her face burned as she recalled how she had become suddenly and humiliatingly aware of the ragged collection of My Little Pony toys littering the floor and how she’d hoped that he hadn’t seen them. A lot had happened in those ten years. But she wanted him to always see her as that young girl, the one he had painted by the fountain.

  ‘I’ve worked out everything, Hils. I’ve worked out where Barkin’s gold is!’ he laughed, his face alive with excitement.

  At first she didn’t understand.

  ‘But what do you mean, Jim? Why are you here, what are you –?’

  ‘Shhh,’ he said with that devastating smile. ‘No questions. I can start a new life. Christ. I feel amazing. The road’s full of … you know this life is just full of possibilities, isn’t it? And Julia and Nina will be fine without me now, thank god. Probably better off.’

  ‘A new life?’ Hilary said, her whole body filling with hope. ‘You mean us? Together? Is this why you’re here?’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘Yes, let’s go, Jim. Just the two of us,’ she laughed. ‘We could go anywhere – Thailand, New York, Europe.’

  And then, it was over. He looked at her with such astonishment that she wished she’d said nothing.

  ‘No. No. You don’t see,’ he stuttered, tripping over his words and grabbing her shoulder. ‘It’s me and Harrison. It’s always been us. Surely you knew that?’

  Hilary recalled her mind going blank as Jim talked on and on about a gallery, the coast, Harrison, money. But even as she tried to suppress them, the images wouldn’t stop. The two men splashing naked together. The way they touched each other. All those times at the fountain.

  Such a fool.

  Deborah had always thought the dining room at Paramour was beautiful. Pity it was decorated almost entirely in white. The tall windows had been smothered in swags of what her mother called ‘window treatment’ and there were curvy white chairs lining the walls. As a little girl she’d thought it looked like a palace in a fairytale. But she’d soon found out that the cost was too high. You couldn’t open or close a curtain in case you marked the fabric.

  Heath always looked uneasy in there. Deborah would have liked to set the table on the verandah, but there was a hot westerly blowing. She hated it. It sent the grit flying into the air and made the horses unsettled. Best to stay inside where it was air-conditioned, cool.

  Heath was trying to make things up to her, she could tell as soon as he entered the room. He had come in wearing a crisp, blue shirt, his hair still slick from his shower. Like he’d stepped out of a movie, she thought for the hundredth time as she studied his tanned face. The white scar on his neck had always sparked a protective feeling so she let him get away with a lot more than she should. But she was grateful for the plaited lunging rein he had given her earlier. He had even said that he was sorry for being a bit ‘off’, as he put it, lately.

  At least she hadn’t burned the dinner this time. The steaks were tender, and his favourite apple crumble was in the oven.

  ‘Good dinner, Deb.’

  She smiled. ‘So how are the financial forecasts for Kurrabar coming along?’ she asked, determined to close the gap between them.

  ‘What?’

  ‘What you were working on today.’

  ‘Oh. More of the same, I guess,’ he said.

  ‘So are cotton and citrus still off the radar?’

  Heath looked at her, puzzled. ‘Not this again. You know they are. You know how Ben and I feel about unsustainable crops. As if we could afford the water anyway. And it’s going to be worse next year.’

  She shook her head. ‘It’s not 1880 anymore. No-one’s going to pay for wool and beef. They want cotton, cash crops. If you’d put in citrus and a vineyard years ago, you’d be in a better bargaining position. You need to think about Kurrabar like a business. Like Mum does,’ she said.

  It was a long-standing argument, but they usually agreed to disagree. Deborah didn’t even know why she was going on about it. ‘When Mother buys The Springs, you know we’re going to have to work this out. With one big property to manage, it will be a big step up for us all.’

  ‘Hilary won’t be getting her fingers on Kurrabar, Deb. It’s mine and Ben’s to run.’

  Heath cut up his steak and Deborah could see a flush rising on his neck.

  ‘And mine, Heath. It will be mine too,’ she said slowly.

  Heath stared at his potatoes as he chewed. He took the HP sauce bottle and squirted it onto the puddle already on his plate. ‘Deb. We will work it out for the best. But I’m not going to run my place into the ground. It’s my responsibility, no matter what your mother says.’

  He speared another potato from the pile.

  Silence. Deborah felt her irritation rising again.

  So much for teamwork. She was no outsider butting in. She was about to become Heath’s wife. She should be able to partner with him making decisions on his precious Kurrabar.

  And as for Hilary, again he just didn’t get it. Deborah started clearing the table. Yes, her mother could be difficult but she knew about business. And she had only been trying to help.

  Heath was being pig-headed.

  Deborah quickly picked up her plate and cutlery and walked into the kitchen.

  Heath sat eating. He heard Deborah bang the plate down in the sink.

  ‘You’re not the only one messing up Mother’s plans,’ Deborah called from the kitchen. ‘Matty said Nina’s back and has been in to see Harrison again. Must be about the sale of The Springs.’

  Heath froze. She was back? He needed a moment to think.

  ‘You’ll have the horse stud to run, Deb. Leave the rest to me and Hilary to sort out.’

  ‘Mum’s going to be so dark if she doesn’t get The Springs, Heath. Why don’t you go and talk to Nina now she’s back? Perhaps when the two of you end up mustering together, you can pick her brains. Maybe she could wear that slip of nothing she wore to our party?’

  Heath heard the catch in her throat. He hurried into the kitchen and saw her trying not to cry as she stacked the plates. How could he have made her so miserable? He kissed her neck and folded his arms around her so they were both looking out the window.

  ‘Remember when I made that for you?’ he asked.

  ‘Mmmm.’

  At the centre of the garden, gleaming dully among the rose bushes, was the sun dial he had spent two months working on for her birthday present.

  The pedestal was made of dozens of hollow copper pipes two centimetres in diameter. They writhed up from the ground like tangled roots, vines or maybe a nest of snakes, he thought, looking at them now. At waist height they held a sundial, its face etched with similar patterns. Around the edges of the face numerous fine directional lines were set with tiny letters indicating where each of them pointed.

  Vladivostok: 8,779 kilometres

  Waterhole: 8.4 kilometres

  Horizon: 6.5 kilometres

  Giraffe cabin, Dubbo: 410 kilometres

  All of the points had some shared meaning. The giraffe cabin in the Western Plains Zoo was the place they had first slept together on a weekend away. He remembered the sounds of wildebeest and wild African dogs in the zoo’s paddocks making them feel they were on safari in the Serengeti. Vladivostok was the place he would always jokingly threaten to take her to get away from her mother. Heath remembered Hilary’s resistance to installing the sundial at Paramour, her disdain for what she perceived as ‘homemade’ t
hings. Even now, looking out, he could see she had planted rose bushes ridiculously close, so it would eventually become invisible, buried behind their thorns.

  ‘Deb, we will work this out, we always do,’ he murmured, nuzzling her ear. ‘We both want the same things, really.’

  He slipped his hands around to caress her breasts. ‘Come on, leave the bloody plates, I know what we want for dessert!’

  She giggled and turned off the oven.

  Yes, thought Heath as they walked upstairs hand in hand. It would be different when she could leave this mausoleum to live on Kurrabar with him. Everything would be cosy and comfortable then. In April. So soon.

  CHAPTER 15

  ‘Hey, Neens!’ Two blasts on a car horn. ‘Neeee-na!’

  Who was it now? Nina didn’t want to talk to anyone. The previous day’s confrontation with Hilary had left her wrung out. She pushed herself up from the kitchen chair where she had been sitting in a daze and went out to the verandah. Ben was idling in the ute, his arm hanging out the window.

  ‘Wassamatter you, hey?’ called Ben. He turned off the engine.

  Nina couldn’t answer his smile, but to save him from getting out she went to the passenger’s side and got in next to him.

  ‘You’re looking pretty ordinary, mate,’ Ben said. ‘When were you going to grace us with your presence?’ He smiled.

  ‘Sorry. Was going to call. Hilary was here yesterday. I didn’t sleep much.’

  Ben frowned. ‘What did she want?’

  Nina felt a sob rise. She couldn’t help herself. She covered her face with her hands, but she was gasping. The worst thing, she thought, was how awful for Ben. She knew men hated to see a woman cry. Theo used to get angry and leave the house at the first sign of a tear.

  ‘Hey. Hey. It’s okay. Never mind. Never mind.’ Ben reached across and hugged her. Nina could feel his hard muscles against her cheek. One hand stroked the back of her head and the other held her shoulder. Her face was hidden in his soft khaki shirt that smelled of soap and dust.

  Nina gave herself up to it. Ben wouldn’t care if she cried all over his shirt.

  ‘Hilary Flint’s an A-grade, 100-per-cent-guaranteed bitch. She’s the bitch of the Western Division. No-one listens to her.’ Ben patted Nina’s shoulder. When her sobs had died away, he said, ‘Glad you’re back. Thought you might want to use the interwebs at our place.’

  Nina disengaged herself. She was so, so grateful that Ben didn’t ask her any questions. Her girlfriends at home would have wanted to know the whole story, but not Ben. Or was it men in general? He took a box of tissues from the glove box and put it in Nina’s lap, and sat watching her blow her nose.

  ‘Heath’s gone to play cowboy with the herd again, like he has every day for the past couple of months,’ said Ben. ‘He loves those Senepols more than he loves me.’ He smiled. ‘We’ve got three poddy calves at the house. Prob’ly should give them a feed. Wanna come with?’

  Nina hesitated. She hadn’t seen Heath since that last day with Bach.

  ‘He never comes home till sunset, these days,’ Ben said.

  Nina nodded. She exhaled and turned to face him. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘No wuckers, Neens. Hilary shall be defeated, never fear.’

  Feeding the calves an hour later at Kurrabar, Nina couldn’t help smiling. They were so single-minded, pushing each other for all their worth and butting the teat of the bottle to make the milk come faster. She laughed as the sweet liquid squirted onto her shorts.

  ‘Brew’s up!’ Ben came out the door with two steaming mugs on a tray on his lap. He parked in the shade at the back steps next to a small metal bull, wide enough to sit on.

  ‘Sitting bull,’ said Ben, nodding at her to sit down.

  ‘Your brother’s work?’ she asked as she made herself comfortable on the bull’s leather padding.

  He nodded. ‘It’s a memento made of Saracen’s old shoes. He hates seeing anything go to waste.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ smiled Nina.

  They sat sipping their tea, looking across at the quietly grazing cattle. Black cockatoos flapped slowly past to roost further up the river. A heron stood frozen on the bank. Even the birds are slow here, she thought. She blew on her cup, enjoying the faint smell of dry grass. Like everywhere else, the undergrowth at Kurrabar had burned off a lot since she’d been here last. Now she could see what it would look like in a drought – more like the arid outback of her imagination.

  ‘Sorry about what happened to Bach,’ Ben said.

  ‘Yes, well, I know. Your brother always thought he was useless but I really miss him,’ she said, feeling tears rising still.

  ‘Nina, it’s a real kick in the guts when you’re close to an animal like that. Heath had no choice. When we were little tackers, the same thing happened to us. We were far away, on foot, with our old kelpie, Dingo. Brown snake got him. We had to bring him back, but it took too long. He was in terrible pain, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. He suffered for ages before he finally stopped breathing. He was much bigger than little Bach and we didn’t have a rifle.’

  Nina felt something move inside her chest, something heavy, like a weight she’d been carrying around. She knew he was right. Everything declared it, but it had been easier to resent Heath than to take another loss. She’d had too many.

  Nina sighed.

  Ben slurped his tea. For a joker, his ability to keep a tactful silence was impressive. Princess flopped at his feet.

  As Nina leaned forward to scratch the border collie’s ears, she felt the locket fall onto one breast under her scoop-neck Betty Boop t-shirt. Another mystery. Did she really want to know? After the scene with Harrison yesterday, she wasn’t sure. Sometimes a mystery revealed was another kind of loss.

  She pulled the locket out, shining the warm gold with her thumb. It was by far the most beautiful thing she owned. She popped it open as she had done so many times before and pondered the engraving inside.

  ‘The infamous locket, hey?’ said Ben.

  Nina glanced up. ‘You perving?’

  Ben flushed, but Nina was smiling. He smiled too.

  She pulled the heavy chain over her head and handed the open locket to him. ‘What do you think of that?’

  ‘That’s weird. Why did they engrave the inside? Usually they put something on the outside.’ Ben leaned forward.

  ‘Well,’ explained Nina, ‘it’s supposed to be a coded message for we lesser-crested Larkins. Courtesy of old man Barkin’. It’s supposed to be a clue to finding a huge gold nugget hidden somewhere on our property.’

  ‘Sweet. I used to love that old story. D’ya reckon there’s anything to it?’ Ben was now interested.

  ‘Mum always said it was rubbish, but it turns out Dad thought he’d cracked the code,’ said Nina.

  ‘Really? Why do you say that?’ asked Ben. ‘You know those parallel wavy lines mean water in Aboriginal pictures. It must mean … something about water.’

  ‘Gee, you think so?’ Nina arched her eyebrows.

  Ben didn’t notice her sarcasm. ‘But this other thing, looks like a demented skull. I know it from somewhere. We can Google it, or look in the study. There’s heaps of old anthropology books in there. I bet it’s an Aboriginal totem or something.’

  Ben wheeled inside before Nina shook out the last drops from her mug.

  Soon after, the desk in the study was piled high with books, but they were no closer to deciphering the engraving.

  ‘Well, if it’s a treasure map,’ said Ben, ‘somewhere near water, that’s the wavy lines, and this shape here pinpoints the place. Or it could be a billabong – the Kooris named the permanent ones –’

  ‘What are you two doing?’ Heath’s voice made them both jump.

  ‘Hey, what’s up?’ said Ben. ‘You freaked us out. You’re back early, aren’t you?’

  Nina’s heart started thumping and her mouth went dry. She took a second to calm herself.

  ‘What are you up to?’ Heath nodded at Nina.
‘You two looking for something?’

  Ben and Nina glanced at each other.

  ‘Um … Aboriginal totems,’ Nina said.

  ‘Uh huh.’ Heath turned and left.

  Nina watched him go, and then, without thinking, she got up and followed him, catching him in the hall, where the afternoon light was fading. ‘Heath, I …’ She felt awkward. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye after –’

  ‘No worries,’ said Heath, evenly.

  ‘You did what you had to do,’ said Nina.

  Heath looked at her. ‘Yeah, thanks.’

  ‘Ben and I have been trying to work out what this engraving inside my locket is. Any ideas?’

  Nina pulled the locket, still warm from her body, over her head and held it for Heath to see. He took it out of her hand, bumping her fingers.

  ‘Come into the living room,’ he said. ‘It’s too dark in here.’

  Nina followed obediently. In the larger, lighter room, he stood well back, canting his body towards the window. He rubbed his thumb over the locket before he opened it.

  ‘Huh. Goat Rock,’ he said. ‘What’s that doing in here?’

  ‘What’s Goat Rock?’

  ‘Place we used to swim when we were kids.’ Heath glanced at her. ‘At the waterhole. Do you remember?’

  He crossed to the mantelpiece and picked up a framed photo. Young Heath and Ben in board shorts flexed their muscles for the camera. Heath pointed to a rock in the background.

  ‘That doesn’t look like a goat.’

  ‘Wrong angle. From the waterhole it does. We called it Goat Rock anyway.’

  ‘So, it’s a real place. This is real,’ said Nina, her heart thudding. ‘Dad must have gone there. I’ve got to go too.’

  Ben wheeled hurriedly into the room, flushed. ‘Goat Rock? Jeez, I’m an idiot,’ he said. ‘I thought it was familiar. Let me have another look.’ He took the locket from Heath. ’Of course! I was too busy trying to make out a map or find something exotic,’ he said. ‘Heath, do you know what this means? Gold. You’ll be rich, Nina.’