by Kate Forsyth
‘We can stay in the caravan park,’ Dominic said sardonically.
‘I’ll never come back,’ Joe said. ‘Never.’
Nobody answered. Joe stared out at the sea, then turned and walked away.
To the west, a thin blue crescent of a moon was sinking towards the hills. Storm clouds were erupting out of the invisible air, drawing up heat from the sea. Everything was gilded with light. Sara lingered a moment longer, listening to the sea-sorrowful sound of waves flooding in over the rocks. She tried to pin the scene to her memory with the sharpness of her grief, knowing only that here – in this moment – was beauty as acute.
On the way back to the house Sara sat in the back of the truck, letting the wind flow through her hair like water. She felt relieved of some burden, graceful and light in the death of the day. It seemed life could go on.
As they came round the curve of the hill and began the climb towards the house, Sara saw a motorbike in the dam paddock, leaving a trail of dust as it swerved behind the mob of cows. She banged on the back of the window, shouting to Joe to let her out. The truck jerked to a halt, and she leapt over the side.
Matthew saw her coming, and wheeled the bike her way. She ran towards him, wanting to feel the pound of her blood. Sara would rein in the galloping of her heart no longer. She would spur it on.
He opened his arms to her and she ran into them. Shadows fell away behind them into the long grass, light poured on them, thin and flat and clear, as red as fire.
They did not kiss.
‘When are you going?’
‘Tomorrow,’ she said. ‘I’m going to try and go to art college.’ Her mouth twisted a little. ‘Being Augusto Sanchez’s daughter should help. I’ll have to get a job – I’m going to apply to all the art galleries. Art’s the only thing I really know anything about.’
Art and reading tarot cards. She did not say so, but it was in her mind to find someone who could teach her more about that other part of her life, the shadowy world where dreams came creeping, and where ghosts walked.
‘Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out.’ He spoke quietly, and his mouth was unhappy.
‘I’m scared,’ she admitted. ‘I don’t know anyone in Sydney, and there are so many people there – Gabriela might move up too, though, and Tessie will be there with her mum.’
‘What about the others?’
‘The twins have promised to try it out at my aunt Juanita’s place. If they hate it, well, we’ll think of something then. They’re going to come and stay with me for the May holidays, and maybe Tessie, too, if she wants.’ She was ashamed to realise she hoped the twins would like living with their aunt. Freedom seemed so close.
‘I’ve been thinking of coming up to Sydney to study horticulture,’ he said with some difficulty. ‘Maybe we could see something of each other then.’
‘That’d be good.’ She smiled and kissed him. ‘More than good.’
‘Though I don’t know how I’ll cope in the big smoke. All I know about is cows.’
‘And telling jokes,’ she said.
He grinned. Wrapping her long hair about her throat, holding her face in his hands, he kissed her slowly, thoroughly. She kissed him back till her legs felt as if they must give way beneath her.
‘Come and eat with us?’ she said. ‘I’ve cooked zarzuela. It’ll be good.’
Zarzuela should be an embarrassment of riches. A gift from the cook to those who eat.
‘That’d be good,’ Matthew said. ‘I love your cooking.’
They walked together down the paddock, their shadows stretching long before them.
‘What about Joe?’ Matthew asked. ‘He can’t stay here now. What will he do?’
Sara shrugged and did not answer. She looked across his shoulder towards the familiar triangle of land and sea and sky. Sunset still lit Towradgi Headland with red, but here it was dusk-light, free-light, everything sculpted in blue.
For five years that great towering cliff had marked the boundary of her life. It had reared black and menacing in her dreams, ringed with the fire of her mother’s last flight, the storm and shadows of her father’s. Now it was a symbol of a barrier to be crossed, the last wall of fear that needed to be climbed.
Sara had once thought she would never leave this valley, blindfolded and bound about by swords. Now she was leaving it forever.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
To my husband, as ever, must go the greatest thanks – for marrying me, for taking me to Spain for our honeymoon and thus igniting my fascination with all things Spanish, for enduring all the oddities of loving and living with a writer and, most of all, for helping me build this good life we share. Thanks also to my wonderful children who never fail to forgive me for daydreaming and scribbling down ideas instead of cooking dinner or matching their socks. I could not do it without you.
Special thanks must go to my big, loud, loving and ever supportive family, especially my mother who is the one person in the world who never gets bored hearing me talk about my writing, and my sister, who knows all the many reasons why, but in particular for remembering ghosts with me. Also to my dear aunt Rozzie, who gave me Jan Morris’s book on Spain to read, and my darling grandmother Nonnie – I miss you both more than I can say.
To my dearest friends too – Sarah who read this book way back when it was a different book, Michelle for taking me along to see a Caribbean Tempest in the Botanic Gardens, Dani for childhood memories and tales of a psychic, and all three for being their own sweet selves and the parts of me I need the most. I am blessed with good friends – without Adrienne Richards, Leo Robbo and Susan Shehadie, I would know nothing about art or artists, and I owe them all an enormous debt for their endless patience in answering all my strange and obscure questions. I also have to thank the kindy mums, especially Rika and Miranda, who picked up my sons and minded them for me so many times, and always listen politely when I’m in the grip of a new obsession.
A very heartfelt thank you to the midwives who helped deliver this little miracle of a book – Garth Nix, for encouraging me to dig it out of my bottom drawer and try again, and for countless words of wisdom and grace; my agent, Tara Wynne, whose faith and support has never faltered; and Julia Stiles, Nicola O’Shea and Linda Funnell, who worked with me on Full Fathom Five and helped me discover the book buried inside my teenage ramblings.
Last, but definitely not least, I’d like to thank the Random House team, in particular my publicist, Peri Wilson, my publisher, Meredith Curnow, and my editor, Patrick Mangan, for their faith in me and this book and all their hard work and commitment to bringing it back to life. I’ve loved rediscovering this story, and I am so grateful to you for allowing me the chance to work again on this novel which meant so much to me for so long. Thank you also to Nada Backovic for the gorgeous cover!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kate Forsyth is the internationally bestselling author of more than twenty books, including The Witches of Eileanan and Rhiannon’s Ride series for adults, and The Puzzle Ring, The Gypsy Crown and The Starthorn Tree for children. She has won or been nominated for numerous awards. Her books have been published in fourteen different countries, including Japan, Poland, Spain and Turkey. Her recent novels include Bitter Greens, a retelling of Rapunzel, and The Wild Girl, the story of how the Grimm brothers collected their folk tales.
Bitter Greens
by Kate Forsyth
An exquisite rendering of the story behind the Rapunzel fairy tale.
Charlotte-Rose de la Force has been banished from the court of Versailles by the Sun King, Louis XIV, after a series of scandalous love affairs. She is comforted by an old nun, Sœur Seraphina, who tells her the tale of a young girl who, a hundred years earlier, is sold by her parents for a handful of bitter greens …
After Margherita’s father steals a handful of parsley, wintercress and rapunzel from the walled garden of the courtesan Selena Leonelli, he is threatened with having both hands cut off … unless he and his wife give away their lit
tle girl.
Selena is the famous red-haired muse of the artist Tiziano, first painted by him in 1512 and still inspiring him at the time of his death, sixty-four years later. Called La Strega Bella, Selena is at the centre of Renaissance life in Venice, a world of beauty and danger, seduction and betrayal, love and superstition.
Locked away in a tower, growing to womanhood, Margherita sings in the hope that someone will hear her. One day, a young man does …
Three women, three lives, three stories, braided together to create a compelling tale of desire, obsession, black magic and the redemptive power of love.
‘Threads of history and folklore are richly intertwined to form this spellbinding story. Kate Forsyth has excelled herself with Bitter Greens. Compulsively unputtdownable.’ Juliet Marillier
The Wild Girl
by Kate Forsyth
Kate Forsyth is a wonderfully evocative and imaginative writer
whose novels should not be missed
GARTH NIX
Growing up in the German kingdom of Hessen-Cassel, Dortchen Wild is irresistibly drawn to the boy next door, the young and handsome fairy-tale scholar Wilhelm Grimm.
It is a time of war, tyranny and terror. Napoleon Bonaparte wants to conquer all of Europe, and Hessen-Cassel is one of the first kingdoms to fall. Forced to live under oppressive French rule, the Grimm brothers decide to save the old tales that had once been told by the firesides of houses all over the land.
Dortchen knows many beautiful old stories, including ‘Hansel and Gretel’, ‘The Frog King’ and ‘Six Swans’. As she tells them to Wilhelm, their love blossoms. Yet the Grimm family is desperately poor, and Dortchen’s father has other plans for his daughter. Marriage is an impossible dream.
Dortchen can only hope that happy endings are not just the stuff of fairy-tales …
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Version 1.0
Dancing On Knives
ePub 9780857983473
Copyright © Kate Forsyth 2014
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
A Vintage book
Published by Random House Australia Pty Ltd
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www.randomhouse.com.au
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First published by Vintage in 2014
National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication entry (ebook)
Forsyth, Kate, 1966– author.
Dancing on knives/Kate Forsyth.
ISBN 9780857983473 (ebook)
Family secrets – Fiction.
Suspense fiction.
A823.3
Cover design by Nada Backovic
Cover image by Arcangel Images
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