The Pearl Sister (The Seven Sisters Book 4), page 31
‘Hi,’ she said as she walked into the room two hours later and threw her key down onto the desk.
‘Hi,’ I replied.
I watched her as she sat down and undid her boots, then stripped off her trousers to begin taking off half of her right leg. She didn’t speak to me, giving me the silent treatment like Star used to when I’d said or done something wrong. I lay back on my bed and closed my eyes.
‘Did you hear what I said when I left the hotel earlier?’ she asked me eventually.
‘Yeah, I might be stupid and dyslexic, but I’m not deaf,’ I said, my eyes still shut.
‘Jesus!’ Chrissie gave a long sigh of frustration, and I heard her manoeuvring herself towards the bathroom. The door slammed behind her and I heard the shower being turned on.
I hated these moments, the ones when everyone seemed to know what it was I’d done wrong, except for me. Like I was some alien who’d fallen to earth and didn’t get the rules of the game. It was really irritating and, after all the euphoria I’d felt earlier, a total downer.
Eventually, I heard Chrissie come out of the bathroom and the creak of the bed as she sat down on it.
‘Shall I turn out the light, or are you going to need it to get your clobber off?’ she asked me coldly.
‘Whatever you want. I’m fine either way.’
‘Okay. Night.’ She turned out the light.
I managed approximately five minutes – actually, probably less – before I had to speak.
‘What is your problem? I was just asking you where my painting was.’
There was silence from the bed next to me. Again, I held it as long as I could, but then blurted out, ‘Why is it such a big deal?’
The light was switched on and Chrissie glared down at me from her sitting position on the side of her bed.
‘All right! I’ll tell you where the friggin’ painting is! At the moment, it’s probably in the store at the back of the Tangetyele Gallery waiting to be framed, which by tomorrow, Mirrin has promised me it will be. And maybe by the day after, it’ll be hung on the wall of the gallery, with a selling price of six hundred dollars, which I negotiated. Okay?’
The light was snapped off again, and me and my agitation – with added astonishment – were plunged back into darkness.
‘You took it to the gallery?’ I said slowly, trying to breathe.
‘Yup. That was the deal, wasn’t it? I knew you’d never value my humble opinion on the work, so I took it to a professional. FYI,’ she spelt out through gritted teeth, ‘Mirrin loved it. Almost grabbed it outta my hand. Wants ta know when more are on the way.’
There was too much in those sentences for my brain to take in, so I said nothing. Just breathed as best I could.
‘She bought my painting?’ I managed eventually.
‘I wouldn’t say that – she didn’t hand over any money – but if some punter does buy it, then ya get three hundred an’ fifty dollars, and the gallery two hundred an’ fifty. She wanted to make it fifty-fifty, but I beat her down on the promise of more Celaeno D’Aplièses.’
Celaeno D’Aplièse . . . how many times had I dreamt about that name becoming famous in the art world? It certainly wasn’t a name anyone could forget, being such a mouthful.
‘Oh. Thanks.’
‘That’s okay.’
‘I mean,’ I added, beginning to see why she was so upset, ‘really, thanks.’
‘I said it’s okay,’ came the terse response from the blackness.
I closed my eyes and tried to think of sleep but it was impossible. I sat upright, feeling it was my turn to exit stage left. Groping for my shorts, and being as clumsy as I was, I tripped over Chrissie’s false leg, which stood like a booby trap between the beds.
‘Sorry,’ I said, fumbling for it in the darkness to stand it back upright.
The light was switched on again.
‘Thanks,’ I repeated as I looked for my shoes.
‘You running out on me?’ she asked.
‘No, I’m just not tired. I slept for ages this afternoon.’
‘Yeah, while I was off doing you a deal.’ Chrissie regarded me with her head propped up on her elbow. ‘Look, Cee, it’s my last night here and I don’t want us ta fall out. I was just gutted that you didn’t trust me to take care of that painting after all I’d said and done. And then today, I saw what kind of artist you could be, and I was so excited. But ya didn’t see any of that when you marched into the lounge demanding to know where your painting was. It just . . . shook me. I really thought you’d started to trust me. I was rapt when Mirrin loved it and I couldn’t wait ta tell you about it and go out an’ celebrate. But you came in so angry with me that the moment was ruined.’
‘I’m really sorry, Chrissie. I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘Don’t you see? I came here to the Alice because I wanted ta be with you. I missed you when ya left Broome.’
‘Did you?’
‘Yeah. A lot,’ she added shyly.
‘And I’m really happy you came,’ I said blandly, wondering whether my mind was correctly processing what I was hearing. Or, more importantly, its undercurrent. ‘I’m really sorry again,’ I said, wanting to blank the whole thing out, because I really couldn’t deal with it right now. ‘I’m such an idiot sometimes.’
‘Look, you’ve told me about Star and the relationship you had with her, and how she let ya down.’
‘She didn’t really, she just needed to move on,’ I said loyally.
‘Whatever. I know you find it difficult to trust, especially in love when it’s . . .’ I heard Chrissie sigh heavily. ‘I suppose I just want you to know before I leave that I . . . well, I think I love you, Cee. Don’t ask me how or why, but it’s just the way it is. I know you had a boyfriend in Thailand and . . .’ I watched tears come to Chrissie’s eyes. ‘But I’m just being honest, okay?’
‘Okay, I understand,’ I said, averting my eyes. ‘You’ve been fantastic, Chrissie, and—’
‘No need ta say anything else. I understand too. At least we can be friends before we go to sleep.’
‘Yes.’
‘Night then.’ She reached to switch off the light again.
‘Night.’ I lay back down on my bed, suddenly too exhausted to move as my brain took in the implications of what Chrissie had said.
Apparently, she loved me. And even I wasn’t going to be as naive as to think she meant it just as a friend.
The question was, did I love her? I mean, only a few weeks ago, I’d been with Ace. It struck me that now Star was gone, I seemed to be forming attachments to all sorts of people, male and female . . .
21
I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. ‘Wake up, Cee, I gotta leave for the airport right now. I overslept.’
I pulled myself out of sleep immediately and sat upright.
‘You’re leaving? Now?’
‘Yeah, that’s what I just said.’
‘But . . .’ I climbed out of bed and looked for my shorts. ‘I’ll come with you.’
‘No. I’m not good at that kinda stuff.’ Then she pulled me to her and hugged me. ‘Good luck with finding out who you are,’ she said as she released me and walked towards the door. I didn’t miss the double meaning behind her words.
‘I’ll keep in touch, promise,’ I said.
‘Yeah, I’d like that. Whatever happens,’ she said, then reached out for the door handle.
The sight galvanised me into action and I walked towards her. ‘Look, I’ve really enjoyed being with you, Chrissie. These past few days have been, like, well, the best of my life really.’
‘Thanks. Sorry about last night and all. I shouldn’t have . . . well.’ She smiled bleakly. ‘I gotta go.’
Then she reached for me, her warm lips brushing against my mouth as she kissed me. We stood like that for a few seconds before she pulled away. ‘Bye, Cee.’
The door slammed behind her and I stood in a room that suddenly felt lonely and sad, as if Chrissie had taken all the warmth and love and laughter with her. I sank down onto the bed, not really equipped to know what to think or feel. I lay back, but the silence pounded in my ears. I felt just like I had when Star had left to go down to Kent to be with her new family: abandoned.
Except, I thought, I wasn’t. Even if what had just happened had been a shock, Chrissie had told me she loved me.
Now that really was a revelation. So few people in my life had said those words to me before. Was that the reason why I was feeling all gooey inside about her? Or was it . . . ? Was I . . . ?
‘Shit!’ I shook my head in complete confusion. I’d never been good at working out my emotions – I literally needed a Sherpa and a flaming torch to walk me through my psychological paces. I was just thinking about the fact that maybe I should join most of the Western world and offload everything to a professional when the phone by my bed rang.
‘Hi, Miss D’Aplièse. I’ve gotta guy down here who wants to see ya.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘A Mister Drury. He said he met you at Hermannsburg mission.’
‘Tell him I’ll be down in a tick.’ I slammed down the receiver, put on my boots and left the room.
I found the man from Hermannsburg wandering around reception, reminding me of a large wild animal who’d just been put in a small cage and didn’t like it one bit. He towered over everything, his dusty clothes and sun-worn face out of place amongst the modern plastic furniture.
‘Hi, Mr Drury. Thanks for coming,’ I said, defaulting to the politeness that Ma had always drummed into us as children and holding out my hand.
‘Hi, Celaeno. Call me Phil. Is there somewhere we can go to have a yak?’
‘I think breakfast is still probably on the go.’ I looked at the receptionist who nodded.
‘The buffet closes in twenty minutes,’ she told us, and we wandered through.
‘Here?’ I indicated a table by the window in the half-empty dining room.
‘Suits me,’ he said and sat down.
‘Want anything from the buffet?’
‘I’ll grab a coffee if there is one. You go ahead with the tucker.’
Having ordered two coffees – both strong and black – I dashed over to the food and piled up a plate with cholesterol.
‘I like a woman who enjoys her grub,’ Phil commented as I put the plate down opposite him.
‘Oh, I do,’ I said as I ate. Judging by the way he was staring at me, I reckoned I might be in need of brain food.
‘We had our meeting with the elders last night at Hermannsburg,’ he said, having downed the dainty cup of coffee in a single gulp.
‘Yeah, you mentioned you were going to,’ I said.
‘Right at the enda the meeting, I handed round your photograph.’
‘Did anyone recognise the young guy in it?’
‘Yeah.’ Phil signalled for the waitress to pour him another coffee. ‘Ya could say that.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, I couldn’t understand why all of them were looking at it and pointing, then having a right old laugh.’
‘Why were they?’ I asked, anxious to cut to the chase.
‘Because, Celaeno, the bloke in the photo was present at the meeting. He’s one of the elders. The others were all giving him gyp about the pic.’
I took a deep breath and then a sip of coffee, wondering whether I was going to scream, jump for joy or throw up the enormous breakfast I’d just stuffed down myself. I wasn’t used to this much excitement in the space of twenty-four hours.
‘Right,’ I said, knowing he was waiting to continue.
‘The laughter eventually died down, and the fella who’s in that photograph came to talk ta me afterwards when the others had left.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Want me to be honest?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well.’ Phil swallowed. ‘I’ve never seen an elder cry before. Last night, I did.’
‘Oh,’ I said, for some reason swallowing a massive lump in my own throat.
‘They’re big, strong men, y’see. Don’t have none of those girly emotions. Put it like this, he knew exactly who you were. And he wants to meet you.’
‘Oh,’ I said again. ‘Er, who does he think he is? I mean . . .’ I shook my head at my crap use of language. ‘Who is he to me?’
‘He thinks he’s your grandfather.’
‘Right.’
This time, I couldn’t stop the tears or I really would have thrown up my breakfast. So I let them pour out of my eyes in front of this man that I didn’t even know. I watched him dig in his pocket and pass me a spotless white handkerchief across the table.
‘Thanks,’ I said as I blew my nose. ‘It’s the shock, I mean . . . I’ve come a long way and I never really expected to find my . . . family.’
‘No, I’m sure.’ He waited patiently until I’d pulled myself together.
‘Sorry,’ I offered and he shook his head.
‘I understand.’
I held his soggy hanky in my hand, reluctant to let it go. ‘So, why does he think that he might be my . . . grandfather?’
‘I think it’s his place to tell you that.’
‘But what if he’s got it wrong?’
‘Then he has,’ Phil shrugged, ‘but I doubt it. These men, they don’t just work on fact, y’see. They have an instinct that goes far beyond what I could even begin to explain ta ya. And Francis, of all the elders, is not one to muck around. If he knows, he knows, and that’s that.’
‘Right.’ The hanky was so wet now that I resorted to wiping the back of my hand across my still dripping nose. ‘When does he want to meet me?’
‘As soon as possible. I said I’d ask you if you’d be able to spare the time ta come back with me to Hermannsburg now?’
‘Now?’
‘Yeah, if it suits ya. He’s going Bush soon, so I’d suggest there’s no time like the present.’
‘Okay,’ I said, ‘but I don’t have any transport to get back here.’
‘You can kip at my place tonight if necessary, and I’ll drop ya back in town whenever ya want,’ he replied.
‘Right. Er, then I need to get my stuff together.’
‘Sure,’ he nodded. ‘Take your time. I got some errands ta run in town anyway. How about I see you back here in half an hour?’
‘Okay, thanks.’
We parted in reception and I ran up the stairs to my room. To say my head was spinning didn’t even begin to describe it. As I packed my stuff into my rucksack, I felt as if I’d been trapped in a film that had gone on for hours – i.e. my life before this morning. And then, it had suddenly been fast-forwarded so that lots of things all happened at once. That was the way my life felt right now.
Australia, Chrissie, my grandfather . . .
I stood up and felt so woozy that I had to steady myself by leaning against the wall. I shook my head but that only made it worse, so I lay down instead, feeling like a wimp.
‘Too much excitement,’ I muttered, trying to breathe deeply to calm myself. Eventually, I stood up again, seeing I only had ten minutes left before I had to meet Phil downstairs.
Go with the flow, Cee, I thought as I brushed my teeth viciously and looked at my reflection in the mirror. Just go with the flow.
The receptionist told me there was nothing to pay, and I realised that Chrissie must have used the little money she earned to clear the bill. I felt terrible that I hadn’t thought about it and got there first. She was obviously proud, like me, and didn’t want to feel as though she was taking advantage.
The dusty, battered pickup truck I’d seen in the car park at Hermannsburg was outside the hotel.
‘Throw your pack in the back of the ute an’ climb aboard,’ Phil instructed me.
We set off, and I studied him slyly as he drove. From the tips of his huge dirt-spattered boots, to his brawny wellmuscled arms and the Akubra hat atop his head, he was the archetypal Australian bushman.
‘So, quite a moment for ya coming up, young lady,’ he commented.
‘Yeah. If this guy really is my grandfather . . . I just don’t understand how he could know it’s definitely me. I mean, he’s not seen a picture of me or anything, and I know it was my adoptive dad that named me.’
‘Well, I’ve known Francis half my life, and he’s not someone who’d normally react the way he did when I mentioned you ta him yesterday. Besides, you had that piccie of him, remember?’
‘Yeah, maybe he was the one who sent it and gave me the inheritance?’
‘Maybe.’
‘What’s he like? As a person, I mean?’
‘Francis?’ Phil chuckled. ‘He’s pretty hard to describe. Unique would be the word. He’s getting on now a’ course – he was born in the early thirties, I think, so he’s well inta his seventies, and his painting has slowed down a bit recently . . .’
‘He’s an artist?’
‘Yeah, and pretty well known round here. He lived at the mission as a child. And from the way the elders were teasing him last night, he followed Namatjira around like a pet dingo.’
‘I’m an artist too.’ I bit my lip as I felt the swell of tears again.
‘Well, there y’go. Talent runs in families, doesn’t it? Not sure what my old dad passed down ta me, apart from a hatred of towns and people . . . No offence to you, miss, but I’m far more comfortable with my chooks an’ dogs than I am with humans.’
‘So I’m definitely not related to Namatjira?’ I thought how disappointed Chrissie would be.
‘Doesn’t look like it, no, but Francis Abraham is still a decent rellie to have in ya closet.’
‘“Abraham”?’ I questioned.
‘Yeah, they gave him a surname at the mission, like with all the orphaned babies.’
‘He was an orphan?’
‘It’s best he tells ya. I only know the basics. All you need ta know is that he’s a good, solid bloke, not like some a’ the rubble round these parts. I’ll miss him when he retires from the committee. He keeps the resta them in line, if ya know what I mean. They respect him.’
My heart rate began to rise as we finally pulled into the Hermannsburg car park and I wished Chrissie was by my side to calm me.
