The Pearl Sister (The Seven Sisters Book 4), page 50
‘No one’s in art for the money, are they? They do it for love,’ I replied.
‘Some of us are.’ She eyed my grandfather. ‘Well, ya tell her to come and see me. Fast,’ she said as she flinched again. ‘I’m here every day this week.’
‘I will. Can you write down your number for me? I’ll get her to give you a call to arrange it.’
She did so, and I left the gallery in high excitement.
‘So, exactly who is this Chrissie?’ Francis asked me as we walked back to the truck.
‘A friend of mine,’ I said, as I hopped onto the passenger seat.
‘Where does she live?’
‘Broome.’
‘Isn’t that a little far to commute to work here every day?’ he asked as he reversed out of our parking space and we headed home.
‘Yes, but if she got the job, I’m sure she’d be prepared to move. She loved it when we were here together a couple of weeks ago. She’s an absolutely brilliant person, like, she’s totally inspirational and so passionate about art. You’d love her. I know you would.’
‘If you love her, Celaeno, I’m sure I will too.’
‘I’m going to ring her the minute I get home, tell her to call Mirrin. She’ll have to fly down here as soon as possible. It’s a shame I’ve just booked my flight and I leave tomorrow.’
‘You were the one who insisted on the non-refundable ticket,’ he reminded me.
‘Well, if she got the job, maybe we could share an apartment in town.’ My mind immediately raced forward to a future with Chrissie in it, both of us surrounded by art.
‘Or you could come and live with me, and keep house for your old grandfather,’ Francis suggested as we pulled into the drive.
‘That would be nice too,’ I said, grinning at him.
‘Tell her there’s a bed for her here. She’ll need to stop over for the night when she comes to meet Mirrin. I’ll give her some Arrernte lessons,’ he added as he unlocked the door and I ran to get my mobile from the sitting room.
‘That’s really great of you, thanks,’ I said, and dialled Chrissie’s number. She answered on the second ring.
‘Hello, stranger,’ she said. ‘Thought you’d disappeared off the face of the earth.’
‘I texted you to say I’d been out Bush painting,’ I said, smiling into my mobile because I was so happy to hear her voice. ‘With my grandfather,’ I added for good measure.
‘Strewth! So, are you related to Namatjira?’
‘No, although my grandfather is an artist.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Francis Abraham.’
There was a pause on the line.
‘Ya kidding me!’
‘No, why? Have you heard of him?’
‘Just a bit, Cee! He was in Papunya with Clifford Possum and painted the Wheel of Fire and—’
‘Yeah, that’s the one.’ I stopped her mid-sentence. ‘Listen, can you bunk a day or two off work to come to the Alice?’
‘I . . . why?’
I explained, and the frostiness that had been in her voice when she’d first answered melted away.
‘That sounds beaut, though she won’t offer me the job when she hears I work on the tourist information desk at Broome airport. You’ve made me sound as though I’m the curator of the Canberra National Gallery!’
‘Where’s your positivity? Of course she will!’ I chided her. ‘It’s worth a shot, anyway, and my grandfather says you can stay at his place overnight.’
‘The prob is, Cee, I’m not sure I’ve got the moolah for the ticket. I used up all my spare cash last time I was in the Alice.’
‘Because you paid for the hotel, silly,’ I reminded her. ‘Hold on a minute . . .’
I asked my grandfather if Chrissie could use his credit card to book the flight in exchange for the dollars that I still had from the sale of my first painting.
‘Of course,’ he said, handing the card to me. ‘Tell her I’ll collect her from the airport too.’
‘Thanks so much,’ I said and reported the good news to Chrissie.
‘Am I dreaming? I thought that when I didn’t hear from you, I’d frightened you off . . .’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t call. Things were busy this end and’ – I swallowed – ‘I just wanted some time to think stuff through.’
‘I understand. Never mind for now,’ she said after a pause. ‘Ya can tell me all about it when I get there.’
‘Actually, I can’t, because I’m booked to fly back to England tomorrow.’
‘Oh.’ She fell silent.
‘It’s a return ticket, Chrissie. I’ve got to go home and sort my life out, put my apartment on the market and see my family.’
‘You mean you’re coming back?’
‘Yeah, course I am, as soon as I can. I’m gonna live here in the Alice. And . . . it would be great if you were here too.’
‘You mean it?’
‘I never say things I don’t mean, you should know that. Anyway, you’ll have my grandfather to keep you company when you arrive, and from the sounds of things, you’ll be far more excited to see him than me,’ I teased her.
‘Ya know that’s not true. How soon will you be back?’
‘In about ten days. Now, get off the phone to me and call Mirrin, then book a flight and I’ll text you my grandfather’s number so you can call him with the details.’
‘Okay. Honest, Cee, I dunno how to thank you.’
‘Then don’t. Good luck and I’ll see you soon.’
‘Yeah. Miss ya.’
‘I miss you too. Bye.’
I clicked off the phone and thought that I really did miss her. There was a long way to go because I wasn’t sure yet what form the relationship between us would take, but it didn’t matter because I was moving forward. One way or another, during the past few weeks it had been feeling much better to be me.
‘By the Grace of God, I am who I am,’ I whispered, and out of it all, I knew I had learnt something important: I was certainly bicultural, possibly bisexual, but I definitely didn’t want to be by myself.
‘All sorted?’ Francis wandered into the sitting room.
‘I hope so. She’s gonna book the flight and let you know what time it lands.’
‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘I’m hungry. You?’
‘Starving, as it happens.’
‘I’ll go and do something with eggs then.’
‘Okay, I’m off to pack.’
‘Right.’ He paused in the hallway. ‘Does your Chrissie cook?’
Remembering her homemade cakes, I nodded. ‘Yeah, she does.’
‘Good. I’m glad you’ve found your person, Celaeno,’ he said as he ambled off along the corridor.
* * *
‘Take care of yourself, won’t you?’ my grandfather said as he gave me a hug in the airport departures lounge and I thought how great it felt to have two people who really didn’t want me to leave Australia.
‘I will.’
‘Here, I’ve collected some documents for you.’ He handed me a large brown envelope. ‘In there is your birth certificate – I got it from the public records office in Broome when I visited the ex-nurse. If you’re serious about coming to live here for good—’
‘Of course I am!’
‘Then I suggest that you apply for your Australian passport as soon as possible. The form is in there too, as well as your mum’s birth certificate.’
‘Right,’ I said as I tucked the envelope into the front of my rucksack, trying not to crumple it up. ‘Say hello to Chrissie for me, won’t you? I hope you like her.’
‘I’m sure I will.’
‘Thanks for everything,’ I added, as the boarding call was announced over the tannoy. ‘I hate planes.’
‘Perhaps you’ll hate them less when one is bringing you back home to me. Goodbye, Celaeno.’
‘Bye, Francis.’ With a wave, I walked towards security, bracing myself for the long journey to London.
34
When I stepped out of the doors at Heathrow, the freezing cold air of London hit me like a block of ice. Everyone around me was bundled up to their ears in thick coats and scarves, and the cold air stung my eyes and nose. I pulled my hoody over my head and hailed a taxi, hoping I had enough English cash in my wallet to get me to Battersea.
When the taxi driver pulled up in front of my apartment building, I handed him a crumpled note and some coins, then stepped out. The Christmas lights I’d left had been replaced by a late January gloom and I felt like I had been taken from a Technicolor film and plunged into monochrome.
The lift took me up the three floors to the door of my apartment. I unlocked it and was startled to see that all the lights were on inside. What a dunce I was that I hadn’t even switched those off before I left, I thought as I slammed the door behind me, realising the apartment felt far warmer than I had set the thermostat to. The air smelt sweet, like a yummy cake, not fusty as I’d expected. In fact, it smelt like Star.
I’d texted her from my stopover in Sydney to let her know I was flying home and would be landing today, and asking if she had time to meet up in the next week. I needed to tell her I was selling the apartment, because even though it was me who’d owned it, it had been her home too.
I grimaced at the Guy Fawkes scarecrow still in my studio, sitting on top of the oil drum as if it was a throne, then walked towards the kitchen and saw with horror that the light in the oven was on. I was just about to turn it off when I heard the front door open.
‘Cee! You’re here already! Oh damn! I thought it would take you ages to get through immigration and London in the traffic . . .’
I turned to see Star, her face and the top half of her torso hidden behind an enormous bunch of bell-headed lilies, which she held out to me.
‘I just went out to get these to welcome you home,’ she said breathlessly. ‘They were meant to be in a vase on the table, but never mind. Oh Cee, it’s so lovely to see you.’
During the ensuing embrace, some of the lilies got squished between us, but neither of us cared.
‘Wow!’ she said as she stepped back and laid the lilies down on the coffee table. ‘You look incredible. Your hair’s got lighter as well as longer.’
‘Yeah, it’s all that sunshine in Oz. You look great too. You’ve had your fringe cut!’ I knew the long fringe had been there for her to hide behind. Now that it was chopped shorter, her beautiful blue eyes shone out of her face like sapphires.
‘Yes, it was time for a change. Listen, why don’t you go upstairs and take a shower? I’ll get on and prepare supper.’
‘I will, but first, do I smell cake?’
‘Yes, it’s lemon drizzle. Want a slice?’
‘Do I? I’ve been dreaming about a slice of your cake since I left.’
She handed me a thick, perfect wedge, and I bit into it. I finished the whole slice off in a few seconds and with another slice in my hand, I took my rucksack upstairs, where I saw that the bedroom was as neat as a pin, the sheets freshly changed. I walked into the bathroom, stepped under the power shower and decided it was good to be home.
When I returned downstairs, Star was waiting for me with a beer.
‘Cheers,’ I said, and clinked my bottle against her glass of Chardonnay.
‘Welcome home,’ she said. ‘I’ve made your favourite. It should be ready in about twenty minutes.’
‘Steak and kidney pudding!’ I confirmed as I saw the pastry rising under the spotlight in the oven.
‘Yes. So, go on, I want to hear everything that’s happened to you in the past couple of months.’
‘Wow, that’s a big ask. How long have you got?’
‘All night.’
‘You’re staying over?’ I asked in surprise.
‘If that’s okay, yes.’
‘Course it is, Sia! This is – was – your home too, remember?’
‘I know, but . . .’ She sighed and went to put some broccoli florets on to steam.
‘Look, before you say anything, I just want to apologise,’ I blurted out. ‘I was a real pain in the backside last autumn – in fact, I’ve probably been a pain for most of my life.’
‘No, you weren’t, silly. It’s me who needs to say sorry. I should have been there for you when you were going through that rough patch at college.’ Star bit her bottom lip. ‘I was really selfish and I feel terrible about it.’
‘Yeah, I was pretty hurt at the time, but it gave me the push that I needed. I see now that you had to do it, Sia. The way we were – the way I was – well, it wasn’t healthy. You had to go out and get a life for yourself. If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have found mine.’
‘You’ve met someone?’ She turned to me. ‘It’s Ace, isn’t it? You two looked so cosy together on Phra Nang Beach.’
‘Er, no, it’s not Ace, but . . .’ I felt completely unprepared for this conversation, so I changed the subject. ‘How’s Mouse?’
‘He’s good,’ she said as she pulled the steak and kidney pudding out of the oven and began to plate up our supper. ‘Let’s talk as we eat, shall we?’
For a change Star did most of the talking, while I gobbled down as much food as my tummy could manage to hold. I heard all about High Weald – ‘the Mouse House’, as I’d mentally nicknamed it – and how it was under renovation, so she, Mouse and his son, Rory, were staying in the farmhouse opposite.
‘It’ll take years to restore, of course. The property is Grade I listed, and Mouse is an architect, so everything has to be perfect.’ Star rolled her eyes and I was glad to see the tiniest flicker of Mouse’s imperfection in them. It made him more human, somehow.
‘You’re happy with him, though?’
‘Oh yes, although he can be incredibly anal, especially over chimney stacks and architraves. Rory and I just take ourselves off for a walk and leave him to it. And when Rory’s in bed and Mouse is still studying different varieties of chimney pot, I write.’
‘You’ve started your novel?’
‘Yes. I mean, I’m not very far on – only eighty pages or so – but . . .’ Star stood up and began to clear the plates away. ‘I’ve made sherry trifle for pudding. You look as though you need feeding up.’
‘Listen, mate, this is a woman who’s eaten a whole ’roo in one sitting,’ I joked. ‘And what about your family? Have you heard from your mum since she left for the States?’
‘Oh yes,’ Star said as she brought the trifle over. ‘But now I want to hear about your adventures. Especially with Ace. How did you meet him? What was he like?’
So I told her, and as I did, I remembered how kind he’d been to me. And felt sad all over again that he thought I’d betrayed him.
‘Are you going to see him in prison?’ she asked me.
‘He’d probably get me thrown out,’ I said as I scraped the last of the trifle out of the bowl. ‘I suppose I could try.’
‘The question is, did he do it?’
‘I think he did, yeah.’
‘Even if he did, as Mouse said, it’s doubtful that he would have done it alone. Why aren’t others at the bank coming forward?’
‘’Cos they don’t want to spend the next ten years banged up?’ I rolled my eyes at her. ‘He did mention something about somebody called Linda knowing the truth, whoever “Linda” is.’
‘Don’t you think you owe it to him to find out? Perhaps he’d forgive you if you tried to help him.’
‘I dunno, ’cos when I think about it, it was like Ace had just accepted the situation, given up.’
‘If I were you, I’d put in a call to the bank and ask to speak to Linda.’
‘Maybe, but there might be more than one of them.’
‘So, it wasn’t love or anything?’ Star continued to probe.
‘No, though I really, really liked him. He was thoughtful, you know? He was the one who sent off for the biography about Kitty Mercer – that’s the person who Pa had said in his letter that I should investigate. Ace read the book to me after I told him I was dyslexic.’
‘Really? Wow, that doesn’t sound like the Ace we’ve all been reading about in the papers. They’ve made him sound like an absolute jerk: a hard-drinking womaniser who only cared about making more millions.’
‘He wasn’t like that at all. Not when I knew him, at least. He only had one glass of champagne the whole time I was staying with him.’ I smiled as I remembered that night.
‘So that’s Ace. Now what about your birth family? Did you find them?’
‘Yeah, I did, though most of them are dead. My mother for certain – and my father, well, who knows where he is.’
‘I’m sorry, Cee.’ Star reached out her hand to grasp mine. ‘It’s like that with my biological father too.’
‘It’s fine, though, because the person I did find is fantastic. He’s my grandfather. He’s an artist – and a pretty famous one at that.’
‘Oh Cee, I’m so happy for you!’
‘Thanks. It feels good to find someone who shares the same blood, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes. Go on then, tell me all about how you found him, and who you are.’
So I did. Star’s eyes were out on stalks as I brought her up to the present day.
‘So, you’ve got Japanese, Aboriginal, German, Scottish and English blood in you.’ She counted the nationalities off on her fingers.
‘Yup. No wonder I’ve always been confused,’ I grinned.
‘I think it sounds exotic, especially compared to me, who turns out to be English through and through. So weird, isn’t it, how your granny, Sarah, and my mum came from the East End of London? And here we are, living only a few miles along the river from where they were born.’
‘Yeah, I suppose it is.’
‘Did you bring any photos back of your paintings?’
‘I forgot, but I think Chrissie took a shot of the first one I did with my camera. I’ll get the roll developed.’
‘Who’s Chrissie?’
‘A friend I made in Oz.’ I couldn’t tell her about Chrissie yet; I had no idea how to put it into words. ‘Actually, Sia, I think I’m gonna have to crash. It’s, like, midday in Oz and I didn’t sleep much on the plane.’
‘Of course. You go up and I’ll follow you when I’ve put the dishwasher on.’
