The Shifting Light Read online

  ‘Let’s have a look.’ It was Lachlan.

  Izzy passed him the locket and he took in the three wavy lines below an indistinct shape that Nina knew so well.

  ‘We all thought that blob was Goat Rock …’ Nina started to explain.

  ‘So, where’s my people on these walls then?’ The three spun around to find Moira storming across the room. ‘Invisible, hey?’ She stood in front of them, arms akimbo, eyebrows forming a thunderous black line.

  ‘Oh, god, Moira …’ whispered Nina. Close up, her friend looked even more upset.

  ‘I would have expected something like this from your ignorant mother, but never in all my born days from you, Nina Larkin.’

  ‘I … I tried to say no. But you know what she’s like. It was just …’

  ‘Crap,’ Moira snapped, her normally genial face tight with emotion. ‘What did she do? Tie you up and torture you with cattle prods till you said yes? What are you – a woman or a wombat?’

  Nina’s mouth worked silently. What could she say?

  ‘I don’t have to tell you what happened in this country when the so-called settlers decided to come and steal our land. Strike me pink – what do you think all those trips to the site of the Hospital Creek massacre are about? How many of my people died because of these bloody settlers? All of this is … bullshit!’

  Nina had never seen Moira so angry. Of course there should have been Aboriginal people in these murals. The sad truth was, she hadn’t even noticed their absence. She stepped towards Moira, arm outstretched. ‘You’re right. I’m so sorry. I’ve been so busy, and …’ She knew her excuses were pathetic.

  ‘And have you read these play thingies?’ said Moira. ‘Alfie brought them to me after Hilary tried to rope him into it. He’s supposed to play Aborigine Number One, if you please. Let me read a few bits, eh?’ Moira looked around the room wrathfully as she put on her reading glasses. Lachlan and Izzy had quietly dropped their brushes and gathered in solidarity next to Nina.

  ‘We welcome you and your families to the Great Beyond,’ read Moira. ‘No longer will we have to subsist from day to day. Instead we will work with you to build the farms and communities where our people can prosper …’ Moira swiped the glasses off her nose. ‘Subsist! Hilary Flint, nee Murphy, wouldn’t have subsisted in that shack she grew up in if it hadn’t been for us Kooris bringing fish and rabbits round to feed her and the other kids.’ She took a deep breath and shook her head slowly.

  ‘Nina, you’re like family to me.’ Moira’s voice trembled. ‘It breaks my heart that you’re a part of this. And you too, for that matter, Izzy.’

  Nina felt like she’d been slapped. ‘I … I …’

  ‘Steady on.’ Lachlan moved forward. ‘Nina doesn’t have anything to do with those re-enactments, do you, Nina?’

  ‘No, Auntie Moira’s right, Lachlan. There’s no excuse.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. For everything.’ Nina felt her knees buckle. She sat with a bump on the bottom rung of the ladder and before she could stop them, the tears were streaming. She was messing everything up. She was too stupid to manage her own business. She was wrecking her relationship with Heath. And now she had lost the trust of the one woman who had stood by her through every challenge she had faced out here.

  Moira unfolded her arms, rubbed her forehead and began slowly pacing the floor.

  All of the stress and exhaustion that had built up over the past couple of months seemed to explode out of Nina in percussive gasps. Izzy kneeled and put her blue-stained hand around her friend’s shoulder. Lachlan stood staring uselessly at Moira then back to Nina as her distress echoed through the empty hall.

  ‘We’re all to blame,’ said Izzy, ‘not just Nina. Here we are painting away, so focused on what’s right in front of us, that we haven’t looked at the bigger picture – literally.’

  Slowly, slowly Nina’s tide of sobs ebbed away. And finally, Moira’s footsteps also came to a stop.

  ‘You’re so right, Moira,’ said Nina to the floor. ‘Look at me. I’m pathetic. I’m the one crying when you have every right to. I should’ve made sure your people were in these murals. I just wasn’t thinking.’ Nina slowly raised her eyes to Moira’s steady gaze. ‘It’s unforgivable. And I should’ve read those scenes. This is really important.’

  ‘Hang on,’ said Lachlan, holding up a hand. ‘Maybe we should leave the murals as they are. I’ve just had an idea.’

  He turned to Moira. ‘Nice to meet you at last. Your legend precedes you.’

  ‘Good to meet another one of the Larkin mob,’ said Moira, registering him for the first time. ‘My word, I can see how you gave Nina a turn. It’s unreal.’

  ‘Sadly, I don’t have Jim’s talent with a brush. But I am good with drama. The sun’s come out, how about we zip outside and have a chat about this ball? I’ve got ideas coming thick and fast. It’ll be a surprise.’

  ‘Yeah? They’ll have to be pretty good,’ said Moira sceptically, as they headed for the door. ‘What, are you a blackfella under all that paint?’

  Izzy helped a shaky Nina to her feet and ushered her to a nearby metal chair. ‘It’s time for a cuppa. And tissues.’

  When Lachlan and Moira returned, Lachlan was holding Moira’s business card and read aloud: ‘Darling Dreaming Consultancy. Bush Tucker and Bush Medicine Tours, Cultural Awareness for Workers in Aboriginal Health and Education. Moira and Roy Inchboard.’ He turned the card over and chuckled. The list went on: ‘cleaning, dressmaking, cake decorating and water divining.’

  ‘Right-o, Nina. Scrub everything I said, love,’ said Moira. ‘Leave those damned murals as they are – you’re not responsible for what goes on around here. I shouldn’t have come on so strong.’

  ‘Oh Moira, I haven’t thought about this enough at all, I just wanted to get it out of the way. I’m so, so sorry. I’m not coping. The business, Hilary, my art …

  ‘Well, I reckon we can do something about that too.’ It was Lachlan, bringing across chairs for himself and Moira. ‘First, Nina, I want you to leave everything at The Springs but the teaching and hosting to me. I can do all the ordering, the cooking, the cleaning. Just hand it over.’

  ‘I can’t afford …’

  ‘No need. We’re family. And families help out.’ He set down the chairs. ‘What if you give me board and keep at The Springs and I stay on until you’re back in the swing of things?’ Lachlan sat next to Nina.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Nina sniffed.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘So, what … you’re going to move into The Springs?’ asked Izzy. She seemed hesitant.

  The thunk of a car door followed by high-heeled footsteps in the entranceway had them scrambling to their feet.

  ‘Shit. It’s Hilary,’ whispered Izzy.

  ‘I’ll catch up with you,’ mouthed Lachlan to Moira, tipping her a wink.

  ‘I’m off.’ Moira picked up her bag and headed to the back door. ‘If I see her the way I feel now, I’ll give her a good clip over the ear.’

  Izzy turned to Nina. ‘You okay? We’ll sort it out together, alright?’

  Nina nodded. It was true. She didn’t have to do it all alone.

  ‘Nice work, Nina.’ Hilary clacked down the wooden room, her trim figure clad in a blue jersey crossover dress and knee-high boots. She pushed her sunglasses up to survey the murals. ‘The sheep are looking … sheepish. A bit like you,’ she said, eyeing Nina. ‘I could do with a cup of tea. You wouldn’t believe how much work organising this has been, with a bunch of amateurs.’

  ‘Hello,’ said Lachlan.

  Hilary turned to him.

  There was a silence. Nina looked from Lachlan to Hilary and back again. Here we go. ‘I’d like you to meet Lachlan Wright, my father’s cousin. And Lachlan, this is Hilary Flint, cotton grower and my mother.’

  ‘The pleasure’s all mine.’ Lachlan took one of her hands to shake it. Her arm undulated like a limp garden hose. He gazed with raised eyebrows at her three-carat diamond ring before r
eturning her hand to its original position.

  ‘Hello,’ managed Hilary. ‘I didn’t know … you’re so like him.’

  ‘I should get a t-shirt that says “I’m not him – Jim”,’ Lachlan laughed. ‘I always seem to be freaking people out.’

  ‘Lachlan’s just offered to stay at The Springs for a while to give me a hand,’ Nina explained.

  ‘Jim was a … particular friend of mine,’ said Hilary faintly.

  ‘Given the existence of Nina, I can see he was,’ said Lachlan. ‘I’d be happy to pop in and have a chat some time if you’d like to catch up with Larkin family news. I mean we’re kind of related.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Hilary. ‘I’d be delighted.’

  CHAPTER 11

  The line of white ochre figures seemed to be almost a part of the rock itself, occasionally illuminated in the dappled light reflected from the waterhole. Ceremonial dancers – the women with elongated breasts and men holding boomerangs and spears – were surrounded by handprints, emus and fish. Frozen in time. Looking at them now, Nina felt the same thrill as when she had first seen them with Heath. It had been special sharing these ancient artworks, his initial reserve forgotten for a moment.

  Crouched under the rock overhang, Nina and her group of artists listened as Moira unwound the long story strands of this place.

  ‘The Murrawarri people, my people, have lived here for about 50,000 years,’ Auntie Moira was saying. ‘I want you to think about that for a sec. I mean, Jesus was alive 2000 years ago and that’s just yesterday for our mob.’ She flicked her nose towards the figures.

  ‘My people paint at ceremony sites and also at camping places we come back to when different bush tucker comes in to season – whether that’s a waterhole from a spring like this, or a river. When you go and do your painting, keep in mind this waterhole looked just the same to us back then as it does to you today. Maybe the trees were different, but the rocks were the same, the bones of the land.’ Moira now stretched her hand out in the direction of Goat Rock, the odd-shaped formation near the top of the hill. It leered over the water which was framed by a small sandy beach, dense clumps of mulga and gums.

  ‘Every one of these landforms is family to us. Every time we come back here it’s a reunion. And just like stories passed down in your family, there are lessons to be learned. These landforms and boulders have songlines that have led us across this landscape for thousands of years. So try to listen to what they’re telling you.’

  ‘Okay, everyone,’ Nina said, ‘if you’re in the zone find a good spot, start sketching and see what happens.’

  ‘Wow. This was worth coming for. I’m going to set up on the beach,’ said one of the four guests, shouldering her backpack and easel. The others also wandered off to hunt down prime positions.

  This was Nina’s favourite part of every retreat. The trouble was, it always reminded her that she needed to focus on her own work. She settled onto a grassy spot and gazed out at the tawny water scintillating with light that seemed to radiate from just under the surface. She cast an eye over the artists busy at work. She wished this tour group was larger. Smaller groups were not as profitable and her forward bookings were flatter than usual. She sighed and pulled out her sketchbook. Before she could open it, Lachlan appeared by her side, dusty and panting.

  ‘Found it.’ He leant over, hands on thighs, to catch his breath.

  Nina had given him directions to the cave where she and Heath had found her father’s body, lying alone, deep in the hill above them. Lachlan had wanted to pay his respects, but she had no desire to revisit that place. She looked up now at Goat Rock; the final clue that had led her here, back then. She had thought they might find a pile of gold, but instead …

  Lachlan’s light cough brought her back to the present. She didn’t want to talk. She gave him a half-smile and went to check on her students’ work.

  Nina sat on a boulder contemplating the patterns on the waterhole’s surface, when a series of deep-throated grunts caused her to turn around. Six or so emus gathered nearby, their grey feathers almost imperceptible in the scrub. The closest one seemed to take her on, its piercing yellow stare declaring a contest. Who would surrender their gaze first? At the snap of a nearby twig, the prehistoric mob took fright and, with gangly strides, zig-zagged quickly out of view.

  A laugh from Moira caught her attention. She and Lachlan were sitting on a log next to a small fire he was tending, heads together, whispering conspiratorially. What’s that about? The two had been thick as thieves since they had met yesterday.

  Seeing that her students were still engrossed in their work, she wandered over to the pair. Lachlan was sketching something in the sand, Moira chuckling beside him.

  ‘So, what are you two up to?’

  Lachlan bit his lip like a guilty schoolboy.

  ‘What’s the joke?’ Nina sat on the log beside Moira.

  ‘Nothing for you to worry about. Lachlan’s got some ideas about this meddlers’ ball of Hilary’s, that’s all,’ Moira chuckled and looked innocently across at Nina.

  ‘Oh Auntie Moira, I’m so, so embarrassed about the whole thing.’ Nina looked at the ground. ‘I’ve been trying to think of how to get out of going, maybe escape to Sydney. See Olivia before she leaves.’

  ‘No need for that. It’s all Hilary’s doing, not yours. Told you that!’ Moira squeezed her hand.

  ‘Come on, Nina. Your mother will be ropable if you don’t go,’ said Lachlan.

  ‘Yes, it’ll be a night she won’t forget, I reckon,’ said Moira. ‘Now while he sorts us a cuppa,’ she signalled to Lachlan, ‘I’ve been meaning to tell you something, Nina. I heard that Hilary’s come across some letter that might interest you. Seems like she’s going through the town hall archives like a dose of salts. It’s got to do with a locket. Have you heard anything about that?’

  Lachlan settled the billy in the ashes.

  ‘No?’

  ‘My cousin’s wife, Betty, works at the newsagents,’ said Moira, settling in for a yarn. ‘You know, the one whose eldest has been hanging out with those bloody Skinner kids.’ Her white hair shook with anger. ‘They’re back from living in the city. Drugs, drinking, you name it,’ she sighed. ‘Most of the kids round here are okay – we know them and can keep …’ Moira faltered when she caught Nina’s eyes. ‘Oh sorry, love, where was I?’

  ‘Some letter?’ offered Nina.

  ‘Oh yes. Hilary brought in a box of papers she wanted copied for the display at the ball. Some of them were fragile. She even made Betty wear gloves, for crying out loud. Well, everyone knows Betty’s about as subtle as a Mack truck – had a snoop while she was doing them.’

  ‘And?’ urged Nina.

  ‘There was one old letter from a Mrs Sarah Blackett to her friend early last century. It mentions something about Durham House and a gold locket given to her daughter. How’s that tea going, Lachlan?’ asked Moira.

  ‘Almost there,’ he said, taking the billy out of the fire.

  ‘Wonder if it’s my locket she was writing about,’ said Nina. ‘Or the one Izzy’s looking for. It’s more likely to have been the one passed down from Sarah Blackett. Or is there even a third locket? This is nuts.’

  ‘As far as I know, yours has always come down the Larkin family, but … here’s the really interesting bit …’ Moira was enjoying herself, ‘Betty says this locket was given to Sarah’s little girl by Barkin’ Larkin himself.’

  Nina’s mind reached around for sense in this, but couldn’t find any. Barkin’ was her ancestor. Nothing to do with the Blacketts. ‘Ben’s going to love this.’

  ‘So, what’s all this about?’ asked Lachlan, who had paused from pouring tea. ‘Mum told me about some old Larkin who had some hidden gold.’

  ‘Barkin’ Larkin.’

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’

  ‘No. Barkin’ Larkin,’ Nina repeated, smiling. ‘Barnaby. My … and your great, great … whatever grandfather.’

  Lachlan continued pou
ring the tea. ‘Don’t remember that much – Mum didn’t like to talk about The Springs.’

  ‘That’s a pity, love,’ said Moira.

  ‘When we heard about Jim’s accident in the cave, and the news reports said he’d been chasing some buried treasure, Mum thought it might have had something to do with that. But she reckoned Jim had some issues. Anyway, I always thought the media stories around it were bullshit. Weren’t they?’

  Nina shrugged. ‘Some.’

  Moira chimed in. ‘The story goes, in the 1850s Barkin’ found this big chunk of gold near Sofala. But he couldn’t keep it.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘His mining partner went missing, along with the nugget, not long after they found it,’ said Moira. ‘Barkin’d blamed the partner, but word was, Larkin had topped him for the gold.’

  Lachlan laughed. ‘You’re pulling my leg.’

  ‘Nup.’ Moira’s face was animated. ‘He hid it for his descendants to find another day.’

  Lachlan chortled.

  ‘Not before he had the locket made from the nugget, with clues engraved on it. A code.’ Nina lifted the chain over her head, opened the locket and handed it to Lachlan.

  Tea forgotten, Lachlan shook his head, took the oval piece and ran his thumb over the engravings. ‘So, your dad was looking for the gold when the … cave thing happened?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Nina. ‘We think he thought the code meant Goat Rock.’

  ‘And no-one found the loot?’

  She shook her head.

  Lachlan looked up at the brooding monolith. ‘I can see why.’

  Moira stood and took over the tea arrangements. ‘So now there’s this letter from Sarah Blackett,’ she said, filling the rest of the cups. ‘Can’t work out why old Larkin would give a little girl in the Blackett family a locket, though.’

  ‘That’s weird, Moira,’ said Nina, rising from the log. ‘If I’ve got one, and Izzy’s got one, could there be a third one?’

  ‘Seems like it’s raining lockets. Wonder if they’re related?’ said Moira.

  ‘Was there anything else in the letter?’ asked Nina.