And I could. Merope was as vivid as the rest of us – out here, we seemed to shine so much brighter than anywhere else.
‘She’s coming to join you all soon, Celaeno. She has finally caught up with her sisters . . .’
His hand dropped heavily to his side. Then he turned to me, reached out his arms and pulled me to him tightly. I tentatively wound my arms around his sinewy waist, then heard a strange guttural sound erupting and realised he was crying. Which then made me well up, especially as we were standing right under my sisters and Pa Salt in this incredible place. And I decided it was okay to join him in his tears.
Eventually, he drew away from me and cupped my face in his hands. ‘Can you believe it? You and me, two survivors of a powerful bloodline, standing together here, under the stars?’
‘I can’t take it in,’ I said, wiping my nose.
‘No. I just did and look what happened.’ He smiled down at me. ‘Best not to do that again. Now, are you happy to stay here with me tonight? There’s a nice bed and I’ll sleep on the couch outside.’
‘Yes,’ I said, astonishing myself, yet I had never felt so protected. ‘Er, where’s the dunny?’
‘Round the back. I’ll come with you to make sure it’s free from visitors, if you know what I mean.’
I did my business, then bolted back to the hut, where I saw that a door that led from the sitting room was ajar.
‘Just changing the sheets – Sarah would be angry if I wasn’t using clean linen for our granddaughter,’ my grandfather said as he placed a couple of spotless pillows with a pat onto the mattress.
‘Sarah was your wife?’
‘She was.’
‘Where did she come from?’
‘London, where you said you live now. There.’ He drew a top sheet out of the trunk and threw it over the mattress. ‘I’ll leave you a blanket in case it gets chilly in the early hours, and here’s a fan if it gets too hot. There’s a towel on the chair if you want to take a wash. Perhaps best tomorrow morning.’
‘Thanks, but are you sure about this? I’m used to bunking down anywhere.’
‘No problem for me. I often sleep outside anyway.’
I wanted to tell him that so did I, but it was becoming a bit corny.
‘Goodnight.’ He came to me and kissed me on the cheek.
‘Er, by the way, what should I call you?’
‘I think Francis will do, don’t you? Sleep well,’ he added, then closed the door behind him.
I saw that he’d placed my rucksack on the floor next to the bed. I stripped off and climbed onto the mattress, which was one of those old-fashioned horsehair ones with a crevasse made by bodies before you, all ready to sink into. It felt wonderful. I scanned the ceiling and the rough timber walls for many-legged creatures, but I could see none in the soft light of the lamp that sat on the nightstand. I felt as safe as I had ever felt, as if before today I’d been like a moth hovering near the flame that mesmerized it. And now I’d arrived.
Maybe I would crash and burn, but before I could worry about that further, I fell asleep.
28
I woke the following morning and watched the sun starting to appear over the top of Mount Hermannsburg like a shy toddler hiding behind its mother’s legs. I checked my watch and saw it wasn’t even six o’clock yet, but I felt full of excitement for the new day. I noticed my calves had been turned into dot paintings by mosquitoes, and I pulled on a pair of trousers, not wanting the critters to eat any more of me before I’d had my own breakfast.
As I opened the door of my bedroom, a smell of freshly baked bread wafted from the kitchen. Sure enough, my grandfather was placing a loaf on the table outside, along with butter, jam and a coffee pot.
‘Good morning, Celaeno. Did you sleep well?’
‘Really well, thanks. You?’
‘I’m a night owl. I have my best thoughts after midnight.’
‘Same here,’ I said as he sat down. ‘Wow, that bread smells amazing. Didn’t know there was a bakery round here,’ I said.
‘I bake it myself. My wife bought me the machine ten years ago. Often, I’ll be out here for some time, and she wanted to make sure I had something to eat in case I was unable to shoot a passing kangaroo.’
‘Have you ever shot one?’
‘Many times, but that was long ago. Now I prefer the easier option of the supermarket.’
He placed a slice of warm bread onto a tin plate for me. I smeared butter and jam on top and watched as it melted into the soft dough.
‘This is delicious,’ I said, taking wolf-sized bites. He cut another slice for me. ‘So you’ve really lived out in the Bush? With no hut to come back to?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I first went, as all Aboriginal boys do, when I reached manhood, around the age of fourteen.’
‘But I thought you were brought up as a Christian?’
‘I was, but the pastor respected our traditions and made no move to stop them. We at Hermannsburg were luckier than most. Pastor Albrecht even learnt to speak Arrernte and had a Bible commissioned in the language, so that those who did not speak English or German could read it and enjoy it too. He was a good man, and it was a good place. We came and went as we chose, but most of us always returned. After twenty years in Papunya, so have I. It’s home. Now, what are your plans?’
‘I came out here to find my family, and I found you.’ I offered him a smile. ‘I haven’t thought beyond that yet.’
‘Good. I mean, I was wondering if you’d like to stay with me for a while? Take the time to really get to know each other. And paint, of course. I was thinking that perhaps I could act as a gentle guide, maybe help you discover where your medium of art really lies. I taught at Papunya for many years.’
‘Er . . .’
He must have seen the expression of fear on my face, because he said, ‘Really, don’t worry about it. It was just an idea.’
‘No! It’s a fantastic idea! I mean, wow, yes! It’s just that, well, you’re so famous and everything, and I’m just worried you’ll think I’m rubbish.’
‘I would never think that, Celaeno, you’re my granddaughter for a start! Perhaps, having made no contribution to your life so far, I can make one now and help you find your way forward.’
‘Maybe you should see my work before you agree to help me.’
‘If it’ll make you feel happier, then I will. If we’re to stay here for a few days, we should drive to the Alice and purchase supplies and while we’re there, we can drop into the gallery that has your painting on the wall.’
‘Okay,’ I agreed, ‘although you’ll probably think it’s rubb—’
‘Hush, Celaeno.’ Francis put a finger to his lips. ‘Negative thought brings negative action.’