The Opal Desert Page 4

  He put his wine on a side table and sat in a chair, opening his arms, but Alia shook her head.

  ‘I don’t want to hug you, Father,’ said the little girl coldly.

  ‘Well, in that case you may go and help the others in the kitchen,’ said Milton calmly as Alia stomped from the room.

  ‘Milton, I feel badly about this. I so want the girls to like me,’ said Kerrie miserably.

  ‘Give them time. I’ve had other girlfriends, but the girls have never really had to share me seriously with anyone else before. I suppose I have indulged them to make up for my absences.’

  ‘Do they remember their mother?’

  ‘Of course the two older ones do, but Alia was only a toddler when her mother died and she has only vague memories. My wife’s death was a stressful time for us all.’ He sipped his wine.

  ‘Yes, that’s why I want to try and get to know the girls really well. I’ll do things with them,’ said Kerrie. ‘I’m an only child, I’ve no siblings, no one to really relate to, except my mother, but I’ll work hard to make them like me.’

  Milton leaned over and touched her arm. ‘Give it time, cara mia. Don’t rush. They will respect you more if you don’t chase after them. Be yourself and once they know you, they won’t be able to help liking you, you’ll see.’ He smiled.

  Kerrie’s mother was becoming very upset about the forthcoming wedding, and she confided in her sister-in-law.

  ‘I can’t believe Milton doesn’t want a proper wedding. Kerrie’s father and I used to talk about it from the time she was born. And those girls of his are going to be a handful. I thought that the youngest one might enjoy being a flower girl, but evidently none of them wants to be part of the wedding at all. Their father has put his foot down and told them that they have to be there, but we’re going to see some sulky faces.’

  ‘What does Kerrie think? Is she upset because she’s not getting the big white wedding?’

  ‘Well, no. She says that she agrees with Milton, that they should have one of these modern weddings where they stand under a tree or barefoot on the beach.’

  ‘Well, if Kerrie’s happy with that, let them get on with it. Invite who you want, and who comes, comes. So long as everyone enjoys the day, that’s the main thing. Anyway, a more informal wedding will be cheaper for you.’

  ‘Actually, Milton’s offered to pay for some of the costs, but I think that it’s the bride’s family who should pay,’ began Glynis.

  ‘Rubbish. That sort of thinking went out with the ark! Last wedding I went to the kids did it all themselves. Let Milton do what he wants and you be happy that Kerrie’s in love and found someone who’s going to make her very comfortable.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right, but I just can’t help feeling that . . . well, Kerrie is being bulldozed a bit into this marriage. She might look back and regret it.’

  ‘It’s her choice. I think that they’ll be just fine with each other.’

  In spite of Glynis Jackson’s objections, Milton was very generous. He insisted on paying for the best food and wines, and for Kerrie’s dress.

  ‘I want you to look like a dreamy nymph of the sea or the forest. I see you in drifting chiffon, your hair flowing down to your waist, studded with flowers.’ He went to his desk and picked up a pad and a pencil and made a sketch. ‘You know those wonderful children’s illustrators like Ida Outhwaite? My girls love her books.’ Swiftly, using the side of the pencil lead, he shaded and filled in the surrounds. He studied his sketch, leaning closer to add a few more details, and then handed it to Kerrie. She stared at the delicate, romantic picture of a fairy standing beneath a willow tree, leaning over a pond to catch her reflection. The face was Kerrie’s, smiling as her hand held back her long dark hair.

  Kerrie caught her breath. ‘Milton, it’s beautiful. For someone who hammers and chips away at blocks of stone, you have a delicate touch. But I’d shock the guests if I appeared in a transparent dress made of flimsy cobwebs.’ She laughed. She made light of his drawing but she was taken aback by Milton’s fine pencilwork. She knew she didn’t have such skill.

  ‘I used to do drawings for the girls when they were very little as a way of getting them to go to bed. I still do, on occasion. But you get the idea. I hate those stiff-as-a-board wedding frocks. You’re so svelte, you should wear something soft and flowing,’ he said.

  ‘I would have liked the girls to have been more involved,’ began Kerrie, trying to broach her mother’s ideas, but Milton cut her off.

  ‘Don’t even bother asking. Sorry, darling. I know they’re a bit difficult at present, but they’ll come round.’

  ‘Milton, this is really hard. We all have to live together. Surely you can persuade them to make an effort. It’s not like I’ve come in and usurped their mother. Or Wendy. You’ve been on your own a long time. They must see that getting married again is right for you.’

  ‘Well, that’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it? The girls assumed that things would go on forever as they were, with Wendy and me being the centre of their universe. They don’t understand that I don’t want to go on living like that anymore. They should be grateful I have you and a new start. But they’re still too young to see just how important you are to me. Things will settle down,’ he added equably.

  Kerrie stared at him. ‘And in the meantime? Hostilities to prevail for the next few years? Alia is only nine!’

  ‘It won’t be that bad. I’m sure you’ll manage to find a way to smooth things over. Wendy will help.’

  ‘What if Wendy wasn’t around? If she’s not here, the girls would be forced to deal with me,’ suggested Kerrie.

  ‘What, and cramp our style? I have to travel,’ said Milton. ‘I have to take overseas commissions. It’s the only way I’m going to make my name internationally, and I want you to be with me. I need Wendy here, to look after the girls.’

  ‘Well, I suppose I could travel with you for the next few years, but what about when we have children? I wouldn’t want to be separated from them, Milton. I’m not leaving my children behind to be raised by a nanny or housekeeper,’ said Kerrie firmly.

  Milton took her hands. ‘Darling, it’s too soon to be thinking about that. I want you all to myself for the time being. Anyway, I have a family already, and I don’t need another one just yet. I have to work hard to make my name not just in Australia – I want my work to stand in the great galleries and museums all over the world! I need you to help me do that. You will be my inspiration.’ He lifted her hands and kissed them.

  The wedding went ahead as Milton wanted. And Kerrie was as happy as any bride could be. In spite of her mother’s fretting, everything went smoothly, and the ceremony and the reception were held in a stunning garden overlooking the harbour. It was romantic and stylish. Milton and Kerrie exchanged vows beneath an archway of roses by the lushly landscaped pool.

  The three Faranisi daughters sat with Wendy. Sam from Kerrie’s art class tried to talk to the girls but they were aloof and reserved.

  Kerrie asked some old school friends to her wedding but the intervening years had seen them go in different directions. Some were still at university and saving to travel overseas, some had jobs and they all found that they now had little in common. They all wondered at Kerrie’s decision to marry an older man, even if he was famous, but when they met Milton and saw how attractive, sophisticated and attentive he was, some were impressed. What none of them envied was the responsibility of a relationship in which Kerrie had acquired three stepdaughters.

  Kerrie’s school friends struck up a conversation with Sam, probing him with questions, and Sam was all too pleased to show off his knowledge of Milton Faranisi.

  ‘Is he really a famous sculptor?’ asked one.

  Sam lowered his voice conspiratorially. ‘He has buckets of money partly because his first wife was very rich but mainly because he is very good at what he does and people pay loads to get one of his works. But he’s really ambitious and wants to make an even bigger internatio
nal name for himself as a sculptor.’

  ‘I heard they have three houses or something. And they’re going to live in Europe. Lucky Kerrie.’

  ‘Is she still going to art school?’ one of the girls asked.

  ‘No, I think she’ll be doing a lot of travelling. Anyway, she can always have private lessons from her husband!’ said Sam. ‘Personally, I can’t see Kerrie having much time to paint after she’s married,’ he continued with unusual prescience.

  Kerrie often thought that if they hadn’t gone to Holland straight after the wedding for Milton’s commission, she might have been able to bond with Milton’s three daughters early in the marriage. But when they came back from Holland so pleased and buoyed by Milton’s success, the girls felt left out, and they blamed Kerrie.

  As time went on relations between Kerrie and the girls did not improve. They all lived together in the Rose Bay house, and Kerrie devoted herself to working on the administration of Milton’s art projects – publicity, promotions, exhibitions and lectures – and dealing with the growing interest from overseas in his work, for Milton refused to trust anyone else. Wendy organised the day-to-day household routine and supervised the girls, while Kerrie juggled Milton’s time at Rose Bay, at his studio, the annual trip to the villa in Italy and family skiing holidays with the girls.

  In addition to the time she devoted to Milton’s career, Kerrie tried to involve herself with the girls, who had very demanding schedules. She attended school events, drove them to and from endless extracurricular activities and functions, took Luisa – who was horse mad – to pony club and drove the horse float to gymkhanas. She helped out at fundraising barbecues and attended school plays and eisteddfods, dragging Milton along whenever she could.

  Milton was pleased with the effort that Kerrie was making to spend time with his girls, but there was little true warmth in their relationships. While they chatted with Kerrie about their friends and school, they never shared anything too personal or got too close to her.

  Kerrie discovered that Renata often visited her father at his studio on the way home from school, when she had led Kerrie to believe that she had an extracurricular class, and Kerrie was quite hurt.

  But Milton laughed it off. ‘She wants to have a little time with her father, weasel a few bucks out of me, and see what I’m working on. Actually, I think she visits me because she’s keen on one of my assistants.’

  ‘But why keep it a secret?’ asked Kerrie. ‘It makes me feel as though she still doesn’t trust me.’

  As Milton’s success grew, Kerrie became busier. When her mother asked her if she had any time to herself, Kerrie shrugged. ‘I don’t know where the time goes, Mum. Wendy’s a treasure, but we seem to entertain a lot more than we did. And Milton relies on me to handle the business side of things now,’ she added with some pride. ‘It lets him stay focused and on track. It’s a great partnership.’

  ‘I hope you’re enjoying it all. You certainly travel a lot.’

  ‘Mum, we’d love you to come with us, I don’t know why you won’t come and stay at the villa.’

  ‘Thanks for asking, but you know I don’t like flying. Anyway, you have enough on your plate without worrying about me.’

  As Milton’s creativity continued to flourish and his work was more and more in demand throughout the world, he made a decision that his daughters vehemently opposed.

  ‘I have decided that the best thing for us all is that you girls start boarding at your school.’

  His daughters wailed and protested.

  ‘I bet this is Kerrie’s idea. She wants to get rid of us,’ said Renata.

  ‘What about my horse?’ Luisa started to cry.

  ‘You hardly ride him any more,’ snapped Alia. ‘I won’t like it. I’ll be lonely.’

  ‘Girls, I promise you that you’ll enjoy it,’ said their father. ‘And you already have stacks of friends there. Besides, you can come home on the holidays. You’ll only be gone in term time.’

  ‘But why do we have to board? Why can’t we stay at home?’ demanded Renata.

  ‘Because I think it will be easier for us all. Wendy says it will broaden your interests, give you greater stability and you’ll learn to be independent,’ said Milton.

  ‘You and Kerrie don’t want us around,’ snapped Luisa. ‘Next thing you’ll be selling this house and going away with her.’

  ‘Girls, I think you’re overreacting. This will always be your home, but Kerrie and I are overseas so often these days and Wendy doesn’t want to work fulltime anymore, although she’ll always be here for your holidays if we’re not. Now I have the opportunity to work in Paris for a while and, rather than disrupt your lives, I think that boarding school is the best solution. We will come back and forth, and you can come to Paris in the holidays. Let’s at least try it for a year. It really is simpler all round.’

  ‘It’s a horrible idea,’ said Alia, fighting back tears. ‘Wendy would never agree to letting us board.’

  ‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong. She knows what a top-notch education you’ll get.’

  ‘I’ve told the girls about boarding,’ said Milton as Kerrie entered the room. ‘It seems they aren’t enthused.’

  ‘It wasn’t my idea,’ began Kerrie, ‘but I have to agree with your father and Wendy that this will be the best because it will be less disruptive.’

  ‘Naturally,’ said Renata spitefully. ‘Well, I’m not going. I’m going to move in with my best friend. I’m sure her parents will agree.’

  ‘You can’t send us away!’ Alia began to sob.

  Milton stood up. ‘There will not be any more discussion. You’re all enrolled and the first term has been paid for.’

  ‘You can still see your friends every day,’ began Kerrie. ‘There will be so many opportunities, Wendy says that you’ll have more time to do drama, Luisa . . .’

  ‘I don’t care. You’ll never come and see me in any plays, you’ll be swanning round Europe,’ yelled Luisa and strode from the room, followed by her sisters.

  Kerrie sighed. ‘I suppose it’s a shock for them.’

  ‘It’s a logical and sensible idea. Wendy is right. If the girls are to get the best education, they need to have as much stability as possible.’ He kissed Kerrie and added softly, ‘Besides, it will be nice to have you all to myself. I love you, sweet girl.’

  Kerrie loved Paris and for the first time in years she felt her creative juices flowing again. Everywhere she looked she saw pictures she wanted to paint. Cobbled streets, quaint bridges, street markets and interesting characters all excited her but when she told Milton he was dismissive.

  ‘Tourist stuff. Sunday painters. Very unadventurous. You can think of better things to do than that. Start looking at modern ideas, abstracts. In the meantime, we have some entertaining to do. A big gallery curator and agent are in Paris from the Guggenheim. I have to impress them.’

  And so it went. Kerrie was once again caught up in Milton’s world, mixing with the corporate and society art set and any time she’d hoped to have for herself evaporated. But one day she found she had a few spare hours.

  ‘You haven’t had much time to yourself and I have to spend the morning at the studio workshop. Why don’t you go shopping, darling?’

  ‘You’re on track with that piece, aren’t you?’

  ‘It’s coming along, but I get a lot of interruptions what with artists calling in to talk to me and see what I’m doing,’ he said.

  Kerrie smiled. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t enjoy that. But yes, darling, I think I will take a stroll. You never know what I might find.’

  Kerrie decided against her initial idea of going to St Germain and went instead to explore other parts of the Left Bank. She made no conscious decision as to which crowded little street to follow but suddenly she found herself outside a fascinating-looking business that announced that it had been established in the late nineteenth century and seemed to have changed little since then. The minute Kerrie saw Sennelier Art Supplie
s, she knew she had to go in. She closed her eyes in joy as she inhaled the rich smell of oil paints. In utter delight she prowled past the old wooden cabinets filled with every variety of paint.

  ‘This is an artist’s wonderland,’ she breathed aloud.

  A woman wrapping a parcel smiled at her and spoke in thickly accented English. ‘It is indeed. Artists have been coming here and falling in love with our colours for more than one hundred years. Cézanne, Picasso. And the Sennelier family invented paints and pastels and watercolours especially for them.’

  ‘Really? How amazing.’ Kerrie studied one cabinet filled with acrylic paints. ‘The depth of luminosity, the richness of the colours, I want to eat them.’

  The shop assistant laughed. ‘Yes, Gustav Sennelier started creating his own paints using raw pigments from minerals and plants and bones, binding them with honey, egg whites, tree gums, and because his colours were so vivid, it changed the way some of the impressionists painted. If an artist wanted a special colour and it didn’t exist, Gustav created one.’

  ‘What a clever man. It’s a bit like our Australian Aborigines who use natural ochres and other bush materials.’ Kerrie was entranced. Already she held several tubes of paint.

  ‘The family also invented metal tubes for paint so that painters could work outdoors. And Henri, Gustav’s son, invented the pastel oil stick for Picasso so he could put it straight on any surface.’

  ‘And look at these watercolours . . . molten rainbows,’ sighed Kerrie.

  ‘Would you like a basket for your supplies?’ asked the woman as she saw Kerrie selecting a range of colours and paper. ‘You might find the brushes interesting; again, all handmade.’

  Kerrie followed her in a daze, collecting art materials at will.

  ‘What medium do you prefer?’ asked the assistant, seeing the collection in Kerrie’s basket.

  ‘I’ve worked in all styles as a student. I’m still experimenting,’ said Kerrie, suddenly feeling embarrassed that she hadn’t progressed past being a student.