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  Dani hesitated then said firmly, ‘Yes. I’m taking the plunge to paint full-time. See where it takes me.’

  ‘Nice one. Wish I could just do my thing and not have to worry about feeding the family,’ he said morosely.

  ‘I have a son, I’m on my own. This is a bit of a gamble for me too,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘Dani Henderson.’

  ‘Thomas Banks.’

  They juggled glasses to shake hands as Greta reached them, sounding slightly breathless.

  ‘Excuse me, Tom, there’s someone I want you to meet. A possible sale. Come along, time to sing for your supper.’ She grinned apologetically at Dani.

  Tom rolled his eyes. ‘Excuse me.’

  ‘Go ahead, I’ll find my friends.’ Dani turned away and bumped an elbow. ‘Oops, sorry.’

  She found she was staring at Jason Moore who had moved away from a group so they were both on their own. ‘I hope I didn’t splash bubbles on your jacket.’ She eyed the crisp, pale blue linen.

  ‘A few bubbles never hurt. Hello, I’m Jason Moore. Are you a local?’ He shook her hand and his long tanned fingers felt smooth and unexpectedly strong.

  ‘Er, no. Not really. I’m only visiting for a short time.’

  ‘That’s too bad, this is a lovely part of the country.’ he smiled.

  ‘So I gather. You must think so too. Your announcement made something of an impact. Where is your new community going to be?’

  ‘If you’re not a local, it’s hard to explain. It’s an area outside of Riverwood stretching into the lower slopes of the ranges. Known as Birimbal.’

  ‘A big area presumably, is there anything on it now?’ Dani wondered why she was suddenly so interested and, she realised, concerned. She hated the idea of suburban development encroaching on the unspoiled landscape. Places she wanted to paint.

  ‘A few old farms. Not much really. Some crown land that’s been released. While it sounds like it’s out of the way it’s quite accessible. In fact this land was the first to be settled in the old days and was the short route south to the big port for the settlers back then.’

  Dani wrinkled her nose. ‘Now that sounds familiar, I think Helen drove me around that area.’

  ‘There’s a place on it called Kelly’s Crossing, it’s a well-known little spot, that might locate it for your friends.’ He drained his glass and put it on a tray presented by a hovering waitress, smiling, eyes glued to him.

  Dani reacted with some heat. ‘Yes, I know that place. Magical. Surely you’re not going to build around there!’ Her voice must have sounded as shocked as she felt.

  ‘Not at all. Our idea is to preserve that magic while growing an area in the best possible way.’

  ‘Growing.’ She winced at the euphemism. ‘You mean developing.’

  His eyes sparked with what Dani momentarily thought of as a zealot’s passion. ‘What I mean is an archetypal concept of combining community with an appealing environment and the dream home ideal. Not in a rich man’s sense but a home that encompasses all that is desirable with quality of life and the support network of a like-minded community,’ he said. ‘Home is not a house plonked on a bit of land. It’s the whole package that is very rarely designed, planned or achieved.’

  For a moment Dani was tongue-tied. ‘Well, er . . . yes, I take your point,’ she said, realising she’d struck a nerve and irritated him. ‘But without knowing what you have in mind it still sounds a bit like a rural gated community.’

  He sighed. ‘I obviously have a long way to go in selling the idea. Why don’t you come and see what I have in mind? Places like an unchanged Kelly’s Crossing are an integral part of the concept.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it.’ Dani wasn’t convinced. Whatever he called it, a housing estate, even a well-planned one, was still a hideous thing to build on the wonderful land she’d seen with Helen.

  ‘Are you going to be in the area long?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m not sure. But I will be coming back here, so I do have an interest in its future,’ she said with a tight smile, her words surprising herself.

  He handed her his card. ‘In that case, drop into my office in Hungerford any time and see what Genovese is planning.’

  ‘Why Genovese?’ She glanced at the card.

  ‘I spent some time in Genoa studying architecture and design.’ He looked at Dani. ‘I know what you’re thinking, that background is scarcely compatible with old dairy farms, mountains and a magnificent river. But sometimes ideas spring from unusual roots.’ He gave her a brief smile as he was swept away by the photographer, a reporter and two women eager to talk to him.

  After the show Henry and Patricia Catchpole invited Sarah, Max and Dani for coffee and a liqueur at a small tavern where the talk was all about Jason Moore and the Genovese Foundation.

  In an aside Dani whispered to Max, ‘I bet you’re glad it wasn’t your show. Talk about stealing thunder!’

  ‘Yeah, poor Tom. He wasn’t too happy. Mind you, he’s a bit of a morose character. Good painter though.’

  ‘I couldn’t quite equate those turbulent out-there pictures with such a sombre, withdrawn man,’ said Dani.

  ‘Still waters. It’s often hard to talk about your art,’ said Max.

  ‘So what did you think of the evening?’ Henry Catchpole asked Dani.

  ‘Very interesting. Why did Jason Moore open the show?’ She glanced at Patricia. ‘I mean, he’s charming but why make the announcement that seemed to take everyone by surprise?’

  Henry rolled his eyes. ‘Good question. Politics. Can’t keep it out of anything in this town.’

  ‘That’s true. When it’s so sensitive an issue it’s best to slide it in sideways on a social occasion rather than make a big public media announcement,’ said Patricia.

  ‘So the cultural centre in this new community is a bit of a sweetener,’ said Max.

  ‘I know what Jason has in mind, he’s a visionary. It takes a while for people to get their heads around something revolutionary. Actually, it’ll be quite something. The whole concept is amazing. If we’re going to have development, progress, best to have forward thinking, and innovative and high-quality ideas,’ said Patricia firmly.

  ‘But how visionary? Really? Look at the beautiful pristine land that’s going to be swallowed up in a new suburb, a whole town! Everyone’s complaining about prime agricultural land going under roads and houses.’ Dani’s passion was fuelled by several wines and the liqueur. She wouldn’t have picked the councillor as a woman to back a visionary concept. Patricia seemed too pragmatic. ‘Jason Moore is a Sydney-slicker out to make his name and money and move on. What’s he care about this valley?’

  Henry patted Dani’s hand. ‘Steady on. If that was the case Patricia would have had his you-know-whats for breakfast. The Moores are long-time settlers in this area. In fact, they own most of the land. Been buying it up for generations.’

  ‘They’ve been here almost as long as Henry’s family,’ interjected Patricia who seemed offended by Dani’s criticism.

  ‘Jason’s great-grandfather was one of the first lawyers to set up in the valley. His grandfather expanded the business and his father continued it, taking on partners. He then went on to become a judge in Sydney. He moved there when Jason was a baby. So while the lad has had the old school tie upbringing in Sydney, his roots are here. I think he cares what happens here.’

  ‘But he doesn’t live here now,’ persisted Dani.

  ‘He does for the moment. He moved back a year ago when this all started,’ said Patricia.

  Sarah stifled a yawn. ‘Why are we talking about this? I think we should be discussing Tom’s show.’

  ‘Ever the loyal artist’s wife,’ said Max fondly. ‘Actually, we should make a move, our babysitter has to get up early. Do you mind, Dani?’

  ‘Not at all. It’s been a stimulating evening.’

  Once they were out of town and on the road home, Dani asked Max. ‘So, what do you think of Councillor Catchpole’s ideas?�
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  ‘Patricia is okay. She’s generally fairly balanced, for a politician. I can’t complain as she is the one who led the campaign to have the Aboriginal flag flown outside the council chambers with all the other flags.’

  ‘Surprisingly, there’s been a lot of support from the locals,’ added Sarah. ‘Never thought I’d see blue-rinsed wasp grandmothers walking around with their shopping baskets wearing a ribbon to show they support flying the indigenous flag. Even had a TV crew from a current affairs show in Sydney up here.’

  ‘The TV shock troops might be back if this development deal gets out of hand,’ mused Dani. ‘My mother worked in TV and I know what a feeding frenzy they’d turn it into.’

  ‘It hasn’t come to that yet as this is the first announcement, but we’ll bear that in mind,’ said Max calmly.

  ‘Is Jason Moore married?’ Dani wondered why she asked.

  Max laughed. ‘Every woman asks that. No. But he has a glamorous girlfriend. She lives in Sydney and he goes down there most weekends. She doesn’t come to the sticks.’

  ‘I rest my case,’ said Dani, convinced her first impression of Jason Moore was right. ‘Family roots in an area are no guarantee of sensitivity.’

  There was silence in the car for a moment or two then Sarah turned to Dani in the back seat. ‘Henry says he knew your family. Had a few anecdotes about your grandmother Elizabeth. I didn’t know you had such long-time roots here too.’

  ‘I don’t think of it like that as I’ve never lived here. My mother was born in Cedartown, but left when she was little. I don’t think she knows much about her parents’ time. What did he tell you?’

  ‘Something to do with the war years, Henry is such a military man. Apparently your grandmother was very beautiful. Said the only local falling out between the Yanks and the Aussies was over her.’

  ‘Really? I hadn’t heard that,’ said Dani. ‘She was beautiful.’ It occurred to her that Lara had never relayed anything about her mother’s youth. Possibly she didn’t know the stories either.

  As if reading her mind Sarah said, ‘Maybe you – or your mother – should do some family research. Henry must know some of your family history.’

  ‘I’m not so sure I’m all that interested in people I never knew,’ answered Dani, thinking again what a small place the valley seemed to be. Everyone was either related or knew something about everyone else.

  ‘That’s where we blackfellas differ,’ said Max quietly. ‘That’s not the advice I gave Dani.’

  Dani was quiet a moment recalling Max telling her one can’t go forward until the past is laid to rest. ‘I don’t think it’s my journey. Maybe my mother needs to know her mother’s story.’

  ‘It’s your story too, Dani,’ said Max. ‘Just as this is your country, your birthright. There’s a reason you’ve stumbled back here. And it’s not just to paint.’

  Sarah added gently, ‘If there’s anything we can do to help you, just call on us.’

  Dani took up Max’s invitation to join him in his studio and they spent a compatible and productive morning painting together. Apart from art classes she’d always painted alone, regarding her art as a private journey leading her down a dim path until she found some light and reached a spot where the work began to come together. That pleased her.

  With Max humming occasionally, the call of a bird outside, the scratch of brushes on canvas, she relaxed and lost her initial fear of producing something to show what she could do. Instead, as she explained to Max over a cup of tea, quietly provided on a tray with some cake made by Sarah, being with him in his studio felt like a casual and comfortable walk in the bush.

  ‘That’s because of what you’re painting,’ he said. ‘You’re capturing a place that’s ideal for strolling, contemplating the play of light on the river, the sense of solitude. If you feel you’re inhabiting your painting, that’s good.’

  Young Len popped in to say hello and gave a quick critical appraisal of Dani’s work. ‘Very nice. I know that spot. I like it. Maybe you could put in a pelican or a boat on the river.’

  ‘Thanks, Len, I might do that. Are you going to join us, have a dabble?’

  ‘Nope. I’ll take my art gear to the market tomorrow. They sell better if people see you doing them.’ He turned to his father. ‘My mate knows this farmer who said we can pick his fruit and sell it. We’re making a roadside stall.’

  ‘Very good. Don’t fall out of a tree.’

  Len tweaked Jolly’s ear as she lay in the sun in the doorway. ‘Righto. See ya.’

  ‘He’s a great kid. My Tim is round his age. How’s Len doing at school?’

  ‘Middling. He’s not a good reader. Likes to be doing his art or outside on the go. I wasn’t a reader either, still aren’t. Not like Sarah, she can get lost in a book for hours. S’pose Len takes after me a bit. Julian’s like Sarah.’

  ‘But you had your art,’ said Dani. ‘Maybe it’s not as relaxing as reading, but it can be a good escape, don’t you think?’ She was recalling times when she was a teenager and there was a crisis in her life or she felt depressed and she found solace and relief in losing herself in a painting.

  Max frowned. ‘I had a tough time with my painting and schooling. I’m left handed and as a little kid the teacher used to force me to use my right hand. Banged my hand with the ruler if I used the left one, or else tied it to the chair. I used to cry and cry. Never fought back. I thought it was just something else because I was Aboriginal.’

  Dani looked at the brush in Max’s left hand. ‘But they didn’t stop you.’

  He gave a triumphant grin. ‘Nah, I learned to use my right as well.’ He switched the brush to his right hand and kept painting. ‘I’m ambidextrous. Can use two hands at once too.’

  ‘How hard was it being a black kid in a country area like this?’ asked Dani. Max must have started school in the late sixties when Aborigines had even further to go to achieve equality and acceptance.

  ‘Some areas were better than others. Out in the bush where they’d been pushed off remote stations it was tough. Our mob here were scattered, we had stolen generations so we still don’t know where a lot of them ended up. Sarah is trying to trace some of my family. But the immediate family, cousins and uncles and aunties, lived out at Planters Field, the reserve at the edge of town. Weren’t allowed in the pictures or the swimming pool when we finally got one in town.’

  ‘Terrible,’ murmured Dani.

  ‘But it wasn’t all bad here. I had good schooling and was able to make something of myself. Married an educated pretty white girl. Wouldn’t have happened in my parents’ day. Well, it might have, but they’d never have been accepted in either society,’ said Max. ‘I’ve got mixed blood because of whitefellas taking Aboriginal girls out in the scrub. Very hard to trace all my rellies,’ he added. ‘It took a white man with guts to stick with his black missus and acknowledge paternity back then.’

  Dani took a step back and, squinting slightly, looked at her painting. ‘Family,’ she said. ‘My mother says there are always secrets, stuff you don’t know, don’t ask, and then suddenly it’s too late.’

  ‘That’s for sure. Well, I’m taking a break. You’re welcome to stay on as long as you like. I’ll be in the gallery.’

  ‘Thanks, Max. I will stay a bit longer. I’d like to see if I can finish it.’

  ‘Don’t rush it,’ advised Max. ‘Enjoy it.’

  That evening Dani watched the sun set over the paddocks and river with a sense of achievement and pleasure. She’d finished the picture and while it had evolved differently from what she’d anticipated, she was pleased with it and hoped Helen and Barney would like it. She’d left it in Max’s studio to dry and was keen to get going on another painting. Indeed, a series of scenes was forming in her head.

  She went and poured herself a glass of wine. When she came back out onto the verandah the sun had set and the rich afterglow was reflected in the river. Ratso came racing across the lawn and Helen appeared and waved a bottle
of wine.

  ‘A post sundowner seeing the sun’s already gone?’

  ‘Of course. Come on up.’ Dani went to fetch the cheese and biscuits she had laid in for these occasional pleasurable shared occasions.

  ‘I’m exhausted, been full on with the kids today. The little ones, that is.’ Helen settled back with her wine. ‘How was your day?’

  ‘Good. I loved sharing Max’s studio. He made a few comments I found valuable and it felt comfortable. I didn’t feel inhibited. I’m quite pleased with the picture I did.’

  ‘Really, that’s great. I’d love to see it.’

  ‘Oh, you will,’ smiled Dani. ‘Now, Helen, is it possible for me to stay on a bit longer?’

  ‘I was expecting this,’ said Helen.

  ‘Well, it’s my mother. My being here has triggered her interest in the old days when she was a little girl in these parts.’

  ‘She was born in Cedartown, you said?’

  ‘Yes. She’ll probably be on the doorstep of the old house in a flash. She lived there for her first few years and then came back for school holidays with her grandparents till she was grown up. So she has strong memories. But she’s really never been back since Poppy – my great-grandfather – died.’

  ‘Well, it will be a rich old trip down memory lane for her,’ commented Helen. ‘Will you all be okay sharing in here?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Something nice about the idea of three generations of your family all visiting and discovering the past together, eh?’

  ‘I guess so,’ said Dani slowly. ‘I still don’t feel like I belong here in the way she does.’

  ‘You haven’t spent enough time here, explored enough. Go into the museum, it’ll give you a bigger picture. You have to find your own connection with the place. Not that you have to of course, but I’m sure it would please your mother.’

  ‘It’s lovely being here, there’s lots to paint, I’ve met some interesting people, but I can’t see my association going beyond that. Mum seems to think I’ll discover a sense of identity,’ said Dani thoughtfully.