Inheritance (22 page)

They were a jovial group at breakfast that morning. Already the temperature had dropped and conditions were much more pleasant.

‘Mind you,’ Tom warned, ‘this doesn’t necessarily mean the monsoon’s coming. It’s too early. But anything’s welcome. If we can get a few days of this, the feed’ll start to come up.’

The rain bucketed down for the rest of the day. Cassie heard it on the roof when she woke during the night. The next day was the same.

The third day dawned clear and bright. The sun beat down from a clear blue sky. Not a cloud could be seen. Steam rose from the quickly drying ground. A more restrained group sat down to breakfast that day.

Rosie summed up the general feeling when she said, ‘Well, it was good while it lasted. Let’s hope there’s more where that came from.’

No one had much to add to that. They finished their breakfasts and hurried away to their respective tasks. Cassie decided to tackle the monthly accounts and made her way down to the office.

Once down there, before seating herself at the desk, she moved slowly around the room looking at the paintings and artefacts hanging on the walls. She really didn’t notice them normally, so much a part of the room had they become. Today she examined each one closely. With Sam’s warning in her ears, she decided it would be a good idea to catalogue them all. The accounts could wait for a day or two.

Going upstairs, she brought down her digital camera. The rest of the day she spent taking a photograph of each item and loading it into the computer, together with a detailed description of each article. She created a new file called ‘Art Inventory’ and stored all the information there.

The next morning, Cassie walked through each room in the house, examining the paintings hanging on the walls. There were six landscapes painted by Arthur Tubitjara. There was no doubt that the original of the print she had seen at Binbin Resort was hanging here in her hallway.

After puzzling for a few moments over how this could be, she remembered her uncle saying that his father had once loaned the paintings for an exhibition of Arthur Tubitjara’s work. This must have been when prints had been made. She had read of the artist’s death a few years ago. I wonder how much these are worth. Enough to pay off the mortgage, perhaps? Probably not, but I must have them valued. She went on with her task of cataloguing the collection.

Much later in the day, Cassie heard a car pull up outside. Looking out, her heart fluttered as she saw Mark coming towards the steps, carrying an enormous bunch of flowers.

He looked very unsure of himself as Cassie opened the door, his usual confidence missing. He carried the largest bunch of pink roses she had ever seen.

‘Peace offering. I’ve come to apologise.’ He held out the roses. ‘Please,’ he said, as she regarded him without speaking. Cassie made no move to take the proffered flowers.

A wry smile twisted his lips. ‘I’m truly sorry for my bad behaviour. I am most of the things you said about me, arrogant and, maybe narrow minded, but,’ he added firmly, ‘I am definitely not racially prejudiced.’

Cassie’s unreceptive attitude offered him no encouragement. ‘Well, you certainly acted like it.’

‘I’m not. I realise now I was wrong to take exception to Larry telling Gemma about the Dreamtime. You’re quite right. It is good for her to be exposed to a different culture.’

Cassie hesitated, torn between desire to accept his apology and the memory of his tirade on the beach. ‘Well…’

‘Won’t you please take these?’ He thrust the flowers at her. ‘I’m feeling rather foolish standing here, holding them.’

‘Very well, you’d better come in then.’ Her voice still cold, she stepped back and took the roses. ‘Wherever did you find so many roses up here?’

‘I had them sent up from Sydney. I hope you like them.’

‘They’re beautiful. I suppose I should be impressed.’

‘But you’re not?’

Cassie didn’t answer as she led the way down the hall and out on to the verandah. ‘Take a seat, while I put these in water. Would you like coffee?’

‘Yes, please.’ Mark spoke meekly as he sat, looking contrite.

Cassie went into the kitchen and took a vase from the cupboard and filled it with water, arranging the roses and putting them in the middle of the table before she started to prepare the coffee, her mind in turmoil.

She wanted to accept Mark’s apology. She wanted to be friendly with him. In fact, she realised that she wanted him as more than a friend.

But…there was always a but, wasn’t there? How did he really feel about her? Did he have a hidden agenda? Or did he regard her as just another ‘conquest’, as Rosie had suggested? He certainly acted as though he was attracted to her. Before the upset at the island, she had felt they were developing a closeness. He had been relaxed and she had seen a different side of him, patient and easy-going with the children, fun to be with. A man she felt she wanted to spend time with. A lot of time. But then…she thought back to the day of the pool party. It certainly seemed then that he was more than just friendly with Stella, and there was no way she was going to become another notch on his bedpost. She wanted more than that.

Cassie picked up the tray and carried it out to the verandah. After handing Mark his coffee, she took a seat herself.

‘So…nice drop of rain we had, wasn’t it?’ she asked as she sipped her coffee, determined to make him do the talking.

‘Yes. Pity there wasn’t more.’

‘We could do with it.’

‘Yes, indeed.’

Silence for a moment. Cassie knew Mark felt uncomfortable but had no intention of helping him out. Let him squirm.

Mark put his cup on the table and when he spoke, his voice lacked his usual assurance. ‘I’ve missed seeing you.’

When there was no reply, he continued. ‘What have you been doing with yourself?’

Cassie relented a little. ‘I’ve been quite busy. I’ve been putting in place a catalogue system for the art work here.’

‘That sounds like a good thing to do. Len showed me his collection. It’s quite extensive, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. It’s been in the family for many years but I couldn’t find any record of what’s here. I’ve been photographing each piece and loading them into the computer, together with a description.’

‘That’s a wise move. Now you have a permanent record. Some of the paintings would probably be worth a lot.’

‘Yes. I’ve been thinking I must get them valued. I don’t know if there’s anyone up here who can do that.’

‘Stella Hardwick is very knowledgeable, particularly where aboriginal art and artefacts are concerned. You could try asking her.’

Cassie stiffened. ‘Oh yes…Stella. She’s a good friend of yours, isn’t she?’

‘I don’t know about a good friend. We have a good business relationship; she’s helping me with decorating for the resort. She’s supplied all the prints and decorative bits so far. I’m happy with what she’s done. I’m sure she’d be able to advise you.’

Cassie felt light-headed with relief. A business relationship! She smiled at him. ‘Thank you. I’ll make a point of asking her when I go to Cairns next.’

Encouraged by the smile, Mark returned to the purpose of his visit. He leaned forward. ‘Look, I really am so sorry for my behaviour. Apart from anything else, it spoilt what was the best day’s outing I’ve had for many years.’

‘I was enjoying it too. So, let’s forget about the upset, shall we?’

‘Let’s do that.’ He sat back, visibly relieved. ‘I hope we can have another outing soon. I promise not to spoil it. Now, tell me what’s happening with the building project.’

Cassie told him of the objection that had been lodged. ‘We just have to wait and see if approval is granted or not.’

‘Do you know this person who lodged the objection?’

‘No, I’ve never heard of him.’

‘Hmm. I could make some inquiries; find out if he’s affiliated to any of the groups which are usually involved in these sorts of objections. That’s if you’d like me to?’

‘Of course. I’m grateful for your interest.’

‘I’m interested in you and anything to do with you, Cassie.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Interested in me, Mark, or Yallandoo?’

There was a slight pause before he answered. ‘In both, but you come before Yallandoo.’

‘Really?’

‘Really,’ he replied emphatically. ‘Speaking of which,’ he continued, ‘I have an interest myself in aboriginal art and I seem to recall you have some of Arthur Tubitjara’s paintings here, haven’t you?’

‘Yes. In fact, I have the original of one of the prints you have at the resort.’

‘Really? Could I have a look at it?’

‘Of course.’ Standing up, she led the way inside, stopping in front of the painting.

Mark stood contemplating it. ‘Yes. That’s the one.’ He moved along slowly, stopping in front of each painting. ‘This is another one I have a print of.’

‘Oh, I didn’t see that one. Is it in the cabana?’

‘Yes, but it’s on the Gents side, so you wouldn’t have seen it. I like his work very much. I have an original in the homestead. Do you have any others?’

‘Yes.’ She took him into the other rooms where they were hanging and then led the way down to the office.

After he had looked carefully at each item, artefacts as well as paintings, he turned to Cassie. ‘I envy you all this. It’s quite remarkable for a private collection. Your grandfather must have been an avid collector.’

‘I know he bought most of the paintings to help the artists when they were first starting out. And some things, mainly the hunting pieces and things like that were payment for something, or gifts from members of the tribe.’

‘I hope you have it insured?’

‘I don’t really know. I must check.’

They went upstairs again and sat chatting easily until Mark rose to take his leave. Cassie escorted him to the door.

He turned at the door and took both her hands in his. ‘I am so glad that we’re friends again,’ he spoke sincerely as he gazed deep into her eyes. Her heart quickened its pace as he bent and kissed her gently, lingeringly on the mouth. Then he turned and ran down the steps to his car and with a parting wave he was gone.

Was this the beginning of something special between them?

***

Sam set out before dawn the next day. If anyone from Yallandoo had seen him, they would not have recognised him. Gone were the shuffling walk and habitual stoop. He wore only a coloured girdle around his waist, woven from reeds, with an extension to cover his genitals. Ochre daubed his naked body. He carried a spear and travelled swiftly, living off the land as his ancestors had done for thousands of years.

When he reached the sacred place of his ancestors, it was dark. He lay down in this isolated place and slept, and the next morning, before the sun rose, he made his way to the top of a hill, where large sandstone outcrops formed a circle. Here he laid his spear aside and sat surveying the land of his people.

The following day, he picked up his spear and started back to Yallandoo. Once there, he made his way up the side of a hill, past the cave with the aboriginal drawings, past the other two caves visible in the hill face, up much further to where there was a small fissure in the hillside. Here he checked that all was as it should be and then sat waiting for nightfall, when he returned to his home.

The next day, he waited for Daniel to come in from his day’s work. He was back in his normal clothes now and shuffled as usual. ‘Trouble’s startin’ soon,’ he said.

‘Bad trouble?’

‘Yeh.’

‘Do you know who it is?’

‘Someone who’ll be working here soon. When they start buildin’ the cabins. We gotta watch him.’

‘There’ll be a lot of new workers here then. You’ll have to tell me which one.’

‘I’ll show you, when I’m sure. We gotta watch him all the time. Gotta stop him.’

‘Does he know about the sacred place?’

‘He’s heard about it, he’ll be lookin’. Trouble at the big house, too.’

‘At the homestead?’

‘Yeh. We gotta watch out.’

‘You’ll let me know?’

‘Yeh.’

‘Are you going to tell Cassie?’

‘No. Can’t tell her ’bout our secret place.’

***

Cassie opened the front door to Yallandoo in response to a knock. Her initial shock gave way to anger and a twinge of fear at the sight of the man standing on the verandah in front of her, smiling, although she could see his light blue eyes held no warmth.

She sucked in her breath and when she spoke, her voice was sharp. ‘Jason! What are you doing here?’

‘Now that’s no way to greet an old friend, Cassie,’ he protested, raising a hand to smooth his fair hair.

‘Friend! That’s the last thing I’d call you!’

‘Don’t be like that, Cassie,’ he coaxed. ‘Surely you remember all the good times we had together?’ He moved closer and held out his hands.

Cassie stepped back, ignoring his hands, and her voice rose. ‘I remember how you threatened me when you couldn’t get what you wanted, that’s what I remember.’

He took another step towards her. ‘Now, Cassie…’

‘Stay there! Don’t come any closer. I’ll have you thrown off the property if you do.’

His pale face flushed and he clenched his fists at his sides. ‘Cassie, I still think as much of you as I ever did. I came here to tell you how sorry I am about that unfortunate episode. Didn’t your mother tell you I rang her and explained I had a breakdown?’

‘She told me what you said. I don’t believe you and even if I did, I still wouldn’t want anything to do with you. You showed me what you’re really like, that night on the train.’

‘Can’t you forget that? I’ve told you how sorry I am. Couldn’t we be friends again?’

‘No! I don’t trust you. Now kindly get out and don’t ever come back, or I’ll have the manager throw you off my property.’

His mouth twisted in a spiteful sneer, all attempts to appear friendly now gone. ‘Your property. Oh, yes, you’ve done pretty well for yourself, haven’t you! Too high-and-mighty for the likes of me now, I see, now you’ve got this fine property.’ His head turned and his eyes flicked from side to side, like a cat checking out its territory, as he took in the gracious old
house and its surroundings. ‘How lucky for you your uncle was killed,’ he continued, his eyes narrowing, ‘now you can play lady of the manor! One of the…’