It was after six o’clock by the time Nina got to the nursing home. Eva Langley was sitting up in bed with a thermometer in her mouth. It felt like an intrusion to enter the room, but when Nina crept in Eva greeted her with bright eyes.
‘What a lovely surprise. Your timing’s perfect.’ Eva’s voice was as strong as ever, low and tuneful. Her hair was neatly done, and in her beaded cream nightgown she looked the picture of elegance. What a relief. She actually looked better than last time. An unopened packet of liquorice allsorts sat on the corner table. Seeing them reminded Nina that she’d forgotten to bring some herself.
A nurse emerged from the small ensuite. ‘Must be your day for visitors, Eva,’ she said. ‘I’ll bring in another chair.’
‘And could you order an extra dinner, Vera? That will make three.’
The nurse nodded. She smoothed the beautiful aqua bedspread over Eva’s knees, the one that featured azure kingfishers. ‘Chicken or fish?’
Nina looked at Eva enquiringly.
‘It’s one of Pemberley’s perks,’ said Eva. ‘My visitors are entitled to free meals. So what will it be, chicken or fish? I’d have the fish if I were you. The chicken’s a little dry. We’ll have to eat in the room. Darned doctor won’t let me out of bed until tomorrow.’
Eva had said three dinners. Who else was here? James? She couldn’t stand being stuck in a room with him, not even for a few minutes. ‘I don’t want to impose,’ said Nina. ‘How about I come back in the morning?’
‘You’ve only just arrived. Vera, she’ll have the fish.’
What to do? Stay and put up with James? Or go and disappoint the dear old friend whom she’d just flown an hour to see? ‘You look well, Eva,’ said Nina. ‘I was worried about you.’
‘Bit of a sore ankle is all. Don’t know why everybody makes such a fuss. You’d think I’d broken my hip. And yet nobody’s concerned when I die of boredom every day.’
Vera returned with a second chair and set up a folding tray table. It would be rude to go now. Nina pulled a chair over next to the bed. May as well make the best of it. Perhaps she’d learn something useful in her mission to buy Billabong Bend. Perhaps she could even change James’s mind. Although he wouldn’t admit to wanting to sell the place, not in front of his mother.
Nina had just convinced herself that this chance meeting with James was a good thing when a man walked in the door, carrying a scruffy duffel bag. Not the man she’d expected at all. Freeman. With a shock of joy she recognised the gentle, gap-toothed smile on his grizzled, bearded face. It was many years since his ramshackle houseboat had meandered down the Bunyip. These days the low flows deterred all but the lightest river traffic. She’d sometimes wondered if Freeman was still alive. He’d seemed ancient even back when she and Ric were children. But rumours persisted of his turning up here and there, collecting river stories and telling them in return. And now here he was, large as life, screwing up his hat and shuffling around Eva’s little room.
‘Nina.’ His old eyes twinkled. ‘It’s been a long time.’ Freeman was even taller than she remembered, and seemed to have hunched down to fit the room, like he somehow didn’t belong under a roof. The sleeves of his faded work shirt were rolled up over still-powerful forearms, and he wore a buttonless vest. What looked like a cut-off stirrup leather held up his ragged moleskin trousers. By contrast, his boots were shiny and new, as if purchased especially for the occasion.
Nina laughed and threw her arms round his shabby shoulders. ‘I don’t believe it. Eva, I didn’t know you and Freeman were friends.’
‘There’s a lot you young folks don’t know.’ She smiled, and the smile stayed around her eyes. ‘Take my boy James, for instance. So very sceptical. He mistakes being cynical for being wise.’
Freeman upended the three glasses sitting on the table by the water jug. He rummaged around in his bag, glanced briefly at the door, then extracted a bottle of dry ginger ale and another of brandy. Eva’s eyes lit up as he poured her a generous drink. ‘They treat us like children here,’ she said, pouting like a girl.
Nina took a sip of the drink Freeman offered, and a delicious wave of heat moved through her. An orderly pushed in backwards through the door with a trolley of dinner trays. The three giggled and hid their drinks. Soon they were eating and laughing like old friends should. They were no longer in a room at a nursing home. This was a party, a heartfelt reunion.
‘Tell Nina about your project,’ said Eva.
‘I collect river stories.’ Freeman’s ears were turning red. ‘Same as always.’
‘He’s turned professional,’ said Eva. ‘Documenting life right throughout the Murray-Darling basin. People, plants, animals – everything. Photographing and recording their stories. Piecing together a priceless history of our river heritage.’
Freeman’s shy smile could not disguise his pride. ‘I write down what folks say, that’s all.’
‘Don’t be so modest,’ scolded Eva. ‘Freeman’s an author now. He sold his Murrumbidgee stories to a publisher. The book’s coming out next year, and they want one on the Kingfisher after that.’
‘That’s wonderful,’ said Nina. ‘What’s it called, Freeman, so I can buy it?’
‘Songline Stories.’ The flush deepened beneath his dark complexion. ‘Beats me what they want with my old yarns, but they seem to like them. Even paid me. Enough to buy a computer, and a little runabout to tow behind the boat.’ His smile turned into a grin. ‘Catfish, I call her. Runs a treat up and down the shallow reaches where Warriuka can’t get any more.’
‘Freeman’s been here all week,’ said Eva. ‘Bringing brandy and sweets, videoing me and my memories on his, his . . . show her, Freeman.’ He pulled out a camcorder. ‘On that,’ she said. ‘So they won’t be forgotten. Here I was thinking nobody wants to listen. Then Freeman arrives and does nothing but listen, day after day.’ She beamed at him. ‘It’s been such glorious fun.’
‘And I’ll go on listening, Eva,’ he said. ‘Listen for as long as it takes. Listen till you’re done.’
Nina was intrigued. ‘How do you decide where to go next?’
‘It’s not so easy any more, what with the drought, and all those dams and bridges. They’ve tamed the rivers something shocking. Times I’ve even had to truck Warriuka from place to place, but I always wind up back on the songlines.’
‘Songlines?’ asked Nina.
‘Spirit pathways of souls who wandered Australia in the beginning,’ said Eva. ‘Singing out names of what they saw, of birds and trees. Of mountains and forests . . . everything. Singing the world into being, like Aslan did in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.’
‘Do you really believe that?’ Nina hadn’t heard this particular creation story before. Her parents were Anglican, and proud of it.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Eva. ‘I’m an animist. Not only people have souls, Nina. It’s arrogant to think it. All of us do, animals and plants as well. So do rocks and rivers. Even wind and shadows. These spirits exist before we’re born, and remain after we die. They’re eternal. It’s the circle of life, like in the song from The Lion King.’
Nina smiled. Sophie was nine and Eva was eighty-nine, but they both loved their movie allusions.
‘What about you, Freeman?’ asked Nina. ‘What do you believe?’
‘I’m a great churchgoer.’ He chuckled. ‘The rivers, they’re my church.’
Nina laughed. ‘It’s very exciting,’ she said. ‘I can’t wait to read your book.’
‘I could write your story, Nina,’ he said. ‘Yours, and your family’s. I’ll come by when the river rises.’
Nina finished her drink and asked for another. What an extraordinary evening. A swift shaft of shame hit her as she realised that up until now she’d been patronising Eva. Humouring her fantasy of going home. Coming here full of pity. The true depth and breadth of this woman’s life had been as invisible to her as those songlines.
‘Eva,’ said Nina. ‘When you’re feeling better . . .’
‘You’re not going to badger me about Billabong again, are you?’ she said in a cross voice. ‘That place will be sold over my dead body.’
‘No,’ said Nina quickly. ‘No, I was wondering . . . would you like me to take you back there for a visit?’
‘Yes.’ Colour rushed to Eva’s pale cheeks. ‘It’s high time I went home.’
Nina blinked to dam the tears that hovered behind her eyes. ‘I’d better go,’ she said. ‘Leave you to your stories.’ She embraced them, first Freeman, then Eva.
She slipped out the door, and listened. For a moment the room was quiet, then the murmur of conversation built again. The sound of Eva’s musical voice followed her down the hallway. Nina swallowed hard, and hoped she’d have the courage to keep her promise.