Trust and mistrust. Love and hate.
If only it were as clear as that. Black and white. Neutral grey.
The universe tilts when we kiss.
I swallow through the tightness in my chest as I kneel in the farmhouse garden. The dandelions have grown so tall that their flowers are tangled together. Digging with a trowel, I pull them out by the roots and throw them into a bucket. I spread spent bark from the red gum over the freshly dug soil.
‘That’s looking better.’
Prima, tied loosely to a verandah post, looks up from her hay net.
‘Thanks for keeping me company.’
When I hear a car, I turn towards the road. The speed limit is eighty, but the car is travelling much slower than that. I recognise it—the blue sedan that passed the Honey girls outside the pub last night. Just before the bend, the driver does a U-turn and parks out the front, pulling over on the far side of the red gum.
I walk to Prima, taking a firm hold of her lead rope and straightening her cotton rug.
The man who gets out of the car is the man I saw in the pub last night. He reaches into the back seat for his coat and then he looks around. When he sees me, he lifts a hand. I check that Prima is tied securely before walking back to the wildly flowering azaleas and picking up my drink bottle.
The man smiles politely as he approaches. He’d be in his late fifties, maybe early sixties, but he’s fit. His thick black hair is swept back from his forehead. When he holds out his hand, I take it.
‘Gabriel Garcia.’ Is he Spanish? Argentinian?
‘I’m Sapphie Brown.’
‘The hotelier believed I might find you here.’ He nods towards the farmhouse and gardens. ‘This is very nice.’
‘Why were you looking for me?’
‘I’d like to speak with you, if I may?’
Not many strangers travelling on their own come to Horseshoe. My father is concerned about the media—is the man a journalist?
I drink from the bottle as he follows me up the steps to the verandah. ‘Are you a tourist? We don’t get many at this time of year.’
‘My sister lives in Melbourne. I see her next week.’
‘You’re a long way from there.’
‘This is what my sister said.’ He rubs his hip and glances at the deckchairs stacked under the window. ‘May we sit?’
‘If you like.’ I pull out two chairs and open them, brushing off the dust. ‘What’s going on, Mr Garcia?’
He smiles. ‘Gabriel, please. And you are Sapphie now?’
I stiffen. ‘Now?’
‘We have met before.’
‘When? Why were you looking for me? Who are you?’
‘It was many years ago.’
‘In Buenos Aires? I don’t remember you. What do you want?’
‘You are afraid of my motives.’ He smiles reassuringly. ‘I do not wish to alarm you.’
‘So tell me why you’re here.’
‘I am not a policeman, nor am I from the press. You do not recall me? We met at the Laaksonen residence.’
‘When?’
‘You were a very young girl. You had come to make flowers.’
I only did that once. And it was the last time I ever saw Inge. When I arrived at the house unannounced, Inge’s hair was loose. She introduced me to a tall, dark-haired man. Was it Gabriel? I glance at his hands, one placed neatly over the other in his lap.
‘What sort of flowers did I make?’
‘Bougainvillea.’ He points to the scarlet bracts that climb over the fence near the gate. Only he doesn’t point, because the only finger on his left hand is a thumb.
‘I remember.’ I take a deep breath. ‘And I saw you again, didn’t I?’
Inge, quiet and modest, had been very different from Mum. But she was a well-respected diplomat’s wife and had died young and unexpectedly, which probably explained why the church was packed full. I was waiting for Matts to leave the group of family members gathered around the priest when I saw the man for the second time. I was curious about his hand, but I tried not to stare. He crouched by my side and smiled sadly. Even though he was an adult, I suspected he’d been crying. I thought that was curious too.
‘Hello, Miss Sapphire,’ he said. ‘Did you like the flowers in the church? They were very beautiful, were they not?’
‘Yes, sir.’
I get up from the chair so quickly that it clatters on the boards behind me. When I walk to the railing, my legs are unsteady. I balance my bottle on the timber, so weathered that the only vestiges of paint is in the cracks. I trace a line.
‘You were at her funeral, weren’t you?’
He rises from his chair and joins me. He rests his hands on the railing. ‘I was.’
‘Why are you here? What do you want?’
‘I met your parents many years ago. They introduced me to Inge and Leevi.’
‘I won’t talk to you about them.’
‘I would not ask you to do so.’ He glances at the chairs. ‘Please, Sapphie. May we sit again?’
After he eases himself into the chair, I sit too, and fold my hands in my lap.
‘You offered to show me how you make flowers,’ he says quietly. ‘This touched me deeply.’ He gazes over the railing to the azaleas. ‘Inge had spoken of her son, naturally. But also of you. She loved you as a daughter.’
‘I loved her too.’
He rests his forearms on the arms of the chair. ‘I used to work for Josef Hernandez. You have heard of him?’
I clasp the chair either side of my legs. ‘He’s tied up with the allegations against my father.’
‘Your father has denied that an inducement was received. As this is the truth, the matter might go no further.’
‘You know about what happened?’
‘Some of it, yes.’
‘My father wants to clear his name. My mother isn’t here to clear hers.’
His coat is folded over his knees. He smooths the fabric. ‘My role also is difficult to explain.’
‘Were you involved?’
He hesitates. ‘I worked for Hernandez. I knew of these deposit boxes he kept. At this time, I made many, many mistakes.’ He speaks quietly, as if to himself. ‘May God forgive me.’
‘Mum went to the deposit box, but I don’t think she would have done anything like stealing documents or taking a bribe. Inge would never have agreed to help her if she had.’
His smile is gentle. ‘I saw her son at your table last night. I didn’t think … He is staying here in Horseshoe?’
‘He’ll be in the district for a few months. He’s here for work.’
‘You will see him again? You will stay in contact?’
‘Until the end of October, at least.’
He shuts his eyes. He slowly shakes his head. And then he stands abruptly. ‘I should not have come.’
‘What do you mean?’
He shakes his head again. ‘I had hoped to do more to help your mother, but I am forced to make a choice.’ He picks up his coat. ‘No, I cannot.’
‘You cannot what?’
‘This is not the time to tell my secrets.’
‘About my mother? What if she’s blamed for what happened?’
‘There was no crime. I can, at least, reassure you of that.’
‘My father insists she did something wrong.’
‘I am sorry, Sapphie. I should not have come.’ He holds out his hands, palms up. ‘And now I should go.’
When he walks down the steps to the path, I follow. ‘What if you change your mind again? Will you call me? Can I call you?’
‘For now I am—’ He frowns. ‘What is the expression? Under the radar! I am under the radar. It might be best, for all of us, to forget that I was here.’
‘But you won’t rule out helping Mum? I won’t tell anyone that I’ve seen you. Will that help?’
‘The less people who know we have spoken, the better.’
‘All I want … I’d like to know the truth. Mum loved the colour of sapphires. Why was there a stone in the box?’
He opens the back door of the car, laying his coat carefully along the seat before facing me again. He’s paler than he was.
‘One day, Sapphie, I will confide in you.’ He smiles sadly. ‘You shall see my dilemma.’
‘You’re not concerned about my father’s reputation, are you?’
‘He can protect himself.’
‘Please, Gabriel, reconsider. Tell me—’
He touches my arm. ‘I am sixty years old, Sapphie, perhaps too old for so many secrets, but I shall keep them for a little while longer.’ He reaches into his pocket and takes out his wallet, extracting a card. ‘In the meantime, I give you this. If the situation worsens, we will talk again.’
The card is simple and printed with his name, an address in Rosario, Argentina, an email and a phone number.
I watch the car disappear around the bend, a plume of dust behind it. If the situation worsens, we will talk again. There’s a chance he’ll help me so long as I keep quiet. I put the card in my front pocket to keep it safe as I walk back to Prima. A flock of rainbow lorikeets, yellow, red, purple and green, fly across a clear blue sky. When they screech, Prima skitters sideways and I run to grasp her rope. My phone pings as I lead her back to the paddock.
From: Matts
To: Sapphie, Chambers, Cassie, Luke, Gus.
Draft itinerary of Macquarie Marshes trip attached for comment. Sapphie—I’m away next week, but will see you the weekend after next to confirm.
I respond straight away.
I’ll be in Canberra that weekend.