The Lost Man(99)

‘Try again. Yeah, better that time.’

He saw Lo grimace at the sound, but she said nothing, just concentrated on her painting. From the aroma floating from the kitchen, the lunch preparation was coming along well, and Nathan could hear Liz rattling pots and pans inside. He and Bub had gone in to help, only to be shooed out by an exasperated Liz twenty minutes later for getting underfoot. Bub had been happy enough. He’d got a new cricket bat for Christmas and had roped Harry into bowling for him around the front of the house. Nathan couldn’t see them from where he sat, but could hear the occasional thwack and cheer.

The screen door slammed and Xander appeared. He was holding a folded piece of paper as he sat down next to Nathan. ‘Sounding good, Sophie.’

‘Thanks.’ She smiled, focusing on the strings. It wasn’t only the absence of her sling. It was like a cloud had lifted after the funeral.

‘Here.’ Xander handed the sheet of paper to Nathan. ‘It’s not exactly a Christmas present but I wanted to give you this.’

‘What is it?’ Nathan unfolded it. Inside was a handwritten list of dates.

‘So these are the term dates and the exam weeks for this year.’ Xander pointed. ‘And here are all the potential holidays, here and here. Here, too. So we can plan something.’

‘Oh.’ The writing blurred a tiny bit as Nathan looked at it. ‘Thanks, mate. But seriously, you should stay in Brisbane, focus on your work, if you need to.’ He smiled. ‘Who knows? If your marks are good enough you might be able to follow Martin into the world of blinding metallic buildings.’

‘Yeah, I’m not going to be doing that.’ Xander grinned back. ‘But look, I probably will have to stay home most of the time, so that’s why you should come and visit me in Brisbane.’

Nathan hesitated.

‘It was Mum’s idea,’ Xander said, reading his mind.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. Maybe I could ask her if you could stay with us. Martin built a guest house in the garden.’

‘Really?’

‘Well, he drew it and then paid someone else to build it.’ Xander laughed. ‘He can’t do the practical stuff as well as you can. Anyway, you should come. I’d really like it.’

‘Yeah. Well, thanks. I’d really like it too.’

‘Good.’ Xander stood up. ‘If you need help packing up the car at any point, just yell.’

‘You’re keen. We’re not leaving until tomorrow.’

‘I know.’ Xander smiled. ‘I just don’t want to miss the flight. New Year’s Eve in Brisbane has the edge on here somehow.’

Nathan caught a glimpse of Ilse passing by her office window. She gave him a little wave. ‘I struggle to believe that.’

‘Believe it,’ Xander said, and Nathan watched the screen door slam behind him.

He heard the thud and clip of the cricket ball as he turned back to the girls. Sophie was still fiddling with her chords and Lo had her head down over her latest artwork.

‘Do you want to have a go on the guitar, Lo?’ he asked.

‘I’m doing this.’

Nathan moved over to look at her pictures. They had been laid out across the porch, weighed down with rocks. She had been painting the same scene over and over again, he saw now. Every one was a variation of her dad’s painting.

‘You’re trying to paint the grave?’ he said.

‘I can’t get it right.’

‘They look pretty good to me.’

Lo threw him a look that implied his artistic opinion was of questionable value, but Nathan could tell she was pleased. He wasn’t making it up, either. The images were all imitations of Cameron’s theme and were unavoidably childish, but they were strangely expressive. Where Cameron had been heavy-handed with the shadow, she had managed to capture corners of light.

‘Are you missing your dad?’ he said, and Lo exchanged a glance with her sister.

‘Do you think Daddy was scared out there at the grave by himself?’ Lo said, finally.

‘No,’ Nathan lied. He thought for a minute. ‘He liked being out on the property.’ More truthful. ‘But I think he found some things in his life very hard.’

The girls mulled that over.

‘I don’t like the stockman’s grave,’ Sophie said, eventually. ‘It’s scary.’

Nathan shook his head. ‘It doesn’t have to be. There are a lot of stupid stories about the stockman. None of them are true.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I went to the State Library once and looked it up.’

He’d spent a few hours there, years ago, in Brisbane, when Xander was still young and Nathan had found it particularly hard to pass him back into Jacqui’s arms. It had been a difficult handover and Nathan had missed the flight home. Adrift, he’d found himself walking the city streets until he’d ended up outside the library, with the sudden urge to find out more about the only person he could think of who was more alone than him. A librarian had helped him search, and as he’d read the old newspaper article in the cool air conditioning surrounded by the discreet hum of company, he had felt more at peace than he had in a long time.

‘So what happened to the man?’ Sophie said.

‘It was this bloke called William Carlisle and he actually lived on this property with his wife and kids. Two boys about seven and ten, I think.’