I
“What do you reckon she does all day?” Leah says as she stares toward the verandah through the dust-caked window of the ute.
“Who?” Jai says, one hand splayed across the hard rubber of the steering wheel, the other clutching at the gear stick, ready to change gear in the event of yet another pothole.
“That old woman, in the house on the rise.”
“Dunno. Maybe she watches cars get swallowed up by potholes and calls the rescue squad or something!” Jai says as the nose of their vehicle disappears from view. Leah laughs, clutching at the Mum handle as she is launched into the air yet again by mistimed acceleration. “She’s always been there. Can’t remember when she wasn’t – even the first time I came here with my mates. Just sorta part of the landscape – like the sky – always there.”
“Thought you said this was a special place you were taking me! But you been here with your mates,” Leah scoffs in mock-horror.
“It is. You’ll see,” he replies with a slow smile.
“Don’t you reckon she gets bored?” Leah says.
“Nothing boring out here; you just need the right guide,” he says with a wink. Leah rolls her eyes and stares back at the house. “Anyway, maybe she’s not real, a mannikin to keep out intruders,” Jai continues, eager to ensure Leah’s attention remains on him.
“Well, I’m going to wave and see if you’re right,” Leah declares, pressing the window down and hanging a golden arm out the window.
“Did she wave back?”
“Not sure. Too far away, and too much dust on this road. She probably couldn’t even see me.” Leah sighs as she presses the window up, and they turn towards the campground.
II
“There she is again. She still hasn’t moved!” Leah laughs as Jai grips the steering wheel, cursing as the baby in the backseat squarks at the disturbance. “How old do you reckon she is?”
“Jesus Leah. Why do you want to know? We been coming here for how long? If she ain’t a manikin, then she must be at least seventy – she was old twenty years ago – and she’s still wearing that blue shirt!” Leah presses the window down and waves as they turn the corner to the campground. “You ever get a wave back?” Jai laughs at his partner’s contented smile as the window is closed.
“Don’t know. You drive too bloody fast to find out!”
III
“Are we there yet?” the curly-haired boy whines to his father as they bounce along the corrugations on the way to the campground.
“Nearly, Will,” his mother says. “You’ll know we’re almost there when you pass the house with the criss-cross verandah and the old woman with the blue jacket sitting on the verandah.”
“You reckon she’s still there?” Jai laughs.
“Definitely,” Leah replies, “I’d put money on it. Blue shirt like the sky around here. Will, I reckon you might be old enough to wave to the lady – that’s your job from now on – I’ll just put your window down. But don’t wake your sister, we’re nearly there.”
IV
“Oh my God, this place is the pits. No reception!” Josie harrumphs as her phone beeps to indicate the signal is lost.
“Yep, that’s why we come here,” Jai says, his arm resting in his lap in a black sling, as his head leans out the window, eyes transfixed on the crumbling sandstone walls of the valley. “Watch out for that monster hole at the turn-off,” he instructs Leah as she deftly manoeuvres the vehicle along the road.
“Yeah, I know. Anyone would think I’d never been here before,” Leah says, rolling her eyes in the rear-vision mirror at her tweeny daughter.
“Is that old woman still alive? Hey, Josie, you do the wave this time,” Will says, as his eyes search for the turn off between golden swathes of grass. He doesn’t wait for any answer. “Can’t wait to get into that canyon again. Dad, can we do that? It was awesome! All the cool slots, and the waterfall. How cold do you reckon it’ll be? Mum, did you pack the wetsuits?”
“She’s not there!” Jai says as he looks toward the house on the rise, scanning for movement.
“What!” Leah slams on the brakes, skidding to a stop, then easing off into a ditch.
“She’s gone, and the verandah posts aren’t so white anymore,” Jai says. “Maybe she moved to an old people’s home – couldn’t look after the place anymore.”
“Who was she?” Josie asks, her phone forgotten as she registers her parents’ shock.
“We don’t really know. She’s just always been here. Your Dad thought she was a mannikin, so we started waving to check. Never sure if she waved back, but it sort of felt right,” Leah says wistfully.
“Ooh, maybe she just died and shes still up there. Can we go and have a look?” Will asks, his face alight with horror movie macabre.
“Don’t be stupid! And so horrible- that’s a real old lady we’re talking about!” Jai cuts his son off.
“Maybe we should,” Leah hesitates. “Just in case. You know the stories you hear about old people being there forever, and no one checks on them – how horrible would it be?”
“Come on, Dad,” the children wheedle. Jai looks at his family and realises that it would be better to have an ending to his family’s imagination than spend the next week listening to them wondering.
“Alright, but I’m the only one getting out. I’ll call you if I need anything.” Leah smiles gratefully at her partner and turns the ute onto the access road. The gate is locked at the entrance to the driveway with a hand-painted sign neatly attached. Jai gets out, quickly followed by his son and daughter, as the ute idles.
“Well?” Leah asks.
“Seems she died a few months back, but she was a famous artist. They’re having an exhibition of her stuff in the local hall now – house was full of it apparently,” Jai says.
“And the house is for sale!” Josie interrupts breathlessly. “It said if we want to inspect, we can go have a look anytime. Here, I took a photo of the sign. It says as is, so everything’s still there, just like a movie set or something!”
“Can we look, Mum? We might see where she died or painted or something if she’s really famous. You should buy some of her stuff. Might be worth heaps, we could get rich, or might be antiques or like old stuff. Jack says you can make heaps – or we could flip the house.” Will prattles as his mind races along a track of teenage lightbulbs.
“Slow down,” Leah says. “Get in, and we’ll set up at the campground first. How long’s the exhibition on for?” she asks Jai.
“All school holidays,” he says as he climbs into the vehicle, his eyes not leaving the house perched on the hill.
V
“Mum, Mum. Come look!” Josie is pulling at Leah’s arm as she talks to an older man flipping sausages at the barbeque out front of the dusty old hall.
“In a minute, Josie. I’m just getting us some lunch,” Leah says.
“Is it old Mary’s art you’re looking at?” the man asks Josie, and she nods. “Didn’t think you young’uns be getting so excited about that – which one’s your favourite?”
“It’s us! She painted us!” Josie explodes as she kicks up dust at her heels, her feet no longer able to stop their propulsion back to the painting.
“What?” Leah laughs and then shakes her head as she turns to the man again. “Vivid imagination, I’m sure. We’re just blow-ins – not sure she’d have painted us.”
“Don’t know about that, luv. Way you been talking, you been coming here for years. Ain’t no-one much lives here, ‘cept old Mary and a few old-timers, we all just come for a break – catch ourselves and breathe. That old Mary, that’s what she liked; sitting on the verandah watching people. Said you could tell a lot about a person just watching. The way they drove, if they slowed down for the critters, if they came back, what type of car and gear they had.” The man cocks his head. “Tell you what, you go in, and I’ll keep all these ready for you on the side – looks like your girl’s gonna dig a hole in the ground dancing otherwise,” he laughs.
Inside, Jai and Will are staring wide-mouthed at a painting. It is them, their dusty red ute with its tell-tale tear on the canopy. “Well,” is all she can say.
“Look what it says. The title,” Josies says, pointing at the small square mounted next to the painting.
Migratory paths
This family comes here regularly. I have watched them grow from two to four. From my verandah, I see them slow to see the cliffs, the skies, the land, and me. They always wave – they are like the birds returning each year bringing their young. Perhaps one day they will stay.
“We have to buy it,” Jai says slowly.
“It’s amazing!” Leah replies. “It will look great in the living room.”
“No. I mean the house,” Jai says.
VI
She sits on the verandah, watching as a new-fangled campervan passes. Josie and Will will bring their children to stay next school holidays, but until then, the birds, the sky, and the cliffs will keep her company.
“Well, Jai, best get started. Those colours aren’t hanging around,” she says as she places her teacup beside a photo of her partner, faded and grey from the burning sunlight and icy sleet of the seasons. The children had put it there – when they scattered his ashes – telling her Dad was a part of this landscape, so there was no way this photo should go inside.
She dons her blue painting shirt, turns towards the easel, and squints into the light, waiting for the moment when the sun will hit the escarpment. Every day is a new day with a new colour waiting to be noticed.
VII
“What do you reckon she does all day?” the woman says as she stares toward the verandah through the campervan window.
“Who?” her partner says, hands gripped on the soft rubber of the wheel as she braces for a pothole.
“That old woman – on the verandah on the house on the hill.”
Artwork (c) Tracie McMahon
