The Thousand Smiles of Nicholas Goring (16 page)

Dave stared at the man in mute wonder.

"Or, um … a part of you that
knows
the necessity. That's probably better. You can sense there's a reason for all this, a good reason – and seeing as it's about us humans being an intrinsic part of the environment, rather than something separate from it, then actually I think it's a bloody excellent reason!"

"Oh," said Dave.

"On top of which," Nicholas said, sailing remorselessly on, "it does you good. It makes you happy. After you've been singing the songs, you look so … utterly peaceful. It's lovely to see. I love being there with you afterwards. You're just so very …
you
."

"Oh," he managed.

"I don't want to give that up for
my
sake, let alone yours," Nicholas added with a laugh. He was about to sit back on his heels, having made his point, but Dave grabbed onto him in turn and leaned his head in close.

"It's the second best thing in my life," he admitted in a mumble that only Nicholas would understand.

Nicholas guffawed. "Second best after the Cruiser, I assume."

"Idiot," said Dave. And they shared a grin, and Nicholas's love and happiness shone bold from his bright eyes – and in that moment Dave felt as if he could take on the whole world and the horse it rode in on as well.

What Dave found frustrating, though, was that there still seemed to be little he could do. He asked Charlie to come to Brisbane for a few days so Dave could talk through the idea of actually lodging a Native Title claim. "It probably wouldn't come to anything, but at least it makes the point."

"Nnn," Charlie replied rather noncommittally.

"That guy I talked to," Dave persisted, "Martin Bandjara. He said he wanted to test the idea, or he'd like to, anyway. And for that they need someone to give it a try, I guess."

"Mmm," said Charlie.

Dave lapsed into silence, having been round and round the matter a number of times, and feeling further than ever from a resolution.

The four of them were lazing about on the back patio while the banana palms rustled soothingly. Charlie had a beer, but the others were on water-and-lime. Robin was curled up on the swing chair with Nicholas, though he didn't look quite as blissful about it as he'd used to.

Nicholas was also fretting over something. Dave watched him patiently, until at last Nicholas stirred himself to ask, "Could I be part of the claim as well? Would that help or hinder, do you think?"

Which was rather unexpected. Charlie didn't react, even with an incoherent murmur. Dave scrunched up his face, and tentatively asked, "Because of the butterflies … ?"

"Well, yes. No. Sort of."

Dave glanced at Charlie again, but he seemed to have zoned out. Or was maybe mulling things over. "Sort of?" Dave prompted.

"I've just been thinking about the story. You know, the Dreamtime story about the waterhole. And I figured … I figured that it's
my
Ancestor who fell from the sky, right?"

No one responded, though Dave was listening hard.

"You know, I flew here, I came by plane … David, you came to meet me, I fell at your feet, and we … Well." Nicholas fell quiet, too.

Dave wondered what to say. But when he realised that Charlie was considering Nicholas thoughtfully, Dave decided to stay quiet at least for now.

After a long while, Charlie said, "You and Davey belong together, mate. You don't need no Dreaming story to tell you that."

"No, but … it kind of works, doesn't it? He even … I mean, if Dave's Ancestor is the Barcoo grunter, then he even made the butterflies that brought me back to him."

"It's a nice thought, mate," said Charlie.

"Are you saying … I can't be part of it?"

"You
are
part of it," Dave insisted.

"I don't think Native Title can be the answer," Charlie finally concluded. "It won't work, whether it's me or Dave or the three of us making the claim. We'd be putting a whole lot of time, effort and money into something that was doomed."

"Oh," said Dave and Nicholas, both sounding rather dejected. "That's rather … pragmatic of you," Nicholas added.

Charlie shrugged an agreement. A silence stretched.

After a while, Nicholas detached himself from Robin and came over to where Dave was stretched out on a recliner. Dave shifted up onto his side so that Nicholas could settle in behind him, spooning him closely in a comforting hug. Dave closed his eyes, and sank away for a while. This …
this
was home and hearth and all good things.

"So, Robin …" Charlie said. "I guess you'll be heading back to England soon."

"Three weeks and five days," Robin replied. "Granddad's coming here for the last ten days, and then we're flying back together."

"It'll be good to see him, that's for sure. Are you looking forward to being home again?"

"I suppose …"

Dave opened his eyes, though he didn't shift from Nicholas's warm embrace. He asked with careful neutrality, "Are you still thinking about staying here, Robin?"

Charlie chortled appreciatively. "You looking to emigrate, too, mate?"

"I was thinking about … maybe taking a gap year," Robin replied.

Nicholas had remained quiet and still through all this.

Dave suggested, "It only needs a slight adjustment in your ambitions. Prime Minister of Australia ain't such a bad thing to be."

Robin sniffed. "No … once I've served my terms in Britain …
three
terms, I think … I might consent to become Governor-General of Australia instead."

Dave and Charlie both had a hearty laugh over this, and Dave asked, "Don't you think we'll be a republic by then?"

"I don't know …" Robin mused. "What do you think, Charlie?"

"I think we're a pretty independent mob," said Charlie.

"That's true," said Dave.

Nicholas shifted up onto an elbow, as if finally re-engaged by the conversation.

"But there's something to be said for the long-term view," Charlie continued. "I was reading the other day about how the British monarchy has been around for a thousand years. It's one of our longest surviving institutions. That has to mean something."

"Does it?" asked Dave, perhaps almost as astonished as the two Englishmen about where this was going.

"If they were doing such a bad job, they never would have survived this long."

"Right …" Dave prompted.

"And the current lot, they're a good mob. So, I figured, what we should do, if we want to be a bit more independent, but not throw out all the good stuff … What we should do is invite Prince Harry to be King of Australia."

Everyone stared at the man, absolutely stunned.

Eventually Nicholas said, "I like the way you think, Charlie. Very lateral!"

Dave let out a laugh, and said, "Yeah, Harry's enough of a larrikin!"

"What's a larrikin?" asked Robin.

"Oh, it means he'd fit right in." And by the time Dave had explained, Charlie had three firm converts to his rather unexpected cause.

Dave had a call from another of the landowners out west of Cunnamulla. By his reckoning he'd heard from all of them now. "Hello, Sandy," Dave said a bit guardedly once the guy had announced himself.

"Heh," said old Sandy under his breath, before launching right into the nub of the matter. "Now, I know some people have been a bit, uh … uncooperative lately. Not letting you drive off-road and such."

"Well," said Dave. "It's their right. I respect that."

"I know you do. I know you do. So I figured I'd just come right out and say it. We could do with the railroad coming out our way, mate. You get that, I'm sure."

"I do get that," Dave agreed. "Cheap and easy transportation. I understand."

"So you'll understand we have an interest in Reddy Eight finding this iron ore, then."

Dave gusted a sigh. "Mate, I'm not against it myself. I just need to make sure this place is protected. This particular place. It's … unique."

"Yeah, your bloke found his butterflies there."

"Yeah."
The butterflies he named after me
, Dave couldn't quite add. "They're unique, too."

"Hasn't he, like … brought some out and raised them? Like in that aviary up at Kuranda, maybe?"

"He tried a couple of times, years ago now, but it never worked. They didn't survive. And he says it's too tropical up at Kuranda, for a start."

"I'm not saying we shouldn't protect them in the wild," Sandy said all too reasonably, "but don't you think he'd better try again?"

"Yeah. Probably." Dave frowned over that, and wondered why Nicholas hadn't persisted. If they had Charlie or Thursday take care of the butterflies somewhere out there near Cunnamulla, where the climate wasn't all that different …

"Just in case," said Sandy.

"But that's not all, anyway," Dave insisted. He sighed again, and thought twice, but then forced himself to say, "I don't believe in much, mate, but this place – it's sacred. I gotta put that first."

"Yeah, and I get that. I do. I figure …" Sandy paused for a moment, before rushing on. "There's kind of a ‘no man's land' out there, isn't there? Somewhere east of Henri Wilson's place, south of the Abo reserve."

"Aboriginal," Dave corrected him.

"I mean it fondly, and I say it to their faces."

"Even so."

"Right, well. South of the Aboriginal reserve, east of Henri's. That kind of area. Am I right?"

Dave tilted his head in a quibble that of course the man wouldn't see. "Close enough."

"It's all right, I'm not gonna do anything about it. Just wanted to be sure I was on the right page."

"Yeah, you are."

"Not that ‘page' is the right word. That's kinda vast."

"Look, Sandy, just give me some time, all right? I'm sure you'll get your railway in the end."

"Right, mate. Well, if you or your bloke need anything, let me or the missus know."

"Will do," said Dave. And they said goodbye and hung up.

A moment later – Dave had hardly even turned away from the phone – it rang again. "Yeah," said Dave as he picked it up. "D'you forget something, Sandy?"

There was no response.

But the line wasn't dead, either. There was an uncanny sense of presence. An echo of a breath.

"This is Dave Taylor. Who's that?"

Nothing.

"Right. Hanging up now." He waited a moment, but when there was no response Dave cut off the call and returned the handset. After a moment in which the phone didn't ring again, Dave wandered into the lounge room to find Nicholas tapping away on his laptop.

Nicholas glanced up at him, and then looked again, apparently picking up on Dave's pensive mood. "Are you all right, David?"

"Yeah. Just more pressure. God, it's honestly not that I don't empathise … And then another wrong number. Getting a few of them lately."

Nicholas sat back and crossed his arms over his chest and stared at him. "To be honest, I was trying not to think about this. But they're not wrong numbers, are they?"

It took a moment for Dave to click. "Seriously? You think it's harassment? Along with the … sabotage?"

"I didn't tell you, but when you were away for that week, I got a call almost every single night."

"What!" Dave was furious – at whoever the idiots were, but also a little bit at Nicholas. "You should have said."

"I was going to that first night you were back, but then they didn't call again – or not in the wee hours, anyway – and you already had enough on your mind."

"Even so," Dave argued.

Nicholas frowned for a long moment, and then lifted a hand to rub at his forehead. "You know, I think my decision-making has gone a bit pear-shaped lately. Maybe I just haven't been getting enough sleep."

Dave swore under his breath that he could quite cheerfully kill whoever it was who'd been disturbing Nicholas. But at least this gave Dave one thing he could actually do something about. "Right. We're reporting it to Telstra. We can do that much, anyway!"

"No, you're right," said Nicholas, "and of course that's fine by me." His long fingers skittered across the keyboard as he closed whatever he was doing and opened a browser. "Come on, then. We can look up what to do on their website."

They were eating dinner at the table in the family room that evening, with the ABC TV news on in the background providing its quiet litany of gloom, when a story came on about the Reddy Eight mining company. Dave reached for the remote to turn up the volume, and Nicholas glanced a plea to Robin to be quiet for a moment.

"Elvis Reddy, son of Noel Reddy and majority shareholder of new player Reddy Eight, had a surprise encounter today with business rival Leonard Harville," the newsreader said. The story cut to footage of a pair of men in business suits confronting each other with the puffed-up chests and sneering mouths Dave was more used to seeing outside pubs than courtrooms. Dave watched in disbelief as the scuffle became a swirl of colleagues, onlookers and reporters. The younger Reddy was soon yelling, and pointing hard accusations at the somewhat older and cooler Harville. "Just you beeping well wait," was the general tone of it. "I'm onto something beeping
big
." – Harville adjusted his cuffs. "Sure you are." – "Oh, you are going
down
…" The story cut back to the studio. "Stock prices for both companies have remained strong," the newsreader commented, absolutely deadpan, "though Reddy Eight has edged ahead slightly this afternoon."

Dave just gaped for a while as the next story played, until finally he blurted, "
That's
what this is all about?"

Nicholas shrugged a little, though he looked uncomfortable. "What can you expect, really?"

"Dunno," said Dave. "The Quiet Achiever, maybe?" He got up and went to look for Fred Harvey's business card.

"What are you doing?"

"Dunno," he repeated. "Being outraged, I guess." Dave dialled the man's mobile number.

The call was picked up right away. "Harvey here."

"Dave Goring Taylor," he announced.

"Mr Goring Taylor. What can I do for you?" There was an edge in Harvey's voice indicating that actually he could guess.