Page 151 of The Pearl Sister
‘I painted a mural of the Seven Sisters out of dots when I was younger,’ I told him. ‘I didn’t even know why I was doing it.’
‘The Ancestors were guiding you back to your country,’ Francis replied.
‘I’ve always struggled to find my style . . .’
‘As any painter of note does.’
‘This morning, when I saw the way that you and that Clifford Possum guy had mixed two styles together to create something new, I wondered about trying something like that too.’
He didn’t ask me what, just fixed his extraordinary eyes upon me. ‘Then you must try it. And soon. Don’t let the moment of inspiration pass.’
‘I won’t.’
‘And neverevercompare yourself to other artists. Whether they are better, or worse, it only leads to despair . . .’
I waited, for I knew he had more to say.
‘I fell into that trap when Cliff’s paintings began to gain national recognition. He was a genius and I miss him to this day – we were great friends. But jealousy ate into me as I watched him rise to fame and receive the adulation that I knew I would never get. There is only one seminal artist from the first generation of a new school of painting. Once it was him, it could never be me.’
‘Did you lose confidence?’ I asked.
‘Worse than that. Not only did I stop painting, but I started drinking. I left my poor wife and went walkabout for over three months. I cannot tell you the jealousy I felt, or how my art seemed pointless at that moment. It took me all that time out there alone to understand that success and fame for any true artist is a mirage. The true joy is in the creative process itself. You will always be a slave to it, and, yes, it will dominate your life, control you like a lover. But unlike a lover, it will never leave you,’ he said solemnly. ‘It’s inside you forever.’
‘When you accepted that, were you able to paint again?’ I asked.
‘I came home, drunk and broken, and my wife put me to bed and cared for me until I was physically better. The mental recovery had already begun while I was out Bush, but it took a long time for me to gather the courage to sit in front of a canvas and hold a brush again. I will never forget how my hand shook as I first picked one up again. And then finally, the freedom of knowing that I was not painting for anyone except myself, that I would probably never achieve my original goal of world domination, gave me a sense of peace and freedom I cannot describe. Since then – over the past thirty years or so – my paintings have got better and, in fact, now command huge prices, simply because I only paint when my fingers itch. Well, there we are.’
We sat in silence for a while, but it was comfortable. I was learning already that – like his painting – my grandfather would only speak when he had something to say. I also felt I’d had a massive info-dump over the past couple of days, and, a bit like a kid holding a box of sweets, I wanted to store it all in my mind-cupboard and unwrap the facts sweet by sweet. I was sure there were a lot of hungry days alone to come . . .
‘Look!’
I jumped about six inches in the air at the sound of his voice, my immediate reaction one of panic in case he was pointing out a snake or a spider.
‘Up there.’ He pointed and I followed his finger to the familiar milky cluster hanging low in the sky and as close to me as I’d ever seen it. ‘There you are.’ He walked towards me and draped his arm around my shoulder. ‘There’s your mother, Pleione, and your father, Atlas. Look, even your little sister is showing herself to us tonight.’
‘Oh my God! She’s there! I can see her!’
And Icould.Merope was as vivid as the rest of us – out here, we seemed to shine so much brighter than anywhere else.
‘She’s coming to join you all soon, Celaeno. She has finally caught up with her sisters . . .’
His hand dropped heavily to his side. Then he turned to me, reached out his arms and pulled me to him tightly. I tentatively wound my arms around his sinewy waist, then heard a strange guttural sound erupting and realised he was crying. Which then made me well up, especially as we were standing right under my sisters and Pa Salt in this incredible place. And I decided it was okay to join him in his tears.
Eventually, he drew away from me and cupped my face in his hands. ‘Can you believe it? You and me, two survivors of a powerful bloodline, standing together here, under the stars?’
‘I can’t take it in,’ I said, wiping my nose.
‘No. I just did and look what happened.’ He smiled down at me. ‘Best not to do that again. Now, are you happy to stay here with me tonight? There’s a nice bed and I’ll sleep on the couch outside.’
‘Yes,’ I said, astonishing myself, yet I had never felt so protected. ‘Er, where’s the dunny?’
‘Round the back. I’ll come with you to make sure it’s free from visitors, if you know what I mean.’
I did my business, then bolted back to the hut, where I saw that a door that led from the sitting room was ajar.
‘Just changing the sheets – Sarah would be angry if I wasn’t using clean linen for our granddaughter,’ my grandfather said as he placed a couple of spotless pillows with a pat onto the mattress.
‘Sarah was your wife?’
