The Opal Desert (15 page)

‘I've loved your visits, too. Keep in touch. Call me occasionally, or at least email me. And get going with your art, my girl. I'm anxious to hear – and see – what you're doing. Remember, find some time for yourself.'

Kerrie nodded. ‘I just don't know how to thank you for everything.'

‘You don't have to. It's worked both ways. But there is a favour you can do for me, if it's not too much trouble.'

‘Anything. Love to,' said Kerrie.

Shirley opened her desk drawer and pulled out a small leather bag. ‘I'd like you to take this to a friend of mine in Sydney.'

‘Of course. Write down the address, phone number, or whatever I have to do.'

‘I'll tell you what it is. Just between us,' said Shirley.

‘You don't have to do that. I don't need to know anything.'

‘No, I'd like you to know. There're uncut opals in here. Old stones. I have a bit of a stash left from my Lightning Ridge days. It's sort of my superannuation.' She smiled. ‘I have an old friend, a reputable jeweller and buyer, Roth Cameron, who buys them,' she added. ‘He's a lovely man. He's semi-retired now and his son runs the business. Here's Roth's card.'

Kerrie took the small bag, surprised by how heavy it was. ‘I'll look after it very carefully and keep it in my safe at home till I meet him.'

‘Thank you, Kerrie. The stones aren't cut or polished, just snipped on each corner to get an idea of their quality. The stones are good so every now and again I cash them in.'

Kerrie zipped the pouch into her shoulder bag just as there was a call at the door.

‘Where are you, Shirl? It's me, Davo.'

‘In here. Saying goodbye to your passenger.'

‘Ah, you found Shirley, my favourite girl, the gem of Opal Lake,' said Davo as he came in, carrying some grocery bags. ‘How's it going?' he asked her. ‘I've brought you the goodies you ordered from the store. They had everything on the list.'

‘You're a good man, Davo, thanks. Dump them in the kitchen and put the coffee on, will you?'

‘Can't stay for coffee. We need to hit the road. But I'll catch up with you in a couple of days when I bring some campers out to the lake. You ready?' he asked Kerrie.

‘I was born ready,' she retorted, and turned to Shirley who gave her a smile and a wink.

‘We'll talk soon.' She hugged Shirley and kissed her surprisingly smooth cheek.

‘Drive carefully, Davo,' said Shirley firmly.

‘Hey, you know me, Shirl. Solid as rock. Steady as a tightrope walker. Promise I'll make more time next visit. Line up some wood chopping or any odd jobs.'

‘Thank you, Davo.' Shirley gave Kerrie a final wave and settled herself back in her chair.

‘Poor old duck. Doesn't get around much anymore,' said Davo as Kerrie opened her door and got into the van.

‘Maybe,' said Kerrie. ‘But she's a very smart lady. Lovely person.'

‘Yeah, not a lot gets past Shirley. Knows where all the skeletons are buried.'

Davo started the engine and they drove out of Opal Lake.

When they got back to Broken Hill, Kerrie paid Davo the money she owed him for picking her up and collected her car. It seemed ages since she'd left it and impetuously taken the tour to White Cliffs and Opal Lake. As she drove back to Sydney she thought about the last few days. In some way that she couldn't yet define, she felt she'd jumped a hurdle and her life had changed.

But when she went into the Rose Bay house and knew Milton would never come smiling through the door to meet her and was greeted, instead, by the scattered possessions of the girls who'd obviously visited and not tidied up, Kerrie came to a decision. Things were going to change around here. She wasn't sure how, but for one thing she was going to start painting seriously.

After she'd been home for a week, she called Roth Cameron and made a time to meet him at his store in Pitt Street to give him Shirley's parcel. Kerrie took out the ring she'd found and looked at it again. Would it be worthwhile cleaning it up? She decided to take it with her and see what Roth could do with it. Perhaps he could even identify the stone.

Cameron's was one of Sydney's older jewellers, the type that were now gradually being replaced by international designer storefronts of tubular steel, expensive carpets and spectacular lighting. Kerrie liked the cosy, old-fashioned store, with its antique display cases of jewellery, china and crystal. Comfortable leather chairs, mirrors, a vase of flowers and subdued carpet gave it a special feel. In one corner a young couple were intently studying a tray of engagement rings.

A woman around Kerrie's age smiled at her as she entered. ‘Good afternoon. Can I help you with something or do you just want to browse?'

‘I have an appointment with Mr Cameron. I'm Kerrie Faranisi.'

‘Roth's in his office. I'll just buzz him.' She leant over and pressed a small button under the counter.

‘Thank you.' Kerrie sat in one of the chairs to wait, glancing at the sparkling gems in a cabinet.

Roth Cameron appeared almost immediately. A smiling, white-haired man, he had courtly manners and Kerrie liked him instantly.

‘Shirley sends her best wishes.'

‘Thank you, thank you. How is she doing? I do worry about her in such an isolated place.'

‘She seems fine and as sharp as a tack. I enjoyed her company immensely. We had a great time together.'

Roth ushered Kerrie into his small office, which held a desk, two chairs and shelves of books, along with jars of stones, old-fashioned weighing scales and a large oyster shell, complete with pearl blisters, containing paperclips and rubber bands.

Kerrie opened her handbag and took out the old leather pouch. ‘This is from Shirley.'

‘Some more of her collection. She lets them go when she needs some money. Have you seen them?'

Kerrie shook her head. ‘No, not at all. She told me that these are opals that she found.'

‘From quite a few years back, now. Lovely pieces. Sometimes they're from Opal Lake and sometimes from Lightning Ridge. She's a bit cagey, sells them off gradually. A sort of life insurance, I suppose.'

He spread the rough opal stones across the blotter on his desk. Initially they looked unprepossessing. But then as Roth picked up each one and examined it, Kerrie saw that a small section had been rubbed off the back and polished, showing the glittering quality of the stone.

‘Gem crystal. Beautiful. These will cut into lovely stones,' said Roth. He picked up his magnifier and peered more closely at each piece of opal. ‘Hmm. I remember the mine these came from. Shirley and her partner abandoned it, convinced that the seam was finished. Years later the place was open-cut and another good patch of opal showed up. You just can't tell with opal finds, so much luck involved.'

‘Will you turn these into jewellery or sell the stones?' asked Kerrie, amazed at the vibrancy of the shifting patterns of colour.

‘Both. I just make the occasional piece now. My son runs our businesses and he has a lot of young modern designers, but he gets me to make pieces for some of our older clients. Those who can afford custom-made jewellery.' He picked up another stone and began separating them into piles.

‘You say “businesses” – you have more than this shop?' asked Kerrie.

Roth put down the eyepiece. ‘I've had a few offers to sell, take part in joint ventures or set up franchises of this business. But since I'm semi-retired, my son, Timothy, runs with the expansion.' He smiled and lifted an eyebrow. ‘He's made quite a decent fist of it. You've heard of Diamond Rose Jewellers?'

‘Of course. Their shops are everywhere. They're a more affordable chain of jewellery shops, aren't they? Not as exclusive as this one?'

‘That's how Tim describes it. He wanted to bring real gems to new customers. There's always a place for costume jewellery but there's nothing like owning a genuine stone, and he's tried to make them more affordable for more people. Australia has some remarkable natural gemstones, of which opal, of course, is queen.'

‘I love Broome pearls, too,' confessed Kerrie. ‘And Kimberley diamonds.'

‘Well, that's the high end of the market! There are a lot of wonderful gemstones that aren't so expensive, but they tend to go in and out of fashion. The coloured topaz for example.' He lifted up one of the opals. ‘But nothing beats opal. They've made synthetic ones, but you can spot them straight away. Real opals are so alive. The movement and play of colour is different every time you look at it.'

Kerrie smiled at the enthusiasm in his voice. ‘I love the way everyone's so passionate about opals. I'm beginning to understand the attraction. Talking of unusual stones, I found a ring out at the lake and it has intrigued me. I'm wondering if you can tell me anything about it and if it would be worthwhile having it restored.'

‘Of course. Be delighted to give you my opinion.'

Kerrie took the ring from her handbag and handed it to Roth. ‘It must have been buried a long time because it certainly needs cleaning.'

Roth studied the setting, wiped the surface of the stone and peered at it closely through his magnifier. Kerrie watched his expression change as he turned to her.

‘It's an opal. But damaged, although the few scratches might polish out.'

‘It's an opal?' said Kerrie. ‘I suppose that makes sense, considering where I found it.'

‘Yes, though we won't know how good an opal it is till I have a go at polishing it.' He turned it over. ‘It's a solid stone, not sliced and layered. And an interesting setting. Looks like it could have been made in the 1920s.'

‘Do you think it's been out there all that time? Surely not,' said Kerrie. ‘I wonder who owned it.'

‘Let's wait and see how it comes up and then we'll have a better idea of how old it is,' said Roth. ‘I'll be in touch when I get it done, if you like. And thank you for delivering Shirley's parcel. I'll send her an email as soon as I know what's here and I can give her a price.'

‘It's been lovely talking to you, Roth.'

‘I'm sure we'll meet again.' They shook hands and he escorted her out of the shop and watched her walk down Pitt Street. In their short meeting he was struck by what an intelligent woman Kerrie was, although he detected a sad air beneath her friendliness. He could see why she and Shirley would get on so well in spite of the age difference.

*

Kerrie felt different since her return from her outback trip, and others noticed it. The girls, who rarely paid much attention to her, commented to each other that their stepmother seemed to have changed a bit.

‘Probably looking forward to spending all of our father's money,' said Renata cattily.

They still came and went from the Rose Bay house, which they continued to treat as an open house. They invited friends to the house and sat by the pool without bothering to ask or even consult Kerrie. Eventually Kerrie decided to leave them to their own devices, and didn't bother to supply food and drinks for their parties.

Late one afternoon, when she was alone emptying out some cupboards and playing her favourite music, the phone rang and a pleasant voice introduced himself as Tim Cameron.

‘You saw my father, Roth. As I was coming past your house this afternoon, he asked me if I could drop a small package in for you.'

‘Of course. My ring. You don't need to make a special trip. I didn't expect that. It's just a little curiosity . . .' began Kerrie.

‘I have to visit one of our shops in Double Bay, so I'm actually quite close to your place. I'll be happy to pop in and give it to you. The ring cleaned up really well. I'd like to show it to you.'

‘Great!' Kerrie ran a hand through her hair. ‘I've been doing a bit of spring cleaning. If you'll give me a few minutes . . .'

‘Of course. I won't hold you up. My father said you'd just come back from Opal Lake with some opal from Shirley. He's sending a bottle of wine over with me to say thank you for that. How is Shirley?'

‘Terrific. Amazing woman. I'll find some cheese and biscuits to go with the wine. See you in what, ten minutes?'

‘Make it fifteen. I think you'll like the ring,' he said. ‘See you shortly.'

Kerrie brushed her hair, put on some lipstick and perfume, and threw on a clean top over her jeans. How nice the Camerons seemed, to have gone to so much trouble for her. Perhaps they were being this kind because she was a friend of Shirley's. Not that it mattered. Tim sounded pleasant, like his father, and after two days of being alone in the house and not seeing anyone the idea of a social drink was appealing.

Timothy Cameron shook her hand, smiling broadly. ‘I hope this isn't an intrusion. Dad sends his best and said that he enjoyed chatting with you. He's down on his farm this week, which is why he asked me to return your ring.'

‘Come in. Really, there was no rush about the ring, but thank you for bringing it.'

Tim followed Kerrie down the hallway, pausing to admire a small bronze statue on a pedestal in the hallway. ‘Beautiful. It's one of your late husband's, I presume? I've seen his work. Brilliant sculptor. I'm sorry about his sudden death. You must miss him.'

‘Yes, I do.' Kerrie glanced at the sculpture. ‘It's called “Centaur with Pipes”. He did a larger version in polychrome wood. It's in the Tate gallery.' She led him to the terrace where she'd set out glasses and a platter with cheese, olives and bread rolls. ‘Very basic fare, but I'm peckish. I was busy and forgot to stop for lunch. It seems rather decadent to have such a lovely wine with such rustic food,' said Kerrie rather apologetically as she glanced at the wine label. ‘Please thank your father.'

Tim put a small velvet bag with ‘Cameron's'
in gold printed on it, onto the table.

‘I'll get an ice bucket.'