Tears of the Moon - Di Morrissey [15]
Lily paused, noting the doors along the verandah stood open. She walked through the sandy leaf-Uttered garden, stepping up onto the wooden verandah. The section leading to private quarters was screened off by Indonesian carved wooden screens. She turned and wandered through the open doors she had noticed. Inside was a large, high-ceilinged room which Lily assumed must be the main gallery space. Fans hung from the exposed, white-painted wooden beams. Contemporary Aboriginal acrylic canvases, watercolours of local land and seascapes along with fantasy underwater scenes hung on the walls. Freestanding panels held a display of exquisite small botanical and reptile etchings executed in fine miniature detail.
A breeze blew in from the bay and for a moment Lily thought she was alone, but a short slim woman with a flurry of auburn curls and pale skin came in carrying lengths of hand-painted silk. She wore a sarong topped with a cotton camisole and leather sandals. ‘Hi,’ she said brightly. ‘You left your browsing late in the day, I was about to close.’
‘I’m sorry,’ apologised Lily. ‘I was just passing when I saw the sign and the door open … if it’s inconvenient … ‘
‘Good Lord, no,’ the woman interrupted, throwing silks over a display stand. ‘Take your time. This is all the work of local artists by the way.’
Lily looked around. ‘You have some wonderful work here. This is a great space for it. The house is obviously old—was it a home originally?’
‘Yes, and a place called Imata’s Store. These old houses are wonderful to live in. The new places don’t suit the climate. Too many people come up here and box themselves in with air-conditioners. They aren’t really part of the place. You don’t need AC’s if you build properly.’
Lily looked through the open double French doors to the bay where the sun was beginning to sink. ‘How peaceful it is.’
The woman stood beside Lily and gazed at the vista. ‘Yes. I never regret moving up here.’ She gave Lily a shrewd look. ‘A lot of divorced women like me come here. Very healing.’
Lily studied the gallery owner who looked to be in her mid- to late thirties and who exuded a calm confidence. ‘You don’t get lonely?’
The woman gave a soft laugh. ‘Not at all. Like my friends, I remarried. To a younger man. You on your own?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where are you staying?’
‘Across the road at the Conti. I was heading up to the Mangrove to watch the sunset.’
‘Would you like to join me for a glass of wine on the verandah? We have a splendid sunset viewing spot. My man and my daughter are out at a music lesson. I was looking for an excuse. I’m Deidre, by the way’
They pulled up Moses chairs made of polished twisted branches bound with vine and seats of braided leather. Deidre poured wine into two heavy glass goblets and stood the bottle on the railing. Leaning back in her chair she put her feet up beside the bottle. ‘So why are you here? You don’t look like a tourist. In fact, you almost look like a local.’ She was referring to the frangipani blooms Lily had tucked in her long hair and the loose white Hawaiian-style dress she was wearing.
Lily sipped her wine. ‘I’ve started asking a few questions about myself and some of the answers are probably here in Broome, not that I’ve got very far yet.’ Lily paused briefly. ‘I’m sorry if that sounds a little enigmatic.’
‘It sounds like a divorce.’
‘Not really. But my mother died a little while ago. That started me searching. For myself, for her, for my family, where I’m going in my own life … all that kind of thing.’
‘Most of us get to that point in life at some stage. Some ignore it and go on as