Tears of the Moon - Di Morrissey [168]
Olivia studied her, seeing the possibility of Aboriginality in her melting brown eyes and olive skin. ‘What sort of memories?’
‘Singing. I hear singing, but not in English. Singing and campfires.’ She paused and seemed to be almost in a trance.
‘Go on,’ said Olivia in a whisper. ‘What else is there?’
‘I can remember a special night that I was the centre of everything. With my mother. But I can’t remember clearly what she looked like.’ Maria’s Up trembled.
Olivia waited and squeezed her hands gently.
Maria went on. ‘It was under the stars. Not a party … a ceremony, yes, a ceremony. And I was given something special, like a present, I suppose.’ Maria broke the clasp with Olivia and lifted her hands to a fine braid around her neck. ‘I only wear it when I go to Church,’ she explained. ‘It seems as if there is some connection between it, the Church and the memories. I just have to put it on for Church.’ She pulled the pendant from under her blouse and held it out for Olivia to see.
Olivia felt she was going to faint. The blood drained from her face as she swayed slightly and gasped.
‘Whatever’s wrong?’ exclaimed Maria. ‘Olivia, what’s wrong?’
‘The pendant … ’ said Olivia in a hoarse whisper. ‘I can’t believe it. I’ve seen it before. Many times. The pattern, that is.’ She looked at Maria more closely than ever before, searching for something that would confirm what was swirling through her mind as almost an impossibility. ‘It’s the same as Niah’s.’
Their eyes met. ‘Niah,’ repeated Maria softly. ‘Niah. I remember that name. It is one of the memories. Who was she?’
Olivia took a deep breath. She was on the point of tears. ‘Your mother, I think. Yes, your Aboriginal mother.’
Maria let the pendant drop and the two women reached out, their hands locking in support of each other. ‘My mother.’ Maria could barely say the word. ‘How can we be sure? It’s almost too much to believe. Where? When?’
‘I’m having trouble believing it, too, but the story goes back many years to when you were a baby in Broome. At least, it will if we can prove what I suspect. But everything adds up, your memories, your age, your beautiful looks, but above all your pendant. Niah told us that the pattern was special, a family totem.’
‘Us?’ queried Maria.
Olivia took another deep breath, but this time had to reach for her handkerchief and dab her eyes. ‘Your father, if you are indeed Maya,’ she said at last. ‘Your father, John Tyndall. He was a friend of ours when we lived in Broome. When I was there with my previous husband.’
‘Who was he?’
‘He’s still alive. A master pearler in Broome. I actually have shares in the pearling company he owns. My husband was a partner with him in getting it all started years ago.’
‘He’s white?’
‘Oh, yes. He and Niah … ’ It was too hard for Olivia to go on. ‘Look, we’ve got to be sure before we jump to many more conclusions.’
Maria closed her eyes. It was too much to take in. The world around her had to be shut out for at least a few seconds so that her racing mind might settle down again and let reason prevail.
‘How will we find out for sure?’ she asked, her eyes still closed.
‘We’ll have to go to Albany to see your white parents. There’s really no other way that I can see at the moment. And if we’re right, you’re not Maria but Maya. That was the name of Niah’s daughter. Maya.’
‘And Niah?’ The two words said little, but the look in her eyes said everything.
‘She’s dead, Maria. Died when you would have been quite young. I’m sorry.’
‘Whatever are you women up to?’ came a shout from the verandah and they both looked up to see Gilbert standing by the rail, shading his eyes with the Bulletin. ‘Been chatting on down there like you’d never had anyone to talk to before.’
Olivia smiled and called back to him. ‘In a way, Gilbert, you’re right. Wait till you hear what we’ve discovered.’
Shortly after the birthday party Maria and Olivia caught the train to Albany. They’d both written to Maria’s adoptive mother and father advising them that they were coming. Olivia had booked them into a hotel by telephone as the