Tears of the Moon - Di Morrissey [23]
Deidre plucked Rosie away for official introductions and Lily thanked her for taking the time to talk to her.
Rosie gave her a friendly smile. ‘I’m sure we’ll meet again. By the way, there’s a couple of works over there you might be interested in,’ she said, nodding towards the far corner of the room.
Lily lifted a fresh glass of champagne off a tray and wandered over to the last few pictures she hadn’t seen. But as she approached, the largest one caught her eye and her legs began to tremble. In a beautiful, subtle rendering of the burning colours of the earth around the north-west, Rosie had painted in traditional style a pattern that Lily instantly recognised—small white circles within a large white circle surrounded by the parallel lines and large X. She spun around, her hand shaking so much she spilled her champagne. But the official launch of the art show was now in progress. Lily edged around the back of the crowd to the small table where a girl was selling catalogues and taking sales orders.
Lily leaned down and whispered, ‘Please put a red sticker on number nineteen, I must have it.’
The girl checked the catalogue and shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, that’s not for sale.’
Lily swallowed, mumbled her thanks and waited impatiently for the speeches to end.
There was no opportunity to speak to Rosie alone, so she excused herself and intruded on the small group clustered around the artist. ‘Rosie, I so wanted to buy one of your paintings, but the one I want isn’t for sale. I was hoping I could change your mind.’
Rosie heard the note of urgency in Lily’s voice and the group fell silent. ‘Which one do you want?’
Lily pointed and saw the swift expression pass across Rosie’s face before she said,’ I include that picture in every exhibition. I will never part with it. It’s special.’
‘What does it mean?’ Lily persisted. ‘It’s very important to me to know.’
Rosie looked directly at Lily for a few seconds without speaking. ‘Well, it’s one of those paintings where you must discover its meaning for yourself.’ The cluster of people looked at Lily expectantly. To soften her words Rosie added kindly, ‘Perhaps one day you’ll come to read its true meaning. Here’s my card.’
As Lily turned away feeling close to tears, fumbling to put the small white card in her handbag, Rosie called after her, ‘I can tell you this much—remember that the picture is called “Tears of the Moon”.’
At ten the next morning Lily stepped into the air-conditioned Historical Society building. A bustling lady, casually dressed in slacks and a blouse, her permed brown hair in perfect order, glasses hanging on a beaded gold chain, was carrying a pile of labelled binders of photos, letters and newspaper cuttings, which she placed in order on a shelf beside the others she’d completed. She spotted Lily and went to the little reception desk to take her entrance fee.
‘Just looking in general are you, dear?’ She put her glasses on her nose.
‘Yes and no,’ began Lily.
The lady gave her a quizzical look.
‘Yes I’m here to look at everything, and I also want to do some research. My name is Lily Barton. Oh, and by the way, I visited Beagle Bay and Brother William suggested you might like to keep this here for safekeeping.’ She took the old journal from her bag. ‘However, I would like to read it first if that’s all right.’
‘Goodness, yes. Well that was nice of him. I’d heard about this.’ She thumbed through it and handed it back to Lily. ‘I’m Muriel McGrath. How can I help?’
‘I’m not sure, perhaps I should just look around firstand when you’ve got a minute I’ll ask you some questions.’
‘Righto, dear. I’ll put the kettle on. Tea or coffee? Only instant, I’m afraid.’
‘Coffee would be fine, thank you.’
‘This is the main room—there’s some memorabilia in here and in those shelves are files, books, newspapers, letters, photos, you name it. We have a lot from the old families, rescued in the nick of time most of it was too.’ She waved towards the rear of the room, which opened on to a small garden. ‘Back there are two other