Chapter 22

Perth, Part II

"Are you okay?" asked Rachel the next morning.

"I will be. Give me another day or three. I'm going to meet my dad at his office and go through some stuff. Then I want to make some calls. The we're going to have to talk."

"You make it sound so solemn."

"Serious, not solemn."

"Oscar Wilde."

"What?"

"Wilde said that 'Life is fatal, but not serious'. But I don't know where."

"That's okay. It's clever anyway."

"I want to spend a weekday with my mom at some point."

"No problem. Will you want the Rover? You could drop me at UWA and then drive there."

"Good idea. Let me call and see when she's free, then you can call Gordy."

"Right. But what else do you want to do? Anyone you want to see?"

"Art Gallery, of course. Are your folks members? No, there's no one from College I'd want to see again. Ever."

"My guess is that Weena's become something at the Cultural Centre. I'll ask. I also want to try to see Sue Carr."

"Is she still around?"

"The Channel 7 website says she is."

"I'd also like to spend some time with Al. Sort of big sister stuff."

"Advice about Alicia?"

"That, too. But they'll be nearly ten thousand kilometres apart in a bit more than a year and I doubt whether either of them is living a delusion. Anyway, I want to see the Heysen and the Museum of Modern Art stuff here."

"Okay. I'll phone now. Then you can call your folks. Maybe you can chat with Al, too. He's not in school this coming week."

I phoned and got Mum. Yes, they were supporters of the Museum. We could have the cards to get discounted or free admission to whatever there was that needed tickets. Yes I could talk to Gordy, but when were we coming over? I sort of turned her off and then she put dad on the phone. Tuesday morning would be good. Would the two of us like to meet for dinner with them? Sarah was awaiting her maths genius. I said I thought so, but would turn things over to my social secretary. Dad said he'd give the phone to his.

After a bit of chit-chat, Rachel asked "Fancy Italian or Matilda Bay?"

"Matilda Bay, if Weena can get a reserved spot." She repeated it and then smiled and got off. "She'll call us back, but she'll put pressure on them."

"They've got my sympathy."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. You've never seen Full-Metal-Jacket Weena."

"Hmmm. Anyway, I'll call my folks. You'll be with Gordy on Tuesday?"

"Right."

She went aside with her mobile. Minutes later, she had it arranged. She'd drop me off at the University on Tuesday by ten and then go off to spend the day with Miyako. Perhaps with Al, too. Weena called to say Matilda Bay at 1900 and did we want to be called for. I said no, we'd meet them there.

"Okay," I said. "Let's drive over to Kings Park, lunch at Fraser's, and just sit and read in the Botanic Gardens until dinnertime."

"Sounds good. Let me fetch that book of Clark's on the Pacific Indian Legends. What are you taking?"

"Billy Two-Toes' Rainbow. Hugh Atkinson."

"Very ethnic of you."

"No sarcasm now."

"Ri-i-i-ght."

I parked off Kings Road. It looked as though it was legal. We had a decent lunch, walked, sat and read, and got to Matilda Bay at about 1850. My mum and dad arrived a few minutes later.

Mum greeted us with: "You're flushed!"

"We've been in the winter sun all afternoon," I responded.

We were shown to a table right by the windows and caught the Indian Ocean sunset. The dinner was very fine: I gorged myself, but limited my drinking to one glass of Golden Seahorse. Mum was still pushing to learn what was bothering me, but I remained obdurate. She'd learn soon enough, but I wanted to talk to dad first – and possibly to one or two others. Rachel got her distracted by talking about the art museum and mum gave her their member cards. Dad was being relatively silent and observant. We enjoyed ourselves, left before 2200, but I reconfirmed my Tuesday morning with dad.

The next morning saw us at the museum. There was no queue at all for the MoMA show from New York, so we went through that first. Interestingly, Rachel was entranced by the Monet and the Braques and Picassos. I preferred the Pop Art (Warhol and Lichtenstein) and an OpArt piece by Bridgit Reily, the Vasarely was less interesting. We spent over 90 minutes there, and went for coffee where we talked about light, perspective and colour. We then hunted a bit before we located the Hans Heysen. It was a truly interesting landscape, especially in the way Heysen treated the sunlight.

"He must have seen some of Turner's work," said Rachel.

"Most likely. We could try to learn more when we're in Adelaide next week."

"Yes. They've got all the archival stuff."

We spent the remainder of the afternoon in the Aboriginal collection.

"There are some tales from the Washington coast about Kwatee the Changer."

"Hmm."

"Interesting that the tricksters and the creators are similar."

"No. I think that's obvious."

"Oh?"

"Sure. Making something involves making it from something -- you're tricking the senses. Even in simple things. If you make a pie, that entity is a trick so you don't ingest flour and baking powder or butter or sugar or fruit. Making – pies or poems or islands – depends on trickery."