Chapter 72

We were barely in the Lexus when I told Rachel: "I've got to apologize to Winnie and Sandra."

"Hmmm?"

"I was rude."

"I know. You've always been that way. When you get irritated, you respond. When you protected me when we were little; when you feel others are mistreated. Tonight you felt that the bloke from Manchester was treating us like students. Well, we are students; but in that situation, we were guests; as he was. So you responded to his disdain."

"Another drongo."

"Yes. But, you want to let Winnie and Sandra know that they're still OK. I know Winnie'll be busy with these blokes. Just send her an email. Sandra, too."

"I wonder what will become of these guys in six months."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if Scotland votes for independence, will these four continue to cooperate? Will the Australian galleries send things to an independent Scotland? Or, for that matter, to a rump UK?"

"You do have deviant thoughts! If I see Glasgow and Edinburgh again, I may ask them."

I parked the car. "Want to go for a bite? I'm still hungry."

"You shouldn't have gone walkabout before dessert!"

"Right!" So we went for coffee and sweets.

"Henry's leaving."

"What?"

"Henry's leaving. That volcano near where his parents live opened a new vent and he's flying to Honolulu and then Hilo to help them to move."

It was June. Sarah had finished the first part of her course and Rachel and I were at the end of the term at Sydney.

Kilaeuea has been continuously erupting since 1983, but lava began flowing from a new vent on 27 June, moving 800ft a day.

Lava flows from the volcano previously wiped out neighborhoods in 1990.

"I understand him. It's quite amazing. There's that volcano in Iceland, too. I wish I understood more about geology."

"You just want to know everything!"

"Of course. That way I'll never get bored. You know Fitz Roy, the Captain of the Beagle, thought the seashells and fossils in the Andes were the traces of the Biblical flood. He insisted that Darwin's notions about millions of years were mere blasphemy and that the world was under 6000 years old. All strong beliefs are the enemies of science."

"What about all those tales?"

"They aren't what I think of as beliefs. I don't think the kangaroo nungungi believed that the hills and waterholes were made by the writhings of the great serpent. It was a way for ancient peoples to explain observable phenomena. Children don't think the Just-So Stories are true. You didn't, did you?"

"No, I guess not. Your dad once told us that all the stories narrated a deeper truth. Like the deeper magic that Aslan talks about that Jadis doesn't know."

"Look at fables – from Aesop to George Orwell. We don't think the frogs petitioned Zeus for a king; nor that a fox and a crow can talk to each other; nor that the animals make rules about sleeping in beds. In every case, the animals stand for human traits. Industrious ants; the methodical tortoise. But we remember the stories and we internalize the morals: 'slow and steady wins the race, ' and so on."

"True. I never thought that the armadillo stemmed from a tortoise trying to bend."

"Nor that the rhino got wrinkly from the sand under his skin." Rachel laughed. "Anyway, Henry's selling his motorcycle. He posted it at the Gallery and there were two blokes in an hour and a third not far behind."

"He should line them up and sell to the tallest. That way he can sell his leathers, too." She laughed some more. "Anyway, does Sarah know?"

"Oh, yes. They see each other. Just not hot and heavy. But my dear sister-in-law has made good use of having her own pied-a-terre."

I held up my hands. "Too much information."

"And I'm wondering about my dear brother. We've hardly heard from him since he paid you back."

"True. Why don't you call him. We could see them over the coming weekend."

Rachel picked up her cell and walked into the bedroom; I looked at the Williams.

"He'd love dinner tonight, but it's not the same 'they'."

"Off with the old love, on with the new?"

"I suppose so. Al suggests a Malaysian place in North Ryde."

"Fine with me. Will you find something un-spicy?" She went back to her phone.

"Al, how dressy? ... Oh, OK ... In about an hour? Fine."

She looked at me. "Not dressy. He'll make a booking. We should park in the MickeyD's lot."

"Anything about her?"

"She's called 'Eddie'."

"Not helpful. We'll find out, I guess."

On the drive north, we talked about art losses. Rachel said that Winnie was concerned about returning a sculpture of Ardhanariswara, which fuses Shiva and his consort Pravati in a half man-half woman form, to India. It had been stolen and illegally exported by a bloke on trial in India. There was also a far more valuable bronze of Shiva as lord of the dance being returned by Canberra.

We located Sambal easily and parked. Al and a girl in cargo pants and a sweatshirt were waiting.

She was smallish with brown hair and brown eyes. "Al talks about you all the time," she said.

"Well, today's the first time he's mentioned you," Rachel riposted.

"Really?"

"Really. Though I have to admit I've not called him a lot..."

"True," I interjected, "But he's not called us, either."

"Hey! Stop picking on me!"

"Do you share classes?" Rachel asked.

"Oh, far from it! I limit my maths to keeping out of credit card debt!" Eddie had a pleasant laugh. "I'm doing cultural anthropology. My dad forced me into it."

"Forced you?" I was incredulous.

"In a way. He's a diplomat of sorts. Let's sit down and chat, it's chilly out here."

Inside Sambal, Eddie was greeted by an older woman who spoke to her in a language that was neither Chinese nor Japanese. We were immediately seen to a table for four. "Let her do her thing," Al muttered to us.