'What has happened, Mollie, please? Speak slowly and tell me ... what has happened?'

The young woman swayed from side to side as she continued, her hands wringing. 'Mem, it Doc Shaw no good. Him sick. In hospital.'

Olivia felt faint for a moment, then drawing breath she grasped Mollie by the shoulders. 'Tell me what is wrong with him. Was there an accident?'

'I dunno, mem. He fall down and no can move. He in hospital.' Olivia turned and headed out the door feeling like she had been winded by a blow from a fist.

She rushed to Fremantle Hospital and a sympathetic matron took her to Gilbert's bedside, explaining that he had suffered a serious stroke. 'It happened two days ago and he is still unconscious. At the moment we have no idea how serious the effects will be. He may recover quite adequately ... or ... '

'Or he may never come out of his coma,' finished Olivia.

It was a shock to her to see Gilbert lying in the hospital bed, his skin greyish white. Suddenly he looked so frail and thin and very old. As she sat by him, taking his hand, the medical superintendent whom they knew well, came into the room. 'My dear Mrs Shaw ... this is a dreadful state of affairs. Not good at all. So glad you're here, it will surely help.'

'Doctor Harrington, please tell me what happened and what's the outlook.'

'It's looking a bit grim at the moment. But you never know with these cases. Seen fellows just open their eyes and they're perfectly all right. It seems he got out of bed during the night and was struck down. Your girl found him in the morning in the middle of the floor. Seems he regained consciousness for a moment after they got him here, just briefly. He called for you and lapsed back again.'

Olivia tightened her grip on Gilbert's hand and stared at the apparently sleeping man. Although, studying his face, it appeared more that he was floating in some dreamless state. She leaned close to him. 'Gilbert, can you hear me? It's me, Olivia. I'm here, dearest.'

'I would suggest you stay with him, talk to him, touch him, as much as you can. Just in case he can hear you or sense you're here. It'll help. One of my cases, when he came to, said all the time he seemed to be out of it, he was totally aware of what was going on around him. But he couldn't see, move or speak. Very frustrating.'

Olivia looked from the doctor to Gilbert, a feeling of despair, pain and pity enveloping her. 'Of course I'll spend as much time as possible with him.'

The doctor patted her shoulder. 'Don't neglect your other duties, or yourself, my dear. We are doing all we can ... but, I'm afraid, in these situations we have to let nature take its course.'

The hours pa.s.sed slowly and Olivia began to feel she was caught in a time warp. Her emotions were in turmoil and she tried not to think of Tyndall, but when she did the sight of Gilbert wrenched her heart and caused pangs of guilt.

She read to him, talked to him and gently rubbed his arms, legs and feet. Two days after her return from Broome-which now seemed another world-when she feared Gilbert was going to waste away, she looked up from the book she was reading aloud to find his eyes open and staring intently at her.

Olivia started and gasped, 'Gilbert! Can you speak, can you hear me? How do you feel?'

He didn't move. She took his hand and leaned close but the limpness in his grip, the rigid set of his face and unblinking gaze caused her initial joy to quaver. She rushed for a nurse.

They fed him and bathed him and carried out tests but none elicited any physical or emotional response. Olivia let his fingers he in the palm of her hand hoping for some flicker in answer to her questions. And while he couldn't make any movement, not even to blink, Olivia knew to the depths of her being that behind the intense staring grey eyes, that Gilbert was fully aware of everything about him.

They worked on his shrunken muscles and sat him outside in the sun in a wheelchair. He was able to swallow so they fed him slightly more substantial foods. Olivia now felt free to take breaks from her bedside vigil to spend time at Shaw House overseeing administrative and personal matters.

Then came the hardest task of all-writing to Tyndall.

My darling John, This is the hardest letter to write ... we have all been struck a cruel blow. I do not understand how it is that when I have happiness in my grasp it is s.n.a.t.c.hed away from me. I wonder if I am being punished ...

Gilbert has suffered a dreadful stroke and is totally incapacitated. He needs me and, although he appears as a vegetable, I know inside he is fully conscious. So I cannot turn my back on him. Even if I believed he was not aware I could not abandon him. If I was to do so I believe our own guilt would destroy our love. You have Maya now, and our beautiful shared granddaughter, so it comforts me you aren't alone. I long for your arms, your lips, your laughter, and you know that you are the love and light of my life. But I have a moral responsibility to Gilbert and I don't believe you would ask me to cast this aside. Maybe some day, somehow, you and I will be together. But for now and the unforeseeable future it is not to be.

Always, Olivia Weeks pa.s.sed. Gilbert settled into a routine and Olivia began to think about taking him home. Tyndall sent a brief broken-hearted note ... I wanted to rip the stars from the sky, I wept at the injustice of it, but much as my heart breaks and I, too, long for you, I recognise your predicament and respect your decision. I suppose that is one of the reasons I love you so much-you are good, honest and loyal, my darling. My love will never waver and I am always here. As always, my beloved, if you need me I will come at once ... I wanted to rip the stars from the sky, I wept at the injustice of it, but much as my heart breaks and I, too, long for you, I recognise your predicament and respect your decision. I suppose that is one of the reasons I love you so much-you are good, honest and loyal, my darling. My love will never waver and I am always here. As always, my beloved, if you need me I will come at once ...

Maya offered to come back and help nurse Gilbert but Olivia said it was better if she could help Tyndall with Star of the Sea. Toby and Mabel also sent kind thoughts.

After talking to the doctors, Olivia eventually came to a decision. She would look after Gilbert herself and hope there might come some sort of 're-awakening'.

It was a detailed process but Olivia slowly worked her way through the necessary steps. She could not run Shaw House on her own and, while medical colleagues of Gilbert's had been on call, it was his inspiration that had been the driving force. She went to see the hospital board and persuasively argued the case for them to take over Shaw House as a kind of alternative clinic. Church and political leaders agreed to support it. The volunteers would continue, funding was a.s.sured thanks to the wise investment money from the original benefactor. Following newspaper stories about the tragedy of Doctor Shaw and the determination of his wife that his work not be lost, even more donations flowed in, a.s.suring the home's future.

Olivia sold her house in Fremantle and also Gilbert's family home. With the proceeds, she bought a large one storey house on a hill on the outskirts of Perth surrounded by several acres of unkept garden, open ground and a few trees. It had beautiful views over the city to the river which she thought Gilbert would enjoy. She remained convinced that, despite his inanimate appearance, under the surface he could see and feel and think.

After the weeks of activity she welcomed the quietude that came with settling into the new house. She had a nurse's aide come each day and, with Mollie's help, Olivia was able to move Gilbert from bed to his bathchair. She hired Mollie's boyfriend, Stan, a shy, strong-shouldered Aboriginal, to help in the garden.

Olivia designed a small gazebo which Stan built in the central part of the garden, a shady retreat near the house where Gilbert could enjoy the garden and views. Stan also laid out paths so Olivia could easily push the bathchair.

She tried to stave off occasional bouts of sadness and self-pity when they struck. But she could not ignore the fact that she was still a relatively young woman with desires and needs and that far away was the man she knew could fulfil them and make her happy. But always there was the constant reminder of the man she had married and her loyalty to him.

So what began as a distraction became an absorbing occupation for Olivia. She plunged into gardening and became absolutely fascinated by the wildflowers of the west.

'Gilbert, just look at this extraordinary bush orchid. It's such a lovely blue and this one, it's just like a leopard's coat. Stan has collected some kangaroo paw plants and so many others that I've yet to learn about. Some of them are like little daisies, growing in a carpet over the ground in the spring. They harmonise with the land, Gilbert. Have to if they're to survive in such inhospitable circ.u.mstances. They seem to thrive in the worst possible soil. Mollie doesn't think I can cultivate these bush flowers, but so far we are doing well, don't you think, dear?' She stood beside his bathchair as they looked out at the informal garden beds and terraces Olivia had designed. Arbours sheltered plants and other flowers encircled the base of the shady trees. There were also splashes of colour from beds of English flowers, for Olivia loved her memories of English gardens in the spring. Cut and arranged indoors, they made the house seem so much brighter.

Crossing from the laundry, Minnie watched Georgie sitting in the garden playing with the wooden pegs, pushing them into the ground, lining them up in rows and addressing her troops with a frown and a shaking finger.

'Giving back some of the medicine she gets herself,' thought Minnie.

She found Maya in the kitchen, put her pile of clean linen to one side, and announced, 'Maya, time you went to your mob. You gotta take that girlie, too. Yep, it's time you saw your people. They know you is found, they be very anxious, wondering why you not go t'see them.'

'My mob? You mean my mother's people?'

'Our people. We is all one mob, one way and t'other.'

Maya pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table looking thoughtful. Minnie began making a pot of tea, realising a talk was coming. 'Don' you ever think about your people? Your real people, eh love?'

Maya didn't answer for a moment. She found she was struggling with years of mission education, white culture and lifestyle that forbade this ruminating. She had been trained to forget so much-her language, her culture, her beliefs, even her people, her family. Layers of another life had been papered over her, concealing who she really was. When she spoke, her voice was a whisper. 'I've never been allowed to talk about this. And I trained myself not to, it made it easier to deal with things that way. But since I've been back here there's been a lot to deal with-my father, Olivia and Hamish, all of you, trying to help Georgie understand and settle. I've been feeling confused and, while I'm so happy to have found my way back, something has been worrying me.' She drew a breath, her voice stronger. 'I suppose it's having to come to terms with who I really am. The Barstows hid the fact I was part Aboriginal and I only have vague memories of my early years here and of my mother.'

Minnie plonked the teapot on the table with a thump and leaned across and looked into Maya's face. 'You ashamed of being black, eh girl?' Minnie demanded.

Maya recoiled slightly at the outburst but didn't turn away from being confronted. 'To be honest, Minnie, I don't know. I don't think so. But it's hard when you've been brought up one way ... '

'Meaning bein' black is inferior ... ' interjected Minnie.

'Yes, that's how a lot of people thought and I couldn't understand my feelings. At times I felt different to other people the Barstows mixed with, and girls at school. Yet I didn't have any contact with Aboriginal people. Never really thought about it. Whenever memories came up-like dreams-I pushed them away. And now being here and knowing my story, I feel I never knew who I was. And I regret that, and resent the people who took it away from me. But to answer your question, no Minnie, I'm not ashamed of being part of "your mob" as you say.'

'But you gotta learn to be proud. That's the difference, girl. You won't know who you really are till you pick up all them threads that is part of your family. You weave 'em together and you have it all neat.' Minnie topped up the cups. 'They might've told you this an' that, and you might've lived in a city and worn nice clothes and proper shoes and lived like a white girl, but they can never take away what is in your head and your heart. That's your true one, Maya. And until you find and know who you really are, you can't live happy.'

Maya sipped her tea and gave a tremulous smile. 'That sounds right to me. I guess it's certainly time to go and see my family again.'

Minnie nodded with satisfaction. 'The little one should go too, though she's a bit young for the ceremony, to understand what that means.' Minnie pointed to the pendant around Maya's neck. 'Your father understands all this. You tell him Minnie said it's time you go south.'

Tyndall agreed immediately when Maya told him of her conversation with Minnie. 'The old girl is right. These women have played an important part in our life ... they are connected to your great-grandmother, your mother, you. They've played an important role in Olivia's life, too. It's a journey you must make, with Georgie.'

'I'm a little nervous, but really looking forward to it.'

'Listen to them, Maya. Not everyone does. Re-tie the knot with your family. I let go of mine and when I thought about making contact it was too late. You and Georgie are all the family I have.' He dropped his arm about her shoulders and hugged her to him. 'Tell you what, I'll sail you down. We'll take Minnie, make it a sort of family pilgrimage.'

On the trip south on the Mist, Mist, Tyndall and Minnie sat on the deck with Georgie and Maya while Ahmed took the wheel. Tyndall told stories about the clan, about how they helped Olivia give birth to little James, the stories Niah had told him of her life and the tales her Maca.s.san grandmother had told her of the family in the land of Marege at the end of the monsoon winds. Tyndall and Minnie sat on the deck with Georgie and Maya while Ahmed took the wheel. Tyndall told stories about the clan, about how they helped Olivia give birth to little James, the stories Niah had told him of her life and the tales her Maca.s.san grandmother had told her of the family in the land of Marege at the end of the monsoon winds.

As they swung in close to the coast near Cossack, Maya spent a lot of time sitting quietly on deck looking at the sh.o.r.e, taking in the wild semi-arid beauty of it all and feeling for the first time in her life a real sense of belonging. Minnie sat nearby, also content to be with her own thoughts. At first Maya thought this sense of belonging was coming from the sea, for there was something comforting about the steady surging progress of the schooner through the ocean, relying on the wind, on nature. She couldn't help but think about her ancestors who in the distant past had sailed these winds, these waters. Like her, they had been on a journey, a journey with many unknowns. But it was now the land that dominated her thoughts. There was a harshness about it that was uninviting, yet she was increasingly conscious that the land was reaching out to her somehow. She felt a slowly rising excitement and an impatience to get ash.o.r.e, to feel earth under her feet. It was hard to understand, impossible to explain, so she said nothing.

Minnie broke the silence. 'Gettin' close to our country. That one bilong our mob I reckon,' she said, indicating a broken spiral of smoke that suddenly rose from a headland.

Maya felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up and smiled at her father and he smiled back. 'We'll be dropping anchor in a bit.'

No sooner had the schooner settled into the anchorage than a group of Aborigines walked out of the scrub and onto the beach, waving and cooeeing.

'How did they know we were here?' asked Maya, puzzled by the unexpected appearance of the welcoming party.

'Bush telegraph,' replied Tyndall enigmatically. 'Don't ask me to explain it. Just believe it works.'

The dinghy was surrounded as soon as some of the men had hauled it up on the beach. There was huge excitement among the women at the sight of Maya, because of the pendant she was wearing outside her blouse. Maya stood beside the boat smiling at everyone as Tyndall went through the formalities of briefly acknowledging the elders in their language and Minnie was emotionally greeted by women and children. Then Tyndall turned and took Maya's hand. 'You remember Niah,' he announced, raising his voice above the babble. 'This is her daughter Maya.'

There were astonished gasps and several of the old women wept as they came forward to touch Maya.

Little Georgie, who was still sitting wide-eyed in the dinghy, was suddenly very frightened by the chatter of strange language and a wave of naked black children that fell into the boat all around her. 'Mum,' she screamed, but it was Minnie who rushed to her rescue and swept her up. She then shouted to the mob that the little girl was Maya's daughter, and there was another outburst of excited cries, and more tears. And as the old women crowded around to touch Georgie's fair skin, and look into her eyes, Georgiana began to howl. Maya pushed through the throng and took her from Minnie and with Tyndall's help quickly quietened her.

Everyone then trekked up the beach, along a winding trail and up a small escarpment to the campsite beside a freshwater stream. Maya and Minnie walked hand in hand with some of the women, Minnie acting as interpreter of the unceasing chat. Georgiana rode on Tyndall's shoulders, her hands tightly clenching his supporting hands.

They all sat under shady trees while a billy was boiled. Tyndall talked to a group of men while Minnie filled in the women with the full details of Maya's life, a story that to Maya seemed to be of epic proportions, for Minnie liked nothing better than telling a good story, and the audience liked nothing better than hearing one.

Several women came forward with sh.e.l.ls etched with designs similar to that on the pendant worn by Maya. 'Your aunties,' said Minnie, leaving the complexities of Aboriginal relationships to be explained later.

All the while Georgiana clung to her mother's arm, but Maya was barely conscious of the child. She was completely overcome by a flood of confusing emotions. It was with relief that she heard Minnie announce that it was 'time for a cuppa'.

With shouting and laughter several dampers were produced from the ashes, a tin of treacle that Tyndall had brought ash.o.r.e in his pack of gifts was opened, and tea ladled into chipped enamel mugs. To Maya it tasted like the best food and drink she had ever had, and across the lip of her mug she caught her father's admiring look and they both winked at each other and smiled. The smile from her father was all that kept back the tears, though her eyes were wet.

After the snack the women took Maya for a walk, leaving the children and men behind. 'Gonna see some special place,' was all Minnie would tell Tyndall, who knew better than to ask questions. Maya gave him a little over-the-shoulder wave as they set out and Tyndall waved back while Georgiana clung to his leg and began to weep quietly.

Tyndall crouched down. 'Now then, Georgie, let's go with the kids to the swimming hole and have some fun.'

The rock pool below a small waterfall which was downstream from the camp had a convenient fallen tree for a diving board, and rope hanging from another tree provided a fine swing over the pool. Everyone except Georgie had a great time. She was conscious of her white skin, hated the nudity of everyone and was embarra.s.sed because she couldn't understand any of the language. 'I want to go back to the boat, Poppa,' was her repeated demand.

As the sun set Maya asked Tyndall to send a swag ash.o.r.e as she wanted to stay the night in the camp. She was happy to let Georgiana go back to the boat. 'It's all too much for her,' said Maya as she gave her daughter a big affectionate hug. 'You wait for me on the boat with Poppa. I'll see you in the morning. Maybe you can catch a big fish for lunch.' It was a prospect that delighted Georgie and she gave her mother a kiss.

That night, after putting Georgiana to sleep with his version of the story of Goldilocks, Tyndall sat on the deck smoking his pipe. He could see the glow of the campfires above the treeline, hear the chant of songs, the haunting drone of the didgeridoo and the throbbing of music sticks. He thought of Niah and once more offered up a prayer of thanks for the gift of Maya.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.

Over the next two years Olivia turned their garden into a showplace. On a sunny morning with a hint of autumn crispness, Olivia sat by Gilbert, her head bent over a crewel-work cushion cover as she st.i.tched the formal bouquet of roses. She paused to look about her garden and said to her husband, 'I'm thinking maybe I might put in a rose bed. A token gesture to the old country. Cream and pink roses would be nice, don't you think?'

She had become used to the one-sided conversations with Gilbert, but wondered what sort of company she'd be in the social world these days. Olivia rarely went out, and, apart from local shopping expeditions and very occasional trips into the city, she talked only to Mollie and Stan, who were now married.

Mollie and Stan had made a trip back to Broome when Minnie had died suddenly and peacefully.

Mabel Metta had written to Olivia ... 'she was pegging out the washing and fell down, gone, just like that. She had been quite ill with influenza which caused many deaths among the blacks. Alf has gone north to stay at the mission where he has relatives and will be well cared for ... ' 'she was pegging out the washing and fell down, gone, just like that. She had been quite ill with influenza which caused many deaths among the blacks. Alf has gone north to stay at the mission where he has relatives and will be well cared for ... '

Olivia tucked the blanket around Gilbert's stick-thin legs and adjusted it around his chest saying, 'I'm going for a bit of a wander. See if I can settle on a possie for the roses. Wind is getting up, don't want you to get a chill ... ' She was about to turn away but before she lifted her hand it was grasped in a shaking claw grip. Stunned, she looked down to see Gilbert's fingers scratching at her wrist. Then as she stared at him, unable to speak from shock, his head lurched to one side and his mouth twitched.

'Gilbert! You can move! Can you speak? Oh, my dear! You're coming back to us!' She took his hand and felt the faint trembling as he held her hand. His mouth tried to form a word but no sound came and it seemed no other movement was possible. But this was a major breakthrough. Shaking with shock and relief she patted his hand. 'Wait, I'll get Stan. We must get the doctor. This is wonderful.'

She rushed to the house calling for Mollie and Stan. Panting, she told Stan to ride his bicycle to Doctor MacDonald and ask him to drive up immediately.

'Mollie, please make tea and bring it to the gazebo. Quickly now.' Olivia ran excitedly back to Gilbert. All the care, the patience, the prayers had paid off. A full recovery might not be possible but perhaps she would have a companion once again. She hoped Gilbert would regain his speech, there were so many questions she wanted to ask. Now they could communicate if he had movement at least. He could tap once for no, twice for yes with his fingers. Feeling tremendously elated she reached the gazebo and saw from behind that he had moved even further in his bathchair. 'Now Gilbert, don't try to do too much ... ' But as she walked in front of him her words froze. Gilbert was slumped slightly to one side, the one arm still outside the blanket, but his eyes were closed and his mouth hung slightly agape.

'Gilbert?' Olivia reached out and took his hand, straightening his head with the other and knew at once he was dead.

Mollie smiled in delight to see Olivia sitting and holding the master's hand as they sat side by side staring into the garden. Olivia took the tea tray and placed it on the small bench and it was then Mollie saw her wet cheeks. Mollie's hand flew to her mouth when she looked over at Gilbert and she took off for the house, frightened and distraught at how the spirits of death could suddenly arrive and take one away on such a fresh and sunny morning.

Doctor MacDonald explained that Gilbert had suffered possibly two strokes as a result of the blood pressure they could not control or treat. 'That might account for the sudden movement, a minor stroke triggering a muscular response before the fatal one.'

Olivia shook her head. 'No, Gilbert wanted to say goodbye. It was sheer willpower or G.o.d's intervention that made him reach out to me,' she said firmly.

The kindly doctor, who had known Gilbert since their medical student days, didn't argue. 'You have been devoted and inspirational, Olivia. I'm sure you're right.'

A large memorial service was held for Doctor Gilbert Shaw in Perth. Pale light from an overcast morning filtered down from high, leadlight windows and in the front row Olivia looked by her feet at a patch of light that ran like spilt milk across the stone floor. She became lost in the pattern of light, her mind drifting back to the light of other times. Walking in a cold London night with Conrad and seeing the comforting glow of lights in shops and pubs. Her first glimpse of Australia through a shimmer of dawn light from a ship's rail, morning light in Broome, fresh-washed blue sky, deep clear aqua sea and a golden light that touched mangroves, mudflats, leaftips and glaring tin roofs with a magical glow. She was hypnotised by the diffused pattern of light on the floor for most of the service, hardly conscious of what was going on around her, and was surprised when Doctor MacDonald took her by the elbow and stood up. The service was over. The tributes had been paid and Gilbert Shaw laid to rest.

In the following weeks Mollie and Stan silently watched Olivia wistfully drift through her garden. Then, one day, when she was kneeling by a flowerbed, lost in plucking out weeds, a shadow fell across her and a strong hand helped her up.

The world was no longer held at bay. It now intruded in her garden. Tyndall stood before her. She expressed no surprise, made no move, but stood there, gazing into the face that was imprinted on her soul.

He, too, looked into her eyes. 'Come home, Olivia. It's time.'

They returned quietly to Broome on a sunset tide on a balmy evening refreshed by an afternoon thunderstorm that left the sky cloudless velvet against which the rising moon shone in the mirror of the sea. The lavender and rose sunset melted as the lights of Broome sparkled to life and Tyndall and Olivia went ash.o.r.e without fanfare. They hadn't alerted anyone about their arrival, not wanting any fuss. Maya had stayed in Fremantle after the funeral to take Georgie around the city sights and visit the Barstows in Albany.

At Tyndall's house, all was quiet. They could smell the curry Rosminah was cooking for Yusef in their quarters, but the house was empty. Tyndall grinned and dropped the bag he was carrying and gathered Olivia in his arms, sweeping her off the ground. 'This might be a little premature, but it means a lot to me.' He carried her up the steps, across the verandah, nudged the door with his shoulder and strode down to the bedroom. He kissed her and dropped her on the bed. 'I'll get Yusef to fetch the rest of the bags.'

She laughed at him as she struggled to sit up. 'You've got style, John Tyndall, I must say.'

Late in the evening they sat in contemplative and companionable silence on the darkened verandah looking at the moon shining across the bay. He kissed her fingertips. 'Now we can plan our wedding.'

'I want nothing more, my darling. I think we've waited long enough. I doubt there's anyone in town who won't be glad to see us together at last,' said Olivia with a small smile.

That night, wrapped in each other's arms as they drifted to sleep, Olivia gazed at Tyndall's face beside hers and knew, with great peace and certainty, that they would spend the rest of their days together.

In the following days there was a busy round of catching up with old friends. The Mettas held a luncheon at the Conti, and for Olivia it was a return to the good old days of high spirits, talk of pearling trips, snide sales and prospects for the sh.e.l.l market. It was acknowledged and accepted among the white community that the partnership between Tyndall and Olivia had become a personal commitment.

Ahmed couldn't stop beaming and had grasped Tyndall's hand, pumping it enthusiastically, when Tyndall told him he and Olivia would marry.

And when Olivia arrived at the foresh.o.r.e camp there was an enthusiastic reception from the sh.e.l.l openers, tenders, divers and other workmen. It was seen as a good omen, a closing of a circle, for they knew the story of Olivia's long a.s.sociation with Star of the Sea.

The luggers returned to sea and Olivia began decorating and setting up their home while also planning their wedding. 'Just a simple ceremony, I mean at our age and after all this time ... ' she began, but couldn't hide from Mabel her bubbling joy.