me. He must understand; he must know that despite my reluctance to leave home, staying and watching it be sold off and ultimately destroyed would be far worse.
‘Whole clans are starving because their hunting grounds are grazed flat. They’re forbidden to carry spears, so they can’t hunt. They live in a state of worry and uncertainty.’ I took a shaky breath. ‘Could you bear to see those things happen here at Lyrebird Hill? Could you tolerate Jindera’s band being treated that way?’
‘No, my dove. You know I couldn’t.’
‘Then, as long as the people who belong here live and breathe, I will have no regrets.’
Tears glazed my father’s eyes. I sensed that he carried in his memory far worse reports than the ones I’d just described. With the creaky slowness of an old man, he reached into his pocket. Out came an object of dark wood, which he fumbled and dropped on the floor.
I picked it up. It was a chess piece, a fine dark queen. Much care had gone into its carving. Where had my father happened upon such a piece? Had he acquired the rest of the set? If so, I was already longing to play. I’d been practising obsessively, and fancied that my game had improved. It seemed absurd to be thinking of a game when the future of the farm was uncertain, but chess was a passion and I yearned to lose my troubles for an hour or so in a hearty challenge. Besides, some of my best ideas came to me while labouring a strategic point.
I replaced the queen on the table.
‘She’s all I have left,’ Fa Fa said.
I looked at him, not understanding.
‘When your mama and I were married,’ he explained, ‘we honeymooned in London. It was a strange time for us. We were both young and in love, only not—’ He hesitated, and gave me a cautious look, then hurried on. ‘Anyway, one day I secured a fine chess set in Camden. The white pieces were carved from boar’s bone, while the black were of ebony wood. Florence was a keen player, and I knew she would be pleased by my acquisition. But as I was making my way back to our apartments, I was robbed. The thieves took everything I owned – my purse and wedding ring, even my shoes. When I climbed to my feet and looked around, I saw this little player lying in the snow, overlooked.
‘I picked her up, and when I saw it was the black queen, I recognised it as an omen. For the longest time I stood there in the middle of that deserted London street in my socks and waistcoat, and all I could think of was how I yearned to be home. With each passing day, my yearning grew more insufferable. But whenever I picked up this little queen and held her in my hand, home seemed somehow nearer.’
I searched my father’s face, wondering why a solitary chess piece had the power to ease his homesickness. The tiny ebony player made me think of my friends at the encampment. I imagined Fa Fa had made that connection too.
Since Carsten’s proposal, I had created my own talisman against homesickness. Pressed between the pages of my Bible were twenty or more gum leaves, picked fresh from the trees in an effort to preserve their aroma. I had gathered flowers, too: native orchids, hibbertia, and papery ammobium daisies that rustled like silk. I could already feel the ache of separation blossoming in me, a cold, empty ache that I knew would grow deeper with distance. Even so, I refused to resent my sacrifice; how could I, when it meant saving the land and the people I loved?
‘I couldn’t bear to lose Lyrebird Hill,’ I told my father heatedly, then chose my next words with care. ‘Not an acre of it, not even a square inch.’
Fa Fa looked at me for a long time, an odd light in his eyes. Then he averted his gaze back to the table, nudging the ebony queen with a finger that appeared to tremble.
‘No, my beauty,’ he whispered hoarsely, ‘neither could I.’
3
The journey towards emotional freedom begins when you start thinking more about where you’re going, and less about where you’ve
‘Whole clans are starving because their hunting grounds are grazed flat. They’re forbidden to carry spears, so they can’t hunt. They live in a state of worry and uncertainty.’ I took a shaky breath. ‘Could you bear to see those things happen here at Lyrebird Hill? Could you tolerate Jindera’s band being treated that way?’
‘No, my dove. You know I couldn’t.’
‘Then, as long as the people who belong here live and breathe, I will have no regrets.’
Tears glazed my father’s eyes. I sensed that he carried in his memory far worse reports than the ones I’d just described. With the creaky slowness of an old man, he reached into his pocket. Out came an object of dark wood, which he fumbled and dropped on the floor.
I picked it up. It was a chess piece, a fine dark queen. Much care had gone into its carving. Where had my father happened upon such a piece? Had he acquired the rest of the set? If so, I was already longing to play. I’d been practising obsessively, and fancied that my game had improved. It seemed absurd to be thinking of a game when the future of the farm was uncertain, but chess was a passion and I yearned to lose my troubles for an hour or so in a hearty challenge. Besides, some of my best ideas came to me while labouring a strategic point.
I replaced the queen on the table.
‘She’s all I have left,’ Fa Fa said.
I looked at him, not understanding.
‘When your mama and I were married,’ he explained, ‘we honeymooned in London. It was a strange time for us. We were both young and in love, only not—’ He hesitated, and gave me a cautious look, then hurried on. ‘Anyway, one day I secured a fine chess set in Camden. The white pieces were carved from boar’s bone, while the black were of ebony wood. Florence was a keen player, and I knew she would be pleased by my acquisition. But as I was making my way back to our apartments, I was robbed. The thieves took everything I owned – my purse and wedding ring, even my shoes. When I climbed to my feet and looked around, I saw this little player lying in the snow, overlooked.
‘I picked her up, and when I saw it was the black queen, I recognised it as an omen. For the longest time I stood there in the middle of that deserted London street in my socks and waistcoat, and all I could think of was how I yearned to be home. With each passing day, my yearning grew more insufferable. But whenever I picked up this little queen and held her in my hand, home seemed somehow nearer.’
I searched my father’s face, wondering why a solitary chess piece had the power to ease his homesickness. The tiny ebony player made me think of my friends at the encampment. I imagined Fa Fa had made that connection too.
Since Carsten’s proposal, I had created my own talisman against homesickness. Pressed between the pages of my Bible were twenty or more gum leaves, picked fresh from the trees in an effort to preserve their aroma. I had gathered flowers, too: native orchids, hibbertia, and papery ammobium daisies that rustled like silk. I could already feel the ache of separation blossoming in me, a cold, empty ache that I knew would grow deeper with distance. Even so, I refused to resent my sacrifice; how could I, when it meant saving the land and the people I loved?
‘I couldn’t bear to lose Lyrebird Hill,’ I told my father heatedly, then chose my next words with care. ‘Not an acre of it, not even a square inch.’
Fa Fa looked at me for a long time, an odd light in his eyes. Then he averted his gaze back to the table, nudging the ebony queen with a finger that appeared to tremble.
‘No, my beauty,’ he whispered hoarsely, ‘neither could I.’
3
The journey towards emotional freedom begins when you start thinking more about where you’re going, and less about where you’ve
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