to give him the benefit of an outsiderâs clear-sightedness. âYou take it for granted. You canât imagine what a difference it makes. And the sheer clarity of sky. You must grow up with the goodwill of the universe as a certainty in your bones.â
âThatâs just Mosman, lush with shade and well-watered gardens. I would only need to drive you out into the southwestern suburbs to see grit and irritation. I could take you out to my property west of the Blue Mountains and you could see dry waterholes and the carcasses of sheep and bushfire scars. I grew up there and I never thought of the land as well-intentioned. I guess I thought of her â¦â He trailed into silence, seeing the shimmer of heatwaves over scrubby spinifex grasses. âSheâs a tough seductive sheila. Sheâs a bitch Iâm in love with. Itâs a thrill to do battle with her because she never lets up.â
âOh!â I am fascinated by men with obsessions, Emily thought. I see the tongues of fire over their heads and am instantly bewitched. âIâm partial to bitches. I hope youâll introduce me.â
âAny time. First the southwestern suburbs,â Dave said. âBrown grass and red dust. Shall we go?â
Driving across the Harbour Bridge, inevitably he asked her: âWhat do you think of our white elephant?â
âYour white elephant?â
âOur hundred-million-dollar idiot childââ indicating it with a nod of his head.
âOh, the Opera House! I think its breathtaking! Dazzling!â
âDo you really?â He seemed pleased. âTo tell you the secret truth, Iâm rather crazy about it myself. Though itâs quite unfashionable to admit that. In our circle, anyway.â
âWhy?â
âOh I donât know. Showing off embarrasses Australians. We leave that to the Americans; you know: worldâs greatest this or that. We go the other way Youâre supposed to say witty disparaging things. Like: It reminds me of an untidily sliced apple.â
She laughed. âNow that you mention itâ¦â
âOr a highly successful cement worksâ
âOh cruel. How about a bevy of paper planes?â
âHey!â he said sternly. âYou canât say nasty things, only us. Those are the rules. Youâre a bloody Yank and it would be filthy cheek on your part!â
âWell, since I do think itâs gorgeous â¦â
âItâs supposed to be finished this year. So weâre promised. With luck youâll be playing there by Christmas.â
Iâll be very pregnant, she thought. Iâll play for the opening, but will they make me take leave soon after?
âBefore you,â he said theatrically, in the overly mellow voice of a documentary narrator, âare the rusting iron roofs and shrivelled lawns of suburbia. Behind that peeling paint, the worlds most bored and unhappy women await the return of pot-bellied husbands who are even now emptying their pay envelopes in every corner pub in Sydney.â
âYou seem determined to make me despise the place.â
âI thought I already explained my coded comments. This is an absolutely dreadful country except for Gough Whitlam and Bob Hawke and Patrick White and Test cricket. And Joan Sutherland and Co., who of course donât count, having fled. Itâs parochial, isolated, sun-blasted, and full of beer-punchy Philistines. I love it with a bigotâs passion and I donât want you saying anything unpleasant about it. Letâs get away from this ugliness and Iâll show you my house. It has a view of the Pacific. My Sydney house, that is. Maybe one day Iâll show you Kurrajong.â
âWhich is?â
âMy station out near Forbes.â
âI know youâre not a musician. Are you an artist or a professor?â
âNone of the above. I donât quite belong. But we all went to university together and we