Blaze (63 page)

‘Looks like a barn and stables down there,' said Nina, pointing to a few old stone buildings surrounded by a weathered fence. Nearby, several cows grazed contentedly.

Then they heard it. Sweet singing. They headed past the stables and came across a group of children scrubbing milking pails in the small river. An old woman was leading the singing. Younger children played on the grass. Lucien wished he had his camera.

At the sudden appearance of Nina and Lucien, the singing instantly stopped. Visitors were unusual – visitors like these surprised them. The smaller children gathered close to the old woman, who straightened and stared at them with a measure of hostility.

Nina lifted her arm and gave a friendly wave, calling out in Croatian. The woman eyed them curiously and the older children hurried forward. They looked to be aged between three and twelve years.

The oldest, a boy, came up to Nina and Lucien and pulled a woollen cap from his head. ‘Who are you? Who are you looking for please?'

‘We are just visiting,' said Nina quickly in Croatian. ‘Tourists.'

The boy relayed this back to the others, who now ran to cluster around them. Nina waited for the woman to reach her as Lucien tried to find words in any language to make himself understood. Laughingly the children imitated him.

Nina greeted the woman and took her hand. It was the hand of a woman who did a man's work in the fields as well her woman's work in the kitchen, yet it had a tenderness for touching a child's cheek or hair. In the moment of that clasp Nina looked into the kindly eyes of a woman who appeared to be so many years older than her, yet was possibly the same age. She saw shadows of sorrow and pain, yet strength and laughter too. They each felt they had much in common – instinctively they recognised something about the other in the softness of the eye, the honesty of the face, the unflinching gaze, the firmness of the grip. Their life circumstances had been very different, but their hearts matched.

Nina introduced herself simply as Nina. ‘And this is Lucien. He would like to take a few photographs of the old house. Are you living there?'

‘We live in the house. We all do. We manage. My name is Mara. So you are not here about the casino business?'

‘Indeed not. What a dreadful fate for the house. The café owner in the village told us.'

‘In that case, would you like something to drink? You can see inside the house if you want.' The woman directed the older children to bring the young ones indoors and taking a silent little girl's hand, she directed the boy to sprint ahead and perk up the fire. As they began walking to the house she confided in Nina, who in turn translated the words for Lucien.

‘Where are they from? Who are these children?' he asked.

Mara gave Nina another penetrating look and, as she walked, she told the story of how she had been caring for orphan children, victims of the recent conflicts around Croatia's borders.

‘How do they come to be here?' asked Nina. ‘I realise there is a huge crisis in Bosnia, but you are far from all that.'

‘There is a network of people – priests, international aid workers mainly. It is all done very quietly. I was living and working on the estate and when the last people moved out of the house it seemed, well, sensible, to shelter children here. A few who have come here have been reunited with relatives, but there are always others needing a home. For the moment they go to the school in the village and we live on charity and what little government assistance we can scrape together.'

‘Who was living in the house these past years? How long have you been there, and what's going to happen to you?' asked Nina as she watched the children take off their boots and shoes before going into the house in their thick hand-knitted socks.

‘Ah, so many questions. Come, let us have a warm drink first.'

Inside the rear of the house, as Lucien had guessed, was a huge kitchen, pantry and storeroom. A table set for twelve ran almost the length of the kitchen.

Soon hot milk flavoured with vanilla, pieces of homemade cheese and slabs of bread were set before them and, slowly, Lucien was fed chunks of information digested by Nina from all the eager faces around the table.

Mara picked up her story again. ‘Some time after the widow who was living here died, this place was taken from the family. Over the years it was used as a country retreat for government officials. I was one of the cooks. Then it was closed up and there were many plans for it. But nothing happened. With the new government and a change in the old system, this place was forgotten.' She gave a broad smile. ‘Fortunately. And, as I have lived here a long time, no one asked who I was, or if I had a right to be here.' She winked at Nina. ‘I did rather give the idea I belonged here. I like to think the old family wouldn't mind.'

Nina had difficulty in speaking. ‘I think you are quite right.' She passed all this on to Lucien.

‘Are you going to tell her who you are?'

Nina gave him a conspiratorial wink. ‘In good time.'

‘So how long have you lived here?' Nina's head was reeling. This was almost too much to take in. Now she was under the roof of her grandparents' home and it all seemed very close and personal. But she was unprepared for Mara's reply.

‘I was born here. My mother was very close to the Bubacic family. She looked after Mrs Bubacic until she died.'

Nina's hand flew to her mouth and Lucien looked at her in alarm.

‘What's wrong?' he asked.

‘Mara . . . is . . . like family.' She reached out to her across the table, tears filling her eyes. The chatter amongst the children stilled. Slowly she said, ‘Mara. I must tell you who I am. I am Clara Bubacic's daughter, Nina.'

Mara clutched at the front of her dress, but her shock was quickly replaced with a huge smile. ‘Clara went to Australia. With the little one. Little Nina. Once I was taken with my mother to Zagreb, to the big house, and I saw you before you left.' She rolled her eyes. ‘We must be about the same age. I thought you were so brave going to the other side of the world with just your mama. I came back here and married a man from the village and we lived here in one of the cottages. He helped run the farm. My husband died a few years ago. Now young men in the village help us when they can.'

‘You have no family?' asked Nina.

Mara waved an arm around the table. ‘These are my children!' She explained to the children in more detail about who Nina was and Nina did the same for Lucien.

‘Now, you must see the house,' exclaimed Mara. But added, ‘Please don't feel sad. It is nothing like it was in your grandparents' day. So elegant. So many beautiful pieces of furniture, ornaments, paintings. My mother sometimes let me help in the house. To me this was so wonderful – until I saw the town house in Zagreb. That was a palace. But I missed the gardens and the fields.'

They all rose from the table and Mara took Nina's arm and linked it through hers.

Lucien stood back and let Nina walk through the doorway into a house of unknown family ghosts.

It was a house of grand proportions, expensive detail and expansive windows that were still partially framed in once costly brocade. Views from every window were picture postcard. Adapted now to house a family of ten children, it had the air of a happy, homely dormitory. Much of the furniture they had for the children was either homemade or second-hand and battered. But in each room Mara described to Nina how it had once looked, colouring the description with comments about her grandparents, bringing them to life for her. In the future, when she looked at Clara's photo albums, these words would mean so much more to her.

They went into a study and Mara sighed, ‘There were so many books in this room, all along that wall. Your grandmother let me borrow them. She had a collection of nature books and art books. She painted too – did lovely watercolours. And up there on the wall was a stag's head with antlers. It used to frighten me. Until one day I saw it with your grandfather's walking hat hanging off one antler, his walking stick on the other and his pipe stuck in its mouth. I think he did it to make me laugh.'

In the last room they entered, Nina found a definite connection to her family. It was a small room, a sewing room perhaps. The window was in three sections, clear glass on either side of a brilliant work of stained glass. The leadlight design surrounded a central panel of pale blue background on which glittered an exquisite painted dragonfly. Nina was mesmerised. The sunlight, shining through the delicately inset picture made the translucent wings shimmer so that the dragonfly appeared to dance. The picture caught and captured the moment as the delicate insect alighted on a lily pad, its sheer rainbow-hued wings glistening in a sunray. Nina bit her lip and sat on a chair, staring at the wonderful glass picture.

Sensing her mood, Mara shooed the children away. ‘I'll let you look around on your own for a bit.'

Lucien hovered in the doorway. ‘If I believed in ghosts, I'd say your grandfolks were still enjoying this house.'

‘I think they are too. They must be happy to hear children's laughter and singing.' She went to the window and gently touched the glass. ‘It's exquisite. Clara told me how my grandmother loved dragonflies. She gave me that diamond pin . . . it's why I chose it as the emblem for
Blaze
.'

Nina was close to tears. Lucien put an arm around her shoulders. ‘It's meaningful for me too. Remember when I first met you, how you made me free the dragonfly . . . Nina, stay with me. Let's you and me . . . dance through this last part of our lives. Be as free and light-hearted.'

Nina turned back to face him. They were alone. ‘Be your dancing partner? What does that mean?'

He wrapped his arms around her. ‘Marry me, Nina. We should have done it forty years ago.'

She buried her face in his shoulder, her response muffled. ‘I'm so tempted.'

‘But?' He held her at arms-length.

‘I haven't quite finished this little trip. And I worry about
Blaze
in Sydney. And now there's . . . this.' She waved her arms around the room. ‘First things first, my love.'

Lucien let her go and snapped his fingers in a show of sudden understanding.

‘I think I know what you're contemplating,' he grinned. ‘Just what you need – another project.'

‘I want to fix this place up for them. Make it secure, a permanent tribute to my family.'

‘The Bubacic Children's Home?' mused Lucien.

‘Something like that. I need to find out how to do all this legally. Let's stay a couple of days.' She hugged Lucien. ‘I've really found my family.'

‘You should still write about all this for your magazine article. I'll take the photos. It's a lovely, positive story of family found and triumph over war that will fascinate
Blaze
readers around the world. And that will please the local authorities, I'm sure,' said Lucien as he followed Nina downstairs.

‘But they won't be so pleased when they learn I intend to stop my family home being turned into a casino,' said Nina firmly.

They checked into an inn in the village and the next morning went back to the house to explain Nina's plan to Mara and the children.

Lucien roamed the house and grounds with his camera as Nina and Mara discussed renovations and necessities.

‘The children need a proper classroom and many more facilities,' said Nina. ‘Perhaps I can help the village school improve its amenities as well.'

‘Everywhere is a classroom,' said Mara. ‘We teach the children about the world around them,' but she added, ‘It would be lovely to bring the big gardens back to their former glory, not just for food but to help the children understand nature. When you have nurtured a plant, you appreciate all living things.'

Nina gazed at Mara thinking how wise she was. ‘That is true. How about we add a gentle old horse or two, and more cows?'

Mara laughed at Nina's enthusiasm. ‘The dairy still has everything we need to make butter, cheese and yoghurt for ourselves. We could even sell some. We once had very strong and healthy goats – and pigs too.'

Nina added goats and pigs to her list. ‘Now, Mara, we need other people here to work. This is too much for you and the children to care for. There must be people in the village who would like to help – and be paid for their services.'

Mara fiddled with the folds of her long skirt. ‘And how long will this be for, Nina?'

‘It's forever, Mara. My lawyer will make sure of that. And I think I can stop this place being turned into anything other than what I want . . . it is my family home that was taken over illegally. I intend to write about this place and your wonderful work. I don't think the authorities will fight too hard.'

Tears flooded Mara's eyes. ‘I'm so relieved. I was becoming so worried about what would happen to these children, and the many others out there who need love and care.'

‘And you have to be looked after too, Mara. Call it what you will – God, the angels, fate, but I knew there was a reason I had to make this trip and, now I've found it, I can move on with my life. The way ahead is quite clear.'

Mara shook her head in a gesture of astonishment and acceptance. It was all so complex and it was happening too fast for her to completely comprehend the sudden change in fortune for her and the children. ‘We'll have to talk to the priest and the people who've been helping us, Nina. They need to know.'

‘Of course,' laughed Nina. ‘I'll talk to them with you, and I'll come here as often as I can.'

Lucien had quietly entered the room and taken photos of the two women as they talked. He lowered his camera. ‘And what about
Blaze
?' he asked in a casual aside. ‘This is going to put a big hole in your time and pocket.'

‘Perhaps it's simply a matter of putting my priorities right, eh? What else do I have to spend my money on? I don't have children of my own, but now . . . I have this huge family!' Nina rushed at him to give him a kiss, ‘And that includes you!'