Laure Mynett

Chapter I

Laure Mynett looked for them. She looked for them in the night-time stars, the boiling rays of sunlight and the deathly pale clouds. She had spent her whole life looking for them. But she could not find them.

It had all started when she was born, when they had taken her from her mother.

Laure was sitting in a house, surrounded by books white people had bought and a book she, the white black woman, had written. To be honest, she had bought some of those books herself but it was with the money the white people had given her. Now she was a "debut novelist" and the literary community's Indigenous darling. She shrugged off her thoughts and strolled across the parlour. Peggy and Cory would be sitting in this very parlour in a few minutes.

Laure had never known Peggy and Cory. Her white parents had told her that she was Indigenous but that was only to prevent her from discovering her identity by herself. She noticed things. She would look into the eyes of her classmates and then look at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were almost black. Only the Chinese people she sometimes saw on the street had eyes as dark as that. Her white parents, in contrast, had light blue eyes. Her white father was blond and her white mother was brown-haired. They were very pale. Family friends always whispered something when they saw her. Laure put two and two together and asked her parents if she had been adopted.

She was looking out of the window now. A car of the Holden brand was entering through the gates and almost speeding through the path, as if its owners could not wait to have this visit over and done with. Laure decided to assume that they were so nervous that they not bear their nerves. She could not bear hers either. It had been a while since any car apart from hers had entered Lynshawe House.

She supposed that she might go outside to greet them. It was a chilly day and Laure stood in front of the open door with the smile she had spent last night preparing plastered on her face. Peggy and Cory grinned as they walked up to her.

'It's great to be here,' said Peggy as she hugged Laure as though they had known each other forever, or even at all.

Cory smiled, 'Very kind of you to have us.' He shook hands with her.

'Oh, no,' effused Laure, 'I'm very glad to have you. I mean, you're just about all the family that I actually have, you know.'

Her mother's brother and sister looked at her pityingly as she led them through the hall and into the parlour.

'You've got a very nice place,' Cory noted as he stared at the portraits, the curtains and the fireplace.

Laure laughed uneasily, 'My parents, my adopted parents, they left it to me. They always did love me, you know, in their way.'

'I've no doubt they did,' Peggy sighed, 'but your mother loved you more.'

Laure gestured for them to sit. She looked at them attentively, almost carefully. She had never met any dark-skinned Indigenous people before; all she knew was that she was Indigenous because of the adoption records and the undeniable fact that she did not look like the perfect white Australian. She had always known something was different before her white parents had told the truth. Laure always gave them credit for that. She had to be careful with Peggy and Cory so that they would not think she was too "white" or not "black" enough. I'm walking on a tightrope always, mused Laure to herself. It sounded almost lyrical.

Cory was tall and slim and reminded Laure of a chiselled statue with his bony face. He was smiling at her now in his I'm-your-uncle kind of way that did, in fact, sooth her, even though he was only a stranger to her. Peggy watched her as carefully as she watched Peggy. Laure knew why she was judging her, evaluating her, eying her. Peggy wanted to see if Laure was anything like her dead sister. The butterflies jittered inside Laure; was it the light or did Peggy not seem impressed?