Between the Lines.

Barbara Walker pushed damp curls off her forehead as she rummaged around in some old boxes of documents in her spare room. Darwin weather was particularly humid at this time of year and she was feeling rather hot and sticky.

The boxes had belonged to her father who had recently passed away, and they had arrived on her doorstep this morning. They had been discovered in storage and, as his only living relative, they now belonged to her. In spite of the stifling conditions, her curiosity to know what the boxes contained had driven her to begin the task without waiting for the cool of the evening.

Her father, Barry, had led what was, to Barbara, a bit of a mysterious life. Barbara wasn’t fully aware of what he had actually done for a living. He would sometimes go off on long trips for reasons she, as a child, was never quite sure about. She was hoping the documents in the boxes would finally shed some light on his life and work.

She laboriously withdrew pile after pile of brittle papers from the boxes. There were lengthy and tedious reports about land surveys, topography and other related topics. It hardly seemed the trappings of the fascinating or glamorous life Barbara had fantasised that her father might have lived. She was just about to abandon the hunt for anything remotely interesting, when underneath yet another pile of desiccated documents, she spied a tattered little black book.

It appeared to be some sort of journal. As she turned it over in her hands, she saw that it had a ribbon bookmark and an elasticated band to hold it closed. It seemed quite old and a little weathered. She peeled back the elastic and slowly opened the cover. The front fly leaf had an “In case of loss” notice which indicated it should be returned to Charles Bruce Chatwin of London.

Barbara gasped. Wasn’t Bruce Chatwin a famous author? Had this notebook really belonged to him? And how had it come to be mixed in amongst her father’s old papers?

Hurrying to her laptop, Barbara began investigating Bruce Chatwin. She discovered he had spent time in Australia researching his book “The Songlines”. Could her father possibly have met Bruce during his time here? She simply had to know more.

More hours were spent rifling through the seemingly endless archives of Barry Walker’s life. Barbara could find no other evidence of her father’s possible acquaintance with Bruce Chatwin. It was thoroughly mystifying.

Going back to the little black notebook, she leafed gingerly through the pages. There were lengthy notes and musings about the nomadic nature of man and many other esoteric ideas but nothing to indicate the author had met her father. Barbara wondered if there were any possible way to find out if the two men had met. Both men had now perished, so learning anything directly from either of them was impossible. Likewise, all of her fathers’ old work colleagues were likely deceased too, and if not, hardly expected to recall a chance meeting that might have happened in 1983.

Barbara’s research of Chatwin revealed a biography had been written by Nicholas Shakespeare. Perhaps she could contact the biographer to see if he had information about Chatwin’s time in Australia. It was a bit of a long shot, but she really had nothing to lose. She composed an email to the publisher of the biography to ask for the contact details of Nicholas Shakespeare, not really expecting, but desperately hoping for a reply.

The next morning, Barbara woke to find two new emails waiting in her inbox. One was a reply from the publishing company, informing her that they had forwarded her contact details to the biographer so he could reply if he chose to do so. The other was an email from Nicholas Shakespeare himself. He was intrigued as to why a woman from Darwin wanted to get in touch with him.

Emails flew back and forth between them, Barbara explaining her find and Nicholas responding, explaining he could find no reference to a Barry Walker in his notes from his time researching and writing the biography. However, he had suggested that, if she had no sentimental attachment to the notebook, she might be interested in selling it at auction. He felt there would be a good level of interest in that sort of insight into such a charismatic and talented man. Nicholas suggested that he would be happy to act as an agent on her behalf. Barbara replied that she really had no desire to keep the notebook and any unexpected windfall would be sincerely appreciated. They agreed Barbara would send the book to Nicholas who would arrange the appraisal and auction, most likely at Sotheby’s, where coincidentally Chatwin had worked as a young man.

Barbara felt excited about this new development but saddened that she might never know how her father had come into possession of this notebook.

A couple of months later, an email from her new friend Nicholas arrived with the welcome news the notebook had sold at auction for $20,000!

Alice Springs 1983

Bruce Chatwin strolled down Leichhardt Terrace alongside the dry bed of the Todd River. It was a warm February day, and he was keen to meet his new friends for a counter meal at the welcoming cool interior of a hotel in town. He was so preoccupied, anticipating the convivial company and cold beer he would soon be enjoying that, as he rounded the corner of the street, he failed to spy an equally preoccupied man approaching rapidly in the opposite direction.

The ensuing collision resulted in both of the men’s entire possessions being strewn over the pathway. Amid the rapid and frantic collecting of papers and profusion of apologies, neither gentleman noticed a black notebook accidentally make its way into a thick pile of survey reports.