Many crossed the southern portion of Hyde Park on their way to the ceremony, some glancing at the young woman seated on the stair of the Anzac Memorial, none coming close enough to see the deep stain of her hands, or the patch on her face hidden by an unnecessary dust-catcher. She watched them on their way to commemorate a different war, and occasionally glanced at a worn paperback while fielding a stream of text messages. As midday approached, the flow of people tapered off, but by that time the northern half of the park and surrounds were a solid mass, even spilling across the dividing street into the southern park. The mood was celebratory. It was a day to mark a return to some semblance of normalcy, to gather at the point of invasion, no longer a gaping hole leaking toxic dust, or the churned scar which had plugged it, but a park once again, with a functioning train station beneath. To proclaim relief, sorrow, triumph, and a move forward. The dust-catchers silently, unavoidably, underlined that there was no going back.
The white noise of chatter died away to echoing speeches. Then applause, more speeches, more applause. Finally, inevitably, a united chant which thousands of voices turned into a roar, thunder.
"All for one! All For One! ALL FOR ONE!"
By two o’clock the park had nearly emptied, thousands streaming over to The Domain, where food stalls and a sound stage had been set up for an afternoon concert. Music thumped. The performance was in full swing when a curvy young woman wearing a white dress and blue headband crossed into the southern half of Hyde Park, followed the length of the reflecting pool, and climbed the Memorial stair.
"Not sketching?"
"Not stupid."
"I guess it would be a bit of a giveaway."
They hugged, and as ever Madeleine was immediately warmed. It was if a year’s separation had never happened.
"How was the ceremony?"
"Blah blah blah, then a few thousand people in tears. Ready to go down?"
Madeleine glanced at the time on her phone and nodded.
"I should have grown some sense and skipped out too," Noi said, as they headed north. "I’m so jetlagged I can’t think straight."
"Do you want to put off dinner? Change it to tomorrow?"
"Hell no. I’ll nap for an hour or two while everyone’s gabbing, then I’ll be good to go. Besides, I’ve been dying to meet Millie’s girlfriend. What’s she like?"
"Zoe? Clever, a bit of a joker. Tries to be cool, but absolutely hero-worships Millie. Wait till you see them in their uniforms."
"A potential portrait?"
"Maybe. I’ve done a few studies." She caught Noi’s frown and smiled through the veil. "I think the police thing is working out. Millie’s breezing through the training, and she’s so happy even her parents are starting to accept."
"Mm. I still regret talking her into calling them. All that fuss and drama."
They’d been in Mumbai at the time, six months after the fall of the Spires, and the Wrights' discovery their daughter was still alive had led to a stream of accusations and demands. Though it gave Madeleine a headache just to remember, she thought that it had worked out better for Emily in the long run. Her parents so clearly adored her.
"How’s casting going?"
"All the major roles are set. The rest we’ll work through next week, which should be fun and a half. At least now Tyler’s signed Nash can go back to being himself, instead of the Walking Tower of Stress."
Madeleine laughed. "Why was he stressing? Tyler really wants to play Milady." Reshaping the villainess of The Three Musketeers into a loyalty-torn heroine had produced a particularly juicy role, and Tyler was far from the only Big Name who’d been keen to win it.
"Oh, just a small matter of Undying Devotion. Besides, TBM is not exactly a major-league production company, even with Saashi on board."
They crossed Park Street speculating on the chances of Nash winning Tyler, which at least had shifted into the realms of possibility now he was twenty-one instead of sixteen.
"Do you think you’ll finally settle for a while?"
"Hey, you’ve gadded about almost as much as we have – is there a city you two haven’t studied in? But, yeah, we’re thinking of basing TBM in Sydney even after the film’s done. I’m going to have to slow down anyway." She touched her stomach, and nodded at Madeleine’s questioning glance. "Not a hundred per cent planned, but we’d been talking about it. We both like the idea of a big family."
Delighted, Madeleine paused to hug Noi again. "I’m not sure I should congratulate you though – TBM’s going to have it rough without you keeping everyone organised."
"I’ll be keeping my finger in the pie, don’t worry about that. Just not baking them for a crew of fifty for a while."
"So does this mean you’re going to schedule the wedding at long last?" Madeleine asked as they made their way through a mix of towering fig trees and recently-planted saplings.
"Yeah, time to make it official, and devastate Lee’s more rabid fans. I think I might ask Min to do the dress – he’s so wasted as our costume department."
"Wasted as in still loving every minute while pretending the world annoys him?"
"That about covers it. Be warned, I’m ready and able to rope you in to paint the backdrops again, if and when we move to another stage production."
"Good. I learned a lot last time."
The prolonged stay in India had been due to a combination of circumstance and choice. Attempting to leave Sydney, they’d been co-opted by the Australian Army, which at least had solved transport problems. Particularly when they’d decided on Tokyo as the next stop after Melbourne, joining the effort to weed out the most powerful of the Moth clans. From there they’d been shuttled to Mumbai, just in time for the local forces to declare victory. With most cities well on the same path, they’d been able to cut loose from the military so Nash could meet up with Saashi. But that had effectively stranded the Musketeers, since civilian air travel wasn’t exactly happening. They’d turned the situation into a hands-on apprenticeship in film-making, as Nash’s powerhouse sister put them all to work helping her document some of the thousands of stories of the invasion. The combination of interviews and mini-play dramatisations had won Saashi a great deal of notice, and kept the company which had been her parents' ticking along while the world tried to sort out if it had an economy.
TBM – The Blue Musketeer Production Company – had evolved from this experience, and Nash, Pan, Min and Noi had worked steadily toward gaining the reputation and knowledge to film The Blue Musketeers to the standard it deserved. Of course, it helped immensely that the Musketeers were world-famous, and even more that Saashi had agreed to direct and provide experienced crew members.
"Do you think they regret asking you to submit a design?" Noi asked, as they emerged from the screening trees and stopped, gazing up at the replacement for the Archibald Fountain.
"Maybe. I did sometimes, during the fuss. But there were a lot of other submissions, and they decided by public vote."
"Beautiful and terrible," Noi murmured. "I can almost look at it without cringing."
The statue rose twenty metres, a graceful curve of white shot with central veins of blue clustered into a semblance of a human figure. The base was suspended in a clear block, giving it some necessary stability, and beneath was a patterned non-slip grid to drain the water which fell in a single sheet from the outstretched, kite-like wings. On hot days children would be able to play in the near-mist of the fall.