“Secrets don’t have to scare you. Just remember which stones you hide them under. And make sure no one turns them over.”
Shadows Of Winter Robins is the second novel by Australian author, Louise Wolhuter. In mid-2018, thirty-two-year-old Winter Robins is having weekly sessions with her Perth therapist. She’s rather reluctant to share, but does find herself filling the notebook that Marlena gives her with what happened after she turned eight.
Back in 1994, Win is living in Harrogate with her mum, Nancy, her twin brother, Four, and her dad Lew. The twins are especially close to Nancy, and naturally devastated when she fairly suddenly succumbs to cancer. What makes it worse, though, is that Lew is utterly destroyed by grief, unable to function. “While Four and I pulled each other through the brittle branches of our mother’s death, Lew simply sat down in front of that great fallen tree and opened a bottle of Bell’s.” His mother takes over their care, but Sarah Robins, ageing and ailing, soon finds it difficult to manage her two energetic grandchildren.
Their father contacts Nancy’s family in Western Australia and, without any real warning, Winter and Four are whisked off to Langomar, a remote homestead on coastal WA, by an uncle they didn’t even know they had. Nancy had barely spoken about her youth in Australia, but the Bruno family seem friendly enough, or at least, Nancy’s brother Godfrey, aka Dog, and Nanny Mo do. A celebrated artist, Winter’s grandfather, Harry’s moods can be mercurial.
There’s also Ned, a family friend, and the house keeper, Esther, whom the twins recognise from one of the few photos they could rescue from Lew’s fevered burning up of Nancy’s things, and Esther’s young son, Gabe, eager to strike up a friendship. But despite the weather, the beach setting, and the free and easy lifestyle, Winter is puzzled that no one ever talks about Nancy.
There are other strange things around their lives, mysteries of parentage and relationships, visitors and Harry’s strange paintings, but at ten or eleven years old and home-schooled, who is she to say what is right or normal?
Fast-forward twenty years, and the death of her great aunt, coupled with reports of recently-missing backpackers with mentions of similar disappearances two decades earlier, stirs Winter’s recall of certain visitors to Langomar, and some other incidents there.
She starts digging, apprehensive about what she might find. When Winter hears other versions of the stories her mother told, and other accounts of what she experienced at Langomar, she begins to question where the truth lies.
As the story progresses, the reader may begin to wonder about the reliability of Winter’s narrative: perhaps she is as dishonest with herself as others are? And what has prompted these sessions with the therapist? A few toxic males feature in Winter’s life, but they aren’t the only poisonous ones, she realises, almost too late.
Wolhuter wraps a twisty tale in gorgeous descriptive prose and, somewhere in there, asks the question “Can Nature be nurtured out?” Evoking her settings with consummate ease, Wolhuter’s second novel is thought-provoking and more than a bit unsettling.