The Lost Valley

by Jennifer Scoullar

  On the back verandah Tom picked up a twisted branch he’d found stripped from an old Huon pine during last week’s storm. It would make a fine hiking stick for Kitty. He trimmed it with a sharp machete, then whittled a curved handle and sanded it back. What better way to reconnect than alone together in the bush? Nothing and nobody to come between them. Nowhere to hide from each other. If the grandeur of Tiger Pass couldn’t bring Kitty around, nothing could. Nana would forgive him for breaking his vow this once, for showing Kitty the lost valley. She was his wife, for better or worse.

  A secret part of him wished he could be making the trip with Emma. What a delight it would be to share the valley’s story with someone who loved and respected the thylacines as much as he did. She’d called a few days ago, urging him to patch up the differences on show that first day between him and Harry. And he thought they’d been on their best behaviour. ‘Give him back his share of Binburra,’ she said. ‘It’s rightfully his, morally if not legally.’

  ‘Doesn’t he own enough already? How much money does one man need?’

  ‘This isn’t about the money.’

  He dragged his fingers through his hair. How little she knew her husband. With Harry, it was always about the money.

  She tried again. ‘Please, Tom. Harry loves Binburra, and it would mean the world to him. You two could be proper brothers again. Otherwise it will always come between you.’

  Sweet, that Emma cared so much. She seemed to think that Binburra was the sole problem between him and Harry. If only it was that simple. She didn’t know about the uneasy rivalry that had dogged them since children. Or about their father and mother, and the terrible day above the waterfall. She didn’t know that Harry had married her so that Tom couldn’t.

  The plane crash had done more than disfigure him. It had taught him a lesson about human nature. There was a time when he took everybody at face value, never questioning their motives or second-guessing their actions. Gullible, Harry used to call him. Yet since the crash something strange had happened. He’d started seeing people for who they truly were, the ugliness and beauty beneath their skin.

  Every day had been a new study. Some people insulted and ridiculed him because of their own insecurities, or sought out his company in order to prove how kind they were. Some treated him according to their mood or the company they kept. Some treated him well out of pity, or poorly out of fear. And some people accepted him for who he was. He’d learned to measure a person’s sincerity by the look on their face when they first saw him.

  When Tom met Harry at the airport there’d been some very mixed messages. He’d expected curiosity, surprise and pity, and he’d found them. But he hadn’t expected to see their old rivalry burn as fiercely as ever in his brother’s eyes. It was almost flattering that Harry still saw him as a contender. That’s when Tom knew why he’d married Emma. And there was something else in Harry’s eyes, something he hadn’t expected to see. Love.

  * * *

  Next morning Tom was up at dawn, finalising preparations for their trip. A bitter-sweet experience. No Harry cracking jokes and sabotaging his packing. No Nana running in and out of the house with extra treats and telling him what animal or plant to look out for. No dogs. Rex and Shadow had often accompanied him on trips into the mountains, and Tom could almost see them bounding around, eager for the fun to begin. Their little packs, found among the old camping things in the stable, symbolised all he’d lost.

  Tom shook his head to clear away the memories, and concentrated on the task at hand. He had to be especially careful not to forget anything they might need. Hiking into a wilderness with the inexperienced Kitty could prove a challenge.

  At six-thirty Mrs Mills hailed him from the kitchen. ‘You’d better wake your girl, Tom. She’ll sleep until nine if you let her, and she needs to make time for breakfast today. I’ve done all her favourites.’

  Tom smiled. Mrs Mills constantly worried about Kitty’s finicky appetite and she was right about Kitty sleeping in. Nine was being generous. But to his surprise Kitty came down the stairs on time, looking fetching, if not entirely practical, in a cream knitted top, calf length rolled wool pants and suede leather boots. After she got used to the idea she’d become quite keen on this camping trip.

  ‘I want you to take photos along the way,’ she said, producing an expensive looking camera. ‘For my portfolio. My agent thinks it will make me look more authentic for adventure roles. He says jungle movies will be big next year.’

  ‘You look great,’ said Tom, ‘But I told you to wear full length pants.’

  ‘I don’t have any,’ Kitty said breezily on her way into the kitchen. ‘I hope Mrs Mills has made something I can eat, for once.’

  Tom sighed. He didn’t dare say that land leeches would make mincemeat of her bare legs. She might change her mind about coming. Still, he couldn’t let his wife spend a week in the bush dressed like that. Tom himself was wearing sensible moleskin trousers tucked into his boots, and had soaked his socks in salty water. Some of Nana’s clothes remained in her closet upstairs. He’d find some long trousers to take, for when Kitty came to her senses.

  * * *

  After breakfast they set off up the waterfall track on a perfect late spring day. The first few hours were easy going and Kitty enjoyed herself. Pointing out parrots and kookaburras. Paddling in the crystal streams and posing for photographs. Oo-ing and ah-ing over swarms of swallowtail butterflies that tumbled from the canopies of flowering sassafras. And her eyes almost lost that fleeting, involuntary start when she looked at him. Almost. Tom couldn’t have hoped for a better beginning – but it came with a tinge of sadness. The ghosts of lost friends travelled with him.

  As the sun climbed higher and the terrain grew rougher, Kitty’s mood changed. It coincided with her first leech. Tom was walking on ahead, planning the easiest way up the next slope, when a scream alerted him to trouble.

  ‘There’s slimy things on me!’

  He was surprised it had taken so long. He took a tiny bottle of tea tree oil from his pocket and ran to the rescue.

  Kitty squirmed as Tom dabbed at the creatures, and one by one they dropped off. ‘Land leeches?’ she said. ‘I’ve never heard of anything so disgusting in my life.’

  ‘Yes, you have. I told you about them myself, but it seems you weren’t listening.’ She glared at him in silence. ‘Here.’ He pulled his grandmother’s moleskins from his pack and offered them to her.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Your new trousers.’

  Kitty took them warily and wrinkled her nose. ‘They smell like mothballs.’ She threw them back at him. ‘I can’t wear those.’

  ‘Righto.’ Tom stood up. ‘But there’ll be more leeches.’

  Her eyes showed the struggle within. ‘Oh, give them here.’

  ‘Don’t forget to tuck the legs into your socks.’

  She slipped off her own trousers, close to tears. ‘I swear, if you take one more photo—’

  * * *

  The day went downhill from there. Kitty imagined leeches everywhere, checking behind each wild flower and fern frond, slowing their progress to a snail’s pace. Once they saw a snake – the mere flicker of copper-coloured scales disappearing in the grass – but Kitty froze.

  ‘It’s gone, Kit. Come on.’ It took half an hour before he could persuade her to move.

  As the hills grew steeper, her pack grew heavier, and she complained constantly. It wasn’t long before most of her things were in Tom’s already overloaded pack. His fitness was down and he struggled with the added weight. By the time they made camp for the night they were both exhausted. Wearily he set up the tent, while Kitty sat on a log and took off her boots. He ventured away from the camp to collect firewood.

  A familiar rocky outcrop, shaped like a dragon’s head, told Tom they’d travelled only half the distance he’d hoped for. He was surprised how surely he remembered the way. To the west, a solitary eagle wheeled across the face of the range. Tom watched it
with envy, just as he had as a boy. Oh to be that bird, soaring free above the mountains.

  The setting sun turned the peaks to purple, while streamers of painted cloud scattered across the sky. A scene of overwhelming beauty. He glanced across at Kitty. Surely no one could remain untouched by such a lovely twilight? But she wasn’t admiring the sunset. She couldn’t even see it. She’d gone into the tent and zipped up the flap.

  Tom set about lighting a fire, cooking the sausages and laying out his swag. He didn’t expect to be invited to join his wife.

  * * *

  It took them four more days to reach the cliffs of Tiger Pass. Blisters plagued Kitty’s feet and the sun burned her skin. Who knew her lovely tan was due more to soaking in baths full of tea than from being outdoors? But as their trip wore on and the distractions of everyday life faded away, a change came over her. The bush was working its magic, opening Kitty’s eyes to the enchantment surrounding them. She spent less time complaining and more time paying attention. Watching out for baby wombats and wallabies. Photographing waratahs and wearing fragrant leatherwood flowers in her hair. Debating with him the best course to take up a rocky incline. Helping to pitch the tent at the end of the day and even trying her hand at cooking. It was the first time he could remember the two of them acting as a team. The first time she seemed to forget about his face.

  This was what he’d been hoping for – just him and Kitty and a ten-thousand-year-old forest. If they were ever going to make a connection, it would be here.

  On the last night before reaching Tiger Pass they talked, really talked. Sitting together on a fireside log, he told her about growing up with Harry, and how a love of birds had fuelled his passion for flight.

  And for once Kitty listened. ‘If you knew back then what would happen,’ she said. ‘That you’d be burned alive and almost die, would you still have become a pilot?’

  ‘Of course. For good or bad, flying is my destiny.’

  ‘Yes.’ A soft smile of comprehension touched her lips. ‘And acting is mine. I’ll make more films, Tom. I was born for it, just like you were born to fly.’

  A chill breeze sprang up. Kitty moved closer, leaning into him and trading warmth. And there, under a spangled sky ablaze with stars, she poured out her hopes and dreams in a great, gushing stream of consciousness. Her abusive childhood. Her unwavering ambition to be a famous actress. Her burning desire to succeed, no matter what it took. ‘You understand, don’t you?’ said Kitty. ‘How important this is to me?’

  ‘If it’s who you are, nobody can change that. Nobody should try. You’re my wife, Kitty. I’ll do what I can to make you happy.’

  A high wind moaned through the celery topped pines. Tom sniffed the air; a mountain storm was on its way. A devil shrieked in the night and Kitty leaped onto his knee with her arms around his neck. She looked so lovely, eyes shining in the starlight. He kissed her, his face in shadow, and Kitty returned the kiss.

  He felt the stirrings of love in his heart, a love he hadn’t felt since the crash. Up until now he’d been holding back. This was how to connect with her. Share who he truly was, and she would do the same.

  Stray raindrops fell as the stars went out. Darkness was his friend. Kitty took his hand and drew him into the tent.

  Chapter 35

  They broke camp next morning under a rain-washed sky. The jagged crags of Tiger Pass loomed large on the horizon. Soon they’d be there.

  Tea tree oil had dried up Kitty’s blisters, and she trod the trail ahead of him with an easy, hip-swinging walk. Skin glowing with a natural tan, soft curls bouncing in the sun. It was hard to believe this was the same grumpy, whining young woman of a few days earlier.

  Kitty turned, yawning and smiling. Tom bounded forward to sling a supportive arm around her shoulder. ‘Tired?’ he asked. ‘I know I am.’

  ‘But in the most delicious way, right? I want to be this kind of tired every morning of my life.’

  He bent to kiss her. Laughing, she turned away. Apparently their newfound intimacy did not extend to daytime. He could cope with that. A big improvement on those early days when Kitty gagged at the sight of him. He forged on ahead, born upon a tide of optimism and excitement. This trip had succeeded beyond his wildest expectations.

  Making good time, they reached their destination in under two hours. With tentative steps they passed through the two high walls of stone that formed a natural gateway. For Tom, it was like stepping back in time. Massive cliffs, striped with shadows and fringed with jagged battlements. The stream running through the centre of the canyon, linking a chain of dark, rocky pools. The strange stillness. A place that had remained unchanged for thousands of years.

  Kitty looked at him, her face one of awed reverence. Hallelujah! She could feel it too. He felt like singing.

  Tom led her along the stream, past cliffs peppered with limestone caves, until they reached a high granite ledge. He helped Kitty up and waited for her gasp of delight. The stream plunged over the edge in a cascade of rainbow spray, tumbling hundreds of feet to the forested valley below. A valley that extended for miles like a vast, natural amphitheatre.

  ‘Breathtaking,’ she whispered. ‘It feels like we’re suspended in space.’

  ‘Tiger Pass is a little hanging canyon,’ he said. ‘Carved out by long-vanished glaciers. Can you imagine how it was back then – one vast, glittering ocean of ice?’

  Kitty stood, hand on her heart, lips slightly parted, clearly moved by the grandeur of the scene. Tom took her hand. He could love this woman, and maybe she could love him again too – but only if they trusted each other. She was his wife, and their marriage deserved a leap of faith.

  ‘Is there a way down?’ she said.

  ‘Come on.’ He helped her from the ledge. ‘I’ll show you.’

  * * *

  Tom found the old Huon pine tree that marked the cave entrance. Nothing had changed since he’d come here with his grandmother years ago. The ancient rock paintings, and that eerie likeness of a thylacine gazing from the ceiling.

  They climbed down the narrow, tomb-like tunnel through the bowels of the mountain. The descent was almost too much for Kitty, especially the bats, but eventually they emerged onto the valley floor. A mob of wallabies bounded across a grassy clearing brimming with wildflowers: everlasting daisies, lilies and native cornflowers. Pretty green rosellas browsed on a curtain of crimson bottlebrush. A pair of shelducks, resplendent in shining chestnut waistcoats and white neckties, led their brood of fluffy ducklings down to the creek.

  Behind them, perpendicular cliffs soared hundreds of feet into the blue — veined with quartz and gleaming feldspar. Patterned with lichen. An impenetrable, natural fortress.

  ‘Oh, look,’ said Kitty. ‘A hedgehog. It’s so cute.’

  ‘An echidna,’ said Tom, watching as it demolished a bull ant nest with powerful front claws. ‘And yes, it’s very cute.’

  At the stream they took off their packs, refilled their canteens, and sat on the warm river sand to rest. A platypus emerged from the reeds by their feet, followed by twin babies. Kitty laughed as they dabbled about in the shallows, using their beaks as snorkels.

  ‘Like a cross between a duck and an otter, but with a beaver’s tail,’ said Kitty. ‘Don’t you have normal animals here in Tasmania?’

  The platypuses paddled into deeper water. ‘They lay eggs, you know,’ said Tom. ‘So does that echidna we saw.’

  Kitty frowned and wagged her finger at him. ‘Now you’re making fun of me.’

  A warm flush passed through him and his doubts fled. How lovely Kitty was. How charming. They’d make camp at Fortune Cave and he’d lay himself bare. Tell her about his parents’ death. Tell her what happened all those years ago with Harry at the waterfall, and the truth about his grandfather. He would even tell her about the tigers. Were they still here? It had been twelve years since he and Nana had heard that lonely cry in the night.

  ‘Up you get.’ He shouldered his pack and helped Kitty on with
hers. ‘Not much further now.’

  They came to the foot of the falls. It cascaded into a deep waterhole, creating a curtain of shimmering spray. ‘I told you Binburra had a pool.’

  ‘Oh, Tom. What a perfect place to make a movie.’ Kitty stripped down to her knickers and stood poised on the rocky bank. ‘If my agent could only see me now!’ she called. ‘Tarzan, eat your heart out.’ She looked surreal, like a statuesque goddess, as she dived into the water. His pampered city girl was becoming quite the adventurer.

  * * *

  From the waterfall it was an easy hike to Fortune Cave, following a broad animal track beside the stream. They walked in silence, the valley’s grand stillness not conducive to small talk.

  In his mind, Tom went over and over how the forthcoming conversation with Kitty might go. Where would he start? What if she didn’t appreciate the significance of what he was telling her? He tried to put himself in Kitty’s position. She’d be sympathetic, certainly, to learn how his mother really died. But the rest of it? Why should she care about the rivalry with Harry that had defined both of their lives? Why would she care who his grandfather was, or if there were tigers living in the valley? She wouldn’t even know what a thylacine was, so why risk telling her?

  Tom glanced back at Kitty, who had dropped far behind. He paused for her to catch up, kicking at a piece of driftwood with his boot. Damn it. He had to stop second guessing himself like this.

  It was then he saw them in the damp river sand — the unmistakeable prints of a thylacine. No, not a thylacine, three or four of them. A chill ran up his spine. There’d been no verified sightings since Karma died twelve years earlier. Most scientists believed them extinct. Yet here was proof that they lived on, here in the remote reaches of Binburra’s ranges, and he was the only person alive to know.