by Di Morrissey
‘I think I’ll just enjoy listening to the swishing of the paperbarks and the lapping of the sea,’ said Jacqui.
‘Yes, I like to do that, too,’ said Alison wistfully. ‘I miss this place when I’m away. Perth is great, but I just love being here.’
‘It must be wonderful to look back on all that you and your family have achieved together,’ said Jacqui.
‘We’re in this business because we love it, but I’m so pleased James has taken the reins and kicked us forward.’ She put down her mug. ‘Enough proud mother talk.’
‘No, you are perfectly right to be proud of him. I hope that one day I shall be just as proud of my son,’ said Jacqui.
‘Oh,’ said Alison. ‘I had no idea you had a son. Does he live in Broome?’
‘No, in France, with his father.’
‘My dear, that must be very difficult for you,’ said Alison sympathetically.
‘It is, but he’s coming to visit me in a few weeks and will stay for the whole of his school holidays.’
‘You must be very excited about that,’ said Alison.
‘I am,’ admitted Jacqui. ‘Although I’m apprehensive as well. I just hope he’s as excited at the thought of seeing me as I am of him.’
‘I’m sure he is,’ said Alison kindly. ‘Now I’ll say good night and I’ll see you in the morning before you go.’
After Alison left, Jacqui lay in her bunk, listening to the gentle lap of the water and the night noises of small creatures and rustling paperbark trees, and thinking about Jean-Luc and his impending visit before drifting off into a deep and contented sleep.
It was early morning before she knew it. Jacqui quietly pulled her door shut behind her, even though there was no one nearby. Her small cabin was at the far end of the row, and as she threaded her way along the sandy track, the sky was turning pearly grey. She used her torch anyway, to avoid tripping on tree roots or some small creature.
She heard a noise up ahead and flicked the pale beam of light towards it. Someone was walking quietly towards her.
‘Hi, Jacqui. You’re up already? I was just coming to check,’ called Damien softly.
‘Yes. I’m ready. Are you guys all set?’
‘Yep. Richie is just knocking back some brekkie. Here, I brought you a mug of tea. Birds will start their dawn chorus soon.’
‘I did sleep soundly. The sound of the water was so peaceful. How kind of you,’ she said as Damien handed her the mug. Taking a sip she said, ‘Mmm, perfect. Hits the spot.’
They both paused and looked at the bay as she drank the hot tea.
‘I love this time of the morning,’ said Damien. ‘The slate washed clean. New day and all that.’
‘I hope the filming goes well. Is the weather going to stay calm?’
‘It should, though James doesn’t want to be out on the water this afternoon just in case the wind gets up,’ said Damien. ‘So we’re going out this morning.’
‘He’s very efficient, isn’t he?’
‘A dynamo. He’s still young, anyway, younger than me, and look what he’s achieved.’
‘Carrying on the tradition and then some.’ Jacqui took another sip of tea and glanced at Damien. ‘Did you always see yourself doing this?’
‘No, not for years. My father is a big movie buff, though. Used to take me to see foreign language films when I was a kid. I wasn’t enamoured at the time – I wanted to play footy and cricket, alien activities to my dad. But later I realised that I had absorbed a great appreciation of the visual so that now I tend to frame the world in cinematic images.’ Damien held up his hands, making a frame around the first cracks of light in the clearing clouds.
‘What a lovely way to view the world,’ said Jacqui.
‘Hey, you guys, breakfast’s ready if you want it,’ called out James as the tantalising smell of toast and fried bacon drifted towards Damien and Jacqui. They headed over to the cookout.
The first shift workers were all finishing breakfast, putting their plates in the sink, talking quietly before they headed off to their duties. Most of them wore shorts, T-shirts, light spray jackets and either rubber reef shoes or trainers.
Alison walked towards them, carrying a paper bag, and greeting staff by name as she passed.
‘Good morning, hope you slept well. Make sure you have a decent breakfast, you’ve got a big drive ahead,’ she said to Jacqui.
‘You sure you’ll be okay driving back on your own?’ asked Damien.
‘Oh yes, thanks, it’s not a good road, but I’ll drive carefully.’
‘It can be treacherous sometimes. Fortunately, the road is dry, but in terrible condition; it needs grading badly. Watch out for animals as they’re around before sunup,’ advised Alison. ‘And drive slowly. Don’t try to hurry. That road can be unpredictable.’
‘Yes, I know. I’ve got plenty of bottles of water in the car and I can take care of myself. Don’t worry,’ said Jacqui reassuringly.
‘Here, I packed you some snacks. Would you like more tea to take with you? I can rustle up a thermos, I’m sure,’ said Alison, handing Jacqui the paper bag.
‘No, no, but thank you, Alison. Water is fine, but I appreciate the food,’ said Jacqui.
‘Drive safely, Jacqui. We’ll call in to see you as soon as we get back,’ said Richie, waving his toast and Vegemite towards her.
‘Great. Alison, it’s been a fascinating experience. I can’t thank you and James enough for your hospitality,’ said Jacqui.
‘Come back anytime. And I’ll pop in to see you next time I’m passing through Broome.’ Alison gave her a hug. ‘Bring your son up here, if you like,’ she said softly.
Damien, who had gone to pick up her backpack, said, ‘I’ll walk you to your car.’
‘Damo, I’ll see you at the boat,’ called Richie as he followed James down to the shore.
Damien put Jacqui’s backpack on the seat beside her and closed the car door. She turned on the engine and opened her window to say goodbye.
‘Thanks, Damien. Enjoy your filming. I hope I can see some of it.’
‘We’ll be anxious to look at it properly when we get back,’ said Damien. ‘There might be a way you can see it, too.’
‘That’ll be exciting.’
‘Drive safely and be careful on that road. See you when we get back to Broome.’
He stepped back from the car, lifted his arm and gave her a quick wave.
Jacqui headed out onto the Cape Leveque Road just as the sun was rising. She’d loved seeing Cygnet Bay and wished she could have stayed there for the week. Everyone was so friendly. She especially liked Damien. He was bright, intelligent and easygoing. She knew nothing about his life except as a filmmaker, and she had no idea if he was in a relationship or not. Anyway, he was only around temporarily, so she wouldn’t allow herself to think further. But there was no doubting he was a thoughtful man and good company.
By now the sun was glaringly high in the sky and Jacqui hadn’t seen another vehicle on the road. She had become used to the juddering and shuddering as she drove over the corrugations in the sandy, unsealed surface, which was still suffering from the effects of the last floods, but she certainly wasn’t enjoying the experience. After a couple of hours of discomfort, she decided she’d take a break and see what was in Alison’s thoughtful package. She slowed, looking for a spot to pull over where it wasn’t too rugged, and where she wouldn’t get bogged in the soft, powdery pindan dirt.
From the corner of her eye on her right, she was suddenly aware of movement, and instinctively swerved, hitting the accelerator hard, so that she shot past a bullock that had decided to cross the road just as she was passing. The car slewed across the rutted road as she slowed, trying not to hit the brakes, which would cause her to skid. She came to a stop half off the road as, behind her, the bullock changed its mind and ambled back into t
he rough pindan scrub. A plume of red dust settled back onto the road in her wake.
Damn, that was close. Jacqui felt rattled, and moved the car off the road next to a log and got out, her knees shaking.
She grabbed a water bottle and the paper bag of food. Purposefully she went to the back of the vehicle, rummaged for the jack handle and carried it to the log. She banged heavily along the length of the log and leaped back, poised and waiting to see if anything slithered out. She did not want an encounter with a snake. Nothing stirred so she sat down on the log to enjoy the muffins and fruit she discovered in the bag.
As she brushed the crumbs to the ground, waiting for ants to appear, she heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. As a dark-coloured four-wheel drive came towards her, it slowed down. It had tinted windows and, for a moment, Jacqui suddenly began to have irrational fears about murderers, rapists and kidnappers. But when the vehicle pulled up beside her and stopped, and the driver rolled his window down, a cheerful, grey-flecked, sandy head poked out and gave her a big smile.
‘You okay, love? Just taking a break? No engine trouble?’
‘Thanks! No. Nearly drove into a bullock so I’m taking a break.’
‘Sensible. They’re buggers. Don’t know what can be done about it, really. This is one road that’s never going to be fenced!’ He opened the door and stepped out. He was wearing smart shorts and a checked shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Jacqui guessed he was in his seventies and he seemed to be wiry, strong and good-natured. He crossed the road and came towards Jacqui.
‘This is one of the worst roads in WA. Wise to take it easy.’
‘Yes, I can’t argue with that. Would you like a muffin?’ Jacqui proffered the bag.
‘Don’t mind if I do. Can I take a seat?’ He indicated the log she was sitting on.
‘Please do. I’ve checked for snakes.’
He laughed. ‘Good for you. So you heading for Broome? Are you a tourist or a local?’
‘I live in Broome.’ Jacqui sipped her water as the man inspected his muffin before taking a bite. ‘I own Red Coast Books.’
‘Is that so?’
In that unhurried way of the bush, they nibbled at their muffins, not rushing to idle chitchat.
The man wiped the crumbs from his mouth. ‘So, you’ve been at Cygnet Bay?’
‘How do you know that?’ asked Jacqui in surprise.
‘These are Alison’s muffins. Know ’em anywhere, they’re the best.’ He brushed his hand on his thigh and held it out. ‘G’day. I’m Bruce Brown, Alison’s husband!’
Jacqui laughed. ‘Well, I’m Jacqui Bouchard, and I’ve just had the best time up in Cygnet Bay!’
3
A week sped by. Jacqui was finding it hard to get back into her usual ordered routine and calm life. Her mind kept slipping back to the excitement of Cygnet Bay, and to Damien. What an interesting life he must lead! No routine hours for him. Jacqui had to admit she was really hoping he and Richie would have time to stop over in Broome on their way back to Perth.
That Friday afternoon Jacqui waited till the day began to cool as the ocean breeze swung into town with the incoming tide. There would be, she knew, a stunning sunset as usual that evening. She packed a carry bag with the books she’d selected, a couple of old news and travel magazines, a box of shortbread biscuits and a chopped-up mango in a plastic tub along with some paper napkins. She called out to Sylvia, ‘I’m popping out for an hour, to the retirement village to see Wally. You okay to hold the fort?’
‘Sure thing. I’m just cataloguing the new stock. I can stop doing that when we get some customers,’ Sylvia said cheerfully.
‘I’ll be back before closing.’
Jacqui hung the bag on the handlebars of her bike. She was happy to pedal around town, especially when the day had cooled.
She rode past the pearl shops and thought of Lily Barton. She must ask when her daughter Sami was coming up from Perth again. It had been a while since she’d seen Sami, whom she liked a lot.
When she arrived at the Tranquil Waters retirement village, Jacqui secured her bike, waved at the receptionist on duty in the lobby and headed along the ground floor corridor to apartment 14. She tapped on the door.
‘C’mon in, come in!’
‘Hi, Wally.’
‘G’day, Jacqui, love. Always so good to see you. Come along, let’s sit on the patio. I finished that last lot of books you brought me. My goodness, there were a couple of humdingers in there. Hope you don’t mind, I shared them around with some of the old girls.’
‘That’s what they’re for, Wally. The publishers sent those copies out to promote their authors, so I’m happy to hand them around. How’re you keeping?’
‘Can’t complain, I s’pose. Doesn’t do any good, anyway, does it. Would you like a cuppa?’
‘Of course. I’ll make it while you have a browse through my bag of goodies. There’s some shortbread and a bit of mango in there, too.’
‘My favourites. Good on you, Jacqui.’
Jacqui smiled as she crossed Wally’s comfortable room and went to the small area where he could boil a kettle to make himself a cup of tea or instant coffee. Although toasters had been banned, there was a bowl of fruit beside a biscuit tin as well as a small bar fridge which Jacqui knew contained his cold juice, iced water and milk.
Wally had been a regular at Red Coast Books and made frequent donations to the Collector’s Corner, so now she brought books to him. Although he was ninety-two and moved slowly, his mind was quick and sharp, his pale blue eyes bright and alert. His white hair had thinned and his olive skin was stretched across his bony frame like tanned leather. When his knees had given out and he’d found walking difficult, and with his family scattered all over the Kimberley coast, he’d decided to move into the village accommodation.
Jacqui enjoyed the old man’s company, as he was a great raconteur. He’d told her that he’d been a stockman and drover for years before settling in Broome for a while. There he’d worked for a pearling company in the sheds, out on the boats checking the lines of panels packed with pearl shell, or just repairing equipment. He was a practical and accommodating chap with a cheerful and pragmatic attitude to life, willing to turn his hand to most things. He was matter-of-fact when talking about his wife, who had died many years before.
‘We took her back to her Bardi country for the burial ceremonies. It was a funny show,’ he’d once told Jacqui. ‘Elsie was born tribal but was schooled by the Catholic missionaries, so she said she wanted a few hymns and church prayers as well as proper business. So she got both.’
Jacqui had told her parents about Wally when she went to visit them at their home in Sydney, not long after having befriended the elderly man.
Her father, Ralph, had nodded knowingly.
‘Know the type. No empty talk. Straight to the point and tells a good yarn.’
‘You got him in one, Dad.’
‘Bet he’s got good anecdotes about the old days. War stories too, no doubt. Was he there when Broome was bombed?’
‘I don’t know, he’s never said, but then the things we talk about just sort of come up. And he’s a voracious reader.’
Ralph had nodded again. ‘I’ve read a bit about the old bush blokes, they were on their own a lot, so books were good company. Some memorised poems that they could recite for hours, or told great yarns. You had to hold your own around the campfire when you were out in the middle of nowhere for months on end.’
‘Y’know, Dad, what I find intriguing about Wally is that he knows a lot of Aboriginal lore. And law. L.A.W., that is.’
‘Does he now?’
‘He was very much accepted by his wife’s people and they told him a lot of their stories. Sometimes he’ll begin to tell me things, but then stop. Maybe he thinks I wouldn’t be interested, or maybe he realises that what he’s telling me is secre
t business and I shouldn’t be hearing it. But he knows I’m interested in Broome and all its history, so he tells me a lot.’
‘I’ll have to meet the old bloke. I’d love to hear his tales.’
Smiling to herself as she recalled her father’s accurate assessment of Wally, she handed her friend his mug of tea and put the shortbread biscuits on one of his few good plates.
Wally reached for a biscuit, dunked it in his tea and ate it quickly before it dissolved.
‘Hmmm. Good. So what’s been happening out in the wide world, love?’
‘Ah, on the mean streets of Broome, you mean? Well, I had a blast from the past. A chap I’ve known since I was young blew into town a few days ago. I haven’t seen him since uni.’
‘Old boyfriend?’
‘Good heavens, no. Nothing like that. Our families just lived in the same street. He was a nine-year-old pain in the butt who seems to have grown up to be a rich lawyer pain in the butt with designer sunglasses,’ she laughed. Then she paused. ‘Odd, though, he knew I was here in town, but just pretended that meeting me was a coincidence.’
Wally’s eyes narrowed. ‘Did he want something?’
‘From me? Not really. Evidently he’s flying around the Kimberley on behalf of a rich client.’
‘A bloke after money, eh? If he comes back you’d better find out what he’s doing.’
‘Oh, he’s been back, but I doubt he’ll come again. By the way, Lydia said to say hello.’
‘She’s a smart one. I could listen to that voice for hours. Tell her I wouldn’t mind another visit from her. Good company, just like you.’
As Jacqui washed out their cups and prepared to leave, she asked if he needed anything.
‘I’m right, thanks, love. When’s your boy arriving?’
‘Soon. I’ve missed him. I’ll bring him round to say hello and tell you all his news.’
‘I’ll look forward to that.’
