by Di Morrissey
‘I’m sure you’re too busy, and besides, it can be dirty work.’
‘Look, at least let me take you out for a drink?’ Cameron glanced around the busy shop. ‘I guess that’s out of the question too. Perhaps I might curtail my stopover and come back when you have more time.’
‘We’ll see. Is your business going well? Or whatever it is you’re doing out here?’ Jacqui asked, only out of politeness. She found she really didn’t care.
‘Well, I haven’t got time to tell you all about it now. But you’ll hear soon enough. I’m getting to like this part of the country, so you might not get rid of me all that easily.’
Jacqui suddenly felt a bit guilty. If it hadn’t been for their old connection, she wouldn’t have bothered to make the time for Cameron, but he’d gone to the trouble of stopping by to see her, so she decided to make them both a cup of coffee and sit where she would be readily available if Sylvia needed her.
‘I’ve got time for a quick break if you do,’ Jacqui suggested. ‘Have a look around and I’ll get us a coffee and be with you in a minute.’ Jacqui served several customers and then made two cups of coffee. She gave one to Cameron and he followed her to one of the small outside tables.
‘I don’t do this for everyone,’ Jacqui said. ‘Otherwise I’d go broke. But I suppose you could say this is for old times’ sake.’
They sat in the sun outside the entrance sipping their coffee, Jacqui keeping an eye on the browsing customers.
‘You seem to be making a habit of passing through here. I would have thought in your world this is a bit off the map. A backwater for a jetsetter?’ she said.
Cameron shrugged. ‘I rather like it here. Compared to where I’ve been, this is damned civilised.’
Jacqui raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you out looking at properties again?’
‘Not really. Just looking at hundreds of miles of empty inland desert behind a supposedly unremarkable coast.’
‘Then what on earth are you here for?’
‘Mining. The great Western Australian industry.’ He gave a small smile. ‘And it looks like it’s getting bigger. You should invest in this town. There’ll be a boom time coming.’
Jacqui suddenly swallowed her coffee in a gulp. ‘What do you mean, exactly?’
‘Can’t say too much. But I expect there’ll be an announcement out of Perth pretty soon about the new activity that’s going to start soon.’
‘Who’s going to make this announcement? The state government or a mining company? What do they intend to mine for? Will it be similar to the iron ore mining that’s going on in the Pilbara?’
‘No, this mining will be offshore. Natural gas. There’s a huge reservoir of it out there, under the sea, just waiting to be accessed. The plan is that the gas will be piped to shore and processed there before being shipped overseas.’
‘Cameron, I heard some of the local Aboriginal people talking about this proposal when I was camping up the coast at The Point,’ said Jacqui.
‘You went camping?’ asked Cameron in mock horror.
Jacqui ignored the remark. ‘And what I learned is that not all the locals are keen on this hub being built. According to my friend Lydia, Aboriginal people view their land as sacred. Maybe they’ll fight for a claim of ownership over the land.’
‘Maybe, or maybe they won’t because they’ll be well compensated for giving up such a claim, which could run into millions of dollars,’ said Cameron dryly. ‘Mind you, there’ll probably be a bit of argy-bargy before it’s all settled. It’s early days yet.’
‘You seem very confident, but I suspect you won’t have things all your own way on this,’ said Jacqui coolly, replacing her cup in its saucer. ‘I’d better get back to my customers.’
‘Jacqui . . .’ He reached out and touched her arm, which stilled her. She turned to face him.
‘It’s not as bad as you seem to think. The gas hub is a good thing, believe me, for the economy of the town, the Aboriginal people and the state. If you have any money, invest it. You’ll thank me in the long run.’
Jacqui stood up. ‘I have to go, Cameron. Sylvia is starting to look a bit harassed in there. I’m sorry about the dinner.’
‘You have enough on your plate by the sound of it,’ he said calmly. ‘Next time I plan on being around, I’ll give you advance warning. And thanks for the coffee.’ He stood up and, with a final wave, walked away.
Feeling very unsettled by their conversation, Jacqui hurried inside to help Sylvia and then rang Lydia, who, unfortunately, was on air and so was unable to speak to her. Jacqui sighed in annoyance and flung herself back into sorting the books for the festival.
*
‘Hey there, you.’
Jacqui’s heart leaped and she jumped up and hugged Damien. ‘Boy, am I glad to see you!’
As there was no one in the shop Damien gave her a long, lingering kiss. ‘Hmmm, I’m glad to see you, too. I should drop in more often! How’re things going?’
‘I’m a bit overwhelmed with the festival books. They’ve all arrived but I have to get them over to the venue. The resort has set aside a room that I’ll use as my mini bookshop, and I’ve got some shelving and stands for the books as well as a book-signing table. Now all I have to do is get everything over there, sorted out and set up so that the room doesn’t look like a dog’s breakfast.’ She sighed.
Damien looked at the back of the shop and the overflowing storage room.
‘You have to get all these books to the festival site? There are an awful lot of them. What help have you got?’
‘Not a lot. Jean-Luc’s gone off with Lydia up the coast. I was hoping that some of his friends might help but, without Jean-Luc, it’s hard to get in touch with them.’
‘Let me help you! The festival hasn’t started yet, so I’ve got nothing to do except spend time with you, and if I have to use it lugging around boxes of books, then that’s fine with me.’
Jacqui smiled at him and gave him a quick kiss. ‘You’re a gem. That would be such a help. I’ve hired a mini-van to take them over, but I can only lift so many of these cartons of books. If you’re up to it, we could start moving things this afternoon.’
‘Fine by me. C’mon, the sooner we get it done the sooner I can take you for a drink or some supper.’
As soon as Jacqui picked up the mini-van, they stacked the first load of boxes into it and, leaving Sylvia in the shop, they set off to the festival site.
‘You are sweet to help me like this,’ Jacqui said as she negotiated the van through Broome’s streets. ‘I know you’re busy. Have you arranged to film Sheila Turner?’
‘We’re meeting on Friday morning. I’m going to shoot some footage of the opening night speeches and then some of the talk she and Lydia are doing. Lydia has set up a few things out of town that she thinks might interest Ms Turner, and Sheila seems pretty stoked about it all.’
‘That sounds fantastic. Good on you.’
‘She’s a pretty cool bird. We chatted for a long time on the phone. She’s smart and wants to learn what she can about life in the Kimberley.’
‘If I can get the time, can I come along?’
Damien leaned over and kissed her as they pulled up at the entrance to the resort hosting the festival. ‘Sure you can. We’ll add you to the crew. Now let’s get cracking with these boxes. We’ll take this load in, then I’ll go back for some more books while you start sorting.’
‘That would be such a help. I really appreciate it.’
Several hours later, Jacqui surveyed the space that was being transformed into her mini bookshop. She had made sure that all the books were set out in an orderly fashion, so that they could be rushed onto display, accessible and ready to be signed immediately after an author had made an appearance.
‘Phew, that’s about it for now,’ she said to Damien as he brought in the last of
the boxes from the van. ‘Can hardly fit everything in, but one more trip tomorrow and I’ll be fairly sorted. Then it’s just point of sale, display stuff, the paperwork, credit card machine . . .’ Jacqui was making mental notes.
Damien glanced at his watch. ‘It’s getting late. How about we grab a bite to eat? You choose a place.’
Jacqui straightened up. ‘Come back home and we’ll scratch around in my kitchen. I can always rustle up something good from leftovers.’
‘Putting leftovers together is an art form. I’ll drop you home then go and pick up some wine.’
*
Jacqui was tired. She hoped Jean-Luc was having a good time with Riley and Lydia’s mob. She smiled to herself at the thought. What a kick for Jean-Luc to hang out with Riley! He’d devoured Riley’s new book but Jacqui suspected that Jean-Luc was too polite to bother Riley with a lot of questions about it.
‘Why don’t you save your questions for the festival? At these sorts of events, authors like being asked questions about their books – especially when their readers have enjoyed them,’ she’d suggested to her son.
Jean-Luc had laughed. ‘And if you don’t like their book?’
‘That might embarrass the writer, but that’s what festivals are all about. A frank exchange of views.’
She splashed water on her face, tidied her hair, sprayed on some perfume and began to think about dinner. Suddenly she thought how pleasant it was to be throwing together a meal for a nice man, looking forward to sitting down with him and talking over their day with a bottle of wine. Not that this had exactly been her experience in previous relationships.
Marriage, as she’d observed it, growing up with loving parents and her friends’ families, involved a bit of bumpy give and take, but it had a lot of good moments, too. So when the reality of a cultural mismatch in her own marriage had hit, it had shocked her. She’d become wounded and cautious and had found it hard to accept that the dream, or at least a version of it, hadn’t eventuated. It had also taken her a long time to accept that the fault was not hers. For a long while afterwards she had worn a protective coat of laughter and lightness, keeping on the move, briefly sharing a bed, but never her heart. Since arriving in Broome and deciding to stay and run a modest but successful business, she had rediscovered a sense of self-confidence, belonging, and stability after many years of self-doubt. And after meeting Damien, she found that her protective layer had softened, and she could see that perhaps, finally, there might be a chance to not feel so alone, to not feel that Jean-Luc was the sole love in her life.
Damien arrived with the wine, asked her where the glasses were and, after opening the bottle, poured her a glass. Then, without prompting, he picked up a knife and started cutting the spring onions that were lying on the bench.
As though their movements were choreographed, they moved companionably around the kitchen, putting the meal together, Damien opening a drawer or a cupboard to find things, asking Jacqui what she wanted him to do next. As she began frying onions he stood behind her and, with his arms around her, nuzzled her ear.
And then, Jacqui knew she and Damien would go to bed together, and make love, and he’d be there, with her, in the morning. Past that, she didn’t dare think. And when it happened, later that night, their lovemaking was blissful. Her body felt awakened, as if after a long slumber.
Jacqui had had sex a few times during the past few years, brief interludes with nice men, some, like herself, lonely. But it was only sex, not love. They had all been brief sojourns, although one fellow had wanted to stay with her on a permanent basis. She’d severed the relationship immediately, always holding back from getting involved with anyone for the long term.
Suddenly, here was Damien, winkling into the crack in her heart and emotions, the first since, since . . . Don’t go there, she chided herself as she snuggled into the crook of his arm and an inner voice reminded her – Don’t complicate things. It was going to be very hard not to complicate things when making love with Damien felt so right.
*
There were comfortable silences as they shared toast and tea at breakfast, passing the Vegemite between them, then a shared, giggling shower, a passionate argument over nothing special and laughter at inconsequential things.
Later, sitting in the morning sun with empty coffee cups, Damian stretched. ‘I gotta hit the road, Jac, I’m afraid, especially if you want me to do one last book run before Richie and I get our act together. He’s flying into town this morning.’
‘If you can fit it in, that would be a huge help. I’ll really be on top of things. Thank you.’ Jacqui reached over and squeezed his arm fondly. ‘I suppose that you and Richie will have to work out the details of your Sheila shoot. Won’t the places you’re taking her be a bit rugged? Will she have to sleep outdoors with no amenities? She’s not a spring chicken,’ she worried. ‘I do feel a bit responsible for her.’
‘You don’t have to be her minder, but you’re right. From what Lydia said, it could be a bit tough. Still, you can come too, remember, if you find the time.’ Damien got to his feet and fished his keys out of his pocket. ‘Now, let’s get those books on the way.’
‘Damien, thank you for last night . . .’ She stood up and leaned in to him, lifting her face, wanting him to hold her close with a lingering kiss.
He kissed her lightly and patted her bottom. ‘I’ll just check in with Richie and we’ll hit the road.’
Jacqui pulled away, seeing that he had disconnected from her, his mind focused on the day ahead.
‘Right, I’ll just grab my bag,’ she said, trying not to sound disappointed.
After completing the trip to the festival site with the books, Damien dropped Jacqui back at the shop.
‘Lot of posters around town for the festival. Things must be starting to gear up,’ said Damien lightly. ‘Hey, looks like you’ve got a customer waiting for you already.’
‘You and Richie will be right to shoot the opening session with Sheila, won’t you?’
‘Sure thing, Jac.’
Damien gave her a quick kiss as she got out of the car and hurried up the steps to where a second customer was now waiting. She smiled, and as she reached into her bag for the key she turned and watched Damien’s car turning the corner into Dampier Terrace.
6
Suddenly the festival was upon them. In Broome, people were milling around town or strolling between the resorts, restaurants and tourist spots. There were queues for tickets and Red Coast Books was so busy there was hardly space to browse. There was such a hum in the air that Sylvia kept saying, ‘It’s so buzzy everywhere!’
The energy about the place seemed infectious. When Jean-Luc returned from Beagle Bay he was brimming with enthusiasm about his trip and, perhaps as a consequence of spending time with Riley, had become very interested in the festival.
‘Beagle Bay was so cool,’ he told Jacqui. ‘Some parts of the community are very run-down, untidy and messy. But the setting by the bay is beautiful. We went fishing with some elders who showed us how to catch mud crabs. I think Riley was a bit nervous of them – the crabs are huge up there!’
‘Did you go into the old mission church nearby? It’s very famous.’
‘Of course. Riley took a lot of photos of all the pearl shell decoration inside and so did I. But I also hung out a lot with the band, you know, The Pistons, and while I was talking to them, Lydia’s uncle took Riley around a few more special places in the area. But I preferred the band. They’re amazing.’
Jacqui nodded. ‘Yes, Lydia told me about them. They’re coming for the opening night of the festival, and this will be the first time they’ve played a public gig in twenty years!’ she said. ‘They have quite a history. Lydia said they’ve been around since the 80s but her family get-together was something of a reunion for them. And once they agreed to play at the opening night, the tickets went like hot cakes. I think a lot
of people will come just to hear them. I only hope people are as keen to hear the authors speaking.’
Jean-Luc waved a hand nonchalantly. ‘Stop worrying, Maman. Everyone is talking about it. Nathan said his mother and all her friends are coming.’
‘That’s good to hear. Have you any plans while I’m at the opening night?’ asked Jacqui. ‘I have no idea what time it will end.’
‘Nathan has asked me to their place. He said his mother would be at the opening night, so his father was staying at home and throwing a barbeque for a bunch of us kids. Oh, and Nathan said I can stay the night, if I want to. Would that be all right?’ asked Jean-Luc.
‘Sounds like fun. I’ll give Nathan’s father a ring and check that he’s fine with all these plans,’ said Jacqui, pleased that she didn’t have to make alternative arrangements for her son.
*
Jacqui stepped back from the mirror to admire her new, slinky dress. The silk clung to her slim figure, and she slipped on a beaded short shrug, something her mother used to call a bolero. High-heeled sandals, bare brown legs and glittery earrings completed the outfit. ‘That’ll do,’ she decided as she waited for Damien and Richie, who were collecting her on their way to the opening night. They were planning to arrive in time to film the sunset over the bay.
The Mangrove Hotel, which was hosting the opening night cocktail party in its grounds, had a gorgeous view overlooking Roebuck Bay. Although the three of them were early, there were already some guests standing around beside small tables on the lawns, while others were now seated at long tables, ready for the proceedings to begin. At one end of the garden, a small stage was ready for the welcoming speeches and, later on, the music.
It was a perfect, balmy Broome night. Flickering flame torches and subtle lighting didn’t obscure the starlit sky or the moon as it rose over the bay, shining between the horizon and the mangroves below the rise where the hotel commanded its spectacular view. This was a favoured spot to view the magical ‘Staircase to the Moon’, where several times a year the reflection of the full moon was split by atmospheric conditions into what looked like steps across the sea.
