The Red Coast

by Di Morrissey

  ‘Maman, what is wrong?’

  ‘It’s rather upsetting,’ said Jacqui, and then told him about the phone call she’d had from her mother.

  ‘Mais, non! Is Pop all right?’ asked Jean-Luc in alarm.

  ‘It would seem so, but the thing is, your grandparents won’t be able to travel to Broome to see you. I know they’re very disappointed about it, so they suggested that we both fly to Sydney and stay with them. I can’t possibly get away for that long right now, but I don’t see why you shouldn’t go without me. There’s lots to do there – Mum and Dad could take you sailing on Pittwater, or to see some shows in the city. But if you go, I think it would be easier to fly to Paris directly from Sydney, instead of flying back here.’

  Jean-Luc put his arms around his mother. ‘I want to see Pop and Granny, of course . . . but it means spending less time with you.’

  ‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘But we still have a few days together and I know that your grandparents will appreciate your decision. They love you very much.’ She hugged him tightly.

  After they’d finished dinner, the three of them settled down to play Scrabble, and both Jean-Luc and Jacqui were feeling more relaxed. Jacqui was glad that Peggy was there as a distraction, and she certainly seemed to make Jean-Luc laugh. Although Jacqui wasn’t happy about losing time with Jean-Luc, she had learned over the years that fate, airline schedules, weather and illness had occasionally forced a change in plans, so she simply had to make the best of it.

  The game became quite heated when Jean-Luc tried using a French word and Peggy retaliated with one of the local Yawuru words she’d learned. The evening flew by, so it was a surprise when there was a knock at the door and Phillip Knowles was there, ready to take Peggy home.

  ‘What great timing, the climax of the Scrabble game is approaching amid much debate,’ said Jacqui with a laugh. ‘We might need you to adjudicate. And you’re in time for coffee and dessert, too.’

  ‘Dad has a terrible sweet tooth,’ teased Peggy. ‘Shall I put the coffee on, Jacqui?’

  ‘Phillip, you take my place, and you have my permission to clean up the opposition. I’ll make the coffee and find something sugary for everyone,’ Jacqui offered.

  As she set out the coffee things and peered into the freezer for the token dessert she kept on hand for such emergencies, the laughter and good-natured ribbing echoed in from the living room. Jacqui felt a wash of sadness at the thought of how quiet her evenings would be for the rest of the year.

  Peggy was declared the winner and the game was carefully packed away before Phillip wandered into the kitchen and offered to carry the coffee tray.

  ‘Where shall we adjourn?’

  ‘It’s so balmy, let’s go to the verandah.’

  The two kids perched on the step with their frozen cheesecake as Phillip and Jacqui sat in the old rattan chairs, the matching table with its unravelling legs between them.

  ‘Is Sheila set for your trip?’ asked Jacqui.

  ‘Yes, she’s curious to see Kimberley country, so we’re taking her out to Kunaan, where we can camp for a few days. She wants to see the landscape as well as visit some communities. Maybe buy some art. I’ve also promised to show her several newly discovered rock art shelters. Not that I’m an expert on rock art, but I can’t deny that I find it fascinating, especially when one considers how old it is and the cultural significance it has.’ Phillip looked at Jacqui. ‘Why don’t you come out, too? Sheila has time up her sleeve, so it’s turning into a bit of an extended expedition.’

  Jacqui thought of Damien and his invitation to join them, and sighed. ‘That’s a lovely idea, thank you, Phillip, and Damien has already suggested I go, but no, I can’t. I’ve got a lot of work to do in the shop to wrap up the festival, and besides, Jean-Luc leaves next Monday to visit his grandparents in Sydney.’

  ‘We could be out there for some time, so you might be able to join us later,’ suggested Phillip.

  ‘It sounds amazing,’ said Jean-Luc. ‘I wish I could go.’

  ‘It is. I’ve been out there with Dad. It’s another world,’ said Peggy, standing up to collect their plates.

  ‘I’ll think about it. Thank you for the offer,’ Jacqui replied.

  Phillip smiled and got to his feet. ‘That was a very nice sweet treat, thank you, Jacqui,’ he said. ‘Come on, Peg, we had better head back to camp.’

  Jean-Luc leaped to his feet and he and Peggy took the plates into the kitchen.

  ‘Peggy will miss his company – they get along well,’ said Phillip with a fond smile. ‘She’s a bit of a wild child, a tomboy. But she has a tender heart. Do you think you could come out to dinner with us and Sheila before Jean-Luc leaves?’

  ‘We’d love to,’ Jacqui replied. ‘I’m keen to talk to Sheila; I really didn’t have much of a chance over the festival.’

  ‘Then I’ll make some plans and let you know,’ said Phillip.

  ‘That sounds great. Thank you,’ said Jacqui.

  *

  Damien swung by the house the next morning as Jean-Luc was sleepily preparing his toast and coffee.

  ‘Jac, are you decent?’ he called as he stepped onto the verandah. ‘Since the festival’s over, I thought you might have time to have some breakfast with me. My shout.’

  ‘What a great idea. I’ve been so crazily busy. I’ll be there in a minute. I’m just in the shower. Help yourself to coffee,’ she shouted from her bathroom.

  Jean-Luc looked up as Damien came into the kitchen.

  ‘G’day, mate. Bet you’re glad the festival’s over. Lot of hard work for your mother.’

  ‘It was, but I enjoyed it very much. I liked listening to Riley’s talk. He is very inspiring. Can I get you some coffee?’

  ‘Finish your breakfast, mate. I’ll help myself.’

  Damien, who seemed quite at home in Jacqui’s kitchen, got a mug and poured himself a cup of coffee.

  Looking at the tousle-haired boy in T-shirt and shorts, Damien smiled. ‘Your mother tells me that your grandparents are coming over to Broome. Looking forward to seeing them?’

  Jean-Luc nodded. ‘Unfortunately, my grandfather had a little accident and can’t travel, so I am going to see my grandparents in Sydney now. But I lose a week staying with Maman.’

  Damien sat down at the table opposite him. ‘That’s tough. Must be difficult for you living so far away from your mother.’

  Jean-Luc nodded, taking a bite of his toast.

  ‘I see she’s raised you as a good Aussie kid,’ said Damien, pointing to the jar of Vegemite and the smear of strong black paste on Jean-Luc’s toast.

  ‘None of my friends can eat it. Too strong, too salty. But I like it.’

  ‘An acquired taste in childhood, I think,’ said Damien. ‘Have you had a good visit with your mother? She is very proud of you.’

  ‘The holiday goes too fast. But yes, it’s always good with her, and I like Broome.’ Jean-Luc finished his toast.

  ‘Hello, you two,’ said Jacqui as she came into the room. ‘Sorry about the wait, but I’m glad to see you’re both getting better acquainted. I’m ready to go. What are you planning to do today, Jean-Luc?’

  ‘I’m meeting Peggy, and we’re going to the beach.’

  Damien finished his coffee and got to his feet. ‘In case we don’t catch up before you leave, it was nice to meet you,’ he said, reaching over to shake Jean-Luc’s hand.

  Jacqui leaned over and kissed Jean-Luc. ‘See you this afternoon.’

  ‘Good luck with your filming,’ said Jean-Luc to Damien as the filmmaker headed out the door.

  ‘He’s a nice kid,’ said Damien as they got into his car. ‘Where do you fancy going for breakfast?’

  ‘Let’s go to the organic café. They do really good breakfasts, filling and healthy.’

  Damien took her hand as they walked to the
café from the car.

  ‘Tell me, are you coming bush with me?’

  ‘The more I think about it, the more I’d like to do it. I have a lot to do beforehand to close off the festival, but I might be able to squeeze some time in after that, even if only for one or two days.’

  When they arrived at the casual café with its attractive outdoor tables and chairs, it was already quite busy, with lots of people sitting in the sun, enjoying their breakfast.

  ‘Let’s sit inside and be comfortable. What do you fancy?’ asked Damien.

  ‘I’m having fruit and smashed avocado on toast . . .’ Jacqui stopped talking and stared at a table in the corner.

  Sitting there was Cameron, with Daryl Johnson, Colin, and the same Aboriginal man she’d seen speaking with them before.

  Colin spotted the two of them and waved cheerfully. ‘Hey, come on over!’

  Jacqui and Damien headed to the table.

  ‘This is a surprise, Colin,’ she said. ‘I think you’ve met my friend Damien. He filmed the opening night of the festival.’

  The men shook hands and Colin said, ‘Yes, I expect that was a busy night for you. Let me introduce you both to Daryl Johnson – you know who he is, of course – and Harley Hamilton, CEO of the New Country Leadership Trust. This is their associate, Cameron North.’

  ‘Hope we’re not interrupting a board meeting,’ said Damien with a smile.

  In the short pause, Jacqui quickly chimed in, ‘Cameron and I are old acquaintances. How long are you here for this time, Cameron? You seem to be in Broome so frequently these days!’

  ‘You know me, always on the move,’ said Cameron smoothly. ‘How was the writers’ festival?’

  ‘Very, very busy. But thanks for your text. It was appreciated.’

  ‘My pleasure. And you were there to film it?’ Cameron asked, turning to Damien.

  ‘Yes. Among other things,’ replied Damien.

  ‘Jacqui, I told you that this town is about to boom,’ said Colin, ignoring their conversation but giving the impression he was very much part of the plans. ‘Well, the state government is about to announce a massive injection of funding for this area which’ll really get things moving.’

  ‘Get what moving?’ asked Jacqui cautiously, although she suspected that she already knew the answer.

  ‘Give me one guess – mining?’ asked Damien pleasantly.

  ‘It’s natural gas,’ said Colin.

  Harley, a solidly built man with grey-flecked hair, put a restraining hand on Colin’s shoulder. ‘It’s still being discussed.’

  ‘Extracting and delivering gas is pretty invasive,’ commented Damien. ‘And is gas the only sort of mining that the government is supporting around here?’ he added. ‘I heard there was a lot of interest in bauxite.’

  Jacqui glanced at Damien in surprise. Obviously he had been doing some homework on the area for his documentary.

  Daryl Johnson studied Damien intently. ‘It could be a great thing for the north-west.’

  ‘Is that why you’ve been looking at properties for your clients?’ Jacqui asked Cameron suddenly.

  ‘Mining exploration has always gone on up here, and some people get lucky.’ He smiled easily. ‘I’ll chat to you later, Jacqui. Nice to meet you, Damien.’

  Feeling dismissed, Jacqui strode to a corner table and sat down with her back to the group. Damien sat opposite her.

  ‘Let’s order,’ said Jacqui, trying to get her feelings of annoyance under control, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what the men had said. ‘Maybe Chamberlain Industries is involved in developing the gas hub,’ she mused.

  ‘Could be. If that’s right, your friend Lydia will be all over this story.’

  ‘I suppose this means that Nat knows all about it, too,’ said Jacqui.

  ‘Well, I expect she does, now that her husband seems to be moving into the big time,’ commented Damien.

  Jacqui ordered breakfast but the pleasure of sharing it with Damien had been tainted.

  While waiting for their order, Damien leaned across the table. ‘Tell me about this Cameron North.’

  ‘Nothing much to tell. We grew up in the same street and were at the same uni. I hadn’t seen him for years until he turned up at the bookshop, quite out of the blue, a few weeks ago.’

  ‘He seems a smooth operator. You say he was looking for properties? He and Johnson might be trying to get that Harley guy on board. Harley controls a lot of Aboriginal money and funding and I bet he’ll be trying to get as much out of Chamberlain Industries as he can.’

  ‘Well, people can’t really object to that,’ said Jacqui slowly.

  ‘I guess not, but it’s how the money is spent, where it goes, that matters,’ said Damien. ‘If the project goes ahead, Chamberlains will have their smooth-talking PR people in here pretty soon.’

  Jacqui sighed. ‘Oh dear, it doesn’t sound good. Oh, let’s just forget about those men and eat breakfast.’

  ‘Agreed. I’m glad your festival is over. Now we can have more time together.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Jacqui. ‘But remember, Jean-Luc leaves on Monday, and until then I want to spend as much time with him as I can.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ said Damien, taking her hand across the table. ‘I understand perfectly.’

  *

  The final days with Jean-Luc flew by. The familiar dread of their impending parting sat in the pit of Jacqui’s stomach. She often caught herself watching her son until he felt her gaze and looked up. Then she would smile brightly and, pretending to busy herself, turn away.

  They went to dinner on Jean-Luc’s last night in Broome with Sheila Turner and Phillip and Peggy Knowles. Now that the festival was over, Sheila was more relaxed, less guarded.

  ‘I always feel like I’m in the zoo, each move I make and word I say digested, observed, noted,’ she sighed. ‘Festival-goers are different from someone who just recognises you in the supermarket. They know my books off by heart, they ask why I said this, wrote that, and when I’m going to write about such-and-such. They challenge a view expressed in some interview, and then tell me that they might write a book one day, too. I tell them to go right ahead, baby!’ she hooted cheerfully.

  ‘It must be nice to get positive feedback, Sheila,’ said Jacqui. ‘Your readers do love your books, and you stand up and speak out. Women admire you for that. We’re not all that brave.’

  Phillip smiled at Peggy. ‘My daughter is the strong and feisty advocate in our family.’

  ‘And Jean-Luc is the diplomat,’ said Peggy.

  ‘More than one way to skin a cat,’ said Phillip fondly.

  The rest of the evening passed pleasantly and far too quickly. There was a lot of laughter. Peggy and Jean-Luc promised to email each other and Jacqui found that she really enjoyed Sheila’s company.

  The next day, mother and son sat side by side in the departures area at Broome airport, Jean-Luc holding his boarding pass. Jacqui was trying to think of something light to say.

  ‘Have you got the book Sheila Turner signed for my mother?’ asked Jacqui.

  He nodded. ‘Yes, she’ll like it.’ And as Jacqui was about to speak again, a hand fell on her shoulder.

  ‘Going somewhere exciting?’

  She looked up to see Cameron looking down at her.

  ‘Not me, I’m afraid. This is my son, Jean-Luc. He’s flying to Sydney to visit my parents, then he’ll be returning to his home in France. Jean-Luc, this is Mr North. We knew each other as children.’

  As Jean-Luc stood up to shake his hand, Cameron said, ‘I’m so sorry to butt in on what must be a sad time for you both. Have you had a wonderful holiday with your mother?’

  ‘It is always wonderful here, thank you.’

  They shook hands, and Cameron smiled at Jacqui.

  ‘You have a fine young man her
e. Bon voyage, Jean-Luc,’ said Cameron. ‘I have to go and speak briefly to someone who’s also catching your flight before he gets on the plane.’ And he turned and headed to the other side of the lounge.

  Jean-Luc raised an amused eyebrow. ‘You have a lot of friends here, Maman.’

  ‘I really wouldn’t call Cameron a friend, although it was quite a surprise to see him again after so many years.’

  Jean-Luc leaned over and kissed her cheek. ‘I’m glad you have friends here. I wish I was going out to the Kimberley bush. I know you will go, so tell me all about it and send photos.’

  ‘Of course, darling. And have you enjoyed yourself?’ Jacqui asked, thinking of the unhappy boy who had arrived only weeks earlier.

  ‘Maman, I have had a wonderful time, thank you. I have many friends and I met a famous author and I have had some interesting experiences. My friends in France will be very envious.’

  ‘I’m so glad,’ said Jacqui softly.

  Suddenly the line to the departure gate was moving. They hugged tightly. At the last moment, before disappearing out to the plane, her son turned and blew her a kiss, as he always did.

  The tears spilled from Jacqui’s eyes and she walked to the plate glass windows to watch the plane take off. She was fumbling in her bag for a tissue when suddenly Cameron was there, offering her one.

  He said nothing but stood quietly beside her as Jacqui dabbed at her eyes, the familiar wrench of loss tugging at her heart.

  7

  Through the blur of soft smoke, the sundown colours were diffused. The grey-blue leaves of spindly eucalypt saplings, yellowing tall grasses and the stout outline of a boab tree were gently silhouetted against the twilight.

  ‘Is that where we’re going tomorrow?’ asked Jacqui as she pointed to the distant ranges. She glanced at the others, who were relaxing on their fold-up chairs around the campfire.

  ‘Depends on when Chester turns up. I think he operates on a different time scale from most people, which does make it difficult to plan ahead,’ said Damien. Phillip had been the one to recommend Chester, his old Aboriginal friend, as their guide.