Starting from Scratch

by Penelope Janu

  I turn and smile at Ray. ‘They looked like they were running through a cloud.’

  He rubs his hands together. ‘Over a hundred species of birds can nest here. Wait till you see the eagles, cormorants, brolgas, snipes and spoonbills …’ He recounts the highlights of his visits to the wetlands, interrupting his narrative only to point out birds. He asks us questions and answers them himself. He sets out scenarios and posits solutions. When we turn off the track and follow a path to higher ground, I glance at Matts and smile.

  When he smiles back, it’s not a formal smile or a fake charming smile or a stiff and censuring smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. It’s not the world-weary smile he picked up as a teenager, a cynical lift of his lip on one side.

  His smile lightens the grey of his eyes and creases the sides of his mouth.

  My heart flips.

  He smiles again.

  Watery plains and channels and reed-covered swamps surround the raised clearing where we stop for lunch. Matts and I brought water bottles, sandwiches and fruit from the pub. Cassie, Ray and Rory have thermoses of tea and coffee, as well as their lunchboxes. It’s after midday and the temperature has dropped; steely clouds block out the sun and hover low over the wetlands. I take the teabag out of my cup and put it in our rubbish bag before perching next to Cassie on a log.

  She blows steam from her coffee. ‘I can’t believe I’ve lived within a day of this place most of my life and never been here before.’

  ‘It’s like a secret garden.’

  Her eyes widen and she points. ‘Which ibis is that?’

  Long-legged birds with black heads, dark-feathered bodies and long thin legs wade through the water.

  ‘If I were Ray …’ I look over my shoulder. Ray is peering through binoculars at a flock of birds flying in formation above us. ‘I’d go through the ibis options.’ I count on my fingers. ‘I’m pretty sure it’s not the white ibis, because we get them in the park at Dubbo and I know what they look like. It could be the glossy ibis, but their feathers are a shiny bronze shade, and I think they have different-shaped bodies to the others. That leaves the third option, the straw-necked ibis.’ I tip back my hat. ‘I believe the fluffy feathers on the birds’ necks clinches the matter, but we could ask Ray for confirmation.’

  Cassie laughs. ‘Let’s leave him in peace with his—’ She looks up, trying to identify the birds he’s watching.

  ‘I think they might be plumed whistling ducks. Don’t quote me, though.’

  On the far side of the ibis, hopping in a helter-skelter line, are a small band of grey kangaroos. When the leader stops, the others stop too, their long tails laying flat on the ground behind them. The lead roo lowers his head to graze and the others follow suit.

  When I turn back to Cassie, she’s looking thoughtfully at Rory and Matts, their heads close together as they study a map. Rory is nodding intently at something Matts is saying. Matts takes a different map out of his backpack, snapping the folds into place before spreading it out. He looks across the wetlands and gestures to the map on Rory’s lap.

  ‘He’s concerned,’ Cassie says quietly, ‘isn’t he?’

  ‘Things have got much worse in the past few years.’

  ‘Only someone who cared passionately about the environment would do this type of work. The Ramsar connection is prestigious, but I imagine he could make more money doing something else.’

  ‘He seems to spend a lot of time lobbying.’

  ‘Chasing funds from governments that refuse to acknowledge how bad things are and how much worse things could get.’ Cassie drains her cup. ‘Beneficial outcomes from significant environmental projects are almost impossible to cost. Convincing governments to think long term, let alone challenge established interests or look outside their borders, is inherently difficult.’

  ‘It’s all politics, isn’t it?’

  ‘A lot of us care about the planet, and in sufficient numbers at grassroots level we can make a difference. But achieving major structural change to climate policy is difficult. Matts plays that game well. He got the briefing to advise the federal government. He’s working on the state government via Douglas Chambers.’

  ‘The parks authorities are on side.’

  ‘Which is telling in itself.’

  ‘Doesn’t it make sense they want his input?’

  ‘Yes, and no. In the original Ramsar listing, these wetlands were more extensive, and in much better shape in terms of number and diversity of species. Matts’s report will not only highlight the decline, but will likely point the finger at what a mess the government, and at times the parks authorities, have made of the rivers and catchments.’

  The wetlands below us are a mosaic of swamps and billabongs, reeds, grasses and shrubs. Thick trunked gums grow either side of the channels.

  ‘Matts is worried about the flow of the river,’ I say.

  ‘We had good rain last year, but what happens if we don’t get rain next year?’

  When she holds out her hand, I pass my cup. ‘I’ve always looked at Horseshoe’s immediate needs. We have to go beyond that, don’t we? We need long-term solutions for the river and the wetlands.’

  Cassie glances at Matts again. ‘What do you think of him, Sapphie? In a personal sense?’

  ‘I … I’m getting used to him.’

  She laughs. ‘He made no effort to hide his displeasure at seeing Ray and me at breakfast this morning.’ Her brows lift. ‘That’s unusual. He’s generally so self-contained.’

  Matts wasn’t always self-contained when we were growing up. Sometimes, particularly when we spoke about Inge, he found it impossible to hide his emotions. Mr Laaksonen couldn’t hear Inge’s name without his eyes misting over, so Matts had no chance of talking to his father. Thinking about Inge upset Mum too, but when we were in Buenos Aires, she answered whatever questions he had.

  Did Äiti like champagne with strawberries? Yes, darling, but not as much as I.

  What was her favourite book? I’m not sure, something Finnish, I think. Her favourite play was Romeo and Juliet.

  Was she happy? When she was with you, always.

  What about when she was with Isä? She loved your father very, very much.

  Why don’t I have a brother or sister?

  Even at twelve and thirteen, I knew about the miscarriages Mum’d had, and I’d told Matts about them. When tears filled Mum’s eyes, I put my hand on Matts’s arm. ‘Shh,’ I hissed.

  Ignoring me, Mum took Matts’s hand. Had she lived, Inge would have loved another baby.

  Matts nodded stiffly and walked outside to the courtyard. He wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand.

  I’d been making gardenia petals and had scraps of white crepe in my pocket. ‘You can use this,’ I said.

  He scrubbed at his eyes.

  ‘It’s not a tissue, Kotka. It’s crepe paper. You’re rubbing much too hard.’

  His voice was thick with tears. ‘Go back inside, Kissa.’

  ‘No way.’ When I threaded my arm through his and leant against him, he found my fingers and linked our hands together.

  CHAPTER

  34

  It’s after three by the time Matts and I walk along the track to the cars. We’ve spent the past two hours in the northern part of the marshes. Ray, Cassie and Rory are ahead of us, Ray searching for the nesting grounds of the intermediate egret, and the others peering into the reeds, hoping to make the sound recording of the barking marsh frog that Hugo requested.

  There’s a sea of reeds to our left. The long green stems are almost as tall as I am, and the fluffy frond flowers are taller than Matts.

  ‘They look healthy, don’t they?’ I say.

  ‘They were far more extensive,’ Matts says.

  ‘You’re disappointed with everything, aren’t you?’

  ‘Climate conditions have changed. Without the wetlands, we lose the biodiversity of ecosystems like this. Agriculture and towns will also suffer.’

  ‘The wetlands need mo
re water from the river.’

  ‘And programs to keep the water in the rivers, streams and land for longer.’

  Being careful to avoid the mud that claimed Cassie’s boot at the last stop, I take hold of a thick glossy stem.

  ‘This is the common reed, isn’t it? Phragmites australis.’

  ‘Yes.’

  I point to our right, where river red gums line up like old friends, their branches gnarly and thick. ‘Eucalyptus camaldulenis.’

  ‘You know a lot.’ His expression is serious.

  ‘I know that wetlands are like sponges, soaking up water and hanging on to it, then releasing it gradually downstream.’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘They can improve groundwater quality. They filter out sediments and pollutants. They’re nurseries for Ray’s birds and other species, like the reptiles Cassie’s been searching for all day.’

  ‘Which ones did you see?’

  ‘A goanna with thighs as thick as mine and, thankfully from a distance, a red-bellied black snake.’ I take off my hat and loop the strap over my arm. I brush back the hair that sticks to my face and retie my ponytail.

  He lifts his hand. Hesitates. But when my eyes stay stuck on his, he brushes my cheek with the backs of his fingers. He collects the hair I’ve missed and puts it behind my ear. When he smiles, my heart turns backflips.

  ‘Tell me more,’ he says.

  I take a deep breath. ‘Hugo’s frogs adapt to wet and dry conditions in the wetlands, but the wetlands should never have been allowed to get as dry as they did. That’s why you and Rory are particularly worried about your reeds.’ I fiddle with my hat toggle. ‘It’s also why you were short with Ray, isn’t it?’

  ‘He was offended?’

  Two flys buzz between us. ‘You were blunt.’

  When I wave the flies away, Matts captures my hand and studies it. ‘Roots in the reed beds should be protected by mud.’

  ‘And there was no mud in the drought.’

  ‘The beds had been here for thousands of years.’ He kisses my thumb before releasing my hand. ‘Many were lost.’

  I put on my hat again. ‘Luke is drumming up support with his network, and encouraging others to get involved.’ I point to my bag. ‘I’ve taken reams of notes and plenty of photographs. We’ll engage with environmental groups and communicate the facts.’

  ‘Do you have flowers in your bag?’

  I smile. ‘That wasn’t what today was about.’

  ‘No?’ He grasps a reed. ‘What would you make out of these?’

  I tip my head to the side as I study his face. ‘I could braid them together and make you a wetlands crown.’

  ‘What colour would it be?’

  ‘I think you’re asking what shade?’ I consider the reed seriously. ‘It’s more chartreuse and lime green than pistachio and olive green. It’s not bottle green or pear. I’d say it’s emerald.’

  He places his hands on my shoulders, dips his head and looks straight into my eyes. ‘Sapphire.’

  Sapphire Beresford-Brown. Sapphie Brown.

  I start at the rustle in the undergrowth. A small brown snake, its diamond skin a mosaic of tan and mocha, slithers out of the reeds.

  ‘Oh!’

  Matts squeezes my shoulders. ‘The sun’s going down. We’d better get back.’

  ‘When I get home …’ I blow out a breath. ‘I have to move my stuff and find somewhere for my horses and—’

  He runs a thumb along my chin. ‘Are you going to cry again?’

  I sniff. ‘I hardly ever cried before you turned up.’

  ‘Friday week I see Robert.’

  ‘My father won’t budge.’

  The touch of Matts’s mouth on mine is soft and sweet and sensual all at once. It’s a tender, thoughtful, toe-curling kiss. A spiky bolt of heat shoots straight to my heart.

  We’re standing next to a swamp. We’re sticky with sunblock and insect repellent. He doesn’t belong in Horseshoe. He’s arrogant and bossy and protective.

  I might have fallen in love with him.

  ‘Matts? Have you invited anyone to dinner tonight? Mr Chambers, perhaps? Or Ray?’

  ‘No.’

  I’m not a child any more, standing back and deferring to him. I’m not fifteen either, missing out on kisses I should have seen coming. I take hold of his shirt and stand on my toes and, when he wraps his arms around me, I kiss him firmly on the mouth. I slide my hands over his chest and find the skin at this throat. His pulse beats quickly like mine. When I touch his lip with my tongue, he groans.

  Our breaths are uneven when he pulls back a little. He talks against my mouth. ‘Early dinner. Bed.’

  A gust of wind blows through the reeds, whistling and whispering secrets.

  Ray calls out, ‘Come along, slowcoaches!’

  Matts lifts his head and mutters. ‘Send him back with Cassie.’

  ‘No.’ I tidy his collar. ‘Even though Ray doesn’t approve of your swearing, his feelings would be hurt if he didn’t get a lift back to Wilson with you.’

  When we see the others, we’re walking so close that we could be hand in hand. Rory, grinning broadly, looks up from his phone and puts it in his pocket.

  He slaps Matts on the back. ‘We’d better get going, mate.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Four days of sodden boots, snakes, leeches and mozzies. But first, we pick up a shitload of gear and get a few hours’ sleep.’

  Cassie smiles. ‘What Rory is communicating, Matts, is that your kayaking trip has been brought forward.’

  My backpack is suddenly heavy. I drop it at my feet. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘It’s drier out here than I thought it’d be,’ Rory says. ‘There’s no rain forecast, so by next month the water levels will drop even more. I didn’t think I’d get the go-ahead straight away.’ He pats the phone in his pocket. ‘But my boss called. The landowners and parks authorities have okayed an expedition up north.’

  Matts glances at me. ‘Sapphie and I had plans. Can she come?’

  I bounce on my toes like Mary would. ‘I’m not too keen on snakes, but who is? I’d need to borrow gear, but I’m way stronger than I look. I’m fit and—’

  Rory holds up a hand. ‘I’ve got no worries with you hiking and sleeping rough, Sapphie, but the kayaking is a killer. They’re one-man boats, loaded with gear, and a lot of the time we’ll be dragging them through reed beds to find paths through the channels. How do you reckon you’d go? You got runs on the board in a swamp?’

  I tip my hat further forward to shadow my face. ‘I’ve kayaked once, and that was on a lake. I got blisters on my blisters.’

  ‘The kayaks are heavy, they have to be.’

  ‘Could I do some of the trip?’

  ‘The wetlands are a shocker to negotiate, and we’ll be way off route. I can’t see how that’d work.’

  ‘Sapphie?’ Matts puts his hand on my arm. ‘We could delay this until—’

  ‘No.’ I pick up my bag and smile bravely. ‘You can’t delay it. And it’s not like I was expecting to go on a kayaking trip anyway.’

  ‘Why don’t you join me?’ Cassie says, walking to my side and smiling encouragingly. ‘I’ll be touring the river for the next few days. I plan to get back to Dubbo on Friday.’

  A goanna, a metre long at least, scampers from under Matts’s car and runs on short stiff legs towards the reed beds. Ray stares through binoculars at the birds that fly overhead. Matts looks from Rory to Cassie.

  ‘Give us five minutes.’

  ‘I’ll get my things out of your car.’

  I’m leaning over the tailgate when Matts reaches past my shoulder and drags my bag towards us. As I take the handle, he puts his hand over mine.

  ‘Sapphie? I can ask Rory to put it back a day.’

  ‘So we can have dinner together?’ I lean against him. It’s not the time or place for lust, but I feel it from my head to my toes. ‘We can do that when you get back.’

  He puts his ch
in on my shoulder. ‘Fuck.’

  I smile. ‘Don’t let Ray hear you.’

  His lips move softly on my neck. ‘What about the roads? I could drive you home tonight.’

  ‘I have to face my fears, remember? I’ll go with Cassie. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘I’ve got meetings scheduled from Friday night until the following Friday, when I meet with Robert. I won’t be back in Horseshoe until Saturday week.’

  ‘You don’t have to—’

  He spins me around. His eyes narrow. ‘Saturday week.’

  One of his buttons is undone. He draws in a breath as I fasten it. ‘I know my father, Matts. He won’t change his mind.’

  ‘Let me try.’

  ‘I’ll be at the farmhouse in the morning. I have April’s wedding in the afternoon.’

  ‘If I have reception while I’m here, I’ll call you.’

  Ray smiles and waves when he catches my eye over Matts’s shoulder. I check Matts’s other buttons. All done up.

  ‘You’ll be careful, won’t you? Don’t get bitten by a snake.’

  He kisses my mouth. ‘Don’t take risks.’

  What about a risk on you? ‘Cassie is a very careful driver.’

  Rory’s four-wheel drive, engine running, waits at the edge of the clearing. Matts’s car pulls up alongside him as I throw my bag into the back of Cassie’s car.

  Ray climbs into the middle seat and does up his belt. ‘Off we go, ladies!’ he says.

  Cassie, sitting behind the wheel, hides a smile as I climb into the passenger seat. ‘We’ll say a sad farewell to Ray when we leave him behind in Wilson,’ she says, ‘and then we’ll head down south.’

  ‘You sure it’s okay that I tag along?’

  She laughs. ‘Thelma and Louise, eat your heart out!’

  CHAPTER

  35

  On the far side of the riverbank is a scribbly bark gum with a pale pearly trunk. A flock of cockatoos with bright yellow crests fly into the branches and line up in rows like Christmas tree lights.

  ‘Ray would be impressed,’ I say.

  Cassie, sitting next to me on the ground, smiles gently. ‘I think he would.’

  ‘I learnt a lot from Ray. I think I’ll invite him to be a guest of the committee in February, at our next formal meeting. Rory might come as well. It’d be great if I could get him to talk to the senior kids about all he gets up to.’