‘Yes!’ Lizzy and I replied in unison.
‘Yeah I’ve met her,’ he said.
‘Do you know where she is?’ asked Lizzy.
The guy shook his head.
‘Most people that are still around are up here in one of these houses,’ he replied. ‘But there’s no phone book, you know.’
Lizzy and I hovered momentarily.
‘Look for lights at night. And solar panels in the day,’ he added.
‘Thanks,’ replied Lizzy. ‘We also wanted to pass on a message from the Curator.’
The guy looked immediately sceptical. Lizzy shuffled back to give me the floor. I tried to think of a way to sell it to him, but came up blank. Lizzy nudged me, so I just told him straight.
‘Ed thinks there might be a chance we could get home if we go back to our Residencies exactly two years after the Disappearance,’ I said.
‘With the art we created there,’ added Lizzy.
The guy looked at us, then down at Chessboard.
‘What date is that?’ he asked.
‘September second,’ I replied.
‘Ed Carrington said this?’ he asked.
I nodded. Lizzy started backing down the driveway.
‘Sorry. We gotta go,’ she said.
The guy nodded. He seemed to be thinking it over at least. I waved and turned to join Lizzy. We raced on to the next house.
It was a frustrating night. Most of the houses we checked had Artists that had either met or heard of Taylor Finn. Some of them even mistook Lizzy for her, with welcoming smiles and talk of things we didn’t know about. But none of them knew where we could find her. The Artist population was nomadic and fragmented. People would shift on a whim for better food, water or solar panels. None of the residents doubted that Taylor and Sophie were here somewhere. But none could offer anything concrete.
So, one after the other, I delivered my spiel about the Prix de Rome and we continued through the suburb. The lights started to drop away as the night dragged on. It was late and people were going to bed, maybe even with plans to leave for their Residencies upon hearing our news. Eventually the suburb was blacked out entirely.
Lizzy slumped down at a bus stop and ruffled Chess despondently.
‘Where the hell are they?’ she said.
I sat down too. My legs were burning from all of the hills.
‘We’ll look again when it’s light. Shout the whole suburb down if we have to,’ I replied.
Lizzy sighed and nodded.
‘Does that awesome watch of yours tell you the date too?’ she asked.
I nodded.
‘We’re into August now aren’t we?’ she asked.
‘Yeah,’ I replied.
Lizzy exhaled and trudged over to the large, sombre looking mansion across from us. Chess glanced at me with something akin to worry and trailed after her. Lizzy was diminutive and beaten down, but also probably the toughest person I had ever met. I hoped this would hold out until we found Taylor and made it back to Carousel.
32
That night I remembered something as I slept. I woke early with just a breath of it still in my mind. Lizzy was asleep at the other end of the couch. I shuffled past her and found my way out of the house we had commandeered. The sky was arctic blue and dazzling morning sunlight twinkled down through the Norfolks. I squinted for a moment, then set off for the beach.
Cottesloe was neat and largely untouched by the Disappearance. I emerged from the houses and cafes to where the iconic surf club stood with its pastel walls and arches. Behind it the ocean fizzed with a clean winter swell. I stood on a bank of knee-high lawn and scanned the beach below. It was pristine and empty but for a bobbing array of abandoned kayaks by the groyne. I hesitated for a moment. To the south of this groyne was a long sweep of coast leading down towards Fremantle. Lines of gentle tumbling waves fanned out across each of the curving beaches. On the second of these, by a snaky pathway through the dunes, lay a pair of towels on the sand.
I saw them in the water from halfway across the beach. They were sitting on their boards and chatting as blips of swell shifted beneath their dangling legs. Taylor’s hair looked longer and tasselled about her face in salty clusters. Sophie was blonde and seemed tall from where I stood. She was laughing while Taylor’s hands drifted about in conversation. They seemed at home with one another.
We’ll find a house right out front of the best beach. Wire up some solar panels. Grow a garden. Teach ourselves how to surf.
Taylor said this to me in a crappy apartment on the night of the fires. I had asked her about whether she could ever imagine just accepting things and settling down. About one day finding a place in this new world. Looking at them out in the surf I realised then that she had done exactly that.
A set rolled through and the pair of them paddled for a wave. Sophie missed it. Taylor slid down the face and stood upright for a moment, before tumbling into the whitewash. When she emerged she was staring straight at me.
I waved like an idiot and walked towards her. She stood in the shore break and continued to stare. Behind her Sophie had seen me now too.
‘Hey,’ I yelled.
Taylor kicked off her leg-rope and trudged awkwardly towards me. She stopped a few metres away. Sophie hovered in the background.
‘Nox,’ said Taylor.
‘Hi. Nice wave,’ I replied.
‘Where were you?’ she asked.
For a moment I was confused.
‘I looked everywhere for you in that place,’ she added.
‘Oh. Yeah sorry. I got lost in a gaming room and couldn’t get out,’ I replied.
‘Why were you in a gaming room?’ she asked.
‘Looking for water,’ I replied.
‘And why couldn’t you get out?’ she asked.
‘My torch stopped working. It’s pitch-black in those rooms without power,’ I replied.
‘Did you see my note?’ asked Taylor.
I nodded. ‘I waited there for you guys to come back.’
I was a bit taken aback by her barrage of questions.
Taylor took a breath and wiped her nose. It was hard to tell if she was crying or just wet from surf.
‘I mean, I wanted to go back. We just figured you must have left and I didn’t know where else to look for you. Then me and Lizzy had a massive fight and I had to get away from that fucking Collective,’ she said.
I stood there listening. Taylor seemed suddenly overcome with emotion.
‘I’m sorry, Nox,’ she said, looking away. She was definitely crying now. Sophie put a hand on her shoulder and gave me a friendly smile. She was tall and athletic looking. Her hair was the cropped blonde of an eighties exercise model.
‘It’s cool, Taylor. I’m fine. I actually remembered what you said about the beach house and teaching ourselves to surf one day,’ I said.
Taylor smiled and laughed a little.
‘We have the best house here, Nox. There are like hundreds of plants and vegetables. And an art studio. And rainwater. And so much solar power. Sophie wired up a hot-water system last week,’ said Taylor in a flurry that wasn’t really like her at all.
Sophie and I shared a slightly awkward smile.
‘Hi,’ she said.
‘Hi,’ I replied.
‘Will you stay for a while?’ asked Taylor.
‘No,’ I replied.
Taylor’s expression dropped.
‘It sounds awesome, but we have to leave,’ I said. ‘All of us.’
The two of them looked at me. Water dripped from their vital, pensive faces.
‘Why?’ asked Taylor.
‘I found the Curator. He told me what’s going on here. And when it’s going to end,’ I replied.
‘When is it going to end?’ asked Sophie.
‘Soon. Just a few weeks from now,’ I replied.
‘What’s going to happen, Nox?’ asked Taylor.
‘The Curator thinks that a portal is going to open. Actually, lots of portals �
�� one for each Residency. He says that if we all get back to our Residencies in time, and we take the art we created there, the portals might take us home,’ I replied.
Taylor and Sophie shared a glance. The three of us stood in silence as the ocean foamed at our ankles.
‘Is that fucking Chessboard?’ asked Taylor.
I turned and saw the darting black and white coat ripping along the sand towards us. I couldn’t help but smile at his beaming, toothy grin.
‘Yep,’ I replied.
A figure emerged from the dunes behind him.
‘And Lizzy,’ I added.
33
Sophie and I hung out for most of the day while Taylor and Lizzy did their best to reconcile.
Sophie was indeed a painter – still lifes, mostly – who hailed from Melbourne. I found out that she was actually in Perth on a residency at the time of the Disappearance. Her story was so meta that my brain physically twitched inside of my skull. I guess she was slightly awkward looking. Just in the way a tall model could be when you saw them for the first time in real life. But I felt at ease around her right away. Sophie was earnest, but didn’t take herself too seriously and had a way of finishing each word to the very last syllable that was pretty endearing.
She showed me around the house they had made into their home. It wasn’t the plushest place we had seen. Actually it was old and rambling. The original house was made of stone with a pitched iron roof and wooden floorboards. It had extensions jutting out all over. At the front was a dusty winter sunroom and porch. The north side had a long deck with chairs that peered out over the ocean, but were hidden from the road by an overgrown hedge of rosemary. The extension on the south side was only half finished, but scheduled to be some more bedrooms and a bathroom.
The backyard was amazing. There was a massive studio kitted out with pottery gear, textiles and a stack of items gathered together by Sophie and Taylor. A roof of hanging grapevines covered a paved area with tables, chairs and an outdoor stove. Then there were the gardens. Sloping away from the house and terraced by giant pillars from a long-lost fishing jetty. I could see Taylor’s touch all over. There was a grid of pipes running from a rainwater tank to irrigate the beds. Fresh seaweed mulch spread around delicate seedlings. Jars lined up and ready to preserve the last of the winter harvest.
I understood why Taylor and Sophie had chosen the place. With the stone and the gardens and the ocean, it had a permanent feel that was immediately reassuring given what was happening all around us. It wasn’t going to be easy for them to leave.
‘In the afternoon we generally hang out in the sunroom at the front. It’s warm there, even when the weather is bad,’ said Sophie.
We were sitting down in the garden, while Taylor and Lizzy had been having it out inside.
‘It’s an awesome place,’ I replied.
The voices of the Finns softened and Sophie glanced over her shoulder.
‘Does Lizzy seem okay to you?’ she asked.
‘She’s edgier than normal, I think. Generally Lizzy just brushes stuff off. What will be will be, you know?’ I replied.
She nodded. I considered plunging into the whole aurora jet business. Sophie was a good person and I felt like I could tell her most things. But all of that stuff still felt so dense and confusing. I was only just getting a handle on it myself.
‘Lizzy hasn’t had a lot of things go her way since we got here. I think she’s just over it now. She’s ready to go home,’ I added.
Sophie nodded and looked out over the garden. I hoped that she didn’t feel implicated in anything I had said. That wasn’t my intention. Plus I don’t think Lizzy felt that way anyhow.
‘Taylor has so much guilt about you guys. And about Rocky,’ she said.
‘Really?’ I asked, surprised.
‘Yeah. I don’t know if she realises, but she thrashes about like crazy when she sleeps. And whenever something nice happens, like we watch a great sunset, or something new pops up in the garden, or she likes something that I paint, Taylor can’t stop herself from crying. It’s awful,’ said Sophie.
‘Wow,’ I replied. ‘What a mess.’
Sophie smiled through a couple of tears.
‘It’s beautiful here though,’ she added, shaking her head.
I thought about it and looked down over the garden to the abandoned train tracks and beyond.
‘I have to ask, were you seriously hoping to go shopping that day at Carousel?’ I asked.
Sophie laughed and rolled her eyes.
‘Taylor grills me about this constantly,’ she said.
I smiled.
‘I had actually only just finished my Residency and had no idea that it was Boxing Day. Carousel was the closest shopping centre and I badly needed some supplies. So I thought I would try my luck,’ she replied. ‘To be honest, the place was so creepy and abandoned that I was kind of glad the door didn’t open.’
‘It totally was,’ I replied.
There were footsteps behind us and Taylor emerged from inside. She wandered over to us and messed up my hair.
‘There’s some lunch inside for you, Nox. I would make a move before Lizzy destroys the lot of it,’ said Taylor.
I was pretty sure she just needed to talk with Sophie, but I was starving anyway, so I headed inside and found Lizzy by the kitchen bench. She was eating an orange and staring off into space while Chess slept off his beach adventures on the floor.
‘Hey,’ I said.
She smiled in reply. There was an array of fresh fruit and vegetables ready to eat on the counter.
‘Everything cool?’ I asked.
‘Yeah. We’ll sleep here tonight and leave for Fremantle in the morning,’ she replied.
The thought of seeing Georgia again sent a ripple of nausea through my stomach. I tried to ignore it and started on the lunch.
‘We’ll need to leave ourselves enough time to get back to Carousel,’ said Lizzy, cautiously.
We shared a glance. I knew what she was saying.
34
I had wiped the idea of leaving with the others from my mind. It was easier that way. I still had the short stories from Carousel, and I guess none of us really knew what would happen on September second. Not even Ed. But deep down I knew I was different to the other Artists. Maybe not a Patron like Rocky or Rachel. But not a sheltered Artist either. For a while, writing the novel had made the bridge seem narrow. I had started to think that maybe it was all just a matter of timing, as Tommy had suggested way back in the hills. But not anymore. I realised now, without a doubt, that I could have left Carousel at any time. That my presence in this world was an accident, not fate.
It should have made me low, but instead I felt a lightness and clarity. My only concern now was finding Georgia and getting her and my friends back to their Residencies. Art had been a burden ever since I had lumped at Carousel. It had hovered over every moment, reminding me that writing was primary, while living came second. I felt guilt when I wasn’t writing, and struggle when I was. The rare days when I managed to wipe it from my mind had felt like the final moments of a dreamy summer holiday. Sweet and warm, but with the lingering dread of school the next morning. If this was the life of an Artist, they could keep it.
I decided that after September second I would return to the beach house. Chess could come with me. He would miss Lizzy, but be happy by the ocean. Maybe one day we would meet some other Patrons somewhere and together we could build a weirdo life together by the sea. While the others were outside I took out my short stories and stashed them in a cabinet in the study. When the time was right I would take them out and read over what I had written in Carousel. Remind myself of Rocky and the Finns, and all that had happened while we were stuck in there. The whole thing was way overloaded with emotion and I tried not to dwell on it too much. Plus we had things to do.
Our bikes were grindy and rusted from our journey from the Auroraport. There would be newer ones around if we decided to look for them, but we were shor
t on time and these bikes had been good to us. So we greased them up and checked over the brakes and tyres. Sophie seemed to be into this stuff. She also rigged up a pedal-powered light to each of the handlebars and found a set of walkie-talkies, setting them to charge via the solar panels. They didn’t have the greatest range, but the casino debacle proved how screwed we were without them.
Sophie’s artwork from her Residency was a small still life of an abandoned family breakfast. She had been living rent-free with a host family in their big riverside house as part of her real-world residency. When she drifted downstairs on the morning of the Disappearance, the chatty breakfast she had become accustomed to was replaced by silent, creepy limbo. It reminded me of a documentary I had seen about nine-eleven. An engineering team were going through some of the neighbouring buildings that had escaped the destruction. They had waited weeks, or maybe even months, before being able to get inside. I remember them describing how, when the first plane hit, people working there had dropped everything and run. One engineer spoke of an abandoned breakfast meeting where plates of pastries and fruit lay frozen in time beside pots of coffee on a table caked with ominous grey dust.
Sophie told me that she knew immediately upon seeing the breakfast that morning that something big had happened.
Taylor had framed the painting and hung it central in the sunroom. I helped Sophie take it down, then watched her roll it casually into a mailing tube and stuff it into her bag. We harvested what we could from the gardens and packed it up to take with us. Lizzy and I each took long and amazing hot showers in the outdoor wash area. My mood brightened when I saw that the wooden shower door was gnomed by a faded old dude from the garden. The rainwater felt silky and magical against my dry and dusty skin. Afterwards Taylor trimmed my hair, helped bandage my knees and gasped at the crazy rainbow bruise that had surfaced across my shoulder.
‘That fucking airport,’ she had said and I wondered how much she knew about Lizzy and the auroras.
Before we knew it a fat yellow sun was plunging into the ocean out the kitchen window. We finished up and gathered at a table for dinner. Taylor heated some homemade tomato sauce they had bottled and we ate it with pasta, mushrooms and a garden salad. She and Sophie watched on in amusement as Lizzy and I shovelled it down like animals. After dinner we sat by the fire playing Scrabble and drinking Sophie’s mulled wine as sheets of drizzle washed over the windows to the west. Taylor and Lizzy rediscovered the chatty ping-pong banter that had filled their bedrooms growing up and later charmed their crowds between songs. I felt warm and a part of things and my thoughts drifted to Rocky and Carousel, for once with nostalgia rather than sadness.
Beyond Carousel Page 18
