Turn Left at Bindi Creek

by Lynne Wilding

  When they all returned to Bindi Creek at dusk without Jason, Albie was the crankiest. His reputation as a tracker had been put into question by Jason’s elusiveness. The other men who’d participated were also deeply disappointed. All had spent a frustrating day in rugged bush and they weren’t any closer to finding the missing man. The fact that Reverend Dupayne and Hugh Thurtell had organised a barbecue, with plenty of beer on tap, helped mollify their disappointment and, when asked, all said they’d be back tomorrow to continue the search.

  For Brooke the day had been agonising. The children had stayed home from school and moped about long-faced. They’d tried not to bother her and to be of help when they could, but she could see it was hard on them. And now, after being so sure that they would find him, her brain had gone into overdrive, imagining worst-case scenarios where Jason was in dire circumstances. It was similar to reliving his motorbike accident, except that he was missing from the scene. What if they didn’t find him? What if—she could hardly bear to think it—he disappeared forever? How could she and the children go on with their lives, not knowing one way or another?

  ‘You all right?’ Wes asked from behind.

  She tried to be strong, she really did, but the sound of his voice, the timbre of concern in it, brought her undone. ‘No, I…I’m not all right.’

  He turned her around and put his arms around her, dragging her against his chest. ‘It’s okay to cry, you know,’ he whispered. ‘It’ll do you good to get rid of some of the tension.’ Secretly he envied women their freedom to cry. Most men were taught from a young age not to, that it was weak to give way to their feelings. Women were lucky they didn’t have such constraints placed on them.

  He didn’t know what to say to bring her comfort. He could lie—tell her that everything would be all right, that they were sure to find Jason tomorrow—but at this point in time he couldn’t say that and be confident about it happening that way. With so much manpower at their disposal, they should have found him today. If he hadn’t known Jason’s mental capacity, he might have thought his friend was deliberately eluding them. He knew that couldn’t be so.

  ‘How are the kids holding up?’ he asked, not knowing what else to say.

  ‘They’ve been good. The boys are pretty stoic, but Sheridan’s been crying on and off. I heard from Jean, too. She and Royce are back. They’ll be here first thing in the morning.’ She gazed at the scene around her. The barbecue was being held in the parking area next to the church. Darkness had fallen, so fairy lights had been strung up, and there were fold-up chairs and trestle tables covered with checked tablecloths for the men to sit at. ‘Everyone has been so supportive,’ she said. ‘It’s really wonderful.’

  ‘Yeah, country folk stick together in an emergency.’ He looked at her and smiled compassionately. ‘You should know that by now.’

  ‘I’m very worried about Jason, Wes. He must be tired and hungry, and without his medication, well…’

  He gave her a little hug, then, before it became too enjoyable, he let his hands drop to his sides. ‘I know. I’m worried too.’ What was the point in pretending otherwise?

  ‘He…he must feel so alone.’ She tried to imagine how a child might feel, because in many ways Jason had become childlike. The neurologist had said his overall mental capacity had been reduced to that of a ten-year-old. She could well imagine how a ten-year-old child, lost in the bush, without food, water, shelter or company, would feel—very afraid, especially once it became dark.

  ‘Are you going to stay here tonight?’

  He shook his head. ‘There’s not enough room for the three of us at your place. I’ve organised rooms at the Imperial. Hugh’s staying there too.’

  After the men had dispersed and the children had settled into their beds, Brooke lay in her own bed trying to sleep. She couldn’t. A kaleidoscope of memories kept assailing her. She remembered that one of the first excursions she and Jason had made had been to Bondi Beach, where she had been dumped by a huge wave and he’d rescued her. And there had been the wedding—so simple and moving—and then the twins coming along.

  Other images pushed in, too—of Jason, clothes torn, bleeding, hurt, needing her.

  Turning onto her side, she plumped up the pillow and tried to relax, but the thoughts didn’t stop. She had come to accept that the physical and emotional love had gone from their relationship, but the caring hadn’t. She still cared very much about what happened to him. Through the long, silent night she tossed and turned, sleeping and waking, thinking and dozing, until the first rays of daylight pushed through the drapes to rouse her.

  Jason had spent a miserable night under a clump of tea-tree bushes, which weren’t thick enough to protect him from the cold and the spring dew. Damp patches made a chequerboard pattern on his denim shirt and jeans. As he woke, he shivered. He tried to rub some warmth into his arms and legs. After a while he pulled himself into a tight ball and waited for the sun to strike his body and warm him.

  He was thirsty, very thirsty. Yesterday he had found a few isolated puddles to sip water from, but it wasn’t enough. And more than thirsty, he was hungry—so hungry his insides rumbled and grumbled like a mini thunderstorm. Jason squinted as he surveyed his surroundings. Yesterday he had recognised several familiar places, but then he had lost his bearings, and now he couldn’t work out where he was.

  A currawong in the tree above him began its morning warble. The sound startled him at first and he jumped, but then he tilted his head to one side to listen to the bird’s song. A faint smile lifted the corners of his mouth at the pretty sound, and he scratched at the two-day-old pepper-and-salt stubble on his chin. After a while he heard a rustling noise in the bushes to the right of him, and suddenly a grey kangaroo hopped into the clearing. The roo stopped still for a moment when it saw him, then, dismissing the man, it continued across the clearing into the dense bush.

  Jason stood up and stretched, and that made his stomach grumble louder. He looked around for Adam’s horse but couldn’t see the gelding anywhere. The saddle lay on the ground where he’d left it last night, but the horse was nowhere in sight. His ability to remember things was so poor that he didn’t remember that he had forgotten to tether the horse. At first light the gelding had wandered off in search of grass to graze on and was slowly finding its way back to Bindi Creek.

  Unperturbed by the horse’s disappearance, Jason yawned and knuckled the sleep out of his eyes. He thrust his hands into his pockets and rocked backwards and forwards, humming as he did so, just for something to do. Becoming bored with that, he kicked a pebble and watched it skitter across the hard ground until it came to a stop. Then, though he was feeling very tired, he loped across the clearing and into the bush to follow the kangaroo’s trail.

  Brooke checked the faces of the men as they assembled in the same place, outside her cottage. None looked as confident as they had yesterday, and even Wes, whose features traditionally showed little emotion, betrayed a certain grimness. Today Luke and Adam were joining the search, which was better than them sitting around glumly, waiting for news. Pete Roth had advised the group that a police sniffer dog was on standby at Carcoar and, if Jason’s trail wasn’t picked up this morning, they’d bring the dog in. Albie had snorted disdainfully at that piece of news and, after collecting sandwiches and flasks of water, he and Drew had got off to an early start. Wes would follow later.

  After the men had ridden off, Brooke stood indecisively on the verandah, watching the dust from their wake settle. Jean had phoned earlier to say she and Royce would be at Bindi by mid-morning. She wished they’d be here sooner. Company was what she needed—to take her mind and fears off what was happening to Jason.

  ‘Come on, Mum.’ Nine-year-old Sheridan threaded her arm through her mother’s. ‘I’m going to make you a real good breakfast. Bacon and eggs and toast. That’s Dad’s favourite breakfast, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, love, but I don’t think I could eat it.’

  ‘You will,’ Sheridan s
aid firmly, mimicking her mother’s authoritative tone. ‘Remember that over the years you’ve preached to us about the importance of a good breakfast. It’s going to be a long day and you need something solid in your stomach.’

  ‘All right.’ With a fleeting smile, Brooke allowed herself to be persuaded. Besides, it would keep Sheridan busy for a while preparing it.

  For the second night in a row she had barely slept, and this morning she felt…how did she feel? Drained and numb. Inside she wanted to curl up into a ball and pretend that none of this was happening, that it was all a bad dream. Unfortunately, she couldn’t. Too many people depended on her. She had to be strong, or pretend to be, for Sheridan and the others, even if she didn’t want to.

  Jean and Royce’s arrival gave everyone a much needed boost. Fresh and happy from their honeymoon, they imbued all around them with an air of wellbeing and an optimism that was contagious.

  ‘Let’s get organised,’ Jean said briskly after they’d been treated to morning tea. ‘I’m sure they’ll find Jason today.’

  Hugh bustled into Brooke’s living room with a sheet of paper. He was coordinating the messages today instead of Frank. ‘Albie has picked up Jason’s trail and they’ve found a saddle with Adam’s name on it, which means that Jason’s on foot. Albie reckons he’ll be easier to track now, and slower ’cause he’ll tire faster.’

  ‘Where did they find the saddle?’ Brooke asked.

  ‘About five kilometres southwest of here,’ Hugh said. ‘Have faith in Albie, Brooke. He’s an experienced tracker.’

  ‘Thanks, Hugh.’

  Hugh went back to the kitchen to wait for further news, with Royce joining him for company. Then Sheridan went off to get groceries at the supermarket, leaving the two women alone. Realising that Brooke’s nerves were stretched to the limit, Jean tried to distract her by talking a blue streak about their honeymoon.

  ‘I’m a babe in the woods when it comes to travel, but Royce made everything so easy. First class all the way, too. He has a magnificent apartment in Buenos Aires, in Belgrano. That’s in one of the city’s most expensive suburbs. He’s put the property up for sale. And I met Carlo, his partner. Oh, what a charming man! He’s agreed to buy out Royce’s share of the business. We went to Rio de Janeiro. Now that’s a wild, exciting place. Then we had a few days in Mexico City.’ She grinned at Brooke. ‘Royce handles money like water. Oh, he’s really spoilt me.

  ‘After that we flew to LA to meet his girls and the ex. I was worried about meeting Eva,’ Jean confided. ‘I’d seen photos of her and she is quite beautiful. Two facelifts have helped to keep her that way, Royce told me. Well, she’s engaged to some fellow who develops condominium sites in California—his name’s Brad something-or-other and he’s wealthier than Royce.’ She chuckled as if something was funny. ‘Eva can really pick them. She was quite nice to me, though, I think because she had another bloke on the hook, and Royce had assured her earlier that their daughters would always be well looked after. He’s set up trust funds that will make each girl quite well off.’

  She stopped to draw breath. ‘I met them, too—Sophie and Elise. They’re both at UCLA and are nice girls. Elise is very pretty. Her mother wants her to break into the movies, but I think she’s too smart to do that. Then Greg and Connie came over and we played happy families for a while. It was wonderful. Really!’

  Brooke had never seen Jean so animated. It was an amazing transformation. She was still the same old Jean but with a new sophistication and worldliness that hadn’t been there before. But right now, all she knew was that she was glad to have her back during this trying time.

  They talked and talked, and brought each other up to date. Jean suggested they make a lamb casserole for Jason because he was going to be starving by the time they found him. As they worked, Brooke was aware that Jean was doing everything possible to keep her occupied, but she still couldn’t help worrying. Oh, Jason, where are you?

  Hugh found them in the kitchen putting the finishing touches to the casserole. ‘I’ve just heard from Wes. They’ve found Adam’s horse near the creek. Wes is bringing him in. He’ll be here in about ten minutes.’

  ‘Shouldn’t they have picked up Jason by now?’ Jean asked.

  Hugh shook his head. ‘They probably should have, but they haven’t. Albie’s still tracking him and he hasn’t radioed in.’

  ‘God, where can he be? He’s only one man on foot,’ Jean complained.

  ‘Albie’s closing in. We should hear something real soon,’ Hugh said, trying to placate both women.

  ‘Let’s wait on the verandah for Wes,’ Brooke suggested. Just to see him would be reassuring, and he was bringing Adam’s horse home, so Jason’s return couldn’t be far away.

  They didn’t have to wait long. Less than ten minutes later they saw Wes coming up the road from the creek, leading Adam’s horse. He dismounted from Fantasy Lane and, after taking off the other horse’s bridle, set the gelding free in the paddock.

  ‘Albie’s got Jason’s trail. He reckons he’s about twenty minutes behind him, so he should catch him in the next half-hour. According to Albie and Drew, Jason’s heading for the creek,’ Wes said as he joined them on the verandah. He nodded a welcome to Jean and Royce, who’d joined them.

  ‘The creek?’ Brooke queried. ‘I thought he was going in the opposite direction.’

  ‘He was, but he turned back on his trail, crossed it and headed southeast.’

  Brooke’s mind began to work overtime. If Jason found the creek, he would probably head straight for the swimming hole, which was half a kilometre upstream from the town. ‘The swimming hole!’

  ‘The swimming hole?’ Wes looked at her and frowned. ‘What about it?’

  ‘If Jason sees the creek, I’m sure he’ll want to go to the swimming hole, because he and Craig swim there in summer when they’re not using the local pool.’ She looked at Wes. ‘You know he loves that place, and he loves to swim. He’s always had an affinity with water, and since the accident I’ve encouraged him to swim because it makes him feel good.’

  ‘You’re sure that’s where he’d go?’ Royce asked.

  ‘As sure as I can be with someone as unpredictable as Jason,’ Brooke said, her tone melancholy.

  Wes climbed back up onto Fantasy Lane. He looked at Brooke and held out his hand. ‘Come on, we’ll check it out.’

  Royce helped boost Brooke up behind Wes. It felt strange and uncomfortable to sit on a horse this way, holding onto Wes and unable to see much more than the checked shirt that covered his back.

  ‘You okay?’ he asked.

  She didn’t answer but simply made a little murmuring noise. He pulled her arms firmly around his waist. ‘You won’t squash me, you know.’

  Before they left, Wes said to Royce, ‘Could you have Hugh pass on the information that Jason’s near the creek, so the men can work their way back here?’

  ‘Will do.’

  Wes flicked the reins and Fantasy Lane moved off at a trot, making Brooke hang on for dear life.

  Over centuries rocks and boulders had moved and hollowed out the earth to form a natural pool approximately seven metres in diameter. When the creek flowed strongly, as it did now, the water could be more than three metres deep. On the other side of the swimming hole stood a huge rock known as bald rock because it was round and smooth like the back of a bald man’s head. Several years ago a couple of devil-may-care teenagers had tied a hawser to a tall gum which leant over the rock, to create a pendulum they could swing out from then let go of and drop into the pool.

  It took Brooke and Wes nearly fifteen minutes to pick their way along the well-worn bush track to the swimming hole. Jason was nowhere in sight.

  Wes helped Brooke off the horse, then he got off and they sat down on a log to wait. Several minutes later, Wes heard rustling noises in the scrub. His bush hearing was more acute than Brooke’s. He pointed as Jason staggered out of the bush, limping, and stopped close to the edge of bald rock.

 
; ‘He’s here,’ Wes said softly.

  They were approximately ten metres away from each other. Brooke saw that Jason was favouring his right leg. He looked a mess. His shirt was torn, his jeans were stained about the knees where he’d obviously fallen a few times, and his face was dirty and had a two-day growth. Oddly, his right hand was pressed to his chest, as if something were tender. He’d probably fallen and bruised himself. Brooke’s heart went out to him. He looked so forlorn and lost.

  ‘Jason!’

  His body jerked at the sound of her voice, and then he saw her and Wes. He grinned widely as if he was pleased—no, relieved—to see her, and waved his right hand furiously at them. ‘Brooke, Wes. Hello.’ His deep voice sounded strange as it echoed off the boulders around the swimming hole. ‘You gonna have a swim?’

  ‘See,’ she whispered to Wes. ‘I said that once he saw the water he’d think about swimming.’ Then, in a louder voice, ‘Jason, you’re not dressed for swimming, you haven’t got your swimmers on. Come on, love, climb down from the rock and we’ll go home. We can come back for a swim later, after you’ve eaten.’

  She watched him hesitate. She could see his gaze fixed on the water, as if the gentle ripples on the surface were mesmerising him. ‘You’re very hungry, aren’t you, love?’ Brooke cajoled. ‘There’s hot food at home—one of your favourite dishes waiting for you.’

  ‘Wanta swim,’ Jason called out, his tone becoming stubborn. Peeling off his shirt, he sat on the smooth rock to take his shoes off and, using only his right hand, he pushed his jeans up to just below his knees.

  ‘No, Jason. No!’ Brooke yelled at him. At the same time her eyes pleaded with Wes to do something.

  Wes looked at the distance between himself and Jason. If he moved to a part of the creek where he could wade across, he could climb up and stop Jason. But that would take three minutes or so. He watched Jason stand up and reach for the hawser, holding it with his right hand, then walk backwards to give himself a bit of a run-up. Christ, what could he do? There wasn’t enough time.