‘Are you really making a film up here?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ Matt said. ‘I’m having a look around first.’
‘It’s not another horrible film, is it?’ Ig said.
Matt glanced at Genevieve.
‘He means horror film,’ she said. ‘Ig was an extra in one that was filmed up here a couple of years ago. They paid him ten dollars.’
‘All I had to do was walk past the camera a few times. Like this.’ Ig demonstrated, walking back and forth in front of Genevieve and Matt.
‘Wow,’ Matt said. ‘I can see why they hired you. That’s some walk.’
Ig gave his little smile. ‘So is yours a murder film too?’
‘Not this time, no. It’s about zombie rabbits taking over the world.’
‘Seriously?’ Genevieve said. ‘It’s the one you were telling me about in New York?’
He grinned. ‘Farewell teenage vampires, hello dystopian zombie rabbits. More to the point, hello lots of zombie rabbit merchandise.’
Matt told them he’d been scouting locations further north. He was flying to Western Australia in two days’ time, to visit possible locations there too. Meeting with government officials to discuss tax incentives. A film like this was worth a lot to the local economy.
‘Why don’t you film it here?’ Ig asked. ‘You could stay with us for free.’
Matt laughed. ‘Thanks, Ig. It’s not just me. There’ll be about a hundred of us.’
‘We’ve got sleeping bags,’ Ig said. ‘Are you going to take him to Swing Hill, Genevieve? If I was a zombie rabbit, that’s where I’d live.’
‘Swing Hill?’ Matt said.
Genevieve explained.
‘There are only three swings there, though,’ Ig said. ‘Dad said he’d build me one too, but he hasn’t yet.’
‘I’ll leave you mine in my will, Ig,’ Genevieve said.
Matt said he’d like to go there. Ig was invited to join them but declined. He was busy, he told Matt.
‘But I can’t tell you what I’m doing because it’s a secret. So please don’t even ask.’
‘I won’t, I promise,’ Matt said, just as seriously.
‘Great kid,’ Matt said, as he and Genevieve walked through the gate, in the direction of Swing Hill. ‘Great family.’
‘Nice, but not a sane one among them,’ Genevieve said. ‘Apart from me, of course.’
As they walked, they talked. He asked more about Angela, how her recovery was going. He listened, asked more questions. His grandmother had dementia, he told her. Was it something like that? A bit, but this was temporary, Genevieve said. They hoped so, at least.
They kept walking. She pointed out the landmarks, feeling like a tour guide, showing him the Chace Range, Elder Range, Wilpena Pound and Rawnsley Bluff. She told him the statistics she knew, too. That the Flinders was Australia’s second-largest mountain range. That Wilpena Pound was so big it could hold Uluru ten times over. She pointed out galahs screeching in a nearby gum tree, a wedge-tailed eagle hovering to their right. They saw a goanna, long-tailed and prehistoric-looking, on the path in front of them.
‘It’s incredible,’ he said, shading his eyes, looking around. ‘No wonder you came back here.’
‘It’s my Hotel California,’ she said. ‘I keep trying to leave. I just never can.’
They started climbing the track to Swing Hill. She let him go first, so he’d get the full impact of the view.
‘Wow,’ he said, as he reached the top. There was a magnificent 360-degree view around them. It was their station, as far as they could see, she told him. After a few seconds of taking it in, he turned towards her.
‘It’s really good to see you again, Genevieve,’ he said.
‘It’s kind of incredible to see you again, Matt,’ she said.
‘It’s so beautiful up here. I can’t take my eyes off it.’ He was looking at her, not the view. ‘So, where were we? I remember. Ready? Guess the film. “Here’s looking at you, kid”?’
She smiled. ‘Star Wars,’ she said.
‘“You had me at hello”?’
‘The Amityville Horror.’
‘You really are good at this,’ he said. ‘I’ll make it harder. “I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas any more.” ’
‘Easy,’ she said. ‘The Muppet Movie.’
He didn’t ask her any more.
He kissed her instead.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
In Adelaide, Victoria and Joan were in the waiting room of the clinic. Victoria’s name was called. She turned to Joan. ‘Will you please come in with me?’
The doctor listened as Victoria told her what had happened, gave her all the details, all her dates. She did another test. The doctor examined her. Then she confirmed what Victoria already knew. She had lost the baby. ‘It doesn’t mean you won’t be able to conceive again. It just means it wasn’t —’
The right time for this baby. She had heard it from Joan, from Genevieve, even from Angela. In her head, she knew it was true. In her heart, it still hurt. She’d wept the whole journey down in the car. Joan had stayed quiet beside her, reaching over now and again to hold her hand.
She needed to know more, what had happened, why it had happened, when it had happened. The doctor was kind, gentle. She gave her all the information. Victoria’s cervix was closed, she said. That meant that the pregnancy had been over for some time, even though the bleeding had only happened in the past day or two. The foetus had —
Victoria couldn’t hear the word died. Not out loud. Not yet. But she needed to know what might have made it happen.
‘We can never know for certain,’ the doctor said. ‘In the first three months, it happens so often. Have you been sick at all? Sometimes it can be that.’
Victoria shook her head. Apart from the food poisoning at Christmas time. The doctor asked lots of questions about that. Victoria told her about the contaminated prawns, how sick they had all been. She began to recall what else they’d had for Christmas lunch. Parma ham. Soft cheeses. All the food she’d since learned a pregnant woman should avoid. She began to cry again. ‘I made it happen, didn’t I? I did it. It’s my fault.’
‘It’s not your fault.’ Joan was fierce about it. ‘It happened for its own reason. I won’t let you blame yourself, Victoria. I won’t.’
The doctor let her cry again. She offered her brochures, details of counsellors. At the door, she touched Victoria’s shoulder in sympathy. ‘Let yourself be sad about it. Grieve all you need to.’
Outside in the car, Victoria cried again. Joan took her in her arms.
‘I want my mum,’ Victoria sobbed.
‘I know, darling. I know.’
Joan let her say all she needed to say, listened as Victoria cried and tried to speak. Victoria had known it would be hard to be a single mother. That she’d have to get in touch with Mr Radio eventually, that he had a right to know he was the father. She knew that it wouldn’t have been easy, any of it. But she’d been ready. Once she’d known for sure she was pregnant, she’d felt ready for anything. Ready to be a mother. It didn’t make sense, she knew that. She’d been less than three months pregnant. But once she’d made the decision to have it — She started crying again. It had been her baby. And now it was gone.
Joan suggested a walk. They drove to a spot beside the river. Together, they walked along the pathway. Victoria’s tears began to ease. She asked Joan to tell her how it had been for her, with two miscarriages. Joan didn’t cry as she shared her story. But she had cried for a long time when they happened, she told Victoria. Even now, sometimes, she thought about those two babies. She knew what ages they would have been. When their birthdays might have been. Back then, miscarriages weren’t talked about as much. Women were expected to keep quiet about them, get on with things. But she had never forgotten.
Back at the car, Victoria glanced at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her make-up smudged. Joan offered to collect Nick on her own, to leave Vict
oria in a cafe, or by the river, for time alone. Victoria shook her head. She wanted solitude but she also wanted to see her dad.
They were at the airport just a few minutes before his flight landed. Victoria hadn’t decided how much to tell her father. All of it, or perhaps none, she didn’t know yet. It seemed impossible all this had happened while he was away. Impossible that he had been to Ireland and England in the past seven days.
The passengers from his flight started to appear. She saw him and waved. He stood out, tall, so tanned. She’d expected him to be exhausted, but he looked well. Purposeful. That was the word. He looked better than he had a week ago. She threw her arms around him as if she were a little kid again.
‘Any news?’ he said. ‘How’s Angela? Is everyone okay?’
‘We’re all fine,’ she said.
Together they walked over to where Joan was waiting.
Genevieve was trying to find Ig. On the way back from Swing Hill, Matt had remembered he had some merchandise in his car from a previous film he’d worked on. He thought Ig might like it. Genevieve had already looked outside, calling his name. No reply. She checked all around the house. She walked into the living room. Celia and Angela were there, watching Downton Abbey.
She waited until the end of a heated exchange between a butler and a housekeeper. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, but have either of you seen Ig?’ she asked.
‘No, not for a while, sorry,’ Angela said.
Celia pressed pause with a sigh. ‘He’s out in his cubby, I suppose.’
‘No, he’s not. I can’t find him anywhere.’
Angela offered to help look. Thanks, but no need, Genevieve said. She was sure he wasn’t far away. She walked into the kitchen. Matt was standing by the window, holding his phone in the air.
‘You can try standing on the roof,’ Genevieve said, ‘but I’m sorry to say it still won’t help.’
‘You’ve seriously survived out here for this long without a cell-phone?’
‘We’ve only just got running water. Sorry about this, but I seem to have temporarily lost my little brother.’
‘Can I help look?’
‘No, I’d probably lose you as well. I’m going to check the buildings outside again. I’ll be right back, I promise.’
She gave him a quick kiss. Then another slightly longer one.
On Swing Hill, after kissing for a long time and only just stopping themselves from doing a lot more than kissing, she’d made a suggestion. She would take him for a drive around the station, to all the lookout points, and to the Aboriginal paintings. Errigal mightn’t be ideal for his zombie rabbits, but who knew what other film he might be scouting for in the future? And after that, she would take him into Hawker for a drink in a proper outback pub. If they got moving, there was time to do all of that and still be back before Joan, Victoria and her dad returned. She wanted Matt to meet everyone. Especially Victoria.
‘Do they rent rooms in that pub by the hour?’ he’d asked, as they walked down Swing Hill together. He had his arm around her. His fingers were stroking her bare shoulder. She was finding it hard to stay upright. All she wanted to do was keep kissing him. Do more than kiss him. As soon as possible.
‘By the hour?’ Then she got it. ‘That’s as long as you could last?’
‘I’m out of practice. I haven’t been with anyone since you.’
‘You haven’t?’
He shook his head. ‘Have you?’
‘Dozens. Out here, I’m spoilt for choice.’ She shook her head. ‘No.’
That time, she followed up on her urge to kiss him. It was another ten minutes before they were walking again. Again, she was surprised by how good she felt around him. How easy it was. There was no playing games, no pretending. He’d made it clear and she’d made it clear that they were very glad to see each other and the sooner they got into bed, the better all round. The Hawker hotel was certainly an option, she told him solemnly. But she usually knew a lot of people there. It could be awkward.
‘There’s always the great outdoors,’ she said. ‘A rug under the stars. A campfire. Wine. Marshmallows on sticks. Or if we can’t wait that long, a rug under the sun. No campfire, because there’s a fire ban anyway. No wine, either, because I’m driving. And I don’t like marshmallows.’
‘Me neither. Let’s skip the marshmallows. And the campfire. I’m just about ready to skip the rug.’
‘We’ll need the rug,’ she said. She leaned in and whispered in his ear.
‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘We’ll need the rug. Could we go and get that rug now?’
That had been the plan. Come back to Errigal, give Ig the film merchandise, pick up some picnic things, a bundle of rugs and go for a drive together. She’d even decided where she was going to take him. A secluded, shady spot by the creek about twenty minutes’ drive away, which only the Gillespies and a few other people in the area knew about. After the recent storm, there might even be a trickle of water flowing. Either way, it would be private. She was finding it hard to keep her hands off him, even in the kitchen. As soon as she knew for sure where Ig was, they could go.
She found Lindy in the office, watching YouTube videos about sewing techniques. No, she hadn’t seen Ig for ages either, she said. ‘I think Matt’s gorgeous, by the way,’ she whispered. ‘So sexy. I love the accent too.’
Matt was standing right behind Genevieve. ‘Thanks,’ he said.
Lindy went red.
Matt joined the search. They tried the buildings outside again. The pottery shed. The woolshed. There was no sign of Ig, but they caught a glimpse of what he and Angela were working on. A mural. It wasn’t finished yet. There was just the whitewashed background and outlines of several different birds so far, with a big gum tree in the centre, half-painted.
They checked the cubby. The car shed. No Ig, but both cars were there. That was a good sign, at least, she told Matt. ‘It means he can’t have gone far. Matt, I’m sorry, but I’m really worried now.’
By six o’clock, there was still no sign of him. Genevieve had radioed around to the neighbouring stations. They’d called the Hawker police station. It was only staffed part-time. Today wasn’t one of those times. They’d keep looking on their own.
On her third search of the buildings, Genevieve found Angela leaning against the fence. She looked pale. Worried.
‘Angela? Are you okay?’
‘I’m just trying to think where he might have gone. Where he might be.’
‘We’ll find him, don’t worry.’
‘Wherever he is, he’d be sticking close to the tracks,’ Angela said. ‘He’s scared of snakes, remember. Terrified.’
Genevieve went still. There was no way New Angela would know that. ‘How do you know?’
‘He always has been, since he was a little kid. We were outside once, and one went past, near the fence. A King Brown. I shot it in time. It didn’t come anywhere near him, he was never in any danger, but he was so terrified. Screaming. He cried for hours afterwards.’
Genevieve wanted to call out to Lindy to come and hear this. She wanted to keep Angela talking. This was important. This was a definite memory. A real memory. Angela hadn’t seen any snakes since her accident. She hadn’t been near a gun. But Genevieve wasn’t sure Angela had even noticed what she’d said.
‘I’m going to go and look in all the buildings again,’ Angela said. ‘Just in case he’s fallen asleep, or is hiding somewhere.’
Genevieve watched her go. She wasn’t imagining it. Angela wasn’t reacting like a guest. She was beginning to react like a mother.
She and Matt met in the yard, after searching in different directions.
‘Genevieve, I’m sorry to say this, but could someone have taken him? Someone driving past —’
‘You’ve seen too many films.’
‘I have. But should you contact the police again, in case . . .’
He didn’t have to say it. In case Ig was now hundreds of kilometres from here.
She rang the police in Port Augusta, and in Port Pirie. Just in case.
By eight p.m. they were all still looking. They met in the kitchen to swap notes. Celia was still convinced they’d find him nearby. ‘Of course no one’s taken him. We would have heard a car.’
‘How? You and Angela were watching TV. Lindy was on the computer. Matt and I were at Swing Hill.’ Genevieve spoke her thoughts aloud. ‘Think, Genevieve, think. Where would he go?’
Lindy came in. She’d just driven out to the Pugilist Hill lookout and had also followed the nearest creek for as long as she could. Nothing, she reported. There was no water running either. One less thing to worry about.
‘What about Swing Hill?’ she asked. ‘Has anyone looked up there?’
‘We’d just been there when I noticed him missing,’ Genevieve said. ‘We would have passed each other if he was going there.’
Outside, a car arrived. Then a four-wheel drive. Their neighbours: Kevin Lawson, Fred Lawson. Word was spreading. An hour later, Joan, Victoria and Nick arrived from Adelaide. Genevieve rapidly filled them in. Nick joined the search straightaway. Victoria stayed inside by the UHF radio, while Joan helped search the station buildings again, all of them hoping fresh eyes might find fresh clues. They checked inside every room in the homestead again too, in case he happened to be hiding. Nothing.
More neighbours arrived, more four-wheel drives. The house was filling with people. Outside the UHF radios were crackling with information being exchanged.
‘Can you stay close to Angela?’ Genevieve whispered to Joan. ‘There are too many people around. They’ll start asking her questions, thinking she’s the Old Angela. It could confuse her.’
She was too late. Angela was already outside, talking to some of the stationhands. They weren’t asking her any questions. All anyone was doing was talking about Ig.
They were starting to fear the worst. That Ig had wandered along a creek bed, fallen, was lying injured somewhere. Or worse. That a car or a truck had passed by without any of them noticing, and he was now far away.
Nick had taken over the search organisation. Those with four-wheel drives were going to head along the furthermost tracks that ran out into the middle of the saltbush-covered paddocks. Joan and Celia had taken over the kitchen. The kettle was on constant boil. They produced plate after plate of sandwiches, even scones. Victoria was staying by the radio. Angela and Lindy had joined in the four-wheel drive search crews.
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