by Mudrooroo
‘It was then that my eyes moved and opened wide. I felt my eyeballs stick right out of their sockets. Miss Tamada turned. She held a spear in her hand. She came towards me and I closed my eyes.
‘The drum beat faster and faster, then stopped. I could hear the panting of the two women, and the scrape of flesh on flesh as a wave of darkness and feeling began at the soles of my feet and moved upwards through my body. Thankfully, I slid into, let that darkness blacken my consciousness.
SESSION TEN
‘I think, I think that you are beginning to doubt the veracity of my statements. You feel, though you do not state, and your, your questions seek to elicit what you may term the “truth”. But I query the whole concept of “truth” and as for reality, the so-called getting to the heart of that matter, well, often the heart of the matter is vastly different from the skin of the subject. You hesitate; more than once I have seen your finger hover over the off-button. You wish to wipe me from your narrative. You wonder what my narration has to do with the one and only Dr Watson Holmes Jackamara. You think all these things, and yet you persist as I persisted in that infernal situation in which I found myself. Do you wish me to declare that I truly died, was deliberately poisoned by that fiend masquerading as a businesswoman? I know that you hide a smile of derision; but I did suffer a poisoning which almost did me in and I had to put up with an absurd ritual which worked on my mind. I have heard of certain techniques of brainwashing. Now you openly smirk. Perhaps I should mention drugs? Your smirk becomes a grin. Well, mate, the world is filled with drugs and with those employing them on innocent people such as myself; but, mind you, I am not, cannot make any accusations. In this climate, it is impossible. My enemies are powerful, my friends non-existent, and I? You wish me to continue my narrative? I shall, I shall.
‘The next morning I came to in that peach-coloured room with the light streaming through the windows. Nothing remained to remind me of the events of the night, except a lassitude which gripped my limbs and a numbness of mind which almost refused me thought. I lay there in my weakness and had to endure the arrival of the two women who were in the best of spirits. They declared that I had had an adverse reaction to the fish, that the saki had proved too strong for my constitution, that I had passed out and they had left me here to sleep it off. They said this last sentence with smiles of complicity into which I frowned. Miss Tamada wrinkled her nose at me, then left, and Carla urged me to shower, get dressed and have some breakfast. “You’ll feel heaps better,” she declared, “and the journey to the plantations will give you a new lease of life.”
‘I shuddered at this; but she, not to be denied, bustled me into the bathroom and left me there. The shower did some good and the donning of a new pair of shorts, a bush shirt and long socks and shoes did restore me to some degree of normality. I almost could imagine myself back on the Coast and ready to see a client. I went to the dining room and was served coffee and rolls. This was all that I could face; that is until I smelt the aroma of bacon and eggs. I needed an Aussie breakfast and soon was tucking into one. I had recovered to all intents and purposes and even looked forward to seeing some of the island, casting my eye over the real estate as it were.
‘We were late in starting and were driven around the base of the mountain and through a jungle which already had the aspect of a tended national park which I liked, for who needs the scruffiness of the natural? This changed, however, when we swung off the road along a dirt track which led through the rainforest to the head of a path threading its way through the dank growth. I hung back as the women got out. The driver looked back at me.
‘ “Come on,” Carla called. “It’s only about a kilometre and well worth the walk. Bring the hamper,” she ordered the driver, and then without waiting for me to make up my mind, hurried off with Miss Tamada. The driver smiled at me ruefully, then went to the boot to get the munchies. I walked after the females and found myself plodding through mushy ground and edging along sunken logs which formed the path. The trees dripped moisture on me and the undergrowth bristled with huge flowers and on one of them sat a huge green frog which croaked at me. I didn’t like the walk at all. It was like pressing through a nightmarish tunnel and who knew what lurked in wait for me; then, then, there had been those incidents and this was a better place than most for the final and fatal accident. A body lying at the side of the path would dissolve into mush within days, and worse now the path was hugging the side of a gully at the bottom of which, through a tangle of wrecked logs and vile undergrowth, I could catch a glimpse of a stream and hear its rush.
‘At last, I came down and out on the bank of the stream. Boulders and rocks formed a rough platform and there the women were. They saw me and waved, then rushed off along another path. I sat down on the rocks and stared at the rushing water. It was a pleasant spot, but there was an air of foreboding hanging over it. I stared at the rancid pool which had collected all the debris which rushed down a waterfall. The water flowed over a steep slope, then fell over a short cliff into the pool. I stared up and saw Carla waving to me from the top. I watched her as she made her way across the lip of the waterfall to the opposite bank. She stopped and I thought she might attempt to clamber down; but she made her way back and disappeared. I looked at the spot and could see the heads of the bamboo grove we had come especially to see. It was then that the driver came up lugging the hamper and began preparing morning tea. He was ready to hand the two women an ice-cold drink of mineral water when they emerged from the path. I smiled a surly “hello” and turned to the pool. I needed a cold beer to get my mind off things, but there wasn’t any. I consoled myself with a cup of tea, then bit into sandwiches which had a filling of some sort of expensive liverwurst. It tasted raw and brought up the events of the previous night. I felt quite sick and went and scrambled over the rocks to stare down into the water. I scooped some up and was about to drink it, when I felt Carla grab my shoulder as she leapt onto my small rock. I almost overbalanced and turned to her to remonstrate, but just like a woman she got out the first word: “See that black rock there, that big one poking out of the bank beside the waterfall. There is an old native legend connected with it ...”
‘ “I know, I know?” I exclaimed irritably, “one of your forebears also was a collector of native legends.”
‘ “Why, how did you know?” she replied, sweetly. “But not a man, a woman, and naturally she concentrated on the folklore of women. In fact, she constructed the original building where my bungalow now stands. Behind it, I might show it to you, if you want to see it, is a spring where this particular mythic female being likes to visit. She roams from here to there, or rather flies. Sometimes, you can see her as a light in the sky. Naturally I have seen it, then when she arrives here she becomes, or enters, into that rock. I’m not sure about that part, nor was my grandmother. She has another body too. Tall and slim with long flowing hair, beautiful slender hands and long finger nails.”
‘ “A perfect description of you,” I exclaimed, my mind flitting to Jackamara’s story and then to the Japanese woman’s tales. To tell the truth, I was getting pretty tired of these female whimsies. They belonged to that New Age junk which I had read about in newspapers, and heard from aging and gushing women at parties. Still, it was such fancies that lurked behind the runaway success of the Sas shops, and who was I to deride superstitions when there was a buck to be made from them?
‘ “In fact I’ve named one of my lines after her. It is quite popular too ...”
‘ “Indeed,” I muttered, “and naturally you have a Foxy line and a Shaman perfume too.”
‘ “Why,” she exclaimed, “so you have been into one of my shops, but, I suspect only from curiosity, or perhaps dragged in by a woman friend. Did she select Foxee? It couldn’t have been Shaman, for that’s a men’s line of toiletries. ‘For the man with a mind for mystic views’, and naturally, the mystic vision is a female. In fact, and she turned sad, Maria modelled for the ad.”
‘ “Of course,”
I replied, “of course.”
‘In a huff, I turned my back on her and stared at the boulder which contained or was the so-called spirit. It was just a roundish rock with the shape of a breast, and hence the identification of boulder with female. It was just then that Carla jumped from the rock on which we were perched. It shifted slightly and I felt myself moving forward. My arms waved frantically and then I was floundering in the water and there she was laughing down at me. “You shouldn’t swim here,” she said, “for that spirit tempts men into the pool and drowns them.”
‘ “Oh bosh,” I exclaimed, dragging myself from the water which I thought smelled like women’s pee.
‘I scrambled to the bank and found a deserted spot where I could strip, wring out my clothes and spread them to dry. I was sick and tired of female company. I lay back and enjoyed the sun sprinkling its maleness on the rocks. How quiet it was without them.
‘A half-hour later, the driver came to inform me that they were ready to continue. I pulled on my damp clothing and walked back with him to the vehicle. I got into the front seat, excusing myself because of my wet clothing. I wished to be alone with my thoughts; but Carla’s voice came to me from the back seat. At least this time she kept to business facts and not silly superstitions.
‘ “You’ll be surprised at our plantations. We are well ordered and efficient. We have to be, or go under, especially now when we are about to become an independent nation. At one time we used to grow bananas for the New Zealand market; that fell apart and we tried sugarcane which came to a sticky end. Now we have changed over to aromatic and medical oils. You would be surprised how large a market there are for them, and then we have our shops which take most of our production. Vertical integration means that we can produce a product of certified purity. The old man is a whiz at picking the right crop at the right time, and we have been interested in exotic oils for centuries. Moreover he’s a great scientist, though unorthodox, and then we have our research and development experts. You’d be surprised at the extent of our holdings.”
‘ “Perhaps,” I couldn’t help gloating, “but I faxed my broker to buy shares in the Sas holding company.”
‘ “Sorry, darling,” she exclaimed, “but they’re tightly controlled. They’re worth their weight in gold.”
‘This piece of information made it urgent that I get to my broker and get my money working for me. Little did I know then, that after he found that Sas was not available, he had kept the shares I had urged him to sell with the result that now I had lost out again. But this is later. Now, I merely wondered what to buy.
‘We reached the flat coastal plain and passed through the ordered rows of plantation crops. What they were, I did not know, though perhaps I should have made it my business. The aloe vera herb had made me a small but tidy profit before the bottom fell out of the scheme. These were not aloe vera. They were small, evenly spaced plants with thick leaves of green and had been planted for some time. They most likely yielded some oil or other. I glanced back at Carla to ask her; but she seemed to have withdrawn into herself. She sat away from Miss Tamada, huddled in the corner of the seat as if pondering over something. Most likely it had to do with business, and how she could extend her holdings, or she may even have been thinking that by inviting the Kitsune Corporation in she was effectively losing control of her island. I wondered if she had had much experience with dealing with Japanese firms. We in Queensland had. The main object was to keep a controlling interest while using their money and expertise. Perhaps it would be to my advantage if I got her away from Miss Tamada and advised her. In fact, I could become her adviser and negotiate for her.
‘I turned and looked at her and then at Miss Tamada. The Japanese woman’s eyes met mine. She knew of my business dealings and she would stymie my plans, or would she? There is more than one way to pluck a chook and I knew those other ways.
‘After an hour of steady driving, we turned our backs on the mountain and drove towards what must be the edge of the land. We turned down an avenue between rows of tall coconut palms which led to a stately building. A surprise on this island of surprises. It was not a low, rambling bungalow, but a tall, creamy two-storey mansion with a colonnaded front which made me think of the American South, or rather the American South of Gone with the Wind, for I had never been away from LA or New York.
‘Carla broke her moody silence to explain: “A great-grandfather is responsible for this. He went to America and latched onto the gracious plantation life there. He had this house built by black craftsmen he imported from Louisiana, and so there it stands a monument to him and his particular needs and those of my great-grandmama too. Only a manager lives there now, but he is part of the monument. It seems that great-grandmama was quite taken with one of the craftsmen and so was great-grandpapa for he never did complain; though the British part of our family did. They couldn’t stick it that an American, especially a black one, might join our blood line; but it did have a positive result as you’ll see for yourself. Maynard Brookes is quite a man.”
‘I nodded politely into the rear-vision mirror—through which I was watching Carla’s suddenly animated face as she affected an American southern accent. She was so beautiful and a fine example of so-called mixed breeding. I was all for this, especially as I was the result of Irish, English, German and Italian stock myself and another fine example of the mixing of the races. Don’t smile; besides, what really interested me was how I might turn my acquaintanceship with this remarkable though somewhat flaky woman and family to my account. I knew that I had to remain alert and ready to seize the main chance when it came. And it would come, for with independence there would be an inflow of Australian aid and if I had an “in” to the ruling family of the island, or failing them the Opposition, I would be in the right place at the right time. The good old Prime Minister, bless his heart, had steered me towards a good thing, and I mentally thanked him as we pulled up in front of the mansion.
‘My faith in humanity restored, as soon as the vehicle stopped I hopped out to open Carla’s door for her. Side by side, almost a couple (I ignored Miss Tamada) we turned to face that colonnaded front. I let myself feel that I was beginning a scene in Gone with the Wind. I was escorting Scarlet home and I expected a uniformed black butler to descend upon us. Such are dreams made of. “The land behind slopes to the cliff edge. You get a spectacular view from there. I’ll take you after we meet Maynard. Ah, there he is now,” Carla said.
‘No uniformed black butler, but a tall, broad-shouldered, slim-waisted movie star in a rumpled safari suit came striding around the corner of the building. He stopped in midstride as he caught sight of Carla. His handsome face glowed as he strode towards her and clasped her in his manly arms. His glance flickered across me and then lingered on Miss Tamada. I stood there feeling clumsy and out of place. Only a bit player in this movie; but hasn’t that always been my fate? ...
‘ “Maynard Brookes, the Manager of Mariian Plantation,” Carla said, swinging him around so that he faced me, then swinging him around again so that he faced Miss Tamada. Brookes broke away from Carla and took a long stride to the Japanese woman. She positively simpered, then wrinkled up her nose and laughed. He held her hand for a long instant before reluctantly letting it fall as he turned to me.
‘ “Pleased to meet you,” I said, extending my hand. He picked it up and dropped it. He turned and clapped his hands. A young girl ran from the house front. He told her to bring us cold drinks as if he was asking her to do him a favour. She smiled and ran to do his bidding. He took Carla’s and Riyoko’s arms and guided them into the cool interior of the mansion. Slowly, I followed.
‘ “Heck of a place to air-condition,” Brookes told Carla, releasing the arm of Miss Tamada to sweep his hand around the wide hall and the broad staircase. “In the old man’s day, all this meant gracious living and coolness from the high ceilings. I suppose it didn’t work then and it doesn’t work now. It’s only made our job more complicated. You should see the size of t
he air-conditioning unit we had to get. The power drain on our generators will be enormous; but soon we’ll have our powerhouse” ... and he turned to Miss Tamada with a smile.
‘Miss Tamada had left her computer in the car, or thought she had; but the driver had brought in the luggage and she quickly had the machine up and running and flashing diagrams and statistics at him.
‘ “Well, Kitsune Corporation is certainly efficient, and such an electricity supply and network will cater for all our expansion plans for the next decade. But until it is up and running, our generators must do the job. We don’t need these ceiling fans anymore; but I’ve left them up for that tropical island feel. People expect, not only Sadie Thompson, but slowmoving fans even if the joint is fully air-conditioned. Well, we won’t cheat our guests, shall we?”
‘Already I disliked this conceited ass, and who the hell was Sadie Thompson? If she was tropical, how come I had never heard of her? And as for slow-moving fans, we had more than enough of them in the cheaper places along the Gold Coast. Who needed them with air-conditioning? I watched him caressing Carla’s arm and disliked him all the more, especially that deep voice he affected.
‘ “Since you’ve been away, there’s been some changes. I expect that you’re dying to see them. I’ll take you and our colleague around a little later.”
‘I perked up when he mentioned “colleague”, but it was directed at the Japanese woman. I stood there fuming as both women basked in his film star good looks and affectations. They smiled too much and stood too close. The bloke was lapping it up. I cursed Carla for putting me in this position, especially when she flashed a look of green fire at me with a golden glint of amusement in it. Her warped sense of humour I could do without.
‘The girl entered with an iced jug filled with a concoction of rum-based punch, a speciality of the island and naturally invented by one of their ancient relatives. They sipped their glasses and I gulped mine down. At last alcohol and I had been simmering since the ducking I had taken in that confounded pool, and the simmering had reached boiling point with the bloke’s treatment and the women’s obvious enjoyment of his company. After the fourth drink, I found the jug empty, but I was decidedly mellow. Brookes looked at my empty glass and ordered another jug. He turned to the women and said something. They laughed, then his words became audible as he asked Carla if she wanted to see the improvements. She agreed eagerly, exchanged a glance with Miss Tamada, then gave a flash of green fire in my general direction and said: “You won’t mind, will you darling, if we go off for a little while? This is going to be our future state guesthouse, and the furnishings are on their way now. Maynard may be able to handle generators and things, but I doubt if he is the sort to go in for interior decorating.”
