by Di Morrissey
‘All grown up and getting on with things,’ said Jessica. ‘I’m the one who’s a bit adrift.’
‘Was quitting your job the right thing to do?’ asked Mollie gently.
‘Mum, let Jess be,’ said Sally.
‘It’s okay. Actually, Professor Lang said I’d be welcome back any time if I changed my mind. Though the uni admin people might not be so accommodating,’ said Jessica. ‘But I’m not going back.’
‘Something will turn up,’ said Mollie cheerfully. ‘Be sure and wear sturdy boots tomorrow morning.’
Jessica sipped her drink, looking at Toby, Sally and her mother: Mollie so practical, Sally so careful, and Toby so reliable. Is this how she and Sally had imagined their lives would turn out when they young? She wondered if Sally remembered their whispers in the dark when they had sleepovers. All the talk about the things they’d do, the people they’d be, the adventures they’d share. It had all been so very different from the way they saw the lives of the grown-ups. Yet here they were, Sally being safe and she being reckless. Well, feeling reckless. And why not? What had she to lose? But then there came the small voice at her shoulder. She needed Sally. She always sought her sensible, safe, but comforting friendship. She was closer to Sally than she was to her brother.
Jessica glanced at Sally’s gentle, calm expression. And suddenly wanted to shake her.
3
Arcadia, 2018
Toby carried a platter aloft and, with a bow, deposited it on the breakfast table in front of Sally, Jessica, Mollie and Katie, who clapped her hands.
‘Bravo, darling. You make the best scrambled eggs. Thank you,’ said Sally.
‘These are not for the faint-hearted,’ said Mollie. ‘You should see the butter and cream he throws in,’ she added to Jessica.
‘There’s greenery on top, parsley, very healthy,’ said Toby. ‘And, of course, a grating of truffle.’ He walked back to the bench and returned with two more platters. ‘Here’re some tomatoes in garlic olive oil from a neighbour, and some bacon, also from friends.’
‘A few slivers of truffle and truffle salt goes a long way in the local swap meets,’ Sally said.
Jessica ladled the eggs onto her sourdough toast, cut from a loaf Mollie had baked. ‘Gosh, this could be the next big thing in the café world. Smashed avocado is so passé.’
‘I want the truffle salt, Mummy.’
‘Say “please”,’ Sally said, as Jessica broke into laughter.
‘I’d like to see what goes into her lunchbox,’ said Jessica. ‘Yum, thanks, Toby. This is delicious.’
After breakfast, Toby pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘I’m heading out. Honeybee, when you finish, brush your teeth and come down to the barn and help Daddy, okay?’
Katie nodded, her mouth full as she slowly ate the last of the toast.
‘So, are you girls still planning a walk today?’ asked Mollie. ‘I thought Katie and I might go into town later and see Mrs Hamilton, do a few errands, have a milkshake, right?’
‘Yes, please,’ Katie said eagerly.
Jessica smiled, grateful to Mollie for giving them both a ticket-of-leave. ‘You bet we are. A nice long walk to relax and breathe in the fresh air.’
‘Sounds good,’ said Mollie.
‘Are you sure, Mum? You don’t need us to do anything?’ asked Sally. ‘Katie, have you finished? Go and do your teeth like Daddy said.’
‘Of course I’m sure,’ Mollie said, as Katie skipped out of the room. ‘I love stealing Katie away for some time together, just the two of us. And I’m happy for you to have some time to yourself, darling. Doesn’t happen often enough round here.’
‘Rubbish, Mum, I’m so lucky to have you here. You’re a huge help, not just in the business, and it’s special for Katie.’
‘Speaking of the angel . . .’ Mollie waved as Katie passed the door. ‘Put your boots on, sweetie, if you’re going down to the barn.’
Sally smiled. ‘Once a mum . . .’
Mollie laughed. ‘Yep, it’s true. But being a grandmother is special. Quite different from being the mother.’
‘Oh, you mean you hand them back when they get cranky,’ said Jessica. ‘That’s what Mum says about Anthony’s kids.’
‘Yes! Gosh, your brother has two now, doesn’t he? Your parents must enjoy that.’
‘Yes, although they live overseas as he’s still in India, so they only see the kids when the family comes back for Christmas holidays. Sometimes I feel as if I’ve let the side down a bit, especially with Anthony living so far away.’
‘Don’t say that, Jess!’ exclaimed Sally. ‘Just think, if you’d had a child with Harden you’d be tied to him. It’s much better to start over.’
‘Value your freedom to choose, Jess,’ said Mollie quietly. ‘I was so fortunate I had the right man in my life.’
Jessica looked at Mollie. Her eyes were downcast as she sipped her tea, so Jess couldn’t read her expression, but she realised that Mollie had been widowed for a few years now and there must be times when she was lonely, even though her family were living on the farm with her.
‘You and Dad always seemed to be a true partnership,’ said Sally, who also sensed her mother’s mood had changed.
‘Yes, Sally, we were, but even in my generation that was unusual for many couples. You girls, well, I mean young women today, say they still have a long way to go for equality and fair treatment in so many ways.’ Mollie sighed. ‘But it takes a generation or more to shift attitudes. When I think back to my mother’s time, how men still ran everything even after women proved themselves in the war years . . . Attitudes have changed so much. You girls have a lot more choices and freedom.’
‘A bad marriage is a bad marriage, and I still felt like the underdog,’ said Jessica.
‘It’s called bullying, Jess,’ said Sally.
‘I think my mother was, well, not bullied, but perhaps dominated,’ said Mollie. ‘My father was a doctor – serious, older, expected to be a protector, the provider. I suspect Mother sometimes felt a little suffocated. Women who’d lived through the Depression and the war looked for stability, maturity. In that era they were told that men had superior intelligence.’
‘You and Dad seemed to be happy,’ said Sally. ‘I thought you were a very modern couple.’
‘We thought so too,’ Mollie laughed. ‘We came out of the hippy, free-love age and all that.’
‘Like my parents,’ said Jessica. ‘When I married Harden I thought we had it right – both of us independent, good jobs, supposedly sharing the housework, money, lifestyle equally. In reality, though, he was deceitful and selfish. What upsets me most is that I didn’t see it for so long.’
‘Maybe because your lifestyle seemed to be so hectic,’ Mollie said gently. ‘You have to stop and smell the roses, as they say. Or as Toby says, the fresh dung and warm goat’s milk.’ Mollie smiled.
‘That’s my man,’ said Sally, smiling. ‘Earthed.’
‘There’s a lot to be said for living in nature,’ said Mollie. ‘You know I was reading there are now scientists and researchers studying the effects of nature, especially forests, on humans. A simple walk among trees, connecting with the earth’s healing energy, can revitalise physical and mental health. And we have it all on our doorstep!’
‘Yes, you guys have it all around you! You could open a forest spa!’ said Jessica.
‘I know being here helped my Graham enormously after his first heart attack,’ said Mollie softly. ‘It always amazed his doctors how well he did. I had a wonderful husband. It was a hard time after the second attack took him from me; he was still young . . .’
Sally reached out and squeezed her mother’s hand. ‘I treasure living here with you, Mum, and Toby does too.’
‘I don’t want you and Toby to ever feel obliged, you know, to stay here because of me,’ began Mollie,
but Jessica held up her hand.
‘Enough. Sal, Toby and Katie adore you and this place, and wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Right, Sal? You guys have your own lives, own space, yet you share everything you love most. Family and this amazing property.’
‘Yes, I am lucky.’ Mollie sighed. ‘There’re a lot of memories here. And from the families before us, too, I’m sure.’
For a moment Jessica felt a shiver, as if a draught had swept into the room, but she shook herself and straightened up. ‘Hey, Sal, we have a sunny day awaiting us. Let’s get out there. I have an idea.’
*
‘Bloody hell!’ Sally pulled a thorny tangle of branches away from her shirt. ‘I’m getting scratched to pieces.’
‘It’s so overgrown. I don’t think anyone has been up this way since we were last here, and that must’ve been about twenty years ago!’
‘Just animals, see the tunnel in the undergrowth – something has been crawling through there. We might be better off on our hands and knees.’
‘I don’t remember it being this rugged,’ muttered Jessica. ‘But of course, we were a lot smaller then too.’
They were scrambling through thick, scrubby undergrowth on the hillside above the narrow tributary of the river. Jessica looked down at the clear water rushing over the sharp rocks and had a sudden flashback, seeing the small shape of Sally crumpled in her red raincoat against the jutting boulders at the edge of the stream. She shuddered, and called out, ‘You okay, Sal?’
‘Yes. I’m okay,’ Sally said firmly.
Jessica felt a sudden rush of affection for her friend. Few might guess at her strength and determination, her stubbornness and loyalty. She seemed a dedicated and settled mother, partner, and farmer, living where she was born, nurtured by a loving family. People would be forgiven for thinking that there had never been harsh edges in her life, but Jessica knew better. The delicate frame, the gentle voice, soft blonde hair and fine features disguised a tough young woman with a big heart and a determined will.
‘Stand back, Jess.’ Sally pulled a small machete from her backpack and, wielding it like a Japanese master, she slashed at the undergrowth.
Jessica yanked at the severed vines and bushes. ‘That did it. Oh, look, Sal, there’s the crevice!’
‘Can we still squeeze through? It looks so much narrower than I remember.’
‘Of course we can, c’mon. It just looks narrower because we’re bigger.’
On their hands and knees they crawled behind the rock, through the hidden tunnel, to emerge, a little further in, at the mouth of the cave. They stood, brushing themselves down.
‘Phew. Well, there it is,’ said Jess.
Instinctively they lowered their voices at the opening of the cave, where a chink of light shone in from what they knew to be a side opening overlooking the valley and river. An earthy, warm, musty smell hit them, but a breeze drifting in from the outside brought some fresh air.
‘We could have camped in here for days, if we’d been allowed. Why didn’t we, Sal?’
‘Because we were little kids who had to be home before dark!’
‘Yeah.’ Jessica closed her eyes and sighed.
They moved through the tunnel entrance into the opening of the compact cave, and found it dry and protected.
‘Good grief. Those old pieces of furniture are all still here,’ whispered Sally.
‘Well, what’s left of them.’ Jessica looked around. ‘Amazing there’s no dampness in here. I’d kinda forgotten what it was like. Seems smaller than I remember.’
The two girls stared around them in the slanting light, then walked in further.
‘It’s like we left twenty years ago and no one’s been here since,’ said Sally softly. ‘I don’t even think any animals have been in here . . . remember the birds that used to fly in?’
‘We never really thought about who all this stuff belonged to,’ Jessica said, staring at a rusting metal chair, storage drums and rotting hessian bags, a dusty blanket and pillow – the detritus of a temporary life. Bird droppings covering it all had dried to powdery dust.
Sally joined her. ‘Whoever camped up here tried to make it nice, at least. It didn’t look so decrepit when we were kids.’
‘Well, at least they didn’t die here. It feels creepy, though. Why hide out all the way up here, dragging stuff up the hillside?’ Jessica said.
‘Yeah, you don’t realise this is so high up, because the climb feels short, but it’s steep,’ said Sally. ‘Funny, we never thought twice about that climb when we were kids. How many times did we come here and play, bring picnics and stuff?’
‘Dozens. Remember the time we brought the dog and he ran away?’ Jessica said.
‘Poor boy. You dragged him in here and he took off with his tail between his legs. Strange, thinking about it now. He was such a feisty little dog. I thought he’d take on anything. Y’know what Jack Russells are like.’
‘Remember when we lit a fire in the ring of stones at the front there, and embers blew into the grass and started a fire? We were so stupid.’
‘And lucky. You ran for the blanket and I tipped the water out of the old can and jumped on the flames. Mum never understood how the bottoms of my sneakers had melted!’ Sally said.
Jessica laughed and walked over to the old bed made from rough-hewn branches and a log. She wondered who had put it together, and then recognised an old blanket of her mother’s that she’d once brought up to the cave. She yanked its frayed remains, removing one of the planks in the process. ‘This old thing . . .’
‘Careful! Could be a snake in there,’ warned Sally quickly.
Jessica jumped, dropping the rug. Then leaned forward.
‘Hey, what’s this? Here, help me shove the bed aside.’ Together, they shunted the wooden frame far enough from the wall that a small hole in the wall behind it became fully visible.
‘What is it?’ Sally asked, peering into the cavity in the stone.
‘It’s a tin box. One of those old bank locker things.’ Jessica banged the rusty metal. ‘Stand back.’
Making sure there wasn’t a snake hibernating nearby, she lifted up the old cash tin. ‘A bank robber? Do you suppose it’s full of money?’
‘Is it locked? Quick, open it. Do you think it’s been there all this time?’ said Sally.
‘Maybe, but I definitely didn’t see this here when we were kids, I would have remembered. We wouldn’t have been strong enough to move the bed, anyway. This tin isn’t locked, just rusty.’ Jessica wrenched it and the rusted latch fell apart. She yanked the old tin lid and it fell open.
Inside was a canvas bag with the remains of a large envelope.
‘They’re papers, and other things. Look, there’s a grey feather and, oh gosh, an eggcup. Seems to be engraved, but I can’t read it.’ Sally looked over at Jessica. ‘What are the documents?’
‘Letters, envelopes, all sorts of stuff,’ said Jessica as she carefully unfolded them.
‘Can we read them, is the ink still legible?’ Sally leaned over Jessica’s shoulder.
‘No, not on most of them. Hang on, here’s a high school certificate of merit, made out to “Thomas William Broadbent”. Heard of him?’
Sally shook her head. ‘They look fragile. Let’s take them home and go through them gently there. We can check the registry. Births, deaths, marriages. You can do it all online now.’
‘Gosh, this is someone’s personal stuff. I wonder what happened to him? Whoa, look at this newspaper cutting. It’s your grandmother!’
‘What? Let me see . . .’ Sally tilted the paper into the light. ‘So it is,’ she said wonderingly. The quality of the image was poor but the caption was clear: Talented Lady Artist Wins First Prize. ‘I think it’s the painting that’s hanging up at home! Why would someone want to keep this?’ Sally looked at Jessica with a puzzled e
xpression.
‘I’ve no idea. Do you suppose he died up here in the bush somewhere? Poor old bloke,’ mused Jessica. ‘Maybe he had a secret crush on her.’
‘C’mon, let’s get out of here,’ Sally said with a sudden shiver.
Jessica glanced around. ‘There’s nothing else, is there? No personal belongings or anything? Funny there are no clothes anywhere. Do you think he could have lived here?’
‘It would be quite cosy up here, cool in summer. I guess you’d need a fire in the winter. And it has a fabulous view.’
Jessica rattled among the old boxes, pulling out a tin mug and a spoon. ‘Bit sad if this is all you have left in the world,’ said Jessica, picking up a dusty enamel plate sitting on a short piece of wood that acted as a shelf.
Sally sighed. ‘Let’s go, this feels uncomfortable now.’ She looked at the tin cash container in Jessica’s hands. ‘Should we leave it, or give it to the police or something? He might have been a missing person when he was alive.’
‘I’m interested in these papers.’ Jessica shuffled through them, pausing to pull out a faded violet envelope dated 1949. ‘What’s this?’ She slid a note out and passed it to Sally, who peered at the document.
‘It’s hard to read, pretty faded and smudged. Oh, listen to this: My darling . . . my heart is breaking. I am leaving this, knowing you will be here soon, but I will not . . . It is time. I have to stop seeing you. I am fearful and I don’t want you to be hurt, it is too dangerous. Know I will always love you . . . you are the love of my life . . . I can’t make out the signature.’
‘The cave must have been a trysting place!’ exclaimed Jessica. ‘They probably met here secretly . . . no motels around here in those days. But who is it? What else is in that pile?’ She delved into the box and took out a folder holding a few stained negatives and small black-and-white photographs. ‘Oh, look at these little old photos.’
She rifled through them quickly. ‘Scenes from around here. Some birds. Oh, look, an owl. It’s caught something. And . . . oh gosh . . .’ She gave a low whistle. ‘It’s a naked man!’
