Arcadia

by Di Morrissey

  ‘Y’know what, Sal?’ said Jessica suddenly. ‘I wouldn’t mention the axeman to our families. And my instinct is not to put these pictures up online. You don’t know who might take it into their heads to, well, go up there and trash them or something.’

  ‘Why would someone do that?’

  Jessica shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Why do people do mad, crazy, cruel things? Even when they’re not on drugs. Let’s save the photos till we get back and show our families then. You’ve talked to Toby and Katie. I’ve rung my parents. Let’s leave it at that for now. In fact, I vote that we go down the road to the pub. I bet they’ve got good food.’

  They stepped outside their room, shivering slightly in the evening breeze that wafted up from the broad expanse of the river. The lights from the motel restaurant glimmered on the water. Jessica flung out an arm.

  ‘Pretty setting for the restaurant, but it looks a bit boring. Have you noticed something?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘This is a stunning view: huge river, fishing boats, leisure craft moored along the water’s edge, pretty park and pathway winding by the river into the picturesque township . . . Great setting for a motel at the water’s edge. But look, except for the cabin staying Staff, every room faces the parking lot in the middle. Why wouldn’t you turn our rooms around to face the view? Who wants to look at a bunch of cars?’

  ‘Yep. You’re right. The builder probably worked it out to do with parking, or access, or something non-aesthetic.’

  ‘You’d fit the same number of cars in if you turned the rooms outwards. After all, the guestrooms are just boxes with a bathroom.’

  ‘Didn’t you once think about doing architecture?’ Sally asked.

  ‘Yes. Thank goodness I stuck to science and nature. The natural environment designs things so much better than people do.’

  *

  The Buona Vista Hotel was crowded, warm, noisy and friendly. Two attractive men bought them drinks and told them they worked on one of the cruise boats that went upriver into the gorge and rainforest.

  ‘You should do the trip. It’s stunning scenery. Can get rough sometimes but tomorrow will be good. Come along,’ said one of the men, who was out from Canada on a working holiday.

  ‘We’ll think about it,’ said Jessica.

  They’d politely refused the offer of dinner, and had enjoyed the crayfish stew and crusty bread in the pub’s dining room and were now back in their motel room. Sally sat on her bed poring over the map of the area, while Jessica was browsing through one of the books they’d bought.

  ‘This book is about early settlers on an island off the north-west coast. Talk about getting away from it all. Imagine farming, raising a family, the only people on the whole island. Reliant on a boat or rickety plane to come in from the mainland, while in the other direction there’s nothing between your farmhouse and South America,’ said Jessica.

  ‘I couldn’t live somewhere so remote.’ Sally studied Jessica. ‘How come you didn’t want to have dinner with the nice Canadian guy? We could have gone on that cruise. He was pretty cute.’

  ‘I don’t need a cute Canadian. He’s going to go home. I don’t want to live in Canada. Nice place to visit. I bet he doesn’t want to settle down in Tasmania.’

  ‘I was only suggesting dinner,’ said Sally mildly, ‘not planning the rest of your life.’ She was relieved when her phone rang.

  ‘Hello?’ There was silence on the other end. ‘Hello? Anyone there?’ She glanced at the phone, but no number was displayed. ‘Hello . . .?’ She shrugged. ‘They hung up. Funny, someone was definitely there, I’m sure.’

  ‘Wrong number. So, we’re pushing on to the north tomorrow?’

  ‘Yep. That’ll bring us to Paul and Chrissie’s, and they’re near Shelter Bay. We can go to Seawinds after visiting them . . .’ said Sally.

  ‘But? You sound hesitant. I’m dying to find out anything we can about the two lovers in the cave.’

  ‘I don’t know, Jess, do you really think going to Shelter Bay will help us discover anything about the guy in the cave? All we really have is a name and some old photos.’

  ‘It’s a start. I just have a feeling. What’s the harm in checking it out?’

  Sally refolded the map. ‘Okay. After all, it’s what precipitated this trip,’ she said. ‘And hopefully we’ll hear something from the Seed Conservation people at the Botanical Gardens soon, too.’

  Jessica got out her phone. ‘Well, now that we finally have reception I’m going to try the Births, Deaths and Marriages site,’ she said, typing the words onto her screen. ‘Researching family trees,’ she read out, ‘maybe I can start there.’ She read silently for a while then yawned and said, ‘I give up. We’ll have to do this when we’re back at your place and can use the computer in your office instead of trying to do it on my phone. Even then it will take a minimum of ten days to get any information.’

  ‘Okay, leave it and we’ll work on it at home,’ said Sally. ‘Now, I don’t know about you but I’m exhausted. I’m just going to finish putting the pictures from dinner up online so Katie can see them in the morning, then I’m going to sleep.’

  ‘’Night, Sal.’ Jessica turned off her phone and then her light as Sally expertly uploaded the photos of them laughing and waving a crayfish claw at the camera.

  ‘’Night, Jess.’

  *

  The next morning they headed down a lane between hedgerows, with glimpses of paddocks and hills and an occasional headland in the distance, and beyond them, a strip of blue sea.

  ‘Gosh, what beautiful land,’ said Jessica.

  ‘Red basalt around here; makes the sheep turn russet brown,’ said Sally. ‘But Chrissie and Paul run mainly dairy cattle and grow fabulous heirloom vegetables. Their friends in the neighbouring farms also grow some amazing stuff.’

  ‘I thought your truffles and saffron endeavours were pretty amazing. Adventurous,’ said Jessica.

  ‘Risky too. But even a small crop is worth it,’ said Sally. She turned off the lane onto a driveway and they rattled over a cattle grid. ‘Look how beautiful their house is. There’s three houses on the property.’

  ‘Oh, wow,’ said Jess as the homestead came into view. ‘Hey, what’s going on over there?’

  They saw a small group of people standing beside some trees, next to a long table where a man was holding a fat black and white jersey cow and a small lamb. ‘Oh, I see the lights set up, they’re filming.’

  ‘Must be the TV crew Chrissie mentioned when we talked on the phone.’

  As Sally drove up to the restored historic house, Chrissie appeared at the front steps and gave a welcoming wave. ‘Oh, there goes my phone.’ Sally pulled up by the house and looked at her mobile as she answered.

  ‘Hello.’ She glanced at Jessica. ‘Hello?’

  She handed Jessica the phone, putting her finger to her lip.

  Jessica listened, and although there was silence, she had the distinct impression someone was on the line. ‘Hey, who is this?’ There was a faint sniff, or breath, and the line clicked off. ‘No number registered. Hmm. Odd.’

  ‘Hi, girls!’ Chrissie was opening the car door. ‘Come in, come in. Man, you’ve come when it’s all happening.’ She hugged Sally. ‘Jessica! Gosh, I remember you from school. How fabulous to see you. C’mon, let’s get the tour out of the way and have a stickybeak at the TV people. Drives Paul nuts; they spend such a long time over the smallest detail.’

  ‘Hey, I recognise him, from MasterChef on TV,’ said Jessica, looking at one of the men in the group.

  ‘He was a contestant a few years ago. He’s from around here, didn’t win, but he was very popular. He does this for our local Gourmet Tourism Trails,’ Chrissie said as they walked over to the stand of trees. ‘I tell you, the interest in food is amazing. Groups come from the cruise ships, bus tours, all kinds of gard
en clubs. They call them Farmgate Tours. And some people just drive in. Incredible.’

  ‘How do you get any work done?’ asked Sally.

  ‘All the local farms and producers have banded together, so we take it in turns and do it seasonally, rotating which farm is open when. People here are growing wonderful things, black garlic, wasabi, pepper berry, sea urchin roe, and smoking is big – not just meat, but the salmon and oysters. Friends of ours are raising Wessex saddleback pigs, lots of heritage breed ducks, poultry, not to mention the ice-creams, berries, feijoas, olives, ciders, beers and wine,’ she added.

  ‘What’re feijoas?’ asked Jessica.

  ‘Myrtle family, a fruit, like guavas but they’re incredibly sweet. I’d describe the taste as a mix between strawberries, pineapple and guavas, with undertones of quince, lemon and mint.’

  ‘Sounds divine as a drink! Sal, you should plant some trees.’

  ‘I brought up some saffron and I hope to do a swap and go back with some feijoa cordial,’ Sally said.

  ‘We have a concentrate that goes well with your gin,’ said Chrissie. ‘Come and meet our friend, Carmen. She’s into medicinal herbs and edible weeds. She came over to be in the filming.’

  Jessica looked at Sally. ‘She might know about your plant,’ she suggested.

  ‘What plant is that?’ asked Chrissie as she led them down towards the TV crew.

  ‘Oh, long story,’ said Sally. ‘In a nutshell . . . we found a pressed flower in an old diary and we couldn’t identify it, so we took it to the Seed Conservation Centre at the Botanical Gardens in Hobart.’

  ‘Ooh, how fascinating, have you heard back from them?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘So why are you so interested? Is it unusual? Do you think it might be rare or valuable?’

  ‘Oh, it’s a modest-looking little thing,’ said Jessica. ‘But Sal’s grandmother Stella did a stunning painting with it in one corner, so it would be nice to know what it is. Hopefully the botanists at the Gardens will work it out.’

  They stood and watched the filming for a moment as the chef sprinkled crushed seeds on top of the elaborate salad he’d prepared from local ingredients. The table was laden with a cornucopia of dishes made from local produce.

  ‘I’m hungry,’ whispered Jessica.

  ‘Stunning-looking food,’ said Sally. ‘But I just couldn’t go to all that trouble.’

  A woman in her fifties, dressed in a long, faded cotton dress, a tasselled shawl and sturdy sandals, her wild brown hair streaked with strands of grey, leaned over. ‘I’m with you. Throw it all in one bowl, raw, sprinkle lemon juice and oil on it. Eat. Done.’

  Chrissie motioned that they should move away as the camera crew prepared to do another take.

  ‘Sally, Jessica, this is Carmen Vandemeer. Queen of Lone Island, I call her. Out there.’ Chrissie waved an arm out to sea.

  ‘You live out there? On an island? How exotic,’ said Jessica.

  ‘Not really. It’s a sparse old landscape. Wild. Wind­swept. But I love it. Lot of history. Lot of shipwrecks. Lot of ghosts.’ She gave a cheerful laugh.

  ‘Let’s head back to the house via the dairy and say hello to Paul,’ said Chrissie. ‘Then we can eat. Want to come along, Carmen?’

  ‘Love to. I enjoy someone else doing the entertaining.’

  As they walked, Sally and Jessica listened to the chatter between Carmen and Chrissie. While the older woman seemed rather rough around the edges, there was something else about her that neither could pin down. Sally decided she was a second-generation, late-blooming hippy. She had broken fingernails, tangled hair that had barely a nodding acquaintance with a brush, and had obviously dressed for practicality and comfort. Jessica sensed more of the overexcited kid let out of school; someone who lived an isolated existence but who was happy to be around people sometimes too.

  ‘So who else lives on your island?’ asked Sally.

  ‘Just me, darlin’. And two helpers. The boatman comes regularly, that’s if the damn weather isn’t against us. Plane comes in when needed. Between them we make things happen.’

  ‘What do you farm over there? Do you raise cattle or anything?’ asked Jessica.

  ‘I raise tourists, love.’ And she roared with laughter, seeing their faces. ‘Actually, we do have a cow. And some goats, not wild; if they took off we’d all be shot. The island would be overrun before you could turn around. We have the basics in the garden. We feed the visitors pretty darn well, though. The boatie puts down traps, so we always have some seafood.’

  ‘You look after people very well, Carmen,’ said Chrissie. ‘You’ve fixed the old farmhouse up a treat, and your little huts for the guests are gorgeous.’

  ‘Well, thank heavens we don’t get gourmet fusspots coming over, who expect hand-turned sculptures from cucumber skins and the like on top of their dishes. Most people are so knackered at the end of a day, they’re happy with whatever they get on their plates.’ And she laughed again.

  ‘What do visitors do on Lone Island?’ asked Jessica.

  ‘You’d be surprised. We have some of the most dramatic scenery in the world. Wild and woolly on one side, tropical-looking paradise on the other. Except for the water temperature. Why don’t you two girls come and see for yourselves? From the headland you can see straight to South America. Deserted beaches, interesting wildlife, some pretty amazing plants, forests, even a romantic lagoon.’

  ‘You should go, it’s a magical place,’ enthused Chrissie.

  ‘That it is.’ Carmen chuckled heartily, then added, in a suddenly calm and normal-sounding tone, to Chrissie, ‘Your friend Dan is coming over again. They’ve found petroglyphs that haven’t been identified previously. And a possible new species of fern, or something or other. So he’s investigating the botanics at the site.’

  ‘I look forward to hearing about it. Oh, here’s Paul. He wants to show you the new milking set-up. He’s very proud of it and the cows love it. Follow me.’ Chrissie headed to the bails with Carmen.

  The girls hung back.

  ‘Carmen is a bit of a character,’ said Sally. ‘There’s something . . . unusual about her.’

  ‘Yeah, living alone on an island will do that, I suppose. But the place sounds pretty fantastic. Could be interesting. My instinct says we should pop over,’ said Jessica.

  ‘What! Why?’ asked Sally in surprise.

  ‘Because she invited us. And you’re never going to come here for a holiday with Katie and Toby. The plants, the history . . . I don’t know. Why not?’

  ‘I’m not sure I could spend long evenings with Carmen,’ said Sally.

  ‘From what Chrissie said, it sounds like there’s separate accommodation for visitors. And there’s that friend of Chrissie and Paul’s researching something over there that sounds interesting.’

  ‘C’mon, you two,’ called Chrissie.

  ‘Let me think about it. I’ll talk to Toby,’ said Sally uncertainly. But she could tell by the glint in Jessica’s eye and the set of her head that her friend’s mind was made up. They were going to Lone Island.

  *

  An hour later, Sally sat on Chrissie’s back verandah looking across the fields as she talked to Toby on her mobile.

  ‘You know what Jess is like. Once she’s made a decision about something, that’s it.’

  Jessica would go to the island, Sally knew, and as always, she’d follow. Mollie had once asked her why she always did whatever Jessica suggested, and Sally had laughed. ‘Mum, I’m not being led by the nose, nor am I in Jess’s shadow. But I do feel responsible for her. She can be a bit crazy-wild as well as crazy-fun. I’m the sensible one. Jess always thinks she knows best and she’s the leader. So I let her be. But I’m actually always watching out for her.’

  Toby’s comforting voice brought Sally back to the present.

  ‘That doesn’t m
ean you have to go. You can stay there with Chrissie and Paul. You don’t have to do what Jess says all the time. But you decide what you think is best and what you want to do. That was the idea of the trip, wasn’t it? When you’re back you can tell me all about how Paul and Chrissie are going, what they’re doing.’

  ‘I took photos and have some material Paul gave me. Anyway you can see it on TV, they had a cooking show filming here today.’

  ‘No, I want the nitty-gritty, behind-the-scenes stuff. Paul said they had a new system of soil enrichment, microbes or something. His goats and cows had increased their milk production because of it.’

  ‘Yes, he says he’s keen to talk to you about it. You guys could Skype each other. Anyhow, I’ll be home in a couple of days, probably. I don’t think Jess will want to stay out on that island much longer than a day and a night.’

  ‘No worries. Whatever you decide, take as long as you want, have fun. We’re fine here. Hang on, Katie wants to say something.’

  ‘Hi, Mummy . . . I’m baking with Granny. We’re making cupcakes!’

  Sally smiled as Katie bubbled on about the coloured cupcakes, but felt a pang. ‘I miss you, darling girl. Give Daddy a kiss for me.’

  Toby came back on. ‘She’s raced off again. Your mum made her a new apron and she loves it. Oh, before I forget, some lady rang for you. Denyse Briggs? Said she couldn’t raise your mobile.’

  ‘Briggs . . .?’ said Sally. ‘Oh yes, from the Botanical Gardens, the seed people. We’ve been out of mobile reception quite a bit. And I had a couple of strange calls with no one there. No one who said anything, anyway.’

  ‘Well, this lady remembered you were heading off somewhere that might be out of range so she rang here. Don’t think she would have rung your mobile more than once, though.’

  ‘What did she say? Have they found out about Stella’s plant?’

  ‘Apparently not. Only that it’s pretty rare. She’d shown it to some guy who wanted to see any other samples or pictures of your grandmother’s art.’

  ‘Oh, that’s right, I meant to ask you guys to email them a photo of her painting. Would you mind asking Mum to look after it please, darling? Just ask her to take some close-up photos of the blue flower at the bottom of the painting hanging above the desk. She’ll need to call the Seed Conservation Centre at the Gardens to get their email address.’