by Di Morrissey
‘No way! I don’t think we should delve into this family history any more. What my mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her. And when I think about it, I’d hate to disillusion her about her mother.’
‘It’s wickedly exciting, though. I can’t imagine my grandmother ever having a secret lover,’ said Jessica.
They drove through sleeting rain to the small harbour township where they were to catch the boat to Lone Island, and followed Carmen’s directions to the little motel she’d recommended. Sally checked her phone.
‘Carmen says the weather tomorrow should be fine. She’s arranged for the boat to collect us,’ she said, reading the text. ‘Well, that’s good, so we’re off in the morning. Chrissie says we’ll love it over there.’ After thinking for a few moments, Sally added, ‘Let’s not mention the dreaded Shelter Bay or Seawinds to Carmen. I don’t want to complicate things.’
Jessica glanced at her. ‘Okay. You’re right.’ She paused then went on, ‘We didn’t get any answers, though. That woman back there knows who Broadbent is, I’m sure of it, and she knows we’re asking questions. Maybe she or her son will come back to us if they get curious. You told her where you lived. Maybe they know your place.’
‘Is that bad? Maybe she doesn’t know anything about what went on in the cave.’
‘Could be. But like you said before, I think there’s more to this. A lot more.’ Seeing Sally’s worried face, Jess patted her arm. ‘Hey, girl, lighten up. Who knows what we’ll find on this remote island? Let’s get back into adventure mode.’
‘I’ve had enough adventures for today. I really hoped we’d find some answers to the things in the cave. The letter . . . Damn, we’re out of range again. I want to Google Gordon Broadbent. The old lady said her son’s name was Gordon but perhaps his surname isn’t Broadbent.’ Sally shrugged. ‘But you’re right, let’s enjoy ourselves while we can. We’ll be back in real life soon enough.’
‘And another thing, I haven’t thought about horrendous Hardy since we left,’ said Jessica.
Sally managed a chuckle. ‘Good. Let’s go be girl explorers. Then we’ll be able to say things like . . . “When we were in Shelter Bay . . . and when we were on Lone Island . . . what, you’ve never heard of them? Fascinating . . . You must go!”’
Grinning, Jessica reached over and hit play on Mollie’s CD, and Aretha Franklin’s throaty voice singing ‘Natural Woman’ filled the car.
South-east Tasmania, 1949
A thin trail of dust danced in the sunlight behind Dr Holland’s car as he and Stella headed along River Road to Arcadia. Stella was happy to be back in their stretch of the river. The break at the coast on the dramatic Freycinet Peninsula at the holiday cabins by Rainbow Beach had been idyllic, but sometimes she found the great sweep of water and ocean overwhelming.
The windswept walks along the beach had been exhilarating, and the views from their small hotel spectacular, but she had preferred the picnics at Cooks Landing with the other couples they had met there. Some were holidaymakers like themselves and others lived in that picturesque setting. One was the owner of the cabins they’d stayed in, who talked about one day developing a larger hotel to attract visitors.
Stephen had revelled in what he called their second honeymoon, and he’d thanked Stella for suggesting the break away at the coast, as he generally preferred his trout-fishing expeditions in the mountains.
Stella gazed down at the shimmering stretch of river, the occasional small wooden jetty, the cluster of boats around the ferry and cargo wharf, the dots of boatsheds against the steep green hillsides as they drove home. Perhaps to some it looked a lonely and remote place, but to her, Arcadia and its setting had become utterly special. This was her home, her inspiration. She sat quietly, smiling slightly.
Stephen Holland reached over and patted her leg. ‘Glad to be home?’
‘Yes, very glad. I’m sure I’ll have lots to do in the garden.’
Mrs James and Winsome were waiting for them at the front door as they pulled up in front of the house. Mr James, seeing them from the orchard, quickly headed towards the car to help with their bags.
*
At twilight, Stella walked down towards the forest, calling to Nyx.
She smiled as she heard his chiding screech. ‘I know, I’ve been away. But here I am.’ She walked into the emerald and gold light of the trees, stepping carefully over the fungi that clung to the lichen-covered roots and fallen branches. She inhaled the familiar dank earthen smell of the spores and decomposing wood. She saw new mushrooms, including odd-shaped gill-like specimens, which had erupted in soft explosions on the forest floor.
And there was Nyx, sitting on a branch, preening himself, grooming his feathers and studiously ignoring her.
She chuckled. ‘Stop sulking, you silly old thing. I brought you something.’ She flung him some food then reached for her camera to photograph the exotic-looking fungi.
She would ask Terry, the last of the James children living at home, if he would put her film in to have it developed next time he went to Burridge. Stella was pleased for Mrs James that her son was so well now and had grown into a strapping young man.
*
Life returned to its routine. Stella kept busy with her painting, toying with the idea of tackling a beach scene, but her heart wasn’t in it, and the smell of her oil paints suddenly affected her. She packed her paints away and spent time in her rose garden instead, but directed Winsome on what jobs needed doing, avoiding digging, pruning or weeding as she really didn’t feel up to doing those things which, until recently, she used to enjoy.
One morning she sat glumly at the table. ‘I really couldn’t face any breakfast, Winsome, thank you.’
As Winsome removed the eggs, Mrs James studied Stella. ‘Not like you to refuse breakfast, Mrs Holland. Ever since you came back from your holiday you haven’t seemed yourself. You look very peaky, if I’m honest. How do you feel?’
‘A little wobbly. And you’re right, I’m not myself.’ Stella looked out the window and a tear suddenly ran down her cheek.
Mrs James sat beside her and reached for her hand, which was folded across her lap. ‘I said to my husband this morning that maybe you’re missing the relaxing time you had away with Dr Holland. You never get much chance to really be by yourselves with all his patients taking up his thoughts and his days. Your little holiday was like a second honeymoon for you,’ she said gently, ‘but now, if I didn’t know better, after all these years, I’d say you might be in the family way.’
Stella didn’t react or answer. Then she slowly nodded. ‘And you might be right.’
‘Have you spoken to Dr Holland?’
‘Not yet. I wanted to be sure. Not get his hopes up.’
‘I see.’ She studied Stella for a moment, still clasping her hand. ‘It’s nothing to be afraid of, you know.’
Stella nodded and looked down, tightening her hold on Mrs James’s hand.
‘Would you like to speak to my niece? She’s a midwife. Very good lass. Just in case. Before you speak to Dr Holland. Husbands aren’t always so observant,’ Mrs James added with a small smile.
To Mrs James’s obvious surprise, Stella nodded in agreement.
‘I’ll ask her over for tea at the cottage,’ said Mrs James, getting up, sounding businesslike. ‘Then you’ll know how to handle it.’
*
Stella liked Sheilagh Pearson straight away. She was about her own age, with sunny features, a gentle voice and a soothing touch. As Mrs James made tea, Sheilagh examined Stella, asked a few questions and nodded, then smoothed Stella’s hair back from her forehead.
‘You are definitely in the family way, and you are certainly well enough along to break the news.’ She gave a broad smile. ‘Congratulations. These late miracles do happen. I suggest you tell Dr Holland straight away.’
‘Thank you, I will. This
evening. He will be rather surprised. Pleased, I hope,’ Stella said, sounding a little apprehensive rather than overjoyed.
‘Of course he will be. You’re healthy, but you must take care. Forty is quite late for a woman to have her first baby, but there’s no reason all won’t be perfectly fine.’
Mrs James couldn’t stop beaming when they told her. ‘It was that holiday at Freycinet. No doubt about it. Well, this will put a spring in the old boy’s step,’ she said, making Sheilagh chuckle.
Stella joined in, giving a polite laugh in reply, and wrapped her hands protectively across her belly.
6
Lone Island, 2018
The water was choppy as they headed through the bar and out to sea. Angry currents crisscrossed the surface and surged against the boulders of the old breakwall. The headland offered little resistance to the crashing waves, or protection for the small but sturdy craft as it ploughed ahead. Relentless cascades of spray sloshed over its bow, rushing down the gunwale and obliterating the view. The horizon seemed to rise and fall, and seabirds hung motionless in the air, suspended by the force of the headwind, moving neither forward nor backward before dipping their wings to angle sideways and soaring higher, or skimming low above the troubled ocean.
Carmen stood at the wheel. Victor, her handyman-cum-caretaker who lived rent-free on the island in return for doing simple duties like wood chopping, was out in the open stern, an oilskin coat wrapped tightly around him while his sou’wester hat dripped rivulets of seawater. Suddenly he pointed. ‘Look at those birds. Wonderful creatures. You know, most birds can’t smell. But albatrosses can, that’s how they search out food over such vast stretches of ocean. Same goes for vultures, and even kiwis have nostrils at the end of their beaks to help when they poke into the ground looking for worms. But look at those magnificent things.’ He gestured at the shearwaters soaring beside them. ‘They have great sight, and wings that keep them safe. That’s why they never hide; their wings set them free.’
‘Are there lots of birds on the island?’ asked Sally.
‘You bet. Heaps of rookeries. Be careful where you walk, the muttonbird holes can easily trip you up.’
‘Thanks for the tip,’ said Jessica.
‘I suggest you go below, it’s getting a bit wet up here,’ Carmen called to them.
The two girls hunkered down in the compact cabin. Jessica tried to read a magazine while Sally scrolled through her phone.
‘What are you doing? There’s no reception out here,’ Jessica said as she saw Sally frowning.
‘Trying to figure out who’s been calling me. Until the other day at Chrissie’s I hadn’t heard his voice.’
‘Probably a crank. Or maybe you have a secret admirer?’ said Jessica lightly, seeing the worry in Sally’s eyes.
‘Stalker, more like it.’ Sally put her phone down. ‘I’ll try to ignore them. Phew, this is claustrophobic, I don’t know how Bass and Flinders could bear being cooped up like this for months at sea.’
‘Is the romance of the sea wearing thin already?’ Jessica glanced at her watch. ‘About an hour to go. No wonder Carmen and Victor don’t leave the island too often. It’s quite a commute. I can’t imagine many tourists would come over.’
‘Chrissie said the tourists usually go there by plane in good weather, as well as amateur naturalists, writers, those solitary kinds of people. Perhaps honeymooners. Definitely not the social hub kind of holiday spot.’
‘Sounds like the perfect setting for a murder mystery.’
‘Whose idea was this again?’ Sally raised an eyebrow.
‘Okay, okay. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Don’t forget, you agreed. Carmen is kinda interesting, different. And we’re going somewhere off the beaten track. I like that.’
Sally sighed. ‘Well, there’s no going back now. Jess, you can be impulsive. Hasn’t that got you into trouble before?’ she asked. ‘I mean, it was harmless enough when we were kids, but I didn’t think you’d still be, well, so rash.’
‘Oh, I’ve been very rash,’ said Jessica with a naughty smile.
Sally stared at her, then, sensing a story, settled herself more comfortably. ‘Oh? Do tell! C’mon, Jess. We still have a lot of catching up to do.’
‘I’ve had three lovers since I broke up with Hardy. Well, to be honest, I only slept with two of them.’
‘Whaaat! I can’t believe you never told me any of this, you minx!’
Jessica chuckled. ‘That got you going, didn’t it?’
‘Oh. So you’re joking . . . are you?’ Sally paused. ‘Did you ever cheat on Hardy? I mean, you don’t have to tell me, of course.’
‘No. No. I didn’t. More fool me. When he moved out and we had twelve months or more before the divorce came through, I did see some guys.’
‘But the divorce was only final a couple of months ago, you said.’
‘Yes. And then I got off the merry-go-round. But I was glad for the ride.’ Jessica looked past Sally, obviously remembering.
‘You didn’t find anyone you liked? That’s sad in a way,’ said Sally.
‘Actually, the three guys I found I absolutely adored!’
Sally looked stunned. ‘Where did you meet them?’
‘On a dating site, of course.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t do that. One of them could have turned out to be a serial killer!’
‘Since when have you been so obsessed with killers? Online dating isn’t stigmatised any more. Practically everyone is on there. It’s the most normal way to meet people these days.’
‘Not around my neck of the woods. You’d be spoiled for choice in Sydney, I suppose. I’d never go looking, of course.’ Sally laughed. ‘But I do sometimes pinch myself at how lucky I am that Toby and I found each other.’
‘Living in a city can make it harder. And you do have to be careful. But maybe because I wasn’t desperate, just lonely, I thought it’d be a bit of fun. I think I needed to prove to myself I could still attract someone. Hardy made me feel so . . . unwanted.’
Sally shook her head. ‘That’s dreadful. It was so mean and selfish of him. You are beautiful, Jess, and smart and funny, and generous, and . . . crazy.’ Sally suddenly laughed, then leaned forward. ‘So who’d you meet?’
‘Oh, I chose someone totally out of left field the first time. American, bit of a hippy type – in a nice way – a geologist, but he was on a sabbatical, taking time out as he wasn’t sure the path he’d chosen was the right one. He’s a musician but was never brave enough to give it a go fulltime. We went to a few concerts, a few parties, but it turned out we had totally different tastes in music. We never slept together, but he was a great talker, articulate, not a bullshitter, you know how Americans can talk so persuasively. And he was quite poetic.’
‘So nothing happened?’
‘Something just didn’t gel. After a couple of weeks we knew there was no point in wasting each other’s time. So then I found Geoff.’ Jessica rolled her eyes in a mock swoon.
‘That good?’ breathed Sally.
‘Oh, yes. But it wasn’t just the sex. We weren’t lovers for ages, which was good. I didn’t want to feel I was just hopping into bed with someone because I hadn’t been truly loved and treated tenderly, or had great sex for, well, years. What I’d missed so much was – companionship. Someone to talk to, not in a deep and meaningful way necessarily, just to chat and laugh with. We went to the movies, had picnics and rode bikes around the park near where he lived. Nothing intense or committed. I really didn’t know much about him and didn’t want to; his family, his childhood, his future dreams. He’d been in a long-term relationship but on his own the last few years, and he liked it that way. So that suited me. No pressure.’
‘That was nice for you. Did Hardy know about these guys? Or your mum?’
‘Of course not. There was no way I’d bother telling Hardy. My
mother did notice that I seemed calmer and happier, but I just told her I was glad Hardy was out of my life. Which was true. Then when Geoff and I realised we were looking for different things in life, I met Justin.’
Sally rolled her eyes. ‘I hardly dare ask, but go on.’ She leaned forward again.
‘This time I fell for him with a crash. Very special person. An architect, he designs super-green environmental buildings in the city with gardens on the roof, hanging walls of living plants, quite amazing. He’s in demand all over the world to reconstruct old towns and design new small cities and communities. Huge intellect, has read the philosophers, just looks at the world in a very different way. Visionary. Speaks several languages. He’s a Buddhist. He could be intense, and then tell you a silly knock-knock joke. He married when he was in university but got divorced after his career took off as his wife didn’t want to live overseas. We found each other then he landed a big project in Queensland, so I would fly up there, and sometimes he came down to Sydney. And then he asked me to move to China with him. Leave my job. Said he’d find me a research role or something. But I could tell it was all about him. And I get that; he’s going to be super famous. It was an extraordinary time. It stretched me, romantically, intellectually, but I couldn’t be an acolyte.’
‘You must have been sad to break up,’ said Sally.
‘We didn’t see it like that. It felt like we were planets orbiting each other briefly, then he sped off in a great whoosh towards the stars while I’m . . . just going round in circles.’ Jessica said. ‘However, I’m in no rush to “find” somebody. I just get annoyed, frustrated, when Hardy crosses my radar with some petty, arrogant demand. Though now the legalities are all done with, we hardly have much contact, which is a relief. The first months on my own I felt like a total tragic.’
‘But still, you were married and had all that time together, don’t you feel something?’ wondered Sally.
‘Not really. I’m sorry I wasted so much time with him. We don’t have the tie of a child . . . I was just too young . . .’
