Beneath the Mother Tree

by D. M. Cameron

  Ayla’s phone signalled a message from Riley: copied yet?

  leaving now, she replied back.

  She fetched the box and Riley sent another: text me when done please hurry.

  Had something happened? She jumped on her pushbike and rode as fast as she could.

  When she pulled up, Stan was so focused on cleaning the mud off his treasured caravan, he didn’t notice her. ‘Hi Stan.’

  ‘Aylee.’

  ‘Welcome back,’ Ayla had a real fondness for Stan. Even though he was retired, he still functioned as the island vet, only taking payment if it was in the form of a gift from the vegetable garden or home baked goodies. When Ayla had come to him at sixteen and shared her dream of going to university to study veterinary science, Stan had made it his singular mission to pass on as much knowledge as he could. He had taken it personally when Ayla deferred.

  ‘Good to be back, Stan?’

  ‘Seems to be a bit of angst going on. Everyone I run into has a bad word to say about someone, or their back up about something. Not the friendly little peaceful place I remember.’

  ‘You know the island, always some drama going on.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘Stan, could I borrow your photocopier?’

  ‘Sure, come in. Nancy’s down the road, chin wagging.’ He led her into the sun room and switched on the copier. ‘All yours.’

  Ayla worked her way through the box and refused an offer of a cup of tea, and Stan declined the offer of money, as she suspected he would.

  ‘Thanks, Stan.’ She placed the copies on top of the originals and sent Riley a text: done x

  Stan followed her outside. ‘Heard you had a couple of fatalities while I’ve been away?’

  Ayla knew he wasn’t referring to Harley. Stan always thought in terms of the animal kingdom.

  ‘Poor Jip took a bait, hey?’

  ‘Wanted your opinion about that, actually.’ She picked up her bike, detailing Jip’s symptoms and how Harley had described the onset.

  ‘If he was pressing his head…sounds like swelling of the brain tissue. Hard to say…certainly doesn’t sound like poisoning.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’ She strapped the box to her bike.

  Stan was still pondering. ‘The outcome of the test results on Toto’s death were interesting: MVEV.’

  ‘Murray Valley Encephalitis virus?’

  ‘That year at uni did teach you something.’

  ‘No, I…’ She couldn’t finish the sentence.

  He scratched his ear. ‘MVEV is mosquito-borne…causes swelling of the brain tissue. Wondering now if Jip died of the same thing? If it can kill horses, no reason it can’t kill dogs. I was in two minds about it, but maybe it’s a good thing, the spraying of the swamps.’

  Ayla’s heart leapt around with each new thought. ‘Liquid nitrogen canisters in laboratories, what do they use them for, Stan?’

  ‘Depends. Liquid nitrogen is useful for keeping things alive.’

  ‘Like virus-carrying pathogens?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘And what about chloroform?’

  ‘Chloroform can sedate animals, and people for that matter. Why?’

  ‘Just wondering.’ Her thoughts were dominoes, rapidly falling into one another. Harley swore Marlise killed Jip because she didn’t like his barking, and most people on the island were lauding Maria as a hero for pressuring the council into resuming the spraying. Riley said his mother was ropeable about the fact. Could she have targeted Toto in revenge to hurt Maria? She could picture Marlise sneaking in the dead of night with a jar full of live mosquitoes, taken from those spooky cages in her lab. Mosquitoes full of live virus-carrying pathogens which she had bred to be fast-acting, vicious and brutal. She would knock the animal out with chloroform, hold the jar against the poor creature and let those mosquitoes suck, leaving a strange circular welt, like the one on Jip’s abdomen. ‘Stan, you’re a genius.’ She jumped on her bike.

  He called after her. ‘You’d be a genius if you went back to uni and finished that course.’

  She waved as the bile from her stomach rose up her throat. Had Marlise already discovered the box was missing? Would she try and harm her in some way? She imagined Marlise cutting a hole in the flyscreen of her bedroom window and emptying a jar of killer mosquitoes into her room while she slept. The image made her pedal fiercely.

  Riley was sitting on her front verandah, waiting, covered in grass seed and dust.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Nothing, but she’s leaving the island today, which means she’ll be taking the scooter.’

  ‘Here. Take my bike.’ She took the copies and handed him the box with the originals. But Riley opened the box and switched the originals for the copies. ‘Do you think that’s safe? She might notice?’

  ‘It’s all I have of him.’ He hugged her, smelling of petrol and dirt. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing.’ She didn’t have the heart to tell him. By the way, not only is your mother a psychopathic liar, I suspect she’s also an animal killer. Besides, she had no proof, only a repulsive growing suspicion.

  ‘She’s leaving the island for a week, maybe more, to look at a possible place.’ He sounded happy at the prospect.

  ‘Text me when it’s done.’

  The bike tyres left a thin trail of dust in the air.

  A couple of Pacific Black ducks and their five ducklings waddled from the bushland into the front yard. They made Ayla think of Grappa. He knew where the box was hidden. The Nor folk had told him. He claimed Marlise was responsible for all the deaths. All? Not Harley’s. But how had Grappa known about Jip and Toto? She almost burst into tears, remembering she had called him a stupid old drunk.

  Ayla didn’t know how long she stood there watching the ducks, but she felt the old magic from her childhood returning. Trusting in the knowledge that Grappa had infused in her, the natural world of the island would always guide her if she was sensitive and patient enough. Like the time a cottonwood flower had dropped from the tree to be caught in her hair. Grappa knew it had been sent as a gift. A thank you from another realm.

  Her phone beeped. Done. She was fast asleep. Return bike after work xxxxxxxx!

  One of the ducklings sat on another duckling’s head and Ayla giggled. They were there to remind her his mother was leaving the island to search for a new place to live.

  ‘I don’t like the idea of you being here all alone,’ Marlise took her bag from Riley and placed it in the luggage compartment on the back of the scooter.

  ‘I won’t be. I’ll be at work or with Ayla.’

  She looked him over like she used to when he was little and she had just cleaned his face. ‘I’ve never left you before.’

  ‘Mum. Please? You’re going to miss the barge.’

  She climbed on the scooter. ‘I don’t know how long this will take. I want to stay and get a feel for the area. Not going to rush into buying the wrong place again. Mind you, we need to be gone from here before they start spraying.’

  ‘Take as long as you want. I’ll feed the mice like you showed me.’

  ‘And the mosquitoes with the sugar solution, don’t forget the mosquitoes.’

  ‘I won’t. Go.’

  ‘I’ll ring every day.’

  ‘Ayla said that texts are more reliable here.’

  ‘I’ll text you every day then.’

  ‘And I’ll text back, promise.’

  She couldn’t bring herself to leave him. ‘Make sure you lock the doors. Tuck yourself in at night. Keep yourself safe.’

  ‘Mum. The barge.’ He pecked her on the cheek and hugged her.

  Three hugs in one day. He was like a different person.

  ‘I love you,’ she said, riding off. She thought he might have responded but couldn’t quite hear over the scooter.

  All the cars were loaded by the time Marlise rode onto the barge and the ramp was raised. She was relieved to see Grunter wasn’t on shift. The boat was crawling w
ith people, none of whom she recognised. How could one small island sustain so many human beings? No one smiled at her. They all seemed to be talking about her though, whispering, pointing.

  Mosquito hating imbeciles, the lot of you, she abused them in her head.

  David would claim she was being paranoid, but Marlise knew people. They were saying monstrous things. The loud group sitting under the driver’s tower roaring with laughter had made a joke at her expense. She knew by the way the fat woman in the floral dress glanced over. The quicker she and Riley escaped from here, the better.

  At her car on the mainland, in the undercover parking area, she locked the scooter and waited for the place to empty. Once alone, she grabbed the contents of the box and headed for a silver rubbish bin two bays from her car. Purposely not looking at what was in her hands, she scattered the whole lot into the bin, struck a match and threw it in. There was no sign of smoke. She leaned over the bin and the entire contents, including the plastic liner, burst into flames, almost singeing her hair. The black smoke spread quickly through the space, making her cough. A man in a business suit ran towards her.

  ‘Someone must have thrown a cigarette in there,’ she lied.

  He flapped his coat at the bin. ‘You need to get out of here.’

  Marlise stumbled into her car and drove out into the open, cranking up the air conditioning as a hot flush overcame her. She was forced to pull over onto the side of the road as emotions racked her body. So many years of secrets and memories, her last link with Lorcan, now nothing more than a curling wisp of black smoke drifting from a car park. The dark cloud rising into the sky became Lorcan’s face. He stared at her with pity and love. She stumbled out of the car and ran towards him, calling. ‘Lorcan. Riley has grown…into you. I wish you could see him.’ Lorcan’s face twisted in pain, warped and drifted into a flowering eucalypt, causing two kookaburras to take flight.

  She returned to her car and sobbed into the steering wheel. The tears so profuse, she wiped and wiped at her eyes before she could see to drive again.

  20.

  The island seemed lighter with Marlise gone from it. The community had stopped bickering and bitching. Sharon had let Josh move back home, conditionally. Tilly and Grunter had apologised to each other. Grappa said the birds were less jittery, and the fish and crabs were biting once more.

  The day after Marlise left, Ayla felt the tension weighing her down roll away with the waves, sucked out on the tide. But the biggest change was in Riley. He had a certain seriousness tinging his edges – still grieving for his stepfather, she assumed – but with his mother physically out of his life, he relaxed and opened up. It was like watching the solitary daisy in their vegetable patch unfolding in the morning sun to reveal its bright centre.

  He avoided the Johnston house. They only left each other’s side if necessary, spending most afternoons meandering out on the beach. Ayla tried to teach Riley to swim, amazed at how unnatural he was in the water, and he attempted to teach her the flute, concluding with a grin, ‘I didn’t know it was possible for one of my flutes to sound so bad.’

  Two days after his mother’s departure, Ayla took him by the hand and led him through a stand of grass trees at the side of Helen’s house, down a path that opened onto a clearing. She was impressed to see the honeysuckle vine that had started to strangle everything had been cleared. Aunty Dora and Ray, who had bought the block next door, in the hope that Mandy would return one day to settle down, had been hard at work clearing the weedy vine. The fruit trees were thriving, and Ayla had forgotten how the two large mango trees dominated the rear of the block. All the grevilleas were in full bloom, and down toward the beach, an old blue gum reached for the sky. Now the honeysuckle was under control, it was a perfect blend of natives and exotics living side by side.

  In one corner was an old shed.

  ‘This was my parents’ piece of land.’

  She opened the cobwebbed door and disturbed a fat carpet snake. It languidly slithered between them into the surrounding bushland, looking peeved.

  Riley stepped inside the shed full of timber.

  ‘We lived here in a caravan for a while when I was a kid.’

  ‘So much wood’ he said, lifting a beam. ‘Good solid stuff, hardwood.’

  ‘Dad was collecting it to build a house. But Mum hasn’t set foot on the place for years. Can’t bring herself to. After he died, Grappa gave Mum his house, and she gave me this block.’

  ‘Look at your fruit trees. You’re rich in citrus, bananas, paw paws and mangoes, Ms Finlay.’ He bowed before her.

  ‘Arise my dark lord and kiss me quick.’

  He did, and they held hands as they explored.

  ‘If you trimmed a few of these branches, you would have an excellent view of the water.’

  ‘It wouldn’t take much to clear a path down to the beach either.’

  ‘Let’s do it now.’

  She turned to face him. ‘After you went to bed last night, Mum suggested I ask you to help me build a tree house with all this wood before it rots away. I mean, only if you wanted to. If you don’t want to, that’s fine also. I –’

  He kissed her. ‘It would be my honour to build a fortress for my love.’

  ‘The best thing is Mum works in the building department at Council. She said if I call it a shed, she can obtain approval overnight.’ She grinned. ‘I’m game if you’re game.’

  ‘I’m game.’ And, he was working his way through the wood, pulling it out piece by piece, laying it down, planning. ‘We could start with a low platform here, then we could build a floor between the two mangoes? We could have three levels? What do you think?’

  Her elation rendered her silent, blurred her vision. He picked her up, spun her around in the air thick with orange blossom. They lay in the long grass together as a pair of lorikeets, their rainbow colours bleeding into each other, landed on an acacia tree to hang upside down and stare. She could feel the island beneath them, breathing.

  Riley looked Grappa in the eye, ‘On the count of three: one, two –’ They lifted the door frame into position. The old man’s face had gone red with the effort. ‘You alright?’

  ‘Right as rain.’

  But Riley saw he was struggling to catch his breath. He kept watch until Grappa’s colour returned to normal. ‘If you could keep a firm hold while I hammer these brackets down?’

  Once it was solid, they stood back and admired the carved archway: dolphins and waves emerging and sinking into the wood.

  ‘Makes a grand entrance. You are one talented young man.’

  The admiration he could see in Grappa’s gaze made him proud and shy all at once. ‘Hope she likes it.’

  With Grappa’s help, Riley had been able to secretly work on the carving as a surprise for Ayla.

  ‘She’ll swoon, you watch.’

  Riley stretched out in the sun. All the wedding bush, as Ayla called it, had blossomed overnight. The tendrils of white flowers danced in the honeyed breeze. He had never worked so hard in his life and never felt so content. By helping Ayla build her ‘castle,’ he had started to believe he could make his way in the world, that he had something to offer: the ability to provide and nurture, and love.

  The only blip in his life came in the form of regular texts from his mother, the tone of which changed from day to day. Sometimes she sounded positive and swore she had, at last found a place where we could be happy, then other days her texts were short and sharp. Everyone here is backward. One day she wrote: There is no way we are moving to this place. Within an hour, another text arrived: You’re going to love it here darling boy. People live on boats in the river.

  Riley felt guilty for misleading his mother, but his heart was growing roots which spread deep into the island and deeper into Ayla. As each day unfolded, the more impressed he became by her. She knew what creature made which markings in the sand and could read the water like he could read her moods. When that little frown appeared, he stayed silent or played his flute
to make her happy.

  One day they had been sitting on the beach together and she said, ‘See that rough patch on the sea where it looks like the breeze is rustling the water?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Keep watching it.’

  He had been rewarded by a school of small fish jumping together, creating a silver dragon’s tail snaking in the sun.

  He realised that the old man had asked him something. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You’re always off with the birds, boy.’