CHAPTER 27
Pen
Water beat hard against the window and Pen sat up in bed. Will was still sprawled out, fast asleep despite the loud thrum of rain. It was so gloomy that it was hard to tell if it was morning. Clouds hung like angry brows above the escarpment and dawn had peeled away the night to reveal a flat, watery, landscape. The world looked like a former version of itself, a sepia photograph, colourless, lost in time. Thunder in the distance was like old men grumbling to one another. The ominous mood matched her own. The thump in her head elicited a small groan. She’d had way too much wine last night. It had been so much more enjoyable without Macie there with her judgemental comments. She’d gone to stock up on provisions and got stuck in the storm. Was it awful to hope that she never came back? She looked over at Will. Macie had shown Will her studio behind the outhouses on the property and Will was totally into it. Pen wondered at how she’d missed this apparent overwhelming artistic flair her son had. She was a photographer. She was a creative. How had she not seen this potential for connection? She felt hurt and confused. And guilty. Yes, mostly guilty. Sure, she’d known he enjoyed art and was good at it but being out here and around Macie with her huge canvases and dozens of paint pots and tools had obviously inspired something in him. A pad of paper and a pen lay next to him on the floor. He’d been sketching God knows what until he fell asleep last night. She didn’t dare look lest it was another ghost. Bloody hell. A stack of books sat beside his bed on the floor. She picked one up and thumbed through its tea-coloured pages. The valley’s history. Why couldn’t she be happy she had an inquisitive, intelligent child, rather than have these stirrings of dread?
Breakfast was later than usual, and everyone was subdued. The rain continued to sheet down the long windows in the dining room. The gutters gushed. The thunder had gone, the warring old men retired, replaced by a deluge. Macie was back, setting out another perfect breakfast of poached eggs with sourdough and telling them about her drama getting caught in the storm.
Thank God for the strong black coffee. Pen took a sip and enjoyed its burn in the back of her throat.
‘I’ve never seen a storm in the valley like it,’ Macie said, putting a fresh batch of toast and a new coffee pot on the table. ‘The lightning was like a light show. I came in very late. The river was already high then, and Caleb’s just been out there early this morning and it’s broken the bank. If this continues, we’ll be flooded in. Of course, there’s a history of floods in the area. More than 30 when the township was here. I’m afraid we’re at the mercy of the elements for however long this rain keeps up,’ she said, placing a tray of steaming eggs with hollandaise sauce in the centre of the table.
‘Did you get a look at the forecast?’ asked Pen. ‘Is it expected to ease up?’
Macie shook her head. ‘I had a look when I was in range and it looks like rain for days. How heavy that is, I don’t know. God knows we need the rain, but this is something else. Thank goodness I got lots of supplies yesterday. Caleb should be able to ration things out a bit in case we’re here for a while.’
Pen shared a look with Emmie, who was smearing marmalade onto her toast.
‘Anyway, I’ve got some work to do this morning. You ladies let me know if you need anything else.’
‘Thanks, Macie. The toast and jam is absolutely delicious, and I can’t wait to try the eggs,’ said Emmie.
It was true, breakfast looked amazing, but Pen’s stomach was churning. She took a small bite of her toast. She couldn’t bring herself to thank Macie.
‘You’re wet. Did you go outside?’ Pen asked Emmie. She’d assumed her hair was wet from a shower, but now she noticed beads of moisture clinging to her cardigan.
Emmie laughed and brushed at her shoulders. ‘Yeah, I didn’t realise quite how hard it was raining. I had an umbrella, but I still got a little wet.’
‘Where were you off to in this weather? I know we were talking about getting more exercise with all this rich food, but not in this downpour.’
Emmie flushed and she put down her toast. ‘I think I just needed to get out of the hotel for a minute. Seraphine was playing Uno with Sim and Findlay in Nathalie’s room. I was feeling, I don’t know, a bit claustrophobic.’
Pen nodded and pressed a hand against her chest. She lowered her voice. ‘Thank God. It’s not just me.’
‘The river was running very high early this morning. You do realise it’s the only way out of here, over that bridge, and it’s nearly flooded over.’
‘You’re doing wonders for my claustrophobia,’ said Pen, draining her coffee.
‘Sorry. I know. Let’s talk about something different. Like what we’re going to do today stuck inside with the kids.’
Pen laughed at her false brightness. ‘Oh, I thought you were all inspired to be out here,’ she said, elbowing Emmie. ‘And you’d be the queen of crafting with the kids on rainy days.’
Emmie rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, I must admit I do have some ideas.’
‘Just as long as they don’t involve Macie squirrelling Will off into her studio for hours.’
‘Oh, has she been?’
Pen shrugged. ‘I must just have PMS this week. Overthinking everything. You know what it’s like.’
‘Will does seem to be very good at art. You should let Macie show him some stuff. I think she’s quite talented you know.’
‘I know, I know. I’m overthinking everything.’
Emmie poured herself tea from the pot. ‘Oh my God. Welcome to the party. I hate being a woman sometimes. Maybe I just need to make my special punch today. It has half a bottle of gin in it.’
‘Where’s the recipe? We all just need a little hair of the dog. Speaking of . . .’
Alexandra sat down at the table next to Emmie and shook her head. ‘I feel like complete crap today. How much wine did we even drink last night?’
‘Too much,’ said Emmie. ‘Where’s Nathalie?’
‘She’s gone with Caleb to check on the river situation. She tried to ring Mike on the landline this morning and couldn’t reach him. I think she wants to see if she can get reception to text. Of course, she drank the most of any of us and looks fresh as a daisy this morning.’
‘She didn’t seem too fresh earlier when the girls were all playing in her room,’ said Emmie. ‘She and Caleb seem to be getting on very well, don’t they?’
‘She’s been strangely quiet since Sim went missing. Even last night after all the wine. I hope she’s okay. It must have been pretty distressing for her,’ said Pen.
‘I know,’ said Alexandra, reaching for some toast. ‘It’s all been highly dramatic. I’m sorry I dragged us all out here. I honestly had no idea it was so . . . remote.’
‘Don’t be silly, you were just trying to salvage our holiday. We were all desperate to get away,’ said Pen. ‘And we’re certainly away. And the food has been excellent.’
‘It’s been an adventure,’ said Emmie, reaching out and squeezing Alexandra’s arm. ‘And it’s been really nice to get to know each other more.’
‘I feel like we’re really going to get to know each other if this rain keeps up,’ Alexandra said. She put down the toast. ‘I can’t even stomach dry toast. But this lot are fed,’ she indicated to the kids on the table next to them, most of whom had graduated to the floor. Jasper and Thomas were under the table launching toy cars along the floorboards and Sim and Findlay were on all fours meowing like cats. ‘Soooo, what was the plan for a whole day indoors without any screens?’
‘Punch,’ Pen and Emmie said at the same time.
CHAPTER 28
Nathalie
‘No reception,’ said Nathalie, studying her phone as the rain spat at the car windscreen. The weather thrashed outside, as though the car was a boat being heaved and tipped in a sea storm. A sheet of nausea washed through her, and she fought the urge to crack open the window. She had such a strong need to check on Richie. What had happened with Sim yesterday and the storm last night had left her feeling
emotional, bereft. She needed to know her little boy was okay. She couldn’t actually believe she’d left him to come here. Mike wasn’t picking up his mobile and she couldn’t get hold of her mother-in-law either. He was so self-absorbed. She hadn’t let her mind go there, but some small part of her worried that he might be seeing that woman. She felt the familiar resentment unfurl inside her like an animal wanting to be stroked.
‘Didn’t think there’d be any bars,’ said Caleb. ‘Yep, the river’s flooded all right. There’ll be no going over that bridge for the next 24 hours.’
‘Really? There’s no other way out?’ she asked.
‘The property’s bounded by the river on either side. We’ll go and have a look at the other end. That doesn’t flood as easily. It’s near where I wanted to show you anyhow.’
‘Sorry, yeah, you mentioned yesterday you wanted to show me something.’ Their eyes caught and something unspoken moved between them in the humid cabin. His eyes were dark and deep-set and looking into them felt like looking into a chasm where she couldn’t see the bottom. It gave her vertigo. She looked away first. He put the car into reverse, the muscles in his forearm flexing. He was so confident talking about the valley’s history, and yet there was a sensitivity, some vulnerability there that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. When he’d asked her to come to see the river, her answer was pure instinct, like cold skin seeking out sunshine. She’d wanted to escape the house, even if just for a moment. She’d left the girls happy and in the care of Emmie. She’d sensed something quite desperate in him last night. After what she’d seen in that room, she needed to know what it was.
They drove in silence except for the pound of water on the SUV’s roof. The hot, dry landscape had been turned lush and liquid. The smell of it seeped in. Sodden earth overlaid with the scent of freshly washed leaves – lemon, pine and eucalyptus. Caleb drove slowly over the muddy unsealed roads.
The river was running high on the other side of the property.
‘We can still get over it,’ said Caleb, as he eased the car through the shallow crossing, water surging around the tops of the tyres, almost reaching the body of the car.
‘Will we be able to get over again on the way back?’ asked Nathalie, looking behind her as they left the swollen river behind. Fear of being trapped away from her girls and exhilaration at this strange adventure mixed, making blood rush to her head. She laughed nervously.
‘Should be fine. We’re higher up. This part of the river doesn’t tend to flood as readily. The place I wanted to show you is just up ahead.’
They turned off onto a narrow track that wound up into the bush. The road was bumpy and treacherous, and she had to hang on to the handle above her head.
Nathalie glanced at Caleb. The way he handled the car was self-assured, as though he knew these roads like the lines in his own skin. He was tanned from working outside on the land and he had a rugged air that contrasted with his intelligence. She’d always found contradictions alluring. His brow was slick with rain, his hair curlier than usual. It softened the angular features of his face, giving him a boyish look. He glanced at her with a flick of a smile.
‘You okay there?’
She nodded, smiling despite her fast heartbeat. She couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him. It felt like the same spell the rain had cast over the dry landscape – tumultuous, yet exciting.
‘There are some amazing Aboriginal paintings around here. This is the home of the Wiradjuri nation and there are sacred sites still left. This cave painting I’m about to show you is one. You’ll feel it. The art provides a physical and spiritual link to their culture, their stories. The more we learn about their history and culture, the more we learn about the truth, and the more we feel this country doesn’t claim us, nor do we have ownership of it.’
‘I know that feeling. I had it as I drove into the valley. I felt like an impostor.’
Caleb nodded. ‘Exactly. We don’t have enough reverence for the natural world.’
‘It sounds like you’re pretty passionate about this stuff.’
‘I find history really fascinating, especially Black history. The fact that it isn’t taught and is never truly shared in schools is really tragic. It’s as if they’ve tried to make us forget. But this land . . . this land doesn’t forget,’ he said, his eyes never leaving the wet road. ‘It’s why I started taking the tours of the mines, as an excuse to educate people on the Aboriginal culture of the area.’
‘I for one had no idea any of this history existed, the Indigenous history, or the mines and the township.’
‘I guess that’s why I love it. It feels like exhuming secrets.’
She smiled. ‘I love that.’
‘It’s also truth-telling. One history taught is whitewashed, to paint a victorious foundation, which also belittles and reduces the real harm done, while another half of history that is never truly taught, reflects the truth and real pain of how “Australia” was birthed.’
Caleb’s words, the passion with which he spoke, touched Nathalie deeply and she wondered why it had taken this young man in this valley to make her reassess the truths about the country she had grown up in. They drove in silence for a while, lulled by the drum of rain.
He pulled off the track into a small clearing. It was still raining hard. ‘Are we getting out?’ Nathalie asked.
He reached into the back and handed her a waterproof jacket. ‘Here, wear this. There’s shelter not far from here.’
The rain drilled down and she ducked under the jacket’s hood as they followed a narrow walking track into the bush. A knot of trepidation pulled through her. No one knew where they were. They walked for a few minutes until they came upon a sheer rock wall, soaring above them.
‘Look here. You see these handprints? They’re very old.’
Small hand imprints outlined in white paint, glided over a stretch of rock, like luminous moths.
‘They’re beautiful.’
‘This is what I was telling you about. This part of the world is sacred.’
Nathalie felt a tremor, part awe, part fear, the same feeling she’d had as soon as she’d seen the walls of the valley rise around her for the first time.
Caleb motioned for her to follow him. They walked for what felt like quite a while and icy rain dripped down the back of her neck. Nathalie was about to ask where they were going when a wall of rock arched up into a huge open cave. It was like stepping into a cathedral, but one made of sandstone.
Suddenly the hammering rain was gone. She smelled wood fire and wet earth.
‘Oh my God,’ said Nathalie. ‘What is this place? It’s incredible.’
‘It’s amazing, isn’t it?’
‘You’ve obviously been here before.’
Nathalie walked deeper into the space, which was like a towering tunnel through the rock, fringed on either side with eucalypts and tree ferns. They had walked higher up than she’d realised because when she looked back through the entrance, she could see the wet treetops stretching out beyond the bracken. The space was big, probably the size of a tennis court. A metal fire pit sat at the heart of the cave, with two hammocks strung up like swings. A small wooden table with two chairs sat against the left wall. Candles pooled melted wax on the table alongside a bottle of red wine and a glass. A low, canvas bell tent crouched in a corner, strung with fairy lights, and surrounded by metal lanterns. It would be magical here at night. A small pile of what looked like camping supplies sat near the tent.
‘You asked how I taught myself French. I lit a fire here and sat in my hammock for hours and, yes, I may have smoked some weed on occasion during all those conjugations.’
Nathalie laughed. ‘You could do anything out here. How did you even find this place?’
‘I know all the tracks. I’ve explored every nook and cranny of this valley.’
‘This is so cool, Caleb. Does anyone else know it’s here?’
He shrugged. ‘Some bushwalkers might come across it from time t
o time. No one’s ever stolen anything.’
‘Your own private cave. It’s like something out of a boy’s own adventure book.’
‘Yeah, it’s pretty special, huh. I’ve thought about kitting it out a bit better and turning it into an Airbnb experience or something, but then I think, nah.’
‘It’s actually quite homely. And you’ve got your tent all kitted out and your table and chairs.’
‘Something’s got to keep me occupied out here.’
It was the first time he’d acknowledged that it was kind of unusual for a young guy to be living in the middle of nowhere.
‘Does Macie know about it?’
Caleb shook his head and moved towards the fire pit. ‘She’s pretty busy with her art whenever she’s out here. I’ll light a fire so we can dry out a bit.’
‘It’s your man cave. I get it. God, I wish I had somewhere like this to go when I get sick of my kids. And my husband.’
‘That happen a lot?’ he asked, laughing softly.
Their eyes met. A warmth curled in her stomach.
Caleb went about setting up some newspaper and kindling and lighting the fire. He moved with a deftness that spoke of doing this a thousand times before. He was clearly so comfortable in nature and knowledgeable about history. His passion was infectious. It made him seem older than his years. He had taken off his rain jacket and his T-shirt was wet. She found herself staring at his body under the thin fabric. She flicked her eyes away as he looked up.
Nathalie took a tentative seat in one of the hammocks. ‘I haven’t been in one of these since I was a kid. How fun.’ She warmed her hands by the fire. ‘How often do you come out here? I can’t imagine you get loads of visitors at the hotel.’
‘Yeah, it comes in waves. You’d be surprised. Those bird watchers love it out here. I like to come and commune with nature sometimes after I’ve had a particularly busy week. A break from cooking. I make damper, fry sausages, read. It’s just so beautiful. Nature’s church. You should see the light in here first thing in the morning.’
The Valley of Lost Stories Page 18