The Red Coast

by Di Morrissey

  Jacqui said nothing, not wanting to interrupt.

  ‘The thing is, I’ve learned a lot since I came up here. I had never spent time in the outback before. But over the past weeks, while I’ve been travelling around up here and have met a variety of people, I’m beginning to see that there really are two valid sides to the development issue.’

  ‘But you’re on Chamberlains’ side.’

  He continued calmly, ‘Daryl hired me to find potential exploration sites and to make sure that what they planned to do with these sites was feasible. Naturally Chamberlains knew that such a large project would impact on the area and the community, but they believed that compensation and future income would far outweigh these objections.’

  ‘Well, they were dead wrong there,’ said Jacqui grimly.

  ‘As it has proved to be. But having come this far they are loath to drop their plans.’

  ‘But, Cameron, if they don’t back down, people will just keep fighting them,’ said Jacqui. ‘And it’s not just with demonstrations. Legal teams are putting together a court case based on the environmental impact. Everything could stretch on for years.’

  ‘I know, and I’m beginning to wonder if all this is in the best interests of the company, after all. I’m starting to think that Daryl might need to reconsider Chamberlains’ activities in the Kimberley. I can talk to him about this, of course, but I think he needs to also hear it from someone who is passionate about stopping the development, but who actually has no vested interest either way. Someone who is articulate and can explain what is behind all this opposition. What I’m suggesting is that you put your feelings direct to Daryl.’

  ‘What! Why me? Surely Lydia is the one to do that.’

  ‘Lydia has a public profile and her views are well known, as she and her people are directly affected by the development. I get that. But I think you can give a more detached point of view, be a little less emotional. Look, Jacqui, there are times when someone slightly removed from the centre of a conflict can make an impact. Come and see Daryl with me. I’m flying out there to deliver some documents he needs to sign.’

  ‘You really want me to fly to Perth with you?’

  ‘No, Daryl’s not in Perth at the moment. He has a huge cattle station south-east of here as well as lots of other properties, as I’m sure you know. Daryl doesn’t see himself as just an executive but as an entrepreneur. He and his wife are staying there at the moment, so that’s where I’d like us to go tomorrow.’

  Jacqui just stared at him. ‘Cameron, if I go with you, it will put me in an invidious position. It’s ridiculous. I could mess this whole thing up and then all my friends will turn against me.’

  ‘Nonsense. You have the opportunity to speak to the main decision-maker, the man with the most influence over this particular project anyway, in a non-confrontational setting, and put the case for the community to him in a calm and dispassionate fashion. What’s there to lose? The worst that can happen is that he takes no notice of what you have to say. But Jacqui, I really would like you to explain to him why the opposition to the Chamberlains development is so deep-seated and unlikely to go away, no matter how much money is thrown around.’

  Jacqui sat still, quietly thinking. What Cameron was asking her to do seemed outrageous, but . . .

  Suddenly she was back standing at the edge of Cygnet Bay with James and Alison Brown, staring at the crystal-blue bowl of water nurturing the lines of pearl-shell panels. She remembered something James had said, back when they visited his farm. ‘A pearl farm is a great environmental advocate because it sits in the aspirational space between the environmental and the economic. If the pearl shells are happy and vibrant, so are we: the two go hand in hand. Everything is linked, it’s about sustainable and appropriate development. What Australia has is an accident of nature, which we must value, respect and nurture.’

  She turned back to Cameron. ‘All right, I’ll go. But I’ll have to check that Sylvia can cover the shop. I always seem to be imposing on her. It’s just as well she seems to love her job.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Cameron quietly. ‘If we fly up at daybreak we’ll be back by sundown.’

  ‘I’m not going to do this behind Lydia’s back, either. I don’t want this to be a secret, so I’ll tell her what I’m doing.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll take care of organising a flight. Too far to drive. I don’t want to sound pushy, but perhaps you could bring a novel or two for Daryl’s wife? She’s a big reader and it’s pretty isolated out there for her.’

  Jacqui shrugged. ‘Yes, I can do that. It’s a small enough gesture if anything comes of this.’

  When Cameron had left, Jacqui tidied up her gardening tools and went to change for work, her mind buzzing. The problems with Jean-Luc and his father were still foremost in her mind, though it did suddenly occur to her that maybe she should ask Cameron’s advice in dealing with them. But she thought better of raising such a personal issue and dismissed the idea.

  Her phone rang and she answered it unthinkingly, realising she was running late to get to the shop.

  ‘Jac . . . sugarpuss, it’s me.’

  ‘Damien.’ Jacqui took a deep breath. ‘I don’t have anything to say to you.’ She was surprised at how calm she felt. Under no circumstances get emotional, she told herself.

  ‘But I do, to you. Look, let me explain. I’d like to say that you misread the situation, but I won’t. It’s just that –’

  ‘You’re right, Damien, I didn’t misread anything. I realise that it probably wasn’t the first time. So let’s just move on, shall we. I have other things going on in my life.’

  ‘I never wanted to hurt you, it’s –’

  ‘Well, you did hurt me. But I am glad that I know the truth now before it went any further, and I have put it all behind me. I’m over it, and moving on. Goodbye.’

  She ended the call, and he was gone. ‘Well, that was easy,’ she said aloud to nobody. She walked to the mirror in the hall and looked at her reflection. And then she started to shake. ‘Oh shit, oh, damn him. Why do I have such lousy choice in men?’ She sighed, slamming a hairbrush through her hair. But then she looked at herself again. She put down the brush, lifted a hand and gave a slight push, a small primp, to her hair, and slowly she smiled at her reflection.

  ‘You’re okay, girl. Looking good. Do what you have to do. Do what you want to do. Yep. Life’s too short.’ She picked up her bag and keys and headed out the door into the Sunday sunshine.

  *

  Later that day, after she’d closed the shop, Jacqui went to Lydia’s and told her about Damien.

  Lydia grinned and raised her eyebrows. ‘How dignified! Well done you. I would have shouted at him. Slug. He’s realised he’s made a huge mistake. Serves him right. How do you feel?’

  Jacqui smiled. ‘I feel okay. Good, actually. Of course, I’m still mad at myself for getting caught like that. Not imagining he could have some twenty-something chick on the side. Still, it won’t happen again.’

  ‘Now, don’t go and close up like a clam. I’m relieved that you got out of that situation. You deserve better. You seem more like your old self, more relaxed. I hope he didn’t try to make amends and sweet-talk you. I don’t want to see you hurt again.’

  ‘No way! I thought you lived and learned. I’ve definitely learned to go slow, be sure, and not to expect too much.’

  ‘But that’s sad, Jacqui. You have to keep your eyes and your heart open. Look at me, I’m still hoping. He’ll turn up one day, but I’m not hanging around waiting,’ said Lydia cheerfully.

  ‘Well, I’m just getting on with my own life, my way,’ Jacqui replied. ‘I just don’t know what to do. Maybe I should go to France and speak to Jean-Luc’s father in person?’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, just ring the idiot up and tell him that you’re Jean-Luc’s mother. Tell him Jean-Luc is coming, as he always
has. It’s the summer holidays, he won’t miss anything important!’ said Lydia brusquely. ‘Can’t he spend a month with you and a month or so back there, picking grapes, or whatever it is he has to do? No point in rushing to France. You just have to get him to agree to a compromise.’

  Jacqui stared at her. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’ She hugged her friend. ‘You always cut to the chase, Lydia. Now, I actually had another reason for coming over today.’

  Quickly Jacqui told her of Cameron’s plan. Her friend paced around the room.

  ‘Why is Cameron doing this? He doesn’t have to, and I can’t see Daryl Johnson changing his mind. I do agree, though, that to have someone like yourself talk to him, someone who is a bit more detached and not so confrontational, does make some sense.’

  ‘I really think that Cameron wants to give Johnson an accurate picture of the problems that will face Chamberlains if they insist on going ahead.’

  ‘I guess. But I am beginning to think that Cameron puts a lot more weight on your past connection than you do,’ said Lydia.

  ‘As far as I’m concerned, all this is just business,’ replied Jacqui.

  As she made her way home through the town she had come to love, Jacqui found herself in a philosophical mood. She had come to Broome to start over after losing her son, in one sense, and shedding a life in which she’d had little say and no control. Others had made the choices for her.

  It wasn’t until she’d lived and worked in the diverse corners of Australia that she’d found her corner of the world in Broome. And each time her son came to stay with her, they’d both grown stronger and wiser and closer. Her son was loved, cared for, guided and indulged. She’d made a new life and found a world of many races, many histories, the old-timers and the recent arrivals, who somehow all muddled along in the midst of, and surrounded by, the oldest living culture in the world.

  She realised this was what she had to say to Daryl Johnson. Then she could be at peace with the fact that she had tried to make a difference, and that the spirits and ancestors of this land would know that too.

  10

  It was still dark when Jacqui locked the front door and waited on the verandah. The pinpricks of stars were fading and there was the hint of a rim of light at the horizon.

  Cameron’s car slid to a stop by the front gate. Jacqui grabbed her shoulder bag and hurried to the car. She’d thrown a light wrap around her shoulders as she always felt cold when flying and the air was fresh before the sunrise.

  ‘Morning.’ He opened the car door for her. ‘I knew you’d be punctual.’

  ‘I’m never late for a flight. I hate the hassle,’ Jacqui replied.

  ‘There’s something to be said for private charters. Are you nervous?’

  ‘About flying or about Daryl Johnson?’

  Cameron gave a small laugh. ‘I wouldn’t worry, it’s a beautiful day for flying and you’ll charm Daryl and Joanna, I’m sure.’

  ‘I brought her a couple of books as you suggested.’

  The airport was deserted save for the Cessna 210, which glinted in the first rays of sunlight slanting across the pearl sky. The pilot gave them a nod as he met them in the charter company’s small office. He was in his thirties, with a ruddy complexion, blue eyes and a cheerful grin. He looked to Jacqui like the boys who spent most of their time on the land; stockmen, jackaroos, shearers and agricultural workers.

  He shook their hands. ‘I’m Johnny Banks. Only a few formalities to complete. No luggage, then?’

  ‘No, just us,’ Cameron replied.

  ‘Have you flown out this way before?’ Johnny asked them.

  Jacqui shook her head. ‘No, I’m looking forward to seeing this part of the country.’

  ‘I’ve been out to a few places, but not this property before. What’s the distance?’ asked Cameron.

  ‘By land, approximately 820 kilometres or 440 nautical miles. Should take us about two-and-a-half hours with the three of us. How long do you think you’ll be on the ground?’ the pilot asked Cameron.

  ‘Couple of hours. Morning tea, a meeting and a chat, maybe a bit of a look around the station. Say we leave around 2 pm? Will that get us back here before dark?’ He glanced at Jacqui. ‘I know it’s not a social visit but the more informal the better.’ She nodded in agreement.

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ said Johnny with a smile. ‘Right then, let’s get airborne. I’ve lodged the flight plan and I’ll just run you through the safety check.’

  ‘Can I sit in the front?’ asked Jacqui. ‘Better view. I want to take some photos.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Once they were on board, Johnny explained about the safety procedures, their headsets, and how the radio worked in an emergency. They had emergency gear and water stowed in the back. ‘Right, let’s do some sightseeing in one of the remotest parts of the country!’

  It seemed to Jacqui that the little plane skipped along the runway then suddenly picked up its skirt like a dancing lady and – whoosh – was airborne. ‘So exhilarating,’ she said to Johnny beside her.

  His voice crackled back through her earphones. ‘Yep. It’s always a little adrenalin hit to leap into the wild blue yonder! We’ll head down the coast before turning inland. Stunning scenery along there.’

  The landscape below them was breathtaking in its sweep of coastline, the ribbon of empty red road running parallel to the dunes and sketchy pindan country where the rib of low ranges rose in the distance. Nothing moved save for the silent ripple of waves flattening to shore in the clear sunlight. Jacqui suddenly grasped what Wally had meant when he’d spoken about the aerial perspective Aboriginal people often used in their art.

  ‘Thought you wanted to take some photos,’ said Cameron.

  ‘Oh yes! It’s so stunning I can hardly take my eyes off it.’ Jacqui lifted the small camera she’d brought along.

  ‘I get the occasional person up here who looks out and says there’s nothing down there, or comments on how barren it seems,’ said Johnny. ‘They don’t see what we see.’

  ‘Maybe you have to drive it, walk it,’ said Jacqui. ‘There’s nothing like it anywhere in the world.’

  ‘I camp a bit, go fishing. I fly choppers too, so I get to some remote places to fish. It’s amazing country,’ agreed Johnny.

  ‘You must meet some interesting people,’ said Jacqui.

  ‘Yep. Lot of business types, mining people. A few well-heeled tourists. Had a group of scientists from a museum a few weeks back. They were interesting. All very excited about what they’d been doing.’

  ‘What was that?’ Jacqui glanced back at Cameron and saw he was reading some documents, so she didn’t interrupt.

  ‘Oh, fossils and art stuff mainly. Reckoned they’d maybe now found evidence of human occupation from sixty-five thousand years ago,’ said the pilot.

  ‘Incredible, isn’t it. We have no idea what’s out here really.’ Jacqui stared at the horizon spread ahead of them. ‘It’s like flying into space, or into the past.’

  They flew in silence and time evaporated.

  Johnny’s voice in her earphones suddenly surprised Jacqui. ‘There’s a station out to the west there, pretty lonely existence for them,’ he said, pointing into the distance.

  Jacqui leaned forward and saw a red pencil line of dirt road marked by a long russet plume of dust following a lone vehicle. A distant smudge of greenery edged a waterway, and the glint of sun reflected off the tin roofs of the station buildings – main homestead, accommodation, sheds, yards, airstrip and plane, a feedlot, vehicles and tanks of the station settlement.

  ‘They have a few tourists who get out this way on the Gunbarrel so-called-Highway and camp there. I’ve spent a few days at that station. There’s good fishing in the waterholes. Big place, close to a million acres,’ said Johnny. ‘The Flying Doctor was there last week. One of the stockmen got messed up
by a scrub bull and had to be flown out.’

  ‘I guess you have to make your own entertainment,’ said Cameron, joining the conversation. ‘Though it’s not quite running with the bulls! It’s a different lifestyle. Those boys go a bit wild when they get to a town.’

  The cockpit was warm and Jacqui pulled off her headset, leaned her head back and closed her eyes. After a while she fell into a doze. At some point she became aware that the thrum of the engine was louder, though she paid little attention as she couldn’t hear what Cameron was saying to Johnny without her headset.

  She woke with a start as Cameron rested his hand on her shoulder and leaned towards her.

  ‘Jacqui . . .’

  ‘Hang on, I can’t hear you.’ She straightened, reaching for the headset, but as she sat forward she saw the windscreen in front of her and she caught her breath. A smeared film of oil had spread across it, and Johnny was peering forward, frowning.

  ‘What’s happening?’ asked Jacqui in alarm.

  ‘Oil leak,’ said Johnny tersely.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ She glanced back at Cameron, who was also craning forward.

  ‘Visibility is getting worse,’ said Johnny. ‘We’re about a hundred nautical miles away from Johnson’s place.’

  ‘Can you stop the leak somehow?’ asked Jacqui.

  ‘Not from in here.’

  As the sound of the engine changed again, Jacqui gasped. ‘Are we going to crash?’

  ‘Hope not,’ said Johnny.

  ‘We putting down? Where are we?’ Cameron looked out his window. ‘Is there a road we could land on?’

  ‘Only the old Canning Stock Route round these parts.’

  Jacqui was peering out her window. ‘What’s over there? It’s a different colour. Is it a salt pan?’

  ‘Shit.’ Johnny had barely any visibility. He glanced where Jacqui was pointing. ‘Looks like Lake Disappointment. Brace position, and we’ll give it a shot. Get rid of the headsets. We’re out of VHF radio range anyway.’