The Red Coast

by Di Morrissey

  ‘Don’t tell me the witch tried to poison the tree? Cut it down?’

  ‘Don’t say that! I worried about it all the time. But I think she was too superstitious to do that. Though she did very neatly cut me out of the formal wedding photograph. There it was, framed in her house with the smiling groom’s arm around an empty space!’

  Cameron laughed in disbelief, and Jacqui couldn’t help but join in.

  ‘I adored my son,’ she continued, ‘and he was the joy of the family, but he was marked as the future heir from the moment he was born. It worries me, the pressure that’s being put on him.’

  ‘So you didn’t feel you could leave and take him with you? You must have been lonely.’

  ‘I guess I was lonely for affection, someone to really talk to and share things with. I knew my husband had had multiple affairs, even when Jean-Luc was born. At first I didn’t want to admit it was happening, but in the end I had to stop fooling myself. They were women Yves had grown up with, and he was a good catch: wealthy, good-looking, charming. Frenchmen tend to think that having sex is equivalent to enjoying a good dinner, and that wronged wives or girlfriends shouldn’t get emotional about it. C’est naturel!’ Jacqui threw her hands in the air angrily. ‘There are wives who choose to ignore this behaviour for fear of losing a comfortable lifestyle if they divorce, so they close their eyes, or have their own discreet love affairs.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘You are nosey!’ Jacqui exclaimed. ‘He never believed I would leave, he always taunted me with “If and when you decide to divorce . . .” and how I would never be able to take Jean-Luc away. We were virtually living separate lives by then; he was always away on business, or so he said. I just eventually became worn down by an overbearing, invasive and hostile family, and a dour man subject to sulking and a depressive personality. Then I discovered that Yves had kept up a relationship with the woman who’d been his mother’s choice of a wife, which his mother had tacitly condoned. I knew I’d be expected to put up with it. One day I said, “Enough!”’

  ‘Voilà! The mouse that roared!’ Cameron grinned.

  ‘I accused him over his infidelités and told him I wanted a divorce. Of course, he was very pissed off because breaking up is seen as a man’s prerogative. So the family came together as one, mainly over Jean-Luc. They didn’t care about me, of course.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘All went well initially because the judge found in my favour. I lived in divorcee heaven for about two weeks, until Yves appealed the decision. He had a crack rich city lawyer and mine was a local guy who then decided to have a heart attack and left me high and dry. So I lost the appeal and custody of Jean-Luc, plus I had to pay all court costs. Thankfully my parents stepped in and settled things, but I hated that they had to do that. I lived the next few years in a small house nearby in Nîmes. I did some translating work and taught English at the local high school.’

  Jacqui glanced at Cameron, whose face was pinched with concern. She sat quietly for a moment, then continued, ‘But when Jean-Luc was nine, and well settled in the family and with school and friends, and knowing I was always there when he needed me, I felt an overwhelming need to renew my life with my Australian family. To rediscover what affection and caring is all about after years of being excluded and cast aside by my French family. And once I was here, I knew, difficult as it would be, that I had to stay here, where my roots are. My family was wonderfully supportive, so happy to have me back, and they’d been amazing all the years I lived in France. They came over there or we met for a skiing holiday with Jean-Luc or something. They saw I’d made a new life and accepted that, though I realise now how hard it was for them, me being their only child, and their only grandchild so far away. So I came back to Australia alone, determined to get on my feet and maintain my relationship with my son. It was a losing battle for the first few years; I had to pay my own way to France each time to see him. In between I took off travelling around Australia, doing odd jobs. It was an unsettling time.’

  ‘I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been for you,’ said Cameron wonderingly. ‘So that’s where you disappeared to when you fell off the radar.’

  ‘As if you noticed,’ Jacqui scoffed.

  He shrugged. ‘We make decisions at the time which seem like the right thing to do. I hope you don’t have regrets. When you lived in Nîmes, did you have any relationships? You deserved some loving care by the sound of it.’

  ‘I did feel briefly sorry for myself. And I was distracted by a tennis coach for some time. He made me laugh, which was a welcome novelty. And I now have a killer backhand.’

  ‘We’ll have to have a game sometime. If I haven’t done permanent damage.’ Cameron moved his shoulder, then winced. ‘Ouch. Would you please pass the water?’

  Jacqui handed him the bottle of water, and gently wiped Johnny’s face again. The pilot gave a soft moan.

  ‘Johnny, it’s okay. You’re fine, don’t move,’ she said quietly, and in a whispered voice to Cameron added, ‘I think his colour looks a bit better, not so grey.’

  ‘Maybe take his pulse again?’ Cameron raised himself back to a sitting position.

  Jacqui knelt beside Johnny. ‘Well, I can feel it, and it seems steadier, not so fluttery. How are you doing?’

  ‘I’ll be okay.’

  They settled into a comfortable silence, but after a while, Jacqui roused herself and rifled through the survival box. ‘There’re some nuts and dried fruit, packets of snack things, vitamins, glucose lollies. Water-purifying tablets.’

  ‘Water tablets aren’t much help out here.’

  ‘Insect repellent, a mirror. Who’s going to see that? Matches . . .’ She slammed the lid back on in frustration. ‘Surely there’s a search out for us now. We’re hours overdue.’

  ‘It’s a big area, wide open sky. Not like being on a road. Be patient. How about we crack open one of those snack pack things?’

  Jacqui tore open one of the packets and handed it to Cameron. ‘Pretend it’s a steak sandwich,’ she joked.

  ‘Do you want to play imagine your favourite meal? Even if you didn’t cook much in France, I’m sure you would have eaten well.’

  Jacqui sighed. ‘I can rustle up a soufflé if need be. The food tended to be hearty, rustic, healthy. Very traditional, very Mediterranean.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with that. I am peckish, though.’ Cameron tipped the remainder of the snacks into his mouth and looked disappointedly down at the empty packet in his hand.

  ‘All right, so now it’s your turn,’ said Jacqui. ‘Tell me about yourself. Are you the playboy everyone thinks you are?’

  ‘Who thinks that?’ he demanded, sounding affronted.

  ‘C’mon. Your reputation precedes you. Plus your photo has been in trendy magazines. Weren’t you dating some actress? My mother saw something once and was rather impressed, thought you were doing well for yourself,’ said Jacqui.

  ‘You can tell her it was all pretty meaningless. I could say I don’t seem to be lucky in love – my fault, no doubt. I have been accused of being commitment shy, and I don’t argue with that. No point in committing to someone if you don’t feel you’d walk over broken glass or plunge into a raging torrent for them. That sort of thing.’

  ‘What about just listening to a person who needs to talk, or sitting with someone, bringing them a cup of tea without asking? Simple, thoughtful gestures.’

  ‘I don’t do simple gestures. My mistake, I s’pose. I’m expected to make grand gestures. And I do. And then I find that’s all there is, superficial things,’ said Cameron with a touch of bitterness.

  ‘Splashing money around to make a big impression? Just because you can? Like Johnson, like those mining companies? Just to get what they want?’

  Cameron opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly both of them stopped talking, heads cocked, listen
ing.

  ‘Do you hear it?’ whispered Cameron.

  ‘I think so . . . Yes! It’s a plane, I can hear it! Very far away. Oh, thank goodness!’

  ‘Can you see it?’

  ‘No. Not yet.’ She scrambled to her feet and stood still, straining to listen.

  ‘It’s getting fainter,’ muttered Cameron.

  ‘No. No! It can’t!’ Jacqui ducked under the wing and ran away from the crashed plane, staring into the sky, jumping up and down and waving her arms. ‘We’re here, we’re here! Oh, hell.’ She stood still, slowly turning in a circle, face to the sky.

  Cameron came up beside her and touched her shoulder. ‘Jacqui . . . they’ll find us. That could have been anyone going anywhere. They do these searches systematically. Come back in the shade. Save your energy.’

  ‘No chance we can walk out of here?’ she said desperately.

  ‘We’re not going to walk 180 kilometres. We’re not going any distance from this plane. We have all we need for a couple of days.’

  Time became elastic, stretching and shrinking as Cameron dozed and Jacqui sat, lost in thought. Occasionally Jacqui wiped Johnny’s face again, careful to clean around the wound. His breathing seemed much better.

  The sun now slanted low under the wing. She and Cameron draped the space blanket from the kit over the wing as a screen from the sun’s rays.

  ‘I’m opening the cashews,’ she said. She spread out a dozen unsalted cashews and put six in front of Cameron and six in front of herself. She folded the rest back into the packet. ‘Those are for Johnny. I’m going to eat one nut every half-hour.’

  She carefully picked up the little half-moon shape, popped it into her mouth and chewed slowly and deliberately.

  ‘Jacqui, let’s live a little.’ Cameron scooped up his six cashews and tossed them into his mouth, then chewed and swallowed the lot. ‘Maybe a mouthful of nice crisp dry white to wash them down, eh?’ He took a mouthful of water, screwed on the cap and grinned at her.

  Jacqui smiled but folded her arms. ‘I’m saving mine.’

  Once the sun set Jacqui could feel the night air cooling her skin. She shifted slightly, and then Johnny gave a raspy cough and a small groan. Jacqui moved quickly to him as his eyes flickered open.

  ‘Johnny, how do you feel? Do you want some water?’

  ‘Thanks,’ he rasped. Jacqui held the bottle to his mouth and he managed to gulp down a few sips. ‘Bloody hell, what a mess. Are you guys okay?’

  ‘Pretty much. How do you feel?’ asked Jacqui.

  He gingerly lifted a hand to his temple. ‘I’ve felt better.’ He shifted position and closed his eyes again.

  ‘We heard a plane,’ said Jacqui, ‘but it didn’t see us.’

  ‘It’s getting dark,’ said Cameron. ‘Maybe they’ll head over this way at first light.’

  Johnny’s eyes flicked open and he struggled up onto one elbow. ‘They’ll be looking. I didn’t cancel air traffic control SAR – Search and Rescue – at Johnson’s station so they’ll work backwards from there. Did you send up a flare, do the beacon?’

  ‘No. Where are they?’

  ‘In a box in the plane, under my seat. Flares and the EPIRB – the beacon.’

  Cameron helped hoist Jacqui into the plane, and after a few minutes searching in the semi-dark, she located the box and handed it down.

  ‘Let’s have a look,’ said Cameron. With one hand he swiftly felt around, finally pulling out day/night flares and the electronic beacon.

  ‘Turn the beacon on so anyone can pick it up. If you hear another plane, send up the flares. Doubt they’ll be searching at night, though,’ said Johnny.

  ‘Why didn’t they see us earlier?’ Jacqui wondered.

  ‘Big area. Depends on the position of the sun. This is a silver plane on silver sand. Easy to miss.’ He closed his eyes. ‘Feel crook, think I’m passing out again . . .’ Jacqui helped him lie back down, and he closed his eyes and seemed to sleep.

  ‘What did Johnny mean about not cancelling the SAR?’

  ‘When they land at the designated destination on their flight plan they call in and cancel the Search and Rescue. They know we are between where we last took off from and the destination we were aiming for. Huge area out here, though, and there’s almost no way they’d spot us at night. But they’ll find us, Jac, they will. They’ll be up there looking at first light. They’ll pick up the beacon signal for sure. Let’s have another snack and try to sleep.’

  They made themselves as comfortable as possible. Johnny was in a deep sleep, breathing steadily.

  In the narrow patch of soft ground, they wriggled to get comfortable, the three of them almost touching each other under the narrow wing.

  ‘Cosy, huh? You okay, Jac?’

  ‘I s’pose so. Going to be a long night.’

  ‘Shall I sing to you?’

  Jacqui snorted. ‘No, please don’t.’

  They lay in the dark listening to Johnny’s breathing. Jacqui could feel herself slipping away as sleep claimed her. But, suddenly frightened, she shook herself, lifting her head.

  Cameron stretched out his hand and touched her shoulder. ‘Relax, Jacqui. Go to sleep, don’t fight it.’ He left his hand on her shoulder, and she found its weight reassuring. She reached up and linked her fingers through Cameron’s, holding on, feeling that if she let go, she’d drop into some dark abyss beneath the strange lake on which they found themselves.

  *

  The night passed in a state of suspended wakefulness and drifting sleep. Had she slept or simply dozed?

  The minute she moved, Cameron stirred. Johnny still slept, breathing deeply.

  Stiffly Jacqui got to her feet and crawled out from under the wing, stretching in the soft dawn.

  It was silent and still. No plant or animal moved. Jacqui walked around the plane and paused when she saw strange markings in the soft sand. What animal had passed them in the night, or had something been blown on a night breeze, rolling past them like a tumbleweed of ghosts?

  As the curtain of night slowly lifted, Cameron came up next to her.

  ‘Morning. Are you okay?’ He handed her some water. ‘Sorry it’s not tea. Tea and toast would be a cracker at the moment.’

  ‘It’s all right. Nice thought, though. Is Johnny okay?’

  ‘Seems to be.’

  ‘How’s your shoulder?’

  ‘It aches. Torn a muscle, I’d say.’

  They stood side by side, watching the sun slowly rise, revealing a clear and relentless sky.

  Cameron turned. ‘I hear Johnny moving. I’ll see if he needs help.’

  They were relieved to find Johnny more clear-headed, if in some pain.

  ‘Well, we seemed to get through the night surprisingly well,’ said Cameron.

  ‘Just as well no tribespeople were with us, they’d have taken off, I reckon,’ said Johnny.

  ‘Why’s that?’ Cameron asked.

  ‘Ah, well, this place was discovered by explorer Frank Hann when he was looking for fresh water. When he found this dry salt pan instead he called it Lake Disappointment. But the local tribespeople say it’s one of the most dangerous areas in the Western Desert. This is home to dreaming spirits, cannibal beings, who live under the lake, in their own world, with its own sky and a sun that never sets. They sound pretty scary.’

  ‘Ooh, thanks for not telling us last night!’ said Jacqui with a shudder.

  ‘So we’ve trashed a sacred site?’ Cameron raised an eyebrow. ‘Weren’t there plans to mine here for potash?’

  ‘I think they got scared off . . . but who knows how.’ Johnny rubbed his eyes. ‘Man, have I got a headache.’

  ‘I’ll get you some aspirin.’ Jacqui stood and turned back towards the plane, then shrieked.

  ‘I see a dot out there, I’m sure. Towards the sun!’<
br />
  ‘An eagle maybe?’ suggested Cameron as they shaded their eyes.

  ‘Is that a noise? Could it be . . . ?’ Cameron peered into the glaring gold light rushing up the sky.

  ‘Quick, Jacqui, get the flares,’ said Johnny urgently. He explained how to release one and they watched the rocket shoot into the dawn sky, exploding into a searing fire trail.

  They waited. The dot grew a little larger and then they heard the faint but distinctive hum of an aircraft.

  ‘Give it a little while, then we’ll send up another. They’ll be looking, so they should spot it,’ said Johnny.

  ‘Oh, thank heavens.’ Jacqui clutched Cameron’s hand.

  ‘Can they land here?’ asked Cameron.

  ‘Not if it’s a fixed-wing plane. If it’s the rescue chopper they can land.’

  They continued to wait in tense silence, and after a few minutes they let off one more flare. Then they saw in the light of the new day that the small speck was growing bigger as it aimed in their direction.

  *

  It was dusk when Jacqui drove Cameron’s hire car to the place where he was staying, a rambling classic Broome house that had been converted into an up-market B&B.

  ‘Sorry I can’t drive you home,’ Cameron said. ‘Take this car and I’ll get someone to pick it up later. I should be able to use my arm in a couple of days.’

  ‘You can leave it in my driveway if you want. Whatever works,’ she said in a tired voice.

  ‘I know it’s been a long day, and all a bit traumatic. Are you okay?’

  Jacqui nodded, but she felt absolutely drained. The rescue chopper had taken them to Karratha to be checked out at the hospital there, and while Johnny had stayed in for observation, she and Cameron had been brought home to Broome. Waking that morning out on Lake Disappointment felt like a lifetime ago. ‘Just very tired. I suppose it’s all just sinking in. I’m so glad Johnny is all right.’

  Cameron nodded as he awkwardly reached for the door handle. ‘I won’t suggest dinner or a drink. You should go home and call your son and relax. Have a massage or a spa tomorrow. Please let me treat you.’