The Red Coast

by Di Morrissey

  ‘Thanks, Cameron, but I have to go to work. Sylvia already had to fill in for me an extra day.’ Jacqui got out of the car, pulled his shoulder bag off the back seat and handed it to him.

  ‘Thanks. Look, Jacqui, obviously we have unfinished business – we need to talk. I’m here for a few more days. Call me when you’re ready.’

  Jacqui nodded. At the moment her enthusiasm to confront Daryl Johnson and charm or coerce him had evaporated.

  ‘Sleep well.’

  ‘Look after that arm,’ she answered as he walked along the path lined with floodlit palms into the gracious former pearling master’s house.

  When she arrived home, Jacqui carefully unpacked her bag. She took a long shower and shampooed her hair, then slipped on a loose caftan.

  In the kitchen she pulled out some crackers and goat’s cheese and sliced a fresh mango from the tree in her backyard. Then she poured herself a glass of wine and went to her favourite spot in the garden to enjoy them. She moved carefully and deliberately, each small action reaffirming that she was here, and life went on, just as it always had, except that at some point she’d stopped noticing. Now each moment was to be savoured. The calmness of her back garden, hidden from view, the softness of the night air, the pleasure of food and a sip of wine suddenly overwhelmed her and she started to cry softly.

  How swiftly everything could have been snatched from her – or cruelly curtailed by devastating injury. The moments in the plane and possible alternative scenarios flashed before her and she felt again that tumultuous descent. She started to shake and quickly put down her wineglass, picked up her phone and punched it urgently.

  ‘Maman! Are you well? Where are you? Somewhere exciting?’ Her son’s happy voice bubbled into her heart, and she drew a deep breath.

  ‘Darling boy, I’m sitting in my secret garden enjoying a mango.’

  ‘Oh là là . . . I so miss those mangoes.’

  Jacqui could hear a lot of voices in the background, so she said, ‘Am I interrupting anything, Jean-Luc? It sounds like you have a crowd there!’

  ‘Oh no, just some friends,’ he said. ‘I have a holiday from school tomorrow so I am at home with Papa and everyone has come round.’

  ‘Well, I won’t keep you from your mates, darling. I just wanted to tell you that I am going to speak to your father about the holidays. I think he’s being rather unreasonable, so I am going to find a way to make sure you can still come to Australia and stay with me.’

  ‘That’s great, Maman! I really hope you can work something out.’

  ‘Me too, my darling,’ she said, suddenly feeling firmer and more positive than she had before. ‘Enjoy your holiday. I miss you, and I love you very much.’

  ‘Moi aussi. Au revoir, Maman, je t’aime.’

  Jacqui hung up and took a sip of wine. Hearing all the chattering in the background of the phone call had brought an immediate memory of the long lunches on the terrace at the rear of the mas provençal, the rambling double-storeyed stone farmhouse overlooking the vineyards. She could visualise them sitting at the long table, the children always included. No doubt Yves’ other woman was there, still being strung along. And, no doubt, the same rules applied where the children were not permitted to speak English when en famille.

  There was a quiet footfall and the click of the side gate.

  ‘Thought I’d find you out here. You okay?’ asked Lydia gently. ‘I mean, I know you’re all right physically, but . . .’ She shuddered, reached out and squeezed Jacqui’s shoulder. ‘That’d do my head in. Especially ending up on Kumpupirntily – Lake Disappointment. Bad spirit place, that.’

  ‘Yes, so the pilot told us – but only once we were okay. Help yourself to a drink. I’m just relaxing here.’

  ‘Don’t blame you. This is the real world, eh?’

  Lydia returned with the bottle of wine, some ice and a glass for herself. ‘Man, we were worried. So did you get to talk to Daryl in the end?’

  ‘No! And I’ll tell you this for nothing, I’m not flying back there to see him!’

  Lydia chuckled. ‘And stuck with Cameron North too! How was he?’

  ‘He hurt his shoulder, but not too badly. The pilot was knocked unconscious, but I haven’t got a scratch. Cameron was good.’

  ‘It was a long time to sit out there. How did you pass the time?’

  ‘Talked. Well, I talked. It turns out Cameron is a good listener.’ She shook her head. ‘Can’t believe it, I told him stuff I’ve never told anyone, not even you.’

  ‘Oh. Was that wise?’

  Jacqui shrugged. ‘It’s nothing that’s going to change my life. And I doubt anyone would be interested. Just about my marriage and France.’

  Lydia raised an eyebrow. ‘Just? You’ve never told me much about it. And Cameron? Did he share family secrets?’

  ‘No. That’s when a rescue plane went over.’

  ‘How do you feel about him knowing so much personal stuff?’

  Jacqui shrugged. ‘It’s of no interest to anyone, and I don’t think he’ll share it. But out there in the desert he was a different person, calm, kind, sympathetic.’

  Lydia didn’t look convinced. ‘Well, if you’re comfortable with it, then that’s all that matters. Have you spoken to Jean-Luc yet?’

  ‘Yes. But I didn’t tell him what happened. He was about to have lunch with his father and friends, and I know what those lunches are like.’

  ‘Hope he doesn’t hear about it from Peggy or someone. Better fill him in to be sure.’

  ‘Yes, I will. Tomorrow. I didn’t trust myself to mention it earlier. I feel okay now, and I’m glad you’re here.’

  Lydia lifted her glass and then burst out laughing. ‘Shit, Jac. I was freaking.’

  Jacqui grinned. ‘Yeah, me too. I’ll downplay it to my son and my parents, though.’ She took a sip of her wine. ‘I’m actually rather sorry I never got to meet with Daryl Johnson. I’ll see if Cameron can set up another meeting. Johnson comes to town every so often.’

  ‘Mightn’t be the same. There are moments when it feels right. I reckon if you’d met him out there, on his home turf, you’d have made an impact. Lobbying him here in town is a bit different. I think the moment might have passed, Jac.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like you. We’re not caving in to Chamberlains!’

  ‘No. We have lots of options; these legal delays are critical to making headaches for Chamberlain Industries, plus the environmental disputes, the protests and the media coverage. The biggest asset we have is Eddie and the power of his commitment to Aboriginal cultural connection to their country.’

  ‘You know, sitting out there in that desolate place, I couldn’t help feeling that it was . . . alive . . . you know? I really thought I could maybe help sway Daryl Johnson. I hope I’m not letting you all down.’

  ‘Never. Maybe this is some kind of wake-up call,’ said Lydia seriously.

  Jacqui laughed. ‘Yeah, right. Like? Live a little?’

  ‘I dunno.’ She shrugged. ‘You know my spooky spiritual side sets off my antennae. I just want to make sure you’re okay.’ She leaned forward and squeezed Jacqui’s hand.

  ‘What a good friend you are,’ said Jacqui. ‘I’m all right. If anything, this little episode has shaken me up a bit – in a positive way. I’ve decided I’m not going to sit down and be bossed around by my ex-husband over my son. It was always just easier in the past to cave in for Jean-Luc’s sake. His father is domineering and I didn’t want Jean-Luc’s life to be made difficult. Our issues shouldn’t affect him, but of course they do.’

  ‘Kids should never be the pawn between parents. But it happens.’

  ‘Yeah. Which is why I’m always the one who backs down. And his father knows that.’

  She knew now what she had to say to Jean-Luc’s father: that there are the weak and the strong, there’s fairness a
nd injustice, there’s equality and there’s discrimination. Everyone has their own truth and their own path. Now she understood why she was here, and why this place was weaving its own connection with her son. Jacqui felt a sense of renewal; she believed in herself, trusted her instincts, and knew she could manage her life. And that in life, love meant going forward side by side, neither one leading or following.

  ‘So what are you thinking?’ Lydia interrupted her thoughts.

  ‘I’m going to stand up to him and do whatever it takes, even if I have to fly to France and have it out with Yves. I’m not going to sit quietly here and allow him to dictate whether or not Jean-Luc can visit. Jean-Luc and I are close – I know he has a strong Aussie side to him – but Jean-Luc knows he also has a potential future linked to his father’s side. As he gets older, he can choose for himself which way he wants to go and what he wants to do. But he has to know his options. This last visit I really did feel he was beginning to understand his Australian heritage.’

  ‘Good for you.’

  Jacqui took a deep breath. ‘But enough about me! How’re things with you, Lydia?’

  ‘Oh, you know, full on with this fight, family, always something. When this is all over . . . well, I might make a change.’

  ‘Your job? Travel? What?’ asked Jacqui curiously.

  Lydia shifted in her seat. ‘Well, I’ve been talking to Eddie and the old aunties and family . . . I think I might make a run at politics.’

  ‘Wow! That’s a great idea, you’d be a terrific representative! I’ll vote for you. And it’s not just your people who need someone like you. The whole town does. You know both sides of the issues and are passionate about what you believe in. I can see it, I really can,’ enthused Jacqui. ‘It seems so logical. Good on you.’

  ‘Ah well, it’s still a way off, and there’s a lot of groundwork to cover. I just feel you can only do so much yapping in the media and fighting at grassroots level. I want to be where the decisions are made.’

  ‘And you will. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Well, keep it under your hat. It will come out when the time is right. Just have to win this current war first.’

  Jacqui nodded. ‘Yes, we do.’

  Lydia drained her glass and stood up. ‘Gotta go, I’m afraid. Family shindig.’ Jacqui got to her feet and the two women hugged. ‘I think we’re both going to be okay, Jac.’

  Jacqui watched Lydia wend her way through the darkened garden. Her phone suddenly rang, breaking the spell.

  ‘Hi, Cameron, are you okay?’

  ‘I was just ringing to ask you the same thing. Delayed shock can set in.’

  ‘No, I’m fine. Lydia was just here checking on me. I feel well. It seems a bit of a dream in some respects. Thank you for everything out there. You were a rock. I’m grateful.’

  ‘Well, it’s something else we now have in common. Have you talked to your parents?’

  ‘Not yet. Tomorrow.’

  ‘Sensible. Tell them I thought you were terrific. Sleep well, Jac.’

  ‘You too, Cam. G’night.’

  She hung up, surprised that she’d used his childhood nickname.

  The solar lights secreted around the trees and shrubs had come on, and, as she often did, Jacqui glanced around her sheltered secret garden, feeling she was adrift in a magical fairyland that had become her home.

  11

  Time melts in the Kimberley, dissolving under searing blue skies, soaking into its ancient landscape.

  Jacqui had learned to adjust to the languid pace, the somnolent afternoons, so that there was always time to pause and silently observe the magnificence or the minutiae of local scenery, or pass the time of day with a stranger.

  At certain times the pace stepped up: the Broome Cup Carnival, the Shinju Matsuri festival, music events, or a gloriously clear Staircase to the Moon, which meant a night to linger and party.

  But this afternoon, with the tide out, Jacqui followed Lydia and Bobby Ching as they squelched through the grey sludge of Barred Creek, poking long metal rods among the tangle of mangrove roots. They took their time, prodding gently, moving carefully.

  ‘Got one!’ squealed Jacqui when she felt the solid shape and movement as she struck the carapace of a mud crab. She turned the hooked end of the rod as she dragged the resisting bulk from its hiding place under the mangrove roots, a huge ominous muddy-grey claw waving a warning.

  Bobby came to her side, bent down and, with a thickly gloved hand, snatched the crab from behind and pulled it free of the curve of Jacqui’s rod. Then he dropped it into the sack he held.

  ‘A beauty. How many you got, Lydia?’ he called out to their companion, who was a short distance away.

  ‘Four!’

  ‘Reckon that’ll do us with the couple I got. We gonna have a cook-up?’ asked Bobby.

  ‘You bet. Come over to my place later,’ said Lydia. ‘My nieces and nephews will want some.’

  ‘Why don’t we have a cook-up on the beach? We haven’t done that for ages,’ said Jacqui.

  ‘Been a long time since we been out to The Point,’ sighed Bobby. ‘We gotta get rid of that mob stopping us using our land.’

  ‘We’re doing our best, mate,’ said Lydia. ‘It’s in the courts again. Chamberlains are getting pretty frustrated with all the hold-ups.’

  ‘Must be costing our lawyers a bundle. Bet they wished they never offered to help us for free,’ said Bobby.

  ‘Don’t say that. We’re grateful and we give them ammunition for the case,’ said Lydia. ‘There’s still a silent war between some former friends, neighbours and townsfolk. But now the battle is being played out in boardrooms, legal offices, media barrages, and political infighting behind party room doors. The right-wing mob are calling anyone objecting to the mine “paid professional protestors”.’ She drew a breath. ‘We know the company and their joint venture partners are haemorrhaging dollars, but it appears they thought the end result would be well worth it – on their terms.’

  Jacqui nodded and added, ‘But for those fighting, no amount of money could ever begin to replace the loss of The Point. Or cover the potential threat of future invasive projects.’

  ‘We just need to keep coming up with evidence for them. Okay, let’s head home,’ said Lydia. ‘I’d better get my crabs.’ She went ahead to collect the hessian sack of crabs she’d hung on a branch.

  ‘How’s your shop doing, Jac?’ asked Bobby as he and Jacqui waded through the creek back to where they’d parked.

  ‘Not bad. I’m lucky up here. Like so many industries, publishing has slowed down, and lots of bookstores in cities have had to close.’

  ‘Yeah, and things have hit the wall here with all this drama. Lot of people thought the mining and the gas would bring workers and business here. There’s a bunch of land sitting empty where someone was going to build workers’ accommodation and stuff. Speculators who jumped the gun. Quite a few people might regret taking the plunge when they did.’

  ‘That was Colin and Natalie’s dream. He’s a developer in Perth, but she’s keen to move back here if Chamberlain Industries move in,’ sighed Jacqui. ‘I just don’t think we’ll ever have the same friendship we once did.’

  ‘Yeah. A lot of people found that when it came to the crunch old pals busted up over money more than doing the right thing, eh?’

  ‘How’re you doing, Bobby?’

  ‘So-so. We need more tourists, and more things for them to do. Y’know, different stuff. Chester has some good ideas. Me and him are kinda thinking we’ll do special tourist trips. Me round town, him out bush.’

  ‘Great idea. Talk to Wally, he’s been teaching his grandsons the stories, and some of them would be great tour guides on their country. That’s the sort of thing visitors want to hear and see. And also Palmer and Phillip Knowles, they’re knowledgeable and wonderful speakers.’

 
‘We can’t afford them university fellas.’

  Jacqui was thoughtful. ‘Maybe we need them to help teach some of their knowledge to the young ones like Wally’s grandsons. I’ll talk to Lydia about it. Maybe she can find out, or instigate, some sort of funding for it under a tourism grant or something.’

  ‘Lydia’s handy at that political stuff all right. Good idea, Jac.’

  When she got home Jacqui showered, changed, and dumped the trainers she’d worn in the muddy creek in a bucket of water. Then, glancing at the clock, she did something she had been building up the courage to do for a long time. She picked up the phone and punched in Yves’ number.

  *

  Jacqui’s mood bordered on euphoric as she packed some mangoes and the ingredients for a salad and, smiling to herself, impulsively took a bottle of Champagne from the fridge, put everything in a basket and headed over to Lydia’s house.

  There was the usual sprawl of family and friends at Lydia’s and Jacqui felt instantly at home. Tail wagging madly, Bullseye rushed to greet her as she took her basket into the kitchen.

  ‘Where’re the muddies?’ she asked Lydia, who was putting the finishing touches to some potato salad.

  ‘Sleeping in the freezer. Poor buggers, I can’t just throw them in boiling water until they’re out of it. Champagne, eh? Are you celebrating anything special? Apart from your unscheduled visit to Lake Disappointment?’ Lydia smiled.

  ‘I am, actually. I’m still a bit overwhelmed. I made the call. I had an extended conversation with my ex-husband! I think he was rather shocked that I just picked up the phone and rang him, and at his office, too. They put me through when I insisted it was very important.’

  ‘And?’ Lydia picked up the bottle of Champagne as Jacqui looked for glasses.

  ‘He was coldly courteous at first, then he huffed and puffed and tried his usual arrogant “I am always right and no one challenges me” line. But I’d thought through my case and I argued it very firmly and calmly, I thought. He was stunned at my speaking to him like that, I think. Miss Meek and Mild has gone! I was the mouse that roared, as Cameron put it. You know, I can’t recall the last time I spoke to my ex one on one. He didn’t have time to put together a coherent argument. Spluttered a lot.’