by Annie Seaton
‘You always had an interest in holistic medicine and alternative therapies.’
Emma ignored the opening to talk about their past. ‘The clinic works well. I have more time to treat the whole patient. I have longer appointments and it gets busier each week.’
‘And it’s just you and Lily? How do you cope with the workload?’
‘We get by.’ She moved away from him and changed the subject. ‘Jenny tells me you’re going to the YP dinner on Friday night. We can catch up there. Best I can do this week.’
‘Sounds like a plan. I’ll look forward to it.’
‘I’ll leave you to it. See you tomorrow night.’ By then she would be more used to Jeremy being around. She’d asked Lily to keep the appointments clear tomorrow so she could go out to the rainforest to check up on Wilma and replenish her stocks. She was hoping to see Troy tomorrow night too. He’d rung from the centre, postponing their weekend hike due to work, but asked her to save him a seat at the club.
*
For the tenth time in as many minutes, Emma thumped her pillow and turned it over to the cool side. Flashbacks of her time in Sydney with Jeremy had been interspersed with what little sleep she’d managed. It was still before midnight when she padded barefooted to the kitchen for a glass of water. The thought of catching up with him tomorrow night filled her with trepidation. Why did he have to turn up in her life again?
She told herself he wouldn’t last up here. She’d seen so many doctors turn over since she’d been here. Jeremy wouldn’t be any different; and as for the Outreach job, there was no way she could imagine him out in isolated clinics. He was a city boy through and through.
Whether he stayed or left, there was no way she was going to let Jeremy ruin her new life. Since the mystery of her father’s death had been solved last winter and Mum had moved down to Port Douglas, Emma’s life had finally settled.
‘I’ve lived here too long, Em. It’s time you had some space.’ On the morning Mum moved out, she had hugged her and then pushed the hair back from Emma’s face. ‘You’ve always been the organiser and the carer. Even when you were a little girl, playing doctors with your dolls. Cooking scones and cakes for us.’ Mum’s eyes had brightened. ‘I’m blessed with my three girls; Ellie, my little farmer, you, the nurturer and Dru . . . well, Dru will find her place one day.’
Living in her cottage and filling her days at the clinic and the hospital had given Emma a peace that neither she nor her sisters had known for a few years. The Outreach job would have made her happiness complete. Emma sat up, thumped the pillow again and turned it over.
Why had she wanted it so badly? Was it the promotion that had enticed her or the acknowledgment that she was good enough?
She turned and buried her face in the pillow, letting the cool cotton soothe her heated skin. Let him have the job then. No doubt he’d charm everybody here like he’d charmed her back at university. Head to head in the university library studying together, he would lift his hand and tuck her hair behind her ear before lowering his head with a cheeky smile. She’d loved the picnics they’d had together over at North Head; they’d lain on a rug in the winter sunshine looking out over beautiful Sydney Harbour. His brother’s little girl, Brianna, had loved to come with them and one of her enduring memories was of Jeremy pushing her on the swing.
‘Higher, higher, Uncle Jem,’ she’d yell out.
They’d had their disagreements, though. When she got a higher mark than he did, he would go into a sulk and stay away from her flat for a day or two. And she’d learned that even if it was okay for him to criticise his family, he was sensitive about his advantageous background. That was why she never told him what his mother had said to her just before she’d left. It still had the power to hurt. Her words had stayed with her for years and she was savvy enough to know that the self-doubt that plagued her then had been fed by that conversation. Mrs Langford had pulled her aside at Jeremy’s birthday dinner and given her the third degree.
‘What school did you attend, Emma?’
‘Jabiru.’
‘Is that a new Jewish private school?’ The eyebrows had almost met the perfectly coiffed blonde hair. ‘I haven’t heard of it.’
Emma had smothered a laugh. ‘No. It’s a public school in the Northern Territory.’
‘And what does your father do?’ The plum in her voice would have been at home in a BBC period drama.
Emma refused to look away, knowing she didn’t measure up because she hadn’t attended Abbotsleigh or Ascham. ‘We have a farm.’
‘Sheep?’ Perhaps a wool cheque would have been acceptable to the Langford family. Some of the girls in the medical course had come from massive properties in western New South Wales, but they’d boarded at the ‘acceptable’ schools for at least their senior years, and were all very comfortably ensconced in Sydney society by the time university began.
‘Mangoes.’
The eyebrows rose higher. ‘Mangoes?’
‘Yes . . . and oh, Dad sometimes works part-time at the pub in town too.’ Might as well let her have it with both barrels. Stuck-up bitch. She could see where Jeremy’s occasional arrogance came from.
‘How nice.’ The words had been ice-cold. Mrs Langford’s pale blue eyes, so much like Jeremy’s, had held hers steadily. Although Mrs Langford said nothing further at that point, Emma knew she had been judged, found wanting and dismissed. The words that had caused Emma so much pain had come much later in the night, after Mrs Langford had the support of the expensive champagne that was flowing.
‘My dear, I hope you are aware that Jeremy is only filling in time with you.’ One of his mother’s perfectly manicured hands had gripped Emma’s wrist. She pointed across the large garden with her other hand. Jeremy stood beneath a tree decorated with fairy lights, smiling down at a petite blonde girl. ‘That’s Polly. They have an understanding, you know.’
Emma had hidden her distress and kept her voice cool. ‘I’m so pleased for all of you. Nothing like an understanding, is there?’ She pulled her hand away. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to leave. I start work at MacDonald’s at midnight.’
Mrs Langford’s lip had curled with disapproval. ’Certainly. Shall I call you a taxi?’
As Jeremy’s mother had told her, Polly was much more suitable for their family. That had become obvious when Mrs Langford had answered Emma’s final call the week after Dad’s funeral. Consumed by grief in the week before the service, anxious about Mum’s state of mind and trying to console Dru, who seemed to be blaming herself for Dad’s suicide, Emma had been too preoccupied to try the Langfords’ home number again after Jeremy didn’t return her first call.
Finally on the Sunday afternoon, she’d tried again. His mother had answered and when Emma had asked to speak to Jeremy, Mrs Langford’s response had added to her certainty that not just Jeremy’s mother, but also Jeremy himself, thought he could do better.
‘Oh I am sorry, Emma. Jeremy and Polly have gone away for the weekend to the south coast.’
Ice had penetrated the grief that filled Emma. She couldn’t believe it. But at the same time, that small part of her that had always believed she wasn’t good enough for Jeremy and his family now finally had proof. It was almost a relief. Her voice was dull as she replied. ‘Please tell him I called to say goodbye.’ Her voice broke as she said ‘goodbye’ and she disconnected the call before his mother could gloat any more.
That call had been a turning point for her and she and Dru had moved to Townsville at the start of the next semester. Mum had moved with them and stayed with their aunt.
But it was time to put those memories away.
Even though the hot nights of summer were a few weeks away, her room was stuffy and sleep eluded her; her thirst taking her to the kitchen for the third time at 4.00 am. She turned the light on, reached for a glass and headed to the stone water filter next to the sink.
As she stood at her kitchen window looking out into the dark, a bright light flashed past the w
indow, lighting up the backyard and reflecting off the river. She narrowed her eyes, surprised to see a vehicle moving slowly along the other side of the water. The car turned into a paddock and its lights went off, plunging the landscape into darkness once more. As she watched, Bowser shot out from beneath the kitchen table and began scratching at the door. Emma crossed to the door and as soon as she opened it, the little black dog pushed past her and ran across the yard to the edge of the river, barking madly. Not wanting to draw attention to herself from whoever was parked across there—she was half-naked in her T-shirt and undies—Emma left the porch light off as she went outside.
She slipped on a pair of rubber thongs and walked carefully to the riverbank where Bowser was running up and down, his loud yaps carrying across the water. Reaching down, she grabbed his collar and hissed at him.
He fought against her grip as she dragged him back to the house. ‘You’re so naughty. Shush,’ she chastised him quietly.
There was flash of movement to her left and a loud rustle in the grass and as she jumped back, Bowser began to bark furiously. By now Emma’s eyes had adjusted to the dark, and the dark tail of a snake whipped into her vision as it headed back towards the water. Its head was raised and was moving from side to side as the long reptile moved quickly across the path between her and the house. The path she’d just walked down in a pair of thongs.
A shudder ripped through Emma and fear turned her legs to a quivering mass of jelly.
A dark brown snake.
‘Bloody hell. A taipan,’ she whispered. Her throat closed and she held her breath. Moving slowly, inch by inch, she leaned forwards and tightened her grip on Bowser’s collar. ‘Just as well neither of us stood on it, you silly pup.’
Emma stood there, measuring the distance to the back door as she tried to catch her breath. Another quick movement made her jump, but it was a small rodent running across the path near the clothesline.
The snake froze. Emma jerked at Bowser’s collar as he whimpered and strained to get away from her hold.
‘Be quiet.’ The last thing she wanted was for the snake to change direction towards them. As she watched in the dim moonlight, the taipan raised its head and hurled itself at the rat, issuing several quick bites in succession.
Emma backed away slowly, but as she turned to flee to the house, she was suddenly bathed in bright light from the headlights of the vehicle across the river. Putting her free hand up to cover her eyes, she stopped and glanced back to make sure the snake was gone, and then took off again, dragging Bowser along behind her as he yapped in protest, his short legs dragging along the path. She flung the back door open and threw him inside ahead of her before slamming it shut behind her. Kicking off her thongs, Emma crossed to the sink and stood at the side of the window away from the bright light that shone on the house.
Her hands were shaking and she tried to grip the side of the bench but her palms were damp with perspiration. Raising one hand, she wiped perspiration from her forehead. Her heart was thudding and she remembered George’s warning about snakes being on the move early this spring. Light swept across the kitchen walls and then the house darkened as the vehicle across the river turned and moved slowly back towards the village. It was hard to see anything in the dark, but it looked like a white ute of some sort. It had been up near the old airfield. She watched as it turned away from the houses and headed along the Dalrymple road.
Emma went back to bed but there was no way she’d get to sleep now. She wondered what someone was doing out there in the middle of the night. It was a quiet village, and she knew all of the remaining residents. Three of the houses were empty and the occupants now resided in the aged care facility at the hospital.
She finally gave up on sleep just after six and headed for the shower. She might as well have an early start out to Wilma’s.
Her car was parked across the river in George’s shed. Emma pulled on a sturdy pair of boots and then reached down and tucked Bowser under one arm.
‘You can come with me today, pup.’ She didn’t want to risk either of them running into that taipan again.
Chapter 11
Friday morning
Daintree Rainforest
The Daintree River vehicular ferry was just heading to the dock for its first trip across the river when Emma’s small sedan rounded the last bend on the southern side of the river. With George in hospital she’d brought Bowser with her; there was too much risk of him escaping from George’s backyard with him not there.
‘If Wilma’s not home, you’ll have to wait in the car.’ Bowser whimpered and then curled up on the back seat, tucking his little head beneath his paws.
There was only one other vehicle ahead of Emma’s in the queue and once she’d driven onto the ferry, she parked and climbed out of her car, leaning on the rail of the old barge as other vehicles drove on behind her. The sky lightened as the sun cleared the tops of the trees in the east and a shard of sunlight hit the smooth surface of the river. Morning in the Daintree was always spectacular, whatever the season. The tide was low and dozens of birds covered the mud flats as night transitioned into day. Three small crocodiles lay at the edge of the river ignoring the grey herons that pecked around them in the shallow water.
The rattle of the chain cable preceded the movement of the ferry and it glided away from the southern edge towards the middle of the river. The ferry was the sole access to Cape Tribulation and although this part of the Daintree River was wider than the narrow neck of water up at the village near Emma’s house, it was still only a five-minute trip across. She took in a deep breath of the fresh, clean air. No wonder this was such a popular tourist destination: a tropical climate, ancient vegetation, beautiful surroundings and a vast array of wildlife and birds. God, she was waxing poetic this morning. She grinned to herself as she remembered Troy’s words at a talk at the Rainforest Tourist Centre when he’d taken over the management.
‘The Daintree is one of the oldest rainforests in the world and a place of exquisite beauty. It is home to some amazing natural phenomena like Hope’s cycad, a relic from the age of the dinosaurs and probably the first plant on the planet to incorporate an animal into its reproduction process. It’s also home to several endangered animal species including the musky-rat kangaroo, spotted-tail quoll and the southern cassowary. As a member of the National Parks and Wildlife service, and as someone who has come to love this special place, I am committed to ensuring this forest not only survives, but thrives. We have a commitment to environmental sustainability and have many projects that will ensure that.’
His words had stayed in her mind because it echoed what Wilma had taught her over the past couple of years. Wilma’s descriptions were more down-to earth but she appreciated Troy’s knowledge. She glanced down at her watch; she’d swing into the centre and surprise him on the way home. Maybe he could make time for a coffee. As long as she got back early enough to collect George from the hospital on the way through. She was disappointed that Troy wasn’t able to make their weekend date, although to be honest, the week had been so topsy-turvy she’d barely given him a thought since Sunday.
‘You look like a tourist there today, Doctor Porter.’ Clive, the ferryman, interrupted her thoughts as he leaned on the railing beside her. ‘Day off?’
‘Sort of. I’m going up to see Wilma. I’m hoping she’s at home. Has she been across the ferry this week?’
Clive shook his head. ‘Haven’t seen her down this way for a few weeks.’
‘She should be at home then.’
He headed to the front of the barge and Emma looked up as the morning lightened.
The sky deepened into a brilliant pink as the sun rose higher. It was going to be a hot day. With any luck, Wilma would have a supply of the cocky apple bark Emma needed, so she wouldn’t have to go deep into the forest herself and could spend more time with Wilma. She suppressed a shiver; that taipan had really spooked her and she wasn’t too keen on going into the bush today. She was happy to he
lp Wilma out by paying cash for the bush medicines the elderly woman collected from the rainforest. As far as Emma knew, Wilma relied on an old age pension, supplemented by her treatment of the local Aboriginal community up near the cape. From what Emma could glean, many of her patients paid with home-grown vegetables and produce; Wilma seemed to live a frugal life.
She was also interested in the sandpaper fig treatment that Wilma had told her about. One of the elderly patients at the hospital had a nasty fungal infection and Emma was keen to try the leaf part of the treatment. She’d shivered when Wilma had described the next step of covering the treated area with a green ants’ nest. Apparently the stings and the formic acid from the ants made for a very effective cure. She wouldn’t be implementing that side of the process on Mrs Abernethy. She grinned as Jeremy popped into her thoughts. That would certainly destroy any credibility she had gained with him. Greg had given her a good rap and she appreciated it.
When Troy had heard about her interest in bush medicine, he’d given her the new information booklet from the Rainforest Tourist Centre. A survey in the 1960s had listed at least 124 different species of plants in the Daintree that had been identified by Aboriginal people as having healing properties: sedatives, ointments for sores, remedies for stomach and gut complaints. Emma was fascinated to read that only one percent of rainforest plants had been scientifically studied. When Emma showed the booklet to Wilma she’d smiled approvingly. ‘That Troy fella’s been speaking to my mob.’
The ferry nudged against the ramp on the northern bank, and Emma climbed back into her car with a quick wave to Clive. She negotiated the road slowly; at this time of the morning the wildlife were on the move back into the forest, and the last thing she wanted was to hit a cassowary. Through the deep valleys, she negotiated the winding bends in the dimly-lit rainforest until the road widened and Thornton Peak loomed ahead. As always the top of the lush green mountain had a crown of cloud. The low timber bridges rumbled beneath the wheels as she crossed the occasional creeks. The arching glossy fronds of the king ferns sprouted from the ground along the edges of the dimly-lit streams. Troy had told her they were one of the most ancient ferns in the world. They grew along most of the creeks in the rainforest, needing the constant moisture to support the huge fronds.