by Annie Seaton
She passed a roadwork crew as she made her way up to the Cooper Creek turn-off. Two tourist buses whizzed past, out early for the sunrise tours of the Daintree Rainforest. By the time she turned onto the short track to Wilma’s small property, the sun was high and the leaves were dappled with flecks of sunlight.
Emma frowned. The gate was closed and padlocked. It was the first time she’d even seen it closed, let alone padlocked.
‘You stay there.’ She brushed her hand over Bowser’s head and he opened one eye from where he was curled up on the back seat. Emma unwound each window a few centimetres before she opened the door. ‘I won’t be long.’
He tucked his head back on his paws, seemingly unconcerned that she was leaving him to snooze in the car. Checking the ground carefully before she put her feet down, she climbed out of the car and locked the door. She’d come back for Bowser once she saw if Wilma was at home, but it wasn’t looking promising.
She climbed over the metal gate and followed the short track down the hill. The small yard was deserted and Wilma’s car wasn’t parked outside where it usually was. No smoke puffed from the chimney. Looked like she was away after all; maybe she’d gone north to Cooktown.
She looked from the house to the deep rainforest behind it that skirted the base of the mountain. The rainforest was eerily quiet apart from Emma’s footsteps on the narrow path. Goosebumps rose on her arms as the damp air settled on her skin. There was not a breath of wind and the utter silence spooked her a little. Her leg muscles tightened as though she was poised to run at the first sound. She glanced back at her car parked at the top of the hill.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ she muttered crossly. She shook her head to dispel the unsettled feeling and turned back to the car to get Bowser and her backpack. She couldn’t take the dog into the bush because it was a protected World Heritage site, and it was too long to leave him in the car so she’d have to tie him up at the back of Wilma’s house while she went into the rainforest.
It took an hour to walk into the grove where the cocky apple bark trees grew at the base of the mountain. The first time Wilma had brought her into this part of the rainforest—previously George had only taken her along the well-trodden creek tracks—it had been like entering a whole new world. She was humbled by Wilma’s willingness to trust her and teach her about the Aboriginal bush medicine. It had been Bill Jarragah, Dad’s Aboriginal offsider at their farm, who had first taught Emma and her sisters about bush medicine and that had led to her decision to pursue medicine as a career.
Wilma had taken her to the grove and pointed upwards. ‘I am of the Eastern Kuku Yalanji people and Wundu has a great spiritual significance to my people.’
‘Wundu?’ Emma had frowned as she looked up through the towering canopy to the misty mountain top.
‘You call it Thornton Peak.’ Wilma’s voice was soft. ‘The track we have followed is part of a network of walking tracks that my people have walked for many years. There are two major tracks, one along the coast and one further inland, which join all of the tracks connecting places of cultural importance and places where we can collect food and medicine.’
That day stayed in Emma’s mind and had been the beginning of a respectful friendship with the elderly Aboriginal healer.
Emma’s sense of unease dissipated like the mist that cleared at the top of the peak as she walked along the same track. Birdlife called and small creatures rustled in the undergrowth as she passed by. She kept a close eye on the mossy track but there was not a snake to be seen. Finally she came to the place where the cocky apple trees grew. She stepped off the track and carefully pushed aside the hanging fern that shielded the large grove. Craning her neck, she peered up at the majestic mountain, hundreds of metres above her. The ever-present clouds rose over the peak and Emma shivered as the wind picked up and a large puff of grey cloud blotted out the sun.
The cocky apple trees were grouped in a circle as though they’d been cultivated that way. The climbing fern formed a pretty curtain but the foliage had thickened in the few months since she was last here with Wilma, and Emma frowned as she pushed away the tangled wiry stems. A flash of light caught her eyes as she stepped into the clearing. A large cluster of white orchids tinged with purple nestled in a fork of the first tree. She was filled with calm as she looked around, and the disappointments of the previous days lifted along with the unease that had filled her as she’d started out. The cloud had moved on and dappled sunlight played on the leaves of the trees as the soft breeze picked up again. The small white flowers drifted to the ground forming a pretty white carpet on the soft green grass. A small stream edged by a flat grassy bank gurgled along the base of the mountain and Emma sighed with pleasure. For a moment she wondered if she could bring Troy down here. It was a hidden grove and she had a sense from Wilma that it had a sacred meaning to her. Perhaps not. It wasn’t Emma’s place to show.
She slipped her backpack from her shoulders and pulled out a bottle of water. Once she’d slaked her thirst, she reached for the knife and leaned down to put the bag at the base of the tree. She frowned. There were two pieces of white plastic pipe lying in the long grass. She reached down and picked one up, looking at it curiously. It looked like a piece of the plastic pipe that led from her cottage to the rainwater tank. The only difference was that this pipe had small holes drilled in straight lines down one side.
Maybe they were part of an irrigation system? She stuffed them into her bag; whatever their purpose, they were unsightly litter in the pristine rainforest.
Emma walked to one of the smaller trees—about twice her height but well developed—and put her backpack on the ground beneath it. The spiral buds were sparse but some of them had opened. The delicate flowers were large, white and fleshy with numerous long pink and white stamens. The bark was corky beneath her fingers as she slipped the knife between the layers. She made a cut and slowly peeled the bark from the trunk in a long narrow sheet like Wilma had taught her. Finally it reached the first fork in the branches.
A strange burbling noise was coming intermittently from above. She looked up and immediately jumped back in fright as a large bird poked its head out of the fork of the tree just above her fingers and gave a raucous squawk. She dropped the knife and the bark and put her hand on her chest, sucking in her breath.
There was a hollow in the tree beneath the fork and the bird had obviously nested in it. Keeping completely still, Emma observed the bird and it looked back at her. Wilma had told her that the tree was named cocky apple because the cockatoos ate the quince-like fruit. This one was a breed she’d never seen before, a huge, dark-grey cockatoo with a mid-pink patch covering its face from its mouth to beneath its eyes. It had a distinctive crest of narrow, curved feathers like an Indian headdress, and a huge curved bill. As she watched, it stretched up and bit off a narrow stick from the end of the branch above its head. Emma held her breath as the cockatoo transferred the stick to its feet and began to beat it against the tree where her fingers had been only moments before. A loud resonant drumming filled the air. A smile crossed Emma’s face. It was almost as though he was showing off especially for her. He tipped his head to the side and made a strange sound as he beat the stick against the hollow branch.
Slowly, trying not to spook him, she inched her hand around to her back and pulled her phone from the pocket of her cargo pants. Even more carefully, she lifted it and switched the phone to video mode. As she stared back at the bird, holding the camera high, the colour of the patch on his cheek darkened and he stopped beating. Instead he put the stick back into his mouth and bit clean through it with one bite. He continued to crunch through the stick and as it broke into smaller pieces he picked them up with his feet and dropped them one by one into the hole in the tree, without taking his eyes from her.
With a final ear-piercing squawk, the beautiful bird spread his wings and took off gracefully, soaring out of sight into the treetops. Another flash of colour came from above as a second bird swooped down
from the top of the tree and followed him.
‘Oh wow,’ she whispered as the cockatoos disappeared into the lush foliage on the side of Thornton Peak. Emma realised she had witnessed something very special. She was excited to have captured it on her phone—maybe Troy could help her identify the species.
She rolled up the long piece of bark and tied it to her backpack with the string she carried with her. The rainforest was quiet as she made her way back to Wilma’s place. When she opened the gate to the cottage, there was no happy yapping to greet her. Bowser was not there.
‘Oh, no.’ Panic built inside her as she looked around for her little black dog. If he’d escaped and tried to follow her, she’d have no chance of finding him.
‘Bowser.’ Emma let out a shrill whistle but there was no answering bark as she hurried across the yard. She found his lead on the ground next to the post she’d tied him to. As she looked at the house, a curtain moved in the window by the back door.
‘Over here.’
She put her hand to her chest again. The door opened a crack and Wilma peered around the door. ‘Emma. Don’t worry. Bowser’s here. Inside with me.’
‘Oh, thank goodness.’ She put down the lead.
‘Ssh. Hurry up, come inside. Quickly.’
Emma frowned as she crossed to the door and bent to slip her boots off. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Don’t be silly, leave your boots on. Don’t worry about them. Come inside.’
Emma followed Wilma into the house and put her backpack down on the scarred timber floor. The old woman’s house was an original settler’s cottage that was in need of refurbishment . . . or demolition. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Please tell me you haven’t been down to the grove.’ Wilma stood in front of her, hair tangled and clutching her hands to her frail chest as she saw the piece of bark on the backpack. ‘You’ve been to the base of Wundu? To the trees?’
‘Why? What’s the matter?’
‘Oh, Emma, I’ve been so frightened.’
Chapter 12
Friday afternoon
Dalrymple Hospital
Jeremy came out of the meeting with the regional director of the Tropical Public Health Service with a spring in his step. The Outreach Program was full of exciting possibilities and would give him scope for expanding his administrative career in rural medicine as the clinics were established in remote locations. Previously the residents of those areas would have gone without medical assistance or had to travel long distances to Cooktown or across Cape York to Weipa.
‘It’s unusual to see a medical and business qualification combined. We were very pleased to receive your application.’ The director had held his hand out to Jeremy. ‘With your experience in the city and in the outback, I am sure you will take on the added initiatives very well. It will be all administration, though. Are you happy with that?’ His look was probing.
‘I am. My future is in medical administration.’
As the director walked out of the office in the hospital with Jeremy, he mentioned the four-wheel drive vehicle that was due to be delivered for him to drive to some of the more remote locations where it was proposed to set up clinics.
‘You can leave it here at the hospital if parking is an issue. How long till you move to your own place?’
‘I’ll start looking this week, now that everything has been finalised.’ Jeremy paused as the director stood by his car and reached for his keys. ‘Thank you for meeting with me today. It’s a great initiative that I’m excited to be a part of.’
‘And we are very pleased to have you on board, Dr Langford.’
‘There was no one in the local area that you considered?’
A frown crossed the man’s smooth face. ‘There was one local applicant . . .’ he paused and pulled out his keys and clicked the central locking for the car.
‘But?’ Jeremy waited for the director to continue.
‘But you were the best candidate for the job. The other candidate is involved with other aspects of our health service and she is highly valued in those positions, and a very busy doctor. Rest assured you were the candidate best suited to the position.’ He raised his hand and his frown deepened. ‘A word of warning: always take care when you’re out in the bush. It’s still frontier country and there are some unsavoury characters involved in all sorts of things out there. You’ll need to be tough’
‘So being a male went in my favour?’
The director cleared his throat and shook his head. ‘No. No, not at all. To reiterate, you were the best candidate for the job.’
Jeremy held his hand out. ‘Okay then. Thanks for the warning. I’m sure I can handle whatever is out there. And thank you again for travelling up to meet with me.’
The director returned his handshake with a firm grip. ‘You’ll do very well. I hope you stay. We could do with more of the old guard up here in the north.’ With those words, the director raised a hand and his sleek sedan moved off slowly, its wheels crunching on the gravel of the hospital car park.
Jeremy turned back to the building thoughtfully.
Old guard? The last time he’d heard that phrase was in the old boys’ school network in Sydney. It was one of the reasons for leaving the city behind him. He wanted his qualifications and experience to get him the job, not his connections.
He hoped he’d misunderstood the man’s meaning but a feeling of discomfort niggled at him.
*
George was sitting up in his bed in the ward upstairs and looked hopefully across to the doorway as Jeremy walked in.
‘Bugger, it’s you. Thought you was Doctor Em.’
Jeremy had seen enough of the old man this week not to be offended by the gruff reception.
‘Sorry, you’ll have to put up with me instead today, George.’ He flicked through the chart and shot him a conciliatory smile. Emma was well-loved up here, and he could understand why. He’d watched her interacting with patients in the wards and the aged care facility through the week. Once she’d glanced at their charts, she would spend a long time with each patient and he’d listened as she’d asked about their sleeping and eating, and talked about lifestyle changes. He was interested to see her put into practice the holistic medicine that she’d talked about at uni.
This week he’d heard about massage therapy, acupuncture, exercise classes and even a pastoral care visitor that had all been introduced to the facility under Emma’s guidance.
‘Treat the person. Not the illness.’ He could still see her standing up in a tutorial and getting the tutor offside but she’d fought for what she believed in.
He turned back to George as the older man cleared his throat.
‘The chart all looks good. No more dizzy turns?’ He leaned over and checked his eyes.
‘No, and me arm’s as right as rain. So when’s Doctor Em coming to get me?’
‘Sister said it was her day off but she’s gone up north to see a patient.’ Jeremy, too, was disappointed when he’d heard he wouldn’t be running into Emma today. ‘So I guess she may be in later this afternoon.’
George sat up straight and gripped his arm. Jeremy looked down at the spotted, wrinkled hand grasping the cuff of his long-sleeved shirt.
‘Where to? She hasn’t gone up into the rainforest, has she?’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t know.’ Concern spiked through Jeremy as George shook his head from side to side. The elderly man tightened his grip on Jeremy’s arm.
‘I told her not to go there, but that damn woman has a mind of her own.’
‘That she has,’ Jeremy muttered under his breath. ‘And always did.’ He pulled away gently and picked up the jug on the table tray, pouring water into the plastic cup. ‘Why don’t you calm down and take a deep breath, and when you’ve had a drink, tell me what you’re worried about.’
George downed the water in one gulp and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘There’s things happening out there that aren’t safe for no woman to be wand
ering around in.’
‘Things like what?’ Jeremy frowned as he took the empty cup, concerned to see the old man’s hand shaking. That was twice in an hour someone had referred to danger out there in the rainforest.
George looked at him intently, as though he was measuring him up. ‘There’s some things out in the rainforest that are worth a lot of money to the right people and they’ll do anything to keep it quiet. I haven’t told Emma because she’d be out there like a shot trying to put a stop to it. She thinks it’s to do with my little crop but it’s not.’ He dropped his chin to his chest and lowered his voice to a mutter. Jeremy had to lean forward to hear the words. ‘She shouldn’t have gone out there. I just hope they’re not out there today if she’s gone wandering getting that bloody bark.’
‘What things are you talking about? Who would be out there?’
‘I’m talking about the birds.’ George shook his head. ‘The bastards.’
Jeremy wrinkled his brow. ‘You’ve lost me, mate. What birds?’
‘The cockatoos. They’re worth a bloody fortune to collectors.’
‘You mean they’re being smuggled out of the rainforest?’ He’d watched a program on the ABC investigating the multimillion dollar business of wildlife smuggling not so long ago.
George looked at him as though he was stupid. ‘Of course that’s what I mean.’
‘And that’s why you were king hit the other day. You didn’t really fall out of a tree, did you?’
‘No, I’ve already told Emma that but she thinks it’s about the plants.’ George was getting more agitated and beginning to repeat himself.
He regarded George for another minute before trying to reassure him. ‘I’m sure she’ll be here soon. Don’t worry. If she doesn’t turn up, I’ll go looking for her myself. Okay?’