Skinny grunted rudely. “Of course not. It suddenly turned summer there.”
Relief flooded my body. “Summer?” I repeated. “It’s north Queensland. It’s always summer in Queensland.”
Skinny leant back in her chair and smirked once more. “It’s the middle of winter, Misty. Queensland does get marginally colder in winter. Why, sometimes the people up there even wear coats. What I’m saying is, there is a heatwave on Whitehaven Island in the middle of winter, and it’s also happening to a lesser degree at nearby locations such as Daydream Island and Airlie Beach. There is a noticeable difference in temperature.”
I pulled a face. “I can’t see why this is a job for a paranormal journalist. Surely this would be of interest to a meteorologist.”
Skinny’s hand slammed down on her desk. “The meteorologists say it’s an anomaly, obviously. That’s why I’m sending you there.”
“But I don’t know anything about science,” I protested. “How can I get to the bottom of it? What if it isn’t something paranormal?”
Skinny emitted a grunt of disgust. “We’re journalists, Misty! If you can’t get a real story, make it up!”
With that, I was dismissed from her office.
Chapter Two
I was hunched over my computer in the magazine’s storage cupboard, a room which doubled as my office, when Melissa burst into the room.
“Sorry,” she said as the door hit the back of my chair. “I do that every time.”
I swung around. “Have you heard the news?”
She nodded. “You lucky thing! A holiday on Whitehaven Island!”
“It’s hardly a holiday. It’s an assignment, and I think it’s a ridiculous one. I don’t know the first thing about weather, so how will I discover why it’s summer in the middle of winter? Skinny says I have to make something up.”
Melissa shrugged one shoulder. “So? Make something up. Whitehaven Island is a luxury resort. You’ll have the most wonderful time there. And Skinny won’t be able to book you into horrible, cheap accommodation like she usually does, because there is no horrible, cheap accommodation on Whitehaven Island. It’s a win-win situation. What could go wrong?”
A black shadow descended on me as she said it. “I don’t have a good feeling about this, Melissa.”
Melissa pursed her lips. “You’re just upset about Steve.”
I waved a hand at her. “Nonsense! That was months ago.”
“It takes longer than a few months to get over being dumped,” Melissa said, “especially when you couldn’t get another job at a reputable newspaper after all those lies he spread about you. After all, you had to take a job here at this ridiculous magazine, and we both know Skinny calls you ‘His Ghoul Friday’ behind your back.”
I nodded slowly. She did have a point. “I suppose you’re right. I should try to think of this as a holiday and not get too upset about the job. It’s just that I always like to do my best. I can’t see how it being summer in the middle of winter is grounds for a paranormal article.”
“That’s because no one who works here believes in the paranormal,” Melissa said, “but our readers do. Don’t forget that.”
“We believe in the paranormal.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “To a degree.”
Chapter Three
I was on a water ferry from Airlie Beach to Whitehaven Island. I couldn’t help smiling to myself. Skinny had sent me to some dreadful places, so I couldn’t believe I was going to Whitehaven Island and staying in a luxury resort. Skinny had made a point of telling me she was sending me to the cheapest resort she could find on the island, but as far as I understood from my googling, it was luxury all the same.
The waters were calm, and the seas, deep blue. I inhaled the delightful sea air and sank back into the comfort of my plastic seat.
A man’s voice startled me. “Is this seat taken?”
I opened my eyes and looked at him. He was tall, impossibly thin, interminable age, and had a shock of dark hair that stuck out in all directions. “Um, no,” I said. There were plenty of seats vacant. I wondered why he had decided to sit next to me.
The man offered his hand. “Good morning. I’m Thaddeus Thunderware.”
I could not help my lips twitching a little at his name, not that I could talk with a name like mine. “Hi, I’m Misty Friday.” I shook his hand, which proved to be limp and clammy.
“Is that your real name?”
I nodded. It wasn’t the first time I had been asked that question. Whatever had my parents been thinking?
“I’m a meteorologist,” he continued. “They say it’s been hotter than usual for winter on the island.”
I sat bolt upright. “A meteorologist?” I couldn’t believe my luck. I had stumbled across the very person I needed to interview. But his name? Was this a prank? Could a meteorologist really be called Thunderware? I wasn’t going to ask, especially given my own name. Instead, I said, “I’m a journalist and my editor has sent me to do a story on the weather.”
He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. “My boss sent me to check it out, just to keep the mayor of Whitehaven Island happy, but there is nothing wrong with the weather. It’s simply a normal condition.” He went into a lengthy, and exceptionally boring, scientific explanation of why it was summer in the middle of winter, which made me want to jump out of the boat and be eaten by sharks just to escape from him.
As his voice droned on and on about data homogenisation, delayed onset of the Australian monsoon, and the relationship of uncertainties propagation, and other matters I couldn’t possibly understand, I looked around at the other passengers.
I caught a fleeting glimpse of a man staring at me just before he ducked back behind the wall. He had certainly seemed furtive, but then again it was likely my imagination.
When I could finally get a word in, I excused myself from Mr Thunderware—could it really be his name?—and walked over to the stand where free coffee was available for the passengers.
A short, portly woman bumped my shoulder and at once apologised. “Are you a tourist or a resident?”
“Neither, I’m here for the weather anomaly,” I supplied.
She looked surprised. “Weather? There’s nothing wrong with the weather. I’m here for the mermaids.”
It was my turn to look surprised. “Mermaids? Did you say mermaids?”
She nodded vigorously. “Yes, that’s why we’re all here.” She gestured expansively to a nearby group of women all clutching cameras. “We’ve come over to the island to see if we can catch a glimpse of the mermaid.”
For the first time I noticed the camera hanging around her neck. “You’re from a photography club?”
She nodded again. “Yes, we want to take a photo of the mermaid.” She laughed and flushed red. “You probably think I’m silly, and I don’t really believe in mermaids, but something is going on. Why would Doris suddenly say she saw a mermaid? She’s used to seeing dolphins, so surely she couldn’t have made a mistake.”
I rubbed my forehead. “I haven’t heard anything about mermaid sightings on Whitehaven Island. I’ve only heard about it being summer in the middle of winter.”
She laughed. “It’s always summer in the middle of winter in Queensland. No, this whole mermaid thing has only just happened. I’m not surprised it hasn’t hit the media yet. We haven’t told anyone.”
I couldn’t believe my luck. Was I onto a paranormal scoop? Surely even Skinny herself would be happy with me. “Exactly when did this all happen?” I asked her.
“Yesterday afternoon,” she said. “One of our photography club members, Doris—she’s not here today because she has one of her migraines—returned from Whitehaven Island yesterday, but she saw a mermaid first.”
I was intrigued. “And she was sure it was a mermaid?” I also wanted to ask whether Doris was prone to heavy drinking, but I thought it impolite.
“Yes, Doris and I live at Airlie Beach. I’m Elsa, by the way.” I intr
oduced myself, and she continued. “Doris comes to Whitehaven Island often to get away from her overbearing husband. She was on a quiet, little beach when she saw a woman go into the water. Right in front of her eyes, the woman turned into a mermaid and swam out to sea.”
My spirits fell. Clearly Doris had been tripping. I forced a smile. “Well, that’s so interesting,” I lied, smiling and nodding as I spoke.
The woman pulled up a text on her phone and shoved it in front of my nose. “Doris took this photo.”
I took the phone from her. It surely looked like a mermaid. I squinted and looked again.
She took the phone back. “See here. Doris was taking photos of the water with her phone, and the mermaid in human form is in the first photo.” She thrust her phone back into my hands.
I looked at the photo. It was of a young woman walking into the water. I did as Doris indicated and scrolled through the photos, and sure enough, it did look as though the woman morphed into a mermaid, sparkly green tail and everything.
I gasped. Surely this couldn’t be an elaborate hoax? Had Doris photoshopped images and sent them to her friends as a joke? “I’m a journalist.” I kept one eye on her as I said it. The disclosure didn’t always go down well.
The woman appeared unperturbed. I pressed on. “Would you mind if I texted these photos to myself?”
“Sure, but you’ll have to get Doris’s permission to use them.”
I looked up from texting the photos to my phone. “Of course. What’s her number?”
“I’ll give it to you, but don’t call her for a few hours. Her migraine, you see.”
I promised.
Chapter Four
The first thing I noticed as soon as I was on dry land was the luxury of the island. Tall hills covered with sparkling concrete and glass mansions towered above. The sand on the beach was pristine white, and numerous golf buggies scooted along the narrow road in front of the harbour. It truly was paradise.
Elsa caught my arm, surprising me. “We’re going on a bus tour to the Botanical Gardens. Would you like to come with us?”
“Bus?” I repeated. “I thought cars weren’t allowed on the island. I thought people could only travel in golf buggies.”
She nodded. “There are barely any cars, but there is a tour bus. We’re heading there now. Would you like to come with us?”
I thought of a way to decline politely. “I’d better book in…” I began, but she interrupted me.
“The Botanical Gardens back onto the beach where the mermaid was sighted.”
I changed my mind in an instant. “I’d be happy to come.”
“You don’t need to pay or anything,” Elsa said. “We’ve already paid, and Doris isn’t here, so you can make up her place.” She eyed my single piece of luggage. “You’re not planning on staying long?”
I shrugged. “I travel light.” I didn’t have much money, truth be told, and that was the reason I travelled light.
“I’m sure you can pack that under the bus. Come on—the others are getting away from us.”
We soon caught up to the other ladies, and Elsa introduced me enthusiastically. “Misty is a journalist and she’s investigating the mermaid sighting.”
I held up a hand in protest. “I’m not exactly investigating it. Well, um, I suppose I’d like to,” I finished lamely.
“I wonder if we’ll see a mermaid today?” one of the ladies said.
Elsa shook her head. “Don’t forget, the Botanical Gardens site is right at the top of a hill, and there are steps down to the beach. We won’t be able to see anything from the gardens.”
“Why are we going there then?” another of the ladies asked her, echoing my thoughts.
“To walk down from the Botanical Gardens to the beach where the mermaid was sighted, of course.” Elsa punctuated her remark with a grunt of exasperation. “Do you have a better idea?”
The lady admitted that she didn’t.
The bus driver, a short, portly man, ushered us into the bus. We drove up a steep road which did not have a guide rail. I shut my eyes tightly. He was driving rather fast, but I consoled myself with the fact that he surely knew the road well.
The road soon levelled out, much to my relief, and continued for a short distance. The bus came to a stop beside an elaborate metal sign announcing the Whitehaven Island Botanical Gardens.
We filed out of the bus, and everyone gasped with delight. Beautiful tropical plants of every colour stood in front of us. The lawns were manicured and lush, and palm trees along with purple trees, the identity of which was unknown to me, dotted the horizon.
“Beautiful,” I gushed.
“I’ll wait for you in the bus,” the driver said. “Everyone, be back here in an hour.”
He looked friendly enough, so I risked a question. “Have you heard anything about mermaid sightings here?”
His face turned deep red. I had no idea why my question angered him, but it certainly appeared to have done so.
“Mermaids!” he spat. “There’s no such thing as mermaids. Where did you hear that utter nonsense?” He swore under his breath.
“It’s not nonsense.” Elsa popped up from behind me. “Our friend, Doris, took a photo of a mermaid yesterday.” She pulled her phone from her handbag, but I put a restraining hand on her arm.
She looked at me and I shook my head. “Let’s just go and look around the gardens,” I said to her, hoping she would take my hint not to push the matter with the driver.
“There are no ghosts on this island, and no mermaids either,” he snapped. “The leading family of this island doesn’t take kindly to such nonsense.”
I nodded and led Elsa away.
“He certainly seems put out,” she said.
“Yes, I thought it was a rather strange reaction. That’s why I stopped you showing him the photo. It’s probably best if you don’t show it around, if that’s going to be the reaction of the locals.”
To my relief, she agreed. “I see your point.”
We caught up to the others who were making a beeline for the back of the gardens. “Are they going down to the sea?” I asked her.
“They’re going down to the beach to see if they can see any mermaids.”
I rubbed my temples. I had no choice but to follow her. It was hard not to be distracted by the gardens. They were expansive, the red blossoms of the spider lilies giving way to the vivid purples of the rhoeo plants, contrasting with rows of stout, woody cycads.
Elsa and I were at the back of the ladies as we came to the wooden steps leading to the beach far below. “It’s very steep,” one of the ladies protested. “I’m glad it has a handrail.”
The ladies made their way slowly down to the beach. I stopped for a moment. The beach below us was indeed small, and hemmed in by headlands either side. The surf was gentle here and the ocean stretched as far as the eye could see. It was a breathtaking scene. I pulled my iPhone from my pocket and took photos. I wondered why the photography club members weren’t taking photos, but they were probably distracted by the thought of mermaids.
When we finally made it down to the beach, everyone took off their shoes. The sand was hot on my feet, so I headed to the damp sand left by the recently departed tide.
“No sign of a mermaid.” Elsa sounded dejected.
“What did you expect?” one of the ladies said. “Doris said she was sitting to one side and the mermaid wouldn’t have seen her. Not that I believe in mermaids, mind you, but Doris certainly saw something.”
There was a murmur of agreement. “Why don’t we break into small groups and see if we can discover anything?” I suggested. “I have no idea what exactly, but we might find something, perhaps clothes? The figure appeared as a normal woman before she turned into a mermaid, so perhaps we could find clothes on the beach or something like that.”
Everyone thought it a good suggestion and we spread out.
After fifteen minutes, we had all come up empty.
“Maybe she turned
back into a person,” Elsa said.
I scratched my head. “That makes sense. Who looks after the Botanical Gardens? There are obviously several gardeners on duty.”
Elsa nodded. “Yes, several people come in, but there is a keeper on site. Whatever you do, Misty, don’t ask him any questions about plants, because he’ll go on and on for hours. He’s completely obsessed with plants.” She groaned. “He’ll tell you everything you ever wanted to know and everything you didn’t about any plant.”
“Is he here now?” I asked her. “It might be worth pointing out that Doris saw a mermaid.”
Elsa held up her hands in a gesture of horror. “He’ll think we’re nuts!”
“Maybe we could say she thought she saw one and wondered what it could be. Anyway, I’d like to speak to him.”
“All right, I suppose we can go to his office.” Elsa appeared to be entirely reluctant. She told my wishes to the others. They all complained that we hadn’t found any evidence of mermaids.
We made our way back up the old steps and then headed in the direction of the wooden building Elsa indicated was the keeper’s office. Once more I was at the back of the group, so I came to a rapid stop when I heard gasps of shock.
“What is it?” I pushed past some ladies to get to the front.
There, in front of me, was a patch of dead plants.
“They’ve been poisoned!” Elsa said, somewhat unnecessarily.
“Who would do a thing like that?” one of the ladies said. “The keeper will be furious!”
“It’s a wonder he hasn’t seen it by now.” Elsa rubbed her forehead. “Actually, they don’t look as though they’ve been poisoned—it looks like someone took a flamethrower to them.”
“I don’t suppose vandalism is common on this island either?” I asked.
Everyone shook their heads. “No, not at all,” the lady closest to me said.
We all hurried to the wooden building with the intention of breaking the news to the keeper.
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