by Di Morrissey
She drove slowly, as people seemed to use this one-way street as an extended footpath, strolling along it in their resort fashions, walking their dogs, while children carried water toys and sunhats. Couples held hands as well as surfboards. The pace was leisurely, with an ambience of well-to-do relaxation.
Bella followed the road as it turned away from the beach towards streets of expensive-looking open-plan houses and the odd discreet sign advertising simpler accommodation. Hidden Cove was a tiny haven that had a cosmopolitan air reminiscent of a European coastal town until one looked at the blinding blue sea and the distant foam of white breakers.
Turning back towards the beach, she found Aloha House, an apartment block with large, sea-facing balconies. A small café and a newsagent sat either side of the main entrance. She pulled into the driveway and punched in her code and a metal gate slid open. She parked in the underground carpark and reached for her bag. Before getting into the lift Bella noticed another door, and she took a quick peek through it. A lush hideaway oasis at the rear of the building looked inviting, with its long lap pool surrounded by lawns dotted with lounges, umbrellas and shady trees and covered in its carpet of frangipani flowers.
As soon as she opened her apartment door, she was charmed. The rooms were decorated with large shells and bright paintings of tropical flowers, and a fat wooden seagull was perched by the door opening onto a balcony. The balcony faced the ocean and was furnished with a small barbecue and table setting as well as a comfortable lounge chair placed strategically under an overhead fan. She immediately dropped her things and headed downstairs to the pool. The humidity of Far North Queensland was draining, and she needed to cool down straight away.
After a quiet evening with a takeaway salad and her book, she woke before the sun and walked along the beach to the old jetty. As the sun rose, making the water sparkle, she watched the seabirds diving and a huge tame fish that swam tantalisingly around the piers of the wharf. On the wharf, early morning fishermen, young and old, optimistically cast their rods.
She walked barefoot along the sandy path under the trees where locals jogged and walked their dogs. The café near the entrance to her apartment block was open, so she bought a latte, then stopped at the small store which sold the morning papers and took both her coffee and paper home to enjoy on her sunny balcony. She sent Ned another text message, telling him where she was, in the increasingly forlorn hope that he would finally get back to her. She spent the rest of the day lazing by the pool, but there was no reply from Ned.
When it cooled down late in the afternoon, Bella decided to explore the southern end of the beach, so she set off along the shell-dotted strand, splashing through the tepid water. People were out walking and several frisky dogs chased each other over the sand, but no one was in the ocean. Everyone seemed to be heeding the large, prominent warning signs that ominously read: Swim at your own risk. Bella assumed they referred to box jellyfish which, the rental agent had told her, had stings so poisonous that they could put you in hospital and had even been known to cause death.
She reached the rocky headland at the end of the beach and turned and walked back above the high water mark, avoiding the leaning coconut palms, though their coconuts appeared to have been picked.
When she came to a creek of crystal water sluggishly making its way across the sand to the sea, she headed towards it in order to admire the water lilies and floating islands of grass that lay in the shadows beneath the overhanging trees. Here the creek looked darker and rather sinister, and it was then she saw a yellow sign reading, Achtung! Warning!, and sporting an illustration of a snapping crocodile.
Surely crocs didn’t come onto the beach? she wondered. Bella shivered, turning away, and hastily walked back to one of the benches conveniently placed on the edge of the beach. She sat and watched the placid sea for a while. The view was so beautiful and in that moment she wished Brendan was there to share it with her. As the waves rolled gently in to shore, she thought about their relationship. What was wrong with her? They laughed at the same things, enjoyed the same movies and she agreed with his politics and quietly admired his ethical behaviour. And yet Bella couldn’t help but feel that their relationship was dull. He always asked her what she would like to do. He never fought with her over anything. And while she liked his impeccable manners and quiet ways, she wished he would be more spontaneous, be willing to engage with her even if it meant the occasional quarrel, and sometimes surprise her. She knew Brendan had been hurt when she wanted to go away by herself but, as always, he’d been considerate of her wishes. He was just so nice all the time. Was he really what she wanted?
Suddenly, Bella became aware of a young woman several metres away, who was sitting in a yoga position, arms raised above her head, eyes closed as she meditated. Bella thought of the crocodile warning. She’d heard how smart the reptiles were, spending time watching the habits and routine of their selected prey before striking, carrying their victim into a convenient creek and stuffing them in a watery trap beneath a tangle of tree roots. Very few victims had survived to describe this horror. Did the yoga girl know crocs were in the vicinity?
Bella got up and walked over to her.
‘I’m sorry to interrupt you when you are meditating, but you do know that there are crocodiles in this area, don’t you? You’re by yourself here and with your eyes closed . . .’
The girl looked up and smiled. ‘They’re everywhere in this part of the world. Live and let live. They used to be hunted to near extinction and now they’re protected. How the world works,’ she added enigmatically.
‘Doesn’t that worry you?’ said Bella, a little concerned at the girl’s insouciance.
‘I’m far enough from the creek to be safe, although a large croc was taken from the lagoon about a week ago.’
‘You’re kidding,’ said Bella in amazement. This place looked so serene, and yet a killer croc had lurked beneath those beautiful water lilies.
‘You’ve just arrived, have you?’ asked the girl.
‘Is it obvious?’ laughed Bella. ‘Ironic to think somewhere so placid and beautiful could be so treacherous.’
‘Still waters, as they say. Sit a moment and enjoy the remains of the day.’ She gestured beside her, so Bella sat on the sand.
‘It would be a nice way to start the day, too,’ agreed Bella. ‘Instead of rushing out the door to my office. Do you live here or are you on holiday?’
‘I live here for now. I travelled a lot, then I found out about my great-grandfather. Funny how you never think much about the lives of your grandparents and their parents and what they did when they were our age.’
‘That’s true,’ agreed Bella. ‘So what did you find out? If you don’t mind me asking.’
‘No worries. Great-grandad was a prisoner of war in Changi in Singapore and apparently something of a character. He couldn’t settle back into suburban life in Sydney after the war, so when he won some money in the lottery he married, came up to Queensland and opened a fish and chip shop near the beach. It did really well, so he sold it and moved further north and bought a rundown old coconut plantation. The trees were sixty years old. He started a nursery and exported them all over Australia.’
‘So, he really made good after a hard time in the war?’
‘He did. He sold the coconut plantation and he and my great-grandmother moved to Micronesia and started helping the villagers. Built a school for the kids. Then he came back to Australia and set up a kids’ camp on an island on the Barrier Reef where Indigenous and outback kids could go and holiday for free.’
‘What a great thing to do!’ said Bella. ‘And what happened to the old plantation?’
‘You’re sitting in it. Well, all that land there behind us.’
‘No way! Hidden Cove belonged to your great-grandfather?’ exclaimed Bella. ‘What became of him?’
‘He retired back to Sydney and lived quietl
y. When I discovered the story through my aunt, I just had to come and have a look. I work in the hotel over there. Just saving up to go to the islands.’
‘Are you going to visit the school he started?’ asked Bella, quite intrigued by this story.
‘I thought I’d just go and see. You have to follow your intuition, right?’
‘Yes,’ said Bella slowly. ‘I guess you do.’
The girl smiled and resumed her pose, closing her eyes again.
Bella stayed a while but then got up and walked back towards her apartment, thinking the girl was right. Sometimes you did have to follow your intuition.
*
By the end of the weekend, Bella could feel her head clearing. The break was doing her good. She decided she should probably start looking for Ned more earnestly and stop just checking social media and calling his friends hoping to find him.
She decided to head to Cairns. Bella saw why the girl at the reception desk of her apartment building had called Cairns a jumping place – there seemed to be people everywhere. After she had parked her car in the downtown area and begun to explore, she initially wondered why the CBD seemed to be filled with a small army of retirees in colourful shorts and shirts, loose frocks or snug slacks, until she saw them all wearing tags around their necks and realised that they were passengers from a cruise ship, having their day ashore in the capital of Far North Queensland.
Cairns had a lively atmosphere. There was a plethora of places to eat, drink, dance, listen to music and watch tourist shows. There were art galleries and tourist shops selling Aboriginal art and artefacts. The theme of Cairns appeared to be crocodiles, both alive and stuffed. Almost every gift shop featured crocodile leather handbags, belts, shoes and hat bands, crocodile teeth jewellery as well as ornamental crocodiles carved from wood. A photographer’s studio featured close-ups of large crocodiles, their jaws wide open, displaying their awesome teeth, which made Bella shudder.
She had no trouble finding the club where a mutual friend had told her Ned had recently appeared. It looked an unprepossessing place in the daylight, but she went in and asked for the manager. As Bella’s eyes adjusted to the gloomy surrounds of an empty music club, a woman around her own age came to meet her.
‘I’m Sarah. I book the artists here and plan events. Can I ask you why you’re looking for Ned Chisholm?’
‘Ned’s my brother. He’s been on the road and the family’s trying to find him – he’s a bit slack at keeping in touch.’ She gave Sarah her most charming smile.
‘Yeah, musos are an itinerant lot,’ Sarah said, shaking her head. ‘Ned was here a while back . . . He was very popular.’ She pulled out a chair at an empty table and signalled Bella to join her.
Bella sat down. ‘That’s nice to hear. When you grow up with someone who is always singing and playing music you tend to take it a bit for granted. So how come he played here?’
Sarah smiled. ‘He walked in the door and asked for a gig. I knew who he was. He is seriously good-looking.’ She fanned herself with mock passion as Bella laughed and rolled her eyes. ‘You look quite like him. Are you musical, too?’
‘Not really, not like Ned. So do you know where he is now?’ said Bella. ‘Have you any clue where he might have headed?’
‘I have no idea. A local band backed him; they might know. I can give you their number, if you like. I’ve also got an address for them, somewhere up in the Atherton Tablelands. I know they liked working with him. Your brother is very professional, but easy to get on with. He’d have a sound check and then run through a couple of numbers with them, and that was all. But he was really good. He connects with an audience, y’know?’
Bella nodded and felt a warm glow hearing her brother praised. ‘Yes, I know he’s good. A phone number and address would be great.’
After Sarah gave them to her, Bella nodded. ‘Here’s my number in case you hear anything about him from someone else. I appreciate your help. Brothers can be such a pain at times.’ She gave Sarah a grateful smile. ‘Thanks for seeing me.’
‘No worries.’
As Bella turned and headed towards the exit of the dark club, Sarah called after her, ‘You might stop by the community radio station. Miz Irene interviewed him for her programme, I Got the Blues. I didn’t hear it but he might have told her something about his plans.’
‘Great. I’ll do that. Thanks again, Sarah.’
Bella mulled Sarah’s suggestion over for a moment, googling Miz Irene and the radio station’s address. The station was only ten minutes away, so she decided to check it out first before she contacted the backing group.
A petite blonde in her fifties, her age disguised by her boyishly slim body, youthful clothes and beautifully cared for skin, greeted Bella in the lobby with a warm smile.
‘I’m Irene. How can I help you?’ she said.
‘I wanted to ask you about an interview you did with Ned Chisholm. I’m his sister.’ Bella glanced at the walls covered in framed photos of Irene with some very famous musicians. ‘These photos are amazing. Have you been doing this long?’
Irene chuckled. ‘I’ve always been a country and western and blues fan, so I kind of fell into this. Mind you, I’ve spent a lot of time in the US. I go to the jazz and blues festivals there, Nashville of course, and I’ve had the privilege of interviewing a lot of big names for my little ole show back here.’
‘There’s a big audience here in the north for the blues?’ asked Bella curiously.
‘Yes, but my show also streams on the net. I have fans all over the world, especially in the US. You’d be surprised how many people in the States know about Cairns. Of course, I think they knew about this place right back to Lee Marvin.’
‘You mean the old-time American movie actor?’
‘That’s him. He was a keen deep-sea fisherman, and once the first thousand-pound black marlin was caught off Cairns he used to visit the place regularly. Brought his Hollywood mates with him. That was in the sixties and seventies, when marlin fishing was all the go. Still is. Cairns was apparently a pretty wild old town back then. You could fall over any number of big-time celebrities in the local pubs in the fishing season. Anyway, tell me again, what did you want to know about Ned?’
‘I’m trying to track him down. Sarah at the jazz club told me you’d interviewed him when he was playing there?’
‘Sure did!’ Irene beamed. ‘Lovely man. Big talent. His show was great, could have run for weeks. So you’ve lost touch?’
‘He’s not one for calling home unless he has to, and we have a family event happening and I need to pin him down,’ said Bella.
Irene cocked her head. ‘Um, I remember he said something about heading further north. I don’t think he mentioned anywhere specific; maybe up to the Daintree?’
‘Apparently it’s beautiful up there. A bit away from everything. Maybe he’s looking for inspiration,’ said Bella.
Irene shrugged. ‘Could be. These artists do their own thing, I’ve discovered. You don’t hear from them for ages, then they just turn up. It drives me nuts when I’m trying to arrange interviews.’
‘I can imagine. Musicians live on another planet, if Ned’s anything to go by. Well, thanks for your time. Oh, is it possible to listen to the interview my brother did with you?’
‘Sure thing. It’s up on my website. I don’t put everything up there, but Ned speaks from the heart. I’ll give you the date we ran it so you can find it online.’
‘I suppose my best bet now would be to drive up to the Daintree, if you think he’s gone north.’
As she handed Bella a slip of paper with the date of the interview on it, Irene said, ‘You’ll enjoy the Daintree. There’s a wonderful lodge up there, built in the area before it was all proclaimed a national park and no more development was allowed. It’s all very eco-friendly. I try to escape up there when I can. A friend of mine works as a loca
l guide, and knows the Daintree really well. Look her up if you want to see the area properly. She’s very cool and will show you the real heart of the place. I’ll give you her number if you like.’
‘That would be great,’ said Bella, and Irene added the details to the piece of paper.
‘If you’re back in town and get the chance, get in touch and I’ll take you to a gig.’
‘Terrific! And thanks for your help. You’ve been very kind.’
As she walked back to her car, Bella tried to ring the backing band to see if they could give her a lead on Ned’s whereabouts. Her call went straight through to message bank, so she left a brief message. Hearing Irene speak so admiringly of Ned had softened some of Bella’s feelings towards him. I just hope I can see him soon, she thought.
*
As she set off back to Hidden Cove, early evening was settling on Cairns. The sun was low and the boats at the marina were reflected in the calm sea. There was a pink tinge to the clouds and a fresh breeze brought down the oppressive humidity. People were walking about looking for a place to have dinner, and the visiting jet set had begun to emerge and settle themselves in for some serious partying.
She loved driving along the twisting coastal highway that threaded its way between the sea on one side and the high rugged hills on the other on the way from Cairns to Hidden Cove. In places there were small stretches of sandy inlets squeezed between bulky rocks where the waves flung themselves onto the shore, but all were deserted this late in the day.
Along the shorefront of Hidden Cove, fairy lights and flame torches glowed in the balmy air, and music and laughter rolled gently into the night. She parked the car in the apartment block and hurried upstairs to freshen up. Although she wanted to listen to Ned’s interview on her phone, she decided to save it for later.