by Di Morrissey
By contrast, Dani had become so absorbed in her new life in the valley that each morning she twisted her hair into a knot and usually threw on un-ironed clothes for whatever she was doing in the studio. Her hands hadn’t seen a manicure in months.
‘Don’t worry about Sugar, we can sling her in the backpack if the going gets too rough,’ said Jason.
‘Fortunately it’s not a national park, so the dog really isn’t a problem,’ added Max, giving the dog a quick pat to help ease the tension.
They each carried water and Dani had asked the boys at the Nostalgia Cafe to make interesting sandwiches and snacks for their lunch, which Carter insisted on carrying in his large backpack. Dani had a sketchpad and camera in hers. As did Max. She assumed Jason was interested in the history of the land he was developing but Ginny was just having a novel day out, surmised Dani. At least she had a hat and sensible shoes. Designer trainers, of course.
They set out from the picnic reserve at the edge of the river where they’d left the cars and crossed over the low stone causeway. Within minutes they were climbing uphill into lightly timbered country. They walked single file with Carter in the lead wearing shorts, hiking boots, a battered army hat and a shirt with the National Parks and Wildlife emblem. Max was at the rear, moving gently like a silent shadow, glancing around the bush and sometimes pausing briefly to look up into the tree tops. There were a few comments exchanged but as the way became steeper they all concentrated on following where Carter led, as there was no real track. He’d been through here before so knew where to point out some natural features.
‘Look at that stump. Huge bloody Australian red cedar, must’ve yielded a hell of a lot of timber for the old-time cabinet makers,’ said Carter.
‘How long ago would it have been logged?’ asked Jason.
‘A hundred years ago, I reckon. And it would have been hundreds of years old,’ said Carter, running his hand over the wide flat top of the stump. ‘They would have used a big cross-cut saw and a lot of muscle to get it down.’
‘A slice of timber that big would make a great top for a dining table,’ commented Jason. ‘Be hard to get anything like it today.’
Dani took off her backpack and got out her camera. ‘I want a picture of that stump, it’s like . . . well, a memorial, I suppose, to a lost era. Go ahead, I’ll catch up,’ she added as the others began to move on.
‘I’ll wait for you if they get too far ahead,’ said Max who could understand why she wanted a picture of the old weathered stump with its partly exposed labyrinth root system hinting at the strength and power that had once anchored a mighty tree through decades of storms.
While Dani was absorbed in trying to capture the play of light and shadow there was a gust of wind, a rustle of grass, and she turned, curious. With the camera to her eye, she instinctively pressed the shutter. In the undergrowth of grass and scrubby small saplings, there was a creature – yellow eyes, stripes, a flash of a small head and a long tail. Dani snapped again and then it was gone. She lowered the camera, wondering if she’d really seen the same creature a second time, or was it an illusion of the dappled light? Then she heard the crack of a twig and movement as it raced away from her.
Dani felt shaky. She knew it was no common creature and she remembered the strange dog-like animal she’d glimpsed on the road when she’d driven into the valley and met Roddy. Possibly not far from here. Had she captured a picture of the phantom beast?
‘Come on, Dani,’ Max had walked back to get her. ‘The others are pushing on. We have a long way to go.’
‘Yes. Yes, I just got carried away.’ She hurried to Max.
‘What happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ But the softly spoken Aboriginal artist wasn’t joking. He studied her face. ‘Well . . . ?’
‘Max . . . when I first came up here and drove into this valley, I saw an animal . . . like nothing I’ve ever seen. Of course, no one believed me, made all kinds of suggestions and jokes, so I shut up. But I’m pretty sure I just saw the same . . . thing.’
Max gave a nod of understanding. ‘I’ve heard stories . . .’
‘And what do they say?’ asked Dani as they walked to join the others.
‘Depends on who is talking. Some will say that it’s a feral born of wild dogs and whiteman’s animals, a mutant, a gene freak. Or that it’s the guardian of its spiritual country, created from the Dreamtime. Take your pick.’
‘I’ll opt for the Dreamtime wanderer,’ said Dani with a little smile. ‘My imagination must be running wild.’
‘I would suggest you keep it to yourself. These kind of stories have a way of getting out of hand, bringing in media, hunters, who knows,’ said Max. ‘This is private land, part of which will be homes to families. The idea there is a wild creature roaming, mythical or not, could be a problem.’
‘Max, I might have a photo of it!’ How could she not have checked? Stopping, she held the camera to view the digital images.
It was there. Half hidden, shot at an angle, but no mistaking the shape of its head, haunches and long tail. Branches obscured its body so it was hard to judge its width. The stripes could have been shadows, but it was similar to the animal Dani had seen on the road. She flipped to the second picture but the animal was not in the frame.
‘Could it be the same one I saw a while back or another one?’ she wondered.
‘Something tells me it’s the same one, the area you describe is close to here.’ Max handed the camera back to Dani after studying the picture. ‘You could sell that for a lot of money. You could put Jason’s development on the map. But Dani, I sense it would bring trouble. There is something bad, evil, connected to it.’
Dani stared at him. There was concern in his dark eyes. It troubled her. ‘What should I do?’ she asked in a small voice.
‘I say erase it. Say nothing. But remember it – and paint it.’
Max was right, this could fetch money, notoriety, publicity for Jason’s whole development. And suddenly Dani could see where that could lead. She looked around her at the hillside of trees and in the distance the ranges and gullies and unseen pastures where villages would flourish among the natural bushland and landscaping. It was so peaceful.
Dani glanced down at the image. She almost imagined she could see something in that glint of a yellow eye. Her thumb hovered over the button where a message box flashed. ‘Erase?’.
They soon caught up with the others who had stopped for a drink, a breather, and to admire the view from the crest of the hill. Sugar was comfortably ensconced in Jason’s backpack, head and front paws poking out, looking smug.
‘I don’t imagine this view has changed much since Isabella’s day,’ said Jason.
‘She wouldn’t have cleared so much land,’ said Max looking at the expanse of pasture dotted with stands of trees.
‘It’s so orderly, look at the lines of trees, kind of like spokes of a wheel,’ said Ginny with a wave of both arms.
‘That’s stage-one village. Those will be tree-lined streets. We left as many trees as we could, then landscaped and planted more,’ said Jason with pride. ‘Now the masterplan has got the nod, we’re just waiting for the green light on detailed design drawings and then development approval from the council.’
‘God, who’d want to live in the middle of this wilderness,’ said Ginny. ‘I thought you said it was linked to towns. I rather expected to see . . . well, some civilisation.’
There was a chuckle around the group and Jason reassured her. ‘It’s not remote. Some people just want a modest rural setting for their future home, and look how beautiful it is. There will be everything you need right down there eventually.’
‘And over that rise is Riverwood,’ added Max.
‘Where we had lunch at that Nostalgia place?’ said Ginny, ‘That’s not a town.’
‘Well, there’s no shopping mall, that’s for sure,’ said Carter with a grin.
‘I don’t go to malls,’ said Ginny coldly.
‘N
o, you go to Europe,’ said Jason giving her a peck on the cheek.
As everyone grinned Carter winked at Jason. ‘Reckon you’d better get into the Sydney property market.’
‘Done that. Where’re we having lunch?’ said Jason, adjusting the dog in the backpack.
‘I could murder one of Claude’s sangers,’ said Dani lightly, trying to ease the tension. She wondered what Ginny thought of the food at the Nostalgia Cafe. She seemed hard to please.
They stopped for morning tea in a shady clearing beneath some trees. Carter kicked a log to make sure there was nothing inside, then, with a flourish, pretended to dust it off for Ginny. She ignored the gesture and sat on the grass, her legs folded.
‘What’s left of Isabella’s property?’ asked Dani.
‘Not much, as you’ll see. I’ve only just been able to identify the location through some old survey papers National Parks found. They show existing properties in the 1840s and ’50s,’ said Carter.
‘There weren’t many of them back then,’ said Jason. ‘The settlers had to rely a lot on neighbours, help each other as much as possible. No roads, just a public track which could be miles from their home.’ He glanced at Ginny hoping she wasn’t going to make some comment about the area still appearing isolated.
‘True enough,’ said Carter, ‘And that was the cross Isabella had to bear. Most of her neighbours became her enemies.’
‘Seriously? Was she that bad a person?’ said Dani.
‘She was successful and that pissed the men off,’ explained Carter while passing the cake. ‘Must have been a tough old bird.’
Dani turned to Max who’d been silent, sipping his mug of coffee from the big Thermos. ‘What do you think, Max?’
‘By all accounts she had problems from the start. Any normal wealthy, civilised, single woman would’ve given up. I have the feeling she must have felt very strongly about this land to fight so hard to stay here,’ he said quietly.
‘Perhaps she had no choice,’ said Jason thoughtfully. ‘Wasn’t she an orphan, no family to go back to? If she wanted to breed horses and cattle, I can’t imagine her in a drawing room in Sydney.’
Carter nodded. ‘Her guardian William Crowder had probably dropped off the perch. Max is right, the bush gets you. I remember when I first started working in the scrub. Spend time alone out here and it sneaks up on you.’
Jason glanced at Ginny. ‘Do you reckon you could live on a property, a nice modern house, sweeping vistas over the river, ride the hills in the misty morn?’
Dani, like Ginny, couldn’t tell if he was joking, being facetious or meant it. Was he hinting at a future life in the valley rather than Sydney?
‘I don’t ride and don’t intend to,’ said Ginny, standing up. ‘God, it’s hot, let’s get going to the river or stream you told me about.’
Everyone got up. ‘You bet, Kelly’s Crossing for lunch,’ said Carter. ‘After calling in on Isabella.’
They continued across country, strung out, Carter in front, then Jason and Ginny now leading Sugar on her leash. They walked close together in deep discussion. Max and Dani brought up the rear, pausing to snap photographs or for Max to point out an interesting plant, an orchid or staghorn far up in a tree, a bird’s nest or a hole in a tree providing shelter to some nocturnal animal.
Dani’s mind was clicking over with ideas. The intimacy of the close-up images, the detail, was just as important as the grand views. She was especially taken with the orchids and some unusual carnivorous plants Max showed her. She could visualise them in paint on canvas. When Dani and Max caught up with the group, they were examining a well-weathered fence post made from a whole tree trunk or big branch. Nearby, indicating the fence line, was another smaller post of the same vintage made from a split log.
Max ran his hand over the grey post. ‘A paddock corner gate post,’ he said. ‘Been there a long time.’
‘It looks tired, doesn’t it?’ said Dani. ‘Like, I’m sick of standing up here for a century or more.’
‘So this was an outer paddock?’ asked Jason. He looked around but there was nothing else indicating someone had lived here or worked this piece of land.
‘I reckon it was the entrance,’ explained Carter, ‘These would have been the home paddocks. The house site is about a couple of clicks away.’
They set off with enthusiasm, except Ginny who muttered to Jason, ‘What’s so interesting about an old post?’
He thought a minute then answered, ‘It’s old.’
‘She must have planted these trees. They’re in a line,’ said Max indicating the row of old beech trees with occasional gaps like missing teeth.
‘Yeah, I thought that too. But look at this one here,’ added Carter as they came around a small outcrop of rock. There was a magnificent old strangler fig tree with a huge heavy canopy of drooping branches, a tangle of aerial roots seeming to hold it upright. ‘Get a load of this,’ Carter added with delight, and pointed to markings high on the sturdy trunk. There was no mistaking the burned initials – IMK – and beneath it her brand, the same as on the side-saddle in the museum.
‘I feel all tingly,’ said Dani. ‘Did Isabella come out here and do this, or one of her workers I wonder?’
‘They must have been branding cattle in a yard here. You’d need a fire to have the branding iron hot enough to do that,’ said Carter.
‘A woman wouldn’t be branding cattle back then,’ said Ginny dismissively.
‘Sounds like Isabella did,’ said Jason. ‘What a woman.’
Carter agreed. ‘Yes, she did a lot of her own stock work from mustering, to branding and taking them to the sales. There are plenty of mentions of her in pioneers’ letters and reminiscences.’
‘Well, where’s the house?’ asked Ginny, bored with the tree, though Max and Dani were taking photographs.
‘Ain’t much to see,’ said Carter. ‘Buggers burned it down. That must have hurt.’
Jason took up the story. ‘Her neighbours did it. They didn’t like her, so when she was away they burned down her house and it was a showpiece in those days – had chandeliers and even a piano.’
Ginny was impressed. ‘Really. Sounds like she had a touch of class.’
‘Indeed. In those days most settlers lived in primitive slab huts with only the basics,’ added Carter.
‘She seems to have had a lot of bad luck,’ commented Ginny.
‘Locals probably said bad management. Or in today’s parlance, bad karma. She had a lot of enemies, that’s for sure,’ said Jason.
‘Do you think she’s the right character to associate with your development?’ asked Ginny with a raised eyebrow.
‘I’ve been down that track,’ said Jason.
‘We haven’t heard the whole story,’ said Dani quickly. ‘There’s a historian writing her life story after doing incredible research.’
‘Well, good or bad, I don’t see some long-gone, forgotten pioneer woman selling your homes, Jason.’ Ginny had the last word.
Jason shrugged. ‘Who knows? Hopefully Dani will create interest and revitalise the story of Isabella through her art. People won’t be buying just a piece of land – they’ll be living with a part of history.’
‘I see it,’ shouted Max who had wandered away from the group and up a small rise in the land. ‘Over here. The house.’
Ginny looked where he was pointing and back to Carter waiting for an explanation.
‘There, see the big old pepper tree to the left, and that big brown pile of bricks, that’s what’s left of a chimney stack.’
‘And there’s another one,’ said Dani. ‘Must have been a big house. Convict-made bricks probably.’
‘Imagine we’re standing in the driveway, well, a tree-lined track worn bare by horses, cattle, drays, wagons and sulkies,’ said Carter. ‘And on that rise we see the gracious homestead of Miss Isabella Kelly – two storeys, a verandah covered in vines and ferns, a garden, enclosed yards, stables and out dwellings.’
Dani picke
d up the story. ‘It’s early evening, lights shine through the windows and there is the sound of piano music.’
‘Did she play the piano?’ asked Jason.
‘She owned one, we know that. And she was a refined lady, well brought up, as they say, by her English guardian Sir William Crowder. She knew French, so she most likely learned music,’ Carter said.
‘I can’t see a woman who chose to live out here, brand cattle and do a man’s job, caring much about the social graces,’ observed Ginny, but she failed to break the spell that transported the others.
‘And down at the fringe of the bush is the single light of a campfire where the Aboriginal stockman and his family eat, knowing their people, their relatives are somewhere out there still,’ said Max with a small smile.
‘Let’s go and see what else is there,’ said Carter striding ahead.
Dani was thoughtful as they headed towards the lonely ruin. Ginny stopped while Sugar sniffed at a bush and Dani caught up to Jason. ‘Did you hear Carter say Isabella’s guardian was William Crowder?’
‘Yeah, I guess so. Why?’
‘His initials would be WC . . . that’s what’s engraved on the clasp of the writing box you gave me!’
Jason stopped. ‘Hey . . . do you think? Could be, eh?’ He broke into a big smile. ‘Barry at Isadora’s was convinced it could have belonged to her. Well, let’s decide it is. I knew it was special.’
‘What’s special?’ asked Ginny joining them.
Before Dani could say anything, Jason explained. ‘I gave Dani a writing box for her art things . . . it’s old, English, and has the initials WC on it. Now we think it belonged to Isabella’s guardian, William Crowder. It’d be the sort of thing you’d give someone travelling abroad then, wouldn’t it?’
‘I really wouldn’t know,’ said Ginny tightly. ‘An interesting gift. Was it for a special occasion?’
Dani stood there thinking Ginny looked like a coiled spring.
Jason seemed unaware and went on cheerily, ‘Ah, it was more a bribe. I was trying to convince Dani to work for us. She was against this whole idea – until she saw what we’re doing.’