Forest Shadows

by David Laing

  Chapter Twelve

  * * *

  Jim strode to the front door and opened it. ‘Madeline? Quenton?’ he found himself asking, wondering what they could possibly want at this hour.

  ‘Sorry to barge in on you like this but I’ve a favour to ask,’ Mrs Quigley said. Jim saw at once that she was in quite a state. He also saw the overnight bag that Quenton was clutching.

  Madeline Quigley’s bird-like way of talking, a sort of stop and start twitter, now sounded panicky, anxious. Something was worrying her.

  ‘Could I come in, Jim? I-I’d like to ask you something.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, do,’ he said, ‘Come on through.’ He led the way into the living room.

  Hearing the muffled voices, and wondering what was going on, the others, including Shadow, left the kitchen to find out.

  Mrs Quigley, who was now sitting on the settee, leaned forward, wringing her hands. ‘It’s my husband,’ she said, not wasting any words. ‘He’s being released from jail. He rang me from the prison. I have to pick him up tomorrow.’

  She pulled a handkerchief from somewhere up her sleeve. She fussed and twisted it in her hands. Jim sat next to her wondering what to say. Consoling women in distress wasn’t his strong point. Feeling he needed to say something, he managed, ‘You don’t seem too pleased. Isn’t it a good thing he’s coming home?’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ she said, her voice almost a whisper. She opened her handbag. ‘And for some reason he wants this.’ She held up a book whose title read: ‘The Strahan Area, Hot Fishing Spots.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve no idea why he wants it.’

  Jim glanced at the book’s cover and scratched his head. ’Dunno either. It seems kinda strange he’d want something like that on his first day out of jail.’

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ she said. ‘But who knows what he’s thinking these days? I certainly don’t. You see, he made it clear to me on the first day he was locked up that he didn’t want me to visit him, or even call him on the phone. I don’t know why he’s changed his mind now. I could have easily mailed the book to him.’

  Not used to emotional situations like this, Jim was slightly embarrassed. He averted his eyes as he said, ‘I, er, that’s strange.’

  Quenton, a little disturbed with the way the adult conversation was going, sidled over to where Snook and Jars were standing. ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’ He jerked his thumb towards the living room door with a let’s get out of here look.

  Snook could see Quenton was anxious about something. ‘Kitchen,’ he mouthed, pushing Quenton in front of him. Jars, grasping what was happening, followed. Reg and Arnie, who were looking a little confused, tagged along too. Snook’s dad and Madeline, who were in deep conversation, barely noticed their departure.

  Chapter Thirteen

  * * *

  'How about that?’ Quenton was quick to point out to Snook and Jars as soon as they’d left the living room. ‘Dad wants the book with the treasure clue in it.’

  ‘Did you put the piece of paper back?’ Snook asked.

  ‘Of course I did. I’m not an idiot you know.’

  Reg, totally unaware of what was going on, caught the tail end of the kids’ conversation. He nudged Arnie. ‘Sounds like something’s in the wind. We’d better find out what it is.’

  ‘That’s r-right; we’d better f-find out.’

  ‘What’s this about books and pieces of paper?’ Reg asked. ‘Sounds very mysterious.’

  Snook tried to explain. ‘It was in a book – the clue I mean. It tells how to find a treasure. I took a copy. Wanna see it?’ He didn’t wait for a reply and rushed to his room where he’d stashed his copy of the riddle among some old comic books. He came back grinning and waving the single sheet in the air. ‘Here it is, the clue to the treasure.’

  Reg took the paper from Snook and read it.

  ‘Mmm. Interesting combination.’ He read out the main points: ‘… Mad Hatter … rainbow rise … treasure.’

  A smile danced across his lips. ‘So what’s in that scheming mind of yours, Snook? Tell me you’re not thinking about a treasure hunt.’

  Snook wasn’t about to be put off. ‘You gotta admit, Reg, Mr Quigley’s sure interested. After all, he wants the book where the riddle’s hidden.’

  ‘Look, don’t go getting your hopes up about finding some treasure based on a vague scribble on a scrap of paper,’ Reg said, trying to talk some sense into him. ‘When you think about it, you have to admit it’s all a bit far-fetched. I mean, the riddle could be a question from a quiz night or a word game. Anything really. It could be from any number of things.’

  Snook’s bottom lip dropped and his shoulders sagged. ‘So, you reckon it’s all just a joke?’ He scratched his head as though thinking. ‘If it is, then why would someone go to the trouble of hidin’ it in a book? Whoever did that must think it’s important. Sounds like Mr Quigley does anyway ’cause he wants the book. ’

  Reg walked over and ruffled his hair. ‘Don’t worry, Snook. You never know; we might find out what it’s all about at some stage. Let’s just wait and see.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jars said, ‘Mrs Quigley will tell us when she comes back from the … you know, the prison.’ She bit her lip wishing she hadn’t mentioned the prison word. The last thing she wanted was to upset Quenton. She quickly changed the subject. ‘I dare say we’ll find enough to keep us busy in the next few days, eh, Reg?’

  ‘You’re not wrong there, Jars. There’s always a few surprises to be had in the bush. You never know what you might find.’

  Reg had no idea how true his words were.

  Jars smiled to herself and was about to answer when Quenton pushed himself forward. ‘Are you all going camping or something? If you are, I’ll be coming with you. I’m staying with you for the whole weekend. Mum said so.’

  Snook’s face suddenly turned a deep crimson. He jabbed a finger in Quenton’s direction. ‘Wh-what?’ he spluttered. ‘Y-you? Coming with us? Over my dead body!’

  ‘Mum said I could ’cause she has to go pick up Dad. Besides, I’m the one that found the treasure clue.’

  Snook threw his arms in the air and was about to say something else when Jars stepped in. ‘Let’s worry about all that later. I can’t stop thinking about what Quenton’s mum said, about her husband wanting the book now. On his first day out of prison? It’s weird. Why can’t he wait till he gets home?’

  Snook shrugged and despite Reg’s earlier skepticism said, ‘Dunno, maybe he’s figured out what the puzzle means and he’s in a hurry to find the treasure. If that’s what he’s up to then we’d better hurry and figure it out too.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jars said, ‘I think you’re right. Mr Quigley is up to something. But what?’ She couldn’t even hazard a guess. ‘I suppose we should try to figure out what the clue means.’

  At that moment, there was a clap of thunder, followed by rain splattering on the roof. ‘Let’s think about all that tomorrow,’ Reg said in a dismissive way. He walked over to the sink. ‘For now, these dishes need washing. Watcha say, Jars? I’ll wash, you dry.’

  Jars picked up a tea towel and joined him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  * * *

  SATURDAY

  Jim, Arnie, Reg and the three kids plus Shadow, left the Kelly household early Saturday morning and made straight for the boat. It was just on eight o’clock when they put out to sea, and soon they were motoring south, heading for Strahan.

  That’s when Quenton decided to throw up over the side.

  From then on the trip was uneventful, except for Quenton that is, who couldn’t stop vomiting. But so far the going had been relatively smooth with only a gentle two-metre swell. Quenton’s queasy stomach was the only feature worth noting.

  Now anchored near the entrance to Strahan’s MacQuarie Harbour, Jim and Arnie hurried to set some of the cray pots. They hadn’t bothered dropping anchor. Reg, who was in the wheelhouse, kept them pointed in the right direction.

  Jars and Snoo
k, standing next to one another, feet apart and clutching the deck railings, stared at the narrow passage Snook’s dad would have to negotiate. It looked scary. Salt spray hung in the air, stinging their faces, invading their throats as they stared at the waves. ‘Looks like the insides of a washing machine goin’ flat out,’ Snook said as the breakers thundered through the narrow gap in all directions.

  ‘So, that’s Hell’s Gates,’ Snook said. ‘Looks dangerous. I don’t reckon Dad’ll risk goin’ through there. Not when it’s like that. It’s too rough.’

  Jars nodded. Snook wasn’t exaggerating. The narrow harbour entrance, with its rocky outcrops and confused, crashing waves looked an impossible hurdle. It’d be like running the gauntlet, she thought.

  ‘You’re not wrong,’ Jars agreed, ‘but your dad knows what he’s doing. Anyway, we’ll soon know. He’s heading this way.’

  ‘Okay, you two, go and join Reg in the wheelhouse. Take Quenton and Shadow with you; then all of you hang on tight. We’re in for a rugged few minutes.’

  ‘It looks too scary,’ Snook said his voice suddenly high-pitched, squeaky even. ‘We’d be better waitin’ for the sea to calm down. Wouldn’t we?’

  ‘We’ll be fine,’ his dad said turning his back and walking into the wheelhouse.

  ‘You get going, Snook,’ Jars said, ‘I’ll fetch Quenton.’

  ‘No,’ Quenton said when Jars explained what they had to do. ‘Leave me alone.’ He gripped the deck rail with both hands. ‘I’m too sick.’ As if to prove a point he moaned, then dry retched over the side.

  ‘It’s for your own safety,’ Jars said, ignoring his pleas. ‘Uncle Jim’s going to take the boat through the entrance in a minute. We don’t want you getting pitched into the sea, do we? So c’mon, hold onto my arm and I’ll help you join the others.’

  Head bowed, Quenton moaned and retched again. Then, surprising Jars, he let go of the rail and grabbed her arm. The thought of falling overboard and floundering about in the sea must have made up his mind. Helping Quenton stay upright, she helped him cover the short distance across the deck to the wheelhouse where Snook and the others were waiting. Shadow, who had remained at Jars’ side throughout the whole drama with Quenton, followed.

  ‘Okay everyone, we’re off,’ Jim shouted, as he started the motor, immediately steering the boat in a wide arc until there, ahead of them, was the phenomenon, aptly named Hell’s Gates. He motored gently towards the narrow entrance. At the Gates, he opened up to full throttle. ‘Hang on tight!’ he yelled, fighting to be heard above the sudden crash and roar of waves. ‘Here we go!’

  Chapter Fifteen

  * * *

  'You gotta be jokin’!’ Snook yelled struggling to be heard above the crashing and slap of the waves and the thump, thump, thump as the boat rose and fell. ‘We’ll sink!’

  Jars had never experienced anything like it – the stinging sea spray, the shock and thunderous boom as the boat rose, then fell, into the sea’s deep troughs. She hung on, hoping it would end soon.

  Jim gritted his teeth and wrestled with the wheel, fighting to keep The Shandora on a level keel. Veering broadside meant disaster. She’d capsize. The waves, now four metres high, showed no mercy, tossing and pitching the boat around like a soft toy as though playing.

  Then, as though a switch had been thrown, the craziness stopped.

  Suddenly it was quiet. No one spoke, the only sounds the steady beat of the motor and the gentle lapping of the harbour waves. Then, as if on schedule, Quenton threw up all over the cabin floor.

  But it was over. It had taken less than two minutes to force their way through the Gates. To Jars it had seemed much longer but at least it was over. Then she noticed. She was standing in Quenton’s sick.

  Stepping carefully to the side, out of the vomit, she noticed Quenton propped up against the cabin wall. He looked terrible and he was sobbing. Snook, on the other hand, had a sheepish half-grin on his face like he wasn’t quite sure how to look.

  ‘Well,’ her uncle grinned, not noticing Quenton’s distress, ‘what did you think of that?’

  ‘Piece of cake,’ Snook laughed. ‘Absolutely. I wasn’t a bit worried.’ His voice had miraculously lost its squeak.

  Jars smiled. He wouldn’t have said that a couple of minutes ago when he was gripping the edge of a shelf with white knuckles and eyes about to pop.

  ‘Gotta do that again, though,’ Snook’s dad reminded them. ‘It’ll be worse then. We’ll be motoring against the swell.’

  Snook groaned. So did Quenton. ‘And Snook, you’d better get that mess cleaned up.’ He pointed to the floor, noticing the result of Quenton’s queasy stomach for the first time. ‘It’s starting to pong in here.’

  Seeing the look of anguish on Snook’s face, Jars couldn’t help herself. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll do it, as soon as I find a mop and bucket.’ She had the feeling that cleaning up sick wouldn’t be the worst thing she’d have to do this weekend.

  Chapter Sixteen

  * * *

  It took them less than half-an-hour to motor through the waters of Macquarie Harbour to the Strahan docks. Once there they moored alongside the harbour wall just behind the Lady Jane Franklin, a cruise boat. Behind them, next to the yellow unloading line, was a cray boat like theirs, The Elizabeth.

  Arnie, followed by Reg, leaped from the deck, each holding a securing rope. They quickly looped the ropes over a couple of steel bollards while Jim worked the winch to draw the ropes tight. ‘All secure,’ he called out. He turned towards the kids who were leaning against the boat rail watching the other activities on the wharf and the town’s main street that ran parallel to the large concrete docking area. ‘You can all go ashore now and Snook, you’d better help Quenton; he‘s still not looking too good. Wait for us on the wharf. Arnie and I’ll join you in a minute, as soon as we’ve squared things up here.’

  Following instructions, they disembarked and made their way across the waterfront, a large cemented area dotted with several sheds and a couple of tourist shops. Shadow, who had easily leaped ashore, followed them. ‘Smells fishy don’t it?’ Snook commented.

  Quenton, who was being held upright by both Snook and Jars, moaned. ‘The smell’s not making me feel any better, that’s for sure.’

  Jars nodded but didn’t say anything. She was watching the hustle and bustle that was taking place around them. There was a crowd of holidaymakers currently boarding the Lady Jane, which would take them across the bay to the Gordon River sightseeing. Some men were busy loading the Elizabeth with supplies, and close by, a couple of tourists, who looked like husband and wife, camera hanging from the man’s neck, were strolling along near some other smaller boats. At the far end of the wharf, a few other tourists were coming and going from the Wild Rivers shop and the Strahan Activities Booking Centre where river cruises and rail journeys into the wilderness, were on offer.

  They stood and waited for Snook’s dad and Arnie to catch up with them. They didn’t have to wait long. ‘How you feeling, Quenton?’ Jim asked when he and Reg arrived.

  ‘Y-yes,’ Arnie said, following Jim’s cue. ‘Do you f-feel okay now?’

  ‘I’m never going on a boat again,’ Quenton mumbled. ‘That’s for sure.’

  ‘You’ve got no choice I’m afraid,’ Jim said. ‘We still have to drop you off further down the bay; then there’s the trip home on Monday, but don’t worry, we’ll get some seasick pills for you. They’ll sort you out.’

  ‘Yeah, sort you out g-good,’ Arnie said.

  With that settled, they walked from the wharf to the main street – The Esplanade, skirted the cars and trucks that were parked bumper to bumper and crossed to the other side. ‘See you directly,’ Jim said as he and Arnie began to head off in a different direction. ‘We’re going to the processing plant to organise things there. You guys hang around here. We won’t be long.’

  ‘Don’t forget my pills,’ Quenton called out to his back as the two quickly walked away. Without turning, Jim waved a hand i
n the air to show he’d heard.

  Snook, Jars and Quenton did as they were told and waited, generally killing time absently watching the passersby and the occasional vehicle driving along The Esplanade. Reg, who wanted to stock up on supplies for their camping trip, went into a nearby shop, the Strahan General Store.

  ‘There’s lots of motels here,’ Jars commented.

  Quenton shrugged. ‘What motels? I haven’t seen any.’

  ‘There’s signs and notices everywhere.’ She pointed to the shop window opposite to where they were standing. ‘Look, there’s one there, advertising the West Coast Motel and Caravan Park.’

  ‘Hey, hang on; do you see what kind of shop that is?’ Snook said pushing to the front. ‘We should go in and check it out, you know, for the school project.’

  Jars looked through the window and then at a sign above the door: DONALD AND SONS, JEWELLERS, GEMS AND PRECIOUS STONES.

  ‘C’mon, let’s go in,’ Snook said, hurrying to open the shop door. Then, stopping for a second, called back to Quenton, ‘You stay here and look after Shadow. Me and Jars have got some important research to do.’

  Jars began to follow Snook into the shop wondering what he had in mind. Just looking, she supposed. Shadow, head cocked to one side, sat next to Quenton eyes fixed on Jars as she disappeared inside.

  It was a small business with just the one glass-topped counter and a few display stands with sunglasses, watches and various trinkets on show. Behind the counter, standing next to a cash register, was a rather distinguished-looking gentleman. He was dressed in a tweed sports jacket, white dress shirt, maroon tie. Jars guessed that he was the older of the Donalds. The man adjusted the spectacles that hung on the end of his nose and said in a rather shaky, sad-sounding voice, ‘May I help you?’