Once we’d found all the images we could, we split the list in half and started making notes on each work, zooming in as close as we could—some of the photos were pretty low res, so not that close—to isolate specific elements.
‘There’s some mountains she’s used a bunch of times,’ I said finally, turning the screen to show him. ‘The artworks are a few years apart, too. She could just be reusing the same set of images over and over, but if she’s not…’
‘Maybe she lives near them,’ Elias finished for me, his eyes bright. He reached out and touched me lightly on the forehead. ‘Gold star.’
‘It’s still a long shot,’ I warned again, feeling that same apprehensive guilt. I could be wrong about this, totally wrong about everything.
‘Total faith, Linds.’ His phone rang. He swept it up in a too-practised move. ‘Talk to me.’
I rolled my eyes, and turned back to what I was doing, trying to ignore Elias on the phone behind me, gushing the sort of excitement I had come to expect from him. It was Jazmin, and he was filling her in on the day’s events, including the discovery I’d just made.
I twiddled my thumbs as I waited for him to be done. Being Elias, he didn’t seem to be in any rush to finish the conversation. I still felt that weird stab of jealousy. My search, now.
He hung up eventually, after lots of love yous. I wasn’t impressed. My face said as much.
He raised the ridge where his eyebrow should have been. ‘Sorry.’
I folded my arms. ‘You ready to get back to work?’
‘Are you getting snippy with me?’
‘I’m trying to be an adult here. One of us should be.’
He seemed amused, as always. ‘Do I need to take back that gold star?’
I held his gaze. ‘You kidding? I’m cashing this thing in. Gold’s at a ten-year high.’
That made him smile. He checked the time. ‘I have to work at three. You wanna come with?’
I didn’t have anything else to do, but it seemed a bit pathetic to just start following him around. ‘You know, I’m not a lost puppy.’
‘I’ll make you an iced chocolate with extra cream. We use real Cadbury chocolate powder.’
‘You think you can just promise chocolate and I’ll follow you anywhere?’
‘I do.’
‘Shut up.’
‘That’s a yes, then?’
I rolled my eyes, and he grinned at me. ‘We can bring my laptop and you can keep looking, if you want. See if you can work out which mountains they are.’ He disappeared upstairs and came back down ten minutes later wearing what looked like some sort of Elias version of a uniform. There was a black polo with his café’s logo on the pocket, and he’d paired it with his black jeans, folded up to mid-shin. It left a band of bare white skin above his combat boots. The shirt collar was up: very 1950s. All he was missing was a leather jacket and dark glasses. I wasn’t exactly counting, but there was no doubt in my mind that Elias had at least triple the wardrobe options that I did.
We climbed into the van and both saw the gift basket that was still sitting on the front seat. ‘We should drop this off at your ditch on the way.’
‘Ha.’
‘How else are you going to get it home?’
I didn’t want to show him the house, but I wasn’t sure what else to do. No way I was going to lug that basket through the shops and on and off buses. I gave up. ‘Fine. But you have to swear you won’t tell anybody. And that you won’t get all judgey.’
I’m not sure why I bothered saying that; Elias was about the least judgey person I’d ever met.
I directed him to the house. Mid-afternoon, so the street was quiet. I wasn’t sure what was likely to draw more attention—the Mr Whippy van or me loaded up with the box of stuff—so in the end I got him to pull up at the kerb. ‘I’ll run it in, and meet you down the street when I’m done.’
‘I don’t get to come inside?’
‘I don’t think my decor is quite up to your standards.’
I felt conspicuous going in in broad daylight. The key was in its usual place. I slotted it into the lock and slid the door across, still wary of making noise and trying to convince myself that if the neighbours cared they would have noticed Vogue earlier. I ran upstairs with the box. In the end, I’d shoved all my stuff into a built-in wardrobe—it had felt too exposed just leaving it lying on the floor in the bare room—so I stuffed the box in there too and shut the door tightly. It was horribly hot and airless in the house and for a fleeting second I considered opening one of the windows, but then I chickened out. Not worth the risk. After another second’s hesitation, I opened the wardrobe back up, grabbed the deodorant from the box and sprayed myself liberally. Better than nothing.
Elias was waiting obediently about fifty metres down the street. I hopped into the car, relieved to be greeted by the blasting air conditioning. ‘Let’s go.’
‘That’s not a bad house.’
‘Yeah, it’s got that seventies charm.’ Or maybe it was that fifties or sixties charm. I didn’t really know anything about that stuff.
‘I love seventies charm.’
‘Of course you do.’
‘I’ll keep my eyes out for a nice housewarming present for you.’
It was quiet enough in the café. I picked an armchair half-hidden in the corner and settled down with the laptop. Elias promised he’d bring me an iced chocolate once he got himself sorted.
I watched him as he got to work. He greeted everyone—customers and colleagues—with the same enthusiasm. I had no idea if he was any good at making coffee but he had the customer service part sorted: he remembered regulars’ names, high-fived little kids, and seemed completely unflappable, even when a sudden rush of teenagers in the local school uniform poured in with requests for chai lattes and mochas.
I’d been there about fifteen minutes when one of the other staff came my way and delivered the iced chocolate. ‘Hey, I’m Bree. Elias asked me to bring you this.’
‘Thanks.’
She smiled at me. She would have been about Elias’ age, with brown hair in a ponytail. More normal-looking than Elias, but then so was pretty much everyone. ‘Elias told us all about how you’re helping him search. It’s cool.’
I squirmed in my seat. What sort of stuff was he saying about me?
She looked across at him. ‘We call him “Lias Smiyas”. You know, ’cause he’s always smiling.’
With that, she went back to work. I scoffed a scoop of cream and then put the iced chocolate aside. For once, the lure of the task I was engrossed in was stronger than the prospect of free food.
I’d been working on a list of ways of tracking down the mountain range. I knew there was a chance Sephora had moved to another part of Australia, but figured I’d start off local and work further out if I needed. The bush in Sephora’s artworks—lots of gum trees, some sandy soil, bush rock, hills that looked grey-blue from a distance—seemed just like the sort we’d camped in when I was a kid, in the Blue Mountains. Vague memories from school geography lessons, combined with some quick Google searches, told me that coastal New South Wales generally had more sparse scrub and sandhills than we were seeing, so it was likely what we were looking for was inland. Not that far west, because once you get out towards Broken Hill it’s just flat expanses of dry, red earth.
I started by searching for a list of mountains in the state, comparing photos of each one to the artworks. A few didn’t have photos, so I switched to Google Earth and checked them out one at a time. Nothing matched up. I was scanning half-heartedly across the satellite view of the Blue Mountains in Google Maps, debating whether to check out other states, when it suddenly popped up. A row of photos at the bottom of the screen, each one depicting a different tourist spot in the region. One in particular…I ran the cursor over the image. A line shot out to mark a spot on the screen.
Rather than call Elais over, I sent him a text: I’ve just earned my iced chocolate.
It was funny watching hi
m read the message. His eyebrows—the skin where they should have been—shot right up, and he looked over at me.
He delivered a piece of brownie to my table two minutes later. ‘Firstly, try this brownie. It’s gluten free. Not that you care. But look at the size of the chocolate chunks.’
‘Is this a reward brownie?’
‘Damn right. Show me what you’ve got.’
‘It’s the Capertee Valley.’
He looked blank. ‘What’s that?’
‘The second largest canyon in the world, apparently.’
‘I’ve never heard of it.’
‘Me neither. But look.’ I showed him the screen, with one of Sephora’s artworks alongside a panoramic view of the canyon. ‘Those aren’t mountains. They’re cliffs, ringing the valley. And this particular mesa’—I scrolled down to show another artwork—‘is right in the centre of the canyon. It’s called Pantoneys Crown.’
He stared at it for a minute. ‘So that’s where she lives, this valley?’
‘Well, not exactly. It’s a national park, so nobody lives there. But all around is farmland and holiday cabins, backpacker places, those sorts of things.’
‘So she might live somewhere nearby.’
‘Exactly. There’s a few small towns, as well.’
‘So she could be in town or out on a property somewhere.’
I nodded.
‘How do we narrow it down?’
If he was expecting me to know the answer to that, he was going to be disappointed. But I was feeling encouraged by what I’d found so far. ‘I’ll have a poke around.’
A nod. ‘Are you okay to keep working? What else do you need? I can make you a coffee. Or a baguette. Or whatever, really.’
‘I’ll start with my reward brownie.’ The chocolate chunks were ridiculously huge. The brownie itself wasn’t small, either. Maybe Elias was giving my metabolism too much credit.
I worked on the laptop for the next hour. First, I went back over all the images we had accumulated of her artworks. I looked at everything from the types of trees and plants to where the sun was relative to different landmarks, to the location of a river that cropped up in a few frames of one of her video works. Next I scanned through all the images I could find online from the region, trying to spot similarities. I started to feel my concentration wavering as clear connections failed to materialise; I shifted restlessly in the chair. Began to yawn. Finally, I pushed the laptop lid shut, gently but definitively.
I sent Elias another message, then sat back in the armchair, rubbing my eyes.
No luck, sorry. I think I’m done for now.
He was busy making drinks and didn’t check his phone. I watched, slightly mesmerised by his movements. Pull, slide, tip, froth. I had no idea what he was doing half the time, but he seemed so comfortable and confident doing it that I found myself a little bit impressed. When he did pause for a moment between drinks and look at his phone I’d forgotten why I was watching him. He looked straight across at me. ‘You okay?’ he mouthed.
I half-shrugged, and he nodded. Glanced at the queue of customers waiting and held up a hand. Five minutes.
It was closer to ten minutes before he could get a break and headed over. ‘You didn’t find anything?’
‘It looks like a lot of her photos are taken from inside the canyon itself. Usually from the west side of Pantoneys Crown. Different times of the day, and what looks like different times of year—it’s hard to tell because the native trees are basically all evergreen; I just looked at some of the plants that were flowering—so it looks like she’s there pretty regularly. There was a bushfire that went through that particular part of the national park a few years ago, and she’s got artworks from before and after that, including some where everything’s all still charred.’
‘So why is that bad news?’
‘It’s not, in itself. But we already figured she might live locally. What I can’t find is anything that narrows it down. I figure it’s somewhere close, maybe even just outside the national park…On the west side, most likely. There’s a few properties in that general area, but we have no way of knowing if she actually lives on any of them.’
He nodded. ‘So where do we go from here?’
I held my hands out: I got nothin’. ‘You tell me.’
‘We’ll think of something.’ Damn that endless cheerful optimism of his. ‘I’ve still got a couple of hours here. You can hang around if you want, I’ll drop you home.’
I shook my head. ‘It’s okay. I’ll catch a bus.’
I used the laptop again to find a bus route that went past the house and check the timetable. It was a long and windy ride home, but I didn’t really mind. The bus was mostly empty. When I got off it was past six, still daylight and warm after the hot day. I stuck to the shady side of the road and took my time, watching people as they went about their business. Splashing and yelling coming from kids in backyard pools, parents arriving home from work. Just another late summer evening.
The house was still baking hot. I scouted out the different rooms, trying to find one where I could open a window without it being noticed by a neighbour. In the end, I gave up and went to the bathroom.
I surveyed the peppermint green bathtub. It was the sort with the shower head over it, though there was no curtain. I wasn’t entirely sure about getting undressed and showering in someone else’s house without their knowledge, but there was only so much deodorant could do.
I let the water run for a few minutes to cool down while I unpacked the gift basket. The towel wasn’t new, but was freshly washed and fluffy, not old and crunchy like our ones at home. Probably because Elias’ parents weren’t too cheap to buy fabric softener.
The water was pretty icy once I got under it so I kept it short. Even so I felt a million times better once I was done. Towelled myself off and dried my hair, and put on the cleanest clothes I had. Gave in to temptation and opened the bedroom window to let the breeze in. And there I sat, enjoying it.
That lasted about ten minutes. Then I started to think. About the kids, who I’d managed to avoid thinking about for the last couple of days. About me, and what I was going to do. I couldn’t stay in the house forever. We had to be nearing the end of our search for Sephora one way or another. So what next? I didn’t have anywhere else to go or anything else to do.
I flopped down on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. It wasn’t the best view—there were yellowed marks from water damage, cracked and peeling paint—but it did start me wondering how the ceiling in my own bedroom was looking. If it had been fixed yet. The thought of having to go home didn’t bother me quite as much as I thought it would, other than the fact that I had no idea how mad Mum and Dad were. Mum. I needed to message Mum. Time to put on my own big girl pants.
I shot off a message as quickly as I could—I’m fine—and received an equally brief reply almost instantly. Thank you. The whole process felt a bit absurd, but it was better than her freaking out and going to the police, right?
I was still awake when Elias’ message came in just after eleven. It was a screen grab from an online shopping website: a small table lamp. Modernish, with short timber tripod legs and a simple white lampshade.
Found you the perfect housewarming gift, ran the accompanying message.
I smiled and punched out a reply. I don’t have a table.
I got a reply within seconds. I thought you’d say that.
Thirty seconds later, another photo. You have a floor though, right? A second lamp in the same design, but with longer legs. A floor lamp.
I smiled again. Sure. No shortage of floor.
Good to know. I’ll let you know if I need to borrow some.
It felt good to know there was at least one person in the world who seemed to care about me.
Gotta crash, 8am lecture tomorrow. Peace out, Linds.
Sleep tight, Lias Smiyas.
I rearranged my makeshift bed and then messed it up again trying to get comfortable. There was noth
ing great about sleeping on the floor, and my head was racing with thoughts.
I couldn’t make sense of Elias. I found one side of him—the pretentious, fashion-loving, effervescent extrovert—a total turnoff. The sort of person who makes me want to run for the hills. But then the other side of him—the side that joked about table lamps, and admired me for my recalcitrant ways—made me feel like we were old friends. How the heck was I supposed to balance those two things?
I fell asleep wrestling with it.
27
I woke up, stiff and sore, to find myself facedown against bare floorboards, my mouth dry. I felt like I’d swallowed a whole lot of dust. I probably had.
It was already past nine, and there was a message from Elias.
Yvonne called me, she wants to meet up today. Will you come, please? We’ll keep away from your dad.
I still didn’t have anything better to do, so I looked up the bus timetables and worked out I could be waiting in the car park by midday.
I was trying to be inconspicuous in case Dad came past when the Mr Whippy van pulled in. I half-expected Elias to have embarked on some new body-sculpting experiment, but there was nothing I could see. He was wearing bright orange jeans and a short-sleeved blue denim shirt. Instead of the combat boots, a pair of yellow Chucks.
He hugged me hello. First time he’d done that and I was a little awkward, my trapped arms hanging.
‘You smell better.’
I’d had another shower before leaving, to try to get rid of the feeling I’d slept in a dust bath.
‘Thanks. I guess.’
He looked past me. ‘Yvonne’s coming.’
She reminded me straight away of Aurora. Same colouring, same body shape. She flashed a smile when she saw us. It wasn’t the same thousand-watt smile as Aurora’s. More restrained, almost like a knowing grin. She looked us up and down. ‘You both look half-starved. Is that the latest fashion?’ It was obviously a rhetorical question, because she didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Come on, I’ll shout you lunch.’
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