‘Sure. Dozen cabins, about a hundred acres. Camping, horseriding, that sort of thing. They get a lot of artists there, and writers, especially in the off season. Bridget runs painting classes sometimes.’
At the sound of his mother’s pseudonym Elias’ knees nearly gave way. I hung on to his arm, thankful for how skinny he was.
‘How far down the road?’
‘Half an hour or so to the turnoff, then it’s ten or fifteen through the bush till you get to the cabins.’
It sounded a bit like some of the places we’d gone camping at when I was a kid. ‘What’s the road like? Do we need a four-wheel drive?’
‘Nah. They get it graded a couple times a year. Before school holidays, that’s the busy time. It can get a bit bumpy between, but you should be right.’
I nodded. ‘Is it the sort of place we can just turn up at?’ Les pondered. ‘I’d give ’em a quick call first, just in case.
But you shouldn’t have any trouble getting a cabin, if you wanted to stay. Bridget said it was pretty quiet. We’ve got a payphone outside if you want to use it.’
Elias let out a laugh at the mention of the payphone. Then I heard him say, ‘Oh,’ quietly, and I turned to see him and Vogue both staring at their phones and looking weirded out.
‘No reception,’ Elias said, disbelieving. I wondered if it was the first time in his life he’d been out of range. For me, my phone was out of credit more often than it had any, and I never called anybody anyway. Reception, or lack thereof, was pretty much irrelevant.
‘Do you have the number?’
‘Sure.’ Les grabbed a business card from a stack beside the cash register. I wondered how many passers-through he sent Bridget’s way. To him, we were just a couple more aimless tourists. He held the card out and I took it. ‘Can I get you folks anything else?’
Elias held out the canvas. ‘I’d like to buy this. And a coffee, please.’
‘Me too,’ Vogue chimed in.
I left them to it—everything Vogue did made me want to strangle her, even buying a coffee—and went out to the payphone. It was old but seemed to be working. I dug fifty cents out of my wallet and dropped it in the slot, then dialled the number from the business card. It rang.
And rang. And rang.
I exhaled slowly, kicking the dusty ground at my feet. I was still wearing my grotty high-top sneakers. Not Chuck Taylors—Mum would never have sprung for those—generic rip-offs. The rubber midsole had started peeling back from the fabric of the shoe practically before I’d left the shop. At least the black made it harder to see all the places the holes had started to form, and the stitching had come undone. Kinda.
I shook myself. I’d never cared about fitting in with others. I wasn’t going to start now. I shifted my grip around the phone handset. It was still ringing. I glanced back into the store and could see Elias chatting with the farmer, looking like he’d managed to get his mojo back, and I wondered what he was saying. Maybe I shouldn’t have left him alone in there. Vogue didn’t count.
‘Hello?’ A breathless voice, and for a moment I would have sworn it was Aurora Greenfield. Well, that made sense, I supposed. They were mother and daughter. Even some of Mum’s friends—few as they were—sometimes mistook me for her on the rare occasions I answered the home phone.
I realised suddenly I hadn’t really worked through what I wanted to say. ‘Um, hi,’ I managed. ‘Is that S—Bridget?’
‘Yes, darl.’ I was surprised by the friendly voice, chatty and sociable. After Aurora’s description of a falling-out, I’d pictured a sullen, rebellious wild child. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘My friends and I are nearby and we were wondering if you had any cabins available for tonight?’
‘Tonight? Oh, plenty, darl. How long would you be staying for—the week? We usually do Monday to Friday, or else the weekends. But today’s, what, Tuesday, isn’t it. I could do Tuesday through till Friday, not a problem, but if you wanted to stay over the weekend that could be a little trickier as we’re quite heavily booked—’
‘We only need a night,’ I interrupted, realising I should have discussed this with Elias first. What if he wanted to stay longer? What if he and Sephora got all chummy and wanted to hang out and do mother–son bonding stuff? What the heck were Vogue and I supposed to do? ‘Maybe two,’ I added lamely. ‘We’re on a bit of a road trip.’
‘Oh. I see. Well, we usually like people to do longer blocks, but I suppose we can make something work. You’re nearby, you said?’
‘Just down the road.’
‘Right. Well, I know cabin six has been cleaned and it’s all ready to go, so maybe…How many of you are there? All adults, or little ones too?’
‘Three students.’ I decided to be vague about Vogue’s age. In fact, we’d probably have to be a bit more careful about keeping her out of sight. There was a chance that even way out here they had heard about her disappearance in the last few weeks, and somebody would start giving us a hard time about what she was doing with us. I decided to stick with my improvised story.
‘We’re art students, actually. We’re doing a project on art in the local area. We’d love to talk to you if we can, while we’re there.’
‘Well, that sounds lovely. I’m going out later but I’ll leave a key out for you. Pop by when you’re settled in and we’ll have a chat. Now, cabin six has a king bed and then four singles, did you want to hire some linen or did you bring your own?’
There was absolutely no doubt that she was Aurora’s daughter. For the next ten minutes I barely got a word in as Sephora—Bridget—gave me a rundown on what we needed to bring for our stay, the animals we would see on the property, the way the magpies were delightful at this time of year—‘But they are nesting, so do be careful’—and who knows what else. When I finally hung up, the Greenfield Headache was back, in full force.
Elias and Vogue had finally emerged from the store and were waiting for me, each sipping a coffee. Elias had the canvas tucked under his arm. With her stupid red lipstick and a coffee cup in hand, Vogue looked like one of those American child beauty queens you see on TV.
‘I’ve booked us a cabin for tonight,’ I told Elias. ‘I assume that’s what you wanted?’ It was already early afternoon and I didn’t think he’d want to meet his mother only to turn around and drive home again.
His eyes lit up. ‘That’s perfect. You’re a legend.’ A nervous smile. ‘I can’t believe we’re this close. We’re really doing this.’
‘Well, we need some supplies first.’ I gave him a rundown of my conversation with Sephora. She’d said the town thirty minutes down the road had a proper supermarket.
He nodded, draining his coffee cup and then tossing it in a nearby bin. ‘Sounds great. I love to shop.’
‘Really? I’d never have guessed.’
I opened the unlocked passenger door and stood back to let Vogue reclaim her centre seat. Unsurprisingly, she seemed keen to be in the middle. I was equally happy not to be.
I was about to climb in after her when I saw Elias had stopped suddenly in front of the van, hugging the canvas against his chest and grinning at me. It was a knowing grin, and I had a sudden feeling what had put that look on his face.
‘What?’ I asked, knowing I already sounded defensive.
‘How’d you know what to say in there? About Russell Drysdale and the Sofala painting?’
‘It was one of the websites I was just looking at. About the art co-op.’ I thought for a second. ‘It made sense, right?’ ‘It was awesome. You totally nailed it.’
‘Good,’ I said shortly, uncomfortable with the praise. ‘Can we go now?’
He kept grinning like an idiot. ‘Seriously awesome.’
‘Shut up.’
32
The shopping trip was about as frustrating as expected. Elias and Vogue started meal-planning on the drive and had mapped out three courses in minute detail before we even pulled into the car park.
He’s an only child; th
ey both are, I realised as I trailed them into the supermarket. My oversupply of siblings meant I almost never got a moment to myself, but they were the exact opposite. Elias’ parents, as involved as they were, were still parents, with an age gap that put distance between them. Vogue was transparent in her loneliness and longing for companionship. She and Elias were a pseudo-sibling match made in heaven. And that, I thought grimly, made me the third wheel.
‘I’m gonna wait in the van,’ I announced. I left them scouring the cracker selection without waiting for a reply.
It took them nearly an hour. How, I have no idea. They were shopping for three of us for no more than a day or two (I sincerely hoped). My mum—the queen of efficiency and over-organisation—could shop for eight of us for a full week in thirty-five minutes flat, even with a whiney little kid or two in tow. And that included hunting down every orangestickered triple-reduced item in the place. Where would my family be without two-day-old barbeque chickens?
The van was parked in the shade of a large gum tree. I opened both doors to let a breeze through. I sent the day’s check-in message to Mum while I had reception and then stretched out on the bench seat, enjoying the reprieve from Elias and Vogue’s endless trivial chatter. I was almost asleep when they reappeared.
‘We’re baaaaaack!’ Elias announced.
‘I see that,’ I said dryly, watching them load several hundred shopping bags into the back of the van. ‘Are we throwing a party?’
‘Honey, we are the party.’ Elias grabbed a bag of chips from one of the grocery bags and tossed it to Vogue, then held out his phone. ‘Who wants to navigate?’
Vogue reached out immediately with her free hand, but I swiped the phone from her without a word and found my way back to Google Maps. ‘Left out of the car park, then keep going until you hit the T-intersection and it’s another left onto the highway.’ I took a screenshot so we wouldn’t be left stranded when the signal dropped out.
‘Easy peasy.’ Elias flashed us both a grin. ‘Let’s go.’
Once we hit the highway there was twenty k’s of nothing. It was the same sort of scenery—paddocks, trees, the occasional old fibro house—that we’d seen most of the drive up, and I’d lost interest. After scoffing half the chips, Vogue had gone back to her own phone and was listening to her music, oblivious to the rest of the world. Elias mostly kept his eyes on the road ahead, his fingers tapping along on the ancient steering wheel to some song in his head. Reaching out blindly every few minutes to dig through the chip packet.
The painting had ended up on the floor at Vogue’s feet. I reached down for it with my free hand. It was light enough—not much bigger than an A4 page, the canvas stretched over a flimsy timber frame. As I’d observed, it looked at first glance like it couldn’t have taken more than a few minutes to paint.
But when I looked more closely, like before, the little details emerged. There was the texture of a skeletal leaf in one corner, I realised, my fingertips moving of their own accord to trace lightly over it. There were tiny fragments of words that seemed to waft in and out, and subtle patches of colour clustered in rows of rounded puffs like cirrocumulus clouds. Mackerel sky, our science teacher called them.
‘You see why I like it?’
I glanced up to find Elias was watching me. I blushed at being caught out.
‘You got ripped off,’ I told him.
He just laughed. ‘I got a very good deal.’
I kept the canvas on my lap as Elias turned his gaze back to the road. Not convinced by his words, but I didn’t like the idea of it bumping around on the floor, either.
I found myself studying Elias as we drove, and it hit me suddenly that I’d barely known him a week. It wasn’t that odd that I’d feel kind of at home with Vogue—she was like a cross between Grace and Evie. Annoyingly forward—and talkative, a little princess with the world at her feet. But Elias…I felt as if I should be more self-conscious with him, more cautious about what I said and how I looked. Despite my best efforts not to give a rat’s, I do care what people think of me. I do look in the mirror and think the usual teenage things. I’m plain, even ugly; people won’t like me because I don’t know the right thing to say; I’m a boring, talentless fraud.
Yet with Elias, I thought none of that. With him, I felt capable, smart and strong. Funny, even. It had nothing to do with me and everything to do with him. He had a gift, a charisma, that seemed to sweep people along before they even knew what was happening to them.
He must have sensed my gaze; he glanced across at me again. Vogue was fiddling with her phone, earphones in, and didn’t look up even when he spoke. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘I’m trying to work out how you talked me into this,’ I said truthfully, but he saw the smile.
‘You didn’t take much convincing.’
I indicated Vogue—still oblivious—with a flick of my thumb. ‘She took even less.’
‘She practically kidnapped us.’
‘I think you’d have trouble convincing the police it was that way around.’
‘Nah, all good.’ His eyes sparkled. ‘My parents can afford a good lawyer.’
‘Mine can’t, so I hope you’re willing to share.’
‘What’s mine is yours.’
And the strange thing was that he totally meant it. I’d never met someone as unconsciously generous as he was. I didn’t know what to make of it.
Riverview Cabins, the sign read as we turned off the highway. As we bumped over a cattle grid on the road, Vogue’s elbow jostled me, pointy against my bruised ribs. I gritted my teeth and pressed myself even further against the window. She was so slight I could have snapped her like a twig, if I wanted. Don’t tempt me, kid.
‘A bit bumpy’ was an understatement. The road badly needed grading: full of ruts and potholes that the recent rain had turned into muddy puddles. Elias drove carefully, but still the van lurched and wobbled, thunking in and out of holes. Loose bits inside the van—the window in its frame, the plastic of the dash—seemed almost to hum with the vibrations, and I sucked in a breath, feeling like all it would take was one sudden move from any of us and the whole van would disintegrate.
Still, it was pretty enough, if you like that sort of thing. Rolling grassy hills, with rough-cut wood and wire fences marking different paddocks. Australian hills, tussocky and brown. There were horses grazing on one hill and cows on another. We wound our way around a corner and the landscape started to change, the open hills giving way to scattered trees and then denser bush. Gum trees, mostly, growing at all sorts of impossible angles on the steep, rocky hillsides. The road was still bumpy with deep channels eroded by rain, but as Elias navigated his way around one slippery curve to the next, I suddenly found myself distracted by something more ominous.
‘You’re really close to the edge here,’ I said, trying to sound calm. Casual, even. I had to bite back an intake of breath when Elias swung the wheel suddenly to avoid a huge pothole, and the front left tyre slipped on the edge of the gravel for a heart-stopping second before finding traction.
‘I don’t want to hit the potholes,’ he said, peering out through the front window at the road ahead.
‘I don’t want to end up halfway down this hill,’ I retorted, pointing.
He glanced across at me, and saw where I was pointing. And he laughed. God, I was going to kill him.
‘Oops,’ he said, grinning at me. ‘Sorry.’
‘I swear…’ My threat trailed off lamely as I realised I didn’t have any leverage. He had the car, he was the only one with a licence. ‘Just don’t kill us, okay?’ I muttered.
‘Just relax, Linds.’
‘Don’t call me that.’
Vogue had been smart enough to keep her mouth shut this time. She sat back in the seat with her bony arms crossed against her chest and a loathsome smirk on her face. I let my weight fall back and felt her squirm.
We were silent for the next few minutes, but at least Elias seemed to be making an effort to stay in t
he centre of the road. Finally we crested a hill and a large sign appeared beside the road ahead of us.
Riverview Cabins, it proclaimed in stencilled letters. Manager’s Cabin and Campsites 3 km ahead.
Elias brought the van to a slow stop and I let out a shaky breath, only now realising that I’d been holding my whole body tense since we hit the dirt road. I rolled my neck on my shoulders to try out some of the stiffness. Elias was scrolling through his phone.
‘Okay, cabin six…Across the bridge and up the hill, it should be on the right.’
The bridge was made of old logs on steel girders. Gaps wide enough to put a foot through. We rattled across it and then started up the hill. I heard the tyres squelch as they spun wildly for a second, then they found their grip and we all lurched forward in our seats. Elias slid his eyes across at me and Vogue. ‘Having fun yet?’
I ignored him and looked ahead. White painted posts and another stencilled sign. Cabin 6. ‘Turn up here.’
The cabin itself was another hundred metres or so off the road, along a track that wound between stands of gum trees. It was fairly flat at least, the trees sparse, and not too much undergrowth. I spotted a glimpse of green and brown ahead at the same time Vogue did.
‘There,’ we both said.
The log cabin ahead of us was bigger than I’d expected, roughly the size of a small house, sitting on stilts in an open clearing on the side of the hill. It had a veranda on the downhill side, and the whole thing was painted a colour whose name sprang up spontaneously from the depths of my memory. Mission brown, the colour of my grandparents’ back timber fence.
A wooden staircase alongside the cabin led from the veranda down to the ground. Elias brought the van to a stop near the bottom of the staircase. He pulled the handbrake on as hard as he could—a smart move, I thought, considering we were still on the side of a hill—and turned off the engine.
I looked around. To my right, down the hill, I caught a glimpse of water through the trees; I could hear it too, bubbling. To our left, the uphill slope was littered with bush rock and low shrubs, and slender ghost gums. Grey sky all around, and damp hanging in the air.
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