Arcadia

by Di Morrissey

  The long table was set in Sally’s outdoor dining room overlooking the rose garden. Candles flickered in the slight breeze and kerosene lanterns cast a warm glow on the comfortable old cane lounge and chairs with their colourful cushions.

  Katie and another little friend were kept occupied with a dollhouse and blocks in a room just inside the house, where they could be seen from the long table. Conversation ranged from world events to local politics, the issue of forest logging rearing its head again, the import–export market, the influx of mainlanders with money, increased traffic, the rising cost of land and houses and the threat of high-rises around Hobart harbour, although they all talked about water and weather before any other subject.

  Toby carried the steaming bowl of curry to the table, helped serve and pass dishes, topped up wine and was attentive in his quiet, easy way. He’d rolled the sleeves of his good blue shirt tightly above his elbows, its colour reflecting the blue of his eyes in his tanned face. His sandy hair dropped over his forehead as he tilted his head, listening intently to a fellow farmer opposite. His arm rested on the back of Sally’s chair as she leaned her head on his shoulder, her hand on his knee. Sally’s blonde hair shone in the candlelight, her pretty face barely touched with make-up, and, seeing them together, Jessica was happy for Sally. Toby’s gentle strength and modest wisdom continued to surprise and cheer her. Feeling mellow, Jessica leaned back in her chair with her glass of red wine.

  *

  Sally caught the movement and glanced at her, trying to read her mood. She saw that Jessica looked relaxed and calm, her attentive curiosity and intelligence tuned to the quiet conversations around her. She knew Jess could be fiercely passionate at times, and debate her way out of any argument, be it friendly or heated. She was so beautiful in her dark and exotic way; she always attracted attention when she entered any room. Sally remembered that Jessica could also be shy, and no doubt Hardy had wounded her self-esteem, but the Jessica she knew so well would bounce back. Sally sent a silent curse down on Hardy.

  A few hours later, two sleepy little girls and a dog were curled up on the lounge. The conversation level had dropped to the intimate, guests putting off leaving, contemplating the last of the wine. Mollie and Sally were in the kitchen serving up Mollie’s special cheese and liqueurs as two helpers stacked the dishwasher.

  Bec, one of Sally and Jess’s old schoolfriends, came into the kitchen for a fresh bottle of white wine. ‘It’s so nice to have Jessica back here again,’ she said to Mollie and Sal. ‘Will she stay, do you think?’

  ‘Hard to say,’ said Sally. ‘She needed a break. Time out. And we enjoy having her here so she can stay as long as she likes while she works out what to do next.’

  *

  Jessica and Sally had fallen into the habit of meeting at sunset in the conservatory for a quiet drink before dinner, each having filled in the day in their own way. Katie often brought her tea set and quietly played ‘ladies’, handing them tiny cups of imaginary ‘magic tea’. Sometimes Mollie joined them.

  ‘How are you doing?’ Sally asked one evening as she dropped ice cubes in her wineglass.

  ‘Sal, you still do that! Why ruin such good Tassie wine?’ said Jessica.

  ‘When I was in Spain and Italy, the locals put ice in red wine. Good enough for them, good enough for me,’ she said easily. ‘How was your day? I saw you head down to the creek.’

  ‘Yes. Made me think I’d like to go out fishing. Just throw a line in off your landing. Or better still, go out on your boat.’ Jessica stretched out and sipped her wine. ‘I’ve decided I’m over feeling tetchy and wasting time feeling mad at Harden. I bet he’s not gnashing his teeth over me.’

  ‘Of course not.’ Sally gave an inward cheer that Jess might finally be letting the awful Hardy go. ‘Nor should you over him. You rock, girl.’

  ‘Hello, girls. How has your day been?’ Mollie pulled off her glasses and sank into a chair. ‘Pour your mother a drink, please, Sal. I’ve been number-crunching.’ She turned to Jessica. ‘What are you two planning for tomorrow? I think we should take you out, Jess, and have a fun day. All work and no play is damned boring.’

  ‘I told you I didn’t need to be entertained, Mollie. I’m happy to just hang out.’

  ‘I thought we might head over to CoCo’s café for lunch on Sunday and wander around a bit. The markets are on and they’re fun.’ Mollie smiled up at her daughter, who handed her a drink.

  Sally nodded. ‘You should see it all, Jess. Amazing food, lovely things to buy. Katie loves it.’

  ‘I want to go to CoCo’s,’ cried Katie, her ears pricking up.

  ‘Sure,’ said Jessica.

  ‘We were thinking of taking the boat out tomorrow,’ Sally said.

  Mollie looked from Jessica to Sally. ‘Well, you two plan a nice day and take a picnic. Do you good to get away from the farm for a bit. I’ll do something special with Katie.’

  *

  The girls were lying in the sun on the end of the small jetty in front of the boatshed. Sally was glad that Jessica was starting to relax. The tightness had gone from her face and body and she seemed also to be allowing herself to feel sad. And hurt. She’d talked about her family, the differences between their parents, and how she just couldn’t share anything with her brother. Anthony had graduated from university and was living in India with his own family, researching a project for his PhD, so Jessica rarely saw him.

  For her own part, Sally was grateful and happy that she had Toby and their adored daughter, plus a loving mother. Yet, a sense of something missing in her life niggled at her. Sally realised that having Jessica blow in with storm clouds raging around her, seeking the safe harbour of a close friendship, had ruffled the smooth waters of Sally’s own life.

  ‘All right, so are you ready to take the Charlotte-Ann out for a spin?’ suggested Jessica.

  Without opening her eyes, Sally sucked her finger and held it up to the faint breeze.

  ‘Easterly. That’s good. Pretty mild. She hasn’t been out for a while.’ She sat up and smiled at Jessica. ‘You always loved this, didn’t you? Sailing up the river, mooring somewhere quiet to chip oysters off the rocks, explore, light a campfire, collect seaweed for Mum’s vegie patch . . .’

  ‘Yeah. Then we moved to Sydney and it was heading to the drive-through hamburger joint, hanging out at the beach waiting for the surf-club boys to notice us. Blue light discos, first time getting drunk, wandering the shopping mall, always looking for someone with a car to take us places . . . away from parental supervision. Another world from here.’

  ‘Yeah, I didn’t do much of that at fifteen,’ said Sally. ‘Pretty boring and quiet even in the bright lights of Launceston and Hobart.’

  ‘Well, we did live a little when we took that overseas trip,’ Jessica said with a grin. ‘And then you met Toby. Who else would find a Tassie boy in Marrakesh! Lucky you.’

  ‘Yes, Toby was going to work in that village in Africa and I was going to conquer the world. And here we are.’ Sally jumped up. ‘Right. Let’s take the boat out.’

  She pulled the key off its hook under a flap of loose plank and unlocked the rusty padlock, and the two girls went into the shadowy, salty, oily-smelling boatshed, where shafts of sunlight glinted between loose boards and slanted under the edge of the old tin roof.

  With the double doors open, they pulled the tarpaulin off the boat and slowly winched the polished curved wooden hull down the slipway into the water. She was sixteen feet in the old measurement, gaff rigged, and her sleek Huon pine hull and half-deck gleamed. Her sails were cotton, batten seamed, and it was family lore that when she’d first glided into the water in 1928 at Muir’s boatyard, Sally’s grandfather Stephen had fallen in love.

  ‘All set for you to come on board,’ said Sally as the little craft bobbed into the water.

  Jessica undid the mooring rope and swung into the boat while
Sally stowed the oars and began unfurling the rigging. Then Jessica pushed them off from the jetty.

  ‘Bit like riding a bike, isn’t it?’ Jessica laughed. ‘How it comes back to you.’

  With the mainsail billowing, their feet propped against the gunwale, Sally at the tiller and Jessica holding the mainsail rope, the Charlotte-Ann gathered speed as they headed into the main channel of the river and skimmed parallel to the riverbank.

  ‘She’s like a horse let out of the stable,’ said Sally.

  ‘Wow, I’ve missed this,’ called Jessica. ‘Remember the time we got stranded when we went to the falls?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Had to wait for the tide. That was a bit of a hike. So beautiful up there.’

  ‘Spooky, though. Everything was covered in lichen and moss. Thought we’d have to camp overnight. Tourists haven’t found that spot yet, have they?’

  ‘Doubt it. Too steep to build a cabin or anything up there, thank goodness. Hikers tend to stick to the trails. You don’t see many tourists that far upriver.’

  ‘Nice that this area hasn’t changed all that much,’ said Jessica. ‘Apart from the trendy cafés and paddock-to-plate farms around the town.’

  ‘The locals want to keep it this way, not get too touristy or developed by mainlanders.’

  ‘Must have seemed isolated in your grandmother’s time,’ said Jessica.

  ‘I wish I’d known her. She died before I was born,’ said Sally. ‘I just love her paintings in the conservatory. That was her studio, remember.’

  ‘Are those the only paintings of hers you have? Where are the others? I thought your mother said she was a dedicated artist?’

  ‘Her obituary describes her as a keen amateur artist, so read “Sunday painter”. Mum says there’s more of her work stashed away somewhere – there’s still lots of stuff from my grandfather’s era about the place. One of the joys of living in a house that’s been in the family for a few generations, I suppose. I think that’s why Mum likes living in the little cottage now though. It’s all her own space, not filled with too many memories.’

  ‘I love your house with all that family memorabilia.’

  Sally nodded. ‘Me too. I love that I can wear my grandmother’s gumboots in the garden. Use the same garden tools, read books that belonged to my grandfather.’

  ‘Once we left here and went to Sydney we moved so often that heaps of stuff got thrown away and a lot of sentimental things went to charities,’ Jessica said. ‘It didn’t mean much to Anthony and me at the time, but when I set up house with the wretched Hardy I found I had very few meaningful possessions. I’m not really materialistic, but I didn’t appreciate sentimental stuff till I started to make my own home.’

  ‘Go about!’ Sally swung the tiller and the boat changed direction as Jessica ducked beneath the boom and changed sides, leaning out over the water, letting the mainsail re-adjust as they tacked across the wide river.

  The girls watched a double-decker cruiser of tourists glide past, the well-heeled ensconced on the top deck while backpackers and grey nomads snapped photos from the railing of the lower deck or sat waving to them from inside.

  ‘Are they just sightseeing along the river or do they stop and go ashore?’ asked Jessica.

  ‘They go down to the Channel and along the coast to Solitary Island, if the sea is safe enough.’

  ‘Oh, I remember that, we had a school excursion there once, didn’t we? Was that the place where escaped convicts set up a community until they were found by the authorities?’

  ‘That’s the one. Then they built a prison there, which was pretty gruesome from what I recall. There was even some cannibalism. Though a few convicts did get away, didn’t they?’

  ‘That’s right, to New Zealand, and someone even got to Jamaica! And they say you don’t learn anything at school!’

  The two friends chuckled.

  ‘Do we have time to sail down to the mouth, to Rocky Point? See if the seals or sea lions are there?’ Jessica asked, her eyes bright. ‘I remember going there once with you and your dad.’

  ‘Yeah, we nearly drowned! The sea is so unpredictable around the Channel,’ said Sally.

  ‘Do you remember how we always said we’d try to take a boat through the Channel on our own? Why don’t we, Sal?’ said Jessica.

  ‘Well, not now! I have no idea what the sea is like down there. I think we’d need a motor launch; this’d never get through the passage between the cliffs. And why do it? It’s a totally mad idea.’ Sally laughed. Then she stopped, seeing Jessica’s expression.

  Jessica flung out an arm, her eyes bright. ‘Because I feel like being mad and reckless. I feel like I’ve been in a box, under Hardy’s thumb, my life on hold. I want to live a little!’

  ‘A little is right,’ said Sally tartly. ‘It’s a crazy idea and we’d probably get killed.’

  ‘Then something else, Sal! Let’s take off, you and me, and do something crazy. Just for a week or so. Toby and your mum can look after Katie and the farm. Please. C’mon, when are you ever going to do this again in your life?’ demanded Jessica with a big smile and dancing eyes. ‘You always play it safe, Sal,’ she added.

  A memory suddenly surfaced that Sally hadn’t thought of in years.

  ‘Remember when you dared me to climb over the fence into old Mr Lambert’s place and steal his fruit? I just couldn’t do it. That bothered me for years. I always felt I’d failed in your eyes,’ said Sally. ‘Failed myself somehow, too.’

  ‘No way! It was lousy fruit anyway. And didn’t he turn out to be some nutter?’ said Jessica cheerfully.

  ‘I was so torn. I wanted to please you, and be brave and crazy like you, even though it was stealing and that was wrong.’

  ‘Oh good lord, did you tell your mother and say I was naughty and a bad influence?’

  ‘Of course not. I’ve never told you, but I went back later and pinched some of his plums and gave them to Mum. When she found out where they came from, I got into trouble.’

  ‘You didn’t! Well, there you go, you are wild and foolish and naughty after all. Just like me! So now we have to go and take off, do something just for us!’

  Sally shook her head. ‘I have a family, Jess. Half a day off here and there is fine, but I have responsibilities, I’m needed at the farm . . .’

  ‘Then I’ll go alone. Something tells me I have to do this,’ said Jessica.

  ‘Jess, let’s talk about it later. The wind is getting up, I’m going about.’

  As the small boat changed direction and the girls changed position, the wind stiffened and the Charlotte-Ann scudded across the water. Their hair whipped about their faces, and they were lashed with stinging spray. The two friends were silent, concentrating on keeping the boat from keeling too far over, but both were glad of the distraction, deep as they were in thought and memories.

  *

  Sally poured the gin as Mollie put her feet on the needlepoint footstool and turned to Jessica. ‘You went sailing this afternoon? How lovely. I remember you girls messing about in that boat when you were around eleven or twelve.’

  ‘Charlotte-Ann is travelling well for an old girl,’ said Jessica.

  Toby poked his head into the conservatory. ‘Hi there. Can Katie and I join you guys?’ He had a cold beer in one hand and Katie was carefully balancing a tray with her plastic tea set on it. ‘So, how was the sailing trip?’ he asked as he sat down.

  ‘We didn’t go far. Tough Jess wanted to take Charlotte-Ann down to the Channel,’ said Sally, handing her mother and Jessica their drinks.

  ‘Oh, dear me, no,’ said Mollie quickly. ‘Not in a sailboat. The sea is far too unpredictable down there. Beautiful place, though. I wonder if the seals are still there?’

  ‘I remember it being very rugged,’ said Jessica. ‘Sometimes you couldn’t get out of the harbour. I loved the times we went up the co
ast, and went rafting in those magnificent wild rivers. Have you been, Toby?’

  ‘I’m a landlubber, not a happy camper in a small sailboat,’ said Toby with a shudder.

  ‘What’s a landlubber, Daddy?’ Katie asked.

  ‘That’s someone who likes staying on dry land. Though we like swimming, don’t we, sweet pea? But not in the river. Or the creek, right?’

  ‘Can we go to the beach, Daddy?’

  ‘When it gets a bit warmer,’ said Toby. ‘It must have been cold out there on the river.’

  ‘We were rugged up. There’s a lot of tourist cruises here now,’ Sally said to Jess. ‘Everybody wants to see the last great wilderness, but in comfort and safety.’

  ‘Yes, the mountain walks have huts and rest stops these days, even five-star pit stops in some places,’ Toby said.

  ‘The trail bike rides are the big thing up north. There is stunning scenery up there, but I don’t think whizzing as fast as you can and throwing your bike over rocks and logs is really appreciating the place,’ said Mollie. ‘Oh dear. Am I sounding like an ageing mother?’

  The others laughed. ‘Yes!’

  ‘But I do agree with you,’ said Jessica. ‘Sal, let’s go for a hike, get out in the bush for a bit. Can we take off for a couple of hours early in the morning, Mollie?’

  ‘Of course you can. Katie’s little legs won’t keep up with you two fit gals, though. We’ll find something to do here. I think there’re new ducklings on the dam. I’ll make brunch or lunch for us all when you get back.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum. We should all do something together. Maybe a picnic or something,’ suggested Sally. ‘We used to do that a lot, but we haven’t had a picnic for ages.’

  ‘Yes. We used to go up to the big rock with Dad and watch the sunset, light a campfire and cook sausages on sticks. Remember, Jess? You used to come along too, sometimes with Anthony. Hard to believe how long ago that was; everyone is all grown up now . . .’ said Mollie.