Arcadia

by Di Morrissey

  ‘The colonists did a pretty thorough job of eradicating the first Tasmanians,’ Carmen said. ‘Well, they thought they did.’

  Jessica shook her head. ‘How do the local Indigenous people feel about their story, I wonder? We never hear their side.’

  Carmen sipped her wine. ‘You will, but it could still take a while,’ she said softly. ‘It’s taken a long time already for non-Indigenous people to acknowledge that Aboriginal people control their own history and stories.’

  ‘Aboriginal history is part of World Heritage history and it can contribute to cultural pride, information and understanding, yet so many politicians still ignore this fact,’ Dan said, joining their conversation.

  ‘Do you think people find it easier to believe one version of the past rather than recognise what really happened?’ Jessica asked.

  ‘Maybe,’ Dan said. ‘In some places around Tassie now the local Indigenous people are working with the academic and scientific community, directing the research to record their history.’

  ‘That’s so great. I’ve realised I miss that challenge, being collaborative, unravelling puzzles, even if it’s just peering down a microscope or collating computer printouts. I worked in a pharmacology lab,’ added Jessica, turning to Carmen.

  ‘And now?’ Carmen asked.

  ‘Taking time out. Reassessing, I guess,’ she said.

  Carmen touched her hand. ‘This is a good place to do just that. Right, dessert.’ She rose, and Sally and Victor started to clear the plates.

  Dan leaned towards Jessica. ‘Does that mean you might be available for some fieldwork tomorrow morning? I’d love a hand if you have nothing else to do.’

  ‘Me? I’m on a holiday! Just joking. Really, I’m not sure how I can help you, though I’m happy to tag along if you like.’ She studied Dan. ‘Why do you ask?’

  He gave a slight shrug. ‘I just thought you seemed interested in our work. Sally is welcome too, of course.’

  ‘I’ll talk to her. We’ll probably head back when the boat comes in the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘It’s up to you. There’s a cave complex where I have permission to study the plants. It’s where some of the earliest human occupation of this state was found. I was first taken there with one of the local custodians. We had a young Aboriginal graduate student with us and he got so spooked.’

  ‘Scared, you mean?’

  ‘Yes, he suddenly felt, heard, could see, his ancestors in there, sitting around a fire, wrapped in possum-skin cloaks. He swears he heard singing and clapsticks. It was thought that perhaps a few Indigenous people survived on the fringes of the rainforest, but the true wilderness was uninhabitable. Yet people co-existed with the wilderness, which survives today thanks to the world’s first green movement to save the rivers and the forests here.’

  ‘We lost Lake Pedder,’ Jessica reminded him. ‘A pristine glacier lake flooded for hydro-electricity. My parents still talk about it; they wish they’d seen it. Now tourists want to come to Tasmania for the wilderness experience.’

  ‘That’s becoming a worry. The experience part . . . we need to quietly observe the wilderness. Untouched. Like this cave, forgotten, for thousands of years.’

  ‘Caves hold secrets,’ said Jessica slowly. ‘So what did the young guy do?’

  Dan smiled. ‘He became an archaeologist. We work together now and then. He wants some samples of plants from here. There’re some buried in clay in the old strata. The local custodians now work with scientists and other academics who are trying to piece together the very big pre-history picture. I help out every so often.’

  Sally came over and put a cheese platter on the table. ‘What are you two plotting?’

  ‘Dan’s asked if we want to go out tomorrow as field assistants.’

  ‘Only if you want to, but it’s a pretty interesting area. I have permission,’ he added.

  ‘It’s a cave shelter,’ added Jessica. ‘Do you want to come along?’

  ‘I thought we were over caves?’ Sally raised an eyebrow, but she was smiling. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘I’m going to call Toby first thing, though. Victor has explained where the spot is where we can get phone reception.’

  ‘I know it. It’s on the way, I can take you there. We’ll head out after breakfast then,’ said Dan. ‘Is eight too early?’

  ‘We weren’t planning on going clubbing tonight, were we?’ Jessica said to Sally.

  Sally chuckled. ‘I’m helping Victor with the drying up. Give me ten minutes, then we’ll hit the sack. I’m too tired to even read.’

  The girls hugged Carmen goodnight, thanking her for a wonderful evening.

  ‘It’s not even ten o’clock,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Some nights the talk goes on for hours, or we listen to music. I’m glad you’ve enjoyed the day. You’ll have an interesting morning with Dan. He’s a wise little owl, that one. Laurie might head back to port late-ish tomorrow, can’t promise, depends on his catch but mainly on the weather, if you want to go with him. Victor will be heading out at first light the following day, again weather permitting.’

  *

  Dan walked with them back to their cabin. ‘I have everything we need for tomorrow. Just bring a hat, water, and a jacket in case the weather turns. As well as any snacks you want.’

  ‘You sure you don’t mind if we stop to make a phone call?’

  ‘Not at all. Sometimes the reception can be dodgy, but it’s worth a shot.’ He paused. ‘Sally, what did you mean about you being over caves? If you’re claustrophobic, don’t worry. This cave complex is really big, you won’t feel it in there.’

  ‘No. No, it’s all right. Jess and I had a secret cave hideout at Arcadia when we were kids,’ Sally said.

  ‘Yeah, we made a pilgrimage back there not long ago, which kinda prompted this little jaunt,’ added Jessica.

  ‘What happened?’

  Jessica nudged Sally, who shrugged. ‘We found some old stuff in there, connected to my family, going back to my grandmother’s time. There was a letter . . . with the name of a house in Shelter Bay.’

  ‘So we thought we’d check it out,’ added Jessica.

  ‘The grandmother who did the paintings – Stella?’ asked Dan. When they nodded, he asked, ‘Well, what did you find out?’

  ‘Not much. It was all a bit weird. And Sal is being stalked.’

  ‘Not really! Well, I hope not,’ exclaimed Sally.

  ‘Someone is following us. Phone calls and heavy breathing. He did speak once . . .’

  ‘Bloody hell . . . what did he say?’ asked Dan.

  ‘“I know where you are . . .”’ muttered Sally, now looking upset.

  ‘Whoa, that’s full-on.’ Dan shook his head. ‘But you went to the house in Shelter Bay? What did you find?’

  ‘Nothing. Just this big house and a nervous old lady who told us to go away, but I’m sure she recognised the name of the man we asked about,’ said Sally.

  ‘There was someone else there too,’ added Jessica. ‘And a big shed . . . I mean, like a huge greenhouse with lots of security . . . it was weird. And there was some sort of a tunnel with a massive old lock on its door that just about fell open when I touched it. Actually, Dan, you would have been interested. They were growing mushrooms in there.’

  Dan raised his eyebrows but was silent for a moment. ‘Was this your grandmother’s house, like where she grew up or something?’ he finally asked, looking at Sally.

  ‘No, she came from the mainland. She was my grandfather’s second wife, and much younger than him,’ said Sally, as they reached their cabin. ‘We’re not sure who or what is the connection between her and Shelter Bay.’

  ‘Look, I wouldn’t worry about it, but if you like I can look into it. I have a feeling I know who they might be. It sounds like a place I’ve heard of through someone who works at the Gardens.’

 
‘Really?’ chorused both girls.

  ‘Listen, I’ll be heading out your way to meet Sean Hyland. I’ll call in and see you at your farm, Sally, if that’s okay, and I’d really like to meet Toby too. We can talk more about it then.’

  Sally nodded.

  ‘Get a good night’s sleep, and I’ll see you in the morning.’ He smiled at them. ‘Have breakfast before you leave!’

  *

  The girls were snuggled in their beds in the small bedroom.

  ‘What an amazing evening,’ sighed Sally. ‘I’ll be asleep in a flash. Did you set your phone to wake us up? We can make tea and toast, that’ll do us.’

  ‘Yep. Listen to the wind, it’s nice, not too strong, and I’m so comfortable and warm. No distractions.’

  ‘You don’t think Dan is a distraction?’ Sally’s voice was muffled as she curled into her pillow.

  ‘What’s that mean?’

  ‘Nothing . . . It’s just, he’s such a nice guy. Sounds like he’s well known in his field. Carmen filled me in,’ said Sally. ‘But I keep wondering, do you think all that stuff he told us about the mycology, the mushrooms and stuff . . . all those experiments, is for real? How come nobody seems to know about it?’ she added.

  ‘My guess is, they soon will,’ said Jess.

  ‘Maybe. Mum is always saying that she pooh-poohed the internet when it first launched. And there are so many other examples like that. Who knows what’s in the rainforest and old-growth forests right here in Tassie?’ said Sally.

  ‘Yeah, but it’s much more complicated than that. You might find something quite extraordinary, but if someone else beats you to it, they might lock it up with a patent, and use it to benefit and profit just a few. Look at the pesticide moguls.’

  ‘That’s why I’d love to meet Dan’s mycologist guy,’ Sally said. ‘He sounds amazing.’

  Jessica smiled to herself. Sally sounded like her old self. Daniel Sullivan had settled her fears, and Jessica knew that Sally was quite looking forward to seeing the cave tomorrow.

  For the first night in a long time, Jessica was sure she would sleep soundly, like the inevitable tide rolling in and submerging the anxieties of past days. She looked out the window where a pale moon rose, a glimmer through clouds. She heard the wet wind wrapping around the trees, and imagined it sweeping through the grasslands, across the rocks and high headland, crossing the sandy cove, ruffling the surface of the lagoon before bravely dancing off the coast to be pushed away by the great seas and winds of the Roaring Forties.

  She closed her eyes and let sleep overcome her.

  Arcadia, 1949

  Stella’s footsteps were muffled as she walked slowly down the hall and tapped on the door to Stephen’s study, which served as office and library.

  ‘Yes, Mrs James, come in.’

  ‘It’s me, dear. I let Mrs James go home, she’s had a big day. Here’s your brandy nightcap.’

  ‘This is a nice surprise, thank you, dear.’

  Stella hovered as he placed the small glass on the table beside his wingback chair. He glanced up and gave her a querying look. ‘It’s late, you’re not dabbling with your drawings, I hope. Tomorrow will be busy and I have an early start. I thought I’d take the Charlotte-Ann out tomorrow afternoon. Would you care to come along?’

  They hadn’t been sailing together for quite some time, so he seemed put out when Stella shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. Thank you.’

  ‘Oh. Do you have an appointment?’ His tone was faintly facetious. Stella knew that he expected her to accompany him whenever he extended an invitation. He reached for his brandy, taking a small sip through pursed lips.

  ‘Yes. Actually I do. May I take the car into Burridge?’

  Stephen looked surprised. ‘To the village? What are you going there for?’

  ‘I’m seeing Mrs Pearson. The midwife.’

  ‘Ah, what are they roping you into now, my dear? Do they want you to be involved in some fundraiser or other?’

  Stella sat on the footstool near his chair. Frowning, Stephen put a bookmark in his book and closed it.

  ‘The appointment is professional. For me. I believe I am expecting a child.’

  Stephen blinked, a swift expression of hope then ­solicitous concern flashing over his face. Then gently, faintly condescendingly, but nonetheless in a rather fatherly tone, he said, ‘My dear girl. Much as we might welcome such an event, I’m afraid you’re misreading matters. Sometimes symptoms begin to appear at this stage of your life and your functions change –’

  ‘Stephen! I’m still quite young. I am not forty yet!’

  He leaned forward and took her hand. ‘Although we have wished for a child, sometimes these matters are not to be . . .’

  Stella’s face was flushed and she struggled to remain composed. He reached for her other hand, making a soothing noise.

  Stella couldn’t help it; she pulled her hand away. ‘Stephen! I wanted this to be a surprise. I have already visited Mrs Pearson, and she confirms that I am having a baby.’ Seeing the shocked expression on her husband’s face, she quickly added, ‘She says it’s not totally unexpected. It happens. When husband and wife are relaxed and . . . loving . . .’

  ‘She is not a doctor!’ he exploded.

  Stella straightened. ‘Aren’t you pleased, Stephen?’

  Flummoxed, he grabbed his brandy and took a large mouthful. ‘Stella, dear girl, I don’t want you to be disappointed. Of course, I’d like nothing better . . . but this woman, she’s not trained, she’s not a doctor, I don’t want you to get your hopes up . . .’

  Stella stared at him and almost burst out laughing, but bit her tongue and lowered her eyes. She knew the dynamics in the room had swung to her side.

  ‘She says it’s confirmed. But I am happy to see one of your colleagues as well, anyone you may suggest. However, even Mrs James, who’s quite experienced in these matters after so many babies, believes I am at last . . .’ she tried out the word, ‘pregnant. I hoped you would be pleased.’ She lowered her head again, and Stephen clutched for her in a convulsive movement.

  ‘My dear . . . I am at a loss. Of course, professionally, I know these things sometimes occur, but . . .’

  Stella looked at him with brimming eyes as she held his hand. ‘Stephen, dear, I . . . we are so blessed.’

  He patted her hand. ‘Of course, dear, of course. It’s just . . . well, a surprise.’ He gave a small smile and placed his book beside the brandy and rose, drawing Stella to her feet. ‘Now, indeed, you must rest.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘You must look after yourself.’ And as Stella turned, he added, ‘Best we keep this our little secret, just for now.’

  ‘Of course, Stephen.’ Stella walked carefully from the room, conscious that every step was important, that she was, indeed, carrying a precious gift.

  *

  Stella retreated into herself during the next months, though she painted and worked in her studio with some fervour. Stephen told her to stop her garden work altogether, forbade long walks and asked Mr and Mrs James to monitor her during the days when he was away seeing patients or at his surgery.

  Nonetheless, Stella continued to visit the woods, calling to Nyx, sketching and photographing the trees, plants and fungi. She also found it relaxing to walk along the edge of the river and sit near the boatshed, watching the occasional boat pass by.

  Stephen insisted they move into Hobart prior to the birth, and Stella arranged for Sheilagh Pearson to be with her when her time came.

  After a long labour, she gave birth to a healthy baby girl.

  ‘I’d like to name the child after my mother – Cecilia,’ Stephen said. But Stella was firm.

  ‘Mollie. Mollie Cecilia Holland. My dearest friend was Mollie. She died when she was sixteen.’

  ‘Very well,’ he said with an indulgent sigh.

  Mollie�
��s christening was a modest gathering in the church at Burridge. Mrs James was a grandmother to many these days, but said she was deeply touched when Stella asked her and Mr James to be Mollie’s godparents.

  At the baptismal font, Stella noticed Mrs James discreetly wiping a tear from her eye, then Stella’s gaze returned to the infant in her arms, the baby’s blue eyes trustingly searching her mother’s face.

  Baby Mollie was wrapped in the shawl Mrs James had sewn from fine woollen cloth. She had crocheted around the edges and, along its border, had painstakingly embroidered flowers, ferns and birds, including the unmistakable guardian of an owl.

  7

  Lone Island, 2018

  They were both crouching down on a patch of stubby dry grass, wrapped in jackets as the sun had yet to take the night-time crispness from the earth. It was a morning where in the sharp, fresh air a deep breath would catch in the lungs. Dan had described it as ‘one of those cut-glass clear mornings’, adding, ‘But it won’t last. The weather is unpredictable here.’

  Jessica, wearing cotton gloves, was gently cutting samples of a grey–green grass that was growing in a small crevice beside the petroglyph, as Dan had directed. Sally was perched on a nearby rock, peering at her phone. ‘Dan, there’s only half a bar, does the reception get any better? The phone won’t work here,’ she called.

  ‘You’ll have to walk up the hill a bit more, Sally,’ he said. ‘See the two big rocks that look like an arch? There’s a spot beside them; face the north.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll give it a go. Thanks.’

  When Sally was out of earshot, Jessica said, ‘Sal misses her family. She has a darling little girl, only four years old.’

  ‘That’s understandable. Did you both just set off on a road trip for fun, or are you serious about tracking down this family connection?’

  ‘We’re not sure if it’s actually a family connection . . .’ Jessica said, and hesitated.