Arcadia

by Di Morrissey

  ‘Oh, nothing, I didn’t want to worry him. He just assumed we were tired and stopped to take a break.’

  ‘Do you want to call the police?’ asked Roger.

  ‘No. Not yet, anyway,’ said Sally. ‘I’m so sorry we’ve caused such a disruption.’

  ‘It’s up to you,’ Jessica said to the Browns. ‘I don’t want you guys to feel threatened, but frankly, I think that man was following us. I doubt he’ll bother you again.’

  ‘Well, okay. Here’s our number. Call us when you arrive so we know you got home safely,’ Roger said, then shook hands with both girls and walked them out to their car.

  ‘Please apologise to Sheila for borrowing her babies,’ said Jessica.

  Sally drove and Jessica called Dan and told him what had happened.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ said Dan, aghast. ‘Send me the photo of the number plate and I’ll be right on it. I have a friend who can trace it for us. Would you feel better if we called the police? Trouble is, this guy probably knows you got his number plate, so he won’t be on the road now.’ Dan paused. ‘Look, I plan to go to Seawinds in the next day or so, and I’ll call as soon as I hear anything.’

  ‘Thanks, Dan. Sally and I just want to get home now. We’ll think about calling the police later,’ said Jessica. ‘See you soon.’

  *

  Katie was in bed when they got home, but as Sally crept in she stirred and smiled, holding out her arms to her mother. Sally kissed her and tucked her in, adjusting Mr K, her favourite koala, beside her. ‘See you in the morning, darling girl,’ she whispered.

  Mollie had fallen asleep, but she hurried over from her cottage, saying that she’d woken up when she heard their car pull in. Jessica had showered and was wrapped in a bathrobe, drink in hand, talking to Mollie and Toby about the island when Sally joined them in the sitting room. A small fire glowing in the grate below the mantelpiece made the room feel snug and safe.

  Toby and Sally sat close, holding hands. The girls were still rattled but had decided to try to downplay what had happened. After retelling the bald facts, however, Mollie and Toby were both alarmed.

  ‘We need to call the police,’ exclaimed Mollie.

  ‘We don’t have much to go on,’ said Toby. ‘We could get them to check out that number plate. But it might be hard to prove what that man was up to.’

  ‘I’m sure the Browns would back up our story,’ said Sally.

  ‘Let’s wait and see what Dan’s friend finds out,’ said Jessica.

  She and Sally were worn out, and by unspoken agreement neither mentioned the phone calls or their visit to Seawinds. Instead, they talked about meeting Carmen and Dan. ‘Carmen’s a very no-nonsense woman,’ Jess told them. ‘Down-to-earth, and we discovered she has a very artistic side. Interesting. I liked her. Don’t think she’s one to suffer fools gladly, though,’ she added, making Sally smile.

  ‘How are you going?’ Sally said, turning to look at Toby. ‘It’s upsetting enough to lose a valuable crop, but the fact that someone came onto our land and went digging for it is even scarier. Gives me a creepy feeling.’

  Toby drew her into a hug. ‘Let’s talk about it tomorrow. It’s late and you must be exhausted.’

  *

  The following morning Toby walked with Sally and Jessica along the rows of trees that had been inoculated with the truffle spores. ‘See, they missed some. Without a good nose, they’re difficult to find.’

  ‘How is poor Jasper?’ asked Jessica.

  ‘He’s okay. I think he’s more upset that he let us down,’ said Toby. ‘He’s such a loyal dog and takes his job very seriously. We heard him barking, which isn’t too unusual. But it went on for so long, I finally got up and let him out, and that’s when we heard him yelping and a car drive off. He limped back to me. He’d had a bit of a whack, hit with their spade, I think. Fortunately his leg is healing. Could have been much worse.’

  Sally shuddered. ‘Let’s not go there. How is the saffron doing?’

  As Toby and Sally talked, Jessica stared at the tall trees. ‘I’m going to head down to the Far Forest and look around,’ she said. Sally nodded as she and Toby turned towards the saffron field, arms around each other.

  Jessica strode down the hill, walking from the bright sunlight into the mellow shade of the cool, damp forest. She took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet earthy smell, enjoying the moist softness around her. It was as if a million leaves or more breathed with her. In and out, the dampness from dripping leaves and spongy moss was cleansing and refreshing, and strangely calming. Apart from the faint gurgle of the creek, all was quiet. The eeriness, the other-worldliness she’d sometimes felt in the great old forests in the national parks around the state wasn’t present here, but the stillness created its own atmosphere. Her footfalls on the lichen and the rotting wood and leaves were muffled. She imagined that if she stood still and quiet, she might hear the busyness of insects and small creatures, the trees taking in carbon dioxide and faintly dispersing oxygen. It occurred to her that she knew these giant trees. She would never get lost in here; she recognised each and every tree from years spent wandering and playing in here with Sally. They were familiar, like old friends.

  Jessica took a long, deep breath and suddenly felt she had X-ray vision. That beneath her feet she could see the flickering membranes of mycelium, which Dan had described; they were alive, like miniature underground powerlines, zinging messages from roots and fermenting earth, from tree to tree, plant to plant, hill to hill.

  She looked for the familiar fungi that always grew here and realised with a jolt that there were none. Very unusual. Bending down, she saw the disturbed soil among the massive roots, and as she wound her way deeper into the thicket of trees leading from the creek, she saw that the mushrooms had all been picked.

  They had always been here but were such an integral part of the forest floor that she’d taken little notice of them before. Stella’s painting had awakened her to their unique beauty, and now Dan had sparked her interest in them and she was keen to know more. A worrying thought struck her and she quickly headed to the clearing.

  Jessica let out her breath with relief. It was still there – the fairy ring. It was a large circle of broad mushrooms, and, after talking to Dan, Jessica now realised she was looking at the outer edge of the mycelium mat of fungi filaments. Like lace at the hem of a skirt. She knelt down and poked her finger into the earth. It was damp and crumbly, rich smelling. Did the intruder who’d taken the mushrooms from around the trees not know these were here? Or did he go along with the belief that to break the fairy ring would bring bad luck?

  Jessica glanced across the clearing, sensing she was being watched. She strained to see into the trees on the far side. Was she imagining it, or was that the hunched bulk of a bird? She looked across at the creek, calm before the seasonal rains, and up at the trees and plants that hid the path to the cave. What had happened here? It seemed very likely that the same people who stole the truffles had taken the mushrooms too.

  Deep in thought, Jessica retraced her steps. For the first time in a long time she felt the bite of scientific curiosity, the desire to find out more, to untangle the strands of questions, to see where they led her. She walked swiftly, her senses sharpened, her observational skills switched on, as if a great thirst had been quenched.

  She’d always been drawn to this quiet green world of ancient giants. This was more than schoolroom rhetoric of the great rainforests being the ‘lungs of the planet’; there was a reason these trees had stood as sentries for centuries. And yet how many millions of them had died in such a short amount of time, due to the actions of humans and climate? We’ve learned so little, she thought.

  *

  Sally and Toby were out in the fields, and Mollie and Katie were looking after Jasper, so Jessica made herself a coffee and brought it into the sitting room. Seeing the folder of Stella’s unf
ramed paintings, she put her cup to one side and slowly looked again at the beautiful images, which were filled with life and atmosphere, capturing the forest where she’d just been. And it came to Jessica that Stella had intuitively understood its value, the magical importance of this place, her Arcadia, even if she possibly hadn’t known why. As she sat there thinking, her phone rang and she pulled it from her pocket.

  ‘You got home okay?’ said Dan. ‘How do you feel this morning?’

  ‘We were a bit wobbly last night. We made light of things because we didn’t want to upset Mollie and Toby. Though maybe Sal has told Toby more this morning.’

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes. You bet. I’ve had a bit of an epiphany.’

  ‘Really? Good or bad?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She laughed. ‘I’ll tell you more when you get here. Any news?’

  ‘Yes. That’s why I’m calling you first. We got a lead from my mate in the police department on the number plate you sent.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘It’s registered to a Gordon Broadbent, Seawinds, Shelter Bay.’

  Jessica gasped. ‘What? Holy moly . . . That has to be the Gordon the old lady at Seawinds was talking about. And almost certainly related to the guy in the cave. Ooh, I have goosebumps. What else?’

  ‘Not much; he has no criminal record. I Googled the name but nothing came up, which is interesting: you have to be really private these days to have no internet footprint at all! Tell me, any leads on the truffle mugger?’

  ‘No. Well, I haven’t quizzed Toby too much. But . . . I’ve just been down in the forest. I’m deeply intrigued by your mycology man and what you told us, so I went for a closer look. But all the fungi that were around the old-growth trees have been yanked up. Gone.’

  There was an intake of breath at the other end of the line.

  ‘So. Curiouser and curiouser, eh?’ said Jessica.

  ‘Actually it makes sense. I’ll be there sometime tomorrow or the next day. Can you check with Sally and Toby if that will be all right?’

  ‘Oh, they’re all expecting you,’ said Jessica. ‘And Dan, tell Sally about the Broadbent connection, but it might be best to let her decide how much to tell her mother,’ she added. ‘We don’t know what she knows. We’re still fumbling around the fringes of the story.’

  Arcadia, 1951

  On a golden, sunny morning, Stella sat on a picnic blanket in the rose garden, watching Mollie playing peekaboo with Mrs James. It was cool in the shade, and reminded Stella of the blissful days she used to spend in the Far Forest.

  Before Mollie was born, Stella regarded her regular visits to the forest as the most important part of her life; the trees inspired her art, and she always admired their size, strength and power. These days, however, her darling Mollie kept her so busy, she could rarely make it down to the forest. Sometimes she allowed her mind to drift and imagined herself back there. And if ever there was a memory she clung to over the years it was one particular day, not too long ago, etched forever in her mind and heart like a fleck in amber.

  Two years earlier . . .

  Stella noticed that Mrs James was watching her as she walked towards the woods, so she stopped swinging her small picnic basket and strode on. Glancing back a few minutes later she saw Mrs James pulling the door of the main house closed and heading towards her cottage.

  She wore a cardigan across her shoulders. Her field glasses hung around her neck and her leather bag was slung across her body, packed as always with her notebook, pencils, pen and camera. Checking her reflection in the mirror before she’d left the house, she’d smiled at her herself and dabbed some perfume onto her wrists and collarbone.

  The woods were motionless; no breeze ruffled the early summer stillness. And while it was tranquil, Stella felt the life and energy in here.

  She reached the clearing, put down the basket, gave a short whistle and waited.

  There was movement by the pine tree and as Stella smiled, a figure stepped from the shadows. He strode across the clearing and when he reached Stella, her outstretched arms clasped him to her heart.

  ‘How I’ve missed you,’ he murmured. He kissed her deeply and then lifted his head, putting a finger beneath her chin to study her dancing eyes and smiling mouth.

  ‘Now, Tommy, first things first,’ said Stella, ‘or we’ll have no peace.’

  He chuckled and took a step behind her, watching as Stella whistled again, holding a wriggling mouse in cupped hands.

  There was movement but no sound as the owl flew to the tree closest to her.

  ‘He’s watching you,’ she said.

  ‘I think he’s getting used to me. That’s good.’ Tommy smiled.

  Stella cajoled and spoke softly, tilting her head as the owl mimicked her, tilting his own head, his steady eyes never leaving her face. But as she leaned down, the bird was poised, his eyes on her curled hand, and when the mouse tried to make its dash for freedom, the owl swooped, scooping it up and flying to a further tree.

  ‘So fast, so quiet. So deadly,’ said Tommy.

  ‘He expects it,’ sighed Stella. ‘At least one more little marsupial from here in the forest has escaped Nyx’s talons. I’ll have to get some more mice from my farmer friend. I’m pleased Nyx is finally accepting you. I doubt that his father would have been so kind.’

  He laughed. ‘Me too! I thought I was going to lose my head the first time I met you here!’

  ‘Nyx Senior was my protector and now Nyx Junior is too. I think he gets jealous of you.’ Stella smiled, and together they spread the blanket and settled themselves, Stella lying with her head in Tommy’s lap.

  ‘I’ve missed you, my darling. How long do we have?’ He traced the edge of her face, winding a tendril of her hair around his finger.

  ‘Stephen is away until tomorrow evening.’

  ‘I hate it when we are apart. I wish I could take you to the coast with me. I wish I could sail away with you so we could be together,’ he whispered hoarsely, and lowered his face to hers as she touched a finger to his lips, stilling his words.

  She wished it too, sometimes. Here, in these woods, and in the cave Thomas had found, they had their own world, if only for brief stolen sojourns.

  It had been almost two years now since she had set up her sketching easel to paint her favourite tree early one morning before the sun had penetrated the deep forest and dried the dew on the lichen and fungi. She’d thought she heard noises coming from the creek, but who would venture here so early? she’d wondered.

  Nyx was grooming himself, preparing to settle down to sleep after a night hunting and guarding his territory. He’d made a nest in the deep hollow of an ancient tree, once seared and split by lightning. But his attention must also have been caught by the sound of breaking twigs and movement, as he gave a piercing warning screech.

  Stella had paused and looked around, suddenly fearful, then dropped her brush as she saw a figure through the trees.

  ‘Who’s there?’ she’d called, memories of the man in the deerstalker hat flooding back, the fear just as sharp as it had been all those years before. She had last seen the man at the house with the tunnel to the sea, when she’d visited the place with Stephen. Had he dared to return here? But the man who suddenly appeared seemed taken aback to see her and raised his hand.

  ‘Ahoy, don’t be afraid. Sorry, I had no idea there’d be anyone here. I didn’t mean to startle you . . . Oy!’ He ducked and yelped as Nyx flew low over his head.

  ‘Sorry! Nyx! Come back,’ called Stella, lifting her arm to calm the large owl, who silently swept between them and sat low on a branch, alert, studying the tall blond man.

  ‘What a magnificent owl.’

  ‘Stay still, if you don’t mind,’ she warned the man. ‘May I ask who you are, why you’re here?’ Stella drew herself up and tried to sound more authoritative t
han she felt. Then, looking closely at his face, she realised she’d met the man once before, years ago, down at the river. He hadn’t introduced himself but she recalled that he had somehow known who she was.

  ‘Sorry, I’m Tommy, I came down the creek in my canoe. The water is low. I was keen to inspect the fungi in here.’ He peered at her easel. ‘Is that what you’re painting?’

  ‘It is. Why did you come to see the mushrooms?’

  ‘I study them. My brother has a farm and we cultivate mushrooms. The rarer varieties like these wild ones.’

  ‘This is private property, sir.’

  The man looked genuinely shocked. ‘Are you sure? My brother told me otherwise. I know these woods back onto a large property . . .’

  ‘Yes. Arcadia, which belongs to my husband.’

  ‘Is that so . . .?’ He frowned. ‘My older brother is a bit of a . . . scallywag,’ he said finally.

  ‘I’m sorry, you cannot disturb these plants,’ Stella said firmly.

  He gave a slight grin, and Stella couldn’t help but notice how very handsome he was. He moved closer, glancing at her easel, and was quiet a moment. ‘You are a very fine artist, madam.’

  ‘Thank you. What is your interest in mushrooms, anyway?’ she asked.

  ‘We believe they have important properties, medicinal and otherwise.’

  ‘Really? I see . . .’ She frowned. ‘I will ask my husband, Dr Holland. I’m Stella Holland, but of course, you know that already.’ She gave a brief smile and glanced up at Nyx, who had been glaring at the intruder. She gently clapped her hands. ‘Goodbye, Nyx.’

  The man, Tommy, looked up at the owl. ‘Beautiful creature. My brother told me he was once attacked by one here. Take care.’

  ‘Oh, Nyx and I are old friends,’ said Stella. ‘Tell me, have you and your brother come here before . . . collecting?’

  ‘I was only here once. My brother, John, has been here more often. He showed me how to get here. I apologise, I thought these were, ah, wild woods. Not your property.’

  ‘They are wild in one respect. These acres are on our land but have never been touched. My husband’s family has always protected them. Some trees are many hundreds of years old.’