Arcadia

by Di Morrissey

  ‘It’s scary. Just what is he after?’ asked Sally, then paused for a moment in thought. ‘Maybe he was responsible for the truffle raid, as a diversionary tactic, and the mushrooms in the Far Forest were his real target? The farm at Shelter Bay is clearly doing something with mushrooms. I can see why he might want our wild fungi,’ she added slowly.

  ‘Speaking of which, I can take you to the Far Forest – the old-growth forest – this afternoon, if you like, Dan,’ put in Jessica. ‘Is that okay, Sally?’

  ‘Sure. I have a few things to do so I won’t join you. We’ve asked some friends over for dinner, so come back any time before six,’ said Sally.

  *

  As they headed into the green-lit cavern of the old forest, Jessica gave Dan a sidelong glance as he gazed around. Then he reached out to touch the trunk of a massive ribbon gum.

  ‘This is a grand sight. These viminalis are dying out by their thousands, all over the country. But this one looks really healthy. This is such a special place . . .’

  When they came to the trees whose roots and some parts of their trunks were normally studded with fungi, Jessica pointed out where the ground had been disturbed.

  Dan crouched down and crumbled the soil, sniffing it. ‘Still some mycelium in here. These trees are so old, they’re probably harbouring some rare mushroom species. You need the original spores to start a breeding program, so these would be very useful to someone who knows what they’re doing. Look, there’s a piece of mushroom; must have broken off when it was picked. I’ll take it in case we need to have it tested,’ he said, carefully wrapping it in a tissue.

  ‘Whoever took the mushrooms didn’t touch the fairy ring . . . superstitious, I suppose.’

  They walked to the creek and stood looking at the peaceful setting.

  ‘This is beautiful. What an amazing backyard Sally and Toby have,’ Dan said.

  ‘Yes, it’s only really in retrospect that you realise it, but this was an amazing place to grow up in.’

  Dan studied her. ‘Would you settle back here again?’

  ‘I’m not sure. It’d be hard to find a place like this these days. I see why Dr Holland never wanted it touched. But Sally and Mollie have always been generous and let me feel as if it’s my magic place to come to when I need to . . . like now.’

  ‘Are you okay now?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘You seem pretty strong to me. I wouldn’t steal piglets from a cranky sow. I thought that was an inspired move, by the way.’

  Jessica laughed. ‘Needs must. Anyway, it was Sally who grabbed them. I’m all right but I suppose I feel my life is on hold.’

  ‘That’s hard, but I’m sure something will turn up.’ He gazed across the creek. ‘Is that still Arcadia’s land?’

  ‘Yes. You can cross over the creek down there. Unless it’s raging,’ she added. ‘That’s where the cave is.’

  ‘Where you found the incriminating evidence? Can we go up there now?’

  ‘We took everything of interest, which was just a tin box.’

  ‘Oh, come on, it’ll be an adventure,’ cajoled Dan.

  ‘Okay. I guess so.’

  ‘I’d like to see it – sounds fascinating. Though a pretty uncomfortable love nest.’

  They followed the barely discernible track but found it easy going. Jessica thought about how rattled she and Sally had been when they last left the cave.

  When they neared the top of the cliff overhang, Jessica pointed to the narrow passageway. ‘You have to squeeze behind here.’ They went through and Dan followed her into the cave.

  ‘There’s a fantastic view to the left at the back,’ Jessica said as she straightened up.

  ‘This is amazing.’ Dan was staring around. ‘What’s up?’ he asked, seeing Jessica’s shocked face.

  ‘Someone’s been here. We didn’t leave it like this . . . it was a mess before. Oh no . . . the guy Katie saw . . . what if it’s him?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘This has been tidied up. Someone has slept here . . . and . . .’ She sniffed again, then pointed at the floor.

  ‘Oops.’ Dan leaned down and looked at the fresh cigarette butt stamped into the dirt floor. He pulled out a tissue and carefully scooped the butt into it.

  ‘This is creepy,’ she said. ‘Why would someone come here? How would they even know about this place? When Sally and I were here a few weeks back, it looked like no one had been here since we were last here, about twenty years ago. Now . . .’ She shuddered.

  ‘Do you think there’s some connection to Shelter Bay? It’s the only link,’ said Dan.

  ‘Yes, it’s the only thing that makes sense,’ said Jessica slowly. ‘And the woman at Seawinds said her son, Gordon, was away, didn’t she? That’s the Gordon Broadbent who owns the four-wheel drive that followed Sal and me.’

  ‘Yeah. That’s right.’ Dan frowned. ‘Let’s look around.’ He checked out the cave, then took in the breathtaking panorama of the trees and creek, and the distant hills.

  ‘What’s up there?’ He turned away from the view, pointing to the back of the cave, where a small opening led into darkness.

  ‘More caves, we think. It gets too small to explore, and it’s wet. We tried once but never bothered going back there.’

  ‘Might be worth going in a bit to see,’ he said, hunching over as he moved forward.

  ‘Here, use my phone light.’

  Jessica crept behind Dan as he stepped into the cramped, dank side tunnel, shining the beam from Jessica’s phone from side to side. It smelled earthy, and a rivulet of water dribbled between their feet.

  Dan moved the light from side to side. ‘It’s getting narrower; I guess it just goes further back into the hillside.’

  ‘I feel like a water rat or something,’ said Jessica. ‘We won’t be able to turn around if it gets smaller, we’ll have to back out. No one would come in here.’

  ‘Yeah, okay, let’s head back.’

  ‘Can I have the phone . . .?’ Jessica turned until she was again facing the chink of daylight. She reached behind her as Dan rose to hand her the phone, almost bumping his head on the roof of the tunnel.

  ‘Oops . . . hell . . . what’s that?’ He flailed his hands, and Jessica grabbed the phone, just as she felt something drop into her hair.

  ‘Yikes, don’t tell me there’re bats in here.’ She flap­ped her arms, the beam of light swinging wildly around them.

  ‘Hey! What the . . . Hold the light, Jess, over here,’ yelled Dan.

  ‘There’s something on me . . .’ Jessica was brushing at her hair. ‘Here, take the phone.’

  Dan grabbed it back and trained the narrow beam of light on her. ‘Oh, shit, Jessica, stay still . . .’

  Jessica froze. ‘What, what is it?’

  ‘Just a minute, I’ll get it off you.’ Dan leaned over, shining the phone above her. Then Jessica felt something moving in her hair and she screamed, fighting the urge to beat at her head. Dan flicked his hand, and Jessica felt her hair pulled lightly. She grabbed at it.

  ‘Jess, it’s gone! Stay still!’

  She froze again, gingerly touching her hair and, feeling nothing, smoothed her hands over her head as Dan shone the light above them.

  Jessica followed the beam and screamed again. ‘Holy shit!’

  ‘Stay still . . . they’re more afraid of us . . .’ The torchlight illuminated a dozen or more giant spiders, the size of dinner plates, hanging from the cave roof. ‘Tassie Cave Spiders . . . a local specialty.’

  ‘I’ve never seen them before.’ Jessica shuddered. ‘They’re awful.’

  ‘Yes, they are. The females eat the males while mating, if the males are not careful. Something like that.’

  ‘Come on, Dan, let’s get out of here.’

  At the cave opening, she glanced back. ‘I feel like leaving a note for whoever
is staying in here . . . although maybe seeing a cave spider might scare them off.’

  ‘Yes, let’s hope so. Whoever came here was trespassing.’

  ‘This place has been forgotten for years. It was abandoned when Sal and I first came across it as kids . . . but now it seems someone else knows about it. Might have always known about it,’ mused Jessica.

  ‘Should we tell Sal about this?’ Dan asked.

  Jessica thought hard about it. ‘I think we shouldn’t, not for now, at least. She was really rattled by the whole truffle affair. Until we know for sure whether it’s related, best not to worry her with it.’ She sighed. ‘Come on. I’ve had enough surprises for now. Let’s head back.’

  Arcadia, 1968

  Mrs James paused while sweeping the front steps and watched Stella walk slowly down the hill to the forest. It was a familiar path for her, but she walked more slowly and carefully these days and carried a strong stick. Mrs James gave a heartfelt sigh.

  ‘Mum, I’ll finish that for you. Take a breather.’ Her youngest son reached for the broom.

  ‘It’s all right, Terry. Does me good to do something. Can’t sit around in the sun all day.’ She smiled as he took the broom anyway, and noticed that he followed her gaze.

  ‘I think Mrs H is lonely, ever since Dr H died and Mollie left to go travelling,’ he said. ‘Good thing she’s got you, Mum.’

  ‘And I’m very lucky to have you, my dear boy. But you should travel, too, like you’ve talked about. Don’t stay here just ’cause of me. Your brothers and sisters shouldn’t leave everything up to you.’

  ‘They’ve all got families, Mum. Anyway, managing Arcadia for Mrs H is a good job. I enjoy it.’ He smiled and began sweeping energetically, moving carefully on his awkward bent feet.

  ‘I don’t know how I’d cope without you now that your dad’s gone.’ She sighed. ‘You’re doing a grand job with the farm. Your father taught you well.’ She smiled at her grown son, feeling a tug at her heart. She was glad he was here to help and watch out for her and Stella and Arcadia. But it didn’t seem fair for him to sacrifice his own life and adventures. He’d taken a few holidays, but she knew he felt responsible for her, and for Arcadia.

  ‘When Mollie comes home here to live, you can travel and do what you want, son.’ She knew that Mollie had been raised to understand that Arcadia was special, and would be her forever home and, one day, her children’s home.

  ‘That’s a long way off. I’m happy being here with you.’ He went to put the broom away. ‘Right, I’m going to check on the animals before the sun sets.’

  Mrs James sighed as she walked inside her cottage, which Stella had let her live in rent-free after Mr James had died, not so long after Dr Holland had passed away.

  In her view, Stella was too young to be a widow, even though she kept herself occupied with her art classes and her own artwork. Still, she hoped Mollie would come back soon, at least for a visit. She knew Stella missed her daughter now that she was on her own.

  *

  Stella walked slowly but sure-footedly, her back straight, into the old forest, inhaling its familiar earthy smell of fungi and damp moss. She chose a place to sit, not because she was tired but sitting surrounded by the soft busy sounds of the forest always soothed her. It was her healing place, a calm place, where memories returned to her.

  Once more in her mind she was at the bedside of her failing husband, smoothing his hand, his grim jaw the only clue to his battle as he clung to life, refusing to succumb. Silently Mrs James came and stood behind Stella, her hands folded. And then in a gasping breath, Stephen managed to speak. ‘Hilda . . .’

  Mrs James rested her hand lightly on Stella’s shoulder as Stephen’s eyes flew open, staring ahead, and then he turned his head towards Stella, taking in a breath, his face calm. And did not breathe out.

  After a few quiet minutes Mrs James began to bustle about, knowing what to do.

  It wasn’t till weeks later that Mrs James and her son, Terry, sat down with Stella, and Mrs James told them of the lingering death of Hilda, Stephen’s first wife.

  Stella didn’t know why this memory had floated through her consciousness now, but she didn’t question it, instead letting it slide away. Then she rose and headed to the creek, crossing carefully, using her stick for balance, before moving steadily along the overgrown track.

  She slowly climbed up to the cave and drew a deep breath. Everything was as she’d left it, so long ago. She wasn’t sure what she might find, and the tiny glimmer of hope in her heart quickly faded. All was as it had been the last time she was there. Or so she thought. Looking more closely, opening the tin box, feeling along the shelf, she saw that nothing had been touched – the tiny silver eggcup with the Arcadia crest, the pretty pebble from the creek, a dried flower plucked from the forest, all still there. She closed her eyes, hearing, remembering their laughter, the tender touch of a hand on her cheek, the pained blue eyes she’d never be able to forget.

  She was about to leave things as they were, as he had left them, then changed her mind. With every ounce of her strength, she pushed the tin box as far as she could into a hollow in the rock wall and covered the opening with some hessian bags that had been on the bed. Finally, she dragged the bed over and jammed it up against the bags, satisfied that the box was safely hidden.

  With shoulders stooped with sadness, Stella made her way back down the track, crossed the creek, and walked into the heart of the forest.

  She sat and rested on her favourite log, deep in thought. Then felt the movement of air and her heart lifted. She turned her head to one side.

  Nyx the Third was sitting on a stump beside her, pretending not to notice her.

  ‘Hello, old fellow,’ she said softly. ‘Haven’t got anything for you, I’m afraid.’

  Slowly, methodically, the old owl shifted and began preening his feathers, which were sparser now, though still glossy.

  ‘I miss them, Nyx,’ she sighed. ‘All of them.’ A tear dropped onto her cheek. ‘Did I do the right thing? Tell me, wise old bird.’ She paused, letting the tears continue. ‘If only I could go back . . . would I? Would I? How do you know, Nyx, how do you know that you made the right decision?’ She bit her lip. ‘But I can’t help thinking about what might have been . . .’ She caught her breath, swallowing hard. ‘And now it is too late, there is no going back, no changing anything. No knowing . . .’ She turned to look at the dear heart-framed face, the dark, intelligent and soulful eyes, the startling dramatic white mask, this expressive knowing creature, son of sons she loved and knew so well through three generations. And who knew her, and her secrets. Each had shared so much . . .

  The bird blinked. ‘No, no, don’t you cry, Nyx,’ she tried to joke. And, as she knew he would, he leaned, lifting a wing, so she could gently scratch his favourite spot.

  ‘Do we get to meet again, Nyx, start over, do things differently?’

  Stella sighed and straightened up. The owl, shaking his feathers back into place, settled his wings, giving her an implacable stare.

  ‘All right, Nyx, my dear friend.’ She drew a breath and stood, picking up her stick. ‘Thank you. Thank you for looking out for me all these years. You and your dad and your grandpa.’

  Stella turned her back and walked slowly towards the clearing. Before she left the canopy of the old trees, she felt the movement in the air as Nyx swooped above her, the gentle touch of a wingtip on her cheek. She did not look back. She had a feeling she would never see her protector again.

  *

  ‘It’s like she’s given up, she’s in another world,’ Mrs James whispered to her son. ‘I worry about her. She practically lives in her studio, with Mollie’s shawl over her shoulders.’

  ‘The one you made?’

  Mrs James nodded. ‘How I managed to embroider those tiny flowers, and the little owl she wanted, I’ll never know. My fingers co
uldn’t do that intricate work now. I made it for Mollie’s christening, you know, and I hope she can use it for her babies one day.’

  ‘Well, she’s only eighteen, plenty of time for all of that,’ Terry said.

  Mrs James sipped her tea. ‘Son, you’re a sensible boy. You keep an eye on Mollie, promise me that, all right?’

  ‘Of course, Mum.’ He leaned over and squeezed her frail, work-worn hand.

  Arcadia, 2018

  Jessica looked around what Sally called ‘the long table’, where she and Toby entertained when they had lots of guests. It was an interesting group and everyone seemed relaxed. She could see that Dan was enjoying himself, talking to two couples who were Sally and Toby’s neighbours. Mollie had invited a friend from her book club, a retired solicitor, who she said didn’t get to enjoy home cooking too often. Katie’s babysitter, a teenage girl from a farm nearby, was helping to serve the food and clean up the kitchen, having put Katie to bed earlier.

  ‘So when are you going to hear this professor guy speak at the uni?’ asked Juliet, their neighbour on the western side. ‘He sounds pretty out there.’

  ‘I’ve heard of him,’ said her husband. ‘Saw a clip of him on the internet. All that mushroom stuff is so interesting, worrying, and fascinating.’

  ‘Day after tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it,’ said Jessica.

  The conversation ranged across Dr Hyland’s work, the environment and what they were all doing on their own farms until Sally and Toby came out with dessert. Plates were passed around and wineglasses refilled.

  Later, when the guests had gone and Mollie had retired to her cottage, the four of them gathered around the fire for a nightcap. Sally asked, ‘So, you’re heading to Hobart tomorrow, Dan?’

  ‘Well, I had a call from a mate,’ said Dan, sipping his drink. ‘He’s going to do some filming at a fairly isolated spot tomorrow – I’ve always been keen to go there, and so he’s arranged for me to tag along. There’s room for one more, though – would you like to come, Jess? Five in the big chopper will make it a full house.’