The Memory Tree

by Jennifer Scoullar

  Torchlight revealed a shallow stream at his feet. It led down through the cliff tunnel. Carpets of green and gold lichen adorned the clammy walls and, beyond the bright beam, rocks glimmered with glow-worms. The path steepened and, astonishingly, his feet found crude steps carved in the stone. This was it: the fabled passage down. A passage to the underworld. An irrational fear prickled the nape of his neck. The legends he’d loved as a child said it was forbidden to go to the land of the dead. The underworld protected its secrets.

  However no mythical guardian waylaid him, and before long Matt stood on the valley floor. His legs went to jelly and he felt the unfamiliar sting of tears behind his eyes. He’d dreamed of this moment for years – of finding his way down to this lost valley – and the wonder of it overwhelmed him.

  The desolate voice of a crow sounded from high on the rim. He looked up at the ring of granite cliffs soaring hundreds of metres into the sky, making the valley a fortress against the modern world; a place where Woorawa and Aquila could live untroubled by man.

  Matt peered through a screen of sassafras, a perfect natural hide, to the clearing beyond. And there on the ground, in the middle of a button-grass meadow, his eagles were ripping and tearing at a dead pademelon. Woorawa was perched atop the carcass, with Aquila taking tentative tastes from the side.

  Woorawa had done well to bring down a wallaby. Aquila wouldn’t have been much help. She was unaccustomed to hunting anything larger than rabbits. Curiosity overcame his caution and Matt separated himself from the shadows. Aquila stayed put, but Woorawa launched himself skywards. It was reckless, what he was doing. It could drive Woorawa away, separate the pair he’d worked so hard to match, but he had to know.

  He approached, one careful step at a time. Woorawa circled low, then alighted on the bough of a swamp gum bordering the clearing. His gaze never left Aquila, who hissed and then returned to her meal. Their bond was strong. Reassured by Woorawa’s proximity, Matt drew close enough to see what he was looking for.

  Eagles hadn’t killed this wallaby. Its teeth-torn throat and missing flank said as much. Matt scanned the ground with rising excitement, and paw prints confirmed his hunch. This was a tiger kill. He almost took photos, but thought better of it. He’d already deleted the shots of Theo from his camera. Why leave evidence when he hadn’t yet made his decision? Instead, he backed off, unwilling to interfere anymore. Some tiger tracks led north into the forest. Some led south, straight to the sassafras thicket from which he’d emerged. They told the story, plain as day. Tigers were using the path opened up by the earthquake to exit the valley.

  Did they return at dawn to shelter here? Perhaps, at this very moment, tigers slept close by in one of the cavities peppering the cliff face. In that one, or that one? Or this one? Matt explored the nearest cave, disturbing a sleepy tiger quoll, nothing more. He crept back out and peeked through the sassafras curtain. Woorawa was again perched atop the carcass. Aquila reached up, caressed his nape with her beak. Thank goodness for that. He should never have jeopardised their release. Penny would be unhappy if she knew.

  But then after what Penny had done, keeping her friendship with Fraser a secret, who was she to judge him? A sour resentment rose in his throat. How hard were Penny’s releases anyway? Find a run-down farm infested with cats and rabbits. An easy-to-monitor moorland plain. Some boggy regrowth forest. Simply let the devil go, often with the luxury of a radio collar. It was worlds away from freeing eagles in the wilderness on a wing and a prayer.

  Matt glanced up. The jagged clifftop broke the sky like knuckles on a row of clenched fists. His arm throbbed. It would be a hard return journey.

  The climb back up to Tiger Pass took three times longer than the descent. The lower section of the tunnel appeared to be in original condition, parts of it worn smooth by the passage of ancient feet. Who carved the steps and when? So many questions. Now he was looking for them, tiger tracks weren’t hard to find. They hugged the inner wall at the edge of the treacherous rockfall, guiding his own steps, making his scramble up the stony slope easier.

  Matt finally emerged from Last Stand Cave, squinting and blinking at the sun, drawing ragged breaths. He retrieved the carriers and headed back to the jeep, mind abuzz. Why had Penny kept this news about the valley to herself for so long? Only one explanation made sense. Fraser had told her, and she wanted to conceal the fact that she’d been speaking to him. It was disconcerting to discover a secret side to her, and he was not ready to forgive, despite his earlier softening. Maybe you could never really know another person. The possibility made his chest hurt. He wanted his Penny back. The honest one, the one he could trust.

  He reached the jeep, packed away his gear and slumped in the driver’s seat. His arm was aching more and more. Matt tried to focus on the day’s astounding discoveries, but loneliness was swamping his elation. He missed the eagles, missed his wife, missed having someone to talk to. He checked the clock. If he headed back now, he might still have time to help Jake feed up. Matt turned the ignition key, wondering how he would bear being alone tonight. Then his phone rang.

  ‘Matt? It’s Sarah. I have to see you.’

  Chapter 25

  Penny struggled beneath the dead weight of the wallaby, feeling the strain across her stomach and shoulders. Seeing the blood on her shirt.

  ‘I’ll take that one for you, love,’ said Ray’s friend, Charlie. ‘He’s a big ’un.’ They stowed the six bodies in the coolroom beside the mews. ‘If it weren’t me doing the culling, it’d be some other bugger,’ he said, defensively. ‘At least you knows I don’t let them suffer.’

  ‘I do know that, Charlie. And I also know you could sell them to the processor at Eaglehawk Neck instead of giving them to me.’ She gave him a quick kiss. He rubbed his cheek and smiled, revealing the stubs of his front teeth. ‘You’re very generous, Charlie, considering you and Ray aren’t flush with cash right now.’

  ‘You’re not wrong there, love. Log runs are thin on the ground this summer.’ He took off his hat and looked sheepish. ‘Seeing as I am a bit short, like you was saying, I was wondering about the skins? I know a bloke who takes them.’

  ‘Of course, Charlie. Have the skins.’

  He grinned and checked his watch. ‘Still time to make a few quid to spend at the pub. They have footy on the telly Saturday nights.’ Charlie took a murderous-looking set of flaying knives from his truck and marched back to the coolroom.

  Late afternoon shadows striped the paths as Penny made her way down to the front gate. It was time to feed the joeys, but the volunteers could do that today. She waved the last visitor goodbye and locked up.

  ‘Should I feed the raptors?’ Jake sang out from the mews. ‘Matt’s still not back.’

  ‘Go ahead,’ said Penny. ‘He had some problems with the eagles up at the pass. He might be late.’

  It felt good to report on Matt’s whereabouts like a wife would. Penny hadn’t felt like his wife for far too long. They’d even spent Christmas apart. It was such a difficult holiday for Matt. He’d lost his mother and sisters on Christmas Eve, and he struggled with the date every year. She’d hoped he might turn up for a feed of roast pork and salmon and her uncle’s homemade plum pudding icecream. Instead, she’d found her present lying on Ray’s doorstep, with a note from Matt to say he was spending the day alone on the range. They’d been behaving like strangers, each too full of pain and pride to bridge the yawning gulf between them.

  Penny hoped to change that tonight. Leaving Matt had been a big mistake. Giving him space wasn’t working. Matt seemed paralysed, unable to make the decision about Theo that she’d demanded of him. All she was doing was driving him further away at a time when she desperately needed him. Enough was enough.

  It boded well that Matt had rung her today, turning to her like he used to. And she’d come through for him, even though it had meant raising the thorny subject of Fraser. Never mind, Matt would have to get over it, just as she’d have to get over him keeping Theo a secret.
r />   Penny put the bottle of non-alcoholic champagne in the fridge in preparation for tonight. She gave the kitchen a quick tidy, cleaning benches and piling dishes in the sink, too distracted to do a proper job. Had Matt found his way down to the valley? If anyone could, he could. She played with her phone again, dying to ring him. No, not the right tactic. Let Matt do the calling.

  Penny showered and towel-dried her hair before the mirror. Leaving it loose, she changed her clothes, all the while keeping watch for Matt. Her good jeans felt a little tight. This top? No. That one? Trying too hard. This one? Low-cut plum satin. It would do. She donned a lacy black bra that Matt liked. Where was he, anyway? Penny popped a tray of cheese and spinach cannelloni into the oven. On second thoughts, she pulled it out, and grated more and more cheese on top, until the pan could barely contain the fluffy yellow mountain. Matt loved cheese.

  Just on dark, the jeep pulled into the driveway and Matt disappeared into the mews. A few minutes later he emerged, talked briefly to Jake, and walked up the path to the back door. Penny ducked away from the window. She could hear him in the laundry and stared impatiently at the door. When Matt finally came into the kitchen, she could see he’d been climbing. Dried blood caked his arms and the stubble of his cheeks.

  He stopped abruptly, clearly surprised to see her. It was the first time since their separation that she’d stayed back after work instead of going to Ray’s. Perhaps she should have let him know.

  ‘Don’t keep me in suspense,’ she said. ‘Did you make it down to the valley?’

  ‘I did.’ His dark eyebrows slanted into a frown. ‘You can tell Fraser he was right.’

  Penny ignored the dig. ‘Fantastic, and what about the eagles?’

  ‘They’re fine. They stayed together.’

  He went past her to the sink and washed his hands. She waited for him to continue, but apparently the subject was closed. Penny took a step back. She hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’t cold indifference. Matt wasn’t making this easy.

  ‘I’ve made dinner,’ said Penny. ‘Want a beer?’

  ‘I can’t.’

  Why did Matt seem in a hurry? ‘We need to talk,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry, Pen, not tonight. I’m going out.’

  ‘Going out?’

  He couldn’t even look at her. ‘It’s to do with work.’

  Penny felt like she’d been slapped. Here she was humiliating herself, agonising over their separation, struggling to put their marriage back together – and Matt was going out. It was too much. She hurried to the bedroom to get her overnight bag.

  Matt wasn’t in the kitchen when she returned. Penny could hear the shower running. She turned off the oven and slipped away without saying goodbye. Weak with disappointment, she stumbled down to her jeep, taking huge, heaving breaths to calm herself. Against her better judgement, she looked up at the house and willed Matt to come after her. Fool. She found a rag on the back seat, blew her nose and mopped her face. What was she going to do now? The thought of going home to Ray’s I told you so was unbearable.

  * * *

  The open gates of Canterbury Downs loomed from the dusk. Why not? She’d never visited Fraser this late before, but now there was no pretence, so what did it matter? Matt was off goodness-knows-where with goodness-knows-who and she didn’t have to answer to him anyway.

  She hit the brakes hard to make the turn and parked behind Fraser’s Lexus. Penny inspected herself in the sun visor mirror; puffy eyes and a postbox red nose. So what? She poked around in the glove box. That would do, that disgusting fluff-laden rubber band. With a savage twist, Penny jammed her hair back into a tight ponytail. She skirted the front door and slipped along the dark verandah, her body feeling weak from the disappointment.

  Light shone from the studio and strains of opera, of a sad, sweet soprano, sounded through the still night. Fraser often worked to music and Penny could think of nothing she’d like more at this moment than to lose herself in a taxidermic fervour. The newfoundlands were barking up a storm. Fraser stepped into the porch light, silenced his dogs with a frown and beckoned her in, for all the world like he knew she was coming.

  ‘I have something for you – a surprise.’

  Penny gave the big dogs a hug and followed Fraser inside.

  He paused and cocked his head towards the wall speakers. ‘Wagner’s Die Fliegende Holländer. Senta’s ballad. A beautiful maiden, such as yourself. Can you hear? She sings to her phantom captain, prays she might be the one to save him.’

  ‘Why does he need saving?’

  ‘He’s cursed, Penelope. Cursed to wander the sea in a ghostly schooner laden with treasure, in search of a woman who will redeem him with her fidelity. What good is wealth, he asks himself, without wife or child to bind me to this earth? The man has a point.’

  ‘How does it end?’

  Fraser shrugged. ‘In melodrama. It’s Wagner.’

  ‘Is this my surprise? This music?’

  ‘No, no.’ He threw her a glossy magazine. ‘Have a look.’

  It was the new Van Dyke’s annual catalogue, with an astounding range of animal forms. There were the usual deer, boar and buffalo. But there were also dozens of rare species. Bears and baboons. Bobcats and beavers. Otters, cheetahs, a mongoose. For twenty thousand dollars you could buy a full-size polyurethane elephant model. Standing trunk up, right foot forward. Elastomer reproduction tusks were an extra two thousand.

  ‘Why didn’t you show me this before?’

  ‘There’s a rhino in there this year. You wouldn’t approve. But tell me, which artist appeals the most?’

  Penny returned to the catalogue. Jody Green did wonderful deer. John Schmidt captured movement and was a consistent award-winner for anatomically correct sculpting. John Roffers had a way with moose. But for Penny’s money, the standout was Dan Bolt, not only for the sheer number of species he worked with, but for his realism, his intricate muscle structure, his breathtaking range of natural poses. Penny pointed to the stalking form of a wolverine.

  ‘This guy’s a genius.’

  ‘Excellent choice,’ said Fraser, beaming. ‘It so happens I commissioned Bolt to do some work for me.’ He disappeared into the storeroom, returning with a medium-sized animal form, which he handed to her. It took Penny a moment to appreciate what she was seeing. It was a devil. Light as a feather, beautifully crafted, posed in a lope with head swung left. She laughed with pleasure.

  ‘I have ten forms in five different positions,’ he said. ‘This one, of course. Also standing upright, sitting, head raised sniffing, and lying down. There are others too, available on request.’

  Penny threw her arms around Fraser’s neck. Until now she’d struggled to make her own devil moulds. Freezing dead animals in particular poses, then laboriously making plaster casts, half a carcass at a time. The results had been mediocre at best, laughable at worst. One time, her devil looked remarkably like a sausage dog.

  ‘I don’t know how to thank you,’ said Penny.

  ‘Yes, you do.’ Fraser’s expression turned solemn. ‘End this ridiculous separation, Penelope, and help me talk some sense into Matthew.’ His voice had an uncharacteristic quiver to it. ‘I want my son back before I die, perhaps even a grandchild …’

  She sank down on the couch, on the zebra-skin throw rug, and burst into tears.

  ‘Now I’ve upset you.’ Fraser looked lost. ‘Let me get you something. Brandy?’ Penny cried harder. ‘I’ll fetch some from the house.’ He escaped out the door.

  Like father like son. Matt would have done the same thing. At least she had a chance to compose herself. By the time Fraser returned with a bottle and a pair of brandy balloons, she was merely sniffing.

  Penny refused the brandy, slid to one end of the couch, feet curled beneath her and patted the seat beside her. ‘Sit.’ Fraser poured himself a generous glass and complied. ‘I’m already pregnant,’ she said. ‘Four months gone.’

  Fraser dropped his drink. The glass shattered under the
table, and the smell of brandy filled the air. His wide, shining smile made him look ten years younger. ‘My dear, this is wonderful, wonderful news.’

  How she wished it was Matt sitting beside her with joy on his face.

  Fraser’s smile morphed into a puzzled frown, and he laced his fingers together. ‘What’s all this separation nonsense? Why isn’t Matthew by your side?’

  ‘Matt doesn’t know.’

  Fraser drew back. ‘Why ever not?

  ‘I haven’t found the right time ...’

  ‘I can help with that.’ Fraser reached for his phone. ‘My son deserves the truth.’

  Teary now, Penny pulled the phone from him. ‘He’s mad at me right now because he’s mad at you,’ she said. ‘He always has been, ever since I’ve known him.’

  Fraser found some tissues, wiped her eyes and his own and took her hands in his. ‘Then we must change his mind, eh? You and I together? How could he resist us?’ Penny smiled, despite herself. ‘Aha,’ said Fraser. ‘I’m winning you over.’

  He surprised her by extracting a cigar from an ornate box on the sideboard, and snapping the seal with his thumb. Since when did Fraser smoke? ‘I suspect Matthew is keeping his own secrets,’ he said, lighting up. ‘Some months ago I put a proposition to your husband.’ Penny shook her head in disbelief. As far as she knew, Matt hadn’t spoken to his father in years. ‘I offered to resign my position as company CEO and transfer my shares to Matthew, effectively giving him control of Burns and all its subsidiaries. He turned me down flat.’

  ‘I had no idea,’ said Penny. ‘But with respect, Fraser, Matt wouldn’t want to run a company like yours.’

  ‘He wouldn’t have to. He could run it his own way, grind it into the ground if he wants. Torpedo the pulp mill. Halt all logging and close the mine. Convert my priceless timber reserves into national parks. Matthew will be a wealthy man when I die, whatever he decides. It would be entirely up to him.’