Forest Shadows (6 page)

Following instructions, they disembarked and made their way across the waterfront, a large cemented area dotted with several sheds and a couple of tourist shops. Shadow, who had easily leaped ashore, followed them. ‘Smells fishy don't it?' Snook commented.

Quenton, who was being held upright by both Snook and Jars, moaned. ‘The smell's not making me feel any better, that's for sure.'

Jars nodded but didn't say anything. She was watching the hustle and bustle that was taking place around them. There was a crowd of holidaymakers currently boarding the
Lady
Jane,
which would take them across the bay to the Gordon River sightseeing. Some men were busy loading the
Elizabeth
with supplies, and close by, a couple of tourists, who looked like husband and wife, camera hanging from the man's neck, were strolling along near some other smaller boats. At the far end of the wharf, a few other tourists were coming and going from the Wild Rivers shop and the Strahan Activities Booking Centre where river cruises and rail journeys into the wilderness, were on offer.

They stood and waited for Snook's dad and Arnie to catch up with them. They didn't have to wait long. ‘How you feeling, Quenton?' Jim asked when he and Reg arrived.

‘Y-yes,' Arnie said, following Jim's cue. ‘Do you f-feel okay now?'

‘I'm never going on a boat again,' Quenton mumbled. ‘That's for sure.'

‘You've got no choice I'm afraid,' Jim said. ‘We still have to drop you off further down the bay; then there's the trip home on Monday, but don't worry, we'll get some seasick pills for you. They'll sort you out.'

‘Yeah, sort you out g-good,' Arnie said.

With that settled, they walked from the wharf to the main street – The Esplanade, skirted the cars and trucks that were parked bumper to bumper and crossed to the other side. ‘See you directly,' Jim said as he and Arnie began to head off in a different direction. ‘We're going to the processing plant to organise things there. You guys hang around here. We won't be long.'

‘Don't forget my pills,' Quenton called out to his back as the two quickly walked away. Without turning, Jim waved a hand in the air to show he'd heard.

Snook, Jars and Quenton did as they were told and waited, generally killing time absently watching the passersby and the occasional vehicle driving along The Esplanade. Reg, who wanted to stock up on supplies for their camping trip, went into a nearby shop, the Strahan General Store.

‘There's lots of motels here,' Jars commented.

Quenton shrugged. ‘What motels? I haven't seen any.'

‘There's signs and notices everywhere.' She pointed to the shop window opposite to where they were standing. ‘Look, there's one there, advertising the West Coast Motel and Caravan Park.'

‘Hey, hang on; do you see what kind of shop that is?' Snook said pushing to the front. ‘We should go in and check it out, you know, for the school project.'

Jars looked through the window and then at a sign above the door:
DONALD AND SONS, JEWELLERS, GEMS AND PRECIOUS STONES.

‘C'mon, let's go in,' Snook said, hurrying to open the shop door. Then, stopping for a second, called back to Quenton, ‘You stay here and look after Shadow. Me and Jars have got some important research to do.'

Jars began to follow Snook into the shop wondering what he had in mind. Just looking, she supposed. Shadow, head cocked to one side, sat next to Quenton eyes fixed on Jars as she disappeared inside.

It was a small business with just the one glass-topped counter and a few display stands with sunglasses, watches and various trinkets on show. Behind the counter, standing next to a cash register, was a rather distinguished-looking gentleman. He was dressed in a tweed sports jacket, white dress shirt, maroon tie. Jars guessed that he was the older of the Donalds. The man adjusted the spectacles that hung on the end of his nose and said in a rather shaky, sad-sounding voice, ‘May I help you?'

Snook explained about their school project and how they wanted to look at any minerals he had that were native to the area.

Mr Donald, if that was his name, looked up. ‘Sorry, all of my stones have somehow disappeared. Taken by someone. It's the strangest thing. Whoever it was took all of my crystals but not the other more valuable items, like my precious stones, rings, watches. It's most peculiar.'

‘Stolen?' Snook blurted, a look of astonishment spreading across his face. ‘Not you too!'

‘Yes,' the man started to explain, not understanding Snook's surprised look. ‘They were stolen all right. Snatched from right under my nose.'

Jars knew what Snook was thinking. The robbery at Mr Pearson's and this one were identical. She waved an arm towards the empty glass cases where the crystals once were. ‘When did this happen?'

‘This morning and I was present in the shop the whole time.'

‘Did you see who did it?' Jars asked.

‘I didn't see a thing. Nothing. It's almost as though they were taken by someone invisible. I simply can't fathom it out,' he said, shaking his head.

Jars noticed that his voice was beginning to shake, too. It was time to leave. Thanking the shopkeeper for his time, Jars touched Snook on the arm. ‘Let's go,' she said out of the corner of her mouth. ‘I've just realised something.' Heading for the exit, she whispered, ‘Another robbery by invisible thieves, the same as Mr Pearson's! And I don't think it's a coincidence!'

‘I don't either,' Snook was quick to agree. ‘I wonder if there have been any more places robbed.'

‘Yes, I wonder. And why just take the crystals and not the other valuables?'

‘Dunno. All I know is that it's confusing, nearly as mind blowin' as that brainteaser Quigley found … about the hidden treasure.'

Puzzled, they stepped outside and rejoined Quenton and Shadow, then waited for Reg, who it seemed, was still shopping.

M
acquarie Harbour, known for its choppy waters and fluky winds, had nevertheless remained kind to them as
The Shandora
made its way towards their destination, the Wild Rivers National Park, a mixed eucalypt forest reaching from northern mountains to a southern, narrow stretch of water known as Long Bay. Seldom visited by anyone other than the occasional government official such as Reg, it was known for its abundance of native animals – pygmy possums, quolls, Tasmanian devils, potoroos, bandicoots, currawongs, rosellas, goshawks all of which happily existed, largely undisturbed.

They passed the popular Teepookana Landing to their left and an hour later came to an old, dilapidated jetty, a relic from the area's convict past.

Quenton had survived the short trip. No seasickness. The pills that Snook's dad had bought, and the unusually smooth waters of Long Bay, had helped. ‘This is it; we're here,' Jim said as they pulled alongside the jetty.

Arnie reached over the rails and gripped the sides of the landing to keep the boat from drifting, allowing Reg and the kids to jump onto the old jetty. ‘Geez, it's not what you'd call safe,' Snook commented straightaway, feeling the wooden boards sway and creak beneath his feet. Shadow leaped after them, not in the least concerned about the rickety, creaky structure.

Assuring them that he and Arnie would be back about midday Monday, Jim steered the boat clear and headed back towards Strahan, Hell's Gates and the open sea.

Reg and the three kids didn't waste time. As soon as they'd said their goodbyes, they set off, each carrying a sleeping bag. Reg also carried the box of groceries he'd purchased earlier. Shadow had already raced ahead; there were new smells and sounds to find, new things to see. He was in doggy Heaven.

Walking along the narrow track, taking in the fresh, rich scent of the damp greenness surrounding them, Jars wondered where the birds were. She could hear their cries, shrill and piercing, that seemed to stab through the cover of the trees but she couldn't see them. It was as if they were sending out an invisible warning –
Look out,
humans are coming
.

With Shadow still out in front, they ventured on, the forest growing darker, more complex with each step. The trees: myrtles, leatherwoods, dogwoods, blackwoods, all looked taller as they stretched upwards towards a hidden sun. Green lichen grew on the base of their trunks, and living in a permanent, dappled shade, different species of ferns grew – small ferns that looked like fish skeletons, larger ones that resembled leather straps, and every now and then there were tree ferns, as tall as a man.

After a short walk they came to a shack, which stood alone in a cleared area next to the trees. ‘This is it,' Reg said, walking up to its doorway. ‘Simple but passable.' He placed the groceries on the ground and then pointed towards an opening in the trees. ‘Got its own river, too.'

‘Yuck,' Quenton said, looking down a small incline that led to the narrow, fast-flowing stream. ‘Look at the water. It's filthy. It looks like tea!'

Unlocking, then pushing the door open, Reg laughed. ‘No, Quenton, that brown tinge you see is made by tannin. The button grass plains east of here cause that. The water's pure enough.' Still chuckling, he waved his arm, telling them to come inside.

They filed through the doorway into the single-room shack. A brown wooden table and four chairs stood in the middle of the room. Bunk beds lined two of the walls. What looked like a supply cupboard stood against one wall, and set slightly back from the far wall was a woodheater complete with flue. A single window gave them a view of the path they had just come along as well as a section of the river.

‘Let's get organised,' Reg said. ‘Chuck your sleeping bag on whatever bed you want; then we'll get busy.'

Snook and Jars were sent to collect some kindling and logs from an outside woodpile for the fire while Reg stowed the food supplies in the cupboard. Quenton's job was to fetch a bucket of water from the river.

‘Whatcha want us to do now, Reg?' Snook asked when they'd done all that.

‘A cup of tea sounds like a good idea. Then we could go out, have a look around before lunch.' He checked his watch. It was just after eleven o'clock.

Snook, who had been sitting at the table, pushed his chair back and stood. ‘Yeah, let's go explorin'. See what's out there.'

‘There's plenty of time,' Reg said, smiling at his high spirits. ‘We'll go as soon as we've had a short rest and that hot drink. In the meantime, look in the cupboard for some cups. I'll put the kettle on.'

Quenton, who'd been lying on his bunk, the one next to the window, raised his body to a half-sitting position. ‘Can we have a long rest instead of a short one? That walk in here nearly killed me. I'm pooped. Completely bushed.'

Jars and Snook, eyebrows raised, glanced at each other. The walk hadn't been that long. More of a stroll really. They both sighed. If Quenton kept the bellyaching up it was going to be a long three days.

R
eg and the kids were sipping tea and chatting just as Quenton's mother drew into the Risdon Prison car park. Madeline Quigley glanced at her watch. Its digital face told her it was 11.30am. She was early.

She rubbed the back of her neck and moved her head from side to side. She'd left early that morning from Cray Bay then driven over the one-lane Lake Highway, a mountainous, twisting road. The four-hour drive had taken its toll. Shrugging off the aches in her body, she climbed out of the car to examine her surroundings. The main prison gate, a stark grey structure, stood 50 metres or so from where she had parked, and circling a series of plain-looking buildings, was a high, chain-wire fence. The penitentiary, once called the
Pink Palace,
was a more sombre colour now – grey, like the gate.

Clutching her handbag, she climbed out of the car and waited, her eyes focused on the prison gate where he would soon be walking through.

It was a moment she had dreaded, a time she had hoped would never come. Now that it had, a raw, electric fear flowed through her body like a wave, a wave that had been building from the moment she found out he was being released. Her hands trembled and butterflies danced in her stomach. She took a deep breath. Calm down, she told herself; it'll be all right.

She shivered, whether from her growing dread or a sudden coolness in the air, she wasn't sure. Casting her eyes to the sky, she saw that the weather was about to change. Dark clouds were gathering in the west and the air smelled fresh. Wrapping her arms around herself for warmth, she continued to stare at the gate … waiting.

Twelve months he had been locked up, a year when she had been free from his bullying, a year of freedom. She had become a different person. She knew that. No longer the mousy, stay-at-home hermit, she had done things, like joining the school committee and the Country Women's Association. She'd gone on shopping sprees and she'd mixed with the other women in their homes and in the street. No longer having to live in constant dread of his biting tongue or cruel ways, she had learned to smile again.

But all that was ending. He would be released … in a matter of minutes now. She bit her lip and shivered, whether from the chill in the air or her nervous fear, she still didn't know.

T
he prison gates opened and a man dressed in a dark blue uniform, walked through to the outside. Like many prison officers, keys dangled at his side. He stood, hands on hips, looking left and right as though searching. His eyes rested on the lady in the distance, who was standing next to a blue Ford sedan clutching a handbag. He signalled for her to come forward.

Her steps hesitant, Madeline walked towards him. She drew level.

‘Mrs Quigley?'

‘Yes.'

‘Good morning, I'm Officer Watson. Follow me please.'

They passed through the gate and across a paved courtyard leading to a group of buildings. ‘This is our administration block,' he explained as he ushered her up some steps. He pushed a door open. ‘We go in here.'