Forest Shadows (14 page)

They crossed the waterfall without mishap and walked back to the shack, mostly in silence, each with their own thoughts. Reg was struggling; he didn't want to believe, but some of what the old Chinaman had said sounded genuine. His voice, his body language, his sincerity, all rang true … somehow.

Snook wasn't thinking about any of that. Poisons and alien creatures forgotten, he was simply walking along, laughing and generally horsing around, shoving Quenton in front of him.

Jars wasn't so blasé. Her mind was racing as she thought about the rock collection, about the aliens who were among them
,
and about what Mr Wu had told her,
‘Light from stars always there, even after stars not live.'
And then there was Reg, asking Mr Wu all about some mineral called realgar. What was that all about? The white spider webs they had seen earlier were a worry too. They had been disturbed … but not only by them.

'L
et's get this fire started,' Reg said as soon as they'd returned to the shack. Night had fallen and the room was chilly. ‘Then we can think about getting something to eat.'

Snook volunteered to fetch some wood. ‘I'll help you,' Jars said at once. ‘We'll need a fair bit; there's not much left.'

‘So, you really think we'll find the treasure tomorrow?' Snook asked Jars as soon as they were outside.

Jars rubbed her hands and pulled her jacket tighter. The light southerly breeze was cold. ‘Yes, I think it makes sense; the tea-coloured water and the trout rising both seem to explain the riddle. Don't you think?'

‘Yeah, I do. I reckon you're spot on. We'll find that treasure in the morning for sure!'

‘It's not really a treasure, is it? Strictly speaking, it's a rock collection, and don't forget, we still have to find it.'

‘That'll be easy. Behind the waterfall's the logical place. I can't wait to see it. It'll be awesome.'

‘Don't forget, it belongs to Mr Wu, not us.'

‘I know, but it'll be fun findin' it!'

Jars smiled and began to gather kindling and logs from the woodpile. She liked her cousin's enthusiasm. She just hoped she wasn't leading everyone on a wild goose chase. But deep down she didn't think so.

Hector, invisible in the darkness, slunk back to Evelyn and Quigley. He'd heard everything.

S
lightly out of breath, with his adrenaline pumping, Hector told Evelyn and Quigley what he had learned.

Evelyn scowled. ‘So, they're going to beat us to the treasure. Got any bright ideas, Quigley?'

Keeping an eye on Hector, Quigley tried to justify his plans. ‘Um, er, it can't be helped. I, er, wasn't to know the ranger and the kids would be here. Anyway, how did they know about the treasure? Not from me, that's for sure. If it wasn't for them, we'd have what's rightfully ours by now.'

‘Rightfully ours?' Evelyn laughed, shaking her head. ‘What makes you think that? I thought it was always “first come first served”. Don't you agree,
Mr
Quigley
!'

Hector, brandishing the rifle, took a step towards him. ‘D-don't t-touch me,' Quigley said, his voice trembling.

‘It isn't my fault they know where the treasure is.'

Evelyn decided to intervene. ‘Listen to me. We'll go back to the motel for the night. In the morning we'll return and as soon as those brats find it, we'll take it off them … somehow.' She pointed at Hector's rifle. ‘Even if we have to use that.' A thin smile danced across her lips. ‘We'll get it one way or the other.'

J
im Kelly's wife, Irene, felt worn-out when she finally drew into the driveway of her home in Cray Bay. Following her visit with her sister in Burnie, the two-and-a-half hours' drive through the twists and turns in the mountains, had been tiring, but she was looking forward to seeing the kids again. She turned off the motor and climbed out of the car.

Her tiredness suddenly vanished. Something was wrong. The house was in darkness. Jim and the kids should have been home ages ago. Unless they'd gone out. But where? It was the weekend and just on eight o'clock. Snook was usually glued to the television by this time. She hurried to the door, at the same time fumbling in her purse for her keys. She found them and let herself in. Flicking the light switch on, she walked into the kitchen.

There was no sign of recent activity – no dishes in the sink, no school bags slung in a corner, no smell of cooking. She threw the car and house keys onto the table.

That's when she saw the note stuck on the fridge door.

She snatched it off and hurriedly read what it said:

Arnie and I've gone to Port Davey. Kids are okay. They've gone to Strahan with Reg Carter. Home Monday afternoon.

P.S. Quenton's with them too.

Shaking her head, she shoved the note into her cardigan pocket. ‘Typical,' she said aloud. ‘He couldn't have told me less if he'd tried.' She tried to make sense of the brief note. Her husband and Arnie had gone fishing. That was fair enough. But what were the kids and Reg Carter up to? Where were they staying? What were they doing in Strahan? She could only guess? Maybe Quenton's mother would know. She picked up the phone and dialled.

A
s soon as her friend, Madeline Quigley, answered the phone, she knew there was something wrong. Her voice was sad, tremulous. Something had upset her. It made her feel a little guilty. The travels of her husband and kids suddenly seemed trivial. ‘Is everything okay? Are you all right?'

‘I-I'm fine. It's just that I've had a very traumatic day. Things have happened, events I didn't expect. I-I suppose my mind's in a whirl. I-I'm a bit confused.'

Irene didn't hesitate. ‘Look, I'm coming round to your place. You can tell me all about your day then. Besides, there's something I want to ask you.'

She hung up without waiting for an answer.

Something's definitely wrong, she told herself. She'd seen Madeline only a couple of days ago; she'd been fine then, chirpy even. She picked up the car keys from the kitchen table, opened the front door and hurried towards the car just as it started to rain.

‘Come in, Irene,' Quenton's mother said, holding a coffee cup in one hand and opening the door with the other. ‘We can go through to the living room.' She held up the cup. ‘Will you have a drink?'

Irene noticed the redness in her friend's eyes. She'd obviously been crying. ‘Coffee would be nice. I've just realised that I haven't had a thing to eat or drink since leaving Burnie.' She followed her friend through to the living room.'

‘Have a seat,' Madeline said, pointing to a burgundy-coloured, leather suite. ‘I'll make a fresh brew. I won't be a moment.'

Irene looked around the room with its wall-to-wall carpet, full-length maroon drapes and swanky furniture. Not like my place, she said to herself, not by a long shot.

Madeline came back carrying a tray. She set it down on a coffee table that stood between them. ‘Help yourself,' she said,

‘I've brought some cakes and biscuits, too.'

Irene picked up her cup, took a sip and studied her friend. ‘So, what is it, Madeline?' she asked eventually. ‘What's the matter? You sounded upset on the phone.'

In her bird-like voice, Madeline told her – about collecting her husband from Risdon Prison yesterday, about delivering him to a house in Timber Creek and about his general, uncaring attitude towards her and Quenton. ‘He was cold and unkind right from when I picked him up,' she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. ‘He told me that he doesn't want anything to do with Quenton or me anymore. He told me that he wasn't coming home.' Irene nodded, understanding why she was feeling so down.

‘I suppose I'm pleased in one respect,' Madeline went on. ‘I won't have to put up with his terrible ways anymore. But Quenton? I don't know how it will affect him. To be shunned by your father. That's terrible.'

Irene saw the tears well in her friend's eyes. She carefully placed the cup she'd been cradling back on the table, and locked eyes with her friend. ‘Look, I'll give it to you straight. For over a year now, you've been a different person. Before that, you used to be, well, kind of sad. But not anymore. Now you've changed. You're happier. That should tell you something.'

‘Yes, you're right,' Madeline said, as though remembering. ‘I know how it was when he was with us, for me as well as Quenton. At times, it was terrifying. When he said he wasn't coming home, I didn't know what to think at first. I guess I was confused. But in the end, all I could feel was a sense of relief. It was like all the fears and confusion inside me had suddenly been washed away. But now, I'm not so sure. It sort of feels wrong.'

‘Is it Quenton you're worried about?'

‘I-I suppose I am in a way. I mean, what will he be like without a father?'

Irene wanted to say that he'd be far better off, that it was her husband who had made him the spoiled, insensitive child that he now was. She wanted to say that now he had a chance to change, to develop into someone decent. Instead, she said, ‘There's something I want to ask you.'

Madeline raised her eyebrows.

‘What can you tell me about the kids suddenly going to Strahan? Jim left a note for me but it was, to say the least, brief.'

After Madeline told her what she knew, Irene suggested, ‘Why don't you and I drive to Strahan tomorrow? Jim and Arnie are sure to be picking the kids up from there. We could wait for them near the wharf. I'd feel happier seeing they're all right. I always worry when that son of mine is on the loose. You know what he's like.'

Madeline couldn't help smiling. She certainly did know what Snook was like – cheeky, game for anything, a tearaway, a joker and sometimes an out-and-out rascal, a kind of real-to-life, modern day, Peter Pan. She liked Snook. She wished Quenton was more like him.

‘I've just thought of something,' Madeline said, changing the subject. ‘My husband wanted a certain book. He seemed desperate to have it. I had to bring it from home. The book's title said something about the Strahan area … where the kids have gone with Reg. Do you think he intends going there, too?'

‘Did he say anything, hint that he was?'

‘No, when I dropped him off at Timber Creek, he just took the book and left.'

Irene flew to her feet, almost spilling her coffee. She slammed her cup down. ‘Timber Creek! You dropped him off there? That's where the Grimshaws live. You know, the brothers and sister who were trying to steal those birds. He'll be with them, probably dreaming up another crooked scheme.'

Madeline looked confused.

‘Remember?' Irene said, trying to jog her memory. ‘They're the crooks that were locked up with your husband, and you're probably right; odds are they do intend going to Strahan, for whatever reason.'

Madeline's eyes lit up, suddenly remembering. ‘Yes!' She said, her voice rising, ‘The name slipped my mind for a moment, but now I remember. The Grimshaws! We'd better go to Strahan tomorrow. First thing!'

After Irene stood and said her goodbyes, she walked to the front door, more concerned now than when she'd first arrived.

MONDAY

A
fter trailing and spying on Reg and the kids for most of yesterday without reward, Quigley, Evelyn and Hector, tired, bad-tempered, frustrated and empty-handed, went back to the motel to regroup for the next day, Monday.

With nothing constructive to do, the three of them retired early thinking that Monday was another day, another opportunity.

So, intending to get their hands on the treasure in any way possible even if they had to steal it, they left the motel early, drove to the jetty and launched the boat. Evelyn started the outboard and they set off, crossing the harbour for the second time.

‘Stop!' Quigley yelled as they drew level with the Strahan wharf. ‘That boat,
The Shandora
, it's mine, or rather it was. And that's Jim Kelly on the wharf, standing next to her!'

Shutting off the motor, Evelyn and Hector followed Quigley's line of sight. ‘He's unloading cray pots and there's someone else with him,' Evelyn said.

Squinting to make sure, Hector saw who the extra person was. ‘It's Arnie!' he shouted, sounding surprised. ‘What's he doing there?'

‘Working for Jim Kelly by the looks of it,' Evelyn said. ‘They must have caught some lobsters. Looks like they're off-loading them now.'

‘Yes,' Quigley agreed, adding, ‘They'll sell them at the processors. Then after that, they'll head for the forest to pick up some passengers. And we know who they'll be.'

Realising Quigley was right, that
The Shandora
would soon be collecting Reg Carter and the three kids, Evelyn felt a surge of panic. She quickly started the outboard again, then, pointing the boat east towards the forest, opened up the throttle to full. She yelled above the scream of the outboard. ‘We haven't a minute to lose! Not if we want that treasure!'

Hector went strangely quiet. ‘Arnie's deserted us,' he said out loud, more to himself than anyone else, ‘like a rat from a sinking ship.'

Like a torpedo, the runabout, its bow pointing to the sky, cut through the waves. There wasn't a moment to lose. Time was vital. They had to find out what that interfering ranger and those brats were up to. They had to get their hands on the treasure. And they had to do that before
The Shandora
turned up … somehow.

E
arlier Monday morning before going back to the waterfall, Reg had found a length of rope that was lying near the woodpile. It might come in handy, he'd told the kids.