Black Mountain (6 page)

And as for Elly, well, he'd be a fool if he believed her story that her relationship with this Lee fellow had been platonic, she was probably secretly pining for him. Anyway, women were fickle creatures and more worry than they were worth. So he certainly wasn't interested in Elly in any romantic way. Besides, he didn't plan on staying around here for long—as soon as he got the all clear from the medico, he'd be heading back down south.

Chapter 8

After Elly and Mitchell set out the next day Beth unlocked the door into the workroom-cum-laboratory, went inside and stood looking around.

Light from the long window stretching along one wall highlighted the work benches holding Rob's instruments, with a desk and a chair nearby. To one side a dresser with shelves held rows of bottles, and a cool safe stood beside a refrigerator. A comfortable old lounge and a couple of straight-backed chairs, a large cupboard, and a small table with a kettle completed the furnishings. This was where Rob had done all his work.

In the seven months since he died she had not been able to force herself to settle. Grief had consumed her and she'd lost interest in the work he'd been doing, and which had become his obsession. But the shock of hearing that his journal had been stolen had shaken her, and galvanised her into taking an interest once more.

Going to the cool safe she opened the door and looked at the neat row of essential oils that stood arranged on the top shelf. On the shelf below were the jars of ingredients she used for the creams and potions she created. And below these again were the brown glass bottles and jars that had been used in the last experiments, the experiments Rob believed would change forever the way skincare was regarded. All neatly labelled in his precise manner—trial one, trial two, and so on, right up to number twenty-three. This was the one he had been working on when he'd had his heart attack.

Picking up number twenty-three she carried it to the work bench and put it down, then opened the drawer and took out the notebook inside. It was as she was reading the last entries in the book that she heard Ben barking, and the sound of a car pulling up.

Closing the book she went outside, and was amazed to see that the driver of the car was Carl Evert. Although she had met him and his wife several times at beauty trade shows they didn't know each other well. She couldn't think what he could want. Calling to Ben to quiet, she went to the door to meet him.

‘Beth, hello,' he called to her, climbing out of the car. He held out his hand as he reached the door.

Shaking his hand she returned his greeting. ‘Well hello, Carl. What brings you up to these distant parts?'

‘I was down in Cairns and wanted to come to offer you my condolences. I was shocked to hear of Rob's sudden passing, and wanted you to know how sorry I am. I know it's a while ago now, but I haven't had a chance to come and see you before. If there's anything I can do to help you at all …' He left the words hanging in the air.

Beth's brows lifted slightly. ‘Thank you, that's very kind of you. But we seem to be managing as well as can be expected.'

‘It's a lot for you to manage on your own.' He turned to look at the orderly rows of mango trees stretching out behind them, and swept his arm around. ‘I mean, you've got all this to tend to. It's a big job for anyone, let alone a woman on her own.'

‘I'm not on my own. I have someone who manages the trees for me, and I have my daughter.'

‘Yes, of course, but you have to oversee everything, don't you? Make sure everything's going the right way. And that's still a lot, isn't it? I'm wondering if I can help you.'

Beth tipped her head. ‘Help me? How do you mean?'

‘Well, I know you have a small business with essential oils and making a few skincare products. That must be more than you can manage now. I'd be happy to take it off your hands. I'd give you a good price for your stock of oils and I could incorporate your skincare into my range. Janet Bishop tells me they're really quite good. It would take that workload away from you, so you could give all your time to overseeing the farm. Which, after all, is your bread and butter, isn't it?'

‘Well, that's most thoughtful of you, but, as you already have your own products, surely you wouldn't want to take on mine as well?'

‘In times of trouble we should all stick together and my wife pointed out to me how difficult it must be for you, and if I can help, I'd be only too happy.'

‘Well, that's very kind of you, I'm sure, but Elly and I are really managing quite well, but thank you all the same.'

A flash of something that looked like annoyance crossed his face fleetingly, to be replaced immediately by a warm smile.

‘Well, I'm pleased to hear it. But my offer stands. Why don't you think about it? Talk it over with Elly. She might have plans of her own, she mightn't want to feel obliged to stay here helping you, might she? Young women like to lead their own lives these days. So you think about it. Just give me a call if you realise what a help it would be not to have to worry about all that, as well as what you have here.' He fished in his pocket and brought out a card and handed it to her. ‘Here's my card. Just give me a call if you change your mind.'

‘Thank you, Carl,' she replied, taking the card. ‘Now, can I offer you a cup of tea before you go?'

‘No, no. I must be getting back. But don't forget, just give me a call.'

He turned and walked back to his car, and as he pulled the car around with a squeal of tyres and hared off back down the road, Beth stood and looked at the retreating car with a frown, then shrugged and went back inside.

Chapter 9

Elly started their search on that first day feeling cautiously hopeful, but as the day passed her optimism waned.

Once inside the forest they separated, each searching a designated area but always within cooee distance, at Mitchell's insistence. They met at lunch time and compared notes, but had little conversation apart from that.

Mitchell kept up a steady pace all day, and by the end of the day she wasn't so sure of her stamina. Her sturdy hiking boots and sensible socks were feeling like lead weights, and her backpack seemed heavier than when they'd started out, in spite of her having eaten the food from it and drunk most of the water. In addition Mitchell had insisted on her carrying a small tomahawk he'd provided.

‘You never know what you're likely to come across out here,' he told her when she protested, ‘and it could be at a moment when I'm not close enough to protect you.'

‘I'm quite capable of protecting myself, thank you,' she retorted crossly.

‘And you'll do it easier with that in your hand if you happen to meet a scorpion or a snake.'

That hadn't happened, and now it felt like just another thing to weigh her down. But she was determined to keep going. So the next morning she was ready to start again. And the next day again.

Elly had always enjoyed walking in the forest, relishing its cool green dimness and its peace and solitude. It wasn't really silent, but the noises were the quiet noises of the forest, made by the wind in the trees or the forest inhabitants, most of whom were shy and kept out of sight. Occasionally she would disturb one unawares—a wallaby, who stood watching with startled eyes for a few seconds before bounding away along an ancient animal track, or a rare and elusive cassowary, the flightless bird that grows as tall as a man, with a bony helmet on its head and red wattles dangling from its throat. Or a lizard that scuttled up a tree or away through the leaf litter at her approach.

She loved the whole scene—the graceful ferns silvered by the shafts of sunlight slanting through the gaps in the canopy high above. The tangle of vines snaking their way upwards, often twining around their soaring neighbours who stood straight and proud as they strained towards the sun above. And the huge old men of the forest, many with a girth of metres and buttresses that had supported them for hundreds of years.

But as the days passed the plethora of plants seemed to mock her as her eyes searched amongst them for the elusive
striplet
. Even the sight and sound of the cheeky lorikeets as they swooped between trees, or the laughter of a kookaburra calling to its mate, failed to bring her any joy.

They always met at midday to eat the lunch Beth provided for them. Mitchell would spread a groundsheet on a fallen log, or on the bank of a creek or pond, and as the days passed they conversed more, swapping stories about their schooldays or bringing each other up to date on what they had done since, and Elly realised the animosity she had previously felt towards him was fading, and his manner to her was relaxed and friendly.

One day as they sat at lunch he had news for her.

‘I've heard back from my contact in Canada,' he told her, ‘and there's no record of Jackson Lee. There are plenty of Lees, it's a common enough name in Canada, but no Jackson Lee of anywhere near the right age.'

Frowning, Elly rubbed her finger across her bottom lip as she considered this. ‘Hmm. So he either lied about his name, or about coming from Canada. And he did it right from the time we first met. Why, I wonder? He didn't know me. What did he think he could gain by it?'

‘It seems as if that was the guise, or disguise, he was already using in Australia. Do you think his accent could have been faked?'

‘I suppose it's possible,' Elly agreed. ‘Do you think he might be an Australian passing himself off as a Canadian?'

‘It is possible. Or any nationality for that matter, if he could master the accent.'

‘But why?'

Mitchell cocked an eyebrow. ‘Now that's the question. Not for any good reason, I'm sure. But whether it had anything to do with you or not we won't know until we find him.'

Elly pursed her lips. ‘
If
we find him.'

‘Exactly.' He closed his empty lunch box and tucked it into his backpack before standing up and offering Elly his hand. ‘And now we'd better get on with our search.'

Putting away her own lunch box, Elly took his hand and stood. ‘Yes. Let's get on with it.'

‘Talk about looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack,' she sighed as they sat on a log a few days later.

‘I warned you it would be tough,' Mitchell reminded her as he bit into his sandwich.

‘I know,' she grimaced, ‘but it seems so endless when you're in here. It seems to go on forever. I love the trees but there's just so damned many of them.' She tilted the water bottle up to her mouth and swallowed small mouthfuls.

‘You don't have to continue with this, you know,' Mitchell told her gently. ‘I'll keep on for as long as your mother wants me to, but you don't have to come with me.'

‘I know I don't, but I want to do whatever I can to help Mum with this.' Elly took a deep breath. ‘It was their big dream, you see. Dad was so enthusiastic about it. He believed he was on to something that was truly revolutionary, not just as an anti-ageing product but to help with rejuvenation of skin for victims of accidents and burns, things that cause disfigurement to the skin and leave people traumatised because of the way they look.' The ache in her throat made Elly swallow before continuing. ‘The beauty product was meant to be the first one, the one that would bring in money to pay for the further research necessary for the healing product, you see. And now Mum wants to continue with it and I feel I have to do whatever I can. But perhaps this is not the only way to find the plant.'

Mitchell raised his brows. ‘Do you have a better idea?'

‘Maybe I do. Perhaps we should try to find the Aboriginal woman, Della, who Dad met. That might be easier.'

‘It might at that. We've covered a lot of ground since we started, but so far we've seen nothing that resembles the plant. If we don't have any success today we'll talk about it tonight, see if we have any clues as to where she's likely to be.'

As they sat around the table later drinking the coffee Beth always made for them when they returned, Mitchell spread out the map on the table and shaded in the area they had covered today, as he'd done on each previous day.

As Elly looked at it she felt strongly that their progress was too slow. They should try her idea. ‘Almost two whole weeks and we've only covered this small part of the forest. It's going to take us forever. I say that if we don't find it tomorrow, we try to find Della.'

Mitchell and Beth both inclined their heads in agreement.

‘Sounds fair enough to me,' Mitchell said. ‘Do we have any idea where we might find her?'

‘I'm almost sure Rob said she belongs to the Kuku Yalanji tribe. So I guess Wujal Wujal would be a good place to start,' Beth offered. ‘That's their settlement.'

‘Then let's give it one last day tomorrow and, if we don't have any success, we go up to Wujal Wujal.'

‘I'm happy to do that—' Mitchell nodded, ‘—but you realise we'll be going up the Bloomfield Track? My four-wheel drive will handle it all right, but you don't need to come with me, Elly, it's a pretty rough trip.'

Elly shook her head. ‘No, I'll come. If we find her she'll be more likely to talk about it to me, as Rob's daughter, than to a man she doesn't know.'

‘She's right, Mitchell,' Beth agreed. ‘I think you should both go.'

‘Okay, we'll leave the day after tomorrow if we don't have any luck tomorrow.'

Chapter 10

The next morning Elly felt much happier as she climbed into Mitchell's Land Cruiser. At least if they didn't find the
stripling
today they would move on to what she believed would be more promising ground.

It was the middle of the morning when Elly approached the bank of a trickling creek to inspect a clump of small plants growing near its edge. As she moved closer for a better look her foot caught in a small hole and she tripped. As she fell she put out a hand and clutched at the trunk of a sapling to try and break her fall, but to no avail. She fell, winded and flat out, sprawling in the leaf litter.