Rain Music (10 page)

‘Are you sure that Carlo won't mind a stranger just turning up and making himself at home?'

‘No, Carlo won't mind. He's pretty easygoing, just so long as you keep an eye on things, he'll be sweet. Anyway, Yolanda seems to think you'll be okay. And you don't need to worry about the supplies you'll need for your stay. We'll work things out.'

‘What sort of amenities does Carlo have out there? Does the generator run things?'

‘Yes, but only at night. Rest of the time it's all solar. Only problem is that there is no phone reception for your mobile. Carlo uses a satellite phone, but it's been sent down south for repairs. Don't know when it will get back, so when I say it's all quiet out there, that's exactly right.'

‘Well, that does sound like what I'm after,' said Ned with a smile.

‘Ah, you'll have a neighbour a couple of miles away, but he keeps to himself. Carlo is on a mining lease and the joint is surrounded by mining and grazing leases, and of course there's Maytown, that's on a heritage reserve section.'

‘Maytown?'

‘The original town out there. More than a hundred years ago it was a bloody big place. Not much left now.' Frederick scratched his chin. ‘Still, it's a bit of a tourist attraction for those keen enough to push out to see it. Shit road, and not much to see except bits of rusty mining equipment surrounded by the bush, really. Hard to believe the tons of gold that came out of the place.'

‘All of it gone now?'

‘For sure. But there's gold around if you know where to look,' he added with a grin. ‘Just ask Carlo.'

Theresa hurried over to join them. ‘Sorry, had a big group come in all at once. So, do you want to stay here the night or head on over to Carlo's?'

Frederick looked at his watch. ‘The day is getting on and it'll be dark before I can get back here. Don't fancy driving that track at night unless I have to. Tell you what, I could take you out there now and spend the night. In the morning, I could show you the ropes.'

‘I hate to put you to any trouble,' said Ned.

‘Carlo is a mate, and like I said, you'll be doing us all a favour,' said Frederick with a big
grin.

‘I'll put together some basic supplies to hold you for a week or so, then you can decide what you want,' offered Theresa. ‘I can help you put a list together and what I don't have, well, you'll have to go to Cooktown for that, or go without. By the way, Frederick, have you been watering Lena's garden?'

‘Yeah. Her herbs and stuff seem okay.'

‘You like to cook? Well, that's a silly question. There won't be anyone else to do it!' Theresa said, laughing, before Ned could muster a reply. ‘Well, I'll go and pack up some groceries for you. Frederick will drive you over, show you what's what. You can barbecue a couple of steaks for dinner tonight. Sound okay?' She stood, not expecting any argument.

Frederick gave a small shrug. ‘The boss has spoken. Okay with you?'

Ned had found all these swift arrangements very confusing, but he suspected that it was just the way things were done out here. Besides, one could hardly sniff at a few weeks' free accommodation in a tranquil setting. It was just what he wanted in order to explore his musical ideas without any interruptions.

‘I really appreciate this, but I don't want to be any trouble,' said Ned. ‘I'm very grateful to you both and to Carlo, even though he has no idea that I'm about to move into his place.'

‘I'll send him an email saying we gave you a big tick,' said Theresa.

Later that afternoon, Ned had no trouble following the dust cloud kicked up by Frederick's old truck as he drove along a dusty road surrounded by dry, lightly forested savannah country.

This had been gold country, a place where fortunes had been found and probably lost, but it was hardly hospitable. Men had traversed these hills and gullies in terrible conditions, according the information at the museum, many pushing all they owned in a wheelbarrow from one goldfield to another. Gold fever, Ned supposed, that potent mix of excitement and greed that drove men to dig into the earth, hoping to make their fortunes. But the days of these goldfields, smothered in a patchwork of leases where men worked cheek by jowl, were long, long gone. Now, Ned knew, this scrubby country was good for cattle but not much else. Damned hot most of the year, and awash with surging creeks and rivers in the wet.

He saw that Frederick had pulled over and he drew up behind him. They were stopped on a rise and Ned was glad to stretch his legs. Frederick was checking under the bonnet of his truck. He walked over to him.

‘A problem?'

‘Bit of an unwanted rattle. Thought I'd better check it. These rough roads play havoc with vehicles.'

‘Road? More of a track,' said Ned.

‘Ah, this will seem as smooth as silk once we cut cross country to Carlo's. I won't be long.'

Ned stretched as the sun warmed him and a hint of feathered wind brushed against his cheek. The sweet tang of a eucalypt in blossom hung in the air. A bird call rang out. A line from Dorothea Mackellar's famous poem came to him:

An opal-hearted country,

A wilful, lavish land –

All you who have not loved her,

You will not understand –

Looking around him, Ned sensed freedom, an honest, friendly, safe silence, a blank canvas for one to write their future on and a quietude that calmed the spirit. Lonely, rugged, tough, yes, but somehow embracing. He felt reassured he was doing the right thing.

Frederick straightened up and called over to Ned, ‘Let's push on. A beer is going to be good come sunset.'

Shortly afterwards, Frederick veered to the left, seemingly into the underbrush, but as Ned slowed behind him he saw the wheel ruts in the grass and realised they were following a track. He wondered how he'd ever find the turn-off again in daylight, let alone in darkness. With no phone reception out this way, he hoped he wouldn't get into any trouble.

The track wound up a rise, and at the top, where there were no trees, Ned caught his breath. The hillside sloped down to a lake surrounded by palms and dotted with water lilies. Hundreds of birds were gliding over its surface.
What a wonderful place
, he thought, gazing at the grassy verge surrounding the lake.

The vehicles bumped through the grass and over some scattered rocks, passing a tree which had the bleached skull of a cow tacked to its trunk. As he passed, Ned thought he saw a separate track branching downhill from the tree with its skeletal marker, and wondered where it led. He was disoriented, having lost all sense of direction and not sure if he'd ever find his way out again.

The trees were now smaller and spindly and grew closer together. Large boulders erupted like volcanic hiccups between them. Suddenly Ned caught a glint of water glistening in the sunlight and realised they were heading towards a river, but he couldn't get a better look because he had to focus on his driving as they zigzagged downhill. Then, ahead of him, there was an explosion of colour that made him catch his breath. Huge trees he'd expect to see in a street or park or old-fashioned garden were thriving – the lush green foliage of mango trees, laden with their exotic fruit, tropical wattle and, in full bloom, the rich red and orange sprays of poinciana trees. In the middle of them were two massive boulders, each the size of a shed, and between them hung a huge wooden gate.

They'd arrived.

4

Ned stood staring around
him at this unexpected oasis in the sparse, hot Australian bush. The tropical trees and the unusual carved wooden gate marked the entrance to a private world. Frederick picked up his small backpack and called to him.

‘Come on, I've got the key and I'll let us in, then I'll run through the way this place works: the generator, if you need it, and the solar control panel, water system, and all the other fandangles Carlo and his dad have set up.'

Ned stopped in amazement as he stepped through the gate. ‘What is this place?' he asked.

Frederick paused and looked over his shoulder at Ned. ‘Ah, I guess it's a bit of a surprise when you come in the first time,' he said with a grin.

Once inside the gate, Ned was immediately struck by the maze of narrow canals set out in a geometric design and flowing down the garden in cascading steps. All were covered with a smattering of water lilies and papyrus. There were wooden paths surrounded by clusters of palm trees, and large urns planted with bougainvillea stood between the canals and the main building, which was made of corrugated iron and painted in a muted lavender colour. The overhang of its roof sheltered and shaded the walls and formed a verandah which was propped up by rough-hewn wooden poles covered in a climbing shrub. There was no verandah floor, just pounded earth dusted in smooth sand, with large river stones clustered in deliberate piles along its length for decoration. Orchids in pots dangled from the roof.

‘This is unreal,' exclaimed Ned.

‘The water feature? It's actually Carlo's flood mitigation plan.'

‘So it doesn't flood up here?'

‘Well, the bottom of the garden does, but the water's
never made it into the house. Anyway, as they say, you ain't
seen nothin' yet. Have a gander at the rest of the joint.'

As Ned walked around, he realised that it was the most unusual place he had ever seen. It really wasn't even a house, just a huge space. The rooms were all open plan and airy, as the windows had no glass but simply drop-down shutters. There was a complete absence of doors. The pounded-dirt floor was covered in loose woven grass mats. The walls were lined with wooden slabs or narrow bands of weathered bamboo, stacked on top of each other like bricks, although in some places they were made of unlined iron. Hanging throughout were paintings of local scenes, Aboriginal art, and several Italian religious pieces which had been painted directly onto the wooden walls. There were also framed prints and posters, mainly of Italy and Austria, and hung high up near the ceiling was a collection of tools, old bottles, broken Chinese ceramics and other objects Ned couldn't identify but suspected had been unearthed while Carlo was fossicking for gold in the old diggings.

The furniture was basic but some pieces, like a large lounge and several chairs, were obviously hand-made using weathered wooden branches and were padded with colourful cushions.

In a daze, Ned followed Frederick through a huge space which was clearly made for entertaining, with its billiard table and giant plasma TV which he assumed was hooked up to a satellite dish, as well as a bar that was made from a cut-down water tank. The walls were covered with framed beer posters, an Italian mirror and on the shelves behind the bar were stacked all manner of liqueurs and wine bottles. The stools at the bar looked as though they were made from old steering wheels and covered with leather cushions.

‘Carlo and his father make their own grappa. It's good but it's lethal,' explained Frederick.

And in the corner of the bar area stood a drum kit, a keyboard and a pair of speakers.

When Frederick saw Ned's incredulous expression he said, ‘I told you, they like to throw parties. Make as much noise as you want out here. No nearby neighbours to complain,' he added.

Rounding the bar, Ned could see a long wooden dining table as well as a gas stove and cupboards and shelves stacked with non-perishable food like dry pasta and tins of beans, tomatoes and beetroot. Baskets on the floor had probably held potatoes and onions, although they were empty now, and there was a large refrigerator and freezer against one wall. It all looked very informal and somewhat temporary, as though the inhabitants had only partially moved in.

‘There's a cold room up the back where you can stack stuff if you want to do a big shop,' said Frederick. ‘The bedrooms are also at the back, but up on the next level. Out that side is the shower and loo and laundry,' he added, pointing in a rather vague way. ‘But this is the
pièce de résistance
. Have a look at this.'

Frederick took Ned past the kitchen and showed him what he meant, and for once Ned was speechless. On the terrace straight below them and facing the sweep of the shallow river, which curved in a loop around the property, was a swathe of ground that had been set up as another entertaining area. At the water's edge were mature poinciana trees, another flowering tree he didn't recognise, as well as some wattle trees. In their shade, hand-hewn furniture – a long table and assorted chairs – sat invitingly. To one side was a large shallow metal fire pit which Ned guessed was beaten from some piece of farm equipment. Around the fire pit was a circle of beautiful river stones forming a large ring of seats. Paths and a small lower terrace were made from slabs of stone with a few inserted segments that looked like marble, all beautifully pieced together.

‘What workmanship,' said Ned. And looking at the river, with its small island in the middle and the thick bush that rose on the other side, he added, ‘This setting, it's gobsmacking. Can you swim in the river?'

‘Yeah, no crocs here, but it's very shallow. Did you notice the big lake with all the water lilies when we drove in? That was the water supply for a goldmine that was operating up to the 1980s, until the gold ran out. Anyway, I reckon that this bit of the river grew out of the old gold days a hundred years ago as a result of the gullies the miners dug looking for the alluvial stuff. Carlo says you can get some good fish here every so often. Should be some fishing tackle lying about somewhere if you want to give it a try.'

Ned was trying to take in this amazing property. He walked over to a massive barbecue that stood on the large terrace. It was also made of intricate stonework and had a tall chimney as well as an extended brick table on either side. ‘Is there an oven in here as well?' said Ned as he opened the metal door next to the wood storage section.

‘Yeah, they use it as a bread oven and to make slow stews and stuff. They're mad on the cooking. Here, take a look at this,' said Frederick as they walked up to one of the higher levels. Ned's eyes followed to where his companion was pointing and he nearly did a double take. Like a massive stone shrine, a tower made of ascending tiers of bricks rose to a single point. At the end of each tier was a large antique bottle cemented in place, and on the very top was an old iron bell, making the structure look like a giant birthday cake, or an idiosyncratic Christmas tree. He walked over to admire the brickwork and saw the fitted metal door.

‘Holy cow! It's a pizza oven.' He burst out laughing.

‘What else!' said Frederick. ‘They're Italian, remember. C'mon, I'll give you the lowdown on all the equipment Carlo has, so you can keep this place running.'

By nightfall Ned's head was buzzing. He'd resorted to making notes about the jobs that had to be done. On an upper terrace behind the house was a long vegetable and herb bed surrounded by a low mesh fence. Half a dozen chickens were housed in a long run nearby, complete with automatic water and grain feeders.

‘You can let them out during the day for a bit, but lock them up before dark,' said Frederick. ‘Might come to grief with the feral cats that wander about here at night. And see that building up the hill a bit further? That's the storage shed, cool room and workshop. Over there is a sort of hot tub.' He pointed to a small pool set in more stonework connected to a water tank. ‘Water's heated by solar power and when you've finished, you can let the water out of the tub and it runs through the trees and into the river. But there are good showers in the bathroom area I pointed out to you before. All solar, of course. Carlo's planning to install lithium batteries that store the solar power so that you're right for hot water and power all the time, but he hasn't done it yet, so that's why you still need to use the generator. Clever bloke, Carlo, thinks of everything.'

‘What's that up there?' Ned peered up the slope to where he could see a building on stilts amongst the trees.

‘That's where Carlo's parents keep their caravan, because they like to have their own place when they visit. Carlo and his father rigged up a proper cover for it, so that it's always shady.'

Ned peered back at the river. ‘How far up does the river come in the wet?'

Frederick rubbed his chin. ‘Covers all the outdoor area, but the living area has been built high enough up to stay dry. That's why they built all those
terraces, to protect the place.'

Ned shook his head in wonderment. ‘Absolutely incredible. Carlo has used some amazing technology in this place. I can't believe that someone who is obviously as clever as Carlo would tuck himself away in such an isolated and remote place, fossicking for gold.'

‘Carlo's no dope, and he does pretty well at fossicking. If you're persistent, have some geological know-how, high-tech metal detectors and a bit of local knowledge, well . . . I know that some pretty decent nuggets have been found around here. In Carlo's case, he finds more than enough to finance an annual trip to Europe and to have a bit of cash that the taxman doesn't know about.'

‘But not just anyone can come in and dig around, right?' asked Ned.

‘Right,' agreed Frederick. ‘Leases, both grazing and mining, get a bit complicated in this part of the world, so you have to have the right pieces of paper. Anyway, if you reckon you're across things, we could crack open a beer. We've got those steaks Theresa threw in the cooler, so we could crank up that barbecue.'

‘Sounds terrific.'

By the time they'd finished their first can of beer, they had a fire burning brightly in the barbecue. Frederick had turned on the string of coloured lights that hung between the trees on the lower terrace and put a match to the flame torches that were set up along the river bank to keep the mosquitoes away. They both settled into chairs and looked at the smooth river as it flowed gently around the island.

‘Reckon you'll cope out here okay?' asked Frederick.

Ned gave a small laugh. ‘I reckon. I couldn't believe it when I walked in and saw that electric keyboard. Perfect to use when I want something besides my guitar. Who knows, I might even give those drums a go when there's no one around to complain.'

‘So you're going to write some songs, are you? Do you always write your own material?'

‘Yes, I do, but I feel that I want to write more than just individual songs. I'm not sure what I want to compose, so I was hoping that coming out here, where there are no distractions, I might be able to come up with something different and original. But the trouble is, I'm not at all sure what it is I'm after.'

Frederick nodded. ‘Give it a bash, Ned. Y'know, my old man always told me that you never know what you can do unless you give it a try. Funny thing is, since being up here I do think about what he said. In the old days a lot of people did a lot of remarkable things, because they had to. Amazing what some of those goldminers did to get to the gold.'

Ned waved his arm towards the river. ‘Just scrub country, now.'

‘True, but they tamed it, mate, for a short time, anyway.' Frederick gazed off into the distance, a far-away look in his eyes. ‘Think about walking way out here and starting from scratch with nothing other than what you can carry. Y'know, way back in the 1870s, just a few kilometres across that hill from where we're sitting now, there was a town of several thousand people. Maytown was big enough even to have its own newspaper. It was called the
Golden Age
, 'cause that was what the times were then, golden. Now there's nothing much left to show for those prosperous times, just a few bricks and some rusty mining equipment. Kinda interesting place to visit though, if you like ghost towns,' he sighed.

‘Really? The ghosts still walk?' asked Ned with a smile.

‘My oath they do,' said Frederick seriously, poking the fire. ‘Had to spend a night on those old fields once. I'd gone out there to do a bit of fossicking around. Well, I couldn't get my truck to start. No worries, I thought, Theresa will come out in the morning looking for me and she'll be apples, so I threw down my swag, not at all worried about having to spend the night under the stars. Tell you what, I was back in that truck quick smart. Kept hearing noises all around, and I can tell you they weren't natural ones. Locked my doors and stayed wide awake till dawn.'

‘What was it? Did you see anything?'

Frederick took a swig of his beer. ‘No, but there was a creepy feeling, like you knew there was someone there, but couldn't see anything. I kept thinking that someone was watching me. Then, just before dawn, I heard . . . Aww shit, let's not talk about it. Let's eat.'

Ned wasn't sure what to make of Frederick's odd story,
so he just let it drop. ‘Well, it's certainly peaceful here.' He glanced across the still water as the moon started to rise, and when Frederick began searing the meat, he headed to the kitchen to find plates and cutlery.

‘There you go, get that into you. Real food, better than that hospital tucker, I bet,' said Frederick cheerfully as he dished up enormous steaks and took
a couple of steaming baked potatoes out of the barbecue's oven.

‘I'll have to sort out some sort of routine, check the chooks, water the garden, make sure I turn the generator off before I turn in for the night,' said Ned.