The Red Coast Read online

  ‘You gotta see the beach. You want a photo? Everyone likes a photo of themselves at this famous beach.’

  Cameron hesitated, but stepped from the car. ‘No photos, thanks. I’ll take a look, though.’

  Bobby walked beside him. ‘Goes for over twenty kilometres. That southern end, Gantheaume Point, is worth a visit if you’d like. Great spot to see the whales when they migrate up the coast. Those red cliffs, nothing like them, eh?’

  ‘It is pretty spectacular,’ agreed Cameron.

  ‘See out there,’ Bobby pointed, ‘that’s where the underwater cable went to Indonesia, which connected us with the rest of the world. Laid down back in the late nineteenth century. That’s why this stretch of sand is called Cable Beach. Must’ve been a huge job, eh?’

  ‘Yes, I expect so. And technology has come a long way since then. Shall we?’ Cameron turned back to the car.

  ‘The Club is just across the road. Do you want to stay out here? Or shall I wait for you? You want to call me if you change your mind? Or shall I collect you early in the morning?’

  Cameron looked amused as Bobby rattled off his questions. ‘Let me fix you up for today. Be here at six tomorrow morning, right here. If I change my mind, I’ll call you to let you know.’

  Bobby nodded. ‘Whatever you want, Mr North. I’ll see you here at six, ready to hit the road up the Cape.’

  *

  The next morning, Jacqui was alone in Red Coast Books, having just opened up. She liked this quiet time before everyone in the town opened for business. She had ridden her bike to the shop and chained it in the alleyway, unlocked the metal grille and slid the front doors open to let in the cool morning air before turning on the air conditioner. She paused and took a deep breath, inhaling the comforting smell of books; the freshly minted ones as well as those whose musty magic was trapped between yellowing pages. She felt as though her shop was a repository of so many characters, places, scenes and events. As a child, she’d imagined not only her toys coming to life at night, but also the characters in the books she loved, all enjoying thrilling and dangerous adventures before the dawn approached, when they would slip quietly back between the covers. Reading had always been a passion, and she enjoyed keeping pace with new releases so she could discuss them with her customers.

  She turned on the coffee machine, ran through her morning routine and was debating whether to sweep outside or have a coffee when she heard someone come into the shop.

  ‘Hellooo, Jacqui.’

  Jacqui smiled. ‘Hey! Lily! How good to see you. Just in time for a coffee. You’re up and about early.’ She welcomed Lily Barton with a warm hug.

  ‘I’ve always been an early morning person. How was the trip out to the Horizontal Falls?’

  ‘Stunning. Exciting. Unbelievable. Sit down, I’ll get our coffees. In fact, I was going to call you.’

  Jacqui watched Lily as she settled at a table outside, pulling a newspaper from her bag and putting on her reading glasses. She moved with such grace and calmness, still so slim and fit. Jacqui always marvelled at her energy. Lily never seemed to hurry or get flustered, and yet she did so much and was great company. Jacqui hoped she would be as engaged when she was Lily’s age.

  Jacqui put Lily’s weak cappuccino in front of her friend and sat down opposite with her own cup.

  ‘There you are. Yes. The trip was amazing.’

  ‘How did your talk go? I’m sure you were fabulous.’

  ‘I was nervous,’ admitted Jacqui. ‘But the guests seemed to enjoy it. They were knocked out by your pearl. It’s in my safe in the back of the shop, if you want to take it with you now.’

  ‘That’s okay, Jacqui, I’m heading up to the farm, so I’ll get one of my girls to come and fetch it.’

  Lily’s company, Star Two, owned one of the pearl shops along Dampier Terrace that had previously belonged to the well-regarded jewellery designer Pauline Despar.

  ‘There was a film crew on board the Kimberley Sun, too,’ continued Jacqui. ‘In fact, I suggested to Damien, the cameraman, that he should interview you for the tourist promotional film he’s making. He’s very nice. I hope it was okay to mention you? He might call you.’

  ‘That’s fine, Jacqui. But I’m not nearly as interesting as my family – the history, the heritage, the struggles! I do believe Broome is changing now, as it must, I suppose. But all those links to the past are still tucked away all over the place, and not just in the museum.’ She sighed. ‘Actually, now that I think about it, a lot of the old-timers have passed on, and it worries me that historical family memorabilia, like letters and pictures, old pearling equipment, all sorts of things that are intrinsically important to this area, are being tossed out. Just the other day someone showed me a log that an old sea captain kept in the early part of the last century – he had sailed around Thursday Island, past Darwin, and then he came here and got into pearling with one of the old families. I told them that log was historically valuable and they were surprised.’

  ‘You must have a zillion stories, Lily. I think Damien would really love to hear some of them and even visit your pearl farm. How are things going up there for you?’

  ‘Everything is just fine. Of course, there’s always some small drama going on. You can’t live and work without that in such a remote and occasionally dangerous setting, with people from all walks of life thrown together in wild and exciting times, followed by boring humid days when the wet season build-up starts. Something always has to give.’ Lily laughed. Despite her words, she clearly wouldn’t have it any other way.

  ‘Love-ins or arguments, eh?’ chuckled Jacqui.

  ‘You’ve never been up to our pearl farm, have you? You should come when you can get away.’

  ‘Gosh. I don’t know when that might be, but thanks, Lily, I’d love to do that.’

  ‘Wonderful. Now, as I’m heading back up there, I need some books to entertain me. What do you recommend?’

  *

  Two days later, Jacqui’s close friend Lydia, from the radio station next door, popped into the bookshop for lunch. Settling herself at a table in the alleyway under a shady umbrella, she peered in the window and saw that Jacqui was inside talking with a customer. A moment later, Sylvia stopped by her table to take her order.

  ‘What’s it to be today, Lydia? We have avocado sushi . . . or prawn and cucumber?’

  ‘A couple of each sounds good, and a flat white, please, Sylvia. How’re things going with you?’ Lydia asked the pretty local girl.

  ‘Good, thanks. I love working here.’ She grinned. ‘Best job in the world for a book lover! I’ll go bring your coffee.’

  Jacqui rang up a customer’s purchases, exchanged a few more pleasantries with him and, glancing out the window, saw Lydia sitting outside. She smiled. Lydia, with her indigenous blood, had wild curls, huge dark eyes, a beautiful smile and a husky, musical voice. Jacqui found her a fascinating blend of passionate advocate for her people and their history, and a sophisticated, articulate friend with a similar sense of humour. Lydia easily straddled two cultures and two worlds. As a journalist, she was an incisive interrogator, perceptive and intuitive, and swift to assess people, which made her a formidable interviewer. Her soft, hypnotic voice, penetrating gaze, yet friendly smile, had her subjects blurting things they’d never planned to say. Looking around the quiet store, Jacqui decided to join her friend for a quick break while Sylvia kept an eye on the shop.

  ‘Busy morning?’ Lydia asked as Jacqui sat down.

  ‘Not bad. I’ve been trying to order books for our writers’ festival. Not difficult, but very exacting. I need to do a lot of research.’

  ‘We’re bloody lucky to have Miriam, our super committee chairperson! She has it all under control. Such a massive amount of work, though. Chasing authors and publishers, trying to get them to commit. People seem to hold off in case a better offer comes along. They’ve
been dickering back and forth about travel, accommodation, who’s going to be on panels with them, whether or not they’ll get their own one-off gig, and who the moderators are. And publicity! Everyone wants their photo in the programme, and they want everything they’ve ever done written up . . . it goes on and on . . .’ Lydia threw up her hands.

  ‘Miriam knows what she’s doing. I’m sure with her at the helm the festival will be a success,’ said Jacqui. ‘But it requires so much organisation that I wonder how long she’ll keep doing it.’

  ‘Let’s see how this one goes before we start thinking about the next one,’ said Lydia. ‘I know how much work you’re doing, getting all those books for each of the authors, especially as some of them have written dozens.’

  ‘Yes, but it is exciting that all these authors actually want to come here to talk about their books and about writing in general. I really didn’t think we’d get the response we’ve had,’ said Jacqui.

  ‘I think a lot of the authors want to come because Broome is a place they’ve heard about, but have never had the chance to visit, so this festival gives them the opportunity. Besides, it’s winter down south and Broome will be a nice warm escape,’ said Lydia.

  ‘I agree, but the timing has made things a bit awkward for me as Jean-Luc will be here at the same time. I’ll just have to explain to him that I won’t be able to be with him all that much over the festival.’

  ‘Your son’ll understand,’ said Lydia sympathetically. She took a sip of her coffee. ‘I gather you had a visitor a few days ago. Blast from the past?’ She raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Good Lord, yes! Cameron North. How did you –? Oh, that’s right, Bobby mentioned he’d been at the radio station. But . . .’ Jacqui trailed off, her brow furrowed in thought.

  ‘And Cameron is?’ Lydia prompted, looking inquisitively at her friend.

  ‘Cameron and I grew up together in the same street, though we were never what you’d call playmates. I saw more of him at uni as we had some mutual friends. He was one of those guys who was always looking over your shoulder at a party to see if there was someone more important to talk to,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Never expected to see him again, let alone up here. Did he talk to you when he came by the radio station?’

  ‘Actually, he’d heard an interview Jason did on his breakfast program a few weeks back and wanted to talk to him, but Jason’s away on holidays, so all I could do was to give him Jason’s email address,’ said Lydia. ‘Then Cameron asked if he could get a copy of the actual interview. That wasn’t a problem, but it took some time to round it up as we’re short-staffed, because Jason’s away.’

  ‘Cameron’s gone up the coast with Bobby,’ added Jacqui. ‘Did he mention that?’

  ‘No, has he? Where to?’

  ‘To Cape Leveque. Which interview was he asking about, if it’s not a secret?’ Jacqui asked.

  Lydia shrugged. ‘No, of course you can ask. It was an interview with an archaeologist. Something to do with the discovery of a new rock art site.’

  ‘New site, meaning a newly found one?’ Jacqui smiled.

  ‘Exactly. Apparently, the site has recently been dated as being sixty thousand years old.’

  ‘Well, how strange. I can’t imagine Cameron being interested in such a subject,’ said Jacqui. She shook her head wonderingly. ‘I doubt I’ll see him here again. He certainly didn’t pick my brain or anything. Cameron was always more interested in himself than anyone else. Unless he wanted something from you.’

  ‘He was very vague, just mooching around to get the feel of the north-west, was how he put it. I asked him if it was his first time up here, where he was from and such,’ said Lydia. ‘He was pretty tight-lipped.’

  Jacqui was about to say more when she spotted Bobby walking towards them.

  ‘Hey, Bobby, we were just talking about you. How was the trip with Cameron North? I assume you got the AC fixed,’ said Jacqui.

  ‘Hi, Jacqui. Yeah, it was all cool.’ He laughed at his pun. ‘The trip was okay, I guess. I see why he wanted a driver, though,’ said Bobby.

  ‘And why was that?’ asked Lydia.

  ‘Well, it was a one-way trip,’ said Bobby.

  ‘He didn’t come back? Did you leave him at one of the local resorts? That doesn’t sound like Cameron’s cup of tea. I can’t imagine him as the eco, rustic type,’ said Jacqui, surprised. ‘Are you going back for him?’

  Bobby rolled his eyes. ‘Nah, he had it all sorted. I drove to a pretty slick airstrip up on Dampier Cape. He met a plane there and flew off.’

  ‘Whereabouts was it?’ asked Lydia.

  ‘On some guy’s property. I don’t know whose.’

  ‘Think how much it must have cost. Who’d spend that kind of money on a bitumen strip?’ she asked.

  ‘I dunno, Lydia,’ said Bobby with a shrug. ‘Maybe someone’s building another resort or something.’

  ‘Funny that no one’s mentioned it. But there are some fancy resorts being built about here.’

  Jacqui raised an eyebrow and gave a small smile. ‘Or smugglers? Contraband? Illegal immigrants, gangsters?’

  ‘Any, or all of the above,’ Lydia laughed. ‘I think we’re jumping to some pretty wild conclusions. I am a bit curious, though. Did Cameron North say anything to you, Bobby? Is he coming back to Broome at all?’

  ‘No idea,’ said Bobby.

  ‘He said he’d let me know if he did,’ said Jacqui. ‘To catch up on old times. It’s been years since I’ve seen Cameron. When he just strolled in, I nearly fell over. Just one of those funny coincidences, I guess. This is not the place you’d expect to find an old friend from the east.’

  Lydia looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean? He knew you were here. He asked about you, in fact, said he was popping in to catch up with an old friend, Jacqui Bouchard.’

  ‘Really? How weird,’ said Jacqui. ‘I got the impression he was surprised to see me. I’m trying to think who might have told him I was here.’ She frowned. ‘Old friends must have mentioned it, I suppose. Sounds like Cameron, though. He’s always been hard to read. And it was a pretty quick visit. He didn’t even stop for a coffee or much of a chat,’ mused Jacqui. ‘Oh well. Ships in the night. Probably be another ten or fifteen years before we run into each other again. I’ll get Sylvia to fix you a coffee, Bobby.’

  Lydia didn’t answer as Jacqui went inside. Then she pressed, ‘What did you make of your passenger, Bobby? That’s a long trip together. How did you find him?’

  ‘I didn’t take to him. Businessman type. Not chatty like the tourists. Have to say, he didn’t seem the sort of fellow who’d be a friend of Jacqui’s.’

  Lydia was thoughtful, her brow puckered as she slowly picked up a piece of sushi with her chopsticks and dipped it in the wasabi and soy sauce.

  2

  The town had been quiet for the past two weeks, with no cruise boats or large package tours visiting, though occasionally outback buses, trucks and four-wheel drives trickled into town. As a result, Jacqui saw mainly locals in her bookshop and business had been quiet, but it had given her a chance to catch up on some of the preparations for the writers’ festival. One day, Jacqui was walking slowly back from the bank as the early afternoon inertia settled on the town when she heard someone calling her.

  ‘Hey, Jacqui!’

  Startled by the voice behind her, she spun around.

  ‘Good heavens. Cameron! You’re back in town again!’

  ‘Couldn’t keep away. I was heading to your shop.’ He caught up with her.

  She gave him a quizzical look. ‘What’s brought you back so soon?’

  ‘My life can change from minute to minute these days, so here I am. I knew you’d be in your bookshop, so I was heading over to find you.’

  ‘I could have been way out of town, you know. My life is not that predictable,’ she countered lightly.


  Cameron ignored this and asked, ‘Would you like to come out to dinner tonight? Do you like the Cable Beach Resort, or is there a good place in town you’d prefer?’

  ‘How do you know I’m free?’ She smiled to soften the remark.

  ‘I don’t, but it would be nice if you could suggest a place where two old friends can catch up?’

  She had to smile. She and Cameron might have known each other since childhood, but she couldn’t remember when she had last seen him when he’d turned up in Broome two weeks earlier. However, she was intrigued as to what he could be doing in the Kimberley, so she accepted his invitation.

  ‘There’s a great little place down by Town Beach. It’s new. Or there’s a terrific Chinese restaurant in town. Are you staying out at the Club?’

  ‘No. I’m flying out late tomorrow, so it’s easier to be here, in town.’

  ‘You’re going up north again?’ She raised an eyebrow.

  His phone beeped and he glanced at it swiftly without answering it. ‘I’ll talk to you tonight. Sorry, there’s someone I have to meet. What’s the name of the Chinese place?’

  ‘Madame Woo’s.’

  ‘Right. See you there. Say seven?’

  ‘Seven, okay.’

  Cameron raised a hand in farewell then turned and strode off, punching numbers into his phone as he walked towards Dampier Terrace.

  Jacqui was reflective as she continued towards her bookshop.

  That evening, when she arrived at Madame Woo’s, she saw that Cameron was there ahead of her, already studying the menu. He rose and pulled out her chair.

  ‘Interesting little place. I haven’t had pearl meat before.’

  ‘It’s delicious,’ said Jacqui. ‘Do you like Asian food?’

  ‘I tend to prefer European cuisine, but I’ve eaten a lot of Thai and Indian food in my time.’

  ‘Oh. Have you travelled to those places?’ she asked, curious to find out what Cameron had been doing over the years.