Ray bumped past Matt’s jeep and lit a cigarette. He’d promised Penny to cut back on his smoking, but was already onto his second packet for the day. A profound sense of failure, of letting her down, added to his dark mood. He shouldn’t be driving this dozer. He should be in his truck heading up the highway with a load of logs for the Hobart mill. But the protestors had held things up for weeks now, blocking the chainsaws and preventing trucks from being loaded. So his Kenworth rig lay idle, although he still had to make the payments. His best mate, Charlie, had wangled him a few hours work on the bulldozer, for which he was grateful, because the bills were piling up.
There’d been nothing but trouble in the forest lately, even before the protest circus came to town. Breakdowns, accidents, injured men. Some folks blamed the greenies, but there wasn’t any proof. It could be just a string of terrible luck, like the local sergeant said. Worst of all was what had happened to young Scott Marshall. A fellow log truck driver, he’d been crushed beneath a tonne of timber when his load somehow came loose. It had hit Penny hard when Scott died. They’d been at school together. Friends right from kindergarten, all the way through. They’d even dated for a while.
That was before Matt came along. After their whirlwind marriage, Penny became the target of nasty gossip, accused of gold-digging – of throwing aside her local lad to marry the son of the wealthiest man in Tasmania. Hills End was a close-knit community, and Matt did himself no favours in the popularity stakes by keeping to himself the way he did. Ray had tried reaching out, but Matt wouldn’t go on the fishing trips or join the other blokes down the pub on Friday nights for a beer. He wouldn’t even go to the footy.
Even after twelve years of living in the town, Matt remained somewhat of an outsider. He wasn’t quite the catch everyone had thought him either. He had no money after all, due to some sort of row with his dad. That park ranger job of his paid diddly squat. The way Pen told it, she earned more than he did. But Ray wouldn’t hold that against a man. Truth be told, he didn’t earn much himself these days, what with younger men happy to drive day and night – even if they were a hazard to themselves and everyone else on the road.
Ray had long ago learned to accept Matt, even though he didn’t much like him. If Matt made Penny happy, that was all that mattered. What bothered Ray lately was that Penny no longer did seem happy. She complained that her husband was avoiding her, shutting her out. Ray had dismissed her concerns at first. ‘Sometimes a man just needs some space, love,’ he’d told her. For all his misgivings about their marriage, he’d never doubted Matt’s love for Penny. But Penny had been miserable for weeks now, and Ray was getting worried.
Just who was the girl in the jeep with Matt? She was a pretty little thing – a scientist, he’d said. Penny had mentioned a visiting lady scientist. Could she be part of the problem between Penny and her husband? Ray frowned and changed gears as he approached the logging coupe. A flush of anger passed through him. If Matt was betraying Penny in any way, God help him.
Matt pulled into the coupe behind Ray’s dozer. Police cars had formed a cordon around a row of logging machinery, and a few officers stood talking together by their vehicles.
‘Stay here,’ said Matt. Sarah got out and followed him anyway.
‘Hey, Matt,’ called a middle-aged policeman. ‘Thank God you’re here.’
Matt turned and glared at Sarah before introducing her. ‘This is Sergeant Nick Byrne. Nick … Sarah.’
Nick acknowledged her with a nod. ‘Well, Matt, better get to it.’
A pale sun was sinking below the treetops. Matt and the sergeant took off in a police car, leaving Sarah standing there. They were heading towards the forest margin on the far side of the clearing, where razed ground met standing trees. Giant logging machines stood parked by the road, great gobs of mud plastered in the broad tread of their monstrous tyres. A neat painted sign on the back of one said Please don’t damage this bulldozer. Other signs weren’t so polite. The bush crew formed a circle nearby, swapping stories and stamping feet. Hard hats and steel-capped boots. The forest here smelled of oil and diesel, cigarettes and sweat. The men took turns staring at Sarah. One of them wolf-whistled. She moved close to an officer.
‘What’s happening?’ she asked him.
‘Another bloody greenie up a tree.’
A logger yelled a lewd remark and blew Sarah a kiss. She went back to the jeep and locked herself in, straining to see what was happening at the edge of the coupe. The same logger pursed his lips and made an obscene gesture. Sarah wriggled across to the driver’s seat, turned the key, let out the clutch and drove off down the perimeter track until she reached Nick Byrne’s car.
Matt and Nick stood talking next to what must have been the tallest tree in the world. Its massive bole was covered with carvings. High in the canopy, almost too high to see, was a platform strung with banners. Sarah got out of the jeep and approached the two men. They ignored her.
‘Says he won’t budge unless you go and get him,’ said Nick.
Matt peered up at the great tree.
‘There’s a gale warning tonight,’ Nick added. ‘If he won’t come down, it’ll serve the mad bugger right.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll get him.’ Matt walked to the jeep and pulled out climbing equipment – ropes and pulleys and cinches.
Sarah looked from Matt to the top of the tree. Its sheer trunk soared impossibly high. ‘You’re not—’ she started.
Matt smacked the tree. ‘Don’t worry. Me and Pallawarra here, we’re old mates.’ He selected some gear and put on a helmet and gloves.
‘This tree has a name?’
Nick guided her away with a hand on her shoulder. ‘He’ll be fine. Stay out of the way. He needs to concentrate.’
Sarah stood open-mouthed as Matt looped a sling around his body, then around the trunk, and clipped in another strap. He bounced back twice into the sling, braced himself and was suddenly two metres up the trunk. For the life of her, Sarah couldn’t quite make out how he’d managed it. He continued to scale the tree, making swift progress. She couldn’t imagine the sort of upper body strength it took.
A cry rang out, making Sarah jump, and a rope snaked down from above. Matt grabbed it, and his ascent quickened. Ten minutes later, as the watchers held their breath, he clambered onto the platform sixty metres above the ground. Sarah exhaled and turned to Nick, who was rigging up a bank of portable floodlights. ‘He made it,’ she said.
‘Don’t count your chickens. I’d rather go up that tree than come down it.’
Daylight dimmed and dimmed again. Swirls of mist fell to earth, hiding the canopy, and dusk consumed the searchlights. A hush fell on the watchers below. Police and loggers melded, staring into the sky, all rendered blind by obscuring cloud. A young logger lit a cigarette and offered it to Sarah. She hadn’t smoked in years, but accepted it for some reason and took a bottomless breath. The familiar acrid sensation deep in her lungs still retained its power to soothe.
A freshening breeze caused her cigarette to burn brighter. She shivered. A man removed his coat and draped it over her shoulders. She recognised him. It was Penny’s uncle, Ray, who’d been driving the yellow dozer. She pointed up the tree. ‘Shouldn’t somebody call Penny to tell her what’s happening?’
Ray shook his head. ‘I’ll not drag Pen down here just to see what a mad bastard her husband is.’
‘Ray’s right,’ said Nick. ‘Matt’s got nine lives. Why worry Penny?’
Sarah turned to speak to Ray but he was no longer there. Upon some invisible signal the loggers were retreating to their machines. Their glowing cigarettes hovered like fireflies in the gloom. Sarah dropped her own cigarette and stamped it into the earth. If she was Matt’s wife, she’d want to know.